#i mentioned has a nick: Old lady! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

espinosaurusrexex · 4 months

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Celeste

FallenAngel!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader AU

summary: Heaven is not what they tell you. The celestials don’t live in harmony and the devil is not as far as you might think. He’s vicious in his ways to seduce every being - makes even the mighty fall from grace. And one of them happens to be your guardian angel. When James is banished from the heavens, he is forced to amend his sins on earth. What did he do wrong, you might ask? Well, he fell for the one he watched over.

a/n: I thought I’ve read a FallenAngel!Bucky fic on here before. But I couldn’t find it. So please, if you know it, tag me. Anyway, this is my take on the au.

word count: 20.3k (good lord, someone take my computer away)

warnings: this might offend some people (remember this is my fantasy world - I don’t know much about angels and the whole shebang), soulmate trope, the devil, also God?, jealousy/envy, mentions of killing and abuse, banishment and punishments, he falls first (literally lmao), fluff and wholesomeness, agony, angst (of course, with happy end!), smut (wingplay, Bucky‘s got heavenly dick, Virgin!Bucky, size kink, cum play) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

all image credit goes to @animarvelita on TikTok (there's more at the end)

James.

Wake up, James.

Wake up!

The wind hits his lashes before he opens his eyes. He’s falling. He’s falling and there’s nothing he can do.

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s eerie outside, you note as your towel glides over the countertop. The entire window of the diner displays dark clouds. Dark clouds that will soon bring the heavy rain Old Lee has been mumbling about for days now.

Not too many people believe what the crazy farmer says but you can’t help but notice how much he really understands of the world.

Nick hits the little golden bell by the serving hatch and you take the fresh sandwiches to a table by the door.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“We’re good, honey.”

You just nod as your eyes stay focused on the small parking lot outside. You wipe your hands on your apron and return to the counter when the first drop of rain hits the window pane.

❁ ❁ ❁

Branches are aching beneath his weight when he crashes through the trees. A deep thud echoes in the woods as his body hits the ground. It’s raining.

Every tragedy needs rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

"Are you alright, dear?" Peggy, one of the regulars, a wise old lady, asks and points to your hand that's settled above your chest.

You clear your throat. "I'm fine. Just a frog in my throat." You nod with a tight smile. Something seems to have knocked the air out of your lungs. But you've been feeling like you are coming down with something for a few days now.

"Must be the weather," Howard comment's next to Peggy, and his newspaper crumbles beneath his touch.

You turn and refill their coffee mugs. "Yeah... must be." But you can't shake the feeling it has brought to you.

"It's always the weather." Peggy nods before the door to the diner opens and Old Lee enters, his muddy boots dirtying the checkered floors. You scrunch your nose. You'd be the one cleaning that up later, Scott surely won't do it.

"This ain't a normal April storm, folks." His hat tips before he sits at the counter in front of you. "You look like you’ve been trampled by a cow.”

"It's just the weather," you say and place a cup of hot tea in front of him. That's just Stan: brutally honest and strangely right about everything.

❁ ❁ ❁

Pain is strange. His feet get caught in the thorned bushes. Golden blood is the only evidence of his path.

And it’s slowly turning black.

❁ ❁ ❁

The storm outside intensifies, the rain hammering against the diner's windows with an unrelenting force. Old Lee's words linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease among the patrons. You glance outside, noticing the darkness creeping in as if it's swallowing everything in its path.

A shiver runs down your back as you remember how much Pietro would have loved this storm. Your mind drifts back to the memory of him. He always found solace in the chaos of nature, seeing beauty even in the fiercest storms.

But he's is gone now, lost to you in a way that is irreversible. The ache in your chest intensifies as you try to push away the memories, focusing instead on your tasks at hand.

Stan’s voice is low and gravelly when he murmurs again. "You can't outrun the storm, kid. It's coming for all of us, whether we're ready or not."

His words are chilling, but you shake it off, forcing a smile as you refill his tea.

"We'll weather this storm just like we always do." Peggy chimes in as her hand lands on yours with her calming touch. But your heart is hammering in your chest, still. Something feels off. As if a piece fell out of place, waiting to be discovered, and raving to make a mess.

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s cold and muddy here, no comfort in sight. But he’ll venture on until he reaches you. His soul is pulled to your very presence.

He needs to find you. Needs to amend his wrongs. Though is it really wrong to love?

❁ ❁ ❁

It’s dark out when you hang your apron in your locker and wave a short goodbye to Nick. Pulling your coat tightly around you in an attempt to brace yourself for the wind, you step outside into the deluge. The rain lashes against your skin, soaking you to the bone on your walk through deserted streets and cold concrete.

You sigh thinking about everyone that made it home dry, probably sitting in their beds right now, watching the rain roll down their window pane with a hot cup of cocoa in hand.

But that seems to postpone itself, you realize as you abruptly halt. You look around. This isn’t your usual route home. But something pulled you off your intended path and toward an unfamiliar alleyway. Confusion mingles with a strange sense of anticipation as you find yourself drawn deeper into the darkness.

Your head is screaming at you. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be doing this. Why are your feet moving anyway?

And then you see it. Or rather... him?

A figure stands at the end of the alley, obscured by shadows and rain, but there's something about him that sets your heart racing.

"Hello?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely audible over the storm. You hate how weak you sound.

He steps forward into the dim light, his features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. Dark hair and a strong yaw, wide muscular shoulders, his arms are adorned by silver cuffs. His whole being is well over six feet. But he seems even taller as something wide reaches from behind him, almost hugging his shoulders and prodding up towards the sky. He steps forward again and your breath hitches in your throat when you can finally make out the grey feathery wings standing from behind his back.

But you don’t run. You don’t even stumble back. Your feet are frozen to the ground. Then his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper to the wind. Calling and marvelous.

Everything inside you tells your how absurd this situation is. How fast you should be running anywhere but here right now. But the way your heart races doesn’t feel like fear. In fact, you’re not even scared. More fascinated, awestruck, intrigued. You know he wont hurt you.

“I don’t know you.” You manage to stammer, your eyes still locked with his. The tension overwhelming and electrifying all at once.

“That should be obvious.” He points to his wings smiling amused, a smile that you know holds a universe of secrets and promises. You want to learn them all, you catch yourself thinking as your eyes slip to his lips.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand,” he replies and it’s the first time his wings move behind him. “Just trust that we are connected in ways you cannot even begin to imagine.”

“Well?” You clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest, relieved your body is able to move again, though the pose feels rather awkward. “Why are you here?”

He seems shocked for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to play along so fast. And, to be honest, neither did you... at least a little.

“I need to...” His mouth falls shut again and he turns his head down to the side, shoulders heaving. “I guess I need a place to stay.”

“With me?” That’s insane. You know it is. But why does it not surprise you?

He nods, you shake your head. “I cant just accommodate a...” You gesture to him and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Angel.”

“Right, of course.” You chuckle as you scan his body again. Only now do you see the torn clothes and bloody feet. Drenched through and through.

You sigh. “I don’t even know your name...”

His eyes are sparkling, the smallest of twitches making him look a little softer, tangible even. You’re not afraid of him. And it messes with your head. You should be scared, right? But all there is in your body is the steady tingle pinging from your heart back to your stomach.

“It’s James.” His smile is handsome when he reaches out his hands, offering you a better look to his toned arms.

Whywhywhy? “Alright.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James looks out of place in your rather small living room. His size dwarves every piece of furniture carefully picked out to make your house a home. He makes it look like a doll house just by standing in it.

But he doesn’t seem to care. James ducks when he passes through the door and you watch his feathers ruffle as they press themselves to his back in order to fit through.

You’re not sure what to do. Never in your life did you think you would end up in a situation like this. There is no protocol for hosting celestial beings. Though a how to angel dinner party guide would come in handy now. Did he even eat?

Something must be wrong with you. You let a total stranger into your house, even though your track record of people skills is not exactly the best. One that is borderline freakishly tall and has wings. Wings that look soft and beautiful. But strong and kind of intimidating as well. But why does he feel so safe?

“You’re staring.” James notes and a handsome grin spreads across his face.

“I’m not really used to having angels in my house to be honest.” The sarcasm is dripping from your tone in subtle undertones. But James seems to enjoy it. “Why are you here? On earth... I mean.”

He stares at the ceiling and his wings sag a little. “I have a mission, dearest.” He tells and his eyes meet yours. They’re deep blue and stormy - just like the sky. You can see yourself falling lost in them. His presence is all-consuming, making you shiver. It reminds you that the both of you are drenched from the rain. A puddle has formed around your feet and James’s wings guide the water droplets to your hardwood floor in two perfect circles. His hair is curling at the ends, in the nape of his neck and the water is also running down his throat, pooling in the remains of his shirt.

“What mission?”

“I cannot tell you yet.”

You nod, even though you don’t understand. But you don’t want to pressure him. “Do you need a shower? Or... clean clothes?” The second you ask you feel stupid. It’s silly right? Why shouldn’t angels shower?

Then again, the way he looks at you is one of surprise. “Yes, that would be good.”

“Good. Yes.” With a sigh you flee through the hallway to your room in search for some clothes.

❁ ❁ ❁

A shower. James is giddy. Human things have always excited him. He has been watching from the heavens for eons, never truly experienced them quite like this. But he’s intrigued. Especially when you offer them to him like he’s not an intruder in your life.

If things were different, you would never know he even existed. But James is guilty of happiness that he gets to meet you in person.

Up close, you’re even more perfect. You smell nice, your home feels cozier than anything he’s ever experienced, and your voice sounds just a sliver more comforting when its directed at him.

He is smiling like a fool, standing in your living room - the one he knows by heart but so much more personal now. And when you return to him with a pile of grey cloth, his heart skips a beat. You bring him the familiar warmth that made him fall in the first place. But having you within an arm’s length makes all of it feel worth it.

There is not an ounce of regret in him for being here.

Electricity shoots up his arm when you touch his hand. It’s cold and wet - he immediately vows to always keep you warm from now on - makes it his purpose to have you be comfortable for the rest of your life.

You lead him to the bathroom, grinning sheepishly when you gesture toward your shower.

“It might be a tight squeeze.” You point at the glass surrounding your bathtub. “But it’s all I can offer.”

“It will do just fine.” He reassures you.

“I will leave you to it then.” James is confused.

“Are you not staying?”

“Sorry?”

“To help me.”

“Help you... shower?” There is hesitance in your tone, but James truly doesn’t know how to turn the thing on.

“Well, yes.”

“I...” Your eyes are big, staring up at him through surprise and nervousness. “I don’t want to intrude. Give you some privacy to- oh.”

His clothes are already on the floor. He knows this much. Shower is something one does naked. But you seem to be shocked when his whole body is revealed to you. Do you like it? James is sure he looks as close to a human as a person with wings can. So why are you still staring at his stomach?

His eyes catch yours as they move a little lower, your eyebrows raising just that much higher and a smirk places itself on his face. So, you do like what you see. He confirms silently. Not that he particularly knows why. He never noticed people by their bodies - only their soul, because that is the important thing - the one that never changes.

And yours is the most enchanting of them all.

❁ ❁ ❁

You watch as James sit’s down on the opposite end of the sofa. He’s declined every offer you have made for him to feel a little more welcome. But he seems content. His smile hasn’t left his lips ever since you led him to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but notice his body when he revealed it all to you. It’s like every inch of him is carved by the gods. He looks soft in the right parts, strong enough not to be skinny with his height. And his male parts. Well, they look more than satisfactory.

You felt like a pervert staring him up and down while he stood there with this kind of proud innocence to him, wondering if he understood how proud he could be of his looks. There is so much you don’t know about him. It’s not like you haven’t talked.

You have. But he speaks in riddles.

“You are staring again.” James notes and you immediately snap your head elsewhere.

“I’m just figuring this situation out, I guess.”

He smiles encouragingly. “You can ask questions. I imagine you’ve been eager to know more.”

You exhale long, taking courage to look him in the eyes. “And you will answer all of them honestly?”

“Honestly, yes.” His teeth find his bottom lip and you squeeze your thighs together. “I cannot promise to answer them all.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you think of the first thing you could ask him. Maybe you should get the most obvious one out of the way. Maybe you should ask him more about himself, though you’re not sure how personal he can get if he spent his entire life in heaven. You just assume there is too much to do to pursue actual hobbies and such.

“Is there a God?”

“Starting with the light questions, I see.” You just look at him with intrigue. Already lining up all the other questions no-one else in this world has the opportunity to have answered. James sighs and then nods. “Yes, God exists.”

“Do you know God?”

He hesitates, his eyes fleeting to the end of the room and then back to you. “Yes.”

“Why did that answer take you so long?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes find the floor as if he was cursing himself for offering this situation. But then again, you haven’t heard him cuss once. Maybe you’re wrong. “It was under rather... unfortunate circumstances.”

You nod as if you understand. But you can only imagine. “So, he’s like the big boss, only getting involved when things escalate?”

James looks caught, his wings draw in closer. After a moment, he clears his throat and his feathers ruffle with a small shake. “First of all, it’s she/they. And second, ... I guess you could say that, yes.”

“I knew it.” You grin as the pride washes over you at this information. “Why did she never correct us?”

“Let’s just say mankind doesn’t have a great track record of enforcing things that go against their believe... Not that it would be believable if someone told the story of meeting an angel who told them God is a woman.”

“Fair point. That person would have probably been burnt alive.” You nod again, crossing your legs and turning to him on the sofa. James takes a moment to rake his eyes over your body, making you feel tingles all over. You clear your throat. “Speaking of torture... Why do we have war and world hunger?”

“Please do not take this the wrong way. Those are issues that very much concern God or anyone that want’s the best for her people, but she’s busy. She manages everything else that has gone south since.”

“Since what?” You partly enjoy the way James talks to you as if you are an insider, but you only understand half of what he’s saying.

“Since she and Lucifer had a big fallout.” He shrugs, but it just adds to your confusion.

“I’m not following.”

He rolls his eyes as if it were your fault you don’t know about this supernatural fight. “They had a disagreement. Lucifer’s response to God’s proposal was an ill-conceived frivolity which ended up becoming the patriarchy.”

To say you’re stunned is a serious understatement. “You’re telling me the devil threw a tamper tantrum and that’s why we have inequality? How did he even do that?”

James shakes his head. “...Yes. The trial is still in progress. But it may be calming to know that we have not figured out exactly how he convinced an entire species of males being the stronger part of it.”

“No, James. It is not calming to know.” You sigh and watch as he clasps his hands in his lap, his cuffs glistening in the lamplight. God, they’re big. You immediately scold yourself for thinking this, feeling weirds as the words of your mother echo in your head ‘Don’t you dare use God’s name in vain’. “What exactly has God done since then?”

The smile returns to his face and you readjust yourself on the sofa. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to know how this world would look if she hadn’t kept busy with sorting it.”

Your nose wrinkles in a frown, as you check the points off in your head. “I really don’t think it can get that much worse. Climate change, mass genocides, what else could there be?” You nod at each one just as James lifts up his fingers and opens his mouth as if he is starting to count.

But you stop him. “Please don’t.”

“Yes, that is probably for the best.”

It is silent for a moment as you try to process all the information you have just attained. It is a rather weird feeling. Knowing you know what no-one else on earth does and not being able to tell. Knowing there will be no-one believing you.

You sigh when your head starts spinning from how crazy this day has been. James seems to be rather relaxed considering he barely knows you. His dark hair falls around his face perfectly, the back of it forming a cute curl in the nape of his neck and your fingers itch to touch it.

But you refrain, reminding yourself that he is a stranger - and an angel. Beside the fact that he has not once reached out to you, just randomly touching his hair would probably be the weirdest thing to do right now.

“Can I ask you something?” He suddenly breaks the silence and you shoot a thank you to the sky for saving yourself from going down the mental rabbit hole of how soft his hair looks.

“Yes.”

“Why did you take me in?” James’s eyes are boring into yours so innocently. If it weren’t for the giant wings on his back, he would almost look like a normal clueless and incredibly cute guy. And yet he just revealed outerworldly gossip as if you were discussing the latest celebrity TMZ.

“I-“ you trail off, thinking about it for a while. You aren’t sure how much you can tell him. But James has been genuine from the start. It wold only be fair to do the same. “I felt like you needed me.”

A weird feeling takes over your body suddenly. Like a warm flush rushing through you. James fidgets in your peripheral and nods in understanding. “I did. I do.”

It’s like the reality of it all hits you like brick when a noise sounds from outside and his wings twitch, pushing over a pile of books on the cupboard behind the sofa. This is not normal, something tells you, and yet your stomach flutters in a way that feels a lot like butterflies. Everything about James is fascinating to you. You constantly fight the urge to reach out and brush your fingertips over every part of him. And for some reason, your mind tries to tell you that he would let you.

“Why are you really here, James?” You voice is only a whisper when the rattling outside subsides. It’s probably a raccoon or something. But James looks a little nervous all of a sudden.

“I’m afraid that is one thing I cannot tell you, love.”

You sigh. “I guess... I just want to help. Having you stay here doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There has got to be something you need to do.”

“That is very kind of you. I admire your bravery and openness.” His lips spread into a smile, his hand lifting from his lap as if he is about to place it on yours, but his fingers only strech and land back on the sofa between you. “But to be truthful, even if I knew what I had to do, I am not sure wether I would do it or not”

So he is a little deviant. You smile at the small observation. Maybe it’s the reason he is here in the first place. But you feel like you have asked James enough for tonight. Just on cue, a yawn escapes your lips.

“You should rest. It has been a long day.”

You nod, rubbing your eyes and rising from the soft cushions. “I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep there.”

“That is fine. I do not sleep.” James shakes his head as he rises with you out of curtesy. With his hands clasped in front of him he looks like a goth painting.

“What? Never?”

“I am not human, dearest. My body attains energy in different ways.” You shudder again, blaming it on your sleepiness as you rub your arms when another yawn escapes you.

“Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow. I am really tired.”

“I will be watching over you.” Your name passes his lips like a song, sending another shiver through you. What the hell is the matter with you. You huff as you catch yourself again. It really never occurred to you how often you referenced to the supernatural... “Take all the rest you can get.”

“Good night, James.” You nod and wave awkwardly.

“Good night.”

You know James’s eyes are only you until you disappear into the hallway. But you cant help but feel safely watched over with him around.

❁ ❁ ❁

They will find him, and they will send him further from you than he ever was.

❁ ❁ ❁

James hates the days you have to leave for work. He watches you with a sense of longing and resignation, knowing that he must find a way to navigate this separation once again. Though it is necessary he find a way to dodge the inevitable.

It’s the vexing thing about the celestial kingdom. They always leave one to find the laws on their journey. There is no book he could read on earth that could help him here. But he has seen the repercussions of disobedience, felt the weight of his transgressions bearing down on him like a heavy chain.

And yet, as he watches you prepare to leave for work, a sense of desperation gnaws at him from within. He wants to reach out, to beg you to stay, to keep you safe from whatever dangers may lurk beyond the safety of your home.

But he knows he can't. He's bound by duty, by the laws of God that dictate his every move. And so, with a heavy heart, he watches silently as you gather your things and head out the door, leaving him alone once more.

As the door closes behind you, James is left with nothing but the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance. He knows he should use this time wisely, to prepare for whatever trials may lie ahead, but his thoughts are consumed by you, by the overwhelming need to protect you at all costs.

❁ ❁ ❁

There’s and angel in your home. And he’s so freaking attractive, it’s unfair.

It has been a week since you found James. And despite the incredibly irrational decisions of yours to invite him into your home, nothing bad has happened to you. Sure, the first night you might have dreamt about him. He’s everything your fantasy books described an more. And you couldn’t help but let that tiny romantic sliver of you hope for the more.

But James is more pious than any catholic boarding school kid you’ve ever met.

He seems to enjoy a good joke and he’s quite confident. But he never once touched you. And while that should not be one of your first concerns, considering he’s a stranger and an angel, something inside you tells you he’s holding back.

He never even flinches when you reach out to him. And the longing stares he sends your way make you shiver with anticipation. Yet there is no attempt to ever pull you in - even though you are so sure you were sending signals.

Maybe there are no signals in heaven. What are you even saying? Of course there are no signals in heaven. You don’t even believe dating exists up there.

“Yo, whaddup with ya today? I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.”

“Sorry. Feeling a little off today,” you mumble to Nick and retrieve the food waiting in the serving hatch.

“You can’t go home. I don’t wanna serve alone today.”

“Scott, there’s literally no-one here.” You gesture toward the few people sitting in their booths and sigh. “Besides, I never said I was going home.”

“Don’t get mad. You barely texted me back this week. What’s so awesome about your home when I’m not there with you?” You feel the heat rising to your head at Scott’s comment. “You’d think she’d call me if she ever needed to hide something.” He mumbles to Nick who just laughs and flips a pancake.

You turn to him with your fists by your side. “The weather is weird and cold, can’t I need a little down time?”

“Not from me!” Scott looks baffled. He’s your friend, and yes, you had other things to worry about than be on your phone this week. But you also knew he wouldn’t understand.

“You’re being a real pain in my ass today, Scotty.”

“Good, so everything’s back to normal then.”

You throw a towel in his face. “Shut up.”

“Cut it out, you two, there’s customers.”

Scott resumes to the back, effectively dodging his work and leaving you to serve the new customer. But your breath hitches in your throat when you look up from the counter.

James is standing in the door, already drawing looks of attention from a few people. He’s smiling back at them, even waving at a child before his eyes meet yours and your heart sets off again. It seems to always do that when he’s close.

You rush toward him, wrapping your fingers around his cuffed wrist and he audibly exhales.

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

“Because-“ you lean in closer and James bows down to get his face to your level. “You’re and angel.” You mutter under your breath and the sexy smile returns to his perfect lips.

“And how would they know that?” His eyebrow raises.

“You-“ you lean back, examining his shoulders - only then noticing that his wings are not there anymore. “How?”

“I only show myself to truly important people.” He winks and you stumble back a little, his sudden boldness making your legs feel like jello.

“What are you doing here?”

James looks around the diner as though he has not planned this far. His eyes swerve to the counter and then back to you. “I want to watch you work. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“But you can’t be here without ordering.”

“Then I will oder.”

“You don’t eat, James. Do you even have money?”

That seems to surprise him. “No.” You shake your head and look at the tiled floor. James’s wrist is still wrapped in your hand but there is no attempt to hold you. So you drop it. Why did he even come here when he won’t touch you?

“Please, beautiful. Let me stay.” His eyes are genuine, his lips purse in a plea. All you can think about is how weirdly lucky you are that this Adonis of a being chose you for his quest.

You bite your lip and watch him shudder. “Alright. Just sit by the counter and try to be inconspicuous.”

His smile spreads wide. “I’ll be as invisible as the air you breathe.”

You exhale and get back to work but unfortunately, his promise doesn’t last long. Before you know it, Peggy has chosen the seat right beside James. She’s leaning over to him at the counter and Howard just sits beside them with his newspaper in hand - as always. James seems just as invested in the conversation as Peggy and as you steal glances over to the pair of them, insistently hoping he won’t spill about his identity, you catch James’s eyes lingering on you.

“You are a fine young man, James.” Peggy's hand lands on his, tapping it in a grandmotherly manor, though her eyes are glinting with something akin to longing. She whispers something into his ear you cant make out and James’s eyes shoot to yours, his face tinting rouge from one ear to the other.

“And you are a remarkable lady, Peggy,” he clears his throat, his mind seemingly wandering elsewhere. “You remind me of a girl a friend of mine was in love with once.”

“Then he must have been the happiest man to ever live.”

Peggy’s hands tremble when she reaches for her cup of tea, her red lipstick taint the white porcelain as James watches her movements with a soft stare. He looks so protective of her, it makes your insides tingle. “He truly is, though he seems like he has forgotten about it lately. Is this your husband?” He gestures to Howard, who just slams the newspaper down in front of him, blank eyes staring at James while Peggy laughs and waves her hand dismissively.

“This rascal?” She presses her hand to her chest as she tries to calm down. “No, dear. My husband died a long tome ago.” She smiles warmly, floating in melancholy when she continues, “I never loved another man since. He was a heaven sent. Strong, kind, always worked towards the greater good... and his looks were to die for, too.” She winks and James chuckles.

“Oh I wish a love like that to everyone. Promise me something, James.”

“Anything.”

“If your find it, never let it go.” Her hand clasps around his biceps, her tone a motherly sternness laced with affection.

James eyes you again and it feels as if the air is shifting with tension. “My word is in God’s name, Peggy.”

❁ ❁ ❁

James feels the repercussions of his being on earth stronger every day. In heaven, he was miserable because he had to watch you live your life without him. On earth, he’s in agony because he knows, if he ever were to touch you, he would cease to exist.

It’s slanted. He gave up everything coming here and despite the fact that his wings stopped working the second he fell from the sky, he categorizes the uncertainty eating away at him as even worse. Hanging in limbo is more troubling than actually going to hell, he is sure of it.

He watches you move about your house with the same longing look torturing his features since he realized how much he needed you. It’s laughable how dependent on you he has become. While you go about your life with the minor change of having a roommate, James despises the unforgeable distance heaven has created between you.

You are friendly with him - you are friendly with everyone. James would even go as far as to say that you two are friends by now. But he wants so much more. So much more he cant tell you because even if you did know about his feelings, there is nothing either of you could do about it.

James sighs standing from the sofa, ducking his head when he passes through the doorway to you. You never questions when he just follows you around. The soul bond probably keeping the curiosity at bay if it feels anything like his experience. It feels good for no explicit reason.

You sort some bowls in your cabinet as he stands behind you, offering to place the ones higher up so you don’t have to struggle too much. “What’s heaven like, James?” You ask innocently through your movements. “Are there pearly gates and fluffy clouds?”

James loves when you say his name. It makes him feel closer to you than ever before. In a way, he equates it with your touch. Just as his saying your name is his way of reaching out to you.

“More like endless paperwork and celestial coffee breaks.” Coffee breaks. He learned about those a while ago and he loves the concept. “But hey, the views are to die for.” He gets lost in your eyes, remembering how much more distant they felt when he was watching from above and he is thankful to be this close to you now.

You smile smugly, and thats when the heart race sets in again. He’s sure you feel it too. Because your eyes avert and your hand places itself atop your chest.

You think something is wrong with you, he just knows it. It’s like the time you watched hours on hours of Gray’s Anatomy and then proceeded to research yourself into a frenzy about the sicknesses you might suffer. But James made sure then that there was not even a paper cut compromising you and he will do the same now, too.

He is desperate to tell you what it is you feel, that there is not much you can do and that he feels it ten times worse because he hates to see you suffer. But he needs to be careful about how much he reveals to you.

“Oh my god, I’m getting paranoid,” you mutter to yourself and James smirks at your small slip up. He has noticed how you try to minimize your references in curses. It’s cute, really, because he knows how much you used to do it. It’s a little bit amusing, the small deviant trait of yours making him feel like he has found something in common with you and he’s almost proud of it.

You collect yourself, quickly, breathing in deeply and then turning around to him. “I have to run some errands today.”

“Great, where are we going?” James asks with eagerness. Car rides excite him. He has always found them fascinating, but actually being in one is a whole new experience.

You bite your lip and for once, James does not feel the familiar tingle in his stomach when you do so. There is sadness sitting in your eyes when you answer him. “Actually...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lip just for your teeth to dig into it again and an unfamiliar tightness travels through James’s body. “It is something I need to do by myself today. I hope that is okay.”

The angel nods vigorously, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. “Yes of course. I will leave you to it alone.” He steadies himself on the door frame and then heads to the living room where he grabs a book and settles on your window sill to look occupied.

“It is nothing personal, James.” Your head dips from the doorway and he looks up. “It's just... it would be weird for you to be there.”

“I understand.” The way he adds your name to his answer makes him sick. But his body is feeling weird, not showing him the familiar signs of jealousy or anger he knows. It feels... warm and uncomfortable.

“I will be back soon.” Your voice travels through the hallway and your footsteps along with it. James stares at the empty doorway for a while, his eyes shooting down to the book when you suddenly reappear. “Do you want anything from the store?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

And then the door falls shut. But before James can get consumed by his loneliness, he puts the books down - something about an ice breaker - and heads outside to follow you.

❁ ❁ ❁

But earth can be a lonely place. At least hell will welcome you with warmth.

❁ ❁ ❁

You didn’t lie. You were at the store. But now that you’re treading on the small path towards the grey cemetery walls, James feels the fear spread through his body like a slow and painful death.

He’s hiding behind the trees closing around the park, watching you as you halt before a simple headstone. He can feel your mourning deep within his heart, tugging, yanking, pulling on the tiny strings that sting so effectively. His temple leans against the rough bark as his eyes trace your slow movements. You place a small bouquet of flowers on the soil before the engraved letters, resting your forehead on the gold stone.

He can’t see it completely, but he knows you’re crying. You always do. Everything within him screams to reach out to you, to hold you and sway you until the world feels less taunting, but he knows how difficult it could make things.

So, instead, he remains hidden, a silent sentinel in the shadows bearing witness to your sorrow from afar. He feels the weight of your tears as if they were his own, each drop a dagger to his soul and a reminder of the distance that separates him from you.

And yet, even in the midst of your pain, there is a flicker of something else - resilience, determination, a quiet strength that refuses to be extinguished. It’s a testament to your spirit, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you both.

As you linger before the headstone, lost in your memories and your grief, James feels a surge of admiration swell within him. Despite the pain you carry, you continue to preserve.

“It’s really a shame you never have the balls to comfort her.” A voice whispers in his ear and James shoots around to be met with a redhead whose eyes stare daringly up at him. “Then again... I guess it would be kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

“What are you doing here, Wanda?” All angels are made weary of Lucifer’s spawn. They are vicious and manipulating, carrying the pits of hell to places that least expect them and watch it all go up in flames as they stand laughing on the sidelines.

James knows the demon standing before him. More than once have their paths crossed throughout time, but he is surprised to see her every time anew. He refuses to show any sign of weakness in her presence, knowing that to do so would only invite further manipulation.

Wanda chuckles darkly, her laughter echoing through the trees. “Oh, nothing much,” she muses with a wicked grin, pacing around James to take a closer look at him. “Just though I’d remind you of what you’re missing out on by playing the good little guardian angel. But who knows... maybe one of these days, you’ll finally grow a spine and take what you want.”

James clenches his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Wanda’s relentless provocation. He knows better than to let her under his skin, but the demon’s words cut deep, striking at the heart of his insecurities. He feels the surge of frustration rising within him as his fists clench by his sides, the weight of his silver cuffs pressing against his wrists like chains. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I can’t”

Wanda’s gaze narrows as her arms cross in front of her chest. “Can’t or won’t?” She counters, her voice tingling with an unspoken dare.

James hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I... I don't know," he admits finally. "But it doesn't matter. My duty lies with heaven, with protecting her. I can’t do that when I’m lost in the in-between.”

Wanda's eyes glitter with amusement as she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them with an unnerving grace. "And what if heaven isn't where you belong?" she whispers in a seductive purr as her fingers flick against his cuffs. The sound travels through the trees, making you turn and look around you. "What if your heart longs for something more, something... forbidden?"

A shiver runs down his spine, a sudden realization dawning within James. For so long, he has clung to the safety of his celestial duties, fearing the consequences of straying from the path laid out before him. But now, as he stands face to face with the embodiment of temptation itself again, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heaven is not the place where he can truly flourish.

“I don’t trust you, Wanda.” He admits genuinely, though the possibility of her words holding truth gnaws on his very soul.

“You shouldn’t.” She smirks devilishly, eyes flashing in a short glimmer of red and evil. “There will be consequences to disobeying celestial rules. But you will never find out if a life free of them would be more fulfilling to you if you don’t try.” She winks, setting uncertainty free within him. “Find me when you have made the right choice.”

As he watches Wanda disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts, James knows that he is standing at a crossroads—one that would determine the course of his destiny for eternity. And though the path ahead is uncertain and fraught with peril, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within him, a whisper of possibility that promises a future filled with love, and happiness, and the chance to finally be as close to you as he has always wished for.

❁ ❁ ❁

The night has broken over your small town by now. James has made it back with a conflicted heart before you came home from your errands. He knows you notice his silence as he normally enjoys to talk a lot to you. But you don’t say anything.

He is just sitting quietly in the kitchen as he watches you make a cup of tea, wondering what it tastes like right before frowning at how scared he is to try a cup of hot water just because he doesn’t know what it would do to him.

Wanda’s words come back to the forefront of his mind and the unease she instilled within his heart right alongside it. He has been longing to reach out to you for so long, has wanted to touch and comfort you in so many ways his mind began to spin. Especially after days like this, when you went to visit your brother’s grave. You would be crying yourself to sleep tonight. And you would get up tomorrow, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and continue to live your life as if nothing happened. Because you are strong and resilient.

And James, even though he is finally present, is not able to offer you the solace you so desperately deserve.

At least he thought so.

His eyes wander to the silver cuffs around his arms, feeling the weight and letting the subtle clink of them seep into his skull. He has never questioned why or how the rules of heaven applied to him. He never even thought about the consequences of breaking them until he felt the need to protect you. He never really cared until you became the most important thing in his life.

Now, seeing the pain in your gaze, and feeling the guilt for being here, not soothing you gnaws on him, sending him back to a state in which he would kill to see you smile again. Free of fear and sorrow.

You bite your lip when you settle on the chair across from his. Your eyes look dull, but James can’t help but think there is a question posed within them. Something desperate and restricted. Oh, how he would love to know what you’re trying to say. He is just too inexperienced with human interaction that he can get a read on everything just yet.

James feels his heart picking up, knowing it beats in the same rhythm as yours, but he doesn’t dare speak, knowing his voice will betray him. Your tea cup is empty, your eyes tired, and he knows that this evening with you will end within seconds.

“Good night, James.” You finally say, following the small ritual you have established with him as you wave at him weakly.

Normally, he says it back. Normally, he guides you to the bedroom and closes your door promising to watch over you in silence. Normally, he doesn’t have a demon’s words ringing in his ears.

But today, something feels different. As you gather your things and head towards your bedroom, a sudden surge of determination courses through him. He can't bear the thought of being separated from you, even for a moment longer.

With a sense of reckless abandon, and the words of Wanda hanging in his mind James makes a daring decision. Ignoring the warnings echoing in his every being, he reaches out to you, his touch barely grazing your shoulder as you turn to leave.

In that fleeting moment of contact, something shifts. A spark ignites between you, a connection so powerful and undeniable that it defies explanation. Time seems to slow as you both freeze, caught in the throes of a bond that transcends the boundaries of heaven and earth.

For a heartbeat, everything hangs in the balance, the air crackling with electricity. And then ...nothing happens.

There is no rush of wind and light that makes him disappear, leaving behind only the echo of his presence lingering in the empty space between. There is nothing else welcoming him in wrath or absolute nothingness or whatever is supposed to happen if a celestial ever dared to touch a mortal.

He opens his eyes that he had shut tight without noticing. And you’re still here. In front of him, staring at his hand that is softly wrapped around your wrist. His mind is struggling to make sense of what just happened - or rather what didn’t. It was all a hoax.

James feels rage bubble within him. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet stillness of the room, touching. He counts yet another reason why heaven was never where he belonged.

A single tear rolls down his cheek when he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you tightly. His heart beats violently, pumping the anger of knowing how much time he wasted not being close to you through his body. His wings follow close behind, sealing you into his warmth and creating a space just for you and him. It’s as if you are made for him. Your body tugs perfectly beneath his feathery white wings and he knows he’ll hold you like this for eternity.

❁ ❁ ❁

He’s touching you.

James is touching you. No, actually, he’s consuming you with his whole being, pulling you into the best hug you have ever received. His wings wrap around you protectively, engulfing you into his scent entirely. It’s earthy, and clean, and... heavenly.

You chuckle slightly as your cheek presses to his chest, your head barely reaching his collar bone, but it just makes you feel enclosed by his presence from all around. You heart beats just as rapidly as his and you exhale in content as you realize that you’re not the only one feeling this connection.

You don’t know what changed. Maybe you are not as good as hiding your sadness as you think you are. Or maybe there is a whole other reason behind this angel guarding you into the most loving hug you have ever experienced. But fact is, you needed it today more than ever.

And James knew ...because he strangely knows so much about you. He feels familiar without trying and it is a weirdly comforting thing to experience. Especially after all you have been through.

Hesitantly, and almost sorrowfully, you pull away from his warm chest. His wings loosen around you, his arms leaving just enough space for you to lean back and stare into those azure blue eyes of his. He’s beautiful up close. Long lashes frame his loving stare as his mouth tugs into a smile, taking yours right with it.

“You touched me.” You say in awe as James’s eyebrows slightly raise. “You thought I didn’t notice, but I did.”

There is a steak silence as his gaze travels over your face then roams his arms that are still holding you tightly close to him. “Should I not be touching you?” He asks carefully.

You can feel his hands retreating but you pull him right in before they’re gone. “I was just wondering when you would.” You snuggle back into his shirt and his hands cradle your head to him. “Is it embarrassing to say I’ve wanted you to do it for a while now?”

“Not embarrassing at all.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “I’ve wanted to do it even before then. I just didn’t know if I could.” The last part is a mere whisper that dissipates in your hair when his mouth presses to it in a feather light brush.

A rush of warmth floods through you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of belonging you've never known before. Time seems to stand still, the world falling away until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in each other's arms.

"You've wanted to touch me?" you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them, a confession born of the unspoken longing that has lingered between you for far too long.

James's gaze softens, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of your cheek as he meets your eyes with a look of quiet intensity. "More than you could ever know," he replies. "But I feared the consequences.”

“What consequences?” James shakes his head as his thumb still lingers on your skin.

“I don’t know.” You reach up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you search his eyes again. It was stupid of you to assume he didn’t touch you because he didn’t like you. He was probably scared of what would happen if angels ever dared. The look in his deep blues tells you how worried he was. How long he withheld for the sake of dodging the unknown.

“It’s not bad, is it?” You hand travels across his chest, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. “Touching.”

James's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding against his chest as he gazes down at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. And once again, you would love to know what is happening inside his brain.

With a trembling hand, James cups your face in his palm, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. You cant help but feel that there is something keeping him from you, still.

“Let me stay with you tonight, my beloved.” His fingers tighten around your face ever so slightly. “Let me hold you and keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” You ask in a trance as your fingers bury in his hair and you play with the thought of pressing your lips to his. But he has taken so long to hug you. You don’t want him to be overwhelmed.

“Anything.” He whispers back and closes his eyes. A whole new warmth consumes you when his words seep in, blanketing you in cherish and admiration. If this is what being appreciated feels like, you will fight to keep the feeling forever.

“Okay.”

❁ ❁ ❁

Oh how much the celestials have lied. Flying is nothing compared to this.

❁ ❁ ❁

As you bustle about the diner, taking orders and refilling coffee mugs with practiced ease, Peggy sits at her usual spot at the counter, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watches you work.

"Something on your mind, Peggy?" you ask with a smile, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of a hungry customer.

Peggy leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I couldn't help but notice that smile of yours, dear," she says with a knowing wink. "It's positively radiant today. Dare I say, it's almost as if you've got a secret?"

You chuckle, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at her observation. “Hmm, I don’t know,” you reply coyly, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of your lips as you tab your finger against them. “What makes you think I’d share it with you?”

“Well, I am a loyal customer for one...” She pauses as she thinks of another point. “And I am old enough to think the secret dies with me." Peggy presses, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Please, you know the entire town.” You laugh and Peggy waves her hand dismissively, though there is a proud smirk on her red lips.

Before she can respond, a voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and tinged with bitterness. "What's all this about smiles and secrets?”

You turn to see Old Lee leaning against the counter with a grim expression. His worn-down straw hat flops over his eyes, making him look even more grumpy than usual.

"It's nothing, Stan," you reply, trying to defuse the tension with a forced smile. "Just some friendly banter."

Old Lee’s eyes narrow slightly. "Friendly banter, huh? You're squawking like a bunch of chickens in a henhouse."

Peggy rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Stan's attitude. "Oh, hush up, Stan," she scolds, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Can't you see we're having a moment here? This is girl talk. Go and drink your tea like the grumpy old man you are.”

Old Lee shakes his head in response but wisely chooses to turn back to his drink. “We all know how the last time she came in here with a smile that big turned out.” Old Lee grumbles searching your eyes once more. “The frogs're telling me we’ll have another rain comin’ soon. You better be careful, sweetheart.”

You share a conspiratorial look with Peggy, either of you not sure wether to believe him or not. Stan is not one for sappy love stories, but he certainly hits the nail on the head with his predictions every time. His bold hint towards the last big death this town suffered glides off his tongue like a Sunday prayer and it ripples down your spine in ice-cold peaks.

“That is in the past. Right now, I really am hoping we are talking about the charming gentleman I talked to the other week. He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as Old Lee huffs into his cup.

She winks back at you and the smile returns to your lips, along with the giddy feeling you get when James is called into your mind. But before you can respond, the diner door swings open, signaling the arrival of another customer and putting an end to your conversation—for now, at least.

❁ ❁ ❁

A noise calls from the back of your house right before the sun starts its journey in the sky. You don’t wake as James tries to stir carefully with his arms still holding you tightly. He was not sleeping - he doesn’t need sleep, but he still feels groggy from the warm and comforting night being ripped away with the sound.

It piques another time and now, James is sure, someone is trying to get inside. Within minutes he is out of bed, checking the window and then closing the door to your bedroom on his way to the back.

He is ready to protect you at all costs, eager to show you how much you mean to him, but when he sees a touch of white beyond the window and hears the familiar rustling of feathers that accompany it, it only takes him a second to realize who has come to intrude your peace.

Two men - angels - just as tall has James litter the kitchen once he opens the door and pulls them inside with both hands. Samuel, the one standing a little to the side, brushes his clothes off once he comes to a stand again, watching James with amusement and curiosity. “I see you haven’t changed much, James. A simple ‘hello’ would have been just fine.” He crosses his arms before his chest, his wings shaking the dowry rain from their feathers and right onto your kitchen floor.

“Why are you here?” His eyes search those of Steven - a friend of his but also an angel ranking higher than James ever will.

“You know why we’re here.” He steps closer once he has composed himself again. “You are testing the heavens.”

James huffs, feeling the anger rise inside him. If anything, heaven was testing him. So he goes on to ignore the blonde angel before him, willing his heart to calm at all the frustration accumulating at once. “Did you know it was a lie?” James starts instead. His voice is strained when he thinks of all the times he refrained from touching you just to keep you safe. “Just a way to keep us from initiating contact?”

Steven doesn’t say anything and Samuel’s stare meets that of James again. Steven shows little remorse, the pride on display now more than usual. The supposed betrayal James has caused is nothing to the sting boring into his soul by the very man standing in font of him. Steven is cold, distant - when he should be a friend.

“I should have known.” James shakes his head. “Your duties have always placed higher than your friendships.”

“That is because duties are the most valuable virtue God can give.” Steven finally says and his jaw ticks angrily.

James could never imagine being more loyal to a system placing as many restrains as heaven does. Not when he knows how good the real world can feel. How precious it is to smell flowers and hold the one you love in your arms well into the night.

“You came here with a mission, James. And since your fall, you have done nothing but frolic throughout this place with your very own human.” Samuel is eerily still behind the broad blonde spitting one accusation after the other. But James decides not to comment on it just yet.

“It is far more than that,” he rasps feeling the protectiveness flood his body.

“We know. That is why you are here in the first place.”

“What am I supposed to do, Steven?” James tries to keep his voice low, but his frustration is too great. Steven should be the one to understand better than anyone else. But he seems to have locked that part of him far away right now. “How can I amend a sin that is irreversible?!”

“Every sin can be amen-“ Steve’s eyebrows raise and Samuel’s eyes flickers from James and focuse behind him. That is when his heart beat picks up again. And as much as he loves you, he wishes with all his being that you are not standing behind him right now.

“Please, no.” He mutters and turns just to have you approach from the hallway with tired eyes.

“What is happening? Who are you?” Your voice sounds sleepy, a hand rubbing over your face before you find yourself by James’s side.

“Angels.” He bites his lips, contemplating for a moment but deciding that you deserve to hear what is happening in your own home. A home he hopes to be part of forever. Besides, with Steven here, there is no ending this conversation without confusing you more. “They want me to abandon you.” The bitterness is evident in his tone. But he regrets it as soon as he catches the stutter in your heart.

“What?” It’s all you say, but the way you do breaks his collected facade.

“James-“

“What do I have to loose, Steven?” his arms open wide. "They already cast me out. They took my freedom, they took it all.” His wings barely shake, just emphasizing his statement.

Steve steps closer, causing you to slightly shove yourself behind James, his arm reaching around you, just not touching yet. ”But there is still a chance to redeem yourself.”

“What if I don’t want it?” James bites back.

“Don’t act rash, James. Think about this.“

“I have.” Long and hard. Every night he holds you, he has enough time to do so. And he has come to the conclusion that nothing compares to having you this close to him... and only him.

“You know of the punishment placed for sinners who do not attempt to right their wrongs.” Steven is seething beneath the surface, James can tell. But he tries to stay professional. He can try all he wants. James has already made a decision.

“What is he talking about?” Your voice takes him back to your presence. Your hands sneak around his forearm and hand, to which his body responds like a reflex. His fingers squeeze yours, his body seeks the heat of yours. Samuel looks at the interaction curiously, Steven settles for a disapproving taunt.

“I lose my wings. I lose heaven.” James explains to you, watching as your eyes open wider in shock.

“What?” There is so much more behind your astound answer. What does this mean for us?

“James is banished from the heavens temporarily already.” Steven’s voice drips with authority, making you stiffen beside him. James hates it. And he doesn’t hate much.

“Why?” You’re too soft for this, too fragile to take another betrayal so soon. He has just gotten started and he already feels you drifting away. Your eyes are glassy when you turn to Steven. “What could have possibly been so bad that you ended up here?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Sam breaks his silence. The surprise is written all over his face just to be replaced by confusion when James utters his name in warning.

“Tell me.” It seems as though his eyes switch between everyone in the room, trying to warn them all of what will happen if they take his opportunity of telling you himself.

“James is not just any angel.”

“Steve, stop it.”

“He is your guardian angel.”

It all happens too fast. A look to Samuel tells him there is no ending this. Steven won’t stop until he has tried his all to have you turn from James.

“And he committed the worst sin of them all.” You look shocked and expectant. The grip on James’s hands grows tighter with every syllable leaving Steven’s mouth. And James is silently cursing the angel in front of him “He killed a man... for you.”

You stumble back and James catches you only to earn a warning glare from Steven and Samuel.

“Brock,” you whisper and it sounds like the single word has taken the entire air out of your system.

Lighting brightens your house over the stifled morning gleam and thunder sounds dangerously in the distance. You’re flinching, though searching James’s eyes as he steadies you back on your feet.

“You cant do this forever, James.”

“And what if I try?” He turns fully. “What if I would rather get myself killed than come back to heaven?”

“He wouldn’t” Steve is heaving, but Sam steps forward, Laying a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe his rage. “The soul bond affects her just as it does him.”

“What does that mean?” It’s barely a screech when you interrupt them again. Turning to James and tugging at his shirt, you convey the frustration of being kept in the dark through your features. “What does it mean, James?”

He sighs, shaking his head and then closing his eyes - hoping to escape this conversation. But it is happening. “It means, if I die... you will die, too. A soul need replace that of a guardian one.”

At this point, James questions his sanity. How could he have not realized the twisted ways of the celestial realm sooner? In an attempt to soothe both his aching head and your tired soul, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but your hands swat his arms away.

James recoils as if struck, the sting of rejection shattering his heart into thousands of pieces

“You might think it wise to revisit what we offered you, James.”

The words hang in the air like a dark omen when Steven and Samuel disappear. With a heavy heart, James turns away from you, unable to bear the weight of your disappointment any longer.

As you walk away, James is torn between the desire to comfort you and the fear of causing you further pain. But when he reaches out to touch you, once more, your tears are a silent testament to the rift that now lies between you.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice choked with emotion. It’s a desperate attempt to fix this, even if he does not know how.

“Go, James. Please. I need time to understand all this-”

“I can help you.”

“-alone. I want to be alone.” You swallow hard. “Leave, please.” Your tears finally spill and James despises that he is at fault of them.

“Go.”

Feeling more abandoned than ever, James leaves you to your grief, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his soul. In that moment, he realizes that the price of his newfound freedom may be greater than he ever imagined, leaving him trapped in a prison of his own making, forever haunted by the memory of the one he could never save.

He knows there are not many ways to fix this. But he is determined to find the one that will.

❁ ❁ ❁

He doesn’t remember earth to be quite this cold.

Find me when you have made the right choice. The words keep ringing in his head.

A little warmth would feel nice now.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were angry when you told James to leave. Angry, and hurt, and confused, and shocked, and fucking tired of it all.

But now that he is gone, an unfamiliar emptiness has taken its place where your tingles used to be. Everything makes so much sense now. The weirdly familiar feeling. The sense of security around him - a total stranger at the time, who obviously possessed more strength than you could ever imagine. The instant pull from his heart to yours.

The quiet of your house seems to close in on you. The walls feel tighter, the rooms emptier. Every corner holds a memory of James, a reminder of the presence that had once filled your life with warmth and mystery. His laugh echoing in the hallway, his silhouette framed in the morning light through the kitchen window, the way he seemed to know when you needed comfort before you even realized it yourself.

You sit at the table, staring at your untouched cup of coffee, replaying moments in your mind. The time he effortlessly carried your groceries when you insisted you could manage alone. The nights he stayed up with you, talking about everything and nothing, his voice soothing and familiar. The way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe.

The days seem endless without him. Simple tasks feel monumental in the absence of his reassuring presence. You find yourself hesitating before making decisions, second-guessing your choices, yearning for the silent support he always provided. The realization hits you: you had built your life around him, around the safety and stability he brought, even without knowing the full truth of who he was.

You cannot deny that a big part of you misses him despite all the lies he told you. Well, not lies entirely. You know he has always been truthful to you ...he just never told the whole truth until he was forced to.

And even though the other two angels who visited made him reveal his secrets to you, you feel like there is so much more to discover still.

Your hand settles over your heart, trying to pull the constant racing around James back into existence. But it beats in profound silence, acting as though nothing has happened, when - in fact - everything has changed. James came into your life and unapologetically took your heart away. You don’t want it back. You want him back. Heart or not, your souls are connected. And now that he is gone, you know what you have truly been missing all this time.

With a sigh, you rise form your chair and grab your keys, determined to find a way to help James out of the trouble he has caused because of you. A shiver runs down your spine at the memories of it all. James’s sin had good intentions, you know this much. But two people died at the time of it - though only one deserves your mourning.

You pull your door closed and make your way to town hall. The entire left wing of the building is dedicated to the library and you are destined to find out more about the man who crashed into your life and took your heart away... and then disappeared.

The library is quiet, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds that break the stillness. You approach the counter, where a librarian is meticulously organizing a stack of book. She looks up as you approach, her kind eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Hello, dear,” she says warmly. How can I help you today?”

You hesitate for a moment but then you decide to just start at the beginning. “I’m looking for some texts about angels,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “More specifically fallen angels... and the consequences of disobeying.”

The librarian raises an eyebrow and a look close to amusement and happiness reaches over her face. “That’s a rather specific topic,” she muses and your brow begins to sweat. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The woman is still eyeing you with a smolder, but then, as if you pushed a button, she shrugges and begins to type away on her computer. “Good thing it’s my job to get you exactly what you need.”

She nods slowly after a little while. “We do have some old texts and legends about angels. Let me show you.” With that, she lifts her body out of the office chair behind the desk and leads you to the far end of the library. It’s a quiet corner where the oldest books are kept. She pulls an ancient-looking leather-bound volume from a high shelf. For the place it has been kept, it is surprisingly dust-free.

With a smile, she hands it to you and then wishes you ‘happy hunting’.

The book is heavy in your hands. The front is embossed in golden letters. Your fingers trace over it, feeling every ridge and dip. ‘Legends of the Divine and Fallen’, the title reads.

When you flip through the pages, the book’s well-worn smell engulfs you and something inside you shifts. You brother loved old books. The one in your hand brings you right back to when you were kids. Pietro had a whole wall of shelves filled with his favorite stories. And more so than often, you snuck inside when he was out with his friends, grabbing one whose cover intrigued you the most and then getting lost in the pages until he came back and read it to you.

He sparked your interest in reading - made you the bookworm you are today. And finally, probably caused you to jump into this adventure with James in hopes of finally living inside on of your fantasy worlds.

You eyes get caught by a story in the book, your thumbs halting and fully opening the page as intrigue tingles in your entire body with every word you read.

The Tale of Buchariel: The Curious Angel

In the celestial realms, where light and harmony prevail, there existed an angel named Buchariel. Renowned for his loyalty and dedication, Buchariel was also marked by an insatiable curiosity. His yearning to understand the world beyond the heavenly gates set him apart from his brethren, who were content to serve without question.

One fateful day, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Buchariel descended to the mortal realm without divine permission. His eyes beheld the beauty and chaos of humanity, the joys and sorrows that defined their existence. It was in this realm, teeming with life and temptation, that Buchariel's fate took a dark turn.

As Buchariel wandered the earth, a demon of cunning and allure took notice of the angel's presence. This demon, skilled in the art of seduction, approached Buchariel with promises of forbidden knowledge and experiences that no celestial being had ever known. Blinded by his curiosity, Buchariel succumbed to the demon's temptations, engaging in acts that defied the sacred laws of the heavens.

Word of Buchariel's fall reached the celestial realm, and the angels were dispatched to retrieve their wayward brother. They arrived in time to save Buchariel from complete corruption, pulling him from the demon's grasp and returning him to the realm of light. However, the consequences of his actions could not be undone.

The celestial court declared Buchariel's punishment. He was stripped of his rank and given an ultimatum: he could return to heaven only if he vowed never to betray the divine will again. God, in His infinite mercy, offered Buchariel a chance at redemption. He was to serve as a guardian angel, watching over humanity and guiding them towards righteousness. In this duty, he could be close to the world, yet stay obedient to heaven.

Buchariel accepted his fate, grateful for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, the legend speaks of the angel's perpetual struggle. Constantly exposed to the allure of the mortal world, Buchariel walked a fine line between duty and desire. His heart, once pure and untainted, now carried the scars of his past transgressions.

Eons passed, and Buchariel's vigilance never wavered, but neither did the temptations. His soul remained in perpetual conflict, torn between his heavenly duty and the memories of earthly sensations. The legend warns that Buchariel's fall could occur once more, for the battle within him is eternal. He is an angel forever on the edge of sin, a guardian who knows the weight of temptation, and a being who understands the cost of free will.

Thus, the tale of Buchariel serves as both a caution and a beacon. It reminds all who hear it of the delicate balance between obedience and desire, and the endless journey towards redemption that even the most divine must undertake.

A chill runs down your spine as you realize the parallels between the legend and James. The delicate balance between obedience and desire - serving and sinning. James did sin again. When he killed the man who ended your brother’s life.

You sit in silence, the weight of your realization settling over you like a shroud. It’s clear that Jame’s story resembles that of Buchariel in too many ways to be a coincidence. He was weirdly comfortable on earth, now that you think about it. For Christ's sake he even told you he had met God ‘under rather unfortunate circumstances’. If what the legend says is true, unfortunate is the understatement of the century. Now you cant help but wonder what price he might pay for his defiance.

❁ ❁ ❁

The diner hums with its usual activity, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations fill the air. You move mechanically from table to table, refilling coffee cups and taking orders, but your mind is elsewhere, clouded with thoughts of James and the emptiness his absence has left behind.

Peggy, sitting at her usual spot at the counter, watches you with concern etched on her face. She waits until you pass by her with the coffee pot before speaking up.

"What's happened to that smile of yours, dear?" Peggy asks, her voice soft and maternal. "You used to light up this place."

You force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Just tired, Peggy. You know how it is."

Peggy's eyes narrow, not buying your excuse for a second. "Tired, my foot. Something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."

Before you can respond, Scott chimes in with a smirk. "At least now I know you’re back to normal," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you were gonna float away with all that grinning you were doing."

You shoot Scott a glare, feeling a mix of irritation and sadness. "Thanks, Scott. Really helpful."

“Always at your service” He tips his nonexistent hat, almost bringing a chuckle up within you. In his own way, he never faisl to cheer you up a little.

Peggy waves a dismissive hand at Scott and turns her full attention back to you. "Don't mind him, honey.” She leans in closer, her expression softening. "But seriously, what's going on? I haven't seen you this down in a while."

You sigh, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "It's complicated, Peggy. Someone important to me... well, they're not around anymore. And it's just... hard."

Peggy reaches out and pats your hand gently. “We all miss Pietro, dear. Losing someone is never easy... especially after all you’ve been through.”

You nod, grateful for her kindness, but the ache in your chest remains. You can't bring yourself to tell her it’s not your brother you are mourning at this time. "I appreciate that."

The hustle and bustle of the diner continues around you, but for a brief moment, you feel a small measure of comfort in Peggy's concern.

As you turn to refill another customer's coffee, Peggy's words linger in your mind. Maybe opening up a bit more wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the burden could help ease the pain of James's absence, even if only a little. But who should you talk to? The only person you were every really close with is gone...

❁ ❁ ❁

Yet another day passes in which you worry yourself tired. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence pressing in on you as you move through the rooms like a ghost. You try to distract yourself with chores and routines, but your thoughts always circle back to James. Wondering if he’s safe or thinking about you.

You sink into the worn armchair by the window, your favorite spot to watch the world outside. But tonight, the familiar view brings no comfort. The sky is a dark canvas, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the loneliness wrap around you like a suffocating blanket as Old Lee’s words echo in your mind once again.

A quiet sob calls into the empty room - barely audible. And then the tears start falling down your face in constant streams. The memory of his touch, his warmth, his presence, feels like a distant dream. You close your eyes, trying to recall the feeling of James's arms around you, the sound of his heartbeat against yours. It's a comfort and a torment all at once.

You haven’t cried like this since Pietro died... No, actually, you did when the message of Brock’s death reached you. But those were tears of relief rather than pain.

A sudden chill sweeps through the room, at the memory of the man who tormented your life in more ways than one. You open your eyes, frowning as you notice that it’s not only the thought of Brock making you feel this way. The air seems to crackle with an otherworldly energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you feel a strange pull, a familiar yet eerie sensation that makes your heart race.

You stand up slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. The room feels alive with a palpable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is shifting. You turn around, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

And then you see him.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands before you, his presence both startling and comforting, he notes as your herts sync again. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. You look as if you've been through a storm, yet there is a resolute strength in your gaze that anchors him. He probably doesn’t look much better, considering he in fact has been in said storm. But he’d do anything to come back to you.

"James," you breathe, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're here.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. "I’m here," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and unshared moments.

You reach out, your hand trembling as it touches his cheek, as if verifying that he is real and not another figment of your imagination. Your skin is cold and the sensation sends a flood of emotions through him.

"Where have you been?" you ask, your voice cracking with the weight of your worry.

“It is a long story," he replies, his hand covering yours. "But right now, all that matters is that I'm here. With you.”

In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all that exists is the space between you and James. The silence is filled with unspoken promises and the electric charge of a reunion long overdue.

When you fall into his arms crying, his knees feel like giving out. He has had a long journey behind him, but he would die before showing you weakness when you need him the most. “I thought I would never see you again!” You cry even harder and James wraps his arms around you with loving pressure.

“I’m here,” he tries to soothe you. His wings come around you once again in search for the calmness that washes over him when he realizes you feel safe.

“I don’t think I can do without you anymore.” Your voice is muffled against his chest but his heart leaps at your confession. Warmth spreads throughout his body as the realization hits that you finally feel close to the emotions he has harbored for you for so long.

James wants to promise you that he’ll never leave again. He wants to tell you that there is nothing worth losing you. Not the most tempting offer to ever exist. He wants to hold you forever, in fact, do more than just hold you and give into the feeling he has only ever heard about from demons and sinners.

But he can’t. Because he knows it would not be true.

His feud with heaven is far from over. And the journey he plans to venture holds great unknown. So, he settles for the one thing he can tell you with certainty.

“I cannot be without you, either, my beloved. There is so much I want to experience with you but the most important of them all is love. I love you, with my entire soul and heart. I cannot deny you this truth any longer. I have done the unspeakable because of it and you deserve to know.”

You eyes look up at him widely, a question in them that has waited long enough to be asked. “Brock’s death wasn’t an accident,” you whisper, but your posture remains steady. There is no pain or sorrow in your face. Just pure, plain curiosity.

“They told me he was mugged and thrown in the river. But it never made sense to me.” You pull a little out of his touch and James lets you even though his entire body screams to keep you close. “This town is too small to be mugged in. He was killed with a single stab to his heart. A mugger would never be so efficient.”

You gleam at him, seemingly waiting for him to confirm. But James stands in your presence with a sense of pride. He does not regret is transgression, not when it meant keeping you safe - which was and still is his greatest aim.

“The way he was found was too peaceful to be from a robbery, either.” You tell him shaking your head. “How can you make a murder look so respectful and honest?”

“I am sorry if I have upset you, dearest-“

“You haven’t. Brock Rumlow was a bad man. It took me a long time to notice, but he was abusing and ill-driven. If anything, I am upset I couldn’t thank you sooner that he is gone.”

“I had played with the though of removing him from the face of the earth for quite some time,” James confesses, feeling all the secret’s weight rolling off him like avalanches. “From the moment he first screamed at you... to the time he laid his hands on you. But I knew you were strong. I was so proud of you for getting up each day and moving on. I would have never acted had he not hurt you in a way even i could feel throught the very bond that ties our souls together. I knew you could handle the hurtful words, even the hurtful touches - that no-one, and especially not you, deserves. Your brother is of similar cunning as myself. But he was brave enough to act while I was fearing the consequences of testing celestial rule once more.”

James catches the new tears rushing down your cheeks. But he wont stop telling you. He knows you need to hear it. It hurts him to revisit the memory of watching Pietro die in his quest to secure your freedom. “I was trying to honor you brother as much as ensure your safety when I... killed Brock.” He clears his throat and takes your hands in his. “He would have continued to hurt every person he encountered. I do not regret what I did.”

“Oh, James.” Your hands reach up to his face. James bows down to follow the tug you apply to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. I am not angry. And despite what the other angels said, I know you are a good person. I love you, too.”

You smile as James’s hands cover yours on his face. Your foreheads are touching and the room around you fades into nothingness. In this moment in time, there are just you and him, and all the new feeling bubbling inside him that he his eager to explore.

He’s known it for long, but now he is certain than going back to heaven was never an option. Not when you are still here.

“I would love to kiss you right now,” you whisper in the space between you, igniting a heat within James he has never felt before.

“I would like that very much,” he confesses and as soon as the words leave his lips, yours are firmly pressed against his.

The sensation is overwhelming. Your lips are soft and warm, moving against his in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hands still press yours to his skin, unsure what to do and overwhelmed with the experience opened to him. You gently take them and move then to your waist, then a little lower, making him trace the curve of your body as your tongue slowly slips between his lips. The contact sends a surge of electricity through him, making his heart race.

The kiss is tentative at first, each of you exploring this new and wondrous connection. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if afraid he might vanish with this daring protest against heaven. He can feel the gentle tremor in your touch, the same mixture of awe and desire that he feels within himself.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. Your breath mingles with his, cheeks heated and lips swollen. “Move your hands, James,” you whisper, guiding his hands to slide even lower on your body, teaching him how to hold you close, even though he thought he has always done so right. This is different. This is more.

He follows your lead, fingers trembling with the intensity of the moment as they squeeze flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from you that makes James’s insides stir. Or maybe it is not his insides after all, he notices when his pants feel tighter all of a sudden.

Each brush of your lips against his, each caress, speaks of the longing and love that has been building between you for so long. James deepens the kiss, more confident now, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and it’s as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and you smile, voice breathless. “You’re doing great.”

The kiss becomes more fervent, your guidance helping James navigate this new territory. He feels like he’s pouring all his love and devotion into this one act, wanting to convey everything he’s never been able to say. His wings reach round you tentatively, leaving enough air for you to breathe. He want’s to be wrapped up in you more - he cannot explain it.

James pulls back slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “This... this is incredible,” he murmurs in a voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Neither have I.”

Your lips find each other again, more urgent this time, as if you’re making up for lost time - at least James is. The demon who lured him down the first time failed to mention this part of humanity to him.

“I want to show you more,” you finally whisper against his skin and at this point, James is willing to walk the sun if you asked him to.

“Everything,” he rasps, his lips touching you with every syllable. He cannot get enough of your taste. “Show it all to me, my love.”

“I want to start with taking off our clothes.” You kiss him again, making Jame’s pants feel even tighter. He knows about sex and he knows it is what you are hinting at. But he has never experienced it. It is no use to angels, since they cannot impregnate another. In heaven, it is rarely talked about - and if it is, one is warned about it.

Right now, James does not care why. He is eager to experience as much as there is on earth with you and then some. So, he lets you guide his hands over your shoulders, shrugging your cardigan off your body and letting his fingers glide beneath the thin straps adorning your shoulders now.

His hands are so big compared to yours. He marvels in the fact of how much stronger he is, making him able to protect you that much better.

James has no difficulty guiding the clothes from your body. Nakedness is something barely acknowledged where he comes from. But today... something about it feels different. This situation feels so much more intimate than it usually does. And he notices, when you kneel down to pull his pants down, his cock stands proud from his body, bigger than usual, and hard and- “Oh!” sensitive, he notes when your lips kiss his hip, your face slightly grazing his member in the action.

With your head next to it, it looks disproportionately huge, but you don’t seem to mind.

“This... I have never done this before.” James’s hands guide you back up to him. He is certain his cheeks are glowing red by now. He feels hot and bothered, yet so yearning for more of the teasing your face provided for mere seconds before.

“Are you okay with continuing?” Your eyes find his again.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good.” And when he nods, you take his hand and lead him down the hall to your bedroom.

He has missed this place, missed holding you for the time he went away, but he can't tell you where he has been just yet. Not now, anyway. Right now, he wants to experience whatever you are willing to show him.

You walk around him, touching him all over, watching him react and making him lean down only to pull back before his lips can get a taste of yours again. It’s beautiful agony and James is torn between pulling you into his strong grip and letting you wind him up until his balls feel like they are the ones squeezed tightly. They already are...

Eventually, you come to a stop behind him. He jolts when you fingers drive over the top of his wings, only for you to mumble a quick ‘sorry’ and coming back around in front of him.

“Don’t be sorry. I was just not expecting it.”

You stare past him and at the white feathers protruding from his back. “They are so soft... and pretty.” You find his eyes. “All of you is pretty.”

He reaches for your face, finding pride in the way you nestle into his palm with a smile. “And dear, you are the most beautiful being the world has ever seen.”

“Can I touch them again?” You whisper only for James to now stare in awe.

He watches as your hands pass his body in slow-motion. They travel past his ribs and reach carefully towards his wings again. This time, he is prepared, though his stomach feels tight with something opposite of worry. More of a physical feeling he can't begin to explain. He closes his eyes and lets your touch travel over them like a prayer. Your path leaves shivers in its wake and James lets his head hang, reveling in the feeling. He opens his eyes and watches his cock twitch whenever the tingles get too much.

He gasps breathlessly when you graze the underside of his wings, making his whole body jump slightly.

“Oh, are those sensitive?” You smile in awe, though your expression turns to excitement when he wheezes out his answer.

“Very.”

“Do you like it?”

Your fingers glide over the same spot again, making his cock leak, feeling like he’s about to explode. “Yes!” He grabs the sideboard next to him.

“I want to make you feel good, James” your voice is damp agains this ear and he bites his tongue before bursting.

“You already do.”

“I want to make it even better.”

James is not sure he can handle better. He’s already floating miles above the ground when you touch him in the ways you do. Maybe he has to distract himself to enjoy this some more.

He could think about why heaven would withhold education of how amazing sex can be. That will make him calm a little, posting yet another reason why it was never the place to be for him.

Your hands wrap around his silver wrists as you guide him to the bed, pushing down on his shoulders until he is sat on the mattress, looking up at you with intrigue and awe.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to ride you, James.” You straddle his lap and his arms immediately reach around you.

“Ride ...me? I’m not a horse.” He states and watches as your smile lights up. But it settles a weary feeling in his stomach. There is a hint of mischief in your glint, and James is not sure he can handle it right now.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my entire soul.”

You kiss him and push at his chest. “The lie back for me.”

And so he does, realizing - once again - that anything heaven could offer him pales in comparison to the love he feels for you, a love that knows no bounds or logic and that is reciprocated in your every touch.

James watches as you scoot up his body until you are sat right behind his cock, which has not ceased to soften one bit since you kissed. It reaches all the way to your navel. But before he can take in the sight and calculate the size difference between you, you press him against your stomach, pulling another moan from his lunges.

His tip is leaking more and more with every touch you gift him and James starts to worry his body will give out before he can make you feel good.

“You’re so big, so pretty.” You stroke him from base to top, letting your thumb press into the underside of his cock and send shiver after shiver through James’s body. “I need you inside me.”

“I need that to.” His voice is strangled when you lift up and grind his tip through your wet folds, moaning with the friction he can only assume is the same for you as it is for him.

In a swift motion, the head of his cock sinks inside you, breaching tight muscle and making him feel dizzy with the new sensation. Your head falls back with a loud breath that makes his abs tighten. This whole time, he feels as though a gust of wind could make him unravel, but something inside him tells James he should hold out - or at least try to.

The raspy sounds escaping his throat cant seem to stop when you slowly work yourself all the way down his shaft. And the high-pitched scream you set free when his tip reaches another barrier within you makes him twitch and leak even more.

��Are you alright?” He asks through sweaty brows.

“I’m amazing.” You smile and lift yourself up only to sink back down into his lap. Your movements become steady, and when he finally gets over the way your mouth hangs slack, the rhythm you set builds even more pressure inside him.

The room is filled with messy sounds of skin and sweat and moans and heavy breaths. You sink down on him again and again until James feels like he is on fire. But you don’t relent. Your pace never falters when you fall back and your hands grip his thighs, digging into his muscles until his toes curl.

It’s too much at once and not enough at the same time. James feels as though there is a cliff he could fall over every second now, but he’s too scared to loose the sensations he is experiencing right now to let his body do so.

“Touch me,” you suddenly say, taking his hands which have fisted inside your duvet until now and placing them on the soft flesh of your breasts. Only now, your nipples are hardened when you guide his fingers over them. “Like this.” You’re somehow fare gone and right there with him. But he does as he his told again, flicking his thumb over the pebbled flesh until your moans grow higher and higher. “Ah, Yes!”

It’s doing something to him, he his twitching every time your pussy squeezes him in tandem with his thumb on your nipples. His body is moving without the permission of his mind when he suddenly thrusts up. And then again. And again. Until you are mewling and crying on top of him, your fingernails digging into his legs painfully hard.

James immediately drops his hands only to watch you stare at him with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter. Why did you stop?”

He bites his lips in shame when he realizes he misses your constant movement on his cock. “Am I hurting you?”

You eyes possibly widen further. Leaning forward and capturing his cheeks with both lips and hands, you shake your head after you pull away. “No! No, its a good thing, love. You feel so good. You...” Your expression changes to a rather shy one. “You’re just very big. You should be proud.”

Something inside James clicks as you confess with another kiss to his lips. A smirk spreads beneath them when he curiously thrusts up inside you and experiences your hot breath gains his face.

In a second, his hands grab onto your hips, his body turns and flips the pair of you until your back hits the mattress as gently as he can offer in his compromised position.

A last look of reassurance when your eyes lock with his set off the urges he has suppressed so far. His hips snap forward over and over again, your pussy tightening more around him with every push. Your hands are fist into the covers, head thrown back and mouth open. There is no more sound coming from you at this point. And James understands why. He is as overwhelmed with the feeling as you look. When you grow even tighter, gripping this cock until he cannot move anymore, white pleasure as hot as hellfire rushes through his body, kissing his nerves from head to toe. He feels his balls empty as he paints your inside with his spent, only being able to lazily rut into you after a minute to seize every last drop of pleasure this moment has to offer.

Then he falls forward as if a higher force has taken all the strength from his body, though careful not to hurt you when his weight settles on top of you.

“What-“ he needs to catch his breath first. “What was that?”

“That,” you open your eyes, chest having with every deep breath, “was an orgasm.” Your hands brush through his hair and James finds himself purring at the touch. “And it was the best one I’ve ever had.”

You kiss him and chuckle when he looks at you questioningly. “I guess you could say it was outer-worldly... or even heavenly.”

James rolls his eyes but can’t stop the laugh from slipping his lunges. He pulls back and watches as his softened cock leaves your pussy, only to be followed by your mixed arousal dripping out of you.

Trance-like, his hand moves to collect the fluid and begins to smear it over your petals, up into the soft tuft above it. He knows angels cannot impregnate other beings, but he is fascinated by the scene in front of him. It’s like a little testimony when he marks you all around the best place he has ever experienced, wordlessly rubbing and enjoying the whimpering sounds you make when he flicks over a particular spot.

“Is this sensitive?” He teases with a smirk only to be met with a playful smack on his arm.

“Very.” you say. “But I am entirely satisfied as of right now.”

James sighs and falls into the sheets beside you. “Me too.” He nuzzles into your neck and pulls you closer to his body. He does not care that you are sticky with sweat or that neither of you are cleaned up. He just needs to hold you now that reality has taken its place back around him again.

“So, you have been watching over me for - what? All my life?”

James hides the chuckle bubbling up his throat at your sudden question. He still has his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching up and down his forearms. It makes him tingly.

“All your life, yes.”

“And have you ever meddled with other things that were supposed to happen to me?”

“Do you remember the year in which you kept finding pineapples in arbitrary places?”

It’s silent for a moment, but your movements don’t falter. “I always thought that was a weird coincidence.”

James smiles into the crook of your neck. “Consider it my way of adding a little excitement to your life. And maybe a small attempt to make you notice me.”

You push yourself up slightly and rest on your elbows as you look at James. “I like you like this.” You smile.

“Like what?” He’s smiling as well.”

“Less angel, more...” Your hand comes up to gesture at nothing in particular. “...deviant.”

The smile on James’s face turns into a proud grin before he leans up to kiss you tenderly, savoring the moment and pushing away the thought that has been gnawing on him ever since he came back.

He holds you until you fall asleep, purposefully missing the opportunity to tell you what he has gotten himself into while he was away.

❁ ❁ ❁

James stands in the garden, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. He’s out here to retrieve a bouquet of your favorite flowers, smiling like a fool because he finally has what he always wished for. All his mishaps and seem worth it when he holds you in his arms at night.

The flowers are vibrant and alive, and he bends to pick them with a sense of purpose, each blossom a token of his affection. Even as the first raindrops start to fall, his joy is undiminished. The rain doesn’t bother him; it’s a minor inconvenience compared to the happiness he’s found with you.

As he moves through the garden, he thinks of the moments you’ve shared—the way your eyes light up when you see him, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, the way you writhe beneath him in she sheets. For the first time in his existence, he feels complete.

James clutches the bouquet and heads back toward the house, eager to see the surprise on your face when he presents you with the flowers.

But before he can pass the threshold, an eery feeling spreads though is soul, a shadow falls over him but vanishes just as soon. He scans the yard, his sight nestling through the trees at the very edge of it and then suddenly halting when he sees Wanda leaning against one at the very far corner of your property. Her presence is like a dark cloud on the horizon, a stark contrast to the bright joy he feels. Her red eyes glint with a knowing look, and her lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down his spine.

“Are you not coming inside, James? The weather will only get worse.” You shout through the house only to appear behind him to inspect what is keeping him outside.

But James’s stare is fixated on the demon in your yard, his protective instincts setting in immediately, scanning his surroundings while keeping a close eye on Wanda.

“What is going on?” You ask and reach your arms around him from the side. He can sense you’re eyeing him but he knows you see what he is seeing when your entire body grows rigid beside him.

“Who is that?” you whisper into James’s shoulder as you step even closer to him, your voice barely audible over the increasing patter of rain. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to shield you from the inevitable storm brewing. A quick look at your state tells him he should have send you inside. But It is too late for that now.

When his head turns back into the direction of the demon, it is no longer in its prior place. Instead, Wanda has moved across the garden with impeccable speed, looking up at the pair of you a few feet alway from the step leading to your porch.

“You promised me time to explore the likes of this life.” His voice is low and intimidating, though he knows its futile in the face of a demon. They are scared of very little.

“And explored you have,” her red hair falls over her shoulder when her head ticks to the side. “Tell me, Bucharius, is it worth the cost?”

The demon knows of the leverage it has on him. James was sure he would follow through with his request from the start. But he forgot, or maybe just hoped, the devil’s spawn would gift him more time until he had to go and seal the contract.

“You know it is,” he pushes though clenched teeth, hating how your fingers clamp around his arm already.

“Actually, I don’t. But I would be an idiot to refuse an offer such as yours.” Wanda clasps her long fingers together and grins with evil. “Oh, I will have so much fun with your soul once the time comes.”

The angel closes his eyes tightly, hating the way the demon pressures him to leave so soon. But it is for the greater good, for him at least. He need’s to be selfish for once - to be able to spend a lifetime providing whatever you desire.

“Just give me a moment, Wanda,” James says, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head. He knows his flicker of happiness is about to be shattered, but he wants to hold onto it for just a little longer.

“What is happening? What does she want?” There are tears brimming in your eyes and James decides he has seen them far too many times to be a good guardian to you. It just secures his decision to do what Wanda came to collect him for.

James presses his lips to the crown of your head before gently tilting it upward with his fingers. His gaze is steady, exuding a confidence while you desperately cling to him in your confusion.

“I’m not sure I can handle all this newfound angelic drama,” you mutter with unease, and James kisses you—short and sweet, a fleeting moment of peace.

Then he whispers against your lips, “Please, you handle drama like a queen. Remember that time you dealt with Valentina from accounting?” His attempt at humor brings a small smile to your face, and he momentarily loses himself in the warmth and security it provides.

But the feeling doesn’t last long.

“James has made a deal with the devil,” Wanda grins, her red eyes flashing with malevolent glee.

Her words send shivers over your body, James feels the ripples pass beneath his fingertips. You pull away from your guardian angel, whose troubles have now escalated to an unthinkable level.

“What does she mean, James?”

❁ ❁ ❁

James’s silence is deafening. You pray, you beg, for this to be a terrible joke, but deep down, you know it’s not.

“James.” Your words are strained, desperate for answers, desperate for reassurance. “What is she talking about?”

“It is true,” James finally admits, his eyes free of sorrow but filled with determination. “I have made a deal with Lucifer. My wings for a mortal life. My soul when it leaves my deceased body after spending a lifetime with you.”

“What?” The word is a whisper, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his confession. Because your cheeks feel salty and stained before you realize what James has just told you. “Why are you doing this?” you ask through your tears.

“Because I’d give up heaven if it meant being with you.” James’s eyes burn into yours, the rain dripping off his wet face deceivingly. His voice is steady, unwavering. “I’d go to hell a thousand times over until my soul burns to ashes if it meant I get to hold you one more time. You’re everything to me. Everything.”

Another wave of shivers slip over your skin with the way he presses the last word. His eyes are fiery, almost desperate. He is trying to make you understand how much better this decision is, but you fail to see how it can. “You can’t do this. You are destined for more. There are many more to come after me that need protecting and watching over.”

“And there have been plenty before you, yet none of them have or will ever compare, my love.” He touches your cheek, but you push his hand away. Your heart is already aching when you watch his face fall at the gesture. But you are not made for these types of dilemmas. You are human for fuck’s sake. “I would spend eternity regretting not experiencing life with you. I am tired of watching; I am over feeling the distance between us. Going back to heaven means finding you someone else to love. And I cannot do that. It would destroy me, burn me alive, rip my heart out of my chest.”

“James, think about this.” Now the first angry tear slips from his face and mixes with he rain which has grown heavier. Dark clouds cast over the scene, matching the mood perfectly. Dreary and sad - how poetic.

“I have. For far too long. I will never feel truly fulfilled until I can be what you need me to be: a real, tangible person that grows old with you.”

You shake your head, your hair sticking to your skin. “You have to believe me when I tell you that I exist only for you. My life was dull before you entered it, and it will feel like a black hole when you leave. There is nothing—nothing—I wouldn’t do to be with you.”

Never before have words felt more genuine than this. James is hunched forward, his eyes pleading at you from above. A sneaky hand has captured yours and presses it to his chest, where his heart is beating vigorously against your skin.

Resignation laces your voice when you finally answer him. “So you’re just going to leave now? For how long? What if he tricked you?”

You don’t know much about all the rules but one thing is for sure, the devil likes to play and deceive. Just the thought of James walking into a trap makes your stomach churn.

“Then it was worth it.” There is something akin to content and fulfillment in Jame’s stare when his hand squeezes yours and his heartbeat slows. Though your’s seems to do the opposite.

“No.” You say breathlessly.

“I’m sorry," he answers, and wraps your fingers around the bouquet in his hands.

“James.”

“I love you.”

“James.”

The rain intensifies, pounding the earth as if mirroring the turmoil in your heart. James turns and lets Wanda put him in chains, leading him away. You fall to your knees, crying, the three words you have yet to say hanging on your lips for nobody to hear. He’s gone. He’s gone without the knowledge of ever seeing you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

And just like that it ends like it began: in tragedy… and rain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Maybe you are just not cut out for happiness, you think as you wipe down the counter with a frown. The sun is shining today, almost mocking your bad mood with every chirping of birds outside. Earlier today, you were so angry about the reflection blinding you inside that you shut the blinds completely.

James has been gone for a week now and you already feel like breaking down over what you’ve lost whenever something is mentioned that reminds you of him.

A few days ago, after a really rough night, you swore you’d never let anyone this close to you. It’s the perfect start for you villain origin story, really. Losing your brother to an abusive ex. Losing said abusive ex thanks to a protective angel. Then falling in love with the angel only for him to go to hell for loving you back.

You heart cannot take another hit. It’s constantly breaking as you think about the torture and pain James is probably suffering in the pits of hell. There is just no more room for another person, another worry, or anything else, really.

You will just die an old and groggy lady, likely still cleaning this very counter until you cant anymore. The whole town is going to know you as the weird woman with seventy two cats.

You shake at the thought of it, disposing of your towel and grabbings some plates from the counter to clean up some more.

“New customer is yours, freaking weirdo has been standing outside the window and looking inside like some kind of stalker,” Scott mumbles as he paces by you with his head buried in his phone screen.

You just sigh and throw a used napkin into the trash before loading the dirty plates onto a kitchen tray.

“I’d like a sandwich, please.” A voice sounds from behind you and your entire body goes rigid.

It can’t be. It cant. For days you have been wishing for James to come back, now you are finally becoming crazy.

But your heart picks up its familiar sprint and your entire body tingles with hope. Still, you don’t dare to turn around.

“Are you not going to look at me, dearest?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the edge of the counter. What if it’s real? What if it’s not? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each second stretching into an eternity. You’ve dreamed of this moment, but dreams are fickle things, easily shattered by the harsh light of reality.

“James...” The name slips out in a whisper, a plea, a hope. Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, bracing yourself for the worst.

You take a deep breath and finally turn around. Truly, there he stands in front of you, with a bright and gleaming grin on his lips. There is one thing you notice immediately: the silver cuffs on his arms are gone. And he looks oddly free without them.

Almost trance-like, you round the counter, your had reaches out to him, touching his jaw, gliding down the length of his neck until your fingertips disappear into the soft curls in the back of it.

“Is it really you?” You whisper in awe as you start to drown in the familiar blue of his eyes. And when James covers your hand with his, squeezing his reassuring sequence to your bones, you know. It’s real.

“In the ...flesh.” he frowns but then smiles widely.

“What happened when you were gone?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, but James just shakes his head and then turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“Not here, love. Take me home... if you’ll have me. Take me back. I promise no more secrets from now on.”

You just nod vigorously, finally pulling James into your embrace. The worry raging inside you fades into insignificance, eclipsed by the certainty that in this moment, you’ve regained something intently more powerful - a bond that defies explanation, but feels undeniably perfect.

“I will always choose you over anything else, James.” You nuzzle into his chest as you ravel in the warmth of his body and the security of his touch. His heart is singing the same song as yours and his head hangs low atop yours, pressing meaningful kisses to your hairline between every stroke of his hand on your back.

The diner around you might as well not exist. All that matters is this connection between you - the bond that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth.

“But tell me one thing,” you whisper into his shirt and James moves to better hear your low voice.

“I will tell you anything,” he presses into another kiss on your face, still holding you close.

“Are you... did the-“ you’re not sure how to assemble the questions inside your mind without being bold. But James seems to know exactly what it is you want to say.

He takes both his hands from around you and guides your face to his until his warm lips press a meaningful kiss to yours. “Yes,” he murmurs softly, yet steadily, conveying just enough seriousness to let you know how important and truthful his answer is. “I did what I promised. I am yours until the end of my life, and even beyond, my soul will be seeking yours for eternity. But until then, we will grow old together and finally be what we were meant to.”

His lips latch onto yours a second time and as the kiss deepens, a sense of completeness washes over you. In James’s arms, you find the solace and passion you have been yearning for, a promise of love that transcends all else.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me.” You smile back between kisses.

James pulls you even closer, his voice a gentle murmur against your lips. “We have a lifetime to show each other.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a bustling diner and the warmth of his embrace, you know that no matter the trials ahead, this love will endure, defying all boundaries and transcending every limit.

❁ ❁ ❁

Because at last, there’s noting more freeing than falling itself.

Lord, can we take a second and appreciate these images???!! Got me on my knees - and not for praying, I'll tell you this much...

Hello, loves. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you had fun! Maybe... juuuust maybe if you want to, you could leave a comment or reblog on this post. New fics will be on hiatus until August, I have some real life work to finish. But please feel free to interact and talk to me. I love hearing from you! Take care, and ill talk to you as soon as I can. ~Meg 💗

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st7rnioioss · 8 months

Text

✧ ﾟ୨ৎ* the elevator game

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt calms you down while you're both filming with sam and colby at a haunted hotel

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: fluff, kissing, swearing, mentions of ghost and paranormal stuff like that

a/n: hi lovelies💕 CAN WE TALK AB MATT IN SAM AND COLBYS NEW VIDEO, HELLO?? took inspo from that to write this😇😇. anyways, it’s currently 1:58am and i am BORED. still sick as fuck😪 ILY ALL SM🤍

───────── 🐇

“I’ll go with Matt,” you say, throwing a hand up.

“Oh, let’s go!” Sam and Colby exclaims in unison, dragging out the o’s, making you smile shyly.

“Okay, now calm down. Let’s go Matt,” you say calmly, pushing Matt inside the elevator.

You and Matt were going to different floors in the hotel, the one before the last, supposedly being the one where a “ghost/spirit lady” should step in and join you guys. Matt was going to do it alone, but you decided to join him.

“Guys please don’t make out on camera,” Nick shrugs, making everyone laugh.

“Yeah yeah, whatever Nick,” Matt rolls his eyes at him, waving bye as the elevator slowly shuts.

“Goodbye everyone! Please remember me if I pass!” you wave with a giggle.

“Say the thing, Matt,” Sam added quickly before the doors shut.

“Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that, but hey. See you guys later!” Matt said as the elevator shut fully, smiling at you. He watched you tap on the button “4”, the first floor you were going to.

“Alright guys, first floor is the 4th one. You nervous?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. A bit, this is not like anything I’ve ever done before,” you chuckled nervously. Matt then reached a hand out to hold yours.

“It’ll be fine, I promise you,” he smiled as he turned the camera to show you push “2”, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Fuck, it scares me that the elevator door chooses a pace to go. Like, sometimes it’s fast, sometimes it’s slow,” he smiled as the door closed from the second floor.

“Yeah me too, it freaks me the fuck out,” you laughed.

“Okay, sixth floor now!” you added, pressing the button in front of you.

As you guys reached the 5th floor where a “lady” was supposed to walk in, Matt felt you tense up a bit. He reached out for you to wrap an arm around your shoulder, hitting the “1” button.

“You’ll be fine, okay? I’m right here,” he whispered for only you to hear, reassuringly rubbing your shoulder. You just shot him a quick smile as you felt the elevator slowly drop.

“Okay so, that thing has not been going off this entire time,” Matt said, pointing the camera to the device on the floor of the elevator.

“I’m literally shaking, this elevator is freaking me out,” you laughed nervously, referring to the loud creaking from the old lift. Matt looked down at you to press a kiss to the top of your head while giggled.

“We’ll be fine, don’t worry,”

The elevator finally reached the first floor where the rest of the group were, Matt dropping his arm from your shoulder to hold your hand instead.

“That’s all!” he smiled, pulling you out of the elevator.

“How was it? Did that thing go off?” Nick asked excitedly. You turned to look Matt for a second, before turning back to the group.

“No, not really. And we didn’t smell any flowers or roses either. But the elevator itself is scary as fuck,” you laughed, everyone joining you.

“Alright, we’re heading to the stinky room 525, to do the estes method!” Colby declared, turning back to face the elevator. He took the camera from Matt, who then handed it to Sam.

“You alright?” Matt whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, following the others into the elevator.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you smiled at him, pulling his hand up to kiss it. He giggled in response, Chris and Nick rolling their eyes at you both.

“I really do not hope you guys just made out in this elevator. On camera, for FIFTEEN minutes straight,” Chris laughed, earning a chuckled from the rest of you.

“Chill out dude, we didn’t. But, oh trust me, I tried to behave, I was holding back,” Matt teased, poking your cheek making you blush like crazy. This made him smile, pressing a gently kiss to your forehead.

“You guys should be glad we aren’t recording,” Nick laughed loudly, talking to Sam and Colby, who were both laughing.

a/n: kinda rushed if you couldn’t tell🤡

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo fanfic

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skeletondeerart · 2 years

Text

You’re One of Us Now.

Sully Family x GN!Reader (platonic) | Word Count: 1816 Words

Tw: Minor mention of Self Harm.

Written before the release of Avatar: The Way of Water, some facts may be inaccurate.

Synopsis: Having grown up in the confines of the RDA, you plan to fake your death on a data collection expedition to become one with the Pandoran jungle, yet you stumble across an unlikely family of Na’vi who take you in as one of their own.

The reader is seventeen.

Pandora was all I had ever known, having grown up in the RDA’s base I understood the dangers of the world outside. Yet despite this I yearned for the embrace of the forest, yearned to live as one of the people, to leave humanity behind and forge a new life among the Omaticaya.

But I was a soldier, a weapon of war against my will… and I wanted out.

Yet for now I have to pose as a perfect cog in the machine. I conform to Quaritch’s rules to earn the privilege to be selected for intel expedition. Whist being a soldier, I was exceptional in navigation and botany. I hoped that my skills would put me as a candidate for the upcoming expedition in three days.

Standing at attention on the training grounds Quaritch marched back and forth eyeing us all off. He was more imposing than ever, the towering Navi body he embodied was enough to strike fear into even the toughest of men.

“All right ladies and gentlemen, in light of last expeditions failure in attempting to gather subsequent data of neurotoxins used by the Omaticaya, it has resulted in the loss of five of your fellow soldiers.”

My breath was caught in my throat as Quaritch listed off the names of the next team, that was until the final candidate was called, it was my own. I held in my smile as I knew it was my only chance of getting out of the program.

After being sent back to my room, I lay down on my cot and watch the raindrops dribble down the windowpane, I watch the wind sway the trees and animals call out into the night as the as I finalise my plan to escape under the noses of my squad.

Before I knew it, I was wearing the oxygen mask and prepped with my botany data collection devices. Stepping out of the pressure lock we march single file out of the gates and into the wilderness. My squad and I marched for what felt like hours before we reached a zone reading high levels of toxicity, as the five of us spread around the location collecting data on the flora I call out.

“I’m heading North-west as I see a specimen not yet recorded on the data bank.” My squad not even rearing their heads from their specimens made noises of understanding, one even calling out to “Watch out for the locals”.

Treading carefully, I come to a stop once I was sure I was out of sight before preparing my diversion. Taking my pocket knife out I slashed at the tress nearby mimicking the claw marks of a Thanator and spraying Thanator scents around the area. I then nicked my hands and smeared my blood around the scene, kicking the dirt around to mimic a struggle and my data devices leaving them strewn across the ground.

With a last bitter smile, I took the blade to my uniform and sawing off the crest of the RDA and leaving it as the scene. I then ran off into the unknown leaving my old life behind, blissful tears accumulating in my mask as I free myself from the shackles of humanity and let my mind and soul become one with the forests of Pandora.

I ran until my legs gave in as I collapse into a field of plush grass and I gaze up at my surrounds, trees loom over me shielding me from the light rains that wash over the lands. That’s when I heard a gasp and scampering nearby. My head darts to my left as I watch carefully for movement. That’s when I see her, a young Omaticayian girl crouched and almost invisible against the bioluminescence of the forest she dwells in.

“Hi, I won’t hurt you, I’m not with them.” I call as I see her eyes dilate and ears twitch with recognition of my words.

“Your human.” The Na’vi states yet remains hidden.

“Indeed I am.” I smile gently but I make no indication of moving as not to frighten the girl away.

After a moment of reflection, the Na’vi stands and walks towards me apprehensively, she towers over my sitting form as I gaze upwards. She points to herself.

“I’m Kiri, and you?”

“I’m (Y/n)”

“-(Y/n), what a strange name” Kiri mutters to herself but I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at her words. Her eyes dart back to mine from my sudden noise. Kiri’s wide eyes trail down my figure, as if she was analysing me for any threat.

“KIRI, WHERE DID YOU GO?!” A man’s voice calls in Na’vi tongue from deeper in the forest.

“COMING FATHER!” Kiri calls back as she races towards the forest line, that was until her Father beat her there alongside two young boys trailing close behind, his eyes scan her form for injury as his eyes observe his surroundings… until his gaze lands on me. I sit there petrified of the look in his eyes.

Weariness and protective.

My breath catches in my throat, even if I wanted to run I couldn’t, it was like I was paralysed. He pulled Kiri behind him as the younger boys peeked out from behind their Father.

“Who are you and what are you doing this far in the Omaticaya’s lands” He spoke in fluent English.

“My name is (Y/n) (L/n), I was a soldier and botanist, I’ve abandoned the RDA to dedicate my heart to the forest and everything living within it.” I spoke with complete resolution despite my heart thumping in fear of what he would do to me.

He approached me as I remained sitting in fear that he would strike me down if I moved an inch. I gazed upon his imposing figure as his dreadlocks framed his stern eyes that flickered over my body.

His face contorted in a scowl once he spotted my pocket knife nestled in my boot. My gaze follows it, my gaze widened as I came to this realisation.

“Here.” I spoke curtly as I pulled the knife out and handing it to him keeping it closed. He took it and caught sight my wound on the palm of my hand.

“Your injured.” He spoke his tone softening as he gathered that I wasn’t a threat to his kin.

“Self-inflicted.”

His eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be a hint of concern. I elaborated.

“I had to fake my death to escape… I used my blood to mimic a Thanator attack.”

“I see.” He said. He mulled over his thoughts for a moment before continuing.

“I’m Jake Sully. These are my some of kids, Kiri, Neteyam and Lo’ak.” He introduced gesturing behind him.

Kiri smiled back at me as she stuck up a little thumbs up in approval.

“So why did you leave the RDA (Y/n).”

I let out a sigh as my mind flashed back to my childhood within the RDA as I spoke carefully.

“I- I was born in the base, confined to its walls for years before being forged into a soldier. Yet despite this I always had a passion for botany – plants – I had yearned to be able to freely explore the forest and grew an appreciation for the Na’vi through the data files… I never thought I fit in… I felt like an outcast.” I took another breath to calm myself, “I understand if you want to kill me due to my affiliation, and I won’t hold any resentment to you or your people if you so decide.”

“Come.” Jake stated and offered me a hand. I accepted it without a second thought, my hand only wrapping around two of his fingers. Jake pulled me to my feet and proceeded to lead me deeper into to forest. Neteyam – I came to learn who was the oldest of the boys – spoke to me in curt English.

“Hello, I am Neteyam. You are short.” He stated, he seemed quite proud of himself for speaking to me. I smiled gently at his attempt of communicating with me.

“Hello Neteyam, I’m (Y/n). Nice to meet you. You are correct I am short.” I replied.

“I’m Lo’ak!” The shorter boy piped up. “I’m great at speaking Sky People language.”

“English Lo’ak. These Human’s speak English.” Jake corrected from his position from the front. Neteyam laughed and gave his younger brother a punch to the arm, which resulted in a yelp from Lo’ak. Jake spun around at the noise and glared at Neteyam as he deducted what happened.

“Apologise Neteyam.” Jake spoke in Na’vi.

“What!” Neteyam exclaimed.

“Now –” Jake growled baring his teeth. With a stutter Neteyam apologised picking at his fingers.

“S-sorryyy Lo’akkkk –” Neteyam apologised as he continued walking.

We soon reached a point where Jake motioned Kiri, Neteyam and Lo’ak to begin their accent up into the trees, they fly up the trunk with ease. Jake looked at me as I gape as how far the climb is. He then bent down and motioned me to climb onto his back. I gently pull myself onto his back careful not to bump his queue. We quickly reach the top and I see an intricately woven home nestled into the trees canopy. Standing on the edge of the home is Kiri, Neteyam, Lo’ak, an older Omaticayian woman I figured was their Mother with a small child in her arms… and a human boy.

“Neytiri, Spider, Tuktiery, I’m home” Jake called as he carefully slid me off his back. I nervously hide behind Jake at the look Neytiri was giving us.

“Jake why is there a human on your back.” She hissed in Na’vi.

“I can explain ‘Tiri.”

“Explain what? that you brought another human into our home.” My eyes widened as I try and quell the tremors of her wrath. The toddler – I assumed was Tuktiery – began to whine in her Mother’s arms as the commotion.

“They are not one of them, I can sense they are good, please trust me!” Jake begged his lover.

Neytiri glared down at me and let out a sigh.

“One chance Jake, one.” Neytiri caved.

“Thank you, my love.” Jake turned to me with a smile.

“You’re one of us now” He smiled his gaze falling down to my wound again. “Let’s get you cleaned up now.” Jake offered as he grabbed some medicinal berries, I had never seen in the data files before. My eyes shone and he crushed them into a paste and applied it before wrapping it in cloth. As he finished tying the knot Jake looked down to me and smiled softly.

“Your safe here, I understand what’s it’s like to not fit in.” He whispered for only me to hear.

“You were from the Avatar program weren’t you.” I stated in a whisper.

Jake could only smile knowingly at my statement.

“Welcome to the family.”

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romanarose · 1 year

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If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 1

Javier Peña x sex worker!informant!Reader/OC x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javier has his ladies, and you are one of his favorites. When he gets a new partner to take down Lorea, a man 10 years younger than him, Javi suggests the boy let off some steam with a prosititute, Javi was not expecting Santi to find his favorite girl.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around darkt hemes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair, might be considered Latina coded but given it's a fic taking place in Colombia that much can be gleaned anyway.

4.1K Words. Plenty of perspective shifts from reader javi and santi. When told from javi and santis pov it’s third person and reader is referred to as she/her and candy

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When Javier came inside you, it was quicker than usual. He must be on a time crunch. Not that you were complaining, Javier had gotten you off and that was more than most clients did, seeing as they were paying for their orgasm, not yours. It was only fair, it’s not like you were in this business for fun, you were trying to survive.

And survive you had! You’d done better for yourself than many of your fellow prostitutes, able to get out of a brothel where you were pimped out by shitty men who took more than their fair share of your money and a little side action for themselves. You’d saved up enough money to rent an apartment where you could do your own business for yourself and answer to no man except the ones who paid for your time. Being beautiful helped in this business, absolutely, but there were no lack of pretty girls, many of the workers on the streets and in brothels were plain or just ugly. It didn’t matter to the men who were just looking for a 5 minute fuck. Where your skills came was the inter-person. Sex, for most people anyway, was better when there was a connection of some sort; even those big scary drug lords like many of those you serviced liked to feel human connection, needed to know you wouldn’t laugh at them for their weird kinks, and sometimes just wanted to talk.

That is, you suspected, is why Javier Peña fucked you instead of the other girls around. Well, he definitely fucked other girls. But you got a good chunk of his time.

“Damn, Javi,” You laugh as he sets you down from where he had you up against the wall. “Only one position this time? You getting old?”

He laughs, breathless, making sure you were steady on your feet before he walked over to his pants. “Definitely old, but that’s not why. Gotta be up early to meet my new partner.” Javier, dark and gorgeous and a man of few words, yanked up his pants loose over his petite hips and pulled his pack of cigs and lit it before tossing them in your direction. You didn’t smoke a lot, but cigarettes after sex with Javi always hit just right.

“Good luck with that. You’ve ran off the last 6.” Javi wasn’t the nicest man in the DEA, you knew; he wasn’t exactly loved and people weren’t jumping to work with him. Well, men weren’t anyway.

A few years ago, he had a partner, Steve, and the two had gotten along damn well. Since then, Javi’s been going through partners like crazy. In the years since Pablo Escabar’s fall, cocaine has not stopped. You’d know, given that you’d partook just last weekend at an event.

“He’s gonna be the worst yet, I just know it.” Javi grumbled before taking a long drag and sitting on the couch where you joined him, legs propped up over his. “Some fresh-faced dumbass kid that’s never seen what the world is like outside his moms tits.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. You’d never do that with other clients; they needed to feel important, listened to. Javier didn’t care about that. “How old?”

“25.”

You laugh right in his face. “25 is hardly a kid, my brother had seen it all by the time he was 15!”

“Yeah, that’s because your family-” He stopped, looking to you before deciding better than to complete that sentence. “Never mind,” Javi muttered.

“Smart boy.”

Javier Peña wouldn’t describe himself as hard to work with.

Others would, however.

Sometimes they took issue with his womanizing, but Javier contested this, saying he always paid the women more than fair, never seduced married women, never pressured or coerced.

He simply paid women for what they had, and instead of them spending the night with some asshole who wanted a quick fuck, someone who might hurt them, or an otherwise unpleasant night, they got to spend it with him. Not that Javi thought he was hot shit, but at least he could treat the girl right, make them cum. Additionally, he watched out for the women he slept with. Not all were his informants, but all of them could call him if they were in trouble.

The rest of them just couldn’t do what it took and couldn’t fire back what Javi shot out, not like Steve. Asshole. Asshole for leaving him.

This kid was going to be no better, but at least he could speak spanish.

He hoped.

Last name was Garcia, but those American’s often can’t speak their mother tongue, especially if they are third generation.

The boy that walked in was already annoying him with his stupid mustache. Javi’s mustache wasn’t stupid, let’s get that straight. He looked good in a mustache. This kid looked stupid.

“Agent Garcia, nice to meet you.” The boy looked nervous as he reached a hand out to him.

“I’m not calling you that.” Great start, Javier. Great start.

“Oh. Uhhhh…”

“I’m Javi.”

“Santi, I guess.”

Santi looked a little deflated, he was probably looking forward to being called ‘Agent Garcia’, and Javi only felt a little bad. He remembered being that fresh-faced kid, so he threw him a bone. Javier leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “What brought you out here, Garcia?”

He brightened up just a bit at being referred to by his last name at least. “Just got out of the military, special ops.” He said proudly. “Wanted to come back to my mom’s home country, make a difference.”

Interesting bit of lore, there, and Javi couldn’t decide if it made him like the kid more or not. One one hand, the comment about his mom with a twinkle in his eye was endearing, but just showed that naivete he had. On the other, being in special ops was no small accomplishment and he was certain Santi had seen at least his fair share of death.

“No woman keeping you down?”

“No sir,” he stood with his hands clasped tight behind his back as if Javi was his drill sergeant. “My work doesn’t leave much time for that sort of thing.”

Javi wondered briefly if he was a virgin, he’s met a few military types who were into their later years, but decided it was none of his business.

That didn’t last long.

Santi did fine. It was fine. Better than fine, actually, and after a few months the DA was less irritated with Javi running off men and put the pair on a case; something he hadn’t had since Escobar. Gabriel Martin Lorea was someone who had made one hell of a name for himself in recent years, many considering him a successor to Escabar, but Lorea had yet to dip his toes into politics the way his predecessor had, and Lorea would never be too powerful without is fingers in the pockets off government and lobbyists and media. Maybe he just didn’t have the charm Escabar had, the ability to manipulate and sway… Gabriel Lorea was, from all accounts, handsome, but, according to the women Javi slept with and absolutely not Javi himself, too handsome to gain people's trust.

Javi didn’t hate Santi, he did good work and had skills to match, but christ the boy was optimistic, he tended to believe the best in people and that had gotten them into some problems as well, but nothing so much that Javier had taken issues with the kid, not when Santi was able to get them out of there alive.

It was nice, honestly, to have someone he could talk to just a little bit. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t gotten lonely, and it took a lot for Javier to swallow his pride and call Steve, but luckily Steve took mercy and just called him once a month or so.

Thing was, sometimes Santi got a little pent up, his polite and calm demeanor slipping and taking it out of Javi usually.

“Jesus, Garcia, what’s up with you?”

Santi had snapped at Javi over a joke Javi made about Santi putting sugar in his coffee. He had a guilty look as soon as he was chastised, looking like a caught kid.

“Sorry, Javi…”

“Oh come on” He ruffled the young man’s curls before Santi shoved him away to smooth them down again. “What’s on your mind, someone play with your Flash Gordon action figures?”

“You have no idea what kids play with, do you?”

Javier just cocked an eyebrow at him, and Santi continued.

“Just been stressed is all.”

Thinking back to their first conversation, Javi wondered when the last time Santi got some was. He was a good looking guy, that was just obvious, didn’t have to be gay to figure that out, and he had a good job. There was no reason he couldn’t get a one night stand, a girlfriend, or a damn wife if he wanted. Santiago was kind, empathetic, and the nice smile that women would fall head over heels for; Santi doesn’t see how the girls swoon over him, even Colleen who was well over Javier’s antics.

“When was the last time you got your dick wet.”

Santi’s coffee went everywhere, staining his cream colored shirt and the nice slacks he refused to trade in for jeans like Javier did.

“W- I- WHAT?!”

He was laughing so hard, Javi couldn’t fucking get a reply out for a minuet, every time Javi looked over to Santi, covered in coffee and eyes wide in horror, he kept laughing more. When he finally calmed down, Javi tossed over some napkins. “Sex, Santi. Sex. It’s normal we all do it. Or maybe you don’t, which is why I’m asking.”

Santiago wouldn’t look at him, shuffling a bit as he tried to dab himself clean. “Well… well it maybe- it might have… it might have been a while.”

“Garcia.” Javier turned to face Santi, attempting to catch his eye. “Man. How long’s it been? A few months? Since you came here.”

He muttered something, and at first Javi wasn’t sure he heard right.

“What was that?”

“Three years?”

Javi about spit out his own coffee after that. Three years? Javier didn’t like going more than three days!

“Are you kidding me?”

“Oh fuck off.” Santi was none too pleased with the prodding, but Javi followed after him, teasing his way down the hall. “It’s gotta be for lack of trying, isn’t it?”

“Go away!”

“Pretty boy like you, all you gotta do is walk down to a bar and ladies will be throwing themselves at you!”

“Fuck off!”

“You could just do it the old fashioned way.”

Santi stopped, turning on a heel so fast Javi crashed into him, too distracted by his goading.

“What does that mean?”

“Hire a woman. Or a man. Or a few, I don’t pass judgment.” He smirked, knowing the teasing was working.

A look of disgust crossed his face, youthful features crinkling. “A prostitute?” He was whispering.

“Yeah Garcia, a PROSTITUTE.” An intentional shout to embarrass the blushing virgin. “It’s not a dirty word, amigo.”

Santi’s eyes went wide at Javi’s emphasis, looking around to see if he had been caught. “How are you so casual?” He still spoke quietly.

Undisturbed, Javi once again leaned against a wall, shrugging. “World’s oldest profession. Nothing dirty about it. Well, if you’re using condoms, anyway.” He smirks.

It took a minute for Santi to process what he had just said. “You mean… You…” He couldn’t say it outloud.

Javi’s laugh was loud and boisterous. “Hired hookers? Yeah, of course I have.”

“I figured you could just… um… well, pick up women.”

There was a swell of pride to Javi’s words that the man thought that much of him. “I can, trust me. But to woo a woman, to find someone that wants you, trusts you enough, is enthusiastically willing… It's a long game, sometimes. A game I am more than willing to play, sometimes; I do enjoy willing a girl over, watching her open up for me, blossom… hmmmm…” He got a little distracted, words wandering off.

“I get the picture.” He said with a grimace.

“Well, the point is, if I’m doing that, I’m doing it right. Taking my time. With hookers, I just gotta pay ‘em. Don’t worry, I make sure they enjoy their time too” Javi winked, eliciting a gag from Santi before they both went back to work.

A worm had been planted in Santi’s head, that was for sure. His dry spell and overall lack of experience in general was more for lack of trying than anything else. In the army, he was so career oriented, signing up for an initial 3 year term at 17 right out of high school, and quickly working his way up. When the time came to enlist for 7 years or quit and have a civilian life he never knew, the choice was easy, especially when he was promised a spot on an special ops team with his best friend.

For 5 years he saw all the beauty and horror the world had to offer him, and was so focused on his career, so intent on making his way to general, nothing else in the world mattered. Not gambling, not women, not drugs or alcohol or any of the vices his brothers-in-arms surrounded themselves with. He’s seen his fair share of war, having of course been sent to Vietnam a few times, but his team wasn’t meant to die in a field in bloody masses like how the US government saw the poor teenagers they sent off to die in the war, they upheld: special, different, better. Santi didn’t feel better, that’s for sure. He certainly didn’t feel good watching people die on either side, nor did it make him feel special when he learned of the horrors mnn in camps would inflict on the local villagers just trying to survive. It didn’t make him feel special when Santi tried to tell his commander, Redfly, what was going on with the other men, what they were doing, and Redfly crushed him off as spoils of war… So he, Catfish, Benny and Ironhead became more and more secluded, unable to put an end to what was happening and only able to stop what they actually knew about. That’s why the four of them were so close, he supposed.

But they were never there for long. The army spent too many resources on them to put a gun in their hand and leave them to die in the jungle, no, they had no covert operations, things the CIA didn’t want out. By the end of things, Santi had dealings with Russia, Cuba, Korea, Germany, China, Japan, Chile, anywhere there was a whisper of communism that the powers that be decided were more important than everyone starving in the US, Santiago Garcia was there.

He put up with it, because he needed to, because he was going to work his way up, get in positions of power. He wouldn’t be like Tom and let rape run rampant in his men. He would keep moving up, and change things for the better. He wanted to help people.

In the end, getting shot in the neck was a good thing.

They thought he was done for, Tom telling the others to just leave him when he was shot and bleeding out but Ironhead lifted Santo over his shoulders and carried him out of the warzone himself. In the end, after hours of surgery, Santi lived, although he was never the same physically. He was honorably discharged, him and Ironhead meteled up for their silence, and with that Santi, or Pope as he’d been called was sent on his way.

“Are you able to tell me where you’re at?” Santi spoke over the phone. His old teammate, Catfish, had called him. Santi couldn’t really call any of them, he never knew where they were. Sometimes they didn’t either.

“No, sorry.”

“Not even a clue?”

“Pope, you know these phone calls are all monitored.”

“Yeah I know.”

There was a long silence. There often was, between them. When Ben called, he happily chattered away on the other line. When it was Will, there was always good back and forth. With Frank, however, his oldest friend, there was often silence, but it was always comfortable. They enjoyed just existing with each other. Frankie was a troubled man himself, and part of the reason Santi went where he went. He knew, in the end, Frank made his own choices, but a part of him held a personal anger towards the drug trade for what it sucked his friend into.

“Frank, you ever… hire a prostitute?”

Another pause. “Sometimes. You?”

“No. My partner suggested it, he said I was a little.. Uptight.”

Frankie laughed at that, and unlike Javi he didn’t feel like he was being laughed at. Frankie never laughed at you, only with. “Yeah, sounds like you.”

“Hey now.”

Frankie thought for a minute. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. Even Will went a few times.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, even the man of steel needs some love’n. I got the notion it was more time with his face between their legs and talking than anything else. I think he was mostly lonely.”

“You hire a hooker just for company? Seems dumb.”

“You hire a woman to listen to you, compliment you, let you feel some human connection, a feminine touch for once. Getting your rocks off is just a bonus.”

“So you think I should?”

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you to blow money on what you could probably get for free. I’ll just say… buy a condom.”

“Lot of condom talk these days.”

“Yeah, lack of condom talk is how I ended up with your goddaughter.”

“Wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

How does one go about finding a prostitute? It was like drugs… you kinda just needed to know someone already, or maybe run into them on the street.

Or maybe you steal your partner’s contact list.

Javi wasn’t subtle, that was for sure, and he had a whole separate section just for prostitutes… classless, that man. Santi flipped through the name, looking at the assortment of addresses and numbers as his heart thrummed against his chest. If he was being honest, he probably could just asked Javi for a recommendation, but he’d never get through the humiliation of it all, and Javi would never drop the subject. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly. It wasn’t like the names had pictures next to them and Javi wasn’t quit crass enough to put “Lupe, 28, hot, big tits, no ass, dick sucking 7/10”, to Santi’s slight surprise. Maybe he remembered each of them, their best and worst traits. Maybe it didn’t matter as long as he got off…

Santi flipped through to the end, then flipped back. Then through again and back again until he was starting to feel like this was a bad idea. Just pick one, dumbass. he told himself. Go in, cum, get out. He continued his downward spiral of self loathing and insecurity until he decided to just open the book and write down the first name he saw.

Candy.

When Santi stood at the door, waiting to knock until exactly 9:00 PM, he was debating turning around. She sounded nice enough on the phone, a voice that put him at ease, but now facing the door… he wanted to run.

And he almost did. Actually, he tried too,turning around and ready to make a break for it when the door opened.

“Diego?”

Oh yeah. The fake name he had given her. Santi turned around. She was beautiful, stunning even, with dark red lipstick complimenting your reflection. He wondered how she was supposed to give a blowjob with lipstick like that. Did she give blowjobs? Did prostitutes have stuff they didn’t do? Of course they do, pendejo, they’re people too. Santi’s shame at his own inner monologue must have translated to his face, guilt that what he was… what was the word his sister used? Objectifying? Was he making her out to be a thing for his pleasure instead of a woman? Was he part of the problem? His older sister had made him read a few feminist theory books back in the day. She didn’t want him growing up to be a bastard like their dad. Did his dad ever hire prostitutes?

“Are you a cop?” She said, snapping Santi out of his daze.

“Uh….” Fuck. He could lie, couldn’t he? Did she know? He looked down at his clothes to check he wasn’t wearing his badge or anything. Smooth move. “No?” Great job.”

You cross your arms and cock and eyebrow. “Then you gotta proposition me, Diego.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If I say it and you’re wearing a wire, I go to jail again and I doubt my friend can pull strings a 4th time, so. You make the proposition and then you can’t charge me, since it’s entrapment.”

Santi briefly wondered where she learned this, but when the weight of her words struck, he found himself with a new problem. “You… you want me too…”

A small smile crept up her face, causing her lips to twitch. “You can say it, you’re a big boy. Or at least out here you are. You wanna be babied in there,” She nods inside her room. “Well, that’s no one’s business.” Punctuating the sentence with a wink, she waits for him.

Everything felt warm all of a sudden, his mouth dry and thick and he almost couldn’t do it… but the way she looked right now… he needed her.

“Do you… want to… have sex?”

“For?”

Now he was confused. “For?

“Yeah, what am I exchanging the sex for, because you might be handsome, but it sure isn’t love. Yet.” Another wink.

“Oh! Uh… do you want to have sex… for… money?”

Santi watched as all her features relaxed, a bright smile illuminating her face and the whole room along with it. “Perfect! It sounds fucking stupid, I know, but I need to get it out of the way with new clients. Come on in, Diego.”

Candy took Santi into her room, and was surprised by the look; all around him were wall to wall posters and printed out pictures of idols spanning decades. Farrah Fawcet, Don Henly, Judy Garland, James Dean, Stevie Nicks, Mae West, Shirley Temple, Rock Hudson…

“You like ‘em?” She asked, watching him.

“Yeah… it’s quite a collection. Whose that?” He pointed to a picture in sepia tone of a pretty girl with red curls, heart shaped lips, and thin, drawn on eyebrows.

Candy stepped up next to Santi. “Clara Bow, the original ‘It’ girl of Hollywood, a silent movie star. Lived a hell of a life too. Friend died in her arms, was sexually abused, suicide attempt, addiction… survived it all.”

“That’s incredable…” Santi’s amazement wasn’t faked.

“All these people are inspiring to me in some way or another.”

“I like… I like the James Dean one.”

She smiled at that. “I bet you would, handsome.” The picture was of James Dean laying on a motorcycle, smoking, of course. “You got a motorcycle, guapo?”

He couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “No, a fun idea in theory… but maybe a bit too wild for me.”

“But hiring a hooker isn’t?”

Despite his desire to look cool, calm and collected, Santi gave a blushing smile. “You got me there.”

“Now.” With grace, Candy slid right up to Santiago, touching his arms. “I take it this is your first time with a sex worker.” Her smile was soft and reassuring.

Santi let out a breath, allowing himself to ease into her touch; she was good at this, somehow looking that goddamn hot and still managed to make him feel secure, safe. “That obvious, huh?” He chuckled.

Cocking her head to the side with a sly smile, Candy’s red-painted lips drew him in as she spoke. “Professional intuition. What brings you here?”

“Uhhhmmmm… sex?”

“Be honest” Her tone… it struck him down to his core, pulling at all his mommy issues. He wanted her to tell him exactly what to do from here on out.

He cleared his throat. “Well… been a bit of a dry spell, and… well… maybe a general lack of experience in general.” Santi’s embarrassment caused him to look away, but Candy gently grabbed his chin, no doubt feeling the stubble on his face from his day off.

“No need to be shy, pretty boy.” Candy held his gaze, mystifying him more with every second she seemed to bare into his soul, knowing all the parts of him he tried to keep secret. He was baring his soul without a word. “We’re gonna get to know each other really well here.”

***************

I HOPPPPPE YOU LIIIIIIIIKKEEEEEEEEE

Im v worried bc the tag list is already so long lololololol im scared I wont live up to the hype. (Also although I've written a lot for santi ive never written for Javi before and havnt even seen all of narcos)

thank you to @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for helping me proofread!

I'll have a masterlist up soon bc my dearest mona is making me a moodboard bc she's the bestest

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Reblogs help spread the work, comments mean the world!

tagging everyone who asked to be atgged or showed interest in this, if you arent interested anymore just lmk and ill stop tagging you!

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @tieronecrush

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lovesodakid · 6 months

Text

sworn to secrecy 4

chris x fem!reader

1 2 3 5 6

summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve of whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)

warnings: slight mention of underage drinking and a small mention of toxic household. that should be all :)

____________________________________________

“y/n.”

“y/n wake up.”

i softly groan at the feeling of being shaken awake. as i sit up fully in my seat, i look over to chris, leaning dangerously close to my face from his seat beside me, as he was whispering in my ear to wake me up.

“mrs. johnson called your name three times for you to answer the question.” he quietly says to me.

that’s when the embarrassing truth of me falling asleep in class hit me.

“miss y/l/n?” mrs. johnson asks from across the room while shooting daggers into me with her eyes. “what is the answer to number four?”

i freeze. mostly in embarrassment, half in fear as i feel what seems like a thousand pairs of eyes on me. have i mentioned i have a small fear of being put on the spot? no? well now you know.

“i-um. what..what was the question?” i ask, rubbing my eyes.

“well. since you can’t seem to focus in my class, maybe you can focus in detention.” mrs. johnson says as she begins walking over to her desk.

i let out a sigh as i stand up, gathering my things. as i finish, i look over to chris as he shoot’s me a sympathetic smile as i begin making my way to the front of the class.

as mrs. johnson finishes wrighting up my detention slip, she clears her throat to speak again.

“next time, don’t fall asleep in my class.” she says calmly.

i don’t say anything as i just nod, taking the slip and walking out of the classroom, making my way to detention.

it’s been two days since nate and i stayed at the triplets house. things have been okay at home since we came back. usually when we end up having to stay at the triplets, the day we come back home, everyone just pretends everything’s fine. my dad speaking in a unsettling calm tone, my mom looking like she’ll break down any moment. i don’t know why she stays with him, i’ve cried multiple times for her to divorce him, but she just won’t. she claims that he was her “first love”. that she can’t abandon that or him. quite frankly, i think my dads a piece of shit who deserves to be abandoned.

as i enter the detention room, i hand the lady at the desk my detention slip before making my way to the back of the room.

as i sit down, i put in my airpods to listen to music. letting my mind drift off into space.

the good thing about being in detention, is the fact that the lady in charge of the kids in detention, couldn’t give a fuck less what we do.

ever since the night at the triplets, i’ve had the same re-occurring dream of the memory of my mom and dad. i used to have them when i was younger, but one day in eighth grade, they just stopped. i thought i had somehow blocked that “traumatic memory” out of my mind. or that’s what my old therapist said anyways.

“you got detention?” nate practically yells to the whole cafeteria as i sit down next to him.

i rub my face in annoyance. “i just fell asleep in class. it’s no big deal.”

“it is a big deal since it got you detention.” he mumbles, a hint of anger lacing his voice. “what’s with you? why have you been so tired recently?”

i roll my eyes. “i haven’t been sleeping well okay? im sure ill be able to soon.”

he doesn’t say anything as he just shakes his head.

“so..you guys coming to the party tomorrow night?” nick asks, cautiously.

chris and matt look at nate and i for an answer.

“i am.” nate speaks up. “she isn’t.”

“what? what do you mean im not?” i quickly question him as i whip my head towards him beside me.

“for one, you got detention.” he says calmly. “for two, im not dragging my little sister with me to a party.”

nick, matt, and chris just stare at us as we slightly argue.

“nate, i just fell asleep in class. i didn’t blow up the school.” i scoff, “and i can go with them, i don’t have to ride with you there.” i say, motioning to the triplets.

“y/n i said no.” he says firmly.

“nate, stop pretending your my dad. you don’t have a say-so in if i go or not.” i spit out, crossing my arms. “im going. i’ll probably just have to ride with you guys if it’s okay.” i say, looking between the triplets.

they briefly look at eachother before quickly nodding, nate doing the opposite, letting out an annoyed breath.

it’s now the day of the party. nate still isn’t talking to me, which hurts a little bit but i don’t focus too hard on it. a party has never really ever been my ideal type of way to have fun, but trying it out couldn’t be too bad right?

as i get dressed, i put on a denim mini skirt with a tight black, short sleeve shirt that’s slightly cropped. after 5 minutes of debating between doc martens or random knee high black boots, i choose the boots.

i normally wear baggy jeans and a random shirt, so i rarely ever dress up. but when i do, i usually feel hot, like tonight. my whole life i’ve ever only been hung out with the triplets and my brother. i’ve never really made an effort to look “good”. i mean yes i put makeup on and nice clothes, but ive never dressed up around them. so this is definitely a new one.

the second im done, almost on cue, i hear honking coming from outside. which can only mean the triplets are here.

i grab my phone before walking out of my bedroom and making my way downstairs. the house is empty, signaling my parents are gone, as usual. which also makes me thing nate has already left for the party.

i walk outside towards the van, i can’t help but notice the way chris looks at me through the window of the dashboard. it could mean nothing, but my body reacts differently. a surge of butterflies swarming my stomach.

“oh my god y/n!” nate exclaims excitedly as i get in the backseat. “you look hot!”

“thank you nick.” i thank him, a small giggle exhaling from my mouth.

“so, y/n/n. are you drinking tonight?” matt asks from the driver seat. per usual.

the thought of drinking tonight hadn’t even crossed my mind until now. drinking is completely out of character for me, the girl that usually has a book in her face, replacing it with alcohol?

“um, i don’t really know yet.” i answer honestly. “maybe?”

there’s a first time for everything right?

“well if you decide to. make sure you stay close to one of us okay?” chris says from the passenger seat.

“okay.” i agree.

“holy shit there’s a lot of people.” i say in surprise as we pull up to the, might as well say ‘mansion’ for the party.

the front door wide open, teenagers standing and sitting on the porch. one kid in particular seems to be vomiting. yuck. the front yard flooded people who look like they’re having a good time.

“yep. that’s a ‘christian davis’ party for you.” chris says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

christian davis is one of the richest kids in school. not to mention one of the most popular.

“let’s go!” nick screams in excitement, grabbing my hand to pull me out of the car.

____________________________________________

a/n: i apologize for the constant time skips, but i didn’t know what to writeee. plus i wanted to hurry up and write the party part 🙈 (for those asking for a tag list, i probably won’t do one for this story, given the fact this is my first one.)

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

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simpforrooster · 2 years

Text

i’ll let you know tomorrow.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

summary: maverick is enamored with a new lady at the bar. turns out rooster talked mav up earlier.

t/w: brief mention of an age gap, alcohol, cursing maybe?

“Hey Mav, you got a little drool,” Hangman tells him, gesturing to his mouth with his beer bottle.

Maverick knew he was staring. He just didn’t realize how obvious he was being about it. The moment you stepped into the bar, Maverick was gone. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

Rooster follows his godfather’s gaze, smiling upon seeing you. He’d met you earlier, a new computer engineer on base. Rooster knew Maverick would insta-fall in love with you.

You were absolutely Maverick’s type. So much so that Rooster didn’t think he’d be able to utter a word to you. He’d never seen his godfather so speechless. The man was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Are you going to go talk to her? or just stare like a creep?” rooster asks.

maverick runs a hand over his face, about to accept defeat. “I don't even know what I'd say to her.”

Hangman rolls his eyes. “Grow a pair, Pops. I just might beat you to her.” Mischief dances in Hangman’s eyes, like he knew all Mav needed was a little competition.

Maverick meets Rooster’s eyes. “Maybe she’s lost that lovin’ feelin’?”

“Oh no, she hasn’t.” Rooster vehemently shakes his head, backing up from his godfather. Roos heard the story time and again from his mom. Ice shared it with her shortly after Goose’s death, hoping it would bring a smile to her face.

It did.

“Come on, your old man used to back me up. Now it’s your turn.”

Maverick hadn’t used this tactic on a lady since Charlie. It felt pretty sacred to her, and Nick. He wasn’t sure if he kept it filed away for so long for her sake, or Nick’s. With Rooster standing here, and Charlie happily married in D.C. he thought, what the fuck?

“We gotta help her find it,” Maverick pleads, praying Rooster caves before someone like Hangman steals her away.

Maverick gives Rooster his best pleading eyes. He has no idea who that girl is, but he can’t let her get away. He can’t bear to see Hangman with her.

Rooster throws back the remainder of his beer, silently conceding. Maverick jumps into the plan, effortlessly explaining everything as if he does this all the time.

As Maverick and Rooster perform for you, Mav immediately takes note of the pretty flush that dusts your cheeks. He wonders how many other ways he could make you blush. Catching Rooster’s eyes, Mav sees a ghost. For a brief moment, Maverick isn’t performing this schtick with Rooster, but rather his father. Bradley looked a lot like Carole when he was younger, but as he’s grown up, he’s Nick Bradshaw made over.

After the last note, Maverick holds your eyes, raising a brow. The smirk you grant him makes him weak in the knees as you pat the empty barstool to your left. Maverick smiles thanks to Rooster and Rooster retreats to the pool tables.

Up close, Maverick sees you’re much younger than he thought. Maybe even younger than Rooster. You don’t seem to mind though, Maverick taking note of how your body angles more toward him. He also notices the cocktail in front of you.

At least 21.

“You must do that all the time to have it so perfected,” you tease. Mav takes a swig of his beer, quickly glancing at the dagger squad. Rooster shoots him a thumbs up, while Coyote and Hangman make obscene gestures. He’ll have the two of them pay for that, of course.

“Ah, nah. This is only the third time. First two weren’t very successful,” Maverick tells you, following your lead by leaning a little closer to you. He figures he can blame the loud music for needing to invade your bubble.

“How’s this one going?” you ask.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning, but it’s looking pretty good so far.” He fixes you with the cocky smile of the 24 year old who last uttered the line.

“Is that right, Captain?” you quip. Mav’s eyebrow quirks in surprise that you know his rank.

“Your son told me all about you this afternoon during our meeting,” you gesture toward the squad.

Son.

Bradley referred to himself as Pete’s son. The feeling in his stomach almost rivaled the one you cause, your eyes silently begging for Maverick to get you out of this bar.

masterlist.

a/n: i recently watched the first top gun and melt every time mav tells charlie he will let her know in the morning. ugh. obsessed. had to write this.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell #pete mitchell imagine #pete maverick mitchell #maverick imagine #topgun imagine #topgun fic #maverick x you #maverick fanfic #maverick fluff #maverick x reader

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trumpkinhotboy · 9 months

Text

Chronic protective brother syndrome

Pairing: big brother!nick nelson x little sister!reader

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Warnings: Mention of fainting, having a chronic illness, but nothing too intense

Word count: 1900

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, twilight wolfpack, chronicles of narnia and harry potter

A/n: honestly… i dont have much to say except that i love writing for requests and that big brother nick makes me weak in the knees. Hope you enjoy angels xxx

*gif is not mine

Summary: The reader has been living with diabetes her whole life. She's grown quite accustomed to it and manages it well with the help of her supportive family. Although sometimes, support can feel a little suffocating...

Through your 14 years of existence, you have grown quite accustomed to life with type 1 diabetes. As you grew up and became more conscious of what it meant to live with a chronic disease, you learned to accept and care for yourself quite well.

Your mother, Sarah, was a real trooper and never let you down, always carrying you when you felt exhausted and done with your condition, which did happen more often than you care to admit. Luckily, you also had someone else in your corner: your older brother.

Nick is known to be quite protective. Especially with the people he cares for. However, that aspect of his personality gained a new high when you were born, and your mother explained why you could never do everything just as he did. Of course, you would still be able to do most of them. You would simply need to be a little more careful.

Sarah remembers very clearly the look in little Nick’s eyes when she explained why you were always sick. You were resting in bed after a substantial flare-up when his eyes welled up with tears. That's when he finally understood that there was something in your own body that would always try to fight and hurt itself. That’s also when he promised himself he would do everything to protect you. Your mum still tells that story with a few tears welling up in her eyes.

Nick knew you could have a lot of complications from your disease. To avoid them, he always made sure you had everything you needed at all times. You usually didn't mind, seeing how your ADHD sometimes made it a little harder for you to remember to pack your stuff. Plus, the fatigue diabetes often fogged you with did not help in that department.

The thing is you were now 14 years old, finally starting to make new friends and explore the jungle that is social life in high school. So when your 16-year-old brother comes over, and all your lady friends swoon over him, or worse, when he comes over to baby you, it gets a little irritating. Luckily, Nick was quite stubborn about that stuff and was not about to let you get hurt just because of the image you wanted to project.

That was until you made quite a scene in front of everyone.

You had been feeling particularly irritated and moody that day. So when you saw your brother walk over to you with a backup diabetes kit, which was his creation, you felt anger boil in your blood.

It did not help to hear some nasty year 10 make jokes from a picnic table near your friends and you. "Oh, would you look at that? Diabetes Nelson still needs her big brother to bring her her little drugs. I don't understand how someone like him could be related to her."

It was stupid. It wasn't even a good insult. Plus, the people who kept making comments were not something to be impressed with. Still, you couldn't help the shame from creeping on your cheeks.

So this time, when your big brother came to check on you and offered you your safety pouch, you refused.

"I already have the normal one. I don't need this one."

"I know, but I don't think you've put the new insulin shots in. I brought you the safety one just in case."

The snickers you heard from the people behind had you gritting your teeth. You couldn't understand their exact words, but you knew it wasn't positive.

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch over me all day?" you hissed. "I'm not stupid Nick."

Your diabetes also made you prone to mood swings, mostly when your blood sugar levels were too high or low. That's why Nick usually did not make a big deal out of these outbursts, but this time felt different. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and briefly, you regretted the words.

"I never said that. I just want to make sure you have everything you need. You know the risks." His tone was soft, his gaze focused on you. He tried as much as he could not to make a big deal out of this, but your reaction had the exact opposite effect. He knew how the fear of being judged could make a person act in such a terrible way.

"I don't need you to remind me how weak and useless my body is, okay? I'm the one living with diabetes, Nick. Not you." You whispered angrily.

You grabbed your bag and left him planted there without looking back. Nick and you were usually like two peas in a pod, and to leave him there hurt much more than you would care to admit.

You got back in class, trying to act normal, but after an hour in, you felt queasy and feeble. You had indulged in some sweets some friends offered after your altercation with Nick, brushing off the risk with your ongoing anger. Subtly, you pricked your finger and couldn't help your eyes from growing two sizes when you saw the little numbers your tracker presented. You were in hyperglycemia and urgently needed to get a shot of insulin. Swiftly, you asked to be excused from the class and headed for the bathroom. The walls seemed to shake around you, and your vision kept warping up. Cursing yourself for being this dumb, you opened your bag with shaking hands, searching for your shots.

"Shit."

There was only one thing worse than fighting with Nick, and it was when you realized he had been right. You mumbled under your breath, trying to stay calm and figure out a quick solution because this was becoming urgent, and you needed the care right now. Calling Nick would do no good since he was at Truham anyway. You decided to head back to class to ask for your teacher's help, but once you tried climbing the stairs, a thousand little dots started dancing around. You were able to mutter an 'I feel kinda dizzy' before everything turned black.

You awoke to a commotion. Distorted sounds and everything around you moved too fast to register. Someone was holding your hand while you felt a pinch in your arm.

"It's okay, it's okay Y/n. You're going to be okay. I'm here."

You knew that voice. You lifted your gaze with an effort and only saw a flash of red hair before darkness swallowed you once more.

This time, when you woke up, everything was silent and peaceful. You were lying in a bed, a hospital bed, with an IV drip set up in your arm. Nick was resting in the chair next to you, his worried eyes set on his phone as he quickly typed.

"Hey," you croaked.

His head whipped up in surprise when he heard your voice. He immediately dropped his phone to come by your side. His hand flew to your forehead. The coolness of it felt incredibly refreshing as you leaned into the touch.

"Hey, kid," he whispered. He tried putting a smile on his face, but it couldn't hide the worry he was truly feeling.

"So, I'm guessing I fainted? And someone found me? And they panicked ?"

"Panicked is an understatement."

He explained that Imogen found you at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't know whether you had fallen from them or just fainted at the bottom, so she immediately called for help and texted him.

"I ran to Higgs faster than Charlie ever could," he added with a smirk, his joke stealing a chuckle from your chest.

"I'm sorry for causing such a commotion. I should wear a bracelet that says fainting is normal for me so people won't worry."

His gaze hardened at your comment. "Fainting is not normal for you. It's a bad sign, and you know it."

You sheepishly dropped your gaze. Okay, he wasn't ready to make jokes about it yet. Charlie would have laughed, you secretly thought.

"I don't understand why you pulled that crap. I just wanted to help you."

You lay back in bed with a sigh and covered your eyes with your forearm. You did know Nick only wanted to help, but still. His kind gestures irritated you so much sometimes.

"It's already hard enough to be the sick kid. That was my only thing when I was in middle school. I thought now I could step away from it, that I could be someone else. Be known for other things than my messed up immune system."

You noticed Nick's expression softened once you uncovered your eyes.

"And I know you want to help and trust me, I appreciate it. It's just that sometimes it feels like you don't believe in me. Like you don't think I'm capable of doing stuff. Instead of helping me become stronger, you keep worrying me with your horror scenarios."

It was now Nick's turn to look all sheepish and guilty. You might have been right in saying he tended to get a little paranoid when you wanted to try new things. He only thought about protecting you. He never realized the effect it would have on your self-esteem.

"I'm tired of being afraid. I've looked it up, and there are so many people with diabetes who are doing amazing things. I can stay healthy and still be a badass kid who tries new stuff."

He looked up, his eyes holding so much uncertainty and fear. Though through it all, love was the strongest thing in his gaze. He grabbed your hand once again with a tight smile.

"I hear you, I'm sorry. I never thought it would make you feel like this, or else I wouldn't have done it."

"Nick." You gave him a knowing look.

"Okay, okay. I might have still done it, but only because you're my baby sister, and I want you to be healthy and have a long, long life, okay?"

You nodded while tightening your grip on his hand.

"I promise I will be less overbearing, and I will support you in whatever new thing you want to try."

"Thanks, Nick, and for school, could you maybe not come and do your big brother number in front of all my friends? I appreciate the gesture, but I'm over dealing with the dumbasses."

He sighed heavily but still agreed to your request. "About that, just a piece of advice. I've learned that sometimes the thing we are afraid will show our weakness or vulnerability only does when we allow it to. Once you reclaim your power and own it, it all switches around. Anyone who has something to say about it will suddenly disappear, or you won't care what they have to say anymore."

You nodded sheepishly. You honestly didn't care about your diabetes. I mean, it could be a gigantic pain, and you would have to be careful for the rest of your life. But all in all, you were pretty lucky. You had your condition mostly under control when you weren't a sassy dumbass, and you had the best support system someone could wish for.

"Look at me. You're going to be okay kiddo." Your brother squeezed your hand tighter in a reassuring motion.

You lifted your head to meet his supportive gaze and smiled in return. Yes, you would be okay.

#ilya writes #nick nelson #nick nelson x little sister!reader #nick nelson x sibling!reader #heartstopper #heartstopper fic #nick nelson fic #nick and charlie #alice oseman #kit connor #anon request

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rebelliousstories · 9 months

Text

Cranberry

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Death, Light Angst

Word Count: 2,100

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain unusual flavor that has held a special spot in the Mitchell and Bradshaw family every Christmas.

Christmas 1985

“Alright! I’m here! I’m here! I’ve got the goods!” Pete’s loud voice rang out into the government issued housing known as, the Bradshaw abode. A two foot tall blur came barreling towards his knees, and it was only a split second decision that still kept them in tack. He grabbed the youngest Bradshaw and hoisted him hip on to his hip.

“Uncle Pete!” Bradley exclaimed, hugging his favorite uncle. The man hugged him close, never once letting go of the boy or the bags in his hand.

“Hey bud! Oh, I missed you.” His words were music to the woman’s ears as a certain blonde haired lady rounded the corner.

“Pete!” Carol exclaimed, piling on to the hug that was started without her. Maverick took one arm and wrapped it around her, while pressing a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

“Hey Carol.” Pete took a deep breath in, finally enjoying being able to relax a bit with his closest friends.

“Oh, so this is where everyone went.” One more set of arms piled on to the group hug and encompassed them all.

“Hi sweetie.” Pete teased at his taller friend.

“Hiya hun.” Nick threw back at him. The one great thing about their friendship, is that each one could give as good as they got. But they were there to enjoy time as a family. Slowly but surely, each layer peeled away to reveal the bags that were still in Pete’s hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Should’ve taken these first, Pete. Here let me get those.” Carol tried to reach for the bags, but Maverick went head and stepped towards the kitchen to set them down. As he did, he felt Bradley being pulled from his arms by Goose, allowing him to move freely.

“I got it, Carol. Just tell me where you want stuff.” He offered, watching the woman fight every bone in her body not to take over.

“I just… well, alright.” While Carol and Maverick were busy in the kitchen, Bradley and Goose were busy playing with each other in the living room. A huge tree sat in the corner, complete with lights, ornaments, garland and other pretty decorations. It provided endless hours of entertainment as Bradley was still so little. He was amazed by the lights and colors coming from the tree.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Pete and Carol were having a blast doing the last minute preparations for their big Christmas dinner. Turning the giant turkey in the oven and basting it, toasting up some Hawaiian rolls, making the side dishes, and most importantly making the cranberry sauce. It was the one thing that Carol always insisted on making from scratch herself. An old family recipe that had been passed down for generations. It had become a staple of any holiday meal, or even one made on special occasions.

The family sat down for their meal, and Carol set the cranberry sauce delicately down on their table. For the rest of the night, there was conversation, laughter and entertainment in general. The cranberry sauce was always the highlight of the meal. No one was allowed to know exactly what or how much of anything was put into the sauce, but none of them cared. No one cared what she put in the sauce, only that it was delicious and a staple of their table.

Christmas 2020

“Babe! I’m back from the store. I got everything you needed.” A feminine voice rang out, carrying bags into the home. Pete wiped his hands down on a rag before stepping out into the foyer to help her with them.

“Thank you for getting these, dear. It really helped.” Maverick grabbed majority of the bags and pressed a loving kiss to his partners lips, before moving to the kitchen to prepare the very last thing they had to make. An old, and worn recipe card laid on the counter amongst all the ingredients that they needed for this particular dish.

“You’re welcome, Mav. Do you need or want any help?” She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed another kiss in between his shoulder blades. Maverick pressed his hands to her arms, yet shook his head.

“No, I got this. You go ahead and get ready for company. I’ll take care of this.” And with that, Maverick stayed in the kitchen while his lover went off to go get ready. He tried to follow the recipe as closely as he could, but these were written in not quite so accurate measurements. Finally, he understood when she used to say, “southern measurements.” It confused him to no end. A pinch, a smidge, a helping; these did not make sense. How much were each of them? By the time he finished the batch, his lover appeared from their bedroom, looking refreshed and festive in her brilliant red sweater.

“Mav, you okay honey?” Her hands trailed up his arms while he was standing over the pot on the stove.

“Will you taste this?” Pete gave the spoon with a small helping of the sauce to her lips. When she tasted it though, her face scrunched up in displeasure.

“How is it both too sweet and too salty?” She questioned, staring at the offensive cranberry sauce.

“I don’t know. I can’t understand these measurements so it didn’t turn out like I had hoped.” Maverick admitted, thrusting the card in front of her eyes. They scanned over the card and turned to her partner with a certain mischievous grin.

“Would you like me to help?” She teased, already getting to work on restarting their work station.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest.” He waved his arm to the mess he had made. She worked to first clean and dispose of the cranberries that had been used already, before setting up to try again.

As she read the recipe card, and followed the corresponding instructions, Pete was suddenly thrust back to all those years ago. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving where he watched Carol move around the kitchen to make this simple dish. He had a hard time shaking the memories of Carol and her loud, obnoxious singing that would inevitably bring him and Goose into. The way she would dance with Nick in the kitchen as she finished up their meals, or after them.

His mind blended them together, unable to discern one from the next. It brought him a sense of comfort that he had not felt since her untimely death. She seemed to understand the writings on the small piece of paper, as her movements never slowed preparing the dish. Turning off the stove, she set the pot off to the side to cool and grabbed a new spoon to scoop out a bit of the sauce to try. She blew on it to cool it down even faster and after several attempts to eat it, it was finally the perfect temperature for her to sample. Letting out a pleased hum, she grabbed another spoon and gave it to Maverick. He, too, stuck it in the cooling pot, and blew on it a few times before bringing it to his lips to enjoy. But he could not enjoy it. All that he could do was keep tears at bay. Noticing her lover bent over the counter with the heels of his palms in his eyes, she set her spoon down and wrapped her arms around the pilot.

“Mav, what’s wrong?” She asked, and he heard, but he could not bring any words to his lips.

“Pete?” She pried once more, and got an embrace in return. The man had turned around and brought her into his arms, while placing his head into the crook of her neck. There was no noise from the man, but there was a wet spot slowly forming on her sweater from where his head laid. She did not try to get him to talk anymore, just stroked a hand through his hair and over his back as he worked through whatever he was feeling at the moment. His tears slowed, as did the shake in his shoulders, to a point where he felt comfortable enough to pull his head from her neck. Pete wiped his hands across his face, trying desperately to remove the evidence of tears, however her hands caught the few stragglers that were still falling.

“I’m sorry. That just… that tastes exactly like how Carol made it every year. And your mannerisms are so similar in the kitchen. I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in Maverick’s eyes, but none dared fall. That was until she returned her hands to his face to cup it so gingerly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mav. It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to still hurt when you think about her.” She assured him, stroking gently over his cheeks. Pete grabbed her hands in his, and turned to place a soft kiss to each palm, before taking the hands from his face and holding her close.

“Thank you.” He whispered, leaning in to steal a kiss straight from the source. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness with her lover before they both were drawn away by the sound of a door opening. Turning in his arms, the couple watched a young mustachioed pilot walk through the door, taking off his boots, and removing his sunglasses.

“Mav?” He called out. The couple turned back to each other, and disengaged to go greet the man. Bradley stood in a Christmas patterned Hawaiian shirt, which Maverick was shocked he could even find but he guessed anything was possible with the internet now. Once the couple came into view, the woman ran up and greeted him.

“Bradley! So good to have you here.” She hugged him close, and he allowed himself the small bit of affection.

“Good to be here, Mrs. M.” He responded, only drawing back when she did.

“Bradley.” Pete now greeted, with a handshake, but that quite got drawn into a hug as well.

“Uncle Pete.” Both men knew what he said, but neither dwelled on it for too long. They pulled away as well, and went to the table. Both men grabbed plates of food, and set them down on the table. However, Bradley was stunned to notice the homemade cranberry sauce on the table. It looked so similar to-

“Alright, boys. Dig in.” Everyone went to work plating and serving themselves the bountiful feast before them. The couple placed a little bit of cranberry sauce on their plates, but when Pete passed the dish to Bradley, he refused.

“Sorry. I don’t like cranberry sauce.” He dismissed the plate that was still in the older pilot’s grip.

“Just try it, Bradley. Trust me.” Thy stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before the younger pilot took the dish from Maverick, and dished some onto his plate. The couple watched Rooster as he tore off a chunk of bread and reluctantly ate the cranberry sauce on his plate; wanting to get it out of the way to hopefully wash down the store bought taste with the rest of his food. But this did not taste store bought. This tasted homemade. This tasted exactly like the cranberry sauce he ate growing up when his mom was still alive.

He could not believe what was in front of him now. In disbelief, he stared at Pete, who simply nodded his head with a wide grin plastered on his face. Turning, Pete’s lover was staring nervously at the man, hoping she did it justice.

“Did you make this?” Rooster whispered, fearing if he raised his voice even a little bit, that he would break whatever spell this one little dish had over him.

“Mav found an old recipe card that your mom had when she would make this. He tried to make it but he can’t read southern measurements like a woman can.” She joked, jabbing her eyes towards said man teasingly. Bradley vaguely heard a, “they’re so confusing,” and “not real measurements,” from the man, but his ears were rushing, drowning out all sound. Eventually, he took another bite, and another, and another, till there was no more sauce on his plate. It tasted like home. A home he had lost and never found his way back to yet.

“Thank you.” Bradley looked the woman in the eyes, hoping that his sincerity came across as much as he felt it. She rubbed his shoulder from here she sat, and everyone turned back to their meal.

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dean-a-mean-tae · 5 months

Text

First Impressions | Stray Kids Additional Member AU

Tamaya brings Nicholas home to introduce him to Lillian and Johnny, the Golden Retriever.

WARNINGS: Slight angst? Mention of a car accident. Hinted that Tamaya was isolated from her family. Lillian is 2 in this. Nolan is a piece of shit. Cussing. I think that's it

Nicholas Ross Master list

Finding a babysitter and dog sitter for Lillian and Johnny was a struggle Tamaya prays she never has to endure again. From being in labor to the date they finally released her, Tamaya had to find another babysitter after the first had a car accident. Thankfully without Lillian in the car.

Today was the day Tamaya could finally go home to her baby girl. The day she could finally introduce Lillian to her new little brother. And the day she could bring Nicholas home.

It was moments like this when she wished she could invite her parents. Tamaya wanted her kids to meet their grandparents. She wanted Lillian to be spoiled by Jermaine, and for Nicholas to always be held by Makayla. She wanted Zion to know he had a nephew and niece to chase around the yard. And for LaTasha to gush over them and constantly style them to match.

Tamaya missed her family.

"Come on, Tamaya." Nolan's voice broke Tamaya from her thoughts. Her car door was open, her seatbelt was off, and Johnny was sitting near the door with the hospital bag in his mouth waiting for one of them to let him in to put it down.

"Hurry up, lady. You need to eat and get in bed," Nolan instructed as he walked past with Nicholas in one of his arms.

After fighting with her body to work without hurting, Tamaya waddled up the porch steps and into the house where Johnny trailed after her. The dog hadn't left her side since she'd exited the car. He'd brought Tamaya one of her books and guided her to the spare room set up for her return.

"Here." Nolan caged Nicholas in with pillows next to her and plopped a 2-year-old Lillian on the bed in front of them before leaving for the kitchen. Shortly after Nolan left, Johnny hopped onto the bed behind Lillian to keep her from toppling off.

"A baby?" Lillian babbled, crawling toward the blankets and pillows surrounding her little brother.

"The baby that was in my belly," Tamaya answered as she placed her hands on her stomach before carefully rubbing Nicholas's cheek. "This is him. Your brother."

"Brother?" The toddler repeated. "My Liam?"

"No, honey. His name is Nicholas," Tamaya corrected. She frowned when Lillian shook her head. The toddler pushed her curls out her face before moving a pillow away from Nicholas and curling up in its place.

"Night, little honey pots," Tamaya whispered, covering her children with a blanket. Faintly, she could hear her own brother's voice asking about them. She knew it wasn't actually happening though. Her family didn't even know she had Lillian, let alone that she was ever pregnant.

"My brother," Lillian whispered, slowly grabbing Nick's hand.

Tags List: @bada-lee-ily @jinnie-ret @hwxnghyynjin @foxilsdenn @mynameisnotlaura @lucianidealz @ziipzeepzop-eez @michelle4eve @leezanetheofficial @spookzyclown @ilovejeongin007

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #skz x 9th member #stray kids extra member #stray kids with the 9th member #9th member of skz #stray kids x male reader #9th member of stray kids #skz added member #stray kids added member #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop additional member #skz additional member #kpop extra member

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rpmemesbyarat · 1 year

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I think there tends to be a perception that any work of fiction more than a few decades old is going to be riddled with cliches as well as full of horrifically outdated societal ideals. And I’m not going to say that’s completely incorrect, but it’s also not the case for many works either, including some of the most famous and formative ones.

For instance, let’s take fantasy.

The film “Willow” came out in 1988. It looks like it’s just going to be a straight Chosen One story. The evil queen is killing all the baby girls in the land looking for the one with the super special birthmark who is destined to defeat her, but the fated baby is smuggled away from her clutches just in time, and is found floating down a riverbank. I thought I was going to watch her grow up, discover her destiny and probably some special powers or swordfighting abilities she beats two-dimensional sexist boys with, and journey to heroically slay the queen in an epic showdown. But nope. She’s not named Willow, and she’s not the protagonist, and none of that happens.

The lead, Willow, is the father of the children who find her. They’re little people, and all played by actual little people. So right off the bat, we’ve got a disabled protagonist played by a disabled actor, and he encounters a lot of prejudice for it outside his village. He’s also unusual in that he’s a married father with kids, not some young attached swashbuckler/prince/pirate/etc. He very much WANTS to be a great sorcerer, but shows no actual magic talent. However, he is good at sleight of hand, such as his “diseappearing pig” trick. . . which ends up being his trump card at the climax with which he tricks the evil queen. But that’s just a distraction; the person who has a super badass magical fight with the evil queen isn’t him OR the baby, it’s an elderly sorceress he meets along the way who has beef with her. So the two absolute powerhouses of the movie who go head to head are two WOMEN, and not sexualized ones either. Granted, it’s hard to get more cliche than “evil sorceress queen” but her throwing down with the old crone was VERY unexpected for me! And the other lead female character is the queen’s badass daughter, a powerful fighter who begins on her side but sides with the heroes by the end.

But it’s not the old lady who defeats the queen either; she defeats herself when she tries to kill the baby, setting up a ritual to do so. When Willow tricks her into thinking he made the baby disappear and she moves towards him, she accidentally completes said ritual, causing it to destroy her as the target instead. At not one point in all of this did that baby ever show ANY magical powers or inclination of a special destiny; none of this would have happened if the queen hadn’t believed in this prophecy, for which there really was no proof, and acted accordingly. . . which is a piece of advice I’ve seen many a writer give for how to do the “Chosen One” trope well. And again, this movie was in 1988, predating all these writing blogs and advice channels. And what’s more, Willow doesn’t get real magic in the nick of time, there’s no Deus Ex Machina, he uses his own cleverness and the stage tricks he WORKED for. I really loved that. Again, it’s like something a modern writing blog would say they would totally love to see happen sometime!

The Last Unicorn film came out in 1982, but the novel was written in 1968. And yet, it averts a great many cliches about fantasy and gender in fantasy. The lead is female, and her motive has nothing to do with men. She has agency and takes action, and is very strong while not needing to make a big deal out of being “not like other girls” to do it (though she is definitely NOT like other girls, as she’s a unicorn in human form!) for this strength. We see her fend off a harpy, fight back against the Red Bull, and it’s mentioned she’s killed dragons before as well. Plus, she comes back in the sequel “Two Hearts” to finish off a griffin. Yet at no point is she an obnoxious edgy girlboss who shits on feminity; she’s in fact very feminine if she’s anything. And she does fall in love with a man, and this does have a big impact on her, but he’s not what her quest is about, and she in fact has to choose to give up being with him to complete that quest, and leaves him entirely at the end.

She also passes the Bechdel test; she talks with the witchy Mommy Fortuna who kidnaps her, trying to persuade her to free another female monster, the aforementioned harpy. And while she talk to her woman friend Molly about her love interest, their most iconic conversation is their first, and very feminist one, in which Molly angrily sobs demanding to know why the unicorn only came to her now, when she is no longer the innocent young maiden that unicorns are SUPPOSED to come to, but instead a haggard middle-aged woman who has been living with the leader of a bunch of bandits in the woods. Definitely not a demure virgin like the mythos say unicorns love. And yet, implicitly, the unicorn does not care.

And, of course, the unicorn saves herself at the end, and all the other unicorns in the world. It never presents itself as a feminist story, and I don’t think it was intended as such, but it sure qualifies in a number of categories.

For the final example, there’s The Lord of the Rings, written in the mid-50s. I actually haven’t read this series. But what I can comment on is something that was pointed out by someone on Tumblr (alas, I cannot remember the URL) that what so many of Tolkien’s imitators get wrong is they think that Aragorn is the protagonist, and make their Aragorn rip-off be so, but that actually the protagonist was Frodo, the literal little guy, the humblest of creatures, with no magic or fighting skills, and that this was the point. And I think that’s really interesting, that the father of modern fantasy and all its cliches, actually averted this cliche; it was only his many copycats that made it one.

These works were not, of course, perfect in other ways. There’s nary a scrap of POC or LGBT rep to be found in them that I know of. But they’re also far from cliche-storms in which every character is a cardboard cutout stock type and which every plot point is easily predicted either.

So, what is my point to this post?

It’s that older works are worth reading, or watching. Especially the genre-defining ones. These are some of the most famous, most far-reaching works of the fantasy genre in modern times, and that’s because they were GOOD. It’s not even about the box-checking aspect either; The Last Unicorn is heart-breakingly beautiful writing with a story and lines that make me more emotional than any other work ever has, book and film. Willow is a jolly good watch. The Lord of the Rings…ok, I’ll level with you, I just couldn’t get into it, that’s why I didn’t read it, but its significance to the fantasy genre is undeniable, and just because it wasn’t for me doesn’t mean it isn’t worth YOU giving it a shot. But so many people are just so sure that anything from before 2000 must be unoriginal, problematic garbage, and that’s reductive as well.

Besides the fact you’re missing out on things you might enjoy, reading within your genre is especially essential if you plan to WRITE in it, in my opinion. Whether this is fantasy, romance, sci-fi, horror, or something else, it is WORTH reading the masters. It is also worth familiarizing yourself with what’s ACTUALLY cliche, and what’s a DEAD UNICORN TROPE—I’ve read waaaay too many people who wrote what they clearly THOUGHT were very clever satires, but the things they were making fun of were never actually that prevalent in the genre to begin with, people just THOUGHT they were (ex: How many stories out there are there REALLY of princesses being rescued by dragons? Actually very few. But everyone lampshades it and references it and so on!) So it’s also worth reading what’s been done before if your plan is to parody, or satire, or deconstruct, or just do something new—that way, what you write will actually BE something new, instead of the eleven millionth author who thinks their protagonist is SO UNIQUE because they are a GIRL who FIGHTS omg!!

A lot of writers, both professional and aspiring, fear consuming work within their own genre, worried that they will be subconsciously influenced by it. They want their work to be wholly original, from their own imagination entirely. While I respect their choice, I also disagree that being inspired from other works is a bad thing. Inspiration doesn’t mean a direct copy. Indeed, I think people should in general stop stressing whether their work is a perfect unique snowflake untouched by any outside influence. All of us are influenced by something or other. And that’s fine. Every great work that you love was influenced by something else, consciously or subconsciously. Can you imagine if Neil Gaiman had decided NOT to write American Gods, and his own depictions of Odin and Loki, because he was a fan of Thor comics as a child (it’s what got him into actual Norse mythology!) and was worried that Jack Kirby’s version of the gods would influence his own? Ridiculous! Heck, I think it’s good to be inspired! To get ideas from other things! You just have to make them your own! And if there’s one thing that humans are goshdarn good at, it’s putting our own new spin on something we heard! That’s been how storytelling has worked since it begun!

And heck, why stop at reading the greats? Read the obscures and the flops! Read the worst shit in the genre! See what NOT to do, and think how you could do it better, and get the grain of a story from that! Get ideas from works in the genre that are forgotten or under-known! Use ideas from these that so many others have slept on, and expand them! For instance, look at the vampires of Paul Feval rather than Stoker or Le Fanu, for instance—if THEY had been the major media influences for Hollywood’s vampires, what would our modern depictions of these creatures be like? Use that as a jumping point for YOUR take on them!

Anyway, that’s all. I’m going to go watch The Dark Crystal now.

#writeblr #writblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing tip #cliches #writing cliches

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horizon-verizon · 4 months

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I don't know if you've ever seen Grimm. It's a police drama series where the protagonist belongs to a lineage that can see supernatural creatures based on the Grimm brothers' tales, so of course there is magic.

At the end of one of the seasons there is a witch who, to get revenge on him, takes the form of his fiancée and sleeps with him to take away his powers. At first the fiancée thinks he cheated on her because she sees the underwear lying around, but even after she finds out she is upset because he "didn't notice" or something like that and She's a little glad he lost his powers because they made their lives difficult.

When to give him back his powers she has to take the image of the witch and sleep with him, the fiancée tells him to keep the light on.It's all framed as her being jealous and getting a little revenge for *his* betrayal.

It's incredibly strange to me when this kind of thing is not recognized as rape and I would hate a plot like that for Daemon or Rhaenyra 😔 At Grimm they framed everything as Juliet thinking that Nick was attracted to the witch (and since he and the witch end up together she ends up being justified) I'm worried that the antis will say something like Daemon wanted it anyway or that the writers did it that way to whitewash him because fans wouldn't accept Daemon cheating on Rhaenyra

In answer to my last post about the image of what some people (including me) think is Alys rivers trying to use some sort of spell or "glamour" on Daemon to get him to sleep with her from today's trailer.

And I don't say its Alys bc I recognize the actress bc I can't see anyone like her in this person above. I see more Helaena than anything, with how the hair is styled. Anyway, that fiancee you're describing sounds terrible, I would have rooted for her demise had I watched that show, metaphorical or literal. And yeah, it's rape. Not like the Criston-Rhaenyra deal (I'm sorry, I had to mention it!) since the compulsion magic implied works against the person's will. I think the Feyd Rautha thing is not exactly rape bc I don't remember the lady using the Voice on him in the movie and in the bk I remember that Feyd was a lot more interested. But correct me if I'm wrong. But yeah, like i mentioned in a pasy alys rivers post, I do not want alys rivers using magic to seduce either Daemon.

If they had kept/decide to keep Aemond as his canonical self--the guy who's murdering babies and old men out of rage--I think people would be more amenable to Alys doing that to try to get him under her influence and survive--not just for herself but for the rest of the survivors of Harrenhal. If they continue to whitewash Aemond, no, they will not esp with Aemond having already been exposed to prostitutes by Aegon at 13 [epi 9].

If it's any consolation to you anon, I don't think it's a DaemonxAlys scene because I don't think Daemon would let her get away with that after the moment even if she had put him to sleep. But idk, these writers...

#asoiaf asks to me #media comparison #hotd trailers #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #hotd writing #alys rivers #alys rivers' characterization #hotd characterization #asoiaf #hotd

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simslegacy5083 · 2 months

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NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9

Today's (8/6/2024) Episode: Girls Night Out

Now that all the birth, death, aging up, and new career drama had settled down, Noemi and Luigi started working on their long-delayed wedding.

First up on the agenda, of course, was their Bach parties with their friends. Noemi went first, hosting a girl's night at a lovely little Italian restaurant in downtown Cooperdale.

Luigi’s old pal and dormmate Bonnie was hanging with the ladies for the evening. She had wanted to get to know Noemi better for a while and this seemed like a perfect opportunity.

As they waited for their food, Noemi asked Isra how things were going with her newborn twins. “They’re in good hands tonight.” she smiled “Poor Rhys wasn’t sure he could handle Elyse AND our new bundles of joy, so he talked Luigi and Beau into coming over to help… and play videogames too, I’m sure.”

Kenzie laughed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She then regaled them with a funny story from when her triplets were still babies, ending the diaper-riffic tale: “It’s a good thing infants are so adorable, or none of us would have made it to the toddler stage!”

Breanne nodded along with the other moms, adding “I’m so glad Beau and I are expecting just the one this time. If we had to care for multiples plus Bruce, I don’t know what I would have done!”

When their dinner finally arrived, Bonnie trotted out her treasure trove of “Luigi lore” for their enjoyment. The favorite tale of the night was her story of the time she’d managed to sneak in and abscond with every piece of green clothing in his inventory.

“The poor kid came crying to me, of course, in his socks and underwear! The look on his face when I opened my dresser and offered to let him borrow his own outfits back! … Priceless.”

After the meal everyone headed to a little shop next door that was the real reason they’d chosen the old mining town as their party destination.

By living at home while he attended university on scholarship, Beau had managed to avoid student loan debt. Years of careful saving from her food service job combined with her husband’s pro gamer signing bonus had finally allowed Breanne to finance her lifelong dream of opening a candle shop.

In addition to selling her own creations at “Light Your Way”, Breanne hosted candle making workshops. When Noemi had mentioned trying to find a fun activity to celebrate her upcoming nuptials, she’d offered to host a workshop for them all as a wedding gift to the couple.

As the others headed inside Noemi stopped Amaya. “I know this might be a bit weird, considering your history with Luigi, but would you be willing to stand up with me at the wedding as my Sim of Honor? You’ve become one of my best friends and it would mean a lot.”

Amaya’s face split into a huge grin “It IS a bit weird… which just makes it more fun! Besides, if you hadn’t asked me, you’d have asked Isra, right?”

Noemi’s answering nod and admission of “she and Rhys aren’t coming; they’re keeping Skye during the ceremony and our honeymoon” caused Amaya to laugh out loud “Welp, that isn’t any LESS weird! Hot stuff has got to be used to it by now…! Anyway, pretty momma, count me in”!

Amaya and Noemi chose a station, and the ladies spent a lovely few hours making a basic dipped candle.

The activity came with its fair share of singed and nicked fingers, but Breanne was a good teacher. By the end of the night every member of the group was proud to walk away with at least one handcrafted souvenir, and a fun story to tell their household about crafting it.

Noemi thanked her friend for the lovely present. As Breanne hugged her tight and told her how happy she was to do it Noemi reflected that for someone who’d struggled her whole life to make any friends she suddenly had quite the awesome “squad” to call her own!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

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samkat10423 · 4 months

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Town Mayor

Right next door to Michael Moretti's house is this one - the home of the town mayor and his wife, the mob's attorney. My mayor was created by WebbyMom of the old Three Musketeers site. We were over on the Sims Daily forum and several members were creating sims for me to populate my cemeteries. Actually, I think they were supposed to be used to populate towns, but oh well. Anyway, I mentioned that I always used Sandy's mayor for my towns, because she had also created 'official' portraits that I could hang in public service buildings. So, Webby created Marshall Weston and as a bonus, his wife Trixie. Then she made some paintings of him - which are hanging in public buildings in this town.

So, the sim in the morning suit is Webby's sim - now named Costanzo. While the old due is the soon-to-be-dead Don Frederico. He originally came from Monte Vista and was the sim whose bio I used to create my mob family.

The blonde is Trixie, Costanzo's wife and the mob tax lawyer. The old lady on the end is Frederico's wife - also destined to live in the cemetery.

This is the 1st floor of their house.

While this is the 2nd. I also gave the 2 boys a dog - just because.

And this is Costanzo's older brother and the new head of the family - Don Salvatore Simcatti. As you can probably tell, this family has issues. Anyway, I used Nick Alto, Vita, and Holly for this family - then gave them their much wanted heir - a son. And because I'm nice, a mean-spirited cat who likes to scratch sims and an aggressive dog. Unbeknownst to Salvatore and Vita, their beloved son has no intention of following in the family footsteps. Which will be a huge disappointment for them, since they've already given up on their goody-two-shoes daughter. Salvatore is the emperor of evil in this town, while Vita is in the political career.

#sims 3 #veronaville #the Simcatti family

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a1307s · 10 months

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Over-Protective

(Dick Grayson)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Yuki119]

Requested by: Amanda_holland

Keys: None

Word Count: 4,275

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Requester asked to use OC for this chapter so "Nightsky" (and Nick names I use for it) are credited to them

Cursing

Mentions of Incest (nothing actually happens!)

———————————————————————

I'm piggybacking Richard, his arms wrapped under my knees as he carries me. His backpack rests on his chest as he carries it like a baby holder. "You're getting too old to be carried," my older brother tells me, shifting some so I'm still supported as he digs for his phone.

"Then put me down," I shoot back, tightening my legs around his waist, and my arms on his shoulder as he moves around.

"Why would I do that?" Richie asks, his attention on his phone as he continues moving forward. I slide a bit from the lack of support, but he moves slowly enough that I don't fall off his back. Once he's done with whatever he's doing, he lifts his phone to his ear. "Hey, Wally."

"Wally!" I call out, leaning closer to the phone so my brother's best friend can hear me. Dick rolls his eyes and points the phone towards me. I take it from him, making sure to put it on speaker. "Where are you guys?" I ask as Richie's arm tucks under my knee again.

"We're standing in front of the Merry Go Round. Where are you guys?"

"We're walking up to the entrance now," Dick answers, shifting me some. Maybe he is right. Maybe I am getting too big for him to carry me around still.

"You're not even in the gates yet?" Artemis calls her voice a bit distance from the phone.

"Ya cause Wing didn't listen to me, if we had left earlier there would have been more parking," I answer, getting rewarded with another eye roll and a deep sigh from my carrier.

"We'll meet you guys by the gates, okay? See you soon," Wally says before hanging up the phone.

The rest of the walk to the entrance is pretty quiet between us, the only sound being the occasional tapping of his backpack hitting against his chest. When we get to the ticket line Richie puts me back on my feet but keeps me tucked into his side, his hand under my left knee to hold it up and take off the pressure from my body weight. Earlier this week I managed to sprain my ankle from a mission and ever since Richard has been in overprotective mode.

He messes in his bookbag as we wobble up the line. "Here, put these on," Richie orders, holding out my sunglasses as he puts his own on. Wally is aware of our identities, but his girlfriend doesn't know that we're the oh-so-famous Grayson wards of the infamous Bruce Wayne.

I take the not-so-cheap sunglasses from him and slide them onto my face. They're a pair of black and gold detailed Fendi glasses. Bruce refused to tell me how expensive they were, so I had to Google it. Personally, almost four hundred dollars for a pair of sunglasses is a bit much, but Richard insists I should let Bruce financially take care of me even if he is no contact with the man at the moment. I don't like it, but I do allow it so there's slightly less weight on my brother's shoulders.

His grip on me loosens as he pulls out his wallet and talks to the ticket lady. Throughout the conversation, he constantly glances at me to ensure I'm not putting any pressure on my injury. I think he's blowing it out of proportion just a tad. It's only sprained, it'll be fine even if I walk on it but how Richie is, I could have a cough he'd be insistent about getting me in for a checkup. It's sweet but suffocating sometimes.

"Alright, let's go," he mumbles, stepping in front of me. Dick grabs my arm, using it to pull me up his back again. I slide back into place, my legs dangling at his sides and my arms dangling over his shoulders. His arms are back in place, anchored under my knees, as he walks through the gate and gives the stamp person our tickets.

The stamp guy takes our tickets before stamping ink onto our hands. Four little red lines of the date and 'Central City Fair' are present against my skin tone. Over the years the media has white-washed Richard and me quite a bit. At this point, the only thing that still connects us to our Romanian roots is our skin tone, our deep blue eyes, and our mother tongue. Richard does little to fight the media about it, but I don't blame him. That's an uphill battle. Despite this, he insists that we still speak in Romanian whenever possible.

His head stays rotating, constantly on watch as we walk - well he walks - around the entrance. It's an instinct that Bruce taught us, but unlike Richie, I can turn it off and usually do when I know my brother is nearby. Why should I worry when he's going to do it anyway? It could just be the two of us in an empty room and Dick would still constantly do environment checks just in case.

"It's the Night Siblings!" Wally cheers, running - at a normal pace - up to us. When he gets in front of us, his red curls are still bouncing around as he talks to Richie. His curls are loose, probably from him speeding around all day long. "Sky!" He says after a while, turning his attention towards me. "You are as beautiful as ever, Chica, how's the foot?" Walles asks, picking my ankle up and looking it over.

"Don't touch it. She's fine," Dick barks, backing up a bit so I slide out of Wally's grasp.

The speedster laughs at Richie before poking at him some. "Someone is a little overprotective. Worried Sky is following apart at the seams?" Wally reaches for me again, taking me off of Dick before gently placing me on my feet. "What do you want to do first, Little Night? Food?"

Artemis comes up and smacks Wally upside the head, causing me to laugh a bit. "Do you think of anything other than food?"

"I only think of you and food, Babe," Wally answers with her usual grin.

Richard takes Wally's distraction as a chance to grab for me, but Wally beats him to it. He lifts me, placing me on his shoulders and holding on to my calves. I shake a bit to try and get him to loosen his grip, which he obliges. The whole time Richie is watching like a hawk.

"Let's go play a game!" Walles says in her usual chirped tone. Artemis sighs in response but turns towards the line of booths. Richard is antsy as he paces around the Speedster and me. Stress is very evident on his face.

"Wing," I call, leaning down so he can grab me. My call is instantly answered, Dick's arms around my waist to help me off of the older boy's shoulders.

He sets me on my feet for a second to adjust his hold. In the meantime, Artemis manages to pull me away. "Hey!" Rich barks again, his feathers defiantly flustered.

"Calm down, Wing. If you're stressing out you won't enjoy the fair," Arty answers, her tone a bit clipped. Artemis's hands are around my waist, carrying a good chunk of my weight as I waddle in front of her. "Occasional presser will help her heal."

Richard does calm down a bit, but not much. He's attached to my hip as we walk around the booths, occasionally stopping for the other half of our group to play the games. "Do you want to play a game?" My brother asks, going to grab me again. Arty stops him, tugging me away from his grasp.

"If I choose a game, are you going to let me stand there and play it?"

He stays quiet for a minute, looking over me before sighing. "Ya," the answer is short and clipped but not surprising. I can't remember the last time he told me no.

I wiggle out of Artemis's hold, the sudden added weight to my foot making my wound sting a bit. "I want to play the ring toss game," I say, grabbing Richard's hand.

His fingers lace in mine as he lets me lead him in the right direction. Despite this, he's still in a protective mood, head wiping around as the group of us weave in and out of the crowd. When I release my hold on his head, he looks like he's going to have a panic attack. "You need to chill a bit," I whisper, standing on my tippy toes so I can get closer to his ear. "I'm not dying, Richard."

"I know. I'm just... I know," Richie answers, shifting himself around a bit to try and loosen his nervousness.

"Why are you so panic-y?" Artemis asks, glancing at Wally in hopes her boyfriend will fill in the hole. My brother - and I alike - aren't very good at sharing any personal stuff so Wally usually answers on our behalf, even though Dick doesn't like him too.

Wally chuckles a bit before looping his arm around his friend's neck. Rich tries to push the older boy away as he's given a nugy. "Wing-man here has an irrational fear of Sky getting kidnapped or lost."

"It is not unreasonable that I worry about my little sister!" My brother yells, managing to get Wally off balance and knock him down. Dick throws his bookbag off before lounging towards the speedster. They struggle a bit before Wally is in the position Rich was just a minute ago.

"You're going to mess up my hair!" Wally whines, trying to get out of the hold he's in.

"And you two are embarrassing us!" Artemis hisses, grabbing both boys by their ears and tugging them off of the ground. Both of them mumble 'sorry's and rub their ears once they're on their feet.

Dick walks over and picks up our bag before slinging it across his back. "Here," he mumbles, handing me a twenty before shoving his wallet into one of the pockets.

I happily take the money before handing it to the booth guy. "Good luck!" The guy tells me, handing me ten rings in return. Honestly, from all the training Bruce has put me through, this game is a breeze. I beat the connie game and managed to win a fluffy dog plushy. Richard adds my prize to our bag before picking me up again. Unlike earlier, Dick is carrying me in front of him. My back is pressed against his chest, his arms under my thighs as my legs dangle again.

"Now what should we do?" I ask as my brother leads the way out of the strip of game booths.

"Maybe we should go on some rides! I hear the Ferris wheel can be quite romantic!" Wally says, scootching up on Artemis with hearts in her eyes.

"That sounds fun!" Artemis says sarcastically, pairing it with an eye roll. She'll never admit it, but she likes how romantic Wally can be. Wally pretty much makes a beeline for the Ferris wheel, the rest of us in tow as we follow suit.

The line for the ride is pretty long, but I'm sure it'll only get longer when it starts to get dark, and all the lights start to eliminate. "Well, I guess we get to be the awkward third wheel friends," Rich says, bounding me around some in his hold. I smile a bit and nod in agreement.

"Excuse me?" A girl says from within a group of other kids that look about my age. They all walk up to the metal gates that are used to form the line space; us on the inside and them on the outside. "Can I take a picture with you two?"

Dick stiffens some, placing me on my feet before pulling Wally over to help block me from the group. He's not a big fan of pauperize but he usually doesn't mind fans. At least when it comes to himself. My brother has never liked people taking pictures of me and has gotten into a few ruffles with people over taking pictures and videos of us without asking. "I'm sorry but no. We're trying to have a down-low day, you know?"

"Can we ride with you at least?" One of the other girls peeps up.

"Ya, I wouldn't mind going on the Ferris wheel with a pretty girl!" One of the boys adds, poking himself out from the group to try and get a better look at me.

"No, we're just trying to hang out with our friends, maybe next time!" Richard answers, trying to shoot the girl down gently. His hand reaches backward, swooshing around for me. I lean forward, letting my brother take hold of my hand. His nerves are high and very evident from his tight grasp and his fingers shaking some. Even though Bruce and Richard aren't on speaking terms, Richie's actions still very much reflect on our father figure, which is why he's trying so hard to keep his composure.

The group stirs some, please and begging starts to happen, all of which Dick tries to turn down politely. "Hey guys, chill a bit, ya?" Wally peeps up, gently shoving Artemis towards my brother. Artemis bumps into him, causing Richie to wrap his arm around her waist so she doesn't fall out of habit. "We're just trying to have a cute double date!" Walles continues, tugging me forward and placing a kiss on my cheek as his arm wraps around my shoulders.

This does not look or sound good for any party involved. Artemis is going to get the wrong idea. Richard is going to get the wrong idea. The general public is going to get the wrong idea when this shit starts to spread. Bruce is going to get the wrong idea. Wally is going to get his ass beat by everybody - me included - and Artemis is probably going to try and beat the shit out of me after she beats the shit out of her boyfriend. What a lovely day at the fair. So much for the Central City Fair being a safe bet for a 'getting recognized' free day.

From the stir-up, more people have noticed what's going on and have started making a crowd. Cameras flash like crazy as people all around us start talking, trying to pull our attention to them. Death glares are being thrown at Wally from both Richard and Artemis as Wally panics. "I didn't... that's not... I'm-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wally," my brother says, snatching my hand and starting to pull me away as he weasels us out of the line.

"Wait up!" Wally yells, trying to chase after us as Artemis chases after him, yelling at him the whole time. The chase continues throughout the whole fairgrounds. Dick drags me away, Wally chases us, Artemis chases him, and a crowd chases all of us as they scream for Richard and me. If there wasn't a black cloud forming over the four of us, it would be a pretty funny scene.

"What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" Richie mumbles, weaving in and out of cars to try and lose everyone chasing us. Notably, it works so the throbbing pain forming in my ankle is worth it.

"Nothing is happening between Wally and me! I swear! Nothing has and nothing ever will happen!" I tell him, my words rushed as his car comes into view.

"Ya, I fucking know that. I'm not dumb!" Richard yells back, unlocking the passenger door and ushering me in. For the playboy attitude my brother tries to have, he's still quite the gentleman. "That doesn't mean it makes it okay that Wally made it seem like he's been-" he cuts himself off, slamming my door closed before walking around the car and climbing in himself. His knuckles are white as he grips the wheel and his breathes are heavy. "I'm going to kill," he huffs out, glancing at me before starting the car. "I didn't hurt your ankle more, did I? I shouldn't have dragged you like that."

"My ankle feels fine," I lie, buckling my seat belt and propping my feet on the dashboard as Richard starts the drive home. The last thing he needs to worry about right now is my injury. He's got our teammates, Bruce, and the media to deal with now.

———————————

I feel like I'm going to throw up as Richard and I walk through the zeta tube. From the look on my brother's face, he's feeling the same way. We've been dealing with a lot in the past week. However, Richie has been dealing with the brunt of it like usual. Most of that brunt is Bruce and the media.

We were about halfway home when the videos of Wally and me were mainstream media, which means it didn't take long for Bruce to see it alongside the rest of the world. Also didn't take long for Bruce to call and belittle Dick for "not protecting your little sister from the media" and "letting your best friend make a book trope true".

Richard explained nothing had ever happened between Wally and me but that didn't stop Bruce from continuing to smash what little relationship they had left. His book trope insult turned into "pick better friends" and "Is that the kind of person you want your sister around?" insults. I think that stung my brother more than the original insult. He'd happily take an angry and pissed-off Bruce over feeling like he failed me.

The media on the other hand has been a little easier to avoid than Bruce's constantly calling and randomly showing up at Richard's apartment to pick fights that aren't as easily avoided. Don't get me wrong, the media has still been bat-shit crazy which means I've been cooped up in the apartment, aside from school and patrol. It's been difficult to go anywhere without being questioned about the situation. School isn't much better either but luckily most of that time is eaten up by lectures. There's a new trend going around where people are dying their hair red for 'a better chance with one of the Graysons'. It's a bit funny if I don't think too deeply about it.

The team has a lot of mixed reactions about the situation. Artemis has been blowing up my phone and keeps switching from anger to blaming Wally for all of it. Richie told me to just ignore it and he'd deal with it. I'm guessing he did because I haven't gotten anything from her in two days. Wally keeps apologizing to me and is still fighting with my brother about the whole situation. Rich has ruled that I ignore him, which I've obeyed since I'm still pretty pissed at the speedster. Kaldur texted each of us once to ask about the tension between all of us. M'gann keeps trying to get information out of us for Artemis with her sugar-coated questions. Conner hasn't said a single thing. At this point, Kaldur and Conner are the only ones not on my shit list.

Given the media, it didn't take long for Artemis to put two and two together. Bruce put the fear of God into her, so she doesn't get any ideas about outing us to the public or the rest of the team. It's the only good thing the billionaire has done all week.

Richard is instantly in protection mode, his body stiff as he shifts in front of me when the computer calls out our names. He abruptly stops, causing me to bump into him. "Fuck me," he mumbles, reaching backward for me so he knows I didn't tumble over or fuck my leg up more.

"Nightwing," Wally calls cautiously. My brother ignores him, pulling me forward as he beelines for Kaldur. "You can't ignore me forever!" The Speedster tries again, walking after us. I'm getting sick of being chased this week.

"Nightwing, Nightsky," Kaldur says, turning his attention to me for a second with a soft nod of his head. "Thank you for coming." Dick hums and rolls his eyes as he tugs me forward, placing me in between himself and the team leader. For the past year, Kaldur has been mentoring Richard to help shape him into becoming the new team leader when he decides to step down from the role. Kaldur isn't retiring, he's just sick of being the team leader and honestly, I don't blame him.

Wally keeps trying to get Richie's attention as the current and future leaders talk over whatever case Kaldur needs help with. "Sky, come on, don't ignore me too," Walles says, turning his attention to me. Dick shoots a warning glare at his friend.

"I'm not supposed to be talking to you," I answer, trying to copy my brother's glare. It doesn't work very well since he has more years of perfecting it.

"Why not, Beautiful?" Walles asks, squatting down so he can look up at me instead of me looking up at him. It's a habit he picked up when I was younger because Rich thought it was 'good to be at her level as you talk to her'. That might have been true when I was five or even ten, but not so much now.

"For someone that's not fucking his best friend's sister, you sure as hell are quick to compliment her!" Artemis yells as she joins us in the room.

"Still a fucking virgin! Hymen intact and everything!" I yell in response. I am so over the media thinking stuff is happening between Wally and me. I am so over Artemis and M'gann thinking shit has happened between Wally and me. Given, I understand where she's coming from to an extent and if she hadn't spent most of the week harassing me, maybe we'd be able to sit down and have an adult conversation.

"Ah!" Dick yells in disgust, covering his ears and snapping his eyes shut. "Don't say that shit! I do not need to know shit like that, nor do I want to!" I choke back a laugh, widening my eyes as I turn towards Kaldur. He has a huge smile on his face and his chest pumps in silent chuckles. "This is not fucking funny!" Richie yells, turning his tantrum towards our team leader.

"It's a little funny," Kaldur answers, his smile still lighting up his face as he adds noise to his laughter. His laughter causes me to laugh too. Before I know it, everyone in the room is laughing for God knows why. Well, everyone but Artemis who's still pissed off, but again, I can't blame her too much. Wally didn't think shit through.

"Wing-man-"

"Still not talking to you," my brother answers, turning back to continue his previous conversation.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it!"

Richard tilts his head, taking some deep breaths before he answers his friend. "I know you didn't but switching our positions and calling it a 'double date' does help your case."

"That's pretty much what it was! A double date! You know just as well as me if we weren't in that position the media would have turned it into some nasty incest thing! People are fucking weird!" Wally yells back, standing back up straight so he's taller than my brother in an attempt to intimidate him. Artemis's face softens some as she processes Wally's words.

"Then don't fucking call it a double date!" My brother yells back, the room heating up with their argument. I know this needs to happen but that doesn't mean I wanted to be here for it.

"Wait-" Artemis says, cutting off Wally's comeback. "-would the media really turn it... in... that way?" She asks, stumbling over her words some.

"Yes!" Dick and Wally yell at the same time. Once the word is out, they both snap their mouths shut and turn towards each other.

"Yes," Richie repeats softer this time. "There's been rumors of Kim and Rob Kardashian since like two thousand fourteen. Not to mention like a hundred more about the whole parent-child rumor thing and ya." Richard shakes his head, his hands running through his hair. I swear my brother is going to have a heart attack by the time he's thirty.

"Oh," Artemis murmurs, glancing between Wally and me.

"Exactly! I don't want shit like that to spread around about Sky and you. That would be terrible for your guys' image! Your guys' futures!" Wally says, pick up the argument.

"I know, I know, I know," Richard mumbles, starting to pace to help reset his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Artemis says, cutting off Wally again. "I didn't... think of that."

"I fucking hope you didn't," I say, pushing out half of a strained laugh.

Everyone goes quiet for a while, the space taken up by staring; Artemis staring at Wally, Wally staring at Richie, and Richie staring at me as I space out. "So..." Artemis finally peeps up. "I might have been acting a little crazy." Everyone turns to stare at her. "A lot of crazy," she corrects.

"Crazy girls are the best girls," Wally says, a smug smile on his face.

Dick rolls his eyes, grabbing at me again to get me off my feet. "You're going to hurt yourself worse," he mumbles, holding me against his chest again.

"You're just over-protective," I answer him, leaning my head back so I can look at him.

"It's my job to be over-protective, that's what big brothers are for."

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