#i was interested in sort of an open concept dresser while i was looking for a dresser and ended up not getting that but like! come on

[toytulini]

thinking about that post about keeping a house clean organized w adhd with like dump zones and shit and i need to. do stuff to my room. hh

[ladyalicentshightower]

We should've at least gotten one more before the time jump, personally I feel it was an abrupt unsatisfactory time jump because we were quickly introduced to some interesting concepts and characters but they were quickly thrown out afterwards. Laena and Harwin weren't given the development and the depth they should've been and I'll always be annoyed with that, especially since they were both so perfectly cast.

We should've seen the immediate consequences for Criston after the wedding (or how he got away from said consequences), Alicent's proper introduction to the game, the beginning of Harwin and Rhaenyra's relationship, Laena claiming Vhagar, Laenor grieving Joffrey, the dynamic between Laenor and Rhaenyra now they're married, a little bit on the dynamic between Larys and his family, Larys' gathering information for Alicent and teaching her about the game, Rhaenyra's first interaction with Criston post the wedding, Laena and Rhaenyra interacting and have that relationship develop, Viserys with his maester (like he's rotting from the inside out can I get a reason why or more symptoms because he's literally lost an entire arm at this point I need some answers please and thank you). Like that would've added so much more depth and everything post time jump would've cut so much deeper.

I think the stronger ending to the younger years would be Rhaenyra and Alicent in the godswood one last time to parallel the first episode. The uneasy dynamic between them is a stark contrast to how relaxed and comfortable they once were together. Time has passed as Rhaenyra is pregnant. Perhaps Alicent confronts her directly or they have some form of conflict and Rhaenyra goes into labor. We see Alicent assist her to her chambers (which would be a great parallel to the opening scene of the first ep post time jump), have Rhaenyra who is terrified and is remembering her mother ask Alicent to stay because Alicent was the only person Rhaenyra could talk to after her mother's death, have a close up on them taking the other's hand, have Alicent help Rhaenyra and comfort her like she once did as her friend, show a glimmer of reconciliation and of hope between them as the baby cries for the first time. And then have that moment slowly end, as Alicent sees the baby properly for the first time. Have her realize what that means. In that moment, Alicent knows her father knows her father was right, war is certain because if the Lords will not accept Rhaenyra as Viserys' successor while Alicent's sons live, they certainly won't accept Rhaenyra's illegitimate son as any sort of heir. Rhaenyra will have to secure her position at any cost. None of her sons will be safe if Rhaenyra takes the throne and Alicent knows that. Have her hand the child quickly to Rhaenyra and leave to inform Viserys. Closeup on Rhaenyra as she understands that the girl she knew and loved is gone, replaced by someone else. Rhaenyra knows that her fight has just begun. Alicent sees Laenor and Harwin at the door as she leaves. Maybe she gives Laenor a sarcastic comment about the child's look. We cut between Viserys with Rhaenyra and Laenor and the baby to Alicent looking at her own children in her chambers, as the nursemaids take the children to bed, she turns and goes to her dresser and puts earrings decorated with green gems on. Criston and Larys enter and we see the Greens officially form. The episode then ends with a tourney, to celebrate the birth of Rhaenyra's son. Viserys sits in the middle, Alicent in green on one side, there's an empty chair on the other. We enter with Rhaenyra, she knows exactly where she's going, she is no longer the lost princess looking for her space, she is declaring herself Queen to be. Dressed in black, she greets her father before taking her seat. Her and Alicent share a look, there is none of the joy, the gentleness, the care they once shared. Once they sat together on that very stage, now, despite the close physical distance, they are oceans apart. Lyonel assists Viserys with a quick speech on family and unity. It's clear to all that he is not a well man. Viserys asks his daughter and wife who they will bestow their favors on. Rhaenyra chooses Harwin, Alicent Criston. We Larys behind Alicent while Rhaenys, Corlys and Laena sit behind Rhaenyra (Laenor is by her side). The battle lines have been drawn. We fade to black.

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 03  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00  01 02

⇢ Word Count : 4.2k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Being  a model isn’t as always what people view it as. It’s not all just fun and prancing around in clothing that’s either revealing or not. It’s about business and fun but you mustn’t mix pleasure in. Every model knows that. But you, you took advantage of that. You decided you wanted to know what would happen if you had did that. And that is how everything went wrong.

You had actually met Jimin through Jungkook. But, BigHit staff did a casting call for one of their music videos. You had gotten chosen and while at the shoot Namjoon had sparked in interest for you. He spoke fluent english that glided of his tongue ever so breathlessly. But his adorable, cheeky dimple smile had put the icing on the cake for you. You two had been friends ever since.

They needed two girls, the protagonist and the antagonist. You were the protagonist while another was the antagonist but the role did fit you well. You aren’t the type to cause trouble and when your manager explained the script and concept to you, she thought it was a perfect match to your real life personality.

You and Jimin had hit it off right then and there. You loved his smile, his way of talking, and his cute little English phrases he would slip in then and there to you on set. It was the most adorable thing ever. He was a smooth talker too. Then Bam! You didn’t know what had gotten into him. Well.. the acting was for the concept music video, but you’ve never seen someone go from adorable to to a dominant personality so quickly. The entire switch up from the persona had fooled you good. Way.. too good.

That was how it hit you. You knew that he had to be yours.

But then yours.. became shared.

Then sharing became permanent.

Now you are single and heartbroken.

“ Long time no see! How have you been?”

You smile and take in his huge bear hug. He smelled so divine. Namjoon has always carried himself like a mature man, but in the inside you knew he’s a child at heart.

‘‘ Im fine. How are you? I’ve been on a little hiatus.” You nervously chuckle, assuming he already knows why. Namjoon nods his head and guides you further into the set.

It’s the inside of an apartment. They’ve set it up so pretty for it to seem like it’s a  real apartment. The LED lights are beaming but not enough for it to be too bright. Just perfect. You take a glance at all around the set you would be soon using.

The bed is a modern day king size in the colour schemes of black, white and grey along with a matching dresser and nightstands. White Jasmine flowers, sit on top of the nightstand along with the book milk and honey sitting next to it.

‘‘ I seen your pictures when they had dropped yesterday.” He pauses, glancing up at you to see your reaction. The way your breath hitches for a moment humored him. “ You looked very good. You did a great job. Welcome back to the business!”

Only if the business was so welcoming at all. Pictures of you had been posted on all your platforms and the comments came rushing in. Some good, but majority bad, only because the people of the world thought your comeback was revenge for Jimin’s comeback. Turns out, he had a comeback three days before you. You didn’t know, because you don’t keep up with him anymore. His fanbase was actually the ones commenting to the bad comments to leave you alone and that you moved on.

If only you made it that far to move on. 

Namjoon leads you to the hair and makeup station that’s been set up for the both of you. Each of you greet them and take a seat in the two black director’s chair with your name on it. As you sat in your chair you let the stylists and make-up artist do your thing while you read the concept script of the music video.

It’s going to be Namjoon rapping about his first love and how she broke his heart repeatedly. The hazy white flashbacks are of you and him symbolizing a couple doing things of what he had did with her.

“ So you and um.. Jimin did you guys sort things out yet?’’

You lift your head from the script instantly biting your lip. You most definitely don’t want to be reminded of him at the moment.

“ No. I like the way things are now. We shouldn’t see each other anymore.’’ You roll your eyes and look back down at the white sheets of stapled paper that holds your acting skills.

“ Im sorry if I offended. I didn’t mean to it’s just that. It’s been a year and a couple of months since-’’

He means no harm at all, and you know that because its Kim Namjoon you’re talking to. This right now though, isn’t a conversation to be held right before rhe video-shoot. You shake your head letting him know not to continue on. The last thing you want is for the makeup and hairstylists gossiping. Also for your emotions to spiral all the way down again.

The hair, makeup, and clothing stylists does a very good job on you. The make up stylists did a sort of natural look to your face which made your skin look light and dewy. The natural makeup complements the oversize, long t-shirt that is supposed to symbolize Namjoon’s.

The first scene you are going to shoot is the bed scene where you will be straddling a sleepy Namjoon’s lap wearing nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear underneath. Which really isn’t your underwear but just some black shorts that you put underneath the shirt.

You spot Namjoon and the director conversing so you decide to make your way over to the bed by them. As you walk over, his manager glances and goes back to talking. You pay no mind to it but then, he does a double take with his eyes wide looking at your outfit and beauty. You cant lie, you do feel a little more confident than usual with this bedroom look. 

‘‘ My goodness she looks stunning!’‘ His manager smiles, holding his hand out to greet you. You take his hand and do a courtesy greet due to the fact he’s older than you.

Namjoon eyes you up and down, smiling showing his deep dimples and pearly whites. Since when is he all flirty? Where is all this coming from? What’s getting into him?

‘‘ Yes she does. Are you ready?’‘

You nod your head, glancing at the properly messy bed. The director gives you guys one last look before heading over to his place right next to the cameras. Namjoon grasps your wrists as you both make your way to the bed, letting your ears listen to the instructions.

Namjoon gets into the bed first and then motions for you to sit on his waist. You bite your lip subtlety with your eyes not leaving his as you climb carefully over onto his lap. Your core almost inches away from him member, you don’t mean to brush a little too hard against him like that. The way he hisses and stifles his groan makes you feel apologetic.

Oh Namjoon, what is going on with you?

‘‘ I need you to try waking him up with little kisses on his cheek then down his chest.’’

Glancing down at his bare chest, you almost gasp at the muscles he has. Your mind completely had ignored it when you two were chatting with the director.  Namjoon isn’t the kind to work out as much but he definitely prepared for this music video.

You nod your head just before Namjoon closes his eyes to fake his slumber. Leaning down after the director gave you two the green light, you smell his cologne which smells pretty good to say the least. The butterflies in your stomach flutter like no other when you start to leave butterfly kisses on his cheeks, making sure to kiss his dimples then trailing over to his neck.. then chest.

‘‘ Namjoon wake up smiling… right about now.’‘

His eyes flutter open with a smile landing onto yours which makes you smile right back at him.

‘‘ Interlock your hands and hold them up high.’‘

Both of you smile ear to ear and giggle at the awkwardness almost nearly as a real couple except you guys aren’t, and this isn’t real.

It was easy for you to act like you were in love with Namjoon due to the friendship you have with him. Ever since the boys were together in a group, you had connected easily with Namjoon. He has this friendly yet funny aura about him. He’s the sweetest guy you ever met, just before Hoseok. Namjoon was the one who made you feel welcomed and comfortable upon meeting the members for the first time, while you had dated Jimin. 

His eyes roam over your body intimidated by the lack of proper clothing you have on. Soon his hands take over and start to roam your body from shoulders to waist. Namjoon often bit his lip as if was thinking of saying something, but doesn’t.  At this point you didn’t know if the acting was real or not.

A day’s worth of shooting and this was it. You’ve moved locations just for this scene which is supposed to be in the middle of a vacant two way road surrounded by nothing but dust and a few trees. The last major scene. You had seen Namjoon rap his part repeatedly in different sets for him that did not include you. The dark clothing and light colored hair suited him just right.

The closing scene is the one left and ironically, it’s the make-out scene.

To your left, someone had started a bonfire to keep the staff warm as they converse about the scene and read through the scripts. You huff lightly as you get out of the chair instantly regretting it as the cold air hits your nearly exposed legs.

They’ve dressed you into a maroon skirt and a grey knit sweater that is fairly itchy paired with a knit infinity scarf. Your hair was let down to compliment your face.

‘‘ Yn!’’

You turn your head immediately over towards the direction of that voice. To your luck it’s Jungkook holding a big brown bag and two canisters of god knows what. But who trails after him makes your smile drop.

Jungkook smiles jogging towards you, almost slipping from being excited too see you. You open your arms fully to embrace his figure in which in return he provides.

“ Are you still mad at me?’’

You inhale the scent of him with a smile making sure to make eye contact with the one standing further away from him, “ No Jungkook.”

He lets go of your intertwined bodies and gives you one of his bunny smiles making you giggle at his excitement. “ I bought Namjoon and you some hot chocolate and plenty of rice-cake dumpling soup since you are working hard.”

‘‘ Thank you we will eat after this last scene okay?”

The cameras and lights are beaming down on you and Namjoon. It’s all or nothing at this point. The camera crew and director murmur a bit just before calling out that word. Action.

Namjoon looks slightly down at you with his glossy eyes. You challenge him back while not saying a word at all.

“ Are you comfortable with this?” He whispers. No, truth is you aren’t and have no desire in kissing him. To you, you feel like the kiss would make things a bit awkward for the both of you.

He’d been subtly flirting all day with you and of course you pick up on it everytime. It’s not like yourself to do such things with people you don’t have feelings for in a romantic way. Let alone, flirt with your ex’s band brother.

“ Yes.” It’s not like you have a choice to say no to it. You signed the contract, so you have to complete the entire scenes. Just your luck, Namjoon’s song begins to play in the background.

 He leans in for a kiss with your face inches apart from each other. So close that you can feel his eyelashes brush against yours. He’s stalling you, making you try to be the one to start the kiss. A small smirk on his face when you oblige taking him into the kiss. Your lips move in sync with his with his hand on your face caressing your cheek. He thinks your lips taste like strawberry chapstick, but you think his tastes like mint. 

Soon his tongue slips into your mouth to deepen the kiss. You can’t help but to let out a small whimper on accident resulting in Namjoon’s hand traveling to your waist and pushing you closer to him gently.  Excitment takes over you, you haven’t felt like this in a long time. Maybe it’s the lack of dating or all the couple like things you did today, but you feel loved.

And cut! That’s a wrap everyone, please pack and get home safely.

You break away from Namjoon’s lips and chuckle at the sight of him with his eyes still closed and waiting for something to happen again.

“ Joonie we are done shooting.”

Namjoon’s eyes pop open with a smile, cheeks turning coloured from embarrassment. “ Ah really? Im sorry it’s just that i was too into the moment.”

The both of you thank all the staff for their hard work of day. While bowing to another staff, you make sure to look directly in the eyes of the friend that tailed along with Jungkook. Just as expected he looked pissed off. The sight of him biting the inside of his jaw gave you satisfaction. He fucking deserves it.

“ Can we all eat now? I brought thermal blankets and the bonfire the staff lit is still going..’’ Jungkook says, sitting onto one of the logs and placing the bag onto the ground.

“ We need to speak first.”  You say, firmness taking over your tone. You aren’t going to let this slide. Why would he bring him here? After all that happened that night, you’re sure he told Jungkook. 

He sighs and motions for Namjoon to start serving while he’s going to be gone. Namjoon gently smiles and approves just before going to sit next to Jungkook’s friend and starting a conversation.

The two of you, Jungkook and you, start walking away from the small gathering slowly. The moon shines bright down upon the both of you creating black silhouettes from behind.

‘’ I didn’t invite him. You know I wouldn’t do that after that whole situation-’’

You purse your lips and stop walking, “ So he just magically came? I didn’t tell him and I doubt that Namjoon told him.’’

‘‘ He found out Namjoon was having his video shoot and came to support him. He came late due to Isab-”

You shake your head, “ Don’t say anymore. Let’s just go back and not bring anything up. I don’t feel like speaking to him or causing drama Jungkook.”

Jungkook can tell that you’re disappointed but does not say a word all the way back. You keep eye contact away from Jimin as you sit next to Jungkook. The atmosphere is awkward for you but you know it isn’t for them.

You munch on a rice-cake dumpling not making a sound as the three boys talk amongst themselves.

You take this time to think. Why would Jimin come here if he possibly knew that you were the main girl? He just set himself up to be mad at this point. Why didn’t Isabel stop him from going, after all you are his ex.

“ Why aren’t you eating?’‘

You look towards that soft voice, plopping your dumpling down into your bowl of soup. The truth is, you actually aren’t supposed to be eating this at all. Seeing as though your modeling and appearance schedule is getting full you have to maintain a healthy figure once again.

‘’ I guess im not as hungry. I’ll make sure to take it with me if I don’t finish.’’

‘‘ Eat.’‘ Jimin says, not lifting his head up but voice firm.

You roll your eyes out of annoyance, “ Im not hungry Jimin.’’ You were, but you say it just to piss him off even more.

His chopsticks drop his dumpling into his bowl as he raises his head slowly. Anger is written all over his face but you over-power it by keeping a straight face. Part of you is mad that you said that but it’s the truth.

‘‘ Oppa. Im Oppa to you.” His eyes meet yours. You can’t help but notice that his are darker than average. You hated calling him that and he knows it. It’s cringey to you, but respectful in their culture.

He didn’t use to make you say it even while in a relationship, so you know he’s playing along with your little game.

Namjoon rubs the back of his head,‘‘ Hey guys let just eat okay? Yn you should eat more.’‘

‘‘ Rather not. My appetite is no longer here.”  You shrug as you place the lid onto the container of your food.

Jimin rolls his tongue in the inside of his cheek while keeping a death glare on you. You don’t bother to pay it any mind at all. Jungkook lets out a breathy sigh as you gather your belongings to leave.

‘‘ Im taking my leave.’‘

You give Namjoon a hug first then walk over to Jungkook who hugs you really tight. You smile and give a peck onto his cheek.

‘‘ Text me tonight.’ He whispers into your left ear before letting his grip go. You nod your head and glance at an angry Jimin.

“ I’ll take her home.”

That sentence makes you stop dead in your tracks. What the hell does he think he’s doing? 

“ I can get a taxi..”

Jimin finishes his food and throws it into the paper brown bag. Namjoon and Jungkook stare at him in disbelief. The veins on his neck are very noticeable as he makes his way over to you.

You watch in disbelief but angry with your eyebrows furrowed because they all seem to not be listening to you. “ I said I can get a tax-”

“ Yn just go with him. I will feel safer if you went with somebody you know.” Jungkook sighs, throwing him and Namjoon’s remaining trash into the bag.

“ Me and Jungkook have a lot of catching up to do. We’ll be at my house.” Namjoon catches onto Jungkook’s memo.

You roll your eyes as Jimin grabs your arm rougher than expected, dragging you along the vacant two way street to his parked Lamborghini.

You jerk away from him not wanting to be in his grip anymore. Jimin doesn’t say anything as he opens the car door for you. You stand there with your arms crossed refusing to go.

“ Yn you have until the count of three because honestly you are pissing me off. “

Your eyes land onto his with your eyebrows still furrowed in anger.

“ 1.”

You scoff at him. What are you a toddler?

“ 2.”

Yeah right. What could hap-

“ 3 ” Jimin grabs your arm tightly making sure to leave it red as he pushes you into the passengers seat. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red. slamming the car door behind you.

He doesn’t bother to put his seat-belt on before pulling off with Namjoon and Jungkook following behind him. You wince at the throbbing pain where he had marked you red. The soreness is already settling it’s way in.

“ Look..” He sighs, “I didn’t mean to.”

Tears fill the brim of your eyes. This isn’t the same Jimin you knew. He would never even think of hurting you like that.

“ Shut up just take me home.” Your voice cracks, tears slipping down your cheek as you try and massage the pain away.

You don’t say a word to him all the way there to your apartment building. The air is as thick as a slice of home-made cake yet neither of you decide to speak. That is until he decides to follow you out the car and up to your apartment, most likely to make sure you are safe getting in. You stop at the welcome mat that holds your home just beyond the door.

“ Jimin. Leave.” You whisper, audible enough for him to hear.

“ I don’t want to.”

“ I know you’re sorry. Just leave.”

You punch in your code, the date that you and him started dating.  You open it enough for just your body to slip in but that doesn’t work. Jimin pushes the door open wide, letting himself in right behind you.

You don’t say anything at all. You remove your shoes as well as he does to. Clara greets you by rubbing her body against you. You don’t bother to pet her you walk past her and into the kitchen.

Pulling out your phone, you text Jungkook letting him know you got home safely. He immediately responds with a selfie of him and Namjoon with Soju in their hands. You can’t even laugh at the two silly boys.

A harsh cold object is placed on your right arm. You quickly look down to see Jimin’s hand holding an ice-pack against the area he harmed.

“ You didn’t tell me you would be the lead girl in Namjoon’s video.”

‘‘ We aren’t together anymore. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

That’s the truth. You two shouldn’t even be in the same apartment, let alone yours, right about now. His business isn’t yours anymore. Yours isn’t his anymore.

Jimin scoffs, “ You know I will always look out for you and look after you. I’ll be there anytime for you.”

‘‘ I feel as though that’s inappropriate. You have a girlfriend don’t cheat on her like you did me.” You remove his hand and hop onto the white counter-top.

“ How many times are you going to say it huh? I was wrong I know that. But why remind me of it?”

You look him dead straight into the eyes, “ Until you suffer for a year and some months don’t say shit to me.’’

There was a silence for a couple of minutes. Your eyes wander around your fairly neat apartment until he says something again.

Jimin sighs, coming in-between your legs placing his head on your lap. ‘‘ I don’t like this.. us.”

“ Clearly you didn’t because you cheated.” You snap back, pushing his head away from you only for him to go right back. “ That’s not what I mean and you know that.” His voice is soft, just barely above a whisper.

So what does he mean?

‘‘ Im saying that.. I don’t like you being this way and distant from me. I don’t like when you kiss other people. I didn’t like when you had to make-out with Namjoon. I don’t like not being able to talk with you. I don’t like all this anger and tension between us.”

Your mind is telling you this is a red flag but your heart aches for him to go on and say what you want him to say. Could this really be it?

“ The truth is, I do miss you. I miss us. I miss everything about us. I fucked up bad and I have to pay the consequences.” His hands snake around your waist tightly. 

This is it. Finally.

You bite your lip and run your fingers through his hair softly. Small sobs can be heard from him and the wetness of your leg lets you know he finally broke down.

‘‘ Jimin stop that. Don’t cry.’‘

He shakes his head, ‘’ You don’t understand. She’s not like you but I like her. My heart is with you but my mind is with her. I don’t know what to do.’’

“ You can’t love two people at once. You know that. I refuse to get hurt again by you.” You keep your voice low making sure not to get angry with him. His head lifts up showing you his red face and puffy eyes.

You can’t help but to want to kiss the tears away. So thats what you do. You kiss all over his cheeks slowly one at a time. Yes you don’t want to get hurt again, but you want him to realize that what he did is still taking a toll on you all the while you crave him and his love more and more.

‘‘ Yn..” He whimpers, sniffling.

You shake your head to hush him up and move on to his lips. His sweet, soft lips connect with yours. He opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you hold your breath to stifle your groan. This is wrong. He has a girlfriend. You kissing him would make you a hypocrite, so you break away the kiss though you don’t want to.

You sigh, lifting his head up again. Those brown eyes stare back up at you full of tears and sadness. Yet you can’t be fooled by your own mind. “ Jimin go back to Isabel. She’s probably waiting for you.”

You take his arm and lead him towards the door. He slips his shoes on without taking his eyes off of you. It hurt. It hurts a lot seeing him leave out the door each time he comes over. But you still need to face the fact that this isn’t your man anymore, he’s someone elses.

“ What if I don’t want to go back.”

You unlock the door for him and hold it open. ‘’ You can’t love two people at once.’’

“ Baby, just one last time..’’ He says, referring to the kiss you’ve shared earlier.

You shake your head no. Another kiss would surely lead to something more of a messy situation. “ When you make up your mind, you know my apartment well enough.”

And with that you shut the door behind him as your back slides down the door. You bring your hands to your hair and slip them in.

Maybe, just maybe, there could be a one last time with him.

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst  rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna​

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage 

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together. 

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together. 

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing. 

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line. 

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all. 

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat. 

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over. 

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants. 

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant. 

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her. 

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much. 

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?” 

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—�� she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to. 

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.” 

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts. 

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely. 

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies. 

“There is reason for it.” 

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.” 

“What?” Confusion paints her features. 

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates. 

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this. 

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist. 

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too. 

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move. 

“I didn’t want to fight with you.” 

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly. 

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t. 

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard. 

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired. 

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep. 

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along. 

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him. 

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?” 

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs. 

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place. 

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.” 

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual. 

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants. 

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way. 

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another  orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end. 

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it. 

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time. 

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features. 

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier. 

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it. 

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t. 

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment. 

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another. 

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm​ 

[gubler-me-up]

Unsung Heroes

Request: Hi! I just found your account and I am in LOVE. I know this is a sort of very specific ask, but could you write Spencer Reid dating a masculine/trans masculine person? I think it would be really cool so yeah lol thank u in advance 🥺🥺💖💖 (ur literally so damn talented)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, anon! Sorry it took a long time to get to but I’m glad I’m getting it out before the end of the year. This is my first masc trans reader fic out of two in my requests, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if there is anything I can improve on or anything you would like to see in my next masc trans spencer reid fic that I didn’t portray well here. I did a bit of research to make sure my portrayal was accurate but I am always open to improving my work especially so readers feel comfortable and represented while reading. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! 💕

Couple: Spencer Reid/Masc trans!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None just pure ~fluff~

Word count: 2.5k

————-

You threw on your favourite flannel to complete your outfit. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time to fix your hair properly before Spencer arrived. He might not be a fan of styling his hair but making sure your hair was to your liking was your thing. Especially after getting a fresh cut it was important to you that you made the best of it before your hair started to grow back.

You then quickly checked your beard to see if there were any noticeable razor bumps. You didn’t see any visible ones but the ones below the surface were always the dangerous ones. You ran your hand over your beard to feel for any up and coming bumps. You stopped your finger over a spot that felt tender to the touch.

“Ah, you already feel as if you’re going to be a pain,” you mumbled to yourself.

You heard soft knocks on your door before you could continue your battle with your soon to be razor bump. You grabbed your wallet and keys off of your dresser before leaving your bedroom to answer the door. You opened the door to see Spencer standing in front of you with his hands gripped on his satchel strap and an excited smile plastered on his face.

He gently lifted his satchel to bring your attention to it. You chuckled as you saw how full it looked. You looked at him with a quizzical expression as he started to laugh himself.

“I thought we could read some light literature as we indulge in these breakfast burritos you’re so excited about,” he said.

“I haven’t read a good book in a while let alone encyclopedias,” you chuckled.

“They’re not all encyclopedia’s. Just one,” he said.

You laughed as you closed the door behind you. You didn’t believe him one bit about only having one encyclopedia in his satchel but you weren’t going to overly tease him about it. You were more interested in him trying a breakfast burrito for the first time.

You originally didn’t get the hype over breakfast burritos for a while until you were running late to work one morning and saw a food truck nearby. They convinced you to try their breakfast burrito and you’ve been loyal to them ever since. You knew Spencer was more of a coffee and go person but you thought he might enjoy trying something new.

“We’ll find out the truth after we get something to eat,” you said.

Spencer smiled and nodded as he loosened his grip on his satchel strap. He let his hand loosely fall to his sides. You smirked as you reached your hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it. To say he was forever touched starved was an understatement.

You were glad you could give him something he didn’t already have plenty of in his life. Touching books and case files all day definitely couldn’t give him the physical touch he deeply desired. You were happy every day for the past six months you could be the one to embrace him in any amount of touch. Bonus points for him always smelling good as well.

Spencer pressed the button for the elevator. “Are these breakfast burritos really as good as you say they are?”

“You’re doubting me now?” You asked.

“No, I would never do that. I’m just saying we sometimes have different tastes in things,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of things?” You asked.

“Well, you prefer listening to more contemporary artists while I’m more into classical,” he said.

“Musical taste is whatever though. I can get down to Mozart any day,” you chuckled.

He laughed. “Well, you take your coffee with oat milk and three brown sugars. I take mine black with a little sugar.”

“If you think half the sugar canister is a little sugar then I don’t wanna know what you consider a lot of sugar.”

You both laughed as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into it and you pressed the lobby floor. You looked at him with a smirk before grabbing his chin. He smiled at your touch as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“What?” He asked.

“I think there’s one thing we can both agree we have good taste in,” you said.

You leaned in and kissed Spencer on the lips which you knew he longed for. He didn’t hesitate to embrace you fully into his mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed a guy with softer lips than him. He latched his hands onto your face and started to stroke his thumb against your beard. It ran over the growing razor bump but you didn’t mind if he touched it.

You parted your lips from him before you changed your mind and opted to spend the day with him in your apartment. He chuckled and didn’t move his hands away from your face. It didn’t seem as if the good doctor was quite finished with you.

“You want another taste?” You joked.

He nodded. You obliged and leaned in to kiss him again. You could have him for breakfast all day every day. Since breakfast was taken up by a breakfast burrito with your names on it, you guessed you could have him for lunch instead.

————

You and Spencer had found a rock to sit on near the lake. The park was quite full for a Sunday morning but with such nice weather you couldn’t blame people for wanting to be out and about so early. You watched Spencer carefully as he took his time eating his breakfast burrito. You couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not based on his blank stare into the water as he ate.

“How do you like it?” You asked.

He quickly snapped out of his long gaze into the water. He looked over at you and smiled but it couldn’t fool you. You knew something was running around that big brain of his and you wanted to know what.

“I like it. It’s definitely an interesting concept,” he said as he took another small bite.

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head in response to you as he finished chewing. You gave him a second to finish whatever was left in his mouth before he started talking. He let out a drawn-out sigh before licking his lips.

“I was going over case files this week and went over this one from a few years ago. This little boy’s family was murdered  and he was the only survivor. Found out he left his aunt and uncle’s house to go into foster care. Apparently, he’s been having a hard time no matter where he goes,” he said.

“Well, from being a human I can tell you family sucks but from working in social work I can tell you the foster care system sucks. It’s hard to look at some of these cases and talk to these children having a hard time for sure,” you said.

“I just don’t feel as if I’m making a difference,” he confessed.

You shook your head in protest. If anyone was making a difference it was Dr. Spencer Reid. You knew how doubtful he could be of his capabilities sometimes but you knew he just needed a little reminder here and there.

“Are you kidding? You’re out here risking your life to catch serial killers every day and you don’t think you’re making a difference?” You asked.

“But it just stops there. The lives ruined never get fixed. The survivors never know a sense of peace. I just help solve cases and then move onto the next thing,” he said.

“You don’t have to deal with the social work or therapy side of these cases because there are people who take that area over for you. You do enough, Spence,” you said.

“And you do the most, Y/N. You’re so good at social work and when you’re not doing that you’re dedicating your time volunteering for homeless youths,” he said.

“It’s easy to volunteer though. Anyone can do it,” you said.

“And here I am not doing that.”

Spencer stared back into the depths of the water as he took another bite from his breakfast burrito. A bigger bite this time. You were honestly impressed. He probably took a bigger bite so he had more time to chew and less time to talk about his worries. A true genius.

You looked into the water yourself. The waves coming in reminded you of what one of your coworkers said to you once. You laughed to yourself which brought Spencer’s attention back to you.

“You know when I first told one of my coworkers I was transgender they asked if my transitioning period felt as if that one scene in Mulan where she looked at her reflection and knew she was supposed to reflect who she was inside and then decided to pretend to be a man to go into war on behalf of her father. I said not exactly and before I could explain to them why their analogy wasn’t really accurate, they hugged me and said they were proud I was able to reflect who I was inside on the outside,” you said.

“The lake reminded you of your coworker’s ignorance?” He questioned.

You chuckled. “No, it reminded me of that scene in Mulan and then that reminded me of my coworker’s ignorance. That being said though they did tell me how a lot of people they know are unsung heroes. I asked what they meant by that and they said unsung heroes are people who are trying their best but aren’t acknowledged or are overlooked by others or themselves.”

“Are you trying to say I’m a little harsh on myself?”

“Just a little.”

He looked back out into the lake again. You could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought about what you said. You continued to enjoy your breakfast sandwich as you let him ponder on your words. Usually it was the other way around and the words you were pondering were a bit more complex but you were nonetheless glad you could get him thinking.

By the time he looked at you, your burrito was nearly done. His whole time thinking he hadn’t taken another bite of his burrito. You didn’t know if you were happy he was about to talk to you about his insights or upset because he made a good breakfast burrito get cold.

“You don’t think I’m an unsung hero do you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think you’re just a hero who wants to save the whole world at once but can barely finish a breakfast burrito.”

He chuckled. “This thing’s huge.”

“And so is the world but just like your bites, you have to solve issues within it in small nibbles,” you joked.

He laughed as he took another bite out of it. He tried to chew it with a smile on his face but you knew he hated the fact it was cold. You laughed at him as he swallowed the remains of his bite. He carefully wrapped his half-eaten burrito before looking at you with a wide smile. You were glad to see him smiling again and the doubt lifted from his face.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

“You think I’m right? Say that I’m right again and you might just have to hand over your Ph.D. to me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Which one?”

You both laughed. When Spencer made a joke, it was definitely one for the books. However, when he made a good joke it was one for the history books. You believed the longer you two are together the better his humour could become.

“All jokes aside, I want to spend my free time volunteering with homeless youths with you,” he said.

You looked at him surprised but a smile soon appeared on your face. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his filled with hope. You nodded your head.

“I would love for you to volunteer with me. I think the kids would love learning a thing or two from you,” you said.

“Teach?” You said.

“Yeah. Every Friday we teach youths a different arrangement of skills that will help them in life. It’s a great sight seeing them have hope in their eyes again. I first started with counselling transgender youths in the program and have branched out to other members of the LGBTQ2S+. I now help homeless youths who have been victims of physical abuse. It’s definitely hard stuff to hear but seeing their faces when they know they’re being helped through their problems is the biggest reward I could ever ask for.”

Throughout your whole speech you could see tears at the brim of Spencer’s eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall out but you already knew you had touched his soft spot. He smiled brightly at you before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I hope they like physics,” he said.

You laughed. “Taught the Dr. Spencer Reid way, I think they will have a new appreciation of the science.”

You both broke out into laughter again. You broke the laughter by kissing him on the lips. You could never get over how happy he looked every time you kissed him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said.

He grinned. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“How about we get you some real breakfast and head back to my place for lunch?” You said.

You stood up on the rock and placed your hand out for Spencer to use to get up. He gladly grabbed onto it as you hoisted him up. For someone with a Ph.D. in physics you would think that he would have a better sense of how to balance. It was just another cute quirk of his you loved.

“Some real breakfast?” He questioned.

“Yeah, your coffee with a “little” sugar,” you said.

“Ah, my real breakfast. So what’s going to be for lunch?” He asked.

You grabbed his hand to hold as you two walked through the park. You smirked at him as you looked him up and down. He blushed as he let you examine him from head to toe.

“Your encyclopedia’s of course,” you said.

“Wait, what? Why my encyclopedia’s?” He asked.

“Ah-ha, so there are more than one in your bag,” you said.

He sighed. “Was this your way of making me confess that you’re right again?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s no lunch?”

“You’re lunch.”

“Ah, I see you’re on a diet then.”

“You know what? I love that my humour’s rubbing off on you so well.”

“I think it’s a sign we belong in each other’s life for a long time to come.”

You laughed. “I’m not the romantic type but I have to agree.

“So how come I’ve told all my friends from work you’re the most romantic person I know?”

“Oh? I guess I’ll show you how romantic I can be during lunch.”

—–

MASTERLIST

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[project-rosewood-476]

House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.

[obae-me]

Beneath Still Waters- CH2

CH 1

Home Sweet Home

Word Count: 3418

Summary: With the help of two residents, Beel and Belphie take you to Simeon’s home, the place you’ll be staying for a while. You manage to get a quick glance around Old Midev before finally make it to the house. Eventually you end up falling asleep and have a strange dream. 

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader

Warning: Mentions of drowning and asphyxiation 

With every bump over the unpaved road, your heart pounded a little harder. You hugged your own torso as you sat in the backseat of the truck, watching trees whirl past. After a little while through the grove, the flora cleared up a touch, giving you a clear view of a large lake, sparkling a gorgeous blue in the sunlight. Mountains and tall trees surrounded the lake, the green a striking contrast against the surface of the water. It was such an alluring sight...you couldn’t help but stare. It called to you in that mystical way nature had the tendency to do. There was something about it...If you did anything while you were out here, you’d have to take a trip down there. 

“Devil’s Lake,” Belphie spoke up from the front seat, his head resting against the window. He’d pulled out a neck pillow from the glove box, one with a cow print pattern, and was resting against that to keep his head from smacking against the glass. You had sworn he had fallen asleep, seeing as his eyes had been closed the entire ride so far, and yet he hadn’t even needed to look at you to know what you were staring at. 

The name caused you to tilt your head. “Devil’s lake? Seems an awful foreboding name for something so peaceful,” you stated. The two brothers went silent, and not just a thoughtful pause, the kind of quiet that settled heavy over the air like a suffocating blanket, like you’d crossed a line you didn’t know was placed just before you. But then Belphie just shrugged, his words caught in his throat, barely managing to speak. 

“I’m not the one who named it.” You caught onto the hint, the lungs in your chest shallow. The subject of the lake was dropped, but now a persistent curiosity settled into your mind. 

The road slowly shifted from rocky to smooth payment as buildings cropped into view. The path was positioned up on a hill, so you could easily look down and over the town you were about to settle into. Slow traffic, old buildings, brick sidewalks, the sort of thing you’d typically expect from places like these. It had it’s charm for sure, it’s aura of history. No wonder Simeon seemed to miss it so, it...was quaint, the type of hometown that stored countless memories in every wall, ancient stories in every foundation. 

“Welcome to Old Midev, MC,” Beel grinned. He pointed out landmarks of his favorite places. The Lily House served the best food--according to him--whether you wanted breakfast, lunch, or dinner. “My favorite’s the pancakes,” he told you, very enthusiastic about his preferences. “If you go there, get the blueberry ones, put a little bit of honey between each layer, and then use their special maple syrup. Trust me.” A look flashed over his face like now that he had mentioned it, he wanted nothing more than to eat those pancakes now. Then he shook his head, snapping out of his daydream, continuing to pick out places of interest. “The building over there to your right.” 

You glanced around, squinting a little. “The one with the green roof?” 

“Yeah, that’s the library.” 

Belphie scoffed a little, muttering. “The librarian’s a weirdo…” 

Beel looked around warily, like he was worried someone would hear him. “I watched him yell at a kid in the grocery store the other day, just because he was making too much noise.” You quickly made a mental note to not tick off the librarian, whoever he was. “Ah, speaking of which, there’s Grace’s.” He gestured to a large store that did give off a more modern vibe than the buildings around it. “It’s newer than a lot of other places around here, but it’s got pretty much anything you need!” This seemed to be the heart of the town, where all the hustle and bustle should be, although it was a bit...lacking in both the hustling and subsequent bustling. You’d passed probably ten cars so far, and you had yet to spot anyone walking around. Beel drove past, the buildings getting further and further in between till he turned onto another dirt road, barely big enough for one car to fit between the overgrown bushes. He drove up a little hill till again the trees cleared up and the pathway widened, leading up to a white house with a wraparound porch and a brick chimney. The car slowed till it stopped. “This is it!” 

Beel quickly exited the truck right after he parked, stepping out and opening the door for you. You hopped out of the vehicle, taking a few steps towards the house, and then turned to look at the view. On the hill, looking past the tops of trees a bit below you, you had a perfect shot of the lake. The smell of moisture hit you from here, and the breeze was chill against your skin. It was...delightful. Every morning, Simeon had a view like this...and he gave it to you. Temporarily, you reminded yourself. This is short-term. 

“Do you think it looks the same?” Belphie asked his twin as Beel pulled your luggage from the bed of the truck, settling it against the floor and already taking a few steps towards the house. 

“Guess we’ll have to see,” was all he replied with. He turned his head over his shoulder, catching on that you hadn’t moved yet. “Coming?” 

You quickly turned to catch up with them, going ahead of them to take a few steps up to the porch. Dusty, obviously abandoned and left to the elements, the porch was worn, leaves and stray twigs coated most of the floor. You noticed something hanging by the screen door. A little wooden plaque with the engraving ‘He who returns from a journey is not the same as he who left.’ Without thinking too much of it, you figured that this was the object that housed his key. You took it off the nail it was hanging from, and sure enough the key was dangling from a little hook screwed into the back. How no one had broken into Simeon’s house yet, you didn’t know, it was almost as obvious as leaving a key hidden under the welcome mat. Grasping the handle, you pulled back the screen door first, listening to the hinges squeak harshly against your ears. Then you pushed the key into the doorknob, twisting it till it clicked, and you could open the heavy wooden door. 

Stepping into the house, you took in the immediate layout. There was a set of stairs immediately in front of you against the right wall, heading up to the second floor, the railing matching the same dark polished wood the floorboards were. The left wall had an open concept, allowing you access to the living room. The walls themselves were painted a muted teal color with grey undertones, just enough to give the rooms some vibrancy. Settled in the corner, right by the doorway was a little dresser. The top was decorated with pictures and a little glass bowl that held loose change. Plucking up one of the small picture frames, you cleaned off a thin layer of dust with your thumb, getting a better look at the image. Two men were in the picture, shoulder to shoulder. You recognized Simeon immediately, a beaming smile on his face as he wrapped one of his arms around the other person’s back. The other figure, despite his apparent best attempts to, found it a bit hard to smile naturally. The curl was there, but his brows were a bit furled, like this was a newer experience for him. He had shadowy black hair and piercing dark eyes. While Simeon had on a bright white sweater, this man had a long raven-hued trench coat. They were nearly polar opposites, and yet they looked happy to be in each other’s presence. You placed the photo down, a small bit of guilt coursing through your veins, feeling like you’d just seen something you shouldn’t have. 

The two brothers came in behind you, the screen door slamming shut with a startling noise. You jumped, and Belphie almost chuckled. “Oh yeah, it does do that, I’d almost forgotten.” You let the prickling of your skin die down before you sighed. 

Shifting in place a little, you allowed some of the nervousness you’d harbored on your journey to be released now that you were finally at your destination. Strangers...were iffy, but you felt as if these people could be trusted. They’d shown you so much kindness already. “Thank you for bringing me here, it was very kind of you,” you told them. 

“No problem!” Beel assured you, grasping the handle to your luggage. “I’ll go ahead and bring this up to the bedroom for you.” He didn’t hesitate to lift the suitcase upstairs, sprinting up the steps with high knees, not faltering once despite you packing that thing to the brim. 

The more...indifferent twin groaned a little bit, like helping you was such an effort...but one he was willing to make. “I have a feeling the kitchen is mostly empty.” He brushed past you, heading down the hall past the living room. You followed him, swiveling your head to try to take in the details of this place. He opened a door at the end of the path, leaving it open for you to come in after. The kitchen was cute, a small island in the middle, the sink under the window to your front. The fridge was tucked between the counter and the wall, and the oven was to your right. There was another door close to the sink. Belphie threw the fridge doors wide to find it empty. He then padded over with a monotone hum to the other door, swinging it open to reveal a little pantry. It had a few boxes in there as well as some rice, flour, oil, and some pasta. Belphie blinked for a second. “I was right...you’ll have to go shopping. I think Simeon had an old bike in the garage, but...if you’d like we can take you to the store later.” 

It felt almost strange having him offer something nice to you, especially with how half-hearted he seemed to treat everything, but you internally scolded yourself. You didn’t even really know him. Shaking your head, you rubbed your forefinger against the thumb covered with dust, brushing the remnants off of your skin. “You two have already done enough, thank you though.” 

Beel thudded back down the steps, taking a second to figure out where you guys had moved to. “Everything still looks the same,” he announced, some awe in his voice. You wondered how often they had been in here before, what their connection to Simeon was. He turned his head towards you. “Is there anything else we can do?” 

“I’m g-” 

“We need to take them shopping later,” Belphie answered for you, gesturing towards the completely empty fridge. Beel looked more distressed than he should’ve been. 

“I actually said I’m fine,” you told Beel. 

Belphie rolled his eyes once more as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your thoughts to yourself. “I can already tell you’re one of those types that won’t accept help until it’s already too late.” He shrugged, shutting the fridge abruptly as something within you tightened. “I can’t stand people who are too prideful for their own good.” 

“Belphie…” Beel warned. 

“Simeon told us to keep an eye on you, so the least we can do is make sure you don’t starve.” It was rather abrasive...but it was laced with kind intentions. At least, that’s what you hoped. He briskly left the kitchen, hands shoved in his jean pockets. “Later.” Then he stepped out of the house, the screen door slamming against the doorframe harshly again. Once more you jumped, and then you pressed a hand to your forehead. Was it the noise or Belphie that was giving you a headache? 

“That’s the most thoughtful he’s been towards someone in a long time,” Beel pronounced proudly, but with a tinge of some buried sorrow. That’s him being thoughtful? You questioned in your mind. He quickly changed the subject. “Hold on, follow me for a second.” He held the front door open, waving you out onto the front porch. You did as he asked, pointing in the opposite direction from where you drove up, just a little ways further down the road past some stray trees where a smaller home was settled, broken cut logs settled in piles against the outer walls. “That’s where we live. If you need anything, we’re right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s good to know.” In a friendly gesture, you outstretched your hand. “Thank you again.” 

He took it happily, and in the handshake you were able to feel just how strong his grip was, the tips of his fingers and the skin of his palms covered in rough calluses. “No problem! Oh! If you’re hungry tonight, I know this delicious Chinese place that delivers or we have a--” He cut himself off for a moment. “Oh...do you have...er uh…” 

“Money?” Beel’s face turned a bit red, knowing it was pretty rude to ask something like that to someone he just met. “Simeon was kind enough to give me a little money up front.” When that fact left your lips, you realized how it sounded. Not only were you staying in this house that wasn’t yours, you’d even been paid for it. You could scrub this place from top to bottom, repaint every surface and you still felt like it wouldn’t be enough. “Oh! Let me pay you for the ride, I--” 

“No, no, please,” Beel denied. “It wasn’t a problem. When Simeon asks for a favor, we see it through. Don’t pay us.” 

You nearly felt like crying. Typically you’d only seen this type of generosity in articles or stories. Who knew it would happen to you? Pressing a hand against your forehead, you took a deep calming breath. “I owe...I owe Simeon a lot. I promise I won’t be here too long.” 

“We all owe Simeon…” Beel reminisced on something before lifting his spirits again. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he assured you. “And I--” The horn sounded from the trunk, Belphie hitting the wheel two times. Forgetting or simply deciding to move on from what he was about to say, Beel gave a little farewell wave. “Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it, okay? Any friend of Simeon is a friend of ours.” He jumped off the porch and onto the ground, completely bypassing the three steps. “We’ll come over later to do some shopping!” 

Words escaped you as he waved once more and climbed back into his vehicle. Instead of heading towards their home, Beel turned around and headed back down the hill. Then they were gone. Exhaustion overcame you quickly. Anxiety, traveling, relying on strangers, it had left you all drained. You closed the front door and locked it, turning the deadbolt. Beel had said the bedroom was upstairs, so you took slow steps, gliding your hand across the railing, more dust sticking to your palms. You pulled a sour face. Guess if I get bored, there’s always cleaning to do. There was a small hallway that ran horizontal to the house. One doorway stood at each end, and a third one settled closer to the middle, just slightly off center from the stairway. Approaching the room closest to you opened you up to the bathroom. You ‘oo’ed a little, making you feel a bit silly, but you couldn’t help it. It was a little vintage bathroom. The walls were pretty sky blue, faded paintings of white lilies spotted here and there. The mirror above the sink was held in a white frame, a large golden filigree design attached to the top. The sink itself was a small little ivory counter with light blue painted cupboards. In the far left corner was a shower surrounded by a glass door and walls. Then, to your right, there was a large vintage bathtub, the basin deep enough to nearly engulf you whole. It was the kind that stood alone on golden legs. A little rectangular window was positioned high on the wall to let in some natural light. A fancy bathroom if you ever saw one. Although, to be fair Simeon never did seem like the simple minimalist type. 

You left the bathroom, trying another door. This was the bedroom apparently. It was a nice size. The bed was queen sized, pushed against the wall in front of you, settled in between two nightstands with matching lamps on either ends. The headboard was simple, just more lustrous wood, arching up a little in the middle to give it a bit more design. The same went for the footboard. The top blanket was a quilt--homemade if you had to guess--fabrics of gold, blue, white, and grey patched together to form a star in the middle. The sheets and pillowcases were a soft light grey cotton. A wide dresser drawer lined the wall beside you, the top of it littered with stacked books, old pieces of mail, random knick-knacks and the like. Two heavy indigo drawback curtains kept the light from the window to your left from streaming in. You pulled some of the fabric back to look out. It would take you a while to adjust to seeing so much...wilderness. Would you be here long enough to get used to it? The tiredness seeped back into your bones. You headed over to the suitcase Beel had had the courtesy to place atop the mattress. With a little grunt you tugged at it and had it settled back on the floor. Before you noticed the action, you’d taken your shoes off already, shrugging off your jacket you’d had on before ruffling your hair. 

Flopping onto the bed, you let out a long exhale. You grabbed one of the pillows, fluffing it a bit before settling your head on it. Unfamiliar scents flooded your nostrils, once again reminding you that you were very far from home...not that you truly had one at this point anyway...Stopping the waterworks was impossible at this point. You turned your head into the foreign pillow and sobbed, a mix of woe and gratitude spurring your tears to flow further. 

It was the last bit of energy you had left. Without meaning to, your eyes grew heavy and your body and mind shut down to recharge as you fell into a deep rest. 

That was when you had the dream. 

Swirling, flailing, you were suspended in dark liquid, no way of knowing which way was up or down. Currents pushed you along, like you were simply a leaf in the raging winds. Nothing but bubbles from your own escaping oxygen was present in your vision. Everything about you was burning, your lungs, your panic, your body. The swirling suddenly stopped, the waters calm. You were still drowning however, your hands grasping at your throat. The shadows beneath you shifted. A long, wriggling shape underneath you moved, unwinding, taking the shape of something alive and monstrous. It was huge. Swimming up, the thing curled around your body, its scales shimmering back and forth between black and blue. Soon, the head of the sea serpent looked at you, skull as large as a semi, eyes glowing a brilliant tangerine. You couldn’t help but try to scream. Water flushed into your lungs as the last bit of oxygen escaped out of you. The creature bared its teeth, a demonic growl reverberating through the water. All you felt was fear, but even that started to fade away as your body started sinking, your vision slowly going black. The jaws to the serpent shut, turning it’s massive head to get a better look at you. The end of its face moved forward, touching your body, nudging you just before you lost consciousness. The universe seemed to spin, tugging you in all directions till suddenly you were standing on a shore, waves from the moving lake brushing up against your ankles. You watched, mesmerized as the body of something receded down into the depths. A hushed, pleading voice echoed in your head. 

“Come to the water. Help me.”

[fullsunalicia]

May I request a werewolf au for jaemin please?🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I’m a sucker for supernatural aus and your writing ‘s are extraordinary!! I absolutely love them! So please?🥺🥺

destiny — NJM

you’re not close with na jaemin, but you know plenty of rumors to give you a vivid expectation. so when he starts courting you, you’re not sure if you can believe him. you learn, though, that it’s so hard to resist a womanizer when he’s as charming as jaemin, and is destined to be yours forever.

jesus christ na jaemin is too pretty to handle. look at that gif omg / hello love! thank you so much for your kind words. i’m glad i can please someone with my writing 🥺 i hope you enjoy wolf jaemin

werewolf!jaemin x witch!reader / college au

Temptation is a sin. So is Na Jaemin.

There’s just that hazy air around him that makes everyone look again. Too gorgeous to be real, and yet he’s standing here, gifting you with a smile that knocks the air right out of you. God’s favorite, falling from heaven. That’s how you’d describe the stunning boy who has been trying for the past few weeks to convince you to go on a date with him.

His face may seem innocent, but the glint in his eye says anything but. You have heard about the many girls, how the shards of their hearts form a trail behind him. Jaemin is easy to please, but hard to keep. Attention is a precious thing, time is money. In his case, time is pleasure. A pretty face may lure him in, but nothing ever makes him stay.

And yet he’s been chasing you for a month now. The first to pick you up from your locker, a freshly brewed coffee in hand just for you. For someone that walks the earth as a god in a human body, Na Jaemin shouldn’t bother to learn your coffee orders by heart. He shouldn’t be the one making you laugh out loud in your least favorite classes and he should not be making the effort to make your heart skip.

Love is discardable, recycable. Never long-term. That’s what Jaemin says. So why is he sitting here, pouting, because you’re denying him the affection he so desperately craves? There are thousands of girls who’d kill to take your place. It drives you insane to be kept in the dark - you want to crack the wolf boy’s head open and look inside, cast a spell on him and make him spill his guts.

Nobody can know you’re a witch. Especially not Na Jaemin, part of the wolf pack that despises your kind. Everybody knows the stories, of Mark Lee and the woman he gave his heart to, cursed by a witch’s envy. That’s why you stay quiet and endure Jaemin’s flirting, and the only reason you resort to investigate the human way.

“What are you doing here, Nana? Be honest.”

Jaemin furrows his brows. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean, baby?” The nickname falls so easily from his lips. It feels just right, because why wouldn’t you be his baby? Who would pass up the chance to taste the honey dripping from his lips, the lies he speaks that taste like bitter-sweet candy? You’ve met plenty of guys who play hearts like a particularly interesting game of cards, but never have you seen someone like Jaemin. Love is like a lottery to him, and you’re the billion dollar prize - the way he treats you makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world, of undescribable worth. You know Jaemin is affectionate with everyone, and yet it makes your heart burst when he cradles your waist like it’s fine china. Carefully. Respectfully. To him, you’re art. Sadly, he’s not a critic - only the collector.

You let him rub his cheek against your stomach as if he’s a needy cat. There’s no use stopping him, since Jaemin gets the attention he desires one way or another. It should make you feel sick. And yet you only pray that he continues playing this game of push and pull, hope that he keeps trying. You’re a masochist, an addict. Na Jaemin is your fix.

The sunlight frames Jaemin’s face like a halo when he leans back and smiles at you. This is the face of Michelangelo’s David, the perfect reincarnation of Adonis. His looks are surreal. Like cut-out diamonds, Jaemin’s jawline seems sharp, but is soft to the touch. Beauty in controversy. Lust and virtue in one. Any angel at the gates to heaven would rip their hair out of trying to sort Jaemin - too gorgeous for hell, too sinful to stay in paradise. “Go bother someone else,” you mumble, desperately trying to break the spell you’re under. Na Jaemin makes you dizzy, and he knows. “I bet Haechan’s going to cuddle you. So go, shoo!”

“I don’t want Haechan.” A loud yelp is tugged out of you when Jaemin tugs you down to sit next to him, and in the next second you’re being embraced. Strong arms curl around your body, holding you close, hiding you away from the world. The most wonderful feeling in the world. “I want you.”

Love has never treated you right. Several nights have been wasted on boys and their white lies, on let-down crushes and unrequited feelings. Maybe it’s because you’re a witch, and bad luck follows you everywhere.

Just for once in your life, you want to be treated like a princess. You want Jaemin to look at you and see everything he ever dreamt of coming true. But that’s impossible. You know it very well.

That’s why you untangle yourself, sad smile on your lips, sorrow weighing heavy on your heart. Love is for girls that aren’t afraid to fall. “Sorry, but no,” you tell Jaemin, and tears prick at your eyes when you stand up and walk away.

You will never fall again.

— ❦ —

Sadness tastes like cheap raspberry vodka and salty tears. Atleast that’s what your intoxicated brain thinks it is, as you lean your head against the bathtub and close your eyes in an attempt to drown out all the loud music outside. It’s not like you to get wasted beyond control, but it’s hard to look at Kwon Eunbin’s face and say no when she begs you to take a shot with her. And another one. And another one after that.

Did it matter to Eunbin that you don’t like alcohol that tastes like disinfectant? No, of course not. Your best friend’s only job is to get you drunk and make you forget about your stupid infatuation with a certain blueberry-haired boy. Rosé wine and cocktails are long forgotten the second Eunbin takes you into the kitchen and makes you play drinking games against the frat brothers living here. Now it’s landed you in the only free bathroom inside this house, while Eunbin is searching for some water for you.

Not like she’s too drunk to take care of even herself right now. You’d bet fifty dollars she‘s already forgotten about you because someone lured her to a beer pong table. It’s alright, you forgive her. But it’s not that nice to sit in the bathroom and ponder over the meaning of your existence alone. Your conclusion of what sorrow tastes like isn’t that deep, but it’s the perfect description of the miserable shape you’re in right now. Who the hell even drinks raspberry vodka? It tastes nothing like that. It’s just drinkable bleach that your stomach barely handles.

And yet it’s enough to numb out the butterflies Na Jaemin brings to life inside you. When you close your eyes, his laughter rings in your ears, as if he’s right here with you. The sound is pleasant, calming. Like good music to a trained ear. This is what happiness would sound like if it were a noise. No matter how Jaemin treats love interests, he’s a good person at heart. That’s what makes it so hard to get over that stupid infatuation. It’s impossible to forget about his advances when all you can think about is him volunteering at a shelter and secretly adopting rescue kittens, because his best friend loves them. You think of the adorable smile on his lips when he’s suprised with his favorite snack, and how he gushes love declarations to his friends just because they thought about him. His kindness to strangers. His loyalty to the pack.

Na Jaemin. End of sentence. That’s it.

Perfection is unattainable, a ridiculous concept. You know that, and you still think it’s the only word to properly grasp Jaemin’s personality.

The vodka is doing a bad job from getting your mind off him. You groan, moving to hide your face in your hands. Is the room spinning or is that just you giving out on reality?

“(y/n)?”

It’s not Eunbin. When you look up, you lock eyes with Lee Jeno. It’s heartwarming how concerned he looks, even if you don’t talk that often. You’re only acquiantances. Despite that, Jeno moves to sit down beside you, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice quiet. You strain to even hear him properly, booming trap music making the house rumble.

It’s ridiculous, but your inebriated brain doesn’t even think about worrying about yourself. Grinning, you point at the boy’s blonde locks, tousled and curled. His girlfriend liked to play around with his hair often. It’s cute he lets her style it. “Since when’s your hair dyed?” You drawl out. Your tongue feels weirdly heavy, as if it’s not supposed to be there. Something makes you want to bite down, but the very small part of you that’s still sober screams not to do it. “Last time I saw you, it was still black. Did your girl do that?”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound, but it’s not like Jaemin. It doesn’t make your heart skip several beats and stutter like a broken record. “You’re about to pass out in our bathroom and yet you ask me about my hair?”

“Yeah. It looks really, really cool. I didn’t think any other hair color would suit you, but now that I see it, I dig it. Good job to the hair dresser.”

“Thanks.” Jeno chuckles, and then he helps you sit up. The many shots took their time to hit you, but now they all mess with you at once. Thankfully, you have a very good friend who keeps you up. “I’ll pass it along. But first, can I get you some water? Do you want to lay down? There’s a spare room downstairs because Renjun’s out of the house right now.”

Fear suddenly floods your senses. Eunbin hasn’t returned, and you don’t want to be left alone again. If Jeno goes now, you’ll probably start crying from the amount of overthinking you’ve been up to. “Don’t leave, please,” you plead Jeno. He pets your hair, like you’re some sort of cat. It’s strangely enjoyable.

“(y/n), you need some other drink besides alcohol. You’re going to have the biggest hangover otherwise.”

Oh, there is no way to avoid that. If Jeno knew how much you had downed this evening ... But you don’t tell him, instead shaking your head. “Don’t wanna be alone. ‘M sad.”

Jeno cocks his head. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t read, unfathomable. Like this, he somehow looks younger. You wonder if cocking his head is a habit he picked up from being a wolf, but asking that would be weird. The man seated infront of you takes the decision out of your hands. “You want me to get Jaemin?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you nod instantly. Moving on instinct, of course. The second Jaemin is mentioned, your fears settle. Your heart calms down. What is it about that name that makes you feel so much at home?

“Okay,” Jeno breathes out. He squeezes your shoulder one last time, before standing up and leaving the bathroom. Time seems to pass so slowly. Being in a bathroom drunk always feels like staying in an alternate dimension. It’s just God and you now, no matter if you’re religious or not. It’s an unwritten rule.

Your audience with a deity doesn’t last long, though it feels like eternity. When the door opens again, Jaemin enters, the door clicking into the lock as he closes it. “Baby,” he laughs. How dare he mock your misery? “I didn’t even know you drink at parties.”

Your actions are out of your control the second Jaemin settles beside you. Without hesitation, you move to climb on his lap, arms moving around his waist and keeping him there. This is fine. This is okay. He wouldn’t mind, right?

For a moment, Jaemin tenses below you. In that split second, you think rationally again. Maybe you had crossed a boundary. You should’ve asked before initiating this. What the hell were you thinking? But Jaemin bows over you, and then your mind just blanks. You get lost in the way he embraces you, strong body hiding away yours as he buries his face in your hair and breathes in deeply. Jaemin is warm, like a furnace beneath your touch. Wolves tend to run a little warmer than normal people. The boy in your arms seems to burn you, and yet you wouldn’t move away for a single thing in the world. You’re perfectly content with where you are.

If this is what loving Jaemin feels like, you think that the pain to be endured is worth it. This feels like your own personal heaven. Soft lips meeting the shell of your ear. Whispered compliments. Someone chuckling alongside with you when you comment sarcastically. The universe comes to a halt whenever you’re with this wolf, whether that’s a good thing or not. You don’t want to know. You want to stay like this forever.

“Still with me, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hum, repositioning yourself on his lap. Sadly, he leans away when you lock your arms around his neck, laughing at the whine you let out at that. He’s really enjoying seeing you suffer today. Maybe this is why his friends beat him up all the time. You’ve seen their play fights, both in human and wolf form. “Tired.”

Where Jaemin’s hands meet the exposed skin of your waist, the butterflies come back to life. You weren’t able to drown them, no matter how much vodka you drank. “Did someone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re wasted?” he mumbles, tugging you closer. Your breath hitches when his chest meets yours. He smiles. “Now I need to follow you like a guard dog at every party so nobody else gets to see this. I’d get too jealous.”

“Don’t worry,” you mutter. A hiccup makes you jump on top of him, and you miss the way Jaemin silently groans at that. “Nobody wants me, anyway.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Surely, this would make him stop chasing after you, and now you’ll have to learn how to survive every day without the wolf boy making you feel better with his words. The reassurance he showers you with. The many thumbs-ups, his constant encouragement. Though, now that you think about it - this is the longest Jaemin has ever put up with a girl. Is he humoring you? Did he know about what he made bloom inside your chest, and is hoping you choke on the petals?

When you look up, the wolf’s eyes are in disbelief, almost enraged. It’s a reaction that you didn’t expect, sobering you up just a little. “Is that what you think?” he inquires, the underlying tone in his voice deadly. You gulp. “(y/n), you must know about the many guys standing in line behind me. Are you unaware of all the attention that you draw to yourself? How stunning you are?”

The words tug at your heartstrings. Still, you tell him, “It’s never made anyone stay.”

It’s the truth, a truth he’s going to confirm himself. Na Jaemin can’t be held down. He’s the fleeting warm wind kissing your skin, the sun breaking through the thunder clouds to save your day. He’s not meant to be there forever. Witches don’t run with wolves.

You’d give it all up for him. The spells, the magic, the spirits. Toss everything away to offer Jaemin the world. But Jaemin has galaxies inside his soul, and the universe inside his eyes.

What would he want with your world?

Jeno coughs awkwardly when he enters. It’s the only comment he lets slip about the position you’re both in, instead kneeling down to offer you the glass. The water’s freezingly cold, but you gulp it all down, heart soaring at Jaemin’s praise. Both wolves briefly talk about what’s going on downstairs, and you yawn. Jaemin’s head snaps to yours. Seconds later, you’re lifted off the ground.

“Jaemin!”

Jeno laughs at your shocked squeal. He turns off the lights in the bathroom while you’re carried out, and you lose sight of him as Jaemin brings you to bed. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. You just want to sleep. Forget about this conversation, deal with the problem later. In the morning, you’d let your heart be crushed by the boy who was never yours. And then you’ll have to learn how to survive that.

Jaemin sets you down on a soft bed. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping over your cheekbones. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says. His tone offers no room for discussion. So you nod obediently, and hug him. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but something just keeps urging you to. To feed into the addiction that is Na Jaemin. The more you consume, the more hooked you get. He just laughs when you kiss his cheek, lets you tug him down so he hovers over you. “Stop acting cute. You’re still in trouble.”

“Okay.” You kiss his other cheek. His eyes slip closed when you dishevel his hair, tugging at the locks in an affectionate manner. The color suits him.

You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. The flutter of your heart is a foreign feeling, as weird as the sadness you feel when Jaemin moves away from you. You’re not ready yet, not able to face the flood. You grip his shirt, your legs wound tightly around your waist. The immense wish for him to lay down beside you makes you feel lightheaded.

“(y/n),” Jaemin groans, but he still hides his face in the crook of your neck. You’re aware he can hear your heart racing at his actions, but you can’t find yourself to care. All that matters is that he’s here. You sigh in content when the wolf kisses his way up your throat, dangerously close to your jaw. “Acting cute is not gonna save you.”

You shrug.

The room is dimmed, so you can’t see the look on his face. “Stop,” he deadpans. “I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Be a good girl.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

“When you’re sober and still willing.”

You tighten your grip on his shirt. “Okay. That’s a promise, right? Because otherwise, I’ll get really, really, really upset...”

You wish he wouldn’t tease you by pressing a kiss to your cheeks. You can’t see him, but you know he’s grinning. You just know. He’s Na Jaemin. “Be a good girl,” he repeats. “And in the morning, you’ll get a reward.”

— ❦ —

Your head feels like it’s been split apart. Someone’s punching holes into your temples, and you wince when you move. This is the reason you never drink high-percentage alcohol. It messes you up so much more than your trusted wine.

The bed you slept in feels empty without a body to hold you warm. It smells like your favorite wolf, but you know for a fact he hasn’t been in this room once after you fell asleep. He wouldn’t do anything without your consent. Especially when you’re under the influence. You long for another hug, but once you realize what you’re feeling, you freeze. Everything from yesterday comes rushing back.

“Oh my stars,” you murmur.

Embarrassment feels very hot, and somehow chilling at the same time. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks, your face turning into a heating pack for the hands that move to cover them. You rarely allow yourself to get so intoxicated in public. So why’d it have to happen in near proximity of Jaemin, so you can mess up and spill your secrets?

There’s still a reward to claim, though. You were promised something, and you intend to get what you are owed as a last goodbye. Before Jaemin shifts his attention and forgets about you, as if you were a star in the sky dying and leaving nothing behind but dust. You can still feel his hands on you, the touch imprinted into skin and soul. Many boys had gripped you with the sole intent of using you to their own gain, but Jaemin had held you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. A treasure. A blessing. With just a few soothing words, this wolf had managed to fill the cracks in your heart with his appreciatiation. It’s not enough to make you believe in love, but it’s enough to finally return your bravery to you. So you can finally step over the edge and fall, to surrender to another person. Your heart is battered and bruised, but you’d give it to him without hesitation.

Life isn’t meant to be spent dreading everything. You’ll regret choosing pain over caution, but it’s better than rotting away alone. There is no way to look past all the beautiful things life has to offer. It gave you Jaemin, even if it was for a little while. In his smile, you see the honesty you’ve been craving all your life from other people. His touch makes you forget about the men who treated you like their servant and not the queen they were supposed to worship. When Jaemin listened, you remembered what it felt like to be taken seriously. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to reject you. Anyone who makes you realize your worth again is a person worth let in. So you slip out of bed and start searching for him.

You’re still owed a kiss.

The house is littered with plastic cups and empty bottles. A peek into the many rooms reveals sleeping pack members and girlfriends, and some friends scattered over the couches in the living room. You can’t find Jaemin anywhere, so you head to the kitchen. Maybe he’s already preparing breakfast?

Mark Lee is seated at the kitchen table.

He sits there, looking like he was waiting for you. Perhaps he was. He’s a supernatural creature, blessed with heightened senses and perfect hearing. Your little footsteps must have sounded like booming fireworks to him. The rumors made him out to be a scary person, and if he wasn’t looking at you with such a blank face, you’d be willing to overlook them and call him cute. But it’s not a boy staring you straight in the face; it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Mark doesn’t speak for a long time. His eyes wander over your appearance, your body still clad in the outfit from yesterday. The house had been too hot several moments ago, but now you feel like shuddering. Nothing is more terrifying than looking someone in the face and being aware of much they loathe you.

There’s no other explanation for the glare etched into his face. No other reason for him to despise you, even though this is the first time he ever saw you. He knows. Knows about the powers you carry in your blood, the very same ones someone else used to curse his girlfriend. The story is widely known, almost a myth, if it weren’t for the many people that watched her collapse straight into Mark’s arms as her veins turned black. A forbidden spell, and yet it was used in broad daylight.

Mark hums. It would’ve sounded nice, if it weren’t so ominous. “Jaemin’s gone to the bakery,” he says, voice cold and void of politeness. This man can’t stand the sight of you. Honestly, if you were in his place, you wouldn’t be able to either. “He told me about having a girl sleeping over. Someone he likes. Someone who’s been toying with his feelings.”

Your throat closes up. You don’t like where this is going.

He pushes away the empty cup he clutched, revealing the claws extending from the tips of his fingers. You try to remind yourself that he can’t control it, that he’s just angry. It’s hard to do when everything inside you screams for you to run away.

The table creaks loudly when Mark leans on it. You can see the sharp nails more clearly now, deadly to the touch. “He didn’t tell me it was a witch,” the wolf continues, as if he wasn’t aware of how much he’s scaring you. “Though that clearly explains why you’re breaking his heart and enjoying it. All you witches can do is destroy and demolish. Is that why you sent us the vampires? Even though you were fully aware they’d turn on you? Did that not matter to you, if it meant being rid of us wolves?”

“I don’t enjoy it,” you whisper. You know hearts can’t physically break, but your chest is hurting, and you’re afraid Mark is going to shatter you instead of Jaemin. This is what you get for believing other people over the person themselves. If only you had realized that Jaemin was serious; the amount of time he had spent on you, so unusual for a boy of his kind, his respectful behaviour, everything. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I don’t care!”

Mark has finally cast aside the cool exterior. Visibly fuming, he watches as you tremble because he had raised his voice. The wolf shakes his head, then his hands, tries to shake off the anger. Stop the transformation. He wouldn’t turn in his own kitchen, would he?

Maybe you should just let him shred you to pieces. It’s what you deserve for treating Jaemin like some boy without feelings. You feel terrible.

There’s a gaping ache growing just beneath your lungs, swallowing up your heart like a black hole. The feeling is excruciating, almost unbearable. You force yourself to bear it. You deserve it, you tell yourself. You deserve it. The words ring in your ears and in your entire body, making way for the hollow feeling that imprints itself inside you.

Mark never looks away. He gauges in your reaction, the dooming realization of the consequences to your actions. “Stay away from him,” he finally tells you. It’s the last nail driven into your coffin. Everything seems to fade away. “Stay away from that boy. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken by someone who’s never learnt to appreciate it. You know that. Spare him. Leave, and spare him.”

As a child, you had once swallowed a potion on accident. Your mother tended to leave all her cups and cauldrons everywhere, often forgetting that curiousity manifests itself in her daughter. The liquid had been thick and had burned, all the way down to your stomach, spreading through your body as the agony swallowed you up. Like someone biting away at your organs, ripping a big chunk out of your heart and paralyzing your tongue. You had been lucky the potion wasn’t deadly, only intended to torture, to coax the truth out of someone.

This is a fresh serve of that very potion. The memory is suddenly clear as day, every detail repeating in your mind. The same fire. The same torment. And you’ve ingested it on your own accords again. You never learn.

“Okay,” you say. It’s not you speaking, but it’s your voice, an odd out-of-body experience.

No one stops you as you walk out the house. You never look back.

— ❦ —

Magic in a way, is like poison.

It’s uncontrollable sometimes. When your senses are flooded with intense emotions, it splinters of your fingertips like the sparks of a fire, just as dangerous. It burns down villages and gives life to dead forests. The earth splits to obey it, raising the ocean and capturing the stars to bend to your will. It eats away at your energy every time you use it, sends you straight to the ground after a particularly powerful spell. No one ever taught you how to turn it into a cure. It doesn’t mend the wounds of your soul, only the superficial ones grazing your skin. Humanity does not need magic to save lifes. Medicine reaches out way further than magic does, tackles the problems more effectively. Scars fade away with time. Wounds close up. But your soul never recovers. It remembers everything, for now and eternity. It is going to replay the moment you abandoned Jaemin forever.

The ground is strangely comforting. You’ve been resting on it for a while now, even though your bed is right beside you. The cold is numbing, keeps you awake. Haunted by the many months Jaemin spent chasing after you, you stare at the ceiling and pray for karma to have mercy on you. How blind you were. Now that you’re given the sight, you’re not sure you want to keep it.

You spent many days counting the what if’s. What would’ve happened if you weren’t so stubborn, so gullible. You count them, once, twice, infinitely, then you repeat. Only the stars listen. They hear the secrets you whisper to them, the stories of your burden, and they guard that secret forever. It’s the only thing they can do for you.

When witches mourn, nature mourns with them. Eunbin watches as the weather starts to follow your lead. Thunderstorms darken the skies for days on end, the blighting thunder lighting up your face. She watches as flowers start to wilt at your touch, how your tears make the rain knock at your window like an old friend. You only let her in at night, when the moon watches over you both, heightened magic coursing through your veins. You’re always stronger at night. It’s a trait you passed on to your first creation, the werewolves. The very first curse you ever casted.

“All you witches can do is destroy and demolish.”

Mark is very right.

Eunbin moves to hold you close, but she could very well hold a desk plant. Or a lamp. You never stir in her hold, as motionless as an inanimate object. Once, you had helped her through a very similar phase. The world had come crashing down on Kwon Eunbin the day she lost Yeeun. Nature had suffered under her sorrow, flooding streets and cities as you had desperately tried to anchor Eunbin in the waves trying to drown her. In a sense, witches are very selfish.

She believes you’re anything but.

“(y/n),” she mumbles. The ground groans below her when she shifts her weight, the old wood barely doing its’ job. “Please talk to him.”

You laugh, but it’s void of emotion. Eunbin can’t recognize her best friend in that sound, the woman she considers a sister. You’re like a poltergeist, born out of heartbreak. “And break up the pack because of my stupid feelings?” You scoff. “Sure. Because I couldn’t possibly be more egoistic than that.”

“You’re suffering.”

“I feel like I’m dead, Eunbin.” It’s quiet for a very long time. You finally move, the life returning to your limbs. You twist and turn, clinging to her body like a toddler in need of affection. She graps that chance, embracing you tightly, her arms forming a cage. If that bothers you, you don’t complain. “Just dead. I can barely feel anything. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me - every second I spend thinking about us separated... It’s a vicious cycle. I can’t get any rest. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been.”

Eunbin knows about the tales of the children of the moon. How the moon had turned away from the witches and gave her attention to the ones who needed it most, and she gifted the wolves with all her blessings. The promise of a life-changing love, returned in full. Two souls connected by fate. Kindred spirits finding their way back to each other.

But it couldn’t be. No, absolutely impossible.

Eunbin thinks about Yeeun. She thinks of a big, grey wolf, giving her life for Eunbin, fulfilling a promise untold. And she reconsiders.

Some people aren’t meant to be seperated. Eunbin wonders if a long time ago, someone had written your story into the stars, moonlight-tipped fingers connecting your soul to another. Destined to be with the boy with the unruly, blue hair.

It’s been sometime since she last visited the Dream frat. Maybe it was time to return.

— ❦ —

Never in your life has someone thrown stones at your window. You must admit, the experience is more scary than romantic, and you curse all the movies in existence that made you think this was cute. It’s almost embarrassing that some minerals knocking against glass is the reason you snap out of your trance, but you try and pin-point the blame on the fact that nobody’s ever done this before.

A stone flies past your cheek when you open the window. You almost scream.

“Oh my god, (y/n)! I’m so sorry!”

The voice is oddly familiar - and the instant remedy to your vicious cycle. All the sleepless nights melt away as you peak down and look Na Jaemin in the face, a big smile on his lips. Something inside your soul finally clicks and rests, never moving again. Not until something makes the boy below your window walk away. “What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

Jaemin spreads his arms. “Giving you your reward, of course.”

Guilt pools in your stomach, almost as overwhelming as the happiness that floods you at the realization that he’s really here. Sweet Jaemin, with the honest eyes and heavenly smile. The one you hurt terribly... “Jaemin, you can’t be-“

“Move away from the window, baby,” he interrupts you. Irritated, you lean away; shouldn’t he be angry with you? Upset or disappointed? He’s not even listening to you, but it seems like there is no reason to. Something claws at your window, swinging in without fear.

Now, you really do scream. The rocks were one thing, but Jaemin climbing through your window? This apartment complex is huge, for god’s sake. Did he just scale the side of the building? “Jaemin!” you hiss. “What the hell...”

You never get to finish your sentence. The wolf boy tackles you, pushing you on your bed as he firmly embraces you and rests his head on your chest. Like he’s supposed to be there. Not like you’ve been avoiding him for weeks because Mark Lee was going to rip your head out if you even breathed in the direction of Jaemin. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you there. You’re effectively trapped.

You can’t complain.

Jaemin hums in content when you hug him back, and he eases his weight off of you so you can move and sling your legs around his waist. He nuzzles his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. “Missed this,” he mumbles. “Missed you.”

You let him tug your shirt up so he can rest his hands on your naked waist. It’s like giving him a gift - his eyes light up in giddiness when he finally touches you, feels the warmth of you below his fingertips again. A child seeing the presents on christmas morning. “Missed you, too.” You bite your lip. “But aren’t you mad?”

He ignores you for a very long time. Instead, the man between your legs bunches your shirt up and covers your stomach with his own hand, as if he can’t believe you’re actually there. Beneath his skin. Holding him close. You would’ve never realized that Na Jaemin would be in disbelief of a girl wanting him, but look at him now. Your heart soars at the admiration in his eyes, and they meet yours when your pulse speeds up. It makes a smirk adorn his lips; he’s satisfied with the effect he has on you. For a moment, he looks down again, to the place where your hands hold his against your body. “Did you know that your little witch friend can be really vocal?” he says, ignoring your question completely. Lips leave a trail of heat down your skin as Jaemin traces the outline of your jugular vein. “She looks fairly small, but you should’ve seen her when she scolded the hell out of Mark. Really funny, actually. Wish she would’ve done it sooner...”

“Eunbin?” you inquire, puzzled. “What would Eunbin want with Mark Lee?”

Jaemin stops leaving kisses on you, sadly. He raises his head to look at you, offering you a look right into his soul. You see where the moon had fallen in love with Jaemin, where the lines of human and wolf blurred. Memories that gather and bundle, a messy clutter of emotions. But beneath it all, you find the boy you’ve fallen in love with. In his eyes, you find salvation.

The blankets rustle when Jaemin moves on top of you. He shifts his weight, gripping your waist a little bit tighter to hold you closer. When your chests meet, your hearts start syncing up, shaping a melody of their own. A few moments pass as both Jaemin and you concentrate on it; concentrate on where love meets forgiveness.

It’s weird. When Jaemin had just been an unknown face, you never managed to read him. Now, he’s like an open book that he pulled out himself for you. Put it on your lap and asked you to read it to him, as if he doesn’t know what’s inside it. In your hands lies his heart. Does he know that he’s clutching yours? You hope so.

“Well, you see.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your cheek. “She came in really calmly, actually. Wanted to see me and confirm something. Renjun was about to call for me, but Mark interfered... she brought herself into a lot of danger, coming to our house when she’s a witch. She did it for you. Told Mark that I should talk to you, and he in turn told her it’s best if you stay several continents away from me... I broke his nose for that.”

“Jaemin!”

He shrugs. “Eunbin yelling at him was pretty nice, but not enough to settle my anger. You think I’m going to let him talk about my mate like that?”

This is it. The explanation you’ve been begging the stars for, the root of your vicious cycle. Your mouth falls open in shock. Jaemin watches, half amused, half expectant. Like he’s waiting for something. “You mean to tell me...”

“Yeah. Eunbin found that out. She came to ask me if it was true. It’s what Mark didn’t know, because I didn’t tell anybody except Jeno. You should’ve seen the look on Mark’s face...” Jaemin halts. Worry glazes over his eyes, and it takes you several seconds to understand that he’s worrying about you. “Baby, are you alright? You’re all pale. It’s alright if you reject me, don’t worry, as long as you’re hap...”

Jaemin is suprisingly easy to push down. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to pin down a wolf, but the shock gave you an advantage. Straddling him, you lean down and finally kiss Jaemin.

It’s the key to your cage. The funny tasting cure your mom brewed for the potion you accidentally drank. If sadness tastes like raspberry vodka and salty tears, happiness tastes like chapstick and chewing gum. It’s the only thing you register before Jaemin flips you over and kisses you breathless.

You had been shy, but Jaemin is ruthless. His canines tug at your lower lip, a silent order for you to obey and part your lips. If your fingers clawing at his shoulders hurts him, he certainly doesn’t mention it, too busy drowning in the overwhelming feeling of your tongue moving against his. When you finally push him away to catch your breath, the wolf feels like he got drunk off of you. “That’s one way to claim your prize,” he breathes out.

A long time ago, the moon had mercy on your poor soul. This is what had been waiting for you all your life, hidden in the looming shadows of the supernatural world. A soulmate, born to love and adore you. Destiny feels a little bit like contentment.

You can finally laugh as the wounds that had been inflicted on you heal over, making way for the only emperor of your heart. “This kiss isn’t the prize,” you reply. “You are.”

[vinylhazza]

Can you write a concept about y/n finding Ethan’s Nintendo switch and playing at the whole day ignoring Ethan at first he’s happy she’s having fun but then he starts getting annoyed since she isn’t paying him any attention so he decides to pull her panties down while she’s laying on her stomach and then he inserts a furry tail anal plug in her which they’ve never really used before and yeah....I’ll leave the rest to your imagination queen😳😌

i’m not saying anything i promise (😖)

it’s not like she wanted to ignore him, but he gave her the opportunity to play his game when he left it sitting out in the wide open and she always begs to play only to get a “later” thrown at her carelessly with a kiss on the cheek. well the ‘later’ never came and she would ask again at another time, only to get the same answer. so when he holds out the controller in defeat after snatching it from her hands - she is lunging at him on the bed, laying flat on her tummy with the brightest smile plastered across her face. how could he say no to that face? when she looks so darn cute and happy? it was the least he could do after telling her ‘later’ so many times. 

at first, it’s actually quite fun to watch her little squeals of enjoyment and have her all giddy with excitement because finally he let her play after having to beg him and beg him day in and day out. she was just talking among herself to the game, little side comments that make him laugh at first...but then he gets lonely. and she hasn’t said a word to him in hours. she’s still sitting there, in the exact same position, tapping away at the controller while he sat next to her with a childish pout. 

“baby,” he whines, nudging at her leg with his hand. nothing. he gives her a silly tap, still nothing, “babe.”

she lets out a little “humph” at his tap but nothing more, still zoned in on her game.

“hm...i’m gonna get some food you want anything?” he smirks at the mention of food, knowing that she can’t ever resist because she is always so damn hungry he almost can’t keep up and he’s twice her size. the girl can eat, he’ll give her that. but again, she doesn’t move. not an inch. not even talk answer him quickly.

“no thanks,” she mumbles, then it’s right back to her game. and it’s - it’s making him angry now. not slightly annoyed, but angry. because how is she going to find his game, give him puppy dog eyes, and then ignore him the whole day? he was even offering food for christ sake. but she wasn’t having it.

“no thanks?” he scoffed, flopping his hand down on her ass in disbelief, it gives a soft smack - the soft cotton material of her tiny grey shorts nice unde his hand, “when have you ever said no to food in your twenty years of existence?”

never. the answer is never. but did she care? not in the slightest. she was having way too much fun 1. getting him to that edge of maddening irritation that she experiences often and 2. playing a game she’s constantly kept away from because he’s too selfish to even let her play one fucking time.

she gives a shrug, the tiniest of smirks on her lips that were now pinkish red from biting at the skin in concentration. he was just making it so easy to get under his skin.

even if she did hear him through the noise and commotion going on in her head while she played his game, smiling wide, it didn’t make her feel bad. not even a bit. she deserves to have a bit of fun, especially after having to deal with this exact bullshit every day with ethan and he hadn’t once apologized for ignoring her. he just kept on tapping away, leaving her to fend for herself and find her own enjoyment even when he was the one that invited her over. so she presumes she’s covered on that bit.

but she wasn’t expected what came next. and she definitely wasn’t expecting the result or rather punishment due to his pouting and nagging. he couldn’t have something too extreme up his sleeve right?

okay, if she’s gonna have her fun, i guess i’ll have mine, he thought to himself, flinging himself off of the bed with a scowl and a huff. she continues playing while he saunters over to the bottom drawer of the dresser, trying to be as quiet as he could as to not disturb her little play time. sarcasm intended. with an evil grin he tugs the drawer open and pulls out a little something something that he just knows will get her attention. he’s pretty sure they have only used the little toy one time before, but it was one of the craziest nights of their life.

a buttplug with a brown fuzzy tail. something he never imagined using while she was unsuspecting, relaxed, and not in the mood. yet, that is. she wasn’t concerned about ethan, let alone where he’s wandered off too until she felt a tug at her pants. one, twice, and then harder the third time. she finally feels the elastic waistband of her shorts slip just a bit down the skin of her hips, then further, and further down the expanse of her legs and off of her feet. she would’ve told anyone that asked she was only have paying attention at this point, even though that would be a lie.

her eyes had settled on a wrinkle on the bed, eyes set in a firm stare, waiting to see what ethan was really up to back there. ready to eat her out? fuck her for playing his game? punish her for ignoring him? what could possibly be coming next? instead of dwelling on the future that would unfold in just a few moments, she goes right back to her game, but keeps her attention divided in case he wanted to pull something.

it was only when her panties were finally peeled off and his hands were spreading her open like a flower in spring that she truly understood just how badly he wanted her to pay attention to him. and she jumped in a bit of fear and suprise mostly at the cold pointed tip of the butt plug - all lathered with lube now - poking at her clenching hole.

she had only ever felt the sensation a few times, on nights they got a little carried away and tried every damn toy they had before they finished. but...the stretch...she just falls apart at the feeling. it’s his hand squeezing her ass while he pushes the plug in slowly that causes her eyes to droop shut, fingers stilling on the controller. she’s trying her hardest, she really is.

“e...what are you doing?” she whispers, afraid if she does much more it would be a high pitched squeal because oh my God it’s all the way in and she’s clenched so tight around the silver toy that she can’t even begin to explain the wetness dripping onto the bed.

“so now you wanna talk to me?” he teases, but keeps a dark tone, now pressing his thumb into the jewled part of the plug, pushing in to slightly fuck her with it. the tail lays across her legs and over to the side. his little pet, such a pretty little thing, “that game doesn’t seem very interesting now does it?”

her mouth hangs open now, blown away by the plug pushing against a spot in her that has her seeing millions of stars bursting behind her eyelids. he’s rubbing at backside now, waiting to see if she will finally give it a rest and give into him.

“put the fucking game down and look at me,” he barks, ordering her without any hint of a choice. fuck he sounded so mad. but he will not be ignored, especially for a game he doesn’t let her play for a reason.

she shakes her head, defying him, knowing he will make her anyway, but wanting him to force her.

“i said turn,” a slap to her ass, “the fuck,” another slap, “around.” with one final harsh slap to her now sore behind, she’s pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, wiggling the tail back and forth while looking at him over her shoulder.

rocking back against his hand felt like a sin, a dirty, nasty act that she should be damned for. it just felt so good to be touched by him, used by him, punished for being a bad, selfish little girl. but that’s what she is isn’t she? his dirty little girl. always would be.

when his free hand slips down to rub figure eights onto her sensitive clit, she’s screeching then, eyes watery with tears of pleasure. it drives her crazy when he really works for it. his fingers rub her just right as the plug kept hitting that same sweet spot inside of her, his thumb pressing repeatedly in on the jewel under the tail.

the sounds of her pussy, the wet, squelching, soaking, drenched sound of her had him humming to himself in a sort of hungry way. she’s his little slut, dirty fucking whore. couldn’t deny him if she tried. she’s desperate for him always. and it wouldn’t ever change. she could have said no to his sexual advances, could have ignored him or given him a short answer like she’d been doing all day. but that would have been denying her the selfish pleasure of him seducing her for attention. and she didn’t really want to deny herself that.

his fingers are pushing into her quickly, moving at a fast pace, a goal set in mind. first he started with one, then two, and finally he slipped a third finger righ in her tight little cunt. with the tail swinging with her movements, his fingers fucking her, the plug making her feel so stuffed and full, she is cumming in minutes - screaming out his name along with many many curse words. he gives her praises through the blackout high she feels - telling her that she’s his good angel, his pretty girl, his favorite toy.

the fluttering clench around his fingers makes him hungry for more, but decides he’ll save the best part for later. tugging at the tail in her ass, he’s pulling the plug out slowly, letting her feel the stretch once again, and hearing her whimper at the loss, her hole shrinking back in front of his eyes. fuck.

ethans hands reach out to grab at her hips, raising her up so her back is pressed firmly against his chest where he kneels on the bed, eyebrows furrowed and fingers wet with her juices. she knows exactly what to do when he holds them in front of her lips, sticking her tongue out to suck his digits into her mouth, sucking and slurping to make sure she gets them all clean. his arm is wrapped around her midsection, his hips trailing kisses along her neck and collarbone, so tender and soft.

“please don’t ignore me anymore,” he whines between kisses, dipping his hand down to smooth across her thigh and lower stomach. her skin is just so soft it makes him crazy to not be touching her in some way.

“the game wasn’t even that fun,” she sighs, tilting her head to the side to give him more access. intertwining their fingers and giving his hand a kiss, first on the top, then on each knuckle.

“is that so? why did you go completely tunnel vision then?” he challenges, raising his eyebrow (you know the face). he’s such a smartass.

“you know why,” she laughs, smile taking over her face because her plan had played out just the right way. ethan always needs the attention, and when he doesn’t get it, he will make damn sure you pay the price. no matter if it’s sexual, a prank or minor inconvinience.

his lips detach from her skin with a pout at first and he sets his eyes dead on her face as she waits for him to talk, smirk just ornery as can be.

“you sneaky little shit.”

long story short she gets her shit pounded later that night and when she wakes in the morning the love bites, soreness between her legs, and light bruises scattered across her skin are a testament to what happens if you ignore ethan pay attention to me always dolan.

[jj-iz-bae]

Wild Wild Horses

Blurb prompt "Are you hurt?"

Requested with other prompts; doing this one as a separate concept cuz it's been in my head.

Jj Maybank x Reader

Note: so I'm a horse trainer and have been thinking about this type of thing with JJ. I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Jj loved to visit y/N at work. He would bring water and food. Sometimes he would even bring her favorite coffee, which just made her heart swell with joy. Today was just like any other day, she had to get up around 7am to head to the barn. Per usual, Jj's arms clung around her waist tighter at the sound of the alarm going off. Y/N smiled at his cuddly form, snoozing the alarm. She turned to face him and kissed his nose lightly. He opened his sapphire eyes just a bit, peaking at her. " I hate when you have to get up early on the weekends" Jj groaned as he snuggled into her neck, kissing softly. " Baby I have to get dressed" y/N giggled, wiggling out of Jj's grip and over to the dresser. Jj watched her closely with half lidded eyes. She was wearing his t-shirt which hung just below her ass. He smiled to himself as he curled up with the covers once y/N was in the bathroom.

20 or so minutes later, y/N came out with her y/h/c hair up in a pony tail. She wore her work shirt, which was just a t-shirt with the logo on it. Jj loved her pants. She called them britches. The way the tight pants hugged her curves and highlighted her long legs drove him crazy. Y/N walked over to the bed with socks in her hand, sitting them down to put them on. "When is your first lesson, babe?" JJ asked as he watched y/N pull on her socks. "9 is the first one but I have to bring the horses I'm not using outside before the kids show up." y/N explained as she leaned back towards JJ and kissed his lips. " You work too much, y/n" JJ said as he traced her jawline with his fingers, still half asleep. Y/N kisses his hand before standing up. "I do what I love, J. If it's ever too much I'm not afraid to ask for help. But I've been hauling hay bails and training babies since I was a kid. I promise I'm fine." y/N smiled down at JJ. He quickly sat up and hugged around her waist. Well if we're being technical he was more hugging her ass due to the fact that she was standing and he was still sitting in bed. " I love when you talk all farm girl,baby. And I really love these pants." JJ playful whacks y/n's ass as she starts to pull away laughing. "Well then, beach boy, maybe this farm girl will need help taking them off later." y/N smirks as she walks out of the room. Jj groans and lays back in bed. Y/N laughs while pulling her boots on and shouting goodbye to Jj before heading out the door.

*******

Jj had been wandering around the house for hours. He didn't know what to do with himself. He cleaned so random things. He made some food. It was just plain boring when y/N was at work. Jj pulls out his phone as he grabs his car keys. He quickly texts y/N and heads out the door.

Y/N was teaching 4 young girls when he arrived, coffee and cinnamon roll in hand. He smiled watching how animated she was teaching the kids and explaining the actions of the horses. Jj smiled at some of the mothers watching their children ride around the ring. The women know him well. He was around more often than not, helping y/N do whatever was needed just to be around her. One of the moms shouted to y/N, "y/N, your coffee is here!" y/N turns around confused before seeing Jj waving at her. She walked over to Jj, actually she walked backwards towards Jj as she continue to teach and watch her students ride around. "There you go, Abby! Open that outside rein and squeeze with that inside leg to keep him on that rail!" y/N yells excitedly as she leaned against the fence in front of JJ. "Did you get bored without me already?" y/N joked quickly pecking him on the lips after he hands her coffee over. " That and I missed the ponies." He smiled as you sipped your coffee and smiled at his comment. "Tell you what, you go walk around and say hello to all the fur babies and I'll finish this last lesson. I'm going to take a ride on Veronica after this so you can keep me company." y/N says as she starts to walk towards the middle of the riding ring. "Sounds good, Darlin'" JJ answered as he pulled a plastic bag of carrots out from behind his back, super prepared to go feed and cuddle ponies.

*******

Y/N had finished her lesson and now had Veronica on cross ties, tacking her up. Jj stood infront of the tall young horse scratching her face. "She's so pretty! What's her story again?“ JJ inquired while scratching down Veronica's neck. Y/N finished putting the saddle on and turned towards JJ." Well she is a retired racejorse at the age of 5 due to an injury. When we got her she was so nervous that she wouldn't eat unless I was there holding the grain bucket for her. She's gotten a lot better but still needs a lot of work. Luckily, we get along well and I'm happy to work with her. " y/N explained as she buckled her helmet and put Veronica's bridle on her.

Y/N, JJ and Veronica walked out to the ring, where jj leaned against the fence and watched y/N hop on Veronica with ease and practice. "Good girl, Ronnie." y/N cooed as she started walking around the ring. Y/n started to ask Veronica for a faster pace, which Veronica did beautifully. Jj watched in awe as y/N made the horse turn in a hundred different directions but didn't seem to move a muscle. Jj heard a car in the distance but didn't pay to much attention to it. The car grew louder as it drew closer. With a sudden punch on the gas, everything went to shit.

At the loud sound of some idiot gunning his car pretty close by, Veronica leaped into the air. Luckily, y/N had experience with riding through bucks and bolts of all sorts but JJ still felt his heart in his throat. Y/N remained calm, cooing to the horse to try and calm her down while pulling the reins to steer/try to stop her. Veronica soon began to calm down but her eyes were large and she was alert. "Well that was interesting!" y/N laughed breathing heavily when she reached JJ and asked the horse to stand. "I'm glad you found it interesting because I about shit my pants over here! “ Jj explained while running his hands through his hair. Jj lifted his head just as someone drove by the arena in a tractor. All he saw was hooves and grey fur. Veronica had no feet on the ground and was now galloping around the arena like a mad women. Wait. Jj looked at Veronica before standing up in shock and climbing over the fence. Y/N was on the ground in heap. Jj run towards her and pulled her into his arms. "Y/N, are you OK? Look at me babe! Wiggle your fingers and toes. Are you hurt? “ JJ tried to mimick what he had heard y/N say to kids how had fallen off in her lessons." Fucking asshole... He had to drive the damn tractor by right now! “ y/N cursed while taking a mental checklist of her body. Shit. Her arm." My arm is bad, J" y/N started to try and get to her feet, clinging on to Jj for support since her right arm was cradled across her body. "I have you. Take your time. I'm taking you to the ER." JJ states trying to stay calm but was honestly super concerned that you were down playing your injuries.

Upon standing fully, y/N started to cry while clutching her arm. A Co worker came running through the gate. "Shit, JJ if she's not back on the horse already she's really hurt! “ the co worker explained as JJ hugged y/N close." Is Ronnie OK?" y/N pulled away fromJJ looking around for the mare. Her Co worker had just caught the horse by her reins and was walking towards them. "She's OK y/N! I'll make sure she gets back to her stall OK. Please just let JJ take you to the hospital!“ she exclaimed walking by them. Jj wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist and started walking her towards the car knowing that y/N would try and go to the horse to make sure she was OK. That's one of the things JJ loved most about her. She cared so much for others especially animals. She would put herself in harms way to help them. Y/N didn't try and pull away. She knew her arm was broken. Jj lowered y/N into the passenger seat before running around to the driver's side and hopping in.

Jj got to the hospital in record speed. Y/N held his hand the whole way there. Her left hand in his as he drove. Every few moment, JJ would bring y/N's hand to his lips, leaving little reassuring kisses on her hand. Jj helped y/N out of the car and into the ER. The first place the ER sent them was to Xray. Y/N sat next to Jj, just leaning into him. "I feel so bad that Ronnie is so nervous. She seems like something happened to her to make her afraid of everything." y/N voiced just above a whisper, trying to keep her voice down in the waiting room. Jj laughed lightly before pressing his lips to her temple." Your arm is snapped like a piece of celery and you're still thinking about the horse. Unbelievable." JJ commented as y/N laughed. Y/N got called into the x Ray pretty immediately after jj's comment so she just shot him a look before following the nurse to the xray room. Jj picked up his phone and stepped out of the waiting room as soon as y/N was out of sight. He quickly pressed a few things on his phone before placing it to his ear. "Hello. This is JJ, y/N boyfriend. We are at the ER she's in getting an xray now. Pretty sure her arm is broken" JJ explained as your boss thanked him for the update and told him to give y/N her best. "Wait before you go," JJ interrupted as y/N's boss started to say good bye., "she's really worried about Veronica. Is she OK?" JJ asked. Y/N boss sighed on the phone before chuckling. "only y/N would be more concerned over the horse than her own broken arm!" her boss exclaimed and JJ laughed nodding his head even though no one can see him "that's exactly what I've been saying" JJ jokes with her boss. After y/N boss assures jj that Veronica is perfectly fine, JJ returns to the waiting room. A nurse walks out into the room and calls JJ Maybank. Jj quickly stood and walked towards the nurse. The nurse smiled and asked him to follow her. As the nurse led jj down several hallways, the nurse started talking to Jj. "y/N absolutely has a broken arm. She will need a cast. She didn't want to get it on without you there. Said she needed your color recommendation." the nurse smiled over her shoulder. Jj laughed "That sounds like her. Thank you for bringing me back." JJ responds politely before following the nurse into a room. Y/N sat looking at several different colors. "J! Just the guy I wanted to see! “ y/N exclaimed upon seeing him. Jj laughed and sat down next to her." OK I heard you need my amazing design skills to pick a color. What are our options? " JJ sassed as he put his arm over your shoulders. Y/N pointed to a royal blue, a light blue and a hot pink. Jj hummed in thought at the colors. "OK so no on the light blue cuz it will get dirty real quick and knowing you, you will be back at the barn tomorrow." JJ explained as y/N just laughed. "I like the blue but I think you should go pink cuz if you ever need to signal for help, you're all set!“ Jj smiled as y/N just laughed. The nurse giggled too hearing JJ over analyzing the colors." See! This is why I needed him!“ y/N told the nurse through laughs. Pretty soon the doctor came in and cleaned y/N's arm before putting on the plaster cast and wrapping it in a pretty pink tape. Once her arm was wrapped and placed in a sling, JJ helped her back in the car and drove them home.

Once they finally got home, it was dark out. Y/N got out of the car and walked into the house. She layed on the couch and groaned. "That was a hell of a day." y/N huffed as JJ throw his keys onto the coffee table and lifting your legs to sit next to you. "You can say that again" JJ said, brushing off some dirt that was still all over her. Y/N phone dinged and she looked at it smiling. She turned the phone to show JJ. It was a video of Veronica in her stall, eating hay, happy as a clam. The caption on the video read don't worry, mom, I'm OK! Jj smiled at the video "She's completely fine just like I said" jj said looking at y/N's smile. "I know I'm crazy but I always worry about the horse when this happens."y/n laughed as she sat up and stood up walking to their shared bedroom. Jj followed her just in case she needed help with anything. He walked into your bedroom to find you struggling to pull of your dirt covered clothes." Here let me help you there, cutie! “ JJ giggled as he walked towards you, slowly guiding the shirt off your head and over the broken arm. Jj's hands then traveled down to undo her britches at which point y/N started laughing" You know, earlier when I said I might need help out of these later, this isn't what I had in mind." y/N admits while laughing. Jj chuckles sliding the britches down your legs and letting you hold onto his shoulder for balance." Me either, y/N, me either"

OK so this came out way longer than I intended but whatever lol. Hope you like it! Here's a picture of the real Veronica that is now much much better with her anxiety and is the most beautiful creature on planet earth😍

[ayankun]

coffee shop au bitches (working title)

here, have this rough draft of the first half of part 1.  consider it proof of concept.  (the concept is Destiel Coffee Shop AU, but actually good) (”good;” YMMV)

9.3k words; Cas is human like everyone else so to compensate I made him socially anxious af; there’s a brief unpleasantness wherein someone in customer service gets harassed so watch out for that I guess; Cas is also carrying a lot of baggage (literally and metaphorically) and it’s vague for now but a little wearisome so GLHF I promise when it’s done-done they all get the kind of happy endings they deserved from the show

The town of Lebanon, Kansas sprang up without warning, its tree-lined streets shockingly claustrophobic after the three hours of patchwork browns and greens streaming by the smudgy window, the rolling plains uninterrupted to the very ends of the earth until the blank blue September sky finally picked up where the horizon left off.

Castiel felt his eyes strain, forced to reel in his thousand-yard stare, as he squinted at the blur of tidy little houses perched along Lebanon's brief outskirts.  He blinked away from the window and pushed himself to his feet, sidling carefully into the aisle to pull his duffle down from the overhead rack.  In short order, the bus turned onto the tidy little Americana main street and rolled up to a tidy little bus stop, and, reaching back into his seat to retrieve his briefcase, he squinted out at this, too.  

The screech of well-worn brakes, the brace against the final lurch of inertia, the hiss and clack of the doors at the front and back folding open; with no more pomp and circumstance than that, Castiel's journey reached its end.  Clutching the handle of his briefcase and slinging the straps of his duffle over one shoulder, he edged down the aisle and nodded his thanks to the driver on his way down the steps.  Finally, Castiel planted his sensible shoes on the cracked sidewalk, looked carefully up and down the stretch of unremarkable, middle-of-nowhere civilization, and wondered what the hell he thought he was doing here.

The bus shrieked and rumbled back into the non-existent late afternoon traffic, a thick gout of black exhaust signaling its farewell, leaving Castiel behind before he had a chance to change his mind.  He watched its departure absently for half a moment, road-weary and numb.  Then he hiked his duffle a little more snug against his back, turned around, and began an unhurried stroll the shady two and a half blocks back to the motel on the south side of town.

---

"Been expecting you," the woman behind the counter said the second Castiel pulled open the glass door to the motel office.

He paused, looked over his shoulder, saw no one among the growing shadows of the motel's empty parking lot, no one except a trucker hopping out of his cab parked at the gas 'n sip on the opposite corner.  Castiel watched him jog across the street towards the Biggerson's, the lights of its enormous, highway-facing sign flickering on in welcome, and turned back to shoulder his way inside.  "I did reserve a room over the phone," Castiel said, approaching the counter, "And I was told that a few . . . personal items would be held for me at the front desk?"

The woman, Billie, according to her name tag, responded with a nod, less in answer to his question and more in the way one does when one is not surprised by what they've just heard.  She pulled the keyboard to the old desktop computer closer to herself with one hand, and held the other out, palm up, to Castiel.  "ID and credit card."

Setting his briefcase down on the floor, Castiel dug inside his overcoat's interior pocket for his wallet.  By rote he thumbed out the military ID to give her, but at the last second his heart gave a sharp little twist and he drew it back.  Her lips twitched, nonplussed, but she waited patiently until he handed her his driver's licence instead.  She studied the picture on it for a second, mouthed the name, and carefully considered the face on the photo compared to the face on the man in front of her.  He shifted his feet nervously, thinking he should have just given her the first one, if only to avoid looking any more disreputable than he already did.  

Evidently their hangdog looks matched to her satisfaction, though, and she snapped the plastic down onto the counter, shifted her attention to the computer to check him in.

"Room's yours for the week," she read off the screen as he retrieved his licence and put the credit card down in its place.  She slid it over to herself without looking, only glancing down to read the numbers, obsidian black fingernails clacking proficiently over the ten-key peripheral plugged into the side of the keyboard.  "Checkout's at eleven on the 25th."

When she slid the card back over to him, Castiel palmed it off the counter, put it back into the wallet behind his IDs (driver's license on top), tucked the wallet back into his overcoat.  "Um.  I'm not exactly sure yet -- I may need to extend my stay."  Absently, he wondered why he sounded like he was apologizing for it.

Billie looked up from the computer screen at him, neutral.  "Whatever you need.  We can do you by the week, month, whatever.  Got your card on file, so you just let me know when I should stop charging it."

Castiel tried a smile he didn't feel, thinking as he did so that he probably shouldn't have bothered with one, what with how it seemed to crumple his face in unnatural ways.  "I will let you know, thank you."

She pulled a blank key card from a drawer and ran it through the machine to code it for his room.  "Here you go," she said, slapping it onto the counter with another plasticky snap, "Room 401."

"Thank you," he said again, taking the key card and putting it into his coat's front pocket. She held up a hand to keep him from running straight off to the room, a slightly unnecessary gesture, since he had no intention to do so.  Not without the banker's box that she was now pulling out from under the counter.

It was sealed with tamper-evident tape, noticeably intact as she spun it 180 degrees so he could also see his name and a brief description of the contents inked with a tidy hand in the space provided on the lid.  Billie pushed the box toward him and then tapped a nail over one of the items on the contents list.  "She's parked out front."

Castiel peered down at the item she had indicated.  "Keys," it said, rather cryptically, in that unfamiliar, efficient script.  He nodded.  "Thank you."

He bent to pick up the handle of his briefcase, letting the duffle fall farther across his back as he did so in order to free up space under his arm for the banker's box.  It worked, albeit inelegantly, and he felt a little foolish as he fumbled the box off the counter and turned to go.  He felt even worse when Billie said to his back:  "I'm sorry for your loss."

No part of him wanted to say "thank you" again, so he just paused long enough to indicate that he had heard her, and then went out through the glass door and back into the shadowed parking lot without saying a damn thing.

---

Room 401 opened into a concise sort of entryway that pointed him toward a small kitchenette lit primarily by the glare of the Biggerson's sign falling in through the window.  The space featured a round table with peeling laminate, two plastic-and-stainless-steel chairs, a sink and a microwave and a loudly humming fridge.  It was downright lavish compared to the accommodations Castiel had shifted between for the better part of his life.

The banker's box went onto the table, to be ignored until the time came Castiel felt ready to pry inside.

He shrugged his duffle off onto the end of the bed, the briefcase going onto the floor at its foot.  Successfully offloaded, Castiel turned and sat beside the duffle with his hands in his lap, looking at the boxy little TV set sitting on top of a banged up little dresser; at the dusty looking armchair shoved back in the corner to his right, under a dusty looking lamp; at the dim alcove immediately to the right of the TV, keeping discreet the bathroom sink and mirror and the door to the toilet and shower.

He didn't know what to do now.

Twisting to look at the digital clock on the bedside table, he marked the time with no real interest.  Just after 6:30.  Not enough daylight left to try and find his way around town, too early to sleep.  Not that he really felt compelled to do either of those things.  Not that he felt compelled to do anything.

But he had to do something, though, didn't he?  He had to keep moving forward, in whatever small way he could manage.  He had to.

With a long sigh that seemed almost to empty him completely, Castiel got to his feet.  He pulled his overcoat off, went to the alcove closet to hang it up, stopped at the sink to splash some water on his face.  He took a moment to appreciate his appearance -- mournful and aggressively unkempt after two solid days on the road -- before stepping out of the alcove to retrieve the briefcase.  He opened it on the bed and slipped the laptop out, digging around for the charger, and brought both to the dresser, setting the laptop to one side and plugging it into the outlet he found by tracing the TV's power cord.

He stood there, hunched a little over the open laptop, waiting for it to wake from its hibernating state.  He could check his email, at least, or scroll through the news he'd missed while in the air and in taxis and in the air again and in buses that sailed too quickly through isolated islands of 4G signal that lit up only a single bar before going dark again.

His desktop loaded, the wallpaper a heavily-filtered photo he'd pulled from who-knew-where:  just an expanse of faded teal, adorned only by a single, old-fashioned kite, bold and bright with primary colors, pinned there on the sky by an unseen breeze for all eternity.  He had set it a long time ago and never changed it; the image was a small comfort, though for what reason, he couldn't tell.  It wasn't his memory.

The fleeting sense of well-being provided by the tranquil wallpaper faded as quickly as it had come.  The only Wi-Fi network in range was named "Big D's iPhone" and it was locked.  Castiel refreshed the network scan a few times, hoping to see something that looked like it was related to the motel, but nothing else appeared.  He fished his phone out of his pocket for a second opinion, but it, too, displayed just the one fishy looking hotspot and very little 4G, even though he swung it around like an idiot, dowsing the room for a signal, watching the littlest bar wink at him no matter which out-of-the-way corner he took it to.

He even found himself squeezing between the table and the window, pushing the curtain aside as if the radio waves were having trouble making it through the few millimeters of dusty fabric.  He knew better, but it couldn't hurt.  In the Biggerson's lot, catty corner to the motel, a sleek black muscle car came to life with an animal growl, and he watched it prowl out onto the street and streak out towards the highway, taking Big D's iPhone with it.

---

It wasn't Billie manning the motel office when Castiel made his way back inside.  He didn't know why this should surprise him, but the fact that his expectations had been subverted in such a minor way somehow made him stutter his step as he entered.

The woman lounging in the office chair with her boots on the counter didn't wear a nametag.  She did look up from her magazine -- Knives Illustrated -- but only for a second, just a cool, cursory glance to let him know that she knew he was there and also that she wasn't too bothered by it.

"Howdy there, Clarence," she drawled.

Castiel didn't look over his shoulder, this time, but he did falter to a premature stop halfway to the counter, searching the vast middle distance as he tried to quickly figure out if he had enough information to parse the greeting.  He didn't.

"My name is Castiel," he informed her cautiously, eyes lifting to meet hers over the cover of her magazine.

She turned a page.  "Knew it was something hokey like that."

"Yes, well . . . hello," he said, brow furrowing.  She turned another page and he pulled his hand down over his rough five o'clock shadow, a token from his time on the road.  He probably should have cleaned up before leaving the room, but here he was.  He stepped forward, "Excuse me--"

"You're excused," she sing-songed at him.  The magazine dropped just enough to reveal her razor-sharp grin; it was not too dissimilar to the image on the front cover.

"--I was wondering if you knew where I might find a decent Wi-Fi signal in town."  He arrived at the counter as he was speaking, and placed both his hands palms down on its surface.  When she didn't stop looking at him, he picked his hands back up and dropped them to his sides.

She went back to the magazine.  "Depends.  Business or pleasure?"

"Alright," Castiel said, defeated, hands clenching irritably at nothing, "I apologize for having bothered you.  Enjoy your evening."

He turned his back on her, and wasn't going to stop even when he heard the magazine slap closed and her boots clump to the floor, but still that's exactly what he ended up doing as she called, "Hold up, C."

It was the impromptu nickname more than anything, since hearing it inspired him to send a pinched look of consternation back in her direction, where she was now leaning towards him with her forearms planted on the counter, her straight dark hair falling over one shoulder.  "I was only having a little fun," she told him once she was sure she had secured his attention, "We don't get fresh meat like you too often around these parts, and a girl's got needs.  How could I resist?"

"That is a very forward way to speak to a customer," Castiel intoned, the dip of his head turning judgemental.  He'd seen looks like that before; his skin crawled when they were for him.  His hands balled up and flapped open again, trying to shake it off.  "Good night."

"Best bet's the Roadhouse," she told him just as he reached out to push open the door.  Again, he paused, against his better judgement, and she took that as her cue to continue, "Just head on up Main Street, you can't miss it.  If you hit the prairie, you've gone too far."

Castiel ducked his head, hiding the twitch of a small, rueful smile at the joke that slipped its way in at the last second.  "Thanks," he said, more to the half-opened door than to anyone else.

"You watch yourself out there, fresh meat," she hollered a parting warning as the door swung shut behind him, "The freaks come out at night."

---

Castiel walked back to his room to get his overcoat, taking in the rosy hues of twilight that striated the western sky dead ahead of him, chewing over the likelihood that the insouciant woman meant what she'd said.  He couldn't imagine that a small town like this would be terribly dangerous after dark, but, then again --

Stopping at the door to 401, he carefully prodded his better judgement into at least considering taking the car -- he looked at it from the corner of his eye, trying not to dwell too long on the idea that its previous owner would have left indelible personal traces behind -- and, sure enough, he wasn't ready to go digging.  Not in the box, and certainly not in the car.

Castiel gently shook out the fist he had made, swept his eyes over the brilliance of the western sky, and decided he was in the right kind of mood for a walk.

He unlocked his door, entered the room to grab his overcoat, stuffed the laptop back into the briefcase, exited again, pointed himself towards Main Street without giving the car another thought.

---

Turned out she was right about one thing, the Roadhouse was impossible to miss.

From the way the neon sign lit up the rustic wood siding of the cowboy-chic exterior, he half worried the establishment was a bar of some sort.  The windows were dark, the shades drawn down against the setting sun, so he only could only make a guess based on what the exterior looked like.  Hesitating on the sidewalk under a street lamp, Castiel squinted up at it and waged a minor civil war with himself as to whether it would be worth it to go in and find out.

He slowly turned around on the spot, in his little pool of light, casting up and down the nearly deserted street for some kind of sign that would help him choose one way or the other.  Small town Kansas didn't seem to have much going for it, in the way of nightlife; from what he could tell, the storefronts looked exclusively like the little mom-and-pops one would expect from the heartland -- the highway-adjacent Biggerson's the evident exception -- and all of these were either closed or closing.

He completed his inspection, coming face to face once again with the Roadhouse.  On the one hand, it purportedly had Wi-Fi, his current mission being to locate the same.  On the other hand, it looked like a bar, and he didn't want to walk in there with his out-of-towner face, with his uncool overcoat and his briefcase, and specifically avoid ordering alcohol.

He was just coming around to the idea that he could very well survive off the grid for a night when a pair of headlights attached to a shadow came roaring down from the north end of the street at him, the car banking into a smooth, undoubtedly illegal U-turn in the middle of the block, slinking confidently into the open space directly under Castiel's street lamp.  The engine cut off, then the lights, and then a man was ducking out of the driver's side, slamming the door shut behind him.

Castiel was stuck.  He hadn't counted on this particular type of social awkwardness, caught loitering on the street without anything to say for himself.  He averted his eyes, expecting the man to pass him by and go on with his business, but to his increasing embarrassment and frustration, the guy stepped up onto the sidewalk and shoved his keys into a pocket of his green canvas jacket and definitely didn't continue on his way.

"Coming or going?" he asked.  The voice was something of a deep growl, but the tone was friendly enough.  

Castiel looked up to be polite, or, at least, to be less weird.  "I don't know," he found himself saying.  Any chance to possibly come across as a reasonable human being was thoroughly smashed, he thought.  He couldn't talk his way out of this one, even if he tried.  Especially if he tried.  "I've only just arrived," he added.

The guy looked him up and down, not in a lecherous way, or even in a macho, sizing up the competition way; just an unguarded appraisal of his bus-rumpled appearance, the suspicious looking briefcase, the disconcerting way he was caught standing in the dark looking at the door of a place without going in.  The inspection was over in a second, and concluded with a good-natured nod and an open-handed wave that clearly said, "yeah, I figured out that much on my own."

"Well, we don't bite," the guy said aloud, slapping Castiel hard on the shoulder, making him rock from the impact and almost exactly undermining the sentiment.  He immediately turned and stepped up to the Roadhouse's door, hauling it open and beckoning back at Castiel to get his ass inside.  "C'mon, at this rate they'll be closed before you make up your mind."

If Castiel had been looking for some kind of sign, this was clearly providence's way of sending him one.

Even so, he realized he had started moving forward to accept the invitation without consciously meaning to, and, well, he had a lifetime of conditioning to thank for that.  Castiel, ever the good little soldier, taking orders at face value, instead of thinking for himself.  He frowned a little on the inside -- remembering to briefly tug a smile of thanks on the outside -- until the wave of warm, coffee-scented air hit him in the face along with the unavoidable understanding that the Roadhouse was not, in fact, a bar.

The relief of this revelation was powerful enough to enable him to put his weird little hangups back inside the box where they belonged, his outside smile going soft and honest around the edges, and he ducked his head sheepishly at the guy, who had followed him in.  Automatically angling himself towards the register, as one did one when one entered a coffee shop, he said, "I was informed there was Wi-Fi here.  Just not what 'here' was.  'The Roadhouse' sounds -- I thought perhaps it was a bar."

His honesty caught himself off-guard, uncertain as to where the need to explain himself to this stranger came from, exactly.  It was probably because he had already demonstrated the kind of small town friendliness that made Castiel feel like it would be read as rude if he didn't attempt a bit of smalltalk in return.  The guy looked like a nice enough sort of person to meet halfway; about Castiel's age, a little younger, perhaps; kind of a non-threatening good-ol'-boy with his ripped jeans, plaid flannel, and his not-quite-scruffy-not-quite-clean-cut style.  Castiel thought that maybe he could survive being social for a minute or two, with someone like this.

Instantly, this thought hit a bump in the road, as his new friend twisted a funny look at him.  "Got something against bars?"

Castiel dropped his eyes and tried to ignore his obvious misstep while he drifted into the back of the line, behind a towering mountain of a man in a black leather jacket.  Castiel wasn't short, by any stretch of the imagination, but the two men hemming him in were both taller still.  He thought about his answer to the question, flicking rapidly through the options, but wasn't able to pick one that was both simple and truthful before the guy abruptly leaned in.  This startled Castiel, who instinctively shifted away a half step, shoulder bumping up against the glass that separated him from a shiny brass espresso machine.

The guy didn't notice his discomfort, having breached Castiel's personal space to say in a stage whisper:  "If it's rough company you're worried about, nothin' to be afraid of, around here.  The real seedy joints are across town.  Ain't that right, Tiny?"

At this last, he straightened up and raised his voice some, directing the question straight past Castiel.

Castiel turned his head to see the huge leather jacket man fixing the tall canvas jacket man with a full-bodied glare.  He also, at this time, took in the man's shaved head and appreciated the twisting serpent logo coiled on the back of the jacket.  He shifted even closer to the espresso machine, clearing the space between the two men as best he could.

But "Tiny" didn't otherwise react, just turned back and stepped up to the register, boots heavy on the wooden floor.

"Wi-Fi's pretty decent here, yeah," Castiel's companion went on.  Castiel looked back to him, surprised to see him relaxed and indifferent, like he hadn't just specifically tried to antagonize a 400-pound member of a biker gang after dark.  "And the lattes are alright.  Fair warning:  your choices are pretty much either that or black coffee, those're the only things the kid can't mess up too bad."

Off the guy's nod over Castiel's shoulder, he obediently turned and saw the referenced kid -- in actuality, a young, sandy-haired man of about seventeen or eighteen -- working the espresso machine on the other side of the glass.  The milk frother hissed demonstratively for a moment, the kid's face pinched in comically serious concentration on the task, but when he shoved the arm back into the off position, he looked up to see who was watching him and broke out into one of the purest smiles Castiel had ever seen.

"Hello!" the kid said, sunnily, like Castiel was his closest friend and not a literal stranger gawking at him like a zoo animal.  The hand that had been operating the machine was summarily raised in greeting, palm forward, fingers wide.  He radiated a positively angelic energy that instantly made Castiel feel at ease, despite the anxiety of the last several minutes, somehow even despite the soul-crushing weight he'd brought with him to town.

"Hello . . . Jack," Castiel replied, after realizing he could make out the kid's name tag pinned to his apron.  Pinned to their apron, rather, as he belatedly noted the "they/them" pronoun declaration stuck on underneath the name with white label tape.  He smiled, the desire to return just a small portion of the hospitality he'd received so far rising ferociously inside him, one of the strongest emotions he'd had the pleasure of feeling in recent memory.  "I've been informed I should try one of your lattes."

He nodded at the stainless steel carafe of foamed milk in the kid's hand, and they looked down at it as if they'd forgotten it was there.  "Oh!  Yes, I suppose you should."  They poured the milk into a waiting paper cup of espresso, face contorting back into that look of supreme concentration for only as long as it took to pour, smiling back up at Castiel the second the task was done.  "I'm still learning how to make everything, but I'm getting better at the basics."

"Yeah, you are," the guy behind Castiel said, in that manner of speaking that was as aggressive as it was supportive.  Jack grinned shyly, ducking their head at the praise, and shuffled the drink off to the pick-up counter on the other side of the register.

Castiel looked back over to see the guy grinning after the kid, and a thought hit him.  "Are you their . . . parent?" he asked, tripping and catching himself on Jack's pronoun only slightly, a very jarring rush of panic hitting him in time to swerve around using the word "father," just in case gender-nonconformity ran in the family.

The . . . person met Castiel's eye and then looked away, shrugging a little.  "Oh me?  Nah.  I mean.  Sorta.  We're kind of just, looking after them, I guess you could say."

The use of the first-person plural pronoun seemed like something Castiel would pry into next, were he the prying sort.  Instead, he very, very briefly wondered what the average household looked like in Lebanon, Kansas, these days, or if he'd just stumbled into the exception on accident.

A hand was extended his way, along with a name.  "Dean," Castiel was told as he accepted the handshake, "He/him, in case you were wondering."

Castiel let out an inward sigh of relief, and the guy winked before adding:  "Aquarius.  Stones, not Beatles.  Star Wars and Star Trek, but not the garbage that came out after the nineties."  Dean let Castiel's hand go with a chewed-on smile and something of a self-deprecating eyebrow wag.  "That's basically all the important stuff you have to know about me up front."

"Castiel," he returned, "And . . . I am also a man."

Dean snorted a short little breath at that, eyes bright.  He rubbed his chin, scratching through the close-trimmed stubble.  "Castiel, huh?"

Castiel pressed his lips together and took a moment to take stock of the state of his shoes, squaring himself for the inevitable question about his uncommon name, but for once it didn't come.  Dean didn't have the chance to ask it.  When Castiel glanced up, Dean was looking over Castiel's shoulder in the direction of the register, all traces of his friendly disposition replaced by a cold scowl.

As one did, Castiel, too, turned to follow Dean's gaze, searching out the source of his sudden displeasure.  For a second he assumed it had something to do with Jack, maybe getting into some difficult situation with a customer, but at a glance he saw that he only had it half right.  Instead of Jack, it was the young woman behind the register, who pulled her wrist out of Tiny's pawlike grasp as Castiel watched.

Castiel's throat closed up, his second-hand anxiety over the situation momentarily flooring him.  Embarrassed, he looked away, out over the sparsely populated cafe, everyone he saw slowly doing the same:  turning back to their screens and their friends, pretending nothing had happened.

Everyone but Dean, Castiel saw as he finally looked back up at him.  Dean was still watching Tiny closely, his brow drawn down and his mouth set in a firm line.  He flicked his eyes down to Castiel when he caught him looking, and did a stuttered double take when he realized he had accidentally leveled that glare at him.

Dean relaxed his expression into something more neutral, obviously seeing the stress on Castiel's face; while Dean was clearly angered by Tiny's overreach, Castiel couldn't help but project a grim ache that he didn't want to name.  Dean's head tilted, as if he was slowly cottoning on to the depth of Castiel's discomfort the longer he looked at him, and Castiel saw his jaw clench the moment before they both looked sharply back over at the register, hearing the woman's voice rise, frustrated and disgusted, over the country twang of the canned music pumping through the coffee shop's speakers.

"You kiss your mama with that mouth?"  The young woman had taken a full step back into the space behind the counter, dodging out of the way of Tiny's reach.  Castiel could see fire in her eyes, and barely registered Jack standing nervously on her other side.

Tiny laughed, a rolling chuckle that filled Castiel's gut with acid.  The huge man leaned up against the counter, shoving a shoulder as far as it would go into the open space next to the register, and curled his hand around the far edge of the counter.  "Why, you jealous?  How 'bout you pucker up, sweetcheeks, let me show you what you're missing."

In an instant, the nerves and disgust flushed out of Castiel's system, and in its place a white-hot righteous anger swirled up.  His hands twitched, settling for fists, and he took a lurching step forward, his briefcase swinging roughly into his leg, the emotion spilling out of him in a growl of "Hey, asshole--"

"Yeah, alright--" Dean growled at the same time, taking the same step forward, bringing him even with Castiel, the two men suddenly a solid wall staring daggers into Tiny's back.

"Stay out of this, Dean," the young woman said, fierce.  The tone in her voice caused Jack to flinch, snatching back the reassuring hand they'd been tentatively reaching her way.

Tiny heaved himself off the counter, turning to face them slowly, deliberately, letting them appreciate his size and giving them ample time to reconsider the hill they might be about to die on.  Castiel's chin went up, eyes narrowed.  At his side, Dean sniffed and thumbed his nose, aggressively nonchalant.

A devil-may-care smile on his face, Dean put one arm wide.  "No can do, Jo.  There's a quick way to handle huge, steaming piles of human garbage like our friend Tiny here," he said, making stabbing motions with his hand at the man in question, "and I'd hate to see you lose your job over a broken jaw."

Castiel glanced sharply up at Dean, trying to gauge the realistic chances of an all-out brawl going down right here between the novelty mugs and the last of the day's homemade baked goods.  Lebanon, Kansas was quickly proving to be something other than the sleepy, middle of nowhere hamlet he had assumed it would be.  

In fairness, though, he had been warned that the freaks came out at night.

Dean didn't exactly look ready for a fight, though, loose-limbed and calm, fixing Tiny with a cocky grin that was daring the biker to make the first move.  Castiel forced his own shoulders down, his fist to relax around the handle of the briefcase he was gripping like a weapon.  He cut his eyes over to Tiny, who was equally not rising to the bait, just sneering at them for what he was reading as biteless bark.

"Like to see you try, pretty boy," Tiny said, digging in his heels.

Castiel frowned, seeing that the situation had ground into a stalemate before it had even started, two immovable objects sizing each other up, both content with the fact that the one who either struck first or walked away first would make himself the de facto loser of the conflict, one way or another.  Even so, Castiel strongly felt that neither of these two would be the type to walk away.  He raised a hand, palm out, and tried to press some sense into the moment before one of them exhausted their patience and decided to throw a match onto this powderkeg.

"No one has to try anything," he warned, making sure Dean knew he was included in the list of people encouraged to stand down, "Let's all conduct ourselves as civilized people.  Please, just leave the young woman alone, let her do her job in peace."

Tiny peered down at him and made it clear it wasn't about to back off just because a stranger in a rumpled trenchcoat asked him to play nice.

Dean, meanwhile, licked his bottom lip and looked like he might actually be considering his options.  He nodded, ducking his head as though coming to an overdue realization.

"See, I know Tiny's mom," Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Castiel.  

Castiel dropped his own right back at him, a suspicious squint pinching his face as he felt in his gut that the situation was about to spin off the axle in some unforeseen way, despite his best efforts to prevent that exact outcome.

Dean went on, unperturbed, sliding one hand into his pocket as he half turned away from Tiny, like he was just carrying on their friendly chat from before, like they didn't have a behemoth of an audience listening in.  "And I know she would be appalled -- shocked, even -- if she found out what her son was up to when she ain't looking.  Sweet old Martha, she's been in hospice for what, six weeks?  Seven?"  

He swiveled suddenly and jabbed his free hand at Tiny--  "Please, correct me if I'm wrong--"  Back to Castiel, he tapped his own chest twice to demonstrate-- "The ol' ticker's just not what it used to be, or so I hear.  Can't imagine what a bit of bad news might do to her delicate constitution."

As he said this last part, Dean's arm fell, and with it his cheery facade.  He rolled his head Tiny's direction, offering him one of the coldest, meanest looks Castiel had ever seen on a person.

All seven feet of Tiny was now quivering with a quiet kind of rage, his boiled egg of a head going pink as he struggled to hold it in, to not lose the game of chicken he and Dean were playing.  "You're not gonna tell my Ma nothing, you hear me?"

Dean exploded forward a half step, a finger viciously stabbing the air in the vicinity of Tiny's face.  "You stop being a dick, and I'll have nothing to tell," he roared.

"Dean!" Jo shouted over the top of him, slamming her hands down on the counter.

Everyone in the coffee shop flinched.  Castiel felt himself hang his head, feeling the sting as if he himself had been scolded.  But he'd made himself a part of it, stepped in and got involved, hadn't been able to prevent escalation.  He looked out of the corner of his eye at Jo, thinking that maybe he should apologize, but she was just glaring at Dean with hard eyes and a furious shake of her head.

"Out," she ordered.

Dean ignored the way she obviously meant him, and swung an open grin Tiny's way, canines and tongue showing.  "You heard the little lady."

Jo grit her teeth.  "Both of you, out.  We don't need your kind of trouble here."

Something about what she'd said or how she said it got Dean's attention.  He dropped his arms to his sides with a slap of canvas on canvas, twisting her way with a schoolboy pout pulling down his face.  "C'mon, Jo.  You know I didn't mean it.  You know me.  I would never--"

"Save it," she cut him off.  "Jack's shift ends in twenty-five minutes.  Go wait in the car."

There was a second where Dean gaped, fish out of water, at the order, but the cool, commanding look that came with it forcibly shut his mouth with an audible click and he reared back, bumping into Castiel slightly.  "Alrighty, then," he huffed, stomping the wrong way through the line and on towards the door without looking back.  

Castiel watched his boots retreat over the polished wood of the floor, heard the bang of the door being slammed open with more force than absolutely necessary, then tilted his head to catch Jo giving Tiny the same icy treatment.

"What are you waiting for, then, an invitation?  Go on, get.  And if you try something like that again, trust me, I won't bother with your Ma.  I'll go get mine."  She smiled, sweet and sharp, leaned forward over the counter, right into Tiny's personal space, to make sure her point wasn't missed.  "And we can see how many bones she can break before the Sheriff hauls her off your dead body."

An ominous kind of tension straightened Castiel's shoulders, surprised at Jo's candid threat, doubtful that hers would work where Dean's had failed.  After a moment, though, Tiny heaved his bulk away from the counter, gave Castiel a dirty look, and similarly made his inglorious retreat into the night.

Castiel wondered what was going to happen now between the two men, whether they were going to carry on in the street or just back off to lick their wounds until their next meeting.  He hoped Dean had sense enough to actually get in the car, at least.

"Next!"

Distracted from the errant thought of the well-being of a near stranger, Castiel turned to see Jo smiling at him from behind the register, the picture of award-winning customer service, and nothing like the stone-cold demon who had seconds ago threatened to have her mother bludgeon a customer to death.  He stepped up to place his order, thoroughly cowed.

"I apologize for the scene, for my part in it," he told her quietly as he leaned to one side to set the briefcase on the floor at his feet, reaching for his wallet.  "You clearly didn't need us to butt in, but still, I hope you're alright."

She waved his apology away, shaking her head.  "Nothing to be sorry for, it's fine.  Small town like this, hard for some folk to avoid bumping into the folk they shouldn't be bumping into.  It happens, you handle it, you move on.  What can I get started for you tonight?"

Castiel offered her a small smile, feeling it press a little tight around his eyes, his misplaced guilt swirling harder at her need to project such a tough exterior.  It was unfortunate and unfair that the world demanded the thickest skins from some people more than others, and his heart ached in a vague, nameless way, wishing there was something he could do to alleviate the need for someone so young to have constructed such a defensive worldview.

Off her expectant look, he willed himself to remember what he ought to be doing in the here and now.  He gave the menu board on the back wall a cursory review, not really consuming its contents in any meaningful way, until he looked down and caught Jack's eye from where the eager barista floated at a respectful distance between Jo and the espresso machine.

Castiel smiled, this time with notable ease as he remembered Dean's earlier suggestion.  "A small latte, please.  It came highly recommended."

"You got it," Jo nodded, punching the order into the register and pulling a cup from the stack.  "Your name?"  She looked up at him, reaching into a mug with a missing handle to fish out a Sharpie.

"Uh, Castiel," he supplied, and spelled it for her benefit, just in case.

"Castiel," she repeated, as most did when confronted with his name for the first time, trying it out for themselves, "That's got kind of a Biblical ring to it, doesn't it?  Don't tell me you're some kind of guardian angel?"  

"Hardly," Castiel murmured, dropping his gaze to focus on pulling the correct currency out of his wallet.

Jo passed the cup with his name on it to Jack, who immediately took it to the espresso machine and got to work, that same serious look of concentration commandeering their entire face for the duration.

"Anything else for you today?" she asked.  

It was one of those scripted niceties that Castiel truly appreciated about by-the-book social interactions.  A perfect sequitur that spared him the effort of trying to come up with one on his own.  "Do you have a password for the Wi-Fi?"

She nodded, slipping a business card sized piece of paper from a loose stack next to the register, and handed it over in trade for the cash he gave her in return.  As she punched open the till and dug around for his change, he glanced down at the code.  It read "N@turomDem0nto," which, as far as Wi-Fi passwords went, was certainly one.

The till banged shut with a ring, Jo handing him back his change.  Seeing his bemused look as he inspected the hotspot info, she explained, "Sorry, I know it's a little out there.  Our IT guy, Ash, he's a bit of a supernatural freak."

"I see," Castiel said agreeably, though he felt fairly certain that there was some additional piece of trivia he was missing to be able to recognize the significance of the unintelligible string of letters and numbers.  He put the paper into his pocket, dumped the loose change from his palm into the tip jar, and retrieved his briefcase.  "Thank you."

Jo's eyebrows came down, not unkindly, as her lips pursed in baffled amusement.  "No problem," she laughed, shaking her head at him.  "Jack'll have your drink out in a minute."  She waved him in the direction of the pickup counter, and Castiel went gratefully on his way, looking forward to the upcoming stretch of time where he didn't have to make small talk, or try to avoid physical altercations, or accidentally say "thank you" after tipping.

The remaining patrons of the Roadhouse appeared to have cleared out since he had last looked, but whether this was due to the late hour or the recent potential for violence, he couldn't be sure.  Castiel thought about Dean waiting for Jack out in that beast of a car; thought about Tiny (or men like him) lurking out on the streets.  

He pulled out his phone, noting the time as he thumbed to the Wi-Fi settings.  Again, the hotspot listing was sparse, just the one named after the Roadhouse -- finally, full bars -- and, to his muted surprise, "Big D's iPhone."

He was still looking curiously at the cafe's curtained windows, in the direction where he knew that sleek black muscle car with the animal growl was parked under a street lamp, when a bright voice chimed behind him:  "Here you go!"

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Castiel turned to face Jack, finding a bloom of warmth filling the hollow of his chest to see them sliding his latte over with an exceedingly proud look on their face, certain of a job well done.  Right on the drink's tail, Castiel was surprised to see a small plate with a piece of apple pie being pushed his way as well.

He held up his hand to stop or question the freebie, thinking he hadn't done anything today to have earned getting rewarded with pie, but Jo popped up at Jack's side and gave him one of those looks he already recognized as meaning he wouldn't be allowed to decline.  His bottom lip pursed, he reached out and obediently pulled the plate the rest of the way over with one finger.

"At closing time, we either have trash all the leftover perishables or give 'em away," Jo explained.  She nodded down at the plate with something of a wicked grin, "Normally I'd be packing this up for Jack to take home for Dean, but here's hoping I can teach him something by revoking his pie privileges for one night."

Castiel's eyes went wide, and his hand flew off the rim of the plate as though it had burned him.  Before he could figure out a way to articulate how uncomfortable it made him to know he was stealing someone's pie, Jack laughed and shook their head.

"No, it's okay, really.  Sam's always saying Dean needs to watch what he eats.  So, you're helping!"  They chirped this last bit with a scrunch of the eyes and a jerky shrug of their shoulders.  Jo backed the assertion, a tilt of her head and a jag of her brow to say Castiel really didn't have the room to argue with either of them on this.

"Ah," Castiel said, eyeing the pie like it was a plate full of gold, feeling completely unworthy, "If that's the case. . ."

He looked up, met Jo's and then Jack's eyes, and told them solemnly, "I appreciate it."

Jack's endearing smile crinkled onto their face again, and Jo patted them on the arm.

"Hey, we're all set here," she said to Jack, "Why don't you clock out a little early, okay?  I won't tell my mom."

Castiel kept his small smile to himself, busied himself shifting his briefcase to his other hand as Jack eagerly tripped off to head out for the night.  Still, he lingered a little at the pickup counter, not missing the guarded way Jo eyed the front door, which gave nothing away as to what kind of trouble might still be skulking in the night on the other side.

She caught him noticing, which was fine, because his thoughts were running along similar tracks.  It gave him the cue to share his own.  "Um," he started, glancing away, "Would it be a problem if I stayed until closing?  There's, uh, no Wi-Fi at the motel."

When he looked back over at her, shy, she was giving him a soft eye roll with her mouth screwed up to one side to hide some kind of smile.  She chewed on the inside of her cheek a moment, then looked heavenward with a good-natured sigh.

"You know, for a guy who swears he's not a guardian angel--"

Behind her, Jack, who had traded their apron for a colorful windbreaker, swung through the half-door at the far end of the counter, on the other side of the espresso machine, and called out a chipper, "Good night, Jo!  Good night, sir, hope you enjoy your drink!"

Oh.  Castiel hastily lifted the paper cup, Jo waving her own goodbye as Jack trotted across the shop floor towards the exit.  He took a sip of the latte, cringing a little to discover that it was still far too hot to drink without caution; even so, he smiled at Jack and gestured with the cup.  "It's very good, thank you."

He was treated to another of those full-face, joyous smiles, and then Jack was out the door and Castiel was left alone with Jo, his scalding latte, and his unearned pie.  He thumbed the lip of the plastic to-go lid, only half-certain she had approved of him sticking around now that she was on her own behind the counter.  For all she knew, he could be just as rotten as any of them, just biding his time until--

"Please help yourself to our Wi-Fi for as long as you'd like," Jo told him, fixing him with a kind, if ever-so-slightly bemused, look.  

He nodded his thanks, and, using the bottom of his drink, shifted the pie plate over to the edge of the counter where he caught it in the fingers of the hand already tucked under the handle of the briefcase, maxing out his awkwardness in doing so.  Jo was biting her lip, watching the juggling act unfold before her, but she didn't otherwise comment.  With a short smile of parting, Castiel fled -- cautiously -- to a small table at one of the shaded windows, far from Jo and close to the door.

As he went, the sound of a car engine, startling in both how loud and how familiar it seemed to him, rumbled up through the coffee shop's backdrop of picked guitars and singing fiddles.  By the time Castiel took a seat, it had already roared off into the distance.  He was glad its driver seemed not to have run into any further trouble, after all.

Drink settled, pie settled, Castiel himself settled, he set the briefcase on the floor beside him and clicked it open just enough to drag the laptop out from the pocket. He slid it onto the table between his other items, determined to connect to the Wi-Fi and check his email, to do the one thing he had ventured out to do, even if only to say he had.

As suspected, he now saw no trace of "Big D's iPhone" nearby, and carefully punched in the access code to the Roadhouse's network.  The computer connected without fanfare.  Dutifully, he clicked on his email app and watched the logo splash pop up over the muted periwinkle of his desktop wallpaper.

While the program loaded up, he reached out and pulled the pie over and dug a chunk out of it with the fork that had been so kindly provided.  The first bite reminded him that he hadn't eaten since Kansas City, and his focus narrowed to the singular task of slicing and chewing until there was nothing left but crumbs stuck to the cinnamon-sugary tracks his fork made as it scraped over the plate's inexplicable cowboy boot pattern.

Returning the plate and fork to the table with a sigh, Castiel took up his latte, now sufficiently cooled, and sipped this while flicking his fingers over the laptop's trackpad, disinterestedly scrolling through his inbox.  The loss of a few of his taste buds notwithstanding, he found he was able to appreciate the quality of Jack's handiwork, and he felt retroactively absolved for the preemptive high marks he'd given.

He stopped scrolling.  Not that he'd been paying attention to the task anyway, but thinking about the young person's ineffable good cheer and the mercurial temper of their guardian had him staring at the curtain as if he could see straight through it, into the street and the night, imagining the shine of the street lamp off the hood of that dangerous-looking car.

He drank the rest of his latte while absorbed in the expanse of his mind's eye, the limitless vistas of the day's bus ride peppered with half-remembered moments of the evening so far,  impressions of the short stretch of Main Street Lebanon he'd traversed, the faces of strangers blending one into the next into the next.  There was one face in particular that he kept circling back to, though, and one moment that was sharper than the rest.

Standing under that street lamp, waiting.  Waiting for--

"Sorry to interrupt," Jo said, tentative, seeming to materialize at Castiel's table.

He whipped his head away from the window -- had he really just been staring blankly at the curtain this whole time?  What must she think -- and pushed back his chair to try to get with the program.  "Sorry -- you've probably been waiting--"

She laughed and held up her hands, and he slowed his frantic sweeping of his belongings from the table.  "Whoa, there.  I was just gonna give you a five-minute heads up, is all.  Didn't mean to spook you."

Castiel perched the briefcase he had snagged from the floor onto his vacated chair, and gently slid the laptop back inside.  "I'm fine," he said, snapping the clasp closed, "please don't let me hold you up."

"No worries," she told him, and when he darted his eyes over to her, she was giving him that slightly amused, slightly puzzled look she'd been giving him since he walked in.  She cleared his plate and cup from the table and made off with them.  He picked up his briefcase and pushed in the chair, standing purposelessly there at its side.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, seeing him not leaving.  "Five minutes," she said again, "and then I'm going to let you walk me to my car, okay?  You seem sweet, and I just can't help feeling like you'll have an aneurysm or something if I walk out there alone."

"Sorry," Castiel repeated.  He frowned, suddenly very invested in the stitching on his briefcase handle.  "I've overstepped again."

Jo pushed open the swinging half-door of the counter and regarded him from across the coffee shop floor.  "I'll let it slide, this once.  Just don't make a habit of it," she told him with mock-gravitas, fighting back a telling smile before disappearing into the back.

It was a joke, he could tell, something to dispel the awkward energy Castiel had fomented up around himself.  It worked, just a little, and he took a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh at himself.  Anyway, he could promise her that, and easily.  He didn't know exactly how long he'd end up spending in Lebanon, Kansas, but it wasn't like he was planning on sticking around forever.

He shuffled his feet, waiting on Jo's return, and willed himself to imagine opening that sealed box.  Digging out the keys to the wide, boxy, gold-colored Lincoln Continental.  Climbing into the driver's seat and watching this speck of a town vanish in the rearview mirror.

He wondered what tape would be playing in the deck, or maybe what radio station it was still set to.  What the scent of the air freshener hung over the mirror was, and whether the built-in ashtrays needed to be emptied.  What he might find forgotten under the seats.

All at once, a full-body shudder rolled over him, overwhelmed by all these questions with answers he couldn't yet face.  

"Ready?"

He looked up as Jo crossed to the door and flicked the bank of switches to shut off the overhead lights, leaving them both shadows lit faintly by the glow of the displays on the equipment behind the counter.

Ready?  Not in the slightest.

"After you," he murmured, reaching out to push the door open.

---

Castiel showered with military efficiency, the rushing water just about drowning out his empty thoughts.

He changed into his sleepwear mechanically, put himself into the bed, and flicked on the television because there was nothing else left to do.  The day was finally catching up to him, and his body ached as it reluctantly gave itself over to the support of the mattress.  His bones felt heavy, his eyes raw.  He flipped channels without comprehending anything he saw on the tiny screen.

Maybe it was the jangle of espresso in his veins, or maybe it was his internal clock's confusion regarding what time zone he'd ended up in, or maybe it was his white-knuckled refusal to find out what his subconscious had in store for him, but it was several long, dull, droning hours of late-night soaps and infomercials before Castiel finally let go and allowed himself to sleep.

[the-wardens-torch]

HEYYY its that awesome detailed character profile meme that was going around 2-3 months ago!  Which is when @theseventhdawn tagged me with it. Sorry for taking forever. Long work weeks and ShB have killed me but its lovely to rekindle those OC feels. As for people to tag who haven’t been tagged already; @luckiselki (whichever of your characters you like!) and @helboar

Pronunciation:  fal-uhr-in are-sit-uh.

Nicknames: Just… Fal.  His adopted mother was known to call him “Sunny Blue” now and then. Short-lived inside joke names include Local Fal and Lord of the Pants. (I wish I could say that someone once called him Fail-urine Fartcita, but he’s never had a 90s high school sit com bully.)

Height: 5’11

Age: 22

Zodiac: Virgo (Sept 16 - I chose September entirely because its Azeyma’s dedicated month in Eorzean astrology.)

Languages: Common, Seeker Miqo’te Huntspeak (woefully out of practice,) a few words/phrases/songs in other languages (he‘s particularly proud of the Xaelic folk songs he‘s picked up recently. )

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

Hair:  Black, straight and waist-length with messy fringe and sideburns. Usually worn in a loose braid or ponytail - he knows a few more complex hair-braiding techniques, but he somehow just can’t manage to do them on his own hair.

Eyes: Bright royal blue; hooded and on the long and narrow side.

Skin tone: A sort of burnt sienna with darker freckles on his cheeks, shoulders and back.

Body type: Especially long and skinny for a Hyur - he weighs less than most Hyurs his height. Has a bit of lean muscle on his arms and legs from doing a lot of traveling and archery practice as a kid.

Accent: South Seas

Dominant hand: Right

Posture: Very loose and casual with friendly, open body language and liberal use of gestures in conversation. Often shifts his weight from one foot to the other.  Rarely stands/sits up totally straight. Seems incapable of sitting in a chair and keeping both of his feet on the floor at the same time.

Scars: A very noticeable one over his left eye running from hairline to mid-cheek, a smaller one along his jaw line (usually covered by his sideburns) and a third horizontally crossing his right shoulder.

Tattoos: None

Most noticeable features:  Most people are taken aback by how deep his voice is if they hear him at roughly the same time they see him. Other than that, the color of his eyes is rather striking, and he’s kind of an odd dresser… Pointy mage hats, skirts, crop tops, leather jewelry, etc.

CUT BECAUSE I AM SELF CONSCIOUS ABOUT CLOGGING UR DASH.

CHILDHOOD.

Place of birth: Cieldalaes islands.

Hometown:  A small port town from which he derives his last name.

Manner of birth: Covert.

First words: “song”

Siblings: He has two half-brothers and one half-sister on his mother’s side, all older by at least 5 years… I haven’t named them or given them personalities, and they don’t know about him… yet.

Parents: Mother Roxane Seaborne; Inn manager living in the Cieldalaes whom he has never met. Father Uther Alcyone; Arcanist living in Idyllshire from whom he was estranged until very recently.

Parental involvement: He hasn’t seen his mother since his birth - it broke her heart to give him away, although she gave up her feelings for his father shortly after he was conceived.  She feels tremendously guilty for what she did and bemoans her selfishness to this day.

His father (despite knowing about him from his birth) only started to show an interest in him a year or two ago (when he started displaying magical talent.) Fal is trying to salvage a relationship from this but isn’t holding his breath - dad’s interest in him seems to be purely intellectual.

He was mostly raised by one N‘elyrha Kikitu, a Miqo’te Bard - she took good care of him and instilled in him self-assurance and a great passion for stories and song, but they were always traveling, and she tried to raise him tough and independent… Which is probably why he craves affection and intimacy.  

ADULT LIFE

Occupation: Freelance musician and leatherworker.  He’ll moonlight as an adventurer now and then, (Arcanist/Summoner) but only for a damn good reason.

Current residence: Eidolons free company house, the lavender beds… I forgot his address.

Close friends: Reonora Aestethe, Sunnthota Rymmharrwyn, T’Majaan Tia, likely your character if I weren’t so scared to RP.

Relationship status: Restlessly single.

Financial status:  Can afford food, a single room, and the occasional splurge… most of the time.

Driver’s license: He’s inexperienced, but he likes to ride and is getting the hang of it.

Criminal record: Trespassing, vagrancy, loitering, public nudity nuisance - all your basic hobo crimes.

Vices: Casual sex.

SEX & ROMANCE.

Sexual orientation: Pansexual

Romantic orientation: Panromantic

Preferred emotional role:  submissive | dominant | switch (he adapts well.)

Preferred sexual role:  submissive |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed  (there I finally said it.)

Turn ons:  Fal’s a sexual character but honestly I’m just not any good at portraying that side of him.  Errr… if my tiny bit of writing that includes his sex life is any indication, he’s attracted to awkwardly sincere men and bold, witty women. Apparently he also has a thing for backless clothing.

Turn offs: Condescension, entitlement, dominant/pushy personalities, touching his hair without asking.

Love language: His hands will always be on you/all over you, whether those hands are chastely patting your shoulders or clamped lewdly on your ass.  Lots of reassuring pats, hugs, face touches, fingers in your hair, etc. Looking at you silently and smiling. Small, eclectic gifts (single flowers, pieces of brightly colored sea glass, handmade trinkets, feathers, scribbled out lines of old poems, etc.) because he “saw it and thought of you.” Lots of songs sung to you for the same reason.  

Relationship tendencies: He tends to think of sex and romance as separate concepts that fulfill different needs. He loves emotional involvement but believes it’s really hard to do and hurts a lot when it goes bad… Sometimes you just need to get railed into the next astral era without any strings attached (I’m sure there’s a shibari or generalized BDSM joke in here somewhere but I don‘t think that’s his thing hahaffff.) If he found a relationship where he could get both from the same person at the same time, it’d be the Best. Thing. Ever.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Hobbies to pass the time:  Leatherwork, dropping in at friends’ houses unexpectedly, occasional archery and botany - just to clear his mind and keep his skills sharp. He’s also recently started to read extensively - mostly poetry and literature from around the world (if he can find it translated into common that is.)

Mental illnesses:  None.

Physical illnesses:  Meat “allergy” - eating flesh of any sort causes him acute gastrointestinal distress. This annoys him greatly and he still tries to eat meat every few years to see if he’s “grown out of it.” He hasn’t.

Fears: Abandonment and loss most of all. He also hates walking on elevated flooring that moves (scaffolding, suspension bridges, etc.) especially if he can see the ground through it.

Self confidence level: Mostly good.  He knows that he‘s likeable and good at what he does, and is generally pretty comfortable with himself and his life. He’s totally fearless in social situations and while performing - its pretty hard to intimidate, heckle, shame, demoralize or embarrass him.  In combat situations is another story. He hasn’t enjoyed a single fight he’s been in, though he’s reasonably good at throwing his comrades off of his trail with quips and witty remarks - just because he likes being with them and doesn’t want them to worry.

Vulnerabilities: Doesn’t know when to shut up.  Emotionally impulsive. Hides/bottles up negative emotions with occasional disastrous results.  Can crumple under stress (especially battlefield stress.) Powerful but unrefined and uneducated when it comes to magic.

[merrickwood]

what’s the matter.

who: merrick & billy wood, mentions of holly wood & everyone else what: merrick tells their father why she’s so worried about her sister when: thursday, november 7th, evening triggers: pill addiction cw  a/n: xoxo

Merrick took a deep breath, the contents of Holly’s trash can spread around her. 

It wasn’t snooping, she told herself, when she was doing it for the best interest of her older sister. ( And, selfishly, she knew what she was really looking for - evidence that Logan was using Holly for his own way to work through their breakup, condom wrappers or notes between the two that Holly carefully hid under used tissues and crumpled up history notes. ) But what she found wasn’t surprising - in fact, it just hurt her more to uncover, because Holly’s biggest issue wasn’t that she was in love with Merrick’s ex-boyfriend. 

God how Merrick wished it was.

She had promised herself, a month ago: if she found another bottle before the prescription was supposed to run out, she’d go to their father. That had been two bottles ago now, each buried under trash that Holly would never suspect her sister of going through, but she shouldn’t have underestimated just how nosy her younger sister truly was. Each empty container had been hidden in the bottom of Merrick’s own dresser, buried deep like illicit books or toys, and each had the date she’d pulled it out of the trash written on it.

As far as she knew, her sister had nothing diagnosed. Their father preferred to send them to another doctor, outside of town, for anything heavier than a flu, not wanting his own parental instincts to war with those he had as a doctor, but Merrick felt like someone - her mother, her father, her sister - would have told her if her sister needed any sort of medication beyond birth control. But no one had. 

Which meant that the three empty prescription bottles she found, made out to Holly Wood, submitted to different pharmacies all almost an hour away, made absolutely no sense to her.

“Daddy?”

He was in his office, a book open on his lap and the room dim with only a reading lamp on behind him in the old chair his father before him had kept in there. Glasses on the tip of his nose, he hummed in acknowledgement, but Merrick’s silence seemed to cause him to look up. It wasn’t often his youngest was quiet for a prolonged period of time, and she fidgeted from the doorway, still fighting the instinct to flee. 

She needs help, Merrick told herself. If she doesn’t stop, she’ll ruin her whole life. 

“What’s going on, Merrick?” he asked, marking his place with a bookmark she’d made for him for fathers day back in the third grade, the nostalgia of the motion making her even more nervous as she shuffled from foot to foot, her hands behind her back holding the containers she’d kept. 

“I have to tell you something. About Holly. But you can’t get mad.” 

“About Holly?” 

There was the crinkle in his forehead, the concept of being angry with his eldest completely beyond him. Holly didn’t screw up, Holly didn’t get punished. She was the smart one, the strong one, the one who never did any wrong. 

“I think - Daddy, I think she has a problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” 

Merrick struggled to find the words, staring up at the ceiling and hoping anything would happen to stop her - that Whitney would burst in, demanding to know what was happening ( and Merrick could never tell their mother this, knew she would burst into hysterics, knew she’d panic and overreact and their father, at least, could conceivably treat this like a Problem to Fix, not like the End Of The World ) or that Holly would come grab extra pencils from the drawer and Merrick could mumble excuses and disappear. 

But neither happened, and their father continued to look at Merrick, open and waiting for an explanation. 

So she did all she could - she placed the containers in his hands, letting him examine them, his brow furrowing further as he tried to understand what he was looking at. 

“I’ve noticed for awhile,” Merrick began to explain, “that she wasn’t sleeping, like, more than Holly wasn’t sleeping at a usual pace. And sometimes she’d get really erratic, and then I found the pills in the bathroom a few months ago and I asked her about it, but she got defensive and told me to stop snooping but - I found the first bottle - “ she grabbed the one she’d pulled originally - “ before the Homecoming float night and then the other one a couple weeks later and then the last one a little while ago and I don’t know I could be overreacting and maybe you are giving her a prescription and just didn’t tell me but I’m - “ 

“Breathe, Merrick.” 

“ - worried and if it’s something serious what if she hurts herself and what if I don’t say anything and she goes off to Princeton and no one notices and something Really Bad happens and - “ 

“Merrick, slow down.” 

“Please don’t be mad.” 

She ran out of breathe, her eyes wide and panicked as Billy sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand, turning one of the prescriptions over and over with his other. 

“Have you told your mother?” 

Merrick shook her head ‘no’, and Billy nodded, looking off into space - trying to figure out his next plan of attack, probably, and Merrick took advantage of his silence to kneel next to his chair, her head against his knee like she did when she was little. Automatically he pet her hair, calming her instinctively, and Merrick felt a little relief fall from her shoulders. She’d done - something. Hopefully something good, even if Holly didn’t think so. 

“Please don’t yell at her,” Merrick asked, and Billy chuckled, a low sigh escaping him as he shook his head above her. 

“Addiction is a serious disease, Bug,” he reminded her, “one that runs in our family. Yelling won’t help her.” 

“You won’t...send her off, will you?” Merrick looked up at him, eyes wide with unshed tears - this thought hadn’t even occurred to her until the very moment, but her father shook his head once more, promising her he wouldn’t. 

“You did right,” he promised her, kissing the top of her head before he stood, and Merrick curled her arms around her knees, drawing them into her chest. 

“I hope so,” she murmured, her lip worrying her teeth. 

Holly was going to hate her. Holly was going to be livid with her. But Merrick had done what she needed to - her father had made mistakes, had made choices that hurt his family, but he loved his daughters. And he would fix this. Merrick trusted that. 

Everything would be okay now.

[bluerighthand]

Baby Steps

Prequel to GUAS (though you don't have to read that first if you don't want to).

Summary: It’s 1893. Tommy is turning three, Arthur Snr's disappearance has left the family reeling, and Polly navigates life as a teenager. 

Notes: It was my birthday on Thursday, so I wanted to write a little fluffy thing about mini Tommy's birthday, which sort of ran away with me and turned into a prequel to GUAS - so angst has crept in (sorry!)

Words: 3,304

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135868

Warnings: poverty, brief mentions of death, Arthur Snr being shitty from a distance

Tommy Shelby was an adorably frustrating baby. There was simply no other way of putting it. With the exception of his father, who already showed a strong preference for his older brother, Tommy’s big blue eyes and chubby cheeks melted even the hardest of hearts. He fully exploited this of course, which is where the frustration came in. He had the ability to get into trouble in every conceivable way possible.

From the moment he could crawl, he was near impossible to keep track of. Arthur Jnr, though enthusiastically rising to his role of top Tommy locator, often got distracted, and a frantic Jane would find them happily playing together behind a crate or in the stables hours after they’d wandered off.

She wasn’t a bad mother, far from it, everyone in Small Heath knew how much she loved her boys. But working two jobs to provide for the household, and sorting laundry, meals and upkeep left her with little time to spare. It had been easier since Polly had come to live with them, but the boys were fond of exploring, and an extra pair of eyes did little to deter them. Her husband, if she could even still call him that, hadn’t been home for over a year. She’d woken last spring to a hastily scrawled note on the bedsheets, and a few stolen coins in her wallet.

Big business opportunity in Ireland, he’d said. Didn’t want to wake you. Be back before Thomas turns two.

Jane took out the note sometimes, from where it was carefully tucked inside the book in her bedside drawer. She did so now, on the eve of Tommy’s third birthday. Arthur hadn’t come back. There had been no letters, no telephone calls. She’d tried to track him down in Ireland, through hotel bookings and their family friends in Galway, but to no avail. Most people refused to give out such information over the phone, and she couldn’t leave the boys. Even if she could, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Lying awake in the dead of night, she sometimes wondered if he was dead, if she should move on and forget him. But how could she forget the way he used to kiss her?

The wistfulness soon passed, and she finally did what she should have done months ago, scrunching the note up with a cry of frustration and throwing it across the room. It bounced off the wall, falling into the thin layer of dust around the foot of her dresser. She hung her head, fingers clenching painfully in her hair as she squeezed.

“Jane?” said a small voice, and she composed herself, lifting her head to see her sister-in-law in the doorway. Polly was still wearing her school clothes, the crumpled pinafore hanging loose on her body and her laddered tights looking particularly worse for wear in the fading light. She was looking more like Arthur every day. Jane held out a hand, but Polly crossed the room and picked up her brother’s note.

“Pol” she started, but she had already unfolded it, a deep frown appearing on her forehead as she read. She clung to the paper for a moment, before letting it drop to the floor, joining Jane on the bed. They didn’t speak for a while, each lost in their own memories.

“Is he ever coming back?” asked Polly bitterly. Jane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, marvelling at how tall she was getting since turning 13.

“I don’t know” she said honestly. It was hard to make promises in Small Heath. The situation was ever changing, usually from bad to worse, and she didn’t want to get Polly’s hopes up. For all her resentment, Arthur was still her older brother.

“I hate him” said Polly, and Jane shook her head, immediately cursing her instinct for still jumping to defend someone who’d left his children with nothing, and his sister to grieve their mother alone. She swallowed her protest, instead jumping up and crossing the room. Considering the circumstances, she thought Polly had adjusted to life in Watery Lane pretty well after a few months, though it was clear she missed her mother terribly. Helping around the house, and taking care of the kids was both an enormous help to Jane and a distraction for her. Although they liked to wind her up, both Arthur and Tommy adored their aunt, and Jane smiled to see them all piled on the sofa together in the evenings. Loving them enough for two parents wasn’t hard.

“What do you think?” asked Jane, taking out a knitted horse from her bag and handing it to Polly. She grinned, stroking over the brown string mane and button eyes.

“He’s going to love it” said Polly.

“Took bloody ages” said Jane, laughing. “Couldn’t get the stitches right at first”.

“Where’d you get the wool?”. “Charlie knows a girl at the dying factory” said Jane with a wry smile. The horse wasn’t perfect, she knew. There were a few loose threads, and the shape was more like a sausage with smaller sausages for legs than the toys she’d seen in the shop windows, but she was confident Tommy would love it all the same. The dog she’d made for Arthur years before still accompanied him to bed each night, and her heart warmed to think of her boys snuggled up together with the toys she’d made them.

“Right” she said, with a glance at the clock. “It’s ten o’clock you, get to bed”. Polly nodded reluctantly, pulling out her clips and letting her hair fall around her face as she walked down the hallway. Jane readied herself for bed, before kissing Polly goodnight and opening the boys’ door an inch to peek inside. They were both breathing deeply, fast asleep. The curtains were slightly open, a chink of lamplight from the street beyond casting long shadows on the patterned wallpaper.

Jane tiptoed in, picking up Arthur’s dog from where it had fallen to the ground and nestling it in beside him once again. Turning to Tommy’s cot, she pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, taking a moment to look at her son as a two-year-old for the last time.

On his last birthday, Tommy was just beginning to understand the concept. The finer details were lost to him, but he knew when Arthur had birthdays he got toys that Tommy wasn’t allowed to play with, and what Tommy wasn’t allowed, he actively sought after. This usually resulted in a tug of war, and tears when a winner emerged. Charlie had chuckled when he witnessed this, recounting a fight he’d had with Jane over a spinning top that ended in a nosebleed, several smashed plates and two very angry parents.

Even so, Jane wanted no fighting today. She was exhausted, lying awake in the small hours thinking today of all days would be the one Arthur would call. She gave up on sleeping, trudging downstairs at around six to prepare breakfast. The telephone remained silent, as she knew deep down it would, but it dominated the room nonetheless, drawing her eyes and trapping her in a cycle of pacing and staring.

An hour later, breakfast was made, and Tommy’s horse and a few other packages from relatives were arranged carefully around his plate. Jane headed upstairs, changing out of her nightclothes and waking Polly.

Polly didn’t appreciate the fact it was a school day, but forced herself out of bed nonetheless. She hadn’t enjoyed school since she’d moved to Small Heath. On top of losing her mother and her home, the thought of her friends together at her old school moving on without her made her feel sick. They’d surely forget her if she didn’t write regularly, but there was little money for ink and paper, and even less for stamps. She’d managed to swipe a few from the post office and send a letter to Katherine, but she’d had nothing in reply.

Maybe there’d been a mix up with the post, and the letter had never reached her. Or maybe she was too busy for old friends. Polly had telephoned of course, but she’d stopped ringing her friends a month ago, when Ruby’s mother had told her they were all away together, visiting Maggie’s grandmother in the country. They’d never rang her first anyway, it was always her to dial the numbers. She still knew them off by heart.

She hadn’t spoken to Jane about it, didn’t want to bother her with such things when she was already struggling. She was under the impression Polly had made friends, and settled in at this school. She wasn’t lying exactly, just giving her guardian one less thing to worry about. All the girls in her class thought she was scary, and strange. She’d heard them whispering about her in the courtyard. She had no luck with befriending the boys either, as they were only interested in girls who would hang off their arms and dote upon their every word.

Having Arthur there helped a bit, although he was more interested in playing soldiers than hanging out with his aunt at break time. It was one year and two months until she could leave. She’d decided she wanted to be an accountant, and was researching courses, despite her brother’s disapproval of women in the workplace. Who cared what he thought anyway, she reminded herself firmly. He hadn’t even seen her since she was eleven, and it seemed that men were the cause of most problems in the world anyway.

She groaned as she put on her tights, and the biggest ladder ripped even further. To hell with it, she thought, pulling them on anyway. Not like she had to impress anyone.

Jane opened the boys’ door and pulled the curtains, pale morning light rushing into the room. Tommy was just starting to wake when she entered, rubbing his eyes and rolling over onto his back.

“Good morning my birthday boy!” she cooed, reaching down and scooping Tommy out of his cot. He was almost too big for it now, and she’d have to get Charlie to build him a proper bed soon. The bars had been ineffective for months anyway. Jane still hadn’t been able to catch him in the act, so God knows how he managed it, but she often found him out of bed, toddling around the house at night time, or playing on the floor innocently the next morning. Tommy yawned, wrapping his arms around her neck as she pressed kisses onto his hair.

The thought that she couldn’t give him the day she wanted to resurfaced, and guilt settled in her stomach. Even with two jobs, there were three kids to look after and endless bills to pay, meaning funds were always stretched thin. Charlie helped out, bringing money and toys for the kids whenever he could, but she just wanted to give them more. She couldn’t bake him a cake, for instance. She’d saved some extra food stamps for fresh eggs and lard, but they couldn’t afford to use any more on just one day, no matter how special it was.

Tommy jolted Jane out of her thoughts by grabbing at her earring, giggling as she pinched his cheek. Perching on the edge of Arthur’s bed, she woke him with a gentle shake to the shoulder. Sitting up and stretching, Arthur beamed at his brother.

“Happy birthday Tommy!” he yelled, Jane shushing him quickly in case their neighbours were still sleeping. Arthur used a quieter voice, and she placed Tommy on the bed. He crawled over to Arthur, climbing into his lap.

“How old are you today Tom?” Jane asked. Tommy thought about this, before laughing and holding up all ten fingers.

“No” groaned Arthur, trying to lower seven with little success. “Mama, Tommy thinks he’s ten”.

“I think he’s just joking darling” said Jane, reaching over to tickle Tommy, who squealed.

“I’m really three!” he said, once Jane had relented, like he’d let them in on a big secret. Arthur nodded, satisfied, and wrapped him in a hug.

Half an hour later, Polly’s jaw dropped as she stared at the full breakfast table. Usually they were lucky to get a slice of bread in the morning, and she relied on school lunches to get her through the day.

“Been saving” said Jane. “Managed to get a fresh loaf, and there’s eggs, lard and milk too”.

Polly sighed happily, buttering a slice of bread and tucking in. Arthur was also on a mission to eat as much as physically possible, but Jane didn’t scold him as he wolfed down his eggs noisily. Tommy, though usually perfectly content to nibble on a bread crust, also appreciated his birthday breakfast. He’d spotted the horse the second he was through the door, and it had remained hugged close to his chest for the remainder of the meal. Uncle Charlie had wrapped up some coloured blocks for him, and his grandfather had sent some clothes, which Jane was extremely grateful for.

Breakfast took longer than usual, with the extra food and the presents, so Polly and Arthur were in a rush to get ready for school. Jane was reluctant to leave the house should the telephone finally ring, but common sense won out, and she pulled on a pair of thin gloves. The bleak grey of winter was finally abating, though there was still a crisp chill in the air. Shrugging on Jane’s old shoes and coat, Polly buttoned Arthur’s blazer and ushered him outside.

Jane stepped out behind them, pulling the door closed with a slam and handing Tommy to Polly. This was their usual routine. Polly held Tommy, and she carried Arthur, to save him from the ground that cut into his soft bare feet. She thought of the day Arthur would be too big to be held, and pressed a kiss to his hair protectively.

He’d taken their father’s disappearance badly, sitting for hours by the phone, and grabbing letters straight from the postman’s hands in his eagerness for news, crumpling in disappointment when there was nothing.

She set him down at the gates, and he started to run into the yard, but turned back after a moment to reach up and ruffle Tommy’s hair as he’d seen Charlie do in farewell. Polly handed her nephew to Jane, saying goodbye before following Arthur into school, mentally counting the hours until she could leave. Tommy waved goodbye, eyes roaming curiously around the school yard. He’d be there himself in under two years, Jane couldn’t believe it.

She returned to the house with Tommy, humming to him under her breath as he took in the world, horse clutched in his little hands.

Luckily, today was a cleaning day rather than an office day, and so she was able to take Tommy to work with her rather than leave him in Charlie’s yard, or in the strict care of Mrs Hanson’s nursery school down the lane. Gathering her supplies, they left quickly for the first house, to nip their lateness in the bud before it delayed them further.

Tommy was usually a terror when she was cleaning. Jane’s back was often turned, giving him free reign to wander off, grab anything within reach, eat things that shouldn’t be eaten or pet the family dog a little too enthusiastically. She sometimes spent more time dealing with him than actually cleaning. Thank God Arthur was now in school.

Today however, Tommy was happy waving his horse around, making it jump from surface to surface and perform mid-air somersaults. The second house had a long hallway, which Tommy loved to run down, tiring him out for the next few locations and prompting him to curl up on a cushion whilst Jane worked rather than cause trouble. He was roused by a biscuit from the last house, and perked up further once Jane was carrying him home.

He wanted to walk, and she let him once their route reached smooth slabs of pavement rather than gravel or dirt tracks. They neared Watery Lane, and Tommy held his mother’s hand as they passed by hissing machines and factory workers.

“What we doing later Mama?” he asked.

“Well” Jane said, drawing out the ‘l’ sound for dramatic effect, “we’re going to go to the pasture”. Tommy shrieked in excitement, jumping up and down and brandishing his knitted toy at Jane. They’d have to think of a name for it she thought, as she ruffled his hair fondly. How he could still get so excited for somewhere they went at least once a week warmed her heart. Arthur and Polly had returned home whilst they were out, and were lounging on the sofa as they arrived.

“Going to horses!” Tommy announced, running over to Arthur, who was equally enthusiastic.

“I can gallop the fastest” he said to Tommy, demonstrating by running around the room in imitation. Tommy gave him a deadpan stare, which always made Polly crack up. How could someone so young have such a look inside them? They were both galloping now, picking their feet up like they watched the horses do in the fields. Of course, Arthur had the advantage, and was soon lapping Tommy, who burst into tears and began to sulk after he tripped over his brother’s schoolbag. Where he’d learnt the word sabotage, Polly wasn’t sure.

Jane returned with two cups of tea to the chaotic scene, but didn’t have it in her to be angry with either of them today, simply wiping Tommy’s tears and distracting him with their upcoming trip. Though he kept up his protests most of the way, Tommy quietened as they neared the stables, and Jane had to stifle a laugh as Arthur attempted to lift him up to see the horses by way of apology. She took over, lifting Tommy up and smiling proudly as he stroked a horse’s mane.

“Which one do you want to go on Tommy?” asked Polly, already leading her favourite filly, Wilma, out of the stables. Tommy began to enthusiastically list every horse present, and then some who weren’t.

“One Tommy, one” laughed Jane. They’d have to work on his counting. Eventually, Tommy settled on a bay horse called Ossian, named after the most financially successful racehorse of England in 1883. Of course Arthur Snr had been the one to name him. Driven by money, that man.

This Ossian however, was not destined for a racing life, and was happy to be brushed and provided with enough hay to happily munch the days away.

Jane saddled him up, and climbed on, Polly handing Tommy up to her. Arthur, under careful supervision, was now allowed to ride a smaller horse on his own. Jane was still slightly wary about it, but he was nearly seven, and usually on best behaviour at the stables.

The afternoon was spent cantering around the fields, breeze cool and the sky a bright blue away from the smog of the inner city. Wildflowers bloomed within the long grass, and Polly had a small yellow buttercup in her hair.

They stopped for a drink a while later, and Polly persuaded Jane to wear a pale pink flower through her buttonhole. Arthur ended up with a daisy, and Tommy a forget-me-not.

It was so peaceful out here, and in the evening sun the laughter of her children and sister-in-law reminded Jane that this was all she needed. They may not have riches, but a mansion and a car could never bring her this happiness. They were all fed and clothed, Tommy had a present he loved and a family who adored him. Arthur may not be there to watch his sister and sons grow up, but she was, and that was enough.

[fallen029]

Dragon’s Roar: Out of Time

The guildhall wasn't much. Wasn't much at all. But then, the members that called it home didn't require it to be anything other than a stop for the occasional beer and to supply top quality jobs. It felt as if it were in a constant state of repairs, as the Master was determined to make the rundown building he'd purchased a few years previous into a force to be recon with. Like he'd done his guild.

There had been a lot of hard times, back in the beginning.

Times when jobs were far and few between, when he hardly had enough money to feed himself, much less keep his guild afloat. Periods of stagnant membership when they needed to grow. Incidences of having to let some members go that he, at one time, had called his closest friends. Worst of all, the stress of the entire thing had led, many times, to rifts between he and his woman. A lot of them.

But he'd always promised her that if she just gave him a few years, just enough time for him to get the guild off the ground, it would all pay off. Every cent of it, ever tear, every drop of blood. It would all mean so much when they were finally recognized as a top guild. When they were invited to the summits and asked to handle the tougher jobs.

When it was Dragon's Roar that people associated with the top instead of Fairy Tail.

They weren't to that point yet. At times, it felt like they never would be. But things had been improving recently. The guild felt steady both in jobs and its members. Laxus was starting to get the hang of what it meant to be over people. They weren't turning much of a profit, but they were turning one and that meant something too. The jobs were getting of a higher caliber and therefore a higher payout, which meant bigger returns.

Everything was trending in the right direction.

"I don't know why you won't do this with me."

Except for his relationship.

"Mira," Laxus groaned that far too early morning when the sun wasn't peeking over the horizon yet as the pair got ready for the day. That was another thing. Considering he and his girlfriend both stayed in a tiny space above the guildhall, the attic really, as to save on costs of living, they had to be up and ready for the day before the guildhall opened. Which, for her, wasn't a bit deal, but for him…. "I just can't, alright?"

"It's not everyday one of our guild members gets married, Laxus."

"She's not part of our guild anymore! Neither is he! We're not in Fairy Tail anymore. We're-"

"If you're not going to go with me-"

"I can't. I have things to deal with here. I told you that-"

"-then maybe I should go back to Fairy Tail."

"Over a wedding?"

"It's more than the wedding, Laxus!"

And it was.

It was a lot more.

Part of the upwards trend that the guildhall was experiencing came from Laxus' very hard work that he was putting into it. His dream. His baby. But the problem was that left very little time for Mirajane who wanted so badly for this to all work out for him, to him be successful in all of this.

Just…

Recently, she'd considered that perhaps it would be best done without her.

As she stood over by the dresser, doing her makeup, he only sat on the edge of their bed, watching her with an exasperated look. Dropping his head, he took a few deep breaths, trying not to yell at her. He didn't want her ot go back home to Magnolia talking about how horrible he was. Not that it mattered to him what those morons over there thought of him, but it would bother him for anyone to think that he and Mira's relationship wasn't the best relationship.

Honestly, he didn't see the issues that she seemed to constantly. While Mirajane seemed to feel as if she were second to his guildhall, he considered them on the same tier, if not her above it. The issue was, Mirajane didn't need as much attention as the hall. That was all. The hall was struggling and, once it was finally set, he'd give her all the attention she wanted. Everything she wanted. Just...just not yet.

If she would only wait…

"You," he finally sighed deeply as she continued to glare at him over her shoulder, "have been sick, Mira. Remember? You just went to get checked out yesterday. Do you really need to be traveling?"

"I'm not missing this wedding, Laxus, because you-"

"Don't want you traveling while you're sick?"

"I already missed the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, everything, all to help you take care of your guild-"

"Our guild. It's ours. Me and you. Together. And I told you that if it was a big deal, you could go."

"Nothing is a big deal to you, Laxus. Except your guild."

"We're not doing this right now, Mira. We're going to go open and then, if you want to go so badly, go to that stupid wedding. We can talk tonight."

And he got a dirty look full on then as she turned around to glare at him before marching out of the room.

"Open," she called over her shoulder, "yourself."

Which he hated doing. Getting things all ready for openings. But it beat arguing with the woman any longer.

Mirajane left in a huff and Laxus spent more time sulking than actively working on opening for the morning. This was fine, though, as it wasn't long before Freed showed up.

"Good," the slayer grumbled simply at the sight of the man. "You can help me open."

Freed, actually, was a bit shocked to find the slayer there as Mirajane had seemed pretty confident the day before that he would not be. She'd asked the rune mage to come by and do as Laxus was asking now, but that was because she planned for them both to attend the wedding of Natsu and Lucy.

"If you're not going, I mean, Freed," she asked in hopefulness.

"I fear I am not much the fan of weddings of late," the green-haired man had assured her. "Far too many of them far too often."

"That's what happens, you know, when everyone you know finally starts to mature and get older."

"I suppose so. But I can only sit through so many attempts at keeping the idea and concept fresh," he'd replied. "A simple service in a traditional setting would not be too bad. But these attempts to be entertaining… And there is no one that I think of as trying to be an entertainment source as Natsu. So no, I do not think I will wish to attend. I will however send them a nice gift."

And he planned to. The idea of opening the hall up for the Master and Mirajane didn't seem too bad either. He rather liked the solitude in it all, Freed did. Until he arrived and it was not solitude awaiting him, but a stressed out Laxus.

Instead of explaining any of this to his Master though, Freed only bowed to him slightly and replied, "If it's what you wish, Laxus."

"It is. The fucking demon ran out on me."

"I believe she was going to the wedding."

"Run out on me."

Well, one or the other, certainly.

Or...both, also, perhaps.

When the hall did open though, Laxus only went and sealed himself off in his office, grumbling to Freed to find someone to serve bar before he took off for the day. When he offered to be the one to do that, Laxus only grumbled out an, "Even better," before shutting the door to his office and sulking alone for awhile.

Freed was a bit lonely, out there behind the bar all alone. He knew not to expect Bickslow or Evergreen that day as both had no doubt headed back to Magnolia for the wedding. Though neither boasted any strong ties to either the bride or the groom, Ever would go to be with Elfman and Bickslow would certainly go for a free meal. While the rune mage did like many of his fellow members of Dragon's Roar, he didn't rightly consider any of them close allies.

He wasn't so sure anyone there considered themselves that just yet.

The guild was still new and many of the people recruited were the stronger mages that Laxus knew from his travels and exploits as an S-Class wizard with Fairy Tail. He knew many top wizard and had been able to convince them (and they some that weren't so strong) to join up, but that in no way meant that any strong bonds had formed. They were just the best of the best existing together for the most part.

Which was nice in itself. Though Freed had fallen quite hard for the ideals of Fairy Tail after Laxus' excommunication in their early twenties, there was something to be said for self preservation and the reliance on something other than the 'power of friendship'. Though Freed accredited Fairy Tail for shaping much of his youth, he was an adult now.

Even if Laxus hadn't formed Dragon's Roar, it probably would have been time for him to move on soon enough. Else risk hampering his own development as a mage.

There were times though, as the one that he was having in those moments, where the draw to the life he once lived, in that guild, felt strong. You were never alone, it felt like, In Fairy Tail. The sense of comradery and exploration was strong in that hall, whereas Dragon's Roar could feel a bit...sterile at times.

He was contemplating such things that day, behind the bar, when an outsider showed up at the hall. Considering Mira was away and Laxus was, well, away as well (mentally at least), Freed saw it to be his task to deal with the person.

"Hello!" he greeted in a tone of voice that felt so cringey that he dropped it immediately. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I do not believe you are a member here and, unfortunately, our master is currently unavailable. However, if you wish to-"

The man, dressed rather nicely, only shook his head a bit as he came forwards. "I believe you are mistaken. I am the physician from the town over."

"Oh. Oh! Is there some sort of emergency?" Though Freed would never wish for such a thing, of course (who would), the idea that Dragon's Roar would be the first to be called on was exciting. They'd waited for this day, after all. "What cna-"

"No, it is not that. I have results." And the man held up an envelope then, shaking it slightly. "For one Mirajane Strauss. I typical mail such things, but I had to come into town anyways to meet someone and thought I'd save on postage. Not to mention, she seemed very interesting in receiving this as soon as possible-"

"Ah, well, Mirajane is not here currently," Freed offered with a bowed head. "But she does reside her and the Master is her closest relative, I suppose, if you wish to leave it with him."

"You will suffice, I suppose," the doctor was quick to say as he came over to hand off the envelope to the man. "So long as you do not plan on taking peeks-"

"I would never."

"Then you it is." And he dropped the letter on the bar top before tipping his cap to him. "Good day and all to you."

"You as well."

The second the man was gone, Freed snatched the letter right up and rushed to the Master's office where he just managed to stop himself from barging in and instead knocked.

"Freed, go away. I told you that-"

"I have a letter."

"And? Pout it with the others."

"For Mirajane. A doctor stopped by and left it."

That got the man up form his desk and rushing over to throw open the door.

"What?" he growled as he reached out to snatch it from his most trusted friend. "She said that she went and was fine. Why would they send her a letter? At a later date? What kind of sense does that make?"

"W-Well, some illnesses you must analyze the tests of, yes?" Freed offered up as the man only turned to stomp back into his office, the letter tightly gripped in his palm. "The more...serious aliments."

Laxus felt so many things right then. Worry, concern, fear, anger, lack of understanding as to why Mira would keep this from him. These feelings only furthered as he ripped the letter right open to find what secrets it held.

"Wait," Freed tired. "I said I wouldn't look at it."

"You're not," Laxus grumbled as he unfurled the folded sheet of paper in there. "I am."

And, well, that made as much sense as anything else in his day to day life so Freed decided not to fight his master on that.

As his eyes scoured the page for answers, Laxus remained silent though his mouth moved to form the words he was slowly digesting. Freed, only stood by, hands clasped behind his back, fearing what sort of thing Mirajane could have kept hidden from them.

When he reached the end of the letter, Laxus only dropped it and sat there silently for a moment. Freed didn't want to be too much of a pry, but...well…

"Is everything alright?" he asked finally after a few moments. "Laxus?"

His eyes were raised then, but the man only shook his head a bit before swallowing. But it was hard.

"Mira's..."

"Is it that bad?"

"No, it..." He let out a long breath too. "She's pregnant."

This was not at all what Freed was expecting. He thought some sort of terrible and horrifying disease. Although…

"That is… Are you certain?"

"It's what the fucking paper says, Freed."

Uncomfortable then, he shifted around some before asking, "Did she not make any sort of mention of such a thing to you?"

"What do you think?"

"W-Well-"

"Leave." The man's eyes fell back on the paper once more. "I need to be alone."

"A-As you wish, Laxus." He even bowed again. "I will be in the bar area if you require me."

Alone in his office, the slayer was not sure what to think or do in that moment. He'd never be in it, after all.

They could not afford a child. He'd told Mirajane that they would start trying for them only once they were able to care properly for it. And in that moment, he felt as if they were not even properly caring for themselves.

Their relationship was already rocky at the moment. While he knew that they would weather it, that he would make sure that they would weather it, he didn't know what adding another person into that relationship would do to them. A baby was...a lot to deal with. Even when there was enough jewels and a stable relationship surrounding it. In their current state…

Plus, why the fuck had she not told him about this? Huh? Why did she not tell him that she thought that this was a possiblity? Why was she hiding this from him? Why, with this hanging over her head, did she see it fit to argue with him about something as stupid as a wedding?

Laxus spent the first hour pissed off at Mirajane.

By the time the second rolled around, he felt like a jerk for feeling such a way.

Mirajane was tough and strong and all around a rugged person, but that didn't mean that she couldn't feel scared at times. And while he would hate to thing that the woman was ever afraid of him, he didn't count out the opinion that she could be fearful of the outcome that was approaching them. While he knew in his heart that they were going to be fine, that this would all turn out well in the end, their fighting might have made Mirajane a bit...well...less enthused by the idea. To then run the risk of being pregnant…

He wanted to go to Magnolia that moment to see her. To speak with her. But he knew that wouldn't go well and that he had to just stay where he was, but man if the desire to do so didn't eat at him throughout the entire day.

The third hour he thought about the baby. Because that was important too, he was beginning to remind himself. The baby was there and it was happening and wow, what did that mean? That he was a father? That was a scary though. And if he was scared, no wonder Mirajane had been.

The fourth and fifth hour Laxus just put his headphones on and tried his hardest to work though frequently his thoughts drifted and he thought of many different variation of the things from before.

What were they going to do?

They were going to have a baby. That was all there was to it.

Mirajane wouldn't be home until late that night. The guild had already closed up and, after Freed being such a sport the whole day (Laxus still not realizing Mira had requested such a thing of him before anyways), Laxus let him go home and closed up alone. Well, tried to. He mostly just swept up around the place and watched anxiously for when his girlfriend would come through the hall doors.

It was close to midnight before that happened.

She came in looking tired and worn out. He was sure she'd had a good time, maybe even not, but honestly he had no intention of asking her any of that. He only stood there, in the center of the bar, broom in hand, watching her closely as she came in.

She responded in kind, giving him a few looks of her own though her head was held high. She probably still thought he was pissed about her going to the wedding and trying to goad him into it. He wasn't though. He could honestly give a fuck about all that now.

"Well?" she finally asked once she'd more than come in. Stopping before she got to him, she only asked, "You're not going to ask me how it was? Nothing? You know, Laxus, this is why we're constantly having all these- Laxus."

He'd dropped the broom and rushed over to her so suddenly that Mirajane jumped out of surprise. That was alright though as his arms were wrapping around her then and he was holding her close, burying his nose in her hair.

"Mira," he whispered softly to the woman, "why didn't you tell me?"

"If you would just ask-"

"Not about their stupid wedding."

"You know, I try and make excuse for you, but you're such a-"

"Why didn't you tell me that you thought you were pregnant?"

She stiffened then, in his arms, but Laxus only pulled back some so that they could look at one another full on. Keeping his eyes aliened with hers, he refused to look away.

"Laxus," Mira finally tried. "How did you-"

"An envelope came for you and I thought you were sick or something."

"You opened my mail?"

"That's not the point."

"It is a little bit, yeah."

"No." He even shook his head. "Mira, why wouldn't you tell me this? Why-"

"Because, Laxus, we've been having so much problems that-"

"That what? You would try to hide-"

"It was only going to cause problems," she kept up. "And if I wasn't, then why even start them?" But then she was silent for a moment before asking him, "Am I?"

He finally looked off some and only nodded his head a bit. "Yeah, demon. You are."

It sucked then too, as she turned away from him and brought a hand up to her face to hide her tears.

They weren't happy either.

"Mira-"

"I always envisioned, like, this going so much better. This whole thing. When you brought me out here, I never thought...I never thought..."

"I'll be better.," he told her then. "I promise. I've been… I've been terrible, I know, recently, but… And if you just give me some more time-"

"Laxus, shut up."

"Mira-"

"How did it all go so bad?"

"It's not bad. And don't say it is."

"This is all we ever wanted, right?" She didn't even lift her head to look at him. Only sniffled some. "You wanted to be Master and I wanted us to have a baby. Here we are. Are you happy yet, Laxus?"

"Mira..."

"I'm going upstairs. I have to get out of this makeup and dress." She still wouldn't look at him. Only continued on through the hall. He watched her go silently, but the second she was gone, he picked up the broom and, holding it like a mallet, began slamming it into the ground. It only survived two of them before it snapped, but Laxus turned his eyes on other things he could break in his own hall. To get this all out. But the only thing that brought him any satisfaction was when he slammed his fists into the brick wall until they bled and he'd more than crumbled a few of them.

Then he went upstairs to see what Mira was doing.

She was in bed already, the blankets pulled up over her head, but he didn't hear her sobbing. Just breathing. Softly.

He said nothing to her though as he too climbed into bed, lifting up the blankets and slipping between them with her. In the darkness he watched her back as she refused to turn around to face him. He only shifted closer to her though, but didn't touch her. Because clearly she didn't want that in the moment.

"I know this isn't all...ideal or how you planned it or… Mira, I'm not lying. I'll be better. I'll try harder. I just… I'm giving my all into this guild thing because I want it, you know? This is all I ever wanted? But I want you too, now, and I know that I've been neglecting that side of things. I'm sorry. Did you hear that? Demon? I mean it. I'm wrong. Me. I promised you all this shit once we got out here and I meant to make it all happen, but I underestimated… If you want me to give it up, Mira, I will. We'll disband, go back to Magnolia and I'll take jobs again. As a mage. I'll get us enough money for a house for you and the baby and it'll all be perfect again. Like it was before I fucked it all up. I'll marry you, like I always promised. I shouldn't have done all this. I never meant for it all to get so bad. I just let it go further and further out of my control and… I thought that now that the guild was starting to make money, it would just all get better on it's own. It's clearly not. I'm wrong. I made a mistake. But I want you and this baby more than I want the hall. I know that. And I'll make sure that we have that. No more time. Now. I swear."

She didn't say much at first. Or at all. But she did finally roll over to look at him and, as he took in her tear stained cheeks and red eyes, he understood, finally, something at least. What she'd said that morning was true.

It was more than the wedding.

It was more than the guild.

It was more than the baby, now, even.

It was them.

As he swallowed this, Mirajane spoke, finally, again, as she told him simply, "You're not giving up your guild, Laxus."

"But I will," he kept up. "If that's what you want. If that's-"

"And you're not putting it off on me. Or this baby that we're apparently having."

"Mira-"

"Just… Would you just leave me alone? Please? For the night?" she asked. And he never thought it would be her requesting time away from him. Ever. "Just...be quiet for awhile."

But he'd been quiet all day with himself and it had been miserable. All he'd wanted was for her to get there, to get back home to him. Now that she was, she wanted away from him?

But that wasn't right, was it? She didn't want away from him as she neither kicked him out of the room nor moved to leave it herself. Just gave him her back and that was that.

So he rested on his own, staring up at the ceiling, and counting the hours until just before daylight when they usually got up and began going about their day. Mira never moved until the internal clock they shared woke her back up and reminded her that it was time to start the day.

As she sat up though, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and yawning some, Laxus only laid there, watching her, the silent one thing.

It was only after a few good stretches though that Mirajane turned back to the bed and scooted across it until she was on her knees beside her boyfriend. As he blinked up at her, finally, she spoke.

"This is our life now," she told him simply. "Dragon's Roar. We're never going back to Fairy Tail. We're doing this now. Forever. Until we're unable to any longer."

"Mira-"

"Things aren't going to be better because we change locations or have more jewels, Laxus." She even shook her head slightly. "There's a lot of other things that need to be addressed. You're so...distant to me recently and I've been angry at you for so long about it, but we just never talk about it. Or when we do, you storm off or tell me that you don't need to deal with this right now. Well, it's like you said before, Laxus. There is no more time. There's only now. And we're going to work it out. Right now."

Finally pushing up, he sat with his back against the headboard as he nodded some and, slowly, Mirajane sank back down onto her bottom and, even though they needed to start on opening the bar, they sat there and talked. For over an hour.

Laxus wanted to leave. A lot. Or yell. Or any of the other things that he did when presented with facts that he wasn't interested in hearing at the moment.

But he held fast like he would for anything else that he loved. Hearing his faults and coming up with a way to fix them or else lose his hall? He'd do it, wouldn't he? And Mirajane and their relationship (plus their baby) meant so much more to him than his guild ever did.

Things weren't perfect, when they finished speaking, but they both felt more on the same frequency, and as they finally left the upstairs to go start on prep, Laxus hoped they were going to be like the guildhall and finally start trending in the right direction.

It'd take a lot of work to get the hall to do so and, well, he was more than willing to put in twice that amount for Mirajane.

After all, without her there was nothing.

This was a request for Laxus finding out Mira was pregnant while she was out and him contemplating it until her return. I'd also been asked previous to do more on Hopes and Dreams, so I just combined the two. Though this is obviously the end for this one-shot, clearly, we got a lot more to do around Dragon's Roar and, hopefully, there'll be more one-shots for it soon.

[problemsofabooknerd]

All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Through the Ages edited by Saundra Mitchell (Review)

Pride day 12!

Check out the intro to my Pride project here.

Anthologies have been all the rage in YA for a little while now, and I know that there are many more on the horizon. But All Out is the one that means the most to me, and the one I have loved the most out of the many I have read. It is a collection of stories all about queer teens living, loving, and being happy, written by a variety of queer authors. I figured today I would share my full, detailed review of the book, and encourage all of you to pick up a copy of your own!

For those of you who don't know, I have been anticipating All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Through the Ages since the very first Publisher's Weekly announcement almost two years ago. Since that time, I have read more books by more of these authors, worked shortly for the agency that represents many of them, and generally fallen into a rabbit hole of anticipation that I can't believe I've finally pulled myself out of. It has been a long journey. And now I'm thrilled to talk more about each of these stories and my overall thoughts on this collection. ♡Story Reviews♡ ♡ Roja by Anna-Marie McLemore: 4/5 This was a brilliant start to the collection, and only solidified the love I have for Anna-Marie McLemore's writing. There is something so fierce and unyielding about her characters, and even in a few pages she was able to craft a deeply moving story full of characters and a world I instantly understood. I really appreciated her writer's note giving more context to the story, but overall I felt fully absorbed in the collection from page one. ♡The Sweet Trade by Natalie C. Parker: 2.5/5 In concept, this is brilliant. Two women run away from their husbands on the day of their weddings, steal boats, and happen to run into and fall for each other. However, in execution, I wasn't as big a fan. The story felt rushed, the romance uncompelling, and I was already forgetting it by the time it was over. ♡And They Don't Kiss at The End by Nilah McGruder: 3.5/5 I love stories set in the 70s, and this definitely delivered on that aesthetic element. The main character was sweet and I really liked the inclusion of a story with a character on the ace spectrum. It was a really nice story with a great setting, and I will 100% be on the lookout for more of Nilah's work. ♡Burnt Umber by Mackenzi Lee: 4/5 McKenzi Lee sure does know how to make me fall for an m/m pairing. This was hysterical and adorable, and without a doubt delivered on what I was expecting from this author. While I didn't love Gentleman's Guide, this renewed my confidence in Lee's writing and hyped me up for her book coming out in 2019. Seriously, blushing art boys falling in love softly with little bits of embarrassment thrown in? Exactly my cup of tea. ♡The Dresser and the Chambermaid by Robin Talley: 4/5 I will be the first to admit I have a huge weakness for palace drama, and I'm so glad at least one story in this collection gave it to me. While I have had my bouts in the past with queer characters in period palace shows and movies, this was finally what I've been looking for. The romance wasn't rushed, and the setting was excellent. I'm thinking I may have a particular fondness for Robin Talley when she writes shorter fiction, and I can't wait to read her story in Toil & Trouble after enjoying this as much as I did. ♡New Year by Malinda Lo: 3.5/5 So it turns out this is only part of what will be a full book by Malinda, which I suspected based on the summary of her next release, and I think that showed in the story itself. While it was nice, and I loved the setting of 1950s San Francisco, it felt incomplete and I'm excited to eventually read a deeper, more fleshed out version. ♡Molly's Lips by Dahlia Adler: 4.5/5 This was (I think?) the shortest story in the collection, but it absolutely blew me away. I mean.... Kurt Cobain? Best friends harboring secret crushes? Drama? I live for it all, and I can't believe this is the only thing I have ever read by Dahlia. My new goal is to read more of her work as soon as possible. ♡The Coven by Kate Scelsa: 3/5 I kind of expected more out of this story considering it was set in the 1920s, one of my favorite time periods to read about. I did love the witch element, and the setting, but it fell flat considering how many of my favorite things it was trying to deliver simultaneously. I will say I liked the very end of the story the best, though, and I think it made the whole thing feel like it had a solid landing. ♡Every Shade of Red by Elliot Wake: 3/5 Oh, how I have tried to love Elliot Wake. His writing is very, very flowery and metaphorical, which was something I knew back when I read Black Iris. But while I know a lot of people love his writing style, it ends up being sort of a slog for me to get through. The story underneath heavy-handed writing was fantastic, though. I love a good retelling, and a m/m retelling of Robin Hood with a trans Robin as the love interest was just a fantastic concept. ♡Willows by Scott Tracey: 2/5 I'll be honest, I don't have a very full idea of what happened in this story or what the particular queer rep even was. I think it was possibly going for a gender fluid or non-binary main character, but the entire thing was unnecessarily confusing. ♡The Girl With the Blue Lantern by Tess Sharpe: 4/5 Can I get a "hell yeah!" for prairie vibes, bringing it back to the historical fiction I consumed constantly as a kid? Honestly, this was fantastic. Clearly I was a fan of the setting, and the fantastical element was really well done. I'm usually not a fan of anthologies that aren't fantasy having stories with fantasy elements, but I loved this. The f/f romance was great, the writing was solid, and this is a story I would love to return to in the future. ♡The Secret Life of a Teenage Boy by Alex Sanchez: 4.5/5 I can't even fully describe why I love this story as much as I do, but even after just a few pages with the main character I got a little teary at the end? I do love the setting of a scorching porch in the summer and a stranger just wandering through who happens to catch the eye of a main character. I mean, I know that's a specific trope, but I love it. This wasn't a romance so much as a romance-to-aid-coming-of-age-narrative situation, but it was soft and quick and it just made me smile. ♡Walking After Midnight by Kody Keplinger: 2.5/5 I'll be honest, I had to flip back to this story later because I completely forgot what it was about, and that is the biggest problem. The romance doesn't feel earned, and the entire thing is just sort of a there-and-gone situation that I at no point felt particularly invested in. ♡The End of the World As We Know It by Sara Farizan: 3/5 First and foremost, I'm not that old so it was weird to read about a date I remember experiencing in a historical fiction collection? I mean, I was at a New Year's Eve party in December 1999. I know what that was like. But beyond that, I thought this story was nice. It didn't blow me away, but it was sweet and I did really like the New Year's Eve element. ♡Three Witches by Tessa Gratton: 3.5/5 I've upped my rating by half a star since I read this! There are multiple f/f witch stories in this collection, but I think this one is a bit stronger. The romance was wonderful, and I thought the magic was really off-kilter in a way that charmed me. I think the final POV kind of unsettled the rhythm of the story, but overall it was super enjoyable. ♡The Inferno & The Butterfly by Shaun David Hutchinson: 5/5 My absolute favorite story in this collection. As someone who lovesThe Prestige more than I would care to admit, the fact that SDH made it gay is??? Overwhelming??? I can't believe it?? I mean, battling magicians is great, but put a m/m romance at the center of it and my heart is completely yours. I want this to be a full novel. I would cry. ♡Healing Rosa by Tehlor Kay Mejia: 4.5/5 An incredibly solid conclusion to this collection, and it blows me away that Tehlor doesn't have a novel out yet. I know one is coming soon (and!! she's writing one with Anna-Marie McLemore!! I'm not even kind of ready wow!), but I'm anticipating it even more highly after this story. There was so much work done here that it felt like I got the content of a full book in only a few pages. It was profoundly emotional, and there is a deep connection to family and tradition, with this through-line of respect and romance that pulls the whole thing together. Overall, fantastic. ♡Overall Thoughts♡ Like any anthology, I would say this had its ups and downs, but it was a really solid collection that allowed me to read some incredible stories by authors I already love, and some by authors I can't wait to read more from. I do wish, like many other reviewers, that more stories would have been set outside the United States and Europe? I think it would have offered a greater variety in storytelling and really opened up the potential to see so many more stories of queer teens. But beyond that, I really had no complaints, and I feel like my months and months of anticipation were met with a beautiful collection of queer characters living their lives throughout time.

And that’s it for my review! Check out some of my other favorite reviews of this anthology by Elise, Kav, and Destiny. Also, add this book on Goodreads or purchase a copy of your own. Also, bear with me for the next couple of days of posts because I am about to get on an international flight to Australia, so I might be a tiiiiny bit scattered.