#mother help me i have been flattened

[pep-tides]

i vacuum sealed my blahaj for the move and im fuckign dying hbgmvjvjfjsbsj

[milksuu]

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers. 

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors. 

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

 EMAIL: yone123@riotstudios.com

TELEPHONE:  XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his  protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.” 

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.” 

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place. 

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.” 

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest. 

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute. 

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.” 

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn. 

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps. 

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness. 

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.” 

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool. 

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too. 

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.” 

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.  

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite. 

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.” 

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: this one came out of no where.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands. 

Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely. 

A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach. 

The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place. 

You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within. 

You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin. 

“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes. 

“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit. 

“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.” 

“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp. 

“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.” 

“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads. 

There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’ 

“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!” 

“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.” 

You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching. 

Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?” 

You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.” 

“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?” 

Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.” 

“I do not know, lady,” you answer. 

“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.” 

“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.” 

Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.” 

You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded. 

The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies. 

“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!” 

The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings. 

“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.” 

“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--” 

“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.” 

“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--” 

“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!” 

“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries. 

“Father, please, is it a husband?” 

“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.” 

“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.” 

“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.” 

The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa. 

“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?” 

“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.” 

“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.” 

“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.” 

“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.” 

“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.” 

⚔️

Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner. 

You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers. 

The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment. 

Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s. 

“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt. 

You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost? 

The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow. 

“One of ya,” he grits. 

Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women. 

The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate. 

Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows. 

The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance. 

His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia. 

You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top. 

“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces. 

The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it. 

“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...” 

“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--” 

The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you. 

“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.” 

“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.” 

The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight. 

“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?” 

Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor. 

A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down. 

You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch. 

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) meets Leona's family at NRC Parents' Day. However, it's not his parents that come to visit him but instead his older brother and his family.

Request by anon.

"Uncle Leona! Uncle Leona!"

The Savanaclaw common room was quiet except for the constant yelling of an all too familiar small boy. An unruly ginger mop of hair seemed to dart around the area. That was until the boy came to a halt in front of the grumpy dorm leader. His youthful eyes sparkled when he gazed into his uncle's eyes, even if they were jaded and indifferent.

Leona rubbed his temples in dismay. "Quit it, Cheka," he whispered and did his best to shove him away with as much care he could muster. His eyes darkened in annoyance, and he pushed the boy into the direction of his sister-in-law. "I'm not some tree you can climb..."

Falena and Nali smiled at the tenderness that the younger prince tried to handle their son with. The queen let out a little chuckle and beckoned the young boy to her. He begrudgingly stopped his attempts of climbing onto his uncle's lap. "Well, Cheka. If your uncle says no, then please respect his decision," she said and extended her arms to the energetic boy. "Come to me, honey."

Although a look of disappointment flashed across Cheka's face, he nonetheless obeyed his mother with flattened ears.

"Thank you..." Leona breathed out gratefully.

"So," Falena began slowly, "how is school life treating you, brother?"

"Hmpf, the usual." No more came out of the dormleader's lips. Even when the air turned stagnant and awkward, he stubbornly kept his mouth shut. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he tried to hide his clenched fists. In his head, he counted the seconds he would have to sit here and entertain his brother's family.

His counting was interrupted by a firm knock against the door to the common room. Without waiting for a reply, the door was pushed open gently. A small slit of light allowed your head to peek out from behind the door. "Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting—" you exclaimed in a friendly yet hasty tone. "I'm just here to check on you, see if everything's alright. You know, Ace and his brother started a fist-fight earlier..."

Without even realising, Leona's eyes lit up when they recognised your face. "Herbivore," he said smugly and waved you inside. Perhaps this was his ticket to surviving his family's visit successfully. The indifferent expression on his face was no more, and his gesturing somehow had the most energy he had summoned today. "Come in. Quickly."

You tilted your head in confusion, but upon noticing how pressing his gaze was, you hummed in defeat. "Sure..." With the door falling into its hinges behind you, you approached the empty chair next to the Savanaclaw dormleader. Your hands loosely resting on the backrest of the seat, you shot the two unfamiliar adults a smile. "Hello, I'm (Y/n), prefect of the Ramshackle dorm. It's nice to meet you."

Before you could make an attempt of sitting down, a small boy came bounding towards you. "(Y/n)! (Y/n)!" he cried out and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist with utter excitement. "It's been so long since I've last seen you! I missed you."

Your smile widened upon recognising the little boy. "Oh, Cheka! Right, it's been ages since you visited NRC," you cooed and ruffled his hair affectionately. There were a few times when Leona had been visited by his nephew, much to his dismay. However with your help, babysitting Cheka had become much more tolerable. And you couldn't deny that you had a soft spot for his adorable nephew.

The queen eyed you up and down in curiosity, but her eyes bore no ill intent when your gazes finally met. "Cheka talks about you all the time, dear," she said, accompanied by an amused smile. Despite the warmth of her eyes, she exuded an aura of elegance that almost seemed intimidating to you.

Her eyes remained on you even after you had taken a seat next to the dormleader. "It's a pleasure looking after Cheka," you exclaimed and lifted said boy into your lap. A little giggle escaped his lips when you wrapped your arms around his stomach and began swaying him back and forth. "He's a little bundle of sunshine."

Leona rolled his eyes. "As if..."

"It's nice to finally meet you, (Y/n)," the king piped up in a friendly tone. "I'm Falena, Leona's older brother. This is my wife, Nali. And you already know Cheka."

"Can we take (Y/n) with us?" Cheka asked his parents and wrapped his short arms around your neck. "Please!"

"No way." At once, Leona had lifted Cheka off your lap and set him to the ground again. "You're not taking the herbivore with you," he grumbled under his breath.

"I sadly have to attend lessons here at Night Raven College, Cheka," you told the disappointed child. "But perhaps you can visit me sometimes, or I could visit you during the next school break?"

The royal couple sent each other a meaningful look that went unnoticed by the others. Falena then spoke up, "We would be delighted if Leona could bring you around for the next school break, (Y/n)."

"Maybe," Leona muttered. "I'll think about it."

Nali chuckled and propped her elbows onto the table between you. A mischievous glint appeared in her kind eyes. "So, (Y/n), you two seem like an unlikely pair of good friends," she asked smoothly. "How did you meet?"

Laughter spilt from your lips at her question, and you immediately turned to Leona in amusement. For the first time today, the beginnings of an amused smile became evident on his lips. After your chuckles were nothing more than echoes, you began, "Oh, I stepped on his tail when he was napping in the botanical garden. It was friendship at first sight." Your eyes shimmered with a nostalgic glint, but you never noticed the way Leona's ears twitched unreadably. "No, I'm just joking. I feared for my life when I realised I had awoken the mighty lion from his sleep."

"As you should," he huffed and grinned.

"But, we got along pretty fine afterwards! I had to do a large project with Jack, a fellow first-year in Savanaclaw, and thus stuck around the dorm for a few weeks." Your genuine smile turned devious when you playfully drawled, "People always told me to never poke a lion with a stick, but it was way too tempting with Leona. And what can I say? It was worth it."

The queen broke out into loud laughter at your remark. "Hah, you're fierce. I like you already."

"You're lucky I didn't bite your head off." Leona's grin turned haughty.

His expression drew soft chuckles from your lips. Your eyes softened again as they gazed into his. "Well, I am very grateful, Leona." Just as you were about to lose yourself in his emerald eyes, the vibration of your phone snapped you back to reality. A surprised gasp escaped your lips as you rose to your feet. "Oh, would you look at the time? I need to leave already to check up on the next student."

"Please don't leave—" Cheka cried out and clung to your leg like a lifeline. His grip was frighteningly strong for a boy his age.

Leona furrowed his eyebrows in dismay. "Yeah, don't leave," he echoed, although his voice sounded more commanding than his nephew's.

With a heavy heart, you pried the young boy off your leg and gently pushed him towards his parents. You sent him and his uncle an apologetic look. "I need to go, you two." With a solemn sigh escaping your lips, you turned to the royal couple. "It was nice meeting you, Falena and Nali! I hope to see you two around sometime. Goodbye."

They each muttered a goodbye of their own. With newfound haste, you exited the common room at the speed of light. The door slammed close behind you before the room was overtaken by silence again. The king and queen had smiles etched onto their faces as they stared off into the distance. The silence was no longer awkward, and Leona found it a little more bearable.

"You should keep that one," Nali suddenly said out of nowhere.

Leona almost choked on his spit. He immediately whipped his head towards his sister-in-law and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "With all due respect, but what do you mean?"

A chuckle escaped her lips. "I said what I said."

Her husband took her hand into his and gave it a firm squeeze. Once again, the two shared that meaningful look from earlier that the dormleader couldn't quite decipher.

Falena shot his younger brother a teasing smile. "A young love... Isn't it a beautiful thing?"

[heedeungism]

synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[ambrozjas]

Could u do Johnny cuddling hcs? Or all of the gang separately

Anyways I love your writing sm 😭🫶🏼

the gang with cuddling ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry this took so long to come out !! i’ve been absolutely swamped with homework, thank you for this request 🫶 i hope you all enjoy !!

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

let me know if there’s any warnings i need to add !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

you shifted away from DARRY a little bit to gather some of the coldness from the untouched part of the bed.

you hummed in delight as the foreign coldness of the sheets enveloped your body and you were met with a refreshing scent of lavender detergent, probably due to the fact that darry washed his sheets a few hours ago.

your eyes fell shut once again, falling into the euphoric feeling of sleep, before you heard shuffling behind you and felt a strong arm sling itself over your midriff.

you turn your head at an angle to see darry behind you, eyes still closed as he pulls you flush against him.

“y’awake, dare?” you whisper, turning your head as far as it could go so you could look at him.

all he does is nuzzle his face into the back of your hair, and gives you a small noise, signaling that he’s dozing off again.

you shake your head and softly chuckle, turning your head back to a comfortable position as you lay there in darry’s arms, content with just his presence. you know that one of you would get hot and would pull away in the night, but knowing that you’re still next to each is enough comfort on its own, so you didn’t mind all that much. no matter how hot darry was, he’d still have your pinkies locked or a hand against your back, just so he knows you’re there.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you woke up abruptly with a hand landing on your face, looking over to see SODAPOP, mouth partially open as soft snores left his pink lips. he looked so peaceful, unaware of how he just assaulted your face in his slumber.

soda always slept wild. he moved a whole lot, and not always in a good way. ponyboy told you how once, he found sodapop upside down with his foot in pony’s face.

when you turned your head to look at soda some more, you couldn’t help but admire how serene he looked in his sleep. his hair a disheveled mess when it wasn’t greased, flattened against his white pillow, his jawline soft as his chin tucked itself in. you narrowed your eyes at him as you recall how he woke you up once his leg twitches.

you wonder what he’s dreaming about as you flinch away once he jolts in his sleep. his lashes flutter open at the absence of you next to him as his hand comes up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “what’s wrong, darlin’?” his voice is altered from the thick layer of sleep coating it, giving it a gravely tone rather than his usual voice.

you knew that if you told him of how he woke you up, he’d probably feel a tad bit guilty. so instead of saying anything, you just shake your head and lean back down, resting your head on soda’s chest, your head rising with every breath he took.

“i love you.”

“love ya, too.” he says, closing his eyes once again as he shuffled to get comfortable, his arm wrapping around you as he pulls you closer.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“from her french mother, whose parents had felt haiti in the revolution of 1791, had come her slanting eyes, shadowed by inky lashes..” you listened as PONYBOY read his copy of ‘gone with the wind’ to you. resting your head on pony’s shoulders, you tucked yourself into his side. you felt the vibrations of pony’s voice in your position, the feeling almost soothed you as he read.

“y’still awake?” he confirmed, taking a moment to stop reading and look down at you. you met his eyes, finding yourself in a sea of grey hazel, before looking back at the book and giving him a small, ‘mhm’.

“you liar.” he shakes his head, careful to place a bookmark in his book before setting it down on the desk beside his bed.

“i was awake, pony!—“

“you was almost drooling on my shoulder.” he said, shuffling down under the covers to get comfortable. once pony actually lays down, you immediately wriggle your way into the taut comforter next to pony, burrowing into his side.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, pony awkwardly stiff as he feels you nuzzle into him. he opened his mouth to speak, it gaping open and closed like a fish as he considered whether or not to interrupt the quiet.

“why do you like me reading to you? couldn’t you read yourself?” he muttered with caution, trying hard so as to not make you think he didn’t like reading to you because trust me, pony really did like reading to you.

“like your voice.” you croaked, voice muffled in the pillows. you stayed there for a moment, feeling pony’s body heat up with just one comment.

you held back a giggle as you threw an arm around his waist and nuzzled into him until there was no space left, no gap to differentiate the two bodies, instead just one heap of love on pony’s bed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you watched JOHNNY look both ways before stealthily running out of his house, coming through the window as to not interrupt the commotion in the living room. you frowned as you saw the two figures yelling and thrashing about in the window, hearing a multitude of slams and glass breaking inside.

you beckoned johnny over as you perched yourself behind a tree, just in case anybody came out. you caught glimpses of his face when he ran, the moonlight dripping through the worn branches of the trees surrounding the pathway to his house. in those few gaps where you saw his face, although altered with the color of blue from the moon, you didn’t miss the faint tear streaks on his face and the reddening of his eyes and lips.

a curt, “lot?” was all that left your lips before johnny nodded vigorously. you thought, anything was better than, you looked back to the house and even through the curtains you could still see the two figures fighting and shouting so angrily it was almost unintelligible, that.

you held out your hand to johnny, offering at least some form of comfort on the way to the empty lot. he took it, his hand felt cold and calloused. you frowned as you felt some scarring from trying to protect his head when he got jumped by the socs that one time. nonetheless, you both bolted away into the darkness and headed to the lot in a desperate attempt to get away from this place.

“i hate it.” johnny had finally blurted out once you two had reached the lot and caught your breaths. you cradled his head as your heart broke when you felt his shoulders heave, probably trying to put a tough front as he muffled his sobs.

that whole night was spent with endless whispers of promises and assurance. countless mumbles of promising that you two would get enough money to move away from tulsa, to a place where there wasn’t any of this. where you two could be free.

johnny had cried himself out and fallen asleep with his head on your lap. you twirled and played with his hair, rubbing your fingers together at the texture of grease. you were comforted by the sounds of nature around you, owls hooting and crickets chirping filled the silence as your eyes stayed on johnny.

even though you knew your neck would be killing you, you leaned your head on an empty crate and didn’t move a single inch so johnny wouldn’t wake up.

it’s okay, you thought to yourself, one day i’ll take you out of this place.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“stop—!” you whined, swatting DALLAS’ hand away as he kept poking at your cheeks. your eyes were still shut closed as you were trying to doze off, before dally had so rudely interrupted you.

you had gotten used to the stench of cigarettes, it was practically everywhere. in dallas’ room at bucks house, on dal’s clothes, his hair no matter how well he washed it. of course, there were some other undertones to it too. the deodorant dal always wore was musky as it seeped into your nostrils whenever you got close to his chest. it was just like him, strong and overwhelming.

you pouted, hiding your face into his chest so he couldn’t bother your face anymore. but he always had a way around it, so instead of poking your face he settled on flicking your ears with his index finger.

he scoffed in amusement when he realized you had really ignored him and fallen asleep.

dallas looked around the room and sighed, his nostrils blowing out smoke once his chest dropped with the breath.

it was a few thick moments of quiet, the only noise coming from the chirping of the ceiling fan that you would always complain about hoping it would never fall on you due to how worn down it was, before the door swung open only to reveal no other than buck merrill.

he opened his mouth to speak, wide and ready to talk, before he laid eyes on the sight before him.

you, asleep with your head on dally’s chest. and dallas? arm hanging off the side of the bed and his body not moving an inch so as to not disturb you, cigarette dangling out of his mouth as per usual.

“shit.” buck mumbles, watching dally wave his hand, careful not to add motion to the rest of his arm, to tell buck to go scratch. buck simply raised a hand in a surrender type motion and exited in the room. dally tsked as he heard buck walk backwards into something, it creating a loud enough sound to where he looked at you, watching you stir. he tapped out his cigarette and threw it on the desk next to him, bringing a hand to the small of your back as he lolled his head to the side, taking deep breaths in an effort to fall asleep, too.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“geronimo!” yelled TWO-BIT as he jumped onto you, limbs spread out so he could successfully cage you in although careful to put his knees below him so he didn’t bodyslam you entirely.

“no—!” you only had a quick moment to react, tucking your legs in as you braced for impact. you had to admit though, seeing two-bit take the form of a sugar glider above you was hilarious.

his body diving onto yours wasn’t so hilarious, though.

your breath was knocked out of your lungs as you scrambled to escape under your boyfriends body, elbowing him as he doubled over with laughter.

you huffed as you realized he wasn’t budging any soon, dropping your shoulders with nothing else to do. two looked up at you, the corners of his cold blue eyes crinkling as he gave you a cheeky grin. his arms snaked themselves around your waist and squeezed, mumbling nonsense before he pressed his face into your stomach. his voice was muffled in the fabric of your shirt as he muttered quick things, you could’ve sworn you heard a, “beautiful” in there.

“‘s that all you broke my ribs for, mathews? a quick cuddle?” you teased him, your voice quick with your restriction of air support.

there’s a quick pause before two-bit mumbles a quick ‘no’ and turns his face over to the side so you can hear his words.

you twirled the curl that he always greases with your fingers, absentmindedly playing with his hair as he hummed, giving you a small groan when you scratched at his scalp.

two-bit was annoying sometimes, but domestic moments like this always made you forget about it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“imagine how the boys would react to seein’ you now, STEVE.” that teasing was also meant seriously, because you did wonder. how would the gang react to finding steve on your lap as his head stayed glued to the crook of your neck? it was almost comical.

“ah, shut up.” he grumbled, yet he took no action to move away from you, his words contained lack of any threats.

you hummed in response, patting his back as you listened to his breathing. he started to doze off again, his head getting heavier by the minute as his body relaxed.

you suddenly jolted up, hoping to scare steve out of his slumber, but he was dead asleep. the only noise that was heard were his soft snores leaving his parted mouth.

you pouted. you wish you would’ve moved before having him sit there, only because you couldn’t see his face though.

you rolled your eyes as you heard steve’s snores getting louder as he entered into a deeper sleep, his weight almost unbearable. so instead of just sitting through that torture, you gently leaned back and laid steve down beside you.

just as you were about to shuffle away to give him his space, you heard an arm slap and shift at the couch’s cushion. you turned around, your eyes trailing up the arm, on the tattoo his shoulder adorned, and finally at his face. his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes closed, eyelashes perfectly on display as he attempted to find you.

so you stayed there, having steve cling onto you while he slept. because really, who could deny steve when he was as serene as he was?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ some of them were kinda sleeping related? but it still kinda counts guys trust 🙏

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[munariplans]

hi there! hope ur doing well. i love ur writing and have been wondering if you could do a story about reader disappearing on the teams day off. natasha who has a crush on reader notices and spys on reader to see if she’s meeting up with someone. instead it’s just reader being a good person and helping people along the way. making natasha fall in love with her even more.

days off | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above! thank you anon for your submission :)

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.3k words

a/n: requests and asks are always open

masterlist

“what are you doing?” natasha asked you shyly, her figure leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. she watched your hands skilfully kneading the dough on the counter over and over again, folded into a neat rectangle before being flattened and folded again in the next moment. behind you, pans were sizzling with the mouth-watering fragrance of scrambled eggs being cooked on the stove, and the oven let out a ding right as she stepped closer, telling you that it was preheated and ready. 

you let the dough rest, before putting a pre-prepared one in the oven and finally turning to her. “making breakfast,” you said, matter-of-factly, “for the team.”

“but it’s our off-day,” she replied, “and we have chefs in the compound.”

you smiled. “well, i just thought it would be nice to have something homemade, for once. my mother taught me how to cook, and i figured i’d spend the morning of the day-off in the kitchen, where i’ll be busy, and…the thoughts wouldn’t be so loud.”

natasha folded her arms over herself as you came closer. you noticed she had just come back from the gym. she probably hadn’t had anything to eat. 

carefully slicing the freshly baked bread into halves, you took a pair out of the perfect symmetry and placed them on the plate, before ladling a helping of the scrambled eggs, taking a few pieces of bacon out of the other pan, and placing a piece of hash brown right on top, before covering it with the other half of the bread. she watched you work, methodically, seamlessly. you looked like you had been doing it for years. 

then, you wrapped the sandwich quickly, and wrote her initials, N.R. with a smiley on top of the wrapper, before handing it to her. she was taken aback, and slightly red when she looked at the sandwich being offered to her. 

“i-it’s…” she stuttered, heart beating quickly when she realised she hadn’t exactly taken the sandwich, but hadn’t rejected your offer, either. 

“i want you to be my first taster. if it’s good, i’ll call the team down to have it as well. and if it’s bad…” you shrugged, half-laughing in anticipation as natasha finally took it, taking a small bite in front of you.

she took a moment to chew, face in contemplation, as if she were assessing a fine dining establishment before you. you began taking off your apron, deciding to let the chefs help you take over for the serving of the food later on, and started packing your things. 

just before you left, however, you noticed natasha fully into the entryway of the kitchen again, sandwich half-eaten.

“it’s okay,” she said nonchalantly, wiping a little bit off the ends of her lips. “it’s edible.”

you nodded, hiding a smile. “okay means good. i’ll tell the team to come down, then.”

natasha shrugged this time, as if saying if that’s what you want. when you left to shower, however, she smiled quietly to herself, and after making sure that no one was around, did a little happy dance from one of the most delicious sandwiches she had ever eaten. it was more than okay, it was the best breakfast she had ever had. she only wished she had the courage to tell you so. 

the redhead then tore the part of your handwriting of her initials off the wrapper, and kept it in her pocket for the rest of the day.

–

natasha never really knew what to do on her day-offs. it felt weird, to be sitting around doing nothing. she could do her remaining paperwork, but she knew if tony caught her, he would ban her from working on it at all for a week, leaving her even more bored and restless. 

she could sleep in, or explore new york for the day, but she wasn’t fully confident that her russian accent wouldn’t throw the average new yorker off yet. it also didn’t help that ever since her joining the avengers, there was always someone around the block who recognised who she was, who let their eyes rake over her figure for far too long, who made her feel uncomfortable when they got too close to ask for a picture. the others never seemed to mind, but she did. 

she noticed you always seemed to step in when it got too much; telling the fans that enough was enough, or simply holding her waist and slowly whisking her away from their prying eyes and grubby hands. she threw her head back onto her pillow at the thought of your hands on her waist again. natasha seriously needed to stop thinking about you, and her festering crush, whenever she had the opportunity. she needed to busy herself. 

but when you appeared in the commons right as she stepped out of her room to ask what you planned to do on your day-off, you were in your coat and scarf, prepared to head out. the rest of the team was still lazily lounging around the area, in a dazed state from the aftermath of your coma-inducing breakfast. 

“where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to pry too much, but still allowing herself to feed her own curiosity. 

she hated that you always replied with a tone that seemed like it was painfully obvious what you were doing. “out.”

“i know, but–”

“hey romanoff, are you still coming for the basketball game later? steve needs to book the seats.” tony called out to her before she could finish the sentence. he asked you too, but you reaffirmed with him that you weren’t coming. 

you shifted your scarf slightly, turning your attention back to her. “you ever been to a basketball game before? you’ll like it. the warriors are something else.”

natasha shook her head. you knew she had never been. but it didn’t mean that she wanted to go, not without you around. but she also didn’t have the courage to ask if she could tag along to wherever you were going. she knew her limits.

you didn’t seem to take the hint of her wanting to come along, despite her readily asking if you were going to meet someone, or if you were just going out alone, and if you had plans for after. you simply waved her goodbye, and told her to enjoy the game with the team. 

she sighed in irritation when you left, much to the amusement of clint behind her. “does she have a girlfriend or something? is that what she’s using her day-offs for?”

if clint wasn’t already hiding his grin, his friend’s newfound annoyance at your departure definitely made him let out a chuckle. “not that i know of.”

natasha didn’t have much to do that day, and it wasn’t like she was particularly looking forward to the game either, so she decided to spend her day-off the only way she knew how, using her spying skills and finding out what you were doing with yours.

–

in retrospect, natasha knew that you probably wouldn’t have liked being stalked, or followed around without her telling you why, or even simply her not taking the initiative to just ask, when you would have told her willingly of what you spent your breaks on.

she followed you into the university uptown, where natasha knew you guest-lectured in between longer breaks from missions. she just never expected you to come in on your days-off as well. 

you tapped your card in to the science department of the school, while natasha snuck past the security guard after causing a well-crafted distraction. when you entered the lockers to change into your lab coat, natasha waited patiently outside like a schoolgirl hiding from their crush. she supposed she wasn’t so different from one then.

it was only when you walked down the halls into a room guarded by a facial recognition scan, that natasha finally got to know that she a) wasn’t being so discreet after all, or b) you were a better agent than you let on to her. she should have known that you didn’t get promoted through the ranks so fast, so young, without reasons. 

the machine scanned your face, and as the door unlocked, you stood there for a moment, holding it wide open, before leaning your head to the side, one eye locked with hers. 

“do you want to come in and see as well, or do you plan on just waiting for me until i finish?”

if clint had seen the embarrassment on her face, along with the walk of shame she had to put on to enter the room with you, he would have certainly made her the laughing stock of the compound for the day. 

–

you drew up a chair for natasha as you went to your usual work station, a little early for your patient. in the few minutes that the two of you were alone, you hadn’t engaged her at all, simply directing her to sit and watch, while you prepared your materials and waited for your lab assistant. natasha was a little unnerved, and in awe at your professionalism, at the same time. 

you clicked your tongue in slight annoyance as your assistant came in five minutes late, reminding him, almost naggingly, that you only had one day-off per week, and it was precious time that he was wasting for the both of you. he apologised, and got to work helping you set up what looked like a robotic prosthetic leg, on your station. 

the lab was pristine; white-tiled walls and floors scrubbed clean with a very strong stench of antiseptic ensuring to even the most sceptic of minds that you knew what you were doing, and that the lab was clean; if the multiple diagrams of your inventions on the walls and the prototypes lining the shelves around her were not enough proof. you had never told her you had a lab.

a few minutes later, two knocks on the door were heard, and your assistant rushed over to open the door for a man no younger than seventy, hobbling in with great difficulty as he tried to offer help with his support, only to be rejected with a wave of his hand and an upbeat smile. he was an amputee. 

oh. this was what your days-off were for. 

“hello, mr. miller. you look cheerful today.” you got up from your seat to shake his hand. he took your support this time, leading himself to the plush armchair placed across your station. 

he laughed, rough and loud. “david, how many times have i come in here and asked you to call me?”

you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, david. let me help you with this.”

he winced as you kneeled down beside him, outstretching his prosthetic leg and inspecting it. your assistant took notes as you made observations of the various deficiencies and defects it suffered through david’s use of it for the past six months. natasha watched as your hands, the ones that would hold her at night when she cried, the ones that punched the faces of enemies trying to get to her, the very same hands that made her breakfast that morning, ran over the intricate details and bolts and nuts of the prosthetic leg she learned you made just for david, knowing what was wrong just by the feel and touch of them. she adored those hands so much. 

then, you helped him take off the prosthetic, instructing your assistant to hold his hand in encouragement as he winced at the removal. “there we go. wasn’t so bad this time, right? and the leg did hold up quite well, for six months.”

“well, you do maintenance to it every week,” david patted your back, “hard to fuck it up so bad when you fix it up every time i try to, right?”

you laughed, and natasha stopped herself from smiling. at your signal, the assistant brought forth the limb that you both had been working on to replace david’s old one for the past year, shiny and new. the man positively gleamed at the sight of it. 

“ready for a bit of a change, though, mr. miller?”

“now, that is a beauty,” he said as his eyes latched on, before they inevitably noticed natasha sat at the corner of where the limb was, and she swore he held recognition for her instantly. 

you followed his gaze, before his met yours, and the playful smirk he let out was all that you needed to know that he knew. “is that your…”

“...friend, natasha,” you replied him quickly, eyes slightly panicked and subtly, not so subtly, shaking your head to ask him to stop before he let out your little secret. 

“is she the one–”

“–yes, david. she’s the one.” 

he finally caught the hint, and chuckled to himself as he waved hi to her. she waved back, no doubt in confusion of the connection between him and her. she made a mental note to ask you about it later. 

–

when the new leg was fitted on him, david was practically almost jumping for joy at the new flexibility and strength it gave him. his laughter was infectious, as natasha quickly learned, when it caught up to her after it caught you and the assistant, as well. 

“look at the reflexes! and fluidity of this thing!” no longer was he hobbling and exerting his entire strength on the one leg, it was almost as if the leg was natural and part of him itself, as david brought you in for a hug enthusiastically. 

you hugged him back, still grinning. “amazing right, what science can do for you. soon, the future of prosthetics is going to change, and we can make so many more lives better in our community.”

“you two are amazing, simply amazing!” david exclaimed, even as he finally accepted the assistant’s help in testing out the other features of the prosthetic. 

–

natasha stayed until the end of the day for you, when david’s tests were complete and he was all but ready to leave. 

“and to what i owe you this time, again?” he asked. you knew he didn’t have much, it was the sole reason you took him on for the project; but the fact that he remained so grateful, always offering payment, even when you had repeatedly rejected him, always touched you. 

“for you to come back next week, as always. and to thank mr. parker here for all his efforts. i couldn’t have done all this without him.” 

your assistant looked like he was going to cry at the recognition and hug david gave him. “doing a good job, kid.”

you held the door open for david then, and he stole one last glance at natasha before he left. “you know, your girlfriend here really is a genius, ms. black widow. the best of her–”

“–thank you, david!” you cut in, visibly more in a panic this time, as you held his hand and ushered him out, “just a friend, a friend!”

“what?” he didn’t seem keen to leave, “i’m just helping the two of you speed things along. god knows she wouldn’t have stayed here in this boring lab all day, running tests on an old war veteran running his mouth, if she wasn’t smitten with you too!”

natasha’s cheeks instantly reddened, as you sighed in embarrassment. so maybe her feelings were reciprocated, for a while now. 

with the assistant chuckling in the background, you shut the door ushering david out, whispering frustratedly that he was leaking all of your secrets about natasha. “david! i told you and peter about her in confidence!”

“i know, but you didn’t tell me she was head over heels for you too.”

“because she’s not!” you whisper-yelled, “she came just to see what i was doing, and…and…”

and…oh. 

david’s look made sense now. it all made sense now. her shyness around you, the way she always wanted you around, always wanted to know what you were doing, the reasons for her coming all this way to accompany you on your day-off. 

you had thought she wouldn’t be interested, and would leave after seeing what your activities just were, but you hadn’t expected her to stay. and you hadn’t expected to feel her gaze on you throughout. 

“when you know, you know.” he assured, patting you on the back again as he walked off, “trust me, kid. and she’s a good one, you picked a good one.”

–

your assistant had retreated to his corner of the lab when you came back in, while natasha stretched her joints and got ready to leave too. it was dark by then, and you felt guilty for making her stay past dinner. you excused your assistant to leave quickly, before finally turning to her. 

“sorry.”

“for what?” she yawned. 

“for trapping you here with me on your day-off. i feel guilty now.”

she rolled her eyes, before jabbing you slightly. “idiot. i stayed because i wanted to stay. and you didn’t force me here, in fact, i was the one who followed you, remember?”

“yeah, you do need to make sure that the person you’re stalking isn’t a super spy like you before you do that, though.”

at the blush on her cheeks and feigned hurt on her face, you quickly decided to change the subject. “what david said earlier…ignore him. he’s old, a little senile. really doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“really?” natasha frowned, “that’s a shame.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you leaned back against the counter of your station. she continued, “i really wanted what he said to be true.”

you blinked in surprise, unable to hide the shock on your face. it was your turn to be nervous around natasha now. it was always the other way around. perhaps the knowledge of knowing your feelings were mutual beckoned you to retreat to a shy disposition you never showed anyone else. 

natasha shrugged. “damn, i really thought i had a chance with the most wonderful, kind-hearted person i know, who would spend her days off, even, to help people. who i thought was hiding to meet a secret girlfriend or something.”

a smile began to creep its way onto your face. “n-no, no secret girlfriend.”

“shame. i bet that secret girlfriend would be so in awe, falling even more for this person, when she finds out what she does for the people around her. a superhero saving the lives of many as an avenger, and a scientist changing the lives of even more as a civilian.”

“mm,” you took off your lab coat then, coming closer to her. she had a playful glint in her eyes as she put one hand on your chest, preventing you from getting too close. “tell me more praises of what this secret girlfriend would feel about me.”

“this secret girlfriend also does not appreciate when you keep such lovely secrets from her,” she felt your arms on the counter behind her now, entrapping her body with yours, “and when you try to do anything without taking her to dinner first. she’s starving, you know.”

the chuckle that left your lips made natasha only want to kiss you even more. “what do you say i make this secret girlfriend not-so-secret now, and invite her out to dinner with me? her favourite italian down the street from here, my treat.”

in response, the woman before you finally let go of the hand on your chest, and brought her hands to your collar to pull you in, leaving a searing kiss on your lips that left you lightheaded and longing for more, at the same time. 

she held your hand as the both of you walked out of the university, before declaring something she had to say before she forgot, “tell david he should expect to see me around the lab every week from now on too, then.” 

“yes ma’am.”

[qpidkitea]

ENDUREMENT

FARLEIGH START X FEM! READER

PRÉCIS: Second part of Tranquility, where Farleigh talks about himself and his family. Hoping that you wouldn't judge and come with him to America to visit his mother.

WARNING: Angst, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of Oliver, kisses, happy ending. The reader is kind of an anchor for the family right now.

A/N: Big big biggg thanks to @darkeyesshine for the ideas for this fic. Thank you again!!

No one knew about your 'relationship' with Farleigh. You weren't even sure yourself you two were officially together, but you cared for him, likewise he cared for you. The two of you spent many nights at Saltburn sneaking into each other's rooms for nothing more than the comfort company and some shared kisses- not on the lips just yet, silently grateful that you two uncoincidentally chose rooms down the hall from each other. You don't even think that fucking freak. Oliver knew, and he knew everything.

You and Farleigh lie beneath the duvet in his room, your head resting on his naked chest, your arm laying across his stomach as he smokes a cigarette, being careful to blow the smoke in the air, attempting not to cause severe damage to your lungs, even though you're definitely sure you have already been exposed to secondhand smoke just from being near the Cattons. For the past two weeks, you have been staying in Farleigh's room during the night, but you made sure that in the day, you'd invite the Cattons to come and do the things they used to when Felix was here. It was fun while it lasted. Now Farleigh was planning to go back home to America permanently. Venetia was still severely depressed, but it wasn't like you could ask her to stop. You didn't know how Elspeth and James were feeling. They hid their emotions through careless eyes, moving on with the same normality as before.

You look up at Farleigh, who was just finishing his cigarette. You watch as he throws it out of the open window before he looks down at you with concern behind his eyes.

"What?" Staring wasn't the word to explain what you were doing, you were admiring. His beautiful brown skin was glistening in the scorching sun, and you swore you could almost mistake him for a Greek God. His brown curls settled perfectly around his face, he was perfect to you. Everything about him was perfect. You just hoped he may feel the same about you.

"Nothing. Just looking at you." Farleigh lets out a laugh, smiling so hard his cheeks expand, but that only made him look cuter. You sit up from laying on his chest, and move to sit Criss Cross on the end of his bed facing him. Farleigh sits up next, and you can't help but laugh when he turns to the side to stretch, seeing the back of his hair flattened.

"Oh, shut up! I'm fixing it." You're still laughing, and you swear you could almost pass out from laughter. Using one slender arm, Farleigh fluffs the hair at the back of his head. Your laughter dies down and you take a deep breath. Smiling again at him.

"Farleigh, is there anything on your mind before you depart for America next week?" You feel bad bringing this up when just a moment before you were laughing with him, but you didn’t want him leaving in a horrible mood. Farleigh runs a hand up and down his chest, nodding his head a bit. He moves to stretch his legs over you, socked feet laying in your lap. You scrunch your face up before pushing his feet to the side of you. Farleigh takes in a deep breath before beginning to speak.

"I have to get the fuck away from here. I can't stand it. They make me feel like an imbecile- not Venetia." You nod your head at his clarification, now understanding that he was talking about James and Elspeth. You knew James was funding Farleigh's mom- his own sister  - back in America, but you didn't know that Farleigh was receiving the backlash from his mother's actions. Unfortunately, you also know that Farleigh's mother was disowned from the family. You don't know why, but you know her name is completely off the will, and most likely they would withdraw from paying for college.

"He claims he doesn't care about my "Bloody American Feelings-" What the fuck does he even mean?" Farleigh looks at you with wide eyes, emphasizing his point. Farleigh was a very handsy talker, moving his arms around to explain his point. You stay silent, letting him get his rant off. You weren't related to the Cattons- just a friend of Farleigh's, Venetia's, and Felix's, who the Cattons let stay. This was your 3rd year staying in Saltburn.

"This place is too- much for me right now. I miss my mom, I miss my house, I never even wanted to really go to Oxford, I only went because Felix wanted me to- I don't fit in anywhere. A queer, needy person of color in the middle of England? Fucking England!" You pout slightly at his outburst, not liking him calling himself needy.

"You're not needy, Farleigh. Don't believe what Sir James says about you. He's a complete and utter fool. You can't expect someone who's been rich their whole life to understand anything from the perspective of someone who hasn't had everything handed to them." You look into his eyes as you say this, making sure he understands exactly what you are trying to say.

"Thank you. I know, I just- you're a problem for me. I want to get away from here, but I can't just leave you here. jus' can't let you go back home and forget about me, can I?" Farleigh grows this smug smirk on his face, taunting you almost.

"Oh, shut up! I'd be fine without you." At this, Farleigh quirks an eyebrow, his smirk dropping before he comes to his knees on the bed, crawling over to you over the expanse of the bed before leaning on top of you, his shadow blocking out any light.

"Live? Without me? Impossible. You need me. Who's gonna make you laugh in the late hours of the night, hm?" Farleigh tilts his head at the end of his question, his curls moving along with him. There's nothing but teasing behind his voice but it still makes you nervous none the less, playing your bashfulness off, you push him, making him fall backwards because of his unstable position.

"Okay! I'll miss you, I must admit, but as long as you just call me, we'll be fine" You cross your arms as Farleigh sits back upright, crossing his legs now, his long limbs folding across each other. It's weird, because he's quiet. He's looking down, facial expression blank, a bit of uncertainty in his movements, fiddling with the box of cigarettes in his lap.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"What?"

"Do you... want to come with me? To America." Fairleigh knew you lived alone, your very wealthy parents died a month before you went off to college, and you inherited all of their wealth. It would last you at least another 10 years, and by that time, you would already have a job, living on your own. This is part of the reason you had no problem going to Saltburn for the last three years. You had no family waiting for you to come home for the holidays.

"Are you sure you would want me to come?"

"I wouldn't be able to live my life with just a phone call every week." Farleigh looks up with a smile, his hair bouncing, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Okay. How long do you want me to stay?" Farleigh has surprise written all over his face, he never expected you to agree so quickly, to want you to come to such a place with him, where you know you won't have the finest things, or a great big house to live in.

"We'll come back before school starts again and go back in for all the breaks. I'll be able to finish college. They paid in full for tuition already." He smirks and pulls out a cigarette from the small cardboard box, putting it between his ring and middle finger, but not lighting it just yet.

"What about when school ends?" Would you stay in England? Or would you find a home in America to be with Farleigh, or possibly find a home together? You brush your thoughts off as wishful and look up from your lap at Farleigh with your head tilted, awaiting an answer.

"Oh, I'm hoping that you'll stay with me in America? Pretty, pretty, pretty pleaseeeee." You laugh, knowing of the incoming dramatics about to come from Farleigh, and if on cue, he flops backwards on the bed, shaking his head about in a show of a tantrum. Swinging his arms behind his head, somehow throwing his cigarette across the cold wooden floors and huffing loudly. He rolls off the bed, landing on his feet before he comes to the side of the bed. You turn your body to him, and he's on his knees, his hands grabbing your own before he pleads dramatically.

"I'll do anything! Just come with me and stay. You'll love the fatty American cheeseburgers, I swear!" It's surprising how long Farleigh can hold up a good act, not once breaking his role to laugh or even cringe at himself.

"Anything, huh?" You lean forward and smile. Fairleigh's blonde and brown curls touch your forehead.

"Anything." It wasn't you who made the first move, but Farleigh. As he inches himself to your face, you lean in also, but it felt as if you weren't the one controlling your body. Your forehead tickles, and you want nothing but to back away and rub at your forehead to get rid of that itchy feeling, but your body won't let you. Slowly you two inched closer together until your lips finally touched, Farleigh sighs softly, like he was waiting for this moment, and you can't help but melt into the kiss.

To you- to the both of you, this confirms everything. Small stares at each other across the dining room table, the lingering touches at the bar, the matching costumes you two would often wear to parties. You couldn't believe it took this long for you to even just kiss, even after nights of sleeping in the same bed. Farleigh is the first one to pull back, and you can clearly see, etched on his face, is nothing but adornment.

"I can't believe I let myself wait three fucking years for that. Should've done it way sooner." You two bust out into laughter at his words, knowing that a new beginning would start for the both of you.

Farleigh ushers you to knock on the front door, but you slap his hand away from the small of your back, insisting on ringing the doorbell, the house was medium-sized, but it was a breath of fresh air for you, you grew sick of high ceilings and Renaissance walls. You could hear his mother's steps get louder as she approached the door. Heels- she was wearing heels. The doorknob twists in your view before the door opens towards Farleigh's mother. She wore a beautiful black pantsuit with red lipstick and red heels to match. She might've not been filthy rich, but she dressed like she was, even if it was inexpensive or not a designer brand. A white smile comes upon her face as she looks at you, and then at her son.

“Oh! You must be Y/N. Nice to meet you darling” You almost forgot she was English. Her accent was not as strong as yours, but you could tell her upbringing.

“nice to meet you Ms.-" You smile back at her, reaching out to shaker her hand, but she ignores it, instead pulling you in for a tight hug.

“please, call me Frederica, come in, come in, quite cold outside” She steps aside from the doorway, allowing you and Farleigh to enter. She winks at Farleigh, motioning her head towards you as he passes. Extending her two thumbs out at him. But you don't see that. She then pulls her son into a warm, tight embrace, kissing his cheek, some of her red lipstick transferring onto his face. Your heart warms as she tells Farleigh how much she missed him, and it nearly melts away as he responds, telling her the same thing.

She turns to you now, who's still standing in the middle of the living room. The woman motions her hand for you to sit on the couch, and you do. She smiles and sits next to you, and Farleigh almost screams in horror as he too comes to sit on the couch, only to notice the blue picture book sitting on the coffee table, undoubtedly filled with his most embarrassing baby photos. The woman next to you crosses her legs before turning to you and smiling.

“Farleigh is quite fond of you, talks about you all the time over the telephone." Farleigh turns away, pretending not to hear his mother as he looks at the white curtains hanging from the window. Tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. You smile and laugh slightly, imagining him ranting about you to his mother, who's never even met you.

"Really?" Your tone is teasing. Even if he wasn't looking your way, he could definitely hear you.

"Oh absolutely, almost every day, and now I know why. You're stunning. Now, let me show you some of his baby pictures." Farleigh whips his head over to look at his mother with wide eyes, his hair swinging wildly.

"Mother, no!"

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[1-800-cheolie]

baby fever - part 1 ; part 2

word count: 487

side note: thank you for all the love :D it makes me so happy people loved my first and second part so here’s a third to all my pookies out there, mwah.

it’s your day off. fighting villains everyday weren’t ideal, not to mention how exhausted you are from such a long shift. the moment you arrive home, your body gave out.

as you doze off, noises clatter in the kitchen. your husband and 2 year-old son are in the kitchen, doing as they please.

katsuki understands being a mother, a wife and a hero altogether can take a toll on your body, hence why they’re creating a mess right at this very moment—not that you needed to know.

your husband knows how pouty you can be when it comes to huge messes in the kitchen.

“look at me, dada! look at me!” daiki chirps, standing tall on the other side of the counter, across from his father. “i mixed the ‘nana (banana)” his little grin causes katsuki to chuckle at the sight of his son covered in pancake batter.

“good job, little man. mama is going to be so proud of you. let’s get you all cleaned up” your husband proceeds to hoist up daiki, unknowingly slipping on a banana peel. the one daiki tossed onto the floor.

the both of them go tumbling. katsuki landing right on his back with daiki wrapped securely in his arms as a pained grunt spews right out of his mouth. he curses under his breath, staring down at a giggling daiki. pancake batter drips down his shoulders. his hair has been flattened, drenched from head to toe.

daiki points at his father’s hair. “uh-oh. hair color same as ‘nana”

“ya think yer funny, huh?” katsuki tuts.

“nu-uh. I t’ink dada is funny!”

you snort from the hallway. arms crossed with an amused smile spreading across your lips. No wonder you heard so much clinking, your boys were making breakfast. “it takes two to tango” katsuki swears his soul takes a flight at the sound of your voice. you were sound asleep when he last checked.

“hi mama!” daiki zooms out of his father’s lap, jumping right into your arms. “i mixed ‘nana wit’ dada!”

“good job, baby. i’m so proud—“ whoosh. you don’t get the chance to finish before katsuki leaps his way over, causing all three of you to slip backwards as a squeak erupts from the back of your throat. “—katsuki!”

“mhmm, that’s my name, sweets. i suppose we all have to bathe together now” he mumbles into your neck. you make a face and katsuki doesn’t have to know what kind of expression you’re making, because he can feel your face muscles shifting in their spot.

“nice try, katsuki. you too, daiki. get up and start cleaning” you watch as they both pout.

sometimes, you wonder how strong your husband’s genes are—they were just too similar. you couldn’t help but chuckle. “i’ll re-make the pancake batter and add in your favorites in return” they were immediately up and ready, saluting you.

home is where your boys are.

[princessbrunette]

the first time deer!reader introduced pope to her parents, she almost couldn’t control herself.

you had no idea what you’d been so nervous about, everything had been perfect. as much as you loved the other pogues, you couldn’t imagine them behaving themselves the way pope did. he was big on etiquette, even bigger on respect — having ‘meeting the parents’ nailed down to an art. he was well educated, polite, loveable — the exact type of guy you want to bring home. you couldn’t be happier.

but something about watching him interact with your family, so eager to please them in order to keep you happy — made you eager to please him, watching him chat away with your folks over the table with your chin in your palm, barely touching your food. as soon as the meal was up, you couldn’t wait to drag him away.

“i think we’re going to go hang out upstairs for a while.” he feels your hand shyly tugging at his pinkie finger and his head whips round to him.

“after that meal i think i gotta do the dishes, atleast. please, sit.” pope whips back round to your mother with a charming smile, making her fawn over his politeness.

“i can’t ask that of you pope, it’s fine i swear — i’m sticking it all in the dishwasher anyway.” your mother refuses as you sway impatiently on your feet behind your boyfriend.

“oh, then i’ll help clear the table.” he shrugs, beginning to pile up plates. “the food was fantastic.” he compliments, following her through to the kitchen. you slump down in the dining seat once more, awaiting his eventual release.

once you finally got your hands on him, you were tripping up the stairs trying to get him to your bedroom faster. “woah, careful.” he catches your waist and it only makes your need worse, shutting the door firmly behind him once he was in. he takes a few steps into the room following you to stand near your dresser, the ghost of an amused and confused smile on his face as he watches you hurry to your speaker, tapping on the first playlist to come up on your spotify — that being his playlist.

as soon as the first note plays, you’re back infront of him, practically diving on him pressing your mouth to his. he lets out a quiet grunt of surprise and confusion as you pant against him, the first song off his playlist loudly obstructing anyone outside the four walls from hearing anything inside them.

“talk to me, what’s going on? brought me up here to kiss?” he pulls away, leaning back making a tiny whine escape the back of your throat. you would have thought you were on borrowed time from the way you gripped his shirt urgently.

“more th’n kiss.” you slur needily, leaning in trying to catch his lips once more. “you were perfect. they love you. you’re perfect.” you whisper and his brows jump up, leaning back once more.

“woahwoahwait— me impressing your parents is what’s turning you on? like actually?” you watch his eyes dance between yours. you pause for a second, catching your breath before nodding violently.

“uh-huh, yes.” you border on a whimper. his face flattens in thought, nodding his head once as it’s clear he’s taking mental note.

“interesting.”

“shh.” you silence him once more with another jump, hands all over him and lips successfully back on his. he melts more into the kiss this time, but before he even has the chance to fully get into it, you’re unlatching — choosing to kiss through his clothes instead, down his chest, down his tummy, sinking to your knees.

he puffs out an exhale through his cheeks, leaning on the wall and bracing his hand on your shelf clumsily, causing a blythe doll to fall from her stand but he effortlessly catches her in his palm, carefully placing her back on the shelf. this somehow made him ten times more attractive and you bite your lip, violently working his belt off as bryson tiller sings, covering all heaving breathing from room.

i say you don’t need nobody else, feels like you don’t got me so you feel like you’ve been by yourself —

you start to mouth at him through his pants, and he’s suddenly bending down to pull you back by the shoulders, wide eyes — like he’d been snapped out of a trance. “holdupholdup— your parents are just downstairs. are you sure this is a good idea?” he stresses, and you combat this by massaging the stress out of his cock through the fabric of his pants, squeezing him with those big bambi eyes that got him so weak.

“just need to suck it, popey.” you plead and he tilts his head back for a second, eyes rolling back.

“oh jesus.” he returns his gaze, brows still knitted in worry. “wait — your mom said dessert would be ready soon.”

“well, i want mine.” you pout your lips, undoing his zipper more to kiss through his boxers. he looks in pain, holding back. “i don’t want anything in return. it’ll be quick.”

he tilts his head with a knowing smirk. “well you already know i have to return the favour. i got manners.”

“we’ll figure it out. stop talkin’ P.” you whine, pulling him out his boxers and drooling on his tip, beginning to massage it down his shaft. he leans against the wall once more, letting out a shaky breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

“i’m dreaming.” he states in disbelief as you get to work, trying to ignore the time ticking away before the two of you would be called back downstairs. you took this as a challenge. you don’t get to be an ex-academic weapon and not enjoy a little time restricted fun.

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which joey starts school and clay realizes he might have to listen to his mothers advice of hiring a sitter, but quickly warms up to that after idea meeting a seemingly sweet girl while on his way to work.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Clayton Beresford, get up,” the sound of his mother’s voice made Clay cringe as he grabbed his pillow and placed it over his head. “Clay, get up. Joey has been asking for his dad for the last half hour, you need to get up.”

Clay groaned as she ripped the pillow away from him and threw it on the opposite side of the bed before walking over to the curtains and pulling them open. “Mother,”

“Don’t mother me, Clay,” Lilith scolds as she moves back around the bed and stands over him. “You need to get ready for work, and get Joey ready for school, it’s his first day.”

With a huff, Clay sits up and throws the sheets off him. “You couldn’t have gotten him dressed for me?”

Lilith scoffs, walking towards the door. “I made him breakfast, you can pick out his clothing,” and then she was gone and Clay was left alone in the bed that felt all too big for just one person. 

Looking around his room, he sighs at how messy it had gotten since his last attempt at cleaning it. He grew up damn near spoiled and never had to worry about cleaning his room or making his bed, so now at the age of twenty seven, he was terrible at both those tasks. 

He looks over at the right side of the bed, and more specifically at how empty it was. That spot should be filled. She should be here, with him and with their son, but life really enjoys playing with him sometimes. 

Sighing again, he gets up and throws on his work clothing, which really felt more like a formal event outfit than anything else. He finishes buttoning up his white shirt as he enters the kitchen, his eyes instantly landing on his son. “Hey, buddy,” he greets as he leans down and kisses the top of his head. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Joey nods and sets the crust of his toast down on the plate. “I’m still tired,” 

Clay laughs and picks up the half eaten toast. “You are?” He asks and finishes his kids breakfast, his mind going back to when he was Joey’s age and also didn’t like crust. “You went to bed pretty early last night. Unless you were just pretending to be asleep when I came and checked in on you.”

Joey shakes his head quickly as Lilith laughs from her place at the sink, her arms crossed as she blows on the coffee mug in her hand. “No, dad,” he answers as he stares up into Clay’s matching blue eyes. 

“No?” Clay hums, picking up the now empty plate and walking over to his mom. 

She stays still as he reaches around her to set the plate down in the sink, a teasing smile on her lips. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger,” she stated. “You’re aware of that, right?”

Clay laughs and nods, looking back at his son as he scribbled on a blank piece of paper with a yellow crayon. “I know,” he agrees, looking down at his mom’s attire. “Are you staying home today?”

Lilith glances down at her housecoat clad body with a shrug. “I’m wrapped around that kid’s finger, too,” she grinned, finishing off her coffee and putting the mug in the sink as well. “I’ll get my work done early so I can be here when he gets home, but I really think it’s time we start looking for a more stable sitter. I know you don’t like talking about it, but I think you should consider hiring a nanny.” 

Clay sighs and moves away, standing behind Joey and placing his hands on the back of his chair. “I said I’d think about it,” he muttered. “I haven’t come to a conclusion yet.”

“It’s not a bad idea to have someone here to look after him while we’re at work. Someone to get him to and from school, helps get him ready in the mornings,” she pointed out. “Like a nanny.”

“He doesn’t need a nanny,” Clay mumbled, reaching a hand up to flatten out Joey’s messy hair. “I don’t want my son growing up in that kind of environment.”

“You had a nanny when you were little, Clay,” she reminded as she moved away from the sink. “You turned out pretty well.”

“I’m a single dad at the age of twenty seven, mother,” he rasped. “And I still live with my mother.”

“I told you I never liked that girl, Clayton,” she scolded as she wrapped her robe tighter around her body. “And I also told you that this is your home for as long as you want it to be. You want to move out, fine, but then who will be there to help look after Joey? No one. Unless you listen to me and hire someone to do it.”

And then she was disappearing down the hall to get ready for the day. Grunting under his breath, Clay leaned down and pulled Joey’s chair out. “Come on, let’s get you dressed,” he held his hand out, grinning when the much smaller one grabbed it. 

-

The phone rang five times before Clay was sent to voicemail. 

He wasn’t surprised, but the silence still irked him. Glancing at his driver, Clay turned a bit and tried to make it a little more private, but he was literally in the backseat of a car on his way to work. How private could it really be? “Hey, it’s me again,” he started, not missing the way Rick, his driver, glanced back at him. “Joey started school today. Can you believe it? Our son started school.” 

Rick straightened up at the harsh tone of Clay’s voice and quickly put his attention back on the busy street of New York, surely sensing that this would not be a nice voicemail. 

Clay paid him no mind as he continued, “He’s four now. Did you know that? You should, he’s your kid, too. You should know how old he is and you should’ve been there for his first day of school,” 

He wasn’t entirely sure if his ex even still used this number, or if he was just making these calls for nothing. She must, seeing as her voicemail hasn’t gotten full yet, and he’s been giving her these updates for the past three years now as a way to cope with not having her in his life anymore. 

Clay knew she didn’t deserve to know about what’s been going on in Joey’s life, and he knew he shouldn’t be wasting time leaving her messages, but he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t know if he wanted to rub it in her face about how good of a parent he turned out to be, or how amazing their son is. He just wanted her to know that she royally fucked up when she decided to leave before Joey even turned one. 

“You should’ve been there, Sam,” he said again, his voice wavering as he let his anger that had been building up since she left get to his head. “How the fuck could you do that to him? To us?”

Clay looks out the window and sees that he’s almost to the building in which he would be spending the next eight hours in. 

Sighing, he wraps up the call. “Whatever, Sam. I hope you realize one day how much you’ve missed out on and how much our son has missed out on,” he muttered. “Not that you even care. Delete this, listen to it, do whatever you want. That’s what you’re best at.”

And then he hung up and was left feeling even worse. 

It always ended that way, with him heated up with anger and with Sam probably feeling great at the fact that she is still able to rile him up without even being there. 

Rick pulls off to the side of the street and looks back at Clay. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Beresford,” 

Clay scoffs quietly, shrugging off his jacket since his skin had begun to sport a thin layer of sweat from how annoyed he got during the one-sided call. “Mr. Beresford was my dad,” he says, leaning back against the seat. He wasn’t ready to go in there yet. He was so frustrated and didn’t want to accidentally go off on anyone in that building because he still isn’t over his ex. “It’s just Clay. You know that.”

“I do,” Rick nods, sending him an apologetic smile in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, Clay?”

Nodding, Clay looks out the window. “Everything is fine,” he lies as he watches a girl pace back and forth on the sidewalk. New York was a massive place and not easy to navigate through, but it was clear that she was new here. She wore a pale pink skirt and a white top that ended just above the hem of the skirt, which is not something people here usually wear. 

Clay has lived here a long time and the people of New York were stereotypical in the way they wore their favorite sports teams logos on their clothes or baggy jeans and a t-shirt. 

Most of them didn’t care and didn’t put a lot of effort into their appearance, simply because no one would notice. It was why he got a lot of stares whenever he walked around in dress pants and a tie. 

The girl looked confused and lost and Clay felt a bit bad for her. Even he got a bit turned around at times, and he’s lived here his whole life. He owns half of it, too. 

He also couldn’t ignore how pretty this girl is. 

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen his ex in years and he hadn’t let himself look at any of the women in the city as a potential partner as he was overly protective of both his son and his heart. 

Or maybe it was because he simply felt bad for the girl and her clear lack of directions. 

Whatever it was, it had him opening the car door without much of a second thought. 

-

“Fuck,” you muttered as you looked up at the street sign then back at the paper in your hand. 

After living in New York for the last couple weeks, you were beginning to think you would never get to know your way around it. The place was massive and so confusing to navigate through if you didn’t know where you were going, and you clearly didn’t. 

You had been waiting to hear back from this job for days now and when you were finally given a chance for an interview, you couldn’t figure out how to get there. Your coffee did nothing to wake your brain up enough for you to be able to think clearly, and you debated on just throwing the rest of it away, but you were raised not to waste food or drinks when there are others who are less fortunate than you.

With an annoyed sigh, you stopped walking and stared down at the page again, not paying any attention to the car you were now standing beside as the door opened and someone stepped out. 

You don’t look up from the paper as you move forward and walk straight into another person, your coffee slipping from your hand and spilling onto the pristine white shirt of a man. “Oh, my God,” you gasp, not noticing that the page that held the address had also gotten soaked from the spill. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

It was the least of your worries as your eyes trailed up and met a pair of blue ones. Your breath hitched as the stranger smiled and shook his head as if he didn’t care at all that his white shirt was now stained with warm coffee. “It’s okay,” he said and his voice lived up to his appearance. Dreamy. Hot. Intimidating, even. 

“That looks expensive,” you think out loud when you look back down at his ruined button up, then quickly wipe the worry off your face and replace it with fake confidence. “Which is totally fine, I can pay to have it fixed or cleaned or…whatever.” Really, you most likely couldn’t afford to do that, but he didn’t need to know that.

The stranger laughed and it was probably the sexiest thing you had ever heard. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved you off and took the napkin from you when you held it out to him. 

You chew on your bottom lip as he begins to wipe up some of the coffee, though you both knew it wouldn’t do a thing to save the shirt. “Were you just going to work or something? I’d hate for you to have to wear that for the rest of the day,” you gestured to the mess on his shirt but he just shrugged and threw the napkin into the trash can that was nearby. 

“I was actually debating on whether or not I should go home and skip work, then I saw you and thought you looked a little lost,” he grinned at the way your face flushed and how your cheeks were tinted pink. “Thought I could help you out a bit but ended up wearing your drink, instead.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” he brushed you off again then looked a bit hesitant as he added, “I’m Clay.” 

He holds his hand out to you, making you look down at it before back up at his eyes. “Y/n,” 

You shake hands and hate how you found yourself wanting to hold his for much longer than a few seconds. “So, in hopes I don’t sound like a total creep when I ask,” he begins, giving you a somewhat nervous smile. “Where were you trying to get to?”

Laughing, you shake your head and look down at the ruined paper. “No, not at all,” you say, throwing the paper into the trash as well. “It’s that obvious that I’m lost, huh?”

Clay shrugged again, stepping back towards the car and opening the backseat door. “Only a little,” he teased and pulled out his jacket, efficiently covering up most of his shirt. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Maybe I can point you in the right direction, if you want.”

You knew you were late for the interview, but you wanted to stay and talk with him for a bit longer. What was wrong with you? Why do you always do this around cute guys? Though, calling Clay cute felt a bit like an understatement. He was by far the hottest man you had ever seen in your life. “Please,” you say quietly, stepping towards him. “I was trying to get to this interview at the Milton Hotel, but the directions were hard to understand even before I got coffee all over them.”

Clay laughs and closes the door, turning around and nodding towards the intersection down the street. “You were pretty close, believe it or not,” of course, you wanted to say but held back. “You just take a left at the lights and go straight for about three blocks until you reach a bookstore that’s across from the old jail.”

He turned back to face you and you realized you were barely paying attention to his directions as you were far too focused on how good his backside looks. 

“The hotel is above the bookstore,” he finished and you gave him a grateful smile. “So, not too far now.”

“Thank you,” you say and look down the street, not quite ready to leave the presence of him. 

Maybe he didn’t want you to leave, either. “What’s the interview for? If you don’t mind me asking,”

You wave your hand. “Not at all,” you say again. “Just some babysitting gig. I finally got my CPR certificate and know how busy New York is. Thought it would be a good place to start.”

-

What are the odds..

Clay nods and tries to come off as casual as he leaned against the backdoor of the car. “Babysitting? Do you have much experience?”

“Yeah, about three years worth,” you answer, fidgeting with your fingers and Clay found himself hoping he wasn’t making you uncomfortable with all his questions. It had been too long since he actually let himself talk to a girl for more than a minute since Sam, so he was glad to see he was still able to decently hold a conversation. “I did it a lot through high school.”

“Yeah? When’d you graduate?” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know so much about you, but it was clear the two of you got along pretty well for two strangers. He was sure he could hook you up with a job if you didn’t get this one, and now he was once again wondering why he cared so much. 

“Two years ago,” you replied and it didn’t seem like you were uncomfortable with him at all, so he decided to try his luck. 

“Well, I hope the interview goes well,” he says and thinks about how he wouldn’t mind having someone like you around his son for the hours he was at work. Though Clay has some massive trust issues, he knew he would need to find someone to look after Joey soon. “And if it doesn’t, there’s many other opportunities that are waiting for you in this city.”

“Yeah?” You gave him a teasing smile and Clay had to physically hold back a smirk in response. “Like what?”

Clay stiffened a bit as he chose his words carefully. “You said you’re a babysitter, right?” And when you nodded, he continued, “My son started school today, but he still needs someone to watch him until I get back from work. If that is something you’re interested in, there’s an opportunity for you right there. But I’m sure the interview will go great.”

You study his face for a bit, making Clay think he said something wrong, before you grin up at him. “Thanks for the boost of confidence,” you soften your smile. “I might take you up on that offer, if your kid is cool, that is.” 

Clay laughed as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. “He’s the coolest kid in New York, that’s for sure,” he says and hands his phone to you. “Let me know how it goes? And if you’re interested in looking after the coolest kid you’ll probably ever meet for a few hours of your day.”

Your laugh reaches his ears just as you take his phone and quickly type in a number, one he hoped was actually yours and not a fake one. He couldn’t lie, it wasn’t often he asked for girls’ numbers, but you seemed sweet and like you knew what you were doing. Except for when it came to reading directions, but even that was understandable. He was also doing this to give his poor mom a break, and to make sure his son was in good hands when he was gone. “I’ll text you,” you promised as you handed him back his phone. “Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

He took his phone and pocketed it. “It was nice to meet you, Y/n,” 

You begin backing away as you smile at him. “You too,” you wave. “Sorry again about your shirt. You wear that coffee well, if it helps.”

Clay laughs again as you turn around and begin heading down the street in the direction of the lights. 

The window of the car rolls down and he briefly hears Rick clear his throat. “I’ll pick you up at four, Mr. Beresford?” 

And Clay was far too distracted to be able to correct him again, so he just nodded before tearing his eyes away from your retreating form and heading into the building. 

-

Clay had gotten held up today and he had to text his mom and ask if she could pick Joey up from school. He knew it would be so much easier if he had a stable sitter to ask, and he was quickly beginning to agree with his mothers requests of hiring one. 

While Clay wanted to be the one to pick Joey up from his first day, he was glad he would have his grandma there. He knew his mom was probably his son’s favorite person, and he couldn’t even get mad at that fact because Clay had to admit; Lilith Beresford was an amazing woman and an even better mom.

As he began packing up his things, his mind drifted back to you for what felt like the tenth time since meeting you all those hours ago. He didn’t know what it was, but Clay felt captivated by you. 

Maybe it was because he hadn’t let himself get close to another girl since Sam, let alone have a full on conversation with one. 

Maybe it was because he found you cute and sweet and a bit funny.

Either way, he was thinking about you as he shrugged his jacket back on and over his stained shirt at the same time his phone went off. 

He checked it as he turned off the lights to his office, a genuine smile finding its way onto his lips as he read the text, 

The interview was a fail. I think it was over before it even began. Any chance I could set up one with you? Very curious about this supposed coolest kid in New York. 

And when you added a,

This is Y/n, by the way. The one who ruined your shirt because I have no sense of direction.  

He knew he was probably screwed. 

[veritas-scribblings]

fix - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1,211

‘Just be yourself, Prongsie,’ Sirius says, adjusting James’s collar with an almost wistfully proud smile, like a parent waving their child off to their very first date.

But wasn’t being himself the problem? The problem that had led James to a long string of terrible, terrible dates. Absolutely atrocious dates. In general, James likes to think that he’s a forgiving sort of person. An open-minded, relatively (to a point) non-judgemental sort of person. But after the last person he had dated had wanted him to imitate a corpse during…well, let’s just say James is here now letting Sirius help him out.

‘He’ll love you.’ Sirius pats James’s shoulder. ‘You’re just his sort. Clever. Sunshine-y. Quidditch player. Noble. Good. Romantic. It’s so perfect, it’s ridiculous. You’re perfect and ridiculous. I’d date you!’

‘Please don’t.’ James sighs and tries to flatten that damned lick of hair at the back of his neck again. ‘He being…?’

Sirius grins. ‘It’s a blind date,’ he says. ‘You’re not meant to know.’ There’s a glint in Sirius’s eye that James just doesn’t trust. He is well-seasoned in the Sirius Scheming Face, when Sirius is confident that he has an ace up his sleeve.

James frowns. ‘No, that’s not how blind dates work. I’m just not meant to have met the person before.’

‘Well.’ Sirius tips his head to the side, wrinkling his nose. ‘Trust me. I have a good sense about people. I have a good sense about things like this. Just remember your manners. Eat with the correct fork—work from the outside in. And don’t talk with your mouth full. And, like, stay away from politics, okay? Politics is a no-fly zone.’

The restaurant Sirius has chosen is called Wand and Sword. One of those fancy upmarket restaurants specialising in experimental enchanted gastronomy. There’s three-month waiting list for a seating and a deposit required for securing your spot. Sirius has taken care of everything, apparently—though how he managed to do so, James isn’t sure nor will Sirius say. It’s his gift, Sirius had said, for everything James has ever done for him.

Inside, the lighting is low, atmospheric, and the music is quiet and of the classical kind. And when James is seated, the waiter places a menu before him. It’s not the kind of menu one orders off, the waiter informs him as though they know that James is an absolute novice at all of this. It’s the kind of menu, apparently, that simply informs James of what he’ll eat, like the restaurant doesn’t trust him to make the correct choices for himself.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ a voice says from behind James.

James whirls around. There’s a crisp poshness to the voice, similar to the crisp poshness he hears almost every day.

‘Regulus!’ James pushes his chair back and quickly rises to his feet. His mother, after all, raised him to be polite, and the polite thing would be to greet the younger brother of your best friend.

James blinks. Because, surely not. Sirius wouldn’t…would he? ’You’re…my date?’

‘I’m not your anything,’ Regulus says curtly. He still hasn’t sat down, stands by the empty chair like he’s torn about what to do. ‘What are you doing here? Where is my brother?’

The waiter places the wine menu on the table and waits, hands folded in front of them. When Sirius had selected the restaurant, he had insisted on the ‘absolute best impressions’. James had been sceptical at first, but now he understands.

Hesitantly, James lowers himself back into his seat. ‘I’m…here for a date? Sirius set me up with…well, you, I guess?’

Regulus raises an eyebrow, somehow managing to look elegant while doing so. It does funny things to Jame’s stomach. ‘You agreed to go on a date with me? Why the hell would you do that?’

‘I didn’t,’ James says despondently. ‘He wouldn’t tell me who he was setting me up with. You’re here to meet him, aren’t you…’

‘We’ve had this reservation for months. I’d say,’ Regulus looks around them, and back to James, ‘that this is my brother’s idea of a practical joke.’ He pauses for a moment, as though he’s uncertain about what to do. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he takes a seat opposite James. ‘There’s a three-month waiting list,’ he explains. ‘I’m not waiting another three months.’

‘I’m flattered,’ James says dryly. ‘You look nice, by the way.’

James doesn’t like to think of himself as shallow, but good Merlin, Regulus looks lovely with his tailored black trousers and tailored black shirt, and the silver rings on his fingers and the way his curls fall loosely and neatly. James has always been a little bit obsessed with Regulus’s hands and Regulus’s fingers and those silver rings decorating them.

‘This isn’t a date, Potter, there’s no need to try and flatter me. For the record, you may want to start choosing what you’ll wear to the funeral, because I will be murdering him.’ Regulus scowls as he says this. It’s a lovely expression on him, James thinks, marvelling at how someone can look so elegant, so graceful while simultaneously looking like they really would murder another human.

James does not doubt that Regulus means what he says. That Regulus is fully capable of murder, and that Regulus is fully capable of hiding the body and concealing all evidence and getting away with said murder.

And if he’s honest with himself, he also knows he should probably have his head examined, because there’s really just something so very attractive about all that.

James smiles as Regulus picks up the wine menu. ‘It’s nice that you guys are at the point where he can trick you into a date with someone.’

‘We’re not.’ Regulus says this bluntly, but there’s also a slight hint of fondness under all of the spite he exudes. He doesn’t look up, carefully scrutinising each option on the menu like his choice of wine is of the utmost importance. And maybe it is. James wouldn’t really know.

‘Well, he obviously doesn’t think that this whole set up is going to jeopardise the tenuous truce you two have reached,’ James says.

‘Why would you let him set you up on a date?’ Regulus wrinkles his nose at the thought and manages to look absolutely adorable when doing so. When the waiter arrives back at their table, he orders two glasses of riesling. For the both of them, James assumes.

‘I’m currently failing at the dating game,’ James sighs. ‘Sirius said he’d help me out.’

Regulus stares across the table at James like James is entirely pathetic. James feels weak under his stare, the kind of weakness that has him melting inside.

Trust Sirius to know about James’s silly little crush, and about how James has been too much of a coward to do something about it. He probably thought he was doing James a favour, maybe even doing Regulus a favour. James thinks, all warm inside, that he’ll maybe help Regulus with Sirius’s murder. He’ll help Regulus hide the body. And maybe it’ll bring them closer together. Maybe it’ll help him sweep Regulus off his feet.

He’ll have to thank Sirius for this pre-murder blind dinner date later.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your dad sits in the worn-out recliner, silent as the radio buzzes on an AM station. Your mother places a glass of water next to him but he doesn't acknowledge her. You've never seen him like this. Your dad's always been lively, often talking back to the radio. But now, he's like a shell, just staring.

"The rehab nurse will come tomorrow," your mom nears, "he just needs some rest for now."

You nod and back out of the room, a grim coldness in the air despite the warmth of spring flowing in from open windows. You enter the kitchen as your mother trails after you. Without a word, she flips on the burner beneath the blackened silver kettle. You lean on the square island and trace a finger around a ring in the wood.

"Do they know how it happened?" You ask.

"A clot. They say... things like that are hard to catch," she sniffs, "but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is he's home and alive and... he's going to get better."

"I'm sorry, ma," you frown.

You cup your chin and glance over at the door. When you looked in your father's eyes, it was as if he didn't know you. He just smiled weakly then went back to staring. What happened to man who used to jump down from his tractor to the dismay of his wife?

"We'll have to figure out what to do about the planting," your mother hums and chews her thumb. She pulls her hand away and stretches out her fingers, "Timothy's done a lot but... we'll never catch up at this pace."

"I can help," you offer, "ma, we'll make it work."

"No, I need you in here," she counters, "I'll be taking care of your dad. The hospital gave me all these pamphlets; exercises and all that..." she blows out a heavy breath and flattens her palm to her forehead, "how am I going to do all this?"

"Ma, we'll all help," you offer, "it's okay. We'll be okay. Dad will be okay."

You come around the counter and offer a hug. She latches onto you and rocks you in place. As she holds you, a rumble underlines the chatter on the radio humming from the front room.

You part and look over at the open archway to the hallway. You glance at your mother and give a nod. Visitors already.

You go down to the entry way, wondering where Timothy went. He was just out on the porch fiddling with some car part or another. You open the door and lean back on a heel as Walter greets you with a nod.

"Hey, hope I'm not... imposing."

"Um, dad just got home. He's..." you peek over at the front room, "resting."

"Of course, I figured, I just wanted to drop this off," he holds up the basket in his right hand, "had some extra stuff in my pantry."

"Oh, Mr. Marshall," you accept the basket, "thank you. You didn't have to--"

"Walt," he corrects.

"Walter," your mother's voice carries through the hall as she pads up softly, "oh, Walter, how kind."

She looks at the basket as you grasp the handle and Walter lets it go, the weight nearly bowling you over. You do your best to keep it above ground level.

"Heavy," he warns too late.

"Please, come in," your mother beckons.

"I wouldn't want to disturb him," Walter puts his head down, almost meekly. "Just wanted to bring some stuff."

"No, no, please, I just put the kettle on."

"Uh, alright," he accepts reticently. "Thanks, Maddie."

"Not at all," she assures and turns to sweep back down the hall.

He steps in and bends to untie his stained tan boots. He leaves them on the mat and faces you. You give an awkward smile and take stunted steps with the weighty basket.

"Here," he swipes it back as he catches up to you, "don't hurt yourself."

You let him have it. Your arm hurts. He follows you into the kitchen and places the basket on the island as you round to the other side.

"Black tea?" Your mother offers.

"Sure," he stands sternly, arms straight, stance wide.

She takes down three cups as you languish in radio's buzz. You never said much more than a few words to Walter. Walt. He never says too much either, he was always just a sounding board for your father's yammering.

"God!" The back door swings open and hits the wall, causing you and your mother to yelp as Walter merely looks over dully. Your brother clamours in and skids to a halt.

"Timmy, the floor," your mother reproaches.

"Dang it, sorry ma," he huffs, "I just... the tractor's smoking."

"What?" You and your mother stammer in unison.

"Yeah, black shit all out the exhaust."

"I'll have a look," Walter offers.

"Oh, hey, Walter," Timothy grins dumbly.

"You're so kind, Walter, but we can get Vol down here--"Don't bother with the bill," Walter shrugs off, "I'll get my boots."

Your mother sighs and you shake your head at Timothy. She might just be right. There's no way the three of you can get the spring planting done, especially if he's going to treat the tractor like one of his dinky cars he played with as a kid.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it ‘Till you make it | Part 15

If asked to describe how warm the Harrington house made him feel, Eddie would probably describe it as dipping his backside in an ice bath, balls, and all.

The Harrington Chalet… was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on the comfiest of sofas, in front of a cosy fire, with a mug of just right hot cocoa placed in your hands, snuggled up against a broad chest, the kind of warmth that only comes from true comfort, a warmth that only comes from belonging.

It was all natural colours, warm browns lit by warm white lamplight. Where the Harrington house had white walls and dark tiled floors without a speck of dust to be seen, the chalet had natural wooden walls, and beautiful dark oak wood flooring, thick wooden beams running across the ceiling.

The only modern thing about it being the floor to ceiling windows that took up the far wall of the living room, which looked out towards the lake not far away. Every material used to build it aside from the glass windows, looked like it was sourced directly from its surroundings, like whatever they’d felled to make room for the chalet, was put into building it.

Eddie wanted to stay there.

He’d only set one foot into the main living room after lugging those bags from the car, bags now at his feet, guitar propped up against the wall, he’d only stopped a moment to take it all in, and decided there and then that this… this was where he wanted to be. It couldn’t be further from the place he’d grown up, yet he longed for it all the same.

And then he felt hands, flattened, sliding around his waist from his hip upwards beneath his shirt to settle atop his stomach, another around the other side, higher from his chest upwards across collar bone and lingering there, a hot breath on the other side of his neck, the warm, broad expanse of Steve Harrington’s chest against his back and his lips just lightly brushed against the side of his neck. If Steve wasn’t currently holding him up he might actually have crumpled.

How did people exist around Steve Harrington and not just spontaneously combust?

He felt aflame, Steve wrapped around him, holding him steady, thrown directly into the deep end even though he’d had hours upon hours to prepare himself for it, how did someone prepare to suddenly be at the very centre of Steve Harrington’s attention at the top of his game? Especially when that someone had never really experienced any game directed at them.

“Keep it in your pants Steven we haven’t even unpacked.” And there went all that tension, built with actions alone, gone with an exasperated comment from Steve’s mother as she shoved one of the heavier of her bags forwards with her foot.

“I cannot be held responsible for my actions when my boyfriend looks this beautiful.” Oh. He was expecting something juvenile, not something that was going to make his heart do a funny little flip flop. He’d never been called beautiful before.

He’d heard a few similar things in bars, but those things were always backed by lewd intent, genuinely having heard ‘you got a pretty mouth, boy’ on one such excursion. Never beautiful. Never something that gave him butterflies. Made him feel special.

“Yes, he’s very pretty, now let him go and go help your father with his bags. Eddie would you be a dear and help me with mine? This one is a little heavy.” He didn’t want Steve to let go, honestly he felt like his legs might actually give out if Steve let go so in the interest of his own balance, he just latched himself onto Steve’s arms to prevent him from letting go.

“Uhhhh… can we just, leave them in here for a bit while we uh… pick rooms? Because uhm… I don’t have a good excuse.” Steve snorted a laugh so close to his ear it actually made him laugh a little himself, he even got a nice little squeeze from Steve’s arms which felt lovely. “But I’d just really like if Steve didn’t move.”

Lynda just looked at them both with that knowing smile of hers, a single perfectly arched eyebrow raised in sly amusement. “Very well, the heavy ones stay here. Steven remember we will want to use the hot tub so do not pick that room.” And she was off after her husband, leaving the two heavier of her bags in the entryway to be moved later.

Eddie turned his head to look at Steve with a small curious frown in silent question “There’s a room on the first floor, it’s technically the guest master bedroom, it has a patio door that leads to the hot tub on the wrap around. Like directly to it, if we pick that room there’s a strong chance of us witnessing terrible horrible things. Nobody ever picks that room.” It was great if you were alone in the house, or if it was just you and a special someone, then you could pick it, but… other company would ultimately either see your business, or you’d see theirs.

Not a fun time.

“Sounds like you’ve had a terrible experience.”

“I repeat, terrible, horrible things. C’mon Bambi, let’s get settled in.”

“Where’d that come from?” He asked, just before Steve could let go, sure Steve’s arms relaxed a little in their grip, allowing Eddie to move a little, test his balance to find it was actually fine, that his legs hadn’t mysteriously transmuted into jello, he didn’t pull away through, instead he turned in Steve’s arms, just to look at him “The Bambi thing, where’d that come from?” It was the third time Steve had called him that, the first on the plane, second in the car… and now—

“Your eyes, man… those big beautiful brown eyes of yours, you’ve got eyes like Bambi. Has no-one ever… called you that before?” Steve stepped backwards, he removed his arms, instead placing his hands on Eddie’s arms, just holding him, looking at him, seeing him.

“Uh…no no, most I get is freak, fag, or… that I have a nice mouth?” Eddie didn’t expect the pained expression on his faux boyfriends face, no matter how brief it was. “It’s okay, like… you expect the insults I guess… we live in a small-minded shithole, and I never deny the rumours so it’s not like it’s not expected. And the places where it’s okay for us to be, well… they kind of expect a certain level of experience or they expect you to want them too when you go there an well…” Eddie didn’t have that experience.

An he didn’t feel very comfortable leaving it up to a total stranger to guide him through gaining experience. Especially with how dangerous that was right now.

Besides the danger though, what if it sucked? He didn’t want it to suck, why did that have to be the be all and end all of first queer sexual experiences? Why couldn’t it be good? Why couldn’t he have his toes sufficiently curled?

“I wish I knew what to say to make it okay...” Robin would know what to say. Steve had barely dipped his toes into what he enjoyed, into who he was beneath the performative nonsense of his past.

Steve was just… Steve, and Steve rarely really knew what to say.

“Don’t worry about it big boy, you calling me beautiful just made my year, I will treasure it always, it will feed my ego for years to come so you don’t have to say anything else. Now let’s go pick a room” Just to make sure Steve knew it was okay, Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss atop those two cute moles on Steve’s cheek, grabbed his guitar case, then offered his other hand. “Wanna show me around?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathed, an almost dopey smile on his face as he took Eddie’s hand “yeah okay, let’s do that, rooms are this way, but first, uhm... Bambi's okay right?”

"Yeah, Stevie... Bambi's okay."

Part 17

[tenderleavesbob]

Twilight looked at his brother's face and decided that, as soon as he was free, he was going to bite him. Maybe his nose. Maybe his chin. Maybe grab his ankle and drag him around a bit.

Warriors looked at his face, cackled, and resumed cutting through the rope. "Aw, what a poor puppy! Look at that face!"

Twilight growled. His head was beginning to hurt, as was his ankle. He spun in a slow circle, held up only by the rope around his back ankle. All of his blood was rushing to his head.

His bastard brother beamed at him. Twilight didn't feel like it should take this long to cut the rope. "I'll have you down in a moment. Be a good dog until then."

Twilight's growls picked up. It was supposed to be a quick patrol around the camp. Who thought it would be a good idea to put up random traps?! It had snatched him up and he found himself dangling in the air before he even realized what happened.

His brother was no help. Warriors at least checked on Twilight before doubling over laughing. It took several minutes before he could get the cackling and joking out of his system before he found the rope holding Twilight in the air.

"Are you still growling?" Warriors teased. Why was he doing so slow? Twilight saw him holding the rope with one hand while he gently sawed it with the other. "Maybe I should go get Wild before I cut you down for my own safety."

Twilight snarled at him. Warriors grinned at him but looked distracted. He had better be distracted. He should be focusing on --

The rope jerked. Twilight hadn't even noticed Warriors finished cutting the rope. Warriors dropped his knife and grabbed the rope with both hands, grunting. Twilight still dangled in mid-air, but now Warriors held the rope.

"You need to cut back on Wild's cooking," Warriors grumbled. Twilight's ears flattened on his head, not due to the insult, but due to guilt. That was why Warriors had cut the rope so slowly. "Overgrown mutt."

Twilight whined and pawed at the ground with his front legs, still several feet away. Carefully, Warriors lowered him to the ground, only quiet huffs of breath revealing the amount of effort it took to not drop Twilight. Twilight wished Warriors would. Twilight would be fine. He had jumped from higher heights, and he knew his wolf form wasn't light. Warriors was strong, but it couldn't be easy to hold Twilight in the air like this.

Warriors didn't let go of the rope until Twilight's front paws were securely on the ground. As soon as Twilight was firmly on the path again, he transformed and wiggled his formerly trapped leg. His ankle stung a little.

His brother shook out his hands before walking to Twilight. Before Twilight could check on him, Warriors knelt and reached for Twilight's ankle. "Does it hurt?"

Twilight's pride hurt. He stepped away from Warriors. "I'm fine. Are your hands okay?"

"They're fine." Warriors frowned and sat back on his heels. "The rope is gone. Will it be there when you transform back?"

"Probably." Twilight scowled and looked around. The trap had been completely hidden. He couldn't tell if there were any others. "Let's head back. The others need to know where to watch their step."

Warriors eyed Twilight's leg like he expected it to give out any moment. His brother was going to make a great mother one day. "Let me know if it feels odd. There could be a fracture."

Twilight waited until Warriors stood and turned away to flex his ankle. Just in case. "It's fine, it's fine. Let's go."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Warriors was facing away, but Twilight still saw his smile. "We have to tell everyone what happened. So they're prepared, you understand."

"Don't. You. Dare."