lalyrotten

[szampers]

Before I was aware of szpd, I referred to it as "the Social Alienation", in caps for the reason that I knew it was more than just social alienation in the conventional sense (and also because I find it funny to capitalize words which aren't supposed to be capitalized). The Social Alienation was the closest term I could find for what was in fact szpd, but since uncapitalized it refers specifically to feeling detached from people, which I do feel a great deal, but it didn't exactly point to other things I felt.

Hence why I used it as a personal umbrella term! Which itself contained two other umbrella terms: "language guilt/dysphoria/repulsion" (I still don't know which one fits best), which in turn contained the umbrella term "linguistic freedom". I feel how I experience szpd is somewhat closely related to language, which will have a more detailed post of its own.

A visual representation of these personal umbrella terms.

The Social Alienation referred to social alienation in the conventional sense, but also to my lack of interest and motivation to interact with others, how conflicted I felt about it and the dread that comes at the thought of interacting with others while knowing it is something essential in life. Ouph. This reeks of szpd. But the Social Alienation did do a good enough job to provide me with something to hold onto.

Aside from that, there's also the language guilt/dysphoria/repulsion/whatever. I feel like a linguistic disaster, more so in the past than I do now fortunately. I loathe interacting with the language that is spoken where I live and was born, though it is supposed to be my second language if not a second first language. Go figure! I suppose I'm rather sensitive to language because when I read it or speak this language, the words simply don't ring nearly as well in my head as certain other languages and that bothers the hell out of me. It's a vicious circle as I keep escaping to other languages while I keep getting worse in this harsh, rough language which my life depends on. This contributes to my lack of a will to speak as well, which is connected to the situational mutism probably.

The linguistic freedom is the dream of overcoming the language guilt. It is the most ideal state I can achieve, which is when I acquire the skill to freely speak my mind in any languages I'm supposed to know without struggling to string words together. Preferably i'd get past the people aversion as well but as long as my sociability is at a functional level that's more than enough for me. I treat this as a "if you aim for the moon and miss you'll land among the stars" kind of thing. Part of the whole thing is being able to accept your limits I suppose.

This would be the new model???? It essentially boils down to issues with people and language. Perhaps the language part should be placed outside of the szpd group but they'll still be hardly separable regardless. Either way, szpd provides a stronger and solid foothold for me than the Social Alienation did. It's no longer as abstract as it had been, but it's become more tangible I think. Good starting point.

[kind-of-a-shitty-wizard]

hiii i got a little insane over haskills characterization in the other elder scrolls games / material. teehee rambling abt these ^ quotes under the cut (long). also im not that serious abt any of this tbh im just glad haskill appeared in any other elder scrolls material at all LOL

OKAY. okay. about these quotes. idk why other TES media does this, but in these quotes from elder scrolls legends + the interview with haskill it seems like the writers are pushing to give the impression that haskill slightly resents or is even indifferent to his position / the isles / sheogorath ?? (unless haskill is being a little bit more flippant or hyperbolic than usual...?) which is characterization that is NOT what i got from playing oblivion at all skdskdjfn

like... when i played oblivion i thought it was very clear that haskill prefers to be in the isles, serving sheogorath, more than anywhere else. (<- i think this is actually the reason he's technically "mad" even tho he seems sane outwardly. if you enjoy being among madmen it probably means you're mad yourself ykwim). i think haskill does like the isles, his ass is just reserved abt it, like he is about everything... yknow just like jeeves, whose character he's been compared to lmao:)

i think unfortunately some writers take his annoyance with the player and his slight second thoughts about sheogorath's plan in oblivion, and mistakenly assume that he's just annoyed at his whole position. haskill does have his moments of exasperation, but the thing is it's usually only exasperation and it never verges into anger or bitterness or resentment like the top quotes seem to indicate. for example, haskill says this abt his idea of you mantling sheo / the clowns debacle:

^ This quote is a good reference point for haskill's view on sheo bc its pretty much the most critical-of-sheogorath quote from oblivion i can recall, and it tells us a lot of things. in this quote he expresses some exasperation about the clown idea (because he's a prissy bitch who doesn't want to get his outfit dirty /affectionate) and shows some apprehension about one of his lord's ideas (because it involves you, and haskill doesnt like you). but these 2 points he has beef with aren't really reflective of sheo himself but of other issues - ie he doesn't directly question sheogorath. and IN THE END Haskill defers to sheo's judgement because haskill trusts him and values sheo's ideas. in all of his oblivion dialogue, this is the most critical toward sheogorath he gets, and he never outright insults or shows resentment toward him or the isles like in the above quotes bc his loyalty to sheogorath eclipses it

on the contrary (and i dont know why the writers for non-oblivion elder scrolls content dont seem to see this??), theres so much evidence that haskill actually does, you know,,, enjoy being in the isles. here are just some snippets i can think of:

"the isles are hardly a place for anyone, really" <- i BEG to differ, Haskill likes it here, he likes listening to prisoners being tortured in xedillian, he likes wearing his ridiculous frilly high collar outfit emblematic of the fashions of the isles, he doesn't care about morality and it suits him just fine that it doesn't matter here!! (the end quote might be him being a little facetious about relmyna but to be honest i wouldn't be surprised if he thought decency and morality WERE provincial notions because he certainly has no problem killing people lmao). and again, to enjoy doing these things / being around madmen probably says something abt haskill being mad himself. lol

not to mention he likes a bit of joking around. which i imagine sheo does a whole lot. when YOU rib him a little he says this:

his derision in the first bit i think indicates, "i cant believe you would joke around at a time like this," and the upturning of the "very good" i think indicates, "it was a good joke / maybe they could mantle sheo after all". he's not all dour - he appreciates a good joke, especially from (someone who's about to become) his Lord!!

and going a little deeper into haskill actually liking the isles... haskill clearly holds what sheogorath and the isles represent (chaos, free will, individuality) very highly. a good example of this is when you ask him about dyus, and he gives this snarky reply:

^ he says this with such VITRIOL its so funny :p and the amount of disdain in this line indicates (to me) a real conviction in his belief in the free will, chaos etc that sheogorath represents.

this is why i dont think this quote makes sense. "i cant remember why i put up with [sheogorath]" <- haskill wouldnt say this bc he understands fully why he puts up w sheogorath, and his own convictions in sheo that lead him to keep doing it, and even if this quote is him being hyperbolic, i dont think he'd joke about his faith in sheogorath like that because, yk, one of his characteristics is that he's extremely loyal, and moreover he never said anything to this effect in oblivion sdkjskdjs

him having a strong belief in what sheogorath / the isles represent is also evidenced by the language haskill uses when talking about sheo. whenever haskill mentions him, there is an element of poetry and respect to his words that shows that haskill thinks about him highly at the very least:

^ haskill constantly stresses sheogorath's intrinsic unknowableness and power and unique wisdom in a way that feels very respectful. saying "to attempt to fathom [sheogorath's will] is a foolish endeavor" shows that he knows there are unexplainable aspects to sheogorath that he takes note of, respects, and knowingly keeps his distance from... he gets sheogorath and reveres him (at least more than most others or the HoK). in these quotes especially, it feels a bit like hes trying to illustrate how impressive sheogorath is to the HoK, hyping up his boyfriend if you would. who said that. and combined with this respect is (i believe!!!!) a deep care. he is invested in the isles and sheo and wants to help them out of more than just duty. he gets fearful and even loses his composure at some points in the story when sheo/the isles are threatened which i think indicates that he deeply cares for them both!!:

i think this is a care that, combined with the respect he has for sheo, makes it really unlikely for him to get more than exasperated with his behavior and verge into resentfulness. i dont think anyone truly understands sheogorath, not even haskill, but haskill respects sheo as a god, and also gets him in a more familiar/personal way i think - like the way that a cat owner loves their cat but gets exasperated with it when it gets its head stuck in a tissue box. he doesn't angry or anything because he understands that it's the cat's nature to get stuck in the tissue box / sheo's nature to be wild and unpredictable and messy. (the difference being that sheogorath is an all-powerful god cat..... do u see my vision???)

anyway this got crazy long JHDSHFSD... to finish i wanted to look at this extra bit of characterization i found that was wild to me:

^ like. i truly dont get where they got THIS characterization LMAO sheo constantly calls haskill faithful and smart and knowledgeable in oblivion, he practically begs you to summon haskill for help, hyping up his boyfriend so to speak, they care for each other your honor so of COURSE sheo trusts haskill to do his job. what are the legends writers doing in there!!

ANYWAY dear god this got long im going to bed <3

[skye-huntress]

The Witch from Mercury Reaction

Episode 5: “Reflection in an Icy Eye”

In hindsight, I should have probably stopped at the ad break to start because I have so many thoughts to organise. A lesson for next week.

First off, I must shamefully admit that I was disappointed that the “Icy Eye” in the title was referring to Elan and not Miorine. I knew it was going to be one or the other, and I was obviously hoping for the latter. We’ll get an episode focused on her, not next week by the looks of it, but we’ll get it.

I was just thinking a few days ago that I wanted to know more about the duelling records of the other members of the Duelling Club, although I was specifically thinking of Elan. I got the feeling that if any one of them could have beat Guel if they wanted, it would be him. In hindsight, I wish I could have been wrong about that.

It seems its rare for him to accept duels, meaning he doesn’t do it on a whim or some ego trip, they have a purpose like testing his skills or the capabilities of his mech.

I’m coming to the conclusion after this episode that everything about Peil Technologies is downright creepy at best. Even the fact that they have four co-CEOs, how does that even happen? Are they quadruplets or something? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were clones of the same person.

But the major bombshell is Elan being an artificial human that isn’t even referred to by name by the Co-CEOs. Given the number they refer to him by, he was likely not the first “Elan Ceres”. Considering what they were working on, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few “Elan”s died piloting Gundams, only to be replaced by the next “Elan”.

So now we know why he was interested in the “witch”, Suletta. He thought she could be like him, but he needed to confirm whether the reason she could pilot Aerial and live was the mobile suit or the pilot.

Can I just say, I was cringing at how everyone, mostly the girls, just kind of assumed it was a date. At least Suletta didn’t seem entirely convinced. Hopeful, but not convinced. Probably because Elan is straightforward and says what he means, if it was a date, he would say it is.

Also, I have to ask, why is Chuchu’s response to everything always violence?

Jealous Mio-Mio is jealous. Who is surprised? However, she has every right to be concerned about this not-a-date, and unfortunately her concerns were completely validated.

Now Guel’s reaction is interesting. I don’t think it’s so much jealousy as it is genuine concern for Suletta. He’s spent more time around Elan than the girls have, and even if he doesn’t know anything about him, he probably is very weary of him. Meanwhile, he’s seen first hand what an honest, kind-hearted, but sensitive person Suletta is. He might not know what’s exactly is going on, but his intuition is probably telling him something is very off about this situation.

When Elan was doing his subtle interrogation, there were a few interesting details to note. The most noteworthy for me was how Suletta feels when she pilots Aerial, which is implied to be the opposite of what Elan expected, but something we’ve seen first hand. Suletta feels most at ease while piloting Aerial, there’s no apprehension and certainly no pain, and a huge contrast to how Suletta usually acts outside the cockpit. Which is probably very different to how Elan feels about piloting the Gundams he has. The part about Aerial being family is also a critical point, though one that Elan cannot comprehend since he has no family.

Elan believes he found his answer, and it wasn’t the one he wanted. He wanted Suletta to be just like him, someone who could understand him and hus suffering, but she is not “special” at all. Aerial is the special one. At least, that is his conclusion. Those of us who watched the Prologue know it isn’t that simple. What he knows now is still outweighed by that which he still does not know or understand, some of which was actually hinted at in the answers Suletta gave him.

The first time Suletta gets to see any emotion from Elan and its anger. The idiot bought his own lie, and now he feels betrayed. Well, he’s not the only one there. Suletta thought he was kind, now he’s blowing up on her and tearing at the feelings she shared in confidence and she doesn’t understand why.

And then Guel shows up and shit escalates.

And now Suletta knows how Miorine feels. At least all Suletta wanted when she challenged Guel is an apology, she had no idea that Miorine’s engagement was part of the stakes.

Also, can we talk about how Guel repeated Miorine’s line for the last episode what seems to be word for word. The line about the members of three branches being “the enemy”. And of course, Suletta who is honest to a fault immediately points out that includes Guel himself.

Are my eyes mistaken? Did Chuchu really comment about Miorine being “mean-spirited”? She’s not wrong, but this is Chuchu we’re talking about. The girl who wakes up every morning and chooses violence, calling someone else “mean-spirited”.

So as much as I wanted Guel to win this one, he had no chance in hell. And indeed it seems his recklessness and impulsive did work against him.

Elan’s Gundam has its own drones and it will be interesting to see how they stack up against Aerial’s.

So the end there, Guel’s mech was completely immobilised and Elan could have easily finished it quickly. Instead, he chose to cut the whole thing to pieces, slowly and aggressively. And rather than cleanly cut off the blade antenna, he ripped it out with his mechanical hands. This isn’t the same, cool and collected Elan we’ve saw at the start of the episode, he was aggressive and needlessly violent.

And now he’ll get his duel with Suletta, and he has named his stake. Logically speaking, it makes sense that he and Peil Industries want it to learn its secrets, but I also think a huge part of this is because Elan knows it will break Suletta to lose her family, and he wants to hurt her.

And through all of this nonsense, Miorine is completely ignored even though this affects her. As bad as Suletta felt about Guel and Elan fighting over her, this situation is even worse for Miorine because of how there was zero consideration given to her. Suletta didn’t even tell her she agreed to the duel beforehand, and she is supposed to be the considerate one. Even though I know Suletta’s not going to lose, there’s a good chance this causes a rift between them that they’ll have to fix

As for this upcoming duel, Elan has already made one critical mistake, he’s underestimating Suletta. She might not be an artificial human created specifically to pilot Gundams, but there’s a reason why she’s piloting Aerial and not her mother. It was Suletta who first woke Aerial up and formed a connection with her when her ace pilot of a mother couldn’t. It has nothing to do with what she is and everything to do with who she is. Aerial is special, she’s one of a kind, but no one understands like Suletta does. There is some kind of symbiosis between the two

As for Elan himself, I think his revelation has knocked a few screws loose. Which might be a good thing, he’s more likely to make mistakes if his anger gets the better of him. It’s also possible the pain he feels when he ups the Permet score will make it difficult for him to keep a clear head, which is not a problem Suletta has to worry about.

The only thing I’m wondering right now is what Suletta’s stake will be. Knowing her it will probably be something simple like asking Elan to explain to her how he honestly feels, but that’s just pure speculation on my part. She might surprise me.

[queenshelby]

The Maid – Part One of Three

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Words: 5095

Warning: Smut

Summary: It was Sunday Evening and you working at a nightclub in London. This was your first job and today you were to meet an interesting man who would make you a job offer that you couldn’t refuse. When you took up the job with him, you got so much more than you bargained for.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal  @chrisevanshoeee  @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse  @captivatedbycillianmurphy  @fookingshelby  @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  

--------

Meeting a Stranger

‘Good Evening Sir, may I get you a drink?’ you asked as you looked up into his deep blue eyes.

‘Whiskey. Irish please’ the man said without looking at you as he lit himself a cigarette.

It was unusual for men in this establishment not to make eye contact. It was almost like he was disinterested in his surroundings.

When he lifted up his whiskey glass, you noticed his wedding band. Of course, he was married and here to cheat on his wife.

She probably no longer satisfied his needs. But what did you know? Being 19 years old and rather shy, you had never been with a man.

It wasn’t long until the mistress arrived at the bar which also was unusual. He must be a special guest if the mistress herself was taking the time to talk to him.

‘Mr Shelby, I apologise, but Laura is absent tonight. Clara might be of interest’ the mistress said.

‘Not Clara. Someone new’ he responded.

‘Of course. I will make arrangements’ the mistress said before excusing herself.

Just as the mistress had left, the man ordered a second glass of whiskey.

‘Your name is Shelby?’ you asked surprised as you served him. ‘Are you related to Thomas Shelby by any chance?’ you added.

Without a response, he finally looked up at you. His eyes widened and his facial expression changed, almost like he had seen a ghost.

‘Is everything alright?’ you asked as you didn’t receive a response to your question.

‘You remind me of someone I used to know’ he responded. ‘You just look like her’ he added.

‘So I’ve been told. It’s a shame I never got to meet her’ you said, knowing exactly that he was talking about your half sister Greta Jurossi.

Greta and her mother passed away of consumption before you were born. Your father became very upset by their passing and found comfort in your mother who he fathered two children with. You were the oldest.

Your half-sister Kitty Jurossi spoke about Thomas Shelby quite frequently as the love of Greta’s life. They had been together since they were 16 and you know that he left for France shortly after Greta passed at the age of 19.

Just as Tommy introduced himself to you and began asking you questions, the mistress returned and advised Tommy that arrangements had been made.

‘I changed my mind’ Tommy said. ‘Although, I would like Miss Jerossi to accompany me. I will cover her wages for the night’ Tommy said, causing your heart to skip a beat.

‘Mr Shelby, I am afraid to inform you that she has no experience. She is not one of our working girls. She is simply a barmaid. Although, if you insist and this is something you wish to explore further, we could perhaps come to some to an arrangement’ the mistress said.

You were speechless and felt like you were auctioned off to the highest bidder.

‘I am not intending to fuck her. I would simply like to continue our conversation, eh’ Tommy said sheepishly, catching the mistress by surprise.

‘This should be enough for her time and for you to put another barmaid on for the evening’ he added as he handed her 10 pounds.

‘Of course, Mr Shelby, thank you’ the mistress said before telling you to get your coat.

You grabbed your coat and met Tommy at the front of the club. Just as you arrived, he had lid himself a cigarette.

‘Common’ he said before you followed him to his car.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked. You were still slightly uncomfortable about the situation unfolding right in front of you.

‘A place I know’ he said as he drove off and, within ten minutes, you pulled up in front of a nightclub of a different kind. It was full of artists, a band was playing in the background and everyone enjoyed champaign and cocaine.

‘Common, have a seat’ Tommy said as he sat down with you in a somewhat private area.

He ordered you a drink and began to talk about Greta, his long-lost love. You were still unsure why you were there, with him. Whilst he asked you several questions about your life and your circumstances, it was mostly him who was doing the talking.

After several hours of talking, on the stroke of midnight, Tommy made you a proposal which was too good to refuse.

He offered you a job in Birmingham, as a maid. Apparently, his household was short-staffed and his wife needed more assistance. He was of the view that working in an up-market brothel as a barmaid was no job for a woman like you. Somehow, he didn’t know you, but he cared. He was concerned that, the longer you work there, the more likely it will become that you be asked to do more than just serve drinks.

His offer was kind and you accepted it with caveat that you had no experience as a maid.

He assured you that you will learn all you need to know on the job.

New Life

A week after your encounter with Thomas Shelby, your new life began.

You were introduced to the household and tried the best you could to settle in.

Most days, you were on your own with the other maids, Elizabeth Shelby, who was Tommy’s wife and Tommy’s two children.

Tommy’s wife Lizzie disliked you for obvious reasons. She insisted on older and experienced maids and it was evident to her why Tommy had hired you.

For a while you tried very hard to make Lizzie like you, but nothing took away the apprehension she had in respect of you.

Whilst you could understand her concerns, Tommy had never made any advances towards you. After all, you were much younger than him.

But, over the next few weeks, you learned why Lizzie was so apprehensive. Her marriage to Tommy was on the verge of breaking.

According to Sarah, one of the maids, Tommy and Lizzie were no longer sleeping in the same bedroom and she overheard Lizzie speaking to a solicitor in London to ascertain what her options were if she was to divorce him.

Sarah was of the view that there is no love between Tommy and Lizzie. There never has been.

Lizzie enjoyed the life and the money. Apparently, she used to be a working girl in Birmingham and this is how she met Tommy.

They used to sleep together, quite frequently, until one day she fell pregnant. When Tommy became a member of parliament, he married her. Clearly, he had to appear to be doing the right thing in a position like that.

Sarah herself had her eyes on Tommy and was the only other young maid who managed to stay. For some reason not apparent to you, Lizzie tolerated her. Perhaps she knew too much. After all, one of the reasons maids stayed at the Shelby household was because they were paid well, much better than in other households. Sarah was one of the few maids who had access to Thomas Shelby’s office and it was likely that she had to put a blind eye on the illegal activities Thomas Shelby engaged in.

Every Thursday Evening at 8 o’clock, Sarah would go to Tommy’s office and she would be there for an hour exactly. You timed it, right to the second, every week.

One week, you managed to quietly pass by the office on a Thursday evening at half past eight and you could hear them being intimate.

To your surprise, despite their weekly encounters, Tommy was cold towards her. He didn’t treat her differently to any of the other maids. It appeared to you that the sex they have was no more than another business transaction for Tommy.

Whilst Tommy wasn’t around much, when he was, he was different with you. He was kind and warm in his own way. You were the youngest maid in the household and even Francis said that you get away with mistakes that aren’t usually tolerated because Mr Shelby seems to have soft spot for you. Sometimes, he would even smile at you and you began to like him more than you should have liked a man his age. Sometimes, you even imagined what it would be like if it was you in Tommy’s office with him instead of Sarah.

To your surprise, after a month of you being at the Shelby house, Tommy started to call you into his office as well. You recalled the first time. It was a Tuesday evening, 8 o’clock and you were nervous.

Whilst you could imagine yourself sleeping with him, you had never been with a man before.

But, intimacy and sex was not what Tommy was after. He simply enjoyed your company and you would talk for hours, about horses, racing and politics.

Like a real gentleman, he kept his distance, offering you a drink and a cigarette while you talked and talking was all you ever did.

Sarah noticed reasonably quickly that your Tuesday night encounters with Tommy became a habit and once she even overheard you referring to him as Tommy as opposed to Mr Shelby.

Tommy insisted that you call him Tommy when you talked in private. It was not part of your work and he said that he felt old every time you called him ‘Mr Shelby’.

As another four weeks had passed, you could see the man within him who your step sister fell in love with and Kitty had spoken so highly about. He appeared to you every Tuesday evening at 8 o’clock, a different man.

Mistakes Happen

To Lizzie’s and Francis’s annoyance, you made many mistakes. Burnt toast was just one of them. But none of that bothered Tommy.

As it has happened, one day you even managed to break an incredibly expensive vase as you paid more attention to Tommy getting dressed through the crack of his bedroom door. It was a sheer accident which probably wouldn’t have happened if you paid more attention to what you were doing at the time rather than Tommy’s naked chest.

‘I am so sorry Mr Shelby, I didn’t mean to drop this’ you said, totally embarrassed and flustered as the vase dropped to the floor and, hearing the shatter, Tommy emerged from his bedroom.

‘It’s alright Y/N, seriously. It’s just a vase, eh’ Tommy said with a smile on his face as he bent over, helping you to collect the pieces.

‘Please Mr Shelby, I can do this’ you said with some embarrassment. Your cheeks were flushed by the sight of him, wearing nothing but his suit pants.

Tommy’s eyes gazed over to you as he picked up the pieces and it was clear to you that he noticed your flushed cheeks.

‘Tommy, what are you doing?’ Lizzie said as she observed him collecting pieces of broken porcelain with you from the floor.

‘What does it look like Lizzie?’ Tommy asked. It was clear to you that they were fighting, again. They always fought. Sometimes you wondered why they were married at all.

The constant arguing between Tommy and Lizzie was exhausting. It exhausted everyone, even the maids.

‘I’ve got it Mr Shelby, please’ you said as you put more pieces of the broken vase into a bucket.

‘See, she’s got it Tommy, now would you please see Arthur. He is downstairs yelling and Charles has started to pick up the swear words’ Lizzie said.

‘Alright Lizzie, fuck’ he said as he got up and left you to it. As you were cleaning up the last of the broken pieces, you overheard Lizzie talk to Ada about you.

‘I really don’t know why Thomas had to employ her instead of someone more experienced’ she said.

‘She looks exactly like Greta, his first ever love, that’s why Lizzie’ Ada responded.

‘Well then he should have left her at the whorehouse and visit her there’ Lizzie said frustrated before walking off.

Lizzie’s comment made you rather upset and you were beginning to feel even more uncomfortable at the house with every day that went by.

Lizzie had begun to notice Tommy’s favouritism towards you and it was clear to you that she did not want you around.

After another two weeks, you couldn’t bare it any longer and decided to resign. The tension between you and Lizzie had become too much to tolerate.

You handed your written resignation to Tommy at noon on a Monday and, just as he read it, he walked to his office door and closed it behind him.

‘Sit down Y/N, have a drink’ Tommy said, causing you to flush.

‘Common’ Tommy said as he poured yourself a glass of whiskey, neat, before sitting down on one of the arm chairs.

You sat down across from him as he handed you the glass of whiskey.

‘I cannot accept this’ he said as he took a sip from his glass.

‘Tommy, I cannot continue to work for you. I am not suited for this job and I am fairly sure that neither your wife nor Francis like me very much’ you explained.

‘That might be right but, in the end of the day, I make the decisions, eh’ Tommy said. ‘And I would like you to stay’ he added.

‘Why? You can easily find a better maid’ you laughed.

‘Because you are smart Y/N and I enjoy your company. Please’ Tommy said.

‘Alright, I will give it another month and then reconsider’ you said.

‘Good’ Tommy smiled. ‘I see you tomorrow at the usual time?’ he asked, causing you to nod with a smile.

It was difficult for you to deny Tommy especially since your attraction towards him was growing, becoming almost unhealthy in a way. Why would you feel like this around a man who was twice your age? You wanted him and stayed around in the hope that he would offer you more than employment.

And just like this, with Thomas Shelby in the back of your mind, you went on with your work.

It’s Fucking Tuesday

Tuesday evening approached quickly and you couldn’t wait to see Tommy.

At 8 o’clock, you sneaked into his office as usual, barefoot and without knocking so that no one would notice.

Little did you know that, that evening, you would reveal a lot more to Tommy than you had initially anticipated.

As such, after two glasses of whiskey and a couple of cigarettes, you spoke honestly about your political views. You too were in support of communism and felt as though Tommy had lost his way in his political campaigns for the Labour Party.

‘The good old cause, eh’ Tommy laughed after you outlined to him where the Labour Party went wrong in your opinion. ‘You know Y/N, you remind me of someone, someone who was just as idealistic and passionate about changing the world as you are’ he added.

‘I’ve been told that before, by my father. He used to get rather frustrated with us both’ you said.

‘Kitty said that you were idealistic and in favour of an armed revolution once yourself. But then she told me that all of this changed after the war. The same Tommy never came back from France. You had changed. But I am not sure if I am willing to believe that’ you added.

‘No one came back Y/N’ Tommy said. ‘The war changed everyone’ he added.

‘That is true but, I think that the Tommy she spoke so highly about many years ago is still in there somewhere. I’ve seen it. You are still a man with ideals and a man who cares, even if you don’t want to admit it. If you didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here’ you said as you walked over in front of where Tommy was sitting in order to fill up your glass of whisky.

For a moment, you placed your empty glass on to the desk besides him and kneeled down in front of him.

‘You are a good man, Tommy. A good man who does bad things sometimes where necessary and the world needs more men just like you’ you said before you leaned in and pressed your lips onto his.

Without the two glasses of whiskey, you would never have been able to build up the courage to do this, but there you were, kissing Thomas Shelby.

Tommy gave into the kiss for a moment, his lips dancing with yours but his hands not leaving his chair.

‘This is wrong Y/N’ Tommy said as your lips drifted apart.

‘Yes’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his for a short moment. ‘Yes, it is’ you added and, just in that moment, Tommy leaned forward caressing your face and returning the kiss.  

This is what you wanted for so long, his lips on yours and your tongues exploring each other.

After about a minute, Tommy pulled away, looking into your dark eyes.

‘This is a bad idea Y/N’ Tommy said again, still cupping your face.

‘Well, then tell me that you don’t want me and I will leave right now’ you said.

‘I want you alright, but you are half my age’ Tommy said.

‘So what? You are Thomas Shelby, you can have whoever you want’ you said and, just like that, your hands reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it slowly.

You could hear Tommy inhale deeply and knew exactly that he likes to be pleasured this way. You had never done any of this, but the working girls at the brothel spoke about it frequently. Sometimes, you saw them do it, in a quite corner of the club or the lavatories if the men liked to be watched.

‘Have you ever done this before?’ Tommy asked, looking down at you, his hand tangled in your hair. He could tell that you were nervous and completely out of your comfort zone.

You shook your head shyly and, as much as Tommy wanted to feel your mouth on his cock, he wanted you to feel entirely comfortable with what you were doing.

‘Come up’ he said, taking your hands and guiding you up towards him before pressing his lips onto yours for a passionate kiss.

‘You don’t want me to?’ you asked as you broke the kiss and Tommy buckled up his belt.

‘Trust me, I want you to’ Tommy smirked, cupping your face again.

‘But not like this’ Tommy said before giving you another kiss.

Just after your lips drifted apart, your eyes wandered downwards where could see Tommy’s erection pushing against his pants. He clearly was ready and you wondered why he stopped you.

‘Tomorrow, after 10 o’clock, in your room. If you want me to come, you leave your bedside lamp on. I will see the light through the bottom of the door. If you don’t want me to come then turn it off and I won’t, alright?’ Tommy said.

Tommy wanted you to be sure about this. Not influenced by whiskey and not in the heat of the moment.

You agreed to his suggestion and, after a few more kisses, you left his office.

A Night to Remember

The next evening, after you finished work for the day and had dinner, you made your way to your room. You had a bath, washed your hair and got dressed in some lingerie.

The fire was lid and, just as instructed, you left on the bedside lamp. It was only 9 o’clock and you had to wait another hour before Tommy would meet you. You tried to kill the time by reading a book, but you couldn’t think about anything but Tommy and what was about to happen.

You wondered what it would be like to be with a man, especially a man like him. He was clearly experienced. Nonetheless, you were worried that it would be painful.

Five minutes to ten, you put the book that you weren’t really reading aside and put on some perfume. You wanted to smell nice for him.

You positioned yourself on the bed, seductively. Your black lace underwear was highlighted by the light of the bedside lamp. Your hair was open, your curls running over your shoulders. Your porcelain pale skinned was complimented by the dark red lipstick you had borrowed from one of the maids.

Waiting impatiently, just as the clock stroke ten, you could hear the door opening.

‘You look beautiful’ Tommy smirked.

‘Just for you’ you said shyly, taking in a deep breath as Tommy walked over towards you.

He was wearing nothing but underpants and you couldn’t help but stare at his perfect body.

It wasn’t long until he climbed onto the bed with you and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss.

The kiss was urgent and his lips tasted like sweet whiskey. He took his time, his hands roaming over your body while his tongue was dancing with yours.

It wasn’t long until he found the clip of your bra and he opened it with ease.

‘If I would have known that it would come off so quickly, I wouldn’t have spent half my weekly wage on it’ you giggled.

‘Just an unnecessary piece of fabric’ Tommy chuckled as his fingers began to trace the lines of your body, curving around your now naked breasts, stroking and teasing your nipples.

His lips soon moved from your mouth down to your neck and then all the way to your breasts.

‘Mmhm’ you moaned as he began to bite your nipples gently while his hands roamed downwards to your stomach and then your lace panties.

Tommy hooked his thumbs in your panties and slowly drew them down your legs, leaving you totally exposed.

While kissing over your breasts gently, one of his hands moved directly in between your legs and his index finger traced through your wet slit, dipping into slightly.

You inhaled sharply and tensed up suddenly and unintentionally. Tommy could feel your body become stiff and your legs closing around his hand.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Tommy asked as he moved upwards slightly, worried that this was too much too soon for you.

‘No Tommy, I want you’ you said desperately before pressing your lips back onto his.

‘Please’ you then said again as your lips drifted apart.

‘Alright. I will take it slow and you will tell me if I hurt you or if you want me to stop. Agreed?’ he said, causing you to nod.

And just like that, his lips met your again before he started to trail kisses down your body.

Just as he reached your stomach, he stopped and lowered himself further, right in between your legs.

Tommy hooked one of your calves around his shoulder and then started kissing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You had no idea what he was doing until he got closer and closer to your already soaking wet mound.

‘Tommy, what are you doing?’ you asked nervously. His face was so close to your most intimate parts that you flushed from embarrassment.

‘You’ll see’ he smirked just before, all of a sudden, he dipped his tongue to meet your sex.

‘Oh god’ you cried out, partly from pleasure and partly from the exhilaration of a sensation entirely foreign to your body.

He drew lazy circles around your clit, making your legs twitch of their own volition. Your hand nestled in Tommy’s hair, stroking it as you moaned.

Tommy adapted quickly, gauging your moans and learning your sweet spots.

While his tongue circled over your client, he carefully and slowly pushed a finger into you.

You tensed, but relaxed quickly as you couldn’t feel any pain.

He began to thrust it in and out in time with the rhythm of his tongue.

You felt dizzy, quivering with anticipation as heat pooled deep in your belly.

You whimpered, whispering "please" over and over again as you felt yourself on the verge of exploding. No orgasm you had ever given yourself had been like this—it felt electric.

Tommy could soon feel your walls tightening around his finger and increased the speed of his thrusts.

You clapped a hand over your mouth and screamed as you came, your back arching, legs shaking, hips grinding against him. Even after you were past your highest peak, you felt the energy tingling, jolting through you, inspiring little sighs.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him grin, wiping your nectar from his face with the back of his hand.

‘I think you are ready now eh’ he smirked before taking off his underpants.

He was large, larger than you had imagined.

You took in a deep breath, knowing exactly what was to come next.

Tommy could see the nervousness and concern on your face.

‘Don’t worry, I will go slow and we can stop at any time, alright’ he said as he positioned himself in between your legs.

‘Tommy, are you sure it will fit, I mean…’ you said nervously and, before you could finish your sentence, Tommy interrupted you with a mild chuckle.

‘It will fit Love’ he said before his lips met yours again for passionate kiss.

As he was kissing you gently, he positioned his cock at your entrance and began to press just the head into you.

It felt warm and moist.

Tommy’s normally-cool countenance was wide-eyed and intense as he began pushing into you.

Your breath hissed out in tandem as he began to stretch you open and you couldn’t help it but hold onto his upper arms tightly.

Pushing into you inch by inch, you groaned when he finally met the resistance of your hymen.

‘Tommy, please’ you moaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for what was coming.

Tommy leaned forward, slowly pushing through the resistance.

You both struggled to contain your yelps of pain and pleasure as he tore through you.

Your eyes welled up with tears as your recovered from the white-hot sharpness, but before long it was replaced by a feeling of blissful fullness. You fluttered open my eyes and gave him a lazy smile.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, holding still, allowing you to adjust to his size. His voice was throaty and intense.

‘Yes’. I feel so... fucking... full’ you giggled and, just like that, he began to push deeper, then rocked his hips back out.

He thrusted in a slow, deliberate rhythm, working his cock into you inch by inch.

Every new thrust stretched you out beyond what you thought you could handle.

He looked down in a moment of surprise as your hips began to grind against him, trying to work his cock in and out of you. He chuckled, re-positioning himself for leverage, and began to fuck you.

He began with slower, shallower strokes, finding his rhythm and stretching you out. You could tell that he wanted to go faster, but your walls were gripping too tight for him to pound you just yet without hurting you.

You could see the hunger in Tommy’s features, feel it as his hand tangled in your hair and gave it a sharp tug.

The tug distracted you and gave him the opportunity he needed to thrust hard and deep into you.

You cried out, and the lingering pain in your body was suddenly replaced by explosive pleasure. You threw your arms around his neck and he drew his hips back before pounding you with another powerful thrust, and another, and another.

The sensations—the sound of your bodies slapping together, the smell of sex, the feeling of his body pounding into you—collided suddenly in a violent eruption, and you couldn't contain your cries of pleasure as you came for the second time.

Your pleasure and the feel of your walls spasming around him sent Tommy into overdrive.

He pounded you harder and harder, before tensing and releasing his seed inside you with a shuddering roar.

You both gasped for breath, covered in sweat, hearts racing from the heat of your encounter. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, and you tasted yourself again on his tongue.

‘You are so fucking beautiful’ Tommy said in between kisses before he finally pulled out of you, causing some of his cum mixed with some of your mildly blood-stained juices leak on the sheet.

‘Will you stay with me for the night?’ you asked as you pressed your cheek onto Tommy’s warm chest.

‘You know I can’t’ Tommy said as he ran his hand through your hair.  ‘But I’ll stay until you fall asleep eh’ he added before pressing his lips onto to yours yet again.

And so he did, he stayed with you until you drifted off to sleep.

The Aftermath

The next morning, you woke up early. Somewhat sore but full of energy.

Tommy didn’t have to tell you that, what happened last night, had to remain a secret.

Nonetheless, you hoped that you would have an encounter like this with him again soon.

To your surprise, when you got dressed, you noticed the stains on the white sheets.

You pulled them off quickly and decided to get them into the wash before the other maids had to use the laundry facilities.

As you walked into the laundry room with your sheets, you saw Sarah.

‘You are up early?’ you asked surprised.

‘Charles was sick last night and I have to clean his sheets. I think he doesn’t tolerate cows’ milk to be honest’ she said.

‘What about you?’ she asked.

‘Washing my sheets before it gets too busy’ you said shyly.

‘Didn’t you just wash your sheets?’ Sarah asked, taking them off your hands.

‘Sarah, please, let me’ you said. ‘It’s this time of the month’ you said nervously, lying of course, but trying to justify the somewhat small but obvious stains on your sheets.

‘Don’t worry, if I can clean up vomit, I can clean up anything. Despite, you don’t know how to use the new machine’ Sarah chuckled.

With reluctance and embarrassment, you agreed but, just as Sarah placed the stained sheets into the basin, she noticed a familiar scent. Tommy’s aftershave.

‘You know Y/N, you might want to see a doctor’ she said.

‘Why is that?’ you asked.

‘You said that it’s the time of the month for you. You had your menses ten days ago. That’s not normal don’t you think? Unless there is something else you have to hide Y/N?’ Sarah said sharply.

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Lee Felix x female reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: mature content, lowkey slow burn, breeding kink, soft!dom Felix, creampie.

Word count: 2.975

You and Ashley have been friends for four years now. You went through a lot of hardships together, especially when Ashley had an unplanned pregnancy in the last year of college. Luckily, Mason, now her husband, is an amazing person, and even though it was hard, she was able to graduate. You loved her baby, Arthur, so much, like it was your little brother. You knew that their anniversary was getting closer and you wanted to surprise her.

"No way, I cannot ask you for something like that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, you know I love spending time with Arthur," you said, holding your phone with one hand while you tried to wash the dishes you used to eat dinner with the other. 

"I don't know Y/N..."

"Girl, just stop. I'm not taking a no for an answer. Spending quality time with your husband is important and I know that you have been not getting laid lately."

"You have no idea how hard it is to have sex with a one-year-old making a mess everywhere." You both laughed. 

"I'll go to your house tomorrow at 7 pm. Get a reservation at a nice restaurant, get shaved and, wear your best dress. I want you and Mason to have a good time together."

"Okay, but only because it is our anniversary. I'm gonna take this as a present." Ashley sighed, knowing that she had to say yes anyway.

"Because it is, Ashley. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."

"Bye, honey."

You finished your shores and were planning on watching some videos on youtube when you heard your phone buzzing. You picked it up and saw that you had a message.

Felix, 8:45 pm: Hey

Felix, 8:45 pm: Sorry for messaging late but, are you free tomorrow?

You chuckled. Almost 9 pm wasn't late.

Y/N, 8:46 pm: Sorry, I'm going to my friend's house after work.

Y/N, 8:47 pm: I'm going to babysit her baby so she can go have dinner with her husband.

You met Felix at work, during lunch. He was new there and you have seen him sometimes walking around the place, but you never talked to him. Until one day when he dropped his coffee on you. You remembered how embarrassed he was, his cheeks were red and he profusely apologized. Ever since, you had some small talk with him here and there until one day you gave him his number, saying that he could message you if he needed help with something from work. You know it was bullshit since he was from a different department, but still, you needed an excuse to talk to him. He messaged you a few times but eventually, you thought it was a lost cause.

Y/N, 8:57 pm: Why do you ask?

Felix, 9:00 pm: Nothing.

Felix, 9:01 pm: It's silly.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: If it was that silly, you wouldn't have messaged me.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: Spit it out.

Felix, 9:12 pm: There's a convention for Star Wars fans tomorrow. You said that you loved the movies one time so I bought tickets for you.

Y/N, 9:14 pm: Why didn't you tell me before? 

Felix, 9:15 pm: I didn't know if you would want to go. But it's okay, don't worry about it.

You thought for a moment. You really wanted to spend time with him. Felix was so sweet, respectful and kind. He was also very, very handsome.

Y/N, 9:30 pm: Do you wanna come to my friend's house tomorrow with me? 

You looked at your phone five minutes later and saw that Felix visualized the message but didn't answer. "Congratulations, you fucked it up, Y/N," you said.

You sat on your couch and turned the tv on, planning on finally watching your favorite youtube videos, when you heard your phone buzzing again.

Felix, 9:50 pm: Sure, why not? Is it okay with your friend? She doesn't know me.

You sighed, happy that he answered.

Y/N, 9:51 pm: I'm gonna tell her but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine.

"Is he cute?" Ashley asked, putting on her earring. She looked gorgeous with a tight red dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her dark skin. Her curly hair was in a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. You knew Mason would love it.

"He is very cute. And he's so nice too. I only invited him over because he seems really sweet."

You went to Ashley's house one hour before she would leave for dinner so you could help her get ready, and by help, you meant to force her to wear something that wasn't a t-shirt and jeans.

"How do I look?" she turned around, facing you.

"Gorgeous as always."

Ashley hugged you tight. "Thank you so much, Y/N. You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"But I want to."

The bell rang.

"That's probably Felix," you said.

"Let's go downstairs, I wanna meet this boy."

When you went to the living room you saw Felix talking to Mason.

"Hello, I'm Ashley, nice to meet you."

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you too," Felix raised his hand so he could shake Ashley's hand but she gave him a light hug. You smiled, finding really cute how awkward he was.

"Arthur is sleeping now, he already ate, but if he wakes up, there's milk on the fridge. He usually sleeps all night so you don't have much to worry about."

"Okay, you guys have to go before you're late for dinner," you said, pulling Mason and Ashley towards the door.

"Call me if you need anything. We'll be back tomorrow morning so you'll don't have much trouble with him."

"Don't worry about it. You can take your time."

"Also, don't forg-"

"Baby, we have to go," Mason insisted, holding her hand and trying to get her inside of the car.

"Fine. Bye everyone, see you tomorrow."

You waved at them before going inside and closing the door.

"I'm gonna check on Arthur for a second, you can wait here, okay?" You told Felix.

"Sure."

You went upstairs and checked on Arthur's room. He was sleeping soundly. You felt the urge to lightly pinch his chubby little cute cheeks but you decided not to bother him. You went to the living room again and Felix was sitting on the couch.

"Are you hungry? We bought pizza."

"Uhm, not really."

"Are you sure?" you insisted.

"Okay, one slice would be good."

Felix got up and followed you to the kitchen.

"Your friend has a beautiful house," he said, admiring the place.

"She does. I mean, she's an architect and Mason is an engineer, so they were able to buy a nice place," you cut a piece and handed it to him.

"You said that you studied together."

"We went to the same college, but I graduated in graphic design. For obvious reasons, I don't make as much money as them," you laughed. "Did you always wanted to work in a publishing company?" Felix sat on the balcony standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Honestly, I just wanted to work with what I love. Graphic design is not something that people value but it is what makes me happy." You looked at him and Felix smiled at you, his dimple prominent on his face. He was so cute. "What about you?" "Oh, marketing is definitely not something I dreamed of working with. My family has a long line of people that have been working with it, so I barely had a choice,” Felix confessed. "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." He looked thoughtful like his mind was somewhere else. "I actually wanted to work with art. I love painting." "Really? That's so cool. Do you have a picture of a painting to show me? I would love to see it." Felix hesitated for a while before he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his gallery. "Please don't think I'm weird," he said before showing you the picture. You raised your eyebrows when you saw what was on the screen of his phone. A beautiful painting of you. You realized that he used your profile picture on Facebook as a reference. "Felix, this is amazing." "It took me a week to finish it," he said, holding his hands behind his back, clearly feeling shy. "I love it, really." You and Felix finished eating. You talked more about your plans for the future, the things you wanted to do with your life, your dreams. You were sitting on the couch watching tv when you heard Arthur crying upstairs. "Ops, somebody woke up." You got up to go to his room and you noticed that Felix was following you. "You don't have to go if you don't want to." "It's fine, I wanna help you." When you entered the room, Arthur was up in his crib, deeply crying. "It's okay," you said in a soft tone, picking him up. "I think somebody needs to change its diaper," Felix said. "You are right," you laughed. "Let's change this little boy." You put Arthur on the changing mat and started to change him, but to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Felix laughed. "Let me help you." Felix quickly changed his diaper, he clearly knew what he was doing. "Woah, how do you know that?" you asked, looking at him dumbfounded. He laughed again, amused by your reaction. "I have a small brother so I have changed his diaper plenty of times." "Aaah, that explains a lot."

"Let's see if he wants to eat," Felix said, holding Arthur in his arms. You went to the kitchen and looked for the milk. After pouring it into a pan, you heated it up. "We need to make sure we don't overheat it so it won't burn the baby," Felix said while he tested the milk's temperature. You put it into a baby bottle and gave it to Arthur who promptly drank it. "I guess he was hungry," Felix chuckled. "Do you plan on having kids, Felix?" you looked at him, completely mesmerized by how good he was with kids. "Yes, I love kids. I plan on having two kids one day." "That's so cute, I'm sure you'll be an amazing dad." Felix smiled, making your heart skip a beat. "Do you want to have kids, Y/N?" he looked apprehensive. "Yeah, one day. I still need to find the right person." "Of course." Arthur went back to sleep again when he was done eating. "Not gonna lie, taking care of a baby can be tiring," claimed said, sitting on the couch. Felix sat next to you, his knee touching your leg. "Do you want to watch a movie?" you asked. "Sure!" Twenty minutes later, you started to sleep. Your head felt heavy until it fell on Felix's shoulder. He simply smiled, enjoying the feeling of you so close to him.

The sound of the bell ringing woke you up. You were laying on the couch, a blanket over your body. You looked around and Felix was sleeping on the smaller couch next to yours, with just a pillow under his head. You got up and answered the door. "Hey!" Ashley said, hugging you. "Hi. How was your night?" "It was amazing. Thank you so much, Y/N." Ashley went to the middle of the living room to drop her bag on the couch, Mason following behind. "How's Arthur? Did he behaved?" Mason asked. "Yeah, he slept almost all of the time." You rubbed your eyes, still feeling sleepy. Ashley turned around, seeing Felix sleeping on the couch. "You guys could have slept in the guest room," she laughed. "I'm gonna check on Arthur. What about some breakfast later?" Mason suggested. "That sounds great, but I think we should go home. Besides, you guys need to spend some family time with your baby." You woke Felix up, and while he was trying to get conscious, you chatted with Ashley about dinner. Mason went downstairs with Arthur and you chatted a little more before leaving. "Do you want me to take you home?" Felix asked, leaving Ashley's house by your side. "No, it's okay, I'll get an Uber." "Aw, come on. I'm not gonna let you leave on an Uber so early in the morning." You looked at him, admiring the freckles on his skin. His pink lips looked soft and you had to fight the urge to kiss him. "You know what, okay. I'll go with you." The drive to your house was silent, the music playing on the radio helped you to distract the thoughts on your head. The night you spent with Felix was amazing, seeing him being so sweet like that only made you even more attracted to him. Felix stopped in front of your house. "Well, we are here." "Do you want to come in?" "Oh... uhm, sure, yes, that would be great." You smiled and left the car, running to open the door for him. "Please don't mind the mess," you said, taking some clothes that were on the couch. "Don't worry about it." "Do you want to eat something?" "I'm fine, I'm still full because of the pizza from yesterday." "Okay." There was an awkward silence for a while and you realized you didn't think this through. Invite him over and what? "You know what? There's something I want to eat," Felix said. "Oh, okay. What do you want? I have bread, cereal, we can make panca-" "You." "What?" you looked at him, your eyes wide. "I w-want to eat you." Felix stuttered, his face showing that he was feeling too shy to be saying the words that left his mouth. "Oh, I'm... I-" you didn't have the chance to finish, Felix approached you and kissed you. You were still processing what was happening so you didn't kiss him back yet. Felix noticed and stopped kissing you. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I shoul-" "No! It's okay. I just wasn't expecting." You kissed him, holding his face and tasting his lips. His left hand held the back of your head while the other held your waist. He bit your lower lip, his tongue entering your mouth and playing with yours. He pressed his body against yours and you felt his semi-hard dick. You whined, trying to control your breath. "Do you want to keep going?" Felix asked, his forehead resting against yours. You simply nodded. "Where's your room?" You grabbed his hand, guiding him to your room. Once you were inside, Felix slammed you against the door, pressing his body into yours. He started to grind his clothed cock on your heat and, this time, you couldn't hold your moans anymore. "Felix," was all you managed to say before he kissed you again. A messy kiss that screamed how much he was longing for you, how much he desired you. His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. "I wanna taste you," he said, taking you to the bed. You laid down and he wasted no time to take off your pants, pulling your panties with them in a swift movement. Soon enough, his tongue was exploring your wet lips, savoring the taste of your arousal. Felix played with your clit, his tongue sliding against the sensitive skin. You hoped that your neighbors had already left for work, otherwise you would end up waking them up because of your moans. Felix stopped eating you out to unbutton his shirt. "You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you," he said, his voice deep, making you raise your hips, craving to be filled up. "Felix, please," you moaned. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" "Yes, please." It was embarrassing, you weren't used to begging. Most of the time that you had sex, you were always the one in control. But not with Felix. "Are you on the pill?" Felix asked, taking the rest of his clothes off and pumping his rock-hard cock. "Yeah, please fuck me." "Anything for you," he growled, sliding his dick into your dripping pussy. Felix already started an incessant pounding into you, stealing moans from your throat. "You are so fucking beautiful." You closed your eyes, feeling the burning on your stomach getting stronger. "Fuck, so fucking good, Y/N. You are taking me so well." "Please, don't s-stop." "Turn around, I wanna fuck you from behind." You didn't have much strength left, but Felix helped you out. He was inside of you again, hitting the right spots in this position. Felix felt your pussy tightening against his dick and he started to play with your clit. "Fuck, Felix, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, not being able to control yourself anymore. You came, a long moan leaving your mouth. "I'm gonna cum inside of your little pussy, I'm gonna fill you up so good." He didn't slow his pace, his hips hitting yours in a fast rhythm. "I'm gonna put a baby in your little cute belly, baby girl," he said, closing his eyes as his dick slid in and out of your pussy. "Fuck," you moaned. "You are gonna look so good, all swollen, f-fuck." A few lazy thrusts and Felix came inside of you. He kept thrusting on you for a while until you milked him out. He laid by your side, trying to catch his breath. Felix put his arm on his face, hiding it. He looked completely flustered. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was way too soon for me to let out this embarrassing kinky stuff." "Felix, shut up. It was fucking hot," you smiled, turning around to hug him and rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair, the warmth of his skin making you fall asleep. But sleeping wasn't on Felix's plans. "Ready for round two?"

[daloy-politsey]

On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016.  “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”

[sirensmojo]

"Crossroads" - Michael Gray x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff.

Summary: You visit Michael in the hospital for the first time in years after his departure from your village.

*Masterlist*

A/N: this is my first Michael Gray fic, plz take that into consideration...

“There’s a girl asking to see you, Sir.” The nurse informed Michael, “Do you accept the visit?”

“Who is it?” His eyes lifted up from the white bedsheet he was staring at, blankly.

“A certain Y/N.”

At the announcement of your name, his dull eyes lightened up, but it didn’t last. His mind suddenly got clouded with the hundreds of questions he usually was asking himself when alone.

Were you alright? Did you get out of town as you promised each other, were you still visiting his “mother” on Wednesday's afternoons, were you angry at him for leaving you?

“Yeah, let her in.” His answer was full of apprehension, making the nurse unsure of letting you in. She stayed there watching as the man shifted position, trying to get comfortable as he knew your reunion wouldn’t be easy. “I said let her in,” Michael squinted his eyes at the nurse seeing she was still there, and that’s when she got out.

He exhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself but he couldn’t escape the tremendous flow of emotions washing over him.

You were his first love, the first girl he ever saw as a woman, even if you were still quite young. He just couldn't ignore the way he felt when he used to be with you, even after all this time, even after going out with other girls, your face never left him.

“Michael.” You hesitantly entered, unsure of the fact coming in here was a good idea.

You were in town for quite long now, but never took the time to search for him. Not because you didn't care, it was the opposite.

He had never kept from you his wish to leave your little village and you thought that maybe having you in his life now wouldn't bring him anything but memories of a place he wanted to forget.

But as the time passed, you realized you couldn't get him out your mind, no matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did, it all came back to him in the end.

His smile, laugh, touch and love, you missed everything.

You knew very well the Peaky Blinders, just like every Birmingham residents, and you knew he was one of them.

You used to tease him back then about him leaving the village after burning it or something, and here you were, him being part of a gang. This couldn't fit your Michael best.

He was a very intelligent, talented, kind and good person, but you always knew that deep down, this tranquillity was hiding a darker side, a deeper meaning of who he was.

It wasn't a surprise at all for you when you heard about his new life, you were even quite happy that he could express himself and evolve in a favourable environment.

He seemed preoccupied with something but his eyebrows unknitted at the sight of your face.

Your finger waved curls were perfectly falling on each side of your head, and Michael’s eyes were falling over your olive designed dress, tassels falling right under your knees.

He always loved this green on you, and that only hit you now.

The aggressively sexy green dress you told him you would, one day, wear in the streets so everybody could be shocked and talk about how a woman should dress.

If you remembered this detail this morning you wouldn’t have come in this dress. Now, Michael was looking at you with those gleaming eyes and you knew that when his eyes will lift up to yours, you’ll find in them the same sparks behind his iris as when you were younger.

Maybe coming in here truly was a bad idea.

“Y/N,” he kept a stern face but you were reading him like a book. His hands were clammy, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed along with all his muscles.

You could see he was as nervous as you, and you also knew that if you could read him that easily he probably could do the same with you.

Michael was sitting on his bed straight like an “I”, and that’s only when you sat at his side that he leaned backwards on his pillows.

That idea of knowing each other despite time and distance was what helped you to breathe out the air you didn't realize you were holding, leaving your chest less heavy.

You didn’t dare to stay in his eyes, too occupied searching for your cigarettes anyway. You got one out of their case and handed it to the man that was shamelessly staring at you.

“You changed.” Were his first words, and you couldn’t blame him.

Michael grabbed the cigarette and stuck it in between his fine lips before you came lightening up the tip of it for him.

When he left you were still growing up, rough look and only wearing the elegant blue pants your mother accepted you to wear. You were obsessed with pants and used to always argue about the fact women couldn’t wear them.

“Not a bit, and you haven’t either.” You teased him. It was obvious he changed, even the way he was talking was different, and you couldn’t even imagine what else in him had changed if the external changes were that evident.

His eyes drifted to you once again, what a surprise it was for him to see you dressed up as you were with your high heels.

Men have looked at you before, but the way Michael laid eyes on you was different, you found fondness in it, perhaps love? Because after all, there was still love between you, right?

Else his chest wouldn't raise that quickly and he wouldn't flutter his eyes when you would catch him staring at you.

He chuckled and offered you a warm smile before puffing on his cig. He got lost in thoughts for a moment, doing the french inhale.

Nevertheless, Michael seemed so much more distant than what you remember. Either he was staring, either he was blanking looking into the void.

He never talked too much either, but presently his silence could kill you. You just wanted to feel his hands all over you again, but you couldn't jump on him as if your story happened yesterday.

The atmosphere tensed, “I knew you would start smoking.” You let out in a huff. “Mrs Johnson was so wrong about you, it wasn’t me corrupting you, you always had it in your blood.” You concluded, the words escaping from your mouth as you were failing to stop them.

You got a cig for yourself and Michael watched you carefully, following each of your movements as if you were to disappear in a cloud of smoke if he’d just blinked.

“No,” He clenched his jaw and shook his head as his eyes darkened, "I found it here."

"Find you?"

He nodded slightly as puffing on his cig. 'You don't ask why I'm here?" He raised a brow towards you.

"I read the news, you're a peaky boy now." You winked at him.

"It's not what you think, Y/N." He was chuckling, shaking his head to both sides.

"Well, my Micheal wearing suits and being part of a dirty business, that's what I think and that's what it is. And that's sexy." You were so concentrated imagining him in his suit you didn't realize you called him yours, but Gray noticed it, which led to his lips stretching into a smile.

"I knew you were about to tell it." He flicks his fingers, looking at you with squinting eyes.

You took advantage of that exchange to look at his face, examining each of his features and internalizing everything you missed during these years apart.

"You're sexy Michael, deal with it already." You stated outright.

You always liked that about him. He wasn’t talking much, not with his words at least, but his eyes bore enough emotions by themselves. If they could talk they would spill hundreds of words on the paper with no difficulty.

"Yeah? Well, I prefer when you tell that in other circumstances."

His words echoed in your head and you didn't know if he was making a sexual reference or if he just woke up the horny you.

You tilted your head to the side a second, puffing on your cig before the tip of your fingers instantly reached for his soft skin. You were rubbing the side of his face gently with your knuckles when you remembered something.

“I left the village over a year after you, my mother died and I just couldn’t stay there, you know.” Talking was your way of coping with the fact you were reunited with your teenage love.

“I’m sorry.” His facial expression changed, he now understood why you were here. Not that he was unhappy about your visit, but he wouldn't have thought you’d ever leave this village.

“Everything I know is there” was the answer you gave him every time he encouraged you to go to the cities to try to make a living out of clothing. London, Birmingham, whatever, as long as you would be able to be who you wanted to be, and live your passion fully.

You wanted to make clothes and Michael had always been your number one fan, solely because he was the only one to see the gorgeous dresses you were sewing, but still your number one fan.

“I’m currently working to be able to own my workshop. So everything’s fine.”

He peeked at your lips while you were doing the french inhale, but ended up staring at your lips as if they were mesmerizing him.

You ignored that as well as you ignored all the signs he still felt things for you since you came into his room.

“Michael, the reason for my visit is family. I Know you found your biological mother and all, but you got another family out there, right?” You got up and joined the table to crush your cigarette into the ashtray, a vain attempt to prepare you for what you were about to announce. “Mr Johnson’s gone... I heard he died in his own bed.”

You threw him a glance, you wanted to know what he was thinking at this moment because his face was unreadable. Even though you knew him more than he knew himself, you grew apart from each other, and here was standing in front of you, a version of Michael you did not know.

He was blankly looking at the void in front of him, fisted clenched around the sheets.

You got closer to him, putting down the ashtray on the nightstand and sat down at his side again, but this time you slipped one of your hands into his as your other one, slowly turned his head towards you, so you could look at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered as you were nearing your face to his.

It’s when you felt a little squeeze on your hand that you completely dared to give yourself to him, leaning a slow kiss over his lips.

You then pulled away, but before you could go anywhere, you felt his free hand at the back of your head, pulling you closer for another kiss, this one being feverish.

Of course, he was still loving you. It couldn’t be any different.

His hand shifted from your head to your cheek, his thumb rubbing it softly. His tender fondles contrasted perfectly with the roughness of his kisses. They became needier and needier, as if he waited to do this for a long time.

You both finally let go of the other’s lips when your lungs were screaming for air, your lids directly opening into the other’s eyes.

Here we go again, that twinkling light dancing at the back of his deep blue eyes.

“Something actually changed there,” You caressed his lips with your index, “I didn’t remember your lips tasting this way, neither you being that much of a good kisser.” Your suave voice murmured inches away from him.

You were so close you could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your lips.

“Well, teach me.” His voice aroused something inside of you, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

(ask me if you want to get in one of the tag lists)

[remuscore]

Slumber Party

Original idea from here

Summary: Janus doesn’t cuddle. Well, maybe a little...

Warnings: None. Maybe some suggestive stuff, but it’s Remus so.

Taglist: @hannahdra-ws @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

Janus was invited to movie night with the light sides again. He was thrilled of course. The third movie night he’s been invited to with everyone and Thomas. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Remus still wasn’t getting invited.

Janus always missed Remus during these nights. No one made dark jokes, no one picked movies that made Janus jump and grimace, no one wrapped him in their arms around him and kept him comfortably warm against an uncomfortably naked body. 

However, they have tried their best. 

Not naked thankfully, but Patton sure did try bringing him into the big, movie night, cuddle pile they have. Janus just sat by the end of the couch as everyone sat together, even Logan participated in the big cuddle pile by sitting beside Virgil on the end. 

But this time, Janus decided it would be different. He’ll be bringing Remus with. 

When he told his plan to his beloved little monster his plan, he was singing with excitement. Literally. He sang a whole little ditty about how excited he was. 

“Do you think they’ll let me pick the movie? Have they let you pick a movie yet?” Remus stumbled out of his room the night of the event wearing nothing but the boxers he agreed to wear for tonight. Janus waited for him by the stairwell with his own silky pajamas on. 

“Roman wasn’t going to let me pick the movie, but Patton forced him to after he stole my hat when they watched Frozen,” Janus said. He smiled when he saw the large stuffed Cthulhu Remus was currently hugging against his chest. “I’m sure they’ll play your movie if you asked.”

Remus snorted at the mere idea and shoved Janus towards the door. Janus smirked, though he was awfully nervous about bringing Remus along. He didn’t wish for any of the sides to exclude him again or— heaven forbid— distrust him again because he wanted to bring his beloved friend (and family, night he add) along. 

As he and Remus arrived, the mood considerably dampened. Patton even let out a little “oh my goodness” at the sight of the infamous duke. Janus paid no mind to them as he took his usual spot at the end and Remus happily sat at his side. 

They all waited in some… expected silence that both Janus and Remus reveled in. Janus more than Remus, really. As much as Remus loved making them squirm, he wasn’t the biggest fan of silence. 

“Remus…” Patton was the first to say anything. He laughed nervously. “Uh, hi there… sorry I wasn’t aware you were coming—”

“Yeah, why is the skunk head here!?” Roman shouted, a whine carrying in his voice that made Remus giggle.

“Why not!” He retorted. Roman glared at him and pointed to all of him.

“And not respecting our rules!”

“Or himself.” Virgil muttered. Janus rolled his eyes. They’ve all seen Remus naked before, it wasn’t like there was anything new beside a few scars.

“And where in the name Poseidon, did he get that /adorable/ plushie of the Gods!?” Remus hugged his Cthulhu tighter at the mention of him. 

“I got that for him,” Janus said, pointedly ignoring Roman’s original question. He challenged him to say otherwise with a look. Judging by Roman’s sputtering and pouting, he had won. “What are we watching tonight, hm?”

“Well, we were just about to vote—”

“Cinderella! Cinderella!” Remus shouted, practically vibrating in his seat and startling Logan into shutting up and moving closer to Patton. Remus didn’t seem to care though. “I want to watch Cinderella! Please, please, please!”

“Cinderella?” Patton and Roman sounded surprised by the plea, pleasantly and utterly confused respectfully. 

“It’s his favorite.” Virgil sighed, rubbing his forehead. Remus has bugged them all about why Cinderella is his favorite many times before. 

“Especially the live action one.” Janus added, watching with guarded fondness as Remus bounced and clapped his hands, nodding enthusiastically with excitement. 

“Well… that sounds like a perfectly… reasonable movie to watch?” Patton ended his sentence like a question, looking at the others around him for any reason not to do it. Roman still shook his head and frowned deeply. He pointed at Remus again.

“I don’t trust his excitement,” he announced. “He’s going to try and ruin this movie for us, I know it.”

“Please, Roman, when has Remus ever ruined anything?” Janus says as innocently as he could, bringing a wine glass that he had just summoned up to his lips. 

“Oh, oh!” Remus wiggles in his seat, excitedly slapping Janus’ knee. “What about that time I ruined Christmas for—”

“Let’s start the movie, shall we?” Janus interrupted Remus quickly. He cleared his throat and waved for the tv to turn on to the movie they had all— in theory— agreed upon. Remus was quickly distracted with a squeal as the classic Disney theme started playing. 

They’ve all settled now that the movie started. There was the added unease as they continued to glance apprehensively in their direction. Janus continued to sip on his wine as Remus’ eyes stayed intently on the screen. 

“So— if I may ask—” Logan started, keeping his eyes on the screen as well as everyone else as he talked. “Why is this your favorite movie, Remus? It seems uncharacteristic.”

“Cinderella is about being hated by her only family left and unable to leave her confinement, forced to act a certain way because of her step-mother’s favoritism,” Remus explained without a thought on if his honesty would make the others uncomfortable, and it certainly did. “Also in the original story, birds scratch out the step-families eyes as karma for being so cruel and I always thought that was neat.”

They all shuffled farther away.

As the movie continued and Janus got steadily tipsier, they’ve started to relax and enjoy the movie. Remus and Janus have started to lean against each other, Remus’ chin on his shoulder and Janus’ head against his. It was always better to drink a little when watching a movie with Remus, makes all the shouting in his ear easier to deal with and all his jokes and facts a little funnier. However, because of the wine, his guard was down around the others and he actually moved to sit on Remus’ lap without thinking about his image, settling Cthulhu in his own lap while Remus wrapped his arms around him. 

He didn’t even remember they were still there until Patton had spoken up about it. 

“I figured you didn’t like hugs, Janus?” He said, startling Janus out of his relaxed state. He tried putting his guard up again, but it was hard when he was a little drunk and also Remus was so warm and comfortable. 

“Doesn’t like hugs? Ha!” Remus let out a loud, incredibly false laugh that made Janus smile and duck his head at the sound. “DJ Anus here loves hugs! Especially when he’s hammered! He’s extra affectionate when drunk, huh sexy?”

Remus squeezes him closer as he teases him and Janus rolls his eyes. He couldn’t help his smile though as he leaned into the touch. He holds up his glass. 

“I’m not hammered, as you say,” he turned his head to look at Remus, nose brushing against his cheek. “I’m… just a little buzzed. Totally different.”

Remus giggled and rocked them back, pulled Janus completely on his lap. Janus looked like a little child as Remus curled around him like a protective shield, Cthulhu abandoned beside them. 

“This is weird…” Virgil muttered, looking mildly uncomfortable with the public affection. “I don’t remember you two being so… close.”

“You never came to our movie nights.”

“Because you made us watch The Purge and then terrorized us for months about it after.”

“Eh, that movie was shit anyways,” Janus waved him off, eyes back on the movie. Cinderella had just found out about the ball. It was only a matter of time before Remus noticed and made any jokes about it, Janus needed to focus on not snorting at any of them to make sure he still had some dignity left after tonight. “Seriously, there are millions of things you can do during these crime free days instead of wearing a mask and murdering innocents.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Remus said. Virgil made a face. 

“I’m still reeling at the fact that anyone would willingly be that close to Remus,” Roman’s expression was sour as he watched them spoon out of the corner of his eye. “Are you not worried he might get too excited like this?”

“Oh, it’s happened before, but it’s nothing to worry about,” Janus clarifies, though he did feel a sting of annoyance at Roman’s disapproval. “And for your information, Remus is a fantastic cuddler. He only smells a little putrid and you get used to it.” 

Remus giggles and hugs Janus tighter for a moment, the deceitful side practically drowning in his arms. He let out an excited shout and pointed wildly at the screen, leaning over Janus. 

“Oh! Oh! This is my favorite scene!” He shouted, referring to Cinderella being trapped in her attic and the added backstory to the step-mother. 

With the distraction in place, they all settled in and watched the end of the movie. Janus thought this night was rather successful. He might think differently tomorrow when he wasn’t drunk, but he did get to spend at least one of these movie nights safe and warm in his favorite side’s arms.

[nejibaby]

Paper Rings

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

Song reference/inspiration: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! I WROTE THIS ON A WHIM. AND NOW I AM GOING TO ASCEND BECAUSE OF THIS. Please let me know your thoughts~

The birds were chirping by the time you woke up. As you stretched your arms, a smile had found its way into your face.

Usually, you’d be so grumpy in the mornings because you truly weren’t a morning person, yet there are random days like today where you find yourself waking up with bursts of happiness.

Most days there were reasons why you were feeling such a way, like when you’d get a full eight hour sleep, when you’d have a great dream, when you know you’re going on a date with your boyfriend Neji, or when you’d get your payment for your missions. This time, however, you didn’t know the reason why you’re this happy first thing in the morning.

You quite literally woke up on the right side of the bed today, which has always been Neji’s side of the bed, but he was nowhere to be found. You would’ve preferred to have woken up in his arms like you normally did.

You raked your mind trying to remember Neji’s schedule for the day. It was his day off so he didn’t have to go on missions and he didn’t have to meet up with Team Guy. You wondered where he went at such an early hour but you didn’t put too much thought about his whereabouts.

He was probably called in for an emergency mission or maybe he had an unexpected meeting with the Hyuga clan. He was, after all, going to be the new head of the clan. After the Fourth Shinobi War, he was recognized by his clan for his contribution during the war and for representing the clan with dignity, honor, and strength — the traits that the Hyuga clan deemed necessary for the next leader to have.

Regardless of the reason why Neji wasn’t there by your side when you woke up, you knew you didn’t have to worry because you knew he’d be safe. He can handle himself and besides, it was a time of peace.

You didn’t have any plans for the day so you found yourself going out and about. You found it amazing how your good mood could drastically change your perspective. For example, on most days, you wouldn’t take your time looking around the village and the people in it, yet today you found yourself entranced with the village. The sun was shining bright yet somehow the village seemed to be brighter.

As you walked through the streets, you caught sight of a stall selling accessories. It was no secret that you were a fan of these things. Even the merchant knew you by name from the amount of times you bought from their stall.

More often than not, you’d buy earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and anklets from the merchant. You just generally like shiny things. But this time however, your eyes strayed towards a simple lavender hair clip. It reminded you of Neji’s eyes and you couldn’t help but reach out for it. Without even thinking twice, you bought it.

Neji wasn’t the type of boyfriend who would stop you from buying things you don’t need. He wasn’t controlling. However, he sure was blunt in telling you that you don’t need that much accessories. Who would need eight necklaces when you only have one neck anyway?

You almost giggled at the thought of him commenting on your recent purchase when you still have four unused gold hair clips at home. As a response, you could always tease him for buying a ton of books when he doesn’t have enough time to read them. Although you wouldn’t admit the fact that you’ve read all the books beside his bed.

The thought of Neji made you smile, making your day much, much better than how you felt waking up. Your good mood seemed to be infecting the others as well since there were a lot more people smiling at your direction.

At one point you came across Tenten too who beamed upon the sight of you. You had a whole conversation about how your day went and even got a compliment from her about your new hair clip. Was she chirpier than usual or was that just your imagination? Either way, her company was great.

“So have you seen Neji yet?” She asked.

“Ah, not yet. Do you happen to know where he is?”

It was a good thing you were both walking and you weren’t looking at her direction, rather, you were staring at a bird that flew by. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed the way her smile faltered for a second.

“Uh, I don’t t-think so.” There was a hint of nervousness in her answer.

Normally, you would’ve pried as to why she answered that way, but you were still happily watching the bird flying freely in the sky.

“Hmm? Oh, alright then. I’m sure I’ll find him somewhere,” you distractedly said.

“Ah, I’ll have to go! I forgot I have to meet with Lee today. Bye Y/N!” Tenten quickly said.

You finally tore your gaze from the bird and looked back at her to wave her goodbye. “Okay. Tell Lee I said hi,” you yelled with a smile while watching her figure walk away.

You continued your trek around the village, just contentedly watching the citizens do their own thing. It was after an hour and a half of Tenten leaving your side did you see Neji. He was looking rather anxious so you immediately went to his side.

For someone who had an amazing visual prowess such as the Byakugan, he still got startled when he saw you standing in front of him despite you being in plain sight. You wondered what was going on in his head. He must’ve been thinking hard about something for him not to notice you.

“Neji, baby, are you alright?” You worriedly asked.

“Ah, uh, yes.”

You weren’t satisfied with his answer so you pulled him to an alleyway, away from people’s prying eyes since you knew Neji was a private person. Whatever’s plaguing his mind was definitely something important for him to look that much anxious. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have trouble masking his emotion.

“Is there something troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

“Was this about your mission yesterday? Or were you assigned on another S-rank mission today? Are you worried about it?” You blurted out the questions one after the other.

He shook his head, “No it isn’t about a mission.”

“Is it about Naruto or Hinata? Or both?”

“No, not really.”

You frowned. “Well then, is it because of me? Did I do something wrong?”

His breath hitched at your question. Then he looked at you tenderly. His eyes found your newly purchased hair clip and his hand gently touched it. “This looks good on you,” he softly said.

“Yeah, it reminded me of you,” you automatically answered. Then you realized he didn’t truly answer your question. “So it’s me, right? I probably did something wrong. I’m sorry I’m not sure what I did but if I hurt your feelings in any way, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it,” you babbled on.

“No, you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

“It’s the Hyuga clan, isn’t it?” You guessed again.

“No, the clan is doing fine. There isn’t any issue.”

If those weren’t the cause of his worries then there was only one more thing that would make him feel this distracted — thoughts about his father.

“Is it… is it about Hizashi?” You almost whispered.

A small smile had appeared on his face at the mention of his father’s name. “I do miss my father, but that’s not what I was worried about. Frankly, I’m not worried about anything at all.”

That was clearly a lie.

Neji used to have a habit of keeping things for himself back in the day but he changed. It seemed like today he reverted to his old ways.

However, you’ve already asked a ton of questions and you knew well enough when to stop prying. If Neji was ready, he would tell you at his own pace.

“Okay… You must’ve had a long day,” you said. Instinctively, you gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Neji certainly wasn’t expecting that. He blinked a few times before regaining his bearings. A blush crept into his cheeks. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you cheekily said.

Then another peck on his lips.

This time a genuine smile was etched on his face.

“It’s going to be alright,” you told him with a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” he looked at you lovingly.

“No problem, baby,” you chirped.

And then after a minute of looking into each other’s eyes, he paled, as if he was hit by a sudden realization. You only looked at him curiously after he reacted that way. He cleared his throat, “I remembered I had something to do with Lee.”

You furrowed your brows and tilted your head. Neji almost swooned at how cute you looked. Then you asked, “What are you guys up to?”

Neji could feel a sweat forming at your interrogation. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, I caught up with Tenten a little while ago and then all of a sudden she dashed out saying she was supposed to meet with Lee,” you told him. “So what are you guys going to do?”

“We, uh… Lee… is, uhm…”

“You know what, you don’t have to tell me,” you cut him off. You knew well enough that Lee could talk Neji into doing ridiculous things. Tenten would be a little more apprehensive but if Neji would do it, she would give in eventually. And you knew Neji preferred not talking about whatever Lee had him do.

You could hear the sigh of relief Neji released when you answered that way. Without saying anything more, he quickly made his way to meet his friend.

You chuckled at your boyfriend. He looked absolutely endearing whenever he was flustered. You shook your head and got out of the alleyway, deciding that it was time for a quick snack.

You made your way to the bakery to buy your favorite cinnamon roll. It wasn’t surprising that you found Hinata there as well. Your friendship with Hinata was furthered by your common love for cinnamon rolls after all.

You chatted with her for the entirety of your time eating the delicacy. She always reminded you of Neji despite them having different personalities, so you were quite comfortable in her company. You continued your conversation with her even after you both finished eating. Even as you both left the bakery, you couldn’t be separated. It’s been a while since you last saw her and you had so many stories that you wanted to tell and hear from her as well.

Hinata seemed to be talking a lot more this time and she looked so excited as well. Why? She didn’t say, it felt weird to ask. Maybe she woke up in a good mood just like you? In any case, you were happy that she was happy.

The subject of your conversation shifted to the wedding preparations for her and Naruto’s wedding. You offered to help in any way you can but she told you everything was coming along just fine. Then she made a comment that if you needed help in some things, she’d be there to help too. It sounded like she was talking about something and you wondered what she meant but thanked her anyway despite not knowing what she was possibly implying.

You were rambling about your most recent mission at the Hidden Cloud Village where you bumped into the Eight-tails jinchuriki, Killer B. You were telling her about this rap he did. You were too deep in your story that you didn’t notice she was leading you to the riverside.

Hinata waited for you to finish your story, giggling in the right parts. As your story came to an end, she said, “I’m glad you had fun with your mission. I hope you had fun spending your time with me too,” she smiled, “but I’ll have to go now. I still have to talk to Iruka sensei about something.”

“Of course, I had fun with you! It’s been awhile since we last hung out together. Sorry if I took up too much of your time though. You should’ve told me earlier you had other plans.”

She giggled and told you it was fine. Then she walked backwards, waving goodbye.

When she was out of sight, it was only then that you noticed that the sun was setting and that you were right on time to witness it.

A few minutes later, you heard someone behind you clearing their throat. When you turned around, you saw Neji.

Instantly, you beamed and went to hug him. “Neji baby!” You greeted, voice muffled because you’ve buried your face into his chest.

Neji shook his head at your antics but with a smile on.

You pulled away and asked, “So how was your day with Lee?”

“Tiring. How was yours?”

“It was nice. But it became better now that I’m with you.”

A blush had formed on his cheeks at your statement. He avoided eye contact too. Then he suddenly grabbed your hand and led you away.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t respond. You just went along. But it only took a few steps before he came to a stop. You peeked over his shoulder to see where he led you. It was your time to blush.

In front of you, just further down the riverside where Hinata left you, was a picnic mat that had been set up with a basket containing fruits. It was the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

“Was this what you’ve been up to?”

Neji nodded.

Your heart swelled. It wasn’t everyday that Neji did grand gestures like this.

“Oh, Neji!” You hugged him tightly. “You’re so sweet! Was this also what you were worried about?”

“Ye— I mean, I told you I wasn’t worried about anything.”

“I’m sure you weren’t,” you teased. “This is nice, come on let’s watch the sunset together!” You said as you tugged his hand and sat on the mat.

You both sat on the mat side by side, silently watching the sun and the soft golden glow it casted on the sky. Unbeknownst to you, Neji’s eyes were only on you.

All of a sudden, Neji spoke up, “I love you.”

You tore your eyes away from the sunset and focused on Neji. In this lighting, he looked mesmerizing. “I love you too, Neji.”

But once again, Neji looked unsettled. “But I have so many flaws and I’ve done so many wrong things when I was younger…”

“I still love you just the same, regardless. Besides, everyone makes mistakes and if it weren’t for those, we wouldn’t be who we are now. We probably wouldn’t be here together too.”

“...and my clan is just... They aren’t that great too…”

“It’s fine, Neji, that’s fine.”

He was going to say something more but the words got stuck on his throat when you said, “I love you. In your entirety. Even with your flaws, complications, and problems too.”

He then went to grab something in the basket. You curiously watched as he searched for something. Then when he retracted his arm, a small box was enclosed in his palm. As if on cue, you noticed fireflies flying around, making the moment look more magical.

When he opened the box, you gasped. Tears had started forming in your eyes.

“I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

In that moment, somehow the rest of your time together as a couple flashed before your eyes. You remembered the bickering between the two of you. You remembered how you got together. You remembered the days you spent training with each other. You remembered him moving into your place. You remembered the fights between the two of you and how you made up. You remembered how you almost lost each other during the war.

Neji panicked at your silence. You were close to tears and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

The first thing that came out of your mouth after the silence was, “I love you, Neji.”

And then you stopped talking again.

“It’s the ring, isn’t it? I know it’s simple, I should’ve just got the other one,” he nervously rambled.

“The ring is perfect,” you cut him off.

“But—”

“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings.”

Neji looked shocked. “Really?”

“That’s right. Darling, you’re the one I want.”

“So…?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Neji.”

[asthmark]

❝ stuck ❞ l.dh

request → “Hi~ I'm absolutely in love with your work. It makes me so soft uwu. I was wondering if you could write a Haechan one similar to the roommate Jeno one you wrote. About what it's like to just live with him” —@demiwizardstay​

pairing → demon!haechan, reader, guardianangel!mark

word count → 4.5k

a/n → whoops i made this into a demon!haechan au hahaha sorry i hope this is domestic enough for u tho :D

your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

there’s no other reasonable explanation. 

on the other hand, the shadow splayed out ever so comfortably on your couch seems to be very real. it must be just as aware of your presence as you are of its but to your surprise, it isn’t telling you to put your hands where it can see them or demanding to know where all your most valuable items are. it sits there, peacefully as if it owns the place. for a split second you consider the possibility that you walked into the wrong apartment but the key in your hand reminds you that the situation you are in is not your fault in any way. 

“so... are you gonna scream or just stand there?”

the figure’s voice is unmistakably masculine and drips with sass. you know you should feel scared. your heart should be pounding as your shaky fingers dial 911 and you hysterically report an intruder to the authorities and beg them to come fast. however, it seems that this stranger’s calm aura has rubbed off on you as you respond with an equally as unbothered tone.

“well, i would appreciate it if you invited me in.” you pause. “oh wait, it’s my apartment.”

with that, you step inside and go about your regular routine with a calmness you didn’t know you possessed; especially when there was an… unwelcome visitor lounging on your sofa. despite that, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket somewhere on the floor like you normally would. you twirl your keys around your fingers as you go to turn to flick on the light switch. it rids you of the darkness that had settled upon your apartment and the stranger is completely revealed to you.

the first thing you notice about them is their sun kissed skin that’s littered in the freckles you would compare to the most captivating constellation. although, the stranger’s flawless complexion is the least of your worries considering the two horns that peek out from underneath their tufts of brunette hair. 

you physically restrain yourself from asking for his skin routine and instead opt for yet another sarcastic comment. “all ready for halloween, i see.” your eyes lock onto the appendages, choosing to ignore how realistic they were. “was party city having a sale?”

your comment seems to get your uninvited guest out of his daze as he scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“hey, this is my place, i ask the questions,” you scold.

he ignores you, instead going to tug on his horns. “these are all real, baby.”

you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him, waiting for him burst into laughter and tell you it was all a prank. instead, his unfaltering smug gaze pierces into you. you swear you stop breathing when his eyes flash bright red for a second.

“alright, you can tell the camera crew to come on out.” you glance around hoping this really was just some sort of hidden camera–practical joke type of thing. you half expect ashton kutcher jump out and tell you that you had gotten punk'd but you’re never granted that privilege. your eyes end up back on the boy lounging on your sofa and he returns the stare, eyes narrowed and mouth curved into a smirk.

it was almost… devilish. 

“oh my god.”

“not quite.” he finally stands, stretching his limbs out without a care in the world. “wanna try again?”

you stay silent, mouth slightly agape. there was only one other explanation. 

he’s satan. and he’s also in your living room. and the worst part was how undeniably hot he is.

you regret giving him the satisfaction of your stunned silence as it seems like that was the exact reaction he wanted. he laughs at your expression and it just sounds evil. 

“alright, alright. i’ll tell you what i am. but only because you mortals are always so cute when you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared, you idiot,” you interject without a second thought. “i just didn’t know i’d be selling my soul today. it’s a total bummer. i’m so young, i still have so much to do. i never even got around to trying yoga with ryujin!”

the boy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “your soul? did i say i wanted your soul?”

“well, you’re like, satan right? isn’t that what you do?”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m obviously a demon. satan is a loser who never leaves his fiery throne. which, by the way, isn’t as cool as it sounds. we’re not on the best terms at the moment.”

“so... you don’t want my soul?”

he shakes his head vigorously, looking disgusted at the mere idea of it. “what would i even do with it?”

“i don’t know. honestly i’m just going off of what i see in the movies.”

“that was your first mistake, baby.” he makes his way closer to you. “this isn’t the movies.”

“okay, back it up,” you say, attempting to put some distance between you and him.

he raises his hands in defeat as he obeys, retreating back to your couch. 

“why are you here of all places? shouldn’t you be sipping on a piña colada with satan right now?”

he crosses his legs nonchalantly. “like i said, we aren’t on speaking terms. in fact, i’m kind of… banned.”

“banned?” you echo. “from where?”

“hell? duh.” 

you scowl at his attitude. “it’s not my fault you’re on timeout.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “don’t call it that. it’s just a punishment.”

“same thing,” you say, making your way into the kitchen. you weren’t sure if leaving a demon unattended in your living room was the best idea but the initial shock had already worn off. besides, it seemed like he had been in your apartment for a while already. “what did you do anyway?”

“it’s not even that bad,” he grumbles.

“must have been if you got kicked out of hell.” you chuckle to yourself as you open up your pantry, looking for something to stuff your face with. “do you understand how bad you must be if even the devil himself can’t stand you?” 

“i’m not bad, per se,” he says, picking at his nails. “just a little annoying.”

“no kidding,” you grumble to yourself, rummaging through your pantry, in pursuit of your favorite snack. you were sure everything would make more sense once you got some food in your system. when all you find is an empty, crumpled bag where your chips had once been, you whine loudly. “did you eat all my hot cheetos?”

“they reminded me of home!”

“i can see why they kicked you out,” you retort. 

“listen, i get that this is an inconvenience—”

“that’s kind of an understatement.”

“but, this is the only place i can stay. turns out people freak out when you appear in their living rooms. you were the only one that didn’t.”

“yeah, people usually don’t take too kindly to that—hold on, did you say stay?”

he crosses his arms over his chest. “where else am i supposed to go?”

“anywhere but here.”

he gives you an unamused stare, his eyes glinting red once again. 

“i mean, don’t you have any demon friends you can stay with?”

“not here. we avoid earth at all costs. it’s trashy. that’s why this is a punishment.” 

not even you can argue with that. “understandable. well, how long are you gonna be here?” 

“don’t know.” 

you blink at him. “so… you’re planning to crash with me until satan decides to be your friend again?” 

he groans. “first of all, he’s never been my friend. second of all, yes, that was the plan i had in mind when i broke into your house.” 

“broke in?” 

“well, actually i used teleportation powered by the dark arts to get in but i don’t think your tiny human brain is ready for that conversation.” 

“and i don’t think it’d be in your best interest to insult the person you’re currently trying to move in with.” 

that seems to shut him up, as he purses his lips together and stares at you blankly. 

“listen, if we’re going to do this, there’s gotta be some ground rules, okay?” 

he stays silent so you decide to continue. 

“you have to pull your own weight around here. you might be some powerful being of the underworld but that doesn’t mean you get out of laundry day and doing dishes, got it?” 

he seems displeased, if the frustrated huff of air he lets out is anything to go by. 

“and you have to promise me that by staying here you aren’t putting me in any kind of danger.” 

“well, i can’t guarantee i won’t cause problems,” he says, raking his fingers through the hair in between his sharpened horns. “but i can protect you from whatever crap comes our way.” 

you contemplate it. you weren’t entirely sure what a demon like him was capable of but it seemed like it would be a list that was equally lengthy as it was impressive. yet, you still can’t bring yourself to agree to anything. 

as if he senses your apprehensive nature, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his hazelnut eyes. you only get to admire the warm tint for a split second before his eyes flash red yet again. they stay glowing longer than any of the previous times; long enough for you to notice how shiny and bright they are, reminding you of ripe cherries. 

“i promise.” 

the tone of his voice is surprisingly firm and definitely the most serious you’ve heard him the entire night. he retreats his hand from you and you find yourself leaning forward, almost craving his touch. his eyes go back to their original hue and you feel yourself regain your senses. 

“what did you just do?” you ask, leaning back from him. “what kind of dark magic was that?”

he tries to conceal his smile but ultimately fails, his pearly whites coming onto display. “that wasn’t magic, baby. i believe you just got lost in my eyes but don’t worry. i would too.” 

you let out a bitter laugh. “oh my god, you’re vain.” 

“do you mortals have to mention him every five seconds?” he chides, grimacing. 

it takes you a moment to realize who he’s referring to but when you do, you erupt in laughter. “really? that gets to you? you’re pretty sensitive for a big and bad demon.” 

“i have a name, baby.” 

“so do i.” 

his lips curve into a coy smile. “donghyuck.” 

you give him your name in response, not even bothering to think about it twice, much to your surprise. most would probably be more hesitant to introduce themself to a demon, much less invite them into their home. 

yet here you were, doing both. 

he offers you nothing more than a grin—it seemed more genuine than the last—before turning on his heel to make his way farther into your apartment. “so, where will i be sleeping? i was thinking your bed would be ideal.”

“well, i was thinking you could start with a thank you,” you suggest, trailing after him. 

he saunters down the hallway, twisting the knob of the door second to the left and peeking in. you can only imagine how much snooping around he had done before you had arrived, judging by the fact that he maneuvered your home so expertly. 

he hums as he scans the room as if it’s the first time (which you’re sure it’s not). “it looks comfortable enough for the two of us.” 

you can tell there’s no arguing with him, especially as he steps inside and sits himself on the edge of your bed, hands running over the soft fabric of your comforter. he bounces up and down a couple times, seeming satisfied enough with the mattress. 

in the blink of an eye, he’s underneath the heaps of blankets, tucked in snuggly. 

you exhale, trying to maintain patience. “i can tell this whole dark magic thing is going to be a problem for me.”

even though only his eyes peek out from beneath the polyester sheets, you’re positive he’s wearing an obnoxious smirk. his voice comes out slightly muffled when he answers, “think of it as a blessing, not a curse.”

“we’ll see.” you try to suppress a yawn but it manages to escape you, eyes squinting and your hand clamping over your mouth. “right now, i gotta sleep. hopefully i’ll wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a dream.”

“so, what you’re implying is that i’m a dream?”

“i meant to say nightmare.”

“that’s more accurate.”

as if the dazed tone of his voice didn’t give his sleepiness away, donghyuck’s drowsy eyes and horns sinking into the soft plush of your pillow certainly did. he looked the least threatening right then and there and you decide that this is the donghyuck you like best. you can’t help the sudden urge you feel to curl up in bed right next to him and doze off into blissful unconsciousness. 

“what are you waiting for? get in here.”

could demons read minds too? you can’t be bothered to think about it for another second before you take donghyuck’s very tempting offer and crawl into your bed. you don’t care that you’re not in your pajamas or that you smell like coffee beans, courtesy of the cafe you worked at.

all you can seem to focus on is the feeling of donghyuck’s soft breath against your neck and his oddly cute snores. it was ironic; a demon all cuddled up beside you, sleeping like a baby. you almost giggle at the striking comparison. 

needless to say, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

+

“you know, it really pisses me off to come home and see you sitting in the exact same position you were in when i left.”

donghyuck rolls his eyes, an expression he’s mastered over time. “what else am i supposed to do? you made it pretty clear that you hate my demonic rituals and that’s kind of my speciality.”

you shrug as you kick your shoes off upon entering your shared apartment. “i don’t know. but binging the entire marvel movie saga can’t possibly be healthy.”

“we don’t have this in hell!” donghyuck exclaims, gesturing to the television his eyes remained glued on. 

“well, you should get used to life on earth considering you don’t know how long you’re gonna be stuck here.”

“i’m already on it. pop culture is actually really informative.”

“not what i meant. i was thinking more along the lines of a job.”

donghyuck finally tears his eyes away from the television to give you an unamused stare. “that’s really funny, y/n.”

“i’m serious! would it kill you to get off the sofa?”

“no. nothing would. i’m immortal, remember?”

you narrow your eyes. “oh yeah, almost forgot. you’re gonna be a bother to me forever and ever.”

“this isn’t the ideal situation for me either. but no need to torture me with low life mortal tasks.”

“bills gotta be paid, it’s a part of life,” you respond, taking a seat beside him. “or else we’ll both be breaking into people’s houses and begging them to move in.”

“i didn’t beg, alright? and i didn’t break in either! i simply...  appeared.”

“that’s even worse.”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were all snuggled into me this morning.”

donghyuck’s words paired with his taunting tone cause you to feel slightly warm but you ignore it for the sake of a comeback. “you seemed comfortable yourself because when my alarm for work went off your arm was pretty tight around me.”

you swear you see him pout for a moment. “that’s not my fault! there aren’t many people open to cuddling in hell! i was just… seizing the opportunity.”

“since you’re all about opportunities, you should really look into that job. remember what we agreed on? no slacking off.”

“i’m not! just look in the kitchen!”

you know whatever it is, you’re not prepared for it. nevertheless, you tiptoe to said area, hoping your roommate had simply followed instructions and done the dishes and swept. but, of course, that itself is too much to ask as you watch the sink overflow with suds, plates and silverware scrubbing themselves clean and floating into their respective cupboards. a broom dances across the tiled floor, dust flying everywhere. you find that the mess in your kitchen resembles a train wreck; you want to look away but you just can’t. 

you call out to donghyuck, eyes still trained on the chaos before you, asking, “what did we say about rituals?”

“it’s a little more complicated than a ritual, baby!”

once you finally gather enough willpower to walk away from the kitchen and whatever is happening in it, you return to the living room, placing yourself in front of the television that donghyuck is so entranced in. 

“you’re coming with me to work tomorrow, got it?”

donghyuck groans for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically hard. “fine. now, can you move? the avengers are about to fight thanos.”

you comply, retreating to your bedroom but not before shouting back, “iron man dies!”

you shut your door, donghyuck’s frustrated screeching still coming through loud and clear.

+

your phone alerts you that it’s 6 am by playing an alarm so loud donghyuck falls out of bed. comically enough, it’s the loud thump! that comes when donghyuck makes contact with the floor that really gets your eyes to flutter open. you peek over the edge of the bed, every bit of grogginess leaving your body the second you see your roommate tangled in your sheets, limbs sprawled on the ground. 

“are you okay?” you ask, laughter lacing your words.

“doing just fine,” he mumbles in response. soon thereafter, his eyes shut once again.

“hey! no way are you going back to sleep, we have work!” 

you drag yourself out of bed over to where donghyuck lays, attempting to resume his peaceful slumber. you grab his arms, attempting to hoist him up. you’re almost positive he’s making it more difficult than it should be as he lets his body go completely limp in your grasp. when you finally get him standing upright, he smiles lazily at you, obviously still half asleep. 

“c’mon dork, you need to get ready. you’re gonna make some cash today!”

+

donghyuck makes it clear he understands nothing as the morning progresses.

he doesn’t get the importance of being on time or even working in the first place. he offers to just take out your landlord, which according to him will “solve all your problems”, more times than you count and you’re sure that if he mentions it one more time you’d actually consider it. he also claims he doesn’t understand the concept of a shower, asking you to help him out, yet the knowing smile on his face lets you know he’s more than well aware of what it entails. unfortunately, you realize this after spending more time than you’d care to admit explaining the concept of getting naked to him in a tight, confined space to him only for him to request a demonstration. 

upon leaving your apartment, more new things are revealed to donghyuck. you can’t help but admire the wonder and awe in his eyes. the adoration quickly wears off when he throws a temper tantrum at the subway station, refusing to board it and you have to physically force him on and promise that no, he won’t get trapped inside.

despite the slight bumps in the road, you arrive at your shift with time to spare. the clock tells you that you won’t have to be behind the counter for another five minutes so you grab your apron and provide donghyuck with one too. you give him quite possibly the quickest tour of the cafe ever and explain to him over five times what you were there to do (“so, we just take people’s orders? we serve them?” “and they pay for it.” “just when i thought it couldn’t possibly get dumber”). you end putting him on cleaning duty since you were well aware of his lack of social skills. he frowns when you tell him he has to do it himself, no magic allowed. the last thing you needed was someone getting nearly knocked over by a levitating broom and bringing it to your manager’s attention. speaking of—

“good morning, y/n,” greets doyoung. his hair is slicked back and his eyes shine, as always. “always a pleasure to see you on your shift.”

donghyuck watches you cautiously, observing the way you smile nervously and avoid meeting doyoung’s eyes. he assumes he has some kind of authority over you. 

“and hello there. who might you be?”

doyoung is now very aware of donghyuck’s presence, giving him a wide smile but a menacing stare. you don’t get a word out before donghyuck’s giving him a polite smile and nod of his head.

“i was just hired, y/n is showing me the ins and outs. i honestly could not be happier working under leaders like you, sir.”

doyoung hums, obviously enjoying donghyuck’s praise enough to let it blind him from the fact that you hadn’t even been hiring in the first place. “sir, huh? haven’t heard that one before.” 

donghyuck holds his breath, wondering if he had overdone it.

“i like it. you seem like a hard working fellow. glad to have you on the team.” your boss gives him a firm pat on the back before walking away, probably to go scare some other employees. 

donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him once his back is turned and you simply laugh, smile still present on your face when your first customer arrives.

+

“i’m here!”

you glance up from the cash register to catch your coworker rushing in, looking frazzled… as always.

“hey mark,” you greet, giving him a welcoming smile. “i’m so glad you’re here. there’s been this crazy demand for frappuccinos all day and you know i suck at those.”

mark chuckles as he ties on his apron. “no offense, but the only order you should be taking are the puppuccinos.”

you shoot him the most non-threatening glare possible which ends up with you bursting into a fit of laughter. “i’m not even gonna argue with that.”

“hypothetically, if i made doyoung’s coffee explode on him but made sure he didn’t know, would you be mad?”

you roll your eyes at donghyuck’s bold entrance yet you still giggle. “at this point, i say go for it. ooh, maybe we could even sneak out while he’s cleaning it up. what do you say, mark?”

where there would usually be a giddy laugh, there’s nothing but silence on your coworkers behalf. you put a pause on counting the money in the register to steal a glance at mark who’s eyes are dead set on donghyuck who also seems to be intensely focused on the blonde. 

“demon,” mark mutters.

you feel yourself freeze up; how could he possibly know? despite the panic that settles upon you, you’re sure donghyuck will find a way to handle the situation. you expect a lie, maybe even some magic if the situation called for it. when you see his lips curve upwards sinisterly, you know you’re in for an entirely different outcome.

“angel.” there’s a teasing lilt in donghyuck’s voice; it sends chills up your spine.

mark’s jaw is clenched and you know he’s equally as tense as you are. “we should go, y/n.”

“mark, he’s just—”

“now.”

the sudden desperation yet dominance in mark’s tone is even more alarming than donghyuck’s. 

“you know,” donghyuck begins, rounding the counter, dramatically. “i’ve never been a fan of the way guardian angels think they own their person.”

you swear your brain shuts down. there was no way you had come into contact with a demon and now an angel—your guardian angel. and there was definitely no way it was your closest coworker, right?

“it’s our responsibility—she is my responsibility.”

donghyuck folds his arms as he gives mark a once over. “you won’t mind if i take over, right?”

mark chuckles, begrudgingly. “you know i can’t let that happen.”

“i’m not hurting her, i’d never hurt her.” donghyuck takes his place next to you, wrapping an arm around you. he peers down at you, eyes glowing red for the first time since your first encounter. “my angel.”

you know the nickname is to piss mark off and you assume it works as you observe his hands clench into fists. although, you’re more focused on how the pet name effortlessly rolled off donghyuck’s tongue, like temptation itself. 

“don’t make this difficult for yourself,” donghyuck continues. “you know feelings are dangerous. that’s what they tell you when you first sign up. just don’t let that get you into trouble, got it?”

the tension is suffocating and you almost wish a customer would enter the currently empty cafe to save you from it. although, donghyuck makes sure that you don’t have to endure it any longer as a second later, you’re both gone, only a cloud of red smoke left behind. 

mark stands alone in the cafe.

he had gotten this job for you; to look after you. 

perhaps he had caught feelings, as well.

he assumes that was his first mistake. 

+

when donghyuck takes you back to your apartment, it seems the awkward atmosphere from the cafe has followed you home.  

“uh, can i ask what that was all about?”

“that guy, mark was it? yeah, he’s your guardian angel. i can’t stand it when those guys act like they’re in charge of the person they’re sent to look after,” he seethes. 

you watch donghyuck’s fit of frustration carefully, eyes wide. when he sees how confused you are he can’t help but sigh. 

“i’m sorry, i just… didn’t appreciate him acting like you were his. guess i don’t really like the thought of that.”

you would have to be oblivious beyond compare to not realize donghyuck was completely and utterly jealous. you prod him further, asking, “well, then who would you rather i belong to?”

he glances up at you. “whoever you want, baby.”

“you know what? i think i have somebody in mind.”

not even a second later, donghyuck takes you back in the security of your bed, under your piles of fluffy blankets. what feels most comfortable (and strangely familiar) is the feeling of donghyuck’s arm clinging to you, making you sure you’re pressed right into his chest like a puzzle piece. 

“the person you had in mind was me, right? ’cause if not, this might be awkward.”

your eyes roll back despite knowing he can’t see it. “no, it was mark.”

“not funny.”

your shoulders shake with laughter. “it’s a little funny.”

“whatever, keep laughing. just let me hold you, alright?”

“that would be heaven.” silence settles upon the both of you as you go into nearly hysterical laughter. “get it? because you’re a demon… from hell… and that’s like, the opposite—”

“yeah, i get it, baby.” he pauses. “how many more lame jokes surrounding me being a demon will i have to endure?”

“i definitely have more where that came from so my guess is...  more than you can count.”

he moans in displeasure. “you’re lucky you’re cute… for a mortal.”

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 8

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

pairing: Fem!OC/Spencer

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: discussion of a dead body (for a case), discussion of sensory overload (idk if that's a warning but just in case).

A/N: sorry this took so long! i've had a lot of writer's block with this series, but i'm feeling a lot more motivated with it, now. anyway enjoy!

masterlist

my feet slam into the pavement at a rate that makes me wonder if my heart can take it. I can feel the air in my lungs, stinging, and the way it never seems like enough. I can't stop. my arms are pumping and my legs burn.

I'm sure I look like a mess right now, exhausted and sweaty as I make my way up the biggest hill by my apartment. I haven't been running in a while, and this incline is even more daunting than it was before.

I use the momentum I've built from before now and force myself up. every breath rips through me violently until I'm sure that if I stop running, I'll collapse. but I keep pushing, knowing it'll be worth it.

I hated running until college. just absolutely despised the thought of getting outside and forcing myself to move quickly. the older I get, though, the more refreshing it's gotten. it helped me escape from midterms, from the pressure that constantly seemed to mount with every passing day. sometimes it feels like all of it keeps piling on, and it's never going to stop.

of course, that's not really the way to look at life. I've had things to balance out the work, friends to call and ways to let out the hammering violence that always seem to fill the spaces between my ribs. running clears my head when nothing else does.

once I get to the top, I bend over and rest my palms on my knees so that I can relax. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and can feel my pulse thudding against my throat. it's good, though. I needed to do this again, to get exercise.

I resist the urge to lay down flat on the pavement. DC isn't really a good place to do that; everyone around me is on a morning stroll with their partner or they're out for a jog themselves. I pass several enthusiastic-looking dogs out for a walk. the sheer number of people around me should make me feel normal.

it doesn't.

I straighten and stretch out my muscles, wincing at the way my calves feel if I move them funny. I don’t want to get called in for a case today, but that's naive. there will always be another case because there will always be people we need to stop. maybe I'm just not jaded enough to not care. I like to think that's a good thing, though.

...

when I head into the office a couple hours later, there's a to-go cup of coffee resting on my desk. I smile to myself, set my bag down and shrug off my coat, then peek over the divider to see Spencer with a case file open and an identical to-go cup a couple inches away.

"is this your doing?" I refer to the coffee. he nods and smiles at me, seemingly not in the mood to talk.

"thanks, Reid."

sitting down to do some work, I sneak a peek at him. Spencer is acting different from last weekend. more shy. I'm not really sure the reason, unless he just felt particularly outgoing at the party and is now back to his default self.

we get a case before the hour is up, and then my mind is occupied by the details.

jet rides, though now a familiar routine, are probably my favorite part of the job. I don't feel totally unproductive, but I still have time to unwind and talk to people on our way. Emily and I have gotten much closer within the past few weeks and sometimes she tells me stories about her old job that keep me on the edge of my seat.

there's something so mysterious about her that I just appreciate; she's like a cool older cousin to me. and she's great at making fun of Morgan, which is something that I've found enjoyable as well. sometimes he needs to be knocked down a peg-- she's the woman to do it.

"how many?" I trace my finger down the smooth skin of Derek's arm, where he's lifted his sleeve just enough to show the inked lion. it's a big tattoo, and I'm somewhat surprised he has one at all. he just doesn't really seem the type.

"five right now." he flexes his bicep flirtatiously, and I immediately remove my hand with a repulsed expression, rolling my eyes at the chuckle he lets out.

"don't feed his ego like that." Emily warns from across the table. she's flipping through one of the plant magazines that we've stashed in the snack cupboards (much to Hotch's disapproval). I turn to see Morgan's reaction.

"you a little jealous, Prentiss?" he teases. her only response is a glance that dares him to push further. they both know that Emily has absolutely no interest in him, which I suppose adds to their friendship. Morgan leans down by my ear, but he makes no effort to quiet his voice. "you should ask about her tattoos."

"you have tattoos?" my eyes widen at this, voice a little louder than usual. Hotch glances over at us from his seat a ways away, but doesn't say anything. Reid is passed out on the couch, strangely tired for the middle of the day; Rossi's writing something in his miniature journal.

"that's not anyone's business." she says more to Morgan than to me.

"I wanna see!" I set my glass of ice water down on the table and straighten up. Emily pretends to be exhausted by the persistence, but she closes her magazine momentarily.

"look, I can't show them all here." she raises a suggestive eyebrow.

"then how does Derek know?" I smirk. Emily makes a face, but Morgan is the one who replies.

"this one gets a little loose-lipped when she drinks too much." he teases. I snort and glance at Emily. I've seen her tipsy before, but never drunk. at most, she gets affectionate with all of us and calls us her best friends in the whole world. which, honestly, isn't an unwelcome sentiment.

"I do not." she argues.

"yeah, you do." Reid mumbles from the couch cushion where he's been resting his head. I jump at the sudden noise, and we all turn to him.

"look who's up." Emily smiles. Reid stretches his legs out, limbs so long that his feet hang off the end of the couch. he's wearing mismatched socks again today, one with bananas and one covered in sushi rolls. I smile to myself.

"I'm not," he argues. "someone had to correct you."

Morgan and I let out an amused laugh. my eyes dart between Spencer and the two other agents. "I feel like I'm the only one here who hasn't seen Prentiss drunk."

"yes, you have." she frowns.

"no. not, like, plastered."

"don't let Garcia hear you say that." Morgan laughs. I snort.

"why?"

"any excuse to party, and she'll take it." he shakes his head affectionately.

"she'd just call it bonding." Prentiss adds in. I have a soft spot in my heart for Pen. for all of the darkness we see here, she makes it a little bit brighter with her quips and sparkly pens and neon glasses. she's a blessing.

"what's so bad about that?" I defend for her sake.

"nothing's wrong with it, per se," Emily shrugs. "it just means we aren't as professional as we should be."

"I'd argue that our job actually means we get to let loose more when we have the time." I shrug. Morgan offers his fist to pound, and I oblige with a satisfied smile.

"you two are children, you know that?" Emily gestures between Derek and me. I shrug, about to return to my crossword when she speaks again. "how many tattoos do you have, Clea?"

I blink for a second, deciding whether or not to lie. it would be kind of cool to sound badass, but I don't know if I even have the mental capability to fib to a bunch of profilers. "none."

"what?" Morgan looks at me with confusion.

"yeah, none. why is that such a big surprise?" I laugh at their reactions. Prentiss is alarmed, too.

"I don't know-- you seem like the kind of person to get a heart tattooed on your thigh or something." Morgan shrugs. I make a face, silent.

"that's offensive."

Prentiss snorts and finishes her drink. I peek over and see Reid with his eyes closed but a slightly amused smile on his face. by the couch, I can see through the window. we're slipping through gray clouds that are saturated with rain, and the weather change causes the jet to shake a bit.

my fingertips wrap around the arm of the seat and Emily eyes me warily.

"you okay?"

"don't like flying." I answer, nostrils flaring slightly. usually with these trips, I've been able to hide my apprehension for flying by holding onto my knee below the table or something, but the sudden jerks are putting me off.

it's stupid-- plane anxiety is ridiculously common, and I don't think it's necessarily unwarranted. the problem is that to a bunch of people trained in behavioral analysis, it shows a blatant fear of not having control.

which is true, but it's not like I need that plastered all over my face every time we board a flight.

"would you get a tattoo if you could?" Emily changes the subject, thankfully, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

"I think so, yeah." it's said without much thought; all that's on my mind right now is wondering what our ETA is. Morgan shifts in his seat to smirk.

"really."

"sure."

he nods appreciatively before turning to look back out the window. droplets of moisture are collecting there, but they only distort the image of Portland stretched out below. the water is steel gray and rippled with wind.

I've never been here. for some reason, I find myself wondering what it smells like. that mingling of city scent and ocean, if they meet in the middle to form their own distinct identity. if it will settle on my tongue and in my clothes.

it's funny to me that when I go to different places and return, I don't notice how different it all smells until I breathe it in through the fabric of my shirts, and from there it all comes rushing back. Spencer mentioned during a case once that scent creates the most powerful memory reaction out of all our senses-- and I believe it.

DC smells like humidity and rain-slicked streets, Montana like dust. even the jet has a particular one that I don't associate with anything right now, but I know I will in the future. like I'm standing in the formation of a memory.

half-baked.

...

we've got the hoods of our raincoats up as we make our way into the office of our latest victim. Morgan holds the door and I wander in, staring up at the enormous glass walls of the place. a stray droplet falls from the hood of my jacket and onto my nose, rolling down the bridge and causing me to sniffle.

her boss is surprisingly dismissive of us when we get to his office, reluctantly getting off a phone call and giving me something of a dead-fish handshake. as we take a seat at his desk, I can smell the overbearing stench of his expensive cologne.

he's got exactly the kind of look that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole: taut, judgmental face with a stiff mustache and slicked-back black hair that honestly is probably dyed. his eyes linger on me for a bit longer than I appreciate, but I clear my throat and try to brush off the discomfort.

Winona's body was found in a ditch off the side of a highway, dumped like trash. based on the ME report, she was alive when he threw her in, but died shortly after from her wounds. the whole thing is gruesome and as her employer notes her tendency to daydream and occasional tardiness, I want to reach across the table to smack him.

Morgan is able to keep his cool better than I can, nodding. I know it's important to know her behaviors in order to build our profile, but I still don't like the way this guy is talking about her.

"she wasn't really the strongest employee we've got, but she was nice enough around the office." he shrugs. I notice the gold wedding band that glints on his ring finger, the way he leans back in his swivel chair. he's got evaluative eyes.

by the time we're done, I'm practically flying out the door of his office and hurrying to the elevator. we got what we needed to know from him, if not through a somewhat convoluted method.

"nice guy." I note sarcastically after punching the down button. Morgan tucks his hands into his jeans pockets and looks at our warped reflections in the elevator doors.

"we talk to a lot of people like that. you get used to it."

"didn't seem too concerned about her at all."

"I don't think guys like that are concerned about much more than themselves."

"you should have mentioned a tax evasion investigation happening around here," I smirk. "that would probably put the fear of God into him."

Morgan chuckles and looks over at me. it would be unprofessional to fist bump with so many people around, although the smile we share is definitely a great equivalent.

as we pack into the metal box with a bunch of employees, they look at us curiously. the enormous FBI label on the back of our jackets probably doesn't help, but I pretend to look like I know what I'm doing as we step out into the lobby.

in all reality, faking it until I make it is the only thing I know how to do.

...

the late night cravings come as a surprise as I stand over a map of Portland. my eyes are starting to cross from staring at all the minuscule details for so long, and my fingers are twitching from a mixture of hunger and overloaded caffeine.

we were supposed to go to bed about two hours ago, but I know for a fact that I'm not the only one sitting in my motel room with open files and a determined expression. I do happen to be the only person rooming alone, however, and the silence has been helpful.

Reid's been working on a geographic profile, but there's something missing. I'm not sure what it is. all I know is that if I don't figure it out soon, it's going to eat away at me. based on his activity patterns, there are only a few more days before this guy abducts another woman.

except now I'm just thinking about how much time we don't have, and that sort of sends me into a spiral, too. I'm prepared to always be running against a clock for this job, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm going to lose it if I stare at any more tiny lines indicating roads or side streets or whatever else demands attention.

I need to get out of my head.

before taking time to really consider anything else, I grab my phone and look up pizza places nearby. what I need right now is some sustenance and tv-- or at least something to distract me enough to recharge.

I change into my pjs and wash my face while I wait for the delivery person to arrive, try to ease the day out of my bones. there used to be a whole process for me after work every day, where I'd shut off my brain. The Real Housewives of Atlanta provided ample help for this, along with fuzzy socks and glasses of red wine. I can make do with this.

once the pizza guy comes and I pay for my food, I don't even make way to my room; instead, I go to the person I know who needs this more than I do.

"Clea?" Spencer rubs his eyes as he swings open the door, glasses held in the other hand.

"hi." I smile brightly.

"what are you doing here?" his soft tone and the dim light from a motel lamp in the corner tells me that Morgan is asleep right now in the other bed.

in response to his question, I hold up the box of pizza with a grin. his eyes widen.

"I can't eat all this alone." definitely a lie, but saying that he needs to take a break probably wouldn't sway him enough.

for a second, Spencer seems to debate this in his head. when he runs a shaky hand through his hair, I roll my eyes. "it's pizza, dude. not a wedding proposal. you can go back to the case in twenty minutes."

he nods this time and looks up at me as I turn and start toward my room. closing the door gently behind him, I don't miss the way he increases his pace a little to catch up with me.

"did you get mushrooms?" he asks. I throw him a disgusted look before realizing what he's talking about and breaking into a grin.

"you remembered!" I reference my hatred of the fungus. Spencer smiles with pride, turns his gaze to the carpeted floors. I unlock the door and let us in.

"of course I remember," he snorts. "it's hard to forget."

I giggle at the way he immediately uses the sink to wash his hands, and I join him after setting the box on the bed.

"favorite soap scent?" I ask absently. suds cover my fingers as he rinses the water from his. normally, this isn't a question I'd ask, but Spencer seems like he would have a response.

"you know, I really enjoy anything fresh-smelling," he thinks about it. "like waterfall smell."

"I like those, too."

"what's your favorite?"

"there's this brand that I love that specializes in antibacterial soaps, and they have a lavender one that literally makes me ascend." I laugh. Spencer is drying his hands with a folded towel and his face lights up.

"Ravi's Organics?" he suggests. my heart leaps with recognition.

"yes! oh my god, have you used their cracked cinnamon one?"

"I have the hand sanitizer in my bag." Reid's eyes are so pretty. they sparkle with a hazel color, almost chocolatey in the cheap motel light.

"they have a hand sanitizer for it?" my jaw drops. he nods and I shake my head slowly. we walk over to the bed to eat the pizza. he seems hesitant, though, and pauses.

it takes me a second to remember that Spencer has different boundaries and is just kind of awkward in general. even though there's no obvious tension between us, I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so I plop down on the floor.

"you like Ravi's Organics." he states it back to himself more than to me, and as I pop open the box to reveal a beautiful pepperoni pizza, I nod vigorously.

"yeah, it's actually kind of a funny story," we start to dig in immediately. I lift an enormous slice to my lips and bite into the perfection. it's so good. "when I was little, my parents used to call me Rascal."

"Rascal?" he laughs through a bite of food.

"like the raccoon? from that book?" it's a kid's story.

"why?" he snorts. I take a second to chew before replying.

"I just get really overwhelmed by certain sensory things-- like, I hate being sticky or having any kind of weird texture on my hands. so whenever we went out to eat or anything, I would always sit on the outside of the booth so I could run to the bathroom and wash my hands as I pleased." I explain all of this with a slight frown on my face. it's true, I've just never really thought about it.

"I don't like sticky stuff, either." he offers.

"yeah, it got pretty bad. but I guess I just grew out of it. I'm not sure when." I pluck a piece of pepperoni off the top and slide it into my mouth.

Spencer takes in this information for a second while he eats, and I'm momentarily worried that I've overshared. he came for some food and now I've served up a weird childhood memory to accompany it.

but then he does something funny and altogether endearing.

"actually, raccoons are very cleanly creatures, despite their dietary habits." he tells me.

frankly, it makes me feel better than anything else that he could have said. "fastidious little things, right?"

"exactly." he chuckles. his shoulders are hunched, elbows leaning on his knees.

"fix your posture." I say gently, noticing the way his spine curves abysmally when he's sitting across from me. his cheeks turn a pretty pink, but he follows directions.

"is it that bad?" he's a bit embarrassed. immediately, I soften and do what comes easily, making a joke.

"if you don't work on it, you're gonna be living in a French cathedral by the age of thirty."

Spencer snorts-- genuinely almost chokes on his food-- and looks at me with his almost childlike eyes. there's something in them that I can't decipher at all, almost so obvious that it completely goes over my head.

"that was mean." he's still trying to recover from the onset of giggles, and I lean forward to grab another slice, suppressing a proud grin myself.

"your future straight-backed self will thank me."

"I'll remember that." he nods dutifully.

"I'm sure you will."

we share a secretive smile before I bite into my pizza and launch into a different subject. the more I learn about Spencer, the more I want to know. I feel like there are things beneath every new surface that would be fascinating to understand.

"what's it like having an eidetic memory?"

he frowns like he isn't sure how to answer. I thought he'd already have something locked and loaded, a prepared response for a question he definitely gets frequently. when he opens his mouth, I find myself hanging on every word. "it's... interesting."

"blessing or a curse?"

"both."

"would you ever give it up if given the option?" I narrow my eyes a bit. I'm especially curious about this.

"no." this is delivered with certainty. for a second, I stare at him with about a million more questions in my head. of course, they're completely out-of-bounds and way too personal, but they're still there.

"hm." I say instead. as usual, delivering thrilling commentary at every turn.

Spencer peeks at me over his pizza for a second, seeming to want to say something else, but decides against it. our eyes meet; I'm not sure what it is, maybe a silent agreement or something else that's unspoken, but we decide not to press further on either end.

whatever he's got tucked away in that big brain of his, he's not ready to talk about it with anyone-- much less a new colleague in a dumpy motel. there's a time and place for certain things, and boundaries to respect.

I change the subject before he can make some lame excuse to leave. for some reason, I just don't want him to leave me here in this room.

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed for this series): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | SIX

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,804

warnings: fluff. lots of fluff. a sprinkle of angst but just a tiny bit.

18+!!! minors stay away!

The following morning at school you relieved to see Peter standing at your locker, appearing unscathed aside from the timid and fearful look in his eye as he watched you approach him. You knew that he was probably expecting you to shut him out again, though you were full of surprises that morning when you breathed a quiet sigh and felt all the remaining anger purge from your system entirely. In reality you had been planning to give him a piece of your mind, telling him just how much of an idiot you thought that he was for his stupid idea, but seeing him sent all those thoughts flying away in an instant.

Instead, all that you could think of was how happy you were to see that he was okay. He was tense as you opened your locker, but seemed to relax slightly when you gave him a fleeting once over and nodded to yourself in approval. Peter was standing and didn't look to be in any pain, and that was all you cared about in that moment.

Apparently Peter was full of surprises too, because the second that you closed your locker he pulled you into a bone crushing hug that quite literally knocked the wind out of you. You gasped quietly, freezing in place at the sudden contact, before you slowly melted into his grip and hugged him back. He somehow managed to squeeze you tighter at the return of the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, "I'm so, so, so sorry."

A part of you wondered if Peter even knew what exactly he was apologizing for, if he really understood just why you were upset. Did he know the sorts of things that had crossed your mind last night? Could he really fathom all the crazy emotions you had been feeling?

You didn't think he did. Really, how could he, when even you were still reeling and trying to pinpoint all the different reasons you had been so upset? There were the obvious reasons--like the horrible flashbacks to that fateful day when your sister had been tragically killed--but there were also more complex, subtle reasons that you weren't ready to admit out loud.

Things like the fact that you'd never been so enraged about anything as you had been at the thought of somebody hurting Peter Parker. Not even the animosity you felt toward the Avengers could compare to the fury you had felt while listening to him fight and be attacked by those men. It puzzled you; how could that affect you so much?

You knew why, despite your unwillingness to face the truth. You knew, deep down, that you had been so upset because the thought of Peter being hurt scared you nearly as much as you had been that day. It pained you to think of it, and that was a problem.

It was a problem because being friends with Peter, when he lived the life that he did, meant constantly living in that fear. He was a superhero, constantly putting his life on the line for all the innocent people of Queens and the world alike, and that was absolutely terrifying for you. And yet, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to push him away like you felt you should.

He pulled away from you slowly, though he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders, and studied your face closely as he asked, "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

Hearing Peter say the word we in reference to himself and you gave you a funny feeling, but you ignored it. "Are you okay?" you parroted, instead, raising your eyebrows challengingly.

"Yes." he stated without hesitation, "I had some bruising, but it's mostly gone now. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, I swear."

You hummed quietly, leading the way to Calculus as he finally released his iron-like grip on your arms. "And was there a reason you didn't come to my window?" you questioned further, glancing back at the boy who chewed his lower lip anxiously.

Peter didn't answer until the two of you had sat in your seats, leaning close to speak in a hushed tone that no one else could hear, "I didn't want to scare you."

The sharp remark was instantly at the tip of your tongue, wanting to spit at him that he already had, repeatedly, but you held back at the sight of his big, brown, puppy eyes blinking at you shyly. He was fiddling with his fingers apprehensively, clearly waiting for some sort of remark, and it gave you pause. This was Peter, and Peter wouldn't hurt a fly intentionally.

You had to keep reminding yourself of that. Reminding yourself that he didn't mean to scare you like he had, and that he meant well even if his intentions didn't quite land right. So, you just whispered back, "It scared me when you didn't show up, and you didn't say anything."

"I--I didn't know if you wanted me to."

Catching one of his fretting hands in your own, you gave him a serious look as you replied, "I always want you to."

The teacher called the class to attention immediately after you closed your mouth, and you turned away with burning cheeks at the star-struck look on Peter's face. Perhaps that had been too bold of a statement, but it was the truth; you did always want to hear from Peter. You always wanted to know if he was okay, even if all he had to say to you was a bland text to let you know he'd survived another night of patrol.

Now, after all the things you had heard, you hoped he'd take your words seriously and let you in like you had for him. Could you go to sleep every night without knowing for sure he had made it through the night unscathed? Easily, the answer was no. You couldn't, and you really wanted him to put your mind at ease.

After gym class, which was spent with you panting whilst running sprints with Peter pretending to be just as winded, he held your bag for you beside your locker and waited patiently for you to exchange your books. You could tell that something was on his mind from the way he shifted from foot to foot nervously, and growing tired of having to chase your bag around, you asked, "What's your deal, Pete?"

He blinked at the nickname, but after a moment finally found his voice again, "Sit with me at lunch?"

"Okay?"

"No, like, sit with Ned, MJ, and I." he reiterated, and you wrinkled your nose. "Come on, I promise they'll love you! There's really nothing to be scared of, (Y/N)."

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that there were in fact a million reasons for you to be scared, but he pouted his lips like a child and pleaded with you silently until you caved, "Fine, fuck, just stop making that face!"

And so, you found yourself trailing through the cafeteria awkwardly in Peter's shadow. You could feel the stares on your body even though you refused to look, the stares of all your fellow students watching the resident crazy girl make her way through the cafeteria all year. You usually sat at the table right by the doors and the garbage cans, the one place you could slip in and out without making a spectacle of yourself, but Peter's usual table was all the way in the back of the large room.

There sat Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones, both of whom were watching you curiously as you looked back at them in discomfort. You'd never known them to be mean--well, Michelle could mean in her blunt manner--but that didn't ease your nerves at all. The fear you felt wasn't because you were weary of their judgment.

You were scared of letting more people into your life. More attachments meant more for you to lose, and after all that you had lost, you were rather unwilling to put yourself out there. It was a surprise enough to yourself and probably everyone else that you'd made room in your caged heart for Peter. He was perhaps the most dangerous of all to let in, yet you had.

"Hey, (Y/N), right?" Ned greeted cheerfully, doing a weird handshake with Peter as the two of you sat down across from him and MJ. You just nodded, not trusting your voice to come out should you dare to speak. "How was the Stark Internship, dude?"

Your face pinched in puzzlement, and Peter chuckled at the way you glanced at him curiously. "She knows, Ned." he muttered, nudging your knee with his own as he pulled a smashed sandwich from his bag and unwrapped it. "It was... rough. I handled it, though."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the Stark Internship was a cover story for Peter's secret identity. "She knows? You told her, already?" MJ gaped, "No offense, but I had to figure that shit out for myself."

As Ned and MJ stared at Peter incredulously, the two of you shared a look as you begged him not to say anything and he scrambled to think of any sort of a cover story. "She--she helped me one night when I got hurt pretty bad. Had to take my mask off." he finally blurted, stumbling over his words, and you noticed how his eyes squeezed shut for a moment in frustration at his lame answer.

"Why didn't you call one of us?" Ned interrogated, eyes flickering between your own and Peter's as if he were trying to pick up on any dishonesty.

MJ, blunt as always, just asked, "Is that why you started following her around like a dog?"

You had to chuckle when Peter pouted, sticking his tongue out at Michelle's remark and whining, "I did not follow her around like a dog!"

"You kind of did." you mumbled quietly. All three of them stared at you in stunned silence for a few seconds, shocked by your sudden interjection, and you busied yourself with rearranging your carrot sticks.

Peter's knee bumped yours again, and you nudged his back. He shot you a little smile, pleased with you making an effort even if it was thoughtless, and you found yourself relaxing slightly under his gaze as MJ and Ned continued to joke about how much Peter had embarrassed himself following you around. "Remember when he threw all of his shit on the ground in Calculus?" Ned sputtered through laughter.

The brown-haired boy's cheeks blazed red at the story, and you found yourself laughing along with his two friends as you remembered it. At the time it had only embarrassed you, but now as you looked back on it, you couldn't help but to find it endearing. So, you nudged his knee again and bit back the grin fighting its way onto your face as you kept your eyes on your lunch.

Suddenly, he put his hand on your knee and squeezed it softly, and your entire body seemed to burst into flames. Before you could pull away, scared of the intense feeling it gave you, a voice cut above all the rest, "Penis Parker!"

His hand was gone in an instant, but you remained hot for an entirely different reason. Flash Thompson sauntered up to the table with his typical smug smirk, calling again, "Hey, Penis Parker! Finally find a girl miserable enough to settle for you?"

Peter's face turned red and pinched into a frown, but he just muttered quietly, "Go away, Flash."

"Figures you'd go for (Y/N). The whole dead family thing, right? Does she just get you?"

You tensed, turning your head slowly to glare up at Flash with a ferocity that seemed to even make him falter, though he hid it quickly behind his usual mask. "Go the fuck away, Eugene." you hissed, but he just laughed.

Seeing that he wasn't planning on going anywhere, punctuated by the way he propped his foot up on one of the seats and sneered down at you, you quickly grabbed all of your stuff and stood up. Peter, Ned, and MJ were quick to follow, and all four of you made your way out of the cafeteria as Flash shouted, "Aw, did I hurt your feelings, Penis Parker?"

"Peter?" you called after him, trailing behind as he walked at a brisk pace. Ned and MJ disappeared around a corner, heading off in a different direction, and you were trying to catch up with the boy who seemed eager to shake you off. "Pete?"

He slowed, sighing quietly, and turned to face you with still red cheeks and eyes swimming with anger. "What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Briefly, you felt hurt at his attitude, but you brushed it off. You knew that he was just frustrated at Flash, and you were no stranger to misplaced anger. It would have been pretty hypocritical of you to be upset with him after how long he'd put up with you lashing out at him when he just wanted to be your friend.

You walked toward him hesitantly, almost reaching out to hug him, but you thought better of it in the end. You didn't want to push things too far, too fast, and one hug was more than enough for one day. Instead, you rocked back on your heels and asked, "Walk me to class?"

Peter blinked at the question, clearly expecting you to say something else, and after a moment nodded. "Yeah, yeah, let's go." He didn't relax at all as he walked beside you through the still empty halls, though his hand kept bumping yours every now and then, and for a fleeting second outside of your classroom he squeezed your hand before dropping it and walking away.

The rest of the day, Peter was stiff and aloof. He barely talked to you during Speech class, though that didn't really matter considering Ms. Lovell actually lectured that day, but you could tell he was upset. It felt a little strange to suddenly switch roles; he was now playing the part of the closed off one, and you were left trying to figure out how to get through to him.

Making people feel better wasn't exactly your strong suit anymore. Once upon a time it had been, but since your sister's death you'd seemingly lost the ability to even make yourself better. Yet, you wanted more than anything to get him back to the smiling, happy boy he'd been earlier that day.

As the two of you packed up your things after class to go home, you watched him anxiously to see if he'd finally say something, but he didn't. So, you cleared your throat and quietly asked, "Do you want to hang out?"

He paused for a moment, staring down at his bag in silence with tensed shoulders and creased brows, before finally looking up at you and giving the tiniest smile. "Come on." was all he said, zipping his bag and waiting expectantly for you to follow him out of the classroom.

You followed him out of the building, to the subway, onto the subway, and off of it again, all without a single clue as to where you were going. It wasn't until the he lead you into an apartment building that you realized he was taking you to his house, and suddenly you were extremely nervous. "Do you live here?" you asked, immediately cringing at the stupid question.

He just laughed, "Yeah. My Aunt May is home, she'll probably offer you food, but just say no. Trust me."

For a moment you wanted to ask why, but then you remembered how he'd told you when he'd first started following you around that his Aunt May was a truly atrocious cook. Except for cherry pie, it seemed, because he'd raved to you about that over the phone for what felt like hours the other day. Nodding affirmatively, you replied, "Right, just say no."

Peter's home life was far different from your own, even before the incident. His aunt was a bright, lively young woman who was very excited to meet you, and just as much of an affectionate person as you were finding Peter to be. She'd been overjoyed to meet you, letting slip that Peter had told her lots about you, but he'd cut her off before she could ramble about the things he'd said.

Part of you wondered if he'd told her how the two of you had met, but you knew better than to think Peter would do such a thing. He wasn't the type of person to spill others' secrets. How could he, when he had such a big secret of his own?

His room was everything you had expected it to be, though. A cramped little room with bunk beds adorning Star Wars sheets, LEGOs everywhere, and a plethora of computer parts littering every possible surface. He blushed a little as you took it all in, stammering when you smirked at the sheets in amusement, but overall he seemed relieved when you didn't mention the clutter.

It was very Peter Parker. Messy, slightly chaotic, and very nerdy. You sat on the bottom bunk, which you deciphered to be his by the rumpled sheets, and watched as he awkwardly tried to sort out the mess a little. "So," you started, "why don't you stand up to Flash at school?"

He sighed, giving up on his tidying and sitting beside you. "I knew you would ask that." he joked, though the humor didn't quite meet his eyes. "It's a long story."

"I have time, Pete." you spoke softly, and a little smile twitched at his lips.

He raked a hand through his messy hair, the combed style starting to curl from a long day, and you wondered what his hair looked like with nothing done to it. "Well, I guess it all goes back to when I first got... my abilities. You know, after the bite, I kinda went crazy for a bit. I was determined to prove myself, or something--I don't know. I just showed off a lot and got myself into a lot of trouble because of it."

Peter continued when you looked at him expectantly, "My Uncle Ben was going crazy too, trying to figure out what was going on with me. We got into a lot of fights before he--before he, um, died. We got into one the night he died."

"He tried to stop me from going out because he just knew I was going to do something I shouldn't, and we just got into this huge argument. It ended with me telling him he wasn't my dad and to stop pretending he was, and I ran off." He was getting choked up, stumbling over his words and gripping his knees with his hands as tears welled up in his eyes at the memories.

Hesitantly, you put your hand on top of his, and he was quick to flip his hand over and grip yours tightly as if he were afraid you'd pull away from him. As he spoke, it was starting to sink in just how much Peter truly could understand your anguish over your sister. He could understand why you blamed yourself, because he too had blamed himself, and your heart broke at the thought of Peter ever being in a position like the one you'd been in that night.

Had he ever tried to do what you had planned to do? Your own eyes burned at the thought, and you squeezed his hand back just as tightly. "He came looking for me, and happened to interrupt a robbery. Uncle Ben, he--he was a really good guy. He couldn't just let the guy get away. So, he uh, he tried to stop him... and the guy stabbed him."

"I'd seen the robbery before that, but I'd been so angry I just kept walking. I could have stopped it before Uncle Ben ever showed up, but I didn't, and he got stabbed because of it." Peter coughed to stop himself from really crying, "The last thing he said to me was that with great power comes great responsibility, and I just can't let him down."

You almost wished that you hadn't asked, because it hurt to see him in so much pain, but you felt good knowing that Peter really did understand you. You felt closer to him, and a little part of you felt a little less distaste for superheroes in that moment too. Did they all know such tragedy? Did they all suffer such pain, too?

Peter looked at you, blinking away tears as his voice steadied, "So, that's why I don't use Spiderman unless I have to. I didn't stand up for myself before, so I shouldn't now. I didn't play sports before, so I shouldn't now. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be right. I have this gift, and it's my responsibility to use it for good. I can deal with Flash's stupid taunting--I was so upset today because of what he said about you."

The fluttering was back, stronger than ever, and you couldn't shove it aside no matter how hard you tried. The moment was too serious--too heartfelt. It was too close.

Doing what you did best, you created a little more distance to keep your heart safe. You weren't ready to admit that maybe you liked Peter in a not-so-friendly sort of way. You weren't ready to let him into that last little bit of your heart.

So, you joked, "Well, he was right about one thing--I do get you." To your relief, he laughed, though he didn't let go of your hand. You didn't want him to, either.

"Seriously, though, you don't have to worry about me. Flash doesn't bother me, not really anyways." Peter continued, and the pair of you smiled at each other like a couple of love-struck fools for a long moment. Peter, unlike you, wasn't so keen on or capable of hiding his feelings. It was written all over his face for you to see that he liked you, and even if it made you feel good it still made you squirm with discomfort.

You were just thankful that he hadn't tried to take things further, though the subtle touches were probably his timid way of doing just that. The touches you could handle. It was what came after--the truly taking things to that next level part--that scared you. If you told him how you thought you were feeling, and he told you the same, then that just made the possibility of losing him that much worse.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

[blackjewles]

“Happy New Year!”

Summary: Denki confesses his crush to Hitoshi on New Year’s Day

(Confession, first kiss.)

Cw: no content warnings apply

Late into the evening they sat- Hitoshi and Kaminari- surrounded by a blanket of stars in the cool night air. Trees poked up towards the moon, singing their sweet song with every burst of wind. Beneath the pair was the cold concrete of the dorm roof. Pools of water had accumulated in naturally eroded dips, with pine needles and old leaves drifting about. There wasn’t many, though. Simply splattered spots of water. They decorated the roof haphazardly; as if when they where painted it was by the flick of a brush and not a stroke.

They sat upon a naturally cold quilt of goose down. It almost completly eradicated the sense of hardness underneath it. They sat on opposite ends, watching the stars and patiently waiting for the fireworks to start. It was the perfect night. Beneath them, way down on the ground, they could hear the voices and laughs of peers and other students around the school. Part of Kaminari wanted to be down there with them, but he had a mission he had set out to complete. Even going as far to announce to his classmates that he would need the roof for himself; for today would be the day where everything changed. Would his heart drop and his stomach sink, or would his face heat up as he felt the warm embrace of the other boy when he said he liked him too? There was no way to tell, the only way was to find out.

Kaminari peered over at Shinsou. He loved to observe him. He would study every feature. Shinsou usually used gel to keep his hair out of his face, however, today he wore it down. The purple haired boy had a tendency of doing that when they hung out. The reason being was that Kaminari liked his hair down. Kaminari thought it made him look vulnerable, showing a true, trustful connection. He truly valued the privilege to see anyone without their usual school look. Kaminari wanted to know Shinsou. Everything about him, not just his deepest secrets. He wanted to see what he looked like when he first woke up. He wanted to hear what he sounded like when he didn’t want to get up. He wanted to feel the soft touch of his hand when he’d try to get his attention. He wanted to know all the stupid, lovely, domestic things that existed. The first step to learning that was to confess.

“Shinsou?” Kaminari asked. His heart thumped within his chest. Shinsou looked over to him, and Kaminari reverted his eyes back to the sky. Shinsou studied his face, the freckles that lightly dusted his cheeks and the way his hair framed his face perfectly. Shinsou tried not to think it, but he thought Kaminari was beautiful. Every word and every smile made him ache for something more than a friendship. Yet he could never muster the courage to tell him. Shinsou brushed a lock of hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Yeah?” He replied. Kaminari was silent for a few seconds. His heart pounded, but he inhaled a deep breath and smiled.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Every ounce of air in Shinsous lungs left, his eyes widened. He didn’t know what to think.

“What?” He muttered, out of breath. He doubted his ears. As if what he had heard had come from the whistles of the wind or a passing messenger bird. His face felt uncomfortably warm.

Kaminari exhaled quickly, almost as if he was laughing, “You heard me.” He replied.

Through Shinsou’s eyes, he looked collected and calm. Almost as if he was performing a rehearsed play. It was surreal to finally hear those words out of his mouth. Shinsou knew he felt the same way. In fact, he’d watch Kaminari in class and dream about having something more. Late at night, he’d lay and fiddle with the ends of his blanket and imagine what it would be like to have him laying next to him. Even though he’d try to stop those thoughts, they always came back. However, finally hearing it and having the opportunity to make his dreams a reality was like dunking his head into cold water. Some of the air returned to his lungs.

“I-“ Shinsou began, but was cut off.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Shinsou.” Kaminari stated. He tilted to his head and looked over at Shinsou who sat with his body fully turned toward Kaminari, his face red and eyes wide. Meanwhile, Kaminari seemed strangely calm. That was an illusion, though. The back of his neck tingled with heat and his heart pounded like the mad flapping of a butterfly’s wings. Shinsou attempted to straighten out.

“I think...” Shinsou began, but again, Kaminari cut him off.

“Ah. Wait. I want to tell you why.” Kaminari said, throwing his hand up in a signal to stop. Shinsou’s mouth closed and he nodded. Kaminari muttered a thanks and turned back to the sky. He was unsure on weather or not he was doing this right. Maybe this whole thing was a train wreck Bakugou would flame him over later. He swallowed hard. He had doubts, but yet again, he wouldn’t run away.

“Do you remember that walk we went on? The first snow of the year. Where you leant me your scarf?” Kaminari asked. Shinsou nodded even though Kaminaris eyes where in another direction.

“Yes.” He muttered.

“That’s when I knew for sure. I mean, I thought it before but-“ Kaminari fiddled with the ends of the quilt as he spoke, an unconscious sign of apprehension, “that really let me know for sure. I started to notice how I felt more. When I’d come up to you in class and feel my heart pound for no reason, or when I’d see you smile and suddenly everything would focus on you and only you.” Kaminari chortled before continuing, “It’s surreal.”

Shinsou sat patiently. He didn’t say anything yet, because he knew Kaminari had more on his mind. He watched as Kaminari opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hesitating on what he wanted to say. The world around them melted. It was just them right now, the starry night sky, the puddles of water, the whispers of the wind had faded. Right now, Shinsous full attention was on Kaminari.

“I told my friends about it. I’d get weird texts when we hung out, suggestive looks when I’d sit by you during class but sit a little too close. That’s only made it worse.” He said.

“I know.” Shinsou replied, and suddenly, every component that had been blocked out returned. Kaminari swiftly looked over, his hair moving briskly with him. For the first time that evening he looked unprepared.

“What?” Kaminari stuttered.

“I know you told them. I knew about the texts too. I read one.” Shinsou stated. A smirk tugging at his lips. Kaminaris neck flush spread to his face. He wasn’t prepared for this outcome. He’d run tons of other scenarios in his head day and night, but this wasn’t one of them. Kaminari looked to the opposite side of Shinsou, completely turned from him.

“You read one...?” he questioned, almost like a statement.

“Yeah. You gave me your phone passcode so I could check the weather and I opened it to a message from Sero.”

Kaminari whined under his breath. He was embarrassed. It was never his intention to have Shinsou read one of those. They where silly conversations, teasing at best. Yet it would’ve looked different to an outsider. Kaminari and Sero had even discussed how awful it would be if anyone saw, not just Shinsou. Yet here they where.

Below them where shouts of their classmates. If only they knew how this situation had developed. What else could he say?

“What did he say?” Kaminari asked, his confidence completely drained.

“Ah... I think he said something like “spending a night with the pretty boy? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kaminari.”” Shinsou replied. Shinsou was also a bit flustered. Not in the same way Kaminari was, but, still flustered none the less. He didn’t know where this would go next, should he make a move? At this turn of developments it almost seemed like Kaminari was ready to call this a mistake and run away. His careful facade of a planned confession had evaporated. Kaminari was left with his heart, his emotions, and all the words he knew in his mind and no way to know how to put them together next.

Kaminari didn’t respond. He just sat, completely turned away. He thought he heard Bakugou say “1 minute!” below in reference to the fireworks going off. Was this how his New Years would go? Thoughts ran through his mind at a thousands per millisecond. He almost left until he felt a cold hand grasp his shoulder. Slowly he turned and saw Shinsou there. He was close, close enough that if Kaminari tilted his head a bit more their lips would be touching. On Shinsou’s end, this was fully intentional. He wasn’t ready to let this moment go unsolved. Shinsou felt the exact same way as Kaminari. He was in love too. So it was his turn to take a step and admit it too.

“You never let me finish what I was going to say, Kaminari.” He spoke softly. His tone relinquished any air that had gathered in Kaminaris lungs. He reddened again, but this time, it was because of this sudden situation and not embarrassment.

“Right. What did you what to say?” Kaminari muttered, his eyes more focused somewhere else; his lips.

“I...” Shinsou began, his heart pounded, “think I’m in love with you too.” He finished. There it was. The deal had been done. All the pieces of the puzzle had been dropped out onto the floor, now, they just needed to put them together.

Below the pair, now unbearably close, where rushed shouts from their peers. They where setting up the fire works. One called for Todoroki so they could light the fire works.

“Really?” Kaminari asked. He later would determine this move as idiotic. Shinsou wouldn’t of lied about that, so, asking for confirmation was rather tedious.

“Yes.” Shinsou replied. Kaminari studied him, the crease of his jaw, the discolored skin just below his eyes, the way his eyelashes almost hid his eyes, but most of all- his lips. The shade of pale pink that he just couldn’t help but admire. Suddenly, Kaminari inhaled deeply and exhaled. He was relived, things where staring to look like they’d be okay. Below them, a countdown from 10 started. A harmony of voices shouting with excitement, almost at the same tempo as Kaminaris heart pounded.

“7!” Kaminaris eyes fully focused on Shinsou’s lips.

“6!” He began to lift his hand

“5!” His hand found its way to Shinsou’s jaw.

“4!” He rested his hand gently against Shinsous jaw and cheek.

“3!” Kaminari started to tilt his face towards Shinsou, he responded in the same way.

“2!” He whispered, “Happy new year, Hitoshi.”

“1!” Their lips met.

A loud shout of “Happy New Year!” rang from below, and soon, fire works where all around them. They lit up the night beautifully, splotches of colour thrown into the air. Suddenly, Kaminaris phone buzzed in his pocket rapidly; it was Sero. However, he was preoccupied.

Shinsou’s lips where cold yet soft. Kaminari savoured the moment, every bit of warmth that spread within him. Shinsou did the same, observing how warm Kaminari was. Satisfaction spread through both of them. Then, Shinsou pulled away, there faces still close enough for a second kiss if they desired.

“So.” Kaminari said.

“So?” Shinsou stated, he smiled softly.

“Would you do me the honour of being my boyfriend?” Kaminari asked. His heart thumped like a rabbit signalling. He knew the answer, yet, he was undoubtedly nervous

Shinsou smiled again, “Yes.”

They both looked towards the sky, suddenly having the ability to be aware of themselves and their surroundings. The blanket of stars disappeared every few seconds with the loud pop of fireworks illuminating the sky, their sparks falling immediately after to reveal the stars once more. Everything co-existed in harmony. They heard shouts of peers laughs and cheers, and, they felt the warmth of each-other.

He became his. In the beauty of the New Years light.

Fin~

WAAAAAAHGHHHH I FEEL LIKE A BIG STUPID BABY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. No shame, probably one of my favourite concepts that roams in my kind. And now, I’ve made it REAL. Shinkami tumblr, I really hope you enjoyed reading <3

Disclaimer: This is set with my New Years traditions in Canada. I did this because it would be very hard and inaccurate for me to write about Japanese traditions when I don’t know anything about it. I have a lot of respect for Japanese traditions and culture and this is in no way shape or form me trying to strip that away or ignore it. In fact, I highly encourage you to read about it!

Secondly, in case you didn’t notice, Denki called Shinsou “Hitoshi” at one point in the story. If I’m correct, I believe this is a sign of a trustful connection when one calls another by their first name in Japan. So just so you know, that was my intention!

OKAY BONUS TIME MI AMIGOS THESE ARE THE TEXTS SERO SENT KAMINARI ON BOTH OCCASIONS

1.

From: Serooo at 5:56pm, November 21st

WOAHHHH Kaminari, spending the night at pretty-boy-Shinsous house?? Don’t get ahead of yourself ;)

2.

From: Sero ‼️ at 12:01am, January 1st

KAMINARI DID U KISS HIM

KAMINARI?!:)/&/7/7

DID U TELL HIM

PLS COME BACK IM VERY ALONE RN

I’m watching Bakugou and Kirishima eat eachothers faces this is very disturbing please come back. Or don’t actually, you can kiss Shinsou if u so please

KAMIIIIIIII ANSWER MEE

[thevioletcaptain]

Coals Aglow

11.4k | Explicit | DeanCas 

A years-delayed 13.21 coda, in which Cas uses his grace in ways that it is probably not supposed to be used, and gentle-doms Dean into asking for what he wants.

{i}

It’s been several hours since the rebels split off into groups—half retiring to their sleeping quarters while the others walked with purpose to keep sentry around the camp’s perimeter—and Castiel has made a point to visit every one, speaking with each of them until he understands as much of this place as he possibly can. Just in case.

Castiel supposes that he could have just asked Jack, but despite Sam’s unexpected return he’s been quiet all evening. Almost withdrawn. It makes sense, considering how Sam came to be here and who he’d been forced to bring with him, but it still makes Castiel uneasy. Even after all these years, after his slip-slide into feeling, the emotional discomfort is something he’s not quite accustomed to.

Close to one in the morning, he spots Dean sitting on a log by the remains of a fire at the center of camp, picking idly at the bag of Skittles he’d packed for the trip and referred to as “trail mix” to irritate his brother. Sam is nowhere to be seen now. Dean appears to be doing little more than quietly passing the time.

After what happened this afternoon, Sam’s absence from Dean’s side is noteworthy enough to make Castiel apprehensive about joining him, but he pushes past his reservations and powers ahead. He’d rather sit with Dean in silence than go anywhere else, and though Dean has never said so, he knows that he’s not alone in his preference for spending what little downtime they have together.

Up close, he can see that the fire has burned down to little more than coals and ash. Dean prods at the sole remaining log with a stick, disrupting sparks and dark plumes of smoke that curl up into the night.

As Castiel sits beside him, the log shifts, pressing down into the loamy earth. Dean glances over to look at him. The weak light of the embers casts him in its deep orange glow, reflecting in his eyes, bright as the long-gone sunset. Something in Castiel’s chest settles at the sight.

“You doing okay?” Dean asks, offering the bag of Skittles. Castiel can only shrug as he takes a few and pops them into his mouth.

Almost as soon as he starts chewing, they dissolve into their component parts—citric acid splitting into carbon and hydrogen and oxygen; sucrose molecules breaking down into fructose and glucose. With effort, he focuses on all of them at once and captures a glimpse of the intended taste, just for a moment, before an unfathomable number of branched chain starch molecules unravel on his tongue, overwhelming the bright flavor he’d briefly enjoyed.

He’s been working on this. Testing things, training himself to taste the sum and not the parts. It’s a work in progress, but it’s one that he’s resolved to see through until it’s an automatic process.

“Relatively,” he says, and swallows the candy before he has to taste it any longer. “How are you?”

“Relatively,” Dean parrots, folding the bag up and poking it into his jacket pocket. “What a day, huh?”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“With Mom and Jack. Sleeping. Don’t think he wanted to be alone while he’s in the camp.”

Dean doesn’t gesture toward the place they designated to hold Lucifer overnight, but Castiel looks toward it anyway. He imagines he can feel his brother’s cold, prickling energy down to the tips of his fingers. Like frostbite. He frowns and turns back to Dean; tries to soak in his warmth instead.

“You should get some rest, too,” he says.

“Yeah, probably. Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch.”

“Even by our standards,” Castiel agrees.

Dean huffs, his mouth ticking up to the right, and scuffs his heel in the dirt. Castiel watches as he picks idly at the log they sit upon; the twitch in his cheek as he hisses and inspects his index finger before raising it to his mouth. The shape of his lips as he tries to suck a splinter loose from where it's buried itself beneath his fingernail.

“Damnit,” Dean mutters, pulling his hand back to look at it with a frown.

“Here.”

Reaching out, Castiel catches Dean’s wrist in one hand and his fingers in the other, expending a shimmering wisp of grace to work the splinter free. He’s not sure what compels him to make such a show of it — he could have healed the minuscule injury from where he’s sitting without touching Dean at all — but he can’t help himself.

At some point, years ago, his duty to help Dean and his desire to be close to him got all tangled up. He can no longer recall when he’d started healing him through unnecessary touch, but it’s the singular selfish thing that he does, and he’s not planning on stopping unless Dean tells him to.

The splinter falls silently to the dirt at their feet. Castiel curls the tip of his index finger against the tiny puncture in Dean’s skin, directing his grace as it knits back together.

Beside him, Dean lets out an unsteady breath, and a pulse of love stretches out from his soul to brush against Castiel’s true form. If he’s being truly honest with himself, this is another major reason why Castiel allows himself to touch him in moments like this; he knows that Dean enjoys it as much as he does.

Despite all his half-hearted blustering about personal space, Dean is a tactile person, and the moments when Castiel heals him are the moments when his heart is the most open. When he lets himself feel the way he feels without holding back, just for a breath or two. It’s enough. It’s always been enough.

But now—the feeling draws out longer than usual, shifting to something closer to hunger, to desire, and Dean’s fingers flex a little in Castiel’s hand. When Castiel starts to pull away they turn to gently grip him back. And this…

This is new.

Not the feeling—that has been there for years, poorly concealed and just below the surface—but the action that echoes it. Dean has never done something like this, and Castiel has never been brave enough to try it himself. He’s still not, he realizes as he looks down at their hands tangled together and tries to strategize a safe response.

He’s got no ideas, so he doesn’t move. Couldn’t move if he tried.

“Y’know,” Dean says, interrupting his thoughts with his voice pitched low, and Castiel glances back up to see that his pupils are blown wide. Apprehensive. Tense. Aroused, Castiel’s mind supplies, and he pushes the thought away just in time for Dean to make him wonder if he’d been too hasty in rejecting it. “I don’t think I can stand to be alone tonight, either.”

There’s a clear, deliberate weight to Dean’s words, and although Castiel recognizes it for what it is almost immediately, he hasn’t got the slightest clue how he’s expected to address it. How could he? They’ve kept such a delicate balance for so long that even this one sentence feels monumental. It’s as though Dean has casually dropped an anchor onto a scale that would have been thrown off kilter by a feather, and now he’s just sitting here, acting as though he hasn’t just thrown out the entire rule book of their relationship.

Castiel is afraid to respond at all. He wishes he wasn’t, but fear compounded by habit is hard to shake.

“I could watch over you,” he offers eventually, hating himself for taking the easy way out even as he says it, and waiting for the inevitable refusal. Dean exhales as he slowly pulls his hand away and shifts his gaze back to the glowing embers.

“Aren’t you tired, Cas?”

“I’m running a little low on grace, but—”

“No, I mean—aren’t you tired of… of this.” He waves between them with an open hand, the movement far too casual to be anything but calculated, and glances back to meet Castiel’s eyes. “We could die tomorrow.”

“You could say that about every day, for us.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean huffs. “Look, can we just—”

Pushing to his feet, Dean takes a few steps away before turning back to look at Castiel, his hands tense at his sides, clenching into fists and releasing, over and over as though he needs the movement to keep from… something. Castiel isn’t sure what. But his eyes are pleading. Begging Castiel to meet him halfway.

Castiel wants to. He’s just trying to figure out how.

“Can we skip this part?” Dean asks.

“What do you—”

“The—” Dean briefly lifts his hands, then lets them fall helplessly back to his sides. “The… I don’t know, man. The freakin’ confessions. The discussion. The… the whole what now thing. All that bullshit.” He looks up at Castiel. “Can we just skip it?”

Castiel blinks, slow.

“You mean—”

“I mean I’ve had enough, Cas. I’m tired, and I don’t— I don’t see the point in ignoring this anymore. I haven’t really seen the point in a while. Didn’t want to rock the boat, I guess, but now…”

“But now you’re tired.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re rocking the boat.”

Dean doesn’t respond to the question directly; just looks at Castiel with a determination in his eyes that leaves no room for misunderstanding, and says, “I’m going to bed. You should come with me.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Doesn’t even pause to see if his assumption that Castiel understands his meaning is correct.

Castiel is surprised at his confidence. Not because he’s wrong to have it, but because even though this thing that’s been growing between them for near on a decade has been more difficult to deny with every passing year, even though Castiel has been able to feel Dean’s longing for him as sharply as he’s been able to feel his own, Dean has still never acknowledged it in any concrete way.

For his own part, Castiel has given him more openings than his pride would like him to admit, but Dean’s played things so close to his chest the entire time that Castiel has always assumed he didn’t want to deal with it at all.

He just didn’t think they’d ever get here.

There’s always been something in the way. An apocalypse, a near death, an actual death. Something. When he came back from the Empty, miraculously alive again against all odds, he’d thought to himself, it’s now or never, and Dean had barreled into him, fingers pressed to the back of his neck as they’d embraced in a dimly lit alleyway, and Castiel had felt love radiating from him like light from a star, and still nothing had changed.

So, never, he’d thought. He’d made his peace with it. Being near Dean was enough, if being with Dean was not an option.

But now—

Dean is already nearing the dilapidated mess hall he’s been set up in for the night—the camp only has so much space for sleeping quarters—and Castiel hurries to catch up. He slips through the door behind him and into the dark.

Inside, the main room is cluttered and overfull with folding tables.

A dozen or so chairs are stacked along the walls, and the faint scent of instant coffee lingers in the air. Ahead, Dean maneuvers through a tight gap between tables toward a dark red door. When they make their way inside, it’s to find a cramped storeroom, where a thin bedroll and blanket has been set out for Dean on the floor alongside several unlabelled boxes and a shelf of cleaning supplies. His backpack sits at one end like a makeshift pillow.

Near the ceiling, there’s a single narrow window, and the moonlight that filters through its dusty pane catches on the buttons on Dean’s jacket, reflects bright in his eyes as he turns to look back at Castiel.

Years ago, in a similarly cramped storeroom in the Rexford Gas n Sip, Castiel had knelt on the floor to gather his things while Dean waited outside in the Impala, and wondered if perhaps one of them would be brave enough to ask for a single room at the motel they were headed toward.

He’d known already, even then, that what they felt for each other was far beyond the limits of friendship. Had felt it for a long time before that night, too, though it had taken an abrupt fall from Heaven and a brand new soul grown under the worst possible circumstances for him to truly understand what it meant.

But just for a few minutes, kneeling in that storeroom, he’d thought that perhaps this was the night. That Dean would make his move. That he’d summon the courage to make a move himself.

The way Dean had looked at him earlier that night had him feeling recklessly hopeful, and he’d been halfway convinced that they’d arrive at the Rexford Motor Inn, and their hands would touch as they walked to the room, and some understanding would pass between them.

That they’d fall into one another before they even managed to get through the door.

He’d thought about it in sharp detail. Imagined confessing to Dean, telling him how the first thing he’d felt when the angels stopped falling was the overwhelming desire to hear Dean’s voice. To see him. To hold him. To breathe him in.

How his fledgling soul ached every day that they’d been apart; how he’d realized, finally, that this thing between them was love.

He’d imagined it countless different ways as he pushed to his feet with a plastic bag in his hand, as he left the building and locked the door behind him, as he’d gripped the cool metal of the Impala’s door handle. As Dean’s hand had settled on the back of his seat while they reversed out of the parking space, fingers brushing carelessly against the back of Castiel’s neck.

He’s lost in the memory, still trying to wrap his head around what they’re doing here when Dean laughs aloud. Castiel meets his eyes, and feels the soul tangled up with his grace sing at the sight.

“Sorry,” Dean says, and there’s a touch of wild hysteria in his voice. “Just…” He gestures loosely around them. “Kinda hilarious that this is… we’re basically in a goddamn closet.”

Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh himself, and Dean’s gaze drops to his mouth. It’s not the first time that’s happened. It’s not even the first time Castiel has noticed. It’s different now, though.

Because this time, Dean doesn’t immediately look away. He doesn’t step back or crack a joke or lash out or deflect. He looks at Castiel’s mouth, and he keeps on looking. And looking. And looking. Castiel feels as though he might buzz right out of his body if he doesn’t just—

“Dean.”

Dean’s eyes lift to meet Castiel’s, and there’s a shade of reckless humor in them. Something devious and endlessly irritating that makes Castiel want to throttle him for making him wait, even now, when they’re supposedly not doing that anymore.

“Yeah?”

“What are you waiting for?”

The answer, as it turns out, is nothing. Dean grins, and crowds into his space, and kisses him. Just like that.

As though it’s always been this easy. Maybe it has been.

Raising one palm to rest against Castiel’s chest, Dean slides the other into his hair, thumb dragging soft against the back of his ear as he moves him into place, and Castiel lets himself be directed. Lets Dean push him back until he’s pressed firmly against the door. Lets Dean tilt his chin just so, and deepen their kiss.

The memory of Dean’s fingers accidentally brushing against his neck that night in the Impala comes rushing back full force now that Dean is holding him there so purposefully. Kissing him with a hunger that Castiel had resigned himself to thinking would never be sated.

Even now, he’s still not sure it will be. Dean is kissing him, but Castiel still longs for him as though they aren’t pressed flush together.

Castiel isn’t sure if his perception is skewed by love, but as Dean’s lips part, he decides that despite the molecules, Skittles taste better on Dean’s tongue, and it suddenly feels incredibly important that Dean knows. Not about the Skittles, but the rest. Everything.

Can we skip it? Dean had asked, but now that they’re here, Castiel realizes that doesn’t want to.

They’ve avoided talking for years, and as Dean put it—Castiel is tired.

With his hands on Dean’s waist, working under his jacket to pull him closer still even as he breaks their kiss, Castiel does what he hadn’t been brave enough to do in Rexford. He tells Dean the truth.

[keep reading on ao3]

[pray4jensen]

Hey, I'm new to the tumblr community and I wanted to ask what's the thing about Jensen? Why is he so uncomfortable at cons? And your user name pray4jensen? I've looked around for answers but I haven't found any general ones

hi anon, first of all, welcome to tumblr!!! it’s pure chaos here and i wouldn’t take it any other way! 

jensen isn’t really nervous about cons anymore; he has said many times now that he’s always excited and thrilled to meet fans and he looks forward to them!

as for why he used to be apprehensive, i talk a bit about it here.

my url is a reference to a popular statement that usually follows when one is talking about cockles. #pray4jensen encompasses the emotion that a lot of us feel when jensen is with misha (as in, he’s constantly doing scandalous things like straddling misha, unzipping his pants to show misha his underwear, emulating a make-out session with him, and like...just the general helpless and unabashed way in which he exists when misha is near him). we call this iconic duo ‘cockles’ for short.

as for the origins of this phrase, that’s a bit wild...

the phrase came from anti-destiel, anti-cockles, and anti-misha (j2 shipping) fans who used to pray for jensen because they thought he was acting out because they were convinced that jensen secretly hated misha and just had to do all of the aforementioned things for PR so as to conceal the fact that he was secretly in a romantic relationship with jared (madness). they were convinced that misha was the male version of a beard called a ‘meard’ so that jensen’s image could be protected and no one would know he was gay for jared (frankly i can’t explain the convoluted reasoning behind such a belief)

since they were so concerned for jensen’s welfare, they began utilizing #pray4jensen as a means of support, and as a way to legitimize their actions (like trying to get misha fired from the show). they were devout in their belief that jensen needed as many prayers as could be spared his way as he clearly was suffering in misha’s presence and only divine intervention could help him escape from the clutches of the network’s PR department. 

unfortunately, as everything they do does, this massively backfired on them. cockles fans rightly saw it as the most ridiculous thing ever because jensen hating misha was an outlandish notion, so cockles fans in turn began using #pray4jensen as a way to oppose the foolishness going around. any time jensen so much as looked at misha, someone would slap down the hashtag #pray4jensen to acknowledge jensen’s ordeal. unfortunately for the anti fans, since jensen looked at misha A LOT and did things with him that he didn’t do with jared, the hashtag only served to further highlight exactly how hopelessly flirty and out of control jensen was when he was with misha.

fast forward to the present day, and now people use it out of habit. it’s definitely a term that’s been reclaimed by cockles fandom in general, much like heller was reclaimed from wincest fans (heller being a shortened term for destiheller which they used to mock destiel fans).

anyway, clearly nothing ever works out for them because good always triumphs over evil eventually i guess 

[solarscholarsofmagick]

10 Things that EVERYONE Needs to Know Before Starting the Craft

1. Wicca and Witchcraft are Not the Same Thing

This is a pet-peeve of mine when people use those words interchangeably. So, what’s the difference? To put it simply, Wicca is a religion, while witchcraft is a practice. It’s like saying that prayer and Christianity are the same thing. Wicca is a relatively new invention, being created in the late 1950’s by Gerald Gardner after he spent a lot of time in Asia and became enthralled with their spirituality, which he merged with various occult practices that he came across in his travels. Witchcraft, on the other hand, is defined, at least by this author, as the act of manipulating the energy around you to achieve a goal. You can be either or you can be both, but they are not mutually exclusive.

2. Witchcraft Does Not Need to Kill Your Bank Account

If you follow many big-name witch influencers, more than likely, you will get caught up in the aesthetic of hundreds of beautiful crystals, perfect altars, sculpted candles, and much more elaborate and expensive things. Now, I want to make it clear, that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but it is not always feasible to have (or afford) everything required to fit that aesthetic. Rough, unpolished crystals will work just as good as the one you saw that was professionally polished and carved into the shape of a skull. You can get candles at thrift shops, not just at the website that sells specifically anointed candles for every specific intention. Remember, it is not the tool that makes the witch, but the witch that makes the tool!

3. Know the Difference Between a Coven and A Cult

While it is not necessary, there are definitely some benefits that come with finding a coven that welcomes you with open arems. So, first off, what is a coven?

A coven is a group of like-minded witches that help each other out magickally and hold a special bond or connection. They will often perform rituals together. Please keep in mind that there is a difference between a coven and a cult.

A coven is rewarding, full of (usually) great people and potential friends, while a cult is dangerous, toxic, and filled with people who often prey on the vulnerable or unaware.

Here are some potential warning signs of a cult:

They encourage you to cut off ties with your friends and family.

They try their best to make you dependent on them.

They pressure you into engaging in sexual/criminal/drug activities.

You feel as if it is dangerous to leave.

The “leader” equates themselves to a deity or is a “my word is law” type.

You feel as if you are walking on eggshells around them.

There is some “divine” goal that you must behave a very specific way in order to reach.

Those who manage to escape are demonized and/or are made into examples.

If you suspect that you or a loved one are in a dangerous situation, please contact the appropriate authorities.

4. Witchcraft Can Become Mundane

Pop culture has a bad habit of sensationalizing witchcraft. As cool as it looks, witchcraft isn’t all lightning fingers and demon-slaying. You most likely won’t become a soldier of a magickal war, facing down an ancient evil that was recently released. Sorry, I didn’t mean to burst your bubble!

That being said, witchcraft is extremely rewarding and can be as fun as you make it!

Just like with any other art, it requires discipline! It requires study, practice, and essential tasks (or as they are often fondly called, witchy chores). Some of these “chores” include cleansing, charging, decorating, meditation, and more. Unfortunately, as we all know, these tasks may feel tedious, but they are often very necessary. Again, it is as fun as you make it, and you will be less likely to burn out/hate performing the tasks if you view them as the essential tasks they are rather than unnecessary chores.

5. Learn As Much of the Basics That You Can

As much as we want to immediately jump into more flashy things such as astral projection and elaborate spells or hexes, you must learn the basics first. Why? Because, without a strong grasp of the basics, your magickal work can be unstable and reap results that you may not have intended, including ones that cause harm to you or those around you. To quote a cliche, you must learn to crawl before you can walk.

Here are some basics that I recommend you begin with:

Visualization

Meditation

The history of witchcraft

The elements of a spell

Color/stone/common herb correspondences

Grounding

Different types of the craft

6. Elitism Exists and it’s Bullsh*t

Unfortunately, no matter what community you are in, there will always be a few bad apples, but I will be referring specifically to elitists. Elitists in the witchcraft community tend to preach that their way is the only true way to be a witch, that you must have the most expensive of tools, or that witches who come from a family of witches are better than those who do not. If there is one thing that I want you to take from this article, it’s that, no matter what anyone says, you will NEVER be any less of a witch because of your bloodline, ethnicity, skin color, religion, spiritual practice, or socio-economic status!

7. You Don’t Need to Choose Between Religion and the Craft

One of the most common reasons of being apprehensive towards starting your journey through the craft that I see is a fear of retaliation within your own religion. For example, a lot of Christian witches will initially be afraid of going to hell for their practices. As someone who grew up in the Bible Belt of the Southern United States (poor Awen still lives there), I can definitely relate to this feeling. However, I, as well as several other religious witches, can say that you can have both. You do not need to drop one to have the other. In my eyes, your relationship with your god(s) is between them and you and is nobody else’s business.

To make things a little easier, however, I recommend sliding into the craft slowly. Dip your toe in the proverbial water. Try starting by engaging in activities that aren’t necessarily tied to witchcraft such as meditating, grounding, growing plants, or even just collecting pretty rocks. I also recommend reaching out to practicing witches within your faith for advice. It also may be a good idea to truly research religions of interest and make sure that your religion is a good match for you. It is okay to realize that the religion you were raised to be in, like being raised to be in a particular political party, does not have to be your religion. If it is and it causes you and others around you no harm, then I am truly happy for you and support you.

8. Learn to Listen to Your Intuition/”Gut”

We tend to have a 6th sense for danger or the presence of another being. You may recognize this feeling when you can feel that someone is watching you. Our instincts are built into us to keep us alive. Personally, following my gut has saved my life more than once. In one particular incident, my gut told me to stop at a crosswalk despite not seeing any nearby cars and the sign telling me to walk. Seconds later, a truck sped by, running the red light at full speed.

If you feel that a spell has taken a turn towards the unwanted, find a stopping point and seal it away. Feel as if a deity is calling you? Take the time to research them and their calling cards. However, please take the time to learn the difference between a negative gut feeling and general nervousness, as it does feel different.

9. Learn the Difference Between Good and Bad Resources

Misinformaion and toxic ideologies can be dangerous when it comes to witchcraft. You can read extensively about the difference between the two in my previous post about it here.

10. It’s Okay If the Craft is Not for You

If you decide to try out the craft and later feel as if it isn’t clicking… that’s okay. The initial decision to explore is not one for life. Just like how certain sports, hobbies, music, et cetera are not for everybody, witchcraft is not for everybody. Anyone who decides to judge you for that is wrong and not worth your time.

Please consider supporting us by viewing the original post on our website, here!