#shaun's eyes are a thing of beauty

[teecupangel]

so i have this idea in a Desmond lives au after the solar flare he starts a channel like tasting history with max miller in which he recreates historical dishes that his ancestors used to make with Shaun and Rebecca appearing by tasting what he makes

(The video starts with a man addressing the video in a beautiful clean kitchen)

“So this isn’t my usual content but I’ve got a lot of requests to do a reaction video on this youtube channel called ‘I Am Not My Ancestors’ where he recreates recipes he got from his ancestors. At least, that’s what he claims. A lot of you asked me to check if his recipes are what a household from that time period would make and I asked Desmond, he’s the owner of I’m Not My Ancestor channel if he’s alright with me reacting to them and I received his permission.”

“I’d like to make it clear that he has no hand in any of my reactions. This will be the first time I’m watching the videos I’d be reacting to and there’s no script, we didn’t talk about what I should say or what I shouldn’t say. I can even show you guys his actual reply to my email.”

(The video cuts to some kind of recorder, most probably a phone camera, aimed at the screen of a monitor showing an opened email)

Subject: Re: Requesting permissions to react to your videos

Sender: Desmond M iamnotmyancestor@yahoo.com

yeah go ahead man.

(The video returns to the man in the kitchen)

“So with his permission… let’s check out some of his videos, shall we?”

(The video changed. On the lower left corner is the same man, now wearing earbuds. The rest of the video appears to be a screen recording of the Youtube Channel ‘I Am Not My Ancestors’. The mouse clicks on the Cooking Playlist and clicks a video titled “What an Assassin from 12th Century That Can’t Cook Cooks”)

(The video changes to a normal looking kitchen with a young man. A prominent scar mars his lips and his eyes seemed to glow gold at certain angles although it looked mostly light brown)

“So… I’ve been focusing on Renaissance Italy food for a while now and I thought I’d branch out and make something my other ancestors made. Then I remembered my ancestor from 12th century Syria doesn’t know how to cook.” The man said as he placed his hands on the counter, “But, well, let’s try it anyway.”

(The video continues with the man listening down all the ingredients he’d be using to make what he calls ‘road food’)

(The video is paused and the man on the lower left begins to speak)

“Okay, so this is one of his latest videos and I just want to talk about all the ingredients he’s using for this… ‘road food’. All of these can be bought in Syria and I’ve seen all of them used in different dishes in historical cook books. The more important part is that all of these? Can be found in the wilds during those time and I believe that he’ll tell us that these ingredients are used because they don’t cost any money, only time and a discerning eye. Let’s see if I’m right.”

(The video plays once more)

“You can also change any of the things I listed to whatever wild plants to find on your way. Normally, if your mission takes you to a place that’s more than a day ride away-”

“By horse.” Someone off camera added.

“Yeah, by horse. Thanks, Becs. Anyway, if it’s more than a day ride away, what you usually do is stay in a nearby bureau- hm? Oh, right. A bureau is what the Assassins call their… mini headquarters in other places. So they have their headquarters in Masyaf, Alamut and Ḥalab and they have bureaus on other places as well.”

(The video paused and the man on the lower left speaks once more)

“While I can’t verify his claims, the Nizaris of which the Assassins are from did have strongholds in Masyaf, Alamut and this Ḥalab is more known as Aleppo to many of us. Anyway, let’s continue.”

(The video is played once more)

“But sometimes, you go to a far away place and the supplies they give you is lacking because Al Mualim is a stingy old man who’ll tell you that ‘an Assassin must triumph over’ this kind of bullshit so you learn to live off eating game and grass-”

(The video is paused and the man on the lower left commented)

“I believe this Al Mualim he speaks of is Rashid al-Din Sinan, known as the Old Man of the Mountain. From the way he speaks, it’s either he knows Rashid himself. Or, of course, he has a journal of his ancestor who has certain words to describe Rashid. I’m sure it’s the latter.”

(The video plays once more)

“So this is what Al-”

“Your ancestor.”

(The man on the lower left tilts his head but does not pause the video)

“My ancestor would make during those ‘tiring’ times.”

(The video continues as the man starts to cook, starting from preparing a small game and then… throwing it and all the other ingredients in a pot. The man on the lower left stared at him with an open mouth.)

“Yeah, that’s it. Just wait until the meat is cooked. While you wait, you should patrol the area, check your map, write on your journal… the usual stuff.”

(The video transitions to the same place but the man is now on his phone, seemingly tapping on the screen.)

“Desmond… isn’t it cooked yet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I told you guys this is the easiest shit my ancestors can cook. This is also the only thing Alta-”

“Your ancestor.”

“My ancestor can’t fucked up. Anyway, let’s have Shaun try it out.”

(As the man grabs a bowl and pours the soup in it, a man with glasses stepped to the frame with arms crossed)

“Guys, say hello to Shaun, our resident taste tester and the actual historian in our little group.”

“I’ve been tasting everything you make for these videos. They already know who I am.”

“Yeah, yeah, just taste this.”

(The man with glasses took the bowl and blew his spoon before taking a mouthful. He chewed for a moment before nodding.)

“It’s okay.”

“You're British, of course you think the lack of flavor is okay.”

“Hey.”

“Anyway, the main point of this dish is to sustain us. Good food will always be welcomed but what we need is the nutrients and energy food gives us. After we get to the bureau, we’ll have some actual good food.”

(The video pauses and changes to only show the man in the beautiful kitchen)

“Okay, so let’s talk about the recipe itself…”

(The video continues as the man list down all the ingredients and where they have appeared in historical books, referencing other recipes similar to the recipe that the video used)

“I think I should watch more videos, maybe one of his Renaissance Italy videos because it seems like this ancestor of his is quite… the ‘frugal’ and practical kind. Let me know in the comments which videos you’d like me to watch nex-

(The video stops and the laptop closes)

“Desmond, he called Altaïr frugal and practical.”

“Not because he wanted to. What do you think he did when he was traveling with Maria? That man tried out every food he saw.”

(is this in the same universe as #Da Vinci's secret lover Not-Salai? Maybe? Maybe not? idk)

[myfandomprompts]

How do you think each ewan character would be like as a girl dad.

I have been dying to write prompts again (I did that in another life), and I have no time nowadays because of work, but because I am an unreasonable person apparently, I'll take great pleasure doing this headcanons!

Ewanverse!girldad headcanons

Abraham

He would be harsh with her/them. His community wouldn't really see girls in high regards and would be loving and caring only in private. He loves them, but is scared to be "too close" to them. In public he can't help but keep an eye on them though, they are his blood after all, his precious women.

Aemond Targaryen

He would be over protective. At first, he would think that he would care only for boys, but no matter if it's his first child, or second, or tenth, he will go into dad mode and just- raise her to be the best. He would take pleasure spending evening reading High Valyrian with her, be very wary of what dresses she wears, of who she meets. He would encourage activities, would it be dragon riding or sword fighting, and whenever she would grow up to be a little rebellious he would turn mad and worry all the time she escapes the Keep or get into trouble. But he would be so proud.

Billy Taylor

Clumsy at first. There is nothing more scary than to have a child, and have a girl of all things. He would be amazed during all the infancy, and then panick. All the time. But he would adore the moments where they would connect and spend time together. She would be as sweet as him, and would be showing her off to her mother and family proudly.

Billy Washington

↑ This is his genuine reaction learning he'll have a girl. The minute he realises it, his mind is set on doing better, on getting all the help he needs in order to be a better person, and the best dad. There is something scary about having a girl, but he knows she'll be okay because the girls in his family are brilliant.

Ettore

What will he do with a girl? Is that the product of his obsession? Why is this different of any other girls he knows? > Because it's his daughter. On earth, he would be an awful dad (if he managed to keep her, that is), would provide but barely. Maybe send her to fetch his cigarettes or do things for him that a child shouldn't do. But in the end he would like to have her closer to him. It's his daughter, no one else's.

Genyen/Shaun

Would not care, at first. Hell, what even is the point? When he sees her for the first time it's so odd, she is his, and she will grow up to resemble him. Maybe he could teach her a thing or two, who knows? How to fare for herself, how to con people. And as time passes, the more they team up, and he can't see his life without her.

Michael

It's his babygirl. He is so lucky. She will be brilliant, how could she not be? He will protect her from the others that will look down on her, because no one deserve her anyway. They don't deserve to be in his presence. He would buy her so many books, her first computer at four, and from there just watch her grow to be as brilliant as him. And then she would crush all the category of person that looked down on him when he was himself growing up. He would be so proud.

Oh, and he would made dad jokes. All the time.

Osferth

Caring, loving. A product of the sky she is. What is more beautiful than his daughter? She is a gift, and he would protect her with his life, cherish her until she is so happy she shines. He would read to her early on, and then when she would know the psaums better than him he would have the biggest grin. He doesn't want to fight anymore, just take care of her.

Tom

Him, a dad? Okay, he'll manage. Shouldn't be so hard, eh? But then a girl? He'll turn into someone else. Attentive, doting, a little firm but it's because he just want to protect his family, and hell how he would want to protect her. He would have an even closer relationship with her than the mother and would be so happy. She teach him how to be more responsable, because there is nothing more worth than changing for her.

Will

Will Will Will. Would be really lost at what to do, but then he looks and looks at her and just fall in love. Why should he not spend all the time he can with her? Would feel guilty nonetheless. What if he is not good enough? He would let the mother take care of her, but he can't stay always long. Believes she would be better without him, anyone would be actually. But life gave him this girl, he should at least try. And he won't regret it.

I excluded Jason, Jack, Poacher & car thief (SOAH)

[ohmtoff]

Under Love’s Heavy Burden Do I Sink

Nick Sturniolo x Male reader oneshot

Summary: For the past three years, Nick would fall head over heels for a guy, they’d be together for a year, and then he would get dumped. Like fucking clockwork. Hardened and jaded, Nick promises himself to never fall in love again, but you came into his life like radiant sunrise, and well, Nick’s only human.

WC: 3631

Contains: nick pov focused, angst, slightly suggestive, drinking, drug use, mention of minor character death, slight use of y/n

a/n: was planning to make this nick x oc bc i wanna write in nick’s pov but im too lazy to think of a new oc so yeah hope the fact that it’s nick pov won’t be too confusing😭

———————————————————���——————

Nick hated Madi.

Okay, no. He didn’t, but he did. Just a little.

For the past three years, his ever-loyal best friend had been setting him up on blind dates. For the past three years, every single one of them would go perfectly. Nick would fall head over heels for the guy, they’d be together for a year, and then he would get dumped. Like fucking clockwork. First with Julian, then Shaun, then Adrian.

Adrian.

Nick shoulders slumped just at the name alone. It still burned, deep in his chest. He knew why; Nick was too loud, too clingy, too boring. Nick had found, through his lovely failed relationships, that he was a homebody. If there was something in his life that made it feel worthwhile, he didn’t need to go out. He didn’t need to party. He didn’t need to do anything but lay in bed with them and watch Netflix.

Adrian had hated that. He’d wanted adventure, he wanted excitement. He wanted to experience things with someone fun and Nick? He wanted to cuddle and sleep and hide his face in Adrian’s neck. Nick wanted…

Fuck, he didn’t even know what. To be happy, he supposed.

But that was just too bad, right? Adrian had dumped him. It had been six months and Madi had set him up on another date, probably with a perfect guy like she usually did. Probably with someone wonderful who would make Nick laugh and smile and kiss till they get drunk from it. Probably with someone who would make him feel special and make him the happiest he’s ever been. Someone who would be able to tape up his heart and make him forget about Adrian.

Someone who, Nick knew, would dump him eventually because every single one of them did.

He knew Madi probably picked a perfect guy, because she knew Nick so well, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to do it again. He wasn’t going to let down his guard. He wasn’t going to fall in love. He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t.

And then you sat down.

“Hey.”

Nick blinked, mouth falling open. You were gorgeous. You were tall — taller than Nick, and your smile was blinding. Nick couldn’t see your eyes because they were nearly closed with how wide your grin was, but he was sure they were beautiful. He was sure every inch of you was fucking perfect.

“Hi,” he finally croaked out.

Nick wasn’t going to do it.

“I’m (y/n),” you told him, sitting down and leaning forward with your elbows on the table. “Nick, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Your smile got impossibly bigger. Jesus. “Madi told me about you. I’m excited.”

Nick leaned back in his seat, mostly just to catch his breath. He needed distance to think, to remind himself of his goal. To remember he wasn’t fucking doing this again. He wasn’t. “Oh? She didn’t tell me about you.”

“No?” You didn’t seem phased.

“No.” Nick shrugged. “She never tells me about the guys.”

You raised your brows. That threw you off. “Guys?”

Nick nodded. “She sets me up.”

“Often?” The smile disappeared, replaced by an expression that looked almost nervous. Almost scared.

Nick wanted the smile back. “No, just… Just sometimes.”

You hummed. “And how do they usually go?”

It was the way you said it, the way your head turned. It was adorable and Nick immediately wanted to lean in and capture your lips in a kiss. He wanted to pull your hair, he wanted to forget his own name — Since Adrian’s had been forgotten the second you sat down. He wanted more. He always wanted more.

But not this time.

No.

“They usually date me for a year and then they get bored,” Nick told him, summoning all of the coldness he once had. When he was a teenager, he’d been perfect at playing that game. The aloof game. The ‘I don’t care’ game. It had melted away over time, but he could bring it back just as quickly. It was like muscle memory.

Especially when he thought of how much it would hurt if you broke up with him. If you and him fell in love and Nick got to sleep on your chest and feel what it was like to kiss you and hold you. Especially if he knew what it felt like to get familiar with your smile, to get to wake up to it every day, to get to feel it against his neck and thighs and —

Nick knew. He knew it would be stolen from him; you would find something wrong with him and you’d get bored and Nick would be left feeling broken. He’d be left all alone and he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. He couldn’t handle one more crack in his stupid, fragile heart.

You would shatter him.

“How could anyone get bored of you?”

Nick rolled his eyes, flushing. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” you insisted, cocking your head to the side. “I don’t think I’d ever get bored of you.”

“You say that now, but—“

“Can I help you two?” The waitress came up to the table, interrupting you two. She was smiley and perky and seemed to find you just as beautiful as he did. Her name was Sarah and she talked fast and took their orders quickly and left Nick feeling a little pathetic. You had smiled at her too, had been nice to her too.

Nick had been imagining a whole life, a whole story, but that didn’t matter because you would probably end up cheating on him with that waitress eventually. That’s the kind of painful irony he got in life, right?

God, maybe that’s why everyone dumped him. He’d practically fallen in love with you the second he saw your face. Nick was a stupid romantic and people got bored with romantics.

“You’re overthinking,” you told him, warm.

“You don’t know that,” Nick mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

You hummed, pressing both your knees together under the table. “It’s all over your face,” You told him. “Madi told me you got out of a break up a while ago. I get it if you’re not ready to move on.”

Nick sighed. “I’m fine. It’s the… I don’t want to date ever again.”

“Then why did you come tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Nick groaned, trying to pull his knees away. They were both too tall and he just ended up banging them together again.

You stayed quiet for a few minutes. Nick wondered if you were just going to just get up and leave. If you were going to tell Nick he was a dick for getting your hopes up and walk away. If you were going to tell Madi what an asshole he’d been. It hurt, but Nick would take this hurt over a breakup a year down the line.

“I think you came tonight because you do want to fall in love,” you told him finally. “I think you came tonight because you do want to meet someone new.”

Nick looked up, swallowing thickly. “Love? Come on.”

“You don’t think we’re going to fall in love?” You grinned, flicking your eyebrows up in a way that made Nick’s stomach clench. “We’re totally falling in love.”

“Jesus, you’re something else.” Nick looked away, trying to hide his smile.

“You’ll see, Nick.” Your smile morphed into one more sincere — more tender. “I won’t hurt you.”

***

That was a total lie. You did hurt him.

You hurt him when you talked about movies; Your eyes lit up and your hands moved wildly as you spoke about how important a Japanese movie called Monster was to cinema. You hurt Nick when you laughed, head cocking to the side and eyes fond. You hurt Nick when you talked about your best friend, an ever-present, fond grin on his face.

You were so fucking sweet and Nick was only human.

“What do you like to do for fun?” You asked him.

Nick shrugged.

“Are you into music?”

Nick shrugged.

“What do you do?”

Nick shrugged.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer, he had to force himself not to. If he engaged, Nick would fall. Hard. Fast. Break-your-ankles kind of fall. So, he kept his mouth shut and picked at his food while you did the talking. Until —

“I have an idea,” you mumbled, pulling out your phone.

“Hm?”

You smiled. “36 Questions.”

“Okay?” Nick frowned. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” You asked, still smiling. Always smiling. Did this dude ever get sad?

“Because it’s to make you fall in love.” He pointed out, sinking into his seat a little.

You raised your eyebrows, comically. “Exactly.” You looked back down at your phone. “Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

“You!” Nick groaned.

“I’m already here.” You grinned.

“No, I mean — I’m not doing this.” Nick insisted.

You sighed. “At least give me a chance? Please?”

And then you pouted and that was just obscene. Nick was a human being, he couldn’t deny you a goddamn thing when you looked like that.

“My mom.” Nick blurted.

Whoa. Honest. Really honest. Stupidly honest.

You blinked at him before nodding and handing him the phone. “Mine’s Hirozaku Kore-Eda.”

“The director of the movie you talked about?” Nick made a face.

“So you were listening.” You grinned. “Ask the next question.”

Nick’s eyes flitted over your handsome face for a long moment before he sighed and read the question: “Would you like to be famous? In what way?”

You hummed. “I would. I’d like be famous for directing.” You explained. “Or maybe if I’d painted something. I like all sorts of art, but I’d prefer to be known for directing. You?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t want to be famous at all.”

“No?”

“No.”

You leaned in. “Would you date a famous person?”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s not the question,” he mumbled, handing the phone back.

They went on for awhile and it was fine, it was normal. Nick hid a laugh and a flush behind his hands, you continued being charming. But then the questions got harder. They got more… invasive.

“What is your happiest memory?” You asked, putting down the phone.

Nick tensed. He knew the memory, he knew the exact moment in time that meant the most to him. And as much as he liked you, as smitten as he was, he wasn’t ready for that. He’d barely scraped the surface of that with Adrian. “I think I gotta get home.”

“Wait, what?” You frowned, standing up as Nick did. “We don’t have to play anymore if you don’t want.”

“I just need to get home. It’s late. I have a shift early morning tomorrow,” Nick mumbled, ducking his head and refusing to meet your eyes. He knew he was being cowardly — and probably really rude — but he said he wasn’t going to do it, so he wasn’t.

“Nick.”

“Bye.”

***

Nick was only two blocks away and was ready to order an Uber home when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He sighed, tugging of his glove at pulled it out. “What, Madi?”

“Go back.”

“Madi, no.” Nick shook his head.

“He’s a good guy. He’s nice. He likes you. Just stop thinking so much and go back.”

Nick stopped and leaned against a wall. “I can't do it again.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m serious!”

“Nick.” Madi sighed on the other end of the phone. “He’s perfect for you. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s sweet. He’s been through some pretty rough shit too.”

“Like what?”

“Go back and find out. I’m serious. I won’t talk to you for a month if you don’t.”

Nick scoffed. “A month? Come on!”

“Bye, Nick!”

So, he went back. You were standing outside of the restaurant, head bowed and looking sad. You were smoking a cigarette, hand slightly trembling.

“You’re still here.” Nick mumbled, surprised.

You looked up, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out. “Uh, yeah.”

Unlike before, his smile wasn’t blinding. It was still handsome, still irresistible, but hesitant. It was scared. It was the smile of someone who felt rejected and maybe judged and a little bad about themselves. It was a smile of someone who, as Madi had said, had been through some shit too.

“My most treasured memory is my mom taking me shopping to the mall when I was eight.” Nick told him, a lump rising in his throat. “It was before she… She got sick and passed.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, guiltily.

Nick met your gaze, wincing. “It’s fine.”

“... Mine is meeting Steven Spielberg in an airport.” You admitted softly.

“You met him?” Nick gasped.

You grinned and Nick found himself melting again. “I can tell you about it over wine?”

Nick bit his lip. “Sounds good.”

***

It took Nick three glasses. Three glasses and a lot of your face for him to lean in, let their knees touch, cock his head to the side and grin. “Why do you think Madi wanted us to meet?” He asked.

His best friend was perfect; Madi always chose the most perfect guys. Guys that Nick always fell for instantly, guys who usually liked him too. Guys who thought he was attractive and smart and funny. Guys who were the subject of Nick’s damn dreams.

Nick didn’t know how she found them, but he did.

“I asked her about you,” you admitted, taking a sip from your water. You had one glass and stopped. Nick had noticed, but had decided against saying anything. “I’ve seen you at parties.”

“You have?” Nick asked, cheeks going pink.

You nodded, glancing away like you were embarrassed. “Well, with your ex and then… On your own. Figured I’d ask—“

“You had a crush on me?” Nick gasped, grabbing a your shoulder to keep his balance when someone bumped into him from behind. “Me?”

You chuckled, placing a hand on his waist and Nick would let him keep it there for the rest of his life if he wanted. “Of course I did.”

Nick blinked a couple times, shaking his head. “Have you seen yourself?”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Nick told you, like it was obvious. “You’re the prettiest person—“

He caught himself off by slapping a hand over his stupid, half-drunken mouth. He had been trying not to completely fall for you, to hold back a little, but the alcohol loosened his tongue.

“The prettiest person?” You grinned, looking positively pleased with yourself. You squeezed Nick’s hip, pulling him closer. “You think I’m gorgeous and pretty?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t know.”

You threw your head back and laughed, shoulders shaking and eyes disappearing and neck fully exposed in the most sinful way. Nick couldn’t help but lean forward and pressing his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. Your breath hitched, your grip on Nick’s hip tightening in an almost painful way.

“Nick.”

“Hmm?”

“You smell good.” You whispered into his hairline, hand sliding from his hip, up his side before fisting in Nick’s hair.

Nick whined. “I’m so drunk.”

You froze, breathing against his ear. “Want me to take you home?”

“Mhm.”

***

“Matt!” Nick whined, banging the door to his house. He’d evidently forgotten his keys, like an idiot, and no one was answering their phone. “Chris!”

You stood next to him, leaning against the wall with an amused smile. Like you thought Nick’s annoyance was adorable. Like you thought Nick’s shouting at 01:56 AM was endearing.

Suddenly the door swung open and Chris stood there, shirtless and in his boxers. “Honestly, Nick, again?”

“Oh, like you ever brought your own keys,” Nick muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you drunk?” Chris asked, surprised.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Barely.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside, pushing past his brother.

“Wait, who’s—“

“Good night, Chris!”

“Is this the—“

“Good night, Chris!”

Nick pulled them into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. The room wasn’t the dirtiest it had ever been, but it wasn’t clean either. He had clothes all over the floor, his gaming controllers tangled on the floor, and it probably didn’t smell good either.

He rushed to the bedside table, trying to unwrap a scented candle. “I— I don’t usually have people in here,” Nick mumbled, blushing brightly as he struggled with the plastic.

You took it from his hands and opened it easily. “My room’s an absolute disaster in comparison. I have way too much shit.”

Nick nodded, lighting the candle. “I don’t have enough, I think.”

They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before speaking at once.

“So, what music do you like?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.”

Nicks mouth dropped open in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Your eyes widened then. “Oh, I thought—“

“I’m not—“ Nick bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not like that.”

“Like what?”

Nick winced. “I don’t know.”

“Are you slut-shaming?” You teased, your smile back.

“Oh, fuck off,” Nick grumbled, clearing his things from his bed. “You can go, if you want.”

“Is there any invitation to stay?” You asked, eyebrows raising when Nick turned back to face him. “Without sex?”

Nick sat back on his bed, biting back his own smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” you echoed, sitting down next to him. “I had a good time tonight.”

Nick smiled up at him, head cocking to the side. “Yeah… Oh!” He jumped up from the bed, and grabbed a makeshift bong he had under his bed. “Do you wanna?”

“Oh, I just usually roll,” you explained.

“I don’t have papers.”

“I do.” You shrugged.

That’s how you both ended up on the windowsill with the window open and smoking two joints. You were facing one another with your hands lingering in the space between. Nick was aching to touch, but didn’t dare. He didn’t know why, either.

You liked him, he liked you. At this point, Nick had accepted that. He’d barely thought of Adrian all night and Madi had told him to try. He was trying, but still. He held back. He was always holding back.

“Do you believe it?” Nick whispered.

“Believe what?” You hummed.

“What you said earlier.”

You raised his eyebrows. “I said a lot earlier.”

Nick laughed, shoving your shoulder. “Fuck off. ”

“What part?” You laughed, too. “About what?”

“That we’ll fall in love.” Nick answered, biting his lip and searching your eyes for a lie. For a reason not to.

You smiled fondly, reaching over to gently push a hair behind his ear. “Absolutely.”

***

Two weeks later, Matt and Chris had cornered you in the kitchen with cold eyes. “If you hurt him, in any way, I will break your goddamn face. He is the best person you’ll ever meet, and I swear—“

“Fuck off, both of you!” Nick had groaned when he found you three.

You along with Matt and Chris wrote up and signed a contract. Nick thought it was the most dramatic thing he’s ever witnessed but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love every second of it.

***

The next month, Nick was being pressed into someone’s bed with your mouth wrapped around him. They were at a party for someone, Nick couldn’t remember who at that point. He had his hands shoved in your hair and had been moaning wantonly when Madi opened the door with a scream.

“I regret this already,” he had groaned, hiding his face in Matt’s shoulder.

***

Four months down the line and Nick was blushing while he met your parents. He had worn a scarf to try to hide all the marks his boyfriend had made on his neck, but it hadn’t helped. Your father high fived you and Nick overheard your mother whispering:

“He really loves you, sweetie.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom.”

“Be good to him.”

You had gasped. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? Threatening him?”

“Have you seen that face? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Nick was never seen as soft. Always too loud, too dramatic, too much. He found that he liked being soft.

***

Seven months into it, on the anniversary of Nick’s mom’s death, you were caught up with work. Nick’s convinced you were lying. You thought he was paranoid and doesn’t trust you enough.

Both of you broke up for a full six hours before you met one another at Nick’s front door steps, Nick already fully dressed.

“I was coming to—“

“Me too.”

“Please, Nick, I—“

“I know, me too. I’m—“

“So sorry and—“

“God, baby, I love you.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

***

Around a year in, Nick started to get on edge. He watched you with careful eyes. He never argued with you, he did whatever you wanted or whatever Nick thought you’d like constantly. Nick was tiptoeing. Molding himself to be the best boyfriend possible.

“Babe.” You frowned one day when Nick changed his shirt because you thought he was going to wear a different one. “Nick.”

“Yeah?” Nick asked.

“... I’m not going to break up with you,” you whispered slowly, pulling him in and kissing him slowly. You bit Nick’s lower lip, fucking his mouth with your tongue until your boyfriend was a whining mess in your arms. “I’m in love with you. Okay? I’m so in love with you.”

Nick cried into your shirt the entire night, arms locked around you.

***

Five years in and your fiancé threw an empty milk carton towards your head because you forgot to buy more. You then apologized for a full thirty minutes while trying to stop laughing.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” You grinned.

Nick pouted. “Fuck you.”

***

Madi never set Nick up ever again.

[threadsun]

Bun🐰 Asks: "I love what you did with my ask last time! Truly spicy yet comforting, as a fat person as well with a bit of insecurities with my stretch marks. That was very comforting♥️ (i love how you write rory😭 his becoming my new fav thanks to you)

Oh- and if its not to much for you what do you think of the sdj crew and bo having an s/o that's love to give them praises and is very clingy?"

I'm glad you liked it!! Fat bodies are beautiful and valuable and deserve far more love than they get!! Also Rory is very good, I love him >:3c

Content: yandere tendencies, praise kink

Jack:

A clingy partner is perfect for Jack! He doesn't need to worry about you wandering off and getting into trouble if you're glued to his side. He doesn't have to worry you're off getting flirted with and harassed because you're there on his arm, praising him and reminding him that you'll love only him. It's exactly what he wants.

Ian:

As nervous as Ian gets, he is also clingy. So having someone who so clearly wants to be as close to him as he wants to be to them is a comfort. Praise is great for him too, he's got really low self-esteem so it helps keep him from falling into a spiral of self-loathing if you keep reminding him that he's worthy of love.

Shaun:

Shaun doesn't mind a little space, but he also doesn't mind clinginess. It's nice to feel wanted, to feel needed by someone he cares so much for. He loves you, he's loved you for a long time, so now that you're his he's happy to keep you by his side all the time. Especially when you're stroking his ego with praise too~

Nick:

Nick is clingy before you're even together. He never wants to let you out of his sights, just in case something happens to you. And because he doesn't want to let go of the nice feelings he gets from looking at you. So he's relieved when you're just as clingy with him! And he'll return all the praise you give him, very happily!

Joseph:

Joseph isn't used to having... well, anything. Or anyone. So he holds his treasures close to his chest. And that includes you. He wants you around all the time, so it's great for him that you're so clingy! And the praise... well, he won't lie, it feels nice to be praised by you. Even if it does get him a little riled up sometimes...

Jean:

Jean tries to keep a cool and aloof persona in public, just because he has a reputation to uphold. But the moment you two are alone, he's deeply possessive. So you being clingy only feeds nicely into his desire to keep you locked away for himself. Not to mention praising him will only convince him he's doing a good thing...

Rory:

Praise is Rory's wheelhouse! He loves to lay the praise on thick, and he'll happily accept your praise in return! You're perfect in his eyes, so he's happy to keep you by his side all the time and lavish you with compliments. And get lavished with compliments in return. He's got a bit of an ego, so he likes the praise~

Bo:

You won't find anyone clingier than Bo. You cannot out-clingy him. He'll be glued to your side nonstop, he doesn't care if you need the bathroom or you're going to the doctor or filing your taxes, he's there. Praising him will only encourage him more, he'll be the most loyal puppy in the world!

[dovand]

i am as always thinking about 14 and the nobles... specifically 14 & shaun. CRIMINAL lack of 14 & shaun content . excuse me that is my emotional support deranged lovers-in-law prongs of a queerplatonic throuple V. that is my little scrinkly wet cat and his chill saint bernard friend. that is my symbiotic relationship weirdos who sleep back-to-back to 14 can a) leech his body heat b) cuddle donna c) not fall off the bed. that is my favourite “both wake up early but one of them is being clung to like they are a teddy bear and it is Not Shaun, who is making ‘too bad’ faces at 14 and tiptoeing away” dynamic.

(14 either ends up dozing again after he wakes up early or just lays there curled up thinking—but, either way, when shaun shows up with breakfast in bed every sunday, he is treated to the beautiful sight of the two huge autism creature eyes peering up at him from behind the most bedraggled mop of hair ever seen. whether there are any thoughts behind those eyes depends on whether their owner has been napping or Pondering)

(yes this is all made up in my head!!! yes i am dismayed by there only being FOUR FICS (4!!) using it as a tag and none of them (afaict) doing it in a qpr way. where is my deranged weirdplatonic polycule!!!)

further insanity under the cut pleasseee please please read. please i need to be insane about this with people

(also btw this post is about queerplatonic doctordonna, doctordonna shippers i love you and you are welcome to contribute but it is a Little squicky for me so if tag ur additions (so i have a heads-up) that would be so lovely and i would adore you forever <3)

shaun likes listening to people ramble and 14 likes rambling so it is a regular occurrence to find the two of them like. standing in the kitchen holding cups of tea except one of them is actually drinking the tea and one of them is talking too rapidly about equivalent exchange to remember to blink, let alone have a sip of earl gray that has veered violently past lukewarm and is headed straight for room temperature

if 14 is in a not-wordy mood tho… thru shaun’s expert tutelage he has mastered the art of the Dad Nod. he passes shaun in the hall and gives him a little nod. shaun gives him one back. 0 words are spoken but they understand each other on a deeper level than if there had been.

they go on a Family Outing to a thrift store. rose and donna disappear to the dressier sections. shaun creeps along the racks of trousers, solemnly comparing seemingly identical pairs of jeans. 14 follows him and stares for a while, then silently hands him a loudly patterned pair of shorts. shaun takes them without question and adds them to his basket & sylvia loses her mind just a little bit when she sees him wearing them

(^ this inspired by going thrifting w my friend and looking @ everything and then finding her dad looking thru the racks of shorts comparing two beige ones, and my friend handing him a pair of pink shorts with penguins on and him buying them. because he has some . i think plaid shorts? at home and when he wore them his wife said he looked gay. so he’s trying to do it More) (it's an incredible family dynamic there. i have no idea what is going on)

god jesus. 14 learns how to cook so he can be the housething (as opposed to housewife or househusband. he is just a weirdgenderthing. little creature). someone buys him a nice apron and he wears it with so much delight. chases everyone else out of the kitchen so he can concoct something lovely. runs out into the garden to stick something into an oven in the tardis kitchen because “i am not working with enough ovens, here, people!”. organises the pantry and gets this crazed look if anyone tries to stop him. “how will i know where things a—” “it will be LABELLED.” brandishes a label maker that DEFINITELY is not from modern-day earth given that it seems to take dictation as input and can print in colour and has not needed a refill of paper even though he has extensively labelled EVERY PLASTIC BOX of stuff in the pantry

sometimes he gets into Moods where he needs to solve a problem before it makes his head explode and that used to be a like. tinkering in the tardis thing. where he’d have himself and whatever poor companion he was with just floating in the time vortex for a week while he tries to make this bit of the tardis do what he wants it to. now it’s a day or two spent almost entirely in the kitchen trying to find the scientifically optimal method by which to make meringues. he starts gesturing dramatically with a spatula forgetting it is not a sonic screwdriver. makes a sonic spatula. realises he doesn’t often need to like. scan a pancake for malware. sadly puts the sonic spatula away

he is absolutely a nightmare to watch movies with btw bc a) can’t sit still b) so tall. either he is bouncing his leg and shaking the whole couch or he is stretched out across the entire sofa. no in between. donna buys a thick rug so he can just lay on the floor. the rug is TOO comfortable and he starts just spending time laying on the floor which would be fine if he thought to turn the lights on because people keep almost stepping on him while he’s having 4am Floor Time (on the nights he's not drooling all over donna's pillow)

if anyone else has thoughts about Them PLEASe share i will love you so much and forever. doctor~donna/shaun weirdcule is the only thing in my head

[auroramoon-draws16]

Hey bitchesss, I’m baaack!

Down to business:

Assassin’s Creed, but it’s just them scaring people.

Any fandom, any scenario, they just naturally are very silent, they like having that element of surprise. It’s their whole thing.

So, naturally, they tend to spook people either on purpose or by accident, most of the time it’s on purpose, but other times it’s because they genuinely forgot to make noise.

Or they stand in a shadowy corner and observe everyone from under their hood, standing like a weeping angel, super creepy, but uncannily beautiful.

Even as a friend or like a bodyguard, they lurk, it’s comforting to know they’re on your side, until they jumpscare you at 3am looking for BEANS.

Though when it’s other Assassins, they can just feel the vibe of their Brothers, so they just kinda go:

Shaun: “Well, I don’t know if there is anything on- oh, hello Desmond”

Desmond: *crouching up in the rafters, eyes glowing gold* “hey Shaun”

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Perc'ahlia Week: Free/Random

we did it folks! thanks to everyone who participated in @percahliaweek, esp the good folks who organized this whole thing! it's been so much fun to explore these prompts! here's hoping i stick the landing.

Percival de Rolo III wakes up on his last day knowing that he will not see another dawn. It hardly scares him; if anything, his aching joints have been screaming for rest for ages now, each one creaking and stiff like an unwound clock. He doesn't know where the certainty comes from, only that it doesn't feel macabre or fatalistic. He is going to die today. Better get a move on.

He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn insistence that he's fine. He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn anything. He lets her perform her morning ritual as usual, lies still as she grips one of his hands in both of hers and pours into him every ounce of magic she has for the day. The healing doesn't work, because he is not injured, merely human. Still, he smiles and thanks her, and they both pretend that it made things better.

Over breakfast in bed (all of his breakfasts are in bed these days, as are all of his other meals, and in fact the vast majority of his time), he quietly asks her to gather their family. She freezes, her forkful of eggs halfway up to her mouth. His vision is not what it used to be, but she is so beautiful, the golden rays of Pelor's dawn sparkling in her hair, now more silver than brown. She has always glittered, something beautiful and wild, a dragon who made a hoard of his heart.

She sets her fork down. She does not look at him. She asks if he's sure. He says that he is. She believes him, because after seven decades, she knows he is not a liar. It is a feat, the way she schools her expression into something that doesn't shatter his heart in two. She smiles and kisses his cheek. "Of course, darling."

They come, because for the past year or so, they have been preparing themselves for this very thing. Keyleth is called first, and she takes it upon herself to gather the most far-flung. Percy misses most of their arrivals; his energy wanes quickly after breakfast, and he passes in and out of sleep until a pair of lips on his cheek stir him back to consciousness. "Hi, Grandpa."

Vesper's eldest, Whitney, helps him into a sitting position. He feels each and every one of his bones as he moves. Beside her, her husband, an elven man Percy remembers not trusting for years, holds their infant son. Whitney's eyes are red and swollen. "Mimi says you...wanted everyone here."

Percy lets out a coughing laugh; gods above, they're great-grandparents now, and Vex still hates being called grandma. "I don't think I have many goodbyes left in me, dear. Better to get them all out while I can."

She sniffs. "Can't...can't Aunt Kiki do something?"

Slowly, he reaches over to pat her hand where it rests on the bedspread. "Keyleth has done more for me than any man deserves, as has your grandmother, as has Pike. I have seen my share of sunsets and sunrises, Whitney. Time for...better eyes than mine to take a look."

Just then, the door to the master suite opens, and more de Rolos come spilling in like light through an open window. Wolfe is first, one arm around Gwen, clearly keeping her upright; Danny follows, his aunt Cassandra hobbling beside him, leaning heavily on his arm. Danny's followed by his son, Shaun, and Shaun's very pregnant partner, whose name Percy can't remember. It's disorienting, but not the first time Percy's memory has failed him. Once he had the sharpest mind in Whitestone, keen enough to make the inventions that set his home years ahead of the rest of the continent, technologically speaking, but most days now, his mind feels like a sieve, permeable, untrustworthy.

Still, he smiles as the rest of his family spills in, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, twenty in all, not including Cass, who is given the chair right by his bedside. So many de Rolos, in a castle once entirely empty of them. Percy sees so much of the family he lost in their faces—his mother's eyes, his father's nose, Ludwig's jaw, Whitney's hair—and not for the first time, he knows what it means to be immortal in the most human way.

As they say their goodbyes, as they sniff away tears, as they promise him to do right by their family name, he knows that the legacy he has been chasing his entire life, one not stained with blood and black with smoke, has been a fool's errand. His family is not his legacy. They are people, just as he is, no more, no less. They will be great and they will be terrible and they will make mistakes and they will make the world a better place because the gods know that Percy has been far from a perfect man, but he believes he has done what he can to sow in their hearts the seeds of kindness, charity, empathy. He cannot claim them as his legacy because they are still building legacies of their own, ones that will reach far beyond his time in this realm.

He lets them kiss his cheek. He whispers his love, over and over, endless and true. He smiles and looks into each of their faces, hoping the sieve lasts long enough to carry him into whatever comes next.

.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he awakes, the only de Rolo who remains is Cass. He can't see the white stripe in her hair anymore, because it is all white now. Her eyes are a soft blue, belying her almost complete lack of vision. Percy squeezes her hand. "You still with me, Cass?"

"You're asking me?" They both grin. "I've been trying to get rid of you for years. It's about time you got out of here."

"Yes, well, you remember how Mother used to scold me for being so slow to rise in the mornings."

"That's because you'd stay up until all hours reading."

"Which is why I'm so much smarter than you."

She rolls her eyes, and the air shifts, cools into something more melancholy. "Are you so sure it's now? You seem in such high spirits for a man convinced he's going to die today."

Percy doesn't know how to explain to her the knowing, the certainty in his bones that he could count the number of words he has left. He thinks of a night when they were young, far younger than they are now, when Cass would crawl into his bed during a thunderstorm, shaking and afraid. He tries to explain it the same way he explained to that little girl that the thunder wasn't going to hurt her. "The gods have seen my hubris, my cruelty, my ego throughout the years...and they have loved me anyway. How else do you explain this?" He gestures weakly with his free hand, and he knows that she knows he's not referring to the castle and its riches. "I awoke this morning with my wife beside me in the home that we built, and I felt their calling in my chest. I am not long for this world, Cassandra." Tears slip quickly and silently down her nose. "I'm not afraid. Whatever is coming for me, good, bad, or ugly, it was worth what I experienced here, with my family. With you. I should have died with the rest of our siblings, with Mother and Father, that terrible night. I didn't. Everything after has been...a gift."

"A gift for me." She brings his hand up to her mouth, kisses his papery skin with her thin lips. "Your children and grandchildren, they've been a gift to me, too. Thank you for giving me my family back, Percival."

He smiles, and new fatigue washes over him. His eyes blink slow and long, and she pats his hand. "Rest now, brother. You still have work to do."

He wants to argue, but the sleep rushes over him, dark and warm, like smoke.

.

When Percival de Rolo III awakens for the last time, he is very much not alone. Perched on his left side is Keyleth, timeless and ethereal. The circlet and mantle of her station are gone, and for a moment, they're kids again, the entire world at their feet. Her eyes are glassy, and he has to be impressed that she hasn't started crying yet.

Standing on the foot of the bed, each holding onto a poster, are Pike and Scanlan. Like Keyleth's, neither's face belies much of the past seventy-odd years, but he can't find it in himself to be jealous of all the life they have yet to live. He thinks himself lucky to have had this, such a perfect little slice of the world, fit exactly to size for him.

Between the two of them, already a blubbering mess, is Taryon, the only person in the room who looks the way Percy feels. His liver spots match Percy's, which must drive Tary crazy. He wonders if this is harder or easier for him, given that Tary has already been grieving Lawrence these past six years or so. He hopes that Tary can be of use to Vex, though if he had to guess, he'd think Keyleth is better suited to the task.

Because she is also here, his heart, his Vex'ahlia. She sits at his right hand, where Cass had been earlier, and gently runs her fingers over the inside of his wrist. She has never been anything less the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and not for the first time, though perhaps for the last, he thanks the gods for allowing her to be his. Well over half a century together, and he knows by the tremulous bob of her throat and the eyes that will not meet his that she is using every ounce of her formidable strength to keep herself in one piece.

"Hey, Percy." He looks back to Scanlan, whose shit-eating grin has not changed a bit in all these years. "If you finally wanted that six-way, you didn't have to say you were dying to get us here. You could have just asked."

Pike punches his shoulder, but Percy laughs. "You'd never...keep up with me...Scanlan."

"Yeah, I bet that's true." He reaches down to pat Percy's foot beneath the blankets. "You always were a better man than me."

"The bar is in hell," Pike grumbles under her breath, and Percy coughs out another laugh. They must be off-again, he guesses. Well, it was nice of them to come, regardless.

"Tary." The man in question cries twice as hard when Percy says his name. "Have I ever told you...how proud I am...of you?"

Tary brings a shaking hand up to wipe at his eyes, and Pike pats his arm reassuringly. "That's what I care about. If a guy like you could see the good in a guy like me...well, I knew I was gonna be okay."

And Tary is more than okay, Percy knows. He's done more good in the world than any of them would have thought possible the day they met him, arrogant and annoying and so very naïve. Percy is proud of him, proud of the work they've done together and apart. Someday, not too long from now, these same people will gather around Tary, usher him as gently from this world as they do for Percy now, and Percy can only hope that they sing his praises as loudly as he deserves.

Pike hops up onto the bed, her socked feet padding over so she can kneel by his elbow in front of Keyleth. She grips her holy symbol, now worn and smoothed, in one hand and rests the other over Percy's heart. "Everlight, please carry my friend into the next life with the same light and compassion he has shown me in our time together." Her voice is strong, but Percy can hear the tremble in it. "As faithful as I have been to you in my life, he has been twice as faithful to me, to his friends, to his family, to the people of Whitestone. And I think you and I both know that faith does not come quite so easily to some as it does to others." She opens one eye to grin at him, and he winks back. She closes the eye again to finish her prayer. "Let his soul rest among his ancestors, and may your benevolent light never stray from those he leaves behind."

There is a long beat of silence, and though his eyes are not what they used to be, Percy swears the mid-afternoon light streaming in from the wrought-iron windows flares just a bit brighter. Pike releases her holy symbol, leans down, and kisses his cheek. "Y'know," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, "for someone doomed by the narrative, you did alright for yourself, Percy."

"I couldn't...have done it without you."

The first of Pike's tears falls, and she slips back to the foot of the bed wiping at her eyes. Percy lets his head tip to the side, and Keyleth's face is as red as her hair, her own tears falling fast and loose down cheeks that don't look a day over thirty. "Hey."

"Hey." She sniffs, taking his hand in both of hers. "I know...I have a lot of goodbyes coming my way. Goodbyes I don't even know about because the hellos haven't happened yet. But you...fuck." She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I don't know what my life looks like without you, Percy. I don't wanna find out."

Oh, he truly does not envy her yawning years. He knows no one who deserves to have her heart broken less than Keyleth does, and yet he knows that so much heartbreak awaits her in the millennium to come. He squeezes her hand, and he prays to the Dawnfather that all of that heartbreak does not quiet her, does not harden her heart from the joys this world has to offer. Keyleth was made for sunlight, for spring flowers, for flight. The shadows will come, but they must not dull her shine.

"Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest." He attempts to gather as much authority into his weak voice as he can muster. "I charge you with not just the welfare of Zephrah, but with that of Whitestone, and of Tal'dorei as a whole. There is no one I trust more to act as steward of these people. Your wisdom, your generosity, your empathy...more than ever, you are needed to bestow your gifts upon Exandria. You know..." He smirks up at her. "We've met gods, Keyleth. And this may not be the best time to blaspheme, but they've got nothing on you."

She throws herself onto him, and it hurts, but he takes it. One last hug from his best friend, from the sister he gained after so much loss. Her tears soak into his neck, and for the first time today, his own prickle behind his eyes. He regrets all of the things he will miss, the wonderful accomplishments of his friends, his progeny, his neighbors. It is such a mortal thing, to know that the world will keep spinning in your absence, and to love and hate the spin for it. But someday, even the ageless Voice of the Tempest will rest, and if the gods know any mercy, he will see her again.

Before she pulls away, a shaking, sniffling mess, she whispers in his ear, "Tell him I still love him?"

He nods. He already knows, but Percy will tell him anyways.

As if on cue, there is a small commotion near the one open window on the far side of the chamber, and everyone turns to see a raven, too large to be natural, resting on the sill, as if it has always been there. There is a cracked sob from Percy's right, and he turns his head to see his wife covering her mouth with her hand.

Just enough time left, then.

"Come here." A small tug to her hand, and she's coming up to sit beside him, hip to hip. She brushes his thin, limp hair from his face, and he struggles to bring her hand, wrinkled and beautiful, to his lips. "What a life, eh?"

Her answering smile is watery. "The best one I could have imagined. It's the best gift you've given me."

"Well, I gave you quite a lot."

"It's my love language, darling, and you were always so fluent."

He laughs at that, and it dissolves into a cough. The raven flutters its wings in his periphery. "Let them take care of you?" His eyes cast over their friends before returning to her crumpled face. "We didn't create this wonderful life together for you to be alone when I'm gone. There are so many people who love you, Vex'ahlia de Rolo, and while I will always be the first among them, in this world or the next, I am not worried for you."

Her hair, unbraided and streaked with silver, spills onto his chest as she leans over him. "I'm not worried for you, either. I know that wherever you're going, I'll find you. I'll always find you. It's kind of my thing, after all." She sniffs loudly. "So take my heart with you, alright? I'll want it back when I get there."

"My extraordinary, incomparable wife. My heart, my judgement. My treasure, my salvation."

Crying, she kisses him, and it feels just like it did that first time, in a snow-capped wood, when they were kids and death was just another monster they could slay. He tastes the salt of her tears and the warmth of her skin and he knows every agony, every loss, every sorrow was always and will always be worth her. For the briefest moment, his heart pinches, a desperate wish to stay, but when his final kiss with his wife ends, he's smiling, because how many men can go to their deathbeds with no regrets?

He looks to his friends once more, each one a gift, a story, a legacy, and with a fading voice, says, "Vox Machina. What an honor it's been to change the world with you." His eyelids feel so heavy; he's already slept so much today. To his wife, he murmurs, "Dear, do you mind if I rest for a moment?"

"Of course, darling." She bends down to kiss his cheek. "Rest now. I'll be here."

The last things he sees are Vex's shining eyes, and across the room, a raven taking flight.

.

When Percy opens his eyes, he sees them, his friends, their heads bowed and shoulders trembling. They are circled around his deathbed, and Percy watches them mourn. It's far and away the strangest scene he's ever beheld.

"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III."

He turns, a smile already coming to his face. Oh, the ease with which he moves! He looks down at his hands—smooth and dexterous, hands he hasn't seen in years. "Would you look at that."

The black-feathered figure in the corner of the room is masked, so Percy can't see his face, but Percy doesn't need to see the smirk to feel it. "A handsome bastard once again, I see."

"Screw you, I was always handsome."

"No arguments here." The Champion of Ravens strides closer, and Percy can't help but feel a bit intimidated. "Welcome home, brother."

And they are embracing, reunited after so many decades of grief. "Thank you," Vax murmurs, in his strange, not-quite-Vax voice. "Thank you for taking care of them."

"It was my privilege." They separate, and the two dead men look at the ones they've left behind. "We still felt your loss. Every day, we navigated the hole your absence created. Them in particular." He gestures to Vex and Keyleth, who hold hands over his body's torso as they weep. "I just hope I did enough to help them find the way."

"You did. And now it's my turn." Vax sweeps a hand back, and the door to the chamber opens, but instead of the marbled hall he's used to, Percy sees only a brilliant, blinding white light.

Percy frowns. "Is Grog in there? To be honest, I thought he'd be the first to greet me. You know how bored he gets without someone to entertain him."

"I'm afraid I don't know. I only walk to dead to their doors. I don't get to see what's inside."

For the first time today, Percy's heart well and truly breaks. "Well, just know that as long as they live—" He jerks his head toward the remaining members of Vox Machina. "—your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"I live as long as they live."

Percy chuckles. "First the mask, now the quotes—you want to be me so bad."

"Get in the light before I throw your ass in there, Freddie."

Grinning, Percy claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, letting is strong legs and youthful knees take him toward the door. Just a step away from the frame, he stops, bathed in the warm, mysterious light. He looks back one last time at his family, wonderful and perfect and his, and murmurs, "What a nice story, indeed." And then he steps into the light.

[yanderelovlies]

Can I ask for (sfw or nsfw) HCs for Jack, Joseph, and Shaun (fuck you Ian LMAO) with an MC that has some big ol' bitties? Maybe MC likes to use them to fluster their partner, like pressing close against their body or wearing clothing that shows cleavage (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) Sometimes acts clueless about it just to drive their partner up the wall.

Yeah fuck Ian! We don't support cheaters here! (If you like him I still love you I just hate Ian 💕)

I lowkey didn't proof read it like I normally do. I might do that later....maybe

🔪THIS FIC IS 18+ AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED 🔪

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.

.

.

.

Sunny Day Jack

He tried so hard, but honestly that's the first thing he noticed. It was hard not to when they are so big, beautiful, and a part of you.

Even as time goes on, and the two of you get closer. You can feel his eyes on them at times however if you try to call him out on his he waves you off saying he was just staring off into space.

You don't believe him, but let him have it. It helps with your plan afterall. You see slowly over time you began buying or digging out your more showy shirts. Since he liked looking at them so much might as give him an eye full.

Little did you know Jack is man of patients. No matter how much he just wants put his hands all over you He won't. Not till you ask him.

After weeks of taunting and teasing from you, and no forward response from Jack you had enough. You had one last final plan to get a rise out of him.

As you said your good-nights for the night you pull Jack in for hug causing him to face plant right into your boobs.

It was awhile before you got any reaction out of him, but you weren't disappointed when you did. He bit your right boob as his hands roamed up your leg till he cupped your ass kneading it.

"You've been teasing me for too long sunshine...I'm gonna show just what you do to me."

Joseph

You being his makeup artist for the show means he gets a face full of boobies every morning, and he has never felt luckier. He doesn't even have to make up and excuse as to why he has been staring at them for hours.

He was over the moon when you started flirting with him after awhile. You were showing intrest in him meaning you were liking him just as much as he liked you, and... he was one step closer to a consensual motorboat.

God he was loosing his patients now. Here you were shirt button down so that he had a good clear view of the black laced bra barely being able to hold them in. Doll you are killing him.

He finally broke when he was walking you home. You grabbed his arm putting it in-between your boobs claiming to be chilly. The feel of your boobs being wrapped around his arm was the final breaking point.

He picked you up by your waist making you wrap your legs around his hips as he walked the two of you to an ally away from prying eyes.

He pinned you to the wall as he began leaving bites and kisses on your neck. When he felt you were secure between him and the wall he removed a hand from your waist and immediately attached them to your boob. He wasted no time kneading and pinching your nipple through the shirt.

"God doll....you make me go feral."

Shaun

He has a little more self control when it comes to staring compared to the other two. It's not that he doesn't appreciate them he just don't want to seem like a creep. But like damn. Respectively.

At one point and time you guys did compare sizes. It came up in a play fight, and you wanted to see who was bigger. It was you, but he claims up and down it was him.

Despite that however, everyday you were making it difficult for Shaun to act like the gentleman he is. It's hard NOT to stare when your wearing low-cut crop-tops around the apartment. Ahh look at them! They looks so perfect and soft for his head.

He will catch his hands moving in a kneading motion if he stares at your boobs for too long. Unfortunately though there only so far you can push a gentleman until he cracks.

That time came when the two of you were sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite horror movies. When a certain jump care happened you moved closer to Shaun, and took his arm in between your boobs pushing yourself closer. He resisted for all of a minute before he moved you from his side to you facing him on his lap.

His hands rested on your waist as his face went directly for your boobs. At first he just stayed their enjoying the feeling of them, but eventually he began to leave kisses and small bite anywhere he could.

"I've been trying to stay a gentleman.....but God do you make it hard you brat."

[sequinsmile-x]

Just Like a Folk Song - Part 1

Part 1: Love You to the Moon and to Saturn

Emily and Aaron have been friends since they were children, what will happen when Emily realises she can no longer keep her feelings for him to herself?

A Young Hotchniss AU

Part 1/3

-x-

Hi friends!!

This is part one of a birthday fic for one of my favourite people in the whole world - @ssa-sparks!! It isn't her birthday until tomorrow, but I thought I'd get the celebration started a little early because she deserves it.

Lina - I am so grateful to have you in my life. You're an amazing friend and a true light in my life. I know you love young hotchniss, and I know you love my AU's, so I thought this would be the best of both worlds.

Speak to you in just a little bit <3 (probably.)

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow and part 3 the day after. Part 3 will have smut!

-x-

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: brief mentions of Aaron's childhood, no smut in this part but fic is rated M.

Read over on A03, or below the cut

She’s woken up by a hand on her shoulder, a gentle shake, and a kind voice.

“Miss Prentiss, we’ll be landing soon.” 

She blinks a couple of times and sits up, smiling at the flight attendant standing next to her, “Sorry.” 

The flight attendant smiles and shakes her head, “No need to apologise, I just wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to wake up.”

She smiles and nods, straightening herself up in her seat, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“No worries, we’ll be in DC in about 20 minutes.” 

Emily blows out a slow breath and looks out the window as the flight attendant walks away. No matter how many times she had done this, countless flights back into DC from all over the world throughout her life, she never got used to the nervous excitement she’d feel in her belly just before she landed. She knew it was in part because she feared what could have changed when she was gone, the very real reality that life carried on without her something she’d had to get used to when she was young. 

She’d gone travelling around Europe for a few months after graduating with her Masters. Visiting old haunts from when she was a teenager, everything somehow more beautiful now she was looking at it through the eyes of a 24-year-old. She would miss it, she’d miss the freedom it had given her as she figured out what she wanted to do with her life, but she was excited to get a job, and she was excited to see her friends. She was even looking forward to seeing her mother, but she knew that feeling would likely fade within minutes of seeing her.

Mostly, Emily was looking forward to seeing Aaron. 

They’d met when they were children. Aaron’s mother had worked for her mother as a maid, cleaning the house every other day, and she always brought Aaron, and eventually Shaun when he was born, along with her. For a long time, Emily hadn’t been able to figure out why Elizabeth had allowed it, the gesture seemingly at odds with what she knew about her mother, but as she got older she realised she must have known about Aaron’s father. About the violence he was capable of, and how she understood their mother’s desire to keep them safe. 

Aaron was a playmate at first. He was a couple of years older than her, but was kind even then, seemingly not turned off by the idea of spending time with a girl a little younger than him. Their friendship grew as they did, and somewhere along the way, he became her best friend. A constant she could always rely on no matter where in the world she was, the letters and phone calls they would exchange a link to the world she left behind whenever she’d go away on one of her mother’s assignments. 

He was her port in a storm, the very thing she relied on in her worst moments. When she came from Rome, fragile and still putting herself back together from what had happened there, he’d noticed something was wrong the moment he saw her. She’d considered not telling him, keeping what she still considered her deepest secret to herself, but he’d asked what was wrong and she’d fallen apart, confessing everything as he hugged her, his embrace firm even then when he was only 17. 

She didn’t remember when she fell in love with him. When the feeling of friendship turned into more, the love she’d always had for him transforming into what she felt now. It had happened slowly, bit by bit until she didn’t remember how it felt to not be completely, heads over heels, in love with her best friend. There were moments when she thought he might feel the same way too, when his gaze would linger on her a little too long, affection that seemed to run deeper than friendship lingering in his eyes. 

Emily wasn’t afraid of much. She’d been headstrong her entire life, something that seemed to be a compliment from everyone other than her mother, and defiant. Keen to always prove people’s expectations of her wrong, desperate to show that she was much more than just the ambassador’s daughter. One thing she was afraid of, was losing him. Aaron was important to her, so deeply woven throughout her history and who she was that the thought of not having him in her life was too much for her to bear. She’d rather just have him in her life as her best friend than risk losing him because she admitted that she wanted more. 

She’d tried to find happiness in other relationships, flings that had never gone far enough for her to introduce them to her parents, but she’d struggled. She’d had one long-term relationship when she was studying for her masters, with an older man called Ian, but he’d turned out to be the opposite of everything he had pretended to be, her reality coming crashing down when his live in girlfriend came to her place and confronted her. Aaron had come over the second she’d called, furious for her and armed with her favourite snacks and her favourite movie that he’d rented. He’d confronted Ian for her, something she’d scolded him for afterwards as she held an ice pack to his black eye, but she swore she saw something in his gentle smile that evening. As if she could have leant forward and kissed him and he would have kissed her back. 

After her flight lands she feels like she’s going through the motions, barely paying any attention as she goes through customs and collects her luggage. By the time she gets back to her apartment, she’s exhausted, dead on her feet as she abandons her suitcase just inside the door. She sheds her coat and walks into the kitchen, frowning when she sees two messages blinking on her phone. 

“$20 it’s Mother,” she says to herself, pressing the button on the machine to play the message. 

“Hi, Emily, it’s your mother-”

“Got it in one,” she says to herself as she reaches for the coffee pot so she can make some as she listens to the rest of her mother’s message. 

“I know you only got back home today, but I just wanted to remind you that I’m hosting a fundraiser this evening and I’d appreciate it if you attended. Aaron will be there too so you can catch up. See you later.”

She rolls her eyes as she places the coffee pot back into its machine, “I had a great time, Mother. Thanks for asking,” she grumbles to herself and shakes her head. She checks her watch, she would have enough time to shower and get ready before she went out. “Welcome back I guess.” 

The second message starts to play and she sighs happily to herself the moment she hears Aaron’s voice, any tension her mother had caused immediately seeping out of her shoulders. 

“Hi Em. Just calling to say I hope you got back okay - can’t wait to hear all about the parts you didn’t put in your postcards. I’m sure your mom has already told you but there’s a fundraiser tonight. Can’t wait to see you.” 

She hates herself a little for how widely she smiles, her cheeks aching with it as she places her finger over the button, contemplating listening to it again before she shakes her head at herself and steps away, grabbing the coffee pot to pour herself some now it was ready.

“Get it together, Emily.” 

___

She feels immediately tense as she steps into her mother’s house. 

This place had always had this effect on her. It had never quite felt like home, they’d never really been here long enough at a time for her to relax into it, her room never decorated to her liking - indistinguishable from every other bedroom. 

All of the good memories she had here were from when she and Aaron were young. When they ran around the halls whilst both of their mothers worked their vastly different jobs that had brought them together. She could still hear their laughter sometimes, echoing around the meticulously decorated halls, an innocent echo from before life had got in the way, back when they were too young to understand what the world had in store for them. 

“Emily!”

She smiles as she almost immediately walks into Dave. He was her mother’s friend, one of her advisors first and foremost, and, whether he liked it or not, a father figure for both Emily and Aaron. Her father had died when she was young, her memories of him hazy now, and Aaron’s had died when he was 15, his liver finally giving out. Dave was almost always around and always willing to hand out advice, however unwanted it might be. 

“Dave,” she says, pulling him into a hug, chuckling when he kisses her cheek, “How are you?”

“I’m okay, nothing ever changes for me,” he says, shrugging as he pulls back, “More importantly how are you? Didn’t you only get back a few hours ago?” 

She chuckles and nods, crossing her arms over her chest, “Yeah, I’m not even unpacked yet.”

“To be fair, Bella, you could be back for a few weeks and you still wouldn't be unpacked,” he quips, laughing when she sticks are tongue out at him, “Have you seen Aaron yet?”

She shakes her head, “No, I only just arrived. Is he here?” 

Dave smiles, a slight tightness to it she doesn’t fully understand, “I was just talking to him,” he says, reaching out and patting her on the shoulder, “I should go mingle, but if I see him I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

“Thanks, I’ll see you later?” 

Dave nods before he walks off, already being called over by someone Emily recognises as one of her mother’s friends. She sighs as she steps further into the party and she immediately grabs a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing member of wait staff. She takes a big gulp, humming gratefully as she swallows before she goes on the hunt for her best friend. She isn’t looking for long, and she can’t help but smile when she sees him. 

“Aaron!” 

He turns at the sound of her voice and she waves at him, her cheeks warming as he smiles widely and makes excuses to whoever he is talking to before he leaves them, immediately joining her.

“Em,” he says, walking over, his smile getting wider as he walks towards her. She feels her stomach flip and she has to blow out a steady breath as he gets closer. She somehow always managed to forget how handsome he was, how the dimples in his cheeks always drew her in, a part of her always itching to see if they would fit her thumbs perfectly, a place to hold him close as she pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’m so glad you made it. How are you?”

“I’m good,” She replies, and presses her lips together to suppress a smile, “I’d rather not be here right now, but you know what my mom is like,” she says, shrugging nonchalantly, “It’s just easier if I came. Plus this way I get to see you.” 

He looks her up and down as if he was reading her mind, and sometimes she worried he could. So in tune with her in a way no one else ever had been that it felt nothing short of a miracle that he’d never figured out how she felt about him. 

“Are you sure you’re not tired?” He asks, concern bleeding into his tone, his eyebrows furrowing together as he reaches out for her, his hand landing on her arm, his touch burning her in a way she’s sure tinges her cheeks pink. “You don’t seem like yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” She shrugs again, her smile turning into a smirk as she ignores just how tired she truly feels, “You know what I always say -jet lag is a choice.” 

“Jet lag is a choice,” he says at the same time as her and she rolls her eyes. He chuckles and pulls her into a hug, “Maybe for you,” he says, squeezing her tightly before he steps back, “But for us mere mortals it’s very much a reality. “I missed you.”

She smiles, and she feels warm, love for him spreading through her body, her skin tingling under where his hands lingered on her back, his hands so warm she could feel it through her dress. 

“I missed you too. A lot,” she says, and she bites her lip, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to tell him how she feels, or to at least allude to it. She isn’t sure if it’s proximity after months apart, or the jet lag she’d denied the existence of, but any reason she’d previously had not to tell him disappears. She feels a spark of bravery, or potentially stupidity, and she finds herself speaking before she can stop herself, “Aaron, I-”

“There you are!”

She’s cut off by a voice she doesn’t recognise, and her attention is caught by a blonde woman appearing behind him, a slightly sheepish smile on her face as she steps next to Aaron. He turns and looks at her, his smile faltering ever so slightly as he looks nervous for a second before he turns back to Emily. 

“Hi,” he says to the woman next to him before he turns to Emily, “This is Haley,” he says, smiling at Emily before he looks at Haley, “This is Emily.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Haley says, offering her hand out to shake Emily’s, who takes it, her smile never faltering as she looks back between the two of them, the political training she’d had ever since she could talk coming in useful as her gut churns, “Aaron speaks so highly of you.” 

Emily takes a moment to look Haley up and down. She was pretty. Petite and gorgeous in a way that reminded her of all the girls she’d never quite fit in with at school. Her blonde hair came to just shy of her shoulders, and her smile was frustratingly kind. Emily feels a pit start to form in her stomach, memories of Aaron’s college girlfriend, Kate, who looked incredibly similar hitting her in full force as she finds herself coming to a conclusion that she hopes isn’t correct. 

She chuckles humourlessly and releases Haley’s hand, looking back and forth between them, “Well, he’d better,” she jokes, “I’ve known him since he was 7 I have a lot of dirt on him.” They all laugh, Emily’s polite more than genuine, and she waits for a moment to see if Aaron will say anything, but he doesn’t, the nervous awkwardness he sometimes had that she’d usually find endearing annoying her. She looks back at Haley, “I’m sorry, who are you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of these events before.” 

Haley looks up at Aaron who clears his throat and nods, looking over at Emily, something in his eyes that she doesn’t recognise, and it’s enough to confirm what she’d already been thinking. 

“Haley is my girlfriend.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[moonlitempty]

The World’s End (2013), Dir. Edgar Wright, Starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost

One night. Six Friends. Twelve Pubs. Total Annihilation.

And with this beautiful entry we end the Cornetto Trilogy Journal Entries (C. T. J. E.’s for short), it’s been a truly beautiful ride! I hope my (frankly deficient and almost awful) little journal entries have provided at least a little bit of enjoyment or inspiration to all of you, my beautiful Peggsters <3

I had a lot of fun making them! And this served almost as an exercise or test in if I had any creativity left, I hadn’t done anything like this before so it was a nice little refreshment from my normal journaling routine.

(Pss, there is one for Spaced on the way, this is not the end!)

The World’s End proved to be the most exotic (for lack of a better word) movie out of its siblings, while I felt like Shaun and Hot Fuzz were grounded in reality enough that their events could realistically happen in our reality (well, perhaps excluding the zombies), I felt like The World’s End went all out with the mysticism, fantasy, extravagance, and exuberance.

Of course, this is to be expected, it IS a Sci-Fi movie after all! And I didn’t realise how much I needed a nice, time-to-fight-a-planetary-menace movie until I saw this beaut.

Which speaking of that, this movie is visually beautiful! All of Edgar’s Cornetto movies have this signature look I can’t quite put my finger on, but World’s End (I’ll call it that from now on for the sake of convenience) exudes a certain look and feel that I can’t quite describe, it’s sophisticated almost?

The editing in this film is the best in the entire trilogy, it’s got that signature snappy and dynamic style Edgar does so well, but this time it’s refined to the maximum level, with every scene change and transition leaving you in awe in a “THAT IS GENIUS!” sorta way.

Actually, I remember absolutely losing my shit at the intro ALONE, it was that much of a treat to the eyes.

The score was just PHENOMENAL as well! Normally I’m not one to pay much attention to a film’s score, they almost blend in and become complementary to the film in some cases, but this score drew me in almost immediately. It just started to become more and more impactful and present with each passing scene, I stopped taking the score for granted, and the whole film became a feast for the senses, the scene where Gary, Andy, Sam and Steven are driving away from Newton Haven was so powerful and imposing, I must get this score on some sort of physical format (don’t trust digital media to last forever! much less streaming!)

The plot was the thing I was most afraid of, I’m not known as a huge Sci-Fi guy, I find it quite boring and even uninteresting most of the time, so I was terrified of feeling disconnected from this film. The contrary ended up happening, I think this film may have put me onto the genre! That strange sort of cosmic horror and the implications of bigger and stronger societies outside of our own planetary grasp is very, very intoxicating.

GARY WAS PHENOMENAL.

The first time I watched the film I was honestly a little afraid that I’d dislike him, every little juvenile and childish joke or one liner he’d pull made me worried, specially since he was surrounded by a bunch of people that clearly knew he was not someone to trust. This all changed relatively quickly though, I learnt that Gary was just someone clinging to the past and the fun times he used to have with his mates, and honestly his struggles with addiction and feeling like you have nothing going for yourself hit particularly close to home for me. I ended up completely adoring Gary and I wish him the best, my sweet 40 year old baby boy.

The dynamic between Gary and Andy was perhaps the most interesting in the entire film, you could even argue it’s the central theme of the whole film, and seeing how it all slowly developed, unraveled, and blossomed, and Andy grew to care for Gary again was very, very sweet. The scene where they’re together at The World’s End was the most cathartic and powerful moment of the film. To err is human, truly.

I struggled to grow particularly attached to the rest of Gary’s and Andy’s friends, besides Steven and Sam, I didn’t care much for Oliver and Peter, admittedly, sorry!

This movie was surprisingly powerful, even now I find myself still thinking about it, specially the message of how making mistakes and being imperfect is part of the core nature of being human, to rob us of imperfection is to rob us of humanity, of warmth, of thought, of intention.

The World’s End. 10/10.

Until I (inevitably) rewatch you again, Cornetto Trilogy, which will probably be sooner than I expect it to be ❤️💙💚

[psychobratuserunknown]

A second chance at love★b.b

—prologue ;; the embodiment of defeat

Beatrix gets left at the altar by atlas. while also loosing her part-time teaching job. she discovers that her ex-fiancé fell in love with someone else. he was also going to take her on THEIR honeymoon. while he is on their honeymoon with his new girl bea takes things into her own hands by selling his belongings and moving away from the apartment they shared.

content warning — Mentions of infidelity, Atlas Jones is an asshole, and there's a little Shaun of the Dead reference in here.

pairing — older!bucky x younger!beatrix

chapter summary — Following her ex-fiance Atlas's departure from their engagement, Beatrix had feelings of humiliation and defeat. Due to her previous experience of being duped the night before, she realised it was a poor idea to book separate hotel rooms before the wedding. In addition to losing her postdoctoral scholarship, Beatrix lost her part-time teaching position. Unable to face anyone again, she sat by herself in her red wine-stained bridal dress.

word count — 3.8k ish

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

kansas city - December 15th, 2022

Beatrix felt completely defeated. She had been left at the altar, humiliated on what was supposed to be her wedding day.

Deep down, she knew getting separate hotel rooms before the wedding was a bad idea.

Her fiance had cheated on her the night before with someone else and all she wanted was a simple text saying he couldn't go through with it and that he was taking the other woman on their planned honeymoon to Australia.

Even the priest could see how sorry Beatrix looked. It was written all over his face, the same pitiful expression she hated seeing from others - both giving and receiving it.

She thought being left at the altar only happened in movies or to girls who used to bully her in high school. Never did she think it would happen to her.

To top it off, she got laid off from her part-time teaching job and her postdoc scholarship didn't make the cut. And now, here she sat on the steps of a beautiful church, alone and pathetic, eating her own wedding cake. At least it tasted good; they had paid enough for it. Well, her ex-fiance Atlas did.

The sounds of the party behind her grew louder as she sat there in her wedding dress, letting it flow down like a waterfall onto the steps. Snow began to fall and even though she should have gone inside to get a jacket, she didn't want to face everyone again. Her gorgeous ivory dress, passed down from her grandmother, was now stained with red wine after she spilled it on herself while trying not to cry.

With a cigarette in one hand and a chunk of wedding cake in the other, Beatrix sat there licking the white vanilla bean icing off her fingers. A few crumbs fell onto her lap and she looked down with a soft sob.

Things between her and Atlas were perfect - well, perfect for him at least. Beatrix never had much of a say but she just swallowed it, like a good fiancee. She was always the cool girlfriend who drank beer with the guys instead of wine, hosted Super Bowl parties even though she hated football, and woke up at 4:00am to go to CrossFit because Atlas wanted her to - he said she was looking a little rounder.

God, she hated him. What a prick. Why did she stay with him?

And why did she let him leave her like this? She knew he was cheating on her but she thought if she just endured it and lost enough weight or got a better job, or was sweeter to him, that he would stop.

The door opened behind her and her best friend since they were four years old, Matilda, called out to her. Beatrix looked over her shoulder and took a drag of her cigarette. Tilly's pretty hazel eyes bore into her as she stood there in her elegant blue dress while everyone else had changed into their casual clothes.

Tilly always hated being called by her full name so Beatrix had started calling her Titty when they were kids - a silly nickname that had stuck around. Tilly never seemed to mind and just rolled with it; except for anyone else who dared call her that - like an ex-boyfriend who received a punch in the face when he tried.

Tilly was sensitive when it came to her name and she couldn't help but comment on Beatrix's drunken state. As they sat outside, Tilly asked how Beatrix was truly feeling. Beatrix sighed and admitted that she felt broken and unsure of herself, but also a sense of relief. Tilly comforted her as she cried and reminded her that she wanted this night to be remembered for good reasons.

But deep down, Beatrix had only said that to save face and hide the fact that she was heartbroken over her fiancé leaving her at the altar. Instead of dealing with her emotions, she drank too much wine and sent angry texts to her ex-fiancé, who ignored them. Tilly reassured her that even if he hadn't left her on their wedding day, their relationship would never have worked out due to his cruel behavior towards Beatrix.

Despite wanting a fairy tale ending with him, she was willing to go through hell just to be with him. Now, Tilly suggested using the money meant for their honeymoon in Australia to go on a trip to Portland together instead. After some hesitation, Beatrix finally agrees and they make plans for the next day. 

"Why do I have to spend Christmas and New Year's being miserable?!"

"I'm grieving!"

"Grieving over what? A guy with a flat butt and a small penis?" Beatrix started laughing, but Tilly nudged her in the ribs.

"Come on, I'm going to this party with some professors from the University of Portland."

"But I don't want to be around academics. I just got fired by academics!"

Tilly rolled her eyes.

"And I don't want to hang out with people I barely know!"

"How did you even get invited to this party?"

"The department head is Sarah's brother."

"Sarah Wilson?!" Sarah was in the same PhD program as Beatrix and Tilly at Washington State years ago. They still kept in touch occasionally, mostly through Facebook.

Sarah was a successful researcher with two beautiful kids, a huge house, and she did it all on her own after her husband left. Beatrix always admired her strength - she could really use it right now.

"Yeah! I told her I was going back to Portland to visit family, and she invited me to the party. Who knows, you might make some connections and land a great job!"

"I can't leave Kansas."

Tilly rolled her eyes.

"There's nothing left for you here, babe. Come home. Your mom was thinking about asking you."

"She's always thinking about it."

"Well maybe it would be good for you." Tilly paused and grabbed a handful of cake. "Come on, you hate it here. I can see it on your face."

"I don't hate it here."

"Who wanted to move here, you or Atlas?"

"He said it would be good for his career, and it was good for mine-" "Until they fired you." Beatrix sighed.

"Yeah."

Tilly wrapped her arm around Fiona's shoulder and pulled her close.

"Come on, come home. You're not a country girl, we both know that. Can you even name one country song?"

"Shania Twain..." Beatrix trailed off.

"Not a bad try, but it's not a actual song," Tilly laughed.

"You're not going to let this go until I'm on a plane back with you, are you?"

"Nope. And I'm sleeping in the honeymoon suite with you tonight, so..."

"You have your own room!"

"Do you think I'm letting you sleep alone?"

"There's only one bed!" Beatrix yelped.

Tilly winked at her and Beatrix nudged her in the ribs.

"Asshole."

"You love me," Tilly replied as she squeezed her and held her close. Beatrix rested her head on Tilly's shoulder and let out a soft sigh.

From behind them, Beatrix heard the door open and turned around. Scott Lang, one of her brother's friends - and hers - stepped outside with a cigarette between his lips. She always liked Scott growing up; he was funny and incredibly smart.

Scott was now a physics teacher at their old high school in Portland, but he was still working on publishing new articles. He didn't want to limit himself to just teaching high school - he wanted to stay connected to the scientific community. Although, some people didn't take him seriously because he taught high school physics.

"Hey, Scott."

He walked over and sat next to her, taking in the champagne bottle at her feet and the sad-looking cake on a small bone china plate.

"Hey. How are you holding up?"

Beatrix sighed.

"Covered in wine, drinking straight from the bottle, and eating cake with my hand... Just another Saturday for me."

Scott chuckled and lit his cigarette.

"I'm sorry about Atlas. That guy's a total jerk."

"Told you," Tilly muttered as Beatrix flicked her cigarette onto the pavement.

Immediately, Scott handed her another one and lit it as soon as she put it in her mouth.

"Thanks," she murmured. "So what's it like in there?"

Scott shrugged.

"Just a party, like you asked for. John's parents and sisters aren't here though."

Tilly was sensitive when it came to her name and she couldn't help but comment on Beatrix's drunken state. As they sat outside, Tilly asked how Beatrix was truly feeling. Beatrix sighed and admitted that she felt broken and unsure of herself, but also a sense of relief. Tilly comforted her as she cried and reminded her that she wanted this night to be remembered for good reasons.

But deep down, Beatrix had only said that to save face and hide the fact that she was heartbroken over her fiancé leaving her at the altar. Instead of dealing with her emotions, she drank too much wine and sent angry texts to her ex-fiancé, who ignored them. Tilly reassured her that even if he hadn't left her on their wedding day, their relationship would never have worked out due to his cruel behavior towards Beatrix.

Despite wanting a fairy tale ending with him, she was willing to go through hell just to be with him. Now, Tilly suggested using the money meant for their honeymoon in Australia to go on a trip to Portland together instead. After some hesitation, Beatrix finally agrees and they make plans for the next day. 

Do you really want to hang out with John's sisters' friends and their wine club? That doesn't seem like your scene." He took off his jacket and put it around Beatrix's shoulders. "Here, you look cold and too stubborn to admit it."

She smiled softly as Scott rubbed her back.

"Will you be at the New Year's Eve party?" Beatrix asked him.

"Hell yeah. I got an invite from Sarah before Tilly did."

"You jerk," Tilly said with a playful punch.

Scott laughed as Tilly reached over Beatrix and tried to hit him. The three of them were 28 years old, two successful in their careers. And here she was - a complete mess, sitting on the steps of a snow-covered golf course.

Screw it. What do I have to lose? She thought.

Unemployed and unmarried... maybe getting left at the altar would at least score me some discounted plane tickets or free champagne on the flight?

Maybe even delivered by a hot flight attendant? Gender was never an issue for Beatrix anyways.

She and Tilly had dated in high school, but eventually realized they knew each other too well. Who would they complain to when things went wrong?

"I'll go home - but just for Christmas and New Year's!" Fiona exclaimed. "But don't tell my mom or she'll make me move to Seattle with her, and I can't handle that. Not for a third time."

Before Atlas, Beatrix had been in a string of terrible relationships. She fell too quickly and committed before truly knowing the guy.

One time, she ended up living with someone who had committed vehicular manslaughter. She found out when police showed up at their door one day while she was returning home from a run, arresting her boyfriend on a five-year-old warrant.

Beatrix grabbed the bottle of champagne next to her and took a big swig, holding it above her head. She didn't feel victorious, but fake it till you make it, right?

"You guys want to get out of here?" Scott asked as the bubbles burned Beatrix's throat.

"Yeah," Beatrix sighed, and Tilly helped her up. "This party is lame."

"Because Atlas's mom planned it," Tilly muttered.

"Probably."

They crushed their cigarettes on the ground and Scott helped Beatrix inside while Tilly grabbed their coats and Beatrix's purse. Her suitcases were already at the hotel, ready for their trip to Australia tomorrow. Technically, she could leave now, but she would have to buy plane tickets tomorrow and spend more money she didn't have.

She sighed as she looked around the ballroom. Most of Atlas's family had left, only her friends remained. Her dad was asleep in a chair with an empty champagne glass still in his hand while her mom tried to wake him up, eventually resorting to slapping him in the face. Beatrix giggled and caught her mother's eye before she hurried over to her.

"Oh honey, I am so sorry this happened." She hugged Beatrix tightly while Scott stood off to the side sipping a random glass of champagne he found on a table.

"It's okay Momma. These things happen, right?"

"They shouldn't," her mother whispered. She pulled back. "Why don't you come live with us in Seattle?"

There it was, she thought.

Beatrix shook her head.

"I'll be fine, Momma. I need to find a job anyways."

"Well, you know, I was listening to NPR and they were talking about how tough the academic job market is getting - it's brutal," her mother sighed dramatically.

"There's barely any security now. All of that time and effort for nothing?" Beatrix felt like a balloon rapidly losing air, her shoulders slumping and her expression becoming more defeated as her mother finished speaking.

It wasn't that what she said wasn't true, but beatrix just didn't want to hear it right now. Congratulations, beatrix! Your life has fallen apart and you can't even find a job. The universe always seems to kick you when you're already down.

"Thanks for the reassurance," she sighed.

Her mother rolled her eyes.

"Oh, honey, I didn't mean it like you'll never find a job. I meant it like you need to put your best foot forward and really impress those schools. Maybe wear a little makeup? It wouldn't hurt."

Beatrix had to hold back from snarling. She loved her mom, but sometimes she offered up her opinions as if everyone was asking for them.

"I will, mom. Thanks."

Her mother gently tapped her cheek.

"Your father and I love you."

"I know, mom. I love you too."

"You were too good for atlas anyway. He didn't deserve you."

Before beatrix could start crying again, tilly walked over with her bag overflowing with something - probably something she shouldn't have taken from the wedding, but today was supposed to be about beatrix... even though things didn't go as planned.

Beatrix's mother kissed tilly on the cheek and then looked down at the bag and coat in tilly's arms. Her eyes widened.

"Are you two leaving?" She asked as tilly handed beatrix her favorite cherry red wool coat - probably the best thing John ever bought for her.

"Yeah," beatrix said softly. "I'm tired and covered in wine. I just want to go back to the hotel since I have it for one more night. And I don't want to risk running into atlas at home and making things awkward."

"He didn't say anything to you? He didn't even call?" Her mother asked.

Beatrix shook her head and her mother scoffed.

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll have already left the country," Fiona's mother muttered.

"Or the planet," Scott added.

Beatrix's mother hugged her again, kissing her on both cheeks.

"Try to get some rest and think about what I said, okay?"

"Okay."

She knew she wasn't coming home. Beatrix didn't know what she wanted to do anymore. Academia seemed like a gamble and job opportunities were scarce, especially in Kansas.

The three of them said their goodbyes with Scott leading the way out of the building and into a large limousine that was rented for the night. The driver was standing outside smoking.

"I thought I was taking the bride and groom to the hotel," he said as he flicked his cigarette onto the ground.

"Yeah, change of plans," beatrix replied. "We're having a threesome now."

Scott burst into laughter and tilly rolled her eyes as she opened the car door.

"What?" beatrix asked as the driver walked around to his door and climbed inside. "I thought it was funny."

"It was," Scott chuckled.

The three of them piled into the limo, beatrix sliding in after tilly. Her thigh brushed against tilly's bag and she heard the sound of bottles clinking. She raised an eyebrow and Bea grinned, reaching into her bag and pulling out five bottles of Dom Perignon. Tilly always brought big bags to academic conferences specifically for stealing purposes.

. 

Once, she decided to take the entire charcuterie board and even the fancy cheese knife from the event. The university later tried to charge her for it, but she tore up the bill and told them off.

"I found these in the fridge. Thought you might want a souvenir."

Beatrix laughed and threw her head back. The bottles were a gift from Atla's workplace, meant to be opened and enjoyed only by the head table. Beatrix, Tilly, and Scott made up the head table since no one else wanted to stick around and watch one person throw a party for themselves.

"Hey! Open one of those!" Scott shouted.

"Not here, uncivilized man!" Tilly retorted. "Calm down! You've had four Jägerbombs, five glasses of champagne, and two whiskey sours!"

"It's not my fault you can't handle your alcohol, Matilda."

"If you call me by my legal name again, I'll beat you into next week."

Scott leaned forward with raised eyebrows.

"You'll beat me?" he asked with a slight wiggle of his head.

Tilly went to stand up and punch him, but Beatrix held her back.

"Are you still going to the hotel?" The driver called out.

"Yeah! I have the room for one more night and my fiancé left me at the altar, so I'm going to enjoy every moment of having a balcony and a free breakfast tomorrow."

"Rough luck, kid!" The driver paused. "You seem to be handling it well though!"

"It's the alcohol," Beatrix reassured him. "And having my friends here makes it bearable."

Scott and Tilly hugged her tightly as Beatrix let out a soft sigh, resting her head on her best friend's shoulder as the car drove towards the hotel.

Things could have been much worse. She could have actually married Atlas Jones today.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

the thing about me is... i will write little vignettes. putting rose tyler in situations and whatnot. via dimension hopper, naturally.

this takes place right before that ending scene in the garden in the giggle. rated g, gen. rose-centric, guest starring the best dad, shaun temple. to read on ao3:

the happy landing

The scrapes and aches of the warzone she left behind—a world falling out of orbit, a catastrophic end after eons of civilisation—are fresh, and so are the smudges around her eyes. Tears still mingle with days-old mascara. And yet, when she jumps again, it's into the most beautiful summer day she can imagine.

She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t even know where she expects to be. But the sky is scrubbed clean by recent rain, the forgiving soil dark beneath her boots. In her periphery, all is green.

Her first breath is dizzyingly rich, verdant and sultry with growth and flourishing. Not even the lingering taste of ash can taint its wholesomeness. As she sucks in oxygen like she's been starved of it, her legs give way with the force of her headrush, and she manages to catch herself against a nearby stone wall.

She is in a garden, somewhere.

Ivy tickles her fingertips, and she wants to dig her hands into it. Wants to fall to her knees and bury herself in this clean, perfect dirt. Instead, she takes several more measured breaths. She swipes away her tears and stands straight. And when she finally feels she must, Rose moves.

The garden is sprawling, bigger than the kinds she’s seen attached to posh city houses, so she can guess this must be the countryside. A countryside, anyway.

All her senses—even the ones she's only just begun to explore—tingle with the sense that this is right, this is Earth. This is home. But she pins down fledgling hopes before they can take flight. She’s been wrong before. Can’t be too careful.

Her nose pricks with the realisation that there's a fire somewhere close; she mistook it, at first, for the staleness of the world she's just left behind, but this is a warmer, more cheerful fire. It sizzles with a different kind of burning. A barbecue, her nose identifies before her brain can properly catch up. Someone is close, and cooking outside.

Her stomach pangs with hunger. The last thing she can clearly recall eating was a ration bar, guiltily nicked from a bunker on her way to the last human outpost. That was more than a day ago. Possibly longer.

As she walks through the expansive garden, following an emergent trail of smoke, she toys briefly with trying to identify the flowers she sees: there are so many, a vivid patchwork, and they'd certainly tell her something about where she's landed if she knew them. But she never had the chance to become a green thumb, in her past life or this one. She recognises the plants only vaguely, pausing at intervals to tip her nose toward one open bloom or other.

The sweet scents tickle her nose until she sneezes. It's loud, ricocheting all over the stone, echoing in the big open sky.

Rose goes perfectly still.

Over the garden wall, she hears a voice. “Hello?”

Wincing, she follows the curve of the wall for a few more steps, but the path has turned to gravel, and each crunch just makes her more aware of her own noise.

There's a scraping sound, probably tongs or something over a grill. “That you, Mel?” It sounds like a man. “If it is, you've come too early. Sylvia won't let me open the wine ‘til the brisket's done, and I can't get the brisket done ‘til I manage to scrape this infernal tofu off the rack. No idea how you’re s'posed to barbecue the stuff—it's like glue!”

By the time he's done talking, she's had time to round the bend more fully, where she comes upon an open wooden gate, waist high, looking in on another smaller garden.

It's a lovely, sequestered place, more tame and shaded than the relative wilderness she's wandered so far. There's a kind of pergola up overhead, laced through with vines. Grapes hang from them in bunches. And she's never been a particularly religious person, but she is imaginative, and this is not totally unlike how she used to picture the Garden of Eden.

Except for the barbecue, of course.

And the man in an apron that says Kiss the Cook, tongs in hand, staring blankly at her.

“Hello,” she says, giving a little wave. She tries and fails to imagine how she looks to this stranger, with tear tracks still down her face, coated in another planet’s dust.

“Hello.” He doesn't seem particularly suspicious of her. More like… curious. His eyes are dark brown, and kind, and observant, too. He looks like someone's father.

“Sorry, I was just… I was on a walk, and I got a bit turned around. What street is this?”

The man snorts. He looks less like someone's father and more like Mickey when she's bothering him now. “Oh, I dunno, probably la rue Something-or-Other. France, my wife says, she wants a little cottage holiday in the south of France. Mind you, none of us speak a word, and I need a map to find the nearest petrol station, it’s embarrassing! Would never happen to me in London.”

“France,” she repeats, smile blooming in wonder. “This is France?”

“Where exactly did you walk from?” His laugh is less baffled than she might have expected.

“Long way off,” she replies. “I'm on a sort of… journey.”

“Ah,” the man says wisely, with a shake of his tongs at her. “Gap year, is it? You're on walkabout. You lose your duffle?”

She nods. “Fell in the sea.” The lie comes easily, because it’s something she supposes she would do. Or something the Doctor would do, she thinks wistfully. Get caught up in an adventure and lose all his gadgets to the depths of the Mediterranean.

“Oh, that's rough luck. No offense, though, but don't say anything like that too loud near my daughter—it’s my worst fear, honestly, my Rose wandering off with nothing but a pack and a map.” He gives a visible parody of a shudder. “Not that she's exactly the type, you know, but kids change as they grow up, don’t they? You can never tell.”

Her smile only brightens further. So he is a father. And a good one, far as she can tell. She can tell by how his eyes crinkle up.

She asks, “Your daughter's called Rose?” He nods, and really, what are the odds? “So am I!”

The man isn't quite finished in his examination of her, that much is clear, but at the sound of her name, his eyes undergo a further softening. He sets his tongs aside and rubs his hands together.

“That's a funny coincidence,” he says. Then, in another moment, he seems to settle on something. “Look, why don't you join us for dinner? My family's all here, and I don't know how long you've been walking, but you're a pretty long way off from anywhere. I'm Shaun, by the way,” he adds with a self-deprecating smile at his own perceived rudeness. “Shaun Temple.”

Rose doesn't hesitate a bit. She is drawn by the scents of home, by a home more home than home. The effortless clarity of the sky, and the bees buzzing mildly... It’s like paradise.

She begins to feel every moment like the past few days of blood and loss and darkness are really going, gone, slipping off her shoulders, leaving her almost—very nearly—light.

“It's lovely to meet you, Shaun,” she says. It’s true. He is lovely to meet. She’s sure his wife will be just as lovely, and his daughter Rose, and whoever Mel is. “I'm Rose Tyler.”

And she steps into the garden.

[sunnydayroleplay]

Hiiii~

Now how about jealous sex with Jack?~ Him getting so angry and possessive over MC that he fucks then senseless while growling "Mine" or something pleeeease

Hey~ You just keep them coming don't you? Not the I mind them, nor writing these beautiful ideas into more words. Let's write it. This includes: Getting fucked senseless holy shit AND someone calling you and he makes damn well sure you answer, Praise, Typical Use Of: "Sunshine, Sunspot, Sunbeam" etc.., Use of "Mine"

You woke up earlier than Jack thought you'd willing wake up on your day off. You planned to go out to the mall, and grab a lunch with your dear-ol' pal, Shaun! You got dressed up, nothing too fancy, but it definitely caught Jack's eye as you grabbed your wallet and keys. As you stuffed them into your pockets, Jack perked an eye from the kitchen. "Where you headed to, sunspot?" He said as he walked up to you, pulling you into his arms, kissing your cheek softly. You giggled, kissing him right back. "I'm going out with Shaun. You remember him, right? He stayed with us for a little bit!" You gave Jack a big smile, squeezing him as you did so.

"Yeah, I remember him." He said in a cold monotonous tone. He pulled you in closer, his hand resting behind your head, as his other arm held you close by your waist. Something about hanging out with Shaun, alone, dressed so nicely, didn't sit well with him. It did not sit well at all. Something about someone else spending quality time with his sunshine, was not something he could let off the hook so easily. "Something wrong, Jack?" You say after pulling away from his warm embrace. Worried, you look up at him. He looks down at you, changing his tone so fast. "Just sweet dandy, lemon candy!" He smiles, kissing you again, swinging his arms around your shoulders. "Do you have to go? I'm gonna miss you!~" "Yes, I'm going Jack." You chuckle softly, gently caressing his cheek. Now that you think of it, you never really left Jack alone by yourself. And if you did it was because of a quick errand to run. You were going to be alone for 3-4 hours, with a guy that Jack may or may not have some mixed feelings over. "Please? Don't leave." He whimpers, picking up his hand and smoothing out your hair. Jack does not want you to leave, nor does he want you with some guy who's definitely in the imaginary competition of winning your love. At least that's how he would put it. "I'm only gonna be gone for a few hours, I'll see you later, Jack." Kissing the tip of his nose, you pat his cheek and walk out your door. Locking it behind you. He was pissed. You're leaving looking like that, with some other guy, not even tell him when he should except you home, and you didn't say that you loved him. Downright disrespectful.

As you had your fun with Shaun, going to the mall, getting some new clothes and trinkets for yourself, and somethings for Jack, which Shaun definitely questioned on who they were for, Jack was cleaning away your house angrily. He did laundry, vacuumed, cleaned up your kitchen. Hell he could've went grocery shopping with all the food you had when you came back. Being alone gave him time to over-think. Is this it? Are you finally leaving him? Have you found someone else? Has something bad happened to you instead? Has he put a spell under you to make you fall under his arm? He was in fury. He was jealous, and he had just the idea for when you got home. "Hey Jack! I'm home! I got you a few things as-well!" You finally come home, as promised, a few hours later. You place your bags on your dinning room table.

"Hello, my sunshine." He said, suddenly creeping up from behind you, and holding you tightly. His head rested on your shoulder. His hands on your stomach. "How was it?" "We went to the mall, I got some things for you, some things for me, Shaun and I went to that new restaurant down by the hub." He pulled you in closer, you could feel his ragged breathing down your neck. Sending slight chills. "Forget about Shaun." "Huh?" He pushed you against the table, lifting your legs up and picking you up to set you down on said table. He leaned in, his face slightly flushed. He put a hand to your face, glaring into your soul. His voice slightly trembled, the way he looked at you with those chocolate colored eyes of his, could turn anyone into some fondue. He kissed your neck gently, biting you, licking you, really anything he could to mark you, so that the next time Shaun rolled around, he could get the hint. He grabbed you by the legs, gently swiping off your pants and throwing them on the couch, as well as with his own. "Jack..~" You moaned softly, your hand in his blue colored hair. Without saying anything, he swiftly shoved his cock inside of you, holding you by your thighs, and recklessly fucked you. Once he found his rhythm, he was singing in and off key. He didn't stop or slow down for nothing. A hand flew to your mouth to cover up your sounds, but he wasn't having any of it. He grabbed your wrist, leaning into your face once more. "I want your neighbors to know all the details on how you feel on the inside, by the time we're done." Shit, if something's wrong with Sunny Day Jack, then something's wrong with you. (And me.) He glared into your soul, as he rearranged your inside. Your back arched, your neck flew back, your moans in psych with Jack's thrusts. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, longing for some sort of leverage to lean on. As he continued you heard your phone ringing. Jack picks it up before you even have the chance to notice, and answers. He give the phone to you and whispers: "Answer, sunbeam~ It's for you." You grab the phone as you try to contain yourself. You read the caller ID. It's your boss. (Manager, whatever. He's in charge of where you work.) "H-Hello? Did you need something?" You could barely manage that sentence without exclaiming your vocal cords out. How could you have a full blown conversation? As your boss is talking, you occasionally do the typical: "Hm. Yeah. Hmmm, Okay." Jack is not slowing down that's for sure. He made that damn clear. He continued to roughly thrust into you, fuck being gentle. "O-Okay, Can I, Hmmm~ Call you back?" You hang up, yeah you're not calling him back. Jack smirks and leans into you once more. His mouth pressed to your ear. "You're mine, sunshine. And only mine." He said in a growl, biting the tips of your ear. "You're doing so w-well, it'll only be a little longer~"

Well, you're fucked! :D

[meetmyothersouls]

Roll on this weekend for your many beautiful Jonah fics!

I hope you enjoy the start of my new series! Here’s my first Halloween special of the season!

The Through Hike

Jonah Hauer-King x first person reader

Warnings: Appalachian mountains, creature, blood, suspense

Chapter 1

In this current moment, I’m not sure what is bothering me more. The fact that this is not going to be an indie film like I was being led to believe or that the casting director handed out the male lead role. I’ve trained my entire life for a role like this. I earned this role in more ways than just my acting ability. I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. I hiked the trails as an infant strapped to my moms back. I led my Girl Scout troop leader out of the Forrest with just a compass and the moon as my guide. I was born for this role.

Jonah Hauer-King was not. Clearly they handed him the role after his newly recent success from the live action Little Mermaid movie. I did my research immediately upon finding out he was to be acting along side of me. He grew up rich, probably never hiked a mountain in his life, let alone camped in the wilderness.

I roll my eyes as I enter the forest clearing for our first day of shooting. I see Jonah, it’s hard not too, he is incredibly tall. Even from far away I can tell he’ll tower over me which will make our kissing scenes even more awkward than I originally thought.

He looks over at me and I look away but not before I catch his eager wave and smile. He begins to walk toward me and I prepare myself. My thought is to pretend like I’ve never heard of him. Put him in his place a little bit. I won’t be pushed over but some A-list actor who things he’s doing is all a favor because he’s acting in an indie film.

“Y/n!” Jonah calls, kicking up leaves with each footstep towards me. I hate that he knows my name without me having to tell him. “Hi!”

I’ve got to look up to make eye contact with him. Jesus he’s massive. A little leaner than he was in The Little Mermaid, but massive nonetheless. “Hi,” I say back.

Jonah smiles again, a prominent dimple changing his face from attractive to downright adorable, but I’ll never make it known. He holds out his hand for a handshake. “I’m a huge fan of your work, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Oh are you?” I ask, I take his hand and give him a limp handshake. Suck up.

“Definitely, Eye for an Eye was incredible!”

This throws me off guard. I find it hard to believe any one knows about my films, let alone an actor of his status. Indie films usually appeal to a specific audience, one that I didn’t think he’d be a part of. “Well, thanks,” I say, unable to keep the facade of my hard exterior. “I’ve seen a few of yours as well.”

“Alright everyone! Let’s get to work,” Shaun, the director says. He’s got a few other behind the scenes people next to him. They begin marking areas with flags, so they don’t get lost on their way back out of the woods. Amateurs. “We’ve got a few scene on the docket for today, but nothing that’ll be too involved. Jonah, Y/n, we’ll be doing mostly nature shots for today, if you want to head back to the hotel for the day feel free to.”

Jonah looks over at me but says, “I’m good, I’d like to explore the terrain a bit.”

Shaun looks over at me and I wave him off. He knows where I’d rather be. I start walking, the feel of the ground beneath my new hiking shoes fills me with joy until I hear Jonah’s footsteps behind me. “So you enjoy the outdoors too?”

“Yeah,” I say, “I grew up here.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

I eye him, arching an eyebrow. “Well, my parents are from Asheville, but moved out deeper into the mountain before I was born. My mom had me in the cabin her and my dad built and raised me on the mountain. You know how they say ‘the mountains are calling’?” I look over at Jonah, he’s smiling at me, listening intently. “Well, they literally know my name-the mountains I mean-they’re a part of me.” We’re silent for a moment, the only thing to be heard is the crunching of our footsteps on the ground. “What about you?”

Jonah huffs out a laugh, “ah well, I wouldn’t say I’ve got nature in my blood but-”

He stops talking once I hold my hand up to his face. “Did you hear that?”

Jonah looks around furrowing his brow as if the action would help him hear better. “What?” He whispers.

“I heard a scream.”

“Maybe an animal?” Jonah offers.

“Not an animal. I know every animal sound there is out here, that was human.”

Just as the words leave my mouth the scream sound again, only louder, more distraught and blood curdling.

“Okay I hear it now.”

Several more pierce the air and I turn back.

“I’m not sure how to get back!” Jonah calls out running after me.

“Just follow me and be quiet. No more yelling.”

Apparently we walked a lot farther than we thought, I haven’t seen one orange flag yet. We weave through trees and I make mental notes of everything that I can use as a natural marker. If I pass it again I know where going in circles. I whip past branches and duck skillfully under low hanging limbs. Jonah’s a few steps behind it he’s keeping up. Finally, I see an orange flag in the distance. I slow significantly, and hold my hand back so Jonah doesn’t bump into me. It’s eerily quiet. No birds chirping or squirrels dating from tree to tree. We walk gingerly across piled leaves. Jonah is next to me and I hold my fingers to my lips. We make our way to a massive tree, big enough to conceal both of our bodies. I press against it and peek around the bark.

“What do you see?” Jonah whispers.

I slow my breathing in an attempt to be as quiet as possible. There’s camera equipment scattered across the forest floor. There’s a shoe here and a phone lying in the mud right next to my shoe. Then I see a body. My hand goes to my mouth so my gasp isn’t audible. I’m quite sure that’s Keenan the boom operator. His chest is ripped open and organs are spilling out of his open abdomen. Something pulls his body out of view. There’s a wet crunching sound further to my left. I lean over a bit further but wish I hadn’t. Crouched down about fifteen feet away is what I can only describe as a monster. It’s skin is rotted and gray in some places. It’s wearing clothing but it’s extremely weathered and torn. It snarls as it digs into Shaun’s body. Blood squirts against the dirt, creating a bloody mud mixture.

“What?” Jonah barely whispers.

I turn to face him. “We have to go,” I mouth.

“Why? What did you see?”

“Shhh!”

“What is it?” He mouths back.

“It’s-”

As soon as I hear the iPhone ringing in the mud next to me my heart drops. I hear the creature drop Shaun’s entrails. Then I hear it’s footsteps. I peek back around the tree and we lock eyes. I gasp and dart back behind the tree. I’m not able to speak, I grab Jonah’s shirt collar and I’m only able to get one word out before taking off.

“Run.”

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 @jonahhauer-kingg @crazyyynyyyy @notagreekgal28

[bigfan-fanfic]

Storytime (Male!Reader x Paladin Danse)

Requested by @iliumheightnights for  Fic requests you say!? I got you friend! How about Paladin Danse cuddling with his boyfriend/husband who tells him about life before the war and what it was like?

A lot of being married to Danse involves, pun intended, general deprogramming.

Most of what Danse remembers is filled with Brotherhood of Steel propaganda and he needs those ideas broken.

With your settlements allowing ghouls and synths and not tolerating prejudices, Danse needs to work out his own trauma and fears.

And something helpful to him has been hearing of your stories.

Your life, so far in the past, before the world collapsed in nuclear fire, is something that can bring him something he realizes he's never really had before.

Truth.

There's an opportunity here for him to ask someone who was actually there for it, and dispel his brainwashing.

Because in ways, it was good. In more ways, it was bad. But it's different than what Danse has heard.

You tell him about your life before the war. Military service, having a son. You think about sanitizing it but then you know that's not what he needs.

You tell him about the prejudices in the war paranoia. The way people were exploited, the way costs would fluctuate, how Vault-Tec played on fears.

Danse does give the big questions at the start - how did the tech work back in the day, did it really affect people like the Brotherhood said?

And you're honest. In part, yes, but really, it was just people. Technology and information can help fuel the conflict, but really it's people who do this - the Brotherhood taking it away just blinds them from the knowledge that they're becoming the same.

Eventually he starts just asking about daily life. About you shopping for Shaun's crib and nursery. About your hopes for him.

He imagines white picket fences and crisp lawns. Bright paint and smiling neighbors, but that's not what intrigues him. Facade and metal is all well and good, but he likes the most hearing about your human experiences. Something that just shows that human or synth, old or new, all of us are the same.

You play with his hair, letting him rest his head in your lap, and you speak. His eyes always close, but you know he's listening. You barely register your own words, a story about just going to a school dance, but the smile that creeps across his face is just so beautiful.

Sure, things are different. Traditions and society that have changes so much over centuries, but there's that core of common experience that remains in it.

And soon, the positions reverse. Danse holds you, and when he thinks you've fallen asleep, he speaks.

Tells you of his thoughts. Of scenarios of meeting before the war's end, thoughts of meeting in the Brotherhood. A thousand different scenarios, little snippets of lives you could have lived in other universes, but always, he kisses your temple and whispers that he wouldn't change a thing.

That of all the innumerable possibilities, he's grateful that in this universe, he was able to meet you.

And that's how he knows he's real. Everything can be simulated, manufactured. But the love he feels for you? Nothing could imitate that.

Danse loves you. Not because you make him feel human, but because with you, he doesn't have to be anything other than himself.

[threadsun]

Chapter 2: One Kiss Away From Killing

Masterlist | ao3 | first chapter | next chapter

Content: knives, death threat, grinding, mild horniness

There’s another timid knock on the door. 

“Nik…? Please don’t make me use my key…”

Nik glares at the door. “We changed the locks.”

“No you didn’t.” There’s a soft sigh. “That’d be a violation of the lease. You know that.”

“You think I give a fuck about the lease?”

“I… Nik, please…” This time there’s a distressed whine. “I-I can just wait for Zander to get home! He’s only a couple blocks away…”

For a moment there’s silence. Tense, bone chilling silence. The door swings open and Nik’s arm shoots out, grabbing the nearest piece of fabric they can get their hand on. They’re used to this sort of thing. It’s second nature, pulling him in through the door, shoving him up against it as it closes with a loud thud. Off balance, knees bent, leaning back until he’s low enough that they can comfortably shove their forearm against his throat.

“Hi, Nik…” Ian gives a nervous smile, raising a hand in greeting.

“How the fuck do you know where Z is?” The snarl on Nik’s face is borderline feral, eyes sparking with the barely contained urge to tear Ian’s throat out.

“H-He still uses my card!” Ian holds up his other hand, clutching his phone. “I just got a notification that he used it at the coffee shop down the street…”

“He still uses…?” Nik groans. “Of course he does.”

“I don’t mind! I… I don’t mind him using it. I like… knowing that you’re still alive. S-still eating and stuff.”

Nik’s forearm presses harder against Ian’s neck, knee pushing between his legs. He whimpers. “What the fuck are you doing here, Ian?”

For a moment, Ian is speechless. Everything he’d practised, all those words he wanted to say, all of that confidence he was going to pretend he had… it’s all gone. Nik is as beautiful as the day he’d left. Small and dainty, like a fairy. He can see the light smattering of freckles and the little braid they always have tucked away in their hair. The shining brown eyes and skin and hair, each a different and equally enchanting shade.

It’s deceiving, how sweet they look. Ian knows it well. How dangerous they can be. How quickly they can snap. How much rage simmers beneath their placid expression. He’s never been at the receiving end of it before. Not like this. But he’s seen it directed at others enough to know just how scared he should be.

And he is scared. Scared enough to make his cock hard and his heart skip a beat. Scared enough to make his mouth dry and his palms sweaty. Scared enough to want nothing more than to kiss them.

“Well?” Nik lets their forearm press on his trachea for just a moment, drawing a wheeze from him.

“I… The thing is—” Ian swallows thickly, fighting the urge to grind against their knee. “I got a job! I… I got a job. Here. So I can be with— So I can make things— I know I can’t fix it, but I… please, Nik. I just want the chance to try.”

There’s a thousand things Nik wants to say. They want to tell him to fuck off. To jump off the nearest bridge. They want to tell him in great detail exactly how badly he’d fucked up Zander. Fucked up them. They want to ask him if he even knows what he’s doing here. What him being here will do. They want to ask what the fuck makes him think he can fix things, when he won’t even tell them what happened. They want to demand answers, to demand to know more than just “I had sex with someone else.”

Instead they grab their knife.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Ian shudders as the cold blade replaces their arm against his neck. His lips part in a soft moan before he speaks. “I… I’m still p-paying for this place…?”

“Dude.” Shaun barks out a startled laugh. “He’s still paying for this place?”

“No.” Nik glares at Shaun, knife digging slightly into Ian’s neck. “No, he’s not.”

“O-oh, Shaun! Hey…” Ian tries to stand up straight to see Shaun, but Nik presses their knee hard into his crotch. He whimpers, grinding against them slightly with a warm flush on his face. “I a-am though. Paying for this place, I mean. Still.”

“No,” Nik shakes their head confidently, but the look on their face is anything but certain. “No, no. I’m pretty sure you don’t…”

“What, so you’re paying for this place on froyo money?”

“You’re not helping! You’re meant to be on my side.”

“I was,” Shaun scoffs, shaking his head. “Until I found out you still let him pay for the house.”

“I thought…” Nik huffs and shakes their head, pressing the blade up under Ian’s jaw just shy of breaking skin. “I figured Z was fucking the landlord or something. After you left. After you—” Ian can hear their teeth grind. “You kept paying?”

“Dude, I hate to say it, but I think you kind of have to let him stay.” Shaun really does hate to say it, but… “I mean, it’s his place.”

“Shut up, you’re not helping.” Nik is half tempted to turn the knife on Shaun, but they push down the instinct. Zander’s gentle voice in their head reminds them that they can’t just react with violence to everything that confuses them.

“Zander fucked the landlord…?” Ian’s voice is small, hurt. He sounds on the verge of tears.

“Well, now I’m not so sure!” Nik pockets their knife with a frustrated growl. “Fucking hell. Whatever. Stay if you want. But don’t think this changes anything.”

“Thank you,” Ian just barely catches himself as Nik steps away. His body feels cold now that they’re not pressed against him. “I-I’ll be the best housemate, I promise! And… I’ll make things right. I will.”

There’s silence. Nik turns their back on Ian and sets about tidying the room. Tucking away Shaun’s bags in the corner, setting up Moonpie’s litter tray, anything to avoid acknowledging Ian. Shaun fiddles with his sleeve. This is one thing he does not want to get into the middle of. Not when Nik still has that knife tucked away in their pocket.

Ian leans against the door for a moment, hands awkwardly covering the bulge in his pants. When he realises he won’t get anything more out of either of them, he slips back out to grab his bags from the doorstep.

He can breathe again. There’s too many feelings in his stomach for him to pinpoint any one emotion, but he knows he’s relieved. This was the hardest part. But now that he’s got his foot in the door, he’s got a chance. A chance to fix things. To make things right. To win them back.

He hauls his duffle bag over his shoulder, grabbing his backpack. He’s not sure what to do, hovering in the doorway and trying to catch Nik’s eye. They’re avoiding him staunchly, latching onto anything and everything to keep themself occupied. Ian clears his throat.

“N-Nik…?”

Nik tenses. They turn to look at him. “Is that all you’ve got?”

It takes Ian a moment to realise they’re talking about his bags. “Oh… y-yeah, I didn’t… really want anything that reminded me of— I only brought back the important stuff.”

“Okay.”

“So, is my room…?”

“Where you left it.”

Their words strike him like a cobra, full of venom and teeth. It hurts far more than their arm on his throat or their knife against his jugular. His heart aches at the way they say “left,” like he’d gone off to screw someone else, not to pursue his dreams. But he’d done both, hadn’t he? He’d fucked everything up. He’d ruined it all.

“Can you wallow somewhere else? You’re really ruining the vibes.”

It’s so dry, so deadpan that Ian can’t tell if they’re joking or not. He used to be able to tell. Back when they were close. But now there’s nothing familiar about the way they speak to him. Nothing he can hold onto to orient himself. All he can do is shuffle to his bedroom and try to hold back his tears.

The door is as easy to push open as he remembered. He flips the light switch and stares. It’s the same. Identical to the day he left. His clothes still hang in the closet. His manga still fill the bookshelf. His bed is still neatly made. The only difference is a slight imprint of a person in the duvet. Zander, no doubt.

He drops his bags by the door and moves to lay on the bed, curling up in the imprint of his boyf— ex-boyfriend. There’s the faintest traces of cheap rose perfume and cigarettes. He breathes it in, burying his face in the duvet and closing his eyes. He can almost imagine he’s laying on Zander’s chest.

The lingering memory of fingers drawing on his back sends a shiver through him. Nostalgia has been his drug of choice ever since the breakup, and he can’t seem to get enough of it. No matter how bad it makes him feel. Even as his chest tightens and a sob slips out, he can’t help but cling to thoughts of the last time he was in this bed.

Nik, on the other hand, has their own way of dealing with nostalgia. Much like every other problem they have, they employ the tried and true method of ignoring it. Why torture themself thinking about the good old days when they could instead stew in anger about Ian’s steadfast refusal to tell them exactly what had happened while he was away?

“Unclench your jaw, you’re gonna give yourself a headache.” Shaun sighs, grabbing Nik’s arm and pulling them to sit beside him on the couch.

Nik scowls, but does as he says. “Why is he here?”

Shaun raises his eyebrows. “Um. Because someone forgot to take over paying the rent, apparently. Seriously, you’ve just been letting him pay this whole time?”

“I thought Z was fucking the landlord!” Nik groans, collapsing against Shaun’s arm. “How was I supposed to know Ian was still paying? Why was he still paying?”

Shaun shrugs his other shoulder, careful not to jostle them. “Because he’s still in love with you. He hasn’t stopped calling you since you broke up! You really think he’d just let you get evicted?”

“...I thought Z was fucking the landlord…” It’s a petulant little grumble as they headbutt Shaun’s arm like a cat.

Shaun reaches out and pets them. “I mean, it does sound like Z. You really didn’t know he was still using Ian’s card?”

“I assumed he was using my card.” Nik nuzzles into his touch, making a soft whining noise. “I forgot he’d even given Z a card.”

“Did you give Z a card?”

“...shit.”

Shaun laughs and shakes his head. “Y’know, I think Ian moving back in is karma. Someone out there wants you to know how badly you fucked up.”

“Probably Selene.”

“Right, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “I meant a higher power. But sure, maybe it was your cousin.”

“Maybe she’s the one he fucked.” Nik huffs, face scrunching in annoyance. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Okay no.” Shaun frowns and taps Nik’s head. “We’re not doing that. We’re not comparing Ian to him. And we’re not blaming your cousin for this. You’re the one who’s been letting your ex pay your rent for months now.”

“I thought Z was—”

“Fucking the landlord, I know. But I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about when it comes to Zander right now. Ian’s back. Do you have any idea what that’s gonna do to him? Because I don’t.” Shaun purses his lips and levels Nik with a hard stare.

“Shit. Fucking shit.” Nik flaps their hands in frustration. “What the fuck are we going to do? Z can’t see him. Z hates him. He won’t even talk to me about him. Fuck.”

“Hey,” Shaun holds his hands out and Nik lets theirs fall to rest in his palms. “It’ll be okay. We’re both here to support him. I’m here to support both of you. You’re not dealing with this alone. Not this time. I promise.”

Nik takes a deep breath and nods. “Thanks.”

The doorknob rattles. There’s a pause, and then there’s a sheepish knock on the door. This time it’s definitely Zander. Just knowing he’s there is enough to relax Nik. They hop up and open the door for him, helping him carry in the drinks and bags of pastries and paninis.

“Sorry, forgot my keys again!” Zander grins sheepishly, kicking the door closed behind himself and presenting Shaun with his drink. “But the girl at the counter gave me a free drink! She was really nice, she said she liked my necklace.”

Nik blinks. “You’re not wearing a necklace.”

Zander glances down at his low cut top and prominent chest, notably bare of jewellery. “Oh. Weird. Well anyway, I didn’t know what you wanted so I just got all the things I know you like. They were doing a special on the day-old donuts so I grabbed us a bunch too!” He holds up a bag that seems to be stuffed full with donuts. “I got some glazed and some str—”

“H-hey Nik… did either of you go under my bed? I c-can’t find my—” Ian freezes in the doorway, his voice lowering to a reverent breath. “...Zander…”

Zander stares. Nik and Shaun glance between the two. They’re both ready to act. Nik to hold Zander back, Shaun to put himself between Zander and Ian. Nik’s heart drops at the sight of their husband’s unreadable expression. They can practically see the gears slowly turning in his head as he tries to understand what’s going on.

“...fuck.”