#so this started out as forcing me to add homey touches and then i just stopped lmao

[heckitall]

aftermath to this

quite a few tags were mentioning how its such a 2k3 tmnt thing for the toaster gag and im here to tell you THATS WHERE I GOT IT FROM

i was in peak fandom 2k3 days and then i never looked at anything tmnt again so all I have are outdated jokes

:D

part three!!!

[redpaintsplatter]

Hii here’s chapter two of AlmondBread

Chapter 3 is in the works currently! Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Familiar Feelings

After a short but loving car ride and an odd way to smuggle someone into a building and up an elevator, the two now stand in Almond’s apartment. It’s a tad messy and got an old 70s feel to it. The couches are fruit leather and the rug is a weird pattern. Every piece of furniture is covered in wood or dark paint. It’s uniform, and warm. Far more comforting than the bright whites and grays that Shortbread saw in prison. The overhead lights weren’t even being used, it’s dim candles and lamps that lit each room. It’s a very welcomed and wanted change. It didn’t take long for Shortbread to make himself at home. He kicked off his shoes which Almond neatly put away by the door almost immediately, then he flopped down on the couch. His comfort didn’t last long though.

“Please at least clean yourself before you lay on my furniture. I can only imagine how filthy your prison cell was.” Almond nagged, he didn’t enjoy it but he had to keep that furniture nice.

“Ugh, ya serious? I just got back from Magic City prison and I can’t get a moment of relaxation?” Shortbread rolled his eyes but got up, doing as he commanded.

“I’m stealing your clothes then!” He shouted before walking off to the bedroom.

Almond knew he was going to do that, hell he even knew he was going to say that. He didn’t mind. It was cute to see Shortbread wearing his clothes. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. All the shouting he did was funny to him. They’re always on the same track; agreeing on most things. But, Shortbread always feels the need to yell it out like it’s an argument. Almond is convinced Shortbread can’t stand compromise, always feels like he has to be right. It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so dorky.

After Almond got lost in thought about the shorter cookie he seemed to appear right in front of him. Almond jumped back a little, startled by his sudden appearance. Shortbread was cleaner now and in different, softer, clothes. He’s very comfy but he’s not going to admit that. He doesn’t need to. It’s obvious. His new clothes add to the homey feeling of Almond’s apartment. Hopefully this visit will be much longer than his last one. As soon as things get normal for them they’re ripped apart. But now isn’t the time for the two to start worrying about that. Shortbread brushed off the looming thoughts and then spoke once more.

“Now can I lay down, you big baby?” He rolled his eyes and did so without even waiting for a response.

It’s not like he was going to get a No. In fact Almond laid down right on top of Shortbread. He used his chest as a pillow and naturally Shortbread’s arm wrapped around Almond, pulling him closer. A giddiness shot through both of them. Bringing a wide smile to Shortbread's face. He’s trying to force a straight expression but it’s not happening. His attempt was so cute to Almond, and pathetic, frankly.

Then suddenly it seemed like one of Almond’s hands just appeared on his cheek. His hands caressed him, feeling the crack on his cheek. That was new. Almond sat up with a new worried expression. His thumb kept tracing the crack. Everytime he did, Shortbread winced quietly.

“Aye… take it easy wouldja ‘mond? You’re hurtin’ me..” Shortbread muttered.

He was a little annoyed by all the touching until he looked at Almond's face. His then formed into a similar worried expression.

“I’m alrigh’! You know I’ve been through worse!” He forced out a little chuckle. His voice was quick and unsure sounding.

That didn’t soothe or calm Almond’s thoughts. His hands moved down gently to examine Shortbread's arms since they were already exposed. He hadn’t noticed all these cracks before when he saw him again. Sure some have been there but a lot must be new. It makes him wonder what he's been through since the last time they were together. It’s bad enough he always has to leave eventually... but seeing him hurt more each time… that was devastating.

“What happened? Who cracked your dough?” Almond spoke with a firm tenderness. He demanded an answer but was trying to be as gentle as possible.

Shortbread scoffed, “Who do you think? People. Cops, prisoners, prison guards. You name it. Can you ease up now? I’m fine. That hurts—“ He winced again.

“I wish you’d stop treating this as something so minor. Something could be seriously wrong. Tomorrow I’m having a doctor look at you.” Almond laid back down and slid his hand underneath Shortbread's shirt.

“I don’t mean to make you sound weak. So before you get pissy with me don’t take it that way. I’m just concerned. I…love you. I love you a lot. I can’t stand the idea of bad things happening to you and I have no way to prevent or stop it!” He forced himself to stop talking before he’d make himself and the blonde upset. He didn’t want to sour this moment. They’re at peace, he can make a big fuss some other time.

Shortbread smiled a little. Hearing those words created a symphony of music in his mind. He can ignore everything else he’s said and forget how he felt about it now that he’s said those three precious words. Without thinking, besides about the “I love you”s, he gently placed his hand over Almond’s head and guided it back down onto his chest. He held him a little closer after that. Almost as if he’s reassuring him with his touch. Things he’d never be able to say verbally all can be done through his hands. To most he speaks with his punches. To Almond it’s caressing, petting, hugging, touching, fixing. All these things that make him less barbaric than how he is on the streets. It’s a beautiful change. As soon as he comes inside this stray dog goes from feral to domestic right away. All thanks to him.

Almond smiled as he was pushed back down. His lover's hands were all he desired when he was away at prison or lost out on the streets for months. He wished he’d stop running and hiding from everyone including him. Maybe then he’d avoid all the injuries. Maybe then his hands wouldn’t be such a luxury. They’d be a little more common, until he’s dragged away again. While he’s being held he still can’t help but worry. That leads him to gripping onto Shortbread’s shirt. Shortbread notices this and opens his mouth to speak, struggling to find the words at first but eventually they come out.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leavin’. Stop focusing on the future so much and focus on me. What we do now. …..Okay?” Shortbread muttered. He was surprised with how nice that sounded.

That actually took Almond by surprise too. He just nodded along with what he said. No reason to reply since he can clearly read his mind. So instead he reached back and draped a blanket over the both of them. The warmth engulfed them, making them feel safer. Shortbread was so tired. He couldn’t fight his exhaustion much longer. He hates being the first to fall asleep. Makes him paranoid, usually. But right now he feels as if it’s better if he did fall asleep first. Almond would take care of him. He has someone to lean against again. He has his support. With knowing that his eyelids slowly close. He mutters something not very audible to Almond as he drifts asleep. Almond just nodded along to whatever he said and then began to caress his hair. His hand went through his hand then slowly moved down to hold his cheek. Almond sits up a little to then bring the side of Shortbread’s sleeping face closer to his mouth. He began to press a few kisses into his forehead and then his cheek. As kisses moved down to his jaw he smiled widely and just admired the beauty before him. The ruggedness of his lover. How it doesn’t match what’s on the inside at all.

Almond eventually stops and slides off of him. He bends down a little and then scoops him up in his arms with a bit of struggle. This was a lot easier when they were younger. He groaned softly as he hauled the brittle cookie away and into his bedroom. Almond opened the door with his foot then gently placed Shortbread on the bed. He pulled the covers out from under him then tucked him in. He scooted in on the other side of bed then pulled him in close. He spooned him before eventually falling asleep. He didn’t expect to sleep so fast, he wanted to cherish this moment more before doing so. Oh well, each little moment counts, but he can’t fully appreciate it unless he’s properly rested anyways

[pillow-anime-talk]

dating them.

synopsis: Some sweet, funny and also crazy moments in your relationship.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; mild comedy; fluff; PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. reki kyan, langa hasegawa, miya chinen, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}

author’s note: so... i’m just in love with this anime...

— REKI

↘ He’s such a precious boy who cheers you up in the blink of an eye; I think he has an extra sense, so he knows when you feel worse than usual or when you are in even the slightest pain (for example, you bumped your elbow or you haven’t eaten breakfast before ‘cause you missed your alarm clock and therefore you have a stomachache).

↘ Reki is a supportive lover; whether you are passionate about singing, learning languages, reading manga, sewing mascots or painting, a seventeen-year-old will always be right next to you to praise what you do or the way you look. He will notice every, even stupid detail about you and mention it immediately when you’re going to hang out. He’s definitely your fan and doesn’t hide it. Additionally, if you introduce him to what you love, he will also get interested in it in a way and then he will come to you to show off what he has done like a sketch of the two of you or an opinion about the anime you recommended him three days ago.

↘ The boy is really devoted to you and loves physical contact; grabbing a hand, kissing on the cheek or forehead, cute texts in the morning it’s something totally normal for the two of you. I also think that Reki could melt if you run your fingers through his soft hair or make small braids for him, decorating his head with a few colored hairpins or hairbands.

↘ If you know how to skateboarding, he will be delighted and your dates will mostly be about riding together or learning new tricks. Plus, it’s another thing Reki loves about you and wow. He’s even bigger fanboy than before!

↘ However, if you have never ridden or even tried to do it, it doesn’t matter. A teen will be happy to be able to offer you some private lessons if you wish. Again, red-haired adores physical contact, so holding your hands/waist while you stand on his beloved skateboard will be a dream come true for him.

↘ He always has ticket for you, so you make a new banner for each race to support him. Hit me, but I’m 120% sure that after race (whether he won or lost it) he takes your pretty banners and hides them in this special box that has its place on his bedroom closet.

↘ Overall, Reki is a boy who fits to the definition of high school, first love.

— LANGA

↘ Your relationship is a bit more peaceful, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of humor or abstraction.

↘ Langa loves your company so, so, so badly; Reki is quite hot-tempered and is literally everywhere, so when the two of you hang out together after school or at the weekend, blue-haired feels that he can breathe and relax every muscle in his body. You’re his comfort person, and your room is a safe place without fear and noise.

↘ He also enjoys physical contact, but much more prefers to show affection in private, for example in your home or in his own bedroom.

↘ His favorite type of PDA is cuddling; he prefers to be a big spoon and hug you from behind, but he has no problem hugging against your chest or warm stomach, especially when he feels down because of school or racing.

↘ I have a strange feeling that Langa is the type of romantic who would make an amazing Spotify playlist for the two of you so you could listen to the songs, cuddling each other in the bed.

↘ If you can skateboard that’s great! For sure you, Langa and Reki will be a good trio that will meet often in the skate park or in ‘S’. I’m also pretty sure he’ll cheer for you, but at the same time he’ll be very cute with it and definitely more calm than his bestie. For example, if you do a trick... you’ll get a quick kiss on the nose or Langa will buy you your favorite drink. He definitely likes to pamper you.

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard but you really want to start skateboarding to share your lover’s passion... Well, he will definitely give you a short (long) monologue about how dangerous it is, and you need to be careful – because he knows best of all how a fall on butt or face hurts.

↘ He always keeps a tiny set of colored plasters in his jacket or pants pocket to take care of you in the case of an unexpected accident, as Reki used to care for him.

↘ He’s a good teacher, but he will definitely need to calm his emotions, because sometimes instead of showing you how to slide down the railing, he will suggest something more down-to-earth, like going to the cinema to watch the movie you mentioned three days ago.

— MIYA

↘ Ahh, my precious smol baby.

↘ You are Miya’s first partner, so he still thinks that he’s not good enough for you, although you always reassure him with a light peck on the nose that he’s the best thing that has happened to you and that you’re very glad that you can be with him in every good and bad moment.

↘ The teenager is terribly shy about any physical contact outside, so if you aren’t at home, don’t expect a ton of hugs or kisses from him. He much prefers when you two are alone – then he doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the gazes of other people, especially other skaters who like to make fun of him. 

↘ I swear I’ll bite and beat them all...

↘ Miya is a delicate soul and he really likes to feel that someone look after him, so in a relationship he definitely prefers when you cares for him. For example; just touch his soft hair, ask about his well-being or when he will have a race and a huge smile will appear on his face.

↘ I think if he feels that you are the only one for him... Maybe he will lend you his favorite hoodie with cat ears and tail? He’ll be overjoyed to see that you feel good in it. You look extremely cute, but he’ll never admit it. 

↘ It smells like him, like wet earth and a hint of sweet perfume, and although it’s a strange combination, it feels really beautiful, downright safe and homey.

↘ For the next holiday (your birthday, your anniversary, Valentine’s Day or Christmas), he will give you a sweatshirt that matches to his own. It will be in your favorite color and will also have an animal accessory, not necessarily catish, because if you prefer dogs, rabbits or cows... You know, there are many options.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he will be really calm and will feel that finally someone will want to spend time with him, training and riding together; not like in childhood when everyone turned away from him. He will definitely be moved when you grab his smooth hand and offer a long ride in the park. He definitely loves praise, so give him praise every now and then when he does a nice trick. He will also compliment you more than once and even give you a kiss on the cheek (of course if nobody is watching!). He’s not good at words, but he tries!

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard... He may be a bit skeptical, but naturally he’ll agree to a few lessons in front of your or his house. Of course you originally just wanted to be close to him and hold his hand more often than usual, but it turned out to be pretty fun! Now, training is your typical dates.

↘ Miya is a sweet boy and although he may not look like that, he’s really protective, often jealous and always puts you at first place.

— KAORU

↘ This beautiful man, this angel-looking ideal, this ahhhh... Being in a relationship with him is pure pleasure and daily healing for the soul.

↘ He’s a calm, understanding and loving partner. I think he’s a bit old fashioned but that only adds much more charm to his person.

↘ He often calls you his ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, isn’t that cute?

↘ You two don’t go out on dates too often, but I think Kaoru loves to spend time at home, having tea or on the couch while one of you is reading a book and the other is listening to music or just sleeping. He definitely doesn’t look like that, but he loves PDA/cuddling and is the best at it!

↘ He also likes it when you suggest learning calligraphy together. He never forced you to do this, but when he first heard that you would like to meet one of his passions, he was really happy and immediately showed you how to write with ink on the special paper he had in his flat. Obviously, more than once you ask him to write a simple letter or word, because you just love his handwriting and how focused he seems. He’s really hot then, I swear to god!

↘ You love his long hair and are always eager to give him a new, nice hairstyle; normal braid or fishtail braid. Maybe a bun or a ponytail with a few hairpins? He loves everything you do on him. In addition, the gentle head massage you give him each time is the most soothing thing in the world for him.

↘ If you know how to skating... He’s really surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy or angry. He wants to see what you can do right away and you will surely feel a sweet kiss on your forehead more than once when the trick will be good or even better than you both thought. He’s a supportive boy, but doesn’t show it as vehemently as Reki, for example; he prefers to smile at you or clap softly.

↘ If you don’t know how to skate yet, but you asked him to teach you how to even stand on it... I imagine Kaoru going pale and trying to distract you from this idea because, as an experienced skater, he’s afraid that you will hurt yourself like any beginner. But your big eyes and ruddy cheeks are his weaknesses, so he’ll trust both you and Carla and help you keep your balance on his beloved, black-violet board. Reward him later with quick kisses or give him his favorites, okay?

↘ To sum up, Kaoru is a good and honest lover. He definitely loves your company and won’t mind spending his free time seriously and frivolously with you.

— KOJIROU

↘ This guy is the definition of the sentence ‘Through the stomach to the heart’. Any objections? No. So let’s gooooo!

↘ Kojirou is a PERFECT second half. Both in character and appearance. If he fall in love with someone seriously, and it will be you, then know that he’ll care for you like about a member of the royal family; breakfasts in bed, an Italian supper, the perfect choice of wine for a chicken or steak are things that have become a sweet daily thing for you at some point.

↘ He loves to show you affection and absolutely has no problem doing it in public, even when he’s working or when you two are in a tight crowd on the train or in the ‘S’ before his race. He will kiss you hard on the lips, grab your skin on your butt or hug your waist. It’s just that everyone needs to know that you belong to him. He’s just as clingy as Reki, and sometimes even worse and bolder.

↘ Of course he has cute side; he likes to lie on the bed or the sofa with you on his chest. He loves being between your thighs and sleep there. He definitely has a weak point in that when you you run your finger on his tattoo or cook dinner with him, throwing ingredients at him and laughing out loud.

↘ Another romantic who uses thousands of pet names (like babey, cutie, doll, pumpkin, kitten). Plus, he loves to dance with you in the kitchen and steal a few kisses here and there. Also, if you aren’t looking, he likes to surprise you with a big, bear hug.

↘ I think he’s a bit impatient, so he doesn’t like to sit at home and prefers dates in crazy places (such as an amusement park, swimming pool, karaoke bar) – it’s his favorite way of spending your time together. As a gentleman, he always pays for you, unless you go faster and bring your ATM card to the card reader as first. But don’t be surprised when Kojirou will just buy you cotton candy or popcorn shortly afterwards.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he’s as excited as a kid and will definitely offer you a date at the skate park. Naturally, he wants to show off to others what a super cool partner he has, but he also wants others to know that you’re here together to kick everyone’s asses with your abilities. You’re definitely a powerful couple and you have the matching necklaces!

↘ But if you don’t know how to skating then... well, well, well. Just be prepared that one day (without even asking for it) you’ll stand on his beloved board and he will grab your hips, smiling silly. He enjoy skin ship so this guy feels utopian when he can be near you. He definitely won’t spare you compliments, long pecks, and smack your butt when you do something great, so you have to get used to it... and it’s going to be a long training session, so good luck, my friend.

↘ He’s a funny guy, but he’ll never cross your limits, so don’t worry about that. However, he will always find a topic for conversation or a joke to relax the atmosphere or cheer you up. You will never be bored with him.

[clarrissanewt]

Seems like u r taking request! No.1 ur acc is amazing. No.2: Can u do Harry Potter×fem!reader where the reader is stressed about studies and has kind of anxiety and Harry helps her by talks and encourages her. Also plz add some passionate kissing and slight teasing, if u like,at the end! Thank u sm.

One more?

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: none

GIF not mine! Credits go to the original creator!

A/n: No.1, thank you:)

No.2, here I’m doing the same. Hope you like it!

Thanks for the request xx

Advancing Christmas isn’t homey for the first time.

The reason- oh, don’t even get her started.

Sixth year turned out to be heinous. Snape, being their DADA teacher, had threatened to give them detention if they failed in performing the non-verbal spells.

Potter doesn’t have to stress about it, of course.

But on Merlin's other hand, she, who had got way better O.W.Ls than him, couldn’t help but dunk her head into 'How to Ace Non-Verbality' that Hermione picked up for her.

Oh, just hex her already.

Why?

She couldn’t concentrate.

You will ask the reason again.

It is because a certain raven-haired boy slumped in front of her, quietly fumbling and drumming his wand, quite restlessly though.

It wasn't obvious from his actions, but she knew- he was trying to catch her attention.

Pity, she isn't in a mood today.

"Harry, can you just stop that?" She snapped at him while shooting daggers from her eyes. "Why don't you just study?"

"For Snape?" He faked a sympathetic laugh. "He legit made me scrub the pans of the hospital wing. Without magic!"

"Doesn't help me concentrate."

He swore he could have snatched her books and alighted them on his Firebolt, only if he didn't mind the consequences. He knew, that would thing he would have done.

So instead, he did halt his ear-drilling drumming, and got to his feet. "Looks like you've got something to replace me," he deliberately shot at her and tip-toed into his dorms.

And for, maybe a second, she didn't mind the deafening silence, but, Merlin, the next second, she was already craving his presence. It was somehow tranquil for her, her anxiousness did vanish at his goofy smile.

She groaned in annoyance, and forced her attention back to her book.

"Funnunculus- boils, Homenum Revelio- Harry!"

Now, don't get her wrong this time.

This boy has got ways to make his presence felt. And now that he was nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck, she found it hard not to lose her concentration.

"Close that," he mumbled, clearly referring to the stiff-backed book she had been inhaling.

Well, she had to sigh before giving in.

"Harry, I swear, I'm failing this time! You should let me study."

He ignored her pleadings as he nicked the book out of her reach, and whirled the chair. Without a further word, he settled himself on the rugged floor, resting his chin on her knees as a tingling feeling danced on her skin.

Not even once in the past two years, she had accommodated herself to his touch. It was...unsatiable.

"Look at me."

She couldn't help but stare into those lucious green orbs that were twinkling alongside the cozy fire in the common room, and gave him a twisted sort of smile.

Their journey hardly needed words...smiles and eyes conveyed every unspoken entity.

And she was grateful- to have him.

"Okay, just one more page?" She etched out the most innocent (and forced) smile she could afford. Only if that could melt his determination today.

"No, no! No luck for today," he quickly sat over the book, making his seated figure shot up a little.

Hah, smart.

"Look, if I fail, I know my parents are disowning me."

"Good. I'll keep you."

She couldn't help but huff out an irritated laugh. "Convenient."

"You know, you aren't failing this. You are better than most of us in studies (this earned him an eye roll)."

"I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."

"Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so..."

And now, she had a greater urge to connect their lips, but, uh- she would fail tomorrow.

"Right now, I can't decide if I want to shove you off the tower, or kiss you."

He looked up from the meadows of her knees again, and found himself smiling like a fool.

A fool in love.

"Can I pick?"

And without another word, he pulled her head a little way to low as he rubbed lovingly on the lower petal of her lips. Just another hesitant glance and then, they started devouring each other, with all the love, all the resentment.

Not minding what will happen if Ron and Hermione turn up into the common room after their prefect duties...not thinking of the possibilities of failing or dying in the year ahead...it was just them in their safe place.

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand into his hair again, tugging on gently as his subtle fangs created peals of painful satisfaction on her lips.

The way his arm slithered around her waist and cemented her on her place, forced out a sound from her mouth into his, which she never knew she capable of making.

Oh, unfortunately, they did pull away at the end, eyeing each other's now swollen lips, and Harry's more than ever disheveled hair as hair-splitting pants rang the silent room.

But her eyes fell on the thick spined book he was perching on, and something clicked in her eyes.

"Okay, Harry, I still need to study- no! Just one more?"

[kthynes]

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

[sondepoch]

Breaking (4/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

Childe is broken. 

That’s the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

“Ajax,” you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he’s already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Ajax,” you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. “Ajax, you have to wake up.”

Except that he doesn’t actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he’s now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he’s been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you’ve begun to grow concerned.

“Ajax, get up.”

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he’s not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he’s refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he’s refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you’d have forced him up long ago—but you’re hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It’s clear that he knows that, too.

“Ajax, I really need you to get up...”

—which is a true statement, surprisingly. 

The plan you’d developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe’s apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they’d be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you’ll wear when running away, since you can’t exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn’t accounted for Childe’s sudden change in behavior.

“Ajax, please…”

But the man barely even shifts in response. 

Hours later, after you’ve long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

“What the fuck,” Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, “is that sound.”

In your opinion, it’s pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche’s aggressively loud shouts of “Open the fuck up!” and “Stop dodging my calls!” and “Get out of bed, asshat!” accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Instead, all you say is a quiet ”I think that’s Scaramouche.”

Childe withdraws his head from your neck with a mocking glare as the intensity of Scaramouche’s banging increases. 

“I’m coming in, dickweed!” the man shouts from many rooms over, and that’s the only warning you and Childe get before you hear what has to be the sound of a door being kicked in.

“Did he just…”

Childe stares at you in shock.

A small smile flits onto your face, grateful that someone has finally come to snap Childe back to his senses.

Scaramouche doesn’t bother quieting his footsteps as he stomps towards the master bedroom. He throws the door open with such force that you almost fear it'll rebound straight back into his face, but Scaramouche is across the room with his hands around Childe’s neck so fast that you’ve barely blinked before your owner’s head is being bashed against the bedframe.

“What the fuck,” Scaramouche snarls. “Made you think it was a good idea to tell anyone that you were the one who lost Lumine.”

“I didn’t—” 

Your owner’s voice is cut off when Scaramouche grips Childe’s neck and wordlessly threatens to hurt him again.

“Do you know how many problems this will cause? No one wants to work with you anymore, Tartaglia.”

“I know, and—”

Scaramouche pushes Childe’s head back into the bed frame, albeit with a little less force this time.

“No one wants to work with me anymore for having worked with you. Same for Signora and Dottore.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“And all your big clients somehow got wind of it, too. They’re trying to switch over, and they’re all going to traffickers who aren’t associated with the Fatui because you—”

“Do you think I fucking wanted people to find out?”

It’s the first proper sentence you’ve heard from Childe since he left that meeting room with Diluc and Kaeya.

“Do you think I fucking want the literal shittiest people in the world thinking that they can look down on me?” Childe shoves Scaramouche off him, blue eyes narrowing into a glare. “I’ve already lost everything, asshole, so I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is remind me of that.”

Scaramouche’s face settles into a frown, though you do see a hint of apology in his eyes. The pain in Childe’s voice didn’t go lost on anyone in this room.

“You smell like shit,” Scaramouche says abruptly, looking away. “Take a shower. We’ll figure out how to fix this after that.”

Childe doesn’t say anything at that, merely stepping out of bed in his sweatpants and walking to the bathroom.

“Go with him,” Scaramouche tells you. “You smell even worse.”

You’re partially insulted, partially grateful when Scaramouche says that. Insulted because, well, it can hardly be considered your fault that your owner clung to you in his bed for days on end without letting you shower. Grateful because after watching Childe do nothing for so long, you’re not sure he’ll even be able to take a proper shower on his own. 

“Ajax?” you whisper softly, following him into the bathroom. “Ajax, should I—”

“Be quiet,” he whispers. Childe steps inside the shower, eyes downcast. “Please,” he adds in a softer voice.

The man doesn’t start the shower until you’ve stepped in beside him, and you’re jarred when you realize how familiar this position is. It reminds you of how, months ago, when Childe first declared you his favorite and began inviting you to spend the night with him in his apartment, he brought you with him to the shower because he couldn’t trust you to be alone for so long. It was probably his first step in his attempts to win you over, since even back then, he was always so touchy with you, always asking what your preferred shampoo scents were and insisting that you let him wash your hair.

Back then, you were the sullen one, timid to speak and hesitant to look your owner in the eye. When he washed your hair for you, it was all you could do to shut your eyes and wait for his touch to go away, but now...

“Let me,” you tell him when he reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated anything like this. You hold your breath, wondering if Childe will refuse you.

Wordlessly, the man bows his head to you.

You don’t entirely know what compels you to massage shampoo into his hair with such tenderness. A part of you says that it’s because you feel guilty, since it’s obvious by now that your slip-up to Kaeya that Lumine and Childe were connected is what’s resulted in his current plight, but another part of you does it simply because it feels natural. Standing next to him, his body blocking out most of the water as you let the soapy suds rinse from his hair, feels homey. Peaceful. Pleasant, almost as if the relationship between you isn’t owner and slave, as if the two of you are actually equals and you’re simply caring for him out of the goodness of your heart.

Childe seems to sense it, too, because right after you’ve washed conditioner from his hair and have finally begun using a loofah to clean his body, he stops your arms. He holds them loosely, just enough strength in his fingertips so that you know he wants you to stop but still sufficiently little that you’d be able to keep moving if you want to, and the two of you stand there like that for much too long, naked and vulnerable, staring into each other’s eyes as warm water beats down at you.

“I…”

It’s the first time Childe is actually speaking to you in such a long time, and his eyes soften the way they always do when he looks at you and makes you feel like you’re the only thing to exist in this world.

“I think I—”

“Hurry up in there!” The sound of Scaramouche kicking the door ruins the moment, and Childe abruptly drops your wrists from his hold. He steps back quickly, almost as if realizing how close his lips had moved towards yours, and a familiar pink stains his cheeks as he glances away from you and hurriedly scrubs the rest of his body clean. 

“Sorry,” he blurts, so quick and uncomfortable that it almost reminds you of how he normally is. You’d believe it, too, if not for the slight twinge of distance in his eyes that tells you he’s still thinking about Lumine or whatever it is that has him so out of it. “Uh, thanks. I’m, uh, gonna go. Gotta talk to him, y’know? You can, uh, finish up in here.”

You almost want to laugh at how awkward Childe is as he steps out of the shower and towels off to brush his teeth, blue eyes flickering to your form only to glance away in embarrassment when he realizes that he’s being watched.

“I’ll put new clothes on the bed for you, so…”

Childe nods stiffly at you and closes the door, and it’s all you can do to blink after him. 

Ten minutes later, once you’re fully clean for the first time in much too long and you’ve worn the clothes lain out for you on the bed, you make your exit from the master bedroom and follow the sound of voices into the living room.

“Listen, I—”

“Wait.” Childe puts up a hand, gesturing for you to come over. Wordless, you do, though it surprises you when your owner lets you sit at his side instead of on his lap. “Alright, continue.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes the slightest before going on:

“All I was saying was that your career might be salvageable if you relocate. Let’s say you drop the name Tartaglia and instead fill the role of Capitano. You’ll have to move to Sumeru, but you might be able to continue your work there. Everyone now knows that Tartaglia was responsible for losing Lumine, but as long as you don’t tell people in Sumeru that you were Tartaglia, no one should question you there.”

“I hate everything about that plan,” Childe says, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what language they speak there. I’ll be the foreigner. Everyone will think that I came to Sumeru as a last resort because I couldn't sell my merch anywhere else. Do you know how much I made fun of those two Mondstadt pricks for trying to do business here? They didn’t even have accents either, so imagine what people will say when I—”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of caring about what people will say behind your back.” Scaramouche glances away, sensing that it’s a low blow. “I mean, listen. No one wants to work with you anymore, and this is the only way ‘you’ can become someone else.”

But Childe remains silent.

“You can keep all your merchandise,” Scaramouche continues. “In fact, the people in Sumeru will probably like that, since it means that the girls won’t know the language and they won’t be able to escape or ask for help. Hell, you can even bring her—”

“Is that even a question?” Childe asks defensively, a hand wrapping protectively around your knee. “Listen, Scaramouche, I appreciate you trying to help me, but Sumeru isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t ideal? You letting it slip that you’re the imbecile who lost Lumine wasn’t ideal, but look where it—”

“I didn’t say shit!” Childe hisses in response. “Do you seriously think I’m that dumb? That I’d let those two Mondstadt pricks, of all people, know something that could destroy my career? That has now destroyed my career?”

“If not you, then who, Tartaglia? The only people who know are a part of the Fatui, and it’s not like—”

Scaramouche gestures to you wildly, evidently about to say that it’s not like you could have known, except that he now remembers that he did let mention Lumine in front of you to Childe once, and you can see the moment where he connects the dots.

“You fucking bitch,” Scaramouche whispers, eyes wide with fury and shock.

“No,” Childe says, standing up abruptly. “She didn’t say it intentionally. She still doesn’t know who Lumine is.”

“But she told someone, Tartaglia. You’re literally going to be kicked out of Snezhnaya because of her, and you still want to protect her?”

Childe’s mouth forms a thin line.

Scaramouche laughs mirthlessly.

“Fucking hell. Do you think this is a joke? Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia. Everyone in the Fatui is suffering, and if you keep letting yourself get seduced by your fucking toys, you should just quit being a human trafficker before one of us shoots you.”

Tartaglia says nothing.

“You’re a disappointment. At this point, you’ve caused more trouble for us than you have good. Everything you do seems to be another international incident, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

More silence.

“It’s people like you that make me terrified to retire. The more I talk to you, the more I think that you would have been better off as a slave rather than the owner. I never should have let you move up. You were built for taking dick, not for trying to control it.”

Your eyes widen as Childe remains silent.

“And you know who takes the blame every time you fuck up? Me. It’s me. Everyone in the goddamn Fatui thinks I made a bad call now when I set you free and, I’m going to be honest, I’m beginning to think they’re ri—

Childe stiffens next to you, standing.

“That’s enough,” he says, the look in his eyes dark. “What’s done is done,” he says. “Or do you need to vent some more?”

Scaramouche crosses his hands, a look of...regret? embarrassment? pity? Flickering across his eyes. He stands up with an unreadable look on his face. 

“I’m...being serious. Consider whether or not you still want to work in the Fatui. This is the best shot you’ll have at leaving.” Scaramouche’s eyes flit over to you, where Childe’s hand is now wrapped protectively around your waist. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think you even want to be a human trafficker anymore.”

Childe says nothing to that, merely waving casually as Scaramouche exits the apartment through the hole he made in the door. You wince when you see the damage, wanting to ask your owner how he plans on repairing it, but another question is more pressing on your mind:

“Ajax?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Lumine?”

Your owner looks at you, brushing his thumb by your cheek as his eyes take on a nostalgic tint. 

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

Childe goes back to his bad sleeping habits as soon as Scaramouche leaves. Within seconds, your owner is shirtless and has flopped onto the bed, shooting you a pleading look to curl up next to him. Thankfully, this spell seems to last a little shorter than the previous one because although the man refuses to get out of bed, he at least entertains you with a conversation.

“What else?” you ask, a playful smile on your face as Childe continues telling you stories about Xiangling. 

“Well, there was this one time where some kid was making fun of Xiangling for being bad at art, so she and I decided that we’d bring in sandwiches for the entire class and make his extra spicy. I actually helped her with the cooking process and all, so I watched how much chili she put into the sauce she was going to use for this kid’s sandwich and it was ridiculous, like I thought she was trying to murder him or something, but anyway, we get to school and start handing out the sandwiches, and…”

You’re completely enthralled as Childe tells you the story of how he had to go to the nurse’s office because he, unfortunately, was the poor soul to eat the overly-spicy sandwich through a Xiangling-esque mix-up—and you don’t care that he’s probably making it up just to see you laugh, all that matters is that the man is smiling and talking and not staring miserably at the ceiling the way he has been for the past few days.

“You should try that the next time you’re in a business meeting with someone you don’t like,” you say, giggling. “It would be such a flex if they thought that you could eat something so spicy while they’d struggle.”

“Maybe,” Childe chuckles. “I really wanted to do something like that to those two Mondstadt pricks—and it might work, too, since they’re at least still doing business with me—but they already left the country.”

“What?” you ask in alarm, fear presenting itself as excitement through the speed with which you respond.

“Yeah,” Childe hums. “They had to go early or something. I guess it’s fine since we already agreed on the mode of transportation, but—”

“Wait, really? B-but hasn’t it been less than two weeks since your last meeting with them?”

Alarm bells begin to ring inside your mind. You remember—you swear you remember the two of them telling you that you’d have at least two weeks to get the documents before they’d leave. But could it be that they’ve forgotten about you? What if they decided you were trouble? What if they know that you’ve begun to grow close to Childe as of recent? What if they—fuck—you’ve actually begun to like the redhead, haven’t you? The fact that he’s not bringing to meetings anymore, handing your body off to be fucked like a toy before he takes you back, has made you forget that the man in front of you is a monster, hasn’t it? Could they somehow know?

A pool of dread rises in your stomach.

What you did today in the shower, willingly touching him and showing him affection he’s done nothing to deserve, was disgraceful. How can you expect Diluc and Kaeya to free you if you’re not even doing your best to be freed? What if they know about what happened today? What if they think you’re a lost cause? What if they abandoned you here because of your own naivety, and you’re cursed to a life of human trafficking for the rest of your days because of your own idiocy?

“Angel?” Childe asks, cupping your cheek. You violently flinch away from his touch, a defensive anger creeping into your eyes. “Angel, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I…”

You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of your position. He may not be using you right now, but Childe is a human trafficker. You’re nothing more than his favorite toy. Getting close to him like this will do nothing but hinder your escape.

“It’s nothing,” you say, averting your eyes. Still, you make no effort to return to Childe’s warm embrace. “Just, um, tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Childe must know that what you’re saying is utter bullshit, primarily because these past few days have been nothing but sleep and rest and more sleep, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn away from him before he can get close. 

There’s a strange sound Childe makes, then. It’s something between a sigh and whimper, dejected and hurt all at once, but you don’t turn around to check on him. He’s a monster, you tell yourself, forcing the image of Childe looking like a kicked puppy out of your mind. A fucking monster.

And the only two people in the world who are willing to get you away from this monster may have just abandoned you, so you really need to get your shit together.

Pretending to be asleep comes naturally to you after nine months of learning that sleep, even if feigned, was the only escape you could ever have from this life. Hours pass until Childe really has fallen into slumber, something you test by calling his name out quietly, and then you know that it’s time to go—or to at least go do what you can.

You’re abruptly grateful that you and Childe went to bed right after Scaramouche left because it means that you’re fully clothed, which is an unnatural state for someone like you. When you quietly climb out of bed and out of Childe’s apartment through the hole Scaramouche made in his front door, it almost makes you feel normal because even though you’re still dressed in a cutesy skirt and blouse, you’re not being accompanied by the one man who has never let you go outside alone.

When you finally take the elevator down the ground floor of Childe’s building, no one pays you a second glance as you walk out the front door.

Then, your mind is abuzz.

Don’t look at anyone, you tell yourself because you know that if you have a panic attack here, no one will be able to save you. Don’t look at anyone, just go to the hotel.

Hours of pretending to be asleep helped you sort out your thoughts: it makes sense that Childe would believe Diluc and Kaeya to be gone. After all, they don’t want your owner getting any ideas that they were the ones to free you; however, you need to make sure that they’re actually here. 

And besides, you reason to yourself as you cross the street and step towards the hotel you’ve seen so many times across Childe’s apartment. It’s best to make sure I know where they are so that I don’t get confused when I actually escape. It’s important to do this.

With your eyes locked on the ground the whole time, you enter the hotel and take the elevator to the second floor where rooms 213 and 214 will be, just as Diluc and Kaeya instructed. No one pays you any attention, as if reminding you of your insignificance, but you’re grateful for how invisible you seem to be as you exit an empty elevator and wander down a carpeted hall. 

This hotel is a considerable downgrade from the extravagant location Diluc and Kaeya were renting out as a front for their supposed trafficking, but it sets you at ease. When you finally stand in front of room 213, it looks almost...normal.

Hesitant, you raise a hand and rap your knuckles against the wood.

“E-excuse me?” you ask, tension beginning to seep in. “Is anyone—are—Diluc? Kaeya?”

Their names sound foreign off your tongue but you repeat them anyway, the intensity of your knocking increasing until you’re practically banging on the door the way Scaramouche was this morning. 

No response.

Panic begins to surface, and you quickly switch over to room 214, not bothering to start knocking quietly as you bang on the door desperately.

“Is anyone there?” you call, trying to keep your voice sufficiently low so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel, but it’s really hard when your fears that Diluc and Kaeya really have abandoned you grow truer and truer with each passing second. “Please!” you sob, practically kicking the door in your attempts to will it into opening. “Diluc! Kaeya! You—you promised you’d—”

The door opens right as you’re about to bang your fists against it once more, and an incredibly annoyed and shirtless Diluc stands to catch both your fists right before you can hit his chest with them.

“I’m here,” he says in that familiar, deep voice of his. “Calm down. I’m here.”

“Oh,” you say, relief suddenly washing through you as you practically go boneless in front of him. You know it’s inappropriate, that the two of you share no real relationship other than the fact that he’s trying to help you escape, but you can’t help the way you instinctively throw yourself forward to embrace him. “Thank you,” you practically sob into his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

“I—” Diluc is quick to pull you back, and he levels his stare with you just as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Did you escape? Do you have the documents?”

The redhead glances around the hall once to confirm that no one is watching before he pulls you inside his room. You’re surprised to see a gagged and naked Venti on his bed, the boy’s eyes round in...fear? concern? You’re not sure. The gag surprises you until you remember Kaeya’s previous declaration that Venti was a masochist. He must be into BDSM, too.

“No,” you tell the man, shaking your head. “I just—Ajax told me that you and Kaeya left. S-so I wanted to check to see if you’d actually…”

It sounds stupid when you say it out loud. From the face Diluc is making, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” he says, effectively inviting you in as he walks back inside the room. He approaches the dresser to slip on the black and red gloves you saw from him last time, wearing them before moving to sit on the bed next to Venti, big hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs. “Okay, we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Okay,” you respond, trying your hardest not to look at Venti. It’s clear that you walked in on an intimate moment. “Um…”

“We were having sex.”

Your cheeks burn. “Right,” you say, nodding your head. “That’s—um—all I—just wanted to check—going to—”

“Don’t leave unless you’re sure that there’s nothing you need,” Diluc says. “We can help you, you know. Give you a lockpick or a hammer or even a gun if that’s what it’ll take to get you access to those documents.”

“No, I’m…”

A soft smile floats onto your face. Awkward as he may be, you’re sure that this is just Diluc’s stoic way of being nice. 

“I’m good. I already have a plan for the documents.” You’re about to smile and make your leave when you remember something that’s been at the forefront of your mind for ages. “But…”

Diluc lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“Um...you don’t need to answer this, i-it’s actually not relevant, so I should—”

“What is it.”

Somehow, when Diluc says that with such a sharp gaze, it feels like less of a question and more of a demand.

You shudder, familiar with the sensation. Nine months of training makes your response automatic:

“Do you know what happened to Lumine?”

Diluc’s face changes. 

“I mean—you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. Ajax keeps talking about her and Scaramouche kept mentioning her and I don’t understand why she’s so important, so I haven’t—”

“Lumine was the name of a human trafficking slave who escaped,” Diluc says, folding his arms. Next to him, Venti leans into him and pulls his knees in, hiding his manhood. “I don’t know any exact dates, since there was probably a gap between when she escaped and when people began finding out, but it happened sometime within the past two years.”

“O...kay?” You cock your head to the side. That...honestly doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, honestly. Slaves escape all the time: heck, Scaramouche said that Xiao disappeared just a few weeks ago, so why isn’t Zhongli facing the same loss in business that Childe’s going through?

Diluc seems to see the confusion on your face.

“The thing was, when Lumine escaped, she took important documents with her.” Oh, you think, beginning to understand why that would be a problem. “At the time, no one knew who had lost her, since that person maintained anonymity during the whole affair, but those documents were said to have definitive evidence that could be used to prosecute basically every human trafficker who had business dealings with Lumine's handler. And since that person was anonymous, it meant that every human trafficker in the world was at risk.”

“I...see.” Now you understand why people wouldn’t want to work with Childe at the revelation that he was the man who lost Lumine. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I guess.” Diluc shrugs and crosses his arms. “The incident was resolved pretty quickly, and everyone soon found out that Lumine had been killed before she could hand the documents over to anyone of importance. Still, though, for someone as prolific as Tartaglia to be the imbecile to have lost his merchandise…”

You hate how your heart immediately beats in defiance when Diluc calls Childe an imbecile. He is an imbecile, you try to tell yourself, despite the fact that you feel nothing but sorrow and pity for him now that you understand what situation you’ve put him in. An imbecile. An asshole. A monster. 

But somehow, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with your mind on those words.

“And it’s my fault everyone knows…” you mumble, more to yourself than Diluc or Venti.

Scaramouche’s words from this morning echo through your mind—Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia: everyone in the Fatui is suffering—and instantly, guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Yes, these are human traffickers, but if you remember the utterly dejected look in Childe’s eye this morning, it feels infinitely worse to know that you’re the cause of his misery.

“Are you feeling bad for him?” Diluc asks in a whisper, but the look in his eye is dangerous. Even Venti, who had been pressed beside him up until now, begins to look fearful. “Are you seriously sympathizing with Tartaglia?”

“No, I—I’m not—”

“I hope not,” Diluc says, stony. “Because there are hundreds of other girls who want to be freed and haven’t begun to feel bad for their handlers, and Kaeya and I would much rather focus on them.”

“I’m not—”

“I hope so.”

Diluc stands abruptly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“Th-thank you for taking the time to—”

“Yeah.”

Diluc practically pushes you out the door frame, then, his broad chest obstructing your view of the inside of the room, but your eyes fly to Venti, who kneels on the bed to make eye contact with you over the redhead's shoulder.

As Diluc begins reiterating the instructions for your return, you focus on the boy in the background.

Venti doesn’t seem to care that he’s nude. Hell, there’s not an ounce of shame on his face despite being gagged and covered in hickeys, and it would alarm you if you weren’t focused on the way he lifts his bruised arms up in an X-formation and begins shaking his head frantically. His lips appear to be forming the words to something, but you can’t understand what he’s saying through the gag.

You’re about to ask what Venti is saying when Diluc turns to see what you’re looking at.

For a second, the room seems to drop ten degrees. Venti freezes, staring at Diluc with round eyes, almost scared, and you swear you hear the redhead growl for a second.

A muffled whimper spills from Venti’s lips.

Diluc turns to you, a gentle smile that unsettles you on his face. “I think you should go,” he says. “Venti must really want my attention now if he’s trying to play games to get it.”

“O-oh, but what was he—”

“I suggest you leave now,” Diluc says, the kind-not-kind smile beginning to slip from his lips. “Because you’ve been here a while, and the last thing you should want is for Tartaglia to find you missing.”

“What about Kaeya—”

“Kaeya’s at the gym,” Diluc practically spits. “So unless you want Tartaglia tracking you there, too, I’d go straight back to your little apartment with him and pray that he didn’t notice you left.”

Despair builds in your chest at that. You were certain Childe was asleep when you left, but what if he reaches out for you while he’s sleeping? What if that wakes him up and he sees that you’re gone? What if—

“Go,” Diluc orders.

The redhead doesn’t wait for you to respond, then, simply slamming the door in your face. Immediately, you’re back in action. You dart for the elevator, knowing that you need to get home as quickly as you can if you want to minimize the chance of Childe waking up to find you gone.

Panic begins to rise. The familiar vines of anxiety begin to climb higher and higher through your stomach as the elevator begins to close with painstaking slowness. Your fingers fumble with the urge to make things move faster, and you doubt yourself for a moment, thinking that you should have taken the stairs, but it’s too late for that, now, with the doors just about to close, and—

You hear the beginnings of a scream. A high-pitched wail, something agonized and miserable and ruined.

Then, the sound cuts off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Too panicked to think, you don’t bother pondering the source of the sound as the elevator reaches the first floor and you stumble your way back to Childe’s apartment. 

This time, you’re in so much of a rush that you do attract attention as you exit. Somehow, though, the thought of Childe waking up and finding you gone manages to overpower your fear at being seen, and you stumble forward through the hotel and towards Childe’s apartment building as fast as you can. When you’re safe inside, you have to take the elevator once more: because while Kaeya and Diluc were on the second floor of their hotel, Childe has the penthouse of his apartment, a distance much too large for the stairs to be a viable option, but your nerves begin to calm as you feel the elevator shift higher and higher. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get home safe and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

The elevator opens directly in front of Childe’s front door, where the hole Scaramouche busted open this morning still remains. Ever careful, you step one foot inside, shift your weight forward, and duck inside. 

As soon as you’re completely within the apartment, the pressure and fear of having escaped dissipate. You think that you’ve made it back safely, that you snuck out and will be able to sneak back in with no consequences.

Then, you see him.

“Y-y-y-you’re—”

Childe is shaking like a leaf, looking pale and sickly. His hair is disheveled, messy in a way that lets you know that he’s been running his hands through it for as long as you've been gone, and his mouth is caught open in a mix of shock, confusion, and relief.

“You’re back,” he mumbles in disbelief, and the way his eyes glisten in the darkness of his apartment, catching what little moonlight shines in and reflecting it off, tells you that he’s on the verge of tears.

Then, he blinks, and the tears begin to fall.

“I…”

Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to justify your leave. You don’t know if Childe even wants justification. The man stumbles towards you, and while logic tells you that you should guard yourself, should protect yourself, should prepare to be hit or whipped or assaulted the way a human trafficker would normally behave when his merchandise acts out, the vulnerable look in Childe’s eye makes you think that he won't hurt you.

“I-I—I thought you left,” he blurts, reaching forward to catch your palm in his, squeezing it as if he can’t believe you’re real. “Why—why didn’t you—why are you—”

Back.

He reaches forward to clasp your other hand in his, and when he stands so close to you, holding your hands to his chest like your touch is his lifeline, everything else seems to disappear. For the first time today, the conscious thoughts that this man is a monster and he’s a human trafficker who destroyed your life and you should hate him all disappear—leaving nothing but pain for how miserable he looks at having been left, how shook he is that you decided to come back, how overwhelmed he is that, likely for the first time, someone has chosen to come back to him.

It shakes you to the core. 

Never have you seen Childe so rattled. Displays of weakness like this are ones he rarely indulges in, and never at your side. This is the first time you're seeing him openly cry, the man practically clinging to your hand like it's the only thing grounding him, and you realize that he's hurting, too. That Lumine and Diluc and Kaeya and everything else in this godforsaken world of human trafficking have fucked him up just like it's fucked you over, and what you're seeing now is the culmination of all of that.

"Relax," you whisper, letting go of all your resentment for a single moment to pull him close into a warm, loving embrace. "Ajax, relax. I’m here. I’ve got you."

They're the same words Childe used to comfort you when you had a panic attack in the middle of Xiangling's restaurant, the same words that pulled you to safety at a time when even your mind had turned traitor against your heart. 

You can't explain why you're comforting him when he's done nothing but ruin your life.

Yet, as Childe clutches your figure and chokes back a harrowing sob, thick, wet tears falling onto your shoulder as he chokes out the words “thank you” over and over again, you can’t help how your embrace instantly tightens.

MASTERLIST

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: OKAY so you know how this was supposed to be four chapters? yeah unfortunately that would make the final super duper rushed or super duper long so there's going to be a fifth chapter! and after the fifth chapter there'll be a short epilogue-y chapter!! the fifth chapter (finale!) and epilogue will be posted together at the same time - i can promise this bc i already have the epilogue written - soo yeah :D my apologies as usual for being late, hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter! comment thoughts and predictions <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 7/18/21 (hopefully)

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[wandasallerdyce]

Twilight Time - Steve Harrington

Pairing - Steve Harrington x M! Reader

Fandom - Stranger Things

Requested - yes/no

Warning(s) - one cuss word, all fluff

Notes - ugh, I’m a whore for this man 😩. But n e ways I was listening to Twilight Time earlier and said fuck it I’m writing for my best boi Steve. Also an upload two days in a row?! Woah! (p.s. I haven’t watched ST in a while so sorry if it’s cringe 😗)

(GIF not mine)

Steve was nervous to say the least. In just a few moments, you’d be walking down the makeshift isle the kids had made for your guys’ wedding. When you had told them that you guys were planning to get married in secret due to the law not letting you guys get legally married, they were excited and instantly asked to decorate the small part of the woods were you’d be hosting the wedding. And of course you guys said yes (more like were forced to).

Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time

When Steve had proposed to you, you guys had gone out to go stargazing. He was fascinated that you knew so much about the stars. He loved how the moonlight fell on your (s/c) face, making it glow beautifully. At this point, Steve was still wondering if he should go along with the plan. He knew both of you guys were young. He was 20 while you were 19. He didn’t want to tie you down to him when you could go to college and succeed in life.

Steve couldn’t help it though. Ever since he first saw you walk in through the doors at school, he was instantly enamored with you. He knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. When he finally went to talk to you, it was during a party. He was nervous as hell and was barely able to stutter out a “H-Hey I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.” To add on to the awkwardness, he did hand guns after.

You simply giggled and decided to flirt with him a little. “Harrington, huh? Got a nice ring to it. It’d be even nicer if it was next to my name.” You replied with a smirk. He instantly choked on air and went beet red in the face. ‘Smooth. Real smooth’ he instantly thought. He straightened his composure and shirt and replied “would you like to get out of here?” whilst offering you his hand which you instantly held. “Sure, why not?” You said while smiling. Needless to say, you guys ended up having a steamy make out session in his car.

Steve just couldn’t get enough of your lips. They were so plump and soft, unlike any other lips he had ever kissed. If it were even possible, he fell in love with you even more. Eventually, after a few more make out sessions, he had the courage to ask you out on a date, which you instantly agreed to. Ever since then, you’ve both always been together.

When purple colored curtains mark the end of day I'll hear you, my dear, at twilight time

Some nights, Steve would climb up to your window and get in bed with you after a rough day. You’d hear him out and hug him tightly if he starts crying. Steve loves you for that. He loves that he can count on you whenever he needs help.

When he gets the job at Scoops Ahoy, you become a regular and tease Steve, who’s in his uniform. “Look at the cute boy in the sailors outfit!” You say while sighing dreamily. “Stop it!” He replies back, going instantly red. Meanwhile, you compliment Robin’s outfit which got a pout from Steve. “You’re still cute nonetheless, Stevie.” You tell him while giving him a quick kiss which instantly brings a smile to his face. “Exit the break room.” Robin simply replies.

Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold

And here you guys were, looking at the stars together, laying on one of his blankets on top of his car. He turned his body to look at you with you doing the same. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He asked, staring at you lovingly. “Nope.” You replied, giggling softly, which earned you a playful eye roll.

“No, but seriously, I really love you. Your beautiful (e/c) eyes, your unique personality, basically, everything about you is amazing. I love you. I love how you listen to all my problems, letting me vent out all my problems, yes, I even loved how you teased me in the sailors outfit and,” he shakily pulls out the ring, which causes you to gasp. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So what do you say, (y/n)? Want to officially- unofficially get married?” He asks, and gulps right after. ‘Maybe I rushed it too fast’ he thinks.

“Of course Steve! Yes!” You exclaim, jumping into his lap which earns an oof from Steve. He smiles the biggest smile he’s ever done and slips the ring onto your finger and kisses you deeply. You pull away and look at the ring until you notice the similarity.

“Wait, did you get this from the machine at the store we were at the other day?”

“Yes?” He said, nervously.

“Eh, I love it anyway. It’s perfect.” You said and went back to kissing him.

Here, in the afterglow of day, we keep our rendezvous beneath the blue

Now, here he was, in the present day, at the same spot in the woods where he proposed to you. It had also become the place where you guys would get married unofficially. He was nervous to say the least. He was constantly tapping his foot to the point where Mike slapped him in the arm to stop him. Jonathan was his man of honor. Sure, it was a bit weird but they had become close friends ever since the demogorgon shit ended.

Meanwhile, Robin was your maid of honor. Ever since you walked into Scoops Ahoy for the first time, you instantly became best friends with Robin and saw her as the sister you never had. You guys would constantly team up and annoy Steve together which he would laugh at at first but eventually it got too overwhelming as both of you were good at pranks.

Max walked in with a bell and rang it too many times to count, but got the message through that it was time to start. Steve’s breath hitched as he saw you walk in. You looked so handsome in the white clothes you had picked out and he fell even harder for you. Hopper was walking you down the aisle and would also serve as the officiant. He didn’t even realize you had reached the center and were holding his hands.

He stared into your shining (e/c) eyes while reciting his vows which made him feel lucky as he’d be able to look at them everyday he’d wake up. After reciting your guys’ vows and sharing a kiss, you simply told him, “Guess “Harrington” did make it into my name.” He smiled as he looked at you, reminiscing about your guys’ first conversation.

Here in the sweet and same old way, I fall in love again as I did then

After the ceremony, Steve drove both of you to your guys’ new house. It was small but homey at the same time. When you guys arrived, Steve opened the door for you, picked you up and walked you guys inside. It was beautiful from the inside. You had already bought some furniture to accommodate it to your guys’ liking. Steve set you down and went to turn on the small radio you had sitting on a coffee table. Instantly, Twilight Time by The Platters started playing.

Steve moved closer to you and put a hand on your waist and held the other one, while you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You guys started dancing across the living room, matching the rythym of the song. He would dip you and move you guys across the room. As the song ended, he dipped you one last time, brought you back up and placed a deep kiss on your lips. “I’ll never get tired of this. I love you, (y/n) Harrington.”

“I love you too, Steve Harrington.”

FIN

[izukuwus]

Sweet Words, Sweetcheeks

A/N: Day 13 of @birds-have-teeth​’s Izumonth server collab.

Summary: It’s been some time since you and Izuku took the plunge and bought the bakery, and Izuku couldn’t be happier working together with you towards both of your dreams. Well, except for one thing. (baker!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: brush ur teeth cus this one’s straight sugar

Word count: 2100+

A mop of green hair and matching eyes poke around the corner as you enter Lemon Wedge, the bell above the door signifying your arrival. "You're back! Any issues with the delivery?"

"Not a one!" you chirp, stifling a giggle at the sight of Izuku with flour dusting his clothing, frosting smeared on his cheek. "Have any of you boys eaten yet?"

A chorus of 'yes' sounds from the back room, causing you to sigh. "Anything that isn't on our menu?"

No one answers. You roll your eyes, making your way around the counter and rattling some bags of takeout loudly. "Alright, if any of you aren't doing something you absolutely cannot put down right this moment—which at least one of you should be, given I left you guys alone to deliver all those cakes this morning—come eat your fill." The boys have been giving you the runaround all day, your normal delivery driver having called out this morning with an embarrassingly pathetic attempt to sound sick.

"I'm free!" Kiri shouts enthusiastically. 

"I am as well," Tokoyami says, dusting flour off his hands. You watch as both boys make their way to the sinks to wash up.

Izuku lets out a whine from where he stands at his workstation, painstakingly kneading bread. "This batch has thirty more minutes of kneading before it's ready to proof, but I don't want the food to get cold..."

You set one bag of food down on a clean counter for Kirishima and Tokoyami to dig into, humming as you approach your boyfriend. "They're subs, babe. You don't have to worry about them getting cold."

You set the bag containing yours and his food on an adjacent counter, popping up on your toes and making like you're going in for a kiss. He's quick to respond, which makes it all the funnier when a disappointed whine leaves his lips as you lean over and lick the smear of frosting off his cheek.

"Angelcake, don't tease me~"

You smile, nuzzling against his cheek for a moment. "Sorry, sweetcheeks. Ya had something on your face there." 

"You're lucky I've got this bread to pay attention to, you—"

The bell rings as a customer enters. You bop his nose gently. "I'll be right with you~" you croon, practically skipping off to the front counter to deal with the customer.

Izuku waits. As Kirishima and Tokoyami go off to eat, he waits. As he listens to your sweet customer service voice while you talk to the customer, he waits. And when you're done and good and the customer has been served with a smile, Izuku waits.

When you return, he launches a small pinch of flour directly into your face.

You splutter, reaching up to wipe at your face in pure shock. "Did you just..."

"Maybe," he says, trying hard not to laugh as you stand there with flour dusting your face.

"I was coming back over here to lovingly hand-feed you your sub and you just..."

"I'll still take the sub?" he tries, batting his eyelashes innocently.

You sigh, heading over to the sink and wiping your face with some damp paper towels. "Nope, you lost your chance. Eat after you get that bread proofing, sweetcheeks."

He whines at your dismissal, but can't step away from the bread. You get back to work cleaning, stifling your giggles when his attempt to protest (something along the lines of "I've been kneading bread all day") is cut off by the phone ringing. You answer it in a second, waggling your fingers at Izuku teasingly.

"Hello, you've reached Lemon Wedge Cakes and Bakes, this is [name] speaking! How can I help you?"

Izuku turns back to his bread with a sigh. At least you didn't get a chance to question him. He'd almost ruined—well, that's not important. When you return from jotting down the call-in details, his transgression is forgotten, and you feed him bites of his sub between kisses and clean dishes.

~

Izuku leaves the bakery for the night before you do. Often, since you live together, either your shifts are at the same times to make transportation easy or he'll simply hang around and relax while waiting for your own shift to end, which usually results in him helping you with closing whether you want him to or not. Most nights, however, if schedules and workloads don't permit, he'll head home first to buy dinner for the both of you to eat when you're home, usually being too tired from being in a kitchen all day to get back in the kitchen to handle dinner. Tonight is one of the nights in which Izuku goes on ahead, leaving you to handle the storefront and get everything closed up while the high schooler at the register handles the last of the sales for the night.

When you finally arrive home, it's hours after Izuku, and honestly, you're excited to just get off your feet, crash on the couch, and watch some vapid reality show with takeout balanced on your chest and Izuku's hand in yours. What greets you, though, isn't takeout and reality shows. Izuku's head pops out from the kitchen with a broad grin. "Welcome home, angel!"

The living room is clean, the dining room lit with candles as the smell of something homey greets you. Izuku's hair is fluffy and damp, implying he's taken a shower since his shift at the bakery. You hear the sound of water running, then Izuku rushes over to meet you at the door with a kiss. "I missed you," he breathes against your lips, effortlessly picking your feet off the floor with his hug.

You snort, playfully pushing him away. His arms hold you tight to his chest, though—no escape from Izuku's love. "Izuku, it's been four hours."

"Four long hours!" 

You giggle and kiss him on the nose. "I missed you too." Your arms wind around his neck, rewarding his affection by relaxing into his hug as he sets you down. "What's all this? I thought we were getting Chinese tonight."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I thought I'd—you know, do something nice for you. You're always taking care of me, and we've been working so hard since we bought the bakery, and..."

Another soft kiss, this time pressed to his lips. "You cleaned everything up and cooked for me?"

"Myeah," he says, muffled as you continue to press kisses to his face. "There's cake, too."

"Oh, Izu. I love it. Thank you so much." As you pull back, prepared to sit down, kick your shoes off, and finally eat, a thought occurs to you. "Does all this have anything to do with why Denki called out this morning with no notice claiming to be suffering a, quote, '24 hour leprosy attack'?"

"Don't be mad, he tried his best," Izu says, ruffling your hair. "Are you hungry? Because the food's ready if you are."

"Hungry and exhausted." You press into his touch with a smile. "I swear I could marry you." Whatever he mutters in response, you don't quite catch. "What's that, Izu?"

"N-nothing!" he squeaks. "Come on, you should sit down. I'll get your food." He disappears into the kitchen, stumbling on the step into the elevated area with a yelp. "W-what do you want to drink? Is champagne fine?"

"Are you trying to seduce me, Izuku Midoriya?" you tease as you wriggle out of your jacket and kick off your shoes.

"[name] we've been dating for four years."

"And?"

"Of course I'm trying to seduce you," he calls, stifling laughter. "Gotta give you a reason to stick around, you know?"

"As if you're ever getting rid of me." You make your way across the room, draping yourself in a chair dramatically. "Honestly, how am I ever going to thank you for this one, babe?"

He emerges from the kitchen, setting a glorious-looking plate of food in front of you. "W-well, you don't have to, but there is one way you could thank me."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He sets his own plate of food across the table, smoothing his hands over his pants almost... nervously? "Hold on." He disappears back into the kitchen.

"Wait, no, get back here, tell me what I can do!"

After a moment, he returns, taking level, even breaths as if he's trying to calm himself. "You sure you wanna know?" He smiles, one that's almost forced. You'd be worried for him if you weren't used to his random bouts of nerves. 

"Tell meee," you whine.

He chuckles, circling around behind you so your head rests against his stomach. One arm comes around to hug you as he crouches behind you, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "Okay, okay. Just close your eyes and be patient, okay?"

You grin, but acquiesce, closing your eyes as he brings a hand up to cover them for an added layer of protection. "I-I've never been very good with words, s-so please don't make fun of me if I mess this up."

"It only adds to your charm," you tease, feeling him shuffle around behind you.

"[name]," he whines, "I said be patient."

You mime zipping your lips, letting him continue. He curses under his breath, fumbling for something that just thumped quietly against the floor, and you patiently wait for him to collect himself. He inhales, exhales, and starts again. "Okay. I... I said this earlier, but since we bought Lemon Wedge and started pouring everything into it, you've been working so hard, and I really can't express to you how much your support means to me." The hand that's been frantically shuffling behind your (and—you assume—his) back comes to rest on your chest, a quick kiss being pressed to the top of your head before he continues.

"I've loved you for a long time, longer than the years we've been together. But in the past two years, seeing you put your all into something that's my dream as much as it is yours... I've fallen in love with you all over again, and um..." He pauses for a long moment, taking several deep breaths. "Man, I can only shut up when I need to be able to talk, huh?"

"It's okay," you coo, still unable to see. "You know I'm listening no matter what."

He groans, resting his head atop yours for a moment. "See, you're perfect. Ever since we met, you've been nothing but supportive. I've always been a little insecure, but I've never once doubted that you loved me, because you've always shown that you care. Listening when I talk, even when I've gone off on some crazy tangent and I'm just thinking out loud. Bringing me food during the day so you're sure I've eaten something healthy. You mean the world to me, angelcake. There are days I'm sure I wouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed if I didn't know you'd be there with a smile. And I know, we already live together, I already wake up to you every morning, and that alone is more than I ever could have hoped for, but... wait, hold on, a-are you crying?"

"No," you sniffle, tears running down your cheeks. "Finish your sentence, 'Zuzu."

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, stopping a line of tears in its tracks before finally removing his hand from your eyes. You gasp at the sight, though really, you already knew it was coming. "If you'll have me, [name]... I'd like it if we could... if you'd..." He lets out a tiny groan. "Sorry, sorry. [name], will you marry me?"

The ring resting on your chest is beautiful. An iridescent fire opal in the center, ringed with small diamonds and emeralds that instantly call your boyfriend—no, fiancé to mind.

You nearly fall off the chair as you flip around to tackle Izuku, crashing your lips to his as he yelps and steadies you. "Hey, c-careful, you could get hurt!"

"It's okay," you sigh against his lips, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. "You'll always catch me. Of course I'll marry you, Izuku. I'll marry you a thousand times, a million, even. Every day you'll have me, if you want it."

Izuku's tears join your own as he sits back, pulling you into his lap on the dining room floor so he can hold you close. "I'm so—so glad."

The dinner is spent in giggling tears as the two of you move to the floor to eat in each other's arms. It's hard to pull away from him, even when you've both decided you need to get off the floor and at least move to the couch. You spend the night cuddled up close to him, admiring your engagement ring with a soft gaze.

Tags: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @denise-the-death-goddess​ @themerpenguin​ @sincerebubbles​ @themmmelissa @fudobaby​

[aro-of-artemis]

Will They Won't They

number two! this one is inspired by Jeremy Shada’s banger by the same name. it can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626231 Julie and Luke have been dancing around each other but will they finally admit their feelings?

AKA 3 times they won't and 1 time they will. ----

(1)

The California-bright sun hangs high in the sky, casting its brilliant rays on the milling group of teenagers below. If one were to look at these teenagers - four in all - they would notice nothing amiss, each one leaving hazy shadows on the boardwalk. Their bodies seem to be moved about by the sea breeze, constantly colliding in joyful embraces with one another as they sing snatches of songs to one another.

Julie drops back from the boys a little bit, watching with a soft, almost painfully fond smile on her face. She closes her eyes a moment, lifting her face to catch the warmth of the sun.

"Hey, Julie." Luke had fallen back too, noticing her pause. The other two continue on, Reggie spinning Alex in a little twirl beneath his raised arm and Alex reciprocating with a broad grin. "You all good?"

When Julie opens her eyes, she is met with a small curling smile.

"Yeah, Luke. I'm good," she says, her smile growing toothy. "Just … appreciating my environment." She wouldn't of course mention that Luke was a key part of that environment that she was appreciating but the slightly mischievous look on Luke's face told her that he had an inkling.

"Good," Luke says, tucking his hands into his pockets and scuffing his shoes on the ground as he begins to slowly walk again. Julie joins him, matching his strides.

They walk together quietly, smiling and laughing at the other boys' antics up ahead. Julie's chest feels so incredibly warm, buoyed by contentment, making her feel as though she is merely floating. As they walk, Julie gently bumps her shoulder into Luke's and he reciprocates, causing his hands to drop from his pockets and start swinging gently by his side. Julie can feel his fingers next to hers, like an electric current. His presence next to her is so warm. Like the hearth of a fire. Comforting and homey but brimming with energy so close to being set loose.

She feels their fingers brush. Once, twice, three times. Until their pinkie fingers hook together. She feels as though the whole world is contained within that one point of contact. The Big Bang and the inevitable heat death of the universe pinned in one spot.

Neither of them look at each other or otherwise acknowledge their linked hands swinging between them but Julie can't help the broad grin forcefully tugging on the corners of her mouth.

After a while - Julie's not sure she could pinpoint the amount of time passed with any kind of accuracy - she tangles the rest of their fingers together, brushing her thumb along the back of his hand. She hears him take a sharp breath in and her own heart stutters in her chest. She can now feel the soft contours of his palm, the hard-won calluses on his fingertips now rubbing gently across her knuckles. She is filled by a sudden wish to study his hands as if they are precious artefacts detailing each moment of his life. However, that line of thinking is promptly cut off.

In their exuberance, Alex and Reggie had gotten quite far ahead. They double back, re-joining Julie and Luke, unknowingly interrupting something that felt indescribably intimate. Julie couldn't be mad at them though.

They had yet to stop singing - currently doing their best rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody possible with two voices. When Alex tugs on her free hand to pull her into some vague, chest-clutching choreography to emphasise his very serious position as just a poor boy, nobody loves me, she sings back in her best operatics, he's just a poor boy from a poor family. Reggie chimes in to add that they should spare him his life from this monstrosity.

They all dissolve into delirious giggles, hanging off one another. But Julie's hand still burns with all the energy of the Big Bang and all the potential contained within.

(2)

Julie's fingers flit along the keys of the music room piano, plucking out the notes to a song. The song, really. The one she had dreamt up in dance class. The one that wouldn't leave her head or her heart. She begins to hum along, adding lyrics as her voice rises in intensity.

By the last chorus, she is belting with the force of all the pent-up emotions pushing their corners into her ribcage. She pulls back, softening for the final lines, ending on a breathy reiteration of the words perfect harmony.

Julie lurches to her feet, whirling around when the ringing quiet is interrupted by a voice. Luke's voice.

"That was beautiful, Julie." He says her name in that way of his, softening the j, tongue curling around the l as if it's a precious thing. He's leaning against the door frame, hands bracketing his own biceps looking at her with an impossibly tender smile. Julie can feel her face heating up, her eyes widening to comic proportions.

"Luke!" she chokes out past the invisible hand that seems to be strangling her. "What are you doing here?"

Luke shrugs his shoulders, dropping his hands to his pockets and meandering towards her.

"Ah, y'know," he glances at her a little sheepishly, "Got a little bored at home." Julie feels her chest warm a couple degrees at him calling her home his home but she pushes that down, raising her eyebrow slightly instead and folding her arms.

"Is that so?" she challenges. "And what kind of entertainment do you think I could provide you?”

Luke shrugs again. He's still shuffling his feet. This boy can never stay still.

A moment of silence stretches long between them until Luke clears his throat, scratching the back of his head.

"So, what was that song you were working on?"

"Oh!" Julie feels her eyes widen again and her face feels like a hot stove, "That? Pfft nothing. It's nothing. Just- ah - just a song. Don't worry about it."

Luke quirks the corner of his mouth and looks up at her through his lashes, seeing through her terrible cover-up. "Can you play it for me again? Maybe we can work on it together."

Julie feels her mouth drop open as she desperately tries to formulate a response that gets her out of baring her soul to her crush and his boy band hair and his pink lips and those expressive fucking eyebrows that she wants to kiss just to see how they would move and she-

"It's okay if you don't wanna," Luke says, looking a little dejected but clearly sees her distress.

"No - well - I - fuck - I -," Julie forces herself to stop. Take a breath.

Luke laughed at her, loud and bright. "Julie Molina! Did you just cuss?"

Julie scowls at him, the slight irritation of being made fun of by Luke allowing her to catch her breath. "Yes," she said tersely. "I cuss!"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, still chuckling, hands up in a mock defensive gesture, "It's just that I've never heard you swear before."

Julie huffs. "I contain multitudes." She sits back down at the piano, straight-backed. But then she softens. Looking back at him, she pats next to herself on the piano stool in tacit invitation. "Do you wanna hear it or not?"

Luke scrambles over to her, settling his incandescent warmth next to her. She can feel energy radiating off his skin, causing her heart to flutter into her windpipe. Julie clears her throat, pushing it back to its rightful position, takes a deep breath and starts playing.

As she plays, she can feel each spot where their bodies touch. (The front of his leg to the back of her calf, his shoulder brushing against hers as she breaths in and out, their hips where they meet on the piano stool). She can feel as Luke leans progressively closer and closer until there's barely any breathing room between them. She feels the vibration of his chest as he begins to join in singing the lyrics. The press of his chest to her shoulder blade. The wild beating of his heart.

When the song draws to an end once more, she only needs to turn her head just slightly to be breathing the same air as him. She looks quickly between his shining eyes and his lips that are hanging open as if he'd forgotten to close them. When she glances back into his eyes, she notices him having a similar struggle. The air feels thick between them, the weight of the unsaid and the sung hanging like a veil over their heads, wrapping them within their own private world.

And then the sharp trill of the period bell rings, jolting them apart, flustered and uncertain.

"I - I've got to get to class."

"I better get back to the boys."

They say these things at the same time, both feeling the disappointment of their broken moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Luke says, eyes still catching on hers like they can't bear to look anywhere else. "I'll, um, see you at home." And with that he poofs out.

(3)

The end of the movie playing on Julie's laptop gives way to the scroll of credits, softly illuminating the pile of tangled limbs on the pull-out couch. Reggie's head lays cushioned on the softness of Alex's stomach, rising and falling with each breath. Julie's legs are tangled with Reggie's, her head on Luke's chest, forming a V between Luke and Alex.

Alex and Reggie are snoring softly as the credit music quietens. Julie can feel the gentle breeze of Luke's breath shifting her curls ever so slightly. She twists slightly to look at him, careful not to disturb Reggie's legs. When she looks up at him, she is startled to find his warm eyes fixed on her face, brimming with something she couldn't put a name to.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" she asks softly.

Luke huffs out a somewhat rueful chuckle, as if sharing a private joke with himself. "Yeah, it was good." (If one were to ask Luke, he’d say he could barely remember the movie. He’d been distracted).

Julie gives him a bemused look but doesn't push. She can feel him playing with the ends of her hair, tugging on the curls and watching with fascination as they spring back. The slight tugging sensation causes a shiver to reach cool fingers down the whole length of her spine. And Luke clearly notices because his (soft, pink) mouth pulls into a mischievous grin. God, she is so gone on this boy.

"You cold?" he asks, clearly knowing the answer but unable to prevent himself from teasing her.

Julie bumps his chest lightly with the flat of her hand, intending to scold him but instead finding she doesn't want to move it from where it landed. She sucks in a sharp breath when she looks up into his eyes, feeling her pounding heartbeat in the tips of her ears, the pads of her fingers, the flesh of her lips.

She still scowls at him slightly, even as her hand traces along the slight dip and rise of his chest, warm through the thin fabric of his irritatingly (amazingly, fantastically) sleeveless shirt. "Shut up," she finally says, unable to come up with an adequate response.

Luke scoffs a little but the curl of his lip is affectionate. He jerks his chin slightly at the other boys. "I guess it's time for bed."

"I guess so," Julie returns, nestling in closer to the softness of his chest instead of getting up and taking herself to her room. She couldn't imagine being anywhere but here, encompassed by an overwhelming feeling of safety and warmth and love for her boys.

"G'night, Julie," Luke says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

"Night, Luke," Julie says, his name delicate and precious in her mouth.

And then. Then. He darts forward (a mere few inches) to place on peck on the end of her nose.

Julie's mouth doesn’t have to go very far to tug into a broad grin, eyebrows pulling together slightly as she looks up at Luke's reddening face. She replaces her head on his chest, right over his heart, feeling how it races against her cheek. She feels his muscles relax slightly as she does so and his hand returns to playing gently with her hair. She falls to sleep with a smile on her face.

(+1)

Luke can't sleep. It's not unusual, exactly. He's often plagued by memories or filled up with ideas, making him feel as though he'll jitter right out of his skin if he doesn't keep moving in one way or another. He prefers the latter, obviously, even if Reggie and Alex make fun of him for practically vibrating when he sings sometimes. He just can't help it.

At the moment, he is filled to the brim with snatches of songs, some his and some not. Carlos had been showing him some of those TikToks the young boy was so fond of. There was one particular song that had gotten stuck in his head, causing him to borrow Carlos' laptop to listen to the full thing.

"Oh, she's a she's a lady and I am just a boy," he mumbles under his breath as he wanders (twirls) around the kitchen looking for a snack (he can do that now, much to his delight). "She's a she's a lady and I am just a line without a - oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you-"

He cuts himself off abruptly as he catches sight of Julie out of the corner of his eye, mid-twirl between the fridge and the pantry.

She stands in the doorway, amused expression set over folded arms. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she is swamped in a warm-looking jumper that Luke is 95% sure belongs to Alex.

"Julie!" he says, mouth hanging open.

"Luke!" she responds teasingly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you - I'll keep it down."

Julie shakes her head and moves towards him. "No, it's fine. I couldn't sleep. I came down to get a drink but -" she gestures vaguely at the space in which Luke had been dancing.

"Oh," Luke breathes, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah," Julie says and there's a long moment of silence that feels anything but empty as they look at one another.

Julie finally breaks it. "I like that song you were singing. Line Without a Hook, right? It's a good song."

Luke smiles at her, bright eyed. "Yeah? You know it?"

Julie nods and starts singing the chorus. "Oh, baby I am a wreck when I'm without you."

Luke joins in, "I need you here to stay, I broke all of my bones that day I found you."

He grabs her hand and pulls her into a little dance as they sing, moving with the rhythm of the song.

When they reach the bridge, they stop moving, standing chest to chest in the middle of the kitchen. Julie voice halts in her throat as she stares up into Luke's hazel blue eyes.

He sings softly once again, his voice mostly breath, "She's a she's a lady and I am just a boy, She's a she's a lady and I am just a line without a -"

He trails off, sucked into the burbling warmth of her eyes, right hand coming up to trace the gentle curve of her cheekbone, her jaw. His thumb brushes along the tail of her eyebrow, fingers curling behind her ear. He can feel both their chests heaving, not with exertion but with some unnameable something. He feels as though if he were to speak right now, everything building up inside him would come tumbling violently out. He shouldn't, he can't, he won't --

She will. She does. She presses her lips to his, her lips soft and slightly chapped, stealing every bit of breath from his lungs. He presses back, his left hand coming up to cup the other side of her face, impossibly gentle. Her hands rise to bracket the back of his neck, fingers digging into the gentle waves at the nape of his neck.

He feels euphoric. Every part of skin is alive and buzzing, trying to gather as much sensation as physically possible. Julie presses back harder, deepening the kiss for a moment and Luke feels a new thrill shoot through him.

When she pulls back to breathe, she rests her forehead against his, their panting breaths mingling between them. Luke can feel a smile curling at the edges of his mouth and Julie can't bear to look away from it.

"Hi," he says, his voice husky.

"Hi," she says, and it sounds like an entirely new word in her kiss-roughened voice. A word that belongs only to them.

Luke leans down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, still breathing heavily, causing goose bumps to raise on Julie's skin where it skates across.

"You're amazing." His words sound a whole lot like a confession. Julie's hands continue to comb through the short hair at that tickles the back of his neck.

"Luke," she says. He lifts his head to meet her intense gaze. "I --" she drops her eyes for a moment but looks up again, a fire seemingly lit behind them. "I love you."

He can't help the smile that splits his face in two, looking for all the world like the sun had taken residence upon his face.

"Julie," his tongue curling around each syllable, "I love you, too."

[buckevantommy]

'(Un)Happiest Season' review

Simply put, it wasn't enjoyable as a romance or a comedy or a Christmas flick. It failed on many fronts, but this reviewer from Salon.com puts the thing into words for Happiest Season's main failings: 

What's bad: There were two main criticisms of "Happiest Season." The first being: Can't LGBTQ audiences have a holiday movie where the main plot isn't about mining the anxiety and trauma associated with coming out, being closeted and casual homophobia? Then there's the fact that Harper really is just kind of the worst. After pushing Abby back in the closet, Harper ditches her in a town where she doesn't know anyone to go drink with her ex-boyfriend until two in the morning, then proceeds to call Abby "suffocating" when called on it. It's a pattern of s**ty behavior that is pervasive and present throughout the movie, so her redemption arc doesn't feel super genuine. 

Why can't we have main queer characters in Christmas movies without their presence being all about their queerness? We want fluffy festiveness, dammit! They could've made Harper less selfish and more attentive while still playing into the *I'm not out yet Because Reasons so we need to hide our gay relationship* trope, but they didn't. Who knows why, but what a waste. 🎄👩‍❤️‍👩☃️

^ Look at that trailer and tell me you don't expect Misunderstandings with fun and tropey antics + Domestic Christmas Shenanigans + Comfort for Hurt! You will be sorely disappointed. 😞 

NOTE: The flick does have a few good moments. And it's probably worth the watch just to see what's missing/mishandled when it comes to queer characters and queer romances in mainstream movies. 

But it's not really fun or funny or heart-warming - where are the snowball fights? Insightful conversations? Christmas elements like eggnog/spiced wine, candycanes, mistletoe? Where are the many colourful side characters and the hungover brunches? We get one scene of ice-skating for a few minutes and it's wasted on sibling rivalry bs rather than, say.. Abby and Harper skating together but not being aloud to touch—omg the tension!! 😍 

There's just not enough comfort for the hurt Abby (Kstew) goes through; the film wholly lacks those warm-n-fuzzy Christmas vibes; there's just way more wrong with it than is right with it - which sucks, because this had the potential to be such a great movie if only Harper was written as less ignorant/selfish and we'd gotten more enjoyable family interactions and more festive fun - like a celebration in town. Instead we get a few limited shots of the adorable town, a crappy bar, and an OTT fancy Christmas party for performative rich white folk on a career path for power and "perfection" (ie. wholesome family values). 

The story they went with was definitely better suited for a dramatic film, so in a romcom setting it really didn't work. Plus the side-characters were flat; we needed more depth from the supporting characters, more meaningful interactions. 

^ Look at those intro credits!! Look at all the domestic happy moments and tell me you don't want to see a movie filled with such fluffy festive goodness!! Well, if you don't want to see such moments, don't worry because you won't. I naturally thought we were going to get this kind of romantic-and-non-romantic happiness dispersed throughout the entire film, but no. Not a one. There's 5 minutes of Happy Couple at the start, and that's it 📸☹️ (unless you count a photo collage of the happy ending and year that follows stuffed into the end credits). 

BTW: That intro song is the most Christmasy song in the whole movie. The soundtrack features modern pop songs which 1) don't help set the festive vibe and 2) are really fucking annoying; the song choices are grating, not pleasant, not enjoyable, and they overpower the scenes with a whole lotta noise. I really wish we'd gotten more tunes like the one above. 🎶 

About the image below—Abby is actually miserable the entire time, getting worse by the day, barely a smile seen on her.. while Harper is the one schmoozing her family and contacts with teeth bared, so.. this image isn't what you'll get, just fyi:

(also: the only POC actors they had were the perfectionist-stone-faced-bitch's husband and his girlfriend - wife + hubby being secretly separated.) 

The things that the Salon reviewer liked are the same things I did (see below), but imho even those elements weren't enough to save this film from being: 

an infuriating 102 minute-comedy of errors buoyed by a healthy dose of gaslighting 

More cons of the flick are pointed out by denofgeek.com: 

Some of its issues come from the structure of the film, which shoehorns very real queer struggles into wacky rom-com tropes too fluffy to contain the stakes at hand. Meanwhile the choice to have one half of the lead couple be so aggressively and repeatedly cruel—while her high school ex Riley, played by the ever-perfect Aubrey Plaza was standing right there having all the chemistry in the world with the other romantic lead—was a fatal one.

It really was a dramatic plot idea crammed into a fluffy narrative. You can see the conflicting genres fighting to stay alive and they both die a slow, agonisingly dull death throughout the film. The whole *Abby being converted to loving Christmas by Harper inviting her to spend the holidays with her family* thing, only to have Harper force their relationship + Abby into the closet. Straight conversion much? I'm 100% sick of heteronormative bs in my queer Christmas films. 

For the most part, when you're not feeling for Abby's harsh treatment by her would-be fiance and everyone but Riley ignoring her completely, you will be bored af from the lack of festive cheer - not just twinkle lights and boisterous seasonal music, but those good ol' homey family Christmas vibes. With the Harper house + family members, everything's a performance, so that lack of sincerity and warmth makes for a depressing viewing experience: 

^ Jane (one of Harper's 2 sisters) is the only character allowed to be consistently genuine in the narrative (aside from John, but he's restricted mostly to phonecalls, and Riley - but even she's keeping Harper's secrets). Jane is the only character who is naturally vibrant and reminds us of some of the reasons we get excited about Christmas movies: to feel joy and to enjoy the company around us during the holiday season! 🎄☃️🥳 But rather than give us a fun day out with Jane + Abby, we get Abby + the second sister (i don't even remember her name, just BitchFace) which leads to more bad treatment of Abby - this time by two spoiled af no-smile rich kids. *le sigh* Jane carries the spark of honest joy for the entire Harper clan and that is TOO MUCH to expect of one character, let alone a side-character. 😪 

There are so many ways the story could've been tweaked to make more sense and be somewhat enjoyable, including: 

The orphan!Abby thing is just bad. Rather than give Abby a voice, chances to let her personality shine, almost everyone interacts with her to merely briefly express their condolences for her long-dead parents 🙄 

Abby is a pet-minder, ie. she's an animal lover, yet at no point do we see her interact with animals! Not a dog or cat or hamster, no reindeer at the petting zoo, nothing. 🐕🐈🦎🦜🐠

Riley + Abby getting together (even just a kiss) 👄 

Abby + Harper separating so Harper can get her shit together - and then we get several flashforward shots of them separately living their lives (Harper especially), and then meeting back up again - maybe the next holiday season, after some much-needed time apart 🏃‍♀️🤸‍♀️ 

side characters who engage with Abby in a sincere, meaningful way instead of ignoring her (again, we got Riley, but she was outside of the family dynamic) 😊 

MORE FESTIVE CHEER! where were all the staple Christmassy passtimes, the smile-inducing season-specific experiences??? 🎉 

More from denofgeek: 

Where the script gets into trouble is that it doesn’t distinguish between Harper being closeted and her poor treatment of Abby. The two are separate issues and treating them as one does no favors to Harper, nor others struggling with the closet. As Dan Levy’s beautiful monologue late in the movie alludes to, the closet is a safety mechanism—but it’s not a free pass to treat people like garbage. [...] 😟🏳️‍🌈

Even a brief conversation teasing out that being in the closet doesn’t justify how Harper acted, and that plenty of people in the closet don’t treat others like trash, would have been important. Instead once Harper is out (which the movie takes pains to make clear only happened because Harper’s sister Sloane outed her), and a gesture so small it could never credibly be called grand is made, all bad behavior is washed away. [...] 😤🙅‍♀️ 

The jarring underlying issue is that 'Happiest Season' attempts to apply the standard rom-com and made-for-TV-holiday-movie tropes to queer life. So Abby having to go back into the closet isn’t framed as a painful regression or being forced to deny an essential part of herself, but rather a fun twist, in the vein of “but the guy she insulted on the plane is the owner of the ornament factory she has to impress to win the Christmas contest!”🚪😒 

All of Harper’s behavior adds up to making her feel like something the audience wants Abby to be free of, not someone Abby should be fighting for. Once Riley tells Abby about Harper’s cruelty in high school, where Harper outed Riley and mocked her rather than standing up for her or finding an excuse that protected them both, it becomes incredibly difficult to root for the lead couple to get back together, or for Harper at all. 👏💃 

With this information, Harper’s other transgressions go from frustrating to part of a larger pattern. Sadly, it’s a pattern Harper repeats when her sister outs her and she throws Abby under the (lesbian) bus. 🤬 

FAVE THINGS: 

all interactions between John (Dan Levy) + Abby (he's witty, honest, and 100% the most entertaining element of the entire film; i wish we'd gotten more of him) 😆 

Riley (Aubrey Plaza, Harper's ex) + Abby's scenes together because CHEMISTRY, both between the characters and the actors 👩‍❤️‍👩

Notable between Abby + Riley scenes include 3 instances of Riley comforting Abby's hurt: outside at the fancy party (Abby feeling excluded/ignored/not worth anyone's time due to the way they treat her even though they don't know she's gay), at a gay bar in town (sandwiched by scenes where Abby's made to feel like crap by Harper), and at the fancy home Christmas party where Riley gets Abby something stronger to drink after hearing Abby was going to propose to Harper (but it's been a helluva shitty week and those plans are dead) 👭 

Every scene with Riley was blessed relief from the hurt and discomfort and boredom of the rest of the time with Harper's family. 🤩 

Sister Jane, for being a genuinely fun character 🤗 who was written starkly different to her family and treated somewhat like an outcast 

Aubrey + Kstew killin it in various pantsuits 👀 

In contrast, Riley connects Abby to queerness, bringing her to an LGBTQ bar to decompress and enjoy a Christmas-themed drag performance. It’s the most relaxed and comfortable Abby is on screen since the opening scenes, a chance to glimpse Abby’s authentic self before Harper summons her back to heterosexuality, and where she once again ignores and disappoints her. Riley actually talks to Abby at the various holiday parties whereas Harper keeps leaving her to please her family, especially her father. It’s not hard for the natural chemistry between Plaza and Stewart to take over

I wouldn't watch this film again. For a hopeful Christmasy love story I'd just watch all Abby + Riley's scenes: 

In closing, here's a batshit article title from observer.com that just makes you go, huh? 🧐:

‘Happiest Season’ Isn’t Happy, But That Doesn’t Make It a Bad Rom-Com

Um.. yes, yes it does. 

Rom-Coms are supposed to be fun, light-hearted stories about love even when the plot deals with lying - The Proposal, Sweet Home Alabama - so a movie that leaves you hurting more than comforted in sympathy with one of the main characters because the (apparent) love of their life is treating them like shit, then it doesn't deserve to be in the genre of Rom-Com. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨💞🎬

In summary, Abby and Harper got 5 minutes of happiness in the beginning, and an eventual happy ending after a super rocky middle. The journey was painful and unenjoyable, and it made their happy ending unbelievable and, for Harper, undeserved because of her behaviour through 90% of the story. 

In short: it was not, in fact, the happiest season. 😕👎

[ayellowcurtain]

Maybe you could create one where Sander has been at Robbe's house for several days and he doesn't want to be on his side, so Senne bothers him for being so in love. and you could add if you can something from the other alpha so that it continues to provoke Sander's jealousy. and as always strength and love!

can you write something about that Sander accidentally cut his hand and Robbe taking care of him.

Maybe you could continue with the other day after nesting, as Sander watches Robbe sleep and realizes that he wants to stay with him for more days, but he doesn't know how to ask Robbe. and he looks for excuses to extend his visit, but when he sees that Robbe receives a message from the other alpha asking him for a new appointment because Robbe "is perfect". confirming to Sander that he just wants to be with Robbe.

Part 7

They went to bed really late, Sander is not sure, but it felt like the sun was starting to warm the sheets underneath him when he fell asleep.

Maybe it wasn’t the sun, maybe the sheets were still warm from the rolling around every time, trying to find a cold spot where they could start all over again. His head is hurting a little, but it’s easy to ignore when he feels a weight on his chest, drool drying where he feels a slow and warm breath against his naked chest. And the smell is even better.

If he could, Sander would definitely save Robbe’s smell somewhere that he could smell it whenever needed. It gets even better when they’re together, can even cure his hangover and shame for being found drunk inside a bar, craving Robbe’s reassurance that he was still the one.

Sander huffs laughter, covering his face with his hand, embarrassed but also happy that Robbe went looking and even found him. Only he could find Sander. Robbe is still clearly far from waking up, but Sander still misses him, still needs to look at Robbe with his open brown eyes staring up at Sander and know that he still likes him, even if just a little bit. 

So Sander moves carefully, with his eyes constantly on Robbe’s face, stopping whenever he frowns and whines, even if just a little, slowly lying on his side, pulling his arms from underneath Robbe’s head.

Once he’s out of Robbe’s reach, his instincts crave his touch and his warm again, but Sander controls himself, crawling on top of Robbe, carefully sitting on his tighs as Robbe pulls his pillow closer, burying his face against it and falling back asleep. Sander watches for a little more, trying to save every detail perfectly inside his brain, but then he wants to kiss Robbe so badly.

He moves back to his knees and hands again, smiling to the sleepy Robbe underneath him, starting to kiss the side of his neck, looking up constantly to make sure Robbe’s eyes are still shut.

Sander makes sure to not miss a single inch of his back, smiling against his smooth skin when Robbe shivers or when he feels his muscles moving under his skin due to Sander’s kisses.

He stops when his shin bumps into Robbe’s underwear and looks up, almost sure Robbe is awake by now, just pretending to be asleep. Sander kisses the small of his back slowly, getting closer and closer to his boxers.

“Stop.”  Robbe whispers with a raspy voice and Sander does as he’s told, just touching Robbe’s skin when he asks.

“What? I wasn’t going anywhere…” Sander teases, biting his lip when he feels Robbe quietly lifting his hips from the mattress. He whines and opens his legs, bending one leg up to the side until his left foot meets his right knee.

“I know, that’s why I asked you to stop...because I’m gonna have to force you to go lower…” Sander looks up and he can’t see, but he hears Robbe’s smile in the way that he talks.

Sander likes to tease and Robbe likes it too, so Sander bites as close as he can to Robbe’s boxers, slowly moving it down with both his hands, having to swallow his own moan when he feels Robbe’s ass filling both his hands.

He’s not in a rush so he takes his times sitting on his heels, slowly pulling Robbe’s underwear down his legs, carefully taking it off his feet. Robbe’s phone keeps buzzing nonstop on his nightstand, but Sander is more than happy to ignore it, but Robbe moves away from him, snaking up the bed to reach for it.

“Robbe…”

“Just a second, stay right where you are.” Sander sighs as loud as he can to make his annoyance clear, but he sits back on his heels like he was told to do and he waits. Robbe moves to lie on his back and press play and Sander’s patience flies out the window the instant he hears the voice.

Hey, Robbe...it’s me. You left me on read last night after our date...I’m sorry if I said something stupid or...I don’t know, wasn’t what you were expecting...I thought our date was doing so fucking good. Please, can we have another one? If I didn’t say or do anything wrong and you just really needed to go, can we have another one? Maybe we could go somewhere...more private...Anyway, please, Robbe. If you feel like it, let’s go on another date...you’re perfect and I’m not one to give up easily.

Sander quickly crawls on top of Robbe again, grabbing Robbe’s phone from his hand - keeping it high enough over his head so Robbe won’t reach - before he can start typing a reply to that ridiculously cheesy and disgusting audio.

“You were on a date last night?” Sander is glad he managed to hide how feral he’s going inside because of the newfound information.

Robbe tries to reach his phone, but Sander is sitting on his stomach, not letting him move much. “It was just a couple of drinks.”

“Why did you leave him? It sounds like it was sudden…”

“I wanted to go look for you,” Robbe answers easily with no shame. Sander frowns, but his instincts love Robbe’s words, he almost hums because of it.

“Why?”

“Just because.” Robbe settles back against his pillow, sighing in annoyance, but his body is still very relaxed.

“It was because of the heat.” It’s the only explanation Sander can think of and one side of him gets really cocky thinking about Robbe needing him during his heat, not anyone else.

“No, Sander. You always think everything is that physical, huh?”

“It isn’t?” He has to ask, sounding more confident than how he feels. “Are you going to answer him?”

“Should I just read and ignore his texts?”

“Yes?” It’s the obvious answer, but Sander knows Robbe would never do that. He’s way too nice.

“Sander…”

He rolls his eyes and gives Robbe his phone back, moving away from him, searching for his underwear in the mess of clothes, blankets, and pillows they threw out of the bed during the night. Everything smells the same and Sander just wants a quick way out, not feeling like listening to his Robbe flirty-texting someone else.

So he finally finds it and puts his underwear and rushes out of the bedroom, ignoring Robbe’s requests for him to stay in bed.

Robbe’s place is oddly organized and clean. It’s probably part of his nesting craves. Not that he’s not usually organized, but it feels extra clean and homey this morning. The soft yellow sun light diffusing when meeting Robbe’s white curtains turn the whole flat into a pastel yellow. It’s very soft, but Sander starts to feel too hot with all this warm light surrounding him from every direction.

Sander goes straight to the kitchen, looking down, too inside himself to remember where the cups are. With each cabinet he opens and doesn’t find what he’s looking for, Sander gets more frustrated, thinking that Robbe is not there to tell him where things are because he’s too busy trying to keep a stranger interested. His heart is beating too fast, too big inside his small ribcage.

He finally finds the cups, glasses ones that feel heavy on his hand, probably expensive. And Sander just needs to let some of his energy out and it just feels too necessary not to.

He throws the glass across the room with all his strength, watching as one cup turns into hundreds of pieces on the old tile floor.

It helps, but only for the quickest second. Way too soon, Sander is back to feeling anxious, feeling his skin harsh and sensitive, almost too tight for him and he just wants to scream, to find another way to let his frustrations out.

Robbe’s worried voice is muffled by the walls between them, but it makes Sander start moving around the kitchen, collecting all the glass from the floor, putting it all on his palm to find a way to throw away after.

He hears the smooth sound Robbe’s socks make as he rushes against the wood floor and stops at the kitchen door.

“What happened?” Sander could hear Robbe coming and still, he jumps when he hears him just a few feet away from him, instantly feeling one of the glasses sinking into his palm.

“Fuck!” He gets up and drops all the glass inside the sink, opening his hand again to see a string of blood turn wider in his palm, soon painting his whole hand bright red.

“Shit, Sander…” Robbe comes closer before he can ask him not to, grabbing his hand and opening the tap and the cold water hits the cut instantly. “Do you think there’s some glass inside your cut?” Robbe leans down, looking at his hand closely.

Sander can handle pain, he thinks he’s quite good at it, but something about this cut crossing his entire palm crosswise it’s almost unbearable.

“No, shit, it was just a cut, it’s clean.” He’s not sure, but he says like he is, Robbe’s body is in front of him, keeping Sander from seeing his own hand. He feels Robbe’s gentle touch close to his injury, pressing carefully, still letting the water wash the blood out.

Sander puts his working hand on Robbe’s shoulder, his inspection is starting to make Sander nauseous and dizzy.

“Can you just get me some bandage?”

His touch makes Robbe listen and nod his head, instantly putting his hand carefully down against the cold counter, rushing to the bathroom. Sander can hear when his nervous hands drop probably everything inside his cabinets in search of something to put on Sander’s hand. He doesn’t look at his hand, but lets it under the water, waiting for Robbe.

More loud noises, Robbe probably kicking things out of his way to go back to the kitchen.

“Here.” He rushes to Sander’s side, putting a bunch of plastic bags on the counter, opening the bandages, and biting some tape off to put around the bandages.

Sander lets him lead, distracting himself by how gentle and caring Robbe is. He cleans and dries the cut very carefully, looking closely as he puts the bandage precisely over it, rolling the tape all around his hand on both ends, making sure it’s not too tight, but tight enough.

“I don’t wanna lose you, Robbe.” He realizes and says it out loud at the same time, noticing how Robbe is caught by surprise, stopping for a second from gathering all the empty packages.

“I'm afraid that's not possible either, so…” He says easily, with no weight or actual meaning to his words, and Sander bites the inside of his cheek, hating that he was to explain when he’s talking seriously. Even if he takes it so lightly, Sander doesn’t want his bite to be an excuse that Robbe often uses to Sander and to himself as to why they keep coming back to each other.

Sander is in love. He knows that now and he thinks Robbe might be in love too and the thought of it just being because of his bite makes Sander want to leave and never come back, feeling so ashamed. Robbe is better off without him anyway.

Robbe finally lets go of his hand and turns around, but his eyes only meet Sander’s for a brief moment, stepping to the side to throw everything away. Sander inhales deeply, looking at Robbe. “You have a choice, I won't force you to be with me, you don’t deserve that. I’m sure a lot of people did it differently, not staying with...you know, the ones.”

Robbe nods his head, still looking down, leaning against the counter behind him.

“I know.”

“I like you, Robbe. That’s what you wanna hear? I’m falling in love with you and I just don’t know what to do with that, I never fell in love before and I’m just fucking struggling! But I do like you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the two of us, forever.”

Robbe looks up through his lashes and huffs the smallest laughter, his long, soft brown hair moving with him and Sander wishes he could live this morning over and over again, for the rest of his life.

[gaymortagokat]

Sleepover at Camp Jupiter

Read the whole collection here

Reyna's place was quiet. Aurum and Argentum laid in front of the couch curled up together. While their owner sat on the couch reading The Great Gatsby while her girlfriend sat on her lap. A pastel blanket laid over them. It was an addition from Drew. Since her and Reyna began dating Drew would add or recommend things to make Reyna's place more homey. 

They've been together for a little over a year now. Drew graduated  from high school a week ago and will be attending UC Berkeley to study psychology and art. Reyna noticed how great Drew is at helping people believe in themselves and suggested she do something with that. And Drew ran with that idea deciding to become an art therapist, though she isn't sure if she wants to specialize in child psychology and development yet. 

Drew pointed at a line of text. "Remember this, Reyna."

"Why? It's just a billboard?"

Drew turned to look at her girlfriend. "It's important if it was written in here. And it's a symbol of something mortals can't see. The eyes are judgmental like Hera."

Reyna nodded. "Juno isn't all that bad. What do you mean it's a symbol of something mortals can't see?"

"It's kind of like love. You can't physically see it. You can see it in things but you can't see it in things."

"Unless you've met Venus."

"Hmm. I guess so. But speaking of Venus she's a god. We can't see her true form just like mortals can't see the person in the billboard."

"So the billboard is a god judging American's."

"Capital 'g', Reyna. Fitzgerald is probably talking about the Christian god."

"And this Christian god doesn't like what Americans are doing."

"Yes that's what many readers believe."

"Does everything in this book have dual meanings?"

"No. I've found that only things that show up throughout or are highly detailed compared to others are symbols. Like if a detail is emphasized."

"So is the car a symbol?"

"Not sure. I know the billboard is because a teacher told me it was. Let's continue reading." 

Reyna nodded and looked back at the book. 

They continued reading occasionally pausing for discussion. Drew was the one who began these reading sessions. Reyna loved reading. It was how she grasped a better understanding of English. She has a high reading level despite reading mostly comic books. Because of this Drew decided to introduce Reyna to some classics and had created at least a page long list of literature she added to every few weeks. 

They started with names Reyna knew like Plato and Homer. They read The Allegory of the Cave and pieces of The Odyssey where Reyna told her Circe no longer turns men into pigs but animals occasionally less smelly and easier to manage, Guinea pigs. She Also told her that Percy made a very cute Guinea pig. Drew wished Reyna had the opportunity to take a picture.

A knock on the door interrupted their quiet weekend. Reyna's dogs ears perked up and their ruby eyes turned towards the door watching to see if the person behind the door was a threat.

A key slipped into the lock and Reyna groaned. "I should have never given her a key."

"Who?"

"Your sister."

"Pretend we didn't notice?"

"Of course." 

They returned to their book as the door opened. College aged Piper, Jason, Leo, Percy, and Annabeth walked in carrying bags for an impromptu sleepover (even though Percy and Annabeth live in New Rome and see Reyna nearly every day) with Nico.

"Why does Nick always describe Gatsby that way?"

"Cuz he's gay."

"Isn't the author straight?"

"Was anyone straight in the roaring 20's? When swing music existed and women wore more revealing clothing, smoked in public, cut their hair, and everyone lived in excess?"

Piper coughed.

Reyna looked up at her friends (except Leo he was still on thin ice). Percy looked like he just rolled out of bed sporting a five o' clock shadow while his girlfriend looked like she had been up for hours. Piper was as gorgeous as always wearing skinny jeans, a loose shirt, light sweater and vans. Jason looked like Annabeth, but he had done a better job at brushing his hair (his straight hair is easier to manage than Annabeth's curls), and much to Reyna's annoyance, Jason still had the rivet in his hair from the bullet Percy's brother fired at him. Jason had kept his hair trimmed like that for two years now. Reyna, Piper, Drew, and Nico were tempted to shave his hair while he slept. Nico wore the jacket Will gave him on their first Christmas together, and his mirrored sunglasses hung from the pocket. He had gotten a haircut. The sides of his hair did not touch his ears, but the top that he left long would in a few weeks. Leo looked exactly the same as he did two years ago with scorch marks on his fingers and arms and small bandages one a few of his fingers.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I wanna say that they made me come."

Reyna smiled at her little brother. 

"Oh come on Nico. It's not like we had to force you." Jason said putting his arm around the fifteen year old who now reached his eyes. 

"Friday night sleepover." Piper said. "We always have them."

"One, no we don't. It's more like twice a month. Two shouldn't most of you be at some college party? Three it's Wednesday."

"So we're a little early." She answered sitting on the only empty spot on the couch. 

"Percy and I did all our homework that's due tomorrow early." Annabeth added taking a seat at Piper's feet with Percy close behind. She petted Aurum behind the ear muttering something about them being a good dog.

Nico sat on the other side of Reyna's dogs while Jason and Leo sat in front of him. Well, Leo sat closer to Percy than Nico. Reyna's dogs weren't his biggest fans and had no problems making it obvious to him.

"What piece of literature do you have Reyna reading this time, Drew?" Jason asked, adjusting his glasses like they would help him see the page better.

"Gatsby. We're almost done with this page. Do you mind being quiet for a few more minutes." Drew didn't wait for an answer; she turned all her attention to the small book.

Leo struggled to stay quiet. He kept opening his mouth to say something then quickly close it. He distracted himself the best he could by planning out the most fun night ever. First some of the greatest movies ever paired with the best snacks and drinks. Did Reyna even have the best snacks?

Leo didn't stay on that thought long. As soon as he heard the book close he spoke. "Okay! What movie does everyone want to watch." He dug through his bag. "I've got 50 First Dates, The Nanny Diaries, Love Actually-"

"Leo, I love you. But I don't think anyone wants to watch romcoms."

"What do you have in mind, Pipes?"

"Horror, action, thriller."

"Horror sounds fun." Nico stated.

"As long as no one throws their popcorn on me I'm good." Drew added. 

"Reyna, got any horror movies?"

"The Sixth Sense, maybe Friday the 13th."

After a bit of arguing they settled on The Sixth Sense. The boys minus Nico prepared snacks. Nico and Annabeth made the hardwood floor more comfortable by adding a quilt Reyna had buried in a closet and laying out the blankets everyone brought. 

Snacks were finished and everyone ended up with their own container. Nico with popcorn and chocolate chips, Jason with popcorn and m&m's, Annabeth with popcorn and butter fingers, Percy with blue m&m's, Piper with sour gummy bears, and Reyna and Drew sharing Jelly Beans and sour straws. Drew had made Piper make sure Aurum and Argentum had a plate with a few dog treats and marshmallows, and Nico had tossed a blanket over them.

As the movie played Leo Jason Percy and occasionally Annabeth yelled at the characters on screen. Piper occasionally stated behind the scenes facts. 

During a particularly tense moment, Piper, realizing her hands were cold, poked her sister's foot that was barely out of the blanket making her yelp and Piper roar with laughter.

"Gods-damn it Piper!"

Piper waited a few minutes then did it again. Then a third time. 

"Piper." Reyna warned.

"Alright, alright." She scooted closer to the arm of the couch and waited. 

She looked over at Reyna and Drew. Drew was watching the movie one hand on the bowl of candy and the other on Reyna's, but Reyna on the other hand was watching Piper. She shook her head slowly with a slight glare. Drew, feeling Reyna move, looked up at Reyna then at Piper mimicking the Puerto Rican's glare.

Piper glared back then looked away pretending to barf. They were almost disgustingly cute.

A few minutes later she scared Drew again this time receiving a harsh kick.

"Ow! What was that for?" Piper yelped, rubbing her arm. 

"I didn't kick you that hard." 

"You totally did, Reyna."

Not even Reyna kicking her was enough to stop her. She tried one more time to scare Drew. This time she was unsuccessful.

"Hermanito." Reyna said. 

And suddenly Piper was freezing then she found herself on the floor. She looked at the couch where she was once sitting and found Nico curled up with the darkness partially swirling around him. Actually, the dark in the entire room seemed to be moving as if Nico was making the room appear as dark as it did when she was afraid of it.

Piper settled in her new spot petting the nearest dog. 

It was towards the end of the second movie when Drew tried scaring Piper. It worked only once. Piper nearly jumped out of her seat surprising Jason and Percy who were way more afraid of the movie than they let on.

Beginning of the third movie was when Reyna began to mess with Piper. She used a bit of magic she picked up from Circe and tried to make it feel like a spider was walking on her. It worked for a few moments then Piper figured it out and began ignoring the sensation. 

Reyna switched tactics. She poked Aurum with her foot who pressed their cold nose into Piper's side hitting her ticklish spot. 

Piper pressed her palm against the dog's nose and turned it's head away. "I know that was you, Reyna."

"I don't control their every move."

"Oh please. They would do whatever you asked."

Reyna opened her mouth to respond when Drew silenced her. "Ssshhhh. We're at the good part."

Reyna kissed her head and returned to watching the comedy. The older boys insisted on one happy movie to negate the scary before bed.

By the time the movie watching session ended Reyna was sitting between her girlfriend and her best friend/little brother. And both of them were nearly asleep on her shoulders.

"Nico, it's time for bed."

Nico nodded, sitting up and gathering his blanket. A second later he disappeared into the shadows and probably into Reyna's guest room / home office. 

"Nico gone?"

"Sí, Amor. It's time for bed." Reyna told her standing up. She offered Drew her hand.

Her girlfriend shook her head. "Too tired. Carry me?"

Reyna smiled while rolling her eyes. "Alright." She picked up Drew with ease (something that made Jason and especially Percy jealous) and walked to her room. Aurum and Argentum followed, nudging the door open as they got closer. 

Reyna set Drew down carefully. It wasn't the right moment to drop her on the bed. They were both too tired for the game that would begin if she did.

Reyna moved to the door and locked it. 

"What kind of pajamas do you want today?" She asked, grabbing her own.

"I'm good."

Reyna turned around and saw her gorgeous girlfriend sitting on her bed shirtless. Today had been a stay at home no bra necessary day. Reyna looked down briefly and felt her cheeks grow warm. She put her pajamas away and joined Drew on the bed. 

Drew kissed Reyna tugging on the edges of her shirt. “You don’t need this.”

Reyna let her pull her band tee (courtesy of Thalia) over her head. “What do you want to do?”

Drew ignored her and tugged at her shorts. “You don’t need these.”

Reyna slipped them off and tossed them aside. “What do you want to do?”

Drew rested against Reyna. “I’m too tired to want to do anything, but I’m too awake to sleep.”

Reyna turned off the lamp and rested her hand on Drew’s stomach. The pair laid down, and Reyna kissed Drew’s shoulder. “Thank you, for reading with me today.”

“No problem, Amore. I love reading. Especially with you.”

“What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Walk on the beach?”

“Alright.” Reyna kissed Drew’s shoulder once more. “Want to go swimming?”

“Sounds nice.” Drew said quietly. “Hey, why did Annabeth say she and Percy had finished their homework early? Isn’t it summer?”

“It is. Annabeth convinced Percy to take a few summer classes so their schedule can be lighter during the year and they can graduate a bit early.”

“What is Percy studying again?”

“He started with Marine biology, but he realized it was going to be a lot of science. I think he’s doing physical therapy now and keeping Marine Biology as a minor.”

“Physical therapy?”

“Yeah. Annabeth showed him a video of a pool being used as part of someone’s therapy. He’s been interested ever since. That and he can heal using water.”

“I guess pool is not a bad thing to smell like.”

"Neither is the beach."

"Think we can leave everyone else out?"

"Maybe every one but Nico and Will."

"Will isn't here."

"For now. Nico will probably go get him to avoid being a third wheel."

"Double dates are fun."

"Glad you think so."

Reyna kissed Drew's shoulder blade and pulled her closer. She breathed in her scent noticing Drew's perfume and sweat. Reyna settled down more and closed her eyes and fell asleep. 

As soon as Drew trusted Reyna wouldn't wake up at the slightest movement she changed positions to face her gorgeous girlfriend. She also moved Reyna's arm so she wouldn't be laying on it. Reyna often let her sleep on her arm only to later wake up because the limb had become painfully asleep. Then she settled down draping an arm across Reyna's ribs. Her fingers traced an old injury. She didn't know the story behind the scar but trusted one day Reyna would tell her.

She spent the next few minutes trying to relax enough to fall asleep. She loved snuggling with her girlfriend, but said girl was always a furnace. Don't get her wrong, she felt incredibly lucky to have someone as amazing as Reyna. She would have never expected to be this happy a year ago, and yet here she was laying with the hottest girl ever. 

She adjusted the blanket so her feet would stick out and settled back down.

She was nearly asleep when a whimper startled her awake. She lifted her head and spotted the source. Two sets of glowing ruby eyes were watching her. "Come on." She whispered.

Given permission the two fully grown greyhounds jumped on the queen bed. The siblings spun around a several times (accidently hitting each other a few times) and plopped down laying on the teens' feet.

The cold metal was too cold for comfort; Drew pulled her feet out from under the dog and instead lowered the blanket uncovering her shoulders. Drew relaxed once more and fell asleep.

[redlance]

This might seem a little out of left field as I guess you’re more known for your bechloe stuff but I can’t get over that dexter/wh13 fusion fic you did once and I was just wondering if you’d share the backstory as you put you had most of it fleshed out?

Hey! Oh man, this was a blast from the past haha. Thanks for making me revisit it! Now, let’s see what I can remember...

I’m not sure what I all explained in the fic itself (so things might differ from it and this), but the idea was that H.G. wasn’t saved at the end of season 2. Myka was trying to talk her down when Artie got a shot off that avoided the Corsican Vest (I took liberties with how the vest worked for this and decided it would only inflict the would-be wound on the attacker if the vest itself was directly hit) and hit H.G. in the neck. Myka screams and runs to her, H.G. falls and bleeds out in Myka’s arms. This is made all the more tragic by us knowing that Myka and H.G. were already falling in love a little bit prior to this - so Myka’s dealing with betrayal and two different kinds of losses - and that, as viewers, we know that H.G. would have broken down and not gone through with her plan, unable to kill Myka.(More beneath the cut, this gets long. Sorry anon! You asked!)

After this, Myka leaves the Warehouse. She can’t look Artie in the eye anymore, can’t forgive him for not trusting her with Helena, and she can’t stand being in a place that reminds her so much of H.G.

Can’t stand the smell of apples.

So, she packs up and heads towards the very antithesis of Univille, South Dakota - Miami, Florida.

It isn’t just a random decision either. From my notes;

Because once upon a time Myka had been someone who hunted down artifacts for a secret government organisation, a job that took her all over the world and had landed her in Miami a few short years ago. People had been turning up dead all over the city, burnt from the inside out. It had taken about a week, a few more dead bodies, and a run in with the very same team from Miami Metro that she now worked alongside, but they'd recovered Nero's Fiddle. Snagged, bagged, and tagged. But not before Myka and the then Detective had almost come to blows over territory encroachment. Pete had never let her live it down. Which was precisely why she hadn't told him, or anyone for that matter, who exactly she was working under now.

Because of that connection - and because Debra Morgan knows dedication when she sees it - she lands a job at Miami Metro. It’s not long before Myka realises that she and her Lieutenant are similar in many ways and a friendship forms. 

Meanwhile, for some reason I haven’t noted down, Myka ends up at a boat auction. Maybe it’s for a case. She happens upon a modest sized boat bearing the name ‘Slice of Life’ and feels inexplicably drawn to it. Her father had taken her out on a boat a little smaller than it back when she was a kid and so Myka has some experience with sailing. She ends up bidding on and winning it, and it’s eventually delivered to the marina. 

She starts spending a lot of time on the boat. Every day after work, she goes out to the marina and does some cleaning, adds her own little touches, makes it feel homey. 

And that’s when she starts seeing Helena. 

That’s when the criminals getting off on technicalities really start to get under her skin. 

That’s when she buys her first knife.

Unbeknownst to Myka, the Slice of Life is, of course, an artifact. Feeding on her grief and, basically, turning her into Dexter 2.0. She even has her own Harry for company. 

The first time she kills a man, she doesn’t feel sick or upset. She feels calm and at peace. Like she’s righted a wrong that had been plaguing this world. And Helena is there, beautiful as ever, telling Myka what a wonderful job she’s doing. They talk, sometimes sit in silence.

And it’s easy for Myka to forget that Helena isn’t real. 

So, Myka goes on policing by day and killing by night. Using the boat to dump the bodies much like Dexter did before her. She doesn’t keep souvenirs, though. The people she kills aren’t worthy of being remembered. 

There’s a holy shit moment when Myka invites Deb down to the marina and Deb realises that, “Holy fucking fuck, you bought my brother’s boat.” 

Things take a turn when Lila - who is not dead but keeps having dreams about Dexter killing her - shows up at the marina looking for Dex and finds Myka there instead. Lila, who looks so much like a modern H.G. it’s startling, and Myka can’t help it. She’s drawn to Lila the same way she was drawn to the boat. They spend time together, grow closer, more intimate. Then there’s this conversation:

"Who is it?" Lila asked and Myka spun, startled, to face her. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing Myka curiously, suspiciously almost, and Myka would swear she saw jealousy flash in oddly familiar brown eyes. She stared back, unable for the moment to feign the ignorance required to ask the obvious question. The one she could feel inching along her spine like a hundred spiders, tickling and agitating her skin until the need the scratch at it became overwhelming. "The person I remind you of. There is someone, isn't there?" Lila had her pinned with her gaze and Myka found that she could only nod, even as Lila took a step into the room and she felt every muscle in her body tense. "Was she a friend of yours?" The question was an empty one, she could hear it in Lila's voice that she already knew that wasn't the case. Myka watched as the other woman lifted her hand to trail her fingers over the marble countertop, gaze dropping and then returning to Myka as she asked the real question. "Was she a lover?" Myka's heart lurched and then seized, stealing away a beat or two as Lila continued to move closer. "I see it in your eyes, the way you look at me." She passed. "The way you CAN'T look at me sometimes. It's written all over your face, you know." Panic rose on Myka, unbidden and unexplainable, as Lola finally rounded the counter and leaned against it, her body now parallel to Myka's. "It just gets so dark sometimes." She made it sound like something to wonder over. Marvell at. "She must a been a very passionate-"

"We weren't lovers." Myka blurted, suddenly desperate for Lila to stop and she did, stunned into momentary silence by the apparently unexpected revelation. Her eyes were wide with something close to fear, something Lila seemed to take in stride.

"But you wanted to be." It wasn't a question. Myka's eyes drooped and she crossed her arms over her chest, looking away. "Well," And it was strange how much Lila could press into one word, how her looks could burn into you in less than a second. It was another thing that made Myka remember. "I can't imagine that she wasn't interested." But the way Lila leered, all unabashed obviousness, that was different. "What was it then? Was she married? Afraid? Or were you two some kind of Shakespearian star crossed lovers?" Myka's posture stiffened and then sagged dramatically the longer Lila stared at her, knowingly. As if she already knew the answer and was waiting to see if Myka would provide the correct one or not. As if she was testing her.

"A bit of all three, I think." Myka said through a sigh and Lila's lips turned upward briefly, as if Myka's answer had pleased her in some way. "It just... It wasn't..." She swallowed hard and then turned away, opening one of the kitchen cupboards and reaching for a mug, only to pause as her fingers brushed smoother porcelain. "I can't talk about this." She left the mug where it was and closed the cupboard, turning instead to the fridge and opening it to retrieve a bottle. She offered it to Lila without looking and then grabbed another for herself.

"Can't or won't?" She threw a glare at the other woman as she closed the heavy silver door with her hip and reached for the draw that housed a bottle opened amid various other odds and ends.

"Both." She said, a stern edge to her voice as she snapped the cap off and then handed the opener to Lila. The woman took it, deliberately brushing her fingers against Myka's in the exchange, and Myka yanked her hand back as though she'd accidentally slipped it into a fire. Lila caught her gaze and smirked before turning her attention to the beer in her hand.

“You know,” she started slowly, after taking a long draw from the bottle, “the man I came here looking for, he was the thing I wouldn't talk about for the longest time.” Myka thumbed the neck of her bottle and watched as Lila's attention drifted around the room. “I thought about him a lot, every day, but I never spoke about him out loud. I kept him close like a secret, until one day the silence almost broke me. I’d lost him, or at least I thought I had, and I don't think I’ve experienced pain that profound before. I loved him, but he...” she sighed, taking another swig of amber liquid turned green by the thick glass. “He had other priorities. Ones he put before me. I guess I loved him more than he loved me.” She smiled then, though Myka could tell it was forced. “He's my one that got away.” Silence then, empty and stretching as the seconds ticked by.

“She didn't get away.” Myka said at length. “She was taken from me.” And there was so much sour distaste to her tone, so much venom and contempt. She could feel it swimming in her veins, being pumped through her body by a heart that beat now only because it thought it should. Lila's expression changed at the sound of it, morphed into a mask of pity and sorrow that was headed by a frown.

“How did it happen?” The question didn't hurt, surprisingly, and neither did the memory of the moment as it flickered to life like a piece of video playback embedded in her brain. But there was a dull, numb ache. One that permeated her entire being.

Helena is always there, lingering in the shadows. Even while Lila is in her bed. 

Eventually, long story short, Myka ends up somewhat naturally neutralizing the artifact that is the Slice of Life. She, like Dexter, had found something worth more than killing. With the boat no longer in need of gooing, Myka won’t have to deal with feeling the repercussions of her otherwise OOC actions, and she’s left to live her life with Lila.

Or something like that. ;)

[hadesglance]

All hail the new queen... - 11 (Hades Original Story)

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten

You sighed letting your head rest against the back of the couch. You looked over at Percy playing with a flower arrangement, “You’ve been over there for twenty minutes…I’m fine.”

“You have been stuck on the same page for an hour…” Percy turned holding a red rose smirking, “I’m fine as well.”

You shook your head, “He asked you to look over me again didn’t he? I told him not to do that…”

Two months, since your vicious break down. You had been very careful to deal with your feelings before entering the house from that point on. Enough to worry Hades on several occasions prompting him to finally make a jump into the 21st century by purchasing a phone. Soon he was texting you non-stop.

“He worries for you. That device you travel on…”

“It’s a motorcycle…her name is Lana.” You readjusted your notebook, “and he shouldn’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”

“You tell him that, but he doesn’t believe you.” Percy came over taking a seat by your feet, “Maybe you should take him for a ride.”

“I’ve tried…he’s always busy.” You told her as you made a few notes.

“More like scared.” You looked up seeing her smirking, “Hades is complicated…but when his fear begins to show he finds ways to be ‘busy.’”

“Well he’s been busy an awful lot lately.” You frowned thinking of the several missed dinners, “I hope he’s alright.”

“It’s just Zeus…He’s making a fuss over the anniversary of the Titanomachy.” Percy sighed shaking her head but caught your confused look, “The war with the Titans.”

“I know what it is, my pappoús would tell us the story. I just…I didn’t think it mattered much now that everything was…well won.” You explained.

“Oh much like the mortal realm, we don’t forget our wars. Especially this one.” Percy looked away, “Hades, specifically…”

“Was it that bad?” Percy looked back to you with a snap causing you to flinch back a little, “I mean…all I know about it was…well Zeus was spared being eaten and eventually came back saving his siblings and leading them to battle the titans from Mount Olympus.”

“That’s the simplified version.” Percy frowned reaching over taking your book and notebook, “Come with me, time for another lesson.”

You smiled a little despite the situation being tense. Ever since she met Persephone she has done nothing but help you understand your surroundings. You were so grateful. From giving you history lessons to making the very pristine manor more homey feeling.

You walked down a freshly painted hall to Hades’ office door. Percy didn’t do much to his spaces, but she did add a small  caricature in the corner of the black door of a three headed dog chasing away some poor souls. When Hades had found it he simply sighed before walking in.

He wouldn’t say it, but you had a feeling he loved everything Percy did to make everything feel more like a home, “Why are we going in here? Hades said he wouldn’t be back until dinner.”

“Because I need to show you something to make you understand why this is important.” She looped her arm with yours, “Something that Hades does not like to talk about.”

“Okay…” You smiled at her a little, “this seems very serious.”

“It kind of is.” You noted how sad she sounded as they walked toward a case in the corner of the room that was covered with a sheet, “Did you know that Hades once had the bluest eyes?”

“Did he? They’re sort of violet now…” She nodded slowly, “and this has to do with the Titanomachy.”

“Sort of…I’ve only seen his eyes blue once. When he was really happy.” She smiled sadly, “We were both happy then. Father tells me that he’s always had violet eyes until he met me, and Grandma Rhea told me that when she had Hades, his eyes rivaled the sky itself.”

“Why did they change?” You asked quietly as they stopped in front of the case.

“Cronus.” Percy whispered, “You mortals got it wrong. He didn’t eat his children, he stole them away. Locked them up and tortured them. Those he couldn’t manipulate to follow his rule suffered the worst and Hades was the first to be taken.”

You turned to the case as she pulled the sheet down letting it fall to the ground. Inside was displayed a set of chains. Old, broken, and covered in runes you’d never seen before under it rested a helmet, something you’d think a spartan would wear. Then behind it all was the bident depicted in so many of the stories your grandparents would tell. Two prong, black like night skies, and imposing to behold.

“There’s not much that scares Hades, but it all stems from the fear of being hurt and manipulated by people he cares about.” Percy spoke behind you as you studied the case more, “He once told me that he would never allow himself to feel trapped like that again. Yet I fear that he’s trapping himself more by not allowing himself to fully experience the world.”

“Why are you telling me this? This isn’t just about him being busy…” You looked back at your, “What do you think I can do?”

“You’re already doing it. I have not seen Hades so…so open in a long time.” She reached down picking up the sheet, “You’ve pushed him to experience things again. You pushed him to feel.”

“What happened to him?” You helped her put the sheet back over the case.

She sighed running a hand over the sheet as if it would help it stay, “I am afraid that is a story that I cannot tell you. That is Hades' story to tell when he’s ready.”

You reached into your back pocket as your phone pinged. You smiled seeing a text from Hades.

Would you like to take a walk after dinner?

“Are you listening?” Hades looked up from his phone to his brothers staring at him with looks of annoyance.

“Of course, I’m listening.” He returned to his phone as he finished the text, “I am very capable of doing several things at once.”

“Hades, I know this is not your favorite time of year, but it is your turn to present.” Zeus sighed slightly, “I figured this would be important to you this time.”

“Why would remembering the most horrifying time of my life be so important this time?” He crossed his legs as this phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced down seeing your response, a smiley face and a thumbs up for a walk after dinner. He smiled shaking his head slightly, he wasn’t sure if he’d get used of this new lingo called emoji, but it was amusing at times.

“With Y/N around I thought you’d want her to know. It’s a part of you after all…” Zeus took a seat across from him.

“I agree.” Poseidon nodded as he rolled up his sleeves exposing his muscular sun-kissed forearms, “It’s important to share these things with your spouse.”

“I’m done.” Hades stood up instantly at that comment.

“Oh, come on…” Zeus glared at Poseidon before turning on Hades, “Enough…we understand that’s not how it is between the two of you, but you can try to take a joke.”

Hades turned to them both finally crossing his arms, “I don’t understand why it’s necessary to do this year after year…we should just forget the man and be done with it.”

“Hades.” Zeus sighed standing up with a shroud of wisdom falling over him that Hades had not seen in many years, “Once you start forgetting where you’ve come from…you begin to forget why you chose to become who you are today and you’ll lose yourself. You have a strength in you from everything that happened…”

“Strength…” Hades looked down as his brow began to furrow, “I’m not sure I’d call it that…”

“I would.” Poseidon stepped next to Zeus touching his older brother’s shoulder, “Never doubt that you are the strongest of us all, Hades.”

Hades looked between the both of them before he spoke softly, “Thank you…”

“IF!” Zeus exclaimed suddenly, “I throw the ocean master here into the stocks for old time sakes, can we get back to work?”

Hades smiled briefly, “Only if he can be flogged as well.”

“DONE! Hera! Pull out the racks, we’re going to have a grand old fun time.” He turned to Hera across the room who was quietly setting up decorations.

“I’m not sure it will go with the décor darling, maybe next time?” She smirked as they walked over.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Zeus mock pouted looking up at her on the ladder, “Why do you do it this way? You could snap your fingers, and have it done.”

“We’re immortal.” She jumped off the ladder allowing herself to be caught by her king, “Sometimes it’s nice to do things the slow way.”

Hades smiled watching them flirt with one another. Zeus may have screwed up at the beginning…but there was no doubt that he loved her, and she loved him. Hades was pulled away from his musings when his phone vibrated again.

Ride the damn bike… - P

He quirked an eyebrow staring at it for a moment longer before tucking it away. He cleared his throat getting everyone’s attention, “I’m going to go. The girls have dinner planned…and I promised Y/N I’d help her study again.”

The boys where about to protest, but Hera beat them with a smile, “Have a goodnight Hades, I’m sure we can manage setting up the rest and we can finish tomorrow.”

“Thank you, goodnight.” He turned fading away into his office.

As he walked toward the door he stopped in the middle of the room. His head slowly turned toward the case in the corner as he felt a knot in his throat. Hesitantly he walked over to it reaching up adjusting the sheet to cover the exposed corner.

A cold feeling washed over him as he clenched his fist tightly. Raising the first up he unclenched seeing his hand begin to tremble. He clenched it again quickly dropping it to his side as he began to take several breaths in and out.

Whines from Cerberus could be heard outside the door as he pawed and scratched trying to reach him. He wanted his creature to be near him, it helped, but Hades was frozen to the spot. Forced to deal with it himself.

Finally, after several minutes, he opened his eyes as he reached up tugging at his collar. As he turned toward the door, he caught his reflection in the glass of a picture. Deep purple glowed around his irises. Persephone would worry, hopefully she would know better than to say anything.

[angstymarshmallow]

not goodbye, just see you later.(cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: I wrote a little fic all in one night before bed. It’s nowhere polished but it’s just something while I was feeling inspired and very vaguely addresses a little of the latest Nightbound chapter. If you read it - thank you! If you leave a comment, bless you!]

[words counted: 2324]

[summary: after the night they’ve had, Wren (MC) knows her time with getting to know the man behind the wolf is coming to an end].

The pitter patter sound of his heavy footsteps and the door closing behind him, alerts Wren that he’s back. She yawns, stretching for a moment and winces from bones still too tired to move. All the practice she’s had with Nik is finally to catching up with her and she wonders if there is another vigorous training session lurking in her future.

Still the rest of her is eager to get up. She wants to get a chance to say goodbye to Cal after all. With the impending doom in nearly every direction, she doesn’t think she’ll get another chance. At least, she can pretend her reason for the sudden burst of excitement is purely innocent and not because she’s been secretly waiting for a chance to be alone with him.

Ignoring the ache and abrupt protest from her limbs at the motion, she manages to swing her lanky legs to the side. She waits a beat, bracing her hands near the edge of the bed, pushing her palms into the sheets before finally willing herself enough strength to stand and fish for a pair of sweatpants.

The nap was supposed to help her recover – after the night they had. But all she wants to do now is get up and start moving again before her stiff muscles can stop her. She’s always been restless that way.

Avoiding the mirror, Wren tugs on a loose-fitting T before trudging towards the hall. She’s relieved to find it almost completely quiet – except for the slight creak in the floorboards beneath her feet as they bound towards the flight of stairs.

Guess there’s no way she’ll surprise him at this point. Knowing how unnerving it is that his ears can pick up almost any sounds, Wren gives up on being quiet and quickly hurries the rest of the way.

She smacks right into him in her swift walk towards the kitchen. Her eyes are everywhere except for in front of her and she feels the room rising several degrees higher as her palm touches his bare chest.

As she stumbles to remain on her feet, she feels one of his tawny arms reaching to steady her by the waist.

“Woah, careful.” His smooth voice is somehow louder than her own crazy heartbeat as she manages to tilt up her chin and meet his smile. “Mornin’” He drops his hand a fraction of a second later and Wren misses it almost immediately.

“Hey yourself.” Wren takes a step back, needing a little space to keep her thoughts or her eyes from lingering too long down his chest. What she wouldn’t give to run her fingers across his skin. They’re practically itching to touch him at the thought. “You’re up early.”

Geez, he takes up almost the whole doorway. The thought should be mildly alarming, but instead – it gives Wren all kinds of ideas that are still too early to entertain at this time in the morning.

As if reading her thoughts, Cal smiles apologetically and steps aside; allowing her to enter the quaint and homey kitchen of his house. It’s a burst of warm colours – brown, cream and yellow that reminds her of summertime at her grandparents’ cottage when she was a kid.

“I’m pretty restless in the morning.” He confesses, “and a jog is pretty good to clear my head.”

“Mm,” her answer is nothing short of a grunt. The rest of her is still waking up and pushing past the grogginess of not having enough sleep. She spots the sight of freshly made tea and an assortment of bacon and eggs on the table. “You made breakfast.” She blinks in surprise.

A slight flush colours his cheeks red and Cal glances away. “Yeah, I figured after everything last night….” He trails off for a moment, his eyes and thoughts elsewhere before he shakes his head and gestures towards the food. “Well, we could use a break.”

“Yes, we could.” Wren repeats; not really wanting to linger on the more depressing parts of the past few days.

Cal’s pack was in disarray. With no Kristof or Octavia - there was no clear leadership at the moment. The only thing Wren knew with absolute certainty - Nik and her aren’t welcomed anymore. Cal didn’t need her around anymore. 

It won’t be long before she has to say goodbye, and the thought suddenly sends a pang through her chest.She doesn’t want to linger on the subject - but she knows she can’t avoid it forever.

Snap out of it Wren. She chides herself; she can stave it off for now. Turning her attention back to the food, she forces a smile. “Well I can’t eat alone and I bet after your jog you’re probably feeling hungry.”

As if on cue, a grumble loud enough to startle Wren fills the air until Cal laughs. “Yeah, you got me. But I wanted to wait until Donny’s awake,” he hesitates and Wren saddles up next to him.

“He needs a break too.” Her expression softens as he watches the flash of worry in his eyes. He has nice eyes. She places a hand on his arm, pleasantly surprised that he’s still running hot – like a furnace. He’s like a warm blanket on a cold day. “He’s been through a lot, more than what I think a kid should have to go through his age.” She didn’t have the best of a childhood herself, but already she’s seen the turmoil in his eyes, the stress of being Donny’s only protector.

“Donny’s tough.” But his eyes tell her a different story. It tells her there’s been some close calls, even as he looks away.

“But he’s not made of stone and steel. Nobody is.” Though he’s a werewolf- made of much stronger stuff than herself, he’s also a kid – something Wren reminds him of as she adds, “he’s probably still knocked out cold.”

“Our dad grew us all to be tough.” But Cal heaves a sigh, running his hands through his hair as though conceding. “You’re probably right.”

“I usually am.” She smirks. Then her smile falters at the solemn look in his eyes and she sighs. “You’re just worried about him. That’s normal.”

“I am,” he admits. “He’s only got me now.” There’s a bitterness to his words as he says it and Wren eyes him questioningly, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t. Instead, he steps away and gestures to the table, “ladies first.”

She snorts at the sentiment. She hasn’t been called a lady since she was a kid and even then, it was sparingly. Humouring him, Wren mock curtsies and barely holds back a snicker as he bows back just as exaggerated in return. She watches for a moment as he turns his back to her and grabs a shirt he’s left on the counter; his muscles rippling at the motion.

Something in Wren’s stomach flutters and she swallows back forcefully before darting her eyes elsewhere. She sits first, her stomach grumbling as the scent of freshly made bacon wafts towards her nose. “Mmmm.” She sighs in pleasure. “These smell so good.”

“Thanks,” He beams, showing perfectly white teeth. “After dad left, I had to do a lot more around the house. Cooking just became one of those things I kind of picked up.”

“And by the looks of it, you’re really good at it too.” Wren stabs a piece of bacon with her fork. She takes a moment to appreciate its flavor as its rich goodness touches her tongue. “God, you cook – clean, and play piano?” She shakes her head in playful disbelief, “is there anything you aren’t good at?”

His grin is wolfish as he takes a few pieces of bacon and eggs himself. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I ever receive a complaint.”

Snorting, Wren playfully steals a piece of bacon from his plate

“Hey!”

“Apparently, you’re not fast enough to stop me though.” She tsks, “Mr. Lowell – what would your brother think if he saw you now? Unable to stop some normal and boring human from taking your food?”

His grin is in full force as he tries to catch her food before she’s able to bring it to her lips. “He’d say, you let her win.”

“Ha!” She’s barely able to dodge his half-attempt before he tries again, and this time their hands connect and suddenly food is the last thing on her mind. She freezes, eyes drawn to him inexplicably as her breath catches in her throat.

His gaze warms her all the way through; turning almost smoldering from its intensity as his fingers tentatively shift to capture her hand completely. “Besides, there’s nothing boring or normal about you Wren.”

Her pulse skyrockets. She can’t look away. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She tries to laugh, but it ends up becoming a sqawk in her desperate attempt to change the subject. “I mean – you’re a werewolf. You can do pretty much anything. I on the other hand….” She trails off as his fingers slide to her slender wrist.

“In that fight to take Donny’s place– you saved me. Your words kept me going.”

“I – ” He rubs lazy circles around her wrist and her breath catches again. “I think whether or not I said anything, fighting for Donny – you would have done anything to win.”

“I would have done anything yes,” he agrees – eyes never leaving hers’, “but you made it seem all the more possible. I didn’t want to stop fighting until I could win.”

Her stomach does a little flip. She wants to say something witty, but the warm and earnest way he’s looking at her, takes her off-guard. It’s been a long time since anyone’s looked at her like this. And she doesn’t want to break the moment, she wants to savour every bit of him – of this, before she’s gone. “I think I’m going to miss you Cal.” The words slip out, within a heated rush before she can stop them.

The curve of his lips, momentarily grips her attention. It’s almost wistful, unlike the flash of longing in his eyes when she glances back up at them. “I think I’m going to miss you too.”

I wish I didn’t have to go. I wish we had more time. The words are so insistent that it stuns her. She barely knows him and yet something in her gut tells her it’s okay to want more – more than just sitting here, staring at each other.

She wants to kiss him, wants to give him something more than words to remember her by. And she can tell by the sudden hungry looks in his eyes – he wants it too.

Before she can second-guess herself, Wren does it. She breaks the distance between them, watching the way his pupils dilate in excitement before her lips crashes hungrily against him.

His response is immediate; his arms try to tug her closer – despite the table between them, until they’ve almost knocked the plates out of the way in there desperate need to be closer together.

There’s the sound of plates crashing and breaking, as her need to be closer outweighs food - she’s starving for a different kind of desire.

Wren doesn’t stop to even glance at the dishes now torn askew and broken. In her haste to get to him, she hauls herself over the wooden surface and utters a soft moan as his strong arms finally find her. They drag her the rest of the way.

She hears her name on his tongue, hears the growl of desire escape his lips as his fingers grip her tightly. It makes her stomach curl in anticipation for more.

“Cal.”

His name is like a plea on her lips until his fingers drift between them, running small circles across her back as she manages to steady her arms and entwine them around his neck. She grounds herself against him.

He moans again – it’s a guttural sound. There’s a hunger to the way he deepens their kiss; like no matter how much she returns it with almost unquenchable thirst – his lips are more demanding - irater to have her. They press almost insistently against her softer ones, coaxing them wide open – tongue arrogantly finding hers’ as his hips shift to meet her tempo. Although his hands are gentle, they still slip beneath her shirt and she shudders at feel of his fingers scraping her skin.

Everything inside of her wants suddenly way more of him.

Then just as quickly as the world between them vanished, it quickly comes back into focus at the sound of footsteps steadily finding the stairs.

Wren breaks the kiss first; needing fresh air into her longs as her breaths turn embarrassingly heavy. She’s still fighting to breathe as Cal helps her quickly on her feet; his breath almost panting before he clears his throat.

His hands linger on her hips a moment longer while he turns his head and looks from the open door back to her, then towards the door again. “Damn.”

A laugh bubbles Wren’s throat. She manages to mask it with a cough at the last second as her hands quickly sift to fix Cal’s hair.

He extends the same courtesy. He bends slightly to run his fingers through her wavy hair, fighting a smile until their gazes’ lock on each other again.

“Guess this is goodbye, huh?” The thought makes her frown.

Cal smoothens the crease in her brow and the gesture makes her expression soften. “Not goodbye.” His words are emphatic as he lifts her chin. “Just see you later.” He says it with so much conviction that Wren wants to believe him.

She just doesn’t know if she can. Not trusting herself to speak for a moment, she nods. “Maybe I should hold you to that.”

The footsteps they’ve heard upstairs has finally caught up to them. They’re still locked on each other until Wren manages to break eye contact first.There’s the sound of a foul curse as a second set of feet stumbles in and they both glance up at Nik and Donny at the same time.

“Well, there goes breakfast.”

-

tags: @cora-nova, @universallypizzataco

[crewhonk]

Did You Miss Me

Warnings: Smut mostly. Language obviously, Dom!Poe, Poe knows how to fuckin please a woman can I get a hell yeah?

Summary: “OoOoOooOh smutty headcanon with my man Poe maybe where he gets back to the base on D’Qar after a dangerous mission and it’s just like super rough angsty smut feel free to interpret that however you want lol 😂😂”

AN: RIP the headcannon also rip making this a drabble. I’m a fucking monster. likes, reblogs and comments always make me write better, faster, and create more!

Words: 3,041

She was waiting in the hangar- she always was. Poe, her boyfriend of two years was coming home from an undercover mission, and while she knew he was doing it for the end of the war, it still pained her heart to watch her FlyBoys ship fly out, not knowing if she would ever see it again. 

She wrung her hands nervously, the tight leather gloves of her uniform squeaking quietly amongst the other awaiting family. Soon, the familiar shouts of runway workers started, and the roar of the damaged X-Wing fighters broke through the atmosphere of the planet. She counted them, making sure that not only her man was there (he was, leading the squadron as usual) but the rest of the team was safe. She knew Poe would blame himself endlessly if he wasn’t able to bring all the men home with him. 

She only counted one less than the number that had left, but it soon became clear when they landed that one of the men had lost their ship on Hoth, and had managed to squeeze himself in with Jessica, who had a marred wound on her cheek. 

She waited for Poe to open the roof of the ship, climb out and see that his squadron was all taken care of before his eyes even thought to land on you by the door. It had been a serious conversation one night a year ago that while they would die for each other in a heartbeat, Y/N and Poe knew that their number one top priority was the Rebellion. 

When his eyes landed on her, she was able to see the tension almost roll off his shoulders, down his spine, through his hips, and out his toes. A tired, but satisfied smile spread across his face, and soon his heavy feet found themselves walking towards her almost automatically. She let her face tear into a wide smile that belonged only to him and began to speed walk towards him. Once they had come close enough, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and buried his face in her neck, nuzzling through her hair and breathing in the fresh and homey scent of her shampoo he had brought back for her a month ago. 

She whimpered in his shoulder, fingers carding through his thick brown locks and making him almost purr in absolute delight. He didn’t smell as clean as she did- he was rather musky from the thick pod air he had to sit in, but it was still undeniably him. He smelt of the humidity of his home planet Yavin 4, and of the oil and gasoline used to power his Baby. 

“I missed you, Babygirl.” He whispered into the shell of her ear. He pressed himself closer to her, and she could feel the growing length of his member against her lower belly. She nipped the skin of his jaw and smiled innocently when a grumble rolled through his chest. 

“I can feel that, Fly Boy. I missed you too.” She murmured, beginning to sway back and forth in his arms, soothing both herself and him, but also making sure to press more friction into the sensitive place she felt on him. He grunted and pressed a fraction harder against her when she didn’t respond right away. The laugh she let out only fuelled his desire for her. 

“I missed you every night.” She whispers, scratching the skin on the back of his neck, pulling his hair and forcing his engine to start. 

“Every night?” His voice was that of a man who was almost broken, and it made her chest swell with pride. 

“Every,” She planted a kiss to the cleft of his chin. “Night.”

It seemed something snapped inside him at her words, and ignoring the few people who stopped to ask him how the mission went, dragged her by the hand and ran through the halls of the base until he reached his room. 

He opened the door with a passcode and a thumbprint while she allowed her hands to roam over his clothed chest, pulling buckles and unzipping zippers as she went. He cursed when she slipped a hand into his jacket and ran her fingertips over his nipple, scratching him lightly through his white tank top. 

Soon enough, he had the door sliding open, and he was no longer able to control himself. His usually dark eyes were black with lust and his actions were rushed and rough. He almost tore his suit in his haste to get it off, and he whipped his t-shirt over his head, stalking her and pressing her against the wall with his whole body. 

“How did you miss me?” He growled, biting don her neck and beginning to unzip her pants. He fumbled with the zipper, and as he pulled them down her strong legs, he followed them, showering her thighs, knees and calves with soft open mouthed kisses and tiny sharp bites. 

“I missed you wearing your shirt in bed.” She gasped as he lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her hands once again found themselves curling into his hair and holding his head in place. 

“Darling. If you stop talking, I stop doing this.” His hot breath fanned across her thighs and lower tummy. She let out a quiet moan, and Poe was sure that he  had heard the back of her head thump against his wall. 

“I missed you mostly at night, honestly.” She gasped as he kissed her clit through her soft underwear. Her hands on his head shook with anticipation, and she made herself speak. She wanted him so badly, and he was (of course) not giving it to her easy (name of their porn?). 

“I missed you by touching myself before bed.” He pulled her underwear to the side, and his breath on her exposed core made her shiver harder. 

“Tell me.” He demanded. 

“I um— I would rub myself through my underwear first, and when I finally got myself um— going. I would take them off— fuck, Poe.” She found herself at a loss for words at his demands and actions. He rewarded her by licking a solid stripe up her core, and she jolted at the action. He hooked his tongue over her clit just as he finished the first lick, and she was already so wet his lips were shining in her slick. 

“Go on.”

“And then I would— oh shit — I would get my um.”

“Tell me, baby.” He said, pulling himself closer and circling his tongue under the hood of her clit. He rolled around it, and nipped it, making her hunch over his head slightly. 

“I’d get my cum and use it to make my clit wet and I’d rub it until I would almost cum all over my fingers.” She whimpered and she felt his fingers wander up and begin to mimic the words she was saying. He stuck one pointer finger into her, gathering her slick and using that to put pressure on her button.

“Like this?”

“Fuck yeah. Like that.”

“More.”

“And then I would use two fingers and start to finger myself. I’d pretend it was your fingers but my fingers aren’t as thick as yours so I’d have to add another— oh shit.” She cursed as his long and thick fingers buried themselves in her, pressing against the front of her wall and scissoring themselves. The actions would vary in lengths, but he would take turns using them to stretch her open for him. The noises coming from her cunt would have been embarrassing and gross if it weren’t for the fact that he was helping her make them and they were so fucking hot. 

“I would use my palm to rub myself and when I came, I’d say your name like a fuckin’ prayer, Poe.”

Unable to hold himself back, he added a third finger and pressed his tongue flat against her nub, circling and pressing and sucking until the thigh over her shoulder was shaking. She came soon after that, and he nipped her clit and sucked her dry as she rode out her orgasm while thrusting her hips towards his face softly. 

“Fuck Poe, please stop I can’t.” She pulled him up, forcing him to stop playing with her sensitive pussy. His scruff and lips were slick and in companionship with the look of utter desire in his eyes, she was already ready for him to take her again. He kissed her softly, their tongues playing together, and tasting each other for what could have been the billionth time. Never, however, did it get old by any means. 

She unzipped her top and shucked it off, throwing her undershirt somewhere in the room. His mouth immediately fell to her tits, sucking and leaving dark marks on the rise of her breast. While he teased one nipple with his teeth and tongue, he rolled the other in his rough hand— the rough texture making her once again breathless. 

“Get on the bed, My Love.” He muttered into her hair once she was properly marked up. He took a step back, admiring the work he had done. Tiny hickeys were clustered on the tops and inside of her thighs, and larger ones on her breast and neck. She had learned long ago to not cover up in front of him— he loved her for the way her mind worked, and frankly, he found her curves and lines and scars and birthmarks utterly beautiful. 

“Can I at least welcome you home properly?” She hummed and stepped forward to grip his painfully hard length through his cargo shorts, making him grunt and smile down at her. 

“We have all the time in the world for that, Baby Girl. Get on the fucking bed.” While his voice was gentle, there was an underlying hardness that had her obeying. She crawled onto his queen-sized bed, over the duvet and planted herself on her elbows and knees, presenting and waiting for him. There was a groan of appreciation from somewhere behind her, and she knew by the way he was breathing that he had shed his pilot suit and was now stroking his hard cock while looking at he soaked folds and glistening thighs. 

He crawled up the bed, taking his time in crawling towards her and soaking up the sight of her just so fucking ready for him. He kissed the swell of her ass, smacking the other cheek hard enough leave a red handprint and after kissed that mark as well. He kissed the bottom of her spine while rubbing his hands up and down her sides, making her squirm and move back in an attempt to make him move just a little faster. He ignored her movements and continued leaving open-mouthed kisses over her shoulder blades and the back of her neck, fully pressing his length against the crack of her ass and rubbing himself on her. 

“Poe, please Baby, please.” Her voice shook with lust, and he only moved all of her hair to fall over one shoulder so he could have access to her neck, jaw, ear, and cheek. 

“I’m here Darling,” He said, moving one hand to line himself up with her entrance. “I’m right here.” He said, finally entering her and bottoming out within the second. The soft skin of his balls hugged her swollen clit, and he was so full inside of her she already felt on the precipice of an orgasm. 

He began thrusting slowly at first, allowing their bodies to become acquainted after such a long time. It wasn’t even that it was a long time at all, but the two were so insatiable when it came to their relationship it was rare they went a day without several orgasms shared between the both of them. Jessica and the rest of the squadron always joked about how they had never moved from the Honeymoon Phase, but both of them couldn’t care less. They loved each other more than almost anything in the world and it showed. 

“Fuck,” He cursed, pressing himself tightly against her. She was fully supporting him, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and using that leverage to thrust oh, so deliciously into her. 

“Oh, Poe.” She sighed, allowing him to use one hand to apply light pressure to her throat. He was shuddering on top of her, and the adrenaline from the mission only spurred him to thrust harder and faster into her. 

“Darling, I missed you so fucking much. I missed your tight fucking pussy around me.” He grunted before biting down on the flesh of her shoulder hard enough to almost break the skin. Both knew it would leave a bruise, but the pain and pleasure it gave her made her flutter around him in a way that had his balls almost painfully tight. 

He leaned up and pushed her torso fully into the bed, pinning her down by the back of her neck, and fully losing himself in the moment. The pressure of him pressing against her g-spot combined with the pressure of him absolutely fucking her into the mattress made her let out keening whines that went straight to Poe’s swollen cock. 

“I’m not going to last, Angel are you close?” He grunted, sweat dripping down his nose and launching on the small of her back. At her loud and almost pornographic moan, he took it as a hint and flipped her on her back before throwing her legs over his shoulders and pounding himself into her. He used one hand to grip the headboard and one hand to violently rub her clit, bringing her to see fucking stars as she closed her eyes. She raised her hands over her head to fully expose herself to him and also to keep her head from hitting the headboard as it knocked against the wall with each powerful thrust. 

“Open your eyes, baby. I wanna see you cum for me.” Her eyes were foggy, and they wouldn’t focus as he brought her impossibly close to her orgasm. He let out loud grunts every time his pelvic bone rubbed her clit, and just as the fluttering of her walls clenched around him, he leaned down and sunk his teeth into the flesh of her neck. 

“Oh, Gods Poe!” She yelped, breathing hard and keening as she came hard around him. He wasn’t there, quite yet, but just as she reached around and dug her nails in his ass to guide him into her wet core he found himself cumming hard, his seed coating her inner walls and triggering another small orgasm from her that milked him absolutely dry. 

She unhooked her legs from his strong shoulders and pulled him to her. He rested his head between the swell of each bruised breast and continued to shallowly thrust into her. He stopped moving soon, and he found it impossibly hard to pull out of her as she carded her nails soothingly through his hair. So, he didn’t pull out of her but instead enjoyed the way their bodies molded against each other in a perfect way. 

When a quarter of an hour passed, she finally rolled him over and slipped off of him, both groaning at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Where you goin’, Babydoll?” He muttered, completely and utterly fucked out. She hummed as she grabbed the shirt she had worn to bed last night from the bottom of the bed and slipped it on. He loved the way that no matter how her body changed in shape, the size of his shirts always made her look very small. 

“I need to pee.” She said quietly as she padded into the bathroom and took care of herself. It took her a few minutes to clean herself up, and she came back with a warm washcloth to clean his half hard cock and stomach from their combined juices. When she didn’t begin talking, he sat up and took the cloth from her. He wiped his face with the clean side and threw it into the hamper before pulling her chin up so she would look into his eyes. 

“What’s wrong, my love? Did I hurt you?” His actions grew fearful as they checked her body. Her eyes were misty and she was shaking her head.

“No, Poe. You were amazing. You’re always so fucking amazing and I never wanna lose you.” She whimpered, leaning into his palm as he rested it on the side of her face. He wiped her tears with his thumb and she kissed his palm. 

“You’re never going to lose me, Love.”

“But I could lose you! You’re one of the highest ranking members of the resistance and that puts a target on your back.” She let out a sob when she said this, and without another second, he pulled her into his arms and leans against the headboard while tracing his fingers along the curve of her spine slowly. 

“I love you with my whole heart, Y/N.” He said seriously. She looked up at him and sees the gentle love in his eyes and sighs against him. She kissed his collarbone, and then the place overs heart where he had tattooed her rebellion enrolment number. 

“I know.” She murmured against his skin. There was a lull in their conversation, and it was broken by her giggle that was still heavy with sadness. 

“That was some pretty bomb sex, though.” Her words are met with his booming laughter and the tight embrace he had saved just for her and BB-8. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”