#their eyes with her either. they just turn towards being patronizing with her bc she has like self-respect and an obvious tendency towards

[stinkbeck]

there’s this really sweet polite girl who always thinks critically in class and for some reason, men just never take her seriously. like she says way smarter things than them on the regular, but they just assume because she tries to be kind and personable that she’s got nothing to offer or something.

[slytherinsnekxvii]

this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

[bookishofalder]

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423​

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

[thewritingginger]

Naughty list 7 for Beelzebub and naughty list 13 for Belphegor with f!reader please and thank you!

Thank you Lovely for your request and your patience for me to get this done. I do have the Beel one on my WIP list as well :3

This one was a bit interesting for me cuz it’s not smut but also not fluff it just... idk what to call it 😂 But not in a bad way I did have fun writing it.  just something new for me and I'm a bit unsure but that could be bc it’s 7 am and I’m a bit sick lol

Prompt:  Naughty #13: “I need you to pretend to be my s/o.” “Why? You hate me!” Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Belphegor x F! Reader Word Count: 2,438 words Warning(s): may cause slight annoyance :)

Enjoy~

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You spot Belphegor pass the end of the hall, saying goodbye to your friends you rush over. Stopping by him, slightly out of breath as he stands straight from the water fountain.

“Hey Belphie.” You say sweetly with a small smile. Belphegor looks you up and down with a raised brow. “Uh, hi.” He responds slowly, readjusting his backpack strap as he turns to leave.

“So how’s your day been?” You ask, walking at his pace.

“What do you want Y/n?” He asks curt. Stopping he leans against the wall, arms crossed. Looking at you through his brows, unamused.

“What do you mean? I’m just trying to make conversation with you.” You say innocently.

Rolling his eyes he kicks off the wall and continues down the hall. Not getting ten steps in front of you, you stop him again. “Wait-” You huff. He turns your way. He waits, shaking his head, tuning his hands up signaling you to spit it out already. You sigh,

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” You say, wincing at the idiocy of your request. If you can even call it that. You’re practically begging him to, ‘Gosh really Y/n, “need” him to?’ You mentally slap yourself, not noticing the grin on his face. Snapping back when you hear him snort a bit. Trying to remain calm cause lord knows you need him to agree. For a moment there is just silence. Seeing him process your question a bit more. Then he speaks,

“Why? You hate me.” His statement punctuated with an amused half cut smirk. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, contemplating your rebuttal. Because the truth is, you don’t hate the guy. Sure, he’s probably the most annoying being to ever exist in all the three worlds, but that doesn’t mean you hate him. Clearing your throat you respond,

“No I don’t hate you. We just don’t know each other enough.” You smile.

“Uh huh. So me pretending to be your boyfriend will do just that, huh?” He says. His face cracks with amusement once again as he watches your face twist in annoyance.

“Look, why don’t you just ask one of my brothers? They like you.” He says as he backs away symbolizing he’s done with this conversation.

You sigh annoyed. ‘Yeah like I haven’t thought of that before, Dickhead.’ You had thought about it before but that didn’t go down well.

You didn’t dare ask Lucifer well because, he’s Lucifer.

Mammon would only accept if you paid him to and even though you were in need of a prop-up boyfriend you weren’t that desperate.

Both Levi and Satan were busy the day you would need them.

And lastly there was Beel. You would’ve asked him but… on Halloween Beel was plastered and drunkenly confessed that he really liked you. After that night he hadn’t seemed awkward about doing it and you never told him he did it either.

So that left you with the youngest one that just walked away from you.

~~~

Why do you need a pretend boyfriend, you ask? Well in a phone call with your family talking about arrangements for New Years. Your mother wouldn’t shut up about the amazing guy your cousin is dating and how he’s coming to the New Years Eve party, and whilst your mom was babbling on about it you zoned out and when she asked if you had a ‘special someone’ you absentmindedly said ‘yeah’. And before you knew it she told you to bring him around and said her goodbyes as you tried to correct the situation. But it was too late.

And now you need a boyfriend.

~~~

Back at the house of Lamentation heading towards your bedroom you spot Belphegor going into his room. Taking another chance you dropped your book bag at your door and rushed over to him.

“Belphe-” Cut off by the door in your face, you roll your head back in frustration but not defeat. You had to do this! You hate to say it but he really is your last hope for this.

Knock Knock Knock.

No response. You sigh once again trying to keep your cool.

Knock Knock Knock

Your hits get a bit heavier with each one. Then finally he opens the door.

“What?” He says with a huff.

“I need to talk to you. I -” You begin to say as he rolls his eyes starting to close the door once again. Stopping the door with your palm you finally put your pride aside.

“Belphegor, please ~” Your words come out slow. Hating to beg the demon but knowing you had to at this point. The pressure on the door lightens. Belphegor stands behind the door and sighs.

“Fine.” He says. Opening the door for you to enter. Sitting down on his bed, he looks up at you waiting for you to speak. “Like I said before I kinda need you to be my ‘boyfriend’ for a night.” You say. His blank stare boring into you, “Yes you did but you failed to mention why. What, do you secretly have a crush on me.” He says with an amused grin. Your reaction only made it better,

“Tsk you wish. The reason I need you is because I’m going home for New Years and my mom thinks I’m bringing home a boyfriend.” You say with your arms crossed.

“Why would she think that?” He asks. Pursing your lips, hating your answer you sigh. “I may have accidentally told her I did when I wasn’t paying attention.” You say, refusing to look at what you’re sure is a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ha ha oh my god. You’re more stupid than I thought.” He says laughing. Your face heats up with anger, before you can say anything he cuts you off. “You know what, I’ll do it.” He says standing up. Your anger subsides a bit when you hear those words. Slight relief sweeps through you. “Really?” You ask, happy but slightly shocked. “Yup.” He says walking past you, opening the door.

“I’ve been told it’s good to do charity. And besides this seems too funny to miss out on.” He says, walking out leaving you angry once again. ‘Guh, what an asshole!’ you think to yourself storming out of his room.

~~~

It’s New Years Eve and you are getting ready to leave devildom with Belphegor to the human world. Picking up your jacket and purse you leave your room. “Ok, let’s go.” you say to no one walking down the stairs, Belphegor waiting by the door dressed in jeans, a dark teal blazer, and a black shirt. He turns to speak but hesitates a second when he takes in your appearance. Rushing down the stairs the hem of your black velvet dress rode up your thighs a bit, your hair messily framing your face and your cheeks rosy from rushing around to get ready. “Phew, okay, I’m ready!” You say sliding your heels on at the base of the stairs. Standing straight smoothing the front of your dress you look up to see Belphegor looking at you. “What are you looking at? Are you ready?” You ask, putting on your coat. “Yeah I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” He says opening the door.

Pulling into the driveway of your parents home you turn off the car and turn to Belphegor. “Ok like I said before, they might ask questions, especially my mother! And please, please try not to make an absolute fool in there.” You say. Belphegor laughs at your pleas. “Don’t worry I won't make a fool out of you on purpose, you  do that well enough on your own.” He says with a chuckle. Man, he really knows how to get under your skin.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go in there and act like any other boyfriend.” He says with a patronizing smile. Pursing your lips trying to hold yourself back from slapping him, instead you just get out of the car. You knock on the door as you wait, Belphegor comes up behind you and you see him holding a bouquet of sunflowers. “What are you~” You’re cut off by your mother. “Well hello. Please, come on in, you'll freeze out there.” She says opening your family home to the both of you. Before you can introduce Belphegor, he’s already ahead of you.

“Thank you. These are for you.” He says handing your mother the flowers. “Oh my, they’re beautiful… oh I never even got your name.” Your mother says with a smile. Chuckling back he responds. “I’m Belphegor. And I’m glad you like them, you know sunflowers represent happiness and longevity which is not only what I hope for you this coming year but also for my time with your daughter here.” He says, pulling you in by your side, looking down at you with a smile. Your mother seemingly swooning. You smile back, “What the hell are you doing?” You ask through your teeth. “Fulfilling my end of the agreement, and taking what I want cause I don’t recall you ever telling me what I’d get in return.” He says. You fake a laugh, “What do you mean ‘get in return’?” You ask. Turning you to face him, lifting your chin. “You don’t think I came here out of the goodness of my heart do ya? I came here to have a bit of fun and I’m already just getting started.” He says. Giving you a sly look he kisses your hand sweetly before rushing over to your mother, “Please let me help you with those.” He says walking with your mother before looking back at you.

‘Oh he’s good. But two can play at that game, Buddy!’

As the night goes on you two continue to seem a convincing couple. Good to know his lying can actually be of some help in this situation. “So Y/n how did you manage to land such a charming guy?” Your cousin asks. 

You hate it! How can they love him so much? 

“Um well~” You start, when you feel Belphegor wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Well we actually met through my brothers.” He says. “Oh how many brothers do you have?” Your mother asks. “I’m actually the youngest of seven. And my twin brother introduced me to this girl and ever since that day I’ve wanted her by my side.” He says, with his left arm around your shoulders, his right hand makes its way on your bare knee. Laughing you look at him with warning eyes as you take his hand off you. Your family chuckles at your “puppy love” moment.

“So how long have you been together to be exact, because somehow up until a couple weeks ago Y/n had failed to mention you.” Your mother says looking at you. ‘Oh brother.’ You think to yourself. “About a year.” You say. “And here I thought it was longer. I guess that's just wishful thinking, huh.” Belphie says, looking at you with a smirk.

‘I’m gonna kill him.’

“You know if we let the love over there get too strong, we might be seeing a new addition to the family sooner than we’d think.” One of your family friends says, chuckling into his glass. The whole table starts to chuckle as your eyes widen. “O-oh no, not now.” You stutter. “Looks like my baby is blushing. She is always more amusing this way.” Belphegor says. “Haha ok enough of that. What time is it anyways?” You ask trying to get this night over with.

“It’s almost 11:40.” Says your mother. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re counting down the minutes till you can kiss me.” Belphie says, leaning into you. “Yeah, no. I couldn’t think of a worse way to start my year.” You say into your glass.

“Ok guys the ball is dropping! Count down in 10…  Standing before Belphegor he just smirks. “Make sure you don’t fall in love with me after this.” He says. You almost gag, “Yeah, no problem.” you say.

Everyone chanted the countdown,

“3”

“2”

“1”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone exclaims.

Looking at each other Belphegor puts his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. Your lips touch. A second passes, still connected. The hand in your hair tightens slightly and his lips move with yours. Your mouths dance together one second and parted the next. The expectant feeling of disgust never came, rather the moment wasn’t that bad. You stand there in his grasp for a few more seconds, eyes locked. Looking up at him you notice something in his eyes you've never seen before, but it’s gone just as soon as it comes. “I think we should go before you try and kiss me again.” He says. “If you keep talking you’re sooner to get slapped, than kissed.” You say walking past him, making him laugh.

It’s nearing 1am when you and Belphegor are taking your leave, “You know you two can stay till the morning since it’s late.” Your mom offers. “No we have things to do tomorrow and I’d rather not travel in the morning.” You say hugging your mom. “Well, drive safely and Belphegor you’re always welcome in our home.” Your mom says making him smile. Taking her hand in his he places a small kiss on the back of hers, “Your hospitality is too much.” He says. You see your mom swoon once again. ‘Damn he is good.’  

Finally in the car you sigh in relief. “Glad that’s over.” You say. “Yeah. When are we coming back? Maybe we can bring Beel, he’d love that- well, everything your mom made.” He says turning the car on. “Uh, what do you mean ‘coming back’? This was a one night deal.” You say laughing. “Well your mom said she’d love to see me again and I’d say I had a pretty good time playing with you tonight. So i feel it would really be a win-win situation.” He says.  “How is that a win for me though.” You ask with your arms crossed.

“Well it’s a win for you cause you’ll get to kiss me again. I rather enjoyed the look you had after the first time” He says with a smirk. You finally hit his shoulder.

“I did not have a ‘look’ after kissing you.” You argue.

“Yes you did.” He says back.

“No I didn’t!” You say with more force

“Yes you did.” 

And this went on back and forth the whole ride home. You knew asking him was a bad idea.

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I hope you enjoyed this, and that you have a great New Years or when ever you find yourself reading this :3

💛 ~

[alatus-perch]

Hanashōbu(花菖蒲) & Ren(蓮)

@hqrbinger​

Bito /RongHua I can think of 3 scenarios (idk in what chronicle order, you can decide) where Bito can meet RongHua :

(Make a post instead of sending an ask bc this is getting too long lol)

1) When Bito was running errands for the cook in the Liyue harbour, she heard the soft sound of the Guzheng at the docks. A young woman in graceful lilac-coloured Hanfu wearing a transparent silk veil over her eyes, was performing skillfully with her delicate fingers. There’s already a small audience gathering when Bito turns her head to the music. (Bito can choose to approach if she wants to) 

 2) When Bito came to visit her S/O Hu Tao during her free time. She saw a young woman in an elegant Hanfu in the shades of sunset with hand-stitched osmanthus patterns, and a matching pale cream lace veil obscuring her eyes -clearly a lady of noble birth- chatting & laughing away with the Director of the Wangshen Funeral Parlor at the office. R: “「My my, such a thoughtful approach Ms Hu Tao」 H:  「 Of course, that’s what I’m here for! 」 R: 「 Well then, let me order 2 sandbearer coffins. After all, they just receive their promotion!* I do hope they understand the message or they will be laying in them <3 」 H: 「 I’m sure they would. Either way it is a win-win for me~! As I said before, any person born in this world are destined to become my costumers 」 (saw Bito approaching the doorway, probably hesitating whether she should go in) 「 Ah Bito! here you are my love, let me introduce you two!」 Bito will find out that RongHua somewhat shared Hu Tao’s morbid sense of humour since RongHua gets attempted assassination, kidnaps or hit-on an almost regular basis (due to being the daughter of one of the Liyue Qixing, the arena of the trade market is always ruthless) that RongHua already pre-ordered an exquisitely designed coffin and an expensive funeral service. Ironically it almost serves at a good luck charm.

*升官 (shēng  guān ) < promotion; 官 means official position 棺材 ( guān  cai) < coffin; It’s a homophone pun

3) An usual workday for Bito, where she’s waiting tables in the Wangshu Inn. Bito noticed the arrival of Mr. Zhongli- one of Hu Tao’s well-known employees - in late afternoon almost evening(most likely to meet Xiao for the latter’s medicine). He was accompanied by a lady in a casual light-bamboo coloured Hanfu (shorter skirt, no eye veil this time). Somehow Childe tags along, simply just bc (RongHua has a somewhat of an odd "friendship?" with this Fatui Harbinger, I'll probably explain it next time) 

 There were a couple of drunk and rowdy patrons (looks like treasure hoarders) in the corner that seems taken a little more alcohol than they can handle and starting to make things difficult for Bito and her colleagues (eg loudly demanding more alcohol, purposely dropping their utensils and request for new ones, maybe starting to get a bit handsy on the staff….some of the waitress are already protesting to Verr Goldet) [idk how Bito would act to it since you mention she tries to maintain a professional attitude when she’s working.] In any case, before Bito can react, a dagger flew across the room and pinned on the wall right above one of the drunk patrons’ head, scraping off a few hairs.  「Oh dear! My apologies, my hand slipped」 the lady slowly stands up and walks toward the drunkard table 「I’m sure you have come to realize you are being rather...uncivilized with your action」 her voice almost lowered an entire octave as she retrieved her dagger. 「Next time, I won’t miss.」  When everyone thought that was it, as there was a solid 10secs silent as the lady turns around, the drunk patrons suddenly raged and one was going smash her head with a wine cup, she quickly picks up the chopsticks on the table and subdued all of them in mere seconds. (Childe probably jokingly chirped:「oh~~so that how you use chopsticks 」 while Zhongli just shakes his head with amusement while sipping his tea.) Assuming that Bito has a keen eye, she might noticed that Ronghua fought with her eyes closed.

I’m curious to what Bito’s reaction /impressions of RongHua would be. PS: btw do you got my other 2 [OC talk] ask regarding RongHua? just or did the ever-hungry tumblr ate it again?

[bethhxrmon]

passed down like folksongs, chapter fifteen- steve x reader

[gif credit to @flyingrichardgrayson​]

chapter fifteen- time, mystical time, cutting me open and healing me fine

series summary: Living in Hawkins was never easy for anyone. However, it becomes ten times more difficult than usual when you catch feelings for one Steve Harrington. What should be a simple schoolgirl crush ends up being complicated by your step-brother, Tommy Hagan, and the mysterious goings on in the town of Hawkins. [masterlist]

pairing: steve harrington x female! hagan! reader

chapter summary: With all of the events of the Upside Down behind them, Steve finally finds it in himself to open up about the past.

warnings: swearing, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Wooo!!! Technically what I would consider the last chapter!!! Because of that, I will be uploading the epilogue tomorrow, so hopefully one of those will get to go in the steeb tag (also bc classes started up again and I don’t wanna upload in the middle of a school day okay)

~*~*~*~

It was towards the end of July when the official funeral for your step-dad was held. There had been a service for all those who were killed in the fire a week before. One you ended up getting dragged into. Not that it was bad, Steve went with you. Though, it was clear he was just as keen to be there as you were.

Though, being at an actual funeral felt somehow worse. Steve kind of felt he had been to the worst one already when he went to Billy Hargrove’s a couple of days ago. He specifically told you that you shouldn't go. That he was mostly there to watch out for the kids. It was understandable. You remembered that Hargrove had a step-sister and if Steve felt like he could be helpful, you didn’t want to intrude. Especially when you wouldn’t have known anyone all that well.

Steve also insisted on going to your step-dad’s funeral when the time came as well. Not because he thought you needed him the way you needed someone at Barb’s funeral, but because he didn’t want you to be there alone. While you would have had your mom, she was so busy dealing with all the serious arrangements that you wouldn’t have wanted to give her any stress.

The only thing she let you handle were the flower arrangements. Most of which was dark red, almost black roses and assortments of white flowers. You never knew what sorts of things he liked. In all fairness, he never bothered to tell you much.

You tried to ask Tommy, just to see if grief changed him any. It only made him angrier. Your working theory was that he was convinced his dad left everything to your mom instead of him. Which was a possibility, but you knew that he’d turn out fine. He was leaving for college and with his dad gone, you were pretty sure that you were never going to see him much again after the funeral. That only made you look forward to it that much more.

All you wanted was for him to no longer be in your life. After all the things he did and comments he made and how much he came in between you and all the things you wanted to say and do, you probably should have wanted more. Maybe it would have made sense for you to have wished he had been the one to die in the fire, but you didn’t. He was so close to being gone and you could only be glad for that.

After all, had he not gotten his dad to vouch for him, you were pretty sure he would have been staying in Hawkins like Steve. Though, you were glad Steve was staying for a while. It meant there was time for both of you. No, you were never going to get him walking up to you at your locker or have him hold your hand as he walked you to class, but that was okay. What mattered was that you had him now and it made all the difference in the world to you.

With how nice it was outside, the actual burial was taking a long time as people talked to each other, trying to console your mom for her loss. It made you want to roll your eyes out of your head.

“You know, like, a month ago all these people were still calling my mom a cheating slut behind her back,” you said, leaning up against a tree.

Steve nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

“What, were your parents saying that?”

“Uh, yeah, they did… not that I really hear them talk much,” he sighed, “But, my mom always worries that my old man’s gonna divorce her for some younger woman like Tommy’s dad did.”

You nodded, “That makes sense… I just wish people wouldn’t be so damn nice about it now. It’s so fake and patronizing. And all for some guy who wasn’t even that great anyway.”

“Do you wanna get out of here for a bit?”

“Steve, I should at least stay-”

“Not out, out. Just maybe to someone else’s grave?” he took your hand, “Come on, I think you could use a few minutes somewhere else.”

You were pretty sure you knew where he was going with this, so you went ahead and followed Steve through the cemetery. It was pretty this time of year with many trees giving shade. Families still left all sorts of flowers on graves and the grass was well-kept.

Sure enough, Steve led you right to where Barb’s headstone was. The grave was relatively well-kept, though the Hollands ended up moving to the next town over. Enough for a fresh start, but also close to where their daughter was.

“I really hope ghosts are real,” you said softly.

Steve nodded, “I’m sure they are.”

“Well, if they are… I really hope Barb’s doing okay. I- I still think about her a lot. The things I said and the things I wish I’d said instead had I known I was never gonna see her again,” you took a shaky breath, “I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like I’m actually over it.”

He wrapped an arm around you, “I know what you mean.”

“How? Sorry, I- I just… I never really thought you missed her all that much.”

“I guess it’s not that I miss her. Well, not in the same way you do. It’s more in the way I really wish I didn’t have that party. And how I miss being able to look at my pool and just see a pool. Instead, all I think about is her and whatever she must’ve gone through.”

You leaned into Steve, “Did she disappear there?”

“Probably… no one really knows how it all happened.”

Every day it felt like Steve was getting closer and closer to telling you what happened. He would let odd and end details in. Though, none of it was enough for you to figure out what happened. It was enough at this point that you were pretty sure it was worse than whatever chemical leak the lab got accused of.

Still, no matter how curious you got or how badly you wanted to know everything, you weren’t going to make Steve say anything that he didn’t want to. It was enough that you knew he was going to tell you. Or that if he never told you, it wasn’t because he was trying to dupe you. It was because he simply couldn’t bring himself to talk about every awful thing that had ever happened within the last couple of years.

“Oh, um, I think I forgot to leave this at your stepdad’s grave,” Steve said, pulling out a white chrysanthemum from the inside of his suit jacket.

You felt him press it into your hands, “Oh, did you want me to leave it here?”

“Whatever you want. You could put it in my hair if you’d like,” he suggested, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as you knelt down and set the flower at Barb’s grave. Hopefully, she somehow knew that you still cared about her after all this time. That while it didn’t sting to the same degree, you knew that most of the damage could never be fixed. Not really.

“Is it okay if I tell you what happened to Barb?” Steve asked, sitting down on the grass.

You moved over to sit next to him, “Of course, if- if you’re ready, I wanna know.”

“Okay, well, I just don’t want you to get mad at me for not telling you when I knew. ‘Cause I’ve known a lot longer than you have and I’ve beaten myself up over it every day, but I really thought that telling you the truth was going to get you hurt,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I- I know it’s stupid, but I was told I couldn’t tell you. Technically, I’m still not supposed to, but you saw what happened at the mall and… it’s all connected and you deserve to know.”

You held his hand, “Well, you’re telling me now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right, I am. Um, do you remember how Will Byers disappeared around the same time?” Steve asked.

He explained everything that he knew about the Demogorgon. At least, that was the name the kids gave it. How it went between dimensions and hunted people. It was attracted to blood and Barb had just the luck of cutting herself at his party. Something that he never thought would have been a big deal. He never even invited her, Nancy just insisted she come. In hindsight, Steve still didn’t get it, but it didn’t matter because she ended up getting killed either way.

No one knew if she died due to exposure to the other dimension or if she was eaten. Well, if anyone knew, they never told Steve about it. In all fairness, at the time he only cared about not getting into trouble for that said stupid party. He hadn’t realized how bad things truly had been.

Steve even tried to explain why he had cut you off so many times at that time. Right when you needed someone the most, he knew he couldn’t be around you when you were that hurt by what happened to Barb. It would have only made him more guilty.

“I know I shouldn’t have said those things, and you were smart for not wanting anything to do with me at the time,” Steve said.

You frowned, “You were grieving too. I never thought about that… I mean, you were still a total asshole, but I thought you were just doing it because you could. Because you wanted to just hurt me even more. I- I’m so glad that I was wrong about all of that.”

“I’m still so sorry that I said those things. That I told you she wasn’t going to come back. I knew she was dead and- well, hearing you talk about her like she just went on a road trip was hard to hear.”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, I never really thought about that.”

“Of course you didn’t. I’d be surprised if you put all the clues together on your own. I- I wanted to tell you, just so you know. I felt awful about never telling you what happened. Like, when I saw you biking all the way out-”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Well, I um… I didn’t think you’d believe me,” he said, shrugging, “Plus, if I didn’t let you do some sort of digging, I figured you’d just try the whole thing again and- I couldn’t leave you on the side of the road like that in the first place.”

“I mean, I guess you’re right,” you admitted, squeezing his hand.

In all fairness, you wouldn’t have believed almost anything that Steve told you. Though, it made a lot more sense. That entire first year after Barb went missing made sense. How Nancy and Jonathan seemed to both be aware of something completely unknown to you, that wasn’t you going crazy. You noticed all those weird things because there were weird things happening around you.

You took a look at the watch Steve wore, “We should probably get back, or I should anyways.”

“I’ll go with,” he replied as he got up, helping you off the grass, “I heard there was supposed to be some really good food after all this funeral stuff.”

You laughed as you got up and walked back to where everyone else was. No one seemed to notice that the two of you had been gone for a while. It seemed like people really had been shaken by this happening to someone they knew. Though, most of the town was in that boat. Around thirty people had been killed by whatever happened that night. You just knew it was a lot more complicated than some fire.

The funeral eventually ended and time continued to press onward. It was getting to be August once more and it was a lot better than the first time you tried to be with Steve. He was a lot more open, even if he didn’t explain himself completely. That wasn’t what you wanted. What you wanted was for him to know that he could trust you and that you cared about him.

Some nights, the strange monster would haunt your dreams and it would force you awake in the middle of the night. Steve wasn’t always there when you woke up, but he was always ready to answer the phone. Then, he would sneak up into your room and hold you close until you officially calmed down.

While you didn’t mention it, you thought it was stupid of you to be so hung up over something you saw. Something that didn’t even feel real. Steve was the one who dealt with all that. It made sense for him to be so shaken up about it. Though, you knew he would have insisted that you had every right to be scared of that thing. You would have been an idiot to not be scared of that sort of thing.

One morning, you were in the garden, watering some red tulips when Steve came in. He tended to pop in whenever. While the summer was nearing an end, you saw a lot more of him than you had before. Sometimes it was with the kids or with Robin, but he was getting paid rather nicely after losing his job since the place burned to the ground.

You two got plenty of time alone, but you were used to that. What you weren’t used to was him holding your hands in front of the kids he watched while Dustin would make some comment about it. While it was a quick way to make your face heat up and look at the floor, it also meant that Steve cared about you enough to show you to other people. That was more than you ever expected in the past.

“So… before everything at the mall, did you ever see anything weird that you couldn’t explain?” he asked, leaning on one of the tables inside your greenhouse.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, what constitutes weird?”

“Uh, let’s say something you saw once and then never again. Something you always had questions about but never got an answer that made sense, those types of things.”

You stood there and looked around, trying to think of something. The last couple of years had been so odd and you never expected to get a serious answer to your questions. Yet Steve was right there, always more than happy to offer an explanation at this point.

“Oh! I got it, back around last Halloween, when all the farmers lost their crops, everything I had planted in the ground just went rotten. Our new tree died and it was from some weird, slimy fungus. I think it was from some slugs I caught on a couple of plants, but they were really odd slugs too.”

Steve  looked at you, “Wait, you saw actual slugs? Were they normal and you just didn’t recognize them or… what?”

“Well, I don’t know, they didn’t have the right coloring and they were hiding in some of the shadiest, darkest parts of the greenhouse which made it so hard to find them and throw them out,” you explained, “Wait, why do you ask?”

Steve took a deep breath, “You’ll wanna sit down for this one. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

You went out of the greenhouse and sat on the lawn. Steve sat next to you and began to explain what happened all those months ago.

While you were busy wondering what could have been if Steve had decided to get back with you before that point, he had been learning about how those slugs were actually monsters. That the rot in the ground was from that other dimension. You had been a mere few feet away from tunnels that ran throughout the entirety of Hawkins.

Every time you picked up a slug and threw it out into the lawn, those things were going to molt into things similar to the Demogorgon creature that Steve described at the funeral. You had been so close to such a terrible fate this entire time and you never would have guessed it.

“So… you’re saying I’m really lucky to be alive right now?” you asked.

Steve nodded slowly, “Yeah, uh, I guess I am. I- I guess I knew about the whole thing with your plants, but I didn’t really connect it all until now.”

“Makes sense why you were with all those kids now,” you said.

At least, you were able to understand why Steve would be the one watching all those kids while Will was possessed by something from that different dimension. You just could barely believe that it happened twice. Well, technically three times, but you didn’t know much about the events of that summer.

To try and make up for such a jarring conversation, Steve got you lunch at the diner you liked so much. It just felt so surreal that you could have ended up exactly like Barb. Only, you weren’t so sure you would’ve had as many people out looking for you. Steve probably would have tried to do something, but he probably would’ve figured out what happened to you.

At least you wouldn’t have had some poor girl on a wild goose chase that she set up for herself just to try and find you. There was something mildly assuring about that. Though, if nothing else, hearing that finally got you to feel like you truly were lucky to still be around.

Time continued to pass by and you stayed with Steve. He was so good to you and you did everything you could to make him happy. School started and he was starting to look for another job with Robin as it became clear he wasn’t going to be getting whatever severance pay he had gotten for forever.

All the finances that dealt with your step-dad’s passing were still being sorted out. Though, it seemed more and more like everything was going to go to your mom. He never had a will in place, no matter how hard Tommy tried to insist they keep looking. At this point, you were sure he was just trying to delay the inevitable. Not that you thought your mom was going to cut him off. Though, you mainly hoped that just because it would keep him out of Hawkins.

The leaves on the trees were starting to turn orange, red, and gold in the park that you walked through with Steve. You had just gotten out of school and you wanted to see him. It had only been a day, but you had spent a lot of that day seeing other dumb couples getting to see each other the whole time.

“Hey, I think it’s about time I told you why I was so late to your party,” Steve said as he pulled you over to a park bench.

You nodded, “Okay. Is this the last thing of all the stuff that I’m technically not supposed to know?”

“Yeah, I think this is it. And if anything else happens, I swear I’ll tell you the first moment I think anything is going on,” he squeezed your hand, “It’s funny, because I was actually really close to telling you about this one before any of the crazy stuff happened.”

Steve finally explained everything with the Russian code that Dustin found that summer. How it all led to the Russian Base in the mall that had been spoken about on the news. The reason you didn’t see him at work was because he had been stuck down there, getting tortured by Russians. All the while the Mind Flayer that pulled the strings a year ago came back for more.

Your step-dad had both been killed by the monster and was the monster all at once. It made a lot more sense once Steve explained what happened in full, but it did make you feel sorry for him. Mostly because you couldn't imagine what being killed like that must have felt like. 

“So, that thing I saw that night, that was a bunch of melted up people?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

Steve nodded, “Yeah, it’s pretty gross to think about, but that’s how it happened. It’s all over this time, though. At least, I think so.”

“Hey, I’m sure it is. Whatever gate existed before is closed now and no American or Russian is gonna be able to change that again. It’s over,” you insisted.

At least, you hoped it was. You couldn’t blame Steve for being skeptical about it after the same thing happened three times. Still, you had been around through all of that one way or another. You weren’t planning on leaving now that you knew the full story.

taglist: @flyingrichardgrayson​ @stonersteve​ @scooprtroopr​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​

[gospelofme]

Okay but what if Kix never got his chip removed (bc there weren’t any more Jedi, really, so why bother) but then he sees Rey or something and just. Loses it and tries to kill her and is acting his Tup did when his chip malfunctioned (but no worries because they figure it out before anyone gets hurt)

Why must you hurt me like this 😭😭😭😭

This turned out longer than I planned.

—————-

Kix was beyond ready to stretch his legs. Sitting in his jump seat for the last couple hours with this knees pressed against the co-pilot’s seat in front of him had caused some major cramps. They were headed back to Takodana to resupply.

Maz’s Castle on the planet hadn’t been the only gathering place for unsavory types. It had just been the most popular. Once there, they’d refuel and restock their freeze dried food stuffs. Kix was hoping to find time to visit a place for some actual food. The freeze dried stuff was real, but it reminded him too much of military food.

They landed not too far outside a small town, the weekend market was in full swing. A perfect place to get supplies. And real food. Smells drifted up from pop-up cantinas and food carts. Some Kix recognized from his travels around the galaxy, and some that were foreign to him. He felt like he had been everywhere, but there were still places he hadnt even heard of.

Kix and Quiggold were tasked with getting the food, Kix had some medical supplies he needed to restock as well. They stopped at a food cart and ordered a chunky stew with meat and vegetables. Kix had no idea what the meat was, he didn’t understand the Artiodac who ran the cart. But the vegetables he recognized.

“Finally, something hot and I didn’t have to heat it.” Quiggold muttered, sipping his cup of stew. He sighed contently. Kix smirked and lifted his own cup to his lips and took a sip. He looked around at the patrons of the market, trying to see how many species he can name.

“What’s on your list for medical supplies?” Quiggold asked, checking the medic pack Kix had for the list. He checked their credit limit to make sure they had enough. No answer.

“Kix?” The Gabdorian looked up at his comrade, who had his cup paused halfway to his lips. He was frozen in place. A strange look on his face. Quiggold placed his cup down on a table.

“Hey, Quiggold to Kix? What’s wrong? What are you staring at?” The peg-legged first mate followed his friend’s stare to a woman.

“Oh, yes. She is very pretty. But we don’t have time to gawk at the ladies. We need to finish our shopping.” Quiggold took Kix by the wrist and tried to pull him along. The former-clone stayed put.

“Kix, do I need to pull-“ Quiggold’s threat to pull rank was cut short when the medic’s hand suddenly crushed the cup of stew, the hot contents didn’t seem to phase him. He was now mouthing something, but the noise of the market made it hard to hear. Quiggold was alarmed now, he had never seen Kix act like this. His eyes were still locked on the woman, who was levitating an apple in front of a dark-skinned man.

“Come on, Rey! Quit playing! I don’t think Jedi used the Force for this!” Finn said, reaching for the fruit. The woman used the Force to pull it just out of reach, giggling playfully. She was oblivious to the strange man staring at her.

“Captain, we have an issue. I think something is wrong with Kix. I can’t get him to respond. He’s conscious, sort of. I think he’s saying something like ‘good soldiers follow orders’, but I have no idea what that means.” Quiggold used his comm unit to contact Captain Ithano, Reveth, and Squeaky who were haggling over fuel. Just then Kix dropped the cup and charged the woman full speed, Quiggold only having time to yell at him to stop.

Rey felt a sudden change in the Force, a warning sign. But she didn’t really need it, since she could hear the startled screams of market goers as a man ran towards her at top speed. He was fast and almost too close for comfort. The apple dropped to the ground with a thud as Rey used the Force to push the man back and into a cart selling blankets. The man rolled and got to his feet easily. She didn’t want to kill him, but she didn’t want to die either.

Finn intercepted the man just as Rey ignited her lightsaber defensively. The tackle knocked both men to the ground and Finn initially had the upper hand, but was quickly overpowered by Kix. He was immensely stronger than Finn, the former Stormtrooper was soon pushed aside. Kix hadn’t once taken his eyes off his prey. A Jedi. The latent order from over half a century ago sparked when he had seen her levitate an apple. The words “Jedi” and “Force” sealed her fate when the old chip still implanted registered the terms.

Kix got to his feet, but Finn grabbed his legs and pulled him back down. This man looked familiar. He needed another look at his face. Finn had studied the history of the Stormtrooper Corps. It had been required and he considered himself a history buff. He managed to get the man onto his back and Finn pinned him. Take away the beard, trim the hair back to a military high-and-tight....

A red-skinned, female Twi’lek then bodyslammed Finn, knocking him off Kix.

“No, no! He’s trying to hurt my friend!” Finn tried to explain, looking up to see Rey raise her ignited saber. The man didn’t appear afraid, he looked intent. Determined. Rey Force pushed him back one more time, the man managed to keep his footing. He knew how to fight around the Force. That was the icing on the cake for Finn.

“He’s a clone!” Finn yelled in realization, a look crossing the female Twi’lek’s face. The Crimson Corsair tackled his comrade, and managed to hold onto him tightly. The man struggled fiercely against the hold. Quiggold sedated Kix using one of the syringes from the man’s medic pack.

Finn shoved Reveth off him and scrambled to his feet, Rey looking relieved and startled at the same time. He approached the famous Captain Ithano and was blocked by a Gamorrean. Finn raised his hands to show he was unarmed, watching the Crimson Corsair get to his feet, holding the sedated clone up. Finn had read about the clones and had gone through the histories of some of the famous ones, Commander Cody, Commander Wolffe, Captain Rex. He had read about them being phased out of service and replaced with birth-born soldiers. He had heard Kylo Ren rant about how the clones had always been superior to the current ranks of Stormtroopers.

Finn had read military reports on the actions of some of the clones. But he also liked to indulge in conspiracy theories from time to time. One rumor was that there had been control chips implanted in the clones. And that, once activated, these chips caused the purge of the Jedi Order. Finn had always regarded it as rumor, since he couldn’t find any clear military record of such a device.

“He’s a clone, isn’t he. From the Republic days.” Finn spoke to Quiggold, who looked at Captain Ithano for guidance. The Captain gave his first mate a small shrug, Quiggold nodding to Finn. Finn looked back at Rey, who looked confused. She didn’t know anything about the clones. All she knew was that this man was hell-bent on attacking her. Captain Ithano began to grow uncomfortable with the attention his crew was getting, hauling the medic over his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I have no idea what just happened. He has never behaved like that before.” Quiggold apologized to Rey, who was able to sense his sincerity. She felt something new in the Force. A sense of calm and confidence. She could feel a powerful Force-sensitive nearby. She looked around, her eyes landing on a Togruta woman standing at the edge of a nearby stall. She hadn’t been there a moment ago, Rey was sure of that. Rey blinked and she was gone.

Captain Ithano and his crew arrived back at the Meson Martinet and lowered the loading ramp.

“What are we going to do? We can’t have him doing that. What if we don’t catch him in time?” Quiggold asked the Captain, who remained quiet.

“Perhaps I can help.” Said a voice from behind them. The crew spun around, spotting a white-cloaked Togruta woman. The woman lowered her hood to reveal long white and blue striped montrals and lekku.

“And who are you?” Reveth asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“Ahsoka Tano.”

[cakesunflower]

No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 5

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

A/N: i’m not entirely satisfied with the end but like. i just needed it to be done. i definitely finished writing this in my medieval lit class while my professor talked about Chaucer bc fuck Chaucer he’s a lil bitch. ANYWAYS. happy reading!!!!

All Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Part 5

“Come on, man, it’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Calum rolled his eyes as he and Michael crossed the street, giving a shake of his head. “Luke likes to play, just ask him.”

Michael let out a scoff, as if Calum’s suggestion was completely unsound. He sniffed, the cold late afternoon air hitting his face as they walked. “Luke dies in, like, the first minute. It’s pretty fucking pathetic,” he added with a patronizing snicker towards his best friend.

Calum huffed out a laugh, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. He almost regretted not wearing his hoodie underneath, remaining in just a shirt, as the cold weather chilled his body, the chain necklace he wore feeling like ice on his skin in addition to the breeze. He and Michael walked side by side, only stepping apart as a family shuffled past right between them before falling into step with one another as Calum said, “I’m down to play any other game with you except Fortnite. Or that weird card game.”

Throwing his head back to let out a pretty dramatic groan, earring dangling and hand flying up to the top of his head to keep his hat in place, Michael complained, “Magic: The Gathering isn’t a weird card game if you just gave it a shot!”

Calum merely smirked lazily, figuring that one day he’d give into Michael’s request and play the card game. For now he’d just let Michael sweat it out. So Calum shot his friend a look and challenged, “I’ll play the damn game when you decide to start filling in your bands—you work at a tattoo shop, for fuck’s sake.” Michael sputtered, glancing down at his tattooed arm, forgetting in that moment that he had a sweatshirt on. Calum shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t—”

He cut off right as a store door opened in his path—where was the sidewalk store etiquette of having doors open into the store?—and Calum wondered if this was some kind of universal joke as Nathan, of all of the people in this populated city, strolled out. He paused, green eyes meeting Calum’s dark brown as he fixed his damn cuff links, lips curling automatically into a sneer as he took in the sight of Calum.

And Calum couldn’t help it, he stopped as well—mostly because he had to as a way of avoiding getting hit by the door—and let out an unamused breath through his nose as he realized they were in front of the high tux shop a couple of blocks from their parlor, before his gaze returned to Nathan. He looked just as crisp and clean cut as usual as Calum eyed him, expression bemused and the corner of his lips just barely lifting into a condescending smirk. His unimpressed stare remained on Nathan while he drawled to Michael, “This fuckin’ guy.”

He heard Michael let out a displeased scoff of his own while Nathan merely smirked as he mused, “Tell me—is the tattoo profession truly that slow since you and your employee here can afford walking around the city during business hours? Seems like I only ever see you out of your shop, pal.”

Nathan was obviously goading him, or at least trying to, a not-so-subtle dig at Calum’s choice of career. Not that Nathan trying to paint himself as the more successful of them had any effect on Calum; the tattoo artist knew his business was doing better than great, and he was pretty damn happy and content with his life. Nothing a bitter, petty, and asshole of a man could say would make any of that less true.

“Funny, I was just gonna say I’ve been seein’ a bit too much of you,” Calum responded, his tone flat and sounding just as uninterested as he was.

It was also meant to be the last thing Calum was going to say to Nathan, exchanging a bored look with Michael just as the words left his lips before the two of them went to side step him and continued on their way. They were just about to merge back into the sidewalk traffic when Nathan spoke up once more, “That’ll happen if you glue yourself to Elodie. How much longer are you planning on doing that, by the way? Being so codependent isn’t healthy, you know.”

A soft yet disbelieving breath escaped Calum’s lips at Nathan’s words, eyes rolling skywards as he wondered if the mad bastard really just uttered that statement. Calum would’ve laughed at Nathan’s hypocricy in regards to healthy relationships—who the fuck was he, of all people, to try and give advice on those?—if it weren’t for the irritation so quickly beginning to burn his blood. Was this guy really so blind to think that what he did to Elodie was normal? It concerned Calum if that was true; the reminder of what she had to endure in a relationship with someone like Nathan twisted Calum’s stomach in uneasy anger. No one deserved to be treated the way Nathan treated Elodie, and knowing that someone Calum was so quickly coming to care about had to go through that only further pissed him off. And to think that Nathan thought that Calum being with Elodie was something that had an expiration date on it, he was sorely mistaken. Calum didn’t plan on it, and he could only hope, though he may kind of know, that Elodie didn’t, either.

Calum could’ve easily been the bigger man and continued walking, ignoring Nathan and his taunts that didn’t effect Calum. But he also didn’t want Nathan walking away thinking his behavior and words were so easily done without him being put in his place. Calum wasn’t too keen on being given the responsibility of being the one to do so, but then Elodie’s face flashed in his mind; her brown eyes and soft hair and gentle smile and the kind tone she spoke in, and Calum didn’t mind anymore. He found himself realizing, as a smile threatened to quirk at his lips for no reason other than just thinking about Elodie, that he’d probably do anything for her already. He was fine with that.

Calum and Elodie weren’t codependent, not by a long shot; they were just getting to know each other, a journey they were both enjoying and didn’t want to end. So he wasn’t even going to acknowledge that part of Nathan’s empty taunt. Instead, he just turned around, catching Michael’s semi-amused huff, and tilted his chin at Nathan. “At least I’m not a controlling bastard like you.” With a cock of his head, Calum pushed smugly, “Isn’t that why your unhealthy relationship died?” Calum clicked his tongue in mock empathy. “Must be shit to not have control over someone and lose ’em.”

He saw the effect his words had on Nathan, who had proven to not being as good as Calum in keeping himself in check, as the snide smirk on his lips dissipated as his jaw clenched and gaze hardened, lips twitching into a frown he couldn’t contain. Even so, Calum couldn’t tell if Nathan was more bothered by the comment of him being controlling, or the reminder that Elodie ended their relationship.

Instead of lashing out, Nathan took a step towards Calum, a single click of the heel of his fancy ass dress shoes as Calum felt Michael tense up ever so slightly. But Nathan’s gaze remained on Calum, who kept his gaze on him evenly. Nathan’s green eyes were brimming with a familiar fire and his teeth gritted as he threatened in a low, taut tone, “She’s never going to love someone like you.”

It was almost amusing how Nathan thought that was for him to decide. Calum cared for no one’s opinion but Elodie’s, and he wasn’t going to let a selfish, bitter ex of hers influence his thoughts. Love was some ways away for now—but with Elodie, Calum had a feeling he was on the track, given just how fast and quickly he fell for her. And, shit, did he revel in it. So Calum’s dark eyes narrowed slightly but remained on Nathan’s green, hands that were still in the pockets of his leather jacket forming into tight fists as he returned assertively, just a hint of ridicule, “Are you speaking from experience?”

He was well aware that his words were fuel to an already brimming fire, and Calum picked up on the instant shift of Nathan’s expression, saw the severe temper Calum provoked darken his green eyes and the twitch of his lips threatening into a snarl. But Calum was unapologetic, didn’t care that he was reminding the bastard of how shitty his relationship was despite whatever delusion he’d put himself into. Calum was still unapologetic when Nathan pulled back his hand in one second and slammed the knuckles of his fist into the bone of Calum’s cheek.

There was an instant numbing sting that settled in Calum’s face, forced to stumble only a single step back from the force Nathan put behind the punch. Calum was more surprised by the power behind the hit than the actual hit itself, head turning by the punch as it shocked through his face. He was only barely aware of Michael’s protesting shout, didn’t care for the fact that they were on the sidewalk and a few people had looked over upon the violent action. All Calum could focus on was the sting on one side of his face, his own fury thrumming to life as he clenched his jaw, the action only causing a newfound ache, facing the right as his head had turned upon the punch. There were a couple of middle aged women who’d saw what just happened, completely forgetting that they were going to cross the street and instead watching with wide, incredulous eyes.

Calum’s lips parted, slowly dragging his gaze back to Nathan as he licked the inside of his lower lip in provoked acceptance that this was how it was going to be. He almost smirked when Nathan followed his actions with words unsteady because of barely contained anger, “She was lucky to have me. Now she’ll just go back to being absolutely nothing.”

Almost.

But then Nathan had to bring Elodie’s worth into it, something Calum understood neither he nor Nathan could live up to, and any pain of his cheek disappeared as Calum decided, in that split second, to not hold back.

There was no hope for Calum to remain unaffected by Nathan’s jeer, or his presumptuous attitude of being someone who made Elodie anything but unjustifiably insecure and timid, and he ignored Michael’s attempts of pulling him away. Calum felt his muscles tighten as his fingers curled into a fist, his blunt nails digging into his palms, lips curving into an animalistic snarl as he swung his own fist forward.

The first thing Calum noticed was the sharp pain in his fingers as his knuckles dug right into Nathan’s nose because he’d definitely broken it. The second thing Calum noticed was Michael’s startled, “Jesus, fuck!”. And the third thing Calum noticed as Nathan stumbled backwards, much more than Calum had, and Calum’s hand uncurled was the bit of blood that was now tainting his fingers and rings.

Nathan ended up on the ground, a shout of pain escaping him as he brought his hands up to his face, the crimson color painting his skin and dripping right down to stain his probably expensive suit. Calum stood over him, looking down at the bleeding man as his hand hung beside him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins fueled by a wrath he hadn’t known himself capable of numbing him to the pain he was probably going to feel soon in both his face and hand.

But he was aware of the eyes that were watching them, people minding their own business but observing the scene that had just unfolded, yet Calum kept his fiery gaze on Nathan, feeling Michael’s hand on his shoulder. Not an ounce of regret tainted Calum, the beat of his heart only racing due to the adrenaline stemming from the anger Nathan’s words brought. Calum’s jaw clenched, vaguely aware of the sting on his cheek because of the action, but he didn’t care. No fucking way was he going to let this bastard say shit about Elodie and allow him to walk away without repercussions.

“You fuck—” Nathan sputtered through a thick voice, words muffled and disgruntled by his hands holding his nose and the blood that was pouring from it, his eyes widened in pain and incredulity and infuriation as he looked up at them. Calum felt a swell of satisfaction at the sight of him; on his ass on the sidewalk, expensive looking suit getting stained with blood, and not at all looking as put together as he’d like to. “You broke my fucking nose!”

Calum briefly raised his eyebrows, features set and hardened, hyper aware of the warm blood on his own skin. “It was either that or your arm,” he responded briskly, reminding Nathan of his promise from Dominique’s birthday party, to which the fallen man sputtered out something incoherent. “I would’ve preferred both.”

Nathan pushed himself up, a smear of blood on the pavement as he used one hand to get to his feet. His other hand remained on his nose, the crimson blood visible through his fingers, and blonde hair disheveled from the fall. Green eyes enraged, Nathan demanded, “You think you can get away with putting your han—”

“It was self defense, asshole,” Michael spoke up, his own voice tight once he’d gotten over his brief surprise of how quickly things had escalated. “You punched him first and there are loads of witnesses to attest to that. Fucking try.”

Calum pressed the tip of his tongue against the back of his lower teeth, forcefully as he fought the sneer from curling at his lips again, feeling the muscles in his face subtly twitch in protest. This guy—this motherfucker who hurt Elodie with his words and treatment—deserved any kind of pain Calum may have just inflicted upon him. He deserved to feel any semblance of an ache like he caused Elodie, and Calum was more than willing to be the physical enforcer of it. He was proud of her for sticking up for herself, for getting herself out of the situation, but that didn’t mean Calum couldn’t offer his services.

Sure, he’d known her only for a short time but, shit, he’d do it for her.

Nathan fumbled incoherently once more, stupidly, trying and failing to find words to defend himself, to find the kind of words he’d utter to hurt Elodie and throw them in Calum’s face. Hell, if Nathan even tried, he was a bigger idiot than Calum already thought of him as.

So he left him with a simple and honest warning in a tone that left no room for niceties. “You try to talk shit ’bout Elodie again, and I’ll take a couple-a-teeth out, too.”

*****

The second the door to Calum’s apartment swung open, Elodie’s instinctual reaction was to look down at his dominant hand to visually inspect it. The air had rushed out of her lungs the second she’d received Dominique’s text earlier, praising Calum for punching Nathan so hard that he broke his nose, which was the first time Elodie had even heard about the incident. She’d been in her three hour film lecture, only receiving the texts once she was out of class, and had needed to stop walking to make sure she was reading Dominique’s text correctly.

Calum had punched Nathan. He’d broken his nose. And Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how she should feel that the first thought that popped into her head following the news wasn’t to be afraid of Calum, but was to be worried about his hand.

Because as well as Elodie thought she’d known Nathan for the years they grew up together and the months they were dating, it felt like nothing compared to how she was getting to know Calum. With him, nothing felt off limits, there were no egg shells to walk on, no temper to be uneasy around. If Calum punched Nathan, Elodie instinctively knew it was for a good reason. And it felt crazy to her, how easy it felt with Calum; unrestrained and comfortable and good. Maybe that’s why she wanted to see him right away. Because with Nathan, all she ever wanted to do when his temper flared was to get away.

So when the door opened, Elodie’s gaze flickered down to his hand briefly before her worried brown eyes met Calum’s surprisingly sheepish ones, feeling her chest swell happily at the mere sight of him until she took in the slight discoloration on his left cheek. Elodie’s lips parted at the bruise that bloomed on the swell of his cheek, chest sinking with the sharp breath that escaped her as the words, “Are you okay?” tumbled out of her mouth immediately.

She hadn’t been aware that Nathan had gotten a hit in, too. Not nearly as strong, but still. The sight of the injury twisted Elodie’s stomach—the knowledge of it being caused by her ex only worsened it.

But Calum, quickly becoming a light, only smiled through a breathless chuckle and reassured, “I’m fine, doll,” before ducking his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, Elodie’s mouth automatically puckering to accept the kiss before moving further into the apartment. Paws clattered across the floorboards and Calum smiled, as if he didn’t have a bruise on his face, and nodded, “Duke’s just as excited to see you.”

She picked up the dog just as he reached her, accepting and enjoying the kisses she was greeted with, with a smile on her face, though her concerned gaze remained on Calum as she watched him shut the door. Elodie mumbled a gentle, “Hi, buddy,” to Duke as she ran her fingers through his soft fur, his paws against her chest as her gaze dropped to Calum’s hand once more.

Duke wiggled out of her grasp and Elodie bent down enough for him to easily jump down, and her eyebrows knitted together as Calum tried to move past her but she stopped him, grabbing the material of his hoodie. He skidded to a stop as she maneuvered around him, her hand gently grasping his right wrist so she could lift up his hand and inspect it. Elodie’s throat tightened at the faint bruises formed on his knuckles, the color sticking out more than the glint of his rings, and the familiar uneasiness of guilt crept back into her stomach.

“Don’t worry—I didn’t break anythin’. Just iced it a bunch; the bruising will go away soon enough,” Calum told her, the reassurance ever present in his tone, and Elodie adored that he was trying to make her feel better even though he was the one who was physically injured. It only served as a reminder of how considerate Calum was, and it made falling for him that much lighter.

Elodie held his fingers in hers, her touch light as a feather out of fear of somehow irritating his bruise, and let her thumb run over the skin by his rings as she scoffed gently. “Didn’t break anything except for Nathan’s nose.” Was it wrong to feel a smile tug at her lips? She never wanted to be someone to smile at someone else’s expense, much less their pain. But knowing Calum was okay relieved some of the tension in her shoulders. Lifting her gaze, Elodie met Calum’s eyes and told him with only the tiniest bit of amusement coloring her tone, “I heard you got blood on his favorite Armani suit.”

Calum scoffed, lips quirking briefly as he looked down at Elodie holding his hand, ever so careful of touching his injury. With an almost childlike petulance, Calum countered, “He got blood on my favorite rings.”

Despite wanting to continue standing there and joking around lightheartedly, Elodie still felt the weight lingering on her shoulders, which sank when she let out a sigh and lamented, “I hate that this happened to you because of me.” Her throat worked as she eyed the bruise on his cheek, a reddish-purple color blossoming against the brown of his skin. “Do you need ice?”

“Elodie,” Calum was quick to speak up, removing his hand from her light grasp so he could place both of his hands at the sides of her face, fingers tangling into her brown locks and ducking his head to maintain eye contact. He had a habit of holding her like that, and Elodie adored it. His brown eyes were widened in encouragement, hoping she would hear his words loud and clear as he said, “This didn’t happen because of you. It happened because your ex is a dick and I’ve been known for being unable to keep my mouth shut.” His touch was warm, as always, and his words spread the same comfort his hands did as his thumb stroked her cheek. “And it was completely worth it.”

Still, Elodie found herself nibbling on her lower lip as she gazed at the bruise on his cheek and was hyper aware of his discolored knuckles as well. The heaviness in her chest wasn’t as suffocating, but it was still there as it dried her throat, and Elodie couldn’t bring herself to look Calum in the eyes anymore. Not through any fault of his own—she just had some things to work through as well, things ingrained into her by her selfish ex, and it was those same insecurities that had her whispering out, “Why is it when I’m in a relationship, someone ends up hurt?”

“Baby.” Elodie’s heart lodged itself in her throat as the term of endearment slipped from Calum’s lips, soft and raspy in his desperate voice. He’d never called her that before. She liked it. Calum gently tilted her head—more like gave it a nudge, trying to get her to do it on her own because he didn’t want to force her if she didn’t want to. But Elodie found herself lifting her gaze, lips pressing together as her eyes met Calum’s inviting brown ones. “Don’t mistake Nathan’s actions for your own. What you’ve done has allowed you to be yourself unapologetically. You’re out. You’re—”

“Happier,” Elodie finished quietly, feeling that weight lift from her shoulders with every word Calum spoke, no longer suffocating her. Her eyes remained on his as a smile tugged at her lips, hands slipping into the single front pocket of Calum’s hoodie to keep him close. Almost sheepishly, she decided to add, “Safer.”

Maybe it was too soon, maybe she was taking a leap, but that’s how she felt when she was around Calum—safe. Like being herself wasn’t something she actively had to hold back in worry of bothering him, because he liked who she was. He liked that her coffee order differed depending on the time of day she got it because she liked the inconsistency, he liked that at least one article of clothing she wore had to have some kind of floral design, he liked that she was only active on Instagram once a month to post an aesthetically pleasing picture she’d taken before closing the app until the next month arrived. It was all little things that were probably insignificant, but Calum liked them not out of his own personal preference—but because Elodie liked them in herself. And that meant more than Elodie could comprehend.

He let her be herself without fault in the near two months he’d known her than the six months she’d been with Nathan. Calum came into her life like storm and instead of wrecking it, he somehow managed to help clear a path so Elodie could fix it herself.

Elodie let out a breath, throat working as she said to him earnestly, albeit timidly, “I don’t mean to bring the mood down bringing up these. . . Insecurities.”

“You don’t ever bring the mood down, sweetheart,” came Calum’s genuine response, lips curling into the soft smile he had reserved just for her, the one that sent her heart leaping. “You make it worthwhile. C’mere.”

He pulled her in for a hug then, his embrace just as tender as his words as his arms wrapped around her frame, and Elodie pulled her hands out of Calum’s hoodie’s pocket to wrap them around his waist. She closed her eyes, cheek against the area just below his chest because God knows she can’t reach it, and lost herself in his familiar cologne and touch. Elodie felt Calum’s lips press to the top of her head before he rested his uninjured cheek against it, and she sank into his hug, into him, as his tranquility seeped into her bones.

Calum rubbed his hand up and down her back soothingly, the two of them standing in a tender silence, before he murmured, “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

Elodie smiled as they pulled away, and she shrugged off her coat before following him into the open plan kitchen. It was there where she saw a pot of pasta boiling on the stove, as well as the other ingredients sitting on the counter ready to be cooked. She followed Calum, a smile tugging at her lips when she noted the boneless and skinned chicken breasts, baby spinach, garlic, parmesan, and a bunch of other ingredients waiting to be prepped.

Her heart was thrumming happily in her chest, eyes alight at the sight before her as Calum picked up the bottle of red wine on the counter and poured some for Elodie and himself. “I thought you weren’t much of a wine drinker,” she hummed as she neared him, gladly taking the glass he offered her. She remembered one of the many conversations they had as they got to know each other, found out that he preferred some good whiskey or maybe even a beer to wine.

“I am around you,” he responded with a smirk, and Elodie giggled lightly as he clinked his glass with hers before the two of them took sips of the bittersweet drink. She smiled around the rim of the glass as Calum shot her a wink over his, before lowering his and moving to go back to the other counter where the stove is. “’M making us some Tuscan chicken and spinach pasta.”

“Sounds delicious,” Elodie hummed, glass still in hand as she moved towards him, leaning against the counter but making sure she didn’t get in his way as she asked, “Can I help?”

There wasn’t much he needed for her to do, so Elodie just stood by Calum and sipped her wine as he worked—eventually he cleared some space on the counter so she could hop up, and Elodie crossed her ankles as she watched him make dinner. There was music softly playing throughout the apartment, songs similar to those she heard in the tattoo parlor, and Elodie gently swayed her head to the music and drank her wine and made conversation with the first man to ever actually make her food.

She may have snapped a picture of Calum cooking the seasons chicken, his gaze on the skillet while an amused grin quirked at his lips, aware of what she was doing. But Elodie couldn’t help it—he looked so at ease as he made the food, which had been his idea in the first place. He was the one who’d invited Elodie over to his place, told her he’d make them dinner and they could hang out, and she recalled the way her heart had melted when he offered to cook. The mere fact that he could and liked to cook was enough to have Elodie rushing over. Nevermind the fact that she loved spending time with him anyway.

They made light conversation; she talked about what she was learning in her lectures plus the new charities she brought up to her family for their foundation to support, while he disclosed the tattoos he’d just done plus a few sketches that he drew. It slipped Elodie’s mind that as a tattoo artist, Calum was also an artist, that many of the tattoos he gave his clients were ones they’d picked from his own designs. She wondered if any of the ones he had were of his own making, still wanted to sit down and ask him about every single one of the words and images inking his skin.

“I wish I was good at something,” Elodie sighed after taking another sip of the wine. She was already a glass and a half in, and it was safe to say she was beginning to feel the lightheadedness that came with drinking it. Her skin was beginning to feel warm, a happy flush on her cheeks, as she pouted. Calum had put the pasta in a big bowl and was mixing in the chicken and spinach and everything else. He quirked an eyebrow at the slight drawl her words were adopting. “All I do is go to school and cry.”

Calum knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help the amused chortle escape him as he glanced over at Elodie with raised eyebrows, the fondness he felt for her warming his heart as he continued tossing the pasta. “You know that’s not true, doll,” he told her knowingly. “You’re good at working your family’s foundation. Aren’t you the one that researches and brings in the charities and organizations you guys support?”

“Well, yeah.” Elodie’s eyebrows furrowed almost childishly, a small pout forming on her lips that Calum felt the urge to kiss. He finished with the pasta, hot and ready to eat, as he took the two steps to the other side of the stove where Elodie sat. She looked up at him, and he noticed the slight glaze over her eyes. “But I feel like I could be doing more.”

“You’re already doing more than most,” Calum told her, coming to a stop in front of her and feeling a smirk curve his lips as Elodie automatically unlocked her ankles and spread her legs just enough for him to step into the space they created. Calum braced his hands on the cool marble counter on either side of her thighs, careful of his bruised knuckles, and enjoyed the scent of her floral perfume that briefly overpowered the food he’d cooked. But Calum focused on her, and the hints of doubt seeping into Elodie in regards to her worth, and he was bitterly reminded of what Nathan had said. Calum wasn’t going to let any spiteful thing that bastard said come true in any way, so he quickly derailed that train of thought in Elodie’s mind. “You, my darling, are better than most people I’ve met. That’s a fact.”

Her cheeks pinkened more than they already were, and Elodie felt her heart flutter happily in her chest. Every time Calum complimented her, she felt the air rushing out of her lungs, incredulous that his words made her feel ten times lighter than how awfully Nathan’s words impacted her. Elodie rested her nearly empty wine glass on the counter, hand coming up to cup Calum’s uninjured jaw and feeling his warm skin under her touch as she told him, honestly and genuinely, “You’re too good to me. That’s a fact.”

“Baby,” Calum breathed, raspy and shiver inducing as he brushed his nose against hers. There it was, that sweet little term that had butterflies exploding in her belly. Calum’s gaze was on hers, never afraid to look her in the eye, as he said, “You’re too good for me. That’s a fact.”

Elodie’s heart jumped, eyes dropping to his lips, just inches away from hers. She barely gave a shake of her head. “Nope.” And then closed the gap to capture his lips with hers.

Calum welcomed the kiss wholeheartedly, a throaty hum sounding in his throat as he moved his lips with Elodie’s and briefly gripped her hips before sliding his hands lower to bury them in the back pockets of her jeans. Elodie felt him pull her closer with his new grip, her lips parting when his tongue trailed across her lower lip, deepening the kiss as the taste of wine remained present on both of them. Her heart drummed in her chest as her own hands slid under Calum’s sweatshirt, his lack of shirt underneath allowing her hands to run along his smooth, warm skin, her touch instinctively causing Calum to give her a cheeky squeeze.

There was dinner waiting for them, Elodie knew that, was excited to take a bite of what Calum had made for them, but Elodie was enjoying the feel and taste of Calum’s lips and how warm he felt against her. She couldn’t help the way she dragged her nails down the length of his back, felt an uncharacteristic smirk tilt at her lips against Calum’s when he deepened the kiss with a deep moan that Elodie swore vibrated through her. He sounded as good as he felt.

Calum leaned into her and Elodie’s heart picked up even more, pounding in her ears because this closeness wasn’t enough; she needed more, craved it, wanting nothing in between them as her lips felt electric against his. Everything else began slipping away, her focus only being on the man who was kissing her like it was the last thing he’d get to do, yet still Elodie tried against her better judgement, “The food’ll get cold.”

Her words were mumbled against Calum’s mouth, and he merely grunted as his hands slipped out of her pockets only to grip the backs of her thighs, giving Elodie no warning as he lifted her. She let out a startled gasp, both at the action and the trickle of worry of his injured hand, but Calum’s teeth grazing her lower lip easily distracted her as she locked her ankles at his lower back and wrapped her arms around his neck as Calum said gruffly, “We’ll reheat it.”

Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how, she was too lost in the way her legs were hooked so perfectly around Calum and how he kissed her so fiercely, like he was putting everything into it, but they eventually ended up in a different room. She barely registered the sound of Calum kicking a door shut, eyes closed to completely savor the taste of his lips, kissing off the wine he’d also drank as Calum sank down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Hands returning to the hem of Calum’s sweatshirt, Elodie gripped it and pulled it upwards, the material offending and distancing, their kiss breaking only for a moment as she tugged it over his head and let out a breathless giggle when Calum’s one hand reached the back of it to take it all the way off and dropped it on the floor, lips returning to hers urgently.

Her heart thundered as they kissed, his stubble scratching her deliciously as she ran her hands from his neck down his chest, feeling the smoothness of his warm skin and the brief chill of the necklace that he seemingly never left the house without. The need to feel close to him was desperate, and Elodie was quickly losing herself into Calum as she used her nimble fingers to undo the buttons of her blouse, Calum’s hands gripping her hips as she shrugged off the cotton material. Calum’s hands slid up, feeling her bare warm skin, the kiss breaking to allow them to catch their breaths as his gaze dropped.

Their chests heaved in time with their quickened hearts, foreheads and noses pressed together and lips electric as Calum’s gaze dropped to Elodie’s newly exposed skin, throat drying at the sight of her in just a bra and jeans. The quiet of the room was interrupted only by their heavy breaths, and as Elodie’s right hand placed itself on the back of his neck, fingers playing with the growing dark hair, her other dancing along the necklace resting against his tattooed collarbones, she felt the warmth of his hands spread through her body.

Calum ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of her back, the tips of his fingers grazing the band of her bra, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered, “El, are you sure?”

She felt the corners of her lips quirk up, felt the electricity thrumming her veins and the obvious desire of how badly Calum wanted to keep going as she remained straddling his lap, and Elodie decided she didn’t want to shy away from this. From Calum. He never gave her a reason to, so she wouldn’t.

Elodie brushed her lips against Calum’s kissed ones, cheeks warming when he tilted his chin forward to kiss her properly. “Only if you are.”

And then she grinded her hips down on him, a gesture neither of them had been expecting, and Calum’s grip on her tightened, uncaring of his bruised knuckles, as he cursed through gritted teeth, “Fuck.”

She was killing him, he knew, as she pulled him in for another kiss before breaking away too soon. Calum groaned at the loss, eyes opening as he felt Elodie get off of him. He looked up at her, feeling a haze of adoration as he watched her with her long hair falling over shoulders, a not-so-innocent smile playing at her kiss pinkened lips, eyes on him as her fingers worked on the button and zipper of her jeans. Calum’s throat tightened as she kicked the jeans off, only a pretty lingerie set adorning her body that Calum couldn’t wait to take off.

The pout she sent his way nearly had Calum falling to his knees, her long hair falling around her shoulders as she gestured at him with a finger. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Elodie said, her voice holding her usual sweet lilt, though Calum wasn’t deaf to the playful glimmer in her dark eyes. She continued to surprise him.

He smirked through a chuckle, pulling his lower lip into his mouth while his gaze remained on his girl, watching her watch him as he took off his sweatpants, the smirk wiping off his face when Elodie settled on her knees in the space between his legs and her gentle touch wrapped around his cock.

Calum’s hooded gaze was watching Elodie, feeling his heart in his throat as she closed her mouth around him, and he was in fucking heaven. His uninjured hand, braced behind him, tightened the bed sheets into a fist while the other easily gathered Elodie’s hair behind her head, his own lips parting at the sight of hers around him. The sensation of her hand working what she couldn’t fit in her warm mouth, nails of the other teasingly dragging along the top of his thigh as she worked him over.

“Shit.” It was all he was capable of breathing out, voice ragged and unsteady, the need to throw his head back and get lost in Elodie’s treatment of him heavy, but Calum didn’t want to take his eyes off of her. His fingers tangled in her soft hair, the blood rushing through his veins and thundering heart accompanying the fire spreading throughout his body.

The sight of Elodie on her knees before him was filthy, gorgeous, unexpected and perfect in every way. Calum could feel just how quickly she was pulling him to the edge, her mouth generous and dizzyingly pleasurable. But as pretty as she was before him, Calum knew he was going to come undone if she continued her ministrations, and he wanted to let go for the first time inside of her—not in her mouth.

“What?” Elodie pouted when Calum pulled her up, the loss of her making him grunt as his hands grasped her hips. She let out a startled sound amidst a giggle as Calum used his grip on her to turn them so she fell back onto the bed, Calum immediately sliding his body on top of hers as his lips pressed against hers urgently. He felt her melt under him, her hands running up the expanse of his back before her fingers found his short hair, keeping him close. Calum’s own hand snuck underneath her to unclasp her bra, ignoring the mild sting of his injured fingers at the action as Elodie lowered her arms briefly to slide off the straps before the offending material was gone.

He felt her breasts press against his chest, soft and supple on his warm skin as he kissed her, losing himself in her. Hastily, though not entirely sure how, Calum reached over to his bedside drawer, blindly pulling it open and rummaging around, lips still moving against Elodie’s, until his fingers finally grasped the foil package he’d been searching for.

There was an overwhelming, breathless desire to have her close to him, closer than she already was; to have her against him in all the right ways because it already felt so natural, so good, to be with her like this. The urgency of his kisses slowed, savoring the taste of her chapstick and the wine dancing on both of their tongues as he committed every bit of her to memory while tearing open the packet, ignoring the twinge in his bruised knuckles at the action. God. The last thing he thought was he’d be doing this with Elodie, finally, with a few bruises painting his skin.

She’d taken her underwear off during the moments of Calum rolling on the condom, hissing slightly at the latex against him, forehead pressed to Elodie’s as their heavy breathing became the soundtrack of their anticipation. His gaze lowered, lining himself up to where she needed him most, and in the midst of their excited breathing and hazy heads, Calum’s eyes met Elodie’s once more.

He looked at her, hovering over her as he took in the pretty flush of her cheeks, the already blissed out look in her eyes and lips pink and kissed. Calum’s heart was erratic within his chest, taking her in as he, in that moment, couldn’t help but think how lucky he was. His disbelief and overwhelm could be heard in his heavy breaths, could see Elodie’s own excitement in the rise and fall of her chest and tension of her neck, the diamond pendant of her necklace settled right between her collarbones. She was breathtaking, and Calum was so fucking lucky.

He couldn’t help himself by pressing his lips to hers once more, a slow and lasting kiss that had Elodie’s grip on the back of his neck tightening, wanting him close. Calum lined himself up to her, about to break the kiss just so he could hear her approval, only to be beaten to the punch as Elodie begged against his lips, “Please.”

His hips thrust forward, the sensation of him burying herself in her leaving both of them gasping for air, Elodie clinging to him and Calum groaning into the crook of her neck, feeling the subtle sting of his bruise, though it barely registered. Elodie wrapped her legs around his hips, and Calum’s hand gripped her thigh, uncaring of the strain on his fingers. Nothing mattered except for Elodie. As if there was anything else on his mind.

He started off slow, pulling out before burying himself to the hilt once more, feeling and hearing Elodie’s breath hitch at the sensation of him filling her up, his free arm next to her to keep himself above her. It was a symphony of his grunts and her breathless moans and skin slapping against skin and utterly losing themselves in one another. His motions were fluid and she received him completely, and Calum couldn’t keep himself from marking up her neck as he felt her nails digging into his back.

He could feel himself quickly reaching his high, but Calum fought himself, refusing to come undone until Elodie did first, no matter how difficult it felt after her mouth had worked him over. Praises fell past his lips, effortless in her worship, everything about her continuing to draw him closer and closer to the edge.

And when they lay in bed after the fact, utterly spent as they tried to catch their breaths with only one of his bedsheets covering them, there was a mutual, silent understanding between them that this was. . . Perfect. That laying in bed, warm bodies bare and pressed together under the sheet, with her head laying on his chest and his arm wrapped around her, was a flawless and blissful image they both had yearned for.

Elodie’s fingers danced with his, gaze on the way she gently turned his hand to look at the mild discoloration of his knuckles. The reminder that he was injured, no matter how insignificant Calum paints it to be, because of someone in her life still ate away at Elodie. But she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a prickle of satisfaction, of adoration, that he wasn’t afraid of standing up for her. He defended her so easily when it took her so long to do so herself, and Elodie liked to think it was her having a wake up call of her own mixed in with a bit of courage from Calum himself that allowed her to be in the position she was in today. She counted herself so lucky that she went to the tattoo parlor with Dominique that day.

“I’m alright, y’know.” Calum’s voice was a low rasp from above her, and Elodie could feel the vibration of him speaking as her head remained against his chest. The way she was caressing his knuckles probably prompted him to speak up. “Doesn’t hurt or anythin’.”

Elodie bit her lower lip, which kind of still tingled from his dizzying kisses. As their fingers gently laced together, she surmised, “You’re just saying that so I won’t feel bad.”

“Hey.” There was a soft disapproving tone in his voice, hand snaking around her to tilt her chin up. Her dark eyes met his after briefly eyeing the bruise on his cheek, and there was a subtle crease between his eyebrows as he said, “I wouldn’t lie to you. And there’s nothing for you to feel bad about. He’s an ass and if I could break his nose again, I would.”

Elodie couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her at Nathan’s expense, the sound quirking up Calum’s lips as well as Elodie looked at him. His lips were as kissed as hers, a pretty flush on his cheeks that she knew was warming her own, and there was a contentment present in her chest that she only ever felt around him. It was enough to push all thoughts of her ex out of her head, irritated with herself for even having a single thought about him. The mere mention of him was a disservice to herself and Calum and the relationship they’d come to have.

So she sat up, pressing the sheet to her chest with one hand, Calum’s arm falling from around her shoulders as he looked at her now seated figure with raised eyebrows. “Come on—” she smiled, grabbing his hand. “I wanna try the pasta.”

Calum chuckled deeply, not one to say no as he followed her off the bed. He put his sweatpants back on as Elodie pulled up her underwear, taking Calum’s hoodie as he offered it to her before following him back into the kitchen. Duke raised his head from where he was on the couch, jumping off as his paws clattered on the floor and followed them as they helped themselves to the dinner Calum had made, needing to heat it up just like he’d said after he poured Duke his food as well.

They ended up on the couch, flickering the TV on with warm plates in their laps with The Office keeping them entertained. And as they watched and ate, Elodie couldn’t help but let her gaze wander to the man sitting on the other end of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Her fork absently played with the pasta on her plate, too distracted by Calum; she felt her heart flutter in her chest, tickling, as she admired the way he laughed at the show, enough to push his cheeks up, uncaring of his bruise, and show off the crinkles by his eyes. He sat shirtless, tattoos on full display, bicep looking a bit too inviting as he held the plate with his left hand above his lap.

Just sitting here brought Elodie a sense of tranquility she’d never felt before, a warmth spreading across her skin as she took in a quiet breath. It was thrilling, how happy he made her, so easily and effortlessly. No wonder she was so willing to accept just how quickly she’d fallen in love with him.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @gorgeouslygrace @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes @lukeinblue​ 

[alexandermanes]

ghost whisperer - rnm fic

hey so here’s the ghost malex au/human au fic  wrote but didn’t post on halloween week bc i was unmotivated

hope you like it :)

ao3

Chapter One - Ghosts

“First, you need a location”, declared the man, Tom, also known as MythCatcher on Youtube

Michael nodded then furiously scribbled down in his scrawny handwriting “Location”

“Then, you need to do research- Research is a very important part of paranormal investigation. You need to fact-check myths, learn about history of the place you’re looking for poltergeists”, he informs Michael via the small screen of his phone, “Learn about the deceased’s, their name, their story”

He stops the video to write “Research” on the notebook, underneath “Location”, obviously.

“After that: planning. What kind of gear are you planning on taking? Camera? Infrared night vision goggles? An Ouija board to facilitate communication? What kind of questions will you ask, with or without the board? What time are you going? What time are you going to visiting the haunting site? What are the alleged time of the apparition’s sighting?”

Those are too many points, Michael observes and writes “Planning” as a third bullet point in his “How to ghost hunt” list. Tom (MythCatcher) doesn’t appreciate the term “ghost hunter”, he thinks it’s demeaning since people don’t take ghosts seriously. The paranormal, though, that they fear and believe in. Idiot, he muttered as he pressed play on the video again. He does not care about Tom’s sensitivities.

Michael isn’t delusional, he knows most paranormal investigators are as genuine as his will to admit when Max’s right, which is non-existent. But, amongst the sea of “myth catchers”, Tom is the one that makes the most sensible points, despite the fact that he earns money by making Youtube videos in his 40s and advertises for “high-end ghost hunting gear”. Needless to say, he takes Tom’s points with a grain of salt.

         “Once you have a list of equipment to take with you and a scripted way to approach the site, the hows and when, then you’re ready for the next step: Communication”, Tom states, “Now, this is a crucial step. To communicate with the paranormal, you must be respectful”

Michael isn’t sure what constitutes as being respectful amongst investigators of the paranormal but invading their space, often the site where they died in, and demanding their participation in whatever nonsensical conversation they have planned doesn’t seem like very cordial behavior.

“No mocking, no inviting dangerous entities to that space, address them by name and be polite. Also you must be protected, always be straightforward about the kind of entity you allow to be in your vicinity. If there’s any funny business going on, send it away immediately. Bring your salt with you. ParanormalActivityStore has a ten percent discount if you use my code for a personalized-“, he is interrupted by Michael closing the app

“That’s enough dead brain cells for a single afternoon”, he reminds himself., after that he scribbles “Communication” as a final bullet point in his list.

Michael Sanders isn’t sure when his obsession with ghosts started, although he doesn’t appreciate his interest and curiosity being labeled and an obsession, thank you very much, despite what everyone else has voiced in the past; that’s why he keeps it to himself these days. No, in fact, he actually knows when this journey began, he can pinpoint it.

See, Michael is a man of rational thinking and little faith, a man of science and not religion which is why he believes in ghosts. Every night for a year he sees his mom, not in dreams, and with no previous history of mental illness, not in delusions. Every night religiously for a year his mom has visited him. When it started he believed himself to be dreaming but that wasn’t the case. She never says much, kneels by his bedside, cradles his face with one hand, caresses his cheek and smiles at him, teary-eyed and whispers. “Manes Residence”, those words haunt him but with a foreign intent. Though it’s a balm to his soul seeing his mother smile at him even when her eyes are so woeful, even proffering such ominous words.

It is a mystery to him as to why, ten years after her death, a brain aneurysm that took her unexpectedly from his arms, she began to visit him during the night and why she whispers those words. He has exhausted every method he’s ever heard of: Ouija boards, calling out to her, lucid dreaming, leaving candles and objects for her to communicate through, he even considered hiring a psychic but that somehow seemed too extreme. He tried praying and still prays at any given time during the day but that doesn’t seem to have been successful. At first he assumed he wasn’t doing it correctly, but then again, at the ripe age of eleven years old, in one of the foster homes he inhabited lived a family of religious fanatics, so he doubts he’s doing prayers incorrectly. Especially when hesitating or stuttering during prayers resulted in punishment. This situation is a big enigma to him and it pesters him on a daily basis. He needs answers. If this was any ordinary mystery he wouldn’t have bothered this much but he has bone-deep certainty that this, whatever it is, is very important.  So keeps trying to contact his mom. He tries unrelentingly.

-

Until one day. He makes his way to the Crashdown, Isobel and Max by his side. After a long day of school (he was thankful it was his senior year), they all decided they needed a well-deserved milkshake with a side portion of french-fries. As they entered the diner and the small bell rang overhead, they noticed an unusual amount of patrons for a Thursday afternoon. Oh, well, he thought. They sauntered towards the counter and waited in line, a single person in front of them, a truly serendipitous event. In the indistinct chatter he picks up two words: Manes Residence.

“Sorry?”, he says loudly, turning towards the person who emitted them

Rosa Ortecho asses him with an unimpressed, and frankly disgusted, expression and continues talking to Liz, disregarding him as if he were a vexing fly.

“So anyways. Lydia told me that now the house is haunted. Sargent Psycho took off with hs ten kids or whatever to nowhere land during the nightly hours. Not a soul saw them ever again”, she points out, “dude murdered his wife after she tried to leave him, buried her than grabbed his five sons and fucked off”

“It’s just a rumor, Rosa!”, Liz replied, laughing purely out of amusement and disbelief

“So this Manes House”, Michael chimed in, “where is it?”

“Michael, stop barging in in people’s conversation”, Max reprehended him, an honest to God blush creeping in

“I’m sorry”, Michael looked from Liz to Rosa, “He isn’t usually this rude”

Michael gave him an eye-roll that screamed Fuck off, Max. Rosa just mimicked him while Liz smiled, a bright and toothy smile.

“It used to be Master-Sargent’s Jesse Manes residence, he lived there with his wife and four sons. Then one day they disappeared off of the map and the house was put up for sale. No one ever saw them since, I think, the fourth of July fair last year”, she informed him, “The house was never sold, probably because of rumors that it is haunted. I can give you the address, me and Rosa used to be best friends with one of his kids, Alex”

“Yeah, right up until the moment the left and just like poof, never called or texted”, Rosa supplied

“He probably just didn’t find the time or-“, Liz tried to explain

“For a year, Liz?”, she replied with a very irritated tone, “Either he is ignoring us, completely forgot us or is dead”

Liz gave her a good-natured eye-roll and simply told her she was being dramatic.

“Can you give me an address?”, Michael asked suddenly feeling anxious

Liz acquiesced then ripped a sheet of paper from her notepad and wrote the address.

“You’re one weird little dude”, Rosa told him, though Michael completely disregarded her

He thanked Liz and almost forgot about the shake and fries, the original reason for his appearance at the Crashdown. As they waited, Max and Isobel engaged in conversation but Michael was far too distracted to hear any of their words, instead, his mind raced, making plans about when to visit the residence. Something akin to energy traveled through his veins, similar to electricity, his heart sped-up, he felt restless and suddenly very aware of his surroundings. The movement of brown paper bags being set on the counter snapped him out of his gaze. He immediately took one, knowing they order essentially the same dish, and strode to the door.

“Michael!”, Isobel called out, drawing heads to her, “where are you going?”

“Sorry. Forgot I had something to do at- um, the junkyard. Talk later”, he immediately turned his back on his friends and exited the diner.

He scrambled for his keys inside his pocket, growing more frustrated by the second, until the skin-warm metal found his finger tips and at last, picked up his keys. He unlocked his baby blue beat-up truck and tossed his food on the passenger seat, subsequently starting the engine. He felt possessed, moving by this ominous force, an urgent feeling, but regardless of his feelings amongst other things, he was hell-bent on finding the Manes residence at that very instant.    

[bscully]

I see a lot of people praise caska for being an amazing female character but I kinda feel like she’s written like a bad joke about women (looses battle because period, too emotional, told her role is to comfort guts, etc...) she doesn’t get much time to really shine as a fighter either bc she’s constantly being saved of course I love her and will always defend her but do u think she’s actually written well as a girl? I feel like I’d be lying if I praised her for it

Hello and thanks for the ask!

No offense but I mean…

Let’s put it into perspective. There is a reason why Casca during the Golden Age was written the way she was, and I don’t think it’s necessarily bad writing. Some (questionable) views about women were expressed that way, but I’d like to think that’s more because of the time the Golden Age was written in, rather than because of malicious intent.

During the Black Swordsman Arc we were shown how Guts handled those who were weak: He absolutely detested them.

During the Golden Age we were shown how he dealt with other’s weakness (Casca’s) and also *why* he hated the weak during his Black Swordsman Arc days: During the Eclipse, the Hawks all died because they were weak, and Casca was violated and lost her mind because she could not defend herself either. (The irony of this is that both of these things all happened because of his best efforts to save Griffith, boyo was too distracted)

Black Swordsman Arc

Guts generally was very contempt towards those he considered weak, and also especially towards other men, e.g. Vargas whom he just let die. Another time someone weaker than him died, it was the priests’ daughter, who was slaughtered by evil spirits. He also felt remorse killing her possessed body, even then and also vomits later on (he always vomits when he hurts a child or girl, see Adonis, see killing the fire children in the lost children chapters). In the page below, bottom panel, you can see white sprinkles which I believe are tears.

He then goes on to say how he cannot bother to crush ants below his feet when he walks. That was his way of dealing with the sadness, getting someone who is weaker than him killed because of him. His love-hate relationship to weaker people was also shown to us by his interactions with Theresia: in some way, he did save her here from falling off the ruins. But she had to hold onto a sharp blade so she wouldn’t fall.

Guts was hurting someone who he would love to protect, and he also hated himself for it. He made Theresia go down the very same path like he did because revenge is the only way to give her something to hold onto after losing everything.

It reminded of his own suffering, losing the Hawks and Casca. At least, this is the conclusion I made when I read the Golden Age and then look back to the Black Swordsman arc.

Golden Age

When Casca was later introduced during the Golden age, IMO Kentaro Miura wanted to show us how Guts usually treated people. As it turns out, Guts does want to protect and make sure people are safe. He also listens to them trying his best to meet their expectations. In other words, he was not always an asshole. In regards to other people’s weaknesses, his treatment of Casca was still rough in the beginning, but at the very least imo, well-intentioned.

Now you can critique Miura for his display of Casca’s womanhood. I am personally not particularly bothered by it, especially if this situation is a set up for romance in the first place. Of course the protagonist is going to take note of another character’s feminity if the author plans to hook them up. Guts was confronted with Casca’s female problems (periods) and what we were shown is that Guts, while he may have had his preconceptions about women too, still is understanding of their struggles AND their weakness.

Like… he first gets upset at Casca, but then acknowledges that she doesn’t have it easy, dealing with her own problems and emotions at times (Casca is a VERY emotional personality, too, but usually she has more self-control than this).

If anything, this bit right here displays Guts’ willingness to change his mind, his capacity to understand others and also help them in the process. Empathy, compassion, y’know? Something he lacked during the Black Swordsman Arc (this here happens right before Vargas is being beheaded):

That being said, I don’t think Miura actually thought that women being emotional is a negative thing when he wrote this, but he may have been affected by negative (cultural?) bias.

In the face of that weakness, Guts tries to help Casca out where he can and be supportive of her, e.g. by protecting her from Adon and his men - the 100 Man slayer scene was basically Guts protecting Casca’s womanhood from thirsty mercenaries, while she COULD NOT defend herself as effective because of her state (and he does that DESPITE of Casca throwing a knife at him earlier). This theme also repeats during the Eclipse, however, here he could do nothing but watch in his own helplessness.

Also let it be said that Miura’s potrayal of Casca’s period isn’t too far off, because periods CAN knock you the fuck out like that. My last one was absolutely devastating and I wouldn’t have survived without taking pain meds. So can periods affect your capacity to fight? Yes, they definitely can. You also gotta consider that Miura is male, and males *usually* do not know the effects of periods in detail unless they confronted themselves with it; also consider the Golden Age was written in the 90s, so that topic wasn’t prevalent for men at all.

Contrast & Comparison as writing tool

Miura also set up a nice contrast by adding in a particularly sexist character: of course I’m talking about Adon.

Adon calls Guts a fool for protecting someone at the cost of his own well-being, and the way he talks it’s like saving multiple women and exploit them is normal and acceptable.

But: Guts is literally taking multiple arrow shots for Casca and does not ask for anything in return. (It’s also interesting to note that through Adon’s mockery Casca realizes what Guts is doing for her) Now, you could argue that Guts is still a sexist asshole, however, at least in comparison to Adon, Guts still appears like the good guy  You can critique the ideas about women, how their prejudices and problems they struggle with are depicted, yes, and imo it is valid critique, too. But creating comparisons by showing how differently the characters act or think in the same scene is still an effective way of story-telling.

What Miura later did with other female characters, like Farnese or Schierke, was to “mature up” his writing. His tools however, stayed the same.

More examples comes to mind:

Guts leaving the Hawks

When Guts leaves the hawks, Griffith, Guts, Casca and Judeau all hold monologues, depicting how differently they think. While Casca and Rickert view  the Hawks as family, Judeau still considers them a mercenary band, and Griffith treats his subordinate Guts like a possession and has no inhibition to kill him if it meant he would either not leave or not join another faction and potentially become his enemy. I wrote about this in more detail here on my website

Conviction Arc Farnese

The contrasting happens again when Miura makes Guts meet Farnese for the first time. He was captured by the Holy Iron Chain Knights.

Farnese treated Guts pretty badly: she whipped him out in a desperate attempt to assure dominance, then threw him outside into the cold so he would eventually freeze to death.

When Guts takes HER hostage, they switch roles. Surely, he is being rough to her, but at the same time, is saving her multiple times, e.g. from falling to death or evil spirits.

This is the same writing tool used, just filled with different ideas. Miura’s writing itself hasn’t changed.

Casca is not powerless

Also Casca indeed is capable of defending herself. She is NOT always being saved. Even when being pursued after escaping from the 100 Man Slayer Scene, she gave the pursuing mercenaries a hard time, e.g. ramming a branch into one of the merc’s eyes. In that scene, it didn’t look like Casca was losing, she just got herself out of a dangerous situation and leaps to grab her sword! Only THEN we see how a volley of arrows interrupts the fight.  Does this look like a Casca to you that is about to lose? It doesn’t to me. She could have easily defeated the other two pursuers all by herself.

Casca, NOT GUTS, later defeated Adon all by herself and she was at a disadvantage too (think the poison dart).

Even during the Eclipse she dealt the final blow to take down the apostle that killed Judeau. She is not being depicted as powerless at all. She always seems at a disadvantage, struggling against all odds, and *still* is victorious. Guts acknowledges the strength it takes for her to do what she does, and that’s why Guts is helping her as much as he can.

Now you could STILL say “omg but that’s still sexist”, but eh. There is nothing wrong with acknowledging someone else’s struggle, celebrating them for pulling through despite of all the obstacles, and also willing to help out, but I’ll keep that politics stuff for another post. Stuff like this can go wrong yes, but in either case and as far as I am concerned, Guts is not trying to be patronizing or strip her off her independence in any way.

However, Casca’s strength does have limits and her full strength was not shown to us either, but I’d like to think that’s mostly because she is more a side-character and didn’t have much chance to shine during the Golden Age. I really really hope that will change with future chapters.

TL;DR Just because an author expresses outdated ideas or ideas you disagree with, does not mean it’s bad writing.

[fullmetalscullyy]

Don't feel obligated to write this but if you're free could you write a royai oneshot where Grumman abolishes the anti fraternization laws so roy is finally able to take riza on a romantic date?

ahhhhh this prompt gave me life!!! thank you so much uwu

i genuinely love canon dates like this bc even though it will never happen who cares that’s what fic is all about and it means i can be as self indulgent as i want 👀

The daythe news broke ended like every other day. The team said their farewells atfive o’clock on the dot. It was Friday night, after all, and Roy wouldn’t holdthem back longer than was necessary. It had been a long week working theirlatest case, but it had been closed today and there was talk under the tablethat it might be enough to push him to General.

Said talkcame from Fuhrer Grumman himself, so Roy was inclined to believe it. The mancould be conniving and wily, but when it came to Roy’s career and ascension tothe top, Grumman was forward and blunt.

“You didsecure the position for me, after all,” he would state cheerily, twisting hismoustache. But when his expression relaxed, his eyes opening as his smilefaded, Roy always saw the same cunning glint within them.

Call it afavour for a favour.

One otherfavour, in return for taking care of his granddaughter – not that she needed“taken care of” at all, but he was an old man from a different time so theyboth played along – was abolishing a certain set of laws that prevented themfrom making the old man’s dream come to fruition.

Thefraternization laws were in place simply to protect officers from each other.They weren’t really enforced, however if any issues arose then they were for afew months as the issue was dealt with – the worst-case scenario ending in atransfer – before dying out to lie in wait in the background once more.

Roy andRiza never risked it because in order to reach the top they needed to besqueaky clean. Not the mention the fact that if the homunculi knew about themthen all hell would break loose.

Just likeit did when the late Fuhrer Bradley took Hawkeye hostage.

“Any plansfor this evening General?” Hawkeye asked casually as she stood patiently beforehis desk, waiting on him to finish signing off the report of their latest case.

It hadbeen exactly a month to the day since the fraternisation laws had beenrepealed.

“Just one,if you would be willing,” he ventured, handing over the manila folder, but notrelinquishing his control. Hawkeye’s eyes flashed up to his, raising an eyebrowat his hesitation to let go.

“Oh?”

“Whatwould you say to dinner?”

Silencefell as Riza regarded him. He watched as she calculated his request, openingher mouth to refuse, but then paused, lips slightly apart after an intake ofbreath as she remembered what had happened recently.

“So soon?”

“Wedecided we would once the case was finished. Now it is,” Roy smiled, letting goof the folder. It flopped towards his desk, Riza remaining still as shecontinued to weight his request. Finally, she schooled her expression, tuckedthe folder under her arm, and a small smile appeared on her face.

“Pick meup at seven, sir.”

She turnedon her heel and left the room to head towards the Fuhrer’s office to hand in hisreport.

“It’s adate,” he called to her back, a goofy grin on his face.

Hecouldn’t help himself.

*          *          *

AlthoughRoy just knew Grumman had done thisfor their benefit – and it made him uncomfortable to say so – there were many happy people around headquarters theday the Fuhrer had announced the Big News. Apparently that law had restrictedmore than just them.

“It isn’tcompletely abolished,” Grumman stated quietly to Roy, afraid his secretarywould overhear in the other room while they played their weekly chess match.“There are clauses still in place to protect our officers, however it is nowpermitted in the workplace.” Grumman took Roy’s knight as he was distracted.“With a new Fuhrer comes a new age. Times are changing and have been for manyyears. It’s about time the military caught up with them.”

Royadjusted the cuff link on his right wrist, angling the flowers in the same handso they wouldn’t bump against the door of the lift and crush the petals. It dinged above him, signalling his arrivalon Riza’s floor.

Armed onlywith his ecstatic grin and bunch of flowers – pink and white carnations, whichwere her favourites – Roy knocked on her apartment door and waited.

It’s finally happening.

“Goodevening, Roy,” she greeted. There was a sharp intake of breath as he presentedhis gift with a flourish. “Oh, they are beautiful.”Riza motioned for him to enter, closing the door before wandering into herkitchen area to retrieve a vase and fill it with water. “You remembered,” shestated softly, a smile on her face that made Roy’s grin even wider.

“Of course,I did,” he replied, popping his hip and leaning it against the kitchen counternext to her sink. “You always brought them back from the Saturday market.”

“They weremy mother’s favourites –” she began, cut off by Roy before she could finish.

“And theyalways reminded you of her,” he grinned. The quiet laugh that filled the roomwas music to his ears.

“Yes. Byextension, they became my favourites too.”

Theylapsed into a comfortable silence as Roy watched her busy herself withpreparing her flowers. It was incredible to even witness a moment like this;never mind the actual date he had planned for the evening. If Roy could forgothe date, and just stay in her apartment all night while they did such normal,domestic, things, he would.

That wasall he had ever wanted, just to love Riza Hawkeye openly and freely withoutanyone trying to make his life miserable for it.

“So, whereare you taking us tonight?” Riza smiled, hooking her arm in his as theyapproached the lift.

“Somewherespecial,” he replied mysteriously, chuckling as Riza rolled her eyes, butdidn’t press him any further.

She lookedstunning in her midnight blue dress. It rose up her throat, covering hershoulders and neck, and stopped just above the knee, the skirt swishing as shewalked. Her short hair rustled in the summer breeze, her fringe blowing overher nose. Flicking her head to the side to remove it, she continued walking,oblivious to Roy staring at her with a lopsided grin. Well, oblivious was thewrong answer, that woman saw everything.More like ignored him.

“Can Ihelp you?” she asked dryly, not looking away from the path ahead of them. Therewas amusement in her tone, belaying any fears that he had offended her.

“Justadmiring a lovely lady.”

“Would youlike a picture instead,” she asked sweetly, finally turning her face to look athis.

Roychuckled, giving the hand atop his arm a squeeze. “That won’t be necessary. I’mjust still in awe that I can take you out on a date now. Well,” he added with asmirk. “A proper date.” He waggledhis eyebrows suggestively.

Rizablushed and Roy laughed at her reaction. The playful swat on his arm didn’tstop it either.

Theirevening stroll was cut short as they arrived in front of a very fancy lookingrestaurant on the main street in Central. Said street was packed full ofhigh-end shops, bars, cafes, and restaurants that cost more to shop and eat inthan most people would pay for their weekly shop.

But onlythe best for Riza.

Besides,they had a lot of time to make up for.

“This is…”Riza gazed up at the sign above the door in disbelief. “Very fancy,” shefinished lamely. Roy repeated his earlier sentiment about giving her the best,which resulted in a pointed look, before glancing worriedly up at the sign.

“Riza,relax,” he soothed, gripping her hand tightly and guiding her inside.

Highvaulted ceilings greeted them alongside the melodic sound of a harp beingplayed in the corner farthest from the entrance. A woman in a beautiful, floorlength golden dress plucked at the strings, soothing the patrons with her musicwhile they ate. Roy also noted there were three chandeliers hanging from above,the crystals catching the soft candlelight, the reflection of it barely visibleto the naked eye from this distance. Roy chuckled quietly at his own joke,thinking Riza could probably pick out the reflections easily.

A waitershowed them to their table, situated towards the back where it was quieter andmore private. Roy has specifically requested this when he called ahead, andwhen the manager found out one of Amestris’ top Generals was paying a visit tohis restaurant, the staff had practically fallen over their own feet toaccommodate him. Roy never liked using his rank like that, it felt dirty.Besides, he had more than enough money to burn on things like this, he didn’tneed free handouts from people trying to impress him.

And everypenny was worth it when he got to take Riza Hawkeye out on a date.

“Thisplace is incredible,” Riza whispered in awe once the waiter left them toretrieve a bottle of the house wine. Roy nodded in agreement, picking up themenu the waiter had left for them.

It was sofancy it didn’t even have prices next to each dish.

Roy wavedoff Riza’s concern, stating tonight was his treat.

“You canget the next one,” he offered.

Rizafrowned. “It will be nowhere near as fancy as this,” she griped, closing her menuwith a forceful snap.

“Itdoesn’t need to be,” Roy stated calmly, placing his menu down on the midnightblack tablecloth. “As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what we do.”

Rizascoffed, but there was no real anger behind it. Still, Roy felt the need totell her how he really felt. They had spent decades fighting it, hiding theirtrue feelings from each other, and Roy had promised himself that he wouldn’tany longer.

“Truly.Riza,” he stated, taking her hand in his. “I could spend a night in CentralLibrary with you, cataloguing and moving books and it would still bewonderful.” She blushed and Roy grinned. “Every day at work is a treat becauseI have you by my side.”

“Eventhough I irritate you by pushing you to complete your work on time?” she asked,amusement in her eyes.

Royflashed her a grin. “That’s the best part.”

They splitapart once the waiter returned and took their order, but their eyes neverstrayed too far from the other as they chatted and ate.

As thenight wound down Riza boldly slipped from her own chair to the one next toRoy’s. He didn’t comment, just eagerly accepted it as she begun to lean in andspeak lowly, unknowingly creating a more intimate atmosphere.

Slightlyinebriated by the wine and drunk on his love for the woman sitting so close tohim, Roy smiled, inching his head closer to hers. Riza’s breath caught and she madeno indication she was going to pull away. She simply waited for him to takecharge, like so many other aspects of their lives, and Roy thought – with dismay– that was not the way he wanted things to be.

Instead ofkissing her, he paused, hovering just above her lips, eyeing them hungrily.

“Roy?” shebreathed. The desire was clear in her strained tone.

“Yes?” heanswered innocently.

Silencehung between them. It was a delicious ache to be so close to her and not kissher like the need burning inside him demanded, but Roy held out. He had waitedthis long. He could wait a little longer.

Plus, hewasn’t in charge here. They both were.

Riza justneeded a gentle push and he would be more than willing to give it to her.

“Wh – What–?”

It trulywas adorable to hear her stutter this way, incapable of forming the sentencesshe wanted to. Roy smirked, moving his head so his nose brushed against hers,confirming that he definitely had anaffect on her when her breath hitched.

“Do youknow how long I’ve waited for a moment like this?” he murmured, his breathcaressing her deep, red lips. They parted in anticipation and Roy felt herbreath flit across his face. It was intoxicating. “For a night like this?”

His gazecaught hers, trapping Riza in place with his eyes. She swallowed, lips partingonce more, yet she made no move further.

Roy got adevilish idea.

He dippedhis head, moving towards her neck. Her dress had a high collar to hide her scarfrom the promised day, but the heat of his breath and his touch still seepedthrough the fabric. His lips trailed around her jaw to her ear, nuzzling it.Riza gasped and he smirked as he pressed his lips to her throat, kissing thevein pulsing in it gently.

“Do youknow how long I’ve waited for you?” he whispered.

That wasapparently enough for Riza. She grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket,their eyes meeting for the briefest second. Desire met desire, although his twinkledwith a hint of amusement. Riza tugged him closer, pressing her lips hardagainst his, whimpering as his tongue stroked her bottom lip.

“Do youwant to move this back to my place?” she asked, breathlessly, pulling awayabruptly.

Roygrinned.

“I’d followyou into hell, Riza. Lead the way.”

[anonryder23]

Human

Heyyy, just wanna post this here, but you can also find it on ao3 (my user is mjoInir there), bc Frank deserves a little domestic bliss tbh. No warning for this chapter tbh.

Chapter One. Black Coffee

Cassandra Nash walked slowly behind the counter at the diner in Upper West Side Manhattan, right on the border of where Hell's Kitchen would begin. She looked clearly exhausted, her concealer barely doing any help to mask the bags under her eyes, with her dark blonde hair in a messy bun, several strands falling into her face.

She worked as a waitress to help cover the fees at Columbia, but she was in her last two years of the Robotics PhD program (she was young for a student who was almost done with her PhD, only being twenty-eight, and would be three years younger then when the average PhD student would be done). She had a Masters in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering, and she knew as soon as she was done, she was potentially looking at working for Tony Stark — she clearly had the smarts and the ambition. It was really only a matter of time. To add to it, her mother was a retired S.H.I.E.L.D agent (living comfortably in Orlando), and perhaps Cassandra had a bit of a pull in that area too.

Ace's Diner was quiet, especially during that time of night, but the diner had certainly grown on her, as she had been working there since she was twenty-four (which might be a reason she was still there, patiently waiting to be done with school to leave). Cassandra was alone, other then the one busboy, and the chef, and no one would come to relieve her until the morning shift began. She was relatively used to this — working nights to pay for her books and off-campus apartment. She also tutored younger students and helped manage the on campus library in her off time (which also helped her focus on her projects/homework).

The bell over the door rang, catching Cassandra's attention, her eyes flickering from her Robotics textbook to the patron who had walked in. He was tall, with a dark blue sweatshirt zipped all the way up, along with the hood, but she could see the baseball cap on underneath it. She found him slightly suspicious, but shrugged it off. Her mother had trained her from an early age, briefly wanting her daughter to follow in her footsteps, plus self-defense would never be a bad thing (especially in New York City).

Cassandra walked slowly towards the man who had entered, who took a booth in the back. She barely got a word out when he told her that all he was interested in was black coffee. And a lot of it. She complied, bringing back the coffee pot that had freshly brewed coffee as its contents. She poured it slowly, eyes flickering over him, trying to catch any of his features that it seemed he was hiding under the cap.

She returned to her textbook, pouring herself a cup of coffee. There was no was she was going to last the night without it. She was leaning over the counter, her back to the chef's window, and facing the entrance — the mysterious patron was down to her right, and she could see him watching her briefly through the corner of her eye. She paid him no-nevermind, reading through the chapter she was pretty sure she knew by heart at this point. But she has never earned anything less then a B+ during her time at Columbia, and she intended to keep it that way — always aiming for top marks.

The man cleared his throat and her honey colored eyes flickered over to him. He had his coffee cup on the edge of his table, and she can only guess that it was empty. She sauntered back over to him, and that was when she caught sight of the bruising around his left eye socket. Cassandra was only briefly caught off guard, and instead of reacting to it, she only offered a small smile.

She placed the coffee pot down onto the table after pouring him a cup, not even saying a word as she left it at his table. He smirked before she walked back to the counter, turning the page, taking a sip of her coffee (after adding both cream and sugar). She did not really notice what the man was doing, or that he is simply staring out the window, lost in his own head. Nor did she notice that the busboy had fallen asleep in the kitchen, while the chef watched Netflix on his laptop. Weeknights were usually always this dead, weekend nights were where it really depended; sometimes there was a bunch of drunk/hungover civilians coming in for late-night snacks and coffee, or they were as dead as weeknights. Either way, Cassandra went with the flow — even though she did prefer the nights she could study and get paid for it.

A cop car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, both officers needing a caffeine boost. Cassandra smiled as they entered, not even noticing as the mysterious man kept his head down, but with all his focus on the two officers. Both were general regulars during the night, but Cassandra barely remembered their names.

They were both female officers, which had Cassandra's respect the first time she met them. Ortiz was the older of the two, having two children and a husband in accounting, while Blake was newly married to a ballet dancer.

Cassandra was quick to pour them each a cup of coffee from the only remaining pot behind the counter. She did not falter, even if the authority would be intimidating to just about anyone. She supposed it was because she grew up with a mother who was in a similar boat that she reacted easily to the women, trading boring small talk to pass the time.

Ortiz and Blake were discussing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, which had Cassandra's interest. Vigilante types had always fascinated her; she practically begged her mother to tell her anything and everything she knew about the Avengers. Opinions differ widely when it came to the issue of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen — you either thought he was a vigilante, borderline hero, or you thought he was a criminal. And while the thought of having someone currently roaming the streets, protecting civilians, puts Cassandra's mind at ease, even a little. Not many care too much about the "little guys" or your everyday New Yorker. She, however, does not disclose her opinion to either of the officers, walking the line between both opinions, a tactic she had learned from her mother.

        They paid and left, each only having a cup, and she took both mugs back to the kitchen, looking slightly annoyed at D.J., the sleeping busboy. When she returned to the counter, she noticed that the man left, the coffee pot completely empty (she did not see him pour the remaining contents into a thermos), but there was a twenty on the counter beside his cup. Coffee was not nearly that expensive, so she had gotten a decent sized tip.

        Cassandra returned the coffee pot to behind the counter, discarding the used cup into the sink, before returning to her textbook. Her cellphone buzzed in her apron, and she placed it on the counter, seeing a text message from her friend Eliza.

        Study session tomorrow? it read. Eliza was on the path to a Chemical Engineering PhD, and even though the women would not be studying the same material, it was still nice to have company.

        Bring pizza? Cassandra sent back.

        Her phone buzzed moments later, Of course!

        Cassandra smiled, beginning to filter through her social media. Just another brief distraction from the slow night, and there was nothing of particular interest.

       By the time Vera came to relieve Cassandra, along with Nathan, she was just about to pass out. Her trip home was relatively short, a quick subway ride and a few blocks to walk. Her apartment was tiny, her dining room and living room smashed together, the couch barely fitting into the space (she did not even own a dining table for this reason, instead eating at her coffee table). Her kitchen was small, but it was really all she needed, as she did not cook often. The bathroom was tiny, but it had the necessities, and that was really all Cassandra required. Her bedroom barely fit her full sized bed (it's smushed into the back, stretching to be touching both walls) and her dresser. It had a tiny closet however, which was nice enough for her.

       Cassandra set the alarm on her phone for class and climbed into her bed, falling asleep moments after closing her eyes.

[spookbusters]

I Feel It Coming (Pt. 1)

Summary: It was supposed to be a fun night of drinking and dancing. What will happen when the co-owner of the club takes an interest in you?

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Reader (Nightclub!AU) // Word Count: 1.5K (I HAD TO END THIS PART EARLY BC IT WAS GETTING SO LONG) // Warnings: I am an idiot who can’t write so Hux isn’t even mentioned until the end, oops :((

This turned into a nightclub!au so I am so freaking sorry Anon :’( There WILL be more Hux in the next one, obviously. This is honestly a prologue more than anything substantial. I really hope you guys like this though, I’m so sorry it took me so long! Enjoy!

You couldn’t believe your best friend had managed to drag you out of bed to go out tonight.

“Y/N,” she had called, bursting into your room, “C’mon, wake up! We’re going out.” In that moment, you heavily regretted giving her the key to your apartment. She ruined a perfectly good nap. Rolling over in your bed, you groaned sleepily. She giggled softly, immediately walking into your bathroom and turning the shower on for you. “Shower’s on! I’m getting an outfit for you.”

You sat up, rubbing the hazy exhaustion from your eyes. “Nina, why are we going out,” you mumbled. Peeking her head from the closet she’d moved on to, you could see the excitement on her face, “They’re opening a new club downtown and I got us VIP entry!” You lighten up a little at the mention of a new club. If there was an outing you ever enjoyed, dancing with Nina was at the top of the list.

“What’s it called,” you inquire, trying not to let your enthusiasm show. As soon as she knew you were eager to do anything, Nina tended to take things a little out of hand.

“Starkiller,” she answers, and you can hear the entertained smirk plastered on her face. Damn, she knew you too well. “It’s supposed to be a newer, darker kind of club scene. You know; less pop, more goth?” You stand up and stretch, your brows raised, “Hmm… edgy.” You hadn’t really delved too deep into your black clothes in quite a while.

Pulling an underwear set and a towel from your dresser, you step into the shower. “So, how did you manage to get us VIP entry in to this place,” you questioned, lathering your hair with shampoo. You were genuinely curious. Your city was quite well known for it’s night-life, and the opening of a new club or bar was always an event packed with local celebrities.

As much as you loved her, she was not one of them.

“Remember that guy I dated in junior year of high school,” she begins, “The one who’d put love notes in my locker every Friday?” You made a sound of confirmation as you rinsed the conditioner from your hair. “We reconnected online and I found out he’ll be a bartender there! He was hoping we could get back in touch,” she enthused, “So he got my name and a plus one on the list for opening night!”

You emerged from the shower, slipping into your undergarments and towel-drying your still dripping hair. Lying across your bed was an ensemble you almost couldn’t believe came out of your closet. “Holy, hell,” you murmured, picking the long sleeve up, “ Did you tap into my Halloween stuff?” The material between your fingers was a turtleneck crushed velvet and deep red.

“That one came from a devil costume I found,” she confirmed, “And I found a pair of fishnets in there too.” You immediately pulled the shirt over your head and admired the way it floated just below your navel. Staring at the reflection in your mirror, you become increasingly anxious to get the rest of your ensemble on. Starting with those fishnets. The diamond pattern ended at the bend of your waist, allowing it to be seen in the gap between your top and whatever bottoms you’d don.

Nina was having the time of her life dressing you, and by the time you’d pulled the black skirt on, she was ready to reveal the pièce de résistance.

“Okay,” she grinned, “You gotta close your eyes for these.” You did so, but quirked a brow nonetheless. “I picked these up from a thrift store when I saw they were your size, and got them fixed up.” Her explanation stoked your curiosity and when she finally told you to open your eyes, you were floored. In her hands were a new-looking pair of leather boots. The heel was moderate in height and the lug sole was an eye-catcher.

“No way,” you squealed, leaping to hug your best friend, “You’re the best!” She stated remembering how much you wanted a set and when she saw this particular pair, she knew you’d love them. “So, put them on so we can get out of here,” she giggled, “ I want to get there a little early so we have time for drinks!”

The drive over was a tad turbulent. You’d brought your makeup bag with you to work your magic in the car, but in your haste you’d left all hairstyling items on your dresser. Which meant you hair would be a tad more unruly than you’d like. Incidentally, you’d have quite a while to do your makeup. Traffic was awful. In the time it took the two of you to get into the parking lot, you’d managed not only a smoky eye, but winged liner to boot. As nice as you looked, you were quite upset about not being as early as you wanted.

As you walked up to the club, you admired it’s aesthetics on the outside. The building itself was painted black, with vivid neon purple and red lighting designating its name. “Looks nice,” you commented to your counterpart. She nodded in agreement, “I’m so excited to see what it looks like inside!”

The two of you strolled right up to the bouncers, by-passing the line of people hopeful for an entry not guaranteed to them. You felt a little bad.

“My name’s on the list. Nina Kinsley,” Nina says to the man. He’s tall, muscular, and undoubtedly intimidating. “I see you,” another man with a clipboard says, “I take it this is your guest?” You nodded, and the two of you were welcomed inside. The same color scheme of red, purple, and black played along the interior decoration and lighting of the club.

Almost as soon and you’d entered, you were being pulled toward the bar. A swift, “Let’s go find Mike,” was the only explanation you got.

On any usual opening night of a club, you’d lose Nina in the swarm of dancers, drinkers, and other patrons. This time, though, she was able to lead you through the small crowd without much incident. The bar wasn’t crawling with people either; a welcome refuge from your usual outings. The two of you found seats and it wasn’t long until a bearded bartender notices your presences. Or rather, notices Nina. Her name is on his lips in a happy introduction.

“Mike,” she calls back happily, and when he arrives in front of the two of you, he’s beaming. “You remember Y/N, right,” she questions. “Yeah,” he smiles at you, “Great to see you guys again, it’s been so long!” He offers the first of many on-the-house drinks and Nina decides cosmopolitans would be a fun way to start the night.

Several of these deliciously fruity drinks later, you were loose enough to be on the dance floor with everyone else. Your hips rolled and swung to the music blasting over the speakers. You could feel the sweat drip down your back, but you didn’t care. As far as you were concerned, this was the best club you’d been to in your life. You could dance to your hearts content without bumping into people, the drinks were amazing, and the music was definitely your style.

The song ended and you made your way back to the bar. After all the alcohol and dancing, a water was in order.

As you step up towards the bar you hear Nina’s giggly cheering. “Hell yeah, Y/N!” You laughed along with her. “I feel amazing,” you breathe. You stretch, your top riding up a little, and with that lone action you feel a single set of eyes watching you intently. It sends chills through your body and you look over your shoulder to see a man in an all-black suit.

“Who’s that,” Nina asks curiously. You take your seat next to her, your eyes never breaking contact with the ice blue ones across the dance floor, “I don’t know.” You run your tongue along your upper lip. Your mouth felt so dry. “Well, he’s hot.”

Unfortunately for you, she was right. A smirk directed at you lazed on thin lips; a gaze that could stop even the most determined in their tracks burned holes into your eyes. High cheekbones and a sculpted jawline made your heart jump. You admired the way his hair was gelled back in sheer perfection. You were in actual awe of the beauty of this man. Who obviously had taken interest in you just the same.

Calling Mike over from his station at the further end of the bar you sit up straighter than normal. “Do you know who that guy staring at me is,” you asked, keeping you voice low as to not draw much attention to the conversation. He peeks over your shoulder briefly only for his eyes to widen.

“That’s the co-owner of the place,” he chokes out, “And he’s coming over here.”

DUNDUNDUNNNNN WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT??? I DON’T EVEN KNOW JUST YET!!!! If you have any suggestions or ideas, lmk and I’ll consider them while writing part 2!

Taglist: @songforhema

[aubrey-plaza]

idk if youre still doing this but: staubrey greek gods au

hell yeah I’m still doing these!

Stacie is Aphrodite (of course she is) and Aubrey is Artemis

Aubrey is the daughter of Leto and Zeus, older twin sister to Apollo. She’s born on the floating island of Delos after her mother is banished by Zeus’ mad jealous wife Hera

Still, Zeus loves his twins something fierce and Aubrey quickly becomes his favourite, often sitting in his lap and demanding a long list of things (one of them being that he never force her into marriage)

She becomes a huntress goddess and lives in the mountains and woods. Pan has a mad crush on her so he gives her hounds for her hunting activities and when she goes to Cyclops, he makes her the most exquisite silver arrows to go with her bow

She’s hanging out in Olympus with some of the other Gods when they bring in Stacie

Stacie is the most beautiful woman any of them have ever laid their eyes on and all the guys spring up eagerly, begging to marry her before Zeus has even welcomed her

(of course he welcomes her to Olympus bc look at her)

When Zeus asks Stacie where she’s from there’s some story about how she floated to Cythera on water foam and was greeted by the Seasons

(and honestly, compared to Athena’s birth story, Aubrey isn’t even shocked that Stacie was formed by the sea and she’s starting to learn that her own (normal) birth is more the exception than the rule)

Stacie becomes the Goddess of Love and Aubrey doesn’t pay much attention to her for a while because she’s got things to do and Apollo to beat in archery

Aubrey quickly realises that Stacie isn’t as brain dead and beautiful as she’d first thought

Well, Stacie is beautiful and her only divine duty is to make love but she’s so much more than that. Women and men come from lands far away for her aid in easing their longing and she’s whip-smart because she knows that love isn’t just nice warm fluffy feelings, that it clouds your judgment and gnaws at you and just plain hurts

It’s why Stacie doesn’t do anything when Sappho starts writing her love letters and dedicating poems to her

Stacie has said over and over that she can indulge in infatuation but not love

Aubrey, in an effort to curb any feelings she might have for Stacie, decides to add more to her plate and tells her father that she wants to become the protectress of childbirth

(somewhere along the way Athena tricks her into staying a virgin goddess but Aubrey’s never really wanted a man anyway and their father already promised her that he would never force her to marry)

The problem with being the go-to gal for childbirth is that it brings her into constant contact with Stacie, because love comes in many forms, not just lustful or whorishness, but also between mother and child and Stacie has always been adamant about doing her job right and making sure everybody has love

“How’s the beautiful Goddess of Light doing today?” Stacie flirts one day and Aubrey rolls her eyes as she pretends to be unaffected

“You know that’s not what I am,” Aubrey answers

“Oh, I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Stacie says and the way she says her name shouldn’t make Aubrey feel as warm as she does. “How’s the beautiful Goddess of the Hunt and Archery, Protectress of Young Women and Childbirth and Bringer of Light doing today?”

“I’m doing fine. And you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Stacie flirts and Aubrey needs to remind herself that this is how Stacie is and that she’s this way with everybody and that Aubrey isn’t special

Aubrey isn’t really sure why she’s the Protectress of Young Women (because Iphigenia is just one maiden and saving her does not necessarily mean becoming a patron to all women) but she starts receiving presents, specifically from young maidens

Stacie coos from over her shoulder when Aubrey unwraps a golden blanket and finds lingerie there with a note telling her that it’s the lingerie a virgin had worn on her wedding night and that it has been sent as a worship gift

“Is this why you’ve vowed never to marry a man?” Stacie whispers into her ear. “You’re holding out for a beautiful mortal maiden?”

In a moment of spark, emboldened by her worship gift, Aubrey turns her head, her lips brushing against Stacie’s cheek as she says, “She doesn’t have to be mortal or a maiden.”

Stacie looks impressed and impassioned by Aubrey’s words, and their flirtation picks up tenfold

Of course, nothing can ever go smoothly because the Venn diagram of ‘drama’ and ‘their lives’ is apparently a circle

Hera kicks Hephaestus out of Olympus, supposedly because he tried to strike Zeus but Demeter tells Aubrey that it’s because Hera is ashamed of Hephaestus’ deformities (#gossip)

Heph, in true spoiled sibling fashion, does not take it well. He fashions a throne out of gold and when Hera goes to see him (feeling guilty enough to visit him but not enough to let him back into Olympus), Heph shows her the throne and when she sits on it, it turns into a cage

Zeus is Mad™

(Aubrey rolls her eyes because, really, when is he not?)

But apparently he’s hella mad because he wants Hera back and he’s willing to do anything to get her back

Stacie, meanwhile, is the last remaining Olympian who isn’t married (besides Athena, Aubrey, and Hestia who have vowed a life of chastity) and Zeus decides to take advantage of that even though he has absolutely no right to

(for the first time Aubrey understands the hatred for her father)

Because Zeus is so desperate to get his wife back that he promises Stacie’s hand in marriage to whomever brings Hera back

Aubrey goes to Apollo and begs him to try to free Hera and when he asks her why she cares so much, Aubrey can’t get the words past her lips. Apollo loves his sister, though, so he tries. Aubrey will always wonder if he’d have tried harder had he known why, but that’s something she’ll never know. In any case, Apollo fails because he only has arrows of gold and they’re no match for Hephaestus caged throne because Heph is a master forger

Stacie burns with indignation at Zeus’ offer, and her rage leads her to Ares

Nobody fucking likes Ares but she needs his rage and she needs his strength and honestly she’d rather be married to Ares than some unknown second-rate demigod because at least she knows he’s great in bed

Before Ares can even get to Hephaestus and Hera, Dionysus gets involved. Dionysus is dumb as a bag of bricks because he’s always drunk and as a result, he misunderstands Zeus’ words

He gets Hephaestus drunk and Heph releases Hera himself. Technically, that means that Heph was the one to bring Hera back to Zeus and that means that he gets to marry Stacie

(honestly this is the worst thing ever and Stacie is angry af about it)

Nobody goes against Zeus’ wishes though so Stacie marries Hephaestus and she hates every minute of it

“Aubrey?”

“Yes?”

“Did you kill a hunter yesterday?” Stacie asks casually

“Yes.”

Stacie squints at her because even though Aubrey is strict and harsh with punishments for those who don’t meet her expectations, this is a new low. “Why?”

“He saw me bathing in the forest and didn’t have the respect to turn away.”

“So you killed him?”

“I turned him into a stag.”

“How did he die?”

“My hounds tore him to pieces.”

Stacie laughs sharply at that and it’s not what Aubrey’s expecting

“What?”

“You don’t find that a bit of an overreaction?” Stacie teases but Aubrey just scoffs

“He was a mortal man,” she answers with a dismissive wave of her hand

“So if it hadn’t been a mortal or a man, that person would not have met that same fate?” Stacie asks and Aubrey’s eyes snap to hers, the insinuation clear

“You’re married.”

“Eh,” Stacie says with a shrug. “Love has nothing to do with marriage.”

Nothing else happens but Aubrey can’t stop thinking about that word. Love. Because she’d known that Stacie had been infatuated with her, but she couldn’t have imagined that Stacie loves her because Stacie has always said that love is pain

(Aubrey should have known that being the Goddess of Love does not make one immune to its effects)

Aubrey sends Stacie flowers

Stacie sends Aubrey her lingerie

Aubrey sends Stacie gifts

Stacie sends Aubrey more of her lingerie

“Soon you’ll be left with no garments,” Aubrey flirts one day

“That’s the idea,” Stacie replies, trails her hand down Aubrey’s arm. “Then you’ll be forced to look at me in full nudity and hopefully you’ll do something about it then.”

Aubrey doesn’t wait until that day comes, instead appears at Stacie’s favourite love house and finds the Goddess lounging in a clam shell

“You’re such a cliché,” Aubrey says, announcing her arrival

Stacie grins and dismisses everybody from the room as she crawls out of the large shell. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I can’t either,” Aubrey answers even as she unfastens her chlamys

“I’m glad you are,” Stacie says as she leads Aubrey towards an alcove with a bed. Aubrey removes the last of her garments before reaching for Stacie’s chiton, untying it easily and when her gaze falls on the woman’s body, Aubrey is reminded of the feeling she had when she’d first seen Stacie

“This hasn’t all been a trick, right? To tempt me out of maidenhood?” Aubrey asks when their lips are a breath apart

“Aubrey, there have been many other but I love only you.”

Aubrey kisses Stacie then and Stacie urges her down onto the bed and Aubrey has never felt so loved and Stacie has never felt so happy

Their love affair lasts for a very long time, all without Hephaestus’ knowledge

Love clouds their judgment and they forget that not even the Gods can Mind Their Own Business™

Helios gets involved when he sees them through a window, making love in Hephaestus’ bed and Helios is a snitch who tattles to Hephaestus for the drama of it all

Hephaestus, pissed off like nothing, is a master craftsman, so he forges a trap

Aubrey and Stacie are in bed, naked and closely pressed together and whispering sweet nothings to each other when a golden net falls over them and Aubrey’s heart stops and Stacie is instantly on edge

Hephaestus, angry that Helios had been right and that his wife is not only being unfaithful to him, but being unfaithful with Aubrey, calls over all the other Gods to bear witness

“I’m sorry,” Stacie whispers over and over into Aubrey’s ear as the woman tries to shield herself from the shame

Zeus is extremely disappointed in his daughter and her broken promise and he’s ready to let Hephaestus do whatever he wants to the two when Poseidon steps in. He’s always had a soft spot for Stacie, because she’s technically a child of the sea and the water nymphs love her and he can’t afford to anger the water nymphs

“I don’t care what happens to them,” Zeus says as he walks away and Aubrey cries into Stacie’s shoulder because that’s almost worse

Hephaestus is angry that he doesn’t get to take revenge on and punish his wife and her lover so Poseidon offers him back his seat in Olympus and tells him in no uncertain terms that this is a deal that he has to take and Heph is too afraid of Poseidon to go against him so he lets them go

“I’m sorry,” Stacie says once they’re dressed but Aubrey won’t look at her anymore. “Aubrey, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aubrey says through her tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Please,” Stacie pleads, crying as Aubrey turns away from her.

“I love you,” Aubrey whispers

“I love you too,” Stacie says and Aubrey kisses her, slowly and deeply and Stacie’s not sure why but she cries even harder when Aubrey pulls away.

“I love you so much,” Aubrey repeats, like a promise

Stacie’s heart breaks into a million pieces when Aubrey disappears into the woods

Falling from grace in Zeus’ eyes is not an easy position to be in, and Stacie understands. She understands it because she has the protection of her beauty and her love, but Aubrey doesn’t. Apollo is not as great a hunter as Aubrey, but it’s close enough, and there is still a Goddess of Childbirth, and there are even some minor deities who can protect women and Athena is Zeus’ new favourite and Zeus makes it absolutely clear that a broken vow is unforgivable, but it’s forgivable enough for Stacie because he needs her. Stacie’s irreplaceable.

Aubrey’s irreplaceable too, but only to Stacie.

Aubrey’s chair on Mount Olympus remains empty until the end of time.

EDIT: I made this into a fic with a part 2!

read it here

[death-ward]

I GOT TO PLAY DND TONIGHT THE SECRETS OUT OF THE BAG I CAN TALK ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!

So the gang went back to Patchouli’s (grave clerics) home village in hopes of figuring out how to resolve the issue she has where demons are attached to her and chase her down eventually possessing those she cares about and either kills them or permanently posses them.

While there the villages ritual was starting which involves sacrificing someone to what is known as the “chasm” which is a pit full of demons and leads to another plane. The group saw what they assumed was the sacrifice fleeing from the temple and followed. Turned out it was Patchouli’s childhood friend. After chatting a bit, and running into Patchouli’s father the gang learned of Patchy’s curse and why.

Patchouli was still born and her father called upon a friend who belongs to a race of ancient undying wood elves to preform a ritual to bring her back. At the same time this was happening the sacrifice was happening as well. When two big magic rituals happen at the same time things can get a little funky. The demons latched onto Patchy and her father sacrificed himself. In turn the friend he called upon took up his form and lived his life as her father so no one in the village knew. This resulted in Patchouli being what’s known as a ‘deathless’ (reborn) 

The demons tried to spring a surprise attack on us and the realm we were in changed. The group split in random directions due to not being able to see and Road (bard) and Dori split off together. Due to an unfortunate dice roll from each of them they ended up deep within the plane in which the demons come from their souls hanging onto their bodies on the material plane by a thread. 

The two of them had moments of reliving parts of their past that hurt them most before through will power and perseverance were able to navigate their way back to each other. The two were then faced with the mother of all demons. No where to run or hide, the two marched forward towards is and then Liliths (Doris patron(?) arch devil of the 9th lvl of hell in homebrew) spoke to her and Road. She asked of their plan and Dori said they didn’t really have one and she as scared. Lilith explained that their souls were hanging by a thread and there was a chance that even with her help, there wasn’t a guarantee that they both would make it back. 

Dori started to offer up her body as a vessel whole and true for Lilith in exchange for safe passage back to the material plane for Road, in which Road absolutely shut down and after some back and forth Road decided that if anyone were to go back it’d be Dori and they were set on that. Dori still hoping that the two of them would make it out she agreed. Unfortunately again due to bad rolls from me a demon latched onto Dori’s leg and Road ended up sacrificing themselves to kick it off of her and take it down. Their soul and tie to the material plane severing in the process. 

At the same time this was happening their bodies had been transported to the sacrificial site next to the chasm their bodies ready to be thrown in. Patchouli and Groop (kobold barbarian) had made their way down there and Groop was actually mid run with Road’s body not knowing they were dead. Dori woke, eyes redder than normal as Liliths influence coursed through her with the mission to eradicate the demons. 

The fight that happened was sick ngl i made some big brain plays and im happy w that and i counter spelled the fuck out of this cult leader.

TLDR; Our bard passed and I am very sad and Dori now has survivors guilt. I cried for three days after the fact and sobbed on call when it happened and cried again tonight. 

Also my stats were so busted temporarily due to Lilith it was sick...took 2 lvls of exhaustion though after the fact due to a busted con save

If u read all of this ur a trooper i just needed to scream about it bc i have been sitting on this for two weeks due to people being out of town LMAWOEGIHAWOEGHI

[sleepy-and-anxious]

Good For Something excerpt:

Seen as people had an interest I’m gonna post an out of context scene from the beginning of Good For Something <3 Keep reading to read the scene. Please be kind bc its still my first draft lol

Tag list: @tawnywrites @seraphicscribbles @danafaithwriting @mademoiselleink @thekingsstudy @hawksnbooks @elliewritesstories @lachiffon @hpsinspo (sorry It wouldn’t let me tag your writing blog) 

Hepton: Where are you?

Me: Work

Hepton: Come home. I need to talk to you.

Me: I’ll be back later

Hepton: It can’t wait. Cato, Please.

Me: I’ll be back when I’m back.

Frustrated, I logged off my port screen and zoned back into what was happening in The Lounge. I’d managed to finally change out of Hepton’s coffee stained t-shirt and into my usual work wear; A large black long-sleeved button up shirt, leather pants and a pair of thick boots. I’d slicked back my short hair with hair gel, calling attention to my sharp features. As usual for these kind of meets, I kept my tattoos covered with either clothing or makeup. I didn’t want to give away too many features that would have me easily identifiable by the Noble Policing Union if the meet was a bust or if the job ended up going south.

I was stood with my back to the office’s closed door, I had a good view of all possible exits, and the many love-seats and chaises around The Lounge would make useful barriers if it came to any form of attack. The room was bustling with patrons happily drinking with girls on their laps or watching one of the many dancers on stage. Other patrons were nicely occupied in a room of their choosing with a partner of their choosing. The amount of nobles in the room, as usual, set me on edge, but I knew some of these northerners were the reason a lot of the girls could afford to live a healthy and comfortable life. I didn’t like it but as long as they didn’t come any where near me, I pretended they weren’t here. The Northern Noble accent makes me skittish.

It was usually a mutual dislike. Northerners didn’t like me either.

But, this was the South and this was my home ground. I had the advantage here. Always.

I had my eyes fixed on the entrance that I’d come through a few hours ago, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong, when a pale palm waved in front of my face. My head snapped to the left to find a tall blonde trying to get my attention. Fabienne Osrund was one of the newer girls, had probably been with Raven since the end of last year. She was a pretty lass, just a bit too quiet for my liking. I always felt like she could stare right into my soul.

“Sup, Fab.” I said, quiet enough for just her to hear. I looked to the clock to see I had three minutes before the anonymous requester arrived, my skin had started to feel as if it was covered in tiny paper cuts and I had to stop myself from searching for my necklace. I was still wearing it, it was just hidden - I never took it off.

“Sup, 1.” She whispers back. She always refused to call me anything other than the number on my left forearm. It was an odd thing to do, but I didn’t mind too much. Occasionally, Hepton and I refer to each other with our numbers and apparently, according to him, the boys still did so too.

“What needs met?” I quietly gave her the Common’s standard greeting, with a tense smile.

“Be calm. You’re pushing.” She said making sure to look me in the eyes - something she didn’t do very often.

Eh?

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking her over with my brows drawn. Though, I did take note of her request to calm down and made sure to let my muscles relax and let the edgy feeling fade. Much to my confusion, she just gave me a small smile.

I was still paying attention to Fabienne when the guest of honour walked in, but I knew when they’d arrived. I heard the small twinkle of someone coming through the beads and the relaxed mood of the room instantly changed. I couldn’t explain it. It was as if the entire room’s hair stood on end at once. As if the entire room, but me, held its collective breath. My gut told me something was wrong instantly. Every single self preservation instinct went haywire.

My eyes quickly found our visitor and I wasn't really surprised by what I found. Still stood in the entrance, proud as a peacock, was a middle aged lady. A middle aged lady whose clothes were typical Noble business lady fashion - a violet midi skirt, blouse and brief case - with her obviously dyed black hair tied back tightly in a ballet style bun and her lips painted a deep plum. She shouldn’t have been causing the anxiety that she was. Her face was plain and non assuming, but as she looked around the room and viewed the now frozen employees and clientele, her eyes held an amused glimmer and her lips turned up in the snobbiest smirk I think I might have ever seen. What a bitch.

The violent paper cut feeling had come back, but this time I welcomed it over unease.

Her hazel eyes quickly found me in the sea of people and, if I hadn’t have been watching her like she was my prey, I would have missed the deep swallow she took as looked me over with wide eyes. The lady’s lips pressed into a tight line. I tipped my chin up in challenge.

Yeah, Bitch, you say shit about my turf and I’ll make you wish you never stepped foot over the fucking border.

I felt a tight pressure on my left wrist. I broke eye contact with the snobby woman and, as nonchalantly as possible, I turned my head to look back at the blonde clutching my wrist like a life-line.

“One…” Her quiet voice trailed off. Her face had blanched and her eyes were wide and watering but her lips were pursed in anger. I’d never seen such a variety of negative emotions on her face. The concerning thing was that she wasn’t the only person in the room to react this way. 

Across The Lounge, most of the girls and even a few of the Noble men here to enjoy the entertainment were having similar reactions.  I spotted Raven across the room, perched on a love-seat with Momo, both seemed to have forgotten their wine in favour of desperately clutching each others hands. Though not obvious to most in the room, I’d known them long enough to know that was definitely a fear reaction. Self control has never been one of my strong suits but in that moment I managed to keep my face as neutral and emotionless as possible.

I needed to handle this now and I needed to handle it quickly.  

I tilted by chin up sharply again letting my brows rise high on my forehead before slowly, and as patronising as possible, gestured for her to come towards me making sure the woman understood that this was a command and not a request.

I had no idea who this old lady was, but I’d make this a damn hard pissing contest if she was going to come in here and scare my girls. The room was slowly coming back to life around us, with only a few of the girls remaining panicked and looking to me.

With her head held high, she slowly began walking towards me and I let a manic grin take over my face. Her poker face had fallen back into place and her gaze hadn’t strayed from mine. I knew this was going to be fun. Beside me, Fabienne had begun to hyperventilate, so without breaking eye contact with the visitor, I reached up and gently tugged on her ear until her attention snapped back to me.

“Go and get a drink, Fab.”

Fabienne didn’t need to be asked twice as before the sentence was finished she took off towards the bar, admirably maintaining her composure.

When the lady was a few feet away I reached back and opened the office door, to let her in. She walked in without greeting and sat down on the red velvet armchair I was sat at only a few hours before, evidently she had no issue with having her back to me.

Stupid or arrogant. Jury was still out.

Ravens's office was now free of paper stacks and holo-screens, revealing her large metal desk and rows upon rows of shelves stacked with thousands of tea light candles, that she'd helpfully lit before vacating her office for me. Raven liked the vibe that the candles gave the room and insisted that electric and neon lights and lamps killed her work ethic. I watched as the shadows danced along the walls along to the beat of the flickering flame.

Taking my place in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, I kicked my boots off and crossed my feet on top of the desk, maintaining my own poker face. Her top lip curled and her nose wrinkled in distaste before she raised one perfectly painted eyebrow. The waiting game. I knew this game well; I had learnt this game from Saintly long ago. I raised my brow back. The candle light made her plain face look angular and sharp, it elongated her nose and sharpened her nose. I presumed it was doing equally scary things to my own face.

"Mr. King, My name is-" she started, breaking the silence.

"I don't care" I interrupted quickly, being sure to keep my voice emotionless.

Her mouth tightened into a thin line once more at the sound of my voice. I don't know what she was expecting of me but I knew a South Commoner wasn't it.

"My name is Desdemona Snow." She began once more and this time I didn’t interrupt her, "I am here on behalf of my employer."

I blinked. Employer? It was a rare occurrence that I worked through middle men. Usually, people who felt strongly enough to pay for my services wanted to meet me to talk the details in person. You know, to build trust, or whatever.

"Who's your employer?"

"My employer would like to keep his anonymity, ergo, why he sent me." She replied.

Fair enough. I tilted my chin up for her - an order to continue. I watched as she ground her molars together giving me a tight closed mouth smile. She really didn't like taking orders from me it seemed. It made me smile something wicked.

"My employer heard that you're the person Southerners come to in order to get rid of problems. They say you are the best." She said, shifting to place the brief case she brought with her on top of the desk.

Well, that was one way of putting it.

"Lady-"

"Ms. Snow." She interrupted me, her North Noble accent a hiss in the room.

O-hoho. I really was getting under her skin.

Taking my feet off the table, I turned so that my body now directly faced hers.

"Ms. Snow," I started, finally getting to business, "I'm who people come to, to kill criminals." I shifted to place my elbows on the cold metal of the desk-top and leaned forward before clasping my hands together in front of my lips.

For a snap second, her eyes widened at my admission before she quickly reverted back to her. 

Interesting. It seemed she wasn't exactly comfortable in her employers decision but she was doing it anyway.  

She reached for the briefcase and nimbly undid the clasps to open it. From inside of the case, she produced a small information file that seem to only contain a few pieces of paper. This paper, I knew before looking, would be a profile. Gently, she slid the file across the table towards me.

"Then, this is your criminal." She said.

I'm not sure what I expected to find when I opened the file.

But it certainly wasn't this.

   The file was filled with three sheets of paper. That was probably about the only normal part of the profile. Quickly, I sifted through the short pages and the first thing I came across was a picture of a crime scene. The image depicted the aftermath of an attack in what looked like a barracks. It was a savage scene; blood covered practically every inch of the area photographed. No inch of wall or floor was left clean. Limbs had been roughly torn from torsos and strewn across the scene. This wasn't just a messy kill. This was a massacre like no other I'd ever seen. It looked as if it was the leftovers of a rabid animal attack.

"Blood curdling, is it not?" Desdemona mused, her expression neutral.

I didn't respond, instead I chose to move onto the next item in the profile.

The next piece of paper was an info profile, it contained a variety of basic information about the killer. I skimmed the information quickly, without taking anything in, then looked to the last item in the folder. A photo. 

My mouth felt dry, all of a sudden. The guy in the photo obviously had no clue someone was taking his picture. The image depicted a young man, sat atop the hood of quite an expensive looking car smoking a cigarette. If it had been a posed photo it would have looked incredibly pretentious, but there was an air of dark realism that I couldn’t help but drink in. Cars weren't my strong suit, I'd always preferred bikes, but I appreciated motors enough to know that the car was a modern com-tech muscle car. State of the art, fast and famously hard to handle. The car seemed to be parked in some hidden underground garage that was common up north, due to the northerners rejection of modern tech in favour of more archaic forms of transportation. 

But, even though I registered all those things, it was the boy I couldn't take my eyes off. He was around my age with messy dark hair. Even with the candle lit room and soft focus image, I could make out the strong line of his jaw, the heavy ridge of his brow and his almost feminine nose. His clothes showed a noble twist on the more Common goth-grunge look. He wore a fitted black dress shirt that was left unbuttoned to show a black vest top, dark ripped jeans and a pair of black shiny brogues. The picture was taken from too far away to me to get anymore details so I went back and kept flipping back and forth between the glossy image of the boy and the information sheet. His profile told me that he was in fact my age, he was only five foot six inches tall, weighed 177 pounds, had 9% body fat, 20/20 vision, blood type was AB Negative, wasn't allergic to anything. Apparently, his eyes were blue.

Tearing my eyes from the glossy image, I lifted my head back up to look directly into Desdemona Snow's hazel eyes.

"So, who is Mr. Short, Dark and Handsome?" I asked with an unimpressed smirk. Her face didn't move from her cold poker expression as she answered,

"The boy is known as Fire Demon." She stated simply.

Say what now?

“Okay.” I respond, feeling my eyebrows draw together. I looked back to the photograph. Fire Demon, huh? I got the picture of the crime scene back out and spot something I didn't notice on my first observation due to the mass of blood. Scorch marks.  "He some kinda pyromaniac?" I asked.

Snow blinked.

"Yes." She replied.

Okay then.

I did a Saintly, and silently waited for her to carry on with my brows high.

She evidently wasn't used to someone my age demanding things from her, but she broke again after a few minutes.

"As you can see from the crime scene, he is a dangerous individual who needs to be gotten rid of."

"Okay." I said. "Is there proof that it was him that did this?" I asked.

"He was found at the crime scene, covered in blood. He also readily admits it." She admits, looking me straight in the eyes.

Fair enough.

"Why wasn't he given to the police, then?" I enquire, curiously. She remained quiet for a beat too long.

"My employer believes the police wouldn't be able to handle him." She finally said. Her word choice was careful and calculated in an obvious attempt to not reveal information. Little did she know that I'd find out anyway.

"Is this a vendetta on behalf of your boss? Who're the victims?" I ask, carefully trying to gauge the motivations for this action. Usually the people who come to me openly admit that they believe that the mark would pay off police or that they have no chance of changing their ways. But this didn't seem like that kind of situation to me.

She shakes her head, breaking eye contact.

"My employer wishes to take this course of action in order to protect more innocent people from being savagely murdered." She said, her voice void of emotion.

I nod in understanding but before I can ask anymore, she continued.

"My employer is willing to considerably compensate for any trouble you will go through." She states, carefully.

That caught my attention. My average monetary charge was around 2,000 RC; sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less. It really depended on the difficulty of the job, whether I felt killing the person would solve a problem and whether I felt it would benefit the Commons.  

So, I played the waiting game, leaning casually back in Raven's chair.

"My employer is willing to offer you fifty thousand republic counts if you can make the boys death look like an accident."

My jaw dropped.

What the fuck.