#thinking about sunday suddenly sparked something in me...

[morgaseus]

Thinking about slow dancing with sunday…

Contains slight spoilers for the Penacony quest. Set before the nameless arrived in Penacony.

“Do you know how to dance?”

The scratching of a pen suddenly stopped, he lifted his head, pen hovering above the parchment for a moment, before finally being laid down beside it. Your voice echoed throughout his study, breaking the silence between you two.

“Oh? Where did that suddenly come from?" His gaze drifted towards you. Moonlight spilled through the windows, tracing silver lines across your face. You were always beautiful but basked in the moonlight's glow, you looked absolutely breathtaking, as delicate as the forget-me-not's in his garden.

“I was thinking” you trailed off, slowly walking towards the gramophone resting beside the bookshelf. Your fingers trailed along the smooth brass surface of the gramophone, before finally reaching for the record tucked beside it. And with a click, a slow, but familiar melody filled in the air. “How about a dance?” You turned to him with a smile.

You needn't say anymore. He rose from his chair, his leather shoes creating a soft thud along the carpet as he walked towards you. The moonlight that filtered through the window bathed him in an ethereal glow. It danced across his features, casting a faint glow to his golden halo. His dull gray hair shimmered, the moonlight painting it silver. It emphasized the sharp, yet, soft angles of his face. His feathery soft wings, pierced with golden studs. You wonder how he got that, whenever you asked, he’d always changed the subject. You let out a faint smile. Everything about him was captivating but it was his eyes that drew you in. His golden eyes, full of secrets, held a warmth that enveloped you. You could get lost in them forever. Ahhh. truly, he looked like a being that fell from the heavens. Befitting his title as “the most handsome man in Penacony.” 

As he reached you, his hand extended, palm open and inviting. A soft smile present in his face, his gaze never leaving yours. “Well, then, would you care for a dance, m’lady?”

You gladly took his hand and slipped into his embrace, swaying together to the rhythm of the melody. In this moment, he could lose himself entirely. Whenever you’re with him, time seems to slow down, the world fading into a blur.

The weight of the Oak family’s legacy - the 106,366 oak family members - loomed over him like a dark cloud. And with the Charmony Festival looming, a single misstep could shatter generations of aspirations. He'd been preparing for this ever since the dreammaster whispered words of promises in his ear. Every moment led to that one, final performance. 

No longer would Robin have the need to go on a “tour” and risk her life to bring harmony. No longer would everyone have to suffer and endure mortal pain. No longer would everyone have to tear down each other's throat for a mere sliver of gold. He will bring order and utopia to everyone. Yes, he will be their salvation, not a tyrant, not a conqueror, but a shepherd ushering his flock to a new dawn. 

Yet, for a moment, under the soft glow of the moon, he allowed himself to forget. In your arms, the crushing weight seemed to ease.

For now, it was just you and him.

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[mrkis]

⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (originally wednesday-sunday, but now im posting them when i can). requests are now CLOSED for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ for the bday mark request!!! maybe reader sends mark several videos and sexts throughout the day since mark is busy with schedules on his bday, then surprises mark when he finally gets home hehe

⛧ WARNINGS: social media format at first but then writing, 18+ content, sexting, mean!mark, bratty!reader, mentions of cum, choking, fingering

[ AUTHORS NOTE. sorry that i'm so behind, i'm still sick and not really in the mental state to do anything lmfao. but i managed to pump this one out, i hope you enjoy <3 ]

Your body buzzes with excitement as you read Mark’s last text, a grin forming on your lips as you shut off your phone and place it on the bedside table, keeping your position on the bed as you know your front door is already unlocked—it always is for him.

During your relationship with Mark, he’s always been very caring and loving, always careful and delicate when touching your body and making you cum on his cock, fingers or tongue and kissing you so sweetly after.

He rarely ever shows his mean side, something that’s constantly locked away and something you’ve only seen once. 

You remember it well. You visited him after hours at the studio, watching him work on lyrics and testing a few beats for a song he was working on. It wasn’t your fault that he looked so attractive with a serious expression that made you desperately want to sit on his face. You had teased him, seating yourself in his lap and subtly rubbing yourself against his cock, ignoring the warnings he was giving you due to you being so clouded by lust. 

The next thing you remember was suddenly being bent over his lap, stomach against his thighs, skirt flipped up over your hips and ass raw as he spanked you, muttering the most mouth watering filth that made you cum on the spot. But after that, he returned to his normal and loving self as he wrapped you up in his arms on his lap, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and claiming how much he loves you. 

You wanted that Mark back. You love soft Mark, you love caring and gentle Mark, but there was something about a mean and dominant Mark that makes you feel crazy. You yearn for him to come back, to snap and have you any way he pleases. 

It makes your thighs clench thinking about it, a giddy smile spreading across your cheeks as you hear your front door open and slam shut, loud footsteps moving along the floorboards heading in your direction—the bedroom. 

The door to your room swings open and you almost jump Mark when you see the look on his face, eyes wild and brows furrowed, clearly angrily at your swarm of texts and videos you’ve sent him throughout the day. 

His breathing is steady despite the look on his face, hands buried deep into the pockets of his sweatpants and fail to hide the obvious hard on he’s sporting, and you bite back the urge to make a comment about how much you must’ve really affected him.

“What game are you playing right now?” He asks you, tone deep which makes your pussy ache. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” You feign innocence, giving him a smile. “I’m just giving you your birthday presents”

“My birthday present is you?” Mark asks you again as he steps a few steps further into your room, standing at the edge of your bed. His question sparks interest in you, the way he said it has your tummy rolling and tightening in knots. 

“Yes” You confirm, spreading your legs to show him that you’re bare beneath the shirt of his you’re wearing and he exhales deeply, pressing his lips together to suppress any other sound. “I’m all yours. You can do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want?” Mark repeats as his hands reach forward, curling his fingers around your ankles which causes your brow to raise up in question. “Are you sure you want to say that to me, baby? After all the texts and the videos you sent?” Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when you feel his grip on you tighten. “Do you know that Jaemin and Haechan saw how hard I got after I saw them? How they teased me about the hold you got over me?”

“I do, don’t I?” You tease despite your voice wavering a little, biting your bottom lip nervously as your thighs press together for some friction. You decide to push the buttons, testing him to see if he snaps by using words that aren’t even true. “Every single thing I do makes your little cock hard, doesn’t it?”

He grins with a soft hum as his thumb strokes your skin, tongue prodding at his cheek and the look in his eyes darken before his tight grip returns, a yelp erupting from your throat as Mark suddenly drags you down the bed, the silk sheets sliding against your skin as he pulls you flush against him. 

One hand wraps around your throat as his mouth attacks yours while the other slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wet folds before he pushes two fingers in without warning, the arousal and cum from your previous orgasm making it an easy access.

You gasp against his lips as you feel him pump his fingers inside you, brushing over the spot that has your toes curling and mind whirling, unable to keep up with the kiss to which he slides his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of drool and spit seeping past your lips as his tongue glides with your own.

Mark’s putting the right amount of pressure on your neck to keep you still and the shockwaves of pleasure courses through your veins, thighs trembling around his hand that fucks your pussy into oversensitivity, your own hand flying down to grip his wrist to try and stop his fast paced movements but he grunts, biting on your lower lip in warning.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Mark speaks low as you pant into his mouth, whines and cries spilling from your lips. “For me to do whatever I want?” He then pouts at you mockingly, head turning to the side. “Aw baby… don’t tell me you regret it already?”

“I don’t” You manage to choke out, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep them open. “Do your worst. Show me what you got”

“Oh, my pretty girl…” He hums softly as he presses his thumb to your clit for extra stimulation, relishing in the sounds you make as he stares at you. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you”

[jackles010378]

Intoxicating Pancakes

(Dean Winchester X you)

In honour of shrove Tuesday (pancake day) here in the UK, made me think of this little one shot about Dean, hope you enjoy 🥰

Dean was always a man of simple pleasures: his classic car, a good hunt, and, of course, a delicious breakfast. And there was one thing that always made his heart skip a beat - the sight of y/n in the kitchen, making her famous pancakes.

The bunker was always filled with the mouthwatering aroma of y/n's pancakes on Sunday mornings. There was something about the way she effortlessly mixed the batter, her hair falling loosely around her face as she hummed a soft tune. It was a sight that never failed to make Dean feel alive.

This particular Sunday was no different. As Dean walked into the kitchen, the heavenly scent wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He could barely contain his excitement as he saw y/n by the stovetop, carefully flipping pancakes with a grace that always amazed him.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean greeted, a contagious smile spreading across his face.

"Morning, Dean," y/n replied, her voice carrying a hint of mischief.

Dean's eyes flickered with curiosity but he brushed it off, too engrossed in the prospect of indulging in y/n's culinary masterpiece. He took a seat at the counter, his gaze fixated on her every move.

Y/n gracefully placed a stack of golden pancakes in front of him, she sat across from him with her own plate. As she ate, little droplets of sauce dripped down her chin. Dean's mind began to wander, conjuring up a mischievous thought. He watched as y/n reached up to wipe the sauce away with her thumb. Slowly sucking the sticky treat off her thumb, humming to herself, her movements and sounds fueling Dean's imagination.

Unbeknownst to y/n, her simple gesture had triggered a flood of naughty thoughts inside Dean's mind. Thoughts that strayed far beyond stacks of pancakes and ventured into a sultrier realm.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt charged with a different kind of energy. Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the wayward fantasies that threatened to consume him. He reminded himself to focus on the pancakes, on the breakfast he'd been eagerly anticipating all week.

But as Dean's eyes met y/n's, he couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation in her gaze. The sparks between them intensified, dancing in the air like playful fireflies. It was as if y/n had unknowingly picked up on Dean's thoughts and decided to play along.

Dean's heart raced as he saw y/n lean across the counter, her lips just inches away from his ear. Her voice was a low, seductive whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

"You know, Dean," she purred, "pancakes aren't the only thing I'm good at."

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his mind spinning with a medley of desire, anticipation, and a hint of confusion. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that existed was the undeniable chemistry between them.

As the morning sun painted a golden hue across the bunker, Dean and y/n found themselves lost in a tantalizing dance of flirtation. Their connection grew stronger with each passing moment, the pancakes almost forgotten amidst the charged atmosphere.

With a newfound boldness, Dean reached out, gently tucking a strand of y/n's hair behind her ear. The spark between them ignited into a blazing fire, engulfing them both in a whirlwind of passion.

Hours later, as they lay tangled in each other's arms, the scent of pancakes still lingering in the air, Dean realized that sometimes the simplest pleasures in life could lead to the most unforgettable experiences.

From that day forward, pancakes would always stir within Dean a sense of excitement and a reminder of the intoxicating connection he shared with y/n. And whenever he caught a whiff of that delicious aroma, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that beneath the sweetness of those pancakes lay an everlasting flame of desire.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

[fredwkong]

Very hot. I kinda wanna see how he'd be if he chose the Senegalese flag tho

Amazing conclusion to the 1000 cards story! I would love to see what would happen if Eric had picked the Senegalese card though...

The morning after he picks the Senegalese card, Eric swears he’s getting darker-skinned by the minute. Every time he glances in the mirror, he looks darker, hunkier, more vascular. He’s turning into an absolute beast.

Out at the club on Sunday night with Blair, Eric loses himself in the groove within minutes. He’s bumping and shaking like the music is in his blood. Something about EDM just lets loose sparks in his brain. He grinds so hard against Blair that the little guy almost falls over, but Eric just picks him up and puts him on his broad shoulder.

After his session with Aaron the next day, Eric has a sudden brainwave. “Bro, come stretch with me,” he says. On the mobility mats, he finds himself suddenly dropping into an easy split, bending forward over his front leg to really feel the stretch in his bulky brown hamstring.

Aaron watches in amazement. “I didn’t even know guys your size could bend like that,” he says.

“Dancing,” Eric replies, switching to the opposite leg. “I spend all my time dancing back home.” As he says it, he thinks: Where is home again?

He checks his phone later, and finds tons of pictures of his dark-skinned, curly-haired body riding boats with a dozen uncannily similar looking men and women. Of course, it’s from the last family reunion in Dakar! A griot family like his keeps close ties to each other, no matter how far apart they live. Eric jumps in the family whatsapp and sends an emoji in response to his auntie’s latest culinary photoshoot.

By midweek, Eric notices that his voice has dropped again. He’s speaking slower, his accent smooth and musical. Blair shivers when Eric rumbles in his ear.

“I can feel your voice right through your chest,” he says, lying back on top of Eric. He’s a comfortable weight, like a dumbbell between Eric’s pecs.

Eric laughs deep in his throat, just to feel Blair shudder with pleasure again.

Life’s not perfect. School’s pretty hard as an economics major, especially as the first in his family to come to the States for college. Eric has no idea how he’s going to explain to his family that he’s dating not one non-Wolof boy, but two different non-Wolof boys. But that’s not his problem right now. All Eric has to worry about right now is going dancing, dicking his boys down, and getting ready for football practice to start up again in a couple of weeks.

He doesn't even think about the cards again until months later.

[zyhkoo]

little spark ☆ ー REGULUS BLACK X READER. chapter 3

fluff, angst, regulus reunites with you, friends to lovers, co-parents

synopsis: with james and lily dead and sirius’s false conviction. regulus had escaped the death eaters with harry in his arms. his last resort was go to you, his former best friend and james’s sister. mlist

a/n: i didnt proof read this one, so i apologize for any mistakes!

A few days passed ever since Regulus showed up on your doorstep. Taking care of Harry is very ear-bleeding, yet he couldn’t help but soften around the boy. He was not his father, nor his family member. But there was something about him that just gives Regulus peace.

You were out at work, probably coming home soon. Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays were your work hours. It was either interviews, a rehearsal, performances or something else.

But needless to say, Regulus always saw you come home tired. You would always come back home in your animagus form to avoid people tailing you. Other than the pound, who else would follow a white cat? It was 9 pm, Regulus was on the couch cradling Harry in his arms.

He was going to place Harry in the newly bought crib you bought, but before he could place the boy in the crib, he bursted into tears. Now here he was, soothing Harry. Again. He stopped crying though, and Regulus was too lazy to put him back. Regulus let out a heavy sigh, carefully placing Harry on his lap as he sat on the couch. He didn’t have the energy to stand just yet, and Harry did seem calm in his arms.

Laziness was something Regulus didn’t expect from himself. His eyes slowly drifted to the front door. He would be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to your return. As if the gods heard his wishes, a little white cat came out the small doggy door. You transformed in your original form, you still had your costume on but you looked absolutely tired.

Regulus’ eyes widened slightly in surprise as he suddenly heard you announce yourself. He hadn’t heard you coming, although he was distracted by Harry to notice. “I’m homeee.” you groaned. You collapsed on the couch that he was sitting on, thankfully it was large enough to fit both of you. “..You look exhausted.” He murmured softly, he tilted his towards you as he gently rocked Harry.

“My manager told me to go all in with my magic, I went too far for this one.” you sighed, stretching a bit. Regulus inhaled sharply, his expression shifting into a slight frown as he registered your words.

“How far did you go, exactly? You look like you’re about to topple over..” He murmured, his brow furrowing. You moved to look at him “I don’t knoww, I was too into the moment.” you tried to explain.

Regulus closed his eyes and exhaled a quiet sigh. He wasn’t too pleased that you put your energy at risk, although he supposed he didn’t understand your work. “You should be careful. That can’t be safe.” He scolded, his brow furrowing as he gently rocked Harry. You snorted “Thanks dad.”

Regulus’ shoulders dropped slightly as you spoke, a soft huff leaving his lips as he opened his eyes. “I’m just saying..” he protested softly. He wasn’t too pleased that you seemed to disregard what he said.

He glanced down at Harry. He didn’t want to get into a disagreement right now, he was too tired. “How was work?” He asked, choosing to change the subject. “Great, oh they gave me fanmail. I’m gonna read them tomorrow though.” you answered his question. Regulus inhaled quietly, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Fanmail?” He inquired, curiosity peaking at the mention of it.

As weird as it was to think about, it makes sense that you’d get fanmail. You were a performer, it was bound to happen. It was just a concept that was so unfamiliar to him.

“What does it say?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked over at you. “I haven’t read them, it’s usually the same contents though. ‘Love you Y/N, You inspire me to do more, Im your biggest fan’ blah blah.” you said “Hey if you’re lucky, they give you free stuff.”

Regulus nodded silently as he listened to your words, his expression unchanging. He had mixed opinions on this, he didn’t quite like the thought of people he didn’t know, idolising you. There were always.. strange people around.

“Interesting.” he said.

“But anywa- fuck this costume is killing me!” you completely as you sat up from the couch.

Regulus inhaled slowly, tilting his head as he watched you stand from your seat. “Wouldn’t you be better off changing out of it, then?” He pointed out. You groaned “Maybee later? I'm tired.. and lazy.” you excused, a playful pout was written in your face. Regulus arched his eyebrow, an amused exhale leaving his lips as he took in your expression. “You have energy to be playful but not to get changed?” He remarked, although his tone had a hint of mirth.

“Thats mentally, this is physically. Can I hold Harry? I miss him.” He was still slightly wary of letting you hold Harry, but he knew there was no real reason to be so protective.

“..Fine. If only because you look pathetic.” He murmured, carefully placing Harry in your arms. You scowled “That's mean Reggie, isn’t that right Harry? Aww, you’re too cute.” He had to resist the urge to laugh as he saw you turn your attention to Harry.

“I’m just being honest.” He replied dryly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you see this Harry?” you said to him, Harry only giggled and baffled and held tightly on your finger.

Regulus tried to repress his own amusement as he watched you speak to Harry. He hated that he found you amusing like this. “He’s too young to understand.” He pointed out.. “Why are you talking to him like that?” Regulus murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed Harry respond to you.

“In my heart he understands, right Harry?” you nuzzled his nose.

Despite his better judgement, he felt a soft smile forming on his lips as he watched the two of you. He had to make a conscious effort to drop it and return to his usual demeanor. “You’re being ridiculous..” he said.

“Did he eat or poo yet?” you asked.

“Both. Yes.” He said, a look of mild disgust on his face at the mention of Harry’s.. bodily functions. “Don’t ask me about that.” He murmured, shaking his head slowly.

“Why? It’s gonna be normal now.”

“Normal or not I’d rather not talk about it.” He protested quietly, tilting his head. “You take him when he needs.. changing.” He declared firmly.

“No fair!” you protested. He knew you well enough by now that he should’ve prepared for this. “Why not? You’re the one insisting on it being normal.” He said with a smirk. You stayed silent with a scowl “I win.” he said. “You can deal with the less savory parts of childrearing.” He murmured.

“I'll never get a kid after Harry grows up.” you sighed.

Regulus couldn’t help but quietly laugh in response to your words. He couldn’t argue. Neither of you were overly fond of children.

“We seem to be on the same page about that.” He confirmed. “He’s cute though, I’ll slide that.” you grinned. In honesty, he was fond of the baby. Despite the extra work he added to his plate, he did find himself growing rather attached to Harry. “..Quite.” He said. He found himself unwilling to say anything more, as to not expose himself.

“He is cute though, don’t deny.” you coed. Regulus nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I suppose he is..” he murmured softly, glancing in Harry’s direction momentarily. “Even if he does scream half the time.” He added a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You looked at him with a smile. He noticed you looking at him. He met your gaze for a moment before breaking it, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks. It wasn’t often that he got flustered easily, though when he did, it was usually because of you.

“What?” He protested, a soft huff escaping his lips. “You just look so happy nowadays.” you said, looking at his lips.

“Is that such an unusual thing for me?” He prompted, his tone a little defensive.

“Well no, you just look more.. relaxed.” you reassured him. “I don’t know how to explain it, you just look at peace.”

He supposed he couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t even realized it himself. He did find himself feeling more content than usual, especially around the two of you. “I suppose you’re right.” He murmured quietly, tilting his head as he looked over at you.

You stretched and got off the sofa. “I'm gonna go shower and sleep, you can put Harry back in the crib.” Regulus nodded, carefully taking Harry back from you. “Alright.” He said simply, standing up to follow you.

As the two of you entered the room, he placed Harry on the crib. Regulus watched to make sure Harry was alright before glancing over at you. “Do you want me to stay with him as you get ready?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“You’d do that?” you asked. “Of course.” Regulus replied without hesitation. “He’ll start fussing soon. I’d rather not hear him all night.” He murmured, a soft sigh escaping his lips. You answered by pulling him to a hug, your hands wrapped around his waist.

“Thank you, for taking care of him.” you murmured in his ear.

Regulus felt his cheeks warm at your unexpected gesture. He was a little stunned at first, not used to you being so openly affectionate like this. He returned the embrace after a moment, his arms wrapping around you. “It’s nothing..” He said quietly, his expression shifting into a soft sigh. You then pulled away with a smile. “I’ll take a bath then you can sleep so I can take care of him okay?”

“Alright.” Regulus responded simply, taking a step back to give you space. “Try not to fall asleep in there.” He added jokingly, tilting his head with a little smile. “Haha.” you rolled your eyes and took out your nightgown in your closet then entered the bathroom.

tags: @jqtaro

[freckleslikestars]

March 6th

a look at some of Mulder and Scully’s anniversaries throughout the years, spanning from mid-Season One to post-Season Eleven

I wote this for the philefest zine and then completely forgot about it until right now.

2411 words, read here on AO3

March 6th 1994

She arrives, as usual, ten minutes early, a sweet smile and her hand tucked behind her back as she places two disposable coffee cups on the desk and drops her briefcase to the chair that’s unofficially become hers, ‘gotcha something.’

The twinkling mirth in her eyes is infectious, and he kicks his feet from where they’re resting on the edge of his desk and leans forward, elbows on the desk, ‘oh yeah?’ He’d called her in on a Sunday to go over their travel plans to Tennessee, and given that, he was mildly surprised that she was in such a good mood.

‘Mm-hm,’ she pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a cupcake with a single candle in it. After a quick rummage in her pocket, she pulls out a disposable lighter and sparks a flame to life, ‘ta-da,’ her soft murmur, suddenly shy as she presents the little confection to him.

‘My birthday’s in October, Scully.’

‘Yeah, I, um...’ she swallows, clears her throat. ‘Today’s the- it’s March 6th. It’s been a year since I joined you on the X-Files. I figured...’ she shrugs and sighs, ‘I dunno, it’s stupid.’

‘No,’ Mulder shakes his head rapidly, smiling disarmingly, ‘no, it’s not stupid,’ he thinks about the box on his bookshelf at home that he’d agonised over whether to give her as he wrapped it the night before. ‘May I?’ he points at the candle, and she nods, clearing her throat again after he blows it out. ‘I, uh, I think I’ve got a knife here somewhere; we can split it?’

‘Sure,’ she ducks her chin, hiding her smile, as she passes it over.

On closer inspection, a grey fondant alien face tops the buttercream, and he grins up at her as he hands over her half, ‘happy first anniversary, Scully.’

March 6th 1995

He’d almost lost her. She’d been taken, and he almost hadn’t been able to get her back, and for three months, he’d been wracked with guilt and lost without her. But she was alive. She was still right there by his side, and he could see the determination that lined her face as she stuck by him, refusing to budge, refusing to leave him.

Their first year together was tame in comparison to the insanity that had befallen the two of them in their second year as partners, and he wonders idly if it was only going to get worse. He can’t imagine anything worse than sacrificing his sister for her.

He’s bought a cake, just a little one, from the grocery store round the corner from his apartment, and he’s stuck two candles wonkily in it. It’s less personal than the little alien cupcake Scully bought last year, but the store didn’t have anything more appropriate, and he knew how much Scully loved chocolate and how she wouldn’t have chosen it herself for some misguided belief that she needed to maintain her figure. So a decadent chocolate cake for six with wonky candles is what it’s going to be.

Her face lights up when she walks in and sees it, her grin widening further when she looks up at the shy smile on his face.

‘I think it’s your turn to blow them out this year,’ Mulder says as he strikes a match and lights the candles.

She nods as she sits down, blows them out and props her chin in her hand as she gazes longingly at the cake, ‘Mulder, do you think we’ll still be doing this next year? In five years’ time? Ten?’

He grins and cuts into the cake, daubing chocolate frosting on her nose before handing her a slice, ‘I think, Scully, that we’ll be doing this for another thirty years. Minimum. You’re not gonna get rid of me that quickly.’

March 6th 1998

‘We’ve got a detective coming in to talk to us about a dead drug dealer at ten,’ he says as she pushes through the door, a tray of cupcakes balanced in her hands. She’d been up most of the night trying to bake them, her mom on the phone as guidance. It was chemistry and physics, things she excelled at, but somehow baking was not her forte, and it had taken three attempts to get them right. But her mother’s pink lemonade cupcake recipe was always a crowd-pleaser, pink frosting and all, and she had wanted to do something special.

Five years. Five years in his basement office, chasing unbelievable things. Five years of missing time and abductions and cancer and sisters. Five years of surviving. That was something worth celebrating.

She nods in acknowledgement, depositing the tray on the desk and whipping out a pack of candles from her pocket, ‘well, that gives us two hours to enjoy cake, then.’

‘They look...good,’ he hesitates, and she rolls her eyes.

‘They’re rustic, okay. I’m not the most...artistic. Next year I’ll get my mother to make them.’

‘No, really, they look great. I’m sure they taste delicious.’

She smiles, lighting the candles, ‘I should hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this.’ They’d skipped cake last year, her appetite waning and neither of them in the mood to celebrate. With a flourish, she presents the candles to him, waiting for him to blow them out, and frowns when he hesitates.

‘I think you should be the one to blow them out. You missed your turn last year.’

She gives a small nod and breathes in, extinguishing the five flames in quick succession.

‘I, uh, I got you something,’ he says, clearing his throat and rummaging through his desk drawer.

‘Mulder, you didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘Actually, I got it for you a long time ago, but it never felt like the right time,’ he shrugs, pulling it out with a quiet ‘a-hah.’ He hands the box over, nervously biting his lip as she delicately opens it. ‘It’s, uh, it’s a snow globe.’

‘I can see that.’

‘It’s got a UFO in.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it does,’ she smiles softly. She shakes it, watching glitter swirl around the little cartoony spaceship. ‘Thank you, Mulder, I love it. Happy five years.’

‘Happy five years, Scully.’

March 8th 2003

She’d been working the graveyard shift in a bar two towns over from the motel they were staying at that month, bringing in what little cash she could to fund their constant running, and time had started slipping. Neither of them had looked at a calendar in more than a month, her birthday having gone unnoticed and unrecognised, and it was only because he’d grabbed a paper from the motel reception that he even noted the date. So, whilst she was sleeping the day away, the curtains drawn and the rattly heater struggling to take the late-winter chill off the room, he donned his coat and baseball cap and headed out to the nearest store.

With gas station cookies and a disposable lighter, he perches on the edge of the bed and gently shakes her awake, brushes the back of his forefinger across her cheekbone when she stirs, ‘hey, Beautiful.’

‘Mmm, time is it?’

‘Just gone noon,’ he murmurs, smiling when she groans and rolls away, ‘it’s March, Baby.’

‘March?’

‘Yeah. We missed our anniversary.’

She buries her face in the coarse motel pillow, mumbling, ‘our anniversary was months ago, Mulder.’

He gives a sad chuff, nodding at the other anniversary they missed, ‘no, not that one. The day you came in and turned my life upside-down. We’re a couple of days late, but...’ She drags herself up, rubs her eyes and smiles blearily at him, cupping his scruffy cheek. ‘I couldn’t get cake or candles, but I got cookies, and you can blow this out,’ he flicks the lighter on, holding it out for her to blow out, and she gives a quiet chuckle.

‘Ten years, huh?’

‘Ten whole years. Happy anniversary, Baby.’

March 6th 2013

It’s dark out when she phones, and he’s been staring at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time. He’s numb, unable to muster the energy to lie convincingly when she asks how he is; if he’s eating properly and getting enough sleep. He tries to feel something when he hears her sniffing and stifling a sob, tries to summon enough emotion to make his voice not sound flat when he tells her he misses her.

It’s not until he looks at the phone screen when she hangs up that he realises it’s twenty years since they met.

March 6th 2018

Her hair’s short again, almost the length it was twenty-five years ago, and though the laugh lines and the crease that permanently furrows her brow these days have deepened, her eyes still hold that same disbelieving mirth they twinkled with that first day as she held her hand out for him to shake.

‘You’re staring,’ she says, peering over the top of the case file she’s studying.

‘Am I?’

‘Mm-hm,’ she nods over at his laptop, ‘that expenditure report was due with Skinner yesterday – lingering over it isn’t going to help your case any.’

‘What makes you think I haven’t finished it?’

She smirks, ‘because I know you, and I know how much you hate expenditures. And because I’ve heard you type no more than ten words in the last two hours?’

He nods, still not taking his eyes off her, and shuts the lid of his laptop, ‘did you ever think, all those years ago, that we’d still be down here a quarter of a century later, filing motel and gas receipts?’

‘Honestly?’ he nods, and she sighs, shakes her head, ‘I don’t think I ever allowed myself that fantasy. We’ve overcome so much; the fact we’re even still talking is a miracle some days.’

He nods contemplatively and stands up, idly noticing the crack of his knees and creek of his spine, and holds his hand out to her, ‘come on, Scully. There’s cake waiting for us at home.’

March 6th 2023

He lets her sleep in, turns her alarm off and leaves under cover of darkness, intercepts Sammi as she comes barrelling across the landing towards their bedroom, ‘woah, Kid, not today. Mommy’s sleeping in.’

‘She sick?’

He chuffs a laugh as he swings her up onto his shoulders, shaking his head as he lopes downstairs with her, ‘no, it’s just a special day today.’

‘Like Christmas?’

‘Not quite, Honey,’ he sits her on the kitchen counter and gets to work making pancakes, ‘today’s our anniversary.’

The pre-schooler mulls that over, her sleep-mussed curls bouncing as she tilts her head in contemplation, ‘what’s an anibersary?’

‘An anniversary is when we celebrate a special day in our lives – your birthday is an anniversary.’

‘My birthday’s in October.’

‘It sure is, Kid, like mine,’ he nods, ruffles her hair as he passes her a tumbler of milk, ‘but today is special, ‘cause we’re celebrating the day Mommy and I met.’

‘Was it a looooong time ago?’

‘It was. A super long time ago.’

‘How long?’

He smiles and starts flipping the pancakes, ‘you guess.’

‘Ummm, I don’t know. Three years ago.’

‘Three years ago? Nope. Shall we work it out together?’

‘Yeah,’ she bounces on the counter, and for a moment, he marvels at the little being he and Scully created, all life and energy and fluffy pyjamas with rubber duckies on.

‘Okay, well, how old are you?’

‘I’m four.’

‘Okay, so we have to have known each other for more than four years. And do you remember what Mommy said about how long it takes to make a baby?’

‘Nearly a whole year!’

‘Yeah, that’s right. So let’s round up to five years. What else do you know?’

‘Umm...’ she sticks her thumb in her mouth as her brow furrows, and he gently removes it before pointing to the picture of Jackson holding her on the fridge, ‘Jack-Jack!’

‘Yeah, you’re brother. So, do you remember how old Jackson is?’ she shakes her head and he smiles, ‘that’s okay. He’s twenty-one – nearly twenty-two. So we add a year onto that and we get...?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Good job. So, Mommy and I have definitely known one another for at least twenty-three years-‘

‘That’s a really long time.’

‘It is, but I’ll tell you a secret – it’s been even longer than that.’

‘How much longer?’

‘Seven years longer. Can you do that math there? What’s twenty-three plus seven?’

She counts on her fingers, her jaw dropping when she comes to an answer, ‘you’ve known Mommy for thirty years?’

‘Mm-hm. And meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘Even better than chocolate cake?’

He barks a laugh, stacking the pancakes onto a plate and sticking a candle in the top, ‘even better than chocolate cake.’

~  X  ~

She wakes to a wet kiss on the nose and musical giggles, her daughter’s wide blue eyes pressed close to her own, ‘whatcha doing, Baby?’

‘It’s your anibersary.’

‘Mm, it is. Do you know what that means?’

‘It means Daddy’s got you a surprise,’ she whispers, and Scully cranes her neck to look over at Mulder sat at the end of the bed, giving him a coy smirk.

‘Oh, yeah? Daddy’s good at surprises.’

‘It’s pancakes.’

‘Pancakes?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Sammi sits up, dragging Scully to sitting, too, clapping her hands when Mulder presents the breakfast tray, complete with pancakes, hot tea and a flickering birthday candle. ‘Can I blow it out, Mommy?’

‘Sure, Baby,’ she smiles over at Mulder as their daughter huffs at the flame, mouthing ‘I love you’ at him.

‘I’m gonna get her dressed in a minute, then Jackson’s coming over to take her to school and bring her back later for dinner, which leaves the whole day just to ourselves.’

‘The whole day, huh?’ she spears a small triangle of pancake with her fork and holds it out for Sammi to take, finger-combing the tangles from the soft, downy hair of her baby bird.

‘The whole day, no interruptions, to do anything your heart desires.’

‘Whatever shall we do?’

‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ he grins, his smile softening as he watches his girls sharing their syrupy breakfast, thinking back all those years ago, trying to remember if he knew – if he had even an inkling – that day she walked into his office in a too-big suit, just how important she was going to be to him.

tagging @today-in-fic

[sparks9793]

I may or may not have followed up on that idea from Sunday cause the BF was busy tonight 🤭

November 11  

There’s a lot to do in terms of work today. With the impending snow storm on the way, he’s pretty sure his flight to LA will have to wait for at least a day, if not more. The BNA airport is old so when there’s a big storm, there’s a high probability that the lights will go out and it takes hours of maintenance to revive the building.  

He has an interview for a new gig in a few days. It’s a big artist and Taylor wants to be the one to lead her creative process, cause the curly haired man knows, they could be great together. He’s been prepping meticulously for it and has a team to help him get ready for the interview with fresh ideas. Nearly every day since she contacted him, he’s met with either Carlos, Dan or Zac at eleven o’clock to go over the key points of this new album’s vision, what he'd change from her previous work if he was her producer and how they’d put his plans into action.  

The curly haired man’s phone goes off when he’s just getting into his key notes for today’s call with Carlos.  

Hayley arrives at his home studio at ten thirty and sheepishly places a long black gently in front of him. “I know. I’m pushing it with the time. I can tell you’re in a sour mood.”  

Taylor’s feeling a little nervous and trying to avoid caffeine, but he knows how hard it must have been for her to get the coffee, especially with the weather outside. She still has some snow in her blonde hair. He takes the coffee and sip it, appearing disinterested.  

“Did you get me a donut or muffin?”  

“No” Hayley says, grinning, as she pulls out a bag and tosses it onto his desk. Two strawberry donuts.   

“Hmm. Good enough. Sit down.”  

Hayley sits down, fixing her sweater as she does. She crosses her leg over the other comfortably and then rests her hands in her lap. Whenever Taylor sees her, the curly haired man likes to note the differences from the last time he’d seen her. Her under eye circles are still very prominent.  

Blonde hair is still drying from her morning shower, face clean of makeup. Her clothes are neatly pressed, a spark in her eye. He feels proud just from looking at her and Taylor hopes she feels the same looking at him.  

“I’m alright. Got a court meeting tomorrow about dividing our assets. It’s a bit annoying now.” The tiny blonde hesitates suddenly and then leans forward, placing her laced hands on the desk. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I’m occupied tomorrow so I’m just going to fit it in now.”  

“Sure. Everything okay?”  

“Yeah. Yeah, no, everything’s good.”  

“Alright. What is it?”  

Hayley opens her mouth and inhales, but then stops. She bites her bottom lip turning it a deep shade of pink. Taylor knows her well enough to be able to tell when she’s stressed and her discomfort oddly eases his thoughts of not being able to read her anymore.  

“I wanted to ask you last time, but I guess we were a little busy” she starts, glancing down at her bare fingers. “You can totally say no because I understand how weird this is and I don’t want you to feel pressured because I’m your friend, but I also want you to consider it, alright?”  

The curly haired man puts the coffee down and reaches for the donuts, taking a big bite. “Sounds good.”  

“Alright, well.” Now she looks uneasy. Takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “I was wondering if it would be okay to stay with you for a little bit.”  

Taylor swallows the donut so quickly, it goes down the wrong pipe and he coughs a bit and it gives Hayley a look of concerned, her whole face full of worry. With tears in his eyes, he croaks, “Is the little bitch kicking you out of your own house?”  

Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth curves into a small smile. “What? No. It’s not that. He’s almost fully moved out actually. I haven’t seen him in a while. It’s just that, well, the house is meant for two or three people, you know? So now that he’s not there and Alf’s been staying with mom, it’s just big and empty. And I’m barely there except to sleep. I just… I don’t know. I don’t really want to be alone right now.”  

There’s a deep pink blush over her cheeks, giving her a healthy glow on Hayley’s otherwise pale skin. Her summer freckles are long gone now, but the new color looks lovely on her. “I don’t mind” Taylor finds himself saying, “if you stay at mine for a bit. But it’s a little cramped now that I turned the downstair rooms into my studio, don’t know if there’s enough space for all your clothes”  

“I don’t mind that” Hayley says quickly, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s not the clothes I’m worried about. I can work around it, it’s fine. I guess I’m more concerned about…”  

“Staying with me” Taylor finishes, putting the donut down. He wipes his hands on a napkin, but chooses to do it under the desk because his fingers are trembling.  

“Yeah” Hayley says sheepishly, toying with the ends of her hair. “I don’t want it to be weird. But I also don’t want to be alone and I’d rather be with someone I know than be alone.”  

This is one of the many times that the curly haired man realizes he doesn’t fully know how Hayley’s been handling the divorce, only because he’s never been through one. Taylor’s been through break ups, the worst one being with the person sitting in front of him, but never a divorce. After all those years and vows and sacrifices. It’s beginning to dawn on him just how lonely a divorce must be. He’d rejected her and the last thing he want is for Hayley to feel unloved.  

Cause she isn’t. In fact, Taylor right here, loves her more than life.  

And not only that, but he knows Hayley’s nature after being with her for so long. Under the hard exterior, she’s a soft soul. Feels hurt deeply.  

Hayley assumes the silence is a sign of discomfort. Immediately, her green eyes widen. “Like I said, you don’t have to agree T. You can even take a day or two to think about it. I’m not…I’m not forcing you. And I know that this is really weird because you’re… you, Taylor. We have history and I’m not trying to open any stitches or do anything to hurt you. And-and you can totally tell me if I’m disrespecting boundaries because I’ve done that in the past without realizing. I just want to be comfortable and I want you to be comfortable, so be completely honest with me. It won’t make me upset or angry or anything, yeah?”  

Fuck, she’s freaking out. he can see the vein in her forehead bulging from lack of air. She begins moving her left leg up and down and it prompts him to do the same.  

“That’s not the problem, Hayles” he tells her sincerely. “I don’t mind you staying with me. I think my concerns are the same as yours, that we’ve lived together before and we’re not exactly dating anymore so what if it’s awkward?”  

“I promise I will stay out of your way and not bug you when you’re working and leave you alone. Like I said, I’m barely at my own place, go the GDY office most days, so I don’t think I’ll be at yours much anyways except to sleep.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll pay you rent, T”  

Taylor shakes his head, offering her a smile. “I’m not worried about rent. You don’t have to do that.”  

“Yeah, but if I’m using your house, it’s the least I can do.”  

“You can buy the groceries.”  

“Sure, I can totally–” Hayley pauses, inhaling slowly. “Are you agreeing to this?”  

Having Hayley as a roommate again? He can do that. It’ll only be for a little bit. He can keep himself off of her. I’m agreeing to this, isn’t he? This is a bad idea, but she’s looking at him  like that . Like the first time she really considered they should move in together when they had been dating. Such hopefulness in her eyes. Such excitement and nervousness.  

How could Taylor ever say no to Hayley when she’s looking at him like she’s completely dependent on him? He selfishly wants her to be dependent on him for things like these, but it’s irresponsible of him when the curly haired man’s struggling to take care of himself. Should he be selfish for once and refuse her? Or should they give it a try?  

In the end, the only selfishness that proves to be triumphant is when he thinks about Hayley’s close proximity to him. And the curly haired man  loves the idea of being physically close with her again.  

“Yes” he answers, reaching for his donut again. “We can make this work.”  

Instant relief breaks out onto her pretty face. Her smile is wide and she runs a hand through her blonde hair. “Thank you, T. I promise I won’t get in your way, okay?”  

“I don’t mind” Taylor insists sincerely, wishing his heart would stop acting like it’s about to stop. “I hope your living habits have changed from before.”  

Hayley stands up and shakes her head with a cheeky smile. “They haven’t. At all. You’re a lifesaver.”  

“Don’t come tonight though. I’ve gotta clean up.”  And freak out privately.  “How about the day after tomorrow?”  

“That’s perfect” she breathes, leaning over the desk to press a quick kiss to his cheek. She glances down at her watch at the same time Taylor’s phone’s alarm begins to ring, signaling that he has to call Carlos for their meeting soon. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to your meeting now, but seriously. I owe you a bunch. Bye!”  

And with that, Hayley’s out of the studio and Taylor’s taking a bite out of his donut once more. This is fine, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to go smoothly.  

The curly haired man feels the weight of her lips on his cheek throughout the hour-long meeting. He is a very selfish man, indeed.  

(What do we think?)

[tfp-enthusiast]

Tiny!Transformers Ratchet

[Saw this a few months ago some where, i sadly don't know where anymore, and the idea came back to me so i decided to make this.]

[I will make other bots too and if you want some scenarios etc.]

It started of as an normal sunday, you and the other kids had a sleepover at the base, in disguise of a sleepover at your place so their parents wouldn't be suspicious about it, and where still a little tired.

Raf just got up and was just reading something while eating breakfast and Jack was still sleeping.

Bulkhead and Arcee where on a mission to possibly find a new relic and Miko was allowed to go with them.

You where just vibing in the medbay and slowly waking up but you still wanted to help Ratchet.

It only got a little more hectic when Miko was back and started to be loud, nothing new about that tbh.

"Hey Ratchet! Look what we found in some old mine! It looks like a music box!"

You could hear Ratchet sigh out of frustration at Miko's nonstop talking but he didn't say anything yet.

Arcee gave Ratchet the relic and to be honest if you didn't know better you too would think that it was a speaker that they used on festival's and concerts.

You heard Jack groan, Miko probably woke him up, and Arcee chuckle before walking towards him and having a small chat.

"What do you think is this Ratch'?

"I'm not sure yet, Y/n, but i will try to find it out by getting a look inside"

You examined it from where you sat, a hammock that was way to big for you that was hangig between the monitors, and the more you looked at it the more it looked like some sort of gun out of your eyes.

It was relatively blocky but it had some sort of trigger and there where also many buttons on the seemingly back.

Both you and Ratchet flinched when you heard Miko's guitar sounds trough the base.

The relic fell down because Ratchet's arm moved a little to fast and it landed with a loud bang on the floor.

Ratchet was about to say something, chances are high he was about to scold Miko, but the relic suddenly made a whirring sound and the room was filled with a white flash for a minute or so.

When you could see again you couldn't see Ratchet, you looked around but still saw the others.

You jumped down onto where the relic stood a few moments ago and looked down to see the relic with a few cracks and some sparks coming out of it.

You also saw something on the floor, you quickly got down but it seems like Bulkhead and Miko where faster than you.

"Ratchet got shrunk down! Awww you look kind of cute like that-"

"Miko don't you dare think about it!"

When you where on the floor you saw it clearly: Ratchet, a very grumpy Ratchet, he couldn't be taller than 40 inches.

Miko was about to pick him up but you could stop her from doing so by stepping in front of her.

She let out an audible groan and pouted at you for ruining her fun.

While you where busy protecting Ratchet from a touchy Miko where Optimus and Bumblebee back from a scouting mission.

"What happened here?"

"We don't know to be honest.."

Bulkhead got Miko to sit on his shoulder after some time, which both you and Ratchet where thankful for, and you helped Ratchet onto the small human area so Optimus could see him and talk with him.

"What are we gonna do now?"

"I am not sure, we will try to repair the relic and turn Ratchet back to his original size but we don't know what to do until then."

"It was already hard to not step on you kids but Ratchet now? It seems impossible.."

There was a short moment of silence before Optimus had an idea.

"Could anyone of you four help us with Ratchet? Your size would make it a lot easier."

You looked at each other and there was a moment of awkward silence before Jack spoke.

"I'm not so sure how i could explain that to my mom Optimus.. I mean i would love to help but i don't think i can."

"I'm afraid that i can't too. Tomorrow is a holiday and my family is having a small trip, i can't really bring him there."

You could see Miko grin and it seems like Ratchet saw it too because you saw a worried look in his eye.

You didn't have anything to do tomorrow, your parents would only be there in the morning, go to work and back in the late afternoon to go to sleep.

"I could. I have nothing to do tomorrow and my parents wouldn't even be at home to see Ratchet."

"I have nothing to do tomorrow too! We could both watch over him, my host parents wouldn't even question why he is there."

You believed that, Miko told you sometimes about her home here and in Japan, and from what you heard she did you could understand why her host parents where a little scared of her, you would be too.

"I take Y/n's offer."

It was clear that he would choose you, you where his charge and you where sure he was horrified of going with Miko, and you had a feeling that Miko knew it too.

That didn't stop her from pouting but she begrudgingly accepted it.

You stayed for a hour or so before all had to go home, you didn't have to considering it wasn't even 3 pm and your parents wouldn't be home in a few hours but you decided that it would help everyone on the base if Ratchet was away for a short time.

He probably doesn't even know it but he was pressuring everyone around him about turning him back.

You got driven back by Optimus because there was no one else that could.

"Thanks for the drive Optimus. Just text me or call me when you repaired the relic."

"Of course, i wish you a good night Y/n and i promise you Ratchet, we will find a way to turn you back."

"I sure hope so, goodbye Optimus."

You had to take an elevator to your apartment, because you wouldn't be walking into the 21th floor with him in your backpack.

You opened the backpack once you where inside the elevator to look if he was okay, thankfully no one took the elevator that moment, and he just looked around confused.

"Is this your 'home'?"

You had to laugh at his comment but soon you stopped when you reached your floor.

"No, that's my home, over there."

You gave Ratchet a small tour of your home, it wasn't big or luxurious but it was enough for you.

The only room you didn't show him was your parents bedroom, obviously, and your room because you where a little embarrassed about showing it to him.

You where in the kitchen while Ratchet was looking at your living room, the kitchen has an open wall that lead into the living room, and you made yourself a sandwich and took some juice out of the fridge.

"Y/n what room is that? I don't recall that you told me what room that is."

"Oh? That's my room, nothing wild."

"I would like to see it."

It would have happened sooner or later, you just nodded and told him that when you finished eating you will go to your room.

You looked at the clock really quick to see that it was almost 5 pm now, your parents would be home soon.

You stoop up and Ratchet followed suit, it seems like he was really curious about your room.

"Here it is, don't expect too much please."

You let Ratchet in your room and closed it behind him so that if your parents come home they wouldn't see him.

Ratchet went straight for your TV that was on the opposite of your bed while you just took the remote and sat down on your bed.

"What is this?"

Ratchet held a CD in his hand from your favorite game.

"Just a game of mine, do you want to play it?"

Ratchet shook his head and you just shrugged before putting on a random movie to watch with him.

You patted the space beside you so he would sit down next to you.

Ratchet just let out an 'annoyed' sigh and sat down next to you.

By the end of the movie you where barely awake and Ratchet told you to just lay down so you won't fall over and hurt yourself.

So you did, but in your groggy state you didn't seem to think and hugged Ratchet from behind and went under the covers.

He just grumbled while the next movie came on and decided that you won't even remember it and that it is actually comfortable like this.

You did remember and when you where alone you would sometimes tease him about being the perfect teddy bear.

The next day you got an text from Optimus that the relic is repaired and that he will be waiting for you in the next parking lot.

You where kinda say about it but you knew that the base would sink into chaos without the medic.

It was still one of the best day's in your life and for Ratchet it was a good way to make him relax a day.

[chasing-chimeras]

WIP Wednesday/Seven Sentence Sunday(?)

i've been tagged in a bunch of these over the past month or so, but have been completely burnt out and struggling to write anything. this scene (the first major lydia scene in green zone) is one that's been causing me trouble for a bit, but something sparked at 5am on a random wednesday and here we are.

thanks for the tags, i appreciate all of you guys so much: @ksbbb @mmoosen @wolfboy88 @kingofangst @outcastpack 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Can I sit?” The question is surprising. Theo has partially expected her to apologize, say she had the wrong room, and flee from his presence as fast and far as possible. He can’t think of any reason for the two of them to talk and she’s just about the last survivor from Beacon Hills that he’d anticipate wanting to talk to him.

“Sure,” he says with cautious uncertainty. Why? He doesn’t ask.

She perches on the bench opposite of where he’s laying, half-dressed and disheveled. He’s suddenly self-conscious and concerned what she makes of his appearance; completely ridiculous considering that society has fallen apart, but Lydia’s softly keen stare has a way of unsettling superficial insecurities.

“It was unanimous,” she informs, crossing her legs and nonchalantly folding one arm over the other.

Theo glances at her in his periphery, but maintains his composure.

“I think Liam was coming to tell you, but he’s popular today and I knew that you’d be curious…” Her stare is discerning and observant, but not necessarily probing. Theo can feel the concern radiating off of her but she makes no attempt to pry. “You should know that you’re safe here. Your friend—Tracy—gave her testimony to the sheriff, in private, and they handed out the sentence a few minutes later.”

She doesn’t go into detail, but Theo knows that they expelled him without supplies. He’d gotten the information out of Liam last night, despite the younger boy’s initial hesitance. There had been anger in his voice when he spat out the words, like dirt in his mouth, and Theo knew that he wanted more. More pain…more satisfaction. The same sentiment is absent in Lydia’s voice.

She doesn’t sound angry, or repulsed by the concept of Donovan, and there’s no demand for violence in her relaxed posture. Not like the others. Liam, Tracy, Boyd, Erica, Isaac—they’ve all been simmering, barely concealing the yearning for vengeance behind gritted-teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, softly but with a passion that burns gently.

Clenching his jaw, Theo nods in acknowledgement. It doesn’t mean anything. Apologies from people who share no responsibility are empty, but the sentiment seems to matter—to them.

“I’m sorry that no one asked you what you wanted. This wasn’t theirs to do.”

Theo hesitates, brow furrowing and eyes meeting Lydia’s in confusion. She’s sorry…that they didn’t…

“Thanks.”

Her mouth twists, somberly.

Suddenly, a twitch of irritation reverberates in Theo’s throat. It’s not her place to be like this. It shouldn’t be her, it should be—

“Why?” He asks, sharply. I don’t know you. I’ve never spoken to you.

Lydia holds his gaze, steadily but with a natural ease. Her lips move and sound comes out, but Theo’s comprehension is delayed by the inscrutability of her words.

“I was eighteen. A freshman at MIT.”

Understanding rests on her end, then pulses through the space between them. Layers of assumptions are stripped away, carved off of Lydia Martin’s appearance and Theo sees her for the first time. What he’d mistaken for fragile naivety is revealed in a flash to be a veneer, disguising the poised strength that has seen her through horror and violence. She somehow sits comfortably in her skin, despite it all…and Theo envies that.

“I was ten. At Eichen.” Confession slips from his lips.

Lydia allows the truth of it to settle around them before speaking.

“And now we’re here.”

tagging (everyone who tagged me again, because it's been a week!) and also: @theoceanismyinkwell @rd-eternity @thiamsxbitch @dinkelmehl @hemlocksandfoxgloves @raekensarcher @equallyloyalandlethal @transdunbar @trpiaep19 @stitchkiss

[clearwillow]

WIP Wednesday

I shared this with patrons on Sunday, but I haven't shared any wips here in a while. So...yeah. It has no name yet, and I'm already three chapters in, so what follows will probably be adjusted cause writing out of order isn't my friend.

She had gotten older. It was a dumb observation, but it was a fact, and so had he. Neither of them had the softness in their cheeks like they had when they were traveling. Her hair was shorter, now falling just past her shoulders. He’d taken to trimming his over the years, and it wasn’t as long and scraggly as it used to be at the ends. He’d always gotten looks about the length but he refused to cut it short.

There was something else within Kagome that showed she’d aged – the look in her eyes. She didn’t have any visible signs of wrinkles like Kaede had, she was too young for that still. He had pretended not to notice the shift back when they walked away from battles, but it was clear as day. The gentleness and compassion that Kagome displayed so prominently once was now shielded by years of experiences.

Of disappointments.

“You look good,” he spoke at last, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what he expected to happen when they did find each other again, and this tense air between them was suffocating.

Kagome nodded, her lips smiling more than her eyes. It scared the shit out of him. “You do too,” she replied. “If it wasn’t for the length of your hair I almost wouldn’t have recognized you.”

He knew it was an attempt at a joke and forced a laugh. “Y-yeah, heh… gotta hide the obvious these days…”

“Whatever you’re using, it’s effective? I couldn’t even tell you weren’t really human.”

Inuyasha raised his hand and pulled back the sleeve of his left arm, displaying the inked design on his forearm. “It’s a new trick the kitsune have been developing,” he explained. “When I’m in any territory that is marked safe, I look like I usually do. And everywhere else, I look like I do on the new moon. I still have my strength and my senses. Since it’s using human tools, I have to go back and get it touched up every few months.”

Without thinking, Kagome reached out and brushed her fingertips across his exposed skin. It was like electricity running through him with the featherlight touch, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and never let go. She picked up on the spark between them, jerking her hand away quickly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t be so familiar. It’s been a long time…”

“Don’t –”

“Inuyasha…”

“Don’t… don’t feel like you need to be a stranger with me, Kagome.” The words came out barely above a whisper, almost pleading. “I’ve waited a long time to find you again. Please don’t put more distance between us.”

Kagome’s shoulders dropped and she sighed. “That’s the thing. You never once said ‘please’ to me before the well closed. You always demanded. I’m having trouble catching up to who you are now when all I remember is the boy I knew.”

“That you know,” he corrected. “I’m still me. Do you want me to go start a fight with your grandpa? Let him cover me with sutras that won’t work?”

She shook her head. “Grandpa passed years ago. If you want someone to cover you with sutras, you’ll have to wait until I’m helping at the shrine’s next event. Those will work, so you might want to reconsider that offer.”

His face fell. It was sad enough to hear that the spry old man he used to argue with was now gone, but it was even worse finding out that he hadn’t been there for her when it happened. Her grandpa was the last connection she had to her late father, and even though she never let on she missed her other parent, he knew. “I’m sorry, Kagome.”

“It was peaceful,” she offered. “Grandpa told us months before that he had a feeling that he’d be seeing his family again. Spent the remainder of his time getting us set up to manage the shrine without him. I was taking an exam when it happened. Mama called me after the testing ended to tell me. He’d laid down for a nap and just…”

The lone sniffle was enough to break his resolve. Inuyasha pulled Kagome against him in a hug, listening as she let out shuddering breaths to calm herself before she began to sob. Holding her against him felt right. He simply held her like he should have done years before when she hadn’t been able to keep herself composed. When she needed him with her.

Kagome didn’t push him away. She held onto his jacket, letting her head rest against his chest for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought I’d gotten past it, but…”

“You haven’t had to break the news to a lot of people since it happened, have you?” he asked sadly.

“No…no, I…I haven’t…”

Inuyasha was the one to pull back, but only slightly. “I think…there’s a lot that we have to talk about, Kagome. How do you feel about meeting together over dinner?”

[lumiereandcogsworth]

this is kinda random but I saw Josh Gad on tiktok and it got me wondering, do you think LeFou and Belle keep in touch as time goes on or do they just say hi if they happened to see one another and that's kind of it?

lovely Q!!! so, my personal post-canon world for lefou is that he and stanley end up falling for each other and moving to another village to start fresh and live a life together. that doesn’t happen right away though.

i don’t think belle and lefou ever really spoke much. she obviously wasn’t a fan of gaston, and given that lefou was his lackey, they probably didn’t really interact much. however, after all the shit goes down, i think lefou does find a moment, maybe even at that celebration ball (which i hc takes place a week after the curse lifting), to apologize to belle for following gaston’s footsteps all those years. he should’ve stood up for what was right and he’s sorry for being a coward when she and her father needed the support more than ever.

belle, of course, forgives him entirely. she knows (and has known for a while) that it was very clear what gaston and lefou’s relationship was like, and she understands his influence was strong and that lefou did have a good heart deep down. i think they became friendly after that, but didn’t have much reason to interact. lefou went to pick up the pieces of his life in villeneuve, and belle was courting her beloved. whenever she did stay in the village during this period, she’d definitely stop and say hi to lefou if they happened to cross paths. just to check in on how he’s doing. i think by this point he’s found acquaintanceship with stanley, and probably attraction, but because of how shaken he was from everything that happened with gaston, i think he’d be pretty guarded about having any kind of relationship with anyone at first.

(and for the record, i don’t ship gafou. no hate, i just don’t ship it! i think lefou definitely very clearly was into gaston, but i don’t think gaston felt that way about him. gaston just needed someone to worship him, and lefou was perfect. and obviously the entire thing was unhealthy and toxic anyway, so it’s all for the best. but anyway, i just mean that lefou would be afraid to let anyone close into his life again, since it all went so terribly with gaston.)

all this to say, besides maybe sharing some pleasantries and hey! maybe even a pint or two at the pub, i don’t think belle and lefou would interact much. she’d definitely be glad to get to know him though, considering he was living in gaston’s shadow the entire time she knew of him, but i don’t think they’d become besties particularly.

by the time belle had married adam and they’d returned from their honeymoon, i think something had sparked between lefou and stanley and they were talking about leaving town to start fresh somewhere. i don’t think lefou would feel inclined to tell belle in particular that he was leaving, especially considering she’s The Queen now, he knows she’s got a busy life. but eventually at some point (not too much time having passed), belle, maurice, and père robert are having dinner together on a sunday, which they often do, and belle suddenly thinks to ask what lefou is up to. feels like she hasn’t seen or heard from him in a while. and père robert reports that lefou and stanley moved away together. he says that he seemed happy, and also a lot more confident than anyone had ever seen in him before.

belle was content to learn this, and they toasted to lefou and his happiness before continuing their lovely dinner. we all wish lefou and stanley a very pleasant evening 🫶🎩

[secretsbyekai]

[Pt. 1 Random page of my fanfic]

Andrea and the Pogues played their cards as they enjoyed their rounds of beer at the bar. Some good old Rock N’ Roll music was playing in the background and everything was well for them that Sunday night. Of course, they couldn’t get too drunk, considering they needed to go back to work the next morning. While Pope was arguing about some mythical treasure hunt with Kie, Sarah and John B were having their alone time on the sofa. And so, it only leaves Andrea with JJ. 

“Well, I’m very flattered by that,” he said after she had told him why she was still around, “I’m glad you’re still here. We wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. So, thank you, Dre.”

“My pleasure, Jayj,” she giggled as they clinked their bottles of ice-cold beer.

The front door opened and in came Rafe, Topper, and Kelce. When the Pogues saw those Kooks, they immediately shushed and just watched them go over to Andrea. Rafe slithered his arms around her from behind and kissed her on the head. She chuckled lightly and high-fived Topper.

“What are you two doin’ here?” Rafe asked.

“Just hangin’ out, mindin’ our own business,” JJ answered as he looked down at his beer.

“Wasn’t askin’ you now, was I?” Rafe said.

Andrea just rolled her eyes.

“Why are you guys here?” she changed the subject.

“We were headin’ down to a better bar when we saw you here,” Topper answered.

“Knock yourself out.”

Rafe chuckled at that.

“You tryin’ to get rid of me so you can get comfortable with this Pogue here?” 

“I’m just trying to enjoy this very nice leisure time with my friends without you being so mean to them, Rafe. You always make us feel very awkward and uncomfortable.”

“Oh. So there is somethin’ goin’ on between the two of you?” he pretended to ask as if he didn’t already know that JJ was neck-deep in love with his girlfriend.

JJ just glared at him, his teeth clenched. Andrea turned to him with a look of warning. She didn’t want to admit it, but she already knew JJ had a thing for her from Sarah and Kie. She never disclosed it to her boyfriend, but he didn’t need anyone telling him something so obvious. It was in JJ’s eyes. Every time he talked to her or was just around breathing the same air as her, sparks would fly around in his deadbeat brain.

Suddenly, Topper laughed to break the tension and he patted Andrea’s shoulder.

“Jokes. All jokes,” he said as he turned to Sarah and saluted her.

Andrea rolled her eyes at that. 

“How about we just go?” Topper offered, turning to Rafe so he would stop being a dick.

In truth, Topper had drastically changed over the years and he had been quite tolerable for the Pogues.

“You know what? I think I’ll stay and talk to JJ over here about whatever it was he’s talkin’ about with my girlfriend,” Rafe answered with a thin smile, darting his gaze over to him. 

His arms were still wrapped around Andrea’s body, though she didn’t feel comfortable anymore. 

“Well, if you two boys are gonna hang, then I’m just gonna go to that better bar with Topper and Kelce,” Andrea suddenly said as she stood up and linked her arm to the two Kooks, “Have fun.”

With that, the three went off as Kelce chuckled and Topper shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re not seriously leaving your boyfriend with your boy toy, right?” Topper asked as they were entering his vehicle.

Rafe and JJ then turned to each other challengingly.

“Why can’t you just take your dirty scraps and find some other chick that’s not mine, asshole?” Rafe threatened.

“Oh wait, didn’t she tell you? She’s down to share–”

Suddenly, Rafe had his fist to JJ’s face and the two broke into a fight. The Pogues circled around them as they shouted for the two to stop. How long has it been since they lived together in the Outer Banks? Have they not learned anything? Topper, Kelce, and Andrea reentered the premises in shock when they heard all the ruckus. She couldn’t believe that they were still doing this crap. 

“Stop them, now,” she told the guys, and the two swooped in.

Kelce held off Rafe while Topper held off JJ. The two guys kept shouting and cursing at each other. The Kooks went out of the premises when the owner of the bar came out of hiding, entered the vehicle, and drove away quickly. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?!” Topper shouted, “Has history taught you nothing?”

“Shut up, man. Just shut the fuck up!” Rafe shouted back in anger. 

Topper huffed a breath as he focused on his driving. Andrea just kept very quiet. After several seconds of discomforting silence, she finally broke.

“Drop me off here.”

Topper turned to her in shock.

“Dre, come on–”

“Stop here.”

“Dre–”

“Stop, Topper.”

He finally slowed to a stop at the edge of a random street and she exited the vehicle. Rafe sighed heavily as he rubbed his face. He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did. He finally got off as well.

“Dude,” Kelce reminded him, but he was already following Andrea.

“Hey,” he called out, “Hey, hey, wait. Stop.”

He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to him. 

“What?” she snapped.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘what’? Are you seriously pissed that I hurt your little fuck toy?” 

“Oh, my God, Rafe! JJ and I have absolutely nothing going on between us!” she shouted, “Don’t you get it? No matter what’s going on with anybody, what matters is that I don’t think of them as anything but friends!”

“So you do know that JJ’s got a thing for you, is that it?” he shouted back, “What, you wanted to keep it to yourself so you can secretly flirt around with him without getting caught? Do the other Pogues know about this, too?”

She turned away as she sighed heavily, wondering why it had come to this.

“You keep telling me that I can trust you, Dre? You can’t even talk to me about this!”

“Because I knew you’d act this way and hurt JJ!”

“So fucking what?!”

She scoffed as she shook her head in disbelief. She then straightened her stance, realizing just then that Rafe would do anything to anyone without feeling bad about the consequences. He didn’t care if he hurt JJ, just as long as he’s got her. Rafe just stared at her.

“I’m going home,” she said, using her usual calm and poised voice, “Don’t follow me.”

“Dre…”

She walked away from him. He sighed in frustration as he punched the wall next to him, walking around in circles, and rubbing his head. He finally followed her. From the vehicle, Topper and Kelce just watched.

“So…should we follow ‘em or…?” Kelce asked.

“I think they need to figure this shit out on their own,” Topper answered as he finally drove away.

Andrea walked the dark empty streets of the Outer Banks without looking back. She then sighed in annoyance and rolled her eyes.

“I told you not to follow me!” she snapped.

“Well too bad, ‘cause I am!” he snapped back, “Are you seriously gonna walk away from this, huh? Hey, answer me!”

She just kept walking. He let out a sarcastic laugh and finally walked faster. He grabbed her upper arms and whipped her around to him, making her gasp in shock. She shoved him off and tried to get him to let go, but he only yanked her closer and put his lips against hers, kissing her hard. He wrapped his arms around her small body, locking her in place, and she had to hold onto his shoulders to not stumble. They breathed in and she shoved him off again, giving them more space. They breathed hard and looked at each other challengingly.

“Get away from me, you psycho!” she shouted and kept walking.

He just followed all the way to her apartment.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Photo from French concert later in 1994

"Then, in a burst of neon and dry ice, Pulp were among us! We simply drank in guitarist Russell Senior's pale lemon safari-suit and moonstone pendant. His lounge-lizard hair, dripping with ennui! His darting look of supreme indifference! And when he took off his white-framed sunglasses . . . glittery eye-shadow!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pop parody that is pure Pulp

26th April 1994

[this gig was recorded, and available here]

David Belcher bops to the rinky-dink melodies of a band that glories in the preciousness of popular music.

MORTALLY offended, my companion adjusted his Ziggy Stardust-inspired frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat. ''Fashion-victim?'' he snarled. ''I am no fashion-victim . . . I am a fashion-assailant!'' All around us, tacit support for this statement was provided by the clothing of other bold archaelogists mining rich seams in pop's Plasticine era (c. 1972).

We had gathered on Sunday in Glasgow's Garage to salute Pulp. Some of us, however, could also have been auditioning for a re-make of The Sweeney. Young women wore A-line denim mini-skirts. One youth posed with fey aplomb in red crushed-velvet tartan flares. Another affected a window pane check jacket which mimicked the size of pane found only in the windows of department stores. We anxiously scanned the skies around him for naval jets, lost these past 20 years, suddenly homing in on the aircraft carrier-width of his lapels.

Then, in a burst of neon and dry ice, Pulp were among us! We simply drank in guitarist Russell Senior's pale lemon safari-suit and moonstone pendant. His lounge-lizard hair, dripping with ennui! His darting look of supreme indifference! And when he took off his white-framed sunglasses . . . glittery eye-shadow!

Comparatively restrained in tight white jeans and silvery lurex shirt, Jarvis Cocker was nevertheless the cynosure of every gaze: teasing, laconic, deadpan, the perennial south Yorkshire outsider. Red-eyed and angular, the knowing Jarvis waggled his bottom and twirled his microphone-lead in an abandoned yet parodic manner. A fluttering boa was proffered from the stage-front throng. Jarvis accepted, inserted it 'twixt his lips, and showered his admirers with a mouthful of feathers. We swooned.

A between-song utterer of elliptical and breathy confidences, Jarvis glories in pop's ridiculousness. He celebrates his influences at the same time as he sends them up, 'said influences ranging from the Velvet Underground, Sparks, Johnny Rotten, Roxy, and Cockney Rebel to Alan Bennett's monologues, TV's long-lost Junior Showtime, and Billy Liar by Keith Waterhouse.

Most importantly, the transcendent Jarvis and his subversive band employ these disparate influences to make something new. Acidic, observant lyrics driven by rinky-dink pure-pop melodies . . . rev 'em up and point 'em at me, by gum.

Stuff pointy-headed critics droning on about Jarvis being the embodiment of the spirit of glam, blah blah . . . glam being a thematic construct for the working-class impulse to seek grace under pressure, blah blah . . . bedroom-bound adolescents from Sheffield council estates appropriating the pop process to re-invent themselves and thus defeat lives of stultifying ordinariness, blah blah blah. We boss groovers say this to tortured theorists: bog off, swotty, and bop to Pulp's tunes. And smile and think at Jarvis's words.

''Are there any perfect people in the audience this evening?'' Jarvis asked disingenuously at one point. There were scattered cries in reply. ''Apart from us, of course. Actually, I don't think there's anything to be gained by being perfect. Perfection's boring. Unless you have to make an effort, things don't mean anything.''

Flawed as we are, we drew reassurance from Pulp's efforts on our behalf. And how's about this for Cockeristic cock-eyed realism? ''I think that you have to hold on to the romantic view that things are going to turn out OK in the end, that there's a well-structured plot. Even when we know that there usually isn't. But we'd all like to believe that sometimes there's the sunset, the violins, and the titles coming down as you walk through.''

At this, there is empathic cheering. Jarvis goes on to advise against anorexia as an aid to glamour. He also says that there's more to life than the price of apples. Odd, yet perhaps not so odd. I look about me and realise, weirdly, that most of the audience are clad in normal apparel. Are Pulp closer to achieving mainstream acceptance than we might have expected?

As Pulp's melodies swell, conventional couples can be observed smooching. A bearded, balding middle-aged gent bobs his ponytail appreciatively. And at the back of the hall a diminutive flame-haired woman in a flowing black dress dances barefoot before falling dramatically to the floor, there to mime the sinuous stretchings of a cat. She hisses playfully and claws her boyfriend's leg.

I re-position my blond Afro and unfurl my companion's loon-pants, comforted in the knowledge that there's nowt so queer as everyday Pulp folk.

[bongaboi]

Georgia: 2022 Southeastern Football Champions

ATLANTA - Georgia swatted away the field goal attempt, the ball spinning to a stop at its 4-yard line. The LSU players trudged off the field, thinking the play was over.

Christopher Smith knew better. He suddenly scooped it up and took off the other way, sprinting 96 yards for a touchdown that epitomized the Bulldogs program.

They were a step ahead of LSU on Saturday.

They've been a step ahead of everyone for two years now.

With all sorts of turmoil behind them in the rankings, Georgia headed to the College Football Playoff as the clear No. 1, dismantling the No. 11 Tigers 50-30 in the Southeastern Conference championship game Saturday.

Stetson Bennett's threw a season-high four touchdown passes in another stellar postseason performance, while Smith's heads-up play gave the Bulldogs an early spark.

"I've got good players around me. I'm not that bad at football, either," Bennett said with a smile. "We've got a good team."

Georgia (13-0, No. 1 CFP) also caught a big break when Smith deflected a pass that bounced off an LSU receiver's helmet and wound up being picked off by the Bulldogs, setting up a score that contributed to a 35-10 lead by halftime.

LSU quarterback Jayden Daniels re-injured a sore right ankle late in the second quarter, giving way to Garrett Nussmeier in the second half.

The backup guiding the Tigers (9-4, No. 14 CFP) to three second-half touchdowns, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Georgia accomplished something that not even last season's national championship squad could could do - win its first SEC title since 2017. The Bulldogs were denied in this game a year ago by Alabama, before bouncing back to beat the Crimson Tide in the title game.

"I don't want one kid to walk out of our program without an SEC championship ring in their careers," coach Kirby Smart said. "That could've happened. They said enough is enough and got 'em one tonight."

Georgia heads into the playoff assured of a return trip to Atlanta for a de facto semifinal home game at Mercedes-Benz Stadium, just 75 miles from its Athens campus.

LSU's outside hopes of crashing the four-team playoff field were wiped out a week ago by a stunning loss at Texas A&M, one of several upsets that will give the selection committee plenty to think about before its announcement Sunday.

Tennessee and Clemson also ruined their playoff hopes with losses late in the regular season, while No. 4 Southern California is presumably out after getting blown out by Utah in the Pac-12 title game Friday night.

Just as the SEC game was kicking off, No. 3 TCU lost to Kansas State in overtime for the Big 12 championship, further clouding a playoff picture that suddenly looks much more favorable for No. 5 Ohio State and No. 6 Alabama.

No matter who makes the elite field, Georgia is firmly focused on becoming the first repeat national title since Alabama in 2011-12, having won all but one game this season by double-digit margins.

"I've tried not to play attention to any of it," Smart said of all the chaos. "It didn't matter to me. That's so far away."

The Bulldogs showed they are more than just a bunch of talented athletes - this is a smart, well-coached group.

When Nazir Stackhouse burst through the middle of the line to block LSU's 32-yard field goal attempt late in the first quarter, Smith knew what to do.

"That's a scenario we go over a lot in practice," he said.

He looked toward the sideline to see if it was OK to grab it.

"You're not allowed to pick it up unless you can score with it," Smart said.

Smith took care of the rest.

LSU coach Brian Kelly blamed himself and his staff for allowing the play to happen.

"Obviously, we did a poor job if coaching," he said. "It's our responsibility to have our guys alert in that situation. They were not alert."

LSU quickly tied it up on Daniels' 53-yard touchdown pass to Kayshon Boutte, only to have Bennett take control from there.

The sixth-year senior, a former walk-on who was offensive MVP of both Georgia playoffs wins a year ago, struck for four TD passes in a less than 15-minute span: 3 yards to Brock Bowers, 22 yards to Ladd McConkey, 14 yards to Darnell Washington and 3 yards to Dillon Bell.

Just like that, Georgia led 35-7.

"I was in a zone," Bennett said.

It's been that way for two years now.

THE TAKEAWAY

LSU: Kelly's debut season turned a bit ugly the last two weeks, but the Tigers are on the right track. "We want to get back here next year. That's our goal," Kelly said. "Get back here and win it."

Georgia: Win or lose in the SEC title game, the Bulldogs were assured of a spot in the playoff. But Smart continues to impress with his ability to keep the team motivated. While there were some huge defensive lapses in the second half, this game was never in doubt.

GOING FOR 2

When Georgia scored its final touchdown early in the fourth quarter for a 48-23 lead, Smart surprisingly called for a 2-point conversion.

The Bulldogs converted it with a trick play, but Smart insisted that he wasn't trying to run up the score.

"The books says you go for 2 there," he said.

When asked about the play, Kelly stumbled over his words a bit before finally saying, "I don't get too caught up in what other teams are doing."

INJURY REPORT

While Daniels went down for LSU, Georgia also lost a couple of players to injuries in the first half.

McConkey landed awkwardly making a catch along the sideline, inflaming a knee issue that's been bothering him all year. Tight offensive tackle Warren McClendon sustained what appears to be a mild MCL sprain.

Neither returned after halftime.

[oonajaeadira]

The Superfluous Meeting of Utmost Importance

(ORANGE VANILLA POPSICLES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Please schedule an appointment with your dentist before reading this fic. 

Summary: It’s the day of the meeting.

A/N: Okay, y’all. You asked for the meeting where Javi confesses the love everyone here and everyone in the household knows he has for Sunday, so here it is. However. It’s not the only meeting Javi’s concerned with.

This one’s from Javi’s POV and I hope you enjoy that. I loved getting into his curly little head.

Audemars Piguet = a very expensive watch. Believe me.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

The way the sunlight kisses your hair, how you move your jaw when you’re thinking–a way of not clenching it in stress–the way your fingers skip over your keyboard. You’re determined to get your work done by his 2pm meeting today.

A meeting you’d set the date and time for per his request–he smirks–to “confess.”

Javi is completely in love with you. Has been for a while now. He’s never felt the need to hide it. It’s not a revelation, it’s just an everyday truth.

You’re wearing one of the tops you brought with you when you took the job months ago. It’s cute on you. It’s the second time you’ve worn it this week. He could buy you a whole closet of clothes, enough to never wear the same thing twice, but you wouldn’t ask for that and he’d never insist.

You don’t care about his money. You’re happy to have a room in the house, but you eschewed the down comforter for your grandmother’s afghan and he even had to push you to choose your office furniture or you would have gone without. The only time he can give you extravagant things and get a reaction out of you is with high end meals…but even then, it can’t just be expensive, it has to be good and prepared well before you lose yourself in a blissful sigh. You appreciate his gifts but value his attention and trust more than anything else, he can see that, see the shine in your eyes when he asks for your opinion or tells you something he’s never admitted to anyone else.

He loves this about you. He loves that he could buy you a Monet and you’d still rather look at the moon.

He knows he doesn’t have to tell you. But he wants to say the words and leave you no doubt. Grins broadly when he thinks about it, feels comfort all the way through to the marrow.

But which words? How to say it? He isn’t sure yet.

Leaning pigeon-toed against the doorway to your office, he watches you for a moment, your back to the door. Even though you’ve positioned your desk to look out at the ocean, you spend much less time staring out the window than he does. He wishes you wouldn’t work so hard–your dedication creates a beautiful, taut ping in his chest–but he knows you enjoy it and he’d be lost without you and your devotion. It is good that you’re different than him in this regard.

A glance down at his Audemars Piguet shows it’s just turning 11. Three hours then. Maybe he’ll go for a swim.

But instead of taking the stairs and heading for the pool, he suddenly has the spark of an idea and heads past them to the kitchen.

“Ah. Néstor, hi.”

“Buenos dias, jefeeeeeee.” The garlic he’s mincing holds the cook’s attention, but he sings off a dry greeting.

The kitchen counter is covered in bowls and plates full of freshly chopped and grated ingredients for tonight’s dinner–a special meal for a special night–they both know how much you like Néstor’s homemade wood fired pizza. A margherita, a pugliese, a prosciutto crudo e rucola… he will keep creating and firing them until you’re both full and then he will keep going so that there will be leftovers for the cook’s day off.

Javi rocks on his feet as he watches Néstor stir the simmering sauce on the stovetop, waiting for a moment when he won’t be too much of a bother, but his patience runs out. He asks the cook for his help. To help Javi make something himself. Something sweet. He doesn’t know what though. He just came up with the idea a minute ago.

Néstor swirls the wooden spoon through the steaming tomatoes, silently, expertly, taking his time and assessing the texture. “Para Sunday?” He asks, frowning, not looking up from his gentle mixing.

“Sí.”

“Hoy es el dia de la confesion, eh.” 

“Ah, sí.” That’s right. He told Néstor about the meeting last night at the party, hoping for advice from the confidante but only receiving a thoughtful stare and the assurance that he would plan something special for dinner.

Néstor sighs as he tears the casing off a salami, using his knife to hack a heel from the sausage before turning around and leaning back against the counter. Taking a bite, he brings back that same contemplative stare as he assesses his boss, looking him up and down as if he can read cooking prowess from his measurements alone.

“Mm. Okay,” he decides, a sharp nod as he chews. “Los polos de hielo.”

“Polos?” Popsicles? Would that be special enough? Would you like that? Looking out of the large windows, Javi catches the sea, the sun turning it to tinfoil, bouncing off the surface in clear, blinding light, not a wisp of shade. It’s going to be hot today. Something sweet, but not too heavy. Brilliant. “Perfecto.” 

“Bueno,” Néstor barks, trying not to let Javi’s dazzling grin rub off on him, wiping his hands on his apron. “Let’s rock and roll.”

Ingredients and freezer molds land on the counter, and while the cook fills the air with tangy, warm, savory, Tuscan scents, he calls out orders to his employer who handles all that is cold and creamy and sweet.

Javi only hurts himself once–catching his finger on a blade when he reaches for the vanilla pod that he dropped into the blender. The cut isn’t very deep.

He glances over the oranges, the cream, the sugar, the yogurt, the vanilla.

I love you, Sunday girl. You are bright and cool and sweet and good for me. To me, you are perfect. 

Yes. He will bring you this confection and this is what he will tell you. You will understand this.

You will understand him. Like you always do.

And you will smile.

Yes. This is good.

________________

What was he heading off to do? Oh, yes. Swim.

Ach. He’s not wearing his swim briefs. Upstairs to his closet then.

It takes him a moment to find his favorites, the ones with the stripes. He forgot that he asked Rosi for them and they’re laid out on his dressing table. Left his sandals on the balcony.

The balcony….

The balcony off his bedroom looks down over a stone terrace which in turn overlooks the sea. There’s a table and chairs there, with one chair pulled out and turned to face over the vista. He imagines he can see the outline of your shape in its cushions, you sit there frequently enough in the evenings, watching the swallows race each other over the watercolor palette of the sunsetting sky. 

It is always a comfort to find you there, to discover you taking a moment to relax, untangling your own thoughts. You will sit and admire your view, and he will pause in passing to admire his.

The first time he saw you, you were sitting in that chair.

Seven. There were seven finalists for the job, and they were asked to wait on the terrace. Javi had begrudgingly agreed to an assistant at his board’s insistence, not exactly relishing the idea of being anyone’s boss, but he couldn’t deny that there were just parts of his job he didn’t have the want or attention span for. And he was very bad at keeping appointments. And organizing documents or filing them on time. And concentrating on actual work. But on the day of the secondary interviews, he was called in to meet the finalists personally and this was by far the most irritating part of the agreement. He didn’t know what to ask or what to look for in an assistant. He wasn’t ready for them to judge him or wait for them to tell him what to do. He decided he would just keep quiet and let two of his board members do all the work. Surely they would know better than him what makes a good P.A.

He’d put off coming out of his room as long as he could, peeking out over the balcony at the applicants below.

There was a pair of young women both in short skirts and heels. The one with the long, wavy brown hair was sitting on the low stone wall out of the sun, lazily typing with too-long fake nails on her phone, bored and lost to the world around her. The one with the long bleached locks was speaking on hers. She was annoyed, authoritative, something about a driver, and no, she didn’t want to go to dinner in a white car, she wouldn’t be seen in anything but a black one.

A young man nervously paged through a file on his lap, checking and rechecking all his papers. He looked about as flustered as Javi was feeling. That was relatable.

Three more women–less fashionable but more professional and personable–were sitting at the table having a seemingly cordial chat. But there was something about their body language, maybe the way they kept their hands in their lap rather than leaning into the table, or the way they watched each other without breaking eye contact that suggested the competition was being assessed.

And then there was you. The woman sitting in the chair turned out to the sea. An easy blouse and capri pants, clean and fashionable sneakers that would be good for walking cobblestones. Did you walk here? You didn’t look like you spent hours on your appearance but that you were able to have an easy prettiness about you. And unlike the others, you were still and focused, gazing serenely out over the sea, unconcerned with the others or with the file held easily on your lap, content to keep your quiet little queendom of thought and vista.

Calm.

That’s what it was about you. A calm.

He must have stared too long. Your eyes shifted to the side, using your periphery to confirm what perhaps you could feel, before looking up to him on the balcony.

It caught him off guard, your openness, your ease, and he lifted an awkward hand in what should have been a wave and shouldn’t have been a wave, he really shouldn’t have been standing there staring out in the open where you could all see…

And then you smiled.

The sun bounced off your earring and a breeze fluttered your collar.

That was all. Just a serene smile and a turn back to the sea. No judgment, no coyness, nothing disingenuous. Just a girl enjoying the view and kindly acknowledging a stranger.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so nervous after all.

A gull cries out overhead, and the terrace is quiet, the chair empty; Javi stands in his swim shorts, sandals dangling from his fingers as he comes back from that day many months ago.

I love you, Sunday. You are my perspective. From the very first day I met you, you have been the calming, soothing song of my heart. All you have to do is smile and I can do anything.

He’s only just realized this.

He should tell you this.

You should know.

________________

The pool water stings the cut on his finger, but this is good. This way he won’t forget the popsicles.

While he swims laps, his mind churns, recalling in startling detail the first week–your delightful disbelief upon being ushered into your own office, his embarrassment over his files and how you had them organized in a matter of hours. The first time you brought his coffee and agenda for the day, how you’d quickly adjusted to his erratic schedule, how you easily assessed what he didn’t need to do and you could take off his plate. It took you a little longer than that to be easy with him, to understand he wasn’t helpless or lazy or even just testing you, but that he very much needed a friend and a gentle hand …that he very much needed you. And soon afterward you had clicked in, effortlessly finding the best way to bring him what he needed when he needed it, whether it be contract signatures first thing in the morning when his head was not yet full of other things, scheduling an afternoon swim before a stressful meeting so he could get the jitters out, or texting him a meme from across a conference room during a presentation when he was daydreaming–a monkey looking through binoculars, “Focus.”

Even that very first day–

The first candidate had been the pretty brunette. She was skilled, but seemed just as unaffected in her interview as she had been on her phone out on the terrace.

Then the young man, recognizing Javi right away and all but falling over himself to shake his hand, under-qualified but eager, son of a friend of the family.

By the time one of the more professional women from the table came in, Javi’s mind was buzzing and his knee was bouncing. She asked more questions than she answered and he felt as if he was the one being interviewed.

But the world came to rights when the fourth candidate–you–came in and sat calmly across the table, laying your file simply and neatly before him. 

And again, you smiled, clearly recognizing him from the balcony, but without calling undue attention to it, simply nodding as if you were now old friends.

His associates sat on either side of him conducting the interview, and when they introduced him, you’d smiled a third time and said in English, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gutierrez. You have a beautiful home. I like the view.”

“Thank you.” 

Your Spanish was careful and formal, but fluent, your body language relaxed, but alert. You listened closely to each question and answered confidently, had a good history of executive assistance and had been working in Barcelona for a short while before this. 

“I love Barcelona,” you’d offered to a stray question, “but this is my first visit to Mallorca. It’s a different kind of beautiful. Barcelona is like being in another time, but this is like…being in a beautiful movie. I feel like a star.”

This, of course, caught his attention. “Which star?”

It was the first time he’d addressed you and your eyes snapped to his with a glimmer. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that…well, maybe not someone glamorous like Zoe Saldana or Cate Blanchett but… more relatable? Like a girl living a dream? Like…Sally Hawkins?”

“Sally Hawkins.”

“Yeah, you know. Happy Go Lucky? The Shape of Water? Or Paddington? I doubt you’ve seen that one.”

“Yes, I have seen it.�� His cheek pulled up in a smirk.

The associates had more questions for you, more serious ones regarding background checks and financial credibility, your visa status, and you launched into a detailed explanation of timeline and process. 

But Javi’s world simply tunneled in on you. On your personal file sitting on the desk in front of him. On his cup of coffee between himself and the folder.

And without thinking too hard about it, he reached out with the pretense of grabbing that file, and instead upended the cup, sending coffee spilling out over the table.

There was immediate action on either side of him–his associates jumping up and going to the service tray for towels–and also before him as you simply stood and moved all the papers out of the way from the encroaching stream; your file, his team’s notepads, a stray pen that had been pushed away by the initial wave.

He noticed as you picked up his cup and absently licked the coffee off your thumb on your way over to the service tray. How you continued in Spanish to explain that a work visa of this kind was only going to take a week’s review with an expedited order. How–as his associates mopped up the mess in front of him–you refilled his cup and added cream and sugar before bringing it back to the table and, sitting back down across from him, carried on as if nothing momentous had happened.

And yet, it had.

The coffee was just as he took it, American style, with plenty of cream and sugar.

Cream, because you’d seen the color when it had spilled over the table.

Sugar, you knew, because you had tasted it on your thumb.

He did not hear anything else you said regarding the job, only watched as you shook hands with both of his board members before nodding to him.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. I hope to see you again.”

He stood, extended his hand, not wanting to regret sending you off without a touch. “Are you staying on the island?”

“Yes. At a roomstay in town. It’s above a bakery. Smells wonderful in the morning.”

“Do you need a driver to take you back?”

Another smile. And a shake of the head. Your hand was warm in his. “I’ll follow the beach. The tide is out. It will be a nice walk.”

After the door closed behind you, Javi opened your file, flipped through to the visa application, and signed his name in the employer field.

Her, he’d told the board members as they objected, explaining there were three more applicants to see and a third round of finalist interviews after that. Dotting and crossing the appropriate letters, he dropped the pen in finality as he grabbed his blazer and headed for the door. 

“Her.”

He caught up with you at the front entrance.

“Miss…Miss? There is a shortcut out the back to the beach. Allow me to show you?”

I love you, for seeing me, for anticipating my every need, for being a partner in every way–

A wild waving of arms catches Javi’s attention at the side of the pool, and he brings himself out of his back float to discover the old gardener signaling him.

“È ora che io tagli le palme, signore! Ti dispiace?”

Ah. Time for him to trim the poolside palms. “Sí.”  Javi blinks. Time for… time… “Che ore sono, Giorgio?”

“Quasi le due, signore.”

Shit. Almost two o’clock already?

He’s never swam so inelegantly, a mad dash to the edge, hoisting himself onto the deck like a wounded orca and bringing half the pool out with him– 

This is one meeting he cannot be late for! He cannot be late–!

________________

When he finally makes it to your office, the tips of his hair are still sparkling with beads of pool water and his clothes are sticking to him for not properly drying himself and damn damn damn he forgot the popsicles–

“Sunday–”

–but that doesn’t matter now because he’s just late enough and you’re on your office couch sitting patiently and he didn’t mean to make you wait he only wants to see you smiling–

“You’re late!”

–but you are smiling, you are standing and smiling and forgiving, oh so forgiving, always overlooking his scattered relation with time and you know he always means well with his shoddy organization–

“Sunday, I–”

–and he realizes he’s telling you this as he reaches for you. What was it he was going to say with the sweetness? No, he forgot the popsicles. But you’re so calm and soothing and the things you do for him, the way you know him, he knew right away you were best for him and he wanted to give you whatever you wanted and it was always just a matter of a little more love every day and you’re listening so intently and it’s only when your eyebrows pinch upward when he calls you pichurri that he realizes you don’t know that word and that he’s been rambling in Spanish but everything he’d planned to tell you is getting mixed up but you’re smiling, you’re keeping up, you know him so well and his heart is overwhelming him and he’s a little too worked up–

But like always, like every day since he spilled his coffee on purpose, you know exactly what he needs.

And you stop his mouth with your own.

All these thoughts of you get flushed clean of anxiety and doubt, and his heart no longer flutters like a bird in a cage but rather soars like a swallow in the sunset.

You fit so easily in his arms, and your lips are exactly as sweet as he thought they would be; they are rich and complex and fulfilling. They are the perfect indulgence. They are worth waiting for.

But just to be sure, he takes another sample. And another. And you are generous with him and let him taste all he wants.

“Miss,” he kisses the little upturned corner of your mouth, nips at the little bow, “I know a path to the beach. Will you allow me to show you?”

Even now, even after you’ve kissed him, he hopes you want to follow him. But of course you smile. And he is all courage and takes your hand, leading you away from your work and out into the sunshine.

But first there’s a detour to the kitchen to retrieve the frozen treats. And then there are free hands that clasp each others’. And then there is easy laughter and there is sun and there are bare feet in the surf. And at the end of the popsicles, there are chilled lips that need warming, and the kisses bear the sweetness of orange and vanilla.

So it was a good choice after all. 

As were you. 

Pichurri. Dear one. Sweetheart.

You. 

___

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