#《 so that Charlie can recognize him and feel safe 》

[differenteagletragedy]

Part Two of Simon Riley meeting a single mom at the park and going "that one, I want that one."

As much as Simon feels the persistent gnaw of want, he can’t pinpoint exactly why it’s there, and as the days since he met you drag on, he can’t figure out which is more frustrating — the wanting itself, or the fact that the reason behind it keeps eluding him.

Maybe it’s some biological impulse, that’s one thing he considers. Maybe it’s just a primal impulse drudged up by the sight of your belly and the helpless fear he’d heard in your voice that day. His rotten genes kicking around inside him, whispering to him that they want out.

Or it could be that you look like exactly the type he tends to go for when he allows himself the little indulgence of a pretty woman’s company. Present state aside, that is.

Regardless, he finds himself walking by the park nearly every day, scanning the area just in case he sees you or your little boy there again. He doubts he'd approach you again even if he did cross your path a second time, but even so, his aimless walks don't seem quite so aimless anymore.

It's not until one day, a few weeks after that first time, that he sees your somehow familiar form standing by one of the picnic tables. He'd thought you looked fit to burst the first time he saw you, but now you were somehow bigger still. Even from a distance, he can make out the sweat on your face, the wet bits of hair sticking to your forehead that show your overexertion, as if your rundown expression doesn't give it away.

You look absolutely miserable, and Simon pushes down whatever odd little instinct it is that makes him think about how much he'd like to kiss it all better.

Close by, safe on the ground this time, is your son, Charlie. He darts around the grass by the table while you unload a bag with snacks and drinks, your eyes firmly trained on him while you do it.

Simon walks slowly, trying to decide if it would be better to turn and go back the other way or to walk by as if he doesn't notice you -- he shouldn't notice you. If he did recognize you, it should only be in passing, a brief flicker of recognition that quickly passes, not ... whatever this is.

A small part of him, one that he'd never let see the light of day, considers the idea of approaching you.

The choice is taken away from him when Charlie spots him while doing spins in the grass. The little boy lets out a squeal, pointing directly at him, and begins bounding over.

"Charlie, for the love of --"

Then you look up and see him, and he can't be sure from the distance, but he thinks he sees the flicker of a smile.

He notices how you let yourself take your time a bit as you amble towards him, a small rush of pride going through him that you're not panicking over your child's safety as he runs in his direction. Charlie reaches him first, and he has to tilt his head nearly to his shoulders to look up at him.

"You were on the slide before."

"I was."

"You're too big for the slide."

"Wasn't there to slide."

By that point, you'd manage to waddle your way over, your hand going to rest on Charlie's shoulder as you look to Simon. You greet him, a quick "Hi," then look back down to your son.

"Let's not bother strangers, ok? Come on, we have a picnic."

"He's not a stranger," Charlie argues. "He was on the slide."

If Simon wasn't trying to keep his eyes off the drop of sweat that was trailing down by your collarbone, he would have taken a moment to properly appreciate the simplicity of the argument.

"Sorry," you say softly, glancing up at Simon again. "He's a friendly little thing."

"Quite all right."

"You want juice?"

He can't help but let out a chuckle at the kid's question -- he's never been much of a talker, and it seems like you might not be much of one either, but someone's putting in some effort.

"Mum made crackers too," Charlie adds. "You want some crackers?"

"I'm sure this man has more important things to do than have crackers and juice with us, don't you think?" you say.

But he doesn't. At this moment, he feels like he's never had anything more important to do.

There are a few more precocious little invites, along with some puppy dog eyes, and before he knows it, Simon is being led through a stretch of grass to a picnic table with you and your son.

The conversation is ... not great, honestly. You're either shy or guarded, maybe both, and Charlie isn't quite old enough to spark any kind of intelligent discussion. But he does enjoy the juice box the boy insists he takes, and he likes the strange warmth that spreads through his chest at the sight of you across from him at the table even more.

"Come watch me swing," Charlie demands after a bit. You shrug, apparently content with letting the child run the show at this point, and Simon lets out another deep chuckle, standing and hesitantly following you both to the swingset.

"Thanks for humoring him," you tell him quietly as you push your son on the swing.

"Not at all," he replies. "He's ..."

He trails off, not sure what he was even planning on saying. Sweet? Funny? They don't feel like words he'd use, but this doesn't even feel like an interaction he'd have. It's all new territory for him.

Thankfully, you don't seem miffed by his short responses, or by the silence that follows. You just stand there, one hand pushing Charlie while the other rests low on your belly, while he stands further back, watching.

And there it is again. The wanting. Brutal and undeniable.

“When’s the little one due?”

The question comes out low and gruff, as if it clawed its way out of his throat on his own, which it may have, because he rarely willingly engages in small talk like this.

"Couple of weeks," you answer.

Charlie breaks the next stretch of silence by instructing Simon to watch him kick his legs to swing even higher, which he does. After he gives him what he hopes sounds like a hum of approval, his eyes move back to you, watching the way your hand moves to rest on your hip, your fingers pressing towards the small of your back as if you're trying to keep yourself propped up.

"Kid seems like a bit of a handful to keep up with all by yourself," he murmurs. "Presently, anyway."

It's not his business, but you don't seem to mind because you reply again, eyes still on Charlie.

"He's been ... well, I think he's a little nervous, about the new baby," you explain. "So I've been trying to make these last few weeks of just us special."

You don't talk much, he's coming to understand that, but he doesn't either, so he knows how much can be said in the spaces between. He stays quiet for a moment, taking a pause to watch another one of Charlie's tricks.

"'Just us'?" he asks. "And what about that husband who was supposed to come to the rescue last time?"

"I lied so you'd think twice about kidnapping us."

Simon chuckles at the blunt response, and says, "Decided you're not in danger now, have you?"

"More like I've decided that if you kidnap us after we gave you juice and crackers, you're a monster and we never stood a chance anyway."

You glance up at him then, the first time you've looked at him since the party moved to the swings, and you smile. It's more playful than flirty, but it's for him, and he finds himself smiling back.

Simon doesn't do this. When he's home, he doesn't really talk to people. There's a quick exchange with a cashier or a bartender, or the occasional mutually distant transaction with a woman who wants the same quick release that he does. Some days are so bad that he'll spend more time than he cares to admit considering whether he wants to wear a mask out -- if he wants to just blend in as much as he can like he usually does, all dark clothing and hunched shoulders, or if he wants to risk attracting a bit more attention by wearing the mask since even so, it'll ensure that no one can see his face.

But here he is, for a reason that he still can't quite pinpoint, smiling at a pregnant lady in a park and watching her little boy play.

It doesn't make sense, but it doesn't feel bad either. So he doesn't stop.

It was late afternoon when Charlie first approached him, and now the sun is getting lower in the sky. You reach a hand up to pull on the chain of the swing, slowing the boy down, and tell him it’s time to go.

He whines for just a moment before obediently dragging his feet to stop the swing, standing up. Before Simon can process it, he comes up to him and wraps his arms around his legs.

“Thanks for playing,” he says before running back off towards the table where you’d left your things.

He helps you gather everything, walking the empty juice boxes over to the trash can so you don’t have to move any more than necessary. When you’re all ready to go, he watches you take Charlie’s hand and offer him another smile.

“See you around,” you tell him before turning and walking off towards the sidewalk.

He tries to think of something clever to say, then he kicks himself for wanting to say something clever, and before he can get out of his own head, you’re already halfway down the sidewalk. And, he notices, you happen to be headed in the direction of his own apartment.

Something in him wants to catch up with you, to say that he’s headed the same way, which wouldn’t be a lie. It’s the same part of him that made him a good soldier — the part that sees an opportunity to go in for the kill.

But the part of him that makes him a good leader stays put. The timing isn't right, and he doesn't want to take a chance on a half-cocked impulse, especially when he still hasn't even figured out what it is that's pulling him to you.

So he walks. He goes the opposite way, away from home, away from you, deeper into town. He walks past the shops as they start closing for the night, the pubs as they get more lively. He walks until he's sure that you and Charlie made your way to wherever you were headed, and only then does he make his way back to his apartment.

It's as dull there as ever, the overhead light flickering when he turns it on and walks inside. He hears the familiar creaking of his cheap old couch as it sinks under his weight when he sits, sees the white expanse of the walls, no pictures or paintings or whatever else people put up to make a house feel warmer than this.

But tonight, it's not quite so bleak. There's the faintest taste of apple juice lingering on his tongue, a sweetness he's not accustomed to, and he can still feel a bit of warmth on his face from being in the sun so long.

He wants more of it. He still doesn't know the ins and outs of it all, but he's ready to accept that it exists. And he's ready to start strategizing on how exactly he can get it.

PART THREE and PART FOUR and PART FIVE and PART SIX and PART SEVEN and PART EIGHT

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I request Ror x HH? Like the Ror works Reader is the adopted child of the gods, they get sucked into a portal leading to Hazbin Hotel and meet Charlie. The two become friends and Reader often tells Charlie about their lives. In the Charlie meets Adam episode, Reader openly mocks Adam because he is not as good as their father Adam in Ror's world (I'm out of ideas :(( )

-It had been an accident, an experiment gone wrong from Nikola and Beelzebub, that sucked you into another dimension.

-While at first you had been freaked out, realizing that you were in Hell, but you were quick to calm after you met Charlie, after you landed in her hotel from the swirling vortex.

-Allister didn’t recognize the magic that brought you here, but he did admit it was powerful, so your story checked out as plausible of coming from another dimension.

-Charlie welcomed you with open arms, until your family could figure out how to get you back, but you weren’t going to be a freeloader- you were going to work hard and help where you could, all while learning how things were done in this version of hell.

-Your new friends enjoyed hearing of Valhalla, and how your version of hell was, which was different parts of the underworld, shared by the different death gods, like Anubis and Hades.

-You were not only disturbed but angered to hear what the heavens do to hell every year, killing as many sinners as possible to purge evil, but to do it in such a cruel way was heartbreaking.

-You were stunned when Charlie told you of Adam, who was one of the head angels, and how he was the one in charge of this purge and you were quickly yelling- ranting on how cruel this Adam was!

-They were stunned by your anger and once Charlie calmed you down, you told them of your Adam- how gentle and kind he was- he was a mentor to all, even those who looked older than him, and how strong he was and always determined to protect all his children, no matter what!

-Your Adam sounded like such a nice person, one that this world needed.

-You ended up staying in this world for about a week, but when the portal opened, revealing Hades, Apollo, Adam, Thor, Lu Bu, and Leonidas, you were happy to see them, but they were stunned to see you dressed like you were prepared for war.

-You explained the situation, on what this world’s Adam was going to do, and how there were good people in this world, like Vaggie and Charlie- people who didn’t deserve this fate.

-Leonidas grinned as he lit up a cigar, giving one to Husk, “Seems to me we get to have some fun before we head home.”

-Charlie wasn’t going to turn down help and Lucifer welcomed them to the battle.

-When the opposing Adam appeared he glared, seeing your Adam, “What the fuck is that twink wearing- a leaf!?” Adam smirked up at him, “It’s all I need to take on someone like you!”

-The two Adam charged at each other while the other warriors of Valhalla charged in, and you cheered your dad from a safe distance away as he easily handled this pathetic excuse for an Adam, scolding him while disciplining him for being such a terrible person- a father should love all their children, no matter if they did good or bad.

-In the end, you had been stunned with Nifty killed Adam after he was shouting, seeing that he had lost, and while you didn’t want to leave your new friends, you and Charlie embraced as she grinned, “We know now we can fight back, and that our lives aren’t worthless. We’ve got this!”

-You nodded and the portal opened, and you stepped through, waving goodbye to your new friends, feeling content that you were able to help them. And your family enjoyed the fun workout as well.

[first-frost-fallen-snow]

Charlie hiccuped, lifting their head to look up at him. They were clutching a plush that had ripped almost in half, trying to keep the stuffing from falling out. They looked up from their knees, squinting at Ed through tears.

As soon as they fully recognized hum, they scrambled over. Immediately tackling Ed's shins in a tight hug, dropping their plush in the rush to get to him. They gripped onto him, sniffling and shutting their eyes as tight as they could.

( console ) : one muse finds the other sobbing uncontrollably 

Mackey was nowhere to be found, yet his child, Charlie, was heaving sobs just outside of Ed's office. It was impossible to tell how they got there, or even why they were there. Unfortunately for poor Ed, he was the only responsible adult nearby.

@first-frost-fallen-snow

The day had been quiet. Suspiciously so. No arguments or drama with the rest of the development team, and no Mackey barging into his office with whatever fire he needed to put out. No attacks on the Encom server. For once Ed had a productive morning and managed to accomplish his his project goals on time. He'd been so productive, he forgot about lunch until 2:30 in the afternoon.

Of course something had to go catastrophically wrong as soon as Ed let his guard down. He'd just returned from the deli around the block, lunch in hand, when he found the Mackey's child outside his door.

"Charlie?" Ed asked dumbfounded. "What's wrong?"

[wisteria-blooms]

the hogwarts opposition and interrogation society (pt. 1) (prelude)

"STUCK" DRABBLE SERIES

PAIRING: Percy Weasley & You  TAGS: enemies-to-lovers (soon) A/N: Just a drabble as part of a drabble series to get the creative juices flowing. I feel like I haven't written anything Christmas-themed and it makes me sad. Bill and Charlie up next! Divider credits to @bernardsbendystraws.

SUMMARY: It's the night of the Hogwarts Christmas Fundraiser and you and Percy get into an argument about... well, everything. (762 words)

the hogwarts opposition and interrogation society (pt. 1) (prelude)

“I told you the silver wouldn’t work. It looks like tin. And it’s clashing with everything. It’s so ugly.”

You were pointing at the stupid, horrific, and grossly-coloured archway that led to the ballroom. The Christmas Fundraiser was tonight and it was a disaster all thanks to one man. Your fiery eyes were trying to burn a hole in Percy Weasley’s thick head and failing because as far as you were concerned, he was all insulation, no brains. 

“And I told you that gold was out of our budget,” Percy countered, his freckled face flush with equal anger.

“How many times have I told you, Percy?” Your voice was growing louder with every sentence. You flung a decorative ribbon out of your hands.The crowd that had formed around you dissipated immediately, running back to their stations to continue eavesdropping at a safe distance. “A Christmas fundraiser is about spirit, not how much we’re over-budget. We can always make it back, but this cheap display isn’t going to make the Malfoys want to empty out their pockets.” 

“Oh, really? Christmas for you is about how much the Malfoy are going to drop into your pathetic plastic container? Newsflash, Lucius Malfoy isn’t going to touch that box with his green velvet glove.”

You balled your hands into fists. One more wrong word out of his mouth and you were going to punch Percy. “We need their support. Their son is coming to Hogwarts next year. They’re going to be looking for any reason to donate.”

“Hold on.” Percy raised his hand, his palm facing you as a way to tell you to shut up. You gritted your teeth; you absolutely hated it when he did this. Percy the power-tripping prat. He could never make you grovel at his stupid, shiny, leather-clad feet. “Who was the person who just said, ‘A Christmas fundraiser is about spirit?’”

You stepped perilously close to Percy. Your expression served as your only weapon for he was freakishly tall. And always perfectly groomed from his hair to his starchy collars which pissed you off even more. “I mean spirit on our side. The Optimization and Improvement Society. Your penny-pinching has hurt everyone's morale.”

“Oh?” Percy guffawed. “Really? Because your proclivity to micromanage every aspect of this event didn’t?”

“Well, let’s take a survey. Everyone’s here, so why not?” You circled around the room for someone to ask, but everyone was working diligently, for some odd reason. You were sure the walls didn’t need dusting. “Let’s ask them how they feel about Percy, the pompous, properly practical, power-tripping, penny-pinching prat.”

He gritted his teeth. “Your alliterations are asinine, (Y/N).”

“You just made one,” you pointed out. “It seems like you’re rather fond of them.”

“Excuse me.”

“What?!” You and Percy yelled at the same time.

The tall, muscular boy was unbothered. You recognized him as Duke, the Slytherin beater. As far as you knew, he was thrown into the Optimization and Improvement Society because he’d accrued far too much detention from bullying other students and needed a different form of remediation. You and Percy complained heavily about it. 

Well, that was one thing that you could agree on. 

“Could I make one suggestion?” Duke asked. 

You crossed your arms. “Sure, Duke.”

“Enlighten us,” Percy said.

“Sometimes, when I get really angry, you know, like, when I lose a Quidditch match, I know I’ve got to make out with someone to calm down.” Before you could ask him what this had to do with anything, he latched one hand on the back of your head, and the other on Percy’s. You lurched forward, falling just mere inches from Percy’s face and his buggy blue eyes. Duke, with his brutal strength, had you locked in. You curled your lips inward, and Percy mirrored your actions. No tonic could ever wash the disgusting taste of Percy’s lips off. 

 “So, you two should make out and get that anger out,” Duke suggested.

A light chorus of giggles and ‘ayes’ rang out in the room. Oh, so now people were listening? Before he could mash your faces together, Duke dropped both of you at the same time. You landed on your elbows and knees but bounced right up with a new fixation: chewing out whoever had voted in favour of Duke suggestion. Percy, on the other hand, was threatening Duke, saying that Snape would be hearing of this incident and dealing with him appropriately. 

You’d never, ever make out with Percy Weasley. Yuck.

But his eyes were kind of pretty up close…

No.

Never. 

Ever.

…Right? 

[writerslittlelibrary]

You should make one where Wanda and nat get taken by the snap and it leaves there 14 year old daughter for her to grow up alone, later when they return there surprised to see her grow up at first they dont even recognize her because she turns out to be a cold badass. You can add some angst of her not being able to trust them and so on. But over time there family dynamic falls back but they notice y/n is hiding something because she always disappears and is seen talking on the phone. One night they think they hear talk in y/n’s room so they wait a few hours before they check it out and its y/n being super cute with her gf. she introduce her gf who helped her through the snap.

5 years is a long time

masterlist requests masterlist

pairing: WandaNat x daughter reader

warnings: grieve, loss, pain

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2093

a/n: thank you so much anon for the request. I love the idea and I hope you like it 🫶

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

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Tears. That’s all you remember. The endless crying of that night. Your moms had told you they had to leave for a while to fight an important battle. They told you they would be back. They lied. 

You remember Steve coming to your home. The home you grew up in. The home you three had lived in for your entire life. You were excited when you heard the door open. You thought your moms had returned. They hadn’t.

Steve was standing in the door opening, and the look on his face alone was enough to make you cry. So that’s what you did. For the entire night you did nothing but cry. You couldn’t believe your moms would break their promise. You couldn’t believe your moms would never hold you again. 

Steve had taken you out of your home that night. He said he wanted you to stay with him, so you would be safe. He told you it’s what your moms would’ve wanted, but you had no interest in listening to him. You didn’t sleep that night. What happened wouldn’t leave your brain. You were devastated. 

After a few weeks in the compound, you had started feeling angry. The first few days you felt numb, and you supposed feeling angry was better than that, but in reality it wasn’t.

You would ignore Steve. You wouldn’t eat or take care of yourself. All you could be was angry, and you and Steve fought all the time. After two months, you decided to leave. You were a few weeks away from your fifteenth birthday, and Steve was trying to get you excited for it, but you didn’t want to be.

Usually, you would be so excited you couldn’t sleep, but this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Steve talked about it non-stop, and you just couldn’t take it. What was the point in celebrating your birthday if the most important people wouldn't be there?

That was when you decided to leave. 

You found an apartment in Seattle, wanting to be as far away from the compound as you could. That’s where you lived for the past 5 years. You were 19 now, and your life was different than it was when the snap happened.

You used your training to kill. You found that killing people was the only way to ease your anger, ease your thirst for revenge. 

You weren’t proud of it. How could you? Your moms had taught you how to fight to protect, not hurt. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, however. Your moms were gone. There was no reason in thinking about what they would or wouldn’t agree with. 

You were currently sitting on your couch, cleaning some of your knives. You had another successful assignment yesterday and you were exhausted. There was a lot of commotion in the world, and your assignments were flooding. It seemed that suddenly everyone wanted each other dead. You didn’t know why, but then again, you didn’t follow the news.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at your door. Besides Charlie, no one knew where you lived, and she wasn’t set to come home for another few days. 

Hesitantly, you opened your door, and you almost broke at the sight. 

In front of you were two people. Two people who you believed you’d never see again. Wanda gasped, clearly shocked by the wounds you carried on your face. Maybe the fact you’d grown 5 years shocked her too. Natasha just stared. She couldn’t believe it. Their little girl was all grown up, but that isn’t what shocked them the most. 

The emptiness in your eyes did. 

Wanda made the first move to hug you, and in your shock you didn’t react. You hadn’t thought this day would ever come, and now it did. 

Natasha seemed to snap out of her shock, moving to embrace you as well. 

They cried. You didn’t.

When they moved into your apartment you were quick to clean the knives from your coffee table. You were afraid of how they would react. You knew they would be disappointed, but you just weren’t ready for a lecture of them yet. 

Natasha and Wanda stayed in your guest room, and much like the night you lost them, you were awake. You couldn’t sleep, and you knew they wouldn’t be able to either.

The next day Natasha and Wanda had convinced you to move back into their apartment. They kept telling you how sorry they were for leaving, and how they wanted to make up for all the years they lost. You agreed, moving back into your childhood home. You didn’t know how you’d react if they ever were to return, but you never expected to feel so… numb.

You had lived together for a few days now, and you had a hard time trusting them. You fought a few times already, mainly with Natasha. You refused to call them mom and mama again. You just couldn’t. Wanda was just trying to be there for you, while Natasha was more set on getting answers.

You were frustrated. You couldn’t provide your moms with any answers. You didn’t have any. 

Last night you and Natasha fought again, and she yelled at you saying she couldn't recognise you anymore. You were lost. You didn’t know how to react.

All those nights you wished your moms would return to you, and wishing things would go back to the way they were. Now you wished things would go back to the way they were after they disappeared. You didn’t want to face them, and living with them again after so many years proved to be much more difficult than you initially thought. 

Most nights you spend in your room, talking to the only person that stayed the same through all of it. 

You spoke to Charlie most nights. She was the only person you had found comfort with all this time. The only person you felt you could trust, and the only person you felt you could be yourself around.

Charlie lost both of her parents in the snap as well, and when you were on an assignment one day to kill a dangerous man, you had found Charlie in one of the rooms in his house.

She was locked up, and she looked sick. You had taken her home with you, caring for her wounds. She didn’t speak much, only thanking you when appropriate. You didn’t mind much. You were happy you could still do some good. You were both 17 at the time, and you grew close quickly. 

Charlie had told you what happened. How she lost her parents and the man had taken her. You offered her to stay with you, and she agreed. You grew closer quickly, and your friendship soon developed into something more. 

Charlie was the only person you cared about. The only person you could be yourself around. The only person you loved through those years. 

Charlie had reminded you of your humanity, and she never scolded you for doing what you did. 

It’s funny, really. All those nights you spend on your own, in the bed of your new apartment, you longed to be laying in your own bed, with your moms downstairs. Now, while you were lying in the bed of your childhood home, with your moms downstairs, you longed for the nights in your own apartment. Spend watching movies and eating cheap take out with Charlie. 

You hadn’t told your moms about Charlie yet. You didn’t know how to. You didn’t know you wanted to.

Your moms were downstairs, discussing your behavior. Wanda was crying. She felt so incredibly hurt by the fact you called her ‘Wanda’ now. She missed the days you called her mommy. When you would come running downstairs all excited because you had a random thought you felt like Wanda should know. 

Her and Natasha were talking about how you seemed so closed off. So cold. How you were always in your room and how it seemed like you were hiding something.

Tonight, while you were on a call with Charlie, Natasha had decided to check on you, wanting to talk to you about their concerns. When she reached your room, she could hear you talking to someone. She decided not to knock on the door, instead opening it to see you lying on your bed, with your back turned to the door. You didn’t notice she was standing there, to captivated by your phone call.

You were giggling, and Natasha wasn’t sure when she last heard you laugh. 

Natasha just stood there, soaking up your happiness. When you ended the phone call, you told Charlie ‘I love you’, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

When you turned around you were startled, and when you released Natasha was eavesdropping you were upset. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha told you, and you sighed, sitting up in your bed. Natasha sat at the end of your bed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by sitting too close. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it’s just been a while since I’ve seen you laugh.”

“I’m sorry too,” you told her, not wanting to look at her.

“I understand it must’ve been hell for you, and it must have been so confusing, even now we’re back. It’s confusing for us too. A few weeks ago you were our little 14 year old girl, and now you’re all grown up. I’m sorry we don’t know how to help you, and I’m sorry we weren’t there,” Natasha told you with tears in her eyes. 

You sniffled and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a terrible daughter. I was never mad at you. I’m just so angry, and I didn’t know how to handle that,” you explained to her, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Natasha pulled you into a hug, the first you’d had since the night they returned. You cried together, and Wanda, who probably heard the crying, came upstairs and sat next to you on the other side. 

You kept crying, repeating ‘I’m sorry’ until you were so tired you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

You fell asleep in their arms, and when you woke up, they were still there. 

You had all moved down to the kitchen for breakfast, and for the first time in 5 years, you were eating breakfast together, talking. There was no tension, no crying, no fighting and no yelling. Just talking.

“So who was that girl on the phone yesterday?” Natasha suddenly asked you. 

You looked up at her quickly, surprised with her question. “What?” you asked her confused. “Yesterday you were talking on the phone with a girl. You seemed really happy.” 

You looked at your plate, pushing the leftover fruit around on it. “We’re not mad, just curious,” Wanda told you. “Her name’s Charlie. She’s kinda my girlfriend,” you told your moms hesitantly.

You didn’t look at them, but you felt Wanda scooting her chair closer, engulfing you in a hug. “We’re so happy for you!” she exclaimed, and you relaxed in her arms. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Natasha sat down in the chair on the other side of you, rubbing your back. “Where is she now?” Natasha asked. 

“Still in Seattle. We lived together in that apartment,” you told her, sitting up straight again. 

“We should invite her over, if you want too,” Wanda suggested. You nodded. “I’d like that,” 

Two days later Charlie was standing in front of your door again, and she hugged you tight. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured. She nodded, kissing your forehead. 

When she let you go, she noticed your moms standing behind you. Natasha was the first one to introduce herself, telling her it was nice to meet her. Wanda was next, giving her a small hug. 

You had dinner that night, the four of you, and after finding out you had lived together for 2 years, Wanda suggested she should stay for a while. Charlie agreed, and you couldn’t be happier. The night was ended with movies, you in Charlie’s arms, just like all those other nights. The only difference was your moms sitting next to you, smiling at the wonderful young woman you’d grown into. 

[deus-sema]

The discourse surrounding Sauron and Galadriel about love and obsession has been rather interesting to catch up with so far. After going through the perspectives of both those who like this pairing and those who don’t, I think both sides can unite in agreement over this one fact, if nothing else: obsession, without any shred of doubt, exists between them. It exists on both sides for she has been obsessed with him long before he was with her. Yes, it was motivated by unadulterated hatred and a desire for vengeance, but he occupied her thoughts for the better or worse. Now, she has planted herself in his mind too.

Then comes the question of whether whatever there is between them can be considered romantic or not. Is it appropriate to label it as love or not? Here it is a matter of preference which differs from person to person. What will be interpreted as romantic by one may not be so by another and vice versa. It is completely understandable why many will be uncomfortable with the notion of obsession being associated with love. Obsession – over anything and anyone – is usually an unhealthy emotion. Unwanted and unpredictable, it can prove detrimental to both the individual experiencing it as well as the people around them. In the real world, it needs to be recognized for what it is and addressed for the betterment of everyone.

But, herein lies the difference between the world we exist in and fictional worlds. Every work of fiction, regardless of genre, exists on a different plane whose happenings have no bearing on our reality. Fiction is a realm of infinite possibilities which is the reason why people use it for wish fulfillment. People can’t fly or use magic for real but they can do so in a make-believe world. People can cheat death and turn over a new leaf. Foes can become friends and overcome their grievances. They can live happily ever after without any worries about betrayal or loss. It is a place where ideal and unconditional love is allowed to thrive. Simultaneously, it is also where love can exist in flawed, twisted and, even, perverse forms. It can be greedy, possessive, selfish, and warped while still retaining its essence. That is probably the reason why many, myself included, are fascinated with the idea of stories with obsessive love. With the idea of an all-consuming desire and yearning on one character’s part for another that can go on to be destructive. With the concept of evil beings experiencing love. It is why obsession fueled by love, whether executed properly or not, is an integral component of many dark romances. Within stories, it is permitted to be what it is most certainly not in reality. In real life, no emotion – not even what we believe to be love – should override our individual well being or anyone else’s. This is why fiction is a safe space to explore fantasies. Even the most incredulous ones of all.

Now, about how I interpret Sauron and Galadriel, specifically, within the context of this show: It is love. They developed feelings for each other when their paths crossed unexpectedly and they forged an unlikely bond because of the circumstances they faced together. Simple. Unintentionally, Galadriel began to care for her greatest enemy and believed him to be her friend. She is still obsessed with defeating him but whatever she felt for Halbrand now exists alongside her hatred for Sauron. Meanwhile, Sauron is still pretty much evil. He is working to further his own interests or,rather,what he thinks to best for Middle Earth. But, at the same time, he desires Galadriel. Both were visibly attracted to one another in the first season. Even though no words were said, Charlie and Morfydd, being the phenomenally talented and intelligent actors that they are, conveyed it beautifully through their expressions and body language. I don’t think it is a betrayal to the characters either for the show, more or less, took Sauron’s canonical obsession with Galadriel and her persistent defiance against him and added to it a layer of romance which is doomed because of who they are. I don’t claim to know what the show plans on doing with them in future and it is not in my hands. We can only speculate, engage in wishful thinking and write fanfics and AUs if things don’t go the way we want them to.

RoP is a show I’m enjoying so far in all its aspects and I’m not exaggerating when I say that its fandom is one of the most chilled-out and relaxing ones I’ve engaged with in recent times. I’ve gotten to interact with many amazing posts. However I’m well aware that where there is more than one person, there are differences in opinions. Where there are differences, there will be disagreements. Where there are disagreements, there will be clashes. Clashes will lead to fanwars. Fanwars have high chances of turning toxic. I know the drill for I have undergone it in many fandoms. I’ve been carried away by the toxicity and have made my fair share of mistakes too. Those experiences have taught me some important lessons. One mistake I made, rather repeatedly, during my…..enthusiastic….stanning phase was to engage in fights with people whose opinions on a certain topic or fictional character differed from mine. All factions believe their interpretation of whichever nonexistent character they like in whatever made-up story they are into, is the correct one and many a times they can substantiate their claims with reasons. Sometimes, these contrasting opinions lead to some riveting and respectful discussions between people which, to be honest, is the entire point behind a public platform. Sometimes, they result in nasty fights.

Ideally, the feelings of real people should be prioritized over seemingly trivial issues like different preferences in fiction. But if we were capable of that we would all be perfect but, as we all know, perfection exists only in Valinor. Fictional works are dearer to us than some random stranger on the internet. So, when we encounter a radically different opinion about something we are passionate about, the first reaction is usually one of annoyance. Depending on whether it is mild or severe, this annoyance can make us petty. We crave the satisfaction of one-upping those who disagree with us, of validating our perspective over their’s and, as a result, we don’t realize if someone’s feelings get hurt in the process. Or even if we do, the euphoria of ‘winning’ in the discourse makes it easier to sweep the adverse effects under the rug. I don’t believe we need to withhold our opinions to make others happy. We are not bound to understand each other's opinions, much less agree every time. But we do owe it to each other to be civil if not anything else. As for me, what I’m going to try and do is to ignore the takes I disagree with and mind my own business. If it gets too much then I am going to press the block button. I advise those who dislike my opinions and takes to do the same. It’s nothing personal and we all deserve to enjoy in our own spaces while choosing what content we wish to see and engage with without suppressing our thoughts. We deserve to vent as well for it is healthy. I cannot guarantee that I’ll be successful right away for there are still instances when I end up behaving in a manner that is plain immature. But, to paraphrase the late Diarmid who once tried to counsel Sauron (Eru bless his soul), I simply have to keep trying until it becomes a habit.

So, take care everyone, and I hope you all are doing well wherever you are.

[newluvrs]

PARTY 4 U [PT. 3]

Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: PARTY 4 U - CHARLI XCX word count: 9.7k bb note: im not even gonna lie I think like half of this is smut 😭😭... lets just call it an early birthday gift 2 myself 🙂‍↕️

“What are you thinking about?” 

The room is bathed in a soft light from your bedside lamp, your eyes heavy with sleep.  A glance at the digital clock in your room tells you it’s a little past 3 a.m..  You’re in no mood to leave the current comfort of your bed, and even if you were in the mood, you still wouldn’t.  Not when the person you’re resting against is Sungchan, not when he feels so warm and safe.  This is probably too intimate of a position granted you’re supposed to just be friends with benefits, but sometime between leaving a party with the intention of fucking and actually getting into bed with him, you both changed your minds and settled for the comfort of the other.  It’s the middle of the night, and you’re not in the mood to face the complications of your relationship right now, so you don’t. 

“I’m getting so old.”  

He doesn’t try and conceal his laugh, making it clear that he finds your statement ridiculous.  

“If you’re old then that means I am too.”  

“You’re right my bad.  We’re getting old.”  

That makes him laugh harder, the sound of it making you smile, heart warming. 

“Since when have you been concerned with age.”  

You can hear the sincerity in his voice, his genuine curiosity for something he’s never heard you mention before.  As you lay with your head on his shoulder, he brings a hand to play with your fingers, before settling for intertwining them.  He’s testing his boundaries right now, seeing how affectionate you’ll let him be before you eventually pull away, and he’s grateful when it seems like tonight you don’t feel like making him leave.  

“’m not concerned with age..”  

You trail off and he stays quiet, recognizing that you’re trying to find the right way to word this for him.  You love that he doesn’t rush you, that he waits until you find what it is you want to say.  

“I’m concerned that I’ve made it this far, but that I know so little.”  

He hums in acknowledgement, turning your words over in his head.  He knows that you have a lot on your mind, having talked with you like this many times before.  Admittedly in a less intimate context, but he’s familiar with you enough to know that you need to let everything out before you want to hear from anyone.  You curl into him a little more, moving your head from his shoulder to rest on his chest now.  From this position you can hear his heartbeat, making your eyes feel heavier and causing you to feel more tender.  Something about it makes you want to bare your heart to him, but you guess that’s just what it feels like to be with Sungchan.  

“At what age are you supposed to stop fucking up.” 

It’s mumbled into his chest, and if he wasn’t hanging onto your every word then he might’ve missed it.  His kneejerk reaction is to deny your words, tell you that you’re not a fuckup and that he wishes you saw yourself the way he did, but he knows it’s not what you need.  He presses the urge down, pursing his lips as he hums so that way you know that he heard you.

It’s quiet like that for a few more minutes, and you’re starting to give in to sleep.  His heartbeat is soothing, lulling your eyes closed.  Just feeling and hearing how he’s alive is enough for you to find comfort in.  You wonder if he knows how much it is that he helps you, maybe one day you’ll tell him.  You’re just about to fall asleep when he speaks again.  

“Remember how my car got hit last semester.”  

He thinks you might have fallen asleep when he doesn’t see you move, and secretly he hopes you did so he can stay with you like this a little bit longer.  

“In the H-mart parking lot right?”  

You do remember, you remember because although you felt bad for him, the story was hilarious.  He had just pulled into H-mart towards the back of the lot with the spaces on either side of him completely open.  You’re not sure why he didn’t immediately get out of his car, but you remember that he lingered a little bit before going into the store.  While he was waiting, the car in the space behind him managed to reverse directly into his car.  When Sungchan had left his car to get the other person’s information, all the person did was give him a hug, which he accepted, before they got back into their car and drove away.  When he told your friend group, all of you laughed until you had tears in your eyes.  

“My mom was so pissed at me for not getting their information, and everyone laughed at me for it, especially since it’s considered like the one thing you’re supposed to make sure to do in that situation.” 

You nodded your head, wondering where this was going but eager to hear him speak.  

“Initially I was so mad when it happened, I was already having a bad day and then that.  But when they got out of their car, it was a little old lady.  She was so apologetic.. how was I supposed to make her pay for that?”  

As he recounts the story, he sounds like he’s truly reliving the moment.  All you can picture is Sungchan, already upset after a long day, attitude immediately doing a 180 when he saw how upset the old woman was.  You picture how maybe he saw his own grandma in her, how he would never be able to bring himself to inconvenience someone that way.  It makes you think of how much shit he must have gotten from his parents and his friends, even when he did a good deed.  

“My point is, without context, my actions seem pretty foolish.  To most people, that was me fucking up, but I don’t feel that way..”  

He can feel the way your lips curl into a smile, the feeling making his heart beat a little faster.  You feel like Sungchan always knew what to say to make you feel better.  He knew that you didn’t need to be lectured, but he also knew that you weren’t one to accept mindless compliments.  Instead, he did his best to make sure that you knew that he was always right there with you, through whatever it is you were feeling, finding the middle ground where he could.  You nuzzle into him further, wrapping your arms around him as you close your eyes, ready for sleep.  

“Goodnight, Sungchan.”  

Things might look different in the morning, but you’re okay with what they look like right now.  You feel him pull up the duvet to cover the both of you, he tries not to move too much so as to not disturb you.  You can feel his eyes on you as you drift off, and right before you give into sleep, you feel his lips gently press against the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, y/n.”

-

That memory stings your heart now as you lay here in your bed staring at the ceiling, running moments through your head again and again.  All the warmth has left your room, and what’s left is you, curled up alone in the middle of your bed.  The signs of him that still linger only serve to mock you further, making you come face to face with the memory of what you said.  In the week that has passed you’ve been a shell of a person.  Only able to keep up appearances for work, and even then if someone looked too closely your puffy eyes and morose cadence would give you away.  But if anyone noticed they didn’t mention it, and you’re grateful for at least that.  

You confided in Shotaro 2 days after that night, it had been a tough day with everything going wrong.  Your last straw was your car refusing to start in the middle of the rain, so in your driver’s seat you skipped the scream of frustration and broke down in a mess of tears.  As you pulled up your contact list, your finger lingered a little too long over Sungchan’s contact.  Your mind filled with thoughts of him blocking you, why would he want to talk to you right now, what if you just hurt him more.  You shook the thoughts from your head as you scrolled past his contact and dialed the other person you knew you could trust.  You listened to the hum of each ring, Shotaro picking up on the 3rd one.  

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” 

On the other end of the line you sniffle, staring blankly through your windshield as you let the numbness of heartbreak consume you. 

“My car won’t start.”  

You note the confusion in his voice, and it’s evident in the pause that follows.  You picture him pulling the phone away from his ear to double check that it’s you who called.  On the other end of the line Shotaro wants so badly to ask why you didn’t just call Sungchan, but he can tell by your tone of voice that somethings not right.  When he hears your sniffles he stands to get ready to leave his apartment, gathering his things.

“Send me your location.”  

-

It took him about 5 minutes to get to you, and upon seeing you and the state you were in, Shotaro declared that he would just take you home, making promises to find a way to get your car back to you.  You sit in his passenger seat staring out the window, watching the lights of the buildings go by.  You don’t notice but every 2 seconds Shotaro takes a concerned glance at you through the rearview mirror.  When he notices you shivering he makes sure to turn the heat on in his car, quietly mumbling how summer rain can get cold.  You don’t respond, you just cast your eyes down to pick at your wet clothes.  You wonder if this is how Sungchan felt.  

When he pulls into the parking lot of your apartments, instead of just dropping you off, he parks and shuts off his car.  A beat of silence passes, and you know that he’s waiting for you to start.  You swallow the lump in your throat, letting a new wave of tears fall, accepting that there’s not a whole lot you can do to stop them in this situation.  

“I fucked up.”   

He nods to himself, taking in your words, debating what it is to say next.  He doesn’t think beating around the bush will do you any good, but he wants to be delicate given the state you’re in so he chooses to speak softly.  

“Is this about Sungchan?”  

When he watches the way you clench your eyes closed in an effort to fight the tears, he knows he’s hit the mark.  He reaches a hand out to rub your back, trying to be of comfort as you try and quiet the sounds you make as you cry.  In the passenger seat of his car, you look uncharacteristically fragile.  When you get your voice to feel a semblance of strong enough, you speak.  

“I tried to set him up with Karina because she said he liked him.”  

When Shotaro hears this he cringes, thinking about how it would make him feel, but he knows you better than to think that you would ever do something without a justification in your head.  

“I really thought I was helping him.. I thought maybe I was holding him back from finding the love it is he deserves.. something that he wasn’t finding with me.”

The pain in your voice bleeds through in your final sentence, all your vulnerabilities finally exposed.  From next to you he sighs, and you know he doesn’t do it to mock you.  He’s sympathizing with you, while simultaneously betting to himself that you didn’t convey that pain to Sungchan.  

“He showed up at my door in the rain and confronted me about it.  Somewhere in the middle of our argument he told me he liked me, and I thought he was just saying that to make me feel better.  I panicked and told him I couldn’t do it anymore..”

You hesitate before saying the next part, shutting your eyes in shame.  Like maybe if you close them hard enough you’ll be able to erase the feeling.  

“I told him I never should have let myself believe that we could be together.”  

You cry harder now, guilt overtaking you and making it hard to breathe.  All you can do is shake your head recalling your own recklessness.  

“Shotaro you should’ve seen the look on his face.  He’s gonna hate me forever.”  

You’re no longer trying to stop your sobbing, letting the pain and heartache course through you.  In the worst case scenario in your brain, Sungchan never speaks to you again.  And it’s only been 2 days but you don’t think you can do this forever.  But you’re trying really hard to be patient and wait until he wants to speak to you.  

Next to you Shotaro resists the urge to close his eyes and sighs to himself at his friends’ inability to just be completely honest with the other.  How can 2 people who clearly want each other so bad, be the only 2 people who can’t see it.  He thinks back to how he felt like this was a bad idea, both of you are too vulnerable, keeping things casual not in your vernacular, but he thought you would figure it out.  Even now he knows this can’t be the end of it, but you’re hurting right now, and judging from how he hasn’t seen Sungchan in a few days, he’s hurting too.  

“Sungchan could never hate you, he just needs time.” 

He’s still rubbing your back as you sob, it makes him sad to see his friend this way.  Especially when he feels like all of this could have been avoided easily.

“I know you don’t need me to tell you that both of you messed up because you already know it.  It’s not just you, you might not feel that way, but it took 2 to end up here.”  

It was your slip up that ended the argument, but he knows that Sungchan holds fault in this too.  You both should have just told the other how you feel.  You nod your head at his words, not quite believing them yet as you’re still feeling immense guilt, but you hope one day they’ll click.  He waits until you calm down enough to say his next words, wanting them to stick with you in hope that they comfort you and that you listen to him.  

“I know he’ll come around, and when he does, just be honest with him.”  

-

You hold Shotaro’s words close to your heart in the days following your conversation.  It feels like an impossible task to wait patiently for Sungchan to reach out, but you would wait forever if it meant in the end he would forgive you.  Which is why you do your best not to be heartbroken when Shotaro tells you that after Sungchan’s last exam, he made a trip back home which is where he’s at now.  You recall how he had been homesick towards the end of the semester, so you’re happy as your mind fills with thoughts of Sungchan receiving the love he deserves.  You hope that he’s happy at home, and that despite everything he’s able to have a good time and cherish the moments spent with his family.  

You’re now a full week out from the last time you saw him, and you wake up with hope in your heart for the first time since everything happened.  As the birthday messages roll in in the morning, you’re hoping to see his name pop up in your phone.  But it doesn’t come.  You do your best to stomach the bitter sting as you go throughout your day.  In an effort to soothe it you think about how he’s with his family, and how you don’t want him to think of you if it means ruining that.  But you can’t help but recall the calendar reminder he had proudly displayed to you 2 weeks prior.  

It lingers in your mind as you get ready for your day.  It lingers as you fulfill birthday plans with friends during the afternoon.  It lingers as you decorate your apartment for your party that night.  It lingers so much that by the time it reaches the evening, it feels like it’s eating you alive.  You do your best to remember Shotaro’s words of ‘he’ll come around.’  It’s just so hard.  

You’ve picked up a habit of bouncing your leg these last few days, a manifestation of your anxiety.  You’re doing it now as you sit and watch the clock on your living room wall.  Your last hope is that he shows for your party.  If he doesn’t do that, you’re not sure that there will be any coming back from this.  It’s still an hour out from the designated start time, but the longer you sit here, the more the decorations on your walls start to feel out of place.  The dress your wearing feels more like a costume and less like something you excitedly picked out a month ago in anticipation.  The frilly black fabric shifting with every bounce of your knee.  You fight every urge to get up and go change, instead doing your best to join in on the conversation with the friends who came over early to help set up.  

When people start to trickle in you feel nerves settle in your stomach, unintentionally holding your breath each time the door opens.  Every birthday wish from other people goes in one ear and out the other.  You’re grateful of course, but you can’t help that right now your mind is just elsewhere.  Your friends encourage you to participate in the parties activities, pushing drinks towards you that for the most part go unfinished.  Drinks will only lead to tears.  Through each conversation you smile and laugh, always keeping an eye on the door under the guise of wanting to be a good host.  You catch Shotaro’s eye and he smiles at you sympathetically, the only person here who knows why you’re keeping watch.  

As the night goes on, each minute that passes feels like a lifetime.  Your floors are starting to get sticky with the occasional drink spillage.  The music that plays feels just a tad too loud for your sensitive ears, and someone has definitely thrown up in your guest bathroom by now.  You pray to god that your neighbors forgive you for all the noise.  The mood is starting to shift for you into something a little more somber.  Sungchan deserves time and space, and you know that, but it breaks your heart the more time passes that he’s not here.  When the clock reads 11 p.m., you feel like it’s time to give up hope now.  If he was going to show he would have done so by now right?  

Tears are starting to sting your eyes, and somewhere in the back of your mind you tell yourself that you don’t want to be known as the girl who cried at her own birthday party.  Growing up is supposed to be fun, or at least that’s what has been pushed to you your whole life.  But everything is so awkward and hard.  Like now, you’re aware that you have so many people who care about you, some of which are in the room with you right now.  Yet, all you can think of is the one person who you want to be here right now who isn’t.  You take a glance at the cake that sits on your kitchen counter, counting the amount of candles as you sigh.  Maybe this year you won���t fuck up as bad, maybe this year it’ll be easier.  

When you look up from being lost in thought, you notice how everyone is immersed in their own conversation.  In the back of your head the thought of quietly slipping away finds it’s way into your mind.  You just want to step away and catch a breath, so you can calm down enough and get back to trying to have a good time.  So when the door opens again, you grab your keys and leave, praying that no one follows you.  As you look over your shoulder before shutting the door Shotaro catches your eye again.  You figure it’s good at least 1 person knows of your whereabouts so as you make your way down your building’s stairs you send him a courtesy message.  

You:  Too many sounds and smells, need a min brb :P  

When he doesn’t question it or try and force himself to join you and just responds with a thumbs up, you’re grateful to have such an understanding friend.  Truthfully you don’t really know where you’re going right now, you just wanted to step away for some air.  You contemplated walking to the corner store but that’s probably not the safest idea at this time of night.  As you make the small trek to your car, you’re so lost in thought of where you should go that you don’t notice the headlights coming from behind you.  It’s not until the car rolls to a stop next to you that you’re aware, an all too familiar voice shaking you from your thoughts. 

“y/n?” 

You turn at the sound of your name on instinct, all the feeling in your body leaving you.  

“Sungchan?”

The first thing you notice is that is definitely not his car, the sleek and shiny look a far cry from his beat-up Honda Civic. The second thing you notice is his appearance; you can’t see much but you can see that he’s dressed nicely, shedding his usual street style with something slightly dressier.  Dark tones of the clothing contrasting with his typical muted palette.  It dawns on you with an ache in your chest: you’re matching.  It’s subtle but it’s there, your color scheme looks like it was picked from the same shades.  You notice the present that sits in his passenger seat, glittery white tissue paper sticking out from the baby-blue gift bag.  He clears his throat awkwardly when he notices you staring.

“Were you going somewhere?”

You totally forgot the entire reason you were even out here, your car keys still intertwined in your fingers.  You don’t say anything, just motioning behind you like that explains everything, still in shock at seeing him.  But Sungchan doesn’t care, instead he seizes the opportunity in front of him.  

“Do you want a ride?” 

You don’t even think before you’re nodding your head, shaky legs carrying you over to his passenger side.  He moves the gift to his backseat so you’re able to sit.  When the door closes you try and sneak glances over at him.  Still unable to look him in the eyes, but trying to take in his proximity to you right now.  You’re bouncing your knee again and Sungchan notices, taking in the way the black fabric of your dresses moves with you.  There’s still an awkward air in the car, like there’s so much to say but neither of you know how to say it.  Instead, Sungchan puts the car in drive, taking you away from your apartment.  

“Where did you want to go?”  

You turn the question over in your head, still trying to work up the courage to look at him.  

“Somewhere we can talk.”  

When you look over at him to gauge his reaction you see a small smile make it’s way onto his lips.  Seeing it makes you feel like a fire has erupted in your chest, hope making it’s way back into your heart again.  As the city lights pass the two of you sit in silence, but it’s a comfortable one.  You both know that the other is waiting until you’re able to be in one place to say what you want to say.  The closer you get to your destination, the more you’re starting to recognize the sights of your drive.  He’s taking you to his place.  You think back to all the times you’ve made this drive and the feelings you felt then.  You can’t quite name how it is you’re feeling right now, but you know that this is definitely different from all of those times.  

In the quiet of your own thoughts, you don’t notice how Sungchan is sneaking glances at you.  Doing his best to resist the urge to reach out and touch you just to prove to himself that you’re close to him again.  He white knuckles the wheel the entire drive to his place, feeling relieved when the two of you finally pull into the parking garage of his complex.  You on the other hand feel a wave of nerves come over you as he pulls into his designated spot.  When he turns off the car and settles into the driver’s seat, you try and rack your brain for a place to start.  You spare a glance at the clock on your phone, noting the time:  11:32.  

“It’s late.” 

You say it without any vitriol behind it, simply just looking for something to say to fill the quiet space.  Sungchan knows this, but he still internally cringes at the time, recalling the events of his day.  

“I wanted to be here earlier I really did.  My piece of shit car wouldn’t start.. this is actually my moms.”

He scratches at the back of his head as he says it, slightly embarrassed about having to take his parent’s car.  

“But you still made it.”

He looks up at you when you say it, picking up on the joy in your voice.  When he catches your gaze he can see all of the emotion that lies in it, thinking that his probably looks the same.  

“Of course I did.”  

The way he looks at you sets your nerves alight, and you have to look away to resist the urge to kiss him.  You smile down at your lap, playing with the tulle of your dress, examining the way it lies against your skin.  You pick at a loose thread as you think of a way to say the next part, knowing that you’re going to have to confront the pain it is that both of you went through.  

“I didn’t mean what I said.. you know about us not being together.”

He’s looking at you now and your heart breaks at the fear in his eyes.  The urge to skip the conversation just so you can hold him close makes itself present.  You do your best to move past the discomfort when you recall Shotaro’s words about being honest.  Something about the quietness of the parked car makes everything feel more intimate.  Each of your words holding a little more weight than usual.  

“I think being with you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but that’s only because I spent the whole time thinking that there’s no way it could have meant anything to you outside of the sex… like it had to be too good to be true.”  

As you recall your feelings you close your eyes, trying to push down the pain.  Your own heart aches for how you felt, you pick at your nails in an effort to keep yourself here right now instead of in the past.  Sungchan can’t help but feel like you feel so far away right now, despite your close proximity.  He wants to hold your hand through every word, sit with you and walk through how it is you feel.  But he sees how much effort it’s taking you to open up and he doesn’t want to ruin it. 

“Having so much of you and none of you at all was eating me up inside.. I thought maybe I was holding you back from the love you deserve to feel and I let my own insecurities get to me.  I’m so sorry Sungchan.  I should’ve said it sooner but I knew you needed space.”  

After all of the words are out, you feel so small.  All of your feelings exposed to the one person who they centered around.  A moment passes, with your words just sitting in the air as you stare at your lap.  When he reaches a hand out to grab yours you feel like you might die.  

“The truth is, after I  left, I immediately wanted to turn back around.”

He lets out a laugh when he recalls that moment.  That was how he knew that all he was ever gonna want was you.  

“I only ever wanted things to go at your pace, which is why I went so long without saying anything.  Honestly I was fine with everything as long as I was next to you.” 

You squeeze his hand at those words, feeling overcoming you.  As you take in his words you can’t help but notice how similarly the both of you were thinking.  He stares at where your fingers are interlocked, thinking about how back then he never had the guts to just reach for your hand.  

“I think I should have been braver and just told you how I feel.”

You shake your head at his words, thinking to yourself that you should have done the same.  His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a comforting motion for the both of you.  There’s one thought that still lingers in your brain, your biggest fear in all of this.  When you speak your voice is a whisper, words hanging heavy to you in the small interior of the car.  

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever.”

“I could never hate you.” 

His response is immediate, looking at you as he says it like he needs you to at least hear that.  You stare at his face, taking him in for the first time in a week.  He looks a little tired, like his rest hasn’t been well, mirroring your own.  But he’s still the prettiest boy ever.  You can’t help yourself now, reaching a hand across the small space between you to touch his face.  The moment is delicate, an indication that all is resolved.    He sits up from the driver’s seat abruptly, like he just remembered something before reaching into his backseat.  He pulls out the gift bag from earlier, placing it in your hands excitedly.

A smile makes its way to your face as you pull apart the paper.  He watches on expectantly, as you come face to face with a small black box sitting at the bottom.  You open it to see a delicate necklace; a simple gold chain with a sun engraved pendant.  He remembers his trip to the mall with Shotaro, how he agonized over finding the perfect gift to display what it is you meant to him.  When he saw the necklace he thought about how nicely it would lay against you, silently hoping that every time you saw it you would think of him.  

As you take it from the box he silently awaits your approval, and it comes when you smile at him and place a kiss on his cheek.  You push it into his hands as you lean forward, Sungchan taking the hint immediately.  Gently, he places the necklace on you, fingers brushing the back of your neck as he messes with the clasp.  The accidental touch sends shivers down your spine, but you do your best to will it away right now.  

“Happy birthday.”

The second the words leave his lips you’re leaning forward over the console of the car to kiss him.  It’s gentle, the way you press your lips to his, Sungchan bringing a hand up to cup your face.  It reminds you of the first time you kissed and you can’t help but smile fondly against his lips at the thought.  He deepens the kiss as you place your hands against his chest to keep yourself steady.  The both of you think about how right this feels, like you were always meant to end up in this moment.  When you pull away to catch your breath, a thought pops into your head.  

“No birthday text?”

You’re just messing with him, trying to make the mood a little lighter but it’s funny to see the way he scrambles to explain himself. 

“I thought it would be too awkward.. you know given the circumstances.”

“..Are you gonna make it up to me?”

When you say those words with a bite to your lip, it has Sungchan immediately leaning in to kiss you again.  You pull away just before he’s able to reach you, a frown making it’s way onto his face at the action.  

“I love you but I’m not about to fuck you in your mom’s car.” 

“Who said we were gonna have sex?”

You roll your eyes at him, hitting his shoulder as he just laughs from beside you.  He steps out of the car, running to your side to get the door for you before you can open it yourself.  It always makes you giggle but deep down you find it extremely endearing of him.  You lead the walk up to his apartment, his proximity to you making you nervous with each step.  He keeps his hands low on your hips as he trails behind you to urge you forward and all it does is send heat between your thighs.  The short fabric of your dress bounces with every step and it drives Sungchan fucking crazy.  He’s practically vibrating from excitement when the two of you finally make it up to his, fumbling with his keys.  You would make fun of him for it, but you’re not faring much better.  

Once your finally inside he’s crowding you against his door, his large frame towering over you.  He brings a hand to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip in the same way he did it for the first time all those weeks ago.  You shy away from his gaze, looking down to try and settle your heart, but he’s not having any of it.  He brings his face closer to yours, lips just barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

“where’d all your boldness go?”

Self-satisfaction bleeds through his chest at the way you can’t look at him.  When the two of you are like this, it’s evident the effect he has on you.  He presses you further into the door, moving closer to you so a leg is between yours.  The lack of having him like this for 2 weeks makes everything feel just on the verge of too much.  When you don’t respond he kisses at your neck, a silent ‘hm?’ leaving him like he’s expecting a response.  He’s grateful for the bareness of your shoulders that your dress allows.  You tilt your neck to the side to allow more room for him as he places a hand on small of your back to press you closer to him.  When you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder you can’t help but whimper, grabbing his shirt in your hands to give you stability.  

Sungchan missed all your sounds, and he missed how sensitive you were.  Each reaction you have to his touch sending him to cloud 9.  The week not talking to you was hell, and although it was the last thing on his mind at the time, the two weeks of not being inside of you was also hell.  His proximity to you in this moment makes him feel like he’s high.  When he feels you shyly grind against his thigh as his lips press against your pulse, he feels like he’s gonna go crazy.  

His lips are back on yours again, the hand on the small of your back urging you to keep moving against him.  As you drag your hips against him you let out little gasps into his mouth as he kisses you through it.  You’re mostly doing the movement yourself, Sungchan’s hand on your back just a silent guide.  It makes you feel dirty as you really take in how you can feel the fabric of his pants on your cunt through your panties.  He can feel the heat radiating from you as you grind on his thigh and it makes him groan.  He pulls away from you then, watching the way you move your hips on your own, eyes closed in bliss as you give yourself over to the feeling.  The sight makes him bite his lip, an idea popping into his head.  Slowly he brings a hand to slide one of your dress straps off your shoulder, playing with the necklace that rests against you, making sure you feel the way his fingers glide against you.  He trails kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, making sure to leave an occasional bite. 

“Just feels so good, hm?”  

As he says this he presses his leg further into you, the new angle making you whine.  The sensations are overwhelming, and Sungchan is using that to his advantage.  You haven’t even made it to his bedroom and you’re practically already falling apart for him, the thought making him painfully hard.  Foreplay with you was always one of his favorite things, he revels in finding out what it takes to get you worked up.  He makes it a silent game with himself to try and see how worked up he can get you to be before he finally gives into what you want.  This is one of those times.  

When he feels your hips speed up in an effort to chase more pleasure, he abruptly pulls away from you.  Without him there to keep you up you nearly collapse against his door, his arm catching you before you give way.  When you look up at him for the first time since making it into his place, the look on his face makes him looks like he wants to swallow you whole.  It only makes you want him more as he pulls you down the hallway of his apartment into his bedroom.  Slowly, he backs you up towards his bed until the back of your knees are hitting the edge.  For a second he just stands there, admiring the way you’re practically shivering.  He brings a hand up to your jaw, tilting your face towards his.  

“What are you so shy for?”  

He smiles mockingly at you as he says it, fully aware of the way he makes you feel.  Typically when you sleep together he never says anything about having to take the lead.  But something about today makes him feel the need to play with you more.  

Instead of answering him, you sit on his mattress, spreading your legs as you do so in an attempt to tell him what you want.  And if that wasn’t enough, you push your hands up the skirt of your dress, hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties before you slowly start to drag them down.  His reaction is almost immediate, collapsing in front of you as he places his hands over yours to help you pull them down.  You would make fun of him for it if you weren’t just as desperate.  

He throws them somewhere on his bed before you feel his fingers trailing their way up the tops of your thighs; you can’t help the way you automatically try and prop your hips up for him.  You both watch the way his hand slides under your dress before disappearing under the fabric.  He looks at you when he finally makes contact with your core.  Sungchan practically moans when he discovers just how wet you are as his fingers explore you.  When he just barely brushes over your sensitive clit, your hips buck into his hand.  It’s completely unintentional and Sungchan can’t help but find it so fucking hot.  He presses his fingers harder into your clit, preening at the way you whine out his name.  

As he starts to rub in circles you fall back against his bed, the feeling just too good.  Sungchan breaks away from you briefly so he can climb on top of you.  Sitting up next to you so he can see all of you.  When you reach a hand out to grab onto the hand that’s propping him up his heart melts.  He leans down to kiss you, fingers continuing to pull you apart just by playing with your clit.  His hand is practically soaked at this point and he resists the urge to bring it to his mouth so he can taste you.  Impatience getting the best of him as he moves two of his fingers to prod at your entrance.  You feel so hot right now against his fingers and if he thinks about it too long, Sungchan thinks he may start to feel dizzy.  

“Such a messy little baby.”

It’s mumbled against your lips as he finally presses his fingers into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He presses kisses all over your face as he eases his fingers in gently, shallowly thrusting to get you to open up for him.  He thinks about how much he missed this feeling and how he’s never gonna give it up again.  When he sinks in all the way to his knuckles he stays there for a minute, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him.  

He catches you starting to try and move your hips on your own, amused at the way you’re trying to fuck yourself on him right now.  Instead of making fun of you for it, he slowly starts thrusting them in and out, making sure to press against your upper walls with each slide into you.  You bring your knees up to your chest so he can slide in at a better angle, and when you do the feeling is heavenly.  You can hear the sounds your pussy is making and it makes your cheeks burn, hands coming up to hide your face.  All Sungchan can do is coo down at you, leaning down on his elbow instead of resting on his hand so he can be closer to you.  

“My pretty birthday girl.”  

You missed his pet names so much, a possessive feeling overcoming you at the thought of how often you’ll get to hear them now.  You turn your head to the side, and when you do you see your panties.  Sungchan follows your gaze, looking at the delicate piece of fabric that lays against his sheets.  As he stares at them it makes him think of the other pairs you’ve given to him, starting with the first pair you gave him the first night you hooked up.  You never asked him what he did with them, just handing them over to him if you caught him looking at them too longingly.  Eventually they would be returned to you anyway, but as you stare at them curiosity burns through you.  It’s like Sungchan reads your mind, because as you stare at them he speaks up.  

“Do you want to know what I do with your panties?” 

The look on his face is mischievous, eyes full of lust as he spares a glance down to where his fingers are still buried deep within you.  You feel a third start to press against your opening as you nod your head.  When he gently starts working the third one into you he tells you.  

“I keep them for the nights when I’m really horny but can’t get to you..”

After his fingers are sunk all the way in he stills them again, letting you adjust to the stretch of the additional finger.  

“When I just can’t get the way you sound out of my head.. every little reaction.. the way your eyes get watery when you want to cum.. the way you take everything I give you so nicely..”

Sungchan can physically feel the way his words are affecting you, each dirty sentence that falls from his lips causing you to squeeze down around his fingers.  It only fuels the fire he has to keep going, making eye contact with you as he speaks.

“I just can’t help but touch myself to the thought of you, you make me so hard it hurts.. but sometimes it’s just not enough.” 

He shakes his head as he says this for emphasis. He’s moving his fingers now, thrusting all 3 of them into you at a steady pace, the way his knuckles rub against you feeling heavenly.  

“In those moments, I take your panties and I wrap them around me as I get off.  It’s kind of cute it’s like you’re there with me.”

He smiles sweetly as he says this, like he didn’t just confess to you that he jerks off with your panties.  

“If I need you really bad, sometimes I’ll just breathe them in.  I can always still smell you on them and it drives me crazy.”  

His dirty confession makes you feel like your whole body is on fire.  You think about Sungchan in this very room, lights dim as he jerks off with one hand holding your panties to his face.  You think about him with them wrapped around his cock.  You think about how he’s returned every pair to you after about a week, and how you’ve gone on to wear them again.  You’re starting to think perhaps he’s a little more possessive than he lets on.  When he sees the dazed look on your face as you take in what he says he feels satisfied.  He can feel you clenching around him sporadically now, making sure his palm is grinding into your clit.  When your body seizes up he’s right there next to you, kissing you through your first orgasm of the night.  It’s sweet the way he tries to ground you with gentle presses of his lips against yours as you cling to him like he’s your lifeline.  Sungchan thinks he might pass out at the way you clamp down so tightly around him, imagining how you’ll feel wrapped around him.  He’s brought back to the present when he feels you start to push on his hand, the sensitivity a little too much.  

He let’s out a sheepish ‘sorry baby’ before he gently slides his fingers out of you.  You lie there, just breathing and trying to catch your breath as Sungchan presses the occasional kiss to your face, just observing you.  

“You okay baby?” 

There’s genuine concern in his voice, and it makes you feel warm inside the way he checks up on you.  

“’m good.”  

You smile up at him, bringing a hand to his face so you can cup his cheek like you did earlier.  

“You’re so pretty, Sungchan.”

You find it amusing how he blushes at the compliment, like he didn’t just have his fingers buried in you.  You sit up from your place on the bed and he follows your lead.  He’s so hard it hurts, but if you were done for the night then he wasn’t gonna say anything.  When you reach a hand to start palming him he feels like he might combust.  He stills your hand, stopping you from touching him so he can check in on you.  

“You want more?”  

You pout your pretty lips at him, nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world because of course you do.  

“I need you inside me.”  

He definitely wasn’t expecting you to say those words, shock evident on his face making you smirk.  Truthfully you can only be bold when your head is completely clear, your post orgasm clarity giving you a level head enough to fuck with him right now.  He gets up from the bed to take off his clothes, finally revealing himself to you.  When he takes off his shirt, you blatantly ogle him, having been deprived of the sight for too long.  You move to stand so you can pull off your own dress but he stops you before you can.  

“Leave it on.”  

His request sends heat down your spine, making you needy again.  You watch as he makes his way to his bedside drawer to grab a condom, words falling from your mouth before he can reach for the handle.  

“Wait”

He looks up at you, confused as of to why you stopped him so suddenly.  You look away shyly, trying to find a less awkward way to say what you want to say, but you find that there isn’t one.  

“We don’t need one..”  

He stares at you like a deer in the headlights, shocking him yet again.  Don’t get him wrong the prospect is exciting and makes him feel like he might die, but he has to double check.  

“You sure?”

“Please.”

That’s all it takes before he’s finding himself back to you on his bed, sitting up against his headboard.  You make your way over to him and he helps you climb up on top of him.  When you feel the familiar touch of his strong hands helping you in place you just about lose it.  If there’s a feeling you can claim that you missed the most it’s definitely that one.  He pulls down the top of your dress to expose your tits as you’re sat back on his thighs.  He leaves kisses all over your chest, sucking marks where he can as you press your chest closer to his face.  When he's satisfied he pulls away, pulling you closer to him so your hips hover over his.  

You’re sat on top of his lap, dress now hiked up around your waist as you cling to his shoulders.  Nails pressed into his skin, you shook with the effort to hold yourself up as he slid his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness.  Each slide against your clit had you gasping, doing your best to stay still as he prepped himself.  When his tip caught on your hole you couldn’t help but whine, composure slipping slightly as you pressed yourself down, nearly fitting the head in before you felt his strong grip on your waist, pulling you back up. 

“Let me take my time.”

You shiver at the display of strength and authority, clenching around nothing as he goes back to sliding his cock between your folds.  Sungchan was always patient with you, doing whatever it is that you wanted when the two of you fucked. Seeing him take what it is that he wanted instead of giving into you immediately only made you more turned on.  So you sat there as he toyed with you, his satisfaction growing at seeing you be so desperate for him, taking what he gives you without complaint even if it’s just minor touches to your clit.  When your head starts to droop, he leans forward, mouth next to your ear as he speaks.  

“You want it baby?”  

When you feel him prodding at your entrance again you let out an embarrassingly loud whimper.  

“Please Sungchan”

He slides through your folds again and you nearly wail, impatience growing within you.  

“But I dunno if it’s gonna fit baby.. it’s been two weeks..”  

He pouts at you in faux sympathy, withholding himself from you to make you frustrated.  When you feel him bite your earlobe as he teases your entrance again before sliding away you finally break.  

“Sungchan it hurts, you’re being so mean..” 

Your voice is so whiny when it comes out you barely recognize it.  He pulls away from your ear at the sound to look at you and the sight nearly makes him lose all of his self-control.  Your eyes are hazy with lust, a frown worn on your pretty face, your kiss-swollen bottom lip quivering, birthday dress completely disheveled; he really has pulled you apart.  

“Please make it better, just need you to make it all better it’s been so long.”

Hearing you beg for him, it takes all his strength and then some to not push into you without warning.  But it’s been too long and he doesn’t want to hurt you, no matter how mean he’s being right now.  

“Am I being mean to my sweet girl?”

He laughs to himself when you nod your head.

“Want me to kiss it better, hm?”

“What I really want is for you to fuck me.”

He senses the snark starting to creep into your words with your growing impatience and in an effort to show you where the power really lies right now he rests the head at your entrance.  It takes his everything not to laugh in your face when immediately your demeanor changes, eyes going soft and jaw going slack.  He would do this all night to you if you let him, but his resolve crumbles the next time you speak.

“Sungchan please.. ‘s still my birthday.  Want to be spoiled by my boyfriend..”  

You know you’ve got him when you hear the way his breath stutters in his chest, hand on your waist tightening.  It’s like he’s in a trance the way he leans forward to kiss you, it’s messy and when he pulls away he’s leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck.  Finally, finally, he’s pushing in, giving in to what you want and what he’s been making you wait for.  It’s so agonizingly slow, you know it’s for your own good but even then you’re just so impatient.  When you feel the head slide past that tight ring, you feel the air get knocked out of you, it’s just been too long.  Sungchan’s not faring much better, teeth grit with his hands on your waist, trying to remind himself that he needs to take his time for you, no matter how wet and hot you feel on his bare cock.  You’re just so tight, and with each bit he pushes in further it’s like you just get tighter.  

“Let me in baby.”

“’m trying.”

The way you’re clenching around him is almost too much to handle, but you can’t help it.  In the two weeks the two of you have spent apart you’ve managed to forget just how full he makes you feel.  You’re shaking like a leaf with each inch he slides in, the stretch just bordering on too much.  When you finally feel your hips touch his you try and relax against him but you’re just so sensitive.  You press your face into the crook of his neck as you try and even out your breathing. 

“Still with me?”  

You don’t trust your voice right now so you just nod, keeping your face hidden.  Sungchan lets you take your time, waiting for you to make the first move.  He can feel the way you’re clenching around him as you try and adjust to the size, fingers digging into your sides at the feeling.  When you experimentally rock your hips he lets out a groan, nearly crying when you motion for him to start helping you.  

He helps guide you up, taking it slow as you sink down.  The first thrust stealing all the air from your lungs.  In this position he’s just so deep, it feels like you can feel him everywhere.  You continue with your slow pace, Sungchan being patient as you try and get used to the feeling.  He presses a kiss to your temple, waiting for you to let him guide the pace. You sit up and all you have to do is pout at him, Sungchan immediately taking the hint.  

His grip on your sides gets tighter, and you revel in the thought of there being marks left on you again after so long.  When he starts controlling the pace, helping you rock up and down, you bite at his shoulder.  The sounds you make only fuel him to start bringing his hips up to meet yours.  When he does he feels you cling onto him tighter, scratching at the tops of his shoulders.  

He knows he’s fucking you good, and it strokes his ego so much, knowing that only he can have you this way.  He looks down at where your connected, bunching the skirt of your dress up so he can see it fully.  The sight of him sinking in and out of you fills him with a sense of possessiveness, but also with a sense of pride.  Because now he knows that its him that you want.  

“Sungchan.”

You moan his name so sweetly he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life.  He pulls you away from the crook of his neck to really look at you.  You’re so disheveled, looking the epitome of fucked out.  He knows that he’s not gonna last very long, and judging by the way you’re squeezing around him he can tell you aren’t either.  He puts all of his effort into fucking you as good as he can, each thrust hitting you just right.  You hear him whine as he’s getting close, his movements growing sloppy.  When you finally cum it triggers his own release, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he thrusts up into you.  He shivers as he fucks himself through it, the feeling of filling you up at the forefront of his mind.  Like clockwork he asks what he always asks, but it means something different this time.  

“mine?”

“all yours.”

He collapses against the headboard when he finishes riding out his high, holding you in his arms.  You’re both a mess of sweat and sex, but it doesn’t bother either of you.  You know that the cleanup has to eventually come, but you’d rather sit in this moment a little longer.  When his fingers trace along your back, he feels nervous at the question lingering on his lips. 

“Want to go on a date tomorrow?”  

He feels the way you hold him a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before looking at him.  

“Of course.”

[bairdthereader]

Time to pay homage to the Spring Queen, Tori.

[This is a long one, folks. I have lots of feelings. Sorry, not sorry! TLDR can just look at the gifs for the gist of the story.]

Having read Solitaire, This Winter, and Nick and Charlie in addition to Heartstopper, my thoughts on Tori and how she's portrayed in the show are a bit difficult to organize and express. Since we don't get her backstory in the show (yet), we see her exclusively engaging with Charlie's story; this leaves out a lot of her depth and complexity, or at least leaves it to the viewer to piece together. BUT . . .

The specific ways she goes about protecting Charlie say so much about her.

It's established from their first on-screen interaction that Charlie feels safe with Tori, both to be himself and to confide in her that he's ended his pseudo relationship with Ben, a relationship no one else knows about at this point. Tori automatically assumes the fault was with Ben, which is not only peak awesome older sister behavior, but a cue to Charlie that she knows him well enough to trust that he was not only not the offending party, but that the breakup was a very positive move for him. She's affirming and bolstering Charlie without any platitudes or unsolicited advice, a sign of her care and respect for him, as well as her understanding of him and his needs.

In Solitaire, Tori explains that she rides the bus with Charlie when he's dealing with particularly bad mental health struggles, which puts the scene toward the end of S1E7 in a slightly different perspective. She knows that something is deeply wrong, but also that Charlie isn't ready to talk about it. She keeps an earbud out just in case, but doesn't pressure him in any way, another sign of respect and silent support.

And of course the moment when Charlie is desperately vulnerable, scared, admitting his darkest thoughts to her, when she realizes for the first time (in the show timeline) just how deep the pain goes, she takes it seriously. She knows what it could mean. Though we as viewers haven't seen it yet, Tori knows her own version of this particular darkness and recognizes it in Charlie. She grounds him with firm, safe, physical touch and a truth that only she can give--which makes it the truest kind of truth, a bedrock truth for Charlie to stand on--that he is valuable to her and vital to her life.

After Charlie tells his parents about his relationship with Nick (with fairly negative results, but that's a whole other post), Tori's concern for Charlie is immediate. Not only does she remember how terrible the bullying Charlie experienced was, but she also knows how fragile his newfound happiness really is. Charlie misinterprets her question--whether intentionally or not I think might be up for debate--and assumes that her concern is mainly for Nick, asserting that he can protect Nick. Tori knows that Charlie will need that protection as well, maybe more, but also respects his choice to view the situation in this way. [Side note: respect is like Tori's secret love language; she doesn't give it very willingly.]

"Look after him or you die" seems funny, but Tori is dead serious. Her later accusation that Nick doesn't keep his promises feels harsh at first, and he doesn't really deserve it, but we have to see it for what it is. Tori is trusting Nick with a responsibility that she usually puts on herself, and she doesn't take it lightly; very few people can care for Charlie the way Tori does, and to her, failure to do so is indefensible. Nick's failing her test in this moment, though she's a complete enough person to recognize that it's a momentary lapse and trusts Nick with Charlie later in the story.

And of course there's the infamous Nelson dinner party, where Tori does in reality what we ALL want to do in spirit and knocks David down several pegs. She sees in him exactly the kind of person who bullied Charlie and made his life miserable, and she's not about to let it happen right in front of her. No real commentary here, just a deep appreciation for Tori's sisterly rage and complete disgust with David.

And then there's this:

Oh, season 3 Tori is going to be something to behold. I absolutely cannot wait. All hail the queen.

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview - Chapter 3 - Dodges, Deceptions, and Drinks

Summary: You start to feel watched when a black Challenger keeps appearing on your route, but the real shock comes from a text claiming to be Dean. After you escape the uneasy situation, Dean calls asking about plans for tonight. Though you're scheduled at work, it doesn't stop him from entertaining you for the evening.

Characters: Dean, Cas, Charlie, others mentioned

Word Count: 7.3K

Warnings: cursing, MAJOR fluff (calm before the storm), stalking, paranoia, dean is feeling the alcohol

Author's Note: I am so disorganized and fueled by panic sorry it was late but its getting interesting

Songs: Shiver by Coldplay, Tell Me by Groove Theory & Honey by Mariah Carey (at the bar), Hot for Teacher by Van Halen

Series Masterlist - Chapter 4

"...But all my mom has been doing is asking if 'this is what you really want'." You mimic her pressing tone, adding a scowl before you take a drained sip of your coffee. "I can't transfer now, it's way too late for that." 

You love your parents, you do. But even in your twenties, your mom still has a claw-like grip around you, somehow from states away. After last summer's incident, she was calling every day, checking in on you and asking if you were safe, or to make sure you knew where the local police station was- mental hospitals, even. 

Your dad has texted every now and then, too, regarding your new living situation, but he doesn't really bring up too much from the past. He cares from a distance and offers his threats to those who would dare try anything with you now, but, even he recognizes that there is only so much he can do.

Mom doesn't quite understand that. In fact, she loathes his forfeit of the situation, but that doesn't make her too much better. Mom refuses to acknowledge the helplessness she feels and persists with all kinds of unsolicited advice and information.

Across the table, Charlie nods intently as she listens, her lips never leaving her straw, as she sucks down on her salted caramel mocha (with an extra shot of espresso). Cas has long since abandoned his drink, soaking in your vent. His attention has been directly on you as he ponders your situation.

Cas sighs, torn and almost unwilling to admit, "Well, technically you could still transfer. It's the beginning of the semester and it would allow you some time to catch up on work wherever you decide to finish."

Charlie almost spits out her last couple of sips, aggressively gulping before a hurt gasp leaves her as she turns to Cas, "What? No! She can't leave us, Cas," She turns to you with a pleading demeanor. "You can't leave!"

Your palms face her in assurance, "Charlie, I'm not going anywhere."

She puts a hand over her heart, dramatically sighing with relief as she relaxes in her chair. Internally, you smile at her wish to keep you near.

"Do you think you'd feel better?" Cas queries after a moment, tilting his head, really trying to figure out what your best options would be. 

Short answer, yes. Slightly less short answer, "I mean, I can't just run away from my problems. I have one more year of school after this and I have roots here now. Plus, I do actually like it here."

"Then don't let what's-his-ugly-face rule where you live. If you let him take this city from you, he wins. Stay. Assert your dominance!" Charlie firmly encourages.

Cas squints his eyes at her, "I don't think that this should be about who 'wins' here. Her mental well-being is more important than her pride."

You roll your eyes, a gentle affirmation, "I'm fine, Cas. My mom is the one who's getting all freaked out about this."

"She has reason to be," Cas says your name, scoldingly.

"Not anymore- everything that has happened is done and it's all in the past. I'm moving forward. I'm completely separated from it."

"So you don't have the nightmares anymore?"

An irritated swell keeps you from explicitly telling your truth, "No- I, but- I mean, I do but they're getting better."

Charlie presses her lips together in a thin line, "I hate to side with Mom #2 over here, but I'm the one that shares a room with you- And it's totally fine, it happens, so don't even worry about it!" She prefaces kindly before she grimaces as she informs you, "But, they definitely aren't better yet."

You have definitely woken up mid-scream or mid-cry, probably at some point this week, too. And you don't really go back to sleep once you wake from it, most times you find yourself in the kitchen with a cup of tea or coffee, or doing homework in the odd hours of the night/morning. And Charlie is a light sleeper, so she too is often a victim of your restless sleeping habits. It was hard to shake the nightmares. Hell, you have day scares almost as frequently. There's still essences of him all around. You see him in your peripheral when someone stands too close to your back, as you expect to meet with his cold, bloodshot gaze and predatory sneer. You recoil at the scent of harsh, straight alcohol, reliving the moments when his breath would fan threateningly over your face, reeking of whiskey, or something cheap. You flinch when a car revs or backfires, stopping your heart in its beat. And if someone's light grasp finds its way to your forearm, or shoulder, or neck...you feel like you might have little control over how you react. The worst part is that nothing has really tamed. The nightmares aren't really any better, and Charlie and Cas were right. 

You're just thankful that she hasn't mentioned anything about your sleep-talking. Sometimes, you wonder how coherent it is, and if Charlie makes a mental note of it. Your nightmares usually consist of that night, and you were afraid- no. Terrified, that one too many details would slip through your lips at the fault of your tormented psyche. 

Because truthfully, no one knew exactly what happened that night. Only you did. Cas understood what happened based off your hysterics and pleas for him to keep it to his self, but you couldn’t bring up the rest.

You didn't tell anyone what really went on. You couldn't. You told what you couldn't hide. You could explain the bruising. You could explain the bouts of depression that came and went in tidal waves. But you couldn't get into too many details. You never could. For your own safety.

"The nightmares will go away in due time." You dismiss with a light finality. "If the nightmares are my only problem, then I should be considered lucky. He hasn't tried to reach out and call, or text, or anything like that. So what if my subconscious hasn't fully caught up? Life will go on and I'm going to have way more pressing matters in my dreams, like finals and finding a school to intern for."

Cas inhales, unconvinced of your dismissal. But nonetheless, he doesn't push, "I suppose you're right."

But he can't help but add.

"Although, it doesn't hurt to consider other options. You have to do what's ultimately best for you, and if that entails a transfer, you must think of yourself before anyone else- Charlie." 

Cas barks a warning at Charlie's open mouth ready for imminent protest, but it dies on her lips, forming a puppy dog pout at his tone desperate to vote against his advice. She looks away in dejected acceptance. "Ugh. I guess he's right, or whatever." Charlie directs her somber, yet understanding eyes to you, "Do what you need to do."

You appreciatively grin, softly responding, “Thank you, Charlie, for your blessing. And you, Cas,” you turn to him, “For your insistence on bettering my mental health. Need I remind you, I am fine. Better than fine.”

“Then that is great to hear,” Cas nods his head, a small smile on his face at your claim, but he continues to stare into you, hoping the truth would spill out if he gives you that overly sensitive gaze that seems to see through your bullshit. 

Conversations between you three shift, change, and evolve. However, when Charlie begins to chatter about her DND group, your eyes begin to drift, landing on what looks like a black Dodge Challenger about one block down, parked but still running by the meter. It’s too far away to see the inside, but everything looks tinted anyway. Hairs raise on the back of your neck, you’re not sure why, but the presence is cryptic. You figure it’s just lasting paranoia that you repeatedly denied having, though it was hard to tear away your stare. 

Cas says your name, waiting for your response to the question you undoubtedly missed. You shake away any attention you have on the black car, and look to Cas, “Shit, I’m sorry, say it again.”

He narrows his eyes, constantly reading you it seems, and he brings his wrist up, looking to his watch. "You have class soon?"

Your brows scrunch, and you look at your phone. 11:27. You begin to sling your purse string back on your shoulder and stand up, giving your friends your typical farewell. "Oh, you're right. Thanks for the coffee meet, guys.- be safe and all that."

The other two start to gather their things as well, finishing their drinks and waving you off once everyone is split in different directions.

You notice the Challenger linger, and your mouth goes slightly dry at the sight as you try to push away this sixth sense bullshit that's happening. You decide to cross the street at the light, staying on the opposite side of where it's parked. And everything is fine.

It's fine until you notice it parked at another meter across from the building you have a class in. Your footsteps falter, and you pause on your way to the entryway of the campus building. You stare at it for a moment or two, and its lights end up turning back on, and it slowly drives in your direction.

What the fuck.

Your heart rate speeds, and you give it another glance before you swing the door open and view the car. It doesn't slow down at your building or anything, it just keeps driving south of you. And you think to yourself that this is stupid.

Paranoid bitch.

It was probably a different car. It's not like there was one black Challenger car in the city.

You try to move past the feeling, but it's gum on your shoe. Sticky is probably the most perfect word for how this situation feels.

AFTER CLASS

You practically skip out of class. Professor Murphy had let the class go early to let us work on our assignments at home. Bless him. The best part is you were already ahead on the assignment, so now you can go back to the apartment to finally cook a proper meal for yourself and catch up on other school work.

And life gets even better today.

You feel a buzz in your back pocket and reach for your phone, looking at your notifications.

Maybe: Dean 1:12PM Hey, it's Dean

Instagram 12:45PM queencharlieb just made a post.

Cas 12:34 Did you see the schedule for next week

You had completely forgotten somehow that Dean had gotten your number the other night. You almost giggle to yourself like an idiot, but then catch yourself when you remember that there can't be anything yet. Especially not after what Jo admitted. Who knows, maybe he would even get with Jo if he knew how she felt. She obviously was okay in bed if he kept going back to her.

Unless of course, he had better options.

Jeez. Maybe too harsh.

Regardless, just getting as far as phone numbers is still friendly. You text with Cas all the time. Guy friends are great, you could always have more friends, and you convince yourself that's the only intention you have.

You start typing then backspace. Type, type, type. Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Did you forget how to text? Just say hi back!

You give up, and maybe it's lame but it was safe.

Hey, Dean :) 1:17 PM Delivered

You set your phone back in your back pocket, desperately trying to wipe the smile off your face. This all felt like middle school all over again.

Get a handle on yourself, it's a guy. That's it.

But logic seems to fly out the window when a returning buzz brings back that instantaneous smirk. You pull your phone out:

Maybe: Dean 1:19PM What are you up to right now?

It felt too good to be true, to have him genuinely interested. You push the denial out, responding back.

just got out of class early, walking 1:20 PM back home. what's up? Delivered

The bubble of three grey dots pops up before you can even close out of the iMessage app. You gape, not exactly used to that immediate attention.

Maybe: Dean I just finished a meeting with my advisor at the student center on sixth street, you wanna meet me here? 1:21 PM

Out of class early and being asked to meet up with Dean. Things are working out neatly today.

I'm headed in that direction, I'll meet you there in ten 👍 1:21 PM

A funny scene pops in your head of the pigeons cooing and singing to you as you hold out your hand in Snow White fashion. The traffic lights animatedly wave to you, and every passenger stuck in clogged traffic gives you a big smile and a wink that says "Go get 'im, tiger!"

And it's stupid to think this will end in your favor. You can acknowledge that, and you are weary of that. And yeah, it dulls the sparkle of this situation a bit, but hell, a little optimism in spite of that is healthy. Here and there, it might do you some justice.

Ping.

Maybe: Dean I can't wait to see you again 1:23 PM

Oh...that's a bit forward.

A weird feeling grapples around your chest, and your smile falters. Maybe he didn't mean it like that. He could just not have many friends and doesn't know how to act. It's nice to feel wanted but, that piques your interest some.

You don't respond this time, waiting to talk to him in person.

As you near the student center, you start to pay more attention to the people walking by, the people sitting on the benches, the cars driving into and out of the parking lot.

Cars. Dean's car. He's got the black muscle car, right.

Rounding the corner, you figure your best bet is to stay near the front for the view of all the cars here. And you may look a bit odd, staring at all of the cars but you figure it's most efficient to stay close to the building in case he happens to be in there, as well.

Red Camry... white Elantra... a fuck-ass grey Tesla... a black-

No.

Your breathing picks up before you even realize it.

The same black Challenger is parked, but not even in a real parking spot. It's hovering along the side of the lot in wait.

Your phone starts to ring.

Oh, God. Fuck.

785-555-0128

Lawrence, Kansas

Accept Decline

Wait.

The number that now shows up as calling was different than the phone number that said Dean. It didn't say "Unknown Caller".

You could've sworn you just came from a run with how fast your heart rate is.

You hit "Accept" without thinking and shakily bring it to your ear, and you can't bring yourself to say anything, as you leave your mouth open. Frozen.

"Hello?"

It sounded like Dean.

"Hello?"

Shit. "Hey- Hi. Sorry, the connection is terrible where I'm at." You clear your throat, backing up to where you came from, behind the corner so you remain out of immediate sight of the Challenger.

"Hey," He repeats, a voice like honey as his true greeting seems to settle into your head, naturally calming you for a second- albeit it's a split second when you have to bring yourself back to the present with fear. He continues through the line, "Sorry, for calling out of the blue but uh, I had a question. A proposition-"

"You didn't just text me, right?"

You blurt it out by mistake, an uncontrollable concern in your voice. And you can almost see Dean's eyebrows raise with confusion.

"No...? I- I haven't. Should I have, is this a bad time?"

Your eyes are brought back to the Challenger, as you follow it as it slowly rolls out of park.

Jesus H. Christ-

"Oh, fuck. Dean, I'm sorry- let me call you back." Your voice falters slightly in fear, moving with haste through an alleyway behind the building to get out of the Challenger's view.

Dean calls out your name through the phone, but you barely register it, "Yeah- is everything okay?"

You don't even know what you said back before you hung up, but it was breathy and you're sure it was hardly coherent. Cutting through the back of the building, you find yourself at the sidewalk connecting to the street you live on. You flinch as you hear a loud engine, and turn behind you to see the Challenger fly in the opposite direction, whilst you're still invisible to its view.

Holy fuck.

What the hell is going on...

You damn near jog back to your apartment, only about two blocks away right now. It's an awkward jog. You hold your purse against your side so it stops banging against your thigh, and once you near the building, you duck into the lobby and fumble for your keys in your purse, finally catching your breath.

You reach the elevator and aggressively and repetitively press for floor four, even after it's lit up.

"God..." You blink back tears now that you're by yourself. You don't even know how to properly digest what's happened. You can't even bring yourself to acknowledge it.

Because if you did, it meant that it was true.

You aren't separated from what happened. And Nick, or something Nick-related is still there in the shadows.

The elevator rings, and you step out. Your hands are shaky, sweaty, and hardly able to wrap around your key as you stick it through to your door. Inside, you drop everything close to the door, still in a state of shock.

The apartment is quiet. Charlie is still at a DND meet, and Jo must be off at class, work, or at an appointment.

You stand in the middle of the apartment, unknowing of what to even do. Your heart is still a mess, and you're feeling tingles in your chest. What the hell is a girl to do.

You violently flinch as your phone rings again.

It was real Dean again.

Damn. You must've sounded crazy to him on the phone. Damn.

You accept, this time being the first to say, "Hey-"

"Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely worried for you, and boy, did that make you feel awful.

"Yeah, I'm- yeah, no. I'm fine- sorry." You sputter out, closing your eyes as you talk to him.

"What the hell happened?" He asks, and despite his own urgency, his voice comes out softer.

You're sick of lying. But, is it even worth it to bother him with the truth?

You exhale, running a hand on my face, "I just... I got a weird text. A prank-like text and it was eerie and stupid and probably just a bunch of kids or something- I thought it might've been you but then you called. I'm sorry, I did not mean to worry you."

You can hear Dean relax with an exhale of his own, and he huffs a bit of a laugh, "No, no...don't be sorry, I just didn't know if I had to come down to get you or something."

You scoff guiltily for making him think like that, "Dean- I wouldn't have put that on you to do that. I'm fine-"

"All due respect, you wouldn't have much of a choice if I thought you were in serious danger," Dean replies with protective assurance in his voice. Welcome back, butterflies.

"I- well, I don't want to ever have to make you do that, but thank you. The thought is considerate." You've managed to calm down slightly, his voice bringing you back to center. "Uh, before I hung up, you were saying something?"

Dean clicks his tongue in recognition, "Right, right." He pauses for a second, "Well, I have tonight off, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out." He slows down the syllables as he talks. Was he nervous?

"Go out?"

"Yeah," You can hear the smirk in his voice, "Go out."

You chuckle a bit, walking into your room distractedly, "The thing is I would love to, but I picked up a shift tonight from five to close. I'd rather be 'going out' though, trust me, but I have a feeling tonight isn't one of those nights where I make it out at a given time. Restaurant life- never any guarantees."

"Ahh, gotcha." He almost sounds disappointed. "Well, maybe you can just text me when you get off, and we can figure something out. Doesn't have to be tonight but, y'know..." He trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. Message received.

"Will do. Will do."

Before the inevitable end of the call, Dean pipes up with another question, "You still work with Cas, right? Down at Silver & Flames?"

You nod, though he can't see you, "I do, yeah. I'll say hi to him for you if you'd like."

Dean sounds weirdly like he's plotting. "Right...yeah, send him a hi for me. I won't keep you, just uhh, wanted to see if you were free. Text me when you're off."

You nod, noting his tone but responding nonchalantly, "Sure, Dean. I'll see you later."

"Bye, sweetheart." Your voice fails you for a moment before you utter a quick, "Bye, Dean."

You set your phone down on the bed, then stare at it. The texts, Challenger, and call interweaving one another in your mind.

You pick it back up and quickly update the "705" number under Dean's contact information.

SILVER & FLAMES

B. TICKET CAS T15 - Old Fashioned 8:35

SUB Buffalo Trace instead of house

B. TICKET MEG T23 - Smoke & Flame 8:36

B. TICKET BELA T09 - Margarita 8:36

SUB Casamigos Reposado Spicy

B. TICKET JAKE T63 - Midnight Ember 8:37

B. TICKET BRADY T40 - Manhatten 8:37

B. TICKET BRADY T40 - Negroni 8:37

This is the last time you offer to take the bartender's shift. 

You've worked behind the bar before, but normally it was a random Monday evening he needed covered for a couple hours, or to close on a Wednesday, basically any time it's expected to be slow. 

It is a Friday night, and you have no idea what you signed yourself up for. 

Normally, you are on the floor most nights waiting four to five tables, up to seven if you were lucky, or unlucky for that matter. You're good at it though. You can upsell to your heart's content, run all your food in a timely manner, flirt with the weird, older men who come in on 'business', so you can get that extra pocket change, and finish your side work barely fifteen minutes after you're cut.

But now, you're in deep shit.

After cashing out two bar guests who've already been waiting for ten minutes, you turn around and suddenly you're six tickets deep and hardly familiar with the drinks being rung in. The shift becomes mentally suffocative, and all you can do to maintain your composure is just take an unwilling moment to breathe with a blank, numb stare at the papers printing out, all attached by the top-right corners. You snatch it by the end, holding up the link of papers, shaking your head in just absolute regret. 

Luckily, the bar-back, Andy, was here tonight to help out. And thank whatever is holy out there, because he was one of the nicest and most patient people to work with. A little nervous and fidgety, but still very sweet. Plus, he knew what he was doing.

"Sweet fucking Jesus," You gape, reading all the tickets to yourself.

Andy awkwardly sets down a keg of one of the local brews in its respectful place underneath the bar top, and immediately walks over to you and draws a breath through his teeth. "Okay, wow- uh...I'll just get the glasses and find the substitutions for you then?" His face is stained with sympathy, and it makes things a little more bearable, knowing that he finds it just as stressful as you do.

You sigh in appreciation, closing your eyes in a silent thanks for Andy's presence. "Oh God, thank you...." You start to find all the liquors lined up behind you that you were familiar with. "My knight in shining armor."

Andy comes back with a variety of drink glasses that are specialized for some of the cocktails, and he frowns at the tickets, "We still carry Buffalo Trace?" 

You can only give him a look that says, "Dude, I have no fucking clue." 

From the corner, Cas then turns towards the bar entrance, holding out a tray of water glasses. He hovers around the corner with a concerned hesitancy, "Did you get the ticket for the Old Fashioned?"

Glancing up to him before your eyes land back on the empty glasses, you sigh with a stressed pinch in your brows as you gesture to his drinks, "Just- fuck, go drop those off first. I need a minute."

He understands, not taking your terse answers to heart. His eyes are still on you as he nods at you, "Okay, it's no problem." He gets ready to head back in the direction of his tables, but asks quickly, "You okay?"

Damn Cas for being thoughtful and kind towards you when you're bitchy and overwhelmed. I'm an asshole. You spare a second to actually look at him as you talk.

"I'm fine, honestly, just..." You cup your hands to your face, pushing your middle fingers into the inner corners of your eyes, trying to find some way to relieve pressure. 

You don't even have to finish your sentence before Cas waves a hand in a peacekeeping motion, already on his way to deliver drinks and anything else before coming back for the cocktail. 

All of the drink tickets are finished and delivered in under seven minutes, thankfully. Obviously not ideal timing, but for an amateur bartender on a bustling Friday evening? You'll take it.

About an hour and a half later, the last 'pop' of the night was in and they all had their drinks and bar bites. You keep busy- restocking, checking on customers, dropping bills, or other drinks that servers couldn't run. 

Midst wiping down counters with sanitizer water, Andy makes his way back over to you.

“Hey, uhhh, there’s some guy asking for you specifically- at bar seat nine. Do you want me to tell him you’re busy?” Andy clasps a fist into his other hand, rubbing it with nerves and anticipation as he looks for your direction.

It catches your attention though as you cast your glance in that general direction, though you can’t see seat nine from here since it was around a corner. Your stomach drops slightly. Please, please, please don’t let this be who I think it is. You wonder if everything you had been grateful for this morning had been jinxed.

You look back to Andy opening your mouth to answer, then pushing your teeth together and pulling down your lower lip in anxious contemplation before responding in a bit of a hushed tone, “No, I’ll check it out.”

Cautiously bringing one foot in front of the other, you scope out seat nine where you are met with a menu in front of the man’s face. Your eyebrows scrunch as you try to look around it, and ask, “Can I help you, sir?”

He drops the menu on the bar top, and his lips grow into a disarmingly bright expression, “Yeah, I was wondering what you recommend here.”

You scoff in immediate relief, almost turning away for a moment with a hand rubbing the corner of your forehead with a fixed grin, “Jesus, Dean, that’s a bit ominous, don’t you think?”

Dean licks his lips, and he cocks his head to the side, oblivious, still flashing his teeth at you. “What? I just asked your other bartender if I could see you.”

Your heart flutters at the admission. He wanted to see you. You didn’t think it would make you as giddy as you felt but it did. You purse your lips to keep from smiling too hard. “Well, I didn’t know it was you!”

He asks, “Who else would it be?”

Oh, shit. You swallow, quickly coming up with, “I mean, you could’ve been an angry customer that was overcharged or something, for all I know.”

“Well, what if I am an angry customer? I’ve got no drink in front of me to drown my sorrows in, and the bartender hasn’t taken my order yet.” He leans back, crossing his arms in feigned irritation. 

You take a couple steps closer to him behind the bar, resting your hands on the counter, “‘Drown your sorrows’? What’s got you down, Winchester?” You ponder, amused.

Dean shrugs, keeping up with the false woe, “Tried to ask out a girl and she said that she couldn’t because she was ‘working’.” 

Oh my God…he's not even trying to hide his flirtations now.

Why should you?

“Well, that’s a damn shame. How could anyone say no to that face?”

His eyes exaggeradely widen in agreement, “That’s what I’m sayin’-” he leans in a bit, resting his forearms on the bar- "though, I've got a nice view from right here. Might just forget feelin’ rejected.”

You smirk, “Yeah, Andy’s got that effect on people.”

He drops the cocky expression comedically fast. “Alright, you just ruined it.”

You throw your head back in a cackle, eating up his instant disengagement in the banter. He sits back again, light-heartedly shaking his head, not making eye contact with you. You can see him bite his cheek to keep from laughing with you. 

“I’m gonna need the check-”

You giggle even more, “No, no, no,” you reach out to his pointed index finger in the air as he gestures for his nonexistent bill. You cover his hand with yours, and push it back down, “I’m sorry, can I actually get you something to drink? Though, I’ll warn you, I’m not the real bartender- I’m just here covering a shift.”

Dean runs his tongue over his upper canine, staring up at you with a sensuous gaze, and you watch it unravel in adoration, “Surprise me.”

Slumping a bit as you step back to grab a glass, you argue, “I don’t know what you like.”

"Anything."

"You have to give me some kind of descriptive taste preference, or you're getting a girly drink served with extra frill." 

"Promise to get me Andy's number on the side with that?"

You bite your lip to conceal your smile, trying to stay focused, "How about this- beer, wine, or cocktail?"

"I want you to make my drink, not just pour it. I came here to see you work." Dean answers jestingly.

You roll your eyes, "Alright, cocktail it is- Now, I do this with every customer that comes in when they don't know what to order- what's your favorite dessert?"

He looks at you skeptically smirk, but confidently answers. "Pie."

"That's such a grandpa food."

"It is not," He defends exasperatedly.

"If you say so," You hold back another chuckle, continuing, "What kind of pie- so help me God if you answer with what I think you're about to answer-"

He offers a mischievous grin, but shakes his head, "I would never make such a crude joke in front of a lady like yourself."

"Right," You don't believe him.

"You're the one who went there first- not me!"

"You thought of it the moment I let it escape without a filter," You narrow your eyes.

Dean feigns an offended scoff, looking the other way before answering the question from before, "Any pie. Maybe apple. Or cherry."

You start mulling over the ingredients and the assortments of flavored spirits behind you before an idea pops into your head.

"Alright, game on." You point a finger at him before grabbing a couple of different bottles and containers. You keep the labels facing you so Dean can't see what exactly you're making it, upholding his request for a surprise.

Whilst pouring some liquors into the jiggers and shakers, Dean watches, mesmerized by your movements. It might've helped that you were in a mostly black outfit; slacks that complimented your hips, and a tucked-in button-up (with a button or two down) which was the only white on you, with an accompanying tight, black vest over it, accentuating the right spots. Your hair is pulled back into a classy, yet messy bun. The front strands were pulled down with light curls, complimenting your face, and you look comfortable. Not just in the outfit, but in the job.

He speaks up, after staring for a moment as you muddle something he can't see, "You get any more weird texts?"

You freeze in your muddling for a moment, before quickly resuming after shaking off the reminder, "No, actually. Thankfully, it stopped."

"What kind of texts were they?"

"Uh...just," God, you like him. You can't keep lying. "They had personal information about me. Nothing- nothing crazy, I'm sure it was something you can look up on whitepages.com but it freaked me out for a second."

"Let me know if it happens again, I'll call the number from my phone and give 'em a couple of choice words." He flashes a threatening brow raise to you, and you smile at the thought.

You smack the drink proudly in front of him.

His expression brightens a bit, and he asks, "What is it?"

Shrugging, you come back with, "You wanted a surprise."

The bourbon glass was rimmed with graham cracker bits and caramel sauce dripping into the glass, and the drink itself was a faded, burnt orange-bordering on brown- with three large cubes of ice, bringing the liquid up to about four-fifths of the glass.

Dean sneaks in a quick sniff, then raises it to his lips, allowing a sip or two to pass through his mouth. Once it hits his throat, he coughs a bit, baring his teeth at the strength of the drink.

"Is it too strong?" You laugh a bit at his reaction.

He composes himself, taking a slightly bigger sip, exhaling in a refreshing manner and he shakes his head with a pleased grin, "Honestly-" Sputter. "I just wasn't expecting it but that...that is something."

You look at him a bit worriedly, "Good or bad something?" His eyes expand a bit in emphasis, "Oh, very good something." He takes another light sip. "What the hell did you make?" He admires the glass, lifting it slightly as he takes in all the details.

"I'm not too sure what to call it, but what do you taste?" You test him.

Another sip, dipping his tongue lightly.

"Bourbon."

"And what else?" You knowingly press.

Dip of the tongue.

"...I have no idea, but I'll tell you something, it's strong."

You wickedly scrunch your nose and flash your teeth. "Apple Pie Moonshine."

Dean almost blows a kiss at the drink, appreciating the concoction once more. "Wow. Didn't realize that was a thing."

"We have it for this fall only, I guess. We run a couple of specials with it, but no one has really started to buy them." You begin, and you point to the drink, "But what I did was two ounces of the Moonshine, two ounces of Knob Creek, a dash of simple syrup, a little bit of lime juice, and then the rim is graham cracker and caramel...with a bit of a leftover lime juice to help it stick."

Dean looks like he might've just fallen in love with you right there.

"And you say you're not a real bartender..."

You shrug, pleased with yourself, "I'm not. I don't know how I did that if I'm being transparent. It's probably a one-time thing."

"Well, sweetheart, if I didn't know any better I'd say you've got a gift." Dean brings the glass up in cheers and takes a drink.

You make light conversation here and there between the last of the drink orders. You cash out a couple of customers and before you know it, it's fifteen to close.

And Dean's still here.

There are still people scattered in the restaurant itself but at the bar? You've got one customer.

"You know, the rest of the night isn't very interesting. I've gotta bring the drawer up and get my money and that's it. You can go home if you want." You offer.

"Why don't I walk you out?" Dean finishes the last of the beer that I sent his way about thirty minutes ago and sets the bottle to the side closer to your glass bin.

"But your car's here, I don't want you to walk all the way-"

"I parked at your apartment."

Shut up.

Your mouth stays open, gaping at his gesture.

Though, it was only a fifteen-minute walk, it still meant something grand to you.

"Dean, you didn't have to do that-"

"I wanted to."

Your face flushes at his soft insistence, and you give him a warm grin. "If you're sure. Gives you a little time to get fully sober, so it works out."

He cocks his head with a lop-sided smile, "It all works out."

Once Dean pays his tab (which he tipped forty percent on, with more assurance that it was well-deserved), and you drop off the money to the manager, Roy, everything was just about done. You grab your purse from the server table inside the kitchen and before you head out, you see Cas walk over from the mop sink nodding his head in acknowledgment. "You're leaving?"

"I am," You give him a happy look. And he seems to work his way to match it.

"You seem like you're doing better."

"I was overwhelmed earlier, but all is well."

"Right. And it wouldn't happen to be because of your lingering bar guest, would it?" He raises a teasing brow.

You can't help but look away, slightly embarrassed, but Cas is quick to cut it out.

"You look happy. I hope you two get along."

You inhale for a moment. "Me too. Have a good night, Cas."

"Let me know when you get home."

"Alright, Mom." You call as you walk out the door, heading back to the bar.

You gesture to Dean to follow you around the bar top and to the side doors, as you clock out on the POS machine and leave together.

Nearing midnight, the streets are a little quieter with the occasional line of traffic here and there dusting the cityscape, and conversations ever flow between you and Dean.

It was pretty effortless. Being yourself around him. He wasn't judgmental, and he listens to every word you say like it's a hymn. He's asking you questions, and he's bouncing off your responses with thought and care. And God, he's funny. It's hardly in his words, interestingly enough, but his facial expressions. They tend to be dramatic if it's a light topic. It's nice to see passion and emotion again, other than irritation, and resentment. But his presence isn't overwhelming, and you feel somehow free around him. The night isn't as scary anymore.

"So, are we heading straight back to your apartment?" Dean is obviously hinting at something.

"That's the plan...I have a bit of work to do." You add, looking to him with dread.

"What kind of work?"

You blow out a breath of air, "So, for my class Curriculum Design and Instruction, I have to create a lesson plan for kindergarteners, just to start small and get the gist of lesson plans. So, I figure 'rhyming' is a good subject to present. I just have to practice it."

"Why don't I help you?" He offers, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.

You laugh, looking at him in disbelief. "What?"

"No, really- I'll sit down criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor. You can use the yardstick and point to your whiteboard or chalkboard or whatever, and I'll be a student." He proposes.

"Dean- it's a Friday night. I'm sure you have better things to do than help me study."

"Oh, no- this... this is all the action I need. I'll be thoroughly entertained." He devilishly grins.

"Well," You think it over for a moment, "Charlie and Jo are out of the apartment tonight, going to a concert. So, it's feasible."

"Then we better hurry," Dean chuckles a bit, "We can't be late to class."

He brings a hand to your back, giving you a slight nudge to pick up the pace, as you giggle childishly. You wonder if he was getting comfortable around you, or if he was feeling good from the drinks, or possibly a mix of both.

THE APARTMENT

"Okay, we have the word 'mat' here. Let's go ahead and spell it," You bring an expo marker to the piece of paper with the word clearly and neatly written on it with the 'm' underlined.

Dean lays back against the pillows on your bed, one knee brought up as he lounges.

He raises his hand.

"We're not doing this-" You shut him down.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"M-A-T. Great job!" An aggressively clear teacher-voice is activated as you ignore Dean's shaking shoulders. He wasn't kidding when he said this was all he needed. He is very much amused.

"Now, we're going to find some words that sound like mat that have a different first letter. Like, 'sat'," you write on the paper underneath 'mat'. "Now, there's a couple more, can we think of some?" You blink at Dean, giving him his signal to give you some words.

"Pussycat."

"I heard 'cat'! That's one."

"Combat."

"'Bat' is another good word, okay..."

"Asshat."

"'Hat'. That's-" You scoff, dropping the paper and giving Dean a scolding look. "I'm gonna call the fucking principal's office in a second."

"Oo-hoo-hoo, the teacher said a bad word." He sits up a bit, "How long til you spank me with the paddleboard?" He flashes his eyebrows up with a smirk.

You huff, shaking your head, trying to keep your amusement hidden. "This is not helping me."

"What? You're going to have kids interrupt you, and say all kinds of shit. You've got the lesson down, but you need to focus on the behavioral part." He sounds almost serious.

"No, you need to focus on your behavioral part." You bite back playfully.

He scoots a bit closer, his hands up in surrender. "Okay." He looks at you with all of the attention he could possibly give you, a small, attractive smile.

You bite your cheek, clearing your throat and pulling up another piece of paper, "Alright, the next word we're going to try is 'rug'."

"I called it off with Jo."

You double-take to him, dropping the paper.

"What."

Dean licks his lips, looking at you with sincerity.

"I reached out to Jo, today, and-" he shrugs, shaking his head a bit- "I told her that I wasn't interested in the friends with benefits thing."

You blink at him. And suddenly your lips are on his.

And yet somehow you were more surprised than him.

He pulls away for a few seconds, looking between your eyes and your lips. And for a fearful moment, you thought you fucked up. "I'm-"

And his lips return to yours, finding a rhythm between the two of you, as he brings a careful hand to your cheek, pulling you in closer.

You've long since dropped your paper and marker, your free hand finding the nap of his neck. Your thumb brushes his jawline.

The butterflies take off for flight, making their journey through your whole body. The flutter resounds in your chest, and makes its course into your head, leaving you lighter- like you're flying. The feeling of his gentle hand ripples, though he holds you like glass.

And you don't allow yourself to think of much else besides this moment. There's no fear, no regret, no hesitancy...not yet. Right now, it's an act of the moment.

When Dean slowly pulls away again, he charmingly gazes, and under his breath, he sings softly, "I've got it bad, so bad, I'm hot for teacher..."

You give in, pressing your forehead against his neck, allowing yourself a bit of a laugh.

Because you think that you deserve it.

-

A/N: SORRY ITS LATE I ADDED 3K WORDS BY ACCIDENT

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem! Reader Part 2

Part 2 of Lute x Sinner Reader story yaaaay

Over the last few months, the hotel has been in what you can only describe as organized chaos. The hotel gained a new resident in Sir Pentious who was a spy for the Vee’s and then wasn’t or something. Charlie reassured you constantly that Pentious was not working for the Vee’s anymore and you had nothing to worry about.

But those sick fucks have been chasing you for longer than any of the other overlords so you’d rather be more safe than sorry. 

After that particular event, you started to feel less safe in the hotel. 

You heard Vox, he tried to infiltrate the only place where you’ve felt safe since you got to the literal hell hole and he tried to send in a fucking spy who Charlie just let walk in instantly after he had attacked the hotel twice.

Who knows what would have happened to you….all of you if Angel Dust hadn’t seen him planting those stupid cameras? 

You love Charlie, she’s nice and she gave you a place to stay. Being mad at her is like being mad at a puppy but all you could keep thinking about for the rest of the month was wondering if Vox saw you.

If the Vee’s know where you are.

If they’ll come looking for you.

What they might do to you if they do catch you.

You had a close call with Velvette one time and one time was enough for the rest of your afterlife. Bitch tried to color-match your fucking fur! You’re pretty sure the only reason you got away was because she was drunk off her British ass.

Vaggie could tell right away that there was something wrong with you and tried to reassure you.

“He didn’t see you Chesh”

She whispered approaching you slowly. 

“You don’t know that boss! What if he did? He could be on his way right now with the other two and he already beat the radio demon once! I need to lea-”

Vaggie cut off your rant by placing her hand on your shoulder gently and pushing you down to sit on the couch.

“Charlie and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We promised when you started staying here that we’d keep you safe and we will. You don’t need to run.”

“Thanks, boss… I’m sorry for freaking out. It just really shook me up, I guess.”

You mumbled out, blushing at how pathetic you sound. 

You may not remember much about your life but you’re pretty sure you died sometime in your 20’s. Yet here you are whimpering pathetically and having to get comforted over a fucking video camera. 

After that incident you became more jumpy, every sound put you on edge, and it was worse whenever you were around any form of technology that didn’t look like it was from before the 1980s.

The others tried their best to calm you down in their own ways. Angel Dust started leaving his phone in his room because you’d flinch every time he got a text or phone call from Valentino. 

“Don’t make a big deal outa it, he was annoying me too.”

Husk would keep your favorite booze on standby at all times, when you’d thank him he’d simply grin at you and say, 

“Us feline demons got to stick together.”

Alastor was happy to throw out any and every piece of technology that would make you tense up even slightly, which included most of Pentious’ weapons and very nearly his airship. 

He obviously wasn’t doing it for you but it still felt nice.

“Don’t worry my friend! I’ll happily get rid of these infernal contraptions! I’ve always believed they lacked class anyway.”

Pentious recognized his part in your new-found anxiety and tried to gain your trust by handing his machines to Alastor with many, many, many tears.

“I am more than happy to…give up my arsenal as an apology for invading your persssssonal boundariessss.” He’d hissed out while trying to hold his tears back.

You couldn’t really be mad at him after that.

Nifty even volunteered to go out and ‘hunt phones’ for you.

You said no but that didn’t stop her from bringing you the….remains of some people’s phones.

 “Sometimes I kill mother phones in front of their children as a warning to the other phones!”

“Niffty phones don’t have mothers.”

“Hehe, not anymore…”

Charlie was actually very happy to see how the others stepped in to help you and she was very proud of them even if their methods were…unorthodox.

But that lead her into a spiral. She was desperately trying to figure out why the hotel wasn’t working even though everybody showed considerable improvement.

This leads to her talking with her dad, which somehow leads to you being here in heaven.

“Um, boss why exactly am I here?”

You ask Vaggie nervously, glancing around at the pastel clouds around you. God you haven’t seen pastels in years.

Vaggie looks over at you and sighs, “Well Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to go out with the others and you wouldn’t like to stay in the hotel alone so this was the best option.”

You nod, understanding her point but on the other hand.

“And the…exorcists?”

Vaggie’s shoulders tense for a moment before she looks away from you and mumbles, “I have a feeling they won’t do anything even if we do run into them.”

You want to ask more questions but decide against it, today was stressful enough as it is without you asking stupid questions. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You whisper following behind Vaggie and Charlie as they enter the gates of heaven after another fucking song. 

Is it just you? Are you the weird one? Should you be singing more often?

The three of you follow behind the two seraphim, Emily and Sera, while they give you a tour of heaven. Charlie looks completely enamored by the place but Vaggie looks annoyed, as if the pastel clouds had offended her personally.

And you…well honestly you feel a little underwhelmed.

Heaven looks like a glorified mall so far, a mall with strippers because there are way more people walking around shirtless than you thought there would be. 

So you keep trailing behind Vaggie, Charlie, and the angels when you see someone who looks familiar.

She’s a cat demon like you, same color pallet and everything, except she seems much shorter and has a pair of pastel-blue angel wings coming out of her back.

You end up drifting away from the group and start following the small cat angel through the crowds. 

Eventually, you get close enough to reach out and tap her but when you’re about to get her attention you feel a firm hand on your shoulder and you get pulled away roughly and pinned to one of the walls.

You’re completely disoriented for a moment and then you hear a familiar annoying voice.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

You look up to see Adam and Lute, Adam has a wide smirk on his face and Lute looks….wow.

She’s not wearing her helmet so this time you get to admire her completely.

You’d probably be happier about her pinning you to a wall if she wasn’t also holding a giant spear to your neck.

Then again…-

Yeah, it’s still pretty hot.

[sidsinning]

You should do a simp(even if platonic) post for your fave female hazbin character for varieties sake

I think my fav is Charlie

Although I feel like she's been done a lil bit dirty despite appearing in every ep? Like she mostly gets involved in other people's stories rather than her own which is why I appreciate episodes like Dad Beat Dad. Her and a lot of different characters are being explored all at once in the most organic way the show is capable of in its current state (biased from me bc the characters focused here are all my favs lol)

She's my favorite but I do wish we would get deeper focus on her

Not that she has no focus and is an empty character ofc

But yeah

I like how she is a go getter and very motivated in her goals despite how impossible they are, despite the lack of support she gets from even the people on her own side

Ofc how her personality is vastly different from the rest of the cast who are all less naive and more cynical than her, almost like she should've been born in heaven which catches people off guard in hell (most definitely gets this from Lucifer)

(The fact that Lilith thrived in Hell kinda tells you things but that's for another post for another day lol)

Sir Pentious' redemption is absolutely thanks to her direct influence- and bc of that the mans ended up the first sinner in heaven which is a HUGE W for her, bc it's smtg no one, not even the king of hell has been able to achieve

Angel Dust has definitely been more influenced by Husk from what we've seen in the show, but its bc Charlie gave Angel Dust a safe space in the first place for him to flourish despite his raunchy behavior

So even if she fails when trying to directly confront an issue with a flawed perspective, she still ends up positively affecting others which is cool

Also appreciate that her efforts to make people listen to her message are finally recognized by the end of the season with the cannibals

She's powerful and full of potential, but definitely not at the point where she can handle certain things on her own without help or mentorship which is cool and smtg we can still explore

Yes

She's best girl so far

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Love Story | Trent Frederic

wc. 5.2k

It's a love story, baby just say yes

Your eyes flit around the stuffy ballroom, the heat causing your body temperature to flare and you can feel the prickle of sweat lining your features. Your hand is forced to be a makeshift fan, lifting to try and gather some air against your face. Finding no reprieve, you lean close to your brother, tugging at his suit jacket until he’s leaning down close to hear you. 

“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” you tell him and when his eyes find yours he nods quietly. 

“Be safe,” he responds and now it’s your turn to nod. 

Your shuffle through the crowded room, smiling at some of the faces you recognize and nodding at the others you don’t. You finally make it to the balcony and step out into the cool summer air. The wind is a treat, blowing your hair lightly around your head and giving a much needed temperature change to your heated state. 

You lean against the balcony, hands splayed on the cool metal as you look across the vast city. You can’t help but wonder how in the world you would ever get to know this unfamiliar place. How would you memorize the subway routes or the layout? 

You turn away from your current dilemma, casting your eyes back towards the party in the ballroom to try and find your brother. When you do, he’s grinning wildly as he talks to another unknown person. The person turns and you’re met with a soft brown gaze that has your body temperature flaring up all over again. 

You avert your gaze, unable to hold its intensity and look around at all the beautiful ball gowns floating by, the lights reflecting on the glitz and glam of the whole event. You find the courage to look back towards the set of brown eyes and watch nervously as he makes his way through the crowd. 

You turn quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice your staring and try your best to act casual when he approaches. 

“Hello,” you hear his soft soothing voice greet and you turn with a small smile. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m Trent,” he says, offering his hand in such a formal way that it makes your heart jump at the action. “Trent Frederic.”  

“(y/n) Mcavoy,” you respond, slipping your hand into his and reveling in the feeling of how his skin feels against yours. 

Recognition flashes across his face at your last name but he doesn’t show it otherwise. You’re quietly grateful he doesn’t say anything about Charlie. 

“Beautiful huh?” he says instead, stepping further out towards the edge of the balcony. 

“Sure is,” you murmur, turning back towards the view that captivated you moments ago. 

“Have you lived here long?” 

You two trade the basic information back and forth between you like a tennis match. Where you were from, how old you were, what you do for a living, what position he played in hockey, and so on. 

“Uh, favorite Shakespeare play?” you ask, running out of basic questions. 

“Shakespeare?” Trent asks, his shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“I’m an English major! Gimme a break,” you joke back, bumping his shoulder with yours. 

“Okay uhm,” he pauses and you admire him as he genuinely thinks about his answer to the question. “Romeo and Juliet?” 

“Oh boo,” you yell back at him, cupping your hands around your mouth for emphasis and Trent nearly doubles over in laughter. 

“Okay Miss English major, what’s yours?” 

“Easy. Hamlet or Much Ado About Nothing,” you state with a shrug like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“Isn’t Hamlet the one where they all go crazy and die?” 

“Yes, and?” you ask and Trent stares at you with a blank look before you’re both cracking up all over again. You’re both straightening up and calming down from your laughing fit when Charlie appears at your side once more with a soft smile and a curious glance towards his teammate. 

“Ready to head out?” he asks and you nod. 

“Nice to meet you Romeo,” you say to Trent and he grins at the nickname. 

“See you around.” 

“And what was that about?” Charlie asks when you’re out of earshot and you can’t help the eyeroll that is produced from your brother's question. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

The second time you run into Trent is ironically at your own apartment. You were standing in front of your door, keys in hand as you shuffled to find the right one. Just as you do, your door swings open before you and a loud shriek leaves your mouth in surprise. 

“Romeo?” you question when Trent’s guilty brown eyes finally land on yours. 

“Come on man let’s go before,” you hear your brother's voice from behind Trent and lean around the hockey player to stare at Charlie. 

“What are you doing in my apartment?” 

“I thought I left my airpods here,” he states, shrugging his shoulders and pushing past Trent who is still stuck in the doorway. 

“So, instead of texting or calling me, you break into my apartment with your partner in crime?” 

“It’s technically not breaking in if he has a key,” Trent chimes in and you turn towards him with a look that says who asked you? 

“Correct,” Charlie says, pointing at Trent in agreement  before throwing him a thumbs up. “I gotta go pick up Kiley.” 

Before you can hurl anymore questions or remarks back at your brother, he’s flying down the stairs and out of your apartment building. For one final time, you turn back to Trent who has a nervous look on his features, unsure of what to do. 

“Gonna let me in Romeo? Or is there a secret password?” you joke and he flushes at your words, stepping aside and letting you into your own apartment. 

“Come on in,” you call back towards him when you realize he’s still standing awkwardly in the doorway. His body half in and half out not sure which way to go. “You’ve already seen the place.” 

“I’m really sorry about that,” he says, finally shutting the door and walking back into your place. 

“Don’t worry,” you say, leaning back against the kitchen bar. “I know what it’s like getting caught up in one of Chucky’s schemes.” 

“Was he worse as a kid?”

“You got six hours?” you ask jokingly and Trent grins. 

Finally, you take a moment to pull off your jacket and shoes, put your bag away and pour a glass of water. You instantly pour one for Trent as well, holding it out to him and he thanks you quietly. 

“Have you tried that new pizza place down the road?” he asks, breaking the silence. 

“Not yet. I’ve been researching a bunch of places that I want to try out and it’s been on my list forever.” 

Trent nods at your answer and you search his brown eyes for an explanation. He smiles sheepishly over his glass at you and the sight sends a slight shockwave through your heart. 

“I haven't either,” he begins and you nod. “Have you eaten? Would you maybe wanna…I don’t know I don’t want to seem too forward we could order in or go there or not go at all I just,” 

“Slow down there Romeo,” you joke and Trent is grateful for your interruption of his nonsense ramblings. “Show me the menu.” 

Trent pulls up the menu on his phone and you start to scroll through it. Trent leans across the kitchen bar to look as well and you realize how close you are. You focus on glancing through the menu quickly when a loud sound erupts from your front door and quick footsteps echo through your apartment. 

“Trent!” you hear your brother's voice and you both jerk your heads up so fast you end up knocking into each other. 

“Fuck,” you curse out, dropping Trent’s phone onto the table and clutching at your head. 

“What are you still doing here?” Charlie asks, accusatory eyes flicking between you and his teammate. 

“Well we were thinking about getting dinner,” you mutter bitterly, still holding your head. 

“Yeah, no,” Charlie says. He marches over to Trent, places both hands on his shoulders and starts to lead him out of your apartment. 

“I’ll see you later?” you call out to Trent and get Charlie’s furious glance in return. 

“No you won’t!” 

You can’t help the small chuckle that releases from you at Charlie’s stubborn words and you roll your eyes. You loved Charlie but he was always going to be way too protective over you. Lord knows he’ll keep you away from Trent at all costs if he finds out you might be starting to develop a crush on the young player. 

It’s been about three months since Charlie and Trent had been to your apartment and you were starting to miss Romeo’s big brown eyes. Trent had successfully been scared off from you by Charlie but that didn’t keep you from crossing his mind almost every day. 

“Freddy you good?” 

Trent is broken from his thoughts by Jeremy skating over to him, nudging the young player to gain his attention. Trent had been off all practice and while he was still fairly new to the NHL, it didn’t excuse how distracted he was today. 

“Yeah man just thinking,” he says shrugging Jeremy off. 

“About?” 

“A girl,” he admits shyly and Jeremy grins. 

“Well whoever she is, you better go get her soon. We don’t need you to be this distracted for the upcoming games.” 

Trent thinks about Jeremy’s words for the rest of practice and ultimately till the moment he gets in his car he realizes he has to see you again. Seeing it’s only about 6 pm, he heads back to your apartment, having no other way to contact you. 

You’re sitting relaxing in your living room, a hockey game playing on your TV in the background as you attempt to finish up some homework. Through the sounds of skates starting and stopping and the passing of the puck, you hear a sharp knock on your door. 

You place your homework down on the coffee table in front of you and wonder if you placed an order for food and somehow forgot. However, when you open the door, your Romeo stands there before you. 

“Hi,” Trent greets, awkwardly waving at you and you smile at his nervous actions. 

“Hi?” you say, giggling a little at the weirdness of the situation. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to finally try that pizza place with me?” 

Your heart flutters at the invitation and you smile widely at Trent. 

“Give me a few minutes to change?” 

You end up at an old school pizza place about 20 minutes later, Trent being kind enough to drive the two of you and you’re admiring the atmosphere as you wait for your food. 

“Why do you wear number 11?” you ask Trent and he smiles at the continuation of your conversation from a few months ago. 

“Well, I wanted the number 7,” he begins to explain, leaning forward as he answers your question and the closeness has you losing your breath. “But it was retired so I kinda liked the idea of 7 and 11 rhyming.” 

You smile and nod, enjoying the explanation for his number. Growing up and watching Charlie play, you knew there was a certain special reason for the numbers players chose even though so many of them want to play it off as a random choice that meant nothing. 

“What number would you pick if you played?” 

Conversation flows like a lazy river between you and Trent and you’re shocked at how easy it all is. It felt like you had known him all your life and not like this was the third time the two of you have interacted. By the end of the night, your stomach hurts from laughter and you find yourself not wanting the dinner to end. 

“How much do I owe you?” you ask when Trent grabs the check and scans his eyes over the total. 

“Suddenly I’m blind,” he responds and you roll your eyes. 

“How much do I owe you!” you insist, not wanting to come off as rude and not pay the boy back. 

“We pay up front, right?” he asks, standing and gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Trent,” you whine out, following him up to the register. He hands the check over and when the cashier announces the total you grin mischievously. 

You dig around in your purse before pulling out your wallet and fishing out a 20. As Trent leans on the counter to sign the check, you sneakily pop the 20 dollars into the pocket of his sweatshirt. His eyes flick down to see what you’re doing and he tries to nudge you away with his arm. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, giggling as he stands back up straight. “Get out of my sweatshirt.” 

He nudges you away too late, the 20 dollars successfully slipping into his pocket and staying there. He turns to you and you offer your most innocent and heart stopping smile that has Trent shaking his head with a smile just as wide. 

The two of you head back to your apartment, the conversation never ceasing until you get to the front door of your place. You turn around, instinctively leaning against the door and fighting the urge to invite him in. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you say, smiling up at Trent and he grins down at you. 

“So did I. Would you wanna do this again sometime?” he asks, his nerves spiking as the words slip from his mouth. 

“Same time, new place?” you respond and Trent grins. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“See ya later, Romeo.” 

Trent watches as you slip into your apartment, his heart beating wildly in his chest no doubt trying to fight its way into your place and attempt to stay next you forever. He sighs, a ridiculous and happy sigh, before turning away and thinking over every detail of tonight. 

For the rest of the season you and Trent become completely attached at the hip. You went to dinner together every week at a new place, tried coffee shops in the mornings, new movies at either your place or his. Charlie could tell there was something going on between you two, but he never really could figure out exactly what. 

The Bruins make it to the playoffs and you’re at every game you possibly can make up until their final one. You watched the boys fight hard and you knew both Charlie and Trent would be kicking themselves and feeling like they didn’t do enough for their teams. 

You head down to the locker room, waiting in an eerie silence with the other wives and girlfriends. Kiley and you talk quietly but stop instantly when the boys start to trickle out. Charlie is one of the first and you offer a squeeze to Kiley’s hand before she makes her way over to him. You watch your big brother basically melt into his fiancee's embrace and you’re even more grateful for Kiley than ever before. 

Your attention shifts when Trent comes out. His hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed and his stare conveys every emotion he is feeling in that moment. His eyes slowly find yours and you see a sigh physically release from him. Without a second thought or a word exchanged, you’re making your way to Trent and pulling him into your arms. 

“You played great, Romeo,” you tell him quietly and his smile is hard against your skin. When you pull back, you spot Charlie’s curious gaze and you break off from Trent and make your way over to your older brother. 

“It’s okay if this loss takes longer than 5 minutes,” you tell Charlie, pulling him into a hug and he chuckles against you at the inside joke. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” he responds and you smile. “I’m gonna head back to Kiley’s. Go cheer up Trent.” 

You give your brother an accusatory glare and he chuckles before shoving you in the direction of Trent. 

“Ready to go?” you ask Trent and he offers a sad smile and a nod. He takes a chance, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you’re quick to reciprocate, the two of you heading out of the arena. 

Trent spends the days following the loss at your apartment, claiming he needed to be around company or else he would think about the loss far more than he wanted to. You were happy to oblige, your heart picking up in pace whenever Trent was near sent you into a bliss that seemed endless until your beautiful bubble burst. 

“Do you have everything you need?” you ask Trent, your arms folded securely across your body trying to keep yourself steady. 

“Think so,” he says nodding to his heavy suitcase and your eyes pull to the straps of his backpack that is no doubt weighing him down. 

You were mad at yourself and therefore mad at Trent for being so upset at his leaving to go back home for the summer. You knew he had these plans since way before he met you, but it still hurt nonetheless. You wanted him to stay, wanted to explore the city with him more, wanted to hope those simmering feelings for the boy might finally come to fruition. 

“Three months and I’ll be back in no time,” he reminds you, nudging your saddened state. 

Your eyes gloss over at his words, the reminder that you wouldn’t be able to physically be in his presence hurting so much more than you thought it would. You nod quietly in response to him, not able to trust your voice in the moment. 

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and you find yourself falling into his strong embrace, the warmth of his body circling yours to form a bubble around the two of you. 

“Don’t go?” you ask pitifully, a tear or two finally making its way down your cheek. 

“Three months. The second I get back, I’m yours.” 

You hold onto those words from Trent all three months. The three months of summer where you slowly lose contact but only manage to think about the young hockey player even more. Three months where you bury yourself into work and family and so on to ignore the reminders and thoughts of Trent that never seemed to cease. Three months and you had started to question what happened to your Romeo. 

The summer without Trent was like a year without rain. Dry, deserted, and uneventful. Waiting for the drought to end felt like it lasted for years. 

When Charlie’s wedding had started to approach and you were in the midst of chaos leading up to it, your brain couldn’t help but think about how the hockey season would start shortly after as well. The idea of hockey and Trent made you feel like you were coming back to life. The drought has ended, the rain has come and you can see a rainbow forming on the horizon. 

You impatiently waited for your Romeo to come back to you and in a weird twist of fate, he did. 

Charlie’s wedding was a beautiful success. Kiley looked stunning, the library was decorated beautifully, Charlie was clearly over the moon happy, and you could finally relax knowing your brother was happily married to the girl of his dreams. 

The speeches had come and gone, you were able to get lots of laughter and even a few tears out of your big brother and after dinner it was officially time to dance. You drank and partied and enjoyed the beautiful atmosphere. Your favorite song had just ended and you took a minute to walk away, get some air and relax for a moment. 

“There’s my Juliet.” 

Your whole body comes to life at the words from the boy behind you. You try to tamper down the ever growing smile on your lips but it escapes anyway. Trent’s eyes trail over your figure before you’re graced with those big brown eyes that have you weak in the knees. 

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna come back around Romeo,” you tell him and he smiles, looking down and shaking his head shyly before stepping towards you. 

“Of course I came back,” he says and your heart picks up at the words. “Besides, I needed to properly ask you out at some point.” 

You’re slightly shocked, especially at the fact that you and Trent had somewhat fallen out of contact over the summer. However, your heart was pounding wondering if Trent had been as head over heels as you were. If he thought about you all summer like you had. 

“Can’t wait to catch up, Romeo.” 

“It’s a date.” 

The speed in which you and Trent became inseparable again was alarming to some, but comforting to you. Your weekly dinners, morning breakfasts and coffee shop stops all became dates that had your heart thrashing like a hurricane in your chest. 

The one downfall in your honeymoon phase? Charlie, along with the rest of the world, still didn’t know about your relationship. You both were nervous to let anyone in on your relationship. The fear of the media is strong on Trent’s end and the fear of your brother's reaction on yours. 

You were laying down on your couch, Trent was coming over soon and you were scrolling on your phone to pass the time. You spot a picture of Jeremy and his girlfriend, the instagram caption something adorable and you smile lightly at the happy couple. You like the photo, leaving a quick comment, and pause when you swipe back over to the photo. 

You can’t help but wish you or Trent could post something like that. You wanted your friends to openly hype up your relationship, wanted the fans to call you guys cute, you even wanted the guys to chirp the two of you for being so deep in puppy love. Your thoughts keep you so distracted you don’t even realize Trent has made it to your apartment until he’s standing over you with a worried expression on his face. 

“Princess?” he whispers, and your eyes move from your phone to his face, smiling sadly at your Romeo. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You sit up, Trent instantly coming around to sit next to you and pulls you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest, his hands come up to twist in your hair and you sigh quietly. Trent gives you a minute, wanting to give you the space to talk about it if you want to or move past it. 

“I want to run away,” you murmur, turning to press your cheek against his chest. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Anywhere but here,” you admit and Trent worries about your words but plays along. 

“Bahamas are beautiful this time of year,” he says and you laugh lightly. 

“Running away from everyone, no job, relaxing on the beach, no media and no older brother? I think it’s an excellent plan.” 

You finally sit all the way up, turning to fully face Trent and he gazes at you with so much intensity that you have to look away again. Trent leans in, presses a kiss to your cheek and when you turn to look at him he pecks your lips before cupping your face in his hands. 

It's been a few days since that conversation with Trent when your relationship is exposed. 

You had skipped the Bruins game today, deciding to stay home and get some work done with the stream playing in the background. You barely even register when the game ends, the stream switching to another game playing and you’re far too engrossed by your book to notice. The only thing that pulls you out of your strength is the sharp knock on your front door. 

Your head tilts at the sound, the book in your hands dropping slightly. You wait for a moment and the knock becomes more prominent. You finally drop the book from your hands and make your way over to the front door. You expect your boyfriend on the other side, a guilty smile on his lips followed by an apology about forgetting his key, but you’re shocked when you meet your brother’s angry glare and a guilty look from Trent for a whole different reason. 

“When the fuck did you two start dating?” Charlie demands. 

Before you can respond, Charlie pushes past you and further into your apartment. Trent follows behind him but stops at your side, leaning down to brush his lips just over the top of your head before leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Media found out.” 

“Wha-” 

“(y/n)!” your brother shouts and you flinch slightly. “Get in here and explain please.” 

You and Trent slink guiltily into the living room, a million questions running through your mind as you face a half angry and half disappointed Charlie. You sit back down on your couch, running through the timeline of yours and Trents relationship and by the end of it, Charlie has settled on a look of disappointment. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“To be fair, I didn’t tell anyone,” you murmur in response and when Charlie glares at you, Trent nudges your side. 

“I was worried about your reaction and I didn’t want the rest of the media to find out and have this whole fit about it and I didn’t want you to think I came here just to start dating some guy-”

“Hey!” Trent responds and you smile, leaning over and kissing his cheek. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Firstly, gross,” Charlie says, pointing between the two of you. “Secondly, I’m pissed you didn’t tell me but I understand. Just be careful around the media now okay?” 

You jump up, running over and hugging your brother tightly and he can’t help smiling at his little sister’s happiness. 

The navigation around the media is hard at first, but you’re happy that you get to flaunt your man around now. It was killing you seeing all the fan pages and the girls who looked like models fawn all over your Romeo. The comments were of course pretty brutal at first and weren't looking too much better even after months had passed. 

It had been a particularly long week, Trent was gone on a roadie, and you had back to back bad shifts and too much homework to do. You found yourself laying on the couch, ignoring all of your responsibilities and counting down the minutes until your Romeo came back home. You start to drift in and out of sleep, the weeks work finally weighing down on your body. 

When you wake up for the last time, you find Trent next to you, running his fingers softly through your hair, You lean into his embrace, a sleepy smile resting on your lips and Trent can’t help but think about how infatuated he was with his Juliet. 

“How are you doing baby?” he asks, his words barely above a murmur next to your ear. 

“Still down to run away?” you ask in response, still desperate to escape from the world with your Romeo. 

“I have a long weekend coming up,” Trent says and you watch as he twists a piece of your hair around his finger. “Clear your schedule next weekend and I’m all yours.” 

Your eyes gaze over Trent, wondering if he’s genuinely serious about this. With him being away and the season winding down, your insecurities were running wild wondering if he actually wanted to be with you. If he actually wanted this to last, to work. If he didn’t, you didn’t think you would make it through a heartbreak that difficult. 

Trent was your Romeo. You didn’t want to suffer the same fate Juliet did but you were okay with at least trying. 

Trent was hoping his love story didn’t suffer the same fate as the age old drama. He wanted this to last for the rest of his life. That’s why he had already asked Charlie’s permission to marry you.

Over the recent roadie, he had pulled Charlie aside and explained everything. He knew how hard everything with the media had been with you and how your insecurities were running rampant and he didn’t know a better way to reassure you. He could be engaged for a few years, but he wanted to give you that fiancee title if you let him. He wanted to give you that constant reassurance through a ring on your finger and a commitment he would never break. 

Charlie was hesitant at first. The two of you are young and having just gotten married himself, he knew how big of a step this was. But when he saw the determination in the young players' eyes and remembered the smile on your lips whenever someone even mentioned Trent, well how could he say no? 

“This place is beautiful,” you say, eyes wandering around the small cottage that Trent had rented for your weekend away. It was quaint, with all the feelings of an older home and the lived in feeling you loved. It had character, as your mom would say. 

You and Trent get settled, touring around the small property, taking a quick nap together before getting up and cooking dinner. Your conversation ranges from topic to topic and Trent is practically shaking with nerves the whole time. He’s been waiting and waiting for the perfect moment and didn’t want a single thing to go wrong. 

Your mind was still fluttering with the idea that maybe Trent took you here as a last hooray before you weren’t together anymore. You had been trying to ignore those feelings for the whole drive up from Boston but they still plagued you. 

“Wanna go look at the stars?” Trent asks and you nod, heading into the rapidly chilling night air with him. 

The back porch is raised up, vines and plants covering the area with fairy lights strung around to create a romantic atmosphere. You can’t help but lean into Trent’s embrace as you stand outside and look at the stars. The ones you had both shared for so long, ones that were around before you and would be there after you and would comfort you till your final days.

“Princess?” Trent whispers, turning to fully face you and you smile up at him. 

“I love you. I care about you so incredibly much,” his words are soft in the night air and your eyes are already brimming with tears from the words spoken. 

“And I was wondering,” he continues. 

You watch with wide eyes as he kneels down on the ground and pulls out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. You blink a couple of times, wondering if this was all in your head but you’re quickly brought back to the moment when Trent takes your hands. 

“Marry me, Juliet,” he begs more than asks and you chuckle quietly at the nickname. “You’ll never have to be alone. I love you and our date nights, our early mornings, the way you’ve always called me your Romeo and that’s the only thing I really know so please, just say yes.” 

And just like that, the worries disappear. You get your Romeo, forever. 

“Yes.”

[crazylittlejester]

Work was stressful today, so I have been trying to think of fluffy things. I was only party successful, so it turned out more hurt/comfort. And I'm throwing it at you. It's in your "Wars is Bella, but not really" au

Wars has a nightmare and Charlie comes in to wake him up. Wars doesn't recognize Charlie at first so he draws a knife. Charlie keeps his cool and does his best to be non threatening until Wars comes back to his senses

When Wars does calm down he's extremely apologetic. And puts the knife away. Charlie is all "we can talk about your hidden weapons later. First, come here and let me hug you. Make sure you're okay"

Then Wars does as he's told. Only to not want to let go of his dad and having a breakdown. He ends up crying himself to sleep in his dad's arms. It was a pretty bad nightmare

The next morning Charlie ends up making Wars favorite breakfast to try cheering him up. It works far better than he expected

Wars is later grounded for the knife thing (please note: Charlie is not upset that Wars has items for self defense. He's upset he wasn't told that Wars had them)

NAH BECAUSE I DO HAVE A SCENE LIKE THIS PLANNED ACTUALLY

Charlie really loves Wars, that’s his kid, and he does his absolute best to take care of him and make him feel safe. Warriors doesn’t have a father, not anymore and he hasn’t for YEARS, but he does have a Charlie, so he does have a dad now. He has someone who makes him feel loved and cared for in this strange world of Forks, Washington

Separating those two is gonna break MY heart

(also im sorry work was stressful for you bro you didn’t deserve that 💔)

[officalgeorgestaniel]

here's a cute little blurb I wrote yesterday ♡︎ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

18+ only word count: 1.2k

cw: George being a cutie pie, "good boy", reach around hj, vanilla

After a long day of meetings and work at the studio, George arrives home in desperate need of some space to unwind. Charli, of course, is always willing to give that space to him. They sit down in the lounge for a cuddle and a chat to debrief George's day and she kisses him softly, telling him he's such a good boy, recognizing that he needs time to recover from his busy work day. She says she'll take charge for the rest of the evening.

George goes down really easily- following Charli's every instruction because the way she praises him when he obeys her makes him crave to hear more. He's desperate for acknowledgement of his actions, so he sheds his clothes and gets on his knees at her command. She looks so gorgeous standing over him- he gazes longingly at her body, especially at the shape of her supple breasts and pebbled nipples underneath her near-transparent white baby tee. He feels so powerless to her, because he wants to do anything he can to earn her praise.

She takes her top off as a reward for his good behaviour, her heavy breasts falling from the taut fabric, and George is suddenly itching to reach out and touch, to get back on his feet and put his mouth on her chest, but he stays. He continues to kneel at her feet, because he wants to be good for her. 

“You're hard,” she says, and George's gaze travels down between his thighs. Sure enough, he is, just by the sight of her. He feels his face heat up, it feels a bit pathetic, getting hard without being touched, but he loves it, he loves feeling weak to his own desires after acting strong for such a long time. 

“Would you like me to touch you?” Charli asks and George nods right away. 

“Please,” he answers, his baritone voice pitched up with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs then.” 

When they get to their bedroom, Charli hops onto their bed and props herself up against the pillows, spreading her legs wide and patting the space between them. They've done this before, and George’s heart starts racing as he remembers how good Charli made him feel the last time. He settles himself between her legs and lays back against her chest, her soft, plush breasts supporting his head. She takes his jaw in her hand and guides him to look up at her. 

“So pretty for me,” she says, gazing into his eyes like he's her most treasured possession. “Just need you to open your legs now.”

George’s legs fall open without a second thought. Charli's hand moves from the side of his face and lands on his cock. His breath falters. She wraps her fingers around his shaft and starts a slow, rhythmical pattern as she strokes him. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the feeling. Her touch is so soft and he feels so safe resting against her body…

“That's it, baby,” she murmurs. “just let me do the work. All you have to do is feel so, so good for me, can you do that?”

George hums deeply and nods. 

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. 

Gradually, she picks up the pace, stroking him faster. While he's distracted by the pleasurable sensation between his thighs, Charli's left hand silently sneaks its way to his chest and he whines in surprise as she rolls his left nipple between her thumb and forefinger. He likes it as much as she does, having his chest played with. She once made him cum just by edging his cock and playing with his nipples… She doesn't plan on teasing him tonight though, she knows exactly what he needs.

His face is contorted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed, and his bottom lip worried between his teeth as he tries to keep himself from moaning. 

“It's okay, George,” Charli says when she notices he's holding back. “Let yourself go, I love it when you moan for me.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to lose the last of the control he's been holding on to. His mouth falls open and the desperate sounds he's been suppressing start echoing between the walls of their bedroom. 

Charli feels her pussy flutter with arousal at the sound of George's whimpers and moans, but she keeps her focus dialed in on him. She adores it when he allows himself to be vulnerable like this, it's so different from his usual steadfast resolve. He's always taking care of others, including herself, so she loves to give back to him like this.

She coos at him when she notices a perfect pearl of clear pre-cum beading from the tip of his cock. “You're leaking, baby. You must need to cum so badly, hmm?” 

A very needy noise escapes George's parted lips and he nods, turning his head into Charli's chest to hide his burning face from her gaze. 

“That's okay, my love,” she soothes as she gathers the sticky liquid onto her fingers. “Don't be embarrassed, it's so hot when you can't help but get close so quickly.”

As if on cue, three more droplets of pre-cum quickly bead from his slit and dribble down into Charli's fist. She twists her hand as she continues to jerk him, slicking his length with the lube he's just produced by way of his own arousal. Her movements are suddenly accompanied by the wet sounds of the liquid shlicking between her hand and his cock. 

She can feel him throbbing and hear his voice pitch up higher as he gets closer and closer to falling over the edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” She purrs into his ear. 

“Yes- fuck! Yes, Charli,” he pants desperately. He squirms against her as he feels his arousal getting nearer to its boiling point. "So close, 'm so close.. fuck, please." He needs it so badly, to release the tension he's been holding in his body all day. 

Charli starts stroking as quickly as she can. "Cum for me, George," she urges, desperate to witness him fall apart. “I wanna see you let go. Let it go baby, let it all out for me.”

“Charli, fuck, I- I’m–!” George cries out into the room as his whole body tightens and his release spurts out from inside of him. One, two, three, four, five ropes of thick, white cum splatter against his belly, followed by a final sixth and seventh that slowly dribble out onto Charli's fingers. 

She lets go of his spent cock and reaches for the tissues on the bedside table to clean her hand and wipe his belly, murmuring soft praises to him all the while. 

“Fuck, that was so hot, baby. You're so perfect, so beautiful when you cum for me.”

George whimpers as she wipes his cock as well, making sure there won't be any sticky residue left behind. 

“Shh, you're alright, sweetheart,” she coos. “My good boy.” She places her hand over his heart and to ground him. She can feel his pulse slowing as he comes down from his orgasm.

After a long moment, he speaks up, his voice quiet and slightly hoarse. “Thank you.. I really needed that…” 

“I know you did.” Charli smiles down at him and plants a kiss on his forehead. “I'm always here to take care of you when you need me to.” 

“I love you so much,” George says, lifting his head to look up at her, his deep brown eyes filled with adoration. 

Charli wraps her arms around him and squeezes. “I love you more.” She leans in to plant another kiss on his lips.

[princessfbi]

okey so i need some tv recs for this hiatus 911 fan overall procedure fans i guess that's all the vibe i can think of to ask lol so hit me with your recs

EXCELLENT! So glad you’ve come to me Nonnie. I am honored. This is in no particular order but in terms of general procedurals with similar 911 vibes I’ve got a couple:

1. Sirens

It’s about a paramedic team in Chicago and it’s fucking hilarious. We're talking laugh out loud can still quote it from memory hilarious. There’s two seasons and each episode is about 25 minutes so it’s easy to get through. There is a British counterpart that is also funny but it’s definitely a different tone for sure.

**If you were a fan of Arrow then you'll recognize Josh Segarra

***Also you can scream with me and @lucydonato about the show

2. ER

I always describe 911 to people as ER for first responders. Part of that is because it’s so episodic. It gets really melodramatic at times and there are a LOT of story lines but for the most part the general stakes keep to one episode at a time and the show gives you permission to let things go which is nice. I’m a fan of the earlier seasons as opposed to the later seasons but Angela Bassett is in the last season. Lots of great guest spots and very character driven.

**Characters do die in this show so be aware of MCD warnings. No one is safe in that show. Except maybe Noah Wylie but that's cus it's Noah Wylie.

3. Numb3rs

It’s an awesome crime procedural with a twist on it. The oldest brother, Don, is an FBI agent who has his baby brother, Charlie, help him solve crime using math. This show has all the tropes too. Brother relationship, found family, etc etc.

4. Psych

It’s a procedural with a much lighter tone. Shawn pretends to be psychic and solves crime. It’s chaotic and messy and wonderful and perfect.

**Gives me coming home from the pool and vegging on the couch summer vibes.

5. Castle

On the same side of the coin, it’s another procedural with a twist. Castle is a successful mystery novelist who helps solve crime. Nathan Fillion for those fans of The Rookie and there's a lot powerful female characters in it.

6. Murder, She Wrote

MSW walked so that Castle could run. This is an oldie but a good. Angela Lansbury is a mystery writer who solves crime. It’s super cool knowing that she insisted on hiring a lot of older guest stars so that they could continue to be in the union and get their benefits. Also omg the 80s/90s wardrobe. There's also a couple of episodes with other detectives and crime solvers when Angela started to get tired carrying the weight of quality television on her shoulders.

7. Drop Dead Diva

THIS is such a good law procedural. It has the added bonus as having the same casting director as 911 so you’ll see a lot of familiar faces. But Deb is a model who died and got reincarnated in the body of a plus size lawyer named Jane and it’s the most wonderful little nugget that just existed in its own space. It was SO ahead of it's time on certain issues and it deals with a variety of topics such as body shaming, slut shaming, mental health, etc in such a kind and compassionate and positive way.

**Gives me late summer 'I haven't moved from the couch and omg it's season three' vibes

8. Scorpion

A team of geniuses (with neurodivergent representation in action genre scenarios) who help solve crime and crisis situations for homeland security. Lots of found family feelings! SO MANY! Big time character driven show.

9. White Collar

A white collar criminal agrees to help solve crime with the FBI agent who arrested him. Neal is so whumpable and it's one of the few times I've seen a fandom really embrace the idea of a poly relationship in fanon? Idk I wasn't really in it but the fics I saw all seemed to agree that no one would complain if Peter, Neal, and Elizabeth all lived happily ever after with their golden retriever. NOW, I will say this is a Jeff Eastin show and he has a tendency to take the amazing female characters in the show, throw them in a blender, and then bring them back as Frankenstein's monster bride and act like he didn't just ruin their character and it drives me fucking insane. BUT those first couple of seasons are fantastic.

Ask Me for TV Recs To Get You Through Hiatus

[abel-morningstar]

Abel’s grip on the phone tightens.

His fingers tremble just slightly, but his expression stays frozen in polite neutrality.

Lucifer Morningstar.

The name alone carries weight, enough to make even the holiest of angels falter. And now, that voice—smooth, rich, and commanding—is speaking directly to him.

To him.

Abel swallows hard. He knows he can’t say anything. Can’t let Lucifer know who he is. Can’t let his voice betray the storm rising inside him.

But…

‘But I want to keep hearing him…’

He forces his voice to stay steady, a warm smile on his face even as his vision blurs at the edges.

Abel: Oh! Lucifer Morningstar! *He lets out a small, nervous laugh.* Well, it’s a pleasure to speak with you, sir! I, um, I just found this phone here in the main city of Heaven, and when it started ringing, I thought—‘Oh! This must be someone calling to find it!’ So, I—ah—answered…

‘Deep breath, Abel. Keep it together.’

Abel: I—I imagine you must know the owner, right? *His voice wavers, just a little, but he presses on.* I’d be more than happy to return it to them! I don’t want them to worry about it being lost.

There’s silence on the other end.

Abel grips the phone tighter. His nails press into his palm.

‘Does he—does he recognize me? No, no, he can’t. He doesn’t know’

Lucifer: Right…and you are again?

Abel freezes. His breath catches in his throat.

‘Who am I?’

He could say his name. Could let Lucifer know. Could break the silence of centuries.

But he can’t.

He can’t risk it.

Abel: Oh! I—um—just an angel! A nobody, really! Just someone trying to do the right thing! Hehe, that’s what we do up here, right?

He winces at how forced that sounds. His fingers curl around the phone, nails digging in.

Silence stretches again.

Abel bites his lip. His throat is burning. His chest feels tight.

Lucifer: *hums on the other end, his tone unreadable* Just an angel huh? How wonderfully vague.

Abel: *lets out another soft, nervous laugh* ‘Keep it together, keep it together.’ Ah, well, you know how it is! Not really supposed to give out names to just anyone on the phone. Security reasons and all that! *He tries to joke, but it comes out stiff, his throat too tight, his hands gripping the phone like a lifeline.* B-But! If I know who you were trying to call, I can make sure the phone gets back to them safely!

Abel holds his breath, praying Lucifer won’t ask him any more questions.

Lucifer: Hmph. I was trying to call my daughter.

Abel feels his heart lurch.

Daughter.

Of course.

His grip tightens until his knuckles go white. He forces himself to keep breathing, to keep his voice light, even as the world around him starts to feel unreal.

Abel: Oh! Your daughter! That’s wonderful! That means she must be here in Heaven right now, right? Visiting?

Lucifer: Yes. Official business, apparently. She has a meeting with the high Seraphim.

Charlie.

Abel swallows. He isn’t supposed to know that name. That face. That person.

His baby sister.

He suddenly feels so small, standing there in the middle of Heaven’s grand city, clutching a phone like a lost child holding onto something precious.

He shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t pry. Shouldn’t push this moment any longer.

But he can’t help himself.

Abel: Oh! Well, I’d love to help get this phone back to her! What’s her name? Just so I know who to look for, of course!

‘Just so I can hear you say it. Just so I can hear you talk about her.’

Lucifer: She should be easy enough to spot. Blonde hair, bright smile, far too eager for her own good. Honestly, if she hasn’t already run into trouble up there, I’d be surprised.

There’s something fond in his tone—something amused, exasperated, warm.

And oh, it hurts.

Abel clenches his jaw, blinking rapidly against the sting behind his eyes.

‘He talks about her with love.’

That’s how a parent should sound when speaking about their child. That’s how his voice should’ve sounded when talking about him.

Abel forces out a chuckle, even as his chest feels like it’s caving in.

Abel: She sounds like someone really special.

Lucifer: She is.

Abel’s throat closes up. He swallows hard, blinking back tears.

He should end this call. He should say goodbye. He should return the phone and walk away.

But he doesn’t.

Not yet.

Not when he can still hear Lucifer’s voice.

Abel: I can’t wait to meet her *he pauses before he quickly added* TO GIVE HER BACK HER PHONE OF COURSE!

Lucifer: *chuckles—a low, velvety sound that sends a shiver down Abel’s spine* Oh? Excited to meet my daughter, are you? I must admit, that’s not the usual reaction she gets from Heaven’s angels.

Abel’s stomach twists. He knows that. He knows exactly how most angels view Charlie—the same way they view him. With suspicion. With wariness. With the weight of her father’s sins on her shoulders.

But Abel doesn’t care about any of that.

Abel: Well, why wouldn’t I be? She sounds… wonderful. *His voice is soft, genuine, before he remembers himself and quickly adds* A-And, you know! I like meeting new people! And returning lost items, of course! That’s the most important part, hehe!

Lucifer hums again, and there’s something considering in it, something that makes Abel’s pulse hammer.

Lucifer: Mm. Perhaps you’re not like the rest, then.

Abel: *stiffens* ‘Does he—? No. He can’t know.’

Lucifer: Or perhaps you’re just an exception to the rule.

Abel forces out a laugh, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands feel clammy, and his grip on the phone is too tight, but he can’t let go.

Abel: I just try to be kind, that’s all! Heaven could use a little more kindness, don’t you think?

Lucifer actually laughs at that, a rich, deep sound, like he finds something about Abel amusing.

Lucifer: Oh, you really are something, little angel. If more of Heaven thought like you, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

Something about those words makes Abel’s breath hitch. He doesn’t even know why, but suddenly, there’s a lump in his throat, and his vision blurs just a little more.

Little angel.

Abel: ‘What if he had said that to me? What if things had been different?’

Abel blinks quickly, shaking the thought away. He can’t think like that. He won’t.

Abel: Well, I should, uh, get going! Need to find Charlie and return this before she notices it’s gone! Thank you for your help, sir!

He hesitates.

Just for a second.

Because once he hangs up… that’s it.

Lucifer’s voice will be gone.

So he lingers, just for a breath, savoring it.

Lucifer: …Very well. Good bye.

And then—click.

The call ends.

Abel stares at the screen, his reflection staring back at him, eyes too bright, too wet.

Carefully, slowly, he lowers the phone, clutching it to his chest.

He should move. He should find Charlie. He should do something.

But for now, he just stands there.

Listening to the ghost of Lucifer’s voice in his ears.

Abel’s hands shake as he stares at the phone’s screen.

It’s still unlocked.

His breath catches. He shouldn’t—he really shouldn’t. This is a violation of privacy, it’s dishonest, it’s wrong—

But his fingers move before his conscience can stop him.

He taps the call log.

‘Dad’ sits at the top of the recents list.

Abel swallows hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

He taps the contact information.

A phone number. A direct line.

And beneath it—social media links. A private account.

He’s real.

Not just a name. Not just a voice on the other end of a lost phone. A person. With a number, with messages, with a life that Abel has never been a part of.

He blinks rapidly, his vision swimming.

I could call him. I could send a message. I could—

No.

No, he can’t.

But…

But he can remember.

His eyes dart around quickly. No one’s watching. No one’s paying attention.

He snatches a napkin from a nearby café stand, grabs a stray pen someone left behind, and scribbles.

Lucifer’s number. His social handle. Charlie’s contact information, too—just in case.

His hand is trembling, but he writes fast, stuffing the napkin into his pocket the second he’s done.

And then, just as quickly, he locks the phone.

His breath is uneven. His chest is tight.

Abel: *folds his hands together and bows his head, whispering under his breath* I’m so sorry!

He prays for forgiveness.

For lying. For sneaking. For stealing something so small yet so immensely precious.

But even as he prays, he doesn’t regret it.

Because now…

Now, he has a connection.

A way to reach Lucifer again…to reach out to his Mom…

And no matter how wrong it is…

He needed this more than he would ever admit.