#I kind of put together several parts that I liked in other dresses that already existed

[weaselle]

do you realize what a skill it is to take a written order as a table server?

Like, go ahead have a friend say four sentences and you write it at the same time they're saying it and see if you don't stand there SO UNCOMFORTABLY for a very long minute after they're done, scribbling and asking them to repeat parts.

Plus there has to be so much translation and organization, and just.

so basically every server comes up with their own shorthand, their own little code, altho some restaurants do have the servers all use the same shorthand code

And you have to rework your code every restaurant you work at.

So like, if you order a large caesar salad, with light dressing, and chicken on the side with no croutons? i'ma write:

SA L c no crt Lt/D chx s

but the last "s" is gonna have a circle around it like it's inside an "o" because that's how i write "on the side" and it makes it stand out so i don't forget or confuse it and i like the way it kind of looks like a birdseye view of a side of something in a ramekin, like a little pictogram :)

Starting every salad order with the notation for Salad and writing the SA large and making "on side" a symbol lets me scan the ticket for specific info easily, which is also why the slash is between the "light" and the "dressing" -- i usually put a slash for dressing, (like, ranch dressing would be r/D and no dressing would be no/D) because the slash and big D makes them easy to pick out of a block of text and i want to be able to see all the dressings at once clearly with a casual visual sweep when i am, for example, picking up my salads and checking to make sure the right dressings are with the right salads (which you always have to do because salads is more complicated than you'd think and you're likely to catch a wrong dressing several times a night if you check for them before letting your table find out they did it wrong).

Now any of how i write that order might change depending on things. For example one place i worked had a couple chicken salads and the kitchen did the chicken for them, so when you put the ticket in the computer it was helpful for them if you put the chicken instructions before anything else about the salad. I got used to putting it that way on my written ticket as i took the order to help me have an easy time at the computer while i worked there, and stopped doing it in that order when i left that restaurant. But the order is often about helping you tell the computer what to print in the kitchen.

Which you have to be fast at. Most restaurants only have like two or three terminals that servers can use to put in orders, and there's often like 8 servers all trying to use them. So you can't sit there and delete the salad order and re-enter it to put the chicken first and then try to remember how to do the other things you need to do on every order you have, because your coworkers will all be pissed at you, as their collective 15 tables wait extra time for you to get your shit together on the terminal and their tips dwindle down by the minute. You gotta be able to put an order into a terminal like it's about to explode if you don't do it fast enough and let the next server hop on it while you hurry to pour the drinks you're already late bringing out.

There is no time to like stand in line for it, either. If it's in use you go do one of the fifty other things you're already late for, and sometimes that means you go take anther order from a different table. That's dicey, because if you're not careful you'll have tables next to each other getting their food in the opposite order they sat, and that's never great. Or gods forbid the terminal is in use a few times in a row that you try to use it, you'll wind up at a terminal putting in 5 tables at once, which makes things hell on the kitchen staff and takes forever to punch in, all while other servers anxiously wait for you to be done hoping the same thing doesn't happen to them

And it's always some weird confusing choose-your-own-adventure system of menus and screens on there. Like, all the dressings and sauces and toppings might be on one screen and it's a different screen than the one that you punch in the salad on, so you have to flip between them to order salads or whatever. Shit like that ... plus you have to learn a new one every restaurant; this one may work with a series of drop down options, that one may use, like, clickable folder tags around the edges of the screen to go from options list to options list.

I worked this one pizza place where the server terminals were some OLD bullshit and the pizza toppings were just numbers. That you had to memorize. So you could punch them in without doing a where's waldo marathon with the toppings cheat sheet. There were 37 toppings. 41 when i stopped working there, altho to put in Feta wasn't a topping number you had to go to the salad menu and select "add fetta" from there.

I still remember a lot of the topping numbers. Like, if you ordered a large, extra cheese, salami, mushroom, pepperoni, olive and sausage pizza, it would be a

Lg xtr 1, 9, 8, 4, 7, 11

(that's the exact order the pizza guys will put them on the pizza btw, which helps them not miss a topping accidentally -- there's a logic to the order things go on a pizza, and if you write it all out of order it makes it real hard on the pizza makers to keep track of it while they're making it. I think some computer systems now auto-reorder toppings with they print them to the pizza section which is nice, but we used to try to do that for them as servers) I've used some of those numbers ever since. Cheese in particular permanently became "1" on my tickets, because i was already used to it and it's so much quicker than "chz" to write.

Of course the ticket layout is important -- I write the orders for the table as top to bottom = left to right. This means even if the person in the middle insists on ordering first, i write their order halfway down the space. Uh, i mean the top Line is for table number and number of people, and the the top Space is for drinks, and then the next forth of the ticket is for apps, and then the next space is for entrees, and then the last space is for any desserts, add ons, notes, or extras.

So if i say "shall we start with you" to my left but the person straight ahead of me orders their salad first anyway, i'm still writing their salad halfway down the "apps space" near the top of my ticket. Sometimes you have to bring your own note pad, in which case, depending on the vibe of the place, i often try to steal printer paper from the tiny little manager office crammed into some kitchen closet like every restaurant has, and cut their office paper into strips to use, because fuck making me buy my own paper to do this job.

Anyway, if you write your little code in the wrong order on the ticket, it makes it harder to punch it in the terminal quickly, so if I do get it in the wrong order, i do like a little swoopy line from it to the correct position. Say someone waits until everyone is done ordering and then says "oh can i have my chicken on the side of my salad" I have to write "chx os" at the end of the salad notation, but i would do a line like a big parenthesis on its back underneath the salad order, connecting "chx os" to the place i would have preferred to write it.

This way, after taking some dirty dishes from the dining room to the dish pit, checking with the kitchen about my other tables while i'm back there, pouring a drink order because other servers are using both terminals, and checking in with the salad section for a table that's getting impatient... when you're finally at a free terminal entering the order, these lines and you don't type the salad instructions in, get to the end, and have to delete it and type it back in with "chicken on the side" in the right place.

I actually don't know how many other servers use these sort of lines or item order, like i said, every server has to come up with their own code. Me, I draw lines to edit. This kind of thing makes my tickets often turn out with quite a few circles and lines and squiggles and stuff, which all indicate specific things But ideally not, ideally i get it written without all the extra drawing

So as a server, it's easiest to try make sure you can write everything down in the order you use at the computer so you wait til they say the whole thing. Or at least, because it is how your personal code works vs. all the ways people say the things they order, you often let the guest get the whole salad order out before you start to put it on your ticket.

And then you write it in your secret code while listening to their entree order. Which you might write in your little cypher while someone else is telling you their salad order. :)

However you do it, you have to do it all at the speed of speech, which is pretty damn fast.

Anyway, it's just a thing servers do, that i never really see talked about much. We all have our little codes we use to write your orders. And it takes a fair amount of skill.

[nekobami]

Oh wow, What a totally predictable day!

Ohh yeah, another Prime Rick in another dress, surprising an impressive number of zero people.

I guess nobody here need to be reminded. And that's what makes this artwork EVEN LESS surprising. That's my job: UNsurprise people. Have a nice day and WATCH SEASON SEVEN.

[allbark-no-bite]

marriage and honor.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.5k)

summary: the Navy has already taken two people from your life, and you don’t intend to let there be a third. that is until Jake Seresin walks into your life

warnings: severe plot holes, mentions of character death, swearing

authors note: based off of the movie Purple Hearts. it’s a great movie and i highly suggest watching it! please bear with me in the beginning of this, the plot holes fix themselves, i promise lol. i literally threw this together because i wrote one scene for shits and giggles and had to commit to it

(read parts two and three here: december and devotion, cats and christmas)

————————————————————————

No one ever expects to have to bury their brother at fifteen. Kinda just like no one expects to have to bury their other brother at eighteen. But you do it the first time and then you do it again three years later. It's a bit like deja vu the second time, like you're reliving the actual nightmare all over again. Except this time there's no one to hold your hand and tell you it's all going to be alright because he's dead and buried too.

They both die honorable deaths in service to their country. At least that's what they say at the memorials. You're not so sure there's anything comforting about dying honorably. They're both still dead, honored or not.

Raised by your grandparents, you'd grown up the youngest of three on a military base smack dab in the middle of San Diego, better yet known as Fightertown USA. True military brats, your old brothers enlisted straight out of high school, one after the other. As their young and impressionable kid sister, you worshiped the ground they walked on and had your heart set on following in their footsteps. That was of course, until they both went and died.

'Sometime these things just happen', is what you were told. And you know, freak accidents do happen. Engines fail, training exercises go awry, safety precautions are ignored. But that doesn't make up for the fact that lightning has, against all odds, stuck the same place twice.

So after the Navy takes away not one but two people from your life, you swear off all things to do with military life. The moment you graduate high school you pay out of pocket just to move off of the base into a shitty the-bedroom-and-bathroom-are-in-the-same-place apartment. You go to college and get the kind of degree that looks good on paper but you can't really get a job with. But it's fine because it helped you to put the past behind you and move on. So much that when your grandmother passes away unexpectedly, leaving your grandfather widowed, you're able to stomach moving back closer to home to take care of him.

At least, you'd thought that you had moved on.

Now, standing in the middle of the courthouse wearing what had been your college graduation dress (the only white dress you could find on such short notice) and watching the man before you slip a ring on your finger, you're not so sure. As a matter of a fact, you actually feel sick, queasy like you might have to bend over the nearest trashcan to get the blood rushing to your head again. That might would be a good idea because what the hell were you thinking.

Jake must take notice of the expression on your face because he offers you a weak smile, his pink lips pressed together. The same thought must be running through his mind too because he also looks like he might be sick at any moment.

What the hell were either of you thinking?

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Thankfully the minister is too bored looking with his own job to notice that both of you are looking worse for wear. He also completely forgets to say 'you may now kiss the bride', which is another thing to be thankful for. That might have been the straw that broke the camel's back and sent both you and Jake running for the hills. Instead he mumbles a unenthusiastic congratulations and departs from the room, leaving you and Jake standing numbly side by side.

In the following seconds after the minister leaves the room, silence settles between the two of you, partially due to shock and partially because you don't even know what to say. It's a sight, Jake in his pristine navy dress whites and you in your too short college graduation dress.

Finally, Jake clears his throat, swallowing. "Well, there's no turning back now."

*queue rewind noise* 

You may be wondering how we got here.

*six days ago*

"C'mon baby, you didn't think that was funny? Girls usually love that line."

He'd been after you all night, smiling, cracking jokes, buying you beers. You had to admit, he was nothing if not persistant.

"Unfortunately for you, I don't date funny guys." Despite your tone, you're actually genuinely amused by the situation. He's trying so hard, and it's getting him absolutely nowhere.

He's handsome, without a doubt the most attractive man at the bar, but he could be the most attractive man in the world and you still wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Not with that smile and defiantly not with that uniform on.

"And why is that?" he laughs, undeterred by your blatant disinterest. His friends are watching, have been watching the two of you do this dance all night, and he's not about to back down now.

You watch the smile lines that appear on his tanned face, the way his eyes crinkle in amusement as he awaits on your answer. He's probably a few years your senior, early thirties if that's anything to go by.

"Funny guys are dangerous. They make you laugh and laugh and then boom you're naked."

His smile twitches and yeah, you can be funny too, wise guy.

"Is that where you think this is going?" he asks.

"Where else would it be going?"

And that's how it all started. The beginning of the end.

"You know navy spouses get a monthly stipend and are allowed to live on base?"

You remain facing the bar, peeling at the label on your bottle, not bothering to glance to your side. "You know, I really fucking wish Natasha would keep her mouth shut."

"(Y/n)—"

"It's no one else's fucking business what—"

He grabs the seat of your stool, nearly jerking it out from under you as he pulls it closer to his own. "Listen to me," he growls, a stark change from his usual demeanor.

Stubbornly leaning away so that you're not so close, you regard him with suspicious and narrowed eyes. You raise an eyebrow as if to say he's got your attention, however unwillingly.

"Right now, we're both in a tight spot, okay?"

You knew about his dad. Heard the whole spiel from Natasha— who you're learning that while, your best friend, cannot be trusted to keep her mouth shut— about how they weren't on good terms, hadn't talked since Jake got into the academy, and suddenly he calls out of the blue to tell Jake that he'd had enough of his son's playing around and that it was time for him to start thinking about getting married. That if he didn't within the next few months, he'd arrange the whole thing himself.

"You need a place to live—" You shush him, eyes darting to the people around you. You don't need anyone knowing that you can't exactly afford to pay your rent. Jake rolls his eyes because he doubts anyone could hear him even if he was yelling with how loud it is in the bar, but he lowers his voice regardless. "You need a place to live, and I need to get my old man off of my back..." He trails off, as if you should know where he's going with this.

You don't. You're just staring at him with an increasingly annoyed expression on your face, wondering how soon you can get out of this conversation.

He takes a deep breath and sighs. 

"Hear me out, okay? What if we get married?"

You had actually laughed in his face at first, and Jake was so dead serious about it that he didn't even dwell on the fact that it was the first time you had laughed at something that he'd said.

"Not a chance in hell, Seresin,"  had been your second response. But that's the thing with pretty guys, they can be awfully convincing.

It all happens so fast that you have metaphorical whiplash. Next thing you know, you're wearing a brand new diamond on your finger and going out to the bar with his entire squad the night before their deployment.

Of course, they're all a bit shocked at first. You would be too. You and Jake hadn't exactly been even remotely civil with each other just a few days prior. But if any of them are suspicious of your's and Jake's sudden union, they don't let on, all too happy to have something to celebrate before they ship out. Fanboy and Payback have each brought their wives and Natasha her girlfriend as well. You suppose you're expected to mingle with them, maybe shed a tear or two over the shared bond that your partners are going across the country, but you can't really find a way to connect with them so you kind of just avoid them altogether. You do feel bad, sitting there without a care in the world while they all try to offer comfort and reassurance to each other. But you don't really know what else to do because it's not like you're exactly sad.

Thankfully Javy, or as he's known, Coyote, stands up and raises his near empty bottle of beer in the air and saves you from anymore uncomfortable sitting. "I'd like to make a toast! To the newlyweds!" You spoke too soon. The table cheers and raises their bottles in response, all of the attention turning to where you and Jake are sitting. Cheeks immediately flushing, you have to refrain from sinking down in your seat. Jake is grinning, accepting the few rough pats on the back that he receives from Rooster beside him.

And just when you think that's the worst it's going to get, it gets worse.

"Kiss!"

You're not sure who starts it, but like teenage boys, the entire squad parrots in unison.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

At first Jake just laughs and shakes his head good naturedly, shrugging off the insistent urging of his friends, and you think that's going to be the end of it. But the chanting doesn't stop and finally Jake turns towards you. Your face is probably red hot and undeniably panicked. Heart racing, you try to read him in the half second that you're given as he leans and wraps his arm around you. Is he going to kiss you? Are you supposed to kiss him?

Neither option happens. Jake's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side and at the last moment, he turns to press a kiss to your cheek. A series of disappointed boos follow but they are drowned out by clapping for the most part. He's uncomfortably close, closer than you ever would have liked to be to Jake Seresin, but you have to remind yourself that it's all for show. When Jake does turn away, you can still feel the warmth of his lips smeared against your cheek. Even so, he hasn't let go of you pressed into his side. 

Your heart still racing, you reason with yourself that if Jake can play the part, you might as well too, and under that pretense, allow yourself to hide your face into his shoulder to conceal it's redness. The smell of his cologne washes over you, and oddly enough, you don't hate it. It's subtle, with a hit of what might be amber, and nothing like the overwhelmingly masculine scent that you would have pegged him for. 

If Jake finds your sudden willingness to touch him strange, he doesn't comment on it, likely assuming that you're just trying to make this thing between the two of you seem real. You somewhat reluctantly pull away when Coyote's voice raises again.

"And here's to shooting down some fucking MiGs!"

Again, the table erupts into a chorus of cheering and hollering. You still, allowing Jake to fully pull away from your side while the proclamation rings out in your head. It's a very grounding moment, and suddenly you feel very alone sitting at the table. No one seems to have noticed your shift in mood. Maybe you're the only one put off by Javy's statement because this is their reality. There are people who are not coming home from this mission; everyone just likes to assume it won't be them. You know better.

You can't help it, the words just come out of your mouth. "That's a fucked up thing to say."

It's the first time you've really spoken up the entire night and all heads turn towards you. Based on the look in Jake's eyes, which is a bit apprehensive, as if he knows this is headed nowhere good, you realize you probably should have just kept your mouth shut.

Payback shifts uncomfortably in his chair while the rest of the crew glances around the table wearing varying states of confusion. Their gazes shift from you to Jake, as if waiting for some sort of explanation. 

Coyote is the first to break the silence. "Look, sweetheart, that's just the way things are. Here in the Navy, that's a badge of honor. Your boy Hangman here is the only one of us with a confirmed air-to-air kill."

"(Y/n)—", Jake attempts to interject, but you're not about to let him explain himself to you in front of all these people.

You set your jaw and swallow back the anger threatening to rise up in your throat. "Yeah, because killing people is so honorable."

Coyote scoffs. "We're just doing our jobs. And if that means taking down a few planes while we're at it, so be it."

"Your job is to protect people," you snap. "There are people out there who have families—"

"Alright, that's enough—" Jake begins to interject for the second time, but this time it's Coyote who interrupts him.

"Come on, man. You're really going to let her say that kinda shit—"

You stand up. "I don't need his permission to—"

"I SAID ENOUGH." This time it's startling enough to cut both of you off. "(Y/n), what is your fucking problem?" Jake snaps.

You flinch at the harshness of his question.

Your eyes travel around the quiet table, where everyone is holding their breath, and then back to Jake. His green eyes reflect a type of pissed off what would be terrifying if you weren't so angry yourself.

A small, logical part of you knows that he has a right to be angry. You've picked a fight for no apparent reason in front of his friends and he hasn't the slightest clue why. It's not his fault your brothers are dead and you blame the Navy for it.

Regardless, that doesn't make up for the fact that you're pissed off by his defense of what Coyote has said. Even though you probably owe him an explanation, you're not about to answer him when he's just yelled at you. You also know that if you don't say something, he's going to and you'd rather die before letting him tell you off in front of all these people. You abruptly push away from the table and storm off for the bar top. You can hear Jake chasing after you.

"(Y/n)."

You ignore him in favor of heading towards the back door of the Hard Deck, pushing past people regardless of whether they're in your way or not. Being slightly more considerate, you can hear Jake moving much slower as he excuses himself through the crowd.

"(Y/n)—"

You come to a stop once you reach the door, spinning on your heels with a fire in your eyes.

"What's my problem?!"

Behind you, you can hear the loud jesting and jeering of his friends back at the table. They're still ruffled with excitement from your outburst, and Coyote's voice follows your retreating back. "Jesus man, get your girl under control."

I'm not his girl, you want to snap. He doesn't own me.

Jake has stopped a few feet away from you. 

"What's my fucking problem?! My problem is that your friends are sitting over there calling murder honor."

Jake sighs harshly though his nose. Shaking his head, green eyes looking up, he begins, "He didn't mean—"

"No. I know what he meant, Jake. You're all a bunch of cowards. You're all too goddamn scared to admit that maybe you're not doing as much good as you thought over there, and so you just justify it by saying all killing is good killing, right?" you spit.

His vibrant green eyes harden but he doesn't respond. "That's some real goddamn honor, right, Jake?" you repeat, angrier this time, wanting more than just some watered down reaction from him. If there's one thing that pisses you off about Jake, it's that you've never gotten anything more than what he's conditioned himself to respond with. It's like he's locked up in this stupid box of his and the most you can ever get out of him is a glance. You want him to be angry with you.

"That's enough." His jaw is tight, and you can tell that even despite his lowered voice and rather subdued demeanor, you've hit a nerve.

"Admit it. Admit that you—“

"(Y/n)." His voice adopts a seriousness that you've never heard from him before. It sounds almost dangerous.

Jake steps towards you and for a moment you think you've won. And then in the moment following that, you actually think that he's going to get physically angry with you. Your heart stalls. Jake's a big guy, a naval aviator, and no matter how good he sells himself to be, he could hurt you if he wanted too. You would never have pegged him as someone who would put his hands on a girl, even after only knowing him for a week, but a man is a man, perfectly ironed uniform or not.

Only he doesn't. Instead he steps into your space and leans in closer than you've  ever been before. His hand presses into your back, firmly pulling you into his chest so that you have no choice but to shift closer to him, your bodies molding together. "I said that's enough. They can see us arguing."

The press of his mouth to your ear conceals the exchange of your conversation from the listening table. You can smell his cologne on the starched collar of his uniform.

"I don't care if they see us—" Pushing your palm into his chest, you try to reestablish the distance between you, but like a brick wall, Jake doesn't budge.

"You realize that we have to make this look real?" he hisses. "From here on out, they're watching everything we do. The government is watching everything we do. Do you understood that?" His voice is tense, and it sounds more urgent than angry now.

Standing there, you realize his heart is thumping heavily beneath your palm. His body is uncomfortably rigid, like a scared dog waiting for its owner to show up and see the mess he's made. Behind you, the table has gone relatively quite. Rooster murmurs something along the lines of, "It's a little early for there to be trouble in paradise already."

Someone—Coyote—responds, "I don't think he thought this through, man. They won't last two weeks."

Jake's eyes meet yours, and you know he can hear them too. You swallow, trying to relax a little in his grasp. He's right, you have to make this look real, and fighting right off the bat doesn't exactly look good.

"Are they still looking at us?" You finally ask, leery now to even speak too loud.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief beside your ear, taking your sudden quiet as cooperation. "Yeah, just keep talking, okay? Act like we're working it out."

Despite trying to appear more comfortable than you are, you don't move your hand from his chest. The coarse material of his dress whites rises and falls steadily beneath your palm. It's calming in a sense, and you try to focus on its rhythm rather than the fact that you're so close that you can feel the heat of his mouth beside your ear.

"Still looking?" You ask after a few moments pass.

He hums. "Yep."

"Well then what do we do? We can't just stand like this forever." The longer you stand together, the more details you become aware of. Like the fact that his face is freshly shaven against your cheek and that he must have brushed his teeth before this because his breath smells like Listerine.

"Look at me."

"What?" You ask, your brow furrowing as he pulls away. His hand that had been holding your waist firmly in place lifts to grip your jaw.

"You're going to have to kiss me," he explains, glancing briefly over your shoulder.

"What?" Before you can even protest, he's leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours. Without the time to process what exactly is happening given your state of alarm, all you can do is go along with it. His lips mold against yours in what might be the most borderline tame kiss you've ever had. Despite this, you are reluctantly surprised to note how good of a kisser he is. It's just forceful enough to let you know he's in control but not so much that it's unpleasant. His lips are full and taste vaguely of his mouth wash.

You don't kiss him back.

It makes no difference to the group behind you whether you actually kiss or not; they can't tell from this distance and all they have to do is believe it happened. It's more for your own self preservation than anything. It's one thing to play the part, it's another thing to get caught up in it and catch feelings. And with Jake Seresin, that was a dangerous game to play. You'd already felt it, him prying his way under your skin when he'd held you at the table and the smell of his cologne filled your sense. It would be that easy.

To his credit, Jake lingers just long enough to make the kiss believable before pulling away. Even si, it still feels uncomfortably long. He leans back and you don't miss the fact that he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters under his breath, looking away.

"Jake..." you begin, immediately feeling bad, but he stops you.

"Whatever, (Y/n). It's fine." He won't look you in the eyes now. You turn to look over your shoulder, desperate to get yourself out of this increasingly bad situation .

"They're not looking," you say, finding the table now amicably chatting with each other rather than focused on the two of you. The sudden PDA must have finally diverted their attention. "...you can step away now."

"Right," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. Jake drops his hand from your waist and steps back like he's glad to finally put some distance between the two of you. So much for making this look natural.

You return to the table shortly after, in hand to make it appear as if you've made up and smiling tightly when Bob cheerily welcomes you back to break the awkward silence. Once seated, you drop each other's hand beneath the table immediately. The rest of the evening is spent avoiding contributing to conversations that involve the other. If anyone notices, they don't comment on the fact that the two of you hardly look at each other for the rest of the evening, and somehow you manage to put up an otherwise happily married front.

When a few of the guys finally get a little bit too drunk, specifically Rooster, you're all too happy when Natasha calls it a night. Because they ship out the next day, Jake drives you back to the hotel where all of the married couples have rented out a room for the night. Apparently it's a tradition or something. You make the drive in silence. You let him check into the room and carry both of your bags up, disappearing into the small bathroom to splash cool water onto your face. It helps to ease some of the tension from this evening. Leaning over the sink, you watch the water swirl down the drain.

Is this crazy? This is crazy, right?

Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands when you step out. He's taken off his hat and suddenly he seems a lot more fragile than he was a few minutes ago. There's a softness to him, something having been previously concealed by the precise styling of his hair and tense pull of his set jaw. Before you can break the silence, he sucks in an uneasy breath.

"Hey, we need to talk about something. Um, you know... in case I..."

In case he doesn't come back.

You swallow, looking down at the ground. After tonight, after he's kissed you, all of this is starting to feel a little bit to real. What the hell happened to pretending? This was all supposed to be pretend. "Jake, please don't do that—"

He stands up from the end of the bed, and you notice the folded paper in his hands. "This is all of my personal information, you know, bank accounts, passwords, phone numbers... Anything you might need if something happens to me." He says it all as if it's so normal, but you can hear the apprehension in the thinness of his voice.

Already, you're shaking your head as he hands you the letter. "Jake, please. I don't want that." Your heart is pounding and all you want to do in the moment is go back in time and never have agreed to do this in the first place. This was insane. What were you thinking? Like you were going to put yourself through this again? 

"(Y/n)—“ Jake tries, interrupting your spiral of thoughts.

"I said NO, Jake," you snap, stepping back from him and the letter. There are tears burning at the backs of your eyes, like you might burst into a hit of hysteria at any moment. "I change my mind. I can't do this..."

Jake's eyes glance from you to the paper in his hand and then back to you, and then he drops his outstretched arm with what sounds like a laugh. "Right. Not like we're fuckin' married or anything." He releases a puff of air from his cheeks and runs his hand through his hair like he's contemplating pulling it out. "Do you know how screwed we are if anyone finds out about this? Do you, (Y/n)??" he asks, his voice rising to a concerning level. "We're done!" 

"Jake, I—"

He tosses the letter onto the bed and sits back down with a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet. When he finally speaks again, his voice had lowered to a more acceptable volume. "It's a bit too late for you to back out now. If the Navy finds out about this— if anyone one finds out about this, I could lose my job. We could both go to jail."

Silence settles over the two of you as Jake sits on the bed, staring at his feet, and you stand there in the middle of the room, willing your heart to stop pounding in your chest. You need to get out of here before your heart implodes. You turn and grab your coat from by the door.

"Where are you going?"  Jake asks, his voice tired and annoyed.

"I need some air," you say, shrugging on your coat and opening the door. He doesn't try to stop you on the way out. 

You regret the decision the second that you walk out the door. Now that the sun is gone, it's freezing outside. Your original plan had been to go for a walk to clear your head but you doubt now you'd make it very far. Walking down the stairs and out into the nearly empty parking lot, you look around, considering whether or not you would survive the trek to a gas station. When you realize you've left your phone back in the room, you decide against it. You aren't dumb enough to walk in the dark alone. Instead you head towards Jake's truck, which is parked out by itself at the end of the lot. To your surprise, you find it's unlocked and the door swings open when you tug on the handle. You climb in and the switch to lock the door behind you. Even the inside of the car is cold but at least it's out of the wind. You hug your knees into your check and tuck your chin into them, curling up in the driver's seat to keep warm.

And then you just sob.

It's the kind of sobbing that starts long and drawn out and then escalates into the rapid breathing that happens when you can't get enough air into your lungs and it feels as though there's an entire golf ball stuck in your throat. You haven't cried this hard since you were a kid—since your first brother died. You didn't cry the second time, didn't allow yourself to feel anything the second time because you knew there wasn't going to be anyone to pull you back together if you did. 

At least being away from all of this had allowed you some time to forget, even if for just a moment, that they were gone without having to be constantly reminded. You had moved to put as much distance between yourself and the Navy as possible. Because that way life wouldn't get the chance to take another person from you in the same way. Looking at the ring on your finger now, that's exactly the opposite of what you had just done. This was just supposed to be until you could get back on your feet, and if it helped Jake out in the process then great. Now that you think about it, it was stupid of you to think that you would be able to make it through this with out catching feelings for him. 

Now you're going to lose him too.

You cry until you almost make yourself sick and then some more. Your sobbing is interrupted every few minutes when you choke on your own air and have to swallow the golf ball that is lodged in your throat so that you can breathe. You're not sure how long you sit there just crying. Surely at least an hour has passed. By the time your sobbing has slowed, your head hurts and your chest aches enough to be sore.

Knock knock knock

You jump at the noise, head shooting up from between the bracket of your knees. It's dark outside, the parking lot just barley lit in a wash of grey by the moon. Even so, you can make out Jake's broad figure in the darkness.

"Open the damn door." His order comes out in a puff of frosty condensation that warms a spot on the window, his voice only partially muffled by the barrier. His shoulders are hunched against the cold, the upturned collar of his coat doing little to protect him from the brutal conditions.

For a while you just stare at him through the window, swallowing back the spit in your throat.

"Open the door," he repeats, knowing better than to think that you can't hear him. If only locking yourself in his car was the solution of all of your problems. Reluctantly, you reach over and click the lock, slowly rolling down the window.

After it stops, you stare at each other through the open car window, separated only by the frame of door that he could now easily reach out and open. His soft brown hair is mushed and in disarray, nose and cheeks tinted pink form the chill. The pleasant green of his eyes is mostly hidden as he squints against the wind.

Finally, you suck in a breathe, your chest shuddering. "I cannot do this," you stress, all of the fear that you've been shoving down now presenting itself in a singular sentence.

Jake sighs, his face softening to reflect a look of sympathy. "Look, I promise you, it's not that bad. You'll come with me to the carrier when I ship out tomorrow, we'll hug each other goodbye, and then you won't even have to see me for a couple of months. It'll be like none of this ever happened. And when I come back... we'll figure it out. Okay?" His voice is soft and understanding, like he's talking to a child.

You stare at the dashboard, your stomach still churning anxiously. "That's not what I'm... It's not you, Jake." Quite the opposite. "I lost my brothers to the Navy. Both of them. And I don't think I can take losing anyone else."

Immediately Jake's face falls as he puts everything into place. Your initial distaste for him, your furious outburst at Hard Deck, your reluctance to have have anything to do with the Navy... "I—God, I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I had no idea."

You shrug, calming down now that you've finally let go over everything that you've been holding in. "I asked Natasha not to tell you. I just thought that I could get over it so what was the point in even telling you?"

The wind blowing into through the open window is bone chilling and so you can only imagine how cold Jake is standing outside the car. For a while there's only the sound of his quiet breathing.

"Nothing's going to happen to me, (Y/n)," he says into the darkness.

"How can you be so sure?"

Hands shoved into his pockets, body braced against the wind, he shrugs. "I'm not. But if I didn't tell myself that every morning, I'd never get out of bed."

Sighing, you pull the handle on the inside of the door. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out there."

Jake huffs as if to say, you're telling me, and grabs the handle to pull open the door. Only instead of climbing in, he steps further inside the door and grabs your head in his cold hands so that your faces are mere inches apart. "I mean it, kid. I'm not going to leave you, alright? You just gotta trust me."

Looking into his eyes, you know he means it. For the second time since you've known Jake, you really see him. Standing before you is the same man that you saw in both of your brothers. Granted, they were much younger than he is now, but you get it. You'd been trying to see him as anyone else other than the brothers you lost, praying that it would hurt less, but you can't make someone into something they're not. 

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you, Jake."

You're awake hours earlier than what you're used to in the morning, but that's only because you had glanced at the alarm clock at half past three and realized that you only had few hours left with Jake. The both of you had returned to the hotel room and changed in comfortable silence, slipping into the single bed together without a word. Jake had reached over and pulled you into him without so much as a second thought. Now his body is draped heavily on top of yours, his nose tucked into your hair as your fingers trace along the bare skin of his exposed back. 

You switch between staring at the ceiling and watching the numbers change on the alarm clock, trying to think about anything other than the fact that Jake would wake up in about an hour, you'd drop him off at the carrier at six, and that would be it. You'd only just gotten him and now you were going to have to let him go.

When Jake's alarm does go off, you're more emotional than you thought you would be, but Jake seems to be fine, dutifully putting on his uniform and carefully packing all of his bags, so you try to put on a brave face. You move slowly, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible just so that there's no excuse to leave for the dock any sooner than you have too. After you're done getting ready, you watch him shave once and then again for good measure before he ultimately decides that you've both wasted enough time putting off the inevitable.

The drive there is silent as well and would have been unbearable had Jake not reached over the consol to reassuringly squeeze your hand. He doesn't let go of it until you pull into the crowded port. Between people trying to get their things on board and a bunch of teary goodbyes, it's beyond you how you manage to find the Dagger Squad in the midst of the chaos. Fanboy and Payback are saying goodbye to their families while Rooster and Natasha chatter excitedly with an older man also dressed in naval attire, the name plate on his uniform identify him as 'Maverick'. It's all so overwhelming that only when Jake squeezes your hand again do you realize that it's time for you to say goodbye.

Reluctantly, you turn towards him, interlocked hands swinging between the two of you. He does his best to smile, and to his credit, it's not entirely fake. "Well," he sighs. "This it it."

"For now," you add, returning his soft smile as you look up at him.

"For now," Jake agrees, his smile brightening now that you seem to be okay also. He pauses, just staring down at you for a moment before he adds, "Are you going to let me kiss you?"

You smile, answering him this time without hesitation. "Only if you keep your promise."

Jake's large hand comes up to cup your cheek, cradling your chin in his palm as he leans down to you. "I promise," he murmurs before pressing his mouth to yours, perhaps even more tender than he did the first time at Hard Deck. Only this time you reciprocate it, chasing his mouth as you lift up on your toes and run your fingers through the back of his hair. Groaning, Jake sighs into the kiss. It's dizzying and you don't know how it's possible to put all of the passion that you've been holding back into one kiss, but somehow you do. His lips are soft and you have to shove down the urge to grip his hair and demand him for more, because it by some miracle occurs to you that you're on a ship in front of hundreds people. 

Jake's the one to pull away, his eyes shining and pink lips slightly more swollen than they were a minute ago. You can't help but laugh, wiping away some of your lipgloss from his mouth with your thumb. "Goodbye, Jake."

"Goodbye, (Y/n). And don't forget, I'll see you soon."

[kaleldobrev]

In the Cover of the Night

Pairing: Felix Catton x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Felix Catton

Summary: Felix fingering you on the steps in the middle of the night

Word Count: 939

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Smoking (Brief), Smut (Fingering - Semi-Public) & Praise Kink (Implied)

Authors Note: Semi-public sex tag as this is taking place outside | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

There was a slight summer breeze as you sat out on the steps with a lit cigarette between your fingers, looking up at the almost full moon in the starry night sky. You were severely under dressed to be outside this time of night; only wearing one of Felix's light dress shirts with absolutely nothing else underneath, as it was the first piece of clothing you had managed to find from the scattering of clothes on yours and his floor from the needy and desperate sex the two of you engaged in after yet another Catton dinner party.

As you placed the cigarette into your mouth, you turned your attention to yours and Felix's bedroom; the darkness completely consuming the space — the moonlight trying it's best to make it's way into the room but ultimately failing because of the curtains completing covering the windows.

You heard footsteps coming from behind you, and you turned to see who it could be. Your first thought was Venetia as she would usually be the one to come and spend time with you this time of night; the two of you often enjoying staring up at the moon together. But it was Felix who was making his way toward you with an already lit cigarette in hand wearing just his robe and nothing else. "Were you peeping at me before you decided to come and join me?" You asked, as your boyfriend took a seat on the same steps your feet were placed on.

“For a bit. You look very tempting like this; couldn’t help myself,” he smiled, popping the cigarette between his lips.

"I was just having a little smoke and looking up at the moon. What's so tempting about me this way?" You asked as innocently as you possibly could while nonchalantly starting to part your legs, and putting out your cigarette on the steps.

You noticed his eyes starting to move from your own to your legs as he placed a single hand on your thigh, smirking as he did so. “You’re wearing one of my shirts with no panties on, love,” he stated. As he spoke, his hand moved up your thigh slowly, stopping at the hem of the dress shirt. “And you know how much I love fucking you in my clothes,” he added, keeping that signature smirk of his on his lips.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips, and put it out in a spot next to yours before his fingertips started to inch their way higher so they were completely underneath the shirt. He brushed them ever so slightly against your clit, and you were starting to get wet from the insanely brief contact that he was giving you. You used to be embarrassed by this, embarrassed by how turned on he had made you by barely doing anything; how instantly there would be such a pool between your legs the second he even remotely looked in your direction. But as time went on, you didn’t care, didn’t care because you knew how much he loved having this kind of effect on you, because you had the exact same effect on him.

“Always so ready for me,” he whispered; two fingers running up and down your clit. “Want to fuck you just like this,” he whispered again, his fingertips still teasing the outside.

“Then do it,” you stated; and his smirk grew even wider — you didn’t think it could get any wider. He didn’t say anything in response; he simply just started dipping his two fingers inside of you, starting to fill you with the sensation you always seemed to crave. Despite having sex with him only a few hours prior, you would never get tired of the feeling of him filling you up.

Your head automatically went back and you shut your eyes; but it was so brief as his other hand went to your jaw, making you focus on his face. His fingers went in deeper, slightly curling. “Lift up the shirt a little so you can look,” he said, an octave above a whisper. “Want you to see how beautiful you look like this.”

Without hesitation, you did as you were told, and lifted the hem of the shirt more, your pussy completely exposed out in the open as you watched his fingers disappearing and reappearing inside of you — the moonlight providing the most erotic looking type of light. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, and he finally leaned in to capture your lips; which caused his fingers to go even deeper inside of you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed; his fingers starting to pick up the pace just only slightly. Your moans were so muffled, and that's one of the things he had loved when it came to fucking you like this out in the open. He loved how you tried so hard to remain quiet, but always failed.

You started to clench around him, and he smirked into the kiss. "Does my girl need to come?" He whispered in your ear; slightly nipping at your earlobe before starting to kiss your neck.

"Yes," you moaned out, as he continued to suck and kiss your neck — ultimately wanting to leave hickies on your skin.

"Then come," he said softly, his lips attaching themselves to your chest; almost peppering kisses just below your collarbone.

With a few more pumps, your whole body started to shudder as you came; but his movements didn't let up as he helped you ride out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he praised against your skin. He always praised you.

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[f0point5]

(I’m) charming and endearing, and (un)comfortable

Written companion piece to the Lando x fakegirlfriend!reader social media au

Set after Part 6, at the dinner with Lando’s dad that is mentioned.

A/N: So, those of you who were here for the Max fix know that I do long form writing exercises to get more of a feel for the characters for the smau. I didn’t share the Max ones while the fic was ongoing because my writing is not my favourite, but I do like providing more of an insight into the real life stuff that isn’t covered in the smau and especially the reader’s thoughts. And I like this is kind of needed for this smau especially. So, I’m not going to tag anyone in these so that if you’d rather just read the smau you don’t get caught up with these, but you can read them if you want more of an insight into the reader’s character. If you hate it…just pretend it never happened 🫠🫣

“You look fine,” you tell your reflection, staring at it right in the eyes.

Your gaze flits down to your simple black satin slip dress. Black Amina Muadi heels peek out from the hem. Single, but elegant, you think.

You look fine.

“You look fine.” You tell your reflection one more time, and she looks like she believes you.

Of course you look fine. You wouldn’t have a career if you didn’t. People have paid obscene amounts of money for your face and your body. You know exactly how much Lando Norris has paid. You put together something that accentuates your shape a bit but not so much that his dad would think you’re trying.

You haven’t met a parent in a while. Once you’d started shooting womenswear at 15, parents were rarely around, though occasionally you would run into an overbearing mother. You can’t remember ever meeting anyone’s father.

Your alarm rings, so it’s too late to change now. Steeling yourself with one last deep breath, you go over to the interconnecting door and knock.

On the other side of the door, something bangs, and then someone grunts, and you’re about to just give up on this whole idea before the door wings open to reveal a panting Lando Norris.

He’s dressed in beige chinos and a black polo shirt, showing off a golden tan. Okay, you’d let Twitter win this one; he’s beautiful.

“I thought you were going to-“ he starts, but then stops himself. You suppose he assumed you’d knock on the external door. “Never mind,”

“So,” you gesture to the space between you.

“Oh, yeah, come in,” he says, stepping aside to let you into his suite.

It’s huge. You survey the large living room. Several pairs of chinos sit in dry cleaning plastic on the couch. The remains of a fruit platter sits on the dining table. Two sets of golf clubs rest precariously on a wall in the corner. He’s a bit of a slob.

“What?” He asks you. You turn to him, surprised to find his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Nothing,” you shake your head and shrug, but he doesn’t stop studying you. He’s making an effort not to be obvious, but he’s assessing you from head to toe. It makes you squirm. “It’s okay? The look?”

His eyes widen. “The look’s incredible,” he says quickly, probably embarrassed you caught him looking. His cheeks turn even more red. “You’re-“

“Okay, we can go?” You cut him off, smoothing you already sleek up-do. He should turn the damn air conditioning on.

Lando motions for you to go ahead of him to the door and he trails behind you until he hurries past you to get the door. You head to the lift in silence, hair on the back of your neck prickling every time you feel his eyes linger on you.

You look fine. He would have told you if you didn’t.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he says, when you’re in the lift. You glance at him, finding him already looking at you with a shy smile that would have any woman on her knees right there.

You shrug. “It’s not a problem.”

“Probably not your idea of a fun evening,” he continues, and you wonder if he’s trying to convince you to call it off and go back upstairs.

“I was going to eat from the restaurant anyway.” You say, watching as he yawns. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Two sessions today. And quali always take a lot out of me, you know,”

You hum in response.

“I, uh,” he stops himself, and then notices you’re looking at him, so he sighs before continuing. “I actually did pretty well. At quali. Better than I thought I would, anyway. It’s…” he trails off, scratching at the back of his neck.

He looks sort of embarrassed to have even mentioned it. You almost give in and tell him you watched the qualifying live while doing your post flight skincare, but you don’t. You’re not sure why exactly, it just feels like you’d be committing to something, and don’t want to do that.

“Congratulations,” is all you end up saying, and then it’s back to silence.

When you get downstairs, three separate groups of girls ask for pictures with him. You stand aside awkwardly, watching the way these strangers lean into him and eagerly put their arms around him and stand so close. It makes your skin crawl. Lando doesn’t react to it. But then, you never do, either.

He apologises for the interruption and you wave it off, embarrassed that he might have noticed your discomfort. It’s not your business.

Inside the restaurant, Lando gently directs you towards a table by the window where his dad is waiting. You’d googled him, so you knew what he liked like, but the photos didn’t do justice to the serenity that rolls off this man in waves.

He stands when he sees you, opening his arms to his son. Lando steps into his embrace with no hesitation, and you wonder if that’s why he’s not bothered so much by the closeness of strangers. Maybe you wouldn’t mind being touched if anyone had ever touched you like that.

When they part, you pull your lips into a smile and step forward.

“Good evening, Mr. Norris. I’m Y/N,”

Adam’s wide smile falters for a second. “Of course I know that,” he says with a chuckle, beckoning you over. You oblige, and he leans in to kiss you on both cheeks. “Who wouldn’t recognise his son’s girlfriend, eh? And please, call me Adam,”

“D’accord.” When both men raise an eyebrow, you explain, “it means okay,”

“Ah,” Adam says with a sage nod, sitting down.

You startle when Lando pulls your chair out for you, flashing him what you hope is a grateful look rather than a confused one.

“I learnt French all through school but I’ve forgotten it all, unfortunately,” Adam says.

“I got the duolingo for it, but it’s harder than you think,” Lando chips in.

“Surely Y/N could teach you,”

“I’m too strict for him,” you joke, forcing yourself not to react when you feel Lando rest his arm on the back of your chair.

“Is that so,” Adam says, catching your eye.

You know the looks he’s giving you. It’s the look a casting director gets when they meet you and you aren’t quite what they asked for. That look they get in their eyes as they decide if you’re a good enough compromise is the same one Adam Norris is giving you now.

He’s the worst kind of casting director - the type that will try to make small talk as if they don’t have your life in numbers printed out in front of them; the type to make you laugh so they can judge the shade and angle of your teeth. Not content with your time, they demand a performance.

So you perform.

You order pasta instead of salad because being thin is most appreciated when it’s effortless. You tease Lando endlessly because the brits like to make fun of each other. You pretend you’re duly nervous when Adam speaks to you and not nervous every time Lando does.

You’re not sure if Adam buys into it. He and Lando have an easy and intoxicating rapport that you’re powerless to replicate. Lando’s admiration of his dad is almost palpable, and Adam’s adoration is plain to see. He loves his son so much that you think it must be clear to him that you don’t.

But he’s clever, and funny, and more gracious than you deserve. He’s so guileless that you understand why Lando would want to shield him from the truth of your situation. You feel a little guilty, being part of the lie, and even more guilty for being part of the truth, but you push that all down, reminding yourself that these people have no more to do with you than a photographer or a designer on a shoot.

By the time dinner comes to an end, you’re exhausted. You can taste blood in your mouth from chewing the inside of your cheek, and you feel sick from the Chardonnay that Adam ordered that you had to pretend to like on an empty stomach.

The knot in your chest loosens with every step the three of you take towards the lifts. Lando and Adam joke about what they’re going to eat for dinner after the race and you almost burst into tears at the thought of doing this all again tomorrow.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you,” Adam says with what you’ve come to believe is a trademark wide smile. “Honestly I was starting to think he’d made it up, getting the most beautiful girl in the world to go out with him,”

Ha. Most beautiful. Maybe when you were six, all lithe and pouty and innocent. Maybe when you were seventeen, no curves or dark circles or opinions. Not now.

He’s teasing you, not laughing at you, but your body can’t tell the difference.

You think you feel the bile rising up your throat but thankfully Lando cuts in before you have to.

“Dad,” he chides through clenched teeth and a pained smile. When you turn to him the blush that has become quite familiar to you is back with a vengeance, and spreading all the way to his ears.

“What? It’s not bad to say your girlfriend is beautiful,” Adam teases, turning to you. “Is it, Y/N?”

“I would be worried if he didn’t. It’s how I stay employed, after all,” you say with a smile. Your response is effortless, well rehearsed, right down to the way you lift your hand to ghost over your collarbone.

“Must be a glamorous life, being a model,” Adam says thoughtfully. You may not have any experience meeting parents, but you know well enough what he’s getting at.

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “No more glamorous than being a formula one driver. And I’m sure you know from Lando that glamour doesn’t mean comfort. Very often the opposite, if my shoes are any indication,”

He’s taken aback by your answer, doesn’t even bother to hide his raised eyebrows. “No, that’s-“ he lets out a sigh. “That’s very true. You’ve got a wise one here, mate,”

“Yeah, she’s keeping me out of trouble,” Lando jokes, nudging you, and though it doesn’t hurt you feel a sting where his skin touched yours.

“I don’t doubt it,” Adam says, opening his arms to hug you again. “Go easy on him though, eh?” These words are half whispered as he pulls you close, squeezing you just once before he lets you go.

“I will,” you promise. It’s one you’ll try to keep.

He hugs Lando next, a tight one, cradling the back of his son’s head with a gentle tap.

“Well,” he says to both of you, “it’s been lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m just going to check the front desk has organised my taxi to the airport on Monday, so I’ll see you both tomorrow,”

“Night, Dad,”

“Love you.”

Adam heads off to the desk just as the lift arrives and you dart into it. You’re too tired to even press the button for your floor but Lando takes care of it.

He lets out a heavy breath, looking over at you as though thinking you might do the same. He doesn’t realise your night isn’t over until he’s gone, too.

“I think that went well,” he says. It’s a confident statement said in an uncertain tone, and you can’t help but feel bad. It’s not as though he was the one who had to make a good impression.

“I’m sorry if I’m not-“ you stop yourself. It’s not your fault. “If he didn’t like me. I hope it won’t cause problems for you,”

Lando looks completely nonplussed by your comment. “Of course he liked you,” he says with reassuring scoff and a smile, as if anything else is unimaginable. “And he’s not really that kind of dad. He just cares that I like you,”

God, that smile. You’d hate yourself for the things you’d do to keep him smiling at you like that.

“I think you faked that well,” you say, smiling back at him.

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for doing this,” he clears his throat. “Still don’t know why you did,”

He’s expecting an answer and you struggle for something to tell him. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for.

You can feel the pressure building as he waits for you to say something. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your skin bursts into flames and your palms get clammy.

Why is he even asking? He didn’t think twice about asking you for a favour and now he’s changing the rules. It was dinner, not a kidney. Does he have so many vampires around him that he thinks you need a reason to be nice? Is he so used to paying for kindness that he thinks he needs to buy you, too? Didn’t he already try?

Thankfully, mercifully, the lift stops at your floor and you waste no time stepping out even though you’re beginning to feel unsteady on your feet.

The air conditioning hits you, and you realise you don’t owe Lando an explanation.

“You can just say thank you, you know,” you tell him, striding towards your rooms with him half a step behind. “You don’t have to think so much about it.”

“I did say thank you,” he argues. You glance at him as you pull out your keycard. He’s bewildered. You’re breaking your promise to Adam already, but it’s his sanity or yours.

“De rien.” You place your key card against the censor and open the door. “Goodnight.”

Once you slip inside, the door clicks shut with no trouble, and you wait to hear Lando’s door open and shut before you make your way further into the room. You kick off your shoes and shed your dress on the way to your suitcase.

You can hear him moving around in his suite, more attuned to it now you know the layout of the room. As you rummage around for your sweatpants and hoodie, half of you wants to send an apology text. The stupid half of you. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. You can’t afford for it to matter. The weight of his judgement will crush you, you know it.

As you pull on the brown Quadrant hoodie, you tell yourself it’s better he doesn’t think of you at all.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping my family pay for hospital bills?

🎷🔥 so i can find it later

This is going to need a lot of context right off the bat. I (20'sM) am a gay man that comes from an extremely conservative family. My sister (20'sF) is also a lesbian and recently got married and adopted a child. I'm very proud of her, but that's not the issue.

My parents seem to have little to no issue with my sister marrying a woman. They do have a very big issue with me liking dudes, however. Like, it was the reason my parents got divorced "big issue." I'm not gonna go into everything, but my sister ended up with my dad and I stayed with my mom for reasons I'd rather not share.

Our last parting was on... less than decent terms. Upon finding out that I was of the homosexual variety, my dad flipped his lid. He called me several slurs and said some other very hurtful things, and even made moves to physically attack me. My mom, also a very homophobic woman, stepped in and thankfully talked him down. Then divorce, etc etc.

I saved up enough money to move out when I turned 18 and may have done some impulsive things including completely trashing my mom's bathroom, which I know I'm definitely the asshole for, but in my defense my mom kept "forgetting" to pick up my prescriptions and I was manic (I have bipolar). But, again, I know I'm the AH for that.

I now live with my two best friends R (20sNB) and P (20sM) in a house we all pay for. R comes from money so they help out a lot, and I love them both to death. We kind of have a sort of situationship but none of us are poly? Idk it's weird we're just going with it rn.

Anyway, I bring them up bc we all went to my sister's wedding together, and my parents separately chewed me out for bringing them (and for R daring to wear a dress. They're amab for context) and I obviously argued back bc hey they're my best friends and my sister specifically said it was okay for me to bring them (she and R are also friends and they wouldve been invited regardless of me bringing P) and also because R looks very good in a dress and i can handle them shit-talking me but i will not tolerate slander towards R or P.

At the wedding, I went full no contact with them and told them to lose my number. They, ofc, did Not lose my number and I got several calls from extended family saying about what you would expect them to say, so I switched numbers and gave only my sister and her wife my new number.

My sister. I love her to pieces but sometimes she gets on my nerves. She gives my number to my mom to have "just in case," but she reassures me that she won't give it to my dad or any other family. So far, she's made good on that promise, I just have to deal with periodic calls about getting a girlfriend and having kids.

Now, my dad isn't the healthiest guy out there. He has arthritis, osteoporosis, and several other things that i don't really wanna get into. As he's aged he's only gotten worse and there have been several times he's almost died, but recently he's been put on hospice and has an estimated Not Very Long to live.

Here's where I may be the AH. My dad calls me while I'm at a very important, personal event for R (he got my number from my mom) and goes on a long rant on how I'm an unlovable disgrace and how he fed me and clothed me and I could make up for all that by helping him pay off hospital debt. I say no immediately and tell him that he's never been my dad, only my dna donor, and that he's going to be dead anyway and that selling his house could cover all the bills. He calls me many more names and tells me he wishes I was never born (calling my mom some very derogatory names too (she's asian)) and that i should just go ahead and off myself to save the world someone like me. I tell him he should die faster while he's at it because God knows the world already has enough bigots in it and there could never be too many mentally ill queers.

I hung up, but now I'm thinking I went a bit too far. AITA for not helping out with his hospital bills and yelling at him?

What are these acronyms?

[elliesangell]

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ You and me together forever P.1⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings: mention of self-harm,cuts,blood,fight wc: 2.7k notes: This is my first fanfic, and I’m still learning English, so I translated this text myself. I apologize for any possible mistakes, and I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

->->-> Part 2 (Final Part)

Description:

You are a shy, quiet, and aggressive student. Lately, you’ve been struggling with deep depression, and you're dealing with it in less-than-healthy ways. Every argument with other students almost always ends in a fight. But even someone like you has a weakness — Ellie💖

Waking up, you hear your alarm beeping. Reluctantly, you open your eyes and grab your phone. After turning off the alarm, you glance at the lock screen: 7:10 AM, Monday.

“Damn, I hate Mondays” — you mutter to yourself, not wanting to get out of bed. You place your phone on the dresser, and next to you on the bed is the book «She Drives Me Crazy». You put the book aside and get up

Grudgingly, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. The bright bathroom light blinds you, but squinting, you approach the mirror. Your face looks sleepy, and your hair is messy. Another morning, another routine, boring day. You walk over to the sink and turn on the cold water. The icy stream runs through your palms, sending shivers down your spine. Closing your eyes, you splash cold water onto your face several times, feeling the droplets run down your neck. After a quick, refreshing wash, you reach for a towel to dry your face.

But your gaze catches on your hands. Fresh cuts on your wrists remind you of recent events.

“Shit... I deserved it… I’ll make it worse next time” — you whisper, gritting your teeth and gently tracing the cuts that have already begun to heal.

Resigned to the feeling, you pick up your toothbrush and start brushing your teeth, thinking about the day ahead. After finishing your morning routine, you return to your room and pull on your usual black hoodie with long sleeves and a pair of jeans. Almost ready. At that moment, your phone vibrates with a message from Ellie.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Dress warm, it’s cold outside. I’ll be there soon"

Reading her message, you can’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread across your face. Every word from her feels like it heats you up from the inside. In the hallway, you slip on your sneakers, but something makes you stop in front of the mirror. Your hair is a mess.

“Alright, I need to tidy up a little” you say, smoothing down your hair with your hands and tucking it behind your ears. Your eyes linger on the mirror for a moment, and, unable to resist, you dab a little of your favorite perfume on your neck.

“She won’t notice anyway” you exhale sadly, grabbing your black leather jacket and keys before heading out the door.

As soon as you step outside, the cold wind hits your face. Ellie was right, as always—it’s freezing. Lost in thought, you suddenly hear the familiar roar of a motorbike. And there she is, pulling up on her black motorbike. Ellie, in her light green jacket and grey jeans, takes off her helmet, her green eyes instantly locking onto yours. You feel your face flush.

Approaching her, your heart beats faster. You hug each other in greeting, and you’ve always loved feeling her close. In her arms, you feel safe. You could stay like this forever.

Without thinking, you breathe in the scent of her brown hair, and something in your stomach tightens sweetly, like butterflies fluttering inside you.

“Hey” you say softly into her ear.

“Hey there” Ellie replies cheerfully. You break the hug and take a step back, meeting her eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Not bad, but I could’ve used more” you answer, yawning.

Ellie smiles that warm, reassuring smile.

“Stayed up late at your laptop again?”

“Yeah”

“Playing something?”

“No, just listening to music and reading stuff”

“What kind of stuff, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just a book” you answer evasively, not wanting to discuss it further.

To avoid more questions, you quickly change the subject.

“What did you do last night?”

“I watched «Spider-Man No Way Home» I loved it. Have you seen it?”

“No, but if I have time, I’ll definitely check it out”

You feel your confidence fading as her green eyes sparkle in the morning light. Your cheeks flush, and you drop your gaze to the motorbike, gently touching it.

“What time did you go to bed?” you ask, looking back at her and noticing her warm, sincere smile. Your heart races, and a pleasant thrill fills your chest.

“Oh, I don’t remember… around midnight. You?”

“I think around 2 AM”

“Now I know why you didn’t sleep well. You need to go to bed earlier” she says in a caring tone, her voice soft with concern.

You smile wider, unable to help it, especially when you see Ellie blush and lower her gaze. She fidgets with her hands, not knowing where to put them, and your heart skips a beat again.

"Okay... I guess it's time to go" she says with a slight reluctance, trying to regain her seriousness, though she still sounds a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I guess so" you sigh, but you try to hide your disappointment.

"Here you go" Ellie says, holding out the helmet. Her hand touches yours for a moment, and you freeze, savoring the brief contact.

You take the black and red helmet, feeling a twinge of sadness. You don’t want to go to university because time always seems to fly too quickly when you're with Ellie. As you put the helmet on, you glance at her a few times, and each time your eyes meet. Her gaze is warm, and you notice the tenderness in the way she looks at you.

"You look good" her voice is soft, but there's a note of genuine admiration in it.

You can’t hold back a smile. Your cheeks start to heat up, and you're glad the helmet is already hiding your embarrassment.

"Thanks... you look great too" you reply, your voice trembling slightly with excitement. Ellie smiles back, and the warmth in her smile feels like it’s spreading inside you.

"Thank you!" she responds cheerfully, and you realize you could stare at her smile for hours. But she’s already putting her helmet on.

"Come on, get on, or we'll be late" Ellie says, swinging her leg over the motorbike.

You sigh, feeling a little sad that the moment is ending, but you climb on behind her, wrapping your arms tightly around her waist. The gesture feels so natural to you. You've always loved how soft her skin feels, her slim waist fitting perfectly in your embrace. A familiar thrill builds inside you, and your heart beats faster.

But your thoughts are interrupted by her raspy voice:

"You ready?" she asks, turning her head slightly towards you.

"Just don't go too fast, okay? I'm still not used to it..." you reply, your voice tinged with slight anxiety, remembering how you didn’t feel great last time when Ellie picked up speed.

She laughs softly at your reaction and places her hand over yours on her waist, gently stroking your knuckles.

"Okay, okay, I won’t. I promise. Just hold on tight, alright? And if you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away" her voice is soft, caring, and she looks at you with a slight smile.

Her fingers are so warm against your cold hands that you flinch slightly, but as she continues to stroke your hands, you start to melt under her touch. Your cheeks heat up even more, and you’re thankful the helmet is hiding your blush.

"Thank you... I’ll definitely tell you if something’s wrong."

To your disappointment, Ellie removes her hand and starts the motorbike. You begin to move slowly, and you instinctively clutch her waist tighter, feeling the cold wind against your face. You press yourself closer to her back, soaking in the warmth of her body, feeling safe.

When you arrive at the university, your grip relaxes.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Did you get cold on the way?" Ellie asks.

"A bit, but I’m fine, thanks."

You hop off the motorbike, take off your helmet, and hand it to Ellie. She smiles at you, her gaze warm and caring.

"Will you come with me to my locker? I need to grab my notebooks" Ellie asks.

"Yeah, sure."

Ellie parks the motorbike and takes the keys. You walk with her to the university doors, and as you run ahead, you hold the door open, letting Ellie and a few other students pass through. Ellie throws you a warm smile, her gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

"Thanks" she says, her voice soft and sincere.

You notice the faint pink tinge on her cheeks, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. Lately, all you've wanted is to see her happy her smile means everything to you. She’s the reason you get up in the morning.

The crowd of students fills the corridor, and you feel a bit awkward in the hustle and bustle. Ellie, as always, notices. You walk in silence until she breaks it.

"You know, we could watch a movie" she suddenly suggests.

You don’t immediately register what you’ve just heard. Your eyes widen, and your lips stretch into a wide smile.

"A movie? I wouldn’t mind... When?" Your voice trembles slightly with surprise and joy.

Ellie seems a little embarrassed, her cheeks turning a soft pink. She starts rubbing her fingers together, as if nervous.

"Well... whenever it’s convenient for you."

You can’t take your eyes off her face, and the longer you stare, the more you feel your own cheeks starting to burn.

"Even tonight... if that’s okay with you, of course" you try to sound calm, but inside, a whirlwind of emotions rages.

Ellie nods, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light of the corridor.

"Yeah, I’m free tonight.. So, tonight?"

"Yeah,tonight" you whisper, lost in daydreams about how the evening might unfold.

You already imagine sitting next to her, watching the movie, feeling her warmth. But your fantasy is suddenly interrupted by a rough shove. Some guy squeezes past, pushing you both.

"Get away from my way" he barks, not bothering to look back.

You blink, not fully understanding what just happened. Then you turn to Ellie, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, I’m fine" she assures you, frowning slightly. "What about you?"

But your gaze is already fixed on the guy, who’s now rummaging through his locker like nothing happened. Thoughts of Ellie being hurt flood your mind.

"I’m... fine"

Your fists clench on their own as a wave of anger washes over you. You throw your backpack to the ground and march toward him, your rage barely contained.

Ellie notices and quickly follows you. The guy is taller than both of you, with a broad build, wearing a blue shirt and black trousers. Your heart pounds harder and harder, but your thirst for justice takes over.

"Hey, jerk, why’d you push us?" Your voice comes out harsh.

The guy doesn’t even turn to look at you, continuing to dig through his locker. That just makes you angrier.

Ellie, smirking, steps closer and slams his locker door shut, forcing him to acknowledge you both. He turns around, ignoring you and focusing on Ellie.

"Why did you push us?" she asks coldly, her tone unwavering.

"Back off" he snaps, grinning maliciously.

Ellie’s about to respond, but you’re faster. Grabbing him by the collar, you slam him against the locker and lean in close.

"You need to apologize" your voice is low and dangerous. "Or I’ll beat the crap out of you."

The guy looks shocked, clearly not expecting such a reaction. But his expression quickly changes to a sneer.

"Really?" he hisses. "Think you’re tough? Let me go, or you’ll both regret it"

His words sting. He’s threatening not only you but Ellie, too. That’s enough to push you over the edge. You tighten your fists and punch him square in the face, venting all your rage. He tries to grab at you, but Ellie steps in, delivering her own punch and pushing him away from you.

"Get off her, you bastard!" she shouts, her voice almost a growl.

A crowd of students starts to gather, some running up to pull you apart. In the scuffle, your sleeves ride up, exposing your wrists. The students gasp when they see the scars.

Ellie stands protectively behind you, but even she freezes when she catches sight of the marks on your skin. Her eyes dart from your wrists to your face, worry etched into her expression.

You don’t immediately understand why everyone’s staring at you like that. But then you see where Ellie’s gaze is fixed. You glance down at your wrists, realizing that the cuts you’ve worked so hard to hide are now visible to everyone.

Panic surges through you, and you quickly try to pull your sleeves back down, but it’s too late. Heat rushes to your face, your heart pounding so loud it echoes in your ears. Your hands begin to tremble, your back slick with adrenaline and fear. You notice a few students nearby whispering to each other, exchanging confused glances.

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Every look, every whisper feels like a blow, and the world around you blurs. Tears well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they spill over, rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away with your sleeve, but more follow, a torrent of emotions—shame, pain, vulnerability—crashing over you.

All you wanted to do was disappear, to get away from those prying eyes and discussions. Without thinking, you turned and ran. Leaving the backpack behind, leaving Ellie behind, leaving this agonizing moment behind.

Ellie watched you with her fists clenched. She saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, and felt her heart break with pain for you. She knew how important it was to be there for you right now, but you were already out of her sight. Anger rose up in her in a wave - not at you, but at the one who had caused all of this. Gritting her teeth, Ellie turned back to the guy who was standing in front of the locker, not yet fully aware of what had just happened. She took a step toward him, not giving him time to respond, and slammed her fist right into his face. Blood streamed from his nose, but she didn't stop. Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled him closer, pinning him against the metal locker doors.

“This is all because of you, you motherfucker!" Ellie gritted through her teeth, her voice low but full of anger.

She clenched her jaw so hard that the veins in her face were showing. The boy gasped in fear, his eyes widening, blood continuing to drip onto Ellie's hands. -

"I...I didn't know..." he wheezed, looking at her with horror.

"If I ever see you around again, I'm going to make it a lot worse" Ellie said, every word she said sounding with cold determination.

She finally let go of him and pushed him back to his locker, and turned to the crowd of students who were still standing in a daze, watching the scene.

"What are you looking at? Get the fuck out of here!" - she shouted, her voice sounding rough, almost growling.

The students began to slowly disperse, though some continued to furtively watch from afar. Ellie walked over to your abandoned backpack, picked it up and dusted it off. Her whole body was still shaking with adrenaline, but her thoughts were on you. She looked back in the direction you had run, and her face slowly faded from anger to worry and pain.

Where did you run to, my dear..." she murmured softly, clutching your backpack to her. She needed to find you, when you needed support the most.

Thank you for reading my first fanfic I hope you enjoyed it!🌟🏹��

->->-> Part 2 (Final Part)

[goth-mami-writer]

umm that recent fic u posted (love it btw) got me heated ngl. So would it be okay if I could request one where reader broke things off with Leon (cuz of Ada/during the re4 era) and years later they see each other at Claire’s get together?? But reader is with fiancé and u can decided the ending—thank you

♡Wet Wedding Dress♡

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader work

《 You bursted into Claire's party that night and winced to the number of people already present and on-time unlike you. You carefully brushed past some of the crowd as Claire in her red cocktail dress crossed her green lawn to greet you.

“Geez, I am so sorry I'm late. Traffic was crazy..” You said apologizing but Claire in her usual, perpetual kindness hugged your neck, only caring that you came at all on her birthday.

“Don't worry! Ugh, the stupid caterers were late anyhow. You haven't missed a thing.”

You went ahead and gave her the small gift you'd picked up on the way over, having boxed it up in the car and she smiled appreciatively and promised she'd place it with the others back on the dessert table.

You felt a little overwhelmed by the people already here when she walked away. You wove ‘hi’ to a few of them asking how they've been since basic. The conversation was nice but you noticed yourself wandering in the hopes of finding someone else.

Leon was in the back of the living room out of your gaze. He sat with his back to the wall, talking over a game of pool with a few acquaintances from the past. He noticed a new silhouette in the room suddenly and then felt a racing flutter in his heart as you crept closer.

He sat upright in his seat, clutching his beer as a surge of nervousness washed over him. He blinked several times to assure himself that it was you and he handed his long cue to one of them, telling them to take his turns for the rest of the game. He then poured the rest of his beer into a tall houseplant secretively as he needed an excuse to get into the open kitchen area where you were headed.

He couldn't approach you directly. It would be weird for both of you, he was sure. The last meeting you had wasn't exactly a kindred memory. He'd just been caught talking to Ada his ex when he said that they'd parted ways and well within your right to, you had slapped him across the face. You two were dating at the time, and he did love you. But that palm print against his cheek was the mark he needed to know that you loved him too. Enough to cry while telling him that hated his guts.

He never forgot that night. And he wondered now on his approach the beer cooler on the kitchen floor if you remembered it too and now he wanted to ask you if telling him you hated him, stung in your throat like your handprint on his face.

You were oblivious to him reaching down into the cooler while you were scanning the room in fact trying to find…him. You held your hand to your chest, taking a plastic glass premade by Claire's punch bowl to give your hands something to do.

He wanted to get your attention- so nonchalantly, as if he was mistakenly not paying attention, he ‘accidentally’ placed the cold beer bottle to the side of your thigh just below your dress as you stood faced away from him.

“Sorry..” He said feeling you shiver, then felt just as frozen by the first look you gave him. Your eyes lit up brightly and you put down the small plastic glass but..you held your hands together. Your spirit told you to wait and remember to resonate on how much you've missed him.

‘Don't hug him, idiot. Don't you dare hug him.’ you thought in your head.

You crossed your arms, trying not to be awkward when he searched in your gaze as well you did his. He didn't think of the night you slapped him at all when he stood in front of you now, lost for words that were certainly taking their precious time to find him. He thought of that morning before. You had slept over after spending your night together. You laid there only wearing the half smile you wore when you dreamt and he thought of the morning sun in your hair, circling around you like a halo.

“Didn't think I'd run into you.” He said, clearing his throat to break the thoughts in his head that tormented him with the images of you sleeping so beautifully in his bed like you were born to do it.

You shrugged, then mentioned with some added repose to portray that you weren't aching to see him,

“Yeah, I ugh- I forgot you were friends with Claire. Uhm..”

You twined your hands behind your back, mentioning a little more brave after a hard swallow,

“It's nice to see you.”

Leon nodded, telling you the same and he found his mind wandering again. But yours was too. A part of you stayed resigned thinking that he might’ve hated you for the last fight you had. You overreacted and you regretted doing it everyday. After remembering that, you thought about just walking away.

“How've you been?” He asked, trying to keep down all the things he really wanted to say.

When you moved your hair out of your eyes, Leon's heart sank into his stomach and hit the bottom of his feet with a clunk that shook him. He felt a ball wadding up in his throat and his eyes fell down to realize the worst thing had happened while you two were separated.

You had a ring on your finger.

“I've been alright. How about you? Still…federal and working in DC?” You asked, noticing that he stared now at your engagement ring, hating that he'd even seen it.

Leon nodded, trying to avoid sounding like a brag so he merely shrugged while catching another glimpse of that little shiny boat-sinker rested on your ring finger.

“You ugh-” Leon asked, wanting to get this part over with,

“You getting married?”

You froze, hoping he wouldn't try and ask the details of your fiancé so soon. You wanted to reminisce and try to find the normalcy between you. However, you knew that was the overly hopeful part of yourself trying to…..imagine that you two still had a chance at working.

“I am.” You answered, twisting the ring on your finger tensely,

“Here in about three months.”

Fuck, he thought. Feeling like he was talking with a hole carved through his chest now. He had thought about calling you sometime in the year apart. He thought now that maybe if he'd gone through with it, things would be different now. You'd be wearing his ring on your finger.

You heard Claire call out from behind him and she yelled out that “Jacob” was here and you smiled widely, waving him over and you introduced Leon to your fiancé on the spot but felt the air change between you.

Leon looked over his shoulder as this new man approached and not-impressed just didn't fit the bill. Jacob was lanky, wore glasses with curly, boyish hair that just looked to be lackluster. But, Leon shook his hand to be cordial.

Jacob looked to you, a little surprised to be standing in front of the renowned agent Leon S. Kennedy, and he asked you softly as if to be discreet,

“You ugh….you worked together? You've never told me that, honey.”

Your face turned a bright, telling pink, looking back to Leon, then Jacob in this awkward situation you'd found yourself in. Leon tried not to gasp at the feeling of being some kind of secret and more, so he tried not to smile. He put the bottle of beer to his lips, hiding his grin as you backpedaled all the reasons you just so happened to never bring him up before.

“Well-” Leon said, holding back a laugh. He was amused with the way things had turned out, but he laughed also at himself. Even though Jacob looked like a scrub in his eyes, that was your man, and he had no right to make judgment.

But you couldn't tell that to his mind.

“I'll catch you guys later. Nice seeing you.”

You felt the need to pull him back, wanting him to stay, but you told him goodnight as he slipped away back into the crowd. You lost him after only a moment, and yourself and Jacob then gravitated back towards the outside veranda where Claire's cake was being cut already.

The rest of the night, you felt detached from the celebration. You were sunken into your phone, overhearing the conversation from Jacob and his friends that were in attendance. Leon sat against the wall, chugging what had to be the 10th beer he'd gotten ahold of and felt a fire starting when he constantly found himself staring at you.

And him.

When everyone began making their way home, hugging Claire's neck before waving goodnight, he wanted to make sure you didn't leave before he gave you a drunken earful of what exactly he thought of Jacob and how you deserved better. He was stumbling, trying hard to focus as he looked for you in the front yard of people but you had been following him in silence for the past few steps he'd taken.

“Leon-” You said, trying to be gentle knowing he was drunk.

He turned, trying to shake away the warble in his vision and he faced you, leaning on the wall so he wouldn't stumble while you talked. He noticed something in your hands and looked up as you started explaining, somewhat unsurely.

“I just-” You said, beginning to crumble the piece of paper in your palm, knowing you were only doing this so he wouldn't think you were still into him,

“I just wanted to give you this. We had a few extra so I wanted you to have one.” You said handing over an official invite to your wedding in the few short months.

Leon felt a scoff leave his mouth due to the loss of his inhibitions then you mentioned to ease any doubt,

“You don't have to go. We're friends so.. I figured I'd tell you that you were welcome to come. If…you wanted to.”

There was a silence between you after that. You wish you knew what he was thinking. Because the space and the quiet was killing you as you stared at the floor. You started to tell him that Jay seemed to like hearing the stories of you two working together but Leon spouted off quietly,

“I'm happy that you're happy.”

He turned his head, his eyes half lidded partially from the alcohol but also to the tension. You don't know why. But it just sounded like he was…lying. Or at least leaving something out. But you were too, weren't you? There were a million things you couldn't say.

“Me..too..” You said in a hollow tone, feeling nothing but empty after you said it.

You brushed past him, knowing that Jay was waiting in the car then you said over your shoulder, trying not to sound desperate as if you wanted nothing more than the last word,

“Just..text me if you're coming. Just so I know.”

“I will-” Leon said montonely, looking up at the ceiling before mentioning finitely before you were gone,

“Congratulations..by the way.”

You wanted to thank him but instead you just trudged away. On your way home that night, Jacob asked what was keeping you so quiet. Thinking that maybe you had a lot on your mind but you did. You told him you were fine, just tired and wanted to shower before bed. Once you closed the bathroom door and turned on the water, all you could do was cry in the hum of the shower. You were getting married in two months and you were going to be thinking of Leon now, every single day, weren't you? Could you really wear someone else's ring?

~Your Wedding Day

You sat in the dressing room ten minutes before the ceremony. Your makeup was done, and your dress flowed around you with even your veil made of the fine, sheer lace that cost a fortune. Your bridesmaids had been asking all morning if you hadn't slept well. You were irritable, easy to ignite. But they figured it was nerves, and you assured them as much.

When ten minutes became nine, you looked up to the dimly lit vanity mirror and asked the room full of people if you could have a minute alone. Everyone was quick to do as you asked and when you were washed back into a more settling silence, you pulled the phone away from your purse. That morning, unbeknownst to anyone you'd received a text from Leon saying that he was coming today and that he was sorry he didn't rsvp sooner.

You stared at that message longingly while you were alone and in a moment derived from lack of thought and more so grounded in a nostalgic panic, you called him. You held the phone to your ear feeling as if this just wasn't real.

Leon was signing in at the small table in the cathedrals vestibule when you called and he was slow to reach into his jacket pocket to answer. You heard it ring once then quickly ended the call, cursing into the mirror as you tossed your phone down.

“Fuck!” You cried from the feeling of never speaking to him again and you leaned over, trying to save your makeup from tears. You hurried to preserve your mascara, now asking yourself over and over what you were doing.

You were led along by the wedding coordinator in the next few minutes and stood in front of the large double doors, peering inside as your bridesmaids entered the ceremony hall first, waltzing down the aisle along with the lulling accordion music. When the loud, booming bells began to change in arrangement, you heard the sound of everyone standing and you took the last breath you needed to convince yourself that….you weren't making the biggest mistake of your life.

The doors opened and softly you heard the gasps of everyone in attendance to your long, ornate gown that cascaded to the floor in its angelic, blinding white. You stepped forward on the coordinator's cue and began reluctantly down the aisle. You stared at the floor as you began to softly cry with one tear escaping. Leon watched as you moved with a slowness. These were the last images he'd ever have of you before losing you to marriage and he realized it now. His gaze resigned back down and he told himself not to be so goddamn selfish.

As you came to the altar, Jay helped you up to stand across from him. The priest began to read from the traditional verses detailing a bound union made with love and duties to those who dedicate themselves with vows. All of the words felt meaningless as you stood there, staring into the ground with your bouquet ready to break beneath your clawed fingers.

Then, you were prompted to turn for the placing rings. Jacob slid his ring on your trembling finger and you did the same, reciting vows as you both did so to the stone walls that echoed. Jacob said the prolific phrase “I Do” and there in that moment, time felt stuck in place. Unmoving and slow.

You fell quiet when asked the same question that needed an “I Do.”

The church grew at its quietest and waited for you to respond. Leon looked up from his harrowed stare into the floor and watched you hesitate. You held Jacob's hands but felt that nothing would ever leave your throat again without a fight. Your voice shook as well as your legs, and with a breath of air you felt you needed to die for, you instead turned to run.

The congregation gasped sharply, and people even stood to watch as you fled in heavy strides that flowed your dress behind you in long, white billows as you sped down the aisle. Tears flooded your face now as your shaking hands held up the front of your gown, and you screamed curses that probably appalled the stone angels on the walls, but you didn't care.

You begged those who ran after you not to follow as you escaped down the church's side stairs leading to the street but one shadow moved their way through the pathways and side doors to run behind you anyhow. Leon swung his keys into his hand and practically dove through the moving people to get to his car.

As the sky above you darkened in the few minutes it took you to get outside, you hurried across the large cobblestone steps in no clear direction. Tires were heard behind you, and you assumed it was one of the groomsmen trying to change your mind. But you saw Leon roll down his car window right when the rain began to fall. You shook your head, knowing water would ruin this thousand dollar dress, and you just stood now in the somehow fated torrential downpour.

Leon got out of the driver's side, asking you from the road what you were doing as the rain soaked you both now. You raised your hands, asking with a snideness as your shoulders rose in just as much confusion,

“Does it look like I know what I'm doing?”

Leon swung the wet hair away from his face and asked vaguely through the sounds of the water,

“Why'd you never say anything?”

“What?” You asked, getting closer, and he asked again, getting annoyed that he didn't ask this when he needed to,

“Why'd you never tell your little boyfriend about me?...You never told him that I was your partner. That we..worked together for years? That you…slept with me, dated me, screamed at me-”

“I fucking get it-!” You shouted over the rain to stop him but you shook your head, moving your sopping wet dress as you paced tensively to find an answer,

“I don't know, okay?! It just never came up. And don't throw it in my face about that fight. I..think about it all the time.”

“Do you?” He asked shortly, hanging on breath-by-breath for you to say it, and you crumbled, hanging your head to cry in the rain while he put the pieces together himself.

He looked out at the street, watching the water roll in and he knew he needed to make this quick before you both become waterlogged and he said with his voice roaring over the soft thunder and rainfall,

“We didn't talk at Claire's. And we should've.”

“I'm sorry for hitting you that night, Leon.” You said, sputtering with shaking lips as you sobbed, and he only half smiled, telling you that you didn't need to apologize for something like that. He began to laugh contagiously even with rainwater soaking your gown,

“You hit like a princess, come on, that didn't hurt me or my tender feelings.”

You stared at him as you both began to laugh in the rain together. It felt healing but not as healing enough as what you were about to tell him. Words left behind that should've been said years ago.

“I wish-..” Leon said stuttering until you cut him off,

“I love you.”

Leon was halted from even breathing, watching as you stared across the road to him. You knew then that there was just no other way to say it or explain it. You couldn't tell your boyfriend, your friends, or even your fiancé about him because it'd be too damn obvious from the first breath. You loved him too deeply, and it'd be written all over your face. For all to see.

Leon charged towards you after giving into the feeling. After stomping to your side, he lifted you into his arms, rising you above him, wet wedding dress and all to bring your lips to his. It felt like another tireless thing that was left undone on the night you last saw him, and you surrendered into his lips as you did those years ago.

Suddenly you heard voices from up the street and saw as your family and wedding party had found you, yelling over the rain to the others and you looked to Leon in horror, knowing you could never go back now.

“You wanna get me the hell outta here?”

He nodded with a devious smile as he brought you back to your feet, and you remembered that troublemaking look from the many memories of his past antics in your mind. He raced with you back to his car, and you watched behind you as together you both ran with your hearts pounding in the falling rain. He closed you inside the car, hearing as your family began yelling your name, and his foot slammed to the gas pedal once back behind the wheel.

“Hang on tight.” He said as the motor accelerated loudly in a whir.

You laughed in new joy feeling his car take off in a getaway that spun the tires and throttled the loud engine. He took your hand once the rear view became a blur but you noticed one more thing that needed to be left behind along with the life in the distance. You tossed that wedding ring out the window. It clinked to the road passing you by and you nodded as Leon smiled widely to the sight.

“That's better.” You said in relief to take his hand. 》

I wrote the HELL outta that one. Thank you so, so much. That was fun. Looking forward to more! ✌️

[yuri-is-online]

Hello author!! Congrats on 500 followers! I love the way you wrote "Plead the Fifth", Floyd's callback to the Portfest event was my favorite part. If its okay, can I pls request prompt 12 with Jade, Riddle, and Jamil? Thank you! 🫶💙

12. You had a wonderful time dancing and flirting with someone at the ball, only to find out from your friends the next day that was your crush. And you have no idea if they knew it was you they were dancing with.

Bless you for catching that friend I was a bit worried no one would know what I was talking about. I thought it was so funny how offended they all got at being called adorable! other than Rook but yk

EDIT: I straight up did not realize I wrote this for Riddle twice oh my fucking god. I'm so sorry please feel free to message me with a separate request I am so sorry again my brain is fried.

notes: they/them used for Yuu. Severe violations of privacy and playing with emotions for Jade, and Jamil is fresh out of clown school, let us pray. I was listening to dancing with a stranger on loop while writing this so sorry if they're a bit angsty. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Jade

"Look." Jade is smiling and Azul has a tension headache. "You see how they've played this particular song fourteen times today? They're going to try and switch things up and listen to something else after the sixteenth loop but-"

"What in the hell does this have to do with anything?" Azul asks to be charitable, he already knows what this is about. Or he thinks he does anyway.

"I was wondering if you would be so kind as to add it to the playlist for the Lounge. Just for tonight." There is a really strange tone to Jade's excitement, almost like he has no idea what he is doing and is just as thrilled by that as he was whatever brought him home in such a... state last night.

"Because if I don't you'll add it yourself and give Floyd back the password to the account?"

"I am so very glad we could reach a mutual understanding." Of course Jade has a plan, it had started formulating the instant he saw you dressed up for the formal Crowley had put together.

Boring. That's what this night was supposed to be. These masks were supposed to hide people's faces, sure but he knows them too well. Maybe if this was a different school where people were less predictable- But then there was you, and all his reason fell away.

"May I have this dance, stranger?" He is surprised you accept, delighted with how natural it feels to follow his lead. He was expecting this to be much, much harder.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask." You sound shy, flattered even, without the defensiveness he usually associates with the lead up to your trysts. Could it be- "I thought I felt someone watching me." -you do not know. The mask has worked for one lucky eel.

"Ah prefect," he greets you as usual, with a bow and a gesture to an empty seat "always so good to see you at the Mostro." This time he has selected a booth out of the way, towards the back and far too big for just one customer. Pity you hadn't brought those small fry with you, he was so looking forward to letting Floyd play with them. "Did you come here with something in mind? Or shall I make a suggestion?" You are so nervous you don't notice that he has failed to give you a menu until you finally bother to look up at him.

"I really just came here to talk..." how painful, you are looking away again. Jade is sure he is the best looking fish here, if you are that desperate to see him in the water he can certainly improvise.

"I am always willing to lend a sympathetic ear." He bends at the waist to hover his face just above yours, so close that you are force to return your eyes to his again. He watches as your pupils dilate and breath catches as the music in the lounge plucks a familiar song as if his magic lets him read minds.

"Go fuck yourself." It's missing the venom he'd like but as he traces your jawline with his gloved hand directly over the lipstick stains he'd left last night he thinks to himself that he is just fine with that. Jade is not in the mood to share your fire, it is such a rare thing for a mer to see after all.

"I would much prefer to leave that to you." He kisses you, quickly before you can fully ignite and waste your precious sparks on the public. "Funny story actually, I had such a nice time at the Masquerade last night I thought we should have ourselves another little date tonight. Do be gentle with me, I only had so much time to prepare." But waste or no he cannot deny himself the satisfied laugh that spills from him when you yank him back into a kiss and prevent him from running his mouth. Just what is he to do with you? Oh he has so many ideas...

Jamil

"Ha I thought I'd find you here." Jamil does his best to ignore Ace's voice, instead focusing on the hoop and sinking his throws into the net. Forty-One. "Aww not gonna ask any questions?" Forty-Two. "You know they talked to me. They always do." Forty-Three. "Said some reeeeeeal interesting stuff." Forty-Four. "Mushy too. Like seriously, you should both just get over yourselves and-"

Forty-Five. Jamil purposefully bounces the ball off the ground hard, not even bothering to watch Ace scramble to avoid it before shoves his face into his towel as if it can wipe away his embarrassment as well as his sweat.

"They are better off not knowing." He catches the ball Ace tries to hit him with, taking a little delight in how annoyed his junior looks before he realizes that it isn't going away as quickly as Ace's other pouts.

"Seriously? Where'd you get that idea from?" He sounds angry, Jamil has to remind himself and the seething pit in his stomach that Ace is Yuu's... friend. They are just friends who spend a lot of time alone. Alone together. Alone together inside a dormitory where Yuu live practically alone, a lot of times on nights when Jamil is alone in Scarabia with preparations for a party you aren't guaranteed to attend unlike those Unbirthday Party's Riddle has that you are at so much you might as well be part of his dorm.

Not that Jamil thinks about that a lot or is thinking about that at all when he gives Ace his best "superiority" complex smile.

"They were willing to make out with a stranger behind some thick curtains, clearly they don't have any strong feelings for anyone in the school and I would just be-"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you are responsible for this situation in the fucking first place." This isn't normal jokey Ace. Normal "girls just wanna have fun Ace," no this is Ace as serious as Jamil wishes he always would be during... anything at all really. Funny how that side only ever seems to come out when he needs to distract someone. Funny how the pit is screaming how it only ever comes up when he is talking about you. "You get close to them one day, then you insist you can't talk to them because you are too busy taking care of Kalim. You give take advantage of them not being from Twisted Wonderland to give them things anyone would recognize as being romantic gifts but roll your eyes at the idea when confronted. Seriously it is a miracle they still like you and didn't think to try getting over you sooner."

Yuu is kissing him. They have what they can grasp of his face in their hands and are kissing him so painfully slowly. It's too much to bear, he can't keep to his senses and denial. Jamil pulls them further behind the curtains and kisses them. For one brief incandescent moment he allows himself to believe this is fated. That if the masks were gone, that if you were under the Scarabia curtains you would be holding onto his shirt just as tightly.

"You told them didn't you?" Ace doesn't bother to actually answer, the footsteps echoing down the hallway as he goes to leave answers Jamil’s question for him.

You are always beautiful.  His breath catches in his throat when he sees you, the pit swallowing itself as he realizes the urgency to the speed at which you close the gap but pause just before making it into his personal space.

“Can we talk?”  Ace’s words from earlier echo in his mind.  Has it ever occurred to you that you are responsible for this?

“Of course.”  He purposefully places the basketball back onto the rack he had been using as an excuse to center himself.  “Would you let me take you to dinner?”

“No.”  You sound as if you hate yourself for saying it, but the instant it leaves your lips he smiles.  “No, I need you to tell me here because I can’t stand this stupid game of you taking your insecurities out on me.  Just what do I need to do for you to understand…”  Your nerve seems to be failing you now that he’s right in front of you.  But he isn’t cruel enough to make you wait.

“I like you.”  It’s not all of what you want to hear, and not all of what he wants to say.  But he’s in a sweaty gym uniform and you look like you’ve been crying.  Apologies are best made with food, and he loves you well enough to know your worry’s been eating at your apatite as much as it has his.

[justrainandcoffee]

Invaluable (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) + (Tommy Shelby) Part 2 of 2.

First part - Alfie x Rose masterlist

Summary: Alfie knows Father Hughes and makes a deal that it's going to end bad ||. Tommy learns that it's Alfie who betrayed him. || Mrs. Solomons goes to Arrow House.

Warnings: None. Although, it contains angst.

Words: 4k.

1924

Tuesday -4pm

Rose found her ring, the one she gave to Tommy and he gave to Alfie the previous day, inside her car under the seat. Probably it fell when she and Alfie had sex there the previous night.

She remembered very well the day he gave it to her as present. It was 1903 and it was a gift for their first anniversary together. They were still very young, only 15, and their first time wasn't even close to happen, and yet the love they had for each other was already there. Back then, Alfie was working in that old bakery and used part of his salary to buy that ring to her. Even at that age, Alfie always talked about how Rose deserved more than a cheap ring. Rose's response was always the same: she didn't needed that.

That ring was part of her for the last 21 years and she wasn't ready to lose it. Smiling, she put it on before returning to her house where Alfie was. He was out since midday and she was willing to spend some time with him alone in their house now they were together again.

"Did ya find it?" he asked watching her entering the house again.

"I did. I wonder how it ended under the seat," she said chuckling.

"The fairies. Because we definitely did nothing inside your car."

"Yeah," she smiled at him "That's what I thought."

Alfie opened his arms and she accepted the invitation to be next to him.

"I can't believe you're still having this," he said holding her hand in his and stroking her finger where the ring was. "It cost me around 20 pennies."

"So? You still have the vest I sewed for you also 20 years ago and you could punch anyone who says that's old and ugly."

"Yes, but's different, luv. You made it it's special. This one I bought it in an antique shop that no longer exists. I can buy you a bigger ring with diamonds in a rose, if you like, little diamonds shining like stars."

"Oh, Al, sweetheart… fuck. I love you. You did buy me several of those and I really love them because they're perfect. But sometimes it's not the price, it's the meaning."

"Yeah. I know. The meaning it's what matters."

Alfie held her against his chest in silence while he was thinking.

Father Hughes was a despicable man. For being a man of God his values were worse than his, at least Alfie wasn't outside in the world pretending to be a good man. But there were things worse than greed and thirst for power. And maybe, if Alfie had known the kind of man that Hughes really was, he wouldn't have talked to him.

But it was too late.

"What do you want, Mr. Solomons? Something tells me that you and I, we have nothing in common." Hughes stared at him. It was very unusual for a Jewish man make a deal with someone like him, especially if the Jewish man was the infamous King of Camden Town. "Isn't your wife member of a left political party, Mr. Solomons? The Independent Labour Party. The ILP, follows the ideas of Marx. Your wife is a fucking communist, Solomons. Do you know what that means?" Hughes mimicked a hangman. "I studied everyone around Thomas Shelby, including you. Gladly for you, your woman is barely an assistant."

Alfie pursed his lips. He'd feel the gun in his waist and it could take it just a second to shoot at the priest. 'Barely an assistant' was a stupid way to describe the active participation she had in the ILP. And even stupider to describe Rose and her love for political activities. But Alfie ignore that for his own good, but especially for hers.

"Ain't here to talk about women and their jobs, Hughes" Alfie said, "I'm here to talk about a robbery," he said to the priest "Thomas Shelby and his men are planning one."

Hughes was in front of him dressed as a priest. But the Devil took many forms, including the form of religious people. So when Alfie talked and shook his hand with him, the deal with the Devil was sealed.

"Where did you go today, Al?" Rose asked, noticing his silence. A silence that she knew very well and had nothing to do with a quiet moment in peace.

"I needed to finish some business."

"With the Russians?"

"No, I didn't see the Russians. I'm not going to ever again."

"Alfie. Where did you go today?"

Her husband sighed. "To a Church, okay? Since when do you ask me so many questions about my work?"

"Since I feel that something is very wrong."

"I know how to handle my own life, sweetheart. I'm a big boy."

"I hope so, Alfie. I hope so."

.

Friday - 3pm.

Tommy's world was upside down. It was worse than he imagined. It shouldn't have ended that way. His little son lost his mother and now he was taken away from him.

He felt the disgrace breathing on his neck. He never considered himself a lucky man, despite his efforts to climb to the top of the mountain, he knew lucky wasn't something that was in his own dictionary. He was powerful, rich, feared, smart but not lucky in any way. And Hughes and his people kidnapping Charlie was the proof of that.

All roads lead to Rome. Or in this case, to Alfie. His wife was right. Rose Solomons was right when she said that Alfie was a bomb ready to explode the moment Tommy put him near the Russians.

And also was right when she said he was an opportunist. Alfie saw the opportunity to have what he wanted and took it. Tommy asked himself, as he and Michael were going to see him, if Alfie knew from the beginning what he was doing.

It was always complicated to deal with Alfie but this wasn't just another day. This was way more serious than that.

Fucking Alfie Solomons and his long monologues. Tommy saw him in front of him with one of his men at his right. Leaning on his cane for support and acting as if everything in the world was okay. Yet, Tommy said nothing.

Business started the way they use to start: good. The usual.

The Londoner didn't mention a thing until Tommy started to confront him.

"… It was you who told them about the tunnel. You told them about the fucking deal with the Soviets. You gave information in exchange for a share…"

"Tommy, Tommy… there were things in that fuckin' treasury that God himself he spoke to me and he said ‘Alfie, you're meant to have those things’." Alfie looked at him and added "I told you I was going to find another way. She deserves it."

"You crossed the line, Alfie."

"You fucking what?"

"You crossed the line."

"The line?"

"They're using my boy!" finally shouted Tommy.

Alfie opened his mouth but said nothing. For a second Tommy saw the confusion in the other man's eyes and Tommy knew in that brief second, no matter what Alfie said later, that he didn't know about Charlie. He never knew. Yet, it was too late to stop it because the leaders were angry for very different reasons but that ended in the same point. Both were capable of doing everything for their beloved ones and both were equally dangerous, knowing what kind of game they were involved in. After killing Alfie's man, everything exploded and even when Michael tried to stop them, the tension between them reached the highest point.

"I do not want him to spare me because of some fucking peace pact. I want him to acknowledge that his anger is un-fucking justified! I want him to acknowledge that he who fights by the sword, he fucking dies by it, Tommy. So what, they took your boy did they, eh? They have got your boy? What fucking "line" am I supposed to have crossed? How many fathers, right, how many sons, yeah, have you cut, killed, murdered fucking butchered, innocent and guilty? You are going straight to fucking hell, ain't ya? Just like me! You fucking stand there, you, judging me, stand there and talk to me about crossing some fucking line. If you pull that trigger, right, you pull that trigger for a fucking honourable reason. Like an honourable man, not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate."

"Look, Tommy, the killing of Alfie Solomons is not going to help. This will be very bad for business." Michael, nervous, kept trying to keep the order.

"Michael, go and call Inspector Moss. Tell him it's Palmer. Well said, Alfie. Well said."

"I did not know about your boy, though."

"I know. I saw."

Alfie stayed there for some time alone with his thoughts and a dead man on his feet. The adrenaline was still running through his veins. He did what he had to do, because he wanted that necklace, even the Fabergé. But never wanted a little kid be abducted by some crazy priest that now he stopped to think, maybe he did more than teach them how to pray. Never.

Next Monday. 9am

Alfie raised his eyes from his papers when he heard his office's door opening. The figure of Thomas Shelby appeared in front of him and Alfie gestured to the free chair in front of him, inviting the man to take a seat.

Tommy lit a cigarette and drop a black velvet bag in over his papers.

Inside, Alfie found a precious diamond necklace. A real one and one of the most expensive that was in the vault. He put it in his hands to look at it more closely.

"Hope it's enough," Tommy said. "You don't deserve a shit, Alfie. But I understand that you want the best for your wife and I'm no one to judge it."

"How's your boy?"

"Safe and Hughes is dead."

"Good. I'm glad the little one is fine. Tommy, I never…"

"I know. But next time, instead coming to you with a diamond necklace, I'm going to do it with a bullet and I'm going to put it in your head."

"She'll kill ya."

"I know. That's the best thing that would happen to me. But if you don't want her to end selling her soul by killing me, better watch where you're stepping, Alfie."

Both men stayed in silence for some minutes. Alfie put the necklace in his pocket and Tommy finished the cigarette.

"Section D is after my family."

"Fuckin' hell, Tommy, what're you going to do?"

"Play their game. And make some dealings with powerful people. Even powerful than them."

"Go and save 'em, then."

"Yes. And you take care of Rose."

"I will. Tommy… Sorry."

Same Monday. 6pm

Alfie opened the bedroom and found his wife taking off her shoes ready to enjoy her time at home after a long day working.

"Al, you came. How was your day?"

"Better than expected, sweetheart. I've something for ya. Just closed your eyes, will ya?"

The woman smiled curiously at him "What do you have, Alfie?"

"Close your eyes."

His evident happiness, made her to smile even more and followed his orders. "Better you don't have a dead mouse in your hands, Alfie."

He couldn't help but laugh out loud. They were around seven years old when Alfie wanted to prank her but ended with Rose crying of fear and Alfie being reprimanded by his mother. Alfie understood that day for the first time the consequences of his actions and never again made her cry, not even once.

"I promise is something better, luv."

Rose felt him behind her and how first he placed some kisses on her neck and then the unmistakable sensation of a necklace over her skin. And in that moment her mind started to race.

"Alfie…"

"Don't ask."

Rose opened her eyes again when she felt that Alfie stepped back. The mirror in front of her showed a precious diamond necklace that she hated to admit it was too precious and looked really good on her. But she knew very well where that came from.

"How do you get it?"

"Deal with Tommy. Rosie, you look beautiful. I knew you'd even more beautiful than ever with one of these gems. I knew."

Alfie approached her again and kissed her. "It looks way better in you than in them. It's not like they're going appreciate it either. It was one of those they had in the bottom of the box. Too beautiful to be there, too beautiful. And now it's yours, Rosie."

"Tell me this has nothing to do with Tommy's boy, Alfie."

She knew what happened to Charles Shelby because Alfie told her, after she found him being a mess in the living room after the encounter with Tommy.

"Our boy would have been the same age as him today. Just a baby, Rosie. Just a baby."

Charlie Shelby and their unborn baby, Joshua, would have been friends even in the future. But that was something that never going to happen.

She wanted to yell at him for being so impulsive, so stupid to believe Hughes' intentions. She knew he was going to lose his mind because of the russians but she never imagined Alfie doing an alliance with a man who was ready to send to hell all people opposite to his beliefs.

"I didn't want to harm a baby, Rosie."

"I know. I know, but Alfie- what you did…"

"I fucking know, Rose! I don't need to be scolded right now! I almost killed a baby."

"No, Alfie… I don't think- Fuck, I don't know. But it doesn't matter now, the baby is fine. Isn't he? He's with his dad and family. Don't punish yourself, you didn't know. But, fuck, Alfie I need to say this: what the hell were you thinking?!"

"I just wanted the best for you."

It was a horrible situation because she couldn't believe Alfie went after a monster disguised as priest only because he wanted more than Tommy offered in the beginning and just because of her. But she couldn't be mad at him because her husband felt miserable and her heart ached watching him like that.

But the proof that Tommy accepted and Alfie got what he wanted was around her neck now.

"I shouldn't accept this, Al."

"Tommy took it. Not Hughes, not the section D, not Romanov…it's Tommy. He's my friend, Rosie. And he appreciates you, otherwise, he'd never done that."

"I'm not sure."

"Rosie, luv… it's for you."

She looked at him. His eyes were shining and this Alfie being happy in front of her was so different from the one she saw nights ago drowing in guilt that she nodded.

"Promise me, that this is the last time you risk everything just because of me, Alfie."

"I won't promise that. You know I can't promise that."

"I don't want to bury you, Al."

"You won't."

Rose nodded, still feeling a lump in her throat. Alfie hugged her from behind and kissed the top of her head. "Do you want to go to a restaurant so you can show this beautiful necklace to the world?"

"Yes. It'd be nice. It'll help us to think about other things, too."

One of the best restaurants that London had, received them that night. It's not like Rose completely accepted the gift, but understood that it was too late to do other thing. She needed to do something soon, but for now she decided to relax -it was well deserved after the mentally draining week she lived- and doing it in hands of her husband while dancing it was a good way to do it. And Alfie was happy and his good mood was enough for her to make her smile.

A week later. Early afternoon.

Arrow House seemed to be empty and quiet except for some birds chirping.

Rose parked her car in the entrance and walked to the door where an old housekeeper received her.

"Good morning, ma'am. Is Mr. Shelby, here? I'm Mrs. Solomons."

"Yes, Mrs. Solomons, please come in. I'm going to announce Mr. Shelby that you're here."

"You're too kind. Thank you."

Arrow House was very similar in size and decorations to her former manor and she didn't like at all. The house that Alfie and she had in London was big without being a manor and was enough for them. And soon, they were going to arrange everything to buy the house of their dreams in Margate, next to the sea. Honestly, Rose couldn't wait to leave the city and moved there for good.

The manor was invaded by ghosts, figuratively speaking. The ghosts of short happy moments and the ghost of eternal sadness and melancholy. Laughs and sobs mixed and trapped in the walls torturing everyone there. She wondered if Tommy was going to end losing his mind inside there because it was impossible to survive living there. Also hate. That house was full of hate. His family hates him, a voice in her head told Rose.

And that was probably true.

"I need to go outside," she said to Frances again. "There's a place I can sit there?"

Frances nodded, surprised by her requirement. "Is everything alright, Mrs. Solomons?"

"I just need fresh air, please."

"Yes. Of course, follow me."

.

Tommy found her sitting at the table he had in the garden. The trees full of reddish golden leaves were behind her and their branches move with the wind. A teapot and some biscuits were on the table but the woman didn't touch them, yet.

"Mrs. Solomons…"

"Mr. Shelby," she said extending her hand and Tommy shook it softly.

"I'm a bit surprised…"

"Yes, I know. I know. You know why I'm here."

"I suspect it, yes," Tommy sat in a chair next to her and lit a cigarette "you owed me nothing, Rose."

"It's not about owing or not, Tommy. It's about what happened. Alfie doesn't know I'm here. He's too fucking proud and that's probably his worst trait. I can only imagine what he said to you, but Tommy, he didn't know about your boy."

"I know. I saw it."

"Alfie can be difficult," Rose said stirring her tea "but he's not like the men I know you know. Or the men I also know. Those fucking assholes. When he knew about little Charlie, the only thing he imagined that your boy would've been ours. And that was horrible enough to mark him forever. And me too," she looked at the man in front of her, "I need to know, that this necklace isn't a way to remember him that he owes you something. I don't want Alfie looking at this fucking thing and remember constantly that Charlie was kidnapped because of him. Or because of me."

"That necklace is a way to say that I always deliver my promises. And it's not for him, it's for you."

Rose snorted " Is this a kind of threat?"

"No. I don't do that."

"You didn't promise me anything, Tommy."

"Just took that necklace as gratitude for your warning that Alfie was a time bomb. You were right. Your ring calmed him just when it was necessary."

"I have very bad feelings about everything. Just things that are in my mind and I can't let it go. I'm going to say this frankly speaking as the adults we both are, Thomas: if this necklace means Alfie is in danger because of you, then you can take it back and give it to someone else. Your aunt, some maid or the Virgin Mary. I don't fucking care. Some diamonds aren't going to buy my Alfie's life."

"It all depends on him, Rose. I warned him and I'm warning you, too. Next time he betrays me, I'm going to kill him and I know the consequences of it. If you came here just because a gift, I know you're going to come here to kill me and it's a risk I'm accepting very well."

"All actions have consequences."

"Maybe next time I should make business with you, Rose and not Alfie. Rumours say you're running to be a MP."

"I'm on it, but not yet. And if you want to make business with me you need to give me more than the promise of the balls of Churchill and the King themselves served in a golden tray, Tommy."

The man smirked "I'm going to think about it, then."

Rose stood up and took two cookies from the plate on the table "for the journey back," she said. "There's nothing more to say."

Tommy accompanied her to her car and both of them passed in front of the house.

"Beautiful place," she said "but bad vibes."

"It's just a house."

"Yes, but not a home. Goodbye, Mr. Shelby."

Rose started the engine and soon Tommy and Arrow House were left behind. The cold autumnal air entering through the window helped her to breathe again. She couldn't wait to see Alfie again lost herself in his arms. Maybe the ideas in her head could disappear as soon she was in London again.

But she wasn't sure and Tommy returning inside his house either. Mrs. Solomons was right, Arrow House wasn't what he dreamt of. And now that he was alone just with his son, could only think about it. The had lost his wife and probably his family, in certain way, too. The most invaluable things he had in his life.

When she finally arrived at London, she went directly to Alfie who was reading near the fireplace. For some minutes they kissed eachother, like they didn't see in ages. They only pulled apart when she heard something that sounded like someone was crying.

"Oh, my god…" she said, discovering the source of those sounds. A brown young puppy, was looking at her from a dog bed, near Alfie's sofa. "Sweetheart, you didn't…"

"I did, luv. It was time, right? After our ol'Fancy said goodbye I thought it was time to fill that spot. His name is Cyril. He's three months old."

Cyril wagged his tail when he heard his name and Rose couldn't help but smile. Suddenly, all those fears evaporated when she was there with her husband and their new dog. The rest of the day, suddenly, it was incredible better.

In Arrow House, Tommy kissed Charlie's head who was sleeping in his crib.

In his bedroom it was just him and his own regrets.

Luca Changretta was ready to appear in his life and indirectly, in Rose's life too. Because tragedy knows nothing about pain, Tommy was about to lose a very close beloved one. And for Rose, her most invaluable thing was going to be damaged forever.

[scarnatlover]

Sleeping is hard

Summary: After a little argument with Natasha over a mission she didn't know you had, you try to find a way to cope. This time it doesn't go as planned

Warnings: drug use, alcohol, overdose, swearing, a pissed Natasha, mention of medications, insomnia(?)

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling

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Y/N POV

It was 3:00 in the morning.

3:00 a.m. and I was lying on the bed looking at the ceiling, thinking about a girl with red hair and emerald eyes. My family that I found out wasn’t so perfect. The missions and the stress they cause. The past and millions of other things. It was as if my mind was no longer controlled by me, but had a life of its own.

After another two hours of watching the drugs on my desk, watching TV, and lying on the floor looking at the ceiling, I picked up the phone and went to Fury’s contact who finally answered after several attempts.

"What do you want at 5 in the morning?" he replied with a mixture of fatigue and anger in his tone of voice

"Well, I was hoping that maybe I could-" he interrupted me just as I was proposing

"No, go to sleep," he continued, and I heard noises in the background that sounded like someone was getting out of bed

"You didn’t even let me finish the sentence, Fury" I kind of whined after his answer

"You want a mission. But I won’t give it to you. You have to sleep. At least try, Sergeant."

I could hear the concern in his tone of voice. Ever since I told him I couldn’t sleep, he started worrying more and more, and he wouldn’t let me go out without someone else with me. Most of the time it was Nat. This was a bit of a problem for me most of the time, as I’m not very good with feelings I always try to push them into a remote part of my mind. He and Maria were afraid that I would faint at any moment and no one was there to take me back to the tower.

"Do you want to hear words that will make you feel even more anxious?" I asked him. More than asking, I was threatening him

"All right, you don’t have to do it. Simple mission. Go into the base, engine room, and lab, get in there, and get everything we can use. I just sent you the files on the rest".

"Wow, you’re not as old as I thought you were. You can use a computer better than Steve. I didn’t know you could do it"

"Y/N, I’m serious. Anyway, you should have the mission file. Then I want you to go straight to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters where you and I will have a nice little chat" he told me seriously

"Yes, sir"

"I’m not joking and you know it. Now go. Our conversation is waiting"

And with that, he hung up. I immediately opened the computer and looked at all the details of the mission. I couldn’t concentrate, and as a result, I would do as usual on my own. Anyway, I realized that the place I was supposed to go to had already been searched by other agents who couldn’t get all the paperwork they needed. I got dressed and left my room, only to find Natasha with wet hair and running in front of me. As soon as she saw me, she looked at me confused as I watched her blushing, praying to all the gods that she hadn’t seen it.

"Hey, where are you going?" she asked confused, grabbing my face as my head, grabbing my face in her hands as my head was turned sideways.

"I’m going out. I’ll be back around 6:30. Why? Are you worried about me, Romanoff?" I told her jokingly hoping she wouldn’t say she was.

"It’s raining" She ignored my sarcastic remark and walked into my room, leaving me out trying to pull myself together again after she put her hands on my cheeks. "At least get something to cover you up," she said looking in my closet

"Nat, no need. I’m going to Sebastian’s house. There is also Adem and we'll sleep there" I said hoping that she would convince herself and let me go on a mission so the chat with Fury would pass faster.

"Okay, but you still have to cover yourself. You’ll catch a cold, and that’s not what we need right now. I don’t know if you realize how you are when you’re sick. I think I only saw you like that when you were using it. It’s a good thing you stopped," She continued with a sigh of relief.

Yeah, I’m done with…

"Nat, I have to go. I’ll see you at 6:30," I told her by kissing her cheek walking out, and leaving her there, like she was immobilized.

I ran down to the garage because I was super late and I took my car to go to SHIELD, made a stop at Sebastian’s house, and parked in his driveway, so at least the tracker would report that I was (my car was) at Sebastian’s. Then I started running to the safest building in the world.

As soon as I went up to the roof, I saw the jet with Maria next to it tapping her foot impatiently against the floor, like she’d been waiting for me for hours.

"Hill" I greeted her, but she just looked at me sideways.

"I was in bed sleeping blissfully and strangely calls me Fury saying I had to accompany you on a mission. You owe me a round of shots on Friday night I’ll tell you" she said as she drove behind me towards the controls.

"Wait and hope for Maria. Wait and hope," I said, smiling, as she continued to look at me with a murderous look.

"Y/N, Fury has already given you all the information, right?" she asked me and I nodded while I got up to go get ready.

"Maria, is Coulson’s offer still valid for the suit?" I asked after a while that I got out of the bathroom after I changed.

"Why?" she asked, turning around, and as soon as she did, she laughed.

"Don’t you like the HYDRA style?" she asked joking and laughing.

"You suck, let me tell you" I mumbled to myself while the one kept laughing.

"Better question. When are you gonna ask the famous Black Widow out?" continued with a smile printed on my face as she watched me blush.

"Probably never" I answered by opening the back door ready to jump down without a parachute, because let’s face it, where would the fun be otherwise?

"Too shy or too scared?" she asked looking back.

"Too busy!" I yelled so she could hear me before jumping and landing on the roof of the base a few seconds later.

"You know, there are parachutes" I heard Maria's voice coming from my right ear.

"That’s exactly what I was thinking about in my head. Then I told myself that it’s funny so why not do it" I replied whispering in case there was someone on the base that maybe he had hidden.

"Move your ass and go to the east side of the building. That should be the engine room," she ordered me and I immediately went to the point she told me to go.

"Okay, but don’t be so rude" I complained and then increased the speed of my pace.

When I got to the engine room, I immediately started backing up all the data that Fury had asked for. They have computers a little different from today’s since it seems that this box was manufactured by the Huns.

"Sergeant, JARVIS just warned me that Agent Romanoff is on the phone," I suddenly heard Hill calling me. Well, I’m in deep shit.

"Tell her I’ll call her back later," I tried to cover my ass.

"Agent Romanoff is continuing to insist, Sergeant. She is threatening you with a slow and painful death. Are you positive that ignoring her is the case?" She playfully asked me again but I knew that Nat’s words were true.

"You know what, give it to me," I finally decided since I still didn’t want to die.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" She immediately yelled at me and I had to pull out the earpiece for how loud she was shouting at me.

"What do you mean," I tried to play dumb.

"I mean exactly what I said. You’re not at Sebastian’s. So I’ll ask you again. Where the fuck are you?".

Fuck. She must have called Sebastian and he told her I wasn’t actually at his place. Snitches end up in ditches Sebastian, remember?

"Ah, we went out".

Here you can see an example of wild Y/N trying to escape from her hunter to survive.

"MAYBE TELL ME NEXT TIME? Where are you?" She asked me a little calmer than before.

"Central Park" What a bullshit Y/N.

"So if I go there I find you right?" She continued.

"Of course" let’s try.

Move faster shitty data, that if Nat finds out I’m not in Central Park, she really is going to kill me, and technically, I’d like to live a little longer. At least let me get home.

"Well, then I’ll see you there in 15 minutes".

She hung up. I’m dead. I don’t even have a will. I’m gonna die. Meanwhile, by the grace of God, the computer of 1500 b.C had finished with the data and I left, jumping from the roof and landing on the door still open. I went to the bathroom and started taking the fastest shower in the world. Jesus thank God for giving Tony Stark the idea of putting a shower in the bathroom. As soon as I got out, I quickly changed and dried my hair.

"Wow, I’ve never seen someone so scared".

"Shut up Hill. I’m going to die and you’re joking," I answered, opening the door ready to jump down again.

"Well, if you die, you can finally sleep," she said, still laughing, while I gave her a dirty look.

As soon as I saw our position, I quickly said goodbye to Maria and jumped off, as I did at the base. I wandered around a bit until I saw Nat sitting on a bench. I approached her and she raised her head feeling a presence near her. She looked at me for a while, got up, and slapped me, powerful if I say so.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" She told me and I tried to talk, but did not even have time to open my mouth when I felt her lips on mine and almost automatically my hands went to her hips to bring her closer, while hers were in my hair.

"Now the two of us go back to the tower and you tell me what’s going on with you. Am I clear?" She said sternly and authoritatively that she left me room only to nod.

"Words darling," she said firmly, putting her hands on my cheeks, making me see her face, as I held my head low.

"Yes m'am" I whispered.

"Good" She kissed me and took my hand, heading for her car.

The ride, most of it at least, was quite tranquil. Up to a certain point when the redhead started talking.

"I don’t want to force you to talk to me, and I couldn’t answer the question before. Yeah, okay. I’m worried about you. You do pretty stupid things. Sometimes you look like a genius and you do mature things, like a mix of Tony and Bruce; but sometimes you look like a little girl, and all she does is act out. You don’t have to keep complaining to Fury until he gives you missions. Maybe you’re not trying as hard as you should or not qualified for that kind of thing, but you have to stop-" I interrupted her before she could say more words to convince me even more that I could never be enough for her.

"Okay, Nat. I understood. You can stop now, thank you," I told her as I kept looking out the window, and as soon as we got to the garage, I opened the door and went to my room.

Natasha POV

Okay, maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t have said these things, but it’s true. I leaned my head against the steering wheel and I took a deep breath before I got out of my car and closed it, then I went into the elevator and crushed the floor where me, Y/N, and Wanda were staying. I hope Wanda didn’t hear anything because she has to rest since she has just returned from a long mission, in which frankly I would have seen better Y/N. We all confronted each other after the meeting, except Y/N, who was pissed because she couldn’t go, and Wanda, and we agreed that she was the best choice. So no one understood the reason for Fury’s choice.

When I arrived at her door I knocked, but no one answered and after several attempts, I tried to call her, but she kept going to voice mail; however I felt that she was in there, so I decided to leave a message.

"Y/N, I know you’re not well. Can you open the door and we can talk a bit together, please?" In this case, I knew the only thing that could make her feel better was inhaling crap so she wouldn’t feel anything.

I heard my voice on the other side of the door, so someone was there.

"JARVIS, open this door," I said after a while more as I had enough of waiting. I knew she needed me.

After the fourth time, I begged Al to open the door unsuccessfully, I sat on the floor and leaned my head against the wall, trying to stay alert about whatever was going on. In the end, however, fatigue took over and I fell asleep.

I woke up in someone’s bed. I stood up, ready to attack, when I realized it was Y/N's room. The posters on the wall and our photos together were on the black wall of her room. The desk was a mess, the closet was half open and the trash was full of tissues.

I heard the bedroom door open and saw Y/N enter with a tray of two sandwiches and two glasses. When she saw me, she smiled at me put the tray on the bedside table, and then lay on the bed, waiting for me to do the same. As soon as I lay down, she turned and put her arm around my waist and gave me gentle kisses on the neck. After a while, she took the food and handed it to me. Mine was a jam and peanut butter sandwich with coffee, hers was a Nutella sandwich and orange juice. I swear that girl could die if we didn’t have Nutella in the tower anymore.

After breakfast, our day went on regularly, we did not see each other much. Only briefly for lunch, but not for dinner because she didn’t come to eat with us. She didn’t show up after that, and when I texted her that the movie was about to start, she said she wasn’t feeling very well.

At 2:10 in the morning, I had to wake up because my phone was ringing and I realized only now that I had not charged it and that it was 10% battery, so it would not last long. I looked at the screen of the phone and noticed that Y/N was calling me; I answered quickly, worried that something had happened to her.

"Y/N, it’s two in the morning, why are you awake?" I asked her, but the only things I could hear were whispers and an irregular breath.

"Honey, are you okay?".

"N-Nat?".

"Y/N, it’s me. I’m here, what’s going on?" I asked her getting out of bed.

I put the phone on speaker as I started to get dressed to go to her room; in doing so I didn’t even notice that I was wearing her clothes.

"I-I don’t. I need you" she whispered trying to get more air in her lungs without much success.

"Hey, I’m coming, just… Please stay on the phone" I begged her while I was looking for my socks.

There were moments of silence, where the only things I could hear were her hiccups and her attempts to get more air into her lungs. I already had an idea of what was going on, but I was hoping I was wrong. I opened the door and ran quickly to her room, but when JARVIS opened the door, the room was empty.

"Y/N, can you tell me where you are, honey?".

"I see a-a picture of us at the parade l-last year umm….".

I figured she was in the lab she was sharing with Tony since I suggested she try to create something to try and get her to stop taking drugs. For a while, it also worked, but I don’t think she ever stopped. Maybe she took them but in small amounts.

"Okay, I’m on my way-" I heard the line was down, and I started to panic more and more.

I ran out of the room to the elevator, which unfortunately for me was already going down, so I headed down the stairs and started running down them as fast as I could. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears like the percussion you hear in horror movies.

When I finally arrived, I practically broke the door as hard as I made it slam against the wall and I immediately saw Y/N curled up under her desk.

I approached with caution since I didn’t want to scare her, "Love".

I saw her eyes full of fear, but mostly I noticed her dilated pupils. I looked quickly around the room and saw a razor blade on the desk, next to a ruler. My suspicions continued to increase, and so did my concern.

She kept trying to take breaths, but it was like I could see that her lungs were closed. It was terrifying. Her body kept shaking and her short hair was all messed up.

"Hey, it’s okay. I just need you to start taking big deep breaths. You can do it okay?" I told her slowly and gently, but when I took her hand, I noticed she was all sweaty.

She just shook her head fast, kept crying and saying she couldn’t but I kept breathing slowly and made her feel my heartbeat, hoping that somehow she would calm down.

She finally looked at me and I nodded my head that she could do it. She was looking at me like a scared puppy. She finally tried to copy my breath as I approached her slowly so she wouldn’t panic anymore.

In the end, I came to practically hold her in my arms, and after a while, she stopped trembling, only a few tears fell on her face, but I did not stop whispering sweet and comforting words in her ear.

"Can you please tell me what you took? I just want to help you, my love," I told her calmly once she had completely calmed down.

"Cocaine I think" she whispered.

After that, we remained silent.

"Nat, I’m not feeling well," she said, sitting down fine. I could see she was shaking and sweating even more.

I immediately got up and walked over to Tony’s desk quickly to find the pulse oximeter to measure her heartbeat. With a bit of difficulty, I was able to put it on her finger, and in the minute she was measuring her heartbeat I tried to calm her down a little, hoping she wasn’t overdosing. As soon as the numbers appeared on the thing, I noticed the heartbeat was too fast.

I called Bruce right away to tell him to start preparing the MedBay because I was gonna take her there, and I explained how I found her and what happened before. But while I was on the phone with Bruce, I saw Y/N start to close her eyes

"No, Y/N, no" I put down the phone and sat down next to her again, starting to stimulate her a bit by pinching her cheek so she could hear me and stay awake until Bruce arrived.

At one point, I noticed that she was trying to throw up, so I barely had time to turn her around so she could throw up better and not on herself. But she kept holding on to nothing, and she was practically choking on her own vomit, so, almost crying at the sight, I opened her mouth more and stuck two fingers down her throat trying to get everything she took out.

"Come on, love. Get out of your body that fucking shit" I kept repeating her and finally, after a while, she started vomiting and letting out the alcohol and the substances she had taken, while I kept reassuring her.

I continued to stimulate her slowly but in such a way that she felt that I was there and that I was close to her. After a few minutes Bruce rushed in, followed by Y/N's best friend, Bucky, who immediately picked her up and took her to the infirmary, but as soon as she was put on the table we noticed that she could not breathe well. I immediately ran to her side, tilting her head back so that the airways could work.

When she finally started breathing again, Bruce immediately started checking her heart rate and blood pressure. After he gave her a dose of lorazepam, which he explained was supposed to be one of the best remedies for cases like this, and attached her to machines to monitor her condition, he left, left us alone. That night I fell asleep with her in the chair next to her bed, our hands entwined.

The next morning I woke up with someone stroking my hair. I looked up and saw Y/N looking at me gently. I slowly got up and kissed her, trying not to touch any cables or anything like that. As soon as I came off, she saw that she was going to throw up again, so I ran quickly to get a basket or whatever to make her throw up there.

Once she finally finished, I cleaned her mouth carefully, trying not to hurt her. We were interrupted by Wanda who entered the room like lightning, a murderous look on her face.

"I'm be back after a stressful mission. I came down to have breakfast expecting my sister with open arms and instead" she started to walk fast around the room. "They tell me she overdosed last night for some reason," she finished and turned to look at us, realization had now taken the place of anger.

"Sorry, I didn’t know anything about you two," she said afterward.

"Believe me," Y/N said. "Neither did I," she continued, laughing a little.

"The fact remains. You are a moron," the witch said seriously coming closer to hug her.

They talked a little before Wanda left because she had plans with Vision, leaving us alone. Y/N looked at me and motioned me to lie down next to her. As soon as I lay down she leaned her head on my chest. We kept quiet until she decided to start talking.

"I don’t sleep. I can’t sleep at night. I have no idea when it was the last time I slept for more than two hours. Melatonin, chamomile, all the ways to sleep I tried them, but not even one worked " she said and looked down.

"Okay, I get it. I also had trouble sleeping when I got here, but I didn’t take alcohol and drugs to make me feel better," I started saying. "I learned to ask for help. First Clint and now you. How many times have I come to you to ask if we could sleep together because I couldn’t sleep alone?" I asked her and she answered with a little "many".

"I want to be there for you like you were there for me, okay?" I said and she nodded.

"Do you want to go out with me tomorrow?" she asked me this time, out of nowhere and I was immediately surprised.

"As friends, friends who have had a few kisses, or is it a date?" I asked with a smile.

"Date" she whispered blushing.

"Sure, but now try to get some sleep. That’s all that matters" and with it, she fell back asleep while I watched her swearing on my way that I would help her until my last breath.

[sweeethinny]

daddy's girl

my father was the biggest disappointment today, and to make up for that pain, here is Harry being an incredible and kind father on an ordinary day.

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''Daddy,'' Lily-Lu ran down the stairs, her freshly cut red hair was tied back with a white headband that Harry thought didn't suit her style, but the girl was willing to be fashionable so he just accepted, especially because he didn't think he was the most stylish person to give his opinion.

Lily-Luna was completely obsessed with these things, Harry was sometimes lost with the amount of information she knew and wanted to share with him, for example, yesterday when he took her to the hairdresser she told him that they had to go to the pharmacy so she bought a specific color of nail polish because she had seen something in a magazine about strawberry nails or something and wanted to paint her nails the same way.

Of course, Harry stopped by the pharmacy after the hairdresser, as well as the makeup and other trinkets store so she could buy a hairband and a satin cap — ''It's to protect my hair from frizz! Hair like ours daddy easily gets messy''.

''Sew for me?'' She was holding the white and blue dress that she and Ginny had bought the last time they went out together, one that Ginny insisted Lily-Luna needed because she was out of clothes to wear now that she was starting going out with friends to the mall, amusement parks, and birthday parties — which were no longer childish and parents needed to go along.

‘’How did you tear it?’’ Harry wiped his hands on a cloth, he was pruning his bonsai sitting on the balcony table, feeling the breeze of that summer that wasn’t absurdly hot — yet. He was on vacation from work and in order not to die of boredom, he decided to become a gardener, a task that only seemed simple because he needed three different books to understand which fertilizer was best for each plant and how many hours each one needed to be in the sun per day.

‘’I don’t know, I went to close the zipper and then it ripped,’’ Harry didn’t believe it, but agreed, taking the dress and then muttering an accio sewing box and then starting to sew up the small tear on the side of the dress. ‘’Daddy, will you take me?’’

‘’Where are you going?’’ Now that he was on vacation, Harry had basically become his children’s private chauffeur. Just yesterday he went out four times to take each one to a friend's house; not that he minded much, he liked driving and that was at least a reason for him to have something to do. There were parts of the city he had no idea existed.

His children had a much livelier social life than him or Ginny at that age, several of their friends lived in Muggle areas which meant James, Albus and Lily knew much more about the Muggle world than their parents.

''Kelly and I are going to have ice cream, I already told mum,'' She said, putting on the bracelet she had received for Christmas from Fleur, who seemed to love having a fashion-addicted girl to spoil. Victoire didn’t have much affection for this world, and Dominique was in a rebellious phase where she denied this whole “feminine” world. Meanwhile, Lily-Lu appreciated her cousins' lack of interest.

The bracelet had several charms that you could buy after buying the bracelet, which didn't make sense to Harry since, what's the point of buying something if it's not complete? But Lily-Lu loved it, and saved part of her allowance money and the money she received when she did something with one of her uncles to buy more charms. In less than two years, the bracelet was almost complete.

‘’Where?’’ Harry was almost finished, he found it quite satisfying and calming to sew.

''That ice cream shop near the mall, where we always go.'' She said and Harry nodded, he liked it there, it was safe, he knew the environment, and he knew that if something happened, Lily-Luna was in a neighborhood where she was not in danger.

‘’Okay, I’ll take you. Call me when you need to pick you up, I think I'll take advantage and go to the farmer's market... I need new fertilizers.'' His daughter nodded, smiling and kissing his cheek when Harry finished sewing her dress.

‘’Thank you daddy, I love you.’’ And she ran upstairs again.

[scoops-aboy86]

Not Dating, part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, parts 4 & 5, part 7, part 8 - also on ao3

Long awaited update? Or something? I've been struggling not with this chapter but the next one… Looks like there will be 1-2 more chapters before this wraps up.

By the time Eddie ventures cautiously from his room again, dressed this time, Steve has set the tiny kitchen table with two plates of peanut butter apple toast and two glasses of ice water. The mug of wildflowers sits between the two place settings. 

“I, uh,” Steve starts. And looks down at what he’s done, in Eddie’s own home. He came to admit, among other things, that he’s been feeding Eddie up, and now he’s doing it again, completely on autopilot. 

Without comment and not quite looking directly at him, Eddie drops into the nearest chair, immediately picking up his ice water and downing it. He sets it down with a tinkle of ice, and Steve takes the opportunity to snatch the glass and top it off at the sink before sitting down himself. 

“Did you… do the dishes?” Eddie asks, notes of disbelief and something like amusement warring in his tone. His still-damp hair is in a braid down his back, something he’d only started doing because Steve had told him months ago that it would help control frizz and keep his curls intact. He’s done that much, but made no attempt to shave the several days of scruff from his cheeks, his jaw, the softening roundness beneath his chin. 

“There weren’t that many,” Steve mutters, looking away before he stares more than he already has. And yes, he’s aware that this isn’t much of a defense, but it’s all he’s got. 

“Right…” Eddie clears his throat and takes another gulp of water. He eyes his plate. (Should Steve have cut the crusts off? No, fuck, they’re not little kids, that’d be weird… Oh who’s he kidding, it’s weird either way.) 

Also, there’s a little sliver of belly peeking out the bottom of Eddie’s shirt; he doesn’t seem to have noticed it yet. 

Oh god, Steve needs to talk now.

“I’m sorry, again,” he blurts out, fixing his gaze down at his hands as he picks at the crust of his toast. “When you asked what we were doing I kinda got stuck on what I was doing and I thought… you were mad about it? Because I was… Because I keep… I usually focus on, on certain things, and I didn’t realize you were asking about… us stuff. I didn’t know if you wanted all that, with me, or if it was just blowing off steam or whatever, but I guess, since you got mad, I figured that… maybe you did? And I fucked up my chance to let you know we’re on the same page, about that. Oh god, I’m rambling. I sound like Robin.”

A tiny smile cracks across Eddie’s face at that last part, just for a second, as if agreeing and laughing with him about it rather than at him. Because Eddie is good at stuff like that, at not making Steve feel stupid even when he knows he’s objectively acting the part. Even though Eddie might still be mad at him—it’s hard to tell, but Steve had needed to break in just to talk to him. 

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to rally. “What I’m trying to say is… If you want, if I haven’t totally blown it, I want to be way more than ‘just’ friends with you, Eddie. But you should also know that… I’m pretty weird. Like, I may not be a nerd, but I’m definitely some kind of freak.”

Eddie blinks, focuses on him so hard that Steve feels like he’s under a microscope, then glances down at the set table and back up. “Weird like… letting yourself in and making me a sandwich?”

“It’s… more like toast with a lot of toppings on it,” Steve says weakly. “But you could have mine and put them together to make it a sandwich, if you want.”

“Steve,” Eddie says flatly, a warning to cut the bullshit, and that’s it. 

That’s all it takes. He looks up into Eddie’s eyes and he’s caught, unable to look away from the confused wariness, the caution that he had put there, even if it was by accident. 

“I like to watch you eat,” he admits breathlessly, and he’s so, so grateful to Robin for both putting up with his shit and forcing him to write things down and practice saying them, as clear and unambiguous as he can. “And be content. I like seeing the way it shows up on you, and the way you take up more space, because… you’re here and you can, even though you almost weren’t. And watching it happen is—But it’s more than just, um, physical. I think I… No, I know I want to be with you, Eds, but I need you to know about this first, in case it changes your mind about me. 

“Because I know I can be a lot.” Feeling his face go hot, Steve ducks his head to stare down at his own hands. “I also get jealous sometimes and I’m working on it, and I can be all over the person I’m dating all the time and not everybody likes that. Robin kept hitting me with her pillow for saying ‘clingy,’ but I’ve heard it a lot, so, yeah. And she took the pen away when I wrote down that I can be stupid sometimes, but I barely graduated and didn’t make it into any colleges, so I feel like it’s worth mentioning? You know some of that already, I just want you to, uh. Be able to make an informed decision.”

That was the last line of his little speech, which he’s pretty sure he got through without forgetting anything terribly important. So Steve shuts his mouth and waits for a response, barely aware that he’s holding his breath 

“You wrote it down?” Eddie asks finally. 

“Well, yeah?” Steve can’t read his tone or the expression on his face, which is unsettling—Eddie really would make one hell of a poker player. “I had to figure out what I was going to say so I didn’t fuck up again, otherwise I would’ve come here sooner.”

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, then pauses, frowns, and shakes his head slightly as though dislodging a stray thought. “You wrote out a whole speech to tell me that, what? You like that I’ve gotten fat?”

The last word makes Steve go rigid in his chair, because… wow, he just came out and said it, didn’t he? Tone and all. “Uh, yeah, so I wouldn’t accidentally say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a bad thing! I like you the way you are, and you could get bigger or smaller and I’d still like you just as much! But I… I like taking care of you, and I really like how happy you look when you let yourself relax.”

They stare at each other for a moment that stretches on forever. The earth stops rotating, the sun explodes, and Steve still can’t move because Eddie is looking at him like that. 

This is the moment right before the one where Steve expects Eddie to tell him to get out. 

And then Eddie sits back almost in slow motion, a hand coming to rest absently on his stomach, and he looks… kind of like he had upon waking from a coma and realizing he hadn’t actually died. Like something huge and previously inconceivable is opening up in front of him, and it’s so unexpected it toes the line of too much. 

“Well shit, Steve… I can’t believe you brought me flowers and wrote a whole speech.” He stops to pinch himself, and flinches. “Ow.”

Steve is already reaching out, wanting to soothe the pinched spot on Eddie’s chubby arm because he can’t help it. Same reason he started touching Eddie in the first place, because yeah, Eddie makes his insides go all liquid hot and squirmy, but he couldn’t stand seeing him with a scrunched up face because of a tummy ache, either. 

His fingers brush over warm skin, and before he can second guess himself and pull away Eddie’s hand rests on top of his, giving permission. Holding him to the spot, even, as though trying to press his touch in like a flower between pages of a book. Pressing him into the softness of his upper arm. 

“And for the record,” Eddie says with a hint of a grin, “yeah, you are kind of a freak. I don’t think that has to be a bad thing either—speaking as the King of the Freaks in this vicinity, by popular vote and general reputation.” He bites his lip, hesitates, and adds tentatively, “Look… I think we both kinda fucked up. I didn’t think you could want… How did you put it before? Us stuff.”

Steve glances up from their hands, up from where his gaze had been straying dangerously close to where Eddie’s shirt has ridden up a little. “That’s not your fault. I didn’t do a very good job of showing you that I do.”

“Yeah, well.” There’s a hopeful twinkle in Eddie’s eye as he raises an eyebrow. “That’s right, you know. You could’ve at least kissed me on the mouth before jumping my bones.”

It’s that twinkle that gives Steve the nerve to lean forward and say, “Yeah, no, I was way too chickenshit. But I think I can fix that now.”

The small table makes leaning the rest of the way across easy. Steve has had plenty of first kisses, most of them either gentle and chaste because he was trying to be a gentleman or hard and messy because the date was just a thin pretense for getting laid, but this isn’t either of those. It’s slow, exploratory, savoring—forceful from months of wanting, letting Eddie lick his way in for a taste because Steve thinks he would rather be struck by lightning than deny Eddie anything. Might as well be, with how electrified he feels all the way from the ends of his hair to his toes from the first instant of contact and continuing through every slick motion of their mouths. He feels breathless, heart too big for his body with relief that he hasn’t ruined anything after all. With fucking joy that he gets to have this, that Eddie is kissing back just as fervently. 

It doesn’t feel like a first kiss, not exactly. It feels like they should have been doing this the entire time… because, well, duh. 

They break apart around the time Steve’s head starts to swim from lack of air but don’t go far, leaning their foreheads together and panting against each other’s kiss-bruised lips for a moment. Eddie has a head-empty grin plastered across his face, cherubic and dimpled, and Steve is pretty sure he’s wearing an equally dopey expression. He probably looks extra stupid, half out of his seat and curled over the table like some sort of shrimp, but he doesn’t even care because Eddie wants this. Him, even with all that entails. Apparently. His head is floating and entire body tingling from giddiness, something he hasn’t felt since he’d first convinced Nancy to ‘study’ with him… But that felt like a lifetime ago, and hadn’t been half as intense.

“Would you like to go out with me, Eds? On a date?” Steve breathes, because he’s a hopeless romantic and he wants to do this right. 

And it seems that somehow he has, because Eddie beams back at him brighter than the sun. There are shadows under his eyes and days’ worth of stubble gone unshaven, but he looks more alive than Steve has ever seen him before. 

Eddie bumps their noses together and brings a hand down (when had both of them ended up in Steve’s hair?) to cup his jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’d like that a lot.”

Part 7, part 8

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

@eyehartart @steviewashere @westifer-dead

[chiaraanatra]

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ | Part 3

Summary: Goose meets you at the O Bar after a couple of drinks and a conversation he wished would never end he believes that he’ll never see you again. Little did he know while this may have been your first meeting, it would not be your last.

Warnings: swearing, flirting, Goose being an anxious, hopeless romantic, use of Y/N and she/her pronouns, dancing, and a kiss(?)

Word Count: 2.1k

Songs: Mandy by Barry Manilow; Brandy (You're a Fine Girl) by Looking Glass; She's Always a Woman by Billy Joel

A/N: Goose is a leg man and a hopeless romantic, I will not be taking any questions on the matter. We are all imagining that Carol is living her best life somewhere far from San Diego. Sorry not sorry to Bradley for wiping your existence from this fictional plane. Also, I know nothing about planes, aviation, engineering, the Navy, or the Air Force.

《 part 1 || part 2 || part 4 || epilogue 》 《 m.list || ao3 》

4:00 pm

Goose sped home, violating several traffic laws and making it in record time. He walked in the door, kicking off his boots and dropping his bags on the floor. He ran into his bedroom and whipped open his closet, only to be greeted by Hawaiian shirts in every color imaginable.

“Shit…” Goose had no real reason to own any nicer civilian clothes. Why buy a dress shirt when the Navy supplied dress whites and blues for any fancy occasion? “She did just say dinner… how fancy of a place could we be going?” Nick decided to keep it simple choosing the least Hawaiian-looking short sleeve button-up he owned. He threw the shirt on his bed along with a pair of jeans and the other outfit essentials before running into his bathroom. Goose looked at himself in the mirror and thought it best to shave the stubble that had formed on his face before jumping into the shower.

4:30 pm

Only a little ways away you were prepping dinner. You already had a plan for dinner tonight, a relatively simple dish that you could easily throw together before tossing it in the oven for an hour. Luckily, you had no concept of a single-person meal, often making enough for a small army even though it was only ever you sat at your patio table every evening watching the sun as it set over the coastline.

You looked at the radio clock perched on your counter. 4:35 PM. You had just enough time to get out of the stockings that had been constricting your legs since 6:30 am this morning and shower the day off of you.

5:15 pm

Goose was pacing around his living room, “what if she wants to go to a fancy restaurant? Should I get her flowers? Girls like flowers! What kind of flowers would she like…? Where the hell do I get flowers?” Goose grabbed the yellow pages, “Florist… florist…” He ran his fingers through the bright yellow pages of the giant phone book. “Perfect!” He grabbed the phone dialing the number of the newly found florist.

An older woman answered the phone, “Thank you for calling White Fox Florist, how can I help you?”

“Hello yes, what flowers would you recommend for a kinda-sorta first date?”

“Kinda-sorta first date?” The woman on the other line had a confused inflection in her voice.

“I really like this girl, she asked me to dinner, I thought flowers would be a nice touch because I really like this girl-“

“Daisies,” the woman interrupted. “White, a small bouquet of about 6 with green filler. I can have it ready in 15 minutes.”

“Ma’am you are a blessing!”

5:50 pm

It was now just before 6. You had showered and changed, replacing your stockings for a pair of jeans and your blazer for a flowing oversized button-up shirt. You put just a touch of blush on your cheeks and styled your hair the way you usually did. Just as you turned off the oven you heard a knock at the front door.

You opened your door to find a nervous-looking Goose rocking back and forth on his heels. “Hello, Goose. Come on in.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips.

Goose stepped into your house. He perched his sunglasses on top of his head before pulling a small bouquet of white daisies from behind his back. “For you,” he was hoping you couldn’t hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Nick, they’re beautiful!” You grabbed the bouquet and smelled the delicate blooms. You looked up at his auburn eyes before leaning up on your tip toes to kiss the taller man’s cheek. “I should put these in some water.”

Nick stood in your small foyer, watching you make your way through the open layout towards to what he assumed would be your kitchen. I want her to look at me like that for the rest of my natural life… He untied and removed his New Balances and hung up his jacket before making his way to your kitchen.

“You know I can’t remember the last time someone bought me flowers.” You were standing in front of your cabinets on your tiptoes trying to reach a vase on the top shelf. Your breath caught when you felt Nick’s form behind you, effortlessly reaching above you grabbing the vase.

I will buy you flowers every day. “Allow me.” Nick took the vase and the flowers over to your sink. He grabbed a pair of scissors from your knife block and began to cut the stems to fit the vase. He filled the vase up with water before arranging the flowers to sit nicely.

“And no man has ever done that before…” you said quietly. You could feel your cheeks heating up. You took a deep breath. Get it together, Stinger!

When Goose was finished arranging the flowers he placed the vase in the center of the island. “So what plans did you have for this evening?”

You put on an oven mitt before opening the oven and pulling out a large dish, “well, I hope you’re hungry!”

Goose’s eyes brightened at the sight of a homecooked meal, “starving!”

The two of you sat at the small round table on your enclosed patio. You poured each of you a drink before sitting down for the meal that you had just prepared. You were never really a fan of small talk but you wanted to know more about Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw. “So what made you join the Navy?”

Nick couldn’t help but smile at the question. “Well, my dad was an Air Boss on the USS Enterprise for almost 30 years. I remember growing up, he would come home and show me pictures of him, and his buddies lined up in front of the planes. He would take me on base when he was home, and we would watch the planes take off. I was about 10 when I told him and my mom that I wanted to be up there. I swear my mother almost had a heart attack.” He couldn’t help laughing a little remembering the look on his mother’s face the day he told her. “Anyway, after high school, I miraculously got into the Academy. After graduation, I made my way to flight school where I met Mav and became a RIO.”

“What did you study at the academy?”

He looked down at his glass, holding back a smile. “You have to promise not to judge, Ms. Ph.D. in aerospace engineering.”

You held your hands up in defense, “no judgments.”

“History.”

“I never took you for a history buff, Lieutenant.”

God, Nick couldn’t help the thoughts that ran through his mind at the way the word fell from your lips. Nick shook the thought of you saying ‘lieutenant’ wearing nothing but a smile from his mind. “What about you?”

“Well,” you took a drink from your glass. “I was also a military brat. My dad was a pilot in the Airforce. Many of the stories he told me growing up were about how he felt when he was flying. As I got older, I knew I wanted to be involved in that world in some way. As stupid as this is going to sound aerospace engineering just kind of fell into my lap. My engineering professor during my first year in undergrad saw something in me and steered me in that direction.” You looked down at your glass pausing for a moment.

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all.” Nick couldn’t help but place his calloused hand gently on top of yours.

You smiled as your gaze made its way back to him. “I knew I wanted to work within the military in some capacity so after graduating with my bachelor’s I decided to go straight into getting my Ph.D. and that’s a total of 8 years of my life I’ll never get back.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

Nick was awestruck, “That’s honestly amazing.”

You could tell by the sincerity in his voice that he was honestly impressed with the effort you had put into your career. You looked down at the empty plates in front of you. “Let me put this all in the kitchen and we can continue this conversation.” You stood up from your seat and reached for Nick’s plate.

“Let me help you do the dishes.” He picked up his plate and yours, “That way you won’t have to worry about it later. I’ll wash you dry?”

“That would be great. Thank you.” My God could this man be any more perfect. Flowers? Helping to clean up? If he pulls a ring out of his pocket, I’d say yes without a second thought.

Goose followed you to the kitchen. You set some of the dishes in the sink before turning on the radio. Goose started the hot water as the end of Barry Manilow’s ‘Mandy’ filled the kitchen. The two of you hummed along as you quickly cleaned the few dishes that were left dirty.

You poured each of you another drink leaning against the small kitchen island.

“Thank you once again ladies and gentlemen for tuning into 144.5 the Groove, playing you the easy listening and soft rock hits of the 60s and 70s. This one goes out to you Ron K.”

As the two of you listened to the radio DJ you couldn’t help but look at Nick. “Ron K…? You don’t think…?”

“Ron, I hope you enjoy.”

“Slider! Has to be!” Nick let out a laugh as ‘Brandy’ by Looking Glass played through the radio’s speakers.

“Oh, if it is, Slider’s got good taste, I love this song!” You hummed along to the short introduction. Before you knew it you were brought into the open space between your kitchen and dining room. Nick twirled you towards him before he began singing along to the song.

There's a port on a western bay

And it serves a hundred ships a day

Lonely sailors pass the time away

And talk about their homes

Goose pointed at you as a queue to start singing the next verse.

And there's a girl in this harbor town

And she works layin' whiskey down

They say, Brandy, fetch another round

She serves them whiskey and wine

Goose twirled you close to him and dipped you. As the chorus came Nick continued to sing changing up the lyrics slightly.

The sailors say, "Y/N, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)

Looking at you now, even more so than when he first saw you, Nick thought you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.

"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)

Nick could see his future in your eyes. Marriage, white picket fence, a kid, the whole nine yards.

"Yeah, your eyes could steal a RIO from the sky"

Nick was being serious in that moment. His first true love was flying but if you asked he would give her up in a heartbeat.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed this hard or had this much fun. The two of you continued to dance around your kitchen. As the music faded, Nick dipped you one last time. His hands held your waist as your arms hung loosely around his neck. The laughter that filled the room subsided and was replaced by the soft, melodic piano of Billy Joel. He raised you back up and the two of you sway back and forth to the beat of the music.

She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes

And she can ruin your faith with her casual lies

And she only reveals what she wants you to see

She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me

You never took your eyes off of each other. At the turn of the second chorus, you could see a small spark in his eyes as he glanced down at your lips.

“Y/N…”This was the second time you heard your name fall from his lips. Your name had never sounded more beautiful than it did at that moment. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I wouldn’t stop you…”

And with your consent, he leaned in and placed his lips to yours. They were soft and warm against your own. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips at the feeling of his mustache tickling your face. You couldn’t help but think that this was the perfect first kiss. Goose could die happy with this being his last first kiss.

Part 4

Tags: @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @belleroguewolf @goosegirl98 @desert-fern

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[villain-in-love]

Behold! The elves and the ship chart!

Imagine falling in love with a crazy woman that barged into your dungeon and continuously tried to kill you. Press F for Thistle. As well as for Kiera, for that matter, since she also didn’t expect for things to turn out like this.

This relationship is such a mess that nobody (even the pair themselves) can figure out what the hell is going on between them anymore.

Clarifications are, as always, under the cut:

♤ The age gap goes in several directions at once. Technically, Thistle is at least 700+ years older than Kiera, since he was a dungeon lord for a thousand years, while Kiera is only 302 years old. On the other hand, he’s younger in terms of physical and perhaps mental maturity. In my narrative, Thistle stopped aging when he was an equivalent of a human 17-19 years old. In the same way Kiera would be somewhere around 21-23 years old if she was human. (In any case, both are equally emotionally stunted and immature...)

♤ They’ll be together forever because Thistle is the living embodiment of “Bold of you to assume that death will get you out of this relationship”. Also after all the shit they went through (including what they personally put each other through), they became so attached to each other that they will kill you if you try to separate them.

♤ Though they don’t dress up much while in the dungeon, both are naturally pretty, but their deeply unpleasant personalities ruin everything. Therefore not a 100% cute couple.

♤ They were not thrilled about being in love. They more or less calmed down about it by now (mostly Thistle) and took on a new approach, but at first it was nightmarish.

Thistle also used to be especially infuriated by that fact because, like, he’s got a dungeon to run! The Golden Country to protect! He needs to find his brother! Meanwhile Kiera is literally the number one hazard. He already had to think about her a lot lately because of how troublesome she is, but now he completely lost the ability to get her out of his head. He’s so busy, he already knows what he wants, and he simply has no time nor need for this nonsense. The worst part is that Kiera started to slowly replace thoughts about Delgal in his mind, and Thistle is truly horrified by that.

Kiera took it all with a bit calmer “Damn, I need to hurry up in killing him”. She hates experiencing those kinds of feelings, she hates that she wants to be closer to someone again, she doesn’t want to get stuck with him in this dungeon for eternity, how can she possibly fail- She had one job, goddamnit. It’s her own fault for wasting time because of her own curiosity. Giving up because of falling in love with a target is pathetic and nothing like her. Especially when those feelings endanger her freedom.

♤ I don’t think Thistle would eat dry noodles even in the modern AU, but nutritional value is almost the only thing that concerns him about food. Would probably eat something incredibly bland or barely cooked and wouldn’t care as long as it keeps him functioning.

Kiera's relationship with food is a long and complicated story... In any case, she is rather picky and her eating habits are all over the place, but she genuinely finds healthier food options tastier most of the time.

♤ Just because Thistle rarely brings up Kiera and the fact that they’re in a… “relationship” (if you would call it that) doesn’t mean that he doesn’t spend a frustratingly large part of his day thinking about her. He’s just the type to obsess quietly.

And in any case, who is he going to tell about her? Soulless bodies of his family sitting in his dining room? His monsters? Villagers of the Golden Kingdom who are all terrified of him?

At least Kiera mingles with other adventurers from time to time.

♤ What draws them to each other is not only being able to understand each other due to their similarities, but also the fact that both of them are really fucking lonely. That’s the glue here. That’s why they latched onto each other so hard and so quickly. (Kiera might claim that she’s okay with being alone, but she’s still human)

♤ Regarding "What stands in the way". Basically, the problem is that they stubbornly cling onto their old priorities because it’s the only thing they have ever known. Thistle is nothing if he doesn’t serve the Golden Kingdom. Kiera is nothing if not a war machine. I guess they both see themselves as tools that are only allowed to have one purpose.

On another note, at this point Kiera tries to kill Thistle not only “for sport” and because she hates giving up, but also because she’s terrified of attachment. Thistle doesn’t make things easier for her, since he tends to get too attached, as well as controlling, and his idea of expressing love includes putting Kiera in the safe terrarium that he controls, so he could take care of her fo-re-ver.

So what we have is a “control freak vs free spirit” kind of problem. This does get resolved by the end of the manga and they come to a "compromise". Not willingly by themselves, though, but because of the circumstances.

♤ Regarding Thistle and “haven't experienced any genuine human connection in centuries” – yes, he had Delgal, but I think that that after everything Thistle has done, their relationship most likely became way more emotionally distant in the last few centuries, at least on Delgal’s part.

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 18: Prink 💅

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Prink (v.)

to dress, groom, or decorate (someone or something) in a careful or showy manner; primp

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It’s a good thing I check the definitions before I start on the art for these—I would’ve done tomorrow’s word by mistake today if I didn’t! 😮‍💨 

Narrowly avoided catastrophe aside, I like how this one turned out a lot! 💎 

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk a bit more about that word mix-up and my general process for the art. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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Does anyone remember at the tail end of yesterday's description that I said today's word was one I'd been really looking forward to?

Well, (as implied by the short caption) that was incorrect—I had actually jumped ahead and was thinking of tomorrow's word and continued to do so right up until I went to grab the definition and get started today.

Note the phrasing there: Thankfully, I start each of these art pieces with the definition in the center so I have a better idea of what space I have to work with for the mandala rounds, and because the words are new-to-me, I still have to consult the definition list. SO I found out I'd been thinking of the wrong word before I'd made any actual art progress! 😅 I was thinking this would be one of next week's words!

Note the phrasing there: Thankfully, I start each of these art pieces with the definition in the center so I have a better idea of what space I have to work with for the mandala rounds, and because the words are new-to-me, I still have to consult the definition list. SO I found out I'd been thinking of the wrong word before I'd made any actual art progress!

Ergo, my word mix-up wasn't quite the catastrophe it could have been. 😮‍💨

I had already spent several minutes looking up inspiration that was related to tomorrow's word, so it felt strange to have to so strongly pivot my line of thinking, but I'd certainly rather have to do that than realize I'd made completely the wrong piece of art for the day...And then still have to turn around and make the right one. 😖

With that in mind, once I actually had the correct word in mind, I was pretty worried the outcome was going to be another bag of mixed feelings like yesterday was...And yet, I'm actually very pleasantly surprised with what I managed to put together here. 😁

I'm not quite ready to say the whole package is my new favorite, but the color scheme is definitely one of my favorites so far, and I at least like today's line work much better than yesterday's, or a couple of my other "least favorites" of the month so far. Considering how I started out, that's a win in my book!

So then, "Prink": My thoughts, as might be obvious, went mostly to sort of an idealized "old" Hollywood headspace. I definitely wanted to get a dress in there somewhere—That was at least one thing I knew more or less from the beginning of the month, after the list was finalized and I had mostly settled on the mandalas as my method of attack, that Prink would be "needing" a dress.

I went with a very [in my mind] stereotypical "glam dress"—Sparkly, probably satin, with a fur stole/boa—in part because it was easier to draw than a lot of other options would have been...But also because for me that kind of dress just does feel like a "careful but showy" fashion choice, and it kind of fits right in with a lot of the other imagery that was coming to mind: Gaudy jewelry (my favorite kind!), pearls, those backstage dressing mirrors framed by circular lights, red carpet events, expensive perfume....etc...

...And that's basically how my exact thought process went right there. 😆; One vague idea/symbol of celebrity "prinking" after another. Really the only thing that—perhaps surprisingly—didn't immediately come to mind was the suit/tuxedo, but I thought to add it in because it would be a little more variety than just repeating the dress around, and I later realized it fits as a subtle reminder that "prinking and primping" aren't exclusively to femininity.

Likewise, the color scheme is mostly what I'd consider stereotypical for a lot of this imagery. Except the hot pink and dark blue are a step off; More stereotypical, at least to me, would be red and black. Since I'd gotten myself psyched up for a very different word and had started out kind of disappointed, though, I tweaked the colors to what would personally be more visually exciting to me. And you'll remember that I said this is definitely one of my favorite Obscutober color schemes so far, so that both worked and I think was the right choice.

It's funny how I feel like I had even less ideas for how to tie the individual ideas together today than I did yesterday, and yet I'm so much happier with what I cobbled together. Things just seemed to flow much better from one idea to the next, and I'm not really sure why. Especially since I did start out with such a different mindset and have to change course so quickly. 🤔

I'm definitely not complaining, though!

Really the only thing I could say I'm not terribly happy with here is that it doesn't "feel" very mandala-ish. As in a lot of the lines here really are just small doodles that could be "normal" drawings on their own, they're not really composed thy way mandala motifs normally are. But, if I'm being fair and realistic with myself, this certainly isn't the first mandala of the month you can say that about. It might even be fair to say most of them have been like that, even. I think maybe it just sticks out a bit more here because I would normally think of drawing clothes so completely separately from drawing mandalas.

Perfume bottles, too, for what it's worth. And if the perfume bottle or the proportions on the suit look a little funky, here's my excuses right now; I don't think I've ever drawn a perfume bottle before and it's been a very long time since I've attempted to draw anything resembling a suit, and it was definitely not in a more simple doodle style like this. 😅 There was much small-scale learning done here today!

Let's see...I think the only thing I haven't mentioned yet is that you can see I opted to do considerably more stippling here than I think any other mandala has gotten so far. That was a very conscious choice because I've found before that stippling can be a pretty good stand-in for a glitter effect when you're trying to not get too complicated with coloring. It didn't quite "glitter" the way I'd pictured here, but I also didn't really go out of my way to help it in the coloring department, either. But I still stand by the decision to use stippling the way I did.

[And oh look, that example I linked is probably the last time I attempted to draw something like a suit...five years ago...]

In conclusion: I pretty significantly underestimated myself today...But I kind of needed to, after yesterday, I think. It feels so much better to have gone into this one so uncertain and turn out so much more satisfied with it.

I feel like I've said that same thing like five times with different words now, but if I have it's only because I am still so surprised and in that way it really can't be overstated.

[Once I realized I had my words/days mixed up] I was already feeling pretty good about what I'll be able to do for tomorrow's word, but I think now I have a little bit of confidence back that I'd lost yesterday, so I'm looking even more forward to it than before. 😉

So, in the end, maybe it was a good thing I got my words mixed up? I just hope I don't do it again, because while I maybe-needed the bait-and-switch this time, it very easily could've turned out much, much worse. 😅

...I can say I'm not looking forward to cross-posting because (as I complained a bit about yesterday, too) Instagram keeps giving me stupid problems when I come around to it specifically—And it gets saved for as-close-to-last-as-possible for that reason!—but then again, do I ever look forward to that? Not really!

Oh well. Has to be done. [In my mind, anyway.] So I'll leave you Sparklers here and get on with that for today. Here's hoping tomorrow comes out at least this nicely, if not even better... 🤞

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Artwork © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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