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valyalyon · 11 months ago

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2 Red Highway

Chapter 2 of RH just follows Rosalia as she interacts with LJ's gang, with a smut scene half way through. Hope everyone enjoys the scene <3 Previous Post | Next Post SEA Master List OR #LYONSEA DIVIDERS

Rosalia was similar to Lazarus in that they were both transient beings. They didn’t stick around anywhere for too long...

CW: mentions of gang interactions, descriptions of unprotected sex with MC on birth control, explicit language. dub con. MDNI. 1.9k words

...That was something that Rosalia always had a hard time reasoning with. She was always ready to leave places behind, but had kept a few close friends always in the know on her life.

Rosalia: leaving this new place behind, girls. Met somebody.

Celeste: you haven’t even been there a year. Is he hot, though?

Naomi: send cute pictures if you take any, please!

Rosalia never had a lot of things, so in her bag she only packed her favorite stuffed animal, some clothes, some panties, her toiletries in their own little bag. She grabbed her phone charger, her favorite house slippers, some socks, and some hair clips.

Lazarus was sitting on the porch of the house, smoking a cigarette.

She checked over all the items in her bag one last time, and when confident she wasn’t leaving anything important, she walked out of the house.

“That’s all you’re bringing?” Lazarus asked, putting his cigarette out on the porch railing.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t actually own any of the furniture in there… you know all these houses are already furnished for people to just move in and out,” Rosalia adjusted the bag on her arm, before Lazarus grabbed it off her shoulder and put it over his. “You don’t have to…”

“Come on, Rosie, we’re going to go meet up with my gang,” Lazarus spoke, ushering Rosalia down the steps of the porch and towards the motorcycle waiting on the curb.

“Lazarus… can we formally introduce ourselves again? My full name is Rosalia Diaz,” she held her hand out to him for him to shake.

He looked at her hand before he took it, “Lazarus James, Miss Diaz.”

He pulled her into a kiss, and then lifted her onto the motorcycle, helping her into a black helmet he had for her, “definitely not your color, I’ll let you get your own later, okay? But, this is going to be your temporary one.”

“You act like I’m a brat,” Rosalia protested, crossing her arms as she looked up at Lazarus.

“Yes,” Lazarus nodded, pointing at her current body language, “Anyway… my point about the helmet stands. But, it’s on properly now, I’m going to put the screen down.”

“Thank you, LJ,” Rosalia waited for him to hop on, and then wrapped her arms around his waist.

There was a very natural understanding between Rosalia and Lazarus. Rosalia wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to be — she didn’t understand all the rules or ideas behind being a Highway Girl — but, she knew she wanted to spend time with him.

Lazarus drove her along the Red Highway to another town, so similar to the one they had just come from. They pulled up to a strip club and there were about 25 men and 10 girls. Lazarus introduced Rosalia to everybody as “Rosie”.

“Rosie has agreed to be my girl, so all of you need to keep away from her. Don’t want anybody hitting on her,” Lazarus spoke and commanded attention when he did, everyone’s eyes glued to him.

Rosalia watched him, and then started saying hello to everyone. The group of bikers entered one of the strip clubs, and Lazarus slipped away with two other men.

The two men were Finnegan “Fox” and Daniel “Dog”, and their girls were named Fiona “Fifi” and Daisy “Duck”.

Rosalia was left alone with Fifi and Duck, and was trying to figure out if Daisy got the nickname just because of her name, “will I get my own nickname?”

“Yeah, the guys will probably decide later tonight,” Daisy smiled.

Daisy had stringy, uncared for blonde hair. Her eyes were a dark gray brown color, but she wore a tight fitted dress in light blue.

Fiona wore deep green knee-length dress, and had dark red hair that was wavy and knotted in some spots.

Rosalia often thought that maybe their names were tools for the men to keep them under control.

Whenever Rosalia called any of the girls by their real names, there always came a lot disgust and some disagreement from them. They didn’t like to hear their names.

“At some point, you’ll understand… Your name will remind you of a life you knew, but a life you will not get back if you leave here,” Fifi told Rosalia.

Here, I would like to insert a poem from future Rosalia:

The best part was she was right, I never got to go back, but, at The time, I thought there was Nothing to return to, so I was Ready to lose it all.

…

Lazarus had decided on her nickname being “Angel”. The name he enjoyed calling her so frequently was appropriated by the gang to speak to her in public, but Lazarus was content knowing her real name.

And, boy, did he use it.

When they left the gang that night, retiring into a little motel room in one of the many nameless towns, they started to have sex immediately.

Rosalia was getting fucked roughly on the edge of the bed, with Lazarus’ deep voice growling in her ear as he thrusted, “you’re so fucking tight, girl…”

“I… I can’t help it,” Rosalia moaned, clinging onto Lazarus desperately. She found him so sexy. Everything about him.

His beard, his dark hair, his dark eyes, his tall, muscular frame. His dark aesthetic, his lifestyle of running. She related to him, she wanted to be near him, she wanted to learn from him and grow at his side.

She knew she was putting a lot of faith into a criminal, into a man that was probably very capable of lying to her but… he had made a promise and Rosalia wanted so badly to believe that he was a man of his word.

She moved her hips along his cock, meeting every thrust, and then he pulled out and away suddenly, “I want to fuck you against that wall while you’re standing.”

“Yes, sir,” Rosalia said as she got off the bed.

Her long black hair was a mess from the last few minutes of wild sex, and her green eyes were full of desire. Her breasts were perky and excited, swelling from the feeling of being groped and sucked on.

He picked her up once she got to the wall, and started fucking her, bouncing her up and down along his cock. He would slide all ten inches in, then take them out and go back in. Every time he had Rosalia progressively louder.

Their chemistry was unmatched, with her body squeezing his cock just right, and their kisses never ending. They were obsessed with one another, horny and desperate for the other’s attention.

“Fuck, Rosalia,” Lazarus groaned, feeling the warmth, the pulsating home of his precious Angel, “you’re such a good girl, you know that, don’t you?”

Rosalia nodded her head, her moans intensifying with every thrust from Lazarus, “you’re massive, Lazarus…”

“But you do so good, Rosie… my Angel, you take it like a champ. Don’t slow down those hips,” Lazarus finally pressed Rosalia up against the wall, and spread her cheeks.

He spit on his cock and started slowly entering her, “I want to fill you up with my cum.”

“That sounds so risky,” Rosalia’s face was pressed up against the wall, her mouth open in a gasp, “I’m on birth control but…”

“Then it’s okay, isn’t it?” Lazarus asked, pumping his cock in a rhythm in and out of her, “look at the way you take me already. I want you…”

“You’re an old man and you want to cum inside my young pussy… you don’t see anything wrong with that?” Rosalia asked, her pretty, green eyes sparkling and staring up with a pout.

“No, the way I see it you were made for me,” Lazarus increased the speed of his thrusts, holding onto her hips with a tight grip, “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. I just have a feeling you’ll really enjoy it once you’ve felt it.”

“One time… but only once. I don’t want it to be a habit,” Rosalia agreed, looking over her shoulder at the dark eyed man tearing her pussy apart.

He had such a hunger in those eyes, and once he was given her permission, he really doubled down. His thrusts got deeper, fuller, his cock throbbing with every movement.

She felt it all, trembling and crying out his name, “LJ… LJ… be careful with me…”

“I can’t,” Lazarus breathed hotly, pulling her face to be able to kiss her on the mouth, “I can’t… look at you, Rosalia. No matter what I do, everything’s going to hurt you. You’re tiny, cute and easily hurt.”

“Jerk,” Rosalia moaned, her hips still moving to meet every thrust of his.

“Don’t talk back to me, my Angel, I don’t want to hurt you even more,” he set his boundaries in the sand…

But Rosalia stepped over the line.

“I will talk back, you’re a fucking jerk…” she repeated in between choked moans.

Lazarus finished fucking her on the wall and then threw her back on the bed, getting on top of her and immediately continuing to fuck her.

Her pussy, with no breaks from his aggressive, large cock, was trembling in pain. Her cum was leaking out of her, and just as she was about to cum again, she felt Lazarus contracting inside of her.

And then, his massive cock shot his full load into her.

Rosalia was awestruck. The hot, creamy nut filled her tummy and warmed it immediately. Her mind was shocked at how amazing that moment had felt.

Lazarus groaned quietly as he came, kissing her on the mouth and then moving to kiss her neck and then her breasts.

As he finished cumming, he slowly pulled his cock out and made sure to pump a little more as he did, “I wanna make sure you get all of it,” he said.

Rosalia was holding her legs in the air as his cock finished popping out, and she glanced at him and then quickly down at her pussy.

The pretty pink lips were held open by her fingers, as she watched her vagina begin to squeeze out the warm cum.

Rosalia inserted her fingers and pushed the semen back in, swirling it around as she moaned.

Lazarus let out a breath, stood and cleaned himself, and then came back to her, “You better close those legs and stop swirling the cum around.”

“Why? Does it bother you?” Rosalia asked, eyebrows raised, staring at him as she poked the bear.

“Not at all, if anything it encourages me. And you said you didn’t want this to be a habit, so… you better calm down before I put another load into you,” LJ’s voice was harsh.

As Rosalia stared at him, she knew she should fear him. She couldn’t help but want to keep the fight going, though…

“You wouldn’t even try to put another load in me…” Rosalia muttered, looking up into his dark eyes.

Lazarus lifted his eyebrows, and nodded his head, “you’re begging for it… I get it, I get it. Flip over, I want to fuck you doggy.”

#smut #size difference #size k!nk #dark romance #dub con #creative writing #lyonsea #bluestlyon #original story #booklr #writeblr #literature

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thatinsufferablenerd · 2 months ago

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Stress

It has been…a week.

We’ve burned through our firewood and the weather can’t decide if it’s going to keep getting colder or warm up again. I’ve been bundling up inside with cozy sweaters and fuzzy socks. Our escape artist Cookie has discovered she can jump the fence even when it’s dark, so she isn’t allowed outside without being on her lead. Early in the morning, all day, and before bed, we play the in and out game with the dogs, and every time I have to clip her onto her lead to keep her out of our neighbors’ yards. She gets herself tangled in it too. So often I recognize the tone of barking she uses to tell us she needs help. It’s no different from learning the different kinds of cries kids make. Aki has been in heat too, so we have to keep her off the couch. It’s a constant fight. She doesn’t understand why and mopes like Eeyore every time.

I’m so tired. I’ve been busting my ass being social and being present, not letting the critique in my first full alpha read get to me. At least now I have proof that RP detrimentally affects my actual writing. I’ve decided to quit my DnD game as well. There are a lot of reasons. The main one is that it’s just not for me. I’m bad at live improv. The late hours are killing me. It’s more fun to listen than try to get a word in on a story I can’t control. I’m not great at the game and feel limited by the options and mechanics compared to my own imagination. So I’m working on getting my character out of the story.

The only thing I’ve read this week has been my own work and Lore Olympus. Webtoon has strict copyright rules so I can’t read the last 25 chapters, which is driving me up the wall. I know about all the DiscourseTM surrounding Lore Olympus, and I could not give a fuck less. Right now I just want something to retreat into that I like and that fits the bill. Not that I don’t engage with it critically, I do. But I like it. I could probably write several essays about it. If I had the money I’d buy the physical volumes. I’m looking forward to getting more done when I have the energy.

Imagine my shock when I was hit square in the face with the reality that rough drafts are inevitably garbage. To go from the high of prose compared to the highly lauded Robin Hobb and bluescreening over that to being in tears in the showers over reading ‘this is rough’ in a matter of hours. With how stressed I am, and how bad I am at taking critique as well as praise, it really threw me. In reality, the rough stuff is a 6 and my best work a 9. It can be fixed. That’s what editing is for. I know that. I’ve been aware of that fact for ages. It was just having someone else agree that made it so hard to comprehend.

I’ve been writing text RP posts for my DnD group for ages, sometimes just interlude stories and sometimes with a partner for scenes. There’s no editing or beta for that. I just do a half-assed clappity clap on my keyboard and hit enter. I don’t put much effort into it, not like I do my novels. And yet my friends have nothing but praise. They send me DMs that they love reading my posts even if they aren’t being asked to respond. That they feel too stupid to be in the same conversation. In my text RP group with other people who write fanfic and original content, they say similar things. All I say back is that writing is the job I don’t get paid for. I’ve been doing it for twenty years. I’ve worked my ass off to get to this place.

And still, my rough drafts are trash. Because rough drafts are messy and clunky by default. No one who has ever written anything has done it right on the first try. It’s a skill that takes effort and time to hone. And a lot of fucking editing. Sometimes in a panic.

If you haven’t already guessed, I’ve done a lot of writing this week. My overall word count is lower than it was last week, but that’s the nature of heavy edits. I’m a wordy bitch. Sometimes I end up with more, sometimes I end up with less. There’s a lot of work to do. I think I’ll be editing for the next couple weeks before I can move forward with the plot. I will not fucking rest until it’s done. And I need to do more notes. That will go hand in hand with my edits, I think. Being able to really overhaul properly will make the entire project better.

I have an appointment to look over a manuscript fresh from a professional editor on Monday. I’m excited. The last time anyone edited anything of mine, it was my AP Lit teacher in high school fifteen years ago. Learning what to expect and what to look for will be enlightening. I’m so glad to have found a mentor who’s been around the block with self-publishing. One that’s honest but encouraging.

If I’m going to get serious about writing again, I need to go on a YouTube diet. I can’t spend my life hitting refresh on my home tab spending hours a day watching videos when I have better shit to do. That being said, I did watch Mononoke the film last week. The art was fascinating. I watched in Japanese with subs. I didn’t get everything with it being so tied up in Japanese history and lore, but I liked it. Another watch would probably help. It was nice to watch something colorful with a lot of texture though. Movies these days are so drab, it seems.

Here’s some of the good food I watched this past week:

-BookTok and Anti-intellectualism (ft ‘the booktokers who don’t read’): According to Alina

-The 7 Deadly Sins of Black Politicians: Olurinatti

-AI Writing is Trash, But AI ‘Writers’ Will Never Notice: In The Thorns

-When Your Hero is a Monster: The Leftist Cooks

-How to Write Metaphors (That Don’t Suck!): Hello Future Me

-Why Storytelling Matters More Than Ever. An Answer to Brain Rot: The Lady of the Library

-The Secret History of (Women’s) Credit Cards is Not What You Think!: Nicole Rudolph

Stay safe out there y’all. You are loved and appreciated <3

#spilled thoughts #booklr #digital diary #writeblr #small talk #booktube

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echoestm · 1 year ago

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Rules

🔪 This blog is NOT for the faint-hearted.

🔪 You MUST be 25+ to interact with me in any, way, shape or form. I’m an old guy in his thirties and while I don’t have anything at all against the underage set or young adults just over the line– I just feel more comfortable interacting with people closer to my own age. Please respect this.

🔪 If you want to follow me you MUST control your own online experience. I understand having squicks, triggers, and just general things that make you uncomfortable. If you make me aware of your discomforts, I will do my best to tag them as uncomfortable thing here cw. What I won’t do is cease to write about it, talk about it, reblog pictures of it, etc. Naturally, anything that makes you uncomfortable won’t be featured in any writing we do together. Just please, have and make use of xkit or tumblr savior. Basically, I don’t believe/agree that depiction equals endorsement. IC is not OOC. And fiction is not reality

🔪 I can and will talk the hind leg off of a horse if given the chance. I was once called The Church of Communication by a friend. A writing/rp’ing partnership will always work best with me if you’re someone who is communicative and has little to no qualms with expressing yourself. I value that shit almost above all. I take the word no like a champ! In fact, I like being told no because it immediately lets me know that you’re not just being polite when you do say yes. If I pitch an idea, a plot, or a verse and you’re not into it? PLEASE say so. I won’t be offended in the least and you’ll get so many brownie points from me, trust me, I’ll love you for it.

🔪 I love reminders! If you feel like I’ve forgotten or misplaced a thread, or maybe not been notified, don’t hesitate to give me a poke about it. I’m always down to go find what I’ve lost, and if there’s some other reason I haven’t gotten to it yet, I promise to let you know about it. For me, reminders are never an annoyance.

🔪 I read tags and I tend to follow their instructions. For example, if you make or reblog an ooc post about something you feel strongly about and you tag it ‘Unfollow me and block me now if you don’t agree/reblog/etc’ then… I’m probably going to unfollow you, as requested. Ideally, I’m all for agreeing to disagree when it comes to pretty much any subject. However you feel about something, I’ll respect that even if we don’t see eye-to-eye on it. Much like tagging squicks/triggers, if we don’t feel the same about something, then that something isn’t going to be brought up or argued or discussed continually between us. I’ll respect that you feel how you feel about whatever it may be, and act accordingly. However, my pet peeve are those posts with those kinds of demanding tags, unless they’re being used in a playful sense.

🔪 At the moment, I don’t have any banned fc’s and I technically don’t have any banned fandoms/media. There are shows/books/movies that I’m not into, but I don’t just ban them as a whole. Rp’ing is all about chucking muses into the unexpected and seeing what they do, so I’m almost always pretty open to whatever as long as we can customize, compromise, and find something that works for us both. Fuck SPN tho. I liked the first five seasons and then ragequit. I’m still open to playing around in that world though.

🔪 I don’t do exclusivity. I don’t judge the people that do, live and let live after all, but it’s just not for me. I like being able to play with multiple versions of the same muses because each writer brings a different take on them to the table and I’m greedy. I’m also an arrogant asshole, confident in my version of muses, so please, play with all the multiples that you like with no concern for me about it.

🔪 I used to say that I didn’t do mains, muses made a liar out of me. Some shit just clicks sometimes and getting guilted about it makes me sulk and fuck off of my blog.

🔪 I prioritize partners that don’t rp via the queue system. Again, no judgement– do what you need to in order to stay sane and happy, I’m just an excitable impatient person.

🔪 I will give pretty much anything/anyone a shot. Friendly to OC’s, crossovers, au’s, fandoms I know nothing about, etc. I don’t mind doing research into media I’m not familiar with, but depending on how much I have on my plate, I might be a little slow about it.

🔪 Last but not least, the big one that’ll run people off the most: THIS BLOG IS A GRIMDARK BLOG. Wiki explains it here, if you’re not familiar with the term. It means that this is a trigger-heavy blog. It is a dark blog. It’s contents will feature themes, thoughts, actions and speech that are real-world deplorable.

🔪 Finally, I have preferences when it comes to writing/plotting. Angst is my jam. I’m also a sucker for gritty realism weaved into these stories that ask us to suspend so much disbelief. Fine, Thor’s walking the earth, vampires are real, the impossible and probable are all very likely– but rent still needs to be paid, minimum wage sucks, NYC apartments are tiny and get easily cramped, etc. Fluff and coffeeshop au’s do nothing for me and I’m not any good at writing them. I’m not anti-happiness, but I do like to throw roadblocks in it’s way. I like stories that are painful, I like things that are hard, and threads/verses that fit those preferences are always going to be my favorite.

🔪 This is pretty much it? My rules page used to be like four lines about needing to be of age, tumblr etiquette, and communication– I actually kind of hate having really long rules pages, but I also want people to know what they’re getting into and be making well-informed decisions. I don’t want to ever unpleasantly surprise anyone with either IC or OOC content.

#➤ 𝐫 𝐮 𝐥 𝐞 𝐬 ┊ ❛ you have to pay to play ❜

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thegreatobsesso · 2 years ago

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Characters Out of Context

THANK YOU @avrablake I LOVE THIS ONE!

Rules:

Include one character quote — of your choosing ⁠— from each chapter of your WIP (or as many chapters as you’d like).

Give absolutely no context, save for what’s between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. You may mention who said it.

Have fun, no pressure!

Obviously I’m going with Callie, as if there was ever any question. I’ll take it all the way through book/part I. :) There’s a couple doozies in here, be forewarned, haha.

Chapter 1

“Are your guard dogs gonna keep this a secret, hmm? The cops must be on their way. You know you shouldn’t be alone with me, naughty boy.”

Chapter 2

“You know you shouldn’t trust strangers, right?”

Chapter 3

“Oh gosh. So sorry, ma’am, I’ll just-”

Chapter 4

“I am so close, and I won’t let you stop me. If you try again, I will kill you.”

Chapter 5

“I did it because I already have more power than any living magician in the world and I want more. I did it because I’m above him, and above you. I’m more. I’m special.”

Chapter 6

“You have to forgive me, your honor, it’s been a tiring couple days. But I totally did it, hundred percent, guilty of murder in the first degree.”

Chapter 7

“I like kissing people. I like having sex with people. I don’t care if they’re interested in me, so long as they’re interested by me. Last thing I wanna be is boring.”

Chapter 8

“So, every run-of-the-mill idiot gets to have their own cozy chat with the warden before they’re sent off to gen-pop?”

Chapter 9

“Well, obviously, you’ve never fucked a telepath.”

Chapter 10

"And here I was, thinking we were friends."

Chapter 11

“No, go on. It’s bad for you to keep your feelings all bottled up, babe. Speak your truth.”

Chapter 12

“Give it back.”

Chapter 13

“Oh. Of course. I’ll hitch up my safari boots and get right on that. Shit, Anka, we’re in supermax, if you haven’t noticed. And why in the world would I care about some dusty old piece of shit buried in a cave that probably doesn’t even do anything?”

Chapter 14

“Hey, check it out, everybody! I’ve gone insane, and I’m gonna kill this girl for no reason unless Warden Prescott jumps out of a cake and gives me a lap dance!”

Chapter 15

[My god, Callie doesn’t speak in this one, haha]

Chapter 16

“Eat a metric ton of shit, you fucking sex predator.”

Chapter 17

“Hey, c’mere. I need something. Listen. I need one that tastes like, like what it feels like when there’s a flash of lightning, but right before the thunder, and like, you just know it’s gonna be so loud when it happens, but it hasn’t happened yet. Make me one that tastes like that.”

Chapter 18

“Oh, sorry. I was just enjoying the sight of the super villain herself without a plan.”

Chapter 19

“Right, you little bitch. I need you to work for me. No more fucking around. Please open.”

Chapter 20

“Magicians love old-looking shiny shit. A building dedicated to the preservation of the world’s biggest collection of old-looking shiny shit-pieces’ll be protected by keys, guaranteed.”

Chapter 21

[No Callie!]

Chapter 22

“I’m sorry. I just really wanted to see the look on your face.”

Chapter 23

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Can we just… see each other tomorrow?”

Chapter 24

“Oh my God, you’re gorgeous when you’re angry. Fuck me for real this time. I’ll be me and you be you, please, Riley, I want you.”

Chapter 25

“I’m gonna show you what it’s like to fly.”

Chapter 26

[No Callie dialogue 😳]

Chapter 27

“Take her.”

Chapter 28

[No Callie!]

Chapter 29

“If you were as shitty as me you’d do the same. All of you would. You don’t know. You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like to be this way.”

AHHHH THIS WAS SO FUN! I enjoyed this retrospective of Callie lines so much I don’t even have words. I tag @pandawriterstuff, @the-orangeauthor, @winterandwords, @blind-the-winds and @dontjudgemeimawriter to post as many quotes as they want, no need to go ape shit like I did!!! (unless u wanna!!!)

#oc: electra #dialogue #tag game #writing #writeblr #my wip #the insuppressible electra ray #tw: language #tw: sex #tw: prison #not saying best tag game ever but.. best tag game ever

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justkending · 4 years ago

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Moral of The Story. Chapter One.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of an old love all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Ok, here is the first chapter! If you have not already listened to the song that evoked this idea from my imagination land, I suggest giving it a go! Moral of the Story by Ashe. I’m excited for you guys to see what this story brings and I really hope I do it justice! As always, comments and thoughts are welcome as they help me grow as a writer and let me see what you guys notice:) ENJOY MY LOVES!!! <3

(The posting will be once every other day until I have finished the series. If I finish early, I will post an update once a day:)

Read the Prologue here first!

Chapter One:

"You already got the flight?" Nat asked, perched on Y/N's couch as she ran around frantically packing. "Don't you have a huge meeting next week with that new business? What was it called? Bee's Knees?"

"Yes, but it's not until Monday evening. I highly doubt I will be there longer than a weekend to sign a few divorce papers. I'm planning on coming back early that afternoon, so I shouldn't miss it," she answered, not even stopping to look at her as she ran through the rooms and bathroom in the apartment.

"How soon did you book that flight?"

"As soon as I hung up the phone with Murdock," Y/N sighed. Nat sent her a questioning look not knowing that name. "New lawyer. The guy who took over for the sleazeball known as Justin Hammer," she rolled her eyes.

"Right," Nat nodded. "So, are you staying at your dad's house?"

"I would take my dad's house over my mom and Jerry's any day. You know this," Y/N paused in her actions, sending her a bitch face.

"I know. Just didn't know if you'd be all fancy and rent a hotel room to escape the smothering that is bound to happen from good ol' Mr. Y/L/N," Nat grinned.

"It's been so long since I've seen him not via facetime. And we both know that's barely seeing him as he doesn't know where the camera is even after a hundred calls," she laughed.

"Parents. Either they're technologically challenged or know how to work it better than us. Never in between and it's weird." Nat watched as Y/N froze in her stance and looked lost trying to think of something else to pack. Deciding she needed a distraction, Nat changed the subject some. "Hey, did you get Melody to go on that date tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Y/N answered proudly. "I know your aunt wants grandbabies from her daughter, but that girl just needs a night on the town more than anything. She's in her early 20's and holes herself up at the office almost more than I do, and I'm the boss."

"Cousin's got my work ethic. What can I say?" Nat shrugged smugly.

"Well, she needs to get your spirit in living some too."

"Touche," Nat pointed. "I need to have Yelena take her out. She's the real party sister out of us two."

"That is true. How she's able to party for 48 hours straight and still wake up at 8 am for mimosas, blows my mind," Y/N commented on Natasha's younger sister. "She's only a few years older than Melody, right?"

"Yeah, Yelena is 24, and Melody is 22. They were best of friends growing up, but once they got to high school, they kinda went different routes about life. Lana, the party gal, and Mel the studious bookworm."

"I'm not surprised by either of those," Y/N shook her head before collapsing next to Nat on the couch. A loud breath and sigh escaped her body.

Nat watched as her mind escaped back to the original issue at hand.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Y/N/N?" she said, softly touching her shoulder. "Not that I don't already know, but maybe letting it out will help unscramble those thoughts."

Y/N lazily rolled her head to the redhead next to her.

"How is he?" she asked.

Nat was a part of their friend group from middle school through high school. She kept up with all of them still, whereas Y/N kept up with all of them except one.

"I actually haven't talked to him in a while. Steve on the other hand..." Nat nodded. "From that source, it sounds like Barnes is just as surprised and freaked out as you."

"He's freaked out?" Y/N asked, a hint of interest peeking out.

"Who wouldn't be? You get a call from a lawyer saying your marriage is still intact after 9 years of breaking it off, I would be freaked out too."

"He deserves it. I hope he's just as freaked out as me, if not more," she responded bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest like a pouting child.

"Y/N," Nat sighed.

"No. Don't. Don't defend him to me, it's pointless," she put up a hand. "I know you're still friends with him, but you guys still don't understand the pain that that man brought on me."

"He fought for you, Y/N. He didn't mean-," Nat countered.

"Again, you're wasting your breath. Defending him now does nothing to change the past," she said stubbornly, getting back up and carrying on with her packing. "You can still take me to the airport tomorrow, right?"

Her best friend wanted to keep pushing, knowing she had harbored this heartbreak for too long. Sure what had happened between them sucked and was a horrible chapter of their lives, but neither made an effort to talk it out and understand the other's side of the story. Faults of being young, immature, and not knowing how to handle a grown-up decision.

"Yes, I'll pick you up at work at 10. Flights at 11:25, right?"

"Yes, and you know California traffic. That will probably get me there 10 minutes before my gate closes. I had to get an early flight though because that time difference is going to kick my ass. It'll be close to 5:30 in my head and 8:30 there by the time I land... " Y/N huffed, rolling her bag to the front door for tomorrow. "You mind taking this tonight and keeping it in your car for now? That way I don't have to lug it to work?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll grab it on my way out. But we're still having a girl's night, right?"

Y/N laughed some before going to the kitchen to grab beers. "I Survived is already recorded and ready for us."

___________________

"Shit man... When's the last time you talked to her?" Steve asked, sitting across from his best friend in the chair diagonal from the couch, leaning forward on his knees after listening to the new news.

"Since I was supposedly signing our divorce papers. And even then, we didn't really talk. She sat there quietly straight-faced until it was signed and then rushed out the doors," Bucky sighed, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. "She was out of the state within the next hour."

Steve nodded before falling back into the single seat.

"So, do you guys have to see each other again, or is it one of those situations where you can sign separately?"

"I don't know. I just got off the phone. All I know up to this second is that Y/N and I have been married for the past 9 years without knowing it," Bucky said somewhat harshly. Steve didn't flinch at the tone knowing it wasn't directed at him. "I'm sorry. I-I just can't wrap my mind around this."

"It's ok. This is crazy shit, Buck," Steve waved off. There was a long pause before Steve decided to ask the question he was sure anyone would want to know. "Do you want to see her?"

Bucky slowly looked over to the blonde. God, he had been asking himself that question for the past 10 minutes himself.

On one end, yes. He wondered where she was now in life. How she was doing. What accomplishments he knew she would be making. He knew a few small things just by the whispers and small talk of her with their shared friend group that he still hung out with, but a majority of the time, they didn't bring her up around him. They knew what it did to him.

On the other end, he never thought about facing her again. I mean maybe for the year after their divorce, but when he never heard anything back from her all those times he still tried to reach out and she blocked him on almost all forms of social media, he gave up any hope of them falling back into good terms again. He hated it, but he wasn't going to push her when she clearly hated his guts.

And honestly, he deserved it. His young, stupid, college self was not a smart guy when it came to relationships. Even ones that had been there from the beginning of time practically.

Yet again, she wasn't perfect either. She made some mistakes of her own that pushed him to act the way he had.

"Hey, you both are older and more mature now. I'm sure you if you guys do have to see each other again, you can handle it like adults," Steve reassured, seeing Bucky's face turn to a soft frown. "Ok, so she may be a little stubborn..."

"A little?"

"Ok, a lot. But she's older now. She's not the 19-year-old girl that you remember," Steve defended.

"I believe that but I'm sure she still holds a grudge that is very, very, very, very-," Bucky was going to go on about 10 more very's before ending with BIG, but Steve cut him off.

"You don't know that," Steve shook his head.

"Really? Because usually when you no longer hold a grudge against someone, you might just reach out to that person and reconnect possibly," Bucky argued. "I mean that's what mature people do, right?"

"Not always..."

"So she's either not mature or still just as stubborn. Hell, for all we know, both," Bucky shrugged, pursing his lips.

"If you go into this with that mindset, nothing good is going to come out of it." Steve pointed an eyebrow at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes not replying to Steve. He knew he was right, but he was still bitter after all these years about how Y/N handled the situation. Sure, he messed up, but she had to. Yet she made him into this big bad wolf that was at 100% fault in the downfall of their relationship. It made him feel like shit, and though he tried to make amends knowing he did some fucked up things, she acted like she was Miss Perfect and didn't do anything wrong the entire time.

Damn, even after all this time, it still lit a fire in his chest with annoyance and hurt.

"When's the meeting?" Steve once again interrupted his thoughts.

"I guess Saturday morning. They said they were coming in on their off hours to fix up a few cases they found like ours," Bucky answered.

"How many cases were there?"

"Eh, I think he said it was single digits, but there were a shit ton of other cases in different areas that were worse off. The divorce ones are a small number compared to those."

"Damn. That sucks for all the couples who got a call today then," Steve huffed, running a hand down his face.

"Yeah, you're telling me..."

"Hey, we were going out with Wanda and Vis tonight. You still up for that, or...?" Steve stood up.

Bucky looked back at the beer on the coffee table and then at the TV still playing I Survived stories quietly in the background.

"You know what? I'm going to need a stronger drink than an IPA to get me to sleep tonight," Bucky nodded, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans before walking to his room.

"Looks like I'm the DD tonight then..." Steve sighed.

___________

"Vis," Wanda motioned to her fiance as he came back from the bar. "Nat just texted."

"About what? How is she?" Vis smiled as he sat next to her with Sam across from him. Sam tagged along at the last second since his other plans got canceled.

"She's good, but it's not about her," Wanda waved off, still reading whatever lengthy text was sent her way.

"Wow, that looks like a novel," Vis noticed with wide eyes as he looked over her shoulder.

"Wait 'til you hear what it's about."

Sam shook his head as he took a sip of the beer Vis had brought over.

After reading the rest of the text out loud from where she had left off, everyone at the table looked at each other with shock ridden faces.

"They're still married?" Vis said softly as if it was a secret.

"Apparently..." Wanda nodded with wide eyes.

"So that Hammer guy was a sham?" Sam questioned.

"I told her not to go to him. He had some shady hole in the wall kind of establishment," Wanda chided. "But she said they needed something cheap and fast. She hated his guts and wanted it out of it then and there. Plus, they were 19. They didn't have much money anyway."

"Why didn't they just ask their parents for help?" Sam questioned. "Isn't Y/N's mom loaded?"

"Yes, but she refused to help her. She said it was her own fault for getting married so young and that she had warned her. Told her she had to get out of the mess on her own," Wanda answered.

"What about her dad?" Vis jumped in.

"Bucky and her dad were close. She was off in Colorado for school and didn't want to put her dad through that or make him have to help her in cutting him off. Bucky was like the son he never had and they were bonded at the hip. No matter how much Y/N hated Bucky, she wasn't going to ruin or take away his relationship with her father. That would have been cruel, and Y/N is anything but that."

"Weren't Bucky's and Y/N's dad's best friends?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they were old-time war buddies. They're the reason Bucky and Y/N had known each other since birth. But Bucky's dad died when he was about 13, and Y/N's dad, Thomas, kinda took him under his wing. Growing up a teenage boy without a father figure messes with you, and Bucky was on the edge of a bad path after losing his father."

"He's still rather close with Thomas, but I'm sure Y/N doesn't know that. Unless Thomas has said something, and with how everything came to an end for the two, I'm sure he doesn't bring it up knowing how tender of a subject Bucky is to her," Vis added.

"Makes sense..." Sam nodded. "I only knew you all from the start of college, so I'm still a little lost in all the beginning stuff."

"All good. It's complicated with those two. Their past and upbringing are so interconnected with the other, it makes their downfall all the more intense and messy," Wanda sighed. "God, if this is the news, he's going to be a wreck tonight..." She looked up worriedly at her fiance who shared the same concerns.

"It could go two ways. Either he comes in all solemn and says three words all night, or Steve's going to be the DD and he's waking up with a head-busting hangover," Sam noted with a small grin at the thought. "I'm going to go with the latter though."

"Poor guy," Wanda sighed, taking a drink with a sad face. Ever the sympathetic one.

"We'll be here to listen if he wants to talk. If not, we act like we have no idea and don't bring it up," Vision spoke up, throwing his arm over her and running his hand up and down her shoulder.

"I'm going to tease him still most likely," Sam shrugged nonchalantly. Wanda sent him a warning glare. "Fine, mama bear! I'll be nice... Until he starts making a fool of himself." He added the last part quietly.

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @pham-tastical

My Lovelies forever:

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Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia

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aliciaandandrea · 4 years ago

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Family Friend - Zayn Oneshot Part 2 (FULL)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Damn okay it has been 7 years since I posted the part 2 preview of this oneshot. I haven’t been active on tumblr for a couple of years so this might be weird for my new followers, and I don’t even know if people still read smut now a days. But I’ve gotten notifications about people liking the posts on this series plus I received messages about the full part 2 of this series over the years. So to those people who messaged me and/or for those people who wanted an update, this is for you (just a disclaimer: I was 18 when I wrote the preview and am now 25...so if this is cringy or you think I’ve lost my touch, I apologize LOL):

=============================================

It has been a week since the cottage and I haven’t heard from Zayn since. I should have saw it coming. We almost hooked up, but I’m glad we didn’t, especially with that attitude of his. I was going through my phone and I decided to text Shawn, who’s been my crush before Zayn entered back into the picture.

“Heyy Shawn…” I texted him. “Hey Y/N :) Whats up?” he texted back. “Bored as always, you?” I asked “Same, I feel like we haven’t hung out at all this summer :(” he wrote. “lol thats because we haven’t” I texted. “Well let me make it up to you. My friend and his gf are goin to the movies tonight and asked if I wanted to go…I don’t wanna be the third wheel…do you wanna join?”he texted me. Did this guy just ask me out? “I’d love to :), just text me the details.” I texted back. And he did just that. I put on my low cut grey graphic tank with a black bralette under it and my black maxi skirt, while putting my hair up in a half up-do and keeping my makeup natural.

Before I could touch up my doorbell rang. I opened the door thinking it was Shawn but then stormed inside Zayn with no explanation. “What do you want?” I said bitterly as I closed the door after he walked inside. “You can’t fucking call me back?” he said looking at me. “What the hell are you talking about Zayn” I said walking up to him. “What do you call this?” he said tossing me his phone. On the screen was his call log, He’s called me once every day, except..that wasn’t my number. It was a fake one I gave as a joke when he asked for it one day. “Zayn that's not my number,” I said giving back his phone. “What the fuck is your problem then? You know I have fucking feelings for you !” He said fed up. I didn't know what to say. He just told me he had feelings for me. “Zayn..I..” I said trying to hold his hand but he pulled it away and turned away from me. “Fine. You wanna behave like that go ahead. And don't fucking tell me that I’m playing you. You’ve been teasing me ever since you found out that I liked you and then you almost hookup with me leaving me with a hickey that was hard to explain at dinner with mine and your parents and then you don't even fucking talk or try to reach out to me in a week. Don’t you even go there.” I said angrily. At this point we were both pissed. We managed to both profess our feelings and hatred towards each other…all at the same time. We were going to either end up fucking on my couch or wrestle on it. “Did you not see the phone calls that I supposedly made out to you. And why the fuck have I been hearing from people that you’ve been sleeping around with other guys?” “What the fuck Zayn? You hear anything you want to believe don't you. This entire time I’ve been thinking of you, you idiot.” I said as he chuckled. He composed himself then stared at me, “Where the fuck are you going?” “To the movies..with Shawn.” I said looking down. “And this is what I’m talking about, you’re going out with a loser and trying to get laid with that outfit.” he said as his body tensed up, looking up and down at me. At that point I was pissed, but I was not going to let that jerk ruin my night. We both stared at each other angrily. My ringtone broke the silence, Shawn was calling me. “Hey Shawn,” I said out loud for Zayn to here as I glared at him. He shot me an irritated look. “Yeah I’ll be there soon, can’t wait to finally see you,” I flirted with Shawn making Zayn jealous. “Yeah its been a long time,” I said as I ‘accidentally’ put my phone on speaker so Zayn could hear. “Maybe you could stay over for breakfast,” Shawn joked but that's when Zayn snapped. He grabbed my phone, hung it up and threw it onto the couch. He looked at me with a lustful look as I furrowed my eyebrows at him, but was secretly loving the fact that he was jealous. Jealous Zayn was probably my favorite Zayn. “That’s it,” he growled at me as he threw me over his shoulder. “Zayn put me down!! What the fuck are you doing??” I said playing victim, even though I knew what he was going to do. “Something I should have done a long time ago.” Zayn said as he kicked the door shut and threw me onto my bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re about to do right now, but I’ve got a date to get to tonight” I said eyeing him as he climbed on top of me. “Yeah?”. Zayn asked as he bit my bottom lip causing me to let out a little whimper, “What was his name again?”, Zayn asked as he was kissing my jawline and biting the sensitive area. I blanked out for a good few seconds, wanting to wrap my legs around him and pull him closer, but I couldn’t let him win this one. “Ohh yess Shawn..” I moaned to irritate Zayn while pulling his hair. He stared me down but before we could continue, the doorbell rang. “Fuck”, Zayn said as he got off me. Zayn got to the door before I could and of course there was Shawn looking confused as to why there was a man at my house with disheveled hair.

“Hey Y/N..” Shawn said to me, as Zayn stared daggers. “Can we help you?” Zayn asked, "We’re in the middle of something important, so it’d be great if you can, I don’t know, fuck off?” he continued with a smirk. “Sorry, Shawn, I’m ready we can go,” I said to him before turning back to get my bag. “I don’t know where you think you’re going,” Zayn said looking at me before turning back to Shawn. “You know what, maybe we can go out another time, I didn’t realize - ...” Shawn started to say before getting rudely interrupted by Zayn who said “Didn’t realize what? That she already had a boyfriend? Fuck off now will you.” Zayn shuts the door on Shawn, and blocks me from trying to open it.

“What the fuck are you doing Zayn?” I asked trying to move him to open the door. He gently grabs my wrists and looked into my eyes, “We need to finish what we started”, he says hungrily. I manage to free my wrists, push Zayn against the door, then proceed to walk away from him, “In your dreams“ I say flipping him off from behind me. Before I know it Zayn has picked me up bridal style and is taking me back to my bed. We’ve reached a point where we both want this to happen, as deep down we knew something had to be done with the intense sexual tension between us. I was torn between wanting to fuck like wild animals vs wanting to make slow and passionate love, to take our time and explore each other with the limited time frame we had. As if he read my mind, “Slow or rough?” Zayn asks as we arrive at the foot of the bed.

“Both”, I said as Zayn dropped me on top of the bed for the 2nd time tonight. He stood over me, slowly taking off his Denim Jacket, leaving him in his baggy grey t-shirt and black jeans. I looked at him impatiently, wanting to help him get out of his clothes, but he just smirked at me and said “Well, you said both”. Fine, he can take his time, but I’m not gonna wait any longer as I knew my parents were coming back home from their night out. I knelt on the bed in-front of him taking off my low cut grey graphic tank revealing the lacy black bralette under it, then pushed my girls into him aching for him to touch me. But he just stood there staring into my eyes, as he took off his baggy grey t-shirt. “What is he doing”, I thought to myself, “What are WE doing, playing follow the leader?”. It was getting too much for me, I needed him. I grabbed his face but decided to tease him by gently having our lips barely touch. “We don’t have much time, my parents might come home soon”, I whispered against his lips, desperate for him to give in. “What?” he said pulling back a little. “My parents might be home soon, plus -” Zayn stops me from continuing. “I want to take my time with you. And I know you need all of me. If we’re going to this, I don’t want a few minutes with you, I want you for as long as I can have you.” Zayn says holding my face. Look I know I could have shut my mouth and not brought up the fact that my parents were going to come home soon, but I couldn’t risk having them walk in on us like they almost had when we were at the cottage.

We both redressed and I walked Zayn to the door, as I needed Zayn to leave before my parents got back. “Can I have your actual number this time?” Zayn said as he pulled out his phone. I giggled and put my real number with a kiss and rose emoji as part of my contact name. “I’ll text you,” Zayn says before he opens the door. “Wait,” I said. Before I knew it I pushed him against the door again but this time I kissed him. We began making out, taking turns biting each others lips and teasing each other with our tongues. We tried to pull each other closer; I pulled on his hair as he groped me making me moan and whimper. We couldn’t get enough of each other, as we got lost in our little foreplay. All of a sudden, I heard a familiar honk, and a set of keys jiggling on the other side of the door. Fucking hell, my parents were home...

============================================================

LIKE/MESSAGE ME FOR PART 3 IF YOU WANT !

Link to part 1: http://aliciaandandrea.tumblr.com/post/92086930206/family-friend-zayn-oneshot

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

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Assuage: Chapter 25

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Mentions of near death.

Author’s Note: This is the final chapter of this story! I will be posting an epilogue soon but other than that, this is it! Thank you all for the support that you’ve given this story, it’s much appreciated! Love you guys and I hope you enjoy it!

A few weeks later, Yoongi was slowly making his way through the pack territory as he ambled towards Namjoon and Hyorin’s cabin.

He was enjoying the fresh air because you had barely let him out of your sight since he had woken up. He grumbled about it to you but inside, he was extremely happy to have you around because the process of recovery had been a bitch for him, even though he was Prime.

After stepping up onto their porch, he knocked on the door and waited patiently until the door opened.

“Hey Yoongi,” Hyorin grinned and Yoongi bowed lightly towards her.

“Hi Hyo,” he replied. “Is Namjoon here?”

“Yeah, come on in,” she waved him towards her and he stepped inside, waiting until she had closed the front door to follow behind her as she led the way into the living room.

“You have a visitor Joon,” Hyorin announced and Yoongi looked at Namjoon, who was laying down flat on the couch.

“Yoongi, hi,” he grunted as he attempted to sit up on his own. Hyorin rushed over to him, helping him sit up and then grabbing some pillows to stuff around his body so that he’d be comfortable. “I had it.”

“No, you didn't,” she scoffed before looking over at Yoongi. “The idiot gets multiple ribs broken and still thinks he’s Superman.”

“Maybe it’s an Alpha thing because I’ve been the same way,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Trust me, Y/N-ah has been ranting to us about it too,” Hyorin giggled as she sat down next to her husband.

“Please, sit down Yoongi,” Namjoon said and Yoongi nodded before sitting down in one of the easy chairs that was placed right across from the couch. “I’m sure that you’re wondering why I asked you here.”

“Kind of,” he nodded nervously. “Y/N-ah didn’t tell me much.”

“I didn’t tell her much on purpose,” Namjoon smiled.

“Joon wanted to talk to you about pack business,” Hyorin rolled her eyes playfully. “But I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my husband’s life,” she told him. “I didn’t tell him this until after the fact but I was so sure that I wasn't going to see him again after he left that morning and I had no idea what I would’ve done without him. Thanks to you though, I didn’t have to find out and I’m so grateful Yoongi.”

“Well, I just did what I felt was right,” Yoongi shrugged bashfully, attempting to play off the praise even though his cheeks were red.

“Still, our family is indebted to you,” Hyorin said. Just then, Yoongi heard the sound of infants crying and both Hyorin and Namjoon sighed heavily.

“You stay and talk, I’ll go,” Hyorin said to Namjoon before getting up from the couch. Instead of walking right out of the room, she stepped over to Yoongi and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she stood up straight again and Yoongi smiled widely as he watched her pace out of the living room. When Yoongi turned to look back at Namjoon, his eyes widened when he saw that Namjoon was now standing up, although he was clearly struggling to stay balanced.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Yoongi questioned as he moved to get up but Namjoon held his hand out stopping him. He then bent at the waist, bowing deeply to Yoongi and Yoongi was taken aback by the sign of respect. Namjoon then groaned loudly, which made Yoongi get up and rush over to help him.

“You could’ve just said thank you,” Yoongi huffed as he helped Namjoon stand up straight again before gently easing him back down onto the couch.

“You deserve more than just a thank you,” Namjoon said as he got comfortable on the couch again, waving his hand at Yoongi to let him know that he was alright. Instead of going back to the chair, Yoongi sat down next to him. “Hyo would’ve never let me get away with that if she were still in here though.”

“And for good reason, obviously,” Yoongi snickered, making Namjoon roll his eyes.

“Anyways, I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about Seo-hyun’s pack,” Namjoon said.

“Oh,” Yoongi uttered in surprise. “Ok, go ahead.”

“Since Seo-hyun is gone now, there’s a question about what to do with his pack members that are still here,” Namjoon began. “Hobi suggested that we take over their territory and use it as an extension of our current territory and assimilate the remaining pack members into our pack.”

“I get the idea that you don’t like that suggestion,” Yoongi said.

“I’m not the biggest fan of it, no,” Namjoon shook his head. “We don’t really have the need for the extra territory and it’s a little too far away from here to be considered a true extension. Plus, forcing people into packs that they don’t want to be in only breeds contempt and I think we’ve all had enough fighting to last several lifetimes.”

“Agreed,” Yoongi laughed. “So, what did you have in mind then?”

“That’s just what I was going to ask you,” Namjoon said. “Being as though you’re more familiar with them, I was hoping that you could suggest something.” Yoongi nodded his head slowly, taking a few seconds to think before an idea struck him.

“Well, maybe you could do like a tax thing?” Yoongi said. “Like, you can allow them to remain a pack on their own and keep the territory but they’d have to pay a tax to our pack in order to keep it.”

“You think they’d be fine with that?” Namjoon questioned.

“Seo-hyun was the psychopath, not them,” Yoongi chuckled. “I think it’ll be fine.”

“In that case, I think it’s a great idea,” Namjoon smiled. “Since I’m going to be out of commission for the next few months, I’ve been splitting up the duties of the pack between our higher status pack members and since you know that pack, I was wondering if you’d be willing to oversee the transition process?”

“Of course,” Yoongi nodded with a wide smile. “I’d be happy to.” Just then, Hyorin came back into the living room with one of their daughters in her arms.

“Could you take her?” Hyorin asked Namjoon as she walked over to stand in front of him. “I’m trying to feed Sena but this one just wants attention.”

“Sure,” Namjoon agreed, holding his hands out and Hyorin handed Mi-ra over to him before quickly walking back out of the living room. Yoongi watched as Namjoon brought Mi-ra close to his chest, reaching down and letting her grab onto his finger.

“You know, I was so sure that I was going to die out there,” Namjoon suddenly confessed. “Seo-hyun was so insistent on it and I knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to out fight him.”

“That wouldn’t have been your fault though,” Yoongi pointed out. “Even though he was a power hungry asshole, he was a skilled fighter.”

“True, but I didn’t die, thanks to you,” Namjoon murmured as he looked back up at him. “It’s because of you that I got to come home to my wife, to my daughters and I owe you my life.”

“Well, I know what it’s like when a pack loses an amazing leader and I wasn’t going to let that happen if I could stop it,” Yoongi explained. “So no need to owe me your life or anything like that. Just consider us even for you taking me in when I had no where else to go.”

“Deal,” Namjoon smiled as he rocked Mi-ra gently in his arms. “You know, our father would’ve loved you. You’re a lot like him.”

“Taehyung told me the same thing,” Yoongi laughed. “The day that the girls were born actually.”

“Well, it’s true,” Namjoon told him. “I’m happy that you’re going to be a part of our family.”

“Me too,” Yoongi murmured quietly. “Me too.”

.........................................

Once Yoongi left Namjoon’s house, he instinctively began to walk to your house since he hadn’t seen you since that morning before you left to go to the infirmary cabin.

As he walked though, he picked up on your scent and realized that it was leading towards the edge of the territory. It didn’t take Yoongi long to figure out where you were so he changed his direction and headed towards the stream.

Once he got there, he saw you sitting on top of your favorite rock, your knees pulled up against your chest as you watched the water ripple beneath you.

“Hey baby,” Yoongi called out and you raised your head, smiling softly when you saw him.

“Hi,” you greeted him, puckering your lips for a kiss and he leaned over, kissing you for a few seconds before pulling away.

“What are you doing out here?” He wondered as he pulled himself up onto the rock to sit next to you. “It’s cold out here. I’m surprised that the stream is even still running.”

“I don’t mind much and I’m just thinking,” you shrugged as you looked back at the water. “This is the freest that I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Me too,” Yoongi agreed.

“I never thought you’d be the reason why I feel so free though,” you admitted before looking at him. “Everything has been so crazy lately that I haven’t been able to really talk to you, but I have to tell you that I’m so thankful that Taehyung found you and convinced us to take you in.”

“I am too, because I got to meet you,” Yoongi muttered as he reached over and grabbed one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his. “I have a home with you now and that means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Ditto,” you cooed, leaning over and kissing him passionately for a few seconds. When you both finally pulled away, you giggled as he moved to press kisses to both of your cheeks.

“How did your talk with my brother go?” You asked him. “What did he want? Did it have to do with your old pack?”

“What the fuck, how did you know that?” Yoongi gasped.

“I know everything and you should know that by now,” you giggled.

“Yes, it was about my old pack,” he confirmed. “He wanted my opinion on what to do with the remaining members so I suggested letting them keep their territory and just pay us taxes on it.”

“That sounds good but are you sure?” You wondered. “I mean, you could go back and lead that pack now, since Seo-hyun isn’t in your way anymore. It is your birthright after all.”

“I could but it wouldn’t be the same and truthfully, I don’t want it,” he confessed. “Besides, taking over that pack would mean leaving this one and I couldn’t leave you here.”

“You should at least think about it,” you shrugged, looking down at the ground.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered and you sighed before looking at him. “There’s no consideration needed. I am not going to leave you for a pack that hasn’t been my pack for a long time, even before I joined this one.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you grinned, making Yoongi laugh.

“You know, someone still owes me a discussion about bites,” he brought up and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Heal up all the way first and then we’ll talk,” you smirked and Yoongi just shook his head at you.

“I love you Y/N-ah,” he said.

“I love you too Yoongi,” you replied.

As the two of you continued to sit together and talk, Yoongi realized that this was the first time in a long time that the feeling of loneliness that had been a constant presence in his life since he was 16 years old was almost nonexistent now. He had found a pack that took him in and treated him as one of their own, he had found friends that became the family that he had lost so many years ago and best of all, he had you who loved him despite all of his flaws and traumas.

Yoongi had absolutely no idea how he had managed to luck up on such an amazing new life but he knew one thing for sure: he was going to appreciate it the best way that he knew how.

.........................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit @min-yus @cheysjimin @to-the-joon-and-back @jaiuneamesolitaiire @icycoldbeanieweanies @barbikatherine

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts abo #bts suga #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga smut #sga angst #suga fluff #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader

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esmealux · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

#writing #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fluff #smut #established deckerstar #lucifer is god #post 5b #post s5 #two part drabble game

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #25

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Sri Lanka Nakata Diary

Title: I got to make some time all of a sudden.

Hello, this is Iggy.

Just as the title says, I suddenly managed to make some time for myself here in Sri Lanka. The guest who was supposed to come over had to go on a last-minute trip, so I wound up with almost an entire day off.

My boss told me that I should take it easy while I was at it and that studying was forbidden, so if you’d like, please give me suggestions. I think there aren’t many people living in Sri Lanka among the ones who are seeing this, so anything goes. Like your favorite ways to spend your leisure time, for example.

By the way, I like cooking when a senior acquaintance of mine comes over, but I noticed lately that I don’t cook much when I’m alone. Eating out is best when it’s Sri Lankan curry.

Ely_03

Hi, Iggy. I always have fun reading your blog. I live in Greece. I have interest in Japanese people because my daughter is studying abroad in Japan, so I’m happy to have found this blog.

1975Halleluja

Do they not have night clubs there? How about you try going to one? I’m reading you all the way from Egypt.

BB_Typhoon

How about trying to clean up your room? It might be surprisingly messy.

Archangel

Hello, nice to meet you, Iggy-san. If you are in Sri Lanka, apparently, there is a Sri Lankan massage called Ayurveda. You are finally having a day off, so isn’t it a good idea to relax in a way you have never experienced before? Take care of your body. I found the spa below. Not so bad, is it?

(This URL is only visible to the administrator.)

Title: I went to do Ayurveda!

Hello, Iggy here. Thank you for your previous comments to my blog.

I went to the spa that Archangel-san introduced to me, and it was a series of first experiences, so I was very excited. Back in my country, I kind of imagined that women were the ones who get this kind of massage, but if my tired body would get better, I could keep getting it in the future too.

The owner of the spa was a Tamil speaker. It would have been great if I were more able to talk to them. Thanks to them, I experienced enrichment in many aspects.

Iggy out.

Archangel

Iggy-san, it seems you had a fulfilling day and nothing makes me happier. I think that the most efficient way to study about languages and gemstones is to proceed with the two paralleling each other like wheels. I hope your training will be fun.

Punk_Of_England

When I read a blog from someone who’s having fun, I have fun too! If there were a ‘like’ button, I might have pressed it nonstop. Take care of your health. Man, anonymous sections sure are convenient.

Title: Three-Wheeler

Hello, Iggy here. I had a question in one of my updates.

Do you remember that, last time, I wrote an article about purchasing a three-wheel bike called Three-Wheeler? I’ve been addicted to riding it around lately.

I did have a driver’s license in my motherland, but I was the kind who didn’t have a car or bicycle, so maybe my eyes opened up to the fun of driving a car when I came here.

This thing is like a bike with a hood, so it feels good when the wind hits my face. Finding waterfowl when I’m running around the man-made areas in the evening makes me feel satisfied.

I’m going to study now. After I’m done, I’ll go ride on the Three-Wheeler again. Looking forward to it.

Archangel

Iggy-san, hello. It seems that you are enjoying your new vehicle. Although this is excessive concern, but if I may share my worries about the Three-Wheeler, while it does have a casual ride quality to it, is not appropriate for crime prevention. For example, there is no wall to protect your body if a thug happens to attack from the side of the vehicle while it is temporarily stopped. Your senior and boss have probably already told you not to carry valuables with you when you are riding. Please be careful.

Iggy

>Archangel-san, thank you for always leaving comments. Indeed, I do recall my boss telling me that. I never take valuables with me when I use the Three-Wheeler, but I’ll make sure to take it to heart once again. Thank you very much.

ilovestones

I went back to read the article about the Three-Wheeler. So cute! I don’t see bikes like that in my country at all. Must be fun to drive around one of those. I think this would come in very handy if you ever feel like renewing all the strata within a 20km radius of your house. I’m jealous.

Punk_Of_England

This might be the anonymous section and all, but I think people’s quirks show in their text, so it’s hard to tell if they haven’t yet been discovered or if they’re just being let through...

Title: Men in Skirts

Iggy here. Just as the title says, I’ve passed by several men who were wearing skirts. I wonder if it was traditional wear. But it also had a colorful and casual feel to it, so I’m slightly confused about what it was. I’m not very confident as to whether or not I was making a rude face when I looked at them. My apologies to them.

Archangel

>Iggy-sama.

That is called sarong, which is a traditional wear in Sri Lanka. Please refer to the URL below.

(This URL is only visible to the administrator.)

I believe you understood that it is used as formal wear. Perhaps the fact that there were so many men wearing colorful sarongs means it was a wedding ceremony? Do not be so discouraged.

Title: I was given a sarong!

Iggy here. For now, please take a look at this photo.

(The image is displayed only to accounts authorized by the administrator.)

I got a red and blue gingham check sarong! It’s comfy! Since it’s the locals who wear it, as expected, there’s lots of pros to it – it’s breathable, doesn’t bleach in the sunlight, and it’s easier to walk in than I had imagined.

As you can see in the picture, the length is down to the ankles. It’s longer than a Scottish skirt and that helps. It seems people put this on to go to wedding ceremonies. So cool. Above all, it suits the climate of Sri Lanka, so I think that’s better to wear than Bermuda shorts if you want to spend time here.

I received this from my neighbor, but it’s extremely comfortable, so I’m planning to buy one or two more for myself. I wonder if this can’t be worn every day.

Shinghalion

I am a local. It makes me happy that you like my homeland’s clothes. This sort of garment also seems to be trending amongst Sri Lanka’s elite college students in the recent years, so if there are any places near you where college students hang out, then the boutiques next to them are where you should aim to go. Please have a pleasant life. By the way, it seems to me that someone is leaving several comments. Are you okay? If they are being a nuisance, it seems that there is also a block function here. Just my excessive concerns.

Archangel

>Shinghalion

Pleased to meet you (just for the sake of it). Please do not say such outrageous things to someone you have never even met.

Title: I ended up accumulating sweets.

(The image is displayed only to accounts authorized by the administrator.)

I made too many...

The picture is of coconut rolls, pudding and caramelized date. As one would expect, I can’t eat them all on my own, but when I tried to share with my neighbors, they told me that it’s bad for children’s teeth and got a bit angry, so things are awkward. What should I do?

Title: My boss came over!

The sweets that I made in big quantity didn’t go to waste. Lucky me.

Weird coincidences do happen. I’m truly glad for that.

I wonder what I should make next time he comes. Please leave a comment if you have any suggestions. As for Sri Lankan sweets, I still only know about things like watalappan, and also the rolls, cream buns, and coconut dumplings sold at the station’s kiosk. But all of them are delicious, aren’t they? If you have any recommendations, please tell me.

Archangel

>Iggy-sama, I saw your post with great interest. However, I do not think you should forget about the true feelings of the person in question. Please use every day to improve your own skills and promote your physical and mental health. In that respect, as expected, I think that the sweets you are supposed to make should have focus on your current specialties, but do you agree?

Shinghalion

>Archangel, overprotection can be a bad habit if it goes too far. How about you realize that already?

Archangel

>Shinghalion, Neither I nor you know each other at all. Please refrain from speculating and saying such things on your own accord.

Punk_Of_England

Phew~! This is getting kinda interesting. I’ll be watching over the course of events.

ilovestones

Hum, please leave it as that. This is Iggy-san’s blog. Aren’t you being a bother to him?

Archangel

I resent my actions.

Shinghalion

I apologize.

Punk_Of_England

I’m sorry.

Mura_Shimo

Heya, Iggy-san! It’s your well-acquainted H.S. I came to see your blog! It’s a fun one with lots of comments. Considering that you said you didn’t advertise it to anyone, that’s amazing! Natural virtues maybe?

I wanna see you again and talk! Do lots of updates~! I’ll do my best at guitar practice too~!

Punk_Of_England

The possibility of toleration has disappeared, huh. A-san, you okay? Are you going to be silent for the rest of your life?

Archangel

I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, but I am hesitating as well. Remaining silent might be the safest.

Archangel_Of_Archangel

Hello, nice to meet you, Iggy-san.

I read your entire blog. You seem to be having lots of fun. That is a relief. I have experience with working in a country a bit farther to the southeast than Sri Lanka, so seeing you live a fun daily life reminds me of my youth, which makes me both cry and laugh. This is a very good blog where your daily life comes to mind in vivid colors.

Also, the way that so many people are looking after Iggy-san in the comment section made the corners of my eyes feel hot. Speaking of which, do the people who leave comments on this blog really have no relation to Iggy-san and just watch over him through this blog?

>Archangel-san, can we talk again?

Mail account

Sender: [email protected]

Destination: [email protected]

Message: I shall contact you through the usual phone number.

Sender: [email protected]

Destination: [email protected]

Message: I will be waiting for it. Thank you for always taking care of my son.

Title: The comments decreased?

Hello, Iggy here. Ever since the last update, I feel that the people who always send comments to the blog have gone quiet somehow. Have I written anything weird? It is weird for me to make such a request, but if there is no problem in particular, please be as dynamic as always. I mostly spend my time by myself, so I get encouragement when I read from you.

The city has become lively with the preparations for Perahera. It seems there will be many plans for the summer again, but will I be able to see it live? Iggy out!

Archangel

>Iggy-sama, hello. I shall write a long comment in due time.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tanimoto shouko #jeffrey claremont #shimomura haruyoshi #saul ranashinghe ali #nakata yasuhiro #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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a-random-aroace · 4 years ago

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Fear Of His Father AU/Fanfic

Here I am, making more dadmight content and 1:40 in the morning as it is when my brain gets to thinking. Trust me, it will get to the dadmight, and I don’t care if it has been used before or whatever. Prepare yourselves as it is angsty. ⚠️!trigger warning!⚠️ neglect, child abuse⚠️

Midoriya had been having a pretty bad week. His deadbeat dad had come back from one of his 9 year business trips and wasn’t all to happy to see him. He had come back to see his “son” standing in the kitchen, and 3 AM chugging milk straight out of the jug, finishing it in 23 seconds. Wiping his mouth, he asked

“Uh... can I help you..?”

“What are you doing?!”

“Just getting a drink? May I ask who you a-

“YOUR WASTING IT THATS WHAT YOUR DOING! DONT DO THAT AGAIN OR YOU’LL REGRET IT!”

“W-who... are you??”

“I’m your father. Who else?”

“Are- are you sure you have the uh, right.. house?”

“OF COURSE I DO! YOUR IZUKU MIDORIYA RIGHT?!”

“Uh yes sir. Could you please keep your voice down? You might wake my mom.” He saw rage flicker in the eyes of his “dad”.

“I DONT CARE ABOUT THAT UGLY BITCH! SHE CAN GO DIE FOR ALL I CARE! IM ONLY HERE BECAUSE I HAVE TO BE!”

“I’m sorry sir.” Deku replied quickly, his head bowed. He tried to go back to his room, maybe this was a dream, or a nightmare. Hopefully he would wake up soon. Hopefully his dad wouldn’t hit him. But as soon as he tried to leave, his father exploded.

“WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR GOING?!” He grabbed Deku by the shoulder, shoving him down onto his knees. “You will stay there until I tell you to move. You will listen to me or pay the price.”

“Y-yes sir.” Oh god, he’s gonna kill me. Calm down, it can’t be that bad. Maybe he just had a rough day. Maybe he’s just tired. I don’t know him. He could be nice and he’s just in a pissy mood right now. Yea that’s probably it. I mean what could I have done to him? I don’t even know his name.

“What room will I be staying in?” Shit. We don’t have any open rooms. There’s not a chance I’m letting him stay in a room with my mom. He could have my room. But what if he ruins my All Might merch. “Well?!” He grabbed my hair and yanked me to his eye level.

“I don’t know! I don’t know. You could stay in my room if you want I guess, we don’t have any open rooms.”

“Fine. I’ll stay on your room.” He shoved Deku onto the floor and stormed off. He laid there on the floor, shaking slightly in fear of his father. Deku brushed a hand though his hair to see if he was bleeding. Luckily he wasn’t.

“Ok, ok. Ok ok ok ok ok ok. This isn’t that bad. It’s just one day. Things will be ok. This isn’t the end of the world. He’s just one man. You’ll be fineee. Just okie dokie. He wouldn’t hurt you would he? I mean why would he? I didn’t do anything too him. He’s just in a bad mood. The last time I saw him was when I was what? Five? Yeah, he didn’t hurt me. This is just a bad day for him. I mean he’s getting home at three in the morning, so who wouldn’t be cranky?”

He paced there for 2 more hours, finding more and more excuses for the way he acted. He finally went to the laundry room and found a few blankets, a empty plastic basket, some decorative pillows, and the sweatshirt he stole from All Might when he brought it to training in case it got cold.

He quickly slipped on the sweater, and set the pillows down in the basket. It was big on him, extremely big on him, as it had been big enough to fit All Might himself. He folded one of the blankets over the pillows, to provide more cushioning. He wrapped the other blanket around him and crawled into the basket.

He adjusted himself to be as comfortable as possible, and set a alarm for 7:40. It was around 5:25 when he had finally settled, and managed drift off into a troubled sleep.

He was awoken by the sounds of arguing and stomping feet. He checked the time. 6:47, are you kidding me? Could I please just get some sleep? I don’t want to disappoint All Might...

He decided to listen in on the conversation they were having.

“Why are you here!? I haven’t seen you in years and you just show up!? And then, you kick my son out of his room, wake me up, and demand I make you breakfast and lunch for while your out?”

“I finally come home to see my family, and this is the welcome I get? I get screamed at-

“You haven been here in years! You haven’t payed any child support, sent any letters, or do anything! This isn’t your home! Leave!”

Deku buried himself in the stolen sweater. At least it’s warm here. At least I’m safe...

Ok that’s where I’m leaving off, I will post more soon, be on the lookout and don’t be afraid to ask questions and talk about it.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #deku #izuku midoriya #all might #midoriya izuku #dadmight #sunflower dad #inko midoriya #hisashi midoriya #deku midoriya #izuku angst #bnha angst #mha angst #my hero academia angst #boku no hero fanfic #deku angst

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 63]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Let’s do some of this tonight.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since they’d discussed making menus for him him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil would mark the little box on the card corresponding to his opinion. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day. Yet, putting toppings on it like cinnamon and sugar and different fruits had increased its rating easily.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though. What do you want to do?”

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught the language to myself in order to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said when they entered. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.”

Virgil could tell just by listening closely for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile. “Now, I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down below with his eyes trained on the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures, it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walked directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed briefly before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?�� Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

#proofread stories #not writing

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idratherdreamofjune · 4 years ago

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@sunheart wrote in her tags on another post:

Genuinely hate being alive ... I completely understand on so many levels why you would hate being a woman. Its horrible. And then as a Christian there's this whole really ugly dynamic- that i know is probably a lie i just haven't worked out how yet- that we're the 2nd best. The afterthought. The mediocre option. Almost everything in life men are better at and it's hard to believe it's just cultural- math logic leadership writing cooking writing physical activities on and on, and women are good at being Nice :) Which ok i like being nice but it's like that's my only option I feel like any other impact i might wish to have upon the world will be paltry in comparison to what i could do if only i was a man. I feel incompetent. Irrational. Emotional. Obnoxious. I feel like I'm supposed to be a plaything for the beings that were *actually* created to be in harmony with God like I'm not supposed to have a connection with God- only through my husband which what does that make me as a single childless bitch? I can't even fulfill the main point of my existence. Jesus interacted with women but did he care about them like he did the men? David and John were named his favorites not Deborah or Hannah. And like i said i'm sure none of that's true but i don't know how and it feels awful. hate it.

Hopefully others have shared encouragement on this already, but just in case I wanted to give some thoughts. Please know that if I sound riled at all (and I’m going to try to avoid that) I’m not upset at anyone who feels this way but am deeply upset by the enemy’s lies that so many are hurt by. As a younger believer I did struggle with some of these questions myself, and for a long time it was difficult to reconcile these concerns with the promises that God loves me.

Your instincts are right - it is a lie that women are second best. And before I go any further let me also agree that yes, we are physically weaker than men and have other weaknesses too. But since when has weakness meant that someone is any way “less than” others? Men have weaknesses too, just different ones. That’s the nature of humanity: every person is a mixed bag of strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never heard before that men are better at cooking?? My dad literally struggles to cook a hotdog in the microwave and has never touched a grill in his life. And okay men may (possibly, not sure on this one either) be inherently better at math, but which gender is drastically underrepresented in the nursing field? I suspect there are fewer male teachers, too, though not as huge a disparity. Men are more prone to recklessness and violence - part of the reason married men live longer (gotta get that stable influence). Again yes men are physically stronger but have you watched ballet dancers (oooh i mean ballerinas, sorry there’re so few ballerinos that I forgot to differentiate) or female gymnasts? Nothing “less than” there! The famous Proverbs 31 woman is a good insight into Biblical support of female abilities and value: “strength and dignity are her clothing”, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” “Let her works praise her in the gates.” (The gates were essentially the city hall or forum of ancient Israel.)

Going back to the beginning - women were created second, true. But did God not know His own plan? He was always going to create women. And the really amazing thing that I learned in the last couple of years is that, when God says He’s going to make Adam “a helper” (Hebrew ”ezer”), that’s the same word that is used to describe God’s actions for His people throughout the Old Testament: - Exodus 18:4 “The God of my father was my help.” - 1 Samuel 7:12 “Ebenezer” means “rock of help” and is a memorial of Yaweh’s help. - Psalm 30:10 “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” - Psalm 115:11 “You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord, He is their help and their shield” - Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the Lord” - Hosea 13:9 “‘You are against Me, against your helper.’“

It is a common word for “help” used in other settings, yes, but the fact that it’s used of God illustrates that this is no poor or second-rate role. Helping - aiding - supporting - incredibly important! In fact this article I just found puts it this way:

In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve, in Genesis 2. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness. That's the meaning of ezer. Because God is not subordinate to his creatures, any idea that an ezer-helper is inferior is untenable. In his book Man and Woman: One in Christ, Philip Payne puts it this way: "The noun used here [ezer] throughout the Old Testament does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, savior, rescuer, protector.'

Moving on to the New Testament, and the topic of John, who is known as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. John is the one who wrote the book which tells us that (under the direction of the Holy Spirit, yes) and he only uses that wording as a title, in place of his name. Nowhere does it say he was the favorite disciple, or even most loved, just that he was loved. To me it seems more as if John is saying ��Jesus loved me! Can you believe it?!” It has a feeling of awe and thankfulness as opposed to superiority.

Getting into marriage specifically, I do believe that a wife should be under the headship of her husband ...mainly in the sense of letting him have the last word on decisions and plans. This is in part due to differing areas of strength, and in part because in some situations it’s better to have a family leader - most groups of humans need a leader, and following an assigned (or picked) leader does not make one inferior. All that being said, a wife should be able to provide input, advice, and feedback to her husband, who should take into strong consideration his wife’s needs, insights, and concerns (Ephesians 5:25-29).

The lie that women cannot be connected to God outside of their husband is refuted not only by all the vibrantly faithful single or windowed Christian ladies of history (Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Mary Slessor, and Elisabeth Elliot are some of my favorites) but also Scripture itself. When Christ spoke with the divorced Samaritan woman the disciples were shocked not because she was a Samaritan but because she was a woman (John 4:27; she was shocked on both counts - John 4:9) - I hope they got used to it because Jesus spoke with women a lot. Despite the culture of the time, Jesus clearly had very warm and caring direct relationships with Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, and other women. Anna the Prophetess in the temple had been widowed for decades and was serving God alone “night and day” (Luke 2:37). Incredibly, in a culture where women were looked down upon, the Lord chose women to be the first to discover the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene to be the first to see the risen Christ! I love that passage so much (John 20:11-18).

Another example is when Jesus stopped on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (i.e. He put aside a powerful man’s urgent request) to lovingly interact with the woman who’d suffered bleeding for years - a terribly personal and female problem (Mark 5:21-35).

To try to wrap up, I’ll return to David in the OT, who was a “man after God’s own heart”. But again, it doesn’t say that he was actually a favorite - it does say David was chosen by God though, to lead Israel and establish the family from which Jesus would ultimately come. You know who else was chosen? Esther - “for such a time as this”. Once she realizes the task she must complete, she tells Mordecai how it’s going to go, and “Mordecai then went away and did everything Esther had ordered him.” Esther gets a book named after her and is remembered in the holiday of Purim to this day. Also note that Esther was married to an unbeliever. Likewise Ruth was chosen, as a young foreign widow, to be part of the Messiah’s kingly line. As an aside, my favorite thing about Ruth’s story (besides all the faith and beauty of it) is the simultaneous deep respect and protectiveness Boaz shows towards her (okay enough mush). Anyhow what it comes down to is that God chooses and loves both men and women, and both have a place (singly and married) in His plans and kingdom. See also Galatians 3:28 “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This post has all over the place, and I probably forgot a bunch of things I wanted to add (if anything else comes to mind I’ll add it later), but I hope it’s been encouraging. Yes I’ve struggled with some aspects of how women are portrayed in the Bible, but what I shared above, plus the love and blessings I’ve known as a single woman are more than enough evidence that we are known and loved. If anything is unclear or anyone has any questions please speak out/send an ask! Anon asks are on too. Also if anyone wants to add or amend anything do so without hesitation!!

#marriage #women in the Bible #Book of Ruth #Book of Esther #singleness #Scripture #lies

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rosecoloredbi-writes · 4 years ago

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When the Spark Came Back

Summary: Y/N and Steve dating in high school until suddenly, they weren't. Steve had pushed Y/N away with no explanation. Years later, Y/N finds Steve on stage playing with his band and gathers the nerve to take a step towards healing.

A/N: there is a part 2 to this that I'll be posting momentarily.

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing? Mentions of parents divorce and kicking their kid out, I think that's it.

It had been too long since you had seen him. You think of the time that has passed by cruelly. Back then you had all been so full of life, so excited for the future, and now, here you were: a jaded 25 year old just looking for relief. College had been good to you, you grew into your own person instead of staying on the steady path of who everyone else had wanted you to be. You opened your arms to adventures rather than shrink from them. You put what you wanted first, and loved yourself first.

The thing that was cruel about time is that now, you no longer felt that excitement about life. Instead you dreaded facing the next day and drug your feet around.

But everything was different around him.

The steady beat of the bass filled your senses. The vibration practically waking you up from the awful nightmare life had been. Then you saw him, and your heart finally felt less heavy. He began strumming his guitar easily and you started singing along. Then you felt the warm glow in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as the memories started flooding back.

He had been your first love. In high school he was popular. Everyone loved him or was jealous of him. Eventually, a new boy moved to town and dethroned him of his title of King of Hawkins. He chilled out then. Became more down to earth, and that is when you really began to notice him. He hung out with kids around your sister’s age and could be found driving them to the arcade or bowling or every once in a while he would take them out one on one to get ice cream. He was more tender than he ever allowed himself to be.

To your surprise, he had begun to notice you too. He noticed the way you would shyly smile at him anytime he caught your eye. The way your eyes would light up when you got passionate in classes, and eventually on dates. He noticed everything and was quickly smitten.

The lead singer asked the crowd how they were doing, and the erupting cries brought you back into the present. He was just as lovely now as he ever had been. He had grown out of some of his boyish features, but his eyes still shined with childlike innocence. He still had his long wavy hair that he would run his hands through when they weren’t busy attending to the guitar strings and gripping the neck of his guitar.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the music, but as the concert came to an end you were filled with anxiety. Coming here had been a terrible decision. What if he had forgotten about you? What if that flame you still secretly held had fizzled out over the years apart? You knew that was a huge possibility, but your heart still silently thumped in hope that maybe, just maybe he still felt the same. Even though he had hurt you there had to be a reason, right? You don’t go from being absolutely in love to not overnight.. right?

Your feet carried you to the merch table where the band was hanging out, talking to fans and signing shirts and vinyls, and taking photos. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you heard your voice call out to him.

“Steve?” you yelled a little more than you asked. You closed your eyes for the briefest of moments and took in a deep inhale. When you opened your eyes, his were glued to you.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” he asked as he closed the large gap between the two of you.

“Ha, yeah, it’s me…” you answered, playing with your hair to give your hands something to do. “Uh, hi.” you smiled shyly up at him and suddenly you were both back in high school.

“Hey! Hi. Uh, you are Y/N, right?” Steve asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

“Yeah… do you need something?” you asked. That would be the only obvious reason Steve Harrington would ever talk to you. Maybe he needed notes from a class or something.

“Actually yes,” he said smiling, “I am in desperate need of your number.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock, but you nodded, knowing words were not going to help you at the moment. You grabbed a pen from your bookbag and quickly wrote down your phone number on his hand, double-checking it to make sure you wrote it down correctly in your fuzzy state.

You hadn’t noticed then, but Steve blushed at the contact of your hands and he swore he had fallen in love with you right then and there.

Steve wrapped his arms around you in a soul-crushing hug that you wished could have lasted forever. Much to your disdain, you were the one to pull back, looking over him all sweaty and still pumped from playing with his band. When your eyes met his, you realized he had been staring too.

“Do you want to get some food once I am done here?” he asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

You nodded, “I can wait over there?” you said pointing to a few benches, “Take your time, I don’t mind.”

Steve pulled you into another hug before you walked over and sat down.

You watched him interact with fans, and couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies anytime he looked at you. You busied yourself staring at your hands and picking carefully at your nails, an anxious habit you had. You smoothed out the black, denim mini skirt you were wearing a few times and retucked your t-shirt until you were satisfied with how it looked and cleaned your glasses. Finding anything to help keep your nerves down.

Finally, you felt a hand on your knee and looked over to find Steve kneeling in front of you, smiling up at you, just like he would in high school.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help you up.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up before answering, “Hell yes I am ready.”

You both decided it would be best if you drove since the vehicle Steve had access to was the band’s tour van. So there you were, driving down the street to your favorite diner. It was still hard to think straight, him being so close to you, but you managed to drive safely in your dad’s old VW Bug. Once the car was parked and you were both out of the car, instinct took over and you grabbed his hand, leading him inside to your favorite booth near the kitchen.

After you had both sat there awkwardly staring at the menu for far too long and the food got there, the conversation started flowing freely. You guys talked about what you’ve been up to, college for you, the band for him. How your families were, how you handled the death of your father. You found out that Steve had gotten a dog, which had been his dream since he was younger, but never could because his parents weren’t around long enough for him to ever bring it up.

“Okay, Steve… I have to ask. What happened?” Your eyebrows drew up, worried about the answer you may get. “I mean… What happened to us? Did you not love me anymore? Was there someone else? I have just been so confused all these years. I haven’t been able to get over you because you never gave me closure.”

Steve thought long and hard before answering and stared long and hard at the mostly eaten burger in front of him. Steve looked like he was going to open his mouth, but stopped for a moment. Instead, he looked you in the eyes before reaching to grab your hand. Something that had always been comforting to you.

“After we graduated, I seriously felt like there was nothing we couldn’t do. That it would always just be me and you and we could take on the world. Then, my parents were home for a while if you remember. They had seemed like they were closer than ever, and I was so happy. I had my parents and I had you and we were no longer stuck in high school. Then, I watched as my parent’s marriage fell apart… and it shook me. It really should not have been a surprise, they generally acted like things were wonderful and they were happy before shit hit the fan. But this shit was permanent. They announced their impending divorce and that I should look at moving into my own place. I just… I couldn’t handle it. I mean, we had been looking at places to move into together, but this made me feel like I was being kicked out of my family. That my family didn’t really exist anymore.” Steve took his hand back for a moment and ran them through his hair a couple of times.

“Y/N, I felt like I had nothing. I know I had you, but the only way I knew how to cope with things was to push everything and everyone as far away as possible. I have regretted not saying goodbye to you every single day since and it has torn me apart. I so wish I could have explained everything to you, and maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are now.” Again he looked at you intensely, but his eyes were soft, before continuing.

“If you need to get over me, I understand. I was so, so selfish 7 years ago. But I also need you to know that I am still in love with you. Seeing you today, it was almost like the lights had come back on. I have been living in the darkness I didn’t know about until today and I will be damned if I don’t say something. Just… please think about it? I know so much time has passed and we are probably so different than we were, but I would be so honored to get to know you again.”

It looked as if tears were welling up in his eyes that he was willing to not spill over.

“Steve, you really hurt me. I need you to understand that one day we were attached at the hip and just, so enthralled with each other, and the next, you were gone. It was almost like you had died in the middle of the night. If you were to leave me again like that, I honestly think it would break me into pieces that could not be mended.”

You took a deep breath, soaking in everything, including the way your eyes began to fill with tears and even let them spill over onto your cheeks, finally getting the relief you have needed for so long. You dabbed at your face with a napkin and looked back up at Steve, who sat there utterly heartbroken at seeing the hurt spill out from you.

After another deep breath, you finished your thoughts.

“I would love to get to know you again too, Steve Harrington.”

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