#I’ve got three more sitting in my inbox

[safination]

Little Things

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Reader Warnings: None! TLDR: There are days when Alastor just doesn't want to be touched, and you totally understand that. You're one your best behavior to not touch Alastor. Surely, with such an attentive partner, no misunderstanding will occur.

My inbox is currently accepting requests. Feel free to ask for some stuff. I'm in a mood to write and create, so lend me your ideas and I'll bring them to words. This is a drabble. It's weird not to make full one-shots tbh, but meh, wasn't in the mood to make this a whole one-shot.

It’s the little things, really.

Alastor sits towards the edge of the bar, his stool nudged just a fraction farther than usual.  Charlie leans forward, eyebrows furrowed as she rants about this and that and this and that.

Tentacles slither out the shadows, wrapping themselves around the legs of Alastor’s stool. No one really notices when the tentacles pull him another fraction farther away.

Or, how just this morning, Alastor took time out of his day to grab a bowl, and carefully place the three eggs Niffty asked for.  The bowl slides across the table instead of being placed into her tiny hands.

See? The little things.

Heh . . .

You deserve a pat on the shoulder, honestly. Because what a considerate partner you are! Alastor didn’t even have to mention the slightest discomfort, yet still, you know he’s in ‘no touch!’ mode.

That’s why, for the entire day, you’ve been supporting Alastor’s ‘No-Touch’ day.

The rest of Hell’s day goes something like this:

Alastor asks you to hand him his coat.

And like the considerate partner that you are, you hand it to him. Although, you do have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from helping him wear the thing.

If it were any other day you would wrap it around his shoulders, and hold the back as he slips it around his arm. Then you would trail your fingers across his lapels to adjust its fit. Maybe, even give his bowtie a slight tug.

But you are a very, very, good partner.

So, your hands are kept to yourself, and the coat is placed on the table with a smile.

The devil seems keen on tempting you, but no, you are not giving in. (If you were in the garden, not even the devil himself could make you eat that apple.)

It’s been quite the productive day, and you definitely deserve an award! Not once have you touched Alastor, not have you stepped a foot into his personal space. It’s been difficult if you were being honest, but oh, well.

Maybe you’ll buy yourself a sweet, little treat for being such a considerate partner to Alastor. He’s quite lucky. Very few are as kind as you are, and even less are as attentive to his needs.

Just like right now.

There’s a gaping space between your bodies. It’s an easy thing to place yourself on the edge of the bed, careful not to roll and wrap your arms around Alastor.

Really, an award is in —

Alastor shoots up the bed, his note turned into the air with a scowl. “I refuse to keep playing this childish game,” he says, huffing at you. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to sort it out, but I’ve had enough.”

“Dearest . . .” You blink at him, pushing yourself up to sit as well. “I . . . What?”

His lips twist, and once more he huffs. It reminds you of a buck. “I would rather that you tell me that you’re upset with me instead of doing these ridiculous little things.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous and childish!” Alastor points a finger at you, and there’s this petty voice urging you to chomp it off for such an audacity. “Do not confuse me for a fool, dearest. You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“Well, of course, I have!” you say. “You’ve been in a mood since the moment you woke up. The cat almost got its tail bitten for rubbing between your legs.”

Alastor stares at you, an incredulous look on his face. “Ridiculous,” he tells you. “You are, absolutely, ridiculous.”

“I think you mean ‘considerate’.”

He flops back down to the bed, then rolls to you like some fucking child. Alastor keeps rolling until you don’t know whose limbs belong to who. His fingers curl around your shirt as he buries his weight deeper into you.

It’s the little things, remember? Like how you reach out to play with the strands of his hair until you’re finally combing through.

“I thought you were in a mood.”

“I am,” Alastor tells you, and deeper and deeper and deeper he goes. “All day I’ve been wanting nothing but this, yet you were so quick to deny me.”

“Don’t your moods usually require personal space?”

Alastor pulls you even closer, until your personal space becomes his as well. “This belongs to me,” he says. “And I don’t appreciate it being taken away from me.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - The two of you have some time to yourselves for what feels like the first time in forever.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x female reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. mention of a panic attack. initial hospital setting. one alcohol mention.

Word Count - 4k

Authors Note - 10!! 10 whole chapters!! can you believe it!! pancake recipe taken from mr carlos sainz - thanks carlito <3. double date next chapter (with protective/jealous bucky, as requested ;)). and the much awaited conversation… coming very soon. thanks for the love and support and kindness. it means the world, always <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”

“… which was?”

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.

“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We can’t sit out here forever, honey.”

You stretch out your legs from where they’ve been tucked up against your chest, chin resting on your knees. Bucky places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles.

“We can.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“I know it’s scary, but we can’t run from this any longer. We’re just going to have to face it head on.”

“I know,” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’m just…”

You trail off, leaving words unspoken in the air like particles of dust in the sunlight.

“What are you so afraid of? Is it that they won’t support us? Honey girl, they aren’t gonna have much of a choice. We are literally soulmates.”

You’re trying to find a way to explain, but none of your thoughts are coherent enough to articulate into something comprehensible.

“I don’t know, Buck. At first, I think it was that. But now? Maybe I just feel guilty that we’ve kept something so huge a secret for so long. I used to tell my parents everything - by choice. That’s how we’ve always been. And suddenly, the biggest event of my life happens, and I… didn’t tell them?”

“You’re letting this guilt eat you alive, baby. Listen, I feel it too. You’re not alone in this. Do you know how many times your parents have asked me about dating in these last eighteen months? How many times we’ve talked about soulmates? And I guess I never lied… but I haven’t exactly told the truth. I’m just as guilty as you think you are.”

“I’m sorry,” you confess, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’ve had such tunnel vision with this whole situation. I’ve been selfish. I should have thought about you more.”

“You haven’t had to.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, honey baby. You’ve never had to ‘think about me more’, because you’ve known how I felt this whole time. In here.”

He places a hand over your heart. You close your eyes, letting the warmth from his palm bleed into your chest. The weight of it grounds you back down to Earth, tethered to your soulmate in more ways than one.

“That’s the beauty of it,” he continues. “You don’t have to guess how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling it - because I’m always telling you. And you’re always listening.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand where it’s still linked with yours.

“The Universe disagrees,” he whispers back, leaning in to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “I disagree.”

It’s all so tender, so gentle, so real, that a lump in your throat forms instantly. You blink rapidly, fighting back tears as you press your side into his. If you could sew yourself into his ribcage and live there forever, resting your head on his beating heart, you would.

“Come on,” he coaxes carefully, pulling you to your feet and watching to see if you’re steady enough. “Let’s do this thing.”

You stare up at him, lost in those ocean blue irises. For a moment, you swear you see the waves moving in them, crashing against the shore in a motion so comforting, it reminds you of home.

“I love you.”

Bucky smiles at you, pupils dilating and heart beating that little bit faster. He’ll never get sick of hearing those words.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, honey girl. More than anything.”

Tangling your fingers with his, you inhale deeply before taking the first step forwards, towards the front doors of the hospital.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you reach your Dad’s room, you drop Bucky’s hand as if by instinct. When he links your fingers once more, you panic momentarily, before realising it’s futile.

They already know. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.

You walk through the door hand in hand, pressed into each others sides as if it’ll keep you standing upright. Maybe it will.

Your Mom instantly bolts out of her chair, coming over to assess you. She looks you up and down, cradling your face in her hands as she checks you over.

“You were gone a long time, sweetheart. You okay? Have you been crying?”

Bucky lets go of you to give you some space, but doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his warmth from behind you as you watch your Mom’s eyebrows furrow with worry.

“I had… I think it was, um… like a - a panic attack, or something. I don’t know. I just got overwhelmed.”

Your voice sounds so small again, so fragile. You mentally chastise yourself for not being stronger for her.

“Oh, honey.”

She pulls you into her chest, stroking your hair just like she did when you were a child and had a nightmare. You’d run across the hall and into your parents room - your Mom would always bolt upright when she heard little feet on the wooden floors, waiting for you with open arms.

“Your Dad is gonna be fine. I promise you, the Doctors have said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“It’s true.”

The voice is croaky and rusted from misuse, but it unmistakably belongs to the man lying in the hospital bed.

You make your way over and sit down carefully, cautious and calculated. Your Dad takes your hand, stroking his thumb across your skin.

“I’m gonna be just fine, kid. I know I scared you, and I’m really sorry. But I’m okay. Promise.”

You smile at him, genuinely this time, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You guys should go home.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go home, get some rest. The two of you look almost as exhausted as Lori does.”

Your Mom laughs, shaking her head. You chuckle, watching them. There’s no one funnier than your soulmate.

“I think we should stay a little longer, Jack.”

Bucky’s voice has all three of your heads whipping around to face him.

“Buck, please be on my side here. You’re tired. Go home, sleep it off. All I’m gonna do for the next twenty four hours is sleep anyway. There’s no point in you sitting here watching me like a bunch of creeps.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching your Dad’s face carefully.

“Mom, Dad - we need to talk about-”

“I know, babygirl,” your Dad interrupts. “And we will. But not here, and not now. We’ll do it when I’m home. We can all sit on the couch and drink your Mom’s cherry lemonade and talk about how you and Bucky have been soulmates this entire time.”

“Not this entire time,” you grumble at his attempt at a joke.

“Seriously, you two. I won’t ask again. Go. Home.”

You look at your Dad for a moment, before averting your gaze to your Mom. They’re both wearing the exact same facial expression - the one they used to give you when you’d refuse your bedtime as a six year old on a school night.

“Come on, honey. You heard them. We’re practically dead on our feet.”

You rise from the bed reluctantly, pressing another kiss to your Dad’s cheek before doing the same to your Mom.

“Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything. I mean anything, you guys.”

They both nod as your Dad does a mock salute, laughing at himself.

Bucky extends his hand out for you. This time, you don’t hesitate to take it. You hold it tightly all the way back to his truck, and then all the way back home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky get ready for bed in silence, both of you flitting around your apartment as quickly as possible. You can’t wait to finally get under your duvet and lose the stress of the last twenty four hours.

The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re wide awake.

The exhaustion has seeped into your bones, making you weary but restless. You can’t settle, physically or mentally.

Bucky, on the other hand, is out like a light.

He looks so peaceful like this. The moonlight soaks through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his face like some sort of angel. His hair is a little longer than usual, stubble growing out across his sharp jawline. He looks rugged, a little rough around the edges. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As if he can feel your gaze on him, he cracks an eye open, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He has a pillow crease across his skin, cheek flushed pink with a dusty blush.

“You okay, baby?”

His voice is hoarse and all sleep heavy, rumbling through you like gentle summer thunder.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, trying to fight back tears. “I’m so tired, Buck. So fucking tired.”

“But you can’t sleep?”

He pulls you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and stroking your hair soothingly.

“It’s like my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake,” you mumble into his bare skin. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing makes sense,” he chuckles lowly. “Nothing in this goddamn world makes sense. Except for me and you.”

Bucky spins you in his arms so your back is to his chest, bodies pressed together without an inch of space between you. Pressing a kiss into your neck, he starts mumbling.

“You just need to turn your brain off, baby. I know it’s easier said than done… so I’m gonna help you. All you need to do is focus on my voice, on my touch. Focus your attention on my hands on you, my lips on your skin. The heat of my body against yours.”

He skims his fingers down your side, gripping at your hips to ground you. He’s still kissing your neck, nipping occasionally to vary the sensation. He slips a hand down your front, cupping you over your underwear as you close your eyes, breathing him in. He smells like salt water and sea air and gasoline and home.

You cant your hips into his touch, trying to get him where you want him. Bucky takes the hint, slipping his hand into your panties and running a finger through your wetness. You groan, throwing your head back into his solid shoulder.

“Just switch off, honey baby. Give in to me.”

Bucky glides a finger into you, crooking it towards him. His palm hits your clit and you keen, whining all high pitched and breathy. His hips buck into your backside at the sound, and he chuckles.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet. Sweetest girl in the world.”

He adds another finger, using his thumb to circle your clit in precise, firm motions. You’re writhing against the mattress like a serpent, unable to stay still as Bucky takes you apart.

“Come for me, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. That’s it, atta girl… ride my hand, take what you need. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your entire body tightens up as you reach your climax, back arching away from Bucky as he continues to curl his fingers. He pulls you close, anchors you to him as you moan and shudder.

Your head is empty, besides the thought of your soulmate. All you can think about is Bucky.

Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.

You take a stuttered inhale as you try to catch your breath, beads of sweat dripping down your back.

“You okay?”

He’s muttering into your shoulder, mouth never leaving your skin. You nod, linking your fingers with his where they rest on your waist.

“You didn’t come,” you whisper, leaning your head back into Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, chuckling lowly.

“This wasn’t about me,” he reassures. “It’s all about you, baby. Always is.”

The two of you breathe together for a little while, allowing you to come down from your high. Eventually, Bucky taps your thigh, nudging you up.

“Come on, honey. Get up and use the bathroom, and then we’ll sleep for the next week.”

You do as he says, crawling back into bed with limbs that feel like jelly.

“How you feelin’?” he asks as he pulls you into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“Fucking fantastic.”

He laughs and you can’t help but laugh too, as if by reflex.

“Yeah? No more racing thoughts in that pretty head of yours?”

“None. All I can think about is how much I want to sleep right now.”

Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, Bucky tightens his arms around you.

“Then sleep, baby.”

You snuggle into your soulmates side, relaxing into the mattress.

“I love you,” you mumble into his skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs back. “Sweet dreams, honey girl.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you wake, you can’t tell if you’ve slept for five minutes or five days.

The sheets are crumpled, linen strewn across the bed as the pillows sit completely unmoved at the headboard. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, warming your skin that’s exposed to the sea soaked breeze.

You reach over to the other side of the mattress, seeking Bucky’s warmth. You’re met with empty space, and the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

The man in question is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sun kissed. His boxers are hugging his thighs just right, and you repress the urge to crawl over and sink your teeth into the muscle. Later.

“Morning or afternoon?” You croak out, watching as he softly smiles at your sleep addled voice.

“Morning. Eleven twenty four.”

You stretch your arms above your head, unaware of the way Bucky’s eyes are glued to your bare stomach.

“You want breakfast, or have you eaten?”

“Haven’t eaten yet. Was waiting for you.”

You slide down to the end of the bed where Bucky meets you, leaning down to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Have you been awake long?”

He shakes his head, stealing another kiss.

“Ten minutes or so.”

“How’d you sleep?”

He moves some hair away from your face gently, the morning affection making you light up inside.

“Like a baby. Don’t think I moved once.”

You laugh, running your fingers over his bare shoulders.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.”

“Me neither. I think we need to start prioritising sleep a little more.”

“It’s just… so hard,” you murmur, rising onto your knees on the bed so you’re face to face. “I don’t ever want to sleep when I have the most handsome man alive in my bed. I can think of many other things I’d rather be doing.”

He groans, chuckling lowly.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll keep you in this bed all day. Won’t let you leave.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Barnes?”

He football tackles you suddenly, both of you falling backwards into the plush sheets. You squeal, caught off guard as his hands squeeze your sides firmly.

“Keep running your mouth and see what happens, angel.”

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, you breathe out a laugh.

“I’m so scared,” you tease, peppering his face with gentle kisses. “Like, quaking in my boots.”

He goes to retort, but is interrupted by the deafening sound of your stomach rumbling.

“If we weren’t about to get noise complaints from the neighbours about that hunger of yours, I would absolutely continue this. But…”

“We need to eat.”

“Yes, we do.”

You peck his cheek before jumping off the bed, stretching as you make your way to the kitchen. Bucky follows you eagerly. Of course he does.

You click the coffee maker on as you spin to face him where he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m about to make you the best pancakes you’ll eat in your entire life, James.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Watch and learn, baby.”

When he doesn’t move, you walk him backwards, pulling out the bar stool from underneath the island.

“You just sit there and look pretty.”

He shakes his head with a smirk as you wink, turning on the stove and grabbing your bowls and utensils. He didn’t ask for a cooking lesson, but you’re about to give him one.

“The trick is to separate the egg whites from the yolks, and whip them. When they’re fluffy, you fold them into your mixture, and it makes the pancakes light and airy and gorgeous. Then you add honey, for extra sweetness.”

He watches you flit around the kitchen as if you’re the sun, bright and warm and radiant. He can’t take his eyes off you for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

Bucky’s blinking back tears, suddenly, as you sway your hips while flipping the pancakes at the stove. He wants to drop to his knees, yell out to a higher power and ask what the hell he did to deserve someone like you. He’ll beg, if he has to, for someone, something, to make sure that he finds you in every universe, in every version of this crazy life.

“I love you,” you beam at him, as if you’ve read his mind. “I love you more than anything.”

Your grin is so blinding, so utterly brilliant that the entire room lights up with it. Your own form of electricity.

“I… I-”

“I know, Buck.”

It gets like this, sometimes. Too overwhelming to put into words. To love someone more than anything, anyone - a love that knows no bounds - is completely indescribable.

So he doesn’t even try. He just nods at you, watching as your eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Will you pour us some coffee while I put these on a plate?”

“Anything you need,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as he squeezes past you to grab the mugs. “Always.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You settle down to eat on the balcony, letting the midday sun warm you both up.

“I brought syrup, but, I also brought this.”

You hold out a plastic tub that contains a dark pink mixture, popping the lid off.

“Try it.”

Bucky sticks his little finger in, putting it in his mouth and sighing in contentment at the taste that coats his tongue.

“Good?”

“So good. What is it?”

“My homemade raspberry and lemon coulis. I make it to go on top of pancakes and waffles - it beats maple syrup any day.”

“You’re a genius.”

“So it’s been said,” you laugh, pouring it over your plate. “Now eat before they go cold.”

“Yes ma’am.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You weren’t lying,” he says when he’s finished. “They were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

You laugh, sliding across to press your side into his.

“There’s a lot more where that came from. I have so many recipes I want you to try.”

“God, I’m so lucky. I have the most perfect soulmate in the world, and she’s a baker. What did I do to deserve you, hmm?”

You lean in to kiss him gently, licking across his lips. He tastes like raspberries and sugar and eight hours of sleep.

You’re sat in comfortable silence when your phone rings, startling you both.

“Hello?”

“Babe?”

“Lacie?”

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

You smile instantly, and Bucky does too, by default.

“Your Mom called me and told me about your Dad. She’s been keeping me updated over text. How are you guys holding up?”

“We’re good, honestly. It was a little touch and go at first, but now… we’re okay. All of us.”

“Good. I love you guys.”

“Love you too. So much.”

She sighs all deep and wistful, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What’s up, Lace?”

“Well… I’m calling with a proposition. And I feel like you’re gonna say no, but your Mom already told me that I had to force you to do it, so.”

“Oh, God.”

“Come on a double date with me and Cameron tonight. Come for dinner and drinks with us.”

You take a deep breath, looking over at Bucky. He nods in agreement, encouraging you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

Her surprise is undeniable, the octave of her voice rising ever higher.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in too long, and it’ll be good for me to meet Cameron, finally. Plus, we’re visiting my Dad this afternoon, so we have a free evening.”

“Oh my God, I am so excited! Okay, I’ll text you the address of where we’re eating. Cam knows so much about you already, he can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait to meet Bucky… again? I mean I’ve met him before, but not as your soulmate.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “It’ll be good for everyone to get… reacquainted.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright, Lace. We’ve gotta get ready to visit my Dad, but I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, babe. I am so excited. See you then!”

She puts the phone down, and you can almost picture the cloud of perfume and pressed powder that’s about to rain down on her bedroom. You wish you were there to watch it happen, like old times.

“Our first double date, huh?”

“It’ll be our last if you don’t behave,” you tease, leaning in to peck Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You laugh into his mouth, running your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It’s the longest you’ve seen it, and it’s starting to curl all cute and soft and wispy.

“Come on. Let’s go see my Dad, and then spend hours mentally preparing ourselves for Storm Lacie.”

“I always liked her. Seemed good for you.”

“She is. She’s the best.”

Bucky wraps a strong arm around your shoulder as you swing your legs over his lap, burying yourself in his bare chest.

“You nervous?” he asks into your temple.

“A little, weirdly. Meeting each others soulmate is the kind of thing we’d talk about when we were kids. And now we’re doing it.”

“We can handle it,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing patterns into your arm. “We can handle anything, you and I.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, honey girl. Anything.”

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Heyy! Could I request Jason x Child of Nyx! Reader, i'd figure it'd be a cool thing since you know Zeus and Nyx don't really like each other that and then their children fall in love.

You don't have to do it, if you don't want to and ps. I love all of your works! <3

okay so these have been sitting in my inbox since eons ago, so I decided I was gonna set myself a minimum of 0.4k words because I figured people would rather read a lil bit of their request rather then non of it, but I just churned out 1.2k words of this and I know more then the gods do about nocturnal animals.

enjoy <3

he was raised by wolves - Jason G x child of Nyx reader/animal lover

»»————-　★　————-««

Jason dumped his teddy bear jacket on the back of the spinning chair, after he checked there were no hedgehogs eating plum offcuts on it. He’d made that mistake one too many times. There were a lot of miniscule holes in the sleeves of his jacket. 

The medical kit he was looking for was most likely in one of the crates stacked beneath the snake table. The table with the snake tanks on it, obviously. 

Your cabin was dark a lot of the time, when you weren’t there, courtesy of the kingdom of nocturnal animals lurking between books and in pillowcases, so Jason had to turn on a few of the antique lamps you’d found [on the side of the road, of course] so that other people could see.

He got to his knees, wincing at the crack he heard. 

He could also hear a faint hissing. He looked into one of the tanks, and waved at Benjamin. Benjamin was a northern desert night snake. Meaning he looked like if a leopard wearing a choker was turned into a slithery little serpent. Jason was glad you’d passed that pet leopard you used to have onto Pollux and Castor. It got fur all over his clothes.

Benjamin just stuck his tongue out at him, and Jason crawled underneath the desk, looking for the first aid kit every cabin was supposed to have.

There was a pretty high chance you had chucked it out to make room for that little collection of shrinking green frogs you had found in a river by the Hecate cabin, deep in the woods so that when they accidentally cursed bloodlines and the like, no one was in imminent danger. Lou Ellen owed her first born to three different beings, but that was irrelevant. 

He dug past a few boxes of sugar glider pellets, and found the first aid kit. 

“JASON GRACE, SON OF A BITCH, CHILD OF ROME, CONSUL OF DEMIGODS, PRAETOR OF THE FIRST LEGION!”

Jason sat straight up. A thud echoed through the low lit little cabin, and his head began to pound. He’d hit it on the bottom of the snake table. He sniffed, “I said that once.” 

He heard you trot over as he tried to extract himself, the back of his head throbbing painfully. 

“Babe, we talked about this,” you fussed, and yanked him out into the open with the force of someone who took chocolate out of coyotes mouths on the daily. “You gotta stop banging your head! You’re getting that chronic pain from it that Will told you about!”

Jason grumbled about nothing, and squinted as he looked around. Your face was just a blob. 

“You dropped your glasses babe, hear, lemme… wait, hold this,” you said, dumping your wrapped up hoodie into his arms, the one with the moon cycle phases on the back, and then crawling back underneath the snake table. “I’ve got em!”

He watched you slide them back onto his eyes, your hands actually very gentle compared to the yanking from before. He tried not to grin stupidly. The hoodie in his arms wriggled. Jason looked down, and a small spiky red face looked up at him with big shiny eyes.

“Uh…” he said.

You stood up with a huff, “I knew it, you’ve got a concussion. Now you’re slurring your speech!”

“...No, I just wasn’t expecting a fox,” Jason managed to squeak out, staring at the little animal. It was pretty cute. It reminded him of a wolf, but not the wolves he knew, more of a spindly wolf dipped in ketchup. 

You paused, the first aid kit in your hands. “You weren’t? What did you think I was doing in the forest?” 

“I don’t know,” Jason said, standing back up and moving to the squishy blanketed bed behind the humongous crystal ball and stack of telescopes. There were also a few cat playgrounds to weave around, but he managed to sink into your pile of bat shaped teddies and pillows. “Fighting monsters, near death experiences, something regular?”

You rolled your eyes, and sat cross legged on the bed, reaching for his head with those gentle hands that made him understand how you could pick up the deadliest of spiders and feralist of wolverines without even a scratch. 

Jason wasn’t even nocturnal, but he did sink into your hold. 

Then you let go to crack the unfrozen ice pack and let the chemicals take over until it would make the tips of your fingers freezing. Jason knew to expect your cold hands under his shirt, trying to freeze him out. 

He was sort of used to it, though.  

He looked around your cabin while you savagely whacked the poor icepack against one of the many thick framed mirrors lining your walls. A few bats flapped out of their hiding places in the rafters and settled back down. A baby puma hissed from its place by the umbrella stand that was actually just full of swords. 

From the outside, your cabin looked like a tiny portion of a haunted mansion plonked between the Asteria cabin and the Hestia cabin, which was really just a cozy little room for anyone. Jason pet the soft head of the fox napping in his arms. On the inside, though, it was just old lamps and chew toys and even older mirrors. And a lot of poo bags. And record players. And Jason’s hoodies.

You were already wearing his teddy bear jacket, but he didn’t argue when you pressed the ice pack to his head.

“So, what were you really lookin for in there, babe?” you asked, taking back the fox. You held your hand out, and it disappeared into a shadow. 

“Bandages.”

On the other side of the room, out of a shadow, you grabbed a ziploc bag of raspberries. You pulled it back and began feeding the little fox, red staining your cold fingertips. 

“You know you can’t beat Beth, right?” you teased, looking up for a moment with those gorgeous eyes that made Jason’s head feel a little floaty. Or maybe it was just the injury. 

You smirked, “I mean, not that it’s totally not hot when you beat the shit out of people or anything.”

Yep. Definitely just the head injury. Totally.

Jason ate a slightly squashed raspberry. “I know, but I wanted to practise. I was gonna find Will. Can’t remember how to wrap my wrists.”

You passed over the fox, who wiggled out of the hoodie and curled around a fruit bat Squishmellow with a yawn, fangs stained with red that may or may not be berries or blood. 

Jason shuffled forwards on the bed, ice pack falling from his white blonde hair. “My turn?”

“I thought you were going to get the shit beaten out of you by Annabeth?” You said with a smirk. You had that shark tooth necklace on. Jason gave you a half hearted evil eye, and you opened your arms.

He flopped into the hug, pushing you both back onto the bed. A Tasmanian devil [how? You were in America!] and a grumpy looking white tailed deer and about seven different types of bush mice stared at you. 

Jason didn’t care. He snuggled into your hug, chin on your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair.  

He was your favorite feral animal. 

»»————-　★　————-««

[top-vi]

the contrast of rhaenyra's and alicent's experiences with motherhood is so fascinating

I’ve always argued the storyline of being wary of motherhood and childbirth would’ve worked better with Alicent than Rhaenyra.

Alicent doesn’t get to choose who the father of her children is, she doesn’t have access to contraceptives nor can she refuse Viserys when he calls for her.

The themes of forced motherhood and the consequences of this would work so much better with women like Alicent: struggling to love children forced on you, not understanding why you’re not overcome with maternal affection, suffering from undiagnosed postpartum depression etc.

With Rhaenyra it just doesn’t work because unlike Alicent she can choose her children’s father and she can decide when she wants to be pregnant. In the books she has three back to back pregnancies and then stops for 4 years, whilst in the show she has Joffrey eight years after Luke which means she intentionally had a third child. Either way it all comes down to Rhaenyra having bodily autonomy; if she didn’t want to be pregnant she wouldn’t be pregnant.

Also having Rhaenyra be the one who expresses her wish to not have children honestly feels more sexist because the writers are implying not wanting to be a mother isn’t normal, so once Rhaenyra gives birth to Jace she realises the error of her ways and happily has five more. This implication doesn’t sit well with me.

so i wasn’t fair to you anon, and i’ve let this sit in my inbox since may. the reason for this is because i wanted to see how alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to their children were developed, explained, and expanded on in season two.

regarding alicent and her children:

i think we officially got your wish anon (mine too). while some people may be unhappy with her arc in season 2, alicent has always had a deep-seated love-hate relationship with her children. i’d argue that in season one we also got glimpses into the just…visceral revulsion that she cannot shake when she looks at her children, aegon in particular. but in season two i think she’s truly confronted, in a noticeable tangible way, with the facts of her sons.

obviously, i wish we’d been able to see more of this kind of dynamic back in season one, especially with a younger alicent. however, there are season constraints and we can only see so much in ten episodes (side note: 8-10 episode seasons with a two year wait in between is a rant for another time, but know i’m not being like “yay season constraints!”).

the problem with alicent’s arc and struggle is that so fucking much of it is internal. it is so incredibly hard to show on screen and i find the way its been done so far admirable. up until luke’s death, alicent is lying to herself over and over every day about her relationship to her children, aemond and aegon particularly. once the war starts i believe the tower of lies she’s told herself (this is morally correct, i’m just doing my duty, i was treated well, i’m protecting my children like any mother should) start to crumble. i hate so much that we never got her reaction to aemond killing luke for this reason.

also, to a certain extent she may not ever truly come to grips with her trauma. there are no words for what she went through—marital rape was not a concept then. it still manifests, obviously, but i think we can tell with her repeated insistence that viserys was a decent husband and man [loud incorrect buzzer] that she still thinks she’s the one who’s done something wrong. i’ll be interested to see if the writers ever actually have alicent come to grips with the fact that viserys was, in fact, not a good person or king. personally, i don’t believe they will, but we can always hope.

anyways, all this is to say that: i do believe the themes of forced motherhood and its lifelong consequences are well done and explored with alicent (thus far). people will disagree, perhaps even you, but her eventual rejection of aegon and aemond; her desperate, almost chaotic protection of helaena; her ideas about daeron; all of it really speaks to the struggle she’s had and is going through as their mother.

regarding rhaenyra and her children:

this is more difficult that alicent lol

before i get into my gripes with her story, i do want to push back just a little bit on the idea that rhaenyra truly has bodily autonomy. regardless of when or with whom she gets pregnant, she’s still expected to get pregnant and have children. while its unfortunately not explored, she does need to produce heirs.

now. i agree with you for the most part. rhaenyra’s relationships to her children really make no sense. the only one that’s fleshed out is jace, and while that is interesting in the “she’s doing to him exactly what viserys did to her,” it is not complex internally (in the same way alicent’s is). i also personally see joffery as an oops baby, but who really knows. i don’t even know how to explain her children with daemon. they were plot necessary i guess lmfao

the problem with rhaenyra and her children is that almost all of the critical moments in their relationships happen off screen during the time jump. its a structural tv show problem and it brings up these kinds of issues when looking deeper into the relationships she would actually have. i think the writers did a good job this season of making the internal conflict and intrapersonal strife within team black better, but this is just one of those things thats never going to be explored. in this sense we’ll never really know her true feelings or the development that could’ve happened—which is a massive shame.

my personal headcanon (so take with a grain of salt and don’t come for me), is that rhaenyra isn’t against the idea of children as a teenager, she’s against the childbirth. i believe this both because of the horrors of watching her mother’s repeated miscarriages and eventual death while in childbirth, and her consistent refrain of the desire to be a man. i think she wants, to her core, freedom and, as a woman, having a child requires much more sacrifice than having a child as a man.

i don’t personally see the change from not wanting children to totally wanting children as misogynistic, but i don’t blame you for seeing it that way because of the utter lack of canon explanation for it. again, i wasn’t really fair to you keeping this until season two was finished, but i think both alicent and rhaenyra’s relationships to motherhood were developed well.

[arcane-vagabond]

Will You Be My Boo?

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend invites you over for a little pumpkin carving competition.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Competition, Bradley Bradshaw.

Word Count: 1,381

A/N: Alright! My first one-shot! I know it's a bit on the short side, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless! I'd love to start doing more of these (and hopefully make them longer as we move forward), but for now, I have a couple more planned and then we'll see what happens! My inbox and requests are always open, so feel free to shoot me a message! As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated! If you like my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Masterlist

You giggled as your boyfriend pulled you into his apartment. You took note of the large, plastic tarp that was draped across his living room floor. The furniture was pushed off to the side to make room, and two, large pumpkins sat on opposite ends of the tarp surrounded by various carving tools.

“What’s all this, bubba?” You asked him, turning to look up at him. Bradley smirked down at you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

“Thought we could have some fun carving pumpkins,” he mumbled against your lips. You hummed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Bradley slid his hands down your sides, resting them on your rear, squeezing gently. You gasped into the kiss, allowing Bradley to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking at you eagerly. Your fingers ran through his chestnut locks, pulling lightly, and Bradley groaned, breaking the kiss to look at you. His cheeks were red, lips swollen from the kiss. After three years of dating, you still got butterflies from seeing him like this.

“I asked you to come over for a reason,” he scowled at you.

“You’re the one who kissed me,” you teased. Bradley placed a small slap to your ass, earning a squeak as he pulled away. He chuckled, pulling you further into his apartment and onto the tarp.

“What’s the plan, Stan?” You asked him, earning a look which made you let out another giggle. He rolled his eyes, but smiled softly as he looked at you.

“Jake told me about this trend going around,” he started. Your brow shot up.

“Since when do you listen to Jake?” You laughed. He scowled at you, gesturing for you to sit down on the ground. You did so, crossing your legs.

“So, he told me about this trend,” Bradley continued, “where people compete to see who can carve the best pumpkin.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “How does it work?”

“We’re going to sit here, facing away from each other, and we can’t look at what the other is carving until we’re both finished.”

“I don’t know, babe,” you smirked. “I’ve carved a lot of pumpkins. How many have you carved?”

“I’ve carved plenty of pumpkins,” he scoffed at you, and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you carve one.”

“Is this you saying you’re too scared that I’ll win?” He teased, a grin on his lips. It was your turn to scoff.

“You wish, Bradshaw,” you chuckled, moving to turn around to face your pumpkin. “I’m so winning this competition.”

“Yeah, we’ll just see about that,” Bradley smirked, turning to face his own pumpkin. “Remember, no peaking! I don’t need you cheating off of me.”

“I think that’s my line, Bubs.”

About forty-five minutes later, you were staring proudly at your simple, but classic, design. The pumpkin stared back at you with its toothy grin, and you were all but assured in your victory. Bradley could barely draw a stick figure, so you weren’t sure what possessed him to think that he would win a pumpkin carving contest against you. You cast a sly glance over your shoulder, eyeing the expanse of your boyfriend’s broad back. You smiled gently, hoping with everything in you that you would get to see it for the rest of your life.

It was no secret that you and Bradley were madly in love, and you had known early on into the relationship that he was it for you. Bradley made no secrets about feeling the same, but whenever someone asked when he would pop that most important question, he would shrug, a lazy smile on his face as he said, “we don’t want to rush things. We’re happy with how things are, right, babe?”

And you were, for the most part. But you couldn’t help but wish for the day you would get to wear a beautiful, white dress as you walked down the aisle to pledge the rest of your life to the man at your side.

Bradley peeked over his shoulder at you, and you quickly turned around, trying to hide your smirk at having been caught.

“I thought I said no peeking?” He rasped, his breath fanning over your cheek. You opened your mouth to respond, but let out a squawk as you felt the slimy entrails from his pumpkin hit your cheek. You turned to give an incredulous look to your boyfriend who was already watching you with a shit eating grin.

“Bradley Bradshaw, you did not-”

He raised his hand to smear another glob of pumpkin guts onto your other cheek, laughing as you fought between the need to laugh and the need to strangle him. Bradley let out a giggle at the sight of you, one that melted into a gasp as you took your own handful of pumpkin and smeared it across his face.

“Oh, now you’re in for it!” He laughed, scooping up even more entrails as he moved to stand. You shrieked as you attempted to dodge him, scrambling to your feet in the process.

“Bradley, no!” You hollered through fits of laughter. Bradley wrestled you to the ground, smearing the entrails on your face and hair. When you thought you would pass out from lack of oxygen due to all of your laughter, Bradley pulled back, inspecting his work. You were sure you looked a mess, feeling all of the pumpkin guts sticking to your skin and matting your hair. He gazed down at you softly as you fought to breathe through your giggles.

Bradley leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving to your cheeks and finally placing one on your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured. You felt heat rise to your face, and you placed a hand to his cheeks.

“I love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. The two of you stared at one another for a moment before you moved to stand. Bradley pulled away to allow you space, offering you his hand as you both stood. You took it with a grateful smile, looking over to where his pumpkin sat.

“Alright,” you smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Let’s see who won this thing.”

Bradley chuckled, gesturing for you to go and take a look. You took the few steps around him, peering down at the gourd. Etched clumsily into the outside were the words “will you be my boo?” You giggled at the pun, and wondered where your boyfriend even came up with it. Bradley wasn’t the most creative, but what he lacked in imagination, he certainly made up for in effort. It was one of the many things you admired about him.

“I dunno, babe,” you smiled, turning around to face him. “I think I won the-”

You sucked in a breath of air at the sight before you. Bradley was kneeling down on one knee, a ring in his hands. The ring was simple, but beautiful, and you felt the tears in your eyes before you could stop them.

“Y/n,” Bradley rasped, his own tears gathering on his lash line. “You are without a doubt, the most beautiful, smart, amazing woman I have ever met. I don’t know how I managed to get you to agree to become my girlfriend all those years ago, but now I’m hoping I can somehow convince you to become my wife instead. I love you so, so much it hurts. Will you marry me?”

A sob tore its way from your throat as you nodded vigorously, reaching out for him. Bradley stood up, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly. This is where you belonged. You knew because you fit perfectly in his arms, and you never wanted to leave.

“Yes, Bradley,” you sniffled, looking up at him. “A thousand times yes.”

Bradley grinned down at you so widely you were sure his cheeks hurt. He slipped the ring onto your finger and leaned down to place a passionate kiss to your lips, one you returned with vigor.

“It’s not much,” he said, pulling away to look down at where the ring rested on your finger, stroking over it gently. “But, I hope it’s enough.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you sighed, leaning your head against his chest. “It’s perfect in every way.”

Tag List: @haley-hotchner @fanficfandomlove @goldenseresinretriever @hopip99 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @moon42flight @kmc1989 @rhettsluvr @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61

[oonajaeadira]

i was rereading a GTTT chapter and Patricio has just been in my mind rent free, creeping in from daydreams in places i should not be daydreaming. So I’ve got a PATS question for you. How would Patricio and Reader navigate the issue of him being too drained sexually when Reader is needy?

Hello, lovely.

First of all, I want to apologize for the long hiatus I've taken on Pats and Pres. This ask--and many more--have been sitting in my inbox for far too long and I'd like to think that answering late is better than never. Thank you for your patience with me!!!

This is a very interesting question and it sparked some over-arching thoughts. I have half an answer for you here--from his point of view, and therefore the "drained" part of it. Pres may not seem too needy here, but look to the next installment for more on that.

Also, a non-apology here to everyone.

For so long I've made you believe that Patricio is confident, in control...or at least in denial about it when he's not. But he's growing. Changing. There may be more vulnerability here than you want and much less sexy times. Not everyone has a good day every day.

Kiss and Tell: Everyone's Allowed a Bad Day (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content. (This one's much tamer than most.)

(gif by cavill-henry)

It’s nights like these that he sometimes wished he smoked. He’ll pour himself a drink once the client wakes up and leaves, but he doesn’t want her to catch it on his breath.

Bourbon. Bath. Bed. Maybe something short and calm on streaming. There’s a new cowboy film just dropped by that Spanish director looks good. 

Leaning on the kitchen counter and staring out across the silent living room, he contemplates the novel you left on the coffee table. Wonders if you’re missing it.

It occurs to him that he could call you. He can do that now. He doesn’t need a reason anymore, but even if the reason is a rough day…actually, maybe that’s even more reason to call you. In fact, he really should ask you–

His phone vibrates on the countertop and he frowns. It’s your pattern and his heart races a little, not only because it’s you, but thinking he’s been lost in thought too long, that he’s missed the three-hour mark. But a flip of the phone shows him he’s got 20 minutes to go. 

Odd. It’s not like you to interrupt a session.

“Hey, muñeca, everything okay?” he mumbles, stepping barefoot out onto the front porch in nothing but his sweatpants.

Your voice sounds far away, “Oh shit,” before a riffling sound and then a clearer, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit dial. I didn’t know I did. I was going to call and then I saw the time…I know you’re in the middle of a session, oh loverboy I’m so sorry–”

Just the sound of your voice is an instant balm. “It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s sleeping. I was actually just thinking about calling you.”

“Oh, really?” There’s something there behind your fluster, hiding among the smile in your voice, something that he might not have noticed if you hadn’t said you meant to call.

“Something you wanted to call me about?”

There’s a sound in the background. An announcement. You’re in public. “Um, no, not really. I just had a lonely moment, that’s all.”

“Well that’s an ego boost. You wanna come spend the night?”

There’s a pause. Shocked, judging by your voice. “Really? On an appointment night?”

He scratches his head and focuses on his feet as he aimlessly paces the porch. “Sure. I mean, if like a quarter after ten isn’t too late for you to drive just to go to bed.”

“With the weather shifting and how warm you run? It’s never too late to say yes to a heated bed.”

He smiles. “Glad I can be of service.” There's silence from you and he cringes. “Shit. Not you– not– Was that a bad choice of word?”

“No. It’s just–”

“Hey. I want you here tonight. I wanna talk to you.” Another silence. He supposes that sounds ominous. It shouldn’t. “You know, here. Not…on a phone.” He’s still not good at this. 

“That sounds nice…. You, uh, need anything? I’m at the grocery store.”

“No. Just you.” It feels good to say. Right. It’s what’s needed to break what feels like an odd tension into a few comfortable, mutually smiling moments. “So. The grocery store. And you’re feeling lonely. At a grocery store.”

Your laughter--hushed but musical--is kept close to the phone. “Well I am standing in produce and they just got in some preeeeeetty nice looking eggplants.”

“Wow.”

Another laugh, less hushed, throatier. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’ll let you get back to your work. I assume you’ve got a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

Pulling the phone away from his face for a timecheck, he winces. “Yeah. I’ll see you in 20?”

“I’d say I can’t wait, but you know that I will.”

Wow. “I know and I…”Something sweet twists inside. “I know.”

After you hang up he stands a minute more on the porch in the dark. The leaves are almost all off the trees now, the crickets are gone. His feet are freezing and the skin on his torso is goosebumping; doing its best–and failing–to lift his fine hairs to shield him from the autumn chill. But it’s far from unpleasant and he finds that he’s awake for the sensation in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

He’s alive again in a way he hasn’t been in a while.

The last couple of months have been…nothing short of amazing.

He should tell you that. He should say it.

But he’s got to get to that point where…he accepts it. 

Not the relationship…the fact that there’s always a possibility it’s too good to be true, that he could lose it. He could lose you.

You’re handling everything so well, but for how long? How long until you make him choose?

Oh fuck, please don’t make me choose, preciosa, please.

The phone buzzes in his hand. Timer; no need to look, just thumbs the button to silence. On another night, he’d allow himself more time, let the client sleep while he mused. But he’s got a job to do. 

And someone special arriving soon.

So he packs these thoughts away and goes quietly inside to prepare.

________

He’s just poured the detergent in the washing machine when he hears the door open. “Hey, I’m just cleaning up, gimme a second.”

Out in the entry, your shoes clatter on the floor and then your keys jingle on the kitchen counter and before he knows it you’re on him, topless and crowding him against the washing machine, kissing him like he’s just come back from war. It’s jarring but pleasant and full of hungry sighs…until there’s a ping in his calf muscle.

“Ooh, hey, Pres, hey hey, hang on.” Taking your face in his hands he calms, he whispers, he soothes you in order to soothe himself, but you catch on instantly, concern splashing over you.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

A kiss to the tip of your nose, to your smart little nose. “No, no, I’m a little sore; just had a difficult session–a difficult day, actually. And I haven’t showered yet. So don’t get yourself too worked up here. You don’t want me like this.”

He expects you to recoil from this, to find the sex with someone else still lingering on his skin. You don’t.

You simply run your hands over his sides, lean in to kiss his chin. “Of course I do. I want you like whatever you are.”

You’re backlit from the kitchen and there’s something like a soft halo around you, bringing a glow to the roll of your cheeks, the swipe of your lip. Tracing these with a finger and finding himself reflected in your eyes, he trusts you, accepts this, tries to see himself like you do. How are you so effortless?

There’s nothing but surrender when you rake your fingers through his beard and push yourself up onto tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “But if you really feel that way, beautiful, let me run you a bath.” 

Everytime he opens his eyes and you’re there, it's like a small miracle.

“Come on,” you smile, taking his hand and guiding him to the stairs, “let me take care of you and you can tell me about your day.”

You’re perfect. He’s so grateful he picked up the phone tonight when he did.

________

“Mmmmm, that’s good.” The sigh comes up from his bottom wells, like a contented creature crawling out of hidden caverns within. The back of his head rests in your palm, warm water spilling over his scalp. Your hands whisper and calm and soothe. He spends so much time using his touch to bring relaxation to others that he’d all but forgotten that it could go the other way. And your touch–

“So there was some heavy lifting tonight, huh?” Your finger lightly wipes away an errant rivulet from the corner of his eye. “Ness, right?”

The ghost of irritation looms. “Mmm. She has a pretty severe tailbone injury. Didn’t tell me about it before she showed up. Lot of full-body lifting on the table just to get her in the right positions for stretch.”

“I see. You’ll feel it tomorrow. And sore tailbone means no actual sex tonight.”

“Oh no, we had some fun. She’s got weeks of recovery ahead of her and she needed some practice re-routing some natural orgasm responses to different muscle groups when she ejaculates.”

“Ejaculates? She…? Ohhh.” A loving hand begins to wander lightly over his chest. “I assumed. My bad.”

“Sorry. Should have been more clear. But yeah.”

“No need to apologize. I don’t know why I hadn’t just assumed that you…took all forms of payment.”

He peeks an eye open to catch your reaction as you reach over the side of the tub toward him and finds your warm, curious smile. “Not to disparage the vaginal anatomy, but sometimes it’s nice to have my dick handled by someone who has a lifetime experience with their own.”

“Noted. Fair.”

Closing his eyes and sinking into the warm bath of your care a lifetime goes by with your hands running over his skin.

“You’re very accommodating.”

A kiss lands on his temple. “Wait until you realize I’m terribly selfish and am in it for the rewards points.” When his smile fades, your hands slow. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” Sensing a shift in tone coming when he turns to you, you instinctively pull back, but he catches your hand in his, pulling it in to place a wet kiss to your knuckles. “Would you mind if I don’t want to have sex tonight?”

“Of course. That’s okay.” A half-smile. Are you covering disappointment?

“I’m more than happy to go down on you if you–”

But a shake of your head stops him. “No, it's fine. I can tell you’re tired. You said you had a hard day. Wanna tell me about it while we get you dried off and into bed?”

He feels like a child as he simply nods, allows you to help him up, succumbs to you as you care for him. It’s easy to do, to melt under your attention, to crack open and spill. He does his best not to control the spread as he generalizes a failed report at work, a difficult project he’s fallen behind on. By the time you’re sliding into the sheets and curling up next to him, he’s breaching the topic he’s been deciding and undeciding and deciding again to tell you about–that his mother called without warning.

“She wants to meet you.”

Your breathing stills in the darkness. “You told your mom about me.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I..” you stutter, “I guess I didn’t… I’m flattered that you talk about me?”

There’s a pang of guilt that he’s let you believe you’re not important enough for him to tell the world that you’re in his life. But he sighs as you squeeze your arm around his middle. “You might feel differently if you met her.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to meet your…is it just your mom?”

“And my father. I have an older brother but he lives in Australia. Doesn’t go home much.”

“Home issssSantiago?”

“Just outside of it. Rancagua.”

Another squeeze. Perhaps that was a lie; your arm around him and the brush of your lips on his shoulder feels like his true home now. 

“So this call was stressful because she wants to meet me. And you’re nervous?”

“The call was stressful because…I don’t…want her to meet you.” Your squeeze lightens a bit and he slides his grip over your arm in case you decide he’s awful and want to pull away. He knows he should let you go if you want to but– “I wanted to ask you, Pres…I’m sorry I don’t know if I can ask this much from you but–”

It almost breaks his heart when your arm slides through his hand, when your warmth leaves his side, when you abandon him…

But it’s only for the time it takes to hear the click of the bedside lamp, register the bright sting and spill of light, and you’re back beside him, leaning over him, turning his face to yours with one patient hand on his cheek. “What’s going on. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Shit. Get it together.

“You’re going to think I’m a fucking jerk–”

“Don’t tell me what you think I’m going to think, sir. Tell me what you need from me. Just say it.”

This leaves him with depleted gambling chips, raises the stakes. But you’re right. He has to be honest.

“The relationship I have with my family is…strained. That’s why I live here and not there. I see them somewhat regularly, but the holidays are when the whole family gets together–all the cousins–and it’s just a lot. There’s a lot that’s expected, a lot of judgements…it’s overwhelming. I can barely make it through myself, but having you there? Watching you be scrutinized on top of it when we’re just figuring this out? I just…no.”

“You know I won’t tell them–”

“It’s not that, fuck, it’s not that.” He surges in for a kiss, taking you in deep, willing you to understand him by osmosis; if only… “Every time I’ve gone down for the holidays it’s stressful enough…it’s…it’s bad enough that I’m away from my clients, but–”

“But under stress the itch gets worse. And you don’t have your outlet. And you’re not in control.”

Oh god, you see him. You see him and he’s so…fucking pathetic.

The last thing he expects is for you to pepper kisses along his mouth and chin, to dot a lingering one on his cheek before pulling him into your chest, to cradle him, breathe into his hair.

But it’s exactly what you do.

“What do you need, beautiful boy? Anything you want.”

He breathes. Sighs. Curses himself for doubting you, for assuming you wouldn’t surprise him. Allows you to hold the weight of his heart on your own without a spotter.

“I need to…not do the ‘meet the family’ thing this year. I just want you to myself for a while.”

A hum of sympathy, of bittersweetness, one that stakes his heart into the ground at your feet. “Oh Patricio. Is that all?” Your breast moves under his cheek as you lean over to turn off the light, your soft curves and soft scent and soft hum whispering to him, calming him, soothing him into you. “I’ll admit that I’m a little sad that I don’t get to show you off to my family, but I definitely see the appeal of a quiet holiday season, just us hiding away from the world together. You want me to yourself? Did you really think I would find that anything but absolutely wonderful?”

All at once, the strains of the day overtake him, the need to say more is gone and took his energy to do so right along with it. A whole lifetime of relief in just an hour. That’s your secret power. Always has been. He cannot think of words more meaningful than, “Thank you.”

Your fingertips begin their pattern of affection along his jaw, tattooing a spell of sleep through him. “This really means a lot to you, huh.” He’s too gone to get his voice to work and it seems you assume he’s fallen asleep. “Well you mean the world to me. You don’t even know, mister.”

It’s not worth the effort to drag himself from the downward pull of dreams to ask you to say more about that. Not when he knows you’ll be right here in the morning and he can ask you then.

Or say the same thing right back to you.

Maybe this time he’ll find a way to do that.

______

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[e-dubbc11]

also also...

“Oh I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you worse than this, my love. Remember your last birthday before you got pregnant with the little miss? At one point, I had to make sure you were still alive.”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 i forgot to comment about this but do tell, i love me a good tea

Hello my lovely friend! I loved coming up with the backstory for Billy’s comment! Thank you so so much for sending this to my inbox. I hope you like what I did here! 💚

Anything for You

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Some swear words, alluding to smexy time but PG-13, pure fun, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, drinking

Word Count: 4.4K-ish

Summary: It’s your birthday and you told Billy you wanted to have a little fun doing something very nostalgic plus tacos and tequila

A/N: Part of The Sweetest Pain Series. Based on the above ask. Excerpt was from Son of the Sea. This one was a lot of fun to write, I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Green soap.

It was probably one of your favorite scents and there was always a hint of it on your husband’s clothes when he came home from his studio. But now, sitting in his tattoo chair, that strong aroma surrounded you while Billy, as gently as he could, slowly dragged the single needle across the skin on your arm.

He was outlining one of the snakes on your Medusa tattoo. You winced a little when the needle scratched the sensitive skin on the inside of your arm toward the pit, just below your shoulder. A devilish smile stretched across Billy’s face. You knew he not-so-secretly enjoyed it, making you clench your fist or when you bite down on your lower lip to deal with the pain from the long drags of the liner needle across your skin.

“That one tickled a little bit, huh baby.” He said with a sly smirk on his face.

Biting back a smile of your own, you replied, “I know you’re enjoying this Billy Russo.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you continued, “I know you just loooooove tattooing those sensitive spots to watch people’s faces, especially mine. And your smile gets even wider when it’s time for the white ink.”

Billy knew what you said was true. His eyes lit up with pure joy when it was time to put the white ink in. It always seemed to hurt more than any other color and since most of your tattoos were black and gray, there was a LOT of white ink in them.

The buzzing of Billy’s tattoo pen stopped and he paused to look up at you. He flashed that million-dollar smile which he knew full well what it did to you.

He gently brushed his gloved finger along your arm and softly said, “I know you can take it, sweet girl.”

He winked at you.

Heat rose to your cheeks and you started to blush. Billy always knew just what to say to make you turn every shade of red there was but you knew how to make him blush too.

“Are we still talking about the white ink, baby?” You asked, with a slight smirk.

Billy turned away from you briefly. You knew he was blushing which made you chuckle.

Ed #1 interrupted the two of you. “Uh, you guys know there are other people in the room too, right?”

“You say somethin’, Ed?” Billy asked sarcastically.

A loud laugh escaped your lips before you leaned into Billy and whispered in his ear, “Can we stop for a minute, handsome? I gotta pee.”

With a slight smile, he nodded, set his tattoo pen down, and took his gloves off. With the fan on in the bathroom, it was difficult to hear what they were all talking about out there but they were all smiles when you walked out.

“What are y’all smiling at?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

Billy replied, “We were just talking about your birthday.”

“My birthday? It’s not for three more weeks.” You said.

With a warm smile, Billy said, “The Ed’s just wanted to know what we were doin’ for your birthday. I told them you hadn’t decided what you wanted to do yet.”

A wide smile stretched across your lips as you walked back over to Billy’s tattoo chair.

“Ahhhhhh ok, well when I do figure out what I wanna do, you guys will be the first ones to know.” You said.

Billy had been asking you what you wanted to do for your birthday for the past month or so. He was a planner and he said he just wanted to make sure that he had enough time to take care of everything.

You did have one idea in mind, you just hadn’t mentioned it to him yet.

**********

Later on that night, you rolled over in bed hoping to be warmed up by Billy’s body heat but his side of the bed was empty. You didn’t need to look very far to find him though. Over in the next room was where Billy went when he couldn’t sleep. He painted or worked on his drawings until the early morning hours, sometimes even until the sun began to warm the sky.

You threw on his sweatshirt and tiptoed toward the next room.

“You know you can’t sneak up on me, sweet girl.” Said Billy.

Even though you could only see the back of his head, you could tell he was smiling. The commissioned painting he was working on had been keeping him awake for the past few weeks. The perfectionist in him always wanted to make sure that everything was just so; clients paid a lot of money for commissioned paintings so Billy made sure to give them exactly what they wanted.

“Oh I know, my love. I just love to watch you work, that’s all.” You replied, leaning against the doorframe and biting down on your lower lip.

His long skilled fingers held the brush firmly as it moved smoothly against the canvas. Billy had endless talent that begged to be seen and a talent that, hopefully one day, would be passed down to your children and that thought brought a smile to your face.

Billy put his paintbrush down and turned to face you, he gazed at you with his endless brown eyes and flashed his perfect smile at you which still gave you butterflies. He looked tired and there were faint purple shadows underneath his eyes. Billy didn’t sleep much and you desperately wanted to protect him from his nightmares but you couldn’t.

Those nightmares were one of the reasons he didn’t sleep very well and why he got up in the middle of the night to paint. The only thing you could do was to be there for him if he wanted to talk about it which wasn’t very often but he was getting better about it; you were his wife and there wasn’t anyone he trusted with his feelings more than you.

“You look sexy while you paint.” You said, shyly.

Billy snaked his long arms around your waist and gently touched his forehead to yours.

“Well I think you look sexy when you do anything, baby.” He said, glancing at you from head to toe.

“You’re delirious, Billy. You need some sleep.” You replied.

You had grabbed his hoodie on your way out of the bedroom to cover yourself. All you had on was a pair of very short shorts and a tank top, his hoodie covered your legs to about mid-thigh so it looked like you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

The sweatshirt hem slipped in between Billy’s fingers as he slowly lifted the sweatshirt away from your legs.

“Are you wearin’ anything underneath this, beautiful?” He asked as a devilish smile played across his lips.

Playfully slapping him on the shoulder, you replied, “Yes, I have shorts on, Billy. You know that.”

“That’s too bad. You always look perfect wearin’ my hoodie and nothin’ else.” He said with a wink.

Billy leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, gently at first but as you melted into his kiss, he parted your lips with his tongue so it could tangle and knot with yours. After unzipping the sweatshirt, his long agile fingers brushed the soft skin of your stomach.

Goosebumps peppered across your body when you felt his hand dip below your waistband and touch the wet spot on your panties. Warmth quickly spread across your cheeks and between your thighs as a soft moan escaped your lips while his strong hands caressed your body.

You could taste the peppermint on his lips and faintly smell the green soap left on his black t-shirt as your fingers glided through his ink like hair. Billy had pulled you flush to him, squeezing your body tightly against his like he was scared to let you go and you embraced him firmly in return, silently telling him that you were real and you weren’t going anywhere.

You were his.

The hoodie fell to the floor after he had pushed it off of your shoulders. Looking up at him through your long dark lashes, you smiled warmly at first but then narrowed your eyes and said, “I thought you were painting tonight, lieutenant.”

With a devilish smirk, Billy replied, “I think I’d rather paint you, baby…with my tongue.”

Covering your eyes in embarrassment, you let out a chuckle and replied, “Well I might be agreeable to that, my love.”

Suddenly his hands were under your ass and he picked you up with ease. With your legs wrapped around his waist, he started to carry you off to bed when you mentioned, “Don’t you have to clean up first, Billy?!”

He only had one word to say in response.

“Later…”

**********

The Next Morning

You could feel the peaceful murmur of his heart steadily beating inside his chest as he slept. Billy doesn’t usually sleep in. Most of the time he’s awake before you are and you normally find him drinking his coffee at the breakfast bar but not today. On this rare morning, you just watched him sleep and tried not to move so you wouldn’t disturb him.

Billy shifted slightly underneath the arm you had resting on his chest. He inhaled sharply then let out a deep yawn before snaking his arm around you.

“Good mornin’, beautiful. I guess I slept in. That’s your fault though…you wore me out.” Said Billy, kissing the top of your head and rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

With a shocked look on your face, you lifted your head slightly so you were resting your chin on top of the hand that was placed against his chest.

“Oh I wore YOU out?!! I slept in too, soldier!” You exclaimed with a wide smile.

His sly grin stretched from ear to ear and he winked at you as he replied, “There’s my little firecracker. I’ll go make some coffee.”

As he rolled over you, his lips collided with yours and you gently brushed his beard with your thumb. Propping up your head with your hand, you carefully watched Billy as he slipped on his black sweats. Your handsome husband had a lean, toned body and his tattoo sleeve was just as impressive today as the first time you saw it.

He’d catch you staring at it all the time. You couldn’t help it.

“I think I know what I wanna do for my birthday, Billy.” You said, still staring at him and biting down on your lower lip.

“Oh yeah?” Said Billy. His dark eyes shone in the early morning sunshine spilling in through the window. “Well come tell me over coffee, sweet girl.”

Billy sat at the breakfast bar while you stood in front of the stove cooking some eggs, a smile stretched across your face as you looked over your shoulder at his face when he asked in a confused tone, “an arcade?”

You continued to push the eggs around in the pan.

“Yeah! This place has old arcade games and pinball machines!” You said excitedly. “Plus, it’s a bar too. Oh and I’d also like tacos and a little tequila, please.”

He raised a finger to point at you.

“So aside from the tequila, you want an 8-year old’s birthday party.” He joked.

You started to hand him his plate of eggs but pulled them back toward you when he made his smart ass comment.

“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Russo? Cuz if you are, I can throw these eggs right in the trash and no breakfast for you.” You said.

“All right, all right my little firecracker, you’re feisty this morning. I’m teasin’ ya. Don’t go throwin’ away perfectly good scrambled eggs. I don’t know what you do to them to make them taste that good but they are pretty amazing. So yes, I will take care of your birthday party arrangements, just lemme know who you’re inviting.” Said Billy.

You handed Billy his plate of eggs through the breakfast bar window and walked around to the other side, kissed him on the cheek, and asked, “Really? You’d do that for me, Billy?”

“I’d do anything for you, sweet girl. I love you.” He said after swallowing a mouthful of eggs. “God, these are good!” He exclaimed as he took another bite.

You smiled and kissed his cheek again.

“Cream cheese and chives, my love. Those are my secret ingredients.” You said with a warm smile. “And I love you too. Don’t forget to tell the Ed’s first.”

Three Weeks Later

Billy spoiled you on your actual birthday. On his way home from the studio, he stopped to buy you flowers, a calzone from your favorite pizza place, and cupcakes from your favorite bakery. The men from your past relationships never were as considerate or as sweet as Billy. You never expected fancy dates or gifts; you just wanted them to try but they never did.

“I know it’s not much but…” Said Billy.

You interrupted him.

“Not much? It’s perfect, my love. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thank you!” You said, as you snaked your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer for a kiss.

“Happy Birthday, my little firecracker. You ready for your party this weekend?” He asked.

A wide smile stretched across your lips as you replied, “YES!! I’m very excited! Where are we going for tacos?”

“I made a reservation for all of us at that place on Hope Street. De Mole, I think it’s called. I think, I THINK they have the requirements you asked for.” Billy said sarcastically.

You narrowed your eyes at him and folded your arms protectively across your chest. “I’m not sure I like your tone, lieutenant.” You joked. “Careful, or I’ll eat both cupcakes that are in that box.”

“How do you know there are two in there?” He asked, flashing you a sly side smile.

You started to laugh.

“You think I don’t know you, Billy Russo? Like you would come home with just ONE cupcake.” You said, still laughing.

“Well, you got me. There ARE two in there.” He said, sounding slightly defeated.

Pointing a finger at him, you said “AHA! I knew it! Hey, if you ever sleeve your other arm you can just have all of your favorite sweets tattooed on you.”

Billy lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper and purred into your ear, “My all-time favorite is you, sweet girl. You really are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He always knew exactly what to say to have you fall apart with just the sound of his voice. At times you still couldn’t believe he was all yours, a friend that had turned into everything you had ever wanted in a relationship and so much more…and you were the same for him.

Billy was someone you could laugh with and tell all of your worries to. You were the one person besides Frank that he felt like he could talk to about his mother; he never had the comfortability with anyone to be able to do that with before you. And more than anything, you loved to see him smile.

He wasn’t perfect but he was perfect for you.

“You can taste me later, handsome. I want my calzone and cupcake.” You whispered back, the bristles of his beard tickled your lips as you kissed him on the cheek.

Billy smiled his million-dollar smile at you and said, “Whatever you want, my love. It’s your birthday.”

**********

The food and drinks at de Mole were delicious. There was crispy calamari with jalapeno aioli, roasted tomato sauce and corn relish. The spicy margaritas and your favorite, Baja fish tacos, were the perfect combination of heat and flavor. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves so far.

“You gotta do a shot. It’s your birthday, kid!” Said Frank as he dropped a shot of tequila down in front of you.

Staring at the shot glass nervously, you replied, “I dunno Frank, I’m not 21 anymore. I don’t recover as fast as I used to.”

“One shot ain’t gonna kill ya, sweetheart. Besides, Bill’s drivin’.” Frank stated.

After sprinkling some salt on the back of your hand, you downed the shot of tequila and took a bite of a lemon wedge.

“Woo! Oh it burns! It’s been a minute since I’ve done this, Frank!” You exclaimed, squinting your eyes and pursing your lips.

A wide sly smile stretched across Frank’s lips and he replied, “Atta girl! Let’s go play some video games, yeah?”

Billy had booked a private party for you and everyone at Barcade. Everyone that worked at the tattoo studio came, Ed #1, Ed #2, Andy, and Shortcake, along with Frank, Maria, and two of your really good friends, Danielle and Jessie.

It really was like being a kid again, hearing all the noises from the different machines and games throughout the bar. The unmistakable sounds of pinball flippers, the rolling of the metal ball, flashing lights and the ringing of the bells each time the ball was struck.

Familiar phrases like “FINISH HIM!” and “Flawless Victory” could be heard coming from the Mortal Kombat II machine where the Eds were talking shit to each other. You overheard the revving of engines and screeching tires coming from the Daytona USA game.

Frank and Maria were racing each other while Billy practiced his target shooting on Quick & Crash. It was a fast draw shooting gallery game and it wasn’t a surprise to you that Billy got the highest score. They put his name up on the chalkboard with all the other high scorers. He was a little proud of himself like “I still got it.”

“You havin’ a good time, sweet girl?” Billy asked, snaking his long arms around your waist.

Excitedly, you replied, “Oh I am, baby! I’m having SO much fun! Thank you for doing this for me.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you my love.” He said, leaning in and capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

Licking his bottom lip, you could tell he tasted the tequila on yours.

“Frankie gave you another shot of tequila, didn’t he.” He said with a slight smile.

You were feeling a little tipsy and started to giggle.

“Maybe.” You replied. “Come on! Let’s go race!”

Billy laughed. “Hey, you’ve been drinking. You can’t drive.” He joked, chasing after you to the racecar game.

“We’ve all been drinkin’! Come onnnnnnn!” You yelled.

He won by a nose.

You made sure to hang out with everyone and thank them for coming out for your birthday. It felt really nice to be surrounded by people who really cared about you but no one enjoyed watching you have fun more than Billy did. Every time you turned around, his eyes were on you with a wide smile stretched across his lips so you’d blow him a kiss every time you caught him staring.

You were everything to him.

“How are you so good at this game?!!” Ed #2 shouted.

You replied, “Please, Street Fighter II was my favorite game growing up. You’re not gonna beat me!”

Frank interjected, “Alright, I’m playin’ winner. You ready to lose for the first time tonight, sweetheart?”

“I’m tellin’ ya Frankie, you’re not gonna beat her. She’s won against everyone tonight.” Said Billy, gently brushing the bristles of his beard.

“She hasn’t played me yet, Bill.” Said Frank.

He talked a big game but luck was not on his side. Frank lost and he lost miserably so his punishment was he had to do a shot of tequila but he also bought another one for you. Barcade had about 25 craft beers on tap to choose from so between the beer and the shots, you were feeling pretty good, maybe a little too good. You had tried to pace yourself but that last shot was probably one too many and you began to feel a little unsteady on your feet.

“Alright, my little firecracker, I think it’s time to call it a night. What do ya say?” Asked Billy.

Leaning into him, you replied, “I-I thhhhhhink y-you’re right, b-baby. L-let’s go h-home!”

Billy glared at Frank and said, “Thanks a lot, Frankie.”

“Ah, it’s her birthday. She’ll be alright.” Frank replied.

You said goodbye to everyone, thanked them all again for coming before Billy put you in the car. As he drove away from the curb, you waved and immediately leaned back to rest your head and closed your eyes.

“Stay awake, sweet girl. We don’t have that far of a drive. You have fun tonight?” He asked.

Billy figured if he kept you talking, that you wouldn’t fall asleep on the way home. A warm smile stretched across your lips as you reached to touch him on the shoulder before replying, “I d-did h-handsome, thank youuuuuu.”

Billy rested his hand on your thigh as he always did when he was driving.

“I love you, Billy. Thank you again for my party.” You said softly.

“I love you too, beautiful.” He whispered. “We’re almost home, you gonna make it?”

“I’ll make it.” You said.

Getting out of the car and the elevator ride up to your apartment were uneventful. But as soon as Billy unlocked the door, you ran for the bathroom. At least you made it home first before getting sick. After taking off his jacket and putting his keys away, Billy came into the bathroom to make sure you were alright.

He helped hold your hair back and checked to see if your sleeves were rolled up. The sides of the bowl felt cool against your wrists while everything you had that night came up and out.

Never again with the tequila. Just say “no” to Frank.

The bathroom floor felt nice and cool against your skin, the room wasn’t spinning when your cheek was resting against the tiled floor so that’s where you wanted to stay but Billy didn’t want you sleeping there.

“Sweet girl, you can’t stay on the floor all night.” He said.

Joking around, you replied, “Sure I can, it’s nice and cool down here. Just forward all my mail here, I’ll be fine.”

“Even tequila drunk, you make me laugh, baby.” Billy chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, you’re goin’ to bed.”

He did his best to make you comfortable by helping you put on one of his old marines t-shirts that you loved to sleep in so much. He also left some Gatorade and pain reliever on your bedside table.

You must not have moved much for the rest of the night because you woke up in the same position you fell asleep in as the sunlight danced across your face. Billy was sitting straight up in bed, his arm draped over you, his chin to his chest until he felt you move which startled him awake.

“It’s ok, Billy…it’s ok. It’s just me. Ow…” You said softly, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to ease your headache pain. “You slept like that all night?”

He blinked his eyes a few times, looked down at you and smiled.

“Well I cleaned up the bathroom so not ALL night. Wasn’t too bad. It smells like green soap in there now, your favorite.” He winked. “And of course, I had to make sure you were ok while you were sleeping.” Said Billy.

You returned a smile and replied, “That’s so sweet of you, baby. It’s not my first drunken night but I love you for watching over me.” You paused for a brief moment. “Ya know, I realized something last night.”

“What’s that, my love?” Asked Billy.

“I realized that you probably never played video games like that when you were young, huh?” You said.

“Nah, we didn’t have regular field trips to the arcade, if that’s what ya mean and we certainly didn’t have any video games or pinball machines at the group home. So, you’re right, baby. I didn’t do stuff like that when I was a kid. It’s ok though.” He said in a low voice, shaking his head.

Tears stung the back of your eyes. “I’m sorry, Billy. I’m so sorry you never really got to do normal kid things. Even though my childhood was exactly the greatest, there were some highlights and good times. I’d give anything for you to have happy memories like that.” You said as a tear streaked down your cheek.

“Y/n, sweet girl, it’s ok because I have happy memories NOW.” Billy said.

His words made you cry even harder but they were happy tears. Being married to Billy wasn’t always easy but it never was just one-sided either. You were the one that was always giving in your past relationships, but this was the first one where he gave just as much as you did.

“I love you.” You whispered as you gazed up at him through your lashes that were wet with tears.

“I love you too, baby…Come here and let me see those beautiful eyes a little better.” He said.

Slowly sitting up in bed and being careful not to move too quickly because of your headache, you straddled him and softly brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs.

“Oh I imagine they’re really red at the moment, my love.” You replied, a little embarrassed.

Billy didn’t care. He still looked at you like you were the only woman in the world. The slight lines around his eyes made him look even more handsome, if that was even possible. He was happy and seeing him smile always made him more attractive.

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours.

“Nah, they’re not too bad. That just means you had a really good time.” Joked Billy.

That made you laugh.

“Oh is that what that means?” You said, biting back a smile.

Billy laughed along with you and replied with a wink, “Yes, sweet girl. That’s exactly what it means.”

His wild dark brown hair had tumbled into his eyes so you pushed stray pieces away from his face as his warm hand grazed your cheek and he kissed you again.

“Thank you again, handsome. I had a great birthday.” You said with a kind smile.

Billy closed the gap between your bodies once again. He stopped short just before touching your lips with his, smiled, and whispered, “Anything for you.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[queerofcups]

a July rec list

I read a truly absurd amount of fanfic in July, and since I’m tracking my fic reading anyway these days, I figured, why not pull up some faves. I’ll do my best to tag authors when and where I can! I’ll throw some commentary in there to talk about why I like some of them, but rest assure this is a rec list and I think every one of them has something to love. 

Hockey RPF

In the scrawl of the ringside choir E, 37k, Hockey RPF | @goodnightpuckbunny Sid/Geno

“Geno, this is Sid Crosby,” Kris says, sitting back down. The kid towers over both of them, but seems small in the office. “You need a coach, so he’s gonna help you out.” He looks Sid over, eyes scanning like he’s looking for weaknesses, faults in his form. Sid has plenty, but he’s not fighting anymore. He doesn’t bother mirroring the gesture. He can guess without looking. “He old,” Geno eventually decrees. 

Interview with the Vampire

The Vampire Eric

E | 4k | falsescience (@theburialofstrawberries) Eric Bogosian/Jam Reiderson, Jam Reiderson

Oh ho, Eric thinks to himself, and then, aloud, because it’s just too delicious, and wouldn’t Rolin be ashamed, and a little pissed: “Oh ho!” He feels zapped alive: young, powerful, god-like. Jacob starts giggling immediately. “Did you just say ‘oh ho’?” “Or maybe aspen. What do you think, Eric?” “Not a damn clue,” says Eric, with a broad grin. “You look very satisfied. He looks very satisfied, doesn’t he?” Jacob smiles at Sam over his hitched shoulder. “Hm,” says Sam. “I think we play it safe, and go with red maple.” Yeah, Eric is certain: Jacob and Sam aren’t fucking. But they’d like to be.

First of all, I am RPF’ing these people real hard in some private chats. But largely, I like the characterization happening here, and the little turn of understanding that happens in the last third of the fic. 

reformation

E | 44k | verseau (@downstairsbar) Lestat/Louis

we're gonna heal. we're gonna start again. you've brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers. // It makes him speechless sometimes, how much he loves Lestat. He thought for years, a decade, that it was sickness. It’s not. It’s not. Even when Louis hated Lestat, nothing was more certain than that he loved him.

There’s some great, great plotting and characterization here but/also I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve read a fic and known immediately that the author is Black. That’s obviously not a requirement of the fic I write but it's nice to have Southern Black characters really sound like people I’ve known/grown up around etc. 

let’s keep this off the record

E | 1.4k | anonymous

Louis/Santiago (sort of)

There would be no second chances for the Englishman, no opportunity for him to crawl out of some dump and seek revenge. Louis would make sure of that.

Honestly, I think it's great that fandom has a long and storied history of skullfucking. I think it's fun that weird shit like that still happens around here.

Maman

T | 2k | anonymous Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat

Madeleine meets in the in-laws. Particularly one of them.

transpires

M-E | 5.8k total | familiar (@bigvampo or @camilliar? sekrit you've got so many blogs) Louis/Lestat

I mean, sekrit is just a fucking stellar writer. sekrit’s got a way of telling so much —  about a character, their mental state, the world their in —  in just a few razor sharp details. also these fics are so funny and the characterizations of Louis and Lestat feel like natural progressions from what we’ve seen in canon both in how much they love each other and how terrible they are (to each other and in general)

Harry Potter

Right. I think I’ve always been pretty upfront about my continued reading of Harry Potter fanfiction, but in case it's somehow necessary to say, please do not come to my inbox talking about JK Rowling. I don’t think about that woman and I’m very clear about what she thinks about me. 

Those Three Curses

E | 6k total | @dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

Obviously I had a bit of a fucking dodgerkedavra moment here, but these blew me away. So much story telling in such little space. 

Former Things Come to Mind

E | 64k | dodgerkedavra

Harry Potter has had a headache for seven and a half years.

In the Presence of My Enemy E | 41k | dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

All Harry knows is that Sectumsempra is for enemies. He doesn’t know that it will bind him to Draco Malfoy, for better or worse, ‘til death do them part.

Tiny Home

E | 30k | @wolfpants Draco/Harry/Ron

Harry and Ron left the Aurors years ago to travel the world and make up for lost time. When they finally decide to settle roots back in England, together, building a tiny home in the Lake District by hand seems like the perfect plan. What they don't realise is that Draco Malfoy already lives on the plot of land that they choose to build on. A story about years of feelings, about weaving lives in and around each other, and about finding a place safe enough to call home.

I really feel like there’s been an explosion of excellent Draco/Harry/Ron all of a sudden. One of my qualms with a lot of polyship fics is that it's very uhhh “we must do everything together” and I really love that this fic breaks that down and allows everyone to have histories and experiences together as dyads and all together. 

In Our Blood

E | 37k | secretsalex Draco/Harry

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

I’m not even going to bullshit y’all. This fic reminded me why I love mpreg. Excellent use of body horror, body dread, suspense, all these things. Also, an mpreg fic that remembers abortion is a thing. Amazing!

Probationary Action

E | 63k | @toomuchplor Draco/Harry

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

I’ve been obsessed with toomuchplor since Inception and this fic reminded me why. I don’t love Auror!Harry fic (truly, just so much unchecked, delighted writing about police brutality) but I do like any fic where Harry starts to wake up to the fact that maybe just because they’re “the good guys”, not every choice made by the Aurors/Wizarding Gov’t in general is right. Also, I appreciate the expansion on the idea of sex charms!

Embers

E | 41k | @shiftylinguini Draco/Harry

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

idk man, I like a fic that treats sex work like it's just a job. Worthy of respect, full of technical expertise, etc. 

--

Both of these next fics came from @hd-wireless which has been, pound for pound, one of the best fests I've ever witness and is a testament to how important having multiple fic fests in a fandom can be! so much good shit to read!

The most he’s ever said

E | 16k | anonymous Draco/Harry

It takes them twenty years.

Two Houses

E | 11k | anonymous Draco/Harry

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I really enjoy that there's been more of a trend of writing about these two as older people and fleshing out the characterization of their kids.

[player1064]

gary goes into business instead of broadcasting post-retirement. carra still goes into puditry. they don't know each other/end up as friends.

they both end up on the same season of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and fall in love. this is highly apparent to the entire audience.

I've not done a request fic in like two months bc I've been so zoomed in on the beville fic but I wanted to write something quick and silly and yes this request has been sitting in my inbox for more than THREE months but dont worry i did not forget about it I haven't forgotten about ANY of u.

and this really is quick and silly it is Mostly dialogue bc idk how else to convey the Vibes of im a celebrity but I had soooooo much fun with this dkjfgdfjsgkk...

---

 “I’m Gary Neville, I’m a businessman but I’m probably best known for my football career, playing 602 games for Manchester United and earning 85 caps for England.”

“What am I doing in the jungle? Mid-life crisis, I suppose.”

“I’m no stranger to public humiliation – just look at my coachin’ career! My only worry is the food – I do love a dairy milk, to be fair.”

*

“I’m Jamie Carragher, and I’m best known as a football pundit with Sky – am I allowed to say other broadcaster’s names on here? – and for winning the Champions’ league with Liverpool.”

“I’ve always said the jungle is the only reality show I’d consider doin’, so I guess it’s time to put me money where me mouth is.”

“Scared? Eh, no, I don’t think there’s many challenges I wouldn’t do. You don’t get to where I’ve got without that drive to win.”

*

Jamie walks into camp, takes one look at the group of people stood in front of him, and almost considers walking straight back out. Would that work, saying the catch-phrase outside of one of the challenges? ‘I’m a celebrity, get me away from Gary fucking Neville?’

“Jesus Christ,” Gary mutters. “Don’t you ‘ave some children to spit at or somethin’?”

“Don’t you ‘ave a football team to coach – oh no, sorry, they both fired you.”

“How the fuck are they lettin’ you take three weeks off in the middle of season? What’re people gonna do when they want to listen to two hours of Scouse gibberish?”

The rest of the campers watch on, no longer even attempting to come and introduce themselves to Jamie.

“And how’s your club gonna manage without yous, eh? What if they need someone to fire another manager?”

*

“Yeah, I uh… is it mean to say I hope one of them gets voted off soon? Don’t get me wrong, they’re both perfectly nice guys, but…”

[yelling heard from outside the hut]

“…Yeah.”

*

The first pairs challenge, shockingly, goes off without a hitch.

This is not a surprise because the challenge was particularly difficult – it’s early days, they’re still easing everyone in – but because of who the public had voted to complete it. Because the public is the public, and they’re nothing if not predictable.

“All twelve stars! I’m pretty pleased w’that, you know.”

“Typical fucking Neville, taking the credit for his partner’s hard work.”

 “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recall you crawling about in the mud to get the –”

“—I was the one doin’ all the heavy lifting!”

“Of course you were doin’ the heavy lifting, look at the fuckin’ size of you!”

“Ugh.”

Jamie storms off camera and back into camp, leaving behind a bewildered looking Gary.

“He’s a bit of a diva, in’t he?”

*

“The first few days? Erm, it’s been goin’ alright, I think. I’ve been told I’m not always the easiest person to get on with, so it’s a pleasant relief that the others seem to – I mean, obviously not all of the others, but – but he’s –”

*

“Oh, I’m loving camp. Missing the gym a bit –” for emphasis, Jamie slaps his bicep – “but the food’s not as bad as I were expectin’, and the banter is sound – we’re all great friends already –”

“—well, no, but you can’t count him. He’s so weird, ‘ave you seen him? Like a little robot, doin’ everything exactly the same every day.”

*

“Another pairs challenge…”

“I don’t get why people keep voting for us to do these trials. You’re useless at ‘em anyway, do they want to see us starve?”

“Maybe I’d be able to get more done if you didn’t always insist on bossing me around, James. Can barely hear myself think over that Scouse screech of yours, it’s a wonder me eardrums haven’t burst yet.”

“It’s a wonder nobody’s killed themselves in the boredom of having to listen to you drone on and on all day. Did I actually hear you talkin’ about the stock market the other day?”

“The stock exchange, oh my god. It’s my hotel, which you’d know if you took part in any conversation that’s not about you.”

*

“I can’t believe they let you have that.”

Jamie looks with pride down at the football he’d chosen as his luxury item, then drops it and kicks it towards Gary’s head. It’s wide by about a metre.

“Oi! If you were a half decent footballer that could’ve actually hurt me, you twat.”

“’least mine can benefit everyone in camp, what even is yours?”

“Fidget toy, innit. My niece got me into them, gives me something to do with my hands.”

“You’re a strange little man, you know that right?”

Gary, who’s still positioned closest to the football, picks it up and lobs it into the trees surrounding camp.

*

“Come have a kickabout with me?”

Gary looks around but there’s nobody else sat nearby. “Me?”

“No, Cristiano Ronaldo. Of course you, who else would I be askin’?”

“Literally anyone else here?”

“It’s not as fun when you’re better than everyone else –”

“—ah, so you admit I’m a better footballer than you!”

“That’s not what I said!”

*

“What are you actually doin’ in here? ‘cause no offence, Gary, but you don’t really seem the reality show type.”

“Dunno. Was having a rough week when the email came through, thought it might be nice to get away from everythin’ for a bit.”

“’and you, Jameh?’” Jamie says in a squeaky parody of a Manc accent. “Oh, thanks fer askin’, Gaz. I was worried I was goin’ soft, now that I’ve been retired for so long. Wanted to prove to myself I can still be a winner.”

“Still? When were you ever a winner before?”

“I’ve won a Champions’ League, I’ll have you know!”

“I’ve won two!”

“Have you fuck.”

*

“Who’s your letter from, then? Missus?”

“No, my brother,” Gary says absently, then he looks up from his letter with a frown. “I don’t have a missus, what’re you on about?”

“Don’t you? I could’ve sworn, in Baden Baden with the WAGs –”

“You’re basing your knowledge of my relationship status on a tournament we played in more than fifteen years ago?”

“You realise you’re literally wearing a wedding ring.”

“And you’re not. Any other observations you’d like to make? Sky is blue, maybe?”

“Normally people wear wedding rings to show they’re married.”

“Maybe some people wear them to avoid annoying questions. Anyway, Philip says that I’m coming across very well so far and that ITV has received hundreds of complaints from people who can’t understand your accent.”

“He did not fucking write that, give it here –”

*

“Am I getting along better with Jamie? I dunno, I never had a problem with him to be fair, it’s him that’s always –”

*

“Friends? With Gary? Behave. Have we managed to go a single day so far without him shoutin’ at me for somethin’ I did, or somethin’ I didn’t do right, or for – for breathing in the wrong direction. Christ, I’ve never met anyone this fussy. He’s too easy to wind up.”

*

“He must be doin’ it on purpose, surely nobody is that thick – I mean, is it so hard to stack a couple of dishes when you’ve finished washing them?”

“Well, no, yeah, he did stack them, but did you see – they were all out of order, there’s no stability – they’re certain to all fall and break in the night thanks to him.”

*

All the effort that goes into the Dingo Dollars task and all the camp has to show for it is a single square of chocolate each. Gary nibbles carefully at his, trying to preserve it for as long as possible.

Jamie gets up and goes to sit beside him.

“Here.”

“Wha?”

“Here, I don’t like sweets.”

“You don’t – what kind of a psychopath don’t like sweets?”

“Will you just take the bloody chocolate before I change my mind.”

*

“You’re limping. Why are you limping?”

“Done my ankle in the last trial.”

“Trust you to get injured doin’ a trial. What’d you do, you slip or somethin’?”

“Why don’t you ask your mate, he’s the expert on slipping.”

“Ha ha. But really, Gary – you alright?”

“I’m fine, Carra, ‘s not even strained. Just a bit achy. Twenty years as a professional athlete will do that to you.”

“Give it here.”

“You what?”

“Give it here, I do an okay massage. Maybe that’ll stop yer whining.”

“I literally didn’t say a word until you brought it up.”

*

“I don’t know, he’s – ugh, he’s…”

“He’s not what I expected. I dunno. He’s just not what I expected.”

*

“D’you know how many times me and Gary played a full ninety together with England? One. We only ever played one full match on the same side, and it was shite.”

“It always felt like there was only room for one of us, so I just – I fucking hated him. ‘cause it wasn’t me the managers were picking, was it?”

*

“Carra?” Gary whispers

“What.”

“Carra, I can’t sleep.”

“Don’t give a fuck.”

“Jamie.”

Jamie reluctantly sits up in his camp bed, squints at Gary in the dark. “What.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You already said that.”

“I want to go for a walk, clear my head.”

“Good for you.” Jamie lies back down and pulls his sleeping bag over his face.

“Jamie.”

“I swear to God, Gaz…”

“Yer not gonna make me go out there alone, are ya? It’s the middle of the night.”

“What are you, twelve? Fine, just give me a minute to find my shoes.”

*

“It’s very dark, isn’t it?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

They hadn’t ended up walking very far, just to the log benches in the next clearing over before agreeing the risk of tripping over tree roots was too high and sitting down to just talk instead.

“My internal clock’s all thrown off, we’ve been here nearly two weeks and I still can’t get the hang of it. At home to be fair I’m normally in bed by ten, half ten.”

“I remember, from England. You and Phil were such geeks, weren’t you?”

“Most capped brothers in England, thank you very much.”

“D’you miss him?”

“Nah. Don’t get to see ‘im much anyway, to be fair. He’s off in America, Trace is out here, they’re both just – getting on with it, aren’t they? I prob’ly miss my house more’n anything else.”

“Your house… not your friends? Not football?”

“I like my house! It’s got everythin’ just the way I like it.”

“Alright, alright. Fine, you can miss your house.”

“Wha’d’you miss? Your kids? The missus?”

“I dunno really… kids are both all grown up now, missus went back to being a ms a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Is what it is. Anyway, I miss football even if you don’t, honest to God, what kind of a footballer are ya? I wish someone would slip me this week’s standings, feel like I’m going insane tryin’ to imagine all the results.”

“Should’ve said something sooner, twat. I can tell you how the league’s going.”

“You can?”

“Yes. Manchester United are on a – how many games’ve we missed now? – they’re on a three game winning streak and have shot to the top of the league.”

“Oh yeah? What about Liverpool?”

Gary tuts and shakes his head. “Relegation zone, I’m afraid.”

“We were top of the table when I came in ‘ere!”

“Well, you know what they say – anything can happen in football, can’t it?”

“You’re right, what’s that… I’m getting reports from Old Trafford that Salah’s just scored a hat-trick, Stretford end as well –”

“You twat! As if your Liverpool could win away against United, you’re dreaming!”

*

“Erm, yeah… it’s good to be going home, ‘course it is. Glad I wasn’t the first voted out, hah, I actually think I’ve done alright in ‘ere.”

“Yeah, no, it’s been a brilliant experience to be fair. I never thought I’d make such good friends – yeah, even him. I know, I’m as surprised as you are! Anyway, I’m wishin’ them all the very best of luck in the semi-finals.”

 *

“I mean, I know fourth place isn’t bad, but I do think I deserved to get to the finals. I’ve worked harder than anyone else here, so –”

“Well yeah, ‘course, it’s up to the public, so – if it’s my time then it’s my time.”

“What’ll I be doin’ when I get to the hotel? Dunno. Check my messages first, probably!”

“What, Gary? I saw ‘im yesterday, it’s not like I’m missin’ him already! Might get ‘im to buy me a pint, though, least he could do after I had to put up with him for three weeks.”

[fantasygeek-134]

50 follower event!! 💗💗💗

(Introduction post!)

*cue intense screaming*

For those who missed my earlier post, we just hit fifty followers!! I’m super excited and SO grateful for all you lovelies who got me here! Tumblr was my first experience with social media, and I’ll always appreciate how kindly I was welcomed. Ever since, I’ve loved being able to express my interests to people who care and interact with you all! 💗 @telugu-girl-13 suggested I do an event, so here we are! Apologies for it taking me so long! I would love to say that I spend the last few days planning this to perfection—but, in reality, I created this in 45 minutes and spent the time preparing for tests. (*cough* procrastination *cough* 💀)

Anyways, that’s enough yapping. On with the event! ^^

｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

Rules/deadline

I know, I know, nobody likes rules. But don’t worry, I’ll make this short.

This event will be running from December 12th (currently today) until December 20th. After then, my introduction post will be repinned and no requests will be accepted! Request can be sent at any time of day—however, some may take me a while to fill out due to my irl schedule.

Any of my moots can send up to two requests, one in each fandom. (You’ll see!) Please put them in my inbox, and not my direct messages! That way things’ll be less complicated. ^^

That’s all! Moving on to the fun part!

｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

You enter a cozy, warmly lit room, the scent of old books and fresh flowers wafting through the air. The walls are adorned with beautifully crafted tapestries, and the soft hum of a harp can be heard in the distance. At the center of the room, a large wooden table stands. Six items sit waiting atop it’s surface.

As you approach the table, you feel a sense of curiosity. Which one(s) will you take?

｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

Percy Jackson and the Olympians:

🧢 = Annabeth’s Yankees cap: Anonymously send me an ask sharing a couple things about yourself, and I’ll try to reveal who you are!

🏹 = Khryselakatos (aka Atermis’ bow): Give me a character from one of my fandoms (KotLC, PJO, *adding THG for more options) and I’ll give you some of my personal headcanons for them! If you’d like, you can add in a character who you ship them with and I’ll sprinkle in some romantic ones as well. ^^

🐐= The Golden Fleece: Request this and I’ll reply with some things I love about you! This one is good for anyone having a bad day. :)

Keeper of the Lost Cities

📜 = The Matchmaker’s match lists: Send me a ship from your favorite fandom (even if it’s not one of mine) and I’ll make a poll to see other’s opinions on it!

🔮 = Oralie’s Cache: Give me three interests of yours and, along with the vibes of your blog, I’ll make an aesthetic that matches your personality!

🍬 = Mood Candy: State your current mood, and I’ll give you a mini playlist, consisting of 6-10 songs, that matches!

Not sure how I feel about the overall theme, but we’re going with it! Remember, two request per moot (one in each fandom!)

Have an ✨awesome✨ day lovelies! <3

[writingquestionsanswered]

I've got all the writing structure/craft books, watched tons of advice videos and have been checking out novels to learn by example. But just because I can write doesn't mean I can write a book. This is hard. At what point should any writer consider taking writing courses or hiring a book coach?

When to Consider a Course or Book Coach

Reading books, reading craft books, and watching advice videos isn't enough to teach you how to write a book. You also have to practice...

Imagine if you'd never sewn anything before, had never pieced together and hand sewn or machine sewn anything in your life. You could spend years reading books about sewing and garment construction and could watch hours upon hours of sewing videos on the internet, but that doesn't mean the first time you sit down to actually sew a garment, you're going to end up with a garment worthy of a ritzy department store...

Writing books IS hard, even if you've written a lot of them. I've written a dozen books (though they're not all published), and I still don't find writing a book to be a piece of cake. Part of that is just because different books present different challenges--and where you are in life can also play a big role--but the point is, no amount of learning or practice is going to make it easy.

There's an unfortunate myth among aspiring authors that being an author looks like this: spending some time learning to write, writing your book, and voila! You have a book to publish! The truth is very few authors publish the first book they ever wrote, and if they did, they probably have mountains of short stories and/or fan-fiction or other writing behind them. Most writers write two or three books before their skills are honed enough to write a publishable book. Which doesn't mean you can't write a publishable book on your first try, it just doesn't happen a lot.

So... writing courses... there's not a lot you're going to learn in a writing course that you haven't probably learned from reading, reading a lot of craft books, and watching a lot of advice videos. Certainly, anything you would learn in a writing course you can learn online for free. The main benefit of a writing course is the interaction with others, but even that is really dependent upon the teacher and your classmates. You really have to go into it with a thick skin, knowing that the opinions of your teacher and classmates are not the end all be all.

Writing coaches can be great but they're expensive, and you get more out of the experience if you go into it with a complete or near complete WIP that you want to query or publish, but can't quite get where you want it to be.

So, having said all of that, before pursuing either a writing course or coach, I would recommend trying to finish one or two WIPs to at least first draft stage, but preferably second draft stage, and see how you feel. They don't have to be good. In fact, if you haven't completed a WIP before, they're not going to be your best work (because that comes much later), but remember that part of the writing process is taking the "rough draft" and improving it, and revision is where you really start learning things.

Ultimately, though, follow your gut and follow the path that feels right to you. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[lfghughes]

Mess In The Kitchen

a/n: i got this cute request that has been sitting in my inbox and i think the timing is perfect now to post it after my jamie and trevor fic

Flipping through the different recipes online, you finally found one for some pasta you figured Trevor and Jamie would like. For the past month at least once a week you would cook for Trevor. It was really the first time you cooked for anyone and Trevor seemed to really like the nights you cooked so you made it a thing. After a few times of you going over to cook though Jamie pointed out that you had yet to make him food too so the three of you picked today to have dinner all together.

You picked baked ziti because you figured it would be the easiest dish that everyone would like and you had gone over extra early to cook for the boys. You were excited to have Jamie finally try your food. “Alright, dinner is served.” You told the boys as you set the hot dish on the table for the three of you. Immediately Trevor dug into the food and Jamie followed behind.

When it was your turn you put a few scoop fulls on your own plate. You gave the boys a few minutes to really dig and you couldn’t help but beam up at them, waiting to see what they would say. “So what do you think?” You asked and Trevor gave you a thumbs, a smile on his lips. “This is amazing.” You immediately caught the look of confusion on Jamies face as he turned his attention to Trevor. 

“Jamie?” You asked and he pushed his food around the plate a little. “Uh, you know I love you, right?” He asked and a nervous laugh left his lips. “Yes…” You started slowly as you waited for him to continue on. “What Jamie is trying to say is, he fell more in love with you because this food is amazing.” Again a look of confusion crossed Jamies face as he looked at Trevor again. “Well no…I mean, it’s not horrible it’s just..The pasta isn’t really cooked all the way through and it’s kind of…bland.” He winced a little at the last word and you could tell he was trying to not hurt your feelings.

Your cheeks flashed red at his words “I am so sorry.” You immediately started and Jamie shook his head “It’s fine really, I mean you said you’re still learning.” He tried to cover up his criticism and you appreciated that but a bigger question came to mind as you turned to Trevor. “Wait have you been telling me it’s good this whole time to not hurt my feelings?” You asked and his jaw dropped slightly. “I mean…yes?” He said quietly and your own jaw fell open. “Trevor why would you do that?”

“I can think of a few reasons why he does that.” Jamie teased with a small laugh and Trevor pushed him in warning. “Uh…Do you think maybe we could talk for a minute.” He paused looking over at Jamie “Privately.” At the last word Jamie held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be in my room.” And with those words he retreated into the house. Your attention turned back towards Trevor. “I’m not really sure how to say this but uh..you see. I’ve kind of have had this big crush on you.”

His words had caught you by surprise but there was still confusion there. “Wait so because of your feelings for me…You didn’t tell me my food sucks?” You asked and he shrugged sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings but I can see why it’s important that I wasn’t honest.” He admitted to you and you nodded your head. “Well yeah because if you’re wanting to be my boyfriend you’re going to have to be honest even if my food is the worst ever.”

[alexanderlightweight]

Hey, hoping you and your loved ones are doing well and that you are regaining your strength and health. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. This is me sending virtual hugs :)

Thank you!!!!

Anon this made me feel so much better about things recently I really appreciate you!

Also just; you and everyone on tumblr hs been so amazing and nice and understanding. I appreciate all of you, my ao3 has been getting a lot of commands about updates and I’m just… I want to update too! I write every day in my head. Im just typically wiped out after but I’ve stabilized enough in PT that we don’t have to do it as often. So i won’t be a turtle rolled on its back when I got home from it as much.

I got a lot sick due to being around a group of traveling, germ collecting niblings a few months ago. Since i hadn’t recovered from Covid (kept getting small illnesses). What followed was me finally getting into a few appointments I’d been waitlisted for months on. So I’ve been doing some hard core physical therapy and some other stuff to try and get my health back up.

@queensaryn aka Saeth’s fibro got fucked up with Covid and they’ve barely managed to leave the house twice a month (even just to sit in the car while I get groceries) but they’re also improving albeit slowly. We have to be careful with their goals and limits. Basically they have to be treated like an overripe peach or a plum blossom, or baby strawberries.

Very delicate.

The rest of the house recovered faster but they still have some long Covid symptoms like us and it’s been hard for everyone. Months past and sometimes one of us will still get taken by surprise when the lingering affects hit us.

But we’re getting better! Sorry if that seemed pessimistic, it’s been exhausting, but I’m definitely finally getting stronger. It does seem like every time I make two steps forward we find something else wrong and I go 1-3 steps back but after three years of fighting I’m getting help for some old injuries and damage.

Just last night I was plotting out a scene in ‘a craft of adoration’ that I can’t wait to actually type out. So thank you again for the encouragement, it makes me want to push through because I really love writing. And it’s a lot more encouraging then some very backhanded compliments and demands for updates on ao3.

Which tbf, they probs don’t know I’m sick and have been struggling but I’m already fighting so hard to get better that it gets discouraging. So thank you for lifting my spirits!

And thank you to everyone else who has sent me and the House well wishes if they happen to see this. My inbox is a little bursting rn with prompts so I tend to get distracted very easily when I try to look through it.

Sending virtual hugs back and lots of Nightshade cuddles!

I will say that the Abyss and Nightshade have both been incredibly cuddly since I got sick. Nightshade throws a tantrum if anyone in the House so much as sneezes. He is horrified by the thought of any one getting sick again

💜 lumine

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

Ok, I’ll guess I’ll just be the Hiddles anon. Lol since my hatred for her really geared up bc of her involvement with him.

Anyway. So wait. She cheated on Joe??? That’s like the third time she’s cheated, if I’m not mistaken.

She cheated on Calvin — or at least there was an overlap — with Tom Hiddleston. Then she insinuated in her shit music, that she used Tom as a rebound or cover bc she actually wanted Joe (she met them both around the same time at the Met Gala in 2016). And she used Joe to “prove” how private she really was bc she blamed Tom for their “romance” being so out there.

The man would travel between London and various places in America without a peep, but, sure, Jan.

Their breakup always cracks me up bc he was supposed to fly from LA to the east coast somewhere to meet back up with her. On her plane. They had paps on the tarmac in LA to show him getting on the plane. Then they had paps waiting with her on the east coast to catch them reuniting. Except when the plane landed no one got out. So she went and climbed onboard. A few minutes passed and she came stomping out of the plane mad as a hornet and shooed the paps away. Word got out that he decided after his awkward and uncomfortable appearance at ComicCon some time before that (when he literally said the words “Taylor Swift and I are in love” 🙄) that he didn’t want to be a part of this PR nightmare anymore. So he didn’t get on the plane. And to add insult to injury, it was said he left a small gift bag on one of the seats. Inside it? A self-help book for getting over narcissism. 🤣🤣🤣 He popped up like a week later in London near where he lived. Proving he can get around without anyone noticing him.

During this PRship is when I really got an idea of how she operates and controls her image. She has a three month plan: the “outing,” so to speak (pix on the rocks kissing with Hiddles), being seen out and about (them kissing and touring in time and other places), pix with his family (they walked on the beach near his mother’s home with his mother, sister, and young niece), and then her supporting her friends (they attended a Selena Gomez concert fighter….he looked like a dad accompanying his daughter and her friends 🤦🏽‍♀️). She also has scripts for what her partner is supposed to say. I’ve heard he kept them and he and his friends would sit around (after they broke up) and read them out loud and laugh their asses off at the terrible writing. It’s probably why he sounded so wooden and uncomfortable when he spoke about her during the, what I call, Snakebite of Summer 2016. The rumors were she was trying to get him to take her to the Emmys that September but he didn’t want to.

Anyway…yeah I have a lot of intel from those days 😂 (sorry for the long ass ask!)

hiddleswift lore? in MY inbox? in 2024? it’s more likely than you think! I love this rundown thank you for explaining it!

She’s cheated 3 times and she’s still the victim in all her music? HOW? And how the hell did she convince her fans too?

So she cheated on Calvin with Tom to get with…Joe? This is so manipulative. I hate feeling bad for men but she genuinely makes me feel bad for her exes. She’s awful. If he actually left the self help book, he’s so funny for that. It’s been 8 years and she still hasn’t changed.

Your analysis of her PR relationships is on point! I see the same thing happening with Kelce. With the release of this album it feels like she’s intentionally fizzling out their romance. The scripts make sense because all of her partners sound the same when talking about her. How miserable she must be knowing all the love her partners have for her is fabricated.

[easilyandromeda]

One More Troubled Soul (Dimension Jumper)

Fuck okay, so I decided to write the first piece of the anthology fic I discussed in a previous post. Basically, what would happen if our main character got blipped from her world into a world where the Clergy existed. This story is something I want to write out of order, so if anyone has as ideas for situations or events throughout the course of the story let me know. Shoot them in my inbox and I would be more than happy to write them. Hope y'all enjoy! <3

Cardinal Copia x Original Character (F)

Word Count: 3.0K

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety, Google Translate Italian

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

I hate nothing more than the nights where I know I need sleep and my body simply refuses to let me. I tossed and turned for hours in this bed trying to still my mind and slip into sweet oblivion. I have returned to this bed every night for the past three days with barely any success in actually sleeping. 

The bed was incredibly soft, luxurious even, with plush dark red sheets and a down blanket nicer than anything I have ever owned. The pillows were plump and cradled my neck in the perfect way to allow me to relax, but it wasn’t my bed. This was a strange bed, in a strange room, in an abbey that should not exist. In a world where I don’t belong.

That’s the thought that forces me upright with a jolt, curling my fingers into the blanket with the force to shake. The panic catches me in odd moments, like a jolt of lightning to my system. It forces me to move in primal terror, like I just can’t exist within my own skin. Existence feels wrong. 

“You’re okay,” I mumble to myself, pulling the blanket up to my chest and under my chin. Peeling my eyes up from the dark comforter, I take a moment to look over the unlit room. Sister Imperator had been very kind to allow me to take one of the guest suites for the duration of my ‘stay’, as she put it. 

The space was similar to that of a university dorm room, fitting a bed, dresser, small sitting area, desk, and kitchenette all within four walls. This style of dorm thankfully had an attached bathroom as well. The decor was exactly what you would expect within a satanic monastery. Dark oak furniture and draping red curtains, a painting of who I am assuming to be Lucifer himself placed on the wall next to the door. It did not discomfort me. 

The entire situation was far more unsettling than the setting. Appearing from my world, where the Ghost project was simply a band that brought me joy with a kitschy story and excellent music, to theirs. A world where the Clergy existed, and all its characters were breathing souls with a quest to spread the Dark Lord's message. I was dropped unceremoniously into this place. I did not step through a portal, or appear on an altar. I simply blinked and was here. Standing inside of a mausoleum I thought existed in California as the occasional set for the band's videos.

I still have no concept of where the abbey actually is in this version of earth. The complex is surrounded by what appears to be miles and miles of trees, making this place feel like it exists outside of time. The universe was not kind, so I did not keep my phone when I transferred over. The inhabitants of the abbey or the library may be a better source of information, but I did not have the heart to try and speak to anyone. Anytime I have stepped outside of this room, I’ve heard the whispers of the Siblings of Sin that seem to flood this place. 

I have run back into hiding every time. I can only handle this nightmare so much without becoming a zoo animal at the same time. 

The Clergy has been very kind to let me stay, considering my situation. Someone has brought food to my door every day, and I have not been called to speak to anyone. I have just taken up space here. It has been more than gracious for them to let me settle as best I can, but they will likely try to speak to me soon about how I got here.

I need air. It’s the middle of the night, no one should be roaming the halls of the abbey. I should be able to slip out to the courtyard or to the library unnoticed. If I can’t sleep, I can hopefully try to find some peace or some answers. 

I pull the blanket off of my lap and swing my legs off of the side of the bed, reaching down and pushing my feet into a pair of black slippers. Fuzzy, soft, opulent. Everything in this place has outmatched the quality of anything I have ever owned, but one could guess a church that has existed for at least a millennium would have money. That extended to the clothing I had been gifted to wear.

I was not given a habit or dresses like the Sisters of Sin, but simple black dresses and sweatsuits. All were within the dresser by the time I had been brought to this room, in my exact size. I had never told them my sizes, but it was possible that they were astute in their observations of me.

I was currently wearing a black t-shirt style nightdress, and debated changing before venturing out into the halls of the abbey.

“It’s not worth it,” I mumbled to myself, before standing and reaching for the black robe that was draped across the back of the desk chair to the right of the bed. I pulled the garment onto my arms and moved towards the door, not bothering to tie the sash around my waist. I grabbed my glasses off of the edge of the dresser as I passed, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Hagard, that was the only word to describe my appearance. 

Moving to the door, I hovered my hand over the knob for a brief moment. Did I really want to do this? It was so late, and I really did not want to be spotted. However, if I stayed in this room right now I would not be able to put myself to sleep. That was decision enough.

I turned the knob of the dark wooden door slowly, peering out at the hall through the crack. The abbey really was gorgeous, like it was plucked straight from a gothic-era novel. The walls were made from a dark stone, reaching high and curving at their apex. Beautiful tall windows lined the side of the building just outside of my room, their wrought iron bars and swirling patterns reflecting shadows onto the hallway floor thanks to the full moon glowing outside. 

The hall was silent, no signs of life to be found. Excellent. I pulled my door open a little further, moving to step out into the hall. I palmed the door’s skeleton key in my pocket once to make sure it was still there before pulling the handle behind me. I felt the weight of the door slide shut, and heard the soft click of the latch. I took one more deep breath before turning left and starting to walk down the hall.

The abbey felt like a sleeping beast at night, all of the bustle I usually heard through my door replaced with an eerie yet calming silence. Fresco’s and paintings of previous church leaders lined the halls, glowing in icy shades of moonlight. This whole place was such a sight to behold at night that I couldn’t help but think maybe the sun was never meant to rise here. Shadows really did suit this ancient building. 

After descending multiple sets of stairs and turning down multiple wrong hallways, I finally made it to a set of large glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. As I pushed one of the doors ajar, a strained groan resonated through the hall. I hissed quietly, quickly scanning the surrounding area before slipping out into the night air. 

“Fucking glorious,” I mumbled to myself, walking out into the gardens. The courtyard was surrounded on all sides by the abbey, giving me the opportunity to gaze in awe at her rising spires and intricate architecture. The air was cool, billowing softly and brushing against my face. I couldn’t help but smile, this place was simply gorgeous. I wish I could have gotten the opportunity to explore her under any other circumstances. 

“Signora?”

The sound of the voice behind me snapped me from my thoughts, whipping my head around to a sight that almost made me choke. A cardinal, dressed in black cassock stood in the courtyard doorway, the glass pushed ajar by a gloved hand. I knew his name, but I dared not to speak. Not even to breathe. The reality of my situation was becoming ever clearer. 

“I am so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?” The cardinal asked, taking one step further into the courtyard and holding the glass door a little wider. His salt and pepper brown hair was not pushed back or styled, but instead disheveled and falling across his forehead in wisps. He was piercing me through with those damn mismatched eyes. In this world, those are not contacts and his face is not a rubber mask worn by a different man. His face has life, the wrinkles adorning his cheeks and eyes scrunching with concern. His black eye paint was slightly smudged from what looks like attempts to rub away exhaustion. He, however, did not look like he had been sleeping. 

He just continued to stand there, and I was staring. Fantastic.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You scared me.” I let out shakily, moving to grip the edges of my robe and tugging them in on myself. If there was a God, or a Devil, now might be the time to strike me down. I could not be here, could not be standing before him. This was all a cruel joke.

“Then I am the one who should be saying sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He spoke softly, stepping fully out into the courtyard and letting the door close with a creak. I don’t know how I didn’t hear him in the first place. 

“Are you our new visitor?” 

He’s prying me with questions. He wants me to speak, and I can see in his eyes that he wants to ask me so much more. At least in his green eye, the white is just as eerie and unreadable as in my world. I am an anomaly.

“You could say that, yes.” I responded, turning fully to face him as he walked a few steps closer. He was taller than me, which isn’t much considering I am 5’3 on a good day. He was gazing at me with what I could only describe as pitied fascination.

“My name, well more like my title is Cardinal Copia. Please, just call me Copia. What is your name, signora?” 

“Alex. It’s nice to meet you, Cardinal.” I reach out one hand for him to shake. Damn it all if I wasn’t going to be polite. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and I wasn’t going to be rude just to satisfy the equally spreading dread that filled my bones. This was all so deeply wrong. 

He took my hand in his own gloved one and shook. He squeezed gently before dropping my hand and turning his gaze to the night sky. He took a deep breath as the night air whipped around us again, fluttering the ends of my robe and his cassock in its breeze. It could have been almost picturesque, this scene. 

“Sister Imperator informed me of your situation. Well, what we know currently. Are you feeling okay, Alex?” He fixed his gaze back on me, a soft smile crossing his lips. I had not spoken to anyone in days, and the smile that he gave made me want to spill every last thought in my mind about everything. All of the pain, and fear, and exhilaration of this situation. His duties and position as an actual cardinal in this world must afford him that kind of sway over people. 

I laughed curtly, flicking my gaze quickly over the courtyard before turning it back to him. 

“If you could call getting teleported from your world to one where you don’t even exist, and then trying to come to terms with that ‘okay’, then sure. I’m doing okay.” The words came out a little harsher than I intended, so I tried to put a smile across my face to ease the tension. I am sure it doesn’t reach my eyes. 

“I am sure that has been scary, Alex. Cazzo, more like terrifying. I imagine that’s why you are out here at 2 in the morning.” His words are warm, and I feel them in my chest. Fuck, I have missed speaking to another soul one on one. Not an interrogation, but a conversation. 

“It has been pretty nerve-wracking. I needed air, I couldn’t sleep. Same for you?” I watched Copia reach a gloved hand to run up through his hair. He let out a chuckle before meeting my eyes again.

“You could say that. I had some paperwork to finish. We have some outreach initiatives upcoming that I am a part of that need planning.” He is dancing around talking about Ghost. He is assuming that I don’t know where I am exactly, or who they are. Like the entire aesthetic of this place wouldn’t give away its satanic affiliations.

“The Ghost project, you mean.” The words fly out before I can stop them. If I could bury myself in the dirt, I would, because his gaze turns from soft to shocked in an instant. I watch a soft grin turn the corner of his mouth, and I have opened a can of worms I can’t take back. I have tried desperately to keep from the Clergy that I have an idea of who they are, and I just ruined all of it. 

“Oh, so you know of us? Our message?”

“Ghost is a band in my world, but your church does not exist.” I respond, and he looks even more intrigued. I decided to continue.

“The band has always had the same frontman, just in different masks depending on which Papa or Cardinal is in charge of the story at the time. Really big following.” I waive my hand with that expression, getting a laugh out of the Cardinal. His eyes are almost radiating glee now, and I could almost swear that white eye is glowing. 

“Masks? That just sounds uncomfortable. And it is all the same man? That seems like a pain.” 

I am going to combust. This entire conversation is like the stuff out of my wildest dreams. Getting to stand across from Cardinal Copia and explaining to him how their band works in our world. It is all too much. I grin a little at his laughter before continuing.

“I could imagine it is, but the frontman is incredibly good.” 

“Oh, so you’re a fan then? Of our work, I mean.” His grin has met his eyes. He’s going to try and tease me. This is all so ridiculous.

“I enjoy the music, yes. I have always been a fan of rock and metal music. Music in general, I miss it. I haven’t had the heart to ask for a phone or a radio since I’ve been here. I think if I had asked days ago I wouldn’t be so…” I trail off, the realization of my situation running over me like a tidal wave again. That sadness, the fear of this being my new reality. I pull the edges of my robe closer in on myself as the wind kicks up again. 

Copia catches the falter in my tone and turns his gaze back to the glass door. When he looks back at me, concern and pity have replaced the playful look in his eyes. 

“Come signora, let’s go back inside. It’s getting cold.” He holds out an arm for me to take. He is being incredibly kind, and I am hesitant to take his lead. It’s so cordial, so gentlemanly. I tentatively reach out, wrapping my hand into the crook of his arm as he walks us back to the courtyard door. He opens the door and lets me enter first, and the quiet of the abbey sucks all of the air out of me once again. The reality of all of this. I hear the Cardinal shut the squeaky door behind me before moving to stand next to me again. 

“Fuck, I should probably let you get to sleep. Sorry for keeping you outside.” I turn to move back towards the stairs before a hand on my shoulder stops me. I turn my head back to lock eyes with Cardinal Copia. His gloved hand is gently resting on my shoulder, holding me in place. His gaze is soft and he is smiling with sympathy.

“Don’t be sorry for speaking with me Alex. Thank you for humoring my questions.” 

He’s so genuine it hurts. He fishes in the pockets under his cassock for a pen and a piece of paper. He writes something down before passing me the note. It has a room number scrawled in messy writing. ‘6345’

“This is my office number. I will try and find an available MP3 player or old phone to get you some music. It always brings me comfort, I can only imagine what it would do for you right now. If you need anything, even someone to talk to. Please, don’t hesitate.”

I am smiling now, feeling slightly light as I flick my gaze back up to him. It is all so caring and sweet. He smiles in response, and I decide to choke out a few words.

“Thank you, for everything.” 

“Non c'è di che, Alex. I am sorry for your circumstances.” His words sound pained with the last sentence. I feel the pain as well, but exhaustion is finally starting to grip me. 

“Goodnight Copia.”

I turn back towards the stairs and start to walk.

“Goodnight, signora.”

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

If the muse should so cooperate- I would love to see the reaction at Skadi after Katniss made her reservation to go for a visit. Did Gramps know right off it was her? Did Haymitch give the heads up? Did Gramps know and wait to tell Peeta? How did that conversation unfold? POV doesn’t matter to me.

Soooooo this has been sitting in my inbox for literal years. Sorry about that. And while I am still focusing on Spellbound for now, it doesn't hurt to exercise the Outside Chance muscles every so often to keep that universe fresh in my mind. Especially since the Outside Chance universe is up next on the To Do list once I finish Spellbound.

Some fun, from a different POV than what I usually give you all. It worked a little better coming from Monique, since she works the front desk at Skadi and would have a front row seat to the entire thing unfolding. The only thing it doesn't directly answer is whether or not Haymitch gave Eirik a heads up (he did), but it is implied here. Hope you enjoy! And now back to work on Spellbound.

~~

I need a break. It’s been insane since I sat down at the desk. And I use the phrase “sat down at” in a metaphorical sense. I’ve been standing the whole time. Moving between the front desk and the office behind the desk where we store all our random shit we need throughout the day to take care of our guests. We’re just on the downslope of the season, and a quick glance at our weather forecasts has me smiling at the guest I’m helping and answering their question.

“Weather service is predicting another eight inches at least from this storm that’s moving through in two or three days,” I tell him and he taps his Epic Pass on the desk with a wide grin.

“Awesome. Might trap me here for a few more days. Any chance I can go ahead and extend my room?”

“Mmm, that might be difficult. We’re pretty well booked for the rest of this week and next week, too. But I can check for you. Stop by after you’re done skiing and ask me then?” I suggest. 

He nods and walks off. I can feel my customer service smile slipping, but a genuine one takes its place as my boss steps up to the counter, leaning heavily on it, taking his weight off his cane as he gives me a bright smile in return.

“Hey Mr. Tjalaand, how’s it going?” I ask in a sing-songy voice and he chuckles.

“Not bad, Monique. Any word on our high profile guest?”

“Uh-uh. Haven’t seen her name on any of the guest lists, and I’ve been checking every chance I get,” I tell him. Just to be sure, I type in the names again, in two separate searches, just to be safe.

Katniss -- nope.

Everdeen -- nada.

“She’s not here. If she’s coming tomorrow, she’s gonna have a hard time finding a room,” I say and Mr. Tjalaand mutters under his breath, but then his eyes light up.

“Perhaps she has registered under a fake name,” he says, and I nod.

“It’s possible, but she could’ve used anything.”

“You can search guests based on their address, yes?”

“Sure,” I say brightly. “Where’s Ms. High Profile coming from?”

“Colorado Springs,” he says, which gives me a moment’s pause. We don’t get many guests from C. Springs. They’ve got their own skiing all around them in Colorado. Only the die-hard skiers from C. Springs or the ones who want slightly wilder slopes come here. Still, I type it in my search and come back with two hits.

“I’ve got a Mike Norbert and a Kay Brookes from Colorado Springs checking in tomorrow.”

“Kay… clever girl,” he murmurs. I smile over his shoulder as his grandson, who I like to think of as my other boss, even if he doesn’t officially have the title yet, approaches. We all know it’s coming one day. But Mr. Tjalaand hasn’t seen Peeta yet and continues talking to himself. “Using their names. As if we wouldn’t notice.”

“What wouldn’t we notice?” Peeta asks and Mr. Tjalaand jumps, cries out, clearly startled.

“What?” he asks Peeta once he’s gotten ahold of himself.

“We’ve got a guest coming tomorrow, using a fake name so we don’t know it’s them. Some big name athlete,” I whisper conspiratorially. Peeta smiles slightly and turns to his grandfather.

“Seriously? Ryen’s dumb enough to try a fake name?”

“Er… not Ryen,” Mr. Tjalaand says, then does that thing they always do. He switches to Norwegian, so that no one else can understand what they’re saying. Joke’s on them. I’ve been learning Norwegian. Not enough to be fluent, or proficient. Or to even catch full sentences with the rapid pace Mr. Tjalaand is speaking, but I can read Peeta’s face.

And he’s. Not. Happy.

Mr. Tjalaand actually shrinks away from him a little bit as he gestures wildly and continues to explain to Peeta. I catch something about training and home and upset. Maybe a name I file away. Haymitch. The word tomorrow.

Peeta starts shaking his head. And although he’s whispering, there’s no disguising the hurt and anger in his voice when he cuts his grandfather off and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” At least I think that’s what he says. Mr. Tjalaand fires back. It’s settled blah blah blah blah I suggest blah blah blah something about one of our trails.

When it’s over, Eirik looks smug and Peeta walks off before I can even ask if he’s okay. What a dumb question. Of course he’s not okay. It’s written all over his face and his body language that he’s not okay. But why’s this guest set him off so much?

Mr. Tjalaand sighs as he turns back to me and gives me a small smile. “I apologize for my grandson.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” I ask and Eirik waves off the concern.

“He will need to be. I will not tolerate his moping about this any longer.” 

I don’t wanna say it, but I kinda agree with my boss. Much as I love working for them both, much as I consider Peeta a good friend, he can be moody and mopey sometimes. Not that he doesn’t have reason and all, but sometimes I just wanna slap him for his dumb decisions.

“You will tell me the moment our guest checks in tomorrow?”

“If I’m on shift, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. “Thank you, Monique.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I say and give him a playful salute as he walks off. I wait until he’s out of sight before I turn to my coworker. “You got this, Haydn?”

“Yeah. Seems to have calmed down for a moment.”

“I’m going to Rooba’s. You want me to get anything for you?”

“Red Bull and one of those caesar chicken wraps.”

“You got it,” I tell her as I slip out from behind the desk and basically jog to Rooba’s Lobby Stop. I skid to a halt next to her and she smiles at me.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Okay. So. I need to know what kind of serious shit is about to go down in this place so I’m ready to handle it.”

“Uh-huh,” Rooba says but continues to stock her shelves, replenishing after the mid afternoon rush. “I’m listening.”

Of course she is. Rooba’s a gossip hound. “Two days ago, Eirik came to me and said we’d be having a high profile visitor arrive in three days, which is, you know… tomorrow. Some Olympic athlete I’d never heard of, but anyways. He says he wants to know the second she books her room.”

“Interesting,” Rooba prompts me to keep going.

“Well today, she still hadn’t shown up on the guest lists. So he asks me to search by where she’s coming from, and turns out she’s registered under a fake name, or at least he’s pretty sure she is. So he’s figuring this all out and Peeta walks up--”

“Uh-huh,” Rooba murmurs, her eyes bright as she hones in on what I know she can tell is the juicy part.

“-- and they start talking in Norwegian, as they do.”

“You catch any of it?”

“Some. Not enough. All I know is Peeta is not happy about this person coming here, but Eirik is tickled pink about it, so I need to know who this is and why she’s already causing problems in my lobby.”

Rooba snorts. “What’s the name, girl?”

“Right, sorry,” I say. “Katniss Everdeen?”

“Kat--” Rooba gasps and drops the pile of chips she was holding. “Oh shit.”

I glance down at the mess with her, then back up at her face. Her eyes and mouth are wide for an instant, but then her lip trembles and her eyes go a little glassy. “Katniss is coming home tomorrow?”

“Coming home?” I ask, but Rooba has moved on. She’s frantically scooping up the dropped chips and I kneel down to help her.

“So you know that name.”

“Oh my -- oh no wonder Peeta was so upset. My poor boy, finding out like that.”

And it’s those words that make it click in my mind as we stand up with the chips in our hands. “Don’t tell me she’s that girl. The one with him in all the pictures on The Wall that no one will talk about like she’s a curse?”

Rooba scowls at me and snatches the chips from my hand. “Katniss is not a curse. She’s… oh my poor girl must be hurting so bad if she’s coming home after all these years.”

I can feel my eyebrows raise at that. I watch Rooba stock the chips as I grab Haydn’s lunch, and something for myself.

“Coming home tomorrow. I don’t even have any Milk Duds or that strawberry lemonade thing she always drank, or her favorite tea,” she’s muttering as I approach the register. “Too late to have them here by tomorrow. I’ll just have to add them to the order for next week. If she’s even staying that long…”

I clear my throat while she rings me up. “I don’t think she wants a fuss being made over her,” I point out and Rooba glares at me. “I’m just saying, she registered under a fake name. Sounds like she doesn’t want to be noticed while she’s here.”

Rooba snorts. “Fat chance. That girl could bury herself under thirty feet of snow and she’d still be noticed.”

I don’t know what to make of that, but Rooba sighs and rings up my purchase, still grumbling.

“Our baby girl comes home after ten years and Eirik can’t even tell us? I can’t even welcome her home? What a crock of shit.” She holds out my sack as I swipe my card, but she pulls it back when I reach for my purchase. “What name did she use? The fake one.”

“Kay Brookes,” I tell her and she gasps again. “Okay you gotta explain why that’s significant. And why I shouldn’t skewer this girl on sight. We all know Peeta’s carrying all kinds of baggage over her. No one will talk about her.”

Rooba shuts her eyes and sighs.

“That name… it’s proof she’s still carrying just as much baggage as he is,” Rooba murmurs. I’m about fed up when she releases a heavy breath and gives me answers. “They fell off a cliff together, when they were fifteen. They were… they were best friends. Inseparable. Maybe more, I don’t know for sure, but there were rumors at the time about them kissing behind a maintenance shed one day.”

All right, sue me. I’m a sap. My heart twinges at the image of young, first love blossoming from a childhood friendship as Rooba talks. “They went for a hike and there was a rockslide. Katniss called 9-1-1. By the time anyone could get to them, it was too late to save Peeta’s leg, but Katniss had saved his life. And then… her parents… Sage Kay Everdeen. Lily Brookes Everdeen… they both died two days later. Hit by a drunk driver.”

“Damn,” I whisper and Rooba nods, handing me the sack of food at last.

“The custody battle afterwards, as far as I heard, wasn’t pretty. But it was fast. Either way, Katniss and her sister were gone before Peeta even got back from the hospital. Neither one of them’s been back in ten years.”

And while I still feel like I wanna skewer this Katniss for hurting Peeta, Rooba’s words have me feeling at least a little sorry for her, this strange girl who once called Skadi home. Losing her parents after such a traumatic event with her best friend, then being torn away from her home.

“You’ll text me tomorrow, when she checks in?” Rooba asks, pulling us out of the reverie of the past and I nod.

“Sure. Anyone else I should give a head’s up about this? So they’re not shocked and can keep it quiet when they see her roaming around?”

Rooba nods. “Thom. He needs to know. Freddy on ski patrol. June Carter…” Rooba starts listing names almost faster than I can add them into a new text thread on my phone. They're almost all people we affectionately refer to as The Old Guard, because they've been at Skadi for ages.

“Anyone else?” I ask when she pauses. She shakes her head. “That’s all I can think of for now.”

I type out a message, telling them who’s arriving tomorrow and that we’re to keep it low key, since she’s using a fake name and clearly doesn’t want a fuss, but I thought they might wanna know so they don’t get a shock seeing her around. I add Rooba to the thread and send it, releasing a breath and telling Rooba I’ll talk to her later.

My phone blows up on my way back to the front desk.

WTF?!?!? Katniss???

Are you for real?

Katniss is coming home???? 😄😮😭

!!!!!!!!

Does Peeta know?

How long’s it been?

Ten years

10 years

10 years

Shit

Does Peeta know?!??!?!

Someone’s gotta tell Peeta!

He knows. 

Thank fuck.

Well this won’t be awkward at all.

It keeps going and I silence the thread, handing lunch to Haydn and getting back to work. I’ll check the gossip chain when my shift is over. One thing I do manage while I’m still at the desk is something I probably should’ve done days ago. A quick Google search for one Katniss Everdeen. There isn’t much, and all of it is sports related. Not even a social media footprint. But at least now I’ve got an idea of her face so I can be on the lookout for her tomorrow.

~~

It’s another crazy day and I stay past the end of my shift to help out. And also because the mysterious Katniss Everdeen still hasn’t shown, but given all that Peeta and Mr. Tjalaand have done for me, I feel like I somehow owe them both at least this. Taking care of this particular guest and giving them both warning of her arrival. My phone keeps vibrating with the group text thread, everyone checking in periodically to see if anyone’s spotted her yet. I snort as I glance at the top, where someone changed the thread name to Operation Hummingbird. When I asked about that, all I got back was:

It’s her nickname.

I’m running on coffee and stress, and about ready to call it a day when someone steps up to the desk, the hood of her ski jacket pulled up over her head. She leans over the desk, like she’s trying not to be noticed and extends her arm with a credit card in her hand.

“Checking in, Kay Brookes,” she says and my pulse stutters for a moment. Her voice is low and smoky, and so unique. From under her hood, I catch a quick flash of light eyes before she drops her gaze to the desk.

And I understand what Rooba meant about her being noticed. I can’t look away from her. There’s something enigmatic about her, or maybe that’s just because I know something of her story and am thirsty for more of it. 

But I didn’t get this vibe from her pictures online.

I manage my customer service smile, and go through the motions of checking her in, glancing over her shoulder at the pile of bags and skis in cases.

“I’ll have one of the bellhops help you to your cabin.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh please, do me this favor. James is new and needs all the training he can get,” I say. Her lips twitch at that, but she nods and looks up at me again. Gray eyes. And even though I’ve certainly championed Peeta getting with other people -- namely my friend, Peyton Lang, last season -- I can see why this is the girl he’s never really let go.

“Alright. I could probably use the help,” she says.

I hand her the envelope with room keys, wifi instructions, and lift pass, call James to the desk, and give her a wide smile.

“Welcome to Skadi, Miss Brookes. Enjoy your stay with us.” She hesitates and looks back at me a moment, then gathers her things with James and heads outside.

I release a breath and feel my shoulders sagging. There’s something just so sad hanging around her, that I think about what Rooba said yesterday. That Katniss is carrying as much baggage as Peeta. I’m starting to believe it.

With that in mind, I notify Mr. Tjalaand, and then I notify the Operation Hummingbird thread. From him, I get a simple Thank you. From them, I get a flurry of texts. Most of them are just thumbs up and thanks, but a few catch my attention.

Think she’ll actually talk to him?

Resort isn’t that big.

Nope. She knows this place too well. Knows where to hide. We’re not seeing her again.

He knows the place better.

Come on, guys. Give them time.

Time? They’ve had ten years.👏👏👏

Part of me wants her to seek him out. Get it over with. Let them hash out whatever it is they’ve gotta deal with. Part of me thinks we haven’t had a good mountainside drama in awhile and this’ll probably be drawn out and spectacular.

I just want them to bang already!

Slow down. They haven’t seen each other in ten years.

Fine. I’ll settle for a kiss.

Seriously? They might not even like each other anymore.

Anyone got eyes on him?

He’s up on the slopes. 

Monique, can you let him know?

Or should one of us?

I’ll let him know.

I sigh and open up my text thread with Peeta. It’s been a few days since we’ve used it and the last thing on it is a laughing emoji he sent me in response to something funny I shared about a guest. I hesitate, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he might already be. But then I think of his face yesterday, his anger that his grandfather didn’t even tell him that such a significant part of his past would be walking back into Skadi. If it were me, I'd want to know. I think about the pictures on The Wall, the ones I walked by last night, just to see a glimpse of what he lost ten years ago.

They were adorable together.

I think of the way Rooba talked about them yesterday when I first told her. How the group talked about them in the thread all day yesterday. And I am again reminded of what a sap I am.

“Screw it,” I mutter and tap out a text to Peeta. I’m with June on this one. “I want them to bang.”

Lord knows he needs it. She probably does too, based on the looks of things.

Hey, boss. Just wanted you to know that the guest your grandfather was asking me about yesterday has checked in. Cabin 24.

Thanks for the warning, Mo

I pause and grin, deciding a little pot stirring wouldn’t hurt.

She’s stunning, by the way. And you could stand to get laid.  Been awhile, hasn’t it?

I could say the same to you. Maybe you should sleep with her.

Not my type. You know I like a himbo.

Noted.

But you…. Has it been since Peyton? Maybe since Thresh?

You’re as bad as Rooba.

What did Rooba say?

Nothing. She put a package of condoms I didn’t ask for in the bag with my lunch today.

😝😂

Not funny.

Only it’s totally funny, and maybe exactly what he needs. I let Rooba know to keep it up.

~~

<3 kdnfb