#I'm exhausted after my first graveyard shift

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : first half angst ; reader is pregnant ; Ji is kind of an a-hole ; he fixes himself ; time jump for the second half ; ji and readers daughter is 5 ; Ji is still an a-hole ; angst ; happy ending though ; Word Count : 6.5k Request : Anonny : Can you please write an angst with a fluffy ending on hannie - where y/n surprises him that shez pregnant(w a daughter)but he lashes out at her harshly and says he doesn't want the baby bcz of his tiring and exhausting schedule - but realises his mistake sooner and apologizes her and even takes care of her during her pregnancy and even his precious daughter once she's born , And one mor fic of angst w a fluffy ending on hannie - where he lashes out at his 5 y/o daughter and y/n as they asked him to spend more time with him ,and especially on his daughter's bday and he didn't even remember her daughters bday and said all the possible harsh things like way too harsh things to them on his daughters bday - but later the same he realises it's his daughters bday and regrets immediately and Apologizes to both yn and his daughter and even surprises his precious daughter lately on her birthday A/N : I'm combining these two!! It'll be a famous Nana time jump for this one so I can pair them together in one fic. I changed the request just a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anonny. ALSO! I think I got the job!! That also means that I'll be working overnights (graveyard shift), but I'll actually be respected and treated fairly so... I'm really happy. I'll be able to get the hours that I need to pay my bills as well. I won't be able to write as much, but I promise I will write when I get the chance to.

Were you and Jisung together? Of course you were, he was the love of your life, and vice versa. You couldn’t imagine a single day that went by when you weren’t able to happily say he was yours. Ji made you laugh, he made you laugh to the point where your stomach hurt and your eyes filled with tears and you were doubled over wheezing and gasping for breath. Ji made your heart feel full, so full that there was no more room in your chest for it to grow anymore. He made you feel loved in a way that was so magical, so dreamlike, it was like living in your own fairytale except it was all real, and every morning you got to wake up and know that he was yours and you were his. 

Were you and Jisung together though? No, very rarely. His job kept him away from you more often than not, and while the moments that the two of you were able to physically be together were… well, dreamlike, a lot of the time, most of the time, your interactions were kept to phone calls and late night texts or video calls. You tried to be supportive, you didn’t complain as much as most people probably would, although there were many times when you wanted to just break down and beg him to put you before his job at least once a month. But you didn’t, you’d put on a smile as you hugged him and kissed him goodbye after one of those rare nights when he would be able to come over and spend the night. 

He spent most of his time at the dorms with the other guys, and while he’d try to invite you over there, you’d always kindly decline. As much as you loved the guys and looked at them as brothers, you wanted to be able to spend time with Ji alone, and to you it seemed like he’d rather be around them than to be around you sometimes. You wished that he’d grow up a little, prioritize the relationship, and it seemed less like a wish and more like a need now. It only took one rare night that he spent the night for you to get the most life changing news of… well… your life. 

///

“Can you… Can you hear me?” You asked into your phone, the mind numbing sound of static coming through the speaker was headache inducing, but you really needed to talk to him. 

“Yeah… Kind of… Shit, this reception is really bad. Can you just text me, baby?” His voice came through choppy and muffled, it sounded like he was underwater, and while you knew that it would be best to text him considering the way the phone call was going, this wasn’t really something that you wanted to tell him over text. You wanted to hear his reaction, and while it would have definitely been better to tell him in person, he was currently on tour and you knew that by the time he got back, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

“I really need to talk to you…” You said, rushing out the front door to stand on the porch, hoping that the service would be better now that you were outside. “Can you hear me now?” You asked, and you heard him hum in agreement, and while you should have felt better that this moment wasn’t stalled any longer, your stomach began to twist into knots and although the mid-February wind was whipping around you, there was sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

“You okay, baby? What’dya need to talk about?” His voice filled the silence, and you knew that he didn’t have much time before he had to go back to work. He wasn’t rushing you, but you felt rushed, you didn’t want to wait forever to tell him, and you thought that maybe the news would brighten his day and lift his mood that had already peaked. He was so sweet, so gentle, and he had often talked about one day having a little baby Ji to follow in his footsteps, you were certain that his reaction would be nothing but positive. 

“I’m pregnant, Ji…” You whispered, and there was no question as to whether he heard you. The sound of a gasp, and then loud coughing, and then silence. Had he muted his phone so he could celebrate with the guys? “Babe? You still there?” You asked, trying not to get overly excited yourself. You wanted to save your own celebration for when he came back home and you both could be together to share in the excitement of such big news. 

“No. I… Look, I need some time to think about this because… You just… Do you even know what I’m doing right now? I’m about to do a show and you think I needed to hear that before I go on stage? As if things aren’t stressful enough for me… I don’t… I don’t want a damn kid right now!” Had you set your expectations too high? This was most definitely not the way you thought that the announcement would turn out, and this wasn’t the way you thought he’d be. It was so shocking that you were stunned into silence, frozen like a statue on the front porch. “I don’t want it. That’s it… That’s all I have to say. Figure something out because this isn’t going to work. I have to go.” 

And he did. He hung up, leaving you with so many thoughts, but none of them stuck long enough to really form into anything more. What the hell did he expect you to do? You were already 3 months along, it’s not like you were just going to get rid of the baby because he decided that he didn’t want it. That did change things though, it changed a lot of things. You weren’t sure what you were going to do right at that very second, but you had a lot to figure out before he came back from tour. 

~

After the concert, after all of the stress of the show wore off, he was able to really think. He thought about the phone call, he thought about what he said, and he was immediately hit with a wave of regret. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he said it, he didn’t know what came over him, and the only reason he could truly come up with was the stress. It was the damndest thing, because he truthfully wouldn’t mind being a father, especially knowing that someone as amazing and caring and loving as you would be the mother to his child. 

That’s why he tried to get in touch with you, calling your phone repeatedly until he came to the stomach turning conclusion that you just weren’t going to answer him. That didn’t stop him from calling once more to leave a message though. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I love you so damn much, and I’m happy, I really am. I do want the baby, I want this, I do. Please, don’t think about what I said, I wish I could just take it all back, I wish I could make you forget that I was stupid enough to say something like that. I hope you’re sleeping and when you wake up, just call me, please call me, baby. I need to hear your voice, I need to know that we’re going to be okay. I love you.” 

The call was promptly ended before he fell back onto the hotel bed. It was strange how he had been able to sleep by himself in the dorms for so many nights, he was able to fall asleep without you, but now that he knew that you were carrying his child, now that he knew how much he had fucked up, he couldn’t seem to sleep at all, and he wanted nothing more than to be right beside you, holding you. 

He was restless, he couldn’t even close his eyes to try to get some sleep, and he knew that there was no way he’d be able to perform the following night, not unless he knew everything was okay back at home. So he didn’t sleep, instead he got online and started looking up tickets for the next flight that would take him home to you. How was he even supposed to perform when his mind was running rampant with thoughts of you leaving him? He couldn’t do anything with those thoughts plaguing him. 

So he bought the ticket, a red eye flight that he’d hopefully be able to get a little bit of shut eye on before he landed. He didn’t just need to sleep, he needed to think of what he’d say once he got back home to you. He was sure that the guys would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t… He’d apologize to them for leaving on such short notice, and he’d make sure to come up with some elaborate excuse for the fans as to why he wasn’t there. 

He knew that he wasn’t the best at prioritizing the most important things, at least not what most people would consider important. He had spent so many years of his life working towards this dream of becoming a famous idol, and even when he achieved that dream, he just couldn’t stop. Even when you had entered his life and made the world seem so much brighter, he had foolishly continued to choose his career, and you had, amazingly enough, still decided to stand beside him and put up with his shit. He had to show you that you were important, not just you now though, but this baby, this child who had come as a surprise, but he made a mental note and a promise to himself to love this child, his child, regardless of anything that happened. 

///

You stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee held tightly in your hands as you overlooked the city just outside your window. You tried not to think about what he had said, you wanted to have a decent morning, well, evening… It was already 1 in the afternoon. When you woke up there had been so many calls from him, but only one voicemail that you were far too scared to listen to. You knew that he was angry, he was pissed, and you didn’t want him to go off on you again, even if it were only through a recording. You still had to figure out what to do though, it didn’t seem like there was much in regards to options. You weren’t going to get rid of the baby, and as much as you loved Jisung, the life that was now growing inside of you was far more important than a relationship that was clearly one sided. 

The birds chirping just outside your window had captured your attention fully, the sounds of the city which had seemed so loud before were now almost calming, but that calm was soon disrupted by the sound of the lock being undone on your front door. You whipped around just in time to see Jisung standing in the doorway, disheveled and slightly frazzled as he dropped his bags to the floor. “What are you doing here?” You asked, refusing to move any closer to him. “Thought you had a tour to worry about?” 

His head shook and his bottom lip jutted out, shaky breaths had him trembling where he stood just as still as you had been on the front porch just yesterday. “The tour isn’t more important than you. It’s not more important than our family… our baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his body was. “I was an idiot, an overly stressed out idiot… But I didn’t mean it. D-Did you listen to the message?” 

You rolled your eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to how sad he was and just how much it pulled at your heartstrings to see him that way. You just had a soft spot for him, and you were sure that that would never go away, or, at the least, take a while to fade. You had to be strong though, and even if what he said was true, you had to let him know how much you had been hurt by what he said before. “No… I didn’t. I think you said enough, and I didn’t really want to listen to your voice again, not any time soon.” It was a lie, you loved his voice, you didn’t want to go a day without hearing it, but watching the way his face crumpled, you could tell that your words really hit him. 

“That’s fair…” He whispered, a loud sniffle coming from across the room. “You don’t have to listen to it… I’ll say it now. I love you… and I love the little baby that we made together… And I’m sorry I was a dick. I don’t want to lose you, not because I was stupid and stressed out. I don’t want to lose you at all, ever.” Now his words were hitting you, although you were definitely going to blame the fresh tears that were streaming down your face on the raging hormones that were currently coursing through your body. “Don’t cry… Please don’t cry, I’ll cry too.” 

“You’re already crying though…” You whimpered out, a small sob mixed with a giggle. It felt so nice to laugh, but it felt even better to laugh with him. You wanted to put it in the past, not forget it, but right now you just wanted to move on. “Do you have to go back? I don’t want you to get in trouble for missing the shows…” 

His shoes had already been kicked off, making his way now over to where you stood in the kitchen, his hands cupping your face and his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m staying here… Where I belong. Changbin or Hyunjin can cover my parts. I want to be here with you, and that’s where I’m going to be. No more crying, I want to hear all about how you’re feeling, I want to be here for you.” 

///

The next months of your pregnancy were strange. It was like they were going too fast, but they also weren’t going fast enough. You loved being pregnant, but you weren’t a big fan of all the attention you were getting. It was one thing for it to be coming from Ji, but it was like everyone gravitated towards you, or… Moreso, your bump that everyone seemed to want to touch and ogle over like they’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. 

Jisung was too kind to tell anyone to really back away from you, and you didn’t know half of the people that would swarm around you wherever you went, but it was exhausting to deal with them. You knew that Jisung meant well though, and you could tell that he was proud to be a soon-to-be father, you could just feel the pride radiating off of him whenever he talked about it. 

His proudest moment to date though, was when he found out you were having a girl, that you were carrying his daughter. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he looked on in awe at the sonogram screen. You had to practically snap him back to reality that day, his head stuck in the clouds, daydreaming about the day his daughter would be born, the day he’d finally get to hold her and see her. He had told you all about it in the car on the way home. 

From that day forward, as if he wasn’t already like your shadow, he practically became glued to your hip. You love him, you really do, but it became annoying, not that you’d tell him that. You couldn’t do anything without him being right there beside you just to do it for you. You appreciated the help, but it’s not like you were on bed rest, you could still do things on your own. You couldn’t blame anyone for him being so protective, the only thing you could blame was the internet. He had been looking up what changes your body went through during the many weeks of your pregnancy, and he happened to stumble across the complications that could occur as well. That’s when you got your very panicked, very helpful, and slightly irritating Jisung. 

By the time you reached the third trimester though, you were so exhausted and your back ached so badly that you didn’t even mind it anymore. He had managed to get the rest of the guys in on helping you too, especially if he was in the studio for a long period of time- which was anything longer than 45 minutes -he’d have one of them check up on you and see if you needed anything. 

When he was home or when he got home, he’d shower you in attention and affection, kissing you first before pressing a kiss to your stomach and asking how your day has been, although his gaze would be focused solely on your stomach, absolutely mesmerized by the way your stomach looked when his daughter would move. He loved the way she reacted to his voice, you on the other hand could never get comfortable, although you once again, would never tell him that. He just looked so happy, and he’d get so excited, telling everyone how his baby girl recognized his voice and would move whenever she heard him. 

Of course, she decided to stay in for a little longer than the expected 40 weeks, and by the 41st week you were begging the doctors to induce you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to use the bathroom or take a shower without Jisung being right outside the door asking if you were okay or if you needed help every 5 seconds. He really did mean well, but you couldn’t wait for your daughter to be out so that you’d be able to not only get some peace, but also some privacy where you needed it most. 

It was all worth it though when you saw Jisungs face light up at the sight of his daughter when she was born. Tears of joy streamed down his face as his hands seemed to automatically reach out for her, his lips formed into a circle, absolutely amazed at the fact that this, not so little, baby just came from you. If there had been nothing else to prove to you how good of a father he would be, this moment, the moment she was placed into his arms and you could just see it in his face, his entire world was complete now… He was going to be the best father. 

///

5 years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and the little baby girl that would once curl up in yours and Jisungs arms to fall asleep, your little cuddle bug, was now a ball of energy that would whip around the house being the biggest goofball, much like her father, to bring a smile to people's faces. She was the life and the light of any room she went into, but at night, when she’s run out all of her energy and she’s tuckered out, you and Ji will catch a glimpse of your little baby girl, curled up in the middle of his and your bed. 

She was more energetic than usual, but that’s because it was her birthday. Her party wouldn’t be until the weekend, but you still wanted to do a little something special to celebrate the official day. Jisung had to work, but he didn’t want to get stuck at the office so he decided to work from home so he could just pack up his laptop and not deal with the commute, he’d be right at home with you and Jisoo when he was done. 

It was hard to keep her occupied, she was so excited and she knew she had presents to open, and you were trying to not only prepare her favorite dinner but also make cupcakes for her. There was so much to do, and you were doing it all on your own so that Ji could work. You were one person, you only had 2 eyes, although a lot of people joke and say that mothers have eyes on the backs of their heads, it seemed like those eyes were focused on the timer on the oven to make sure the cupcakes didn’t burn. That’s why you didn’t realize that she had, at some point, strolled into Jisungs makeshift office/studio. 

“Daddy.” She said, standing right beside him, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie to try to get his attention. Her smile was wide, two little dimples adorning both of her cheeks as she looked up at him with the brightest eyes. He sighed harshly through his nose, pulling out one of his earphones to look down at her. “You coming now?” She was completely oblivious to the glare that her father was wearing, or at least, she was oblivious to the fact that it was directed entirely towards her. 

“I’m really busy right now, go bother your mother or something.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he tried to turn his attention back to his computer, but Jisoo wasn’t going to allow it. She tugged on his sleeve again, her mouth open to say something else, but Jisung spoke before she could. “Get out. You’re such a burden sometimes, Jesus Christ!” He seethed, his head falling back as he let out a loud groan. 

Jisoo wasn’t oblivious anymore, no, she was heartbroken, and quite honestly confused. She quickly scurried away from him, sniffling softly as she ran out of the room. Neither you or Jisung had ever yelled at her, let alone raised your voices around her. She was shocked, she was devastated, and she immediately ran to you. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” You dropped everything you had been doing to scoop her up and set her on the counter top, working quickly to wipe away the tears that poured down her puffy little cheeks. Your immediate worry was that she had hurt herself, your eyes scanning over her head, her face, her arms, and her legs to look for any visible signs of scrapes or bruises, but there were none. “Did you get a booboo?” 

Her head shook quickly, her hair whipping around her face as she did before dropping her head. She looked embarrassed, and if she had known the word and what it meant at her age, she’d tell you that that’s exactly how she felt. “I try to tell Daddy that it my birthday…” She started, her sentences broken up by shaky breaths and loud sniffles. “He yell at me… told me get out… He say I a bird hen… I not even know what that means…” 

She might not know what it meant, but you sure as hell knew what he meant, and you were pissed. “You’re not a bird hen, honey. You’re wonderful, and I know that daddy didn’t mean to yell. He just gets lost in his computer sometimes. He loves you though, and mommy loves you too.” You pressed a big, wet kiss to her forehead, trying and succeeding in getting her to giggle so that you could get her mind off of being upset. “How about you go play with your dolls in your room so that I can decorate your cupcakes and they’ll be a surprise. How’s that sound, huh?”

Jisoos smile was back once more, her hands clapping together as you helped her off the counter. You watched her run to her room, her door being shut fast, and rather loud, in her hurry to let you start on her surprise. Truth be told, you just didn’t want her to listen to you talking to Jisung, not just because you didn’t want her to think about it again, but also because the language you were planning on using wasn’t going to be kid friendly at all. 

It took everything in you not to just storm into the room and start yelling, but you knew that would draw her attention, so you walked in as calmly as possible, even though it felt like your blood was boiling. He only made things worse for himself when he let out a sound of annoyance, yanking his earphones out and slamming his hands on his desk. “Oh my god! Wh-” 

“You shut the fuck up and you listen to me you son of a bitch.” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, taking one look behind yourself to make sure Jisoo hadn’t come out of her room before storming over to him, your finger pointed and only an inch from his face. “If you ever make my baby cry like that again, I will personally pack all your shit up and throw you out of this fucking house, you hear me?” 

The momentary shock wore off almost instantly, and he was quickly defensive, although he did back away just a little before he spoke. “You knew I was working. I thought you were going to watch her, but I guess I was wrong about that. I should have just gone into the office today, I would be able to get shit done.” 

The fire that was burning inside you, pure rage that had your blood bubbling, it was like it had built up to the top of your body, completely blinding you with rage and all you could see was red as you slammed his laptop shut before picking it up and shoving it against his chest. “Then go to the fucking office, Jisung! Nobody wants you here anyway!” You shouted, your chest rising and falling heavily with each breath that you took. 

“Fine! I’ll be able to actually get something done! Don’t expect me to come home tonight either, I’m not gonna get yelled at because I’m trying to do my job so I can afford everything that you and Jisoo want!” He yelled right back at you, pushing himself up out of the desk chair and grabbing the rest of his things off of the desk. There had never been a time, up until now, that you had ever wanted to hit him, but your hands were twitching, your entire body was shaking. You wanted to hurt him, not because of the way he was talking to you though, it was the complete sense of disregard that he had for his own daughter. It made you physically sick. 

“I don’t want you to come back tonight. I don’t want you to come back at all. But you will go tell your daughter that you’re not going to be here to celebrate her birthday with her, and you’re going to be honest and tell her that your job is once again more important than her.” You hissed, finally taking a step back before motioning to the door with your hand. “Now get the fuck out.” He didn’t move though, he was completely frozen and all of the color drained from his face. 

“Fuck… Baby, listen-” 

“I said get out! Go! Do your job! Leave!” You were shouting once again, and you hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you feel weak, especially when your voice would crack and break when you were trying to sound strong. He continued to stand there though, looking absolutely defeated. “Please… Just leave… It’s obvious, work will always be more important to you. It’s like deja vu.” 

“That’s not true at-” 

“Mommy…” Jisoos voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned around to face her, trying to force yourself to smile. She wasn’t blind though, she could see that you were crying, and she had heard you and Jisung arguing. She quickly ran to you, her little arms wrapping around your waist. “Don’t cry… It okay. We have cupcakes… I help you make them and… And you help me blow the candles.” 

You nodded your head as you picked her up, holding her tightly against your chest. There was nothing more comforting than the hug of your own child, to know that they care, and even on a day that should have been all her own, she was still looking out for you. 

“We’ll have lots of fun.” You agreed, your throat tightening up and almost choking off your words. “When we finish making the cupcakes and after we eat your yummy dinner, you can open your presents.” It was so hard to look, let alone sound like everything was completely fine, especially when Jisung was still standing there in front of you, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Does… Does daddy still have to do work?” Jisoo asked, glancing up at you and then looking over her shoulder at Jisung. Of course you wanted to say yes, you were absolutely livid, you wanted him out of the house at least long enough for you to have the chance to cool down, but you also didn’t want to send him away, especially if Jisoo still wanted him there. “I sorry I a bird hen, I not come in no more when you working.” With every word that she said, Jisung looked more and more ashamed, his head dropping lower and lower until you couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Please… Stay home. It my birthday… We gonna sing the song… And we eat cupcakes. That make everyone happy.” 

Regardless of how you felt, how pissed off you truly were, it was Jisoos birthday, and if she wanted her father there, you weren’t going to still make him leave. Jisung knew this, and while it was a small win that his daughter still wanted him around, he also knew that he had a lot of apologizing to do, not just to Jisoo, but to you as well. “You’re not a bird hen, honey pot.” He murmured, squatting down so that he’d be eye level with her. “I’m a big ol’ dummy head and I’m sorry that I made you sad. Can I have a hug?” His arms stretched out as he asked the question, and as if he hadn’t hurt her feelings at all, she ran into his arms, almost knocking him onto his butt in the process. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna help momma make sure you have the best birthday ever, okay?” 

He was really trying his best, he helped you and Jisoo decorate the cupcakes, he even attempted to help you finish making dinner. There was tension there between the two of you, words that had gone unsaid due to Jisoos perfectly timed interruption, but she was none the wiser to the feeling, she was just happy that the both of you were still there to celebrate with her. That’s what was most important anyway, making sure your daughter was happy. 

“Hey honey, you wanna see something funny?” Jisung asked, and the little nickname had both you and Jisoo giving him your attention, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him at all. His finger was covered in icing that he had swiped off one of the cupcakes at the center of the table, and he was slowly creeping over to the kitchen where you were plating up dinner for the three of you. “I think momma would look super cute if her nose was bright pink, don’t you, honey?” 

Jisoo was laughing already, clapping her hands together as she shouted out her agreement to his question. “Ji…” You warned, trying to retreat from him, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t much room for escape. “Don’t do it…” You tried to sound stern, but your daughter's twinkling giggles had you cracking a smile, and before you knew it, you were cornered against the counter and Jisung whose finger was inches from your nose. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it off.” He whispered, winking at you playfully, and if you weren’t still harboring irritation from the way he had acted earlier, the action would have had butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Boop!” He chimed as he wiped the icing on the tip of your nose, laughing along with Jisoo now as she ran over to look at you. 

“Momma look like a clown!” She said between fits of giggles, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her and Jisung. You loved seeing your daughter happy, it had become your main goal in life, your number one priority, to make sure she was always happy, and if looking like a clown made her smile and laugh the way she was, then you’d dress up like a clown every day for her. 

“She’s the prettiest clown, isn’t she?” Jisung asked, and Jisoo nodded in agreement. “But we can’t have clowns at the dinner table, can we?” And the question had your daughter giggling even louder as she shook her head no. “Grab me a paper towel real quick, honey. Let me help momma clean off the clown nose.” He watched her long enough to make sure her back was turned before he cupped your cheeks, playfully licking the icing off your nose and then pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m the biggest clown, and I’m sorry… Thank you for letting me stay… I love you so much.” It all happened extremely fast, his words being rushed out, it felt like he was going 60 miles per hour, and by the time he had finished what he had to say, Jisoo was just heading over with the paper towel sheet and your face was still scrunched up. 

“Where momma nose go?” Jisoo asked as she handed Jisung the paper towel, her head tilted curiously to the side. 

“I think it just fell off. It’s okay though. Momma is still pretty. I got the two prettiest girls in the world in my house, I’m a lucky guy!” Jisung cheered, and it was painfully obvious that he was doing his best to suck up to you, and it sucked that it was working so well. It was impossible to stay mad at him. That didn’t mean that you weren’t still slightly upset though. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. 

///

By the end of the night, which lasted longer than any other night, you were exhausted and the argument from earlier had practically been forgotten, at least for now. Jisoo had opened all of her presents, and, even though you and Jisung had promised her that she could play with them in the morning, she had given her best puppy dog eyes and ended up playing with each of her presents for half an hour each, and of course Jisung had gone overboard in buying her gifts. 

“Are you coming to bed?” You asked, standing in the doorframe to the bedroom, looking down the hall and into the living room where Jisung was sitting in the armchair, his face hidden in his hands. “What’s wrong?” You knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that quick, he had just carried Jisoo into her bed after she had fallen asleep in the middle of her brand new toy pile. 

“She’s going to remember that I yelled at her, she’s going to remember what I said to her for the rest of her life. Deep down, she’s gonna hate me… And I know that you hate me too. I hate me… I can’t believe I said that to her. I was so focused on the computer and… I flipped out on you. I didn’t even deserve to be here with either of you today after what I did… I’m a shitty father and a horrible husband.” He rubbed his hands over his face when he finally lifted his head and you could tell that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and his nose and his cheeks were blotchy and red. 

How long had these thoughts been eating away at him? You wondered if the way he had been acting earlier was actually him sucking up to you or if he was just trying to keep his mind from going to where it was right now. “Ji…” You whispered out his name, and even though you were beyond tired at this point, you couldn’t just go to bed when he was like this. He might have upset Jisoo and pissed you off, but it seemed like he was more angry at himself than both you and Jisoo combined. “Nobody hates you, I could never hate you, and neither could Jisoo. What you did today was fucked up… But I already yelled at you for it, hell, I almost kicked you out for it. But I don’t hate you. I love you too much, and so does your daughter.” 

“I hurt her… I made her cry, Y/N. What kind of father am I?” 

“You’re the best father a child could ever ask for.” His eyebrows lowered with confusion at your answer, his bottom lip in a seemingly permanent pout as he looked at you. “You made her cry once in her five years of being on this earth. One time, Ji. But you know what you do more than anything else? You make her laugh, you make her smile, you make her feel loved… And you do all of those things for me too. Me and Jisoo are the luckiest girls in the world because we have you.” His pout slowly started to go away, turning into a slight smile as you made your way over to where he was sitting and you dropped down onto his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he nuzzled his face against your back. “Plus, if it makes you feel any better… I’ve made her cry about ten times this week already.” 

Jisungs mouth fell open in shock, the entire upper half of his body leaning over so he could look at you. “What?! What did you do to hurt my baby girl?” He asked, and you were sure that right now he was mocking the way you had yelled at him earlier, but you could also see that he was interested in the cause of you making his daughter cry. 

“Whenever we go grocery shopping, she asks to go down the toy aisle to look at the toys… And then she ends up wanting everything that she sees, and I have to tell her no. So she cries, and this week especially, I told her that she’ll be getting a whole bunch of new toys, but… You know how she is.” He nodded his head understandingly. “And then… She tells me that whenever she goes shopping with you, that you get her everything she wants.” You turned your head to face him, and now he was wearing a sheepish grin, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. You laughed lightly, squishing his cheeks between your palms and pressing a kiss to his puckered lips. “Do you feel better now?” He nodded quickly, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the living room. “Good, because I’m so tired and I can’t fall asleep without you next to me. Let’s go.” 

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[suckmybearings]

ooc —

Thank you to all of my current mutuals who've reached out through my interest checker (and the little discord call), and I continue to welcome those who haven't done so, but someday may want to! Something came up not that long ago, when I inadvertently tripped a mutual's RSD (god, I'm still very sorry for it). More than ever, I feel that I need to give a little bit of IRL info.

I am, first and foremost, a workaholic. Please, please, please understand this. I work 3rd Shift (graveyard shift hours). I get up at 8:20PM, clock in at 10:30PM, and then clock out at 6:30AM, five days a week. This schedule, though, is new. Before this, for two months, I was straddling 3rd Shift (4:00AM) and 1st Shift (12:00PM) to help cover for another coworker while she was out for maternity leave. Even though I was supposed to leave at 12PM, I wouldn't actually clock out until 4-6PM every day for two months, because there's just so much to do. On top of this, I'm cross-trained in different departments; I keep all four departments in my room, across all three shifts, on the same page of communication involving management, the quality team, and other departments not in the room; I'm available when someone has a question or needs direction; I am in a consistent state of training someone into my primary department. (And when my factory manager is feeling extra generous, he'll 'volunteer' me for company-paid business courses when they crop up, so I have to split my time away from factory production to be in those classes.) It is only because I've taken on the responsibility, two weeks ago, of picking up a coworker and then dropping her off after work that I've been able to clock out on time (because I have no choice now lol). And even though I am working strictly 8hrs now, I feel more exhausted than ever. Maybe my body is trying to catch up on all the lost sleep and stress? I don't know. When I get home, I have about a 10-20min window before I'm nodding off at the computer. My only real free time is on the weekend (if I'm not volunteering to work a Saturday), but I still have responsibilities. I have a wonderful, patient, and (all things considered) forgiving man who takes care of me, our cat, and our apartment, and I try to spend time with him as much as I can. I also have my 10-year-long friend and writing partner, Katie, over at in @deceitfulcharmer. We've been developing, plotting, writing a massive original scifi/romance story together for years, and we've only really started roleplaying them this year(?), so that story will always take priority for me; it's our baby. <3 And then to top it all off: I am deeply introverted and private, and so my batteries for interacting directly with people are usually depleted before I ever get back from work. With that all being said— I'm here and I want to be here. I want to interact and roleplay Wheeljack, a muse that I've been in love with since I first watched TFP in 2012. (Factoid, it was TFP that even introduced me to the Tumblr roleplaying scene itself. And even though I loved Wheeljack, I came into the community as Megatronus/Megatron.) I explained to Katie that I have never played such a dauntingly sociable, go-getter muse like this, lol. Even when I'm exhausted and stressed, it doesn't influence him or his moods. He's literally just, "You done over there? Good. Let's go." 'Cause he's got people to see, people to talk to; he's not going to be held up by my shit. TL;DR Did you send Wheeljack an ask or prompt for a meme? Did you message me in Tumblr DM? Have you been dropping messages in our Discord? Did you create a starter for Wheeljack because I liked your starter call? Have you been seeing me active through Wheeljack or posting music/wreckerisms? Does it show me online in Discord? But no response from me to you? I promise that I've seen it; I promise that I have it drafted. ;-; I'm just an overworked, exhausted scumbag who has never had such an outgoing muse that has simultaneously attracted so many people to him. It's just going to be slow. So damn slow. But I will get to you. <3

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hello mara, i hope you are having a good day today :]

what are your opinions on classic literature? or anything equated to classical stuff

GOOD MORNING LORD AND MASTER ANONYMOUS: HELLO!

it:s my first day waking up in december after a prolonged november due to me being so darn late with my subscriber post; and, you know: partially there is related to classic literature, because on December 1st, instead of finishing my letters i had been doing a graveyard shift from 3~12 cleaning dog cages and getting nauseous and feverish around the 10 o'clock, and this is relevant because i use this time to listen to audiobooks, and over the month i had finished Drood by Dan Simmons (which is about Dickens, classic literature) and which had led me to want to listen to Dickens's Bleak House (which is mentioned in Drood with a lot of sentimentality, and which i heard heard is 'like The Wire')--and though Dickens really should not be representative of all of classic literature: i can not stand Bleak House, but i do not dislike it; Bleak House is a story i want to enjoy but i need to read chapter synopses after each listening session because i can not mentally follow all of the characters, and at some point the story just breaks down into total noise (though this is less bad during the Esther chapters). so, as it relates to work: Bleak House has directly made me not want to listen to classic literature while cleaning dog cages from 3~12 because Dickens is too densely characterized and too slow, and listening to five newly introduced characters stand around the dead body of an opium-addicted law-writer blab about legal procedure for forty minutes was not helping my fever or my nausea or the tedium of cleaning floors--i dropped it for some Tiktok favorite book Liz Moore's God of the Woods and finished it on my shift, December 1st, and actually really enjoyed it as a brain-off thriller with some plot elements that made me think of the warmer parts of Twin Peaks.

But I like classic literature over-all, sort-of; it's a very broad "category" and I wouldn't say it's my favorite except on an author-to-author basis, ex: I'm currently really enamored by Henry James and think he writes almost like this strangely perfect alien who just makes these clunky inhuman sentences that are structured like total magic--and if my times are right, by the time his writing career was beginning to close, Gertrude Stein was making a name for herself; and then I have an interest in reading Woolf and Dorothy Richardson (I don't know if they'd be considered classic)--and the Russians (I'm reading Brothers Karamazov at the moment and while I am getting something out of each chapter, Brothers has me wanting for something shorter, because there are just so many books I'd like to read and my life is sort-of breezing through my fingertips). Moby Dick! I want to read that at some point. Master and Margarita(?) too, at some point, because I heard it's about a large satanic cat that materialized in a girls room and speaks with her.

But I like classic literature; my first exposure to it was Frankenstein in HS and I think that remains one of my all-time favorites--really maybe what set me off on loving reading, and to collect a bunch of 'classic' stories while a highschooler and constantly read through them (I got stuck on mythology for awhile) because I had this silly idea that I was like an RPG character and by reading this stuff I would 'improve' and become more erudite (reality is I mostly just became exhausted with stodgy slow books I largely wasn't enjoying);

so: more-so than classic, I just really hinge upon having an interest in the author; Henry James isn't a person I'd have thought myself really interested in, but he is fascinating. It's just passion and interest that drives me to read; if enough bad Tiktok videos hype up some trash book I'll want to read it or listen to it (I'm listening to All Fours by Miranda July, who narrates it and has a lovely voice, but this is total trash, I'm fine with it though); that's it lord and master anonymous, take care.

[obae-me]

Two things!

Firstly: I will be accepting 10 requests!

I need to practice and just work on some things that aren't just my long form pieces right now. So, the first 10 requests I get, I will work on! My general rules are the same, no demoncest, no romantic Luke, etc, etc. I reserve the right not to do a request. You all get the deal by now. They won't be perfect, and they won't be extremely long (unless you tempt me with monsters or fluff), but I'll do 'em, and that's the important part.

Secondly: a general apology.

I know 'sorry's are not needed, it's not like I've taken money and ghosted or anything, but I hate just going MIA for so long. Also, I know it's not needed, but I thought I'd give a little life update for those that, I dunno, find it interesting I suppose.

TW for menstruation, blood, and general medical stuff

I posted here a while back- in the summer I believe- talking about how fainting is not as elegant as media makes it out to be. I talked about how I fainted and then just did my ha-ha's and got it out of the way. At the time, since the doctors at the hospital didn't find anything with their initial testing, we all chalked it up to a bit of dehydration, lack of sleep, and stress. I was inclined to believe them. I *was* bouncing between graveyard shifts and morning shifts and not sleeping well because of it.

Then the week after, I had one of the most painful periods of my life. I've not had great ones ever (who does?), but never enough to fully debilitate me. It was bad. Stabbing cramping pains strong enough to almost make me faint again. I was worried, but gaslit myself into thinking it's just because of the fainting the week prior; I had had extreme faintness and weakness all week.

My work at this time was coming up with stricter rules that would make things harder, and they told me that I'd have to apply for certain disability accommodations (like keeping certain medications I need close to me and not on a different floor behind a lock, so cool of them). So, I tried to find another job, one where I could hopefully sit down. So I spent two months working that all out. I have a temp remote one right now, yay!

The next month or two was fairly normal period wise. So I thought everything was 'okay'.

And then I stopped bleeding completely. No warning or anything, just...nothing. And it's particularly worrying because I've been on birth control since I was like 14 to balance out my hormones. So I waited till the month after make sure it wasn't a weird one-off. Still nothing. Went to the doctor and got a new kind of medication, and I waited a month. Nothing. And the pain is only ramping up every cycle (or the attempt of one). I spend two weeks of the month in extreme depression and pain, and then spend the two weeks after that picking up the slack. I haven't been able to write, haven't been able to do much of anything. My typical day is getting out of bed to work, order something to eat, and watch mindless YouTube till I sleep, I'm just THAT exhausted. Spoons? Nonexistant. Then, just a few weeks ago, I suffered some of the worst exhaustion of my life. I'm talking only being able to stay awake for 20 minutes and then having to take a nap, and doing that four or five times a day. I went through that for five days, and then on that last day, I practically collapsed and almost fainted again.

So I have my first Gyno appointment next month, and I am utterly terrified. So much of my life has been filled with doctors' appointments and testing, just for them to tell me they couldn't find anything, and it's either because I have anxiety or because I'm fat. *Love* the medical system. But then, on the other hand, I'm scared of them finding something severely wrong.

So, until December, I'm just...waiting. And, of course, I'm not trying to fish for sympathies. Just...sometimes, it's good to have something to treat as an echo chamber, and this blog sometimes is my cave to shout distorted worries to. I really *should* journal, I guess.

So! That's been my life since I last posted, really. And that's not even mentioning my grandpa who ended up in the hospital (he got hit by a RAM truck, absolutely insane, and he's mostly fine, what a trooper).

I'm really hoping that I'll have the energy to pour into my passions if we get everything worked out. And I'm really grateful to have this small community here for whoever is still sticking around, you all have been wonderful.

That's the end of the update! Maybe I'll drop the news if/when we make some discoveries on why my already defunct body is breaking down even more than usual.

Love you all!

-Mara

[jeremiethrough]

the first few months of this year were really tough for me. back in college, i didn't really face much failure, but the working world has been a whole different ball game. i ended up leaving my first job not because of the work itself, but because of the toxic people i had to deal with. it just wasn't the right environment, so i decided to move on. i had a gut feeling there had to be something better out there for me.

it took me two long months to land a new job, but it was totally worth the wait because i'm in a much better place now! thank you, God! while i was in between jobs, i spent a lot of time with my family and got involved in ministry work. i really needed that break after all the stress and exhaustion from my previous job. working the graveyard shift just wasn't my thing.

now, i'm having a blast in BGC, Taguig city. i absolutely love the vibe and atmosphere here, even though the cost of living is pretty steep. but hey, i'm living my dreams! i also enjoy traveling to different places for site visits. apologies for being mia over the last few months, but i'm back on my feet now. let's dive back into having fun!

[library-ghoulette]

Under the Spell - Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Pairing: Mary Goore x f!OC

Rating: Mature

Tags: First person POV, he/they Mary Goore, unnamed Sister of Sin OC, slowburn, romantic strolls through the graveyard, breaking and entering, wine tastes better when it's stolen, sexual tension, tongue-in-cheek references to Repugnant lyrics

Words: 4448

Summary: A definitely-not-a-date in the cemetery leads to a close call.

A/N: Enjoy this long chapter!

ao3 link

I tell no one about Mary accosting me in the library, but our conversation replays over and over in my head for the rest of the day. It’s there as I finish my library shift and as I grab dinner with my roommate in the dining hall. It’s all I’m thinking about when I slump behind my desk back in my dorm, pretending to make corrections to the translation that has been giving me headaches all week.

And it’s what I’m thinking about when, my roommate in the shower, I pull on jeans and a cropped black t-shirt instead of my pajamas and tuck myself into bed.

“Early night?” she asks when she comes out and finds me with my lamp turned off and the comforter pulled up to my chin.

“Yeah,” I say, throwing in my most convincing fake yawn for emphasis. “I’m really tired. Busy day.”

I lie there, doing my best imitation of sleep and listening to the sounds of her running through her nighttime routine, so antsy that I can barely hold still. Finally I hear her lamp click off and the rustling of sheets as she turns to face the wall, and when her breathing drops into the easy cadence of sleep, I dare a peek at my phone beneath the covers: almost midnight.

Am I really doing this?

Apparently so. I feel like my body is moving of its own volition, dragging the rational part of me along helplessly as I push my comforter back as quietly as I can and creep over to the window.

When I first moved in, one of the other Sisters had told me that she was jealous I got the best room in the dorms. It was one of the easiest to sneak out of after curfew, she had claimed, because of the big, old oak tree that grew near the building, and the branch that extended so close to my window.

I've never tested this claim before. But now I find myself easing the window open and throwing first one leg and then the next over the ledge. I move quickly, knowing that if I pause long enough to consider what happens if I slip and fall, I'll freeze.

At least it's a full moon tonight. There's just enough ambient light that I'm not clambering down the branches blindly. I drop down onto the grass, wipe my scraped palms against my jeans, and head off across the campus toward the cemetery.

Set up on a hill behind the Abbey, it's a peaceful place and very old, with stones worn to illegibility existing alongside newer markers. Obelisks and imposing statues nestle in among maples that blaze red in the autumn and magnolias that scent the air with a delicate, citrussy aroma in the summer. I’ve been there plenty of times, both on Papa Primo’s educational history/horticulture walks and on my own, wandering along the winding pathways to gather my thoughts.

But now, as I climb up the hill to the filigreed iron gates, I feel a chill of fear prickle along my arms and down the nape of my neck. The pale stones cast long, spidery shadows that could conceal anything, and I feel uncomfortably exposed here on the high ground, under the stark light of the moon, alone.

Because Mary is nowhere to be seen.

Of course they’re not. This was all a joke, a ploy to get me to do something dumb and reckless, stand me up and then laugh about how gullible I was the next day. Probably along with that group of girls from the dining hall earlier. Fury rushes through me at the thought, followed by a nauseated, embarrassed certainty.

“Fuck this.” 

Suddenly I’m exhausted, and there’s nothing I want to do more than go back to my room, take off this stupid outfit, and go to bed. But before I can make it more than a couple of steps down the hill, something reaches out and wraps long, cold fingers around my wrist that only tighten when I attempt to jerk out of its grasp. A scream rips out of me, and I only scream harder when the thing clutching me shouts, too.

“Shit! It’s me! It’s–for fuck’s sake, stop screaming, it’s me!”

I whirl around, fist clenched and ready to land a punch, but my form is bad and Mary catches my forearm and holds me still long enough for my fight or flight instincts to calm down.

“What– the fuck– is wrong with you?” I gasp, my breath hitching. “Sneaking up– on me–”

“I didn’t sneak!” Mary protests. “I was sitting right there, you just didn’t see me!”

He releases my wrists and runs his hands up to my shoulders, bracing me.

“You”--I still can barely breathe, but now it’s because frantic laughter is welling up in my throat–”you scared the shit out of me!”

And then we’re both laughing, and I’m not even sure why, but it feels strangely good to be standing here with them, their hands reassuring on my shoulders, giggling and alive at the threshold of so much death.

“I didn’t even think you’d come,” they say, when our laughter abates enough to speak. “You kind of left me hanging back there at the library.”

“Well, I was promised a picnic,” I say.

“Oh, yeah.” Mary steps away and retrieves something from the shadows where he was concealed—definitely sneaking—moments earlier. He holds aloft a bottle of wine and crows a triumphant “Ta-dah!”

“That’s it?” I ask, incredulous. “A bottle of wine is not a picnic.”

“Yeah, well, if you knew the efforts I went through to get this, you’d be more grateful.” They tilt the bottle in the moonlight to inspect the label. “I can’t even pronounce this, but judging by how old this is, they must have been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Did you—did you steal that out of the clergy wine cellar?”

Mary wrinkles their nose at me. “You always choose the worst words, you know that? Follow, sneak, steal. I didn’t steal it. I… liberated it.”

I cross my arms.

“It was going to waste down there in that basement,” he insists. “Now come on, let’s find a good place to crack this open before someone sees us."

Mary holds the gate open for me—so chivalrous—and follows as I lead the way along the main path. 

I try to think of where to go.“There’s a really pretty mausoleum up on that rise, toward the back.”

Mary’s grin is a silvery flash in the moonlight. “Come here often, Sister?”

“Sometimes.” I shrug.

I realize that I have no idea what I’m supposed to be talking about, or what I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t even know what this is. Is this a date? Surely it’s not a date. Not that I want it to be a date, but I would know if it was a date— Wouldn’t I?

“Hey,” Mary interrupts my rumination. “Truth or dare?”

I roll my eyes. “What are you, 14?”

“What are you, 90?” They’re walking close enough to nudge me with an elbow. “Come on, humor me. Truth or dare?”

I relent. “Truth.”

“Ugh, I knew it. So boring.”

“Well fine, then. If I'm boring, I’ll just go home.” I shoot them a mischievous look and turn on my heel to head back toward the gate, only for them to hook their arm around mine and haul me back.

“Don’t you even think about it. Now let’s see, truth…” They tap the lip of the wine bottle against their chin contemplatively as we continue to walk, and I pull my arm away. “I know— How’d you get into the whole nun… habit?”

I groan. “Proud of yourself?”

“Very.”

I sigh. I consider giving a flippant answer, something guarded or even untrue, but once again what I want to say transforms into something else by the time it comes out of my mouth.

“I went to a Ghost ritual with a friend of mine about a couple of years ago. It didn’t do much for her, but I don’t know… It just made a lot of sense to me? And everyone was so nice? I ended up talking to one of the Sisters afterward, and she gave me some information, and before I knew it, I was coming to mass every week. And then I petitioned to join the order.”

I expect a snarky response, so I’m taken aback by the seriousness with which Mary asks, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I mean, there are parts that are hard, but I do like it. I didn’t have much direction before, so it feels good to have that now. To be a part of something bigger than me.”

I can sense Mary getting ready to ask me something else, something I don’t necessarily want to answer. “Technically that was two questions,” I say, before he has a chance to dig deeper into my spiritual life. “You cheated.”

“Alright. I pick truth.”

“I thought truth was boring.”

“I’m saving you the embarrassment of saying whatever weak-ass dare you would come up with.”

“Whatever. Um…” I’ve never been any good at this. I always say whatever pops into my head first, and it’s never something fun. Half of the time it’s something depressing that brings the mood down. “Why are you always pestering me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like today at the library. And in mass. And everywhere. And convincing me to do this!” I gesture vaguely at the entire cemetery. “Everywhere I turn, there you are.”

Mary skims a hand over the tops of the tombstones as we walk. We’re off the path now, cutting through the grass to reach the mausoleum. 

“Maybe I like following you around.”

“Yeah, but why? There are plenty of”—I almost say better—”other people you could be following around instead. People who are clamoring to have you follow them around."

They huff out an exasperated-sounding laugh. “And miss out on your warmth and friendliness?”

There’s a beat of silence. I feel like I should say something, maybe apologize, but before I can, Mary says, with an edge of bitterness, “So that’s me, but what about Sister Imperator? Why is she so obsessed with you?” 

“What do you mean?” I’m so surprised that I catch my boot against a footstone and stumble. Mary reaches out to catch me, just before I manage to right myself.

“I mean that I got a whole lecture after she saw us smoking together the other day. About how I was to stay away from you and not do anything to… Fuck, what did she say? Something about ‘causing any unfortunate detours from the distinguished path that you’re on’?”

“Oh.” Hearing Mary repeat Sister Imperator’s lofty opinion of me makes me feel self-conscious, the words too weighty to possibly apply to me.  “She has plans for me to do some sort of special work after my novitiate ends. I don’t have all the details. But I’m taking extra classes this summer so I’ll be ready to take my temporary vows in the fall, ahead of schedule."

Mary looks confused, so I explain: “After we take temporary vows, we get more specialized training, and we have more responsibility. It prepares us to take final vows, which are more… permanent.”

Mary considers this, watching his feet as he makes his way between the stones. The silence feels ominous.

“Well?” I prompt. “No thoughts? You usually have so many of them.”

“Look.” Mary sighs and stops, looking at me full on. “I don’t want to fuck up your perfect little life or your perfect little Ministry career. Do whatever you want. All I’m gonna say is that if Imperator had any kind of big, special, vague plans for me?” He points to his chest and raises his eyebrows for emphasis. “I would be a little nervous.”

I don’t like that insinuation, but I don’t know how to counter it, so instead I just say, “We’re here,” and gesture at the mausoleum. It's the largest in the cemetery, its iron grate double doors flanked by stone columns and topped with a bas-relief of a skeleton in repose, draped in a burial shroud.

“It’s a nice mausoleum,” Mary concedes, sitting down beside me on the front step. “Solid.” They brace the wine bottle between their knees as they pull a Swiss army knife with a corkscrew from their jeans pocket.

“I like the view of the Abbey from up here,” I say, then turn my head up toward the sky. “And the stars are really clear tonight.”

The cork makes a satisfying pop as it comes free, and when I look back down, Mary is offering the bottle to me. “Didn’t steal any glasses?” I tease.

“‘Fraid not. But if it offends your delicate sensibilities…” They pull the bottle away from me, bringing it to their lips and turning it up in a long gulp that’s so indelicate, so unsuited to a wine as expensive as this one probably is, that it's downright vulgar.

“Hey! Give me that!”

I wrench the bottle away and take my own–much more civilized–sip to find that yes, this is the good stuff, rich and full-bodied and dark, and absolutely not intended for furtive drinking in a graveyard in the middle of the night.

Slightly horrified that this almost makes it better, I take another, deeper drink before passing the bottle back to Mary.

They drink again, wipe their mouth on the back of their hand, say “Ask me again.”

“What?” 

“Truth or dare. I cheated when I asked you two questions, so this way we’ll be even. Ask me again.”

“Oh.” Mary’s fingers brush against mine as he hands the bottle back to me, and I feel a rush of heat in my cheeks that’s definitely just because I’m a lightweight and the wine is strong and we're drinking so quickly. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare." Mary shoots me a look that’s a dare in and of itself. I’m suddenly, vividly aware of the fact that I can ask them to do anything, and that they’ll do it.

I take another drink to stall for time, trying to think of something good. Then my eyes land  on the chain and padlock holding the mausoleum doors closed. “Break in."

“Break in here?”

“Yeah. I– I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like inside.” It’s not a lie, but it sounds like one, a justification for choosing this dare when I could have asked for something else.

Mary shrugs. “Alright.” He stands, examines the lock briefly before digging around in his pocket again. He does something that I don’t see, and then I hear the metallic snap of the lock opening, and the clink of chain unwinding from around the door handles. "Piece of cake."

I was not expecting it to be that fast, that easy. “Do I even want to know why you’re so good at that?”

“Probably not!” He opens the doors wide and extends a hand to help me to my feet. “Come on, milady. Your tomb awaits.”

“Ew. Can you please never say ‘milady’ ever again?”

The mausoleum is roomier inside than I expected. A little antechamber leads to a wider space, lined with sealed crypts to the left and right. I run my fingers over the carved names—none of which I recognize—and make my way to the small stone bench set against the back wall. I sit there, under the stained glass window depicting the sigil of Lucifer surrounded by panes of red and yellow and orange, and watch Mary approach.

We sit together on that tiny bench, shoulders brushing, thighs pressed against one another from hip to knee, and my cheeks burn to be so close to him here in the gloom. I look down at my hands, suddenly too nervous to return his gaze.

But then they nudge me to get my attention, to hand over the now nearly empty wine bottle, and I do turn to face them. A tumble of dark hair, the right side of their face limned in flame, the moonlight thought the stained glass; the left side of their face lost to shadow. My breath catches in my throat.

When they speak, their voice is soft. "Truth or dare?"

I never choose dare. I've never looked at a risk and seen the potential for fun, only the potential for mishap, for embarrassment. But now, sitting here with Mary, I want to be the kind of person who does. I want to be reckless. I want to hand him control over me, even for a moment, just to see how he choose to wield that power. I want to find out what he would ask me to do, sitting here so close, surrounded by the echoes of our breathing bouncing off the marble walls.

“Truth.” It comes out as a whisper. It comes out as a disappointment.

But to my surprise, Mary doesn’t groan with annoyance. They don’t say anything snide. They just watch me watching them, their green eyes intent and inescapable. My gaze drops down to their lips, to the wide dip of their Cupid's bow. The corner of their mouth twists upward, and then they're asking me, “Just how bad do you want me to kiss you right now?”

"I—" I can barely think through the cresting wave of panic that rolls over me at Mary's words, and at the realization that I'm not denying it, I'm not getting up, I'm not going back to my room, I'm not fleeing back to everything that makes sense. That instead, I'm setting the bottle down by my foot with a tiny clink of glass against marble. I'm leaning in as Mary cups my cheek, thumb running over my jaw, pulling me closer. Everything in me that should be saying no is singing yesyesyes and I—

"Oh, fuck!"

Mary jerks away from me as a beam of light flashes through the window—a flashlight. Before I know what's happening, he's pulling me down off of the bench and to the floor, down out of the line of sight of the window. He tucks us into a space along one wall, flat on the floor, his arms wrapped around me from behind.

"What—"

Mary cuts me off with a hand clamped over my mouth and, when I struggle, shushes me sharply. That's when I hear the footsteps, swishing through the grass as they skirt one wall of the mausoleum and come around to the front. The metal grate of the double doors and the shadows are all that hide us from view.

"Did you see anyone?" Sister Imperator.

A man's voice, muffled, farther away… the groundskeeper, I think? I catch the end of his sentence as he draws closer: "—into the woods?"

A beat, then Sister Imperator again. "No. No, whoever it was, I think they're gone. No need to go tromping out there tonight."

Most of what they say after is lost to me, partially because it sounds like they're moving farther away, out into the cemetery, and partially because I'm finding it hard to focus on anything with Mary touching me.

Their body is a firm line against my back, their breath warm on the nape of my neck. They're still holding one hand over my mouth; their other arm is wrapped around my waist, all strong, lean muscle and sweat-dampened skin against my belly where my shirt has ridden up. I'm buzzy from the wine, and every point of contact feels tingly, electric.

Finally the footsteps recede completely, leaving only the hum of crickets and the sounds of the night outside, and Mary loosens his grip on me. "I think the coast is clear."

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding and roll over onto my back. Mary grins down at me, head propped up on one hand. He leaves the other where my motion left it, resting on my hip right above the waistband of my jeans. His thumb plays idly over my skin.

"Fuck. That was really close." I think of the beam of the flashlight pouring over us through the window. It was pure luck that she didn't see us, or notice that the mausoleum was unlocked, that she didn't push the doors open and find us lying here.

What would she have done? I imagine being called into her office, her fury and disappointment as she kicks me out of the order. Would she do that? Take away everything that I've been working for? And where would I even go, if she did? The thought is terrifying, cutting through the haze of horniness that had crept over me.

"Where were we?" Mary squeezes my hip and leans in close to finish the kiss Sister Imperator interrupted, but I stop him, palm pressed against his chest. The faded logo is soft and cracked under my palm.

"I should probably get back to my dorm."

Furrowed brows, a bitten lip, an expression of almost pained disappointment. Expecting to have to argue my case, I'm surprised when all Mary says is, "Sure. I'll walk you back."

We say nothing as we straighten our disheveled clothes, as Mary chains the mausoleum doors and carefully secures the padlock so that no one would know we were ever there. We cross the cemetery, picking our way through the tombstones, and I struggle to unpick my jumbled thoughts.

I feel like I've fucked up. I feel like I need to find the right thing to say, to fix it. I feel like I'm running out o time. And I can't find my words.

But when I stumble over the same footstone as I did on our way in, Mary silently reaches out and slips their hand into mine, steadying me. And I leave it there.

We stop at the edge of campus, the dormitories just in sight. "I—" I don't know how to say it so that it doesn't sound mean, so that it doesn't sound like a rejection. "I should probably go alone from here."

The rest is unspoken but understood. How bad it would look if someone saw me walking around in the middle of the night with them, holding their hand. The understanding doesn't make me feel any better.

"Okay." Mary gives me a halfhearted smile and squeezes my hand before letting it go. "See you around."

I don't want them to go yet.

"Wait." They turn back, and I search my brain for a reasonable justification for why I called them back, and then I remember. I reach into the pocket of my jeans and find the red lighter from the day we met, hold it out to them, cradled in my palm. "I never gave this back to you."

Mary regards it with a half-smile, then folds my fingers back over the lighter, letting the touch linger. "Why don't you hold onto it for me for a little bit longer?"

And then he leans in and kisses me. It's quick and clumsy and I'm not expecting it, so it catches me on the corner of my mouth, half on my cheek. Imperfect and too fast. I want to try again, to get it right this time, but before I can say anything, Mary is already disappearing back into the night, with a a quick "'Night Sister, see you around." Melding with the shadows like he belongs to them.

My cheeks are burning when I make it back to the oak tree beside my dorm, and as I pull myself up onto the lowest branch, all I can think about is the feeling of Mary's lips on mine.

And then I hear my name called from down below, and my stomach clenches with dread. I instinctively close my eyes, as though not seeing Sister Imperator glaring up at me means that it's not actually happening.

"Could you come down here, please?"

I drop back down to the ground with a muffled thump. My ankle twists uncomfortably on landing, and I bite back a cry of pain and do my best to stand up straight under Sister Imperator's glare. "Care to explain?" she asks.

I stammer out apologies and try to think of a plausible excuse. "I- I know that it's after curfew, but I couldn't sleep because I was worrying about my Latin class, so I decided to— to go for a walk? To calm my nerves?"

She quirks a skeptical eyebrow at me. "Alone?"

"Yes, Sister."

"Did you happen to see anyone else around?" she asks. "Or hear anything strange? There was a report of a scream coming from the cemetery around midnight."

"No, Sister. I wasn't anywhere near the cemetery."

I squirm under her scrutiny, expecting her to call me on my lie, but all she says is, "Well, let's go in through the front door, shall we? No need to sneak in like thieves."

She leads, and I limp behind, sweating with anxiety as we round the building and walk in. I bid her a quick goodnight and head for the stairwell to my floor, but she calls me back.

"I don't like the thought of you wandering around at night. It's not safe, especially for a young woman." She pauses, as though giving me an opportunity to argue, and when I say nothing, continues: "So, to help your stress about your Latin class, I think perhaps you should get some extra tutoring?"

I start to voice my agreement—however reluctant—and assure her that I will stop by one of the weekly review sessions that the other summer students are organizing. But she cuts me off mid-sentence. "I will secure a daily tutor for you. Report to the library tomorrow evening after dinner. They'll meet you there."

A daily tutor? Does she intend to take away all of my free time, what little there is between class, my work duties, my library shifts, and preparation for taking my vows?

Yes, I answer myself, with certainty. She does. And there's nothing I can do about it, nothing I can say other than, "Yes, Sister Imperator."

"Very good." She gives me a flinty smile that holds no mirth but brims with satisfaction. "Sleep well."

I feel her eyes follow me all the way upstairs. I think I feel them even after I've locked the door behind me and crawled back into bed.

But my last thought before I fall asleep isn't about how much trouble I'm in. It's when will I see Mary again?

[palladiumfragments]

liminal spaces, paradoxes, and conundrums of growing up

it came without warning, like a red flare in stygian darkness, and i’m supposed to hit the ground running or i’d waste away in the very shore that tenderly held the hopes i carried around in a bindle. i must have not seen it coming because there are wounds from my youth i'm still trying to close, things i'm still trying to come to terms with. but it doesn't matter now because it's here and i've dragged my heels long enough.

growing up is a series of last times, little deaths, fumbling for familiar feelings, and listening to the same songs over and over again refusing to admit it's a prayer just to feel at ease with your skin again. despite the years that have graced this body i am still a child, leave me to my own devices and i would just constantly breathe through things that are bruising me and live with the exhaustion. how do i gracefully let go?

i'm thinking of the time my mother picked me up from school and neither of us knew it was the last time. i wonder if she had the same thoughts when she was my age. there was a day i wore that particular jumper for the last time, put away my toys for the last time, said goodbye to a friend for the last time. i wonder if i would've done anything differently if i knew. but there's something anachronistic about childhood that there are moments you feel 10 again before you blink and you're back to being 22.

the things i swore i wouldn't get over from, like the boy from high school who doesn't know he made me a poet or when my sister had to leave to get away from our vampire of a father. it's not that we do not mean forever, it's we say forever but it is as long as nothing changes, but god everything changes and we have no control over it so we learn to whittle down a particular forever into something we can lower to the ground because the sky shouldn't fall and we have school tomorrow.

i didn't want to leave the cliff that looks out to the sea in Bali because i couldn't believe there are places where breathing doesn't hurt. i'm drawn to places vast and infinite, the ones that show me how small i am in comparison, that this life is over before some god falls out of love. the labyrinth beneath my skin shifts when the perspective changes. did i tell you Billy Joel's Vienna and Taylor Swift's You're On Your Own, Kid feel like comforting words from a stranger in a train station you'll meet once in your life?

at 18, i met a boy. i told him of the anger i inherited from the man who sucked the life out of my mother. how it turns me into someone like him, how helpless you'll become when you are the beast and the cage together in one flesh. he didn’t pretend he could save me, he knows what i'm made of and he’ll be there when i blow this prison up. i wonder why i rarely say “i love you” to people i actually love. i think i’m doing a bad job at showing them too. it must have been the bite.

the truth is i didn't have the nerve to leave the scene of the crime, it just collapsed in on itself that summer around midnight. but not before it cut to the bone, not before i could take back the curious little girl who took in stories like a lungful of country air. i'm sure she would've made me kinder. the basilisk in every mirror i look at wouldn't exist. but her skeleton lies in my old closet, buried under a heap of blankets that will never warm her again. forgive me for turning my chest into a graveyard, the first funeral i attended was mine.

i blinked and that was six years ago. i'll be out of school soon, and my life after that is a delicate subject i try to avoid in conversations. this is the longest stay i had in a liminal space and i think it's haunted. the waters are murky, something moves in the shadows, and the rules have changed. i spent my first year in college living on autopilot and the rest in front of a screen because the world has dirt in its lungs, a year later i emerged to a place i can barely recognize. i guess some things you wanted so much when you were 12 don't seem half so wonderful when you get them a decade later.

but maybe our early 20’s isn’t about seeking answers to million-dollar questions or losing our minds over the complexities of our existence. maybe it's simply about making sure i'm getting enough sun and recognizing pomegranate seeds from the underworld when i see one. maybe it's okay to eat pasta straight from the pan when i'm too sad to even swallow and watch Dead Poets Society again and pretend it's the first time. the thing about this kind of melancholia is you cannot let anybody in. it's just you despite the warm words from the people on the porch. maybe you just need to repeatedly cross some lines until it stops being the feeling you dance around to and vomit into poems.

sooner or later it will make sense why i had to leave to stay or break to become whole or die to live. but if it doesn't then that's okay too. i'm not burying anything this time. i'm here and i'm scared but that also means i'm alive— a mosaic of moments, memories, feelings, and dreams. for the meantime i'll sift my fingers through that new book, get that coffee, take a walk at twilight, and when i find a lonely lighted window i'll softly slip into its warmth.

[lexxlouuu]

How you get the Girl

Chapter 7-Anti-Hero

Warnings: online bullying maybe?

This one is really all social media au.. but the next one will have more text and less social media promise 🧡

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

Earnhardt_Lily

Could not have had a better start to the season than a win. Even better when dad was there to cheer me on in person 🏎️🏎️ now time to watch the bestie go vroom vroom in St Pete

Liked by redbullracing, lucejohnson, dalejr and 3,000 others

User1: seeing Lily run to her dad immediately after her win had me bawling. Bet Dale is one proud dad right now 🥺

User2: let’s be honest Max probably just let her win 🙄

User3: seeing Lily on the podium to kick off the season…. I am here for it and can’t wait to see more 💙🏎️❤️

landonorris: congrats on the win, welcome to the grid officially 🏎️

User4: Lando’s comment are we seeing that 👀

redbullracing: what a way to start the season off with a podium ❤️💙

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

redbullracing

A double podium 🏎️ best way to kick off the season.

Tagged maxverstappen1 and Earnhardt_Lily

Liked by 300,000

User1: the fact that they shared the picture of Lily and her dad on the main 🥺

User2: Dale Jr and Jos Verstappen interactions should be interesting this season 😅

User3: for real though Dale Jr is literally the opposite of Jos. Especially with how Lily was raised compared to Max… Yet both are already grabbing podiums first race of the season 🫣

User4: cannot wait for more double podiums this season

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Earnhardt_Lily

To whoever left a bag of daisies outside of my hotel room I adore them and you are so very sweet 😭😭 now off to the next one 🏎️

Liked by addie_stewart9, lucejohnson, and 2,500 others

addie_stewart95: daisies though 🧐 in a reusable bag they must really know you.

lucejohnson: a bag of your favorite flowers 🥺 after your first win in f1 😭

User1: aweee I want a bag of my favorite flowers

User2: who leaves flowers in a random bag 🙄

User3: @user2 someone who knows that Lily’s favorite flowers are daisies and is all about saving the environment and sustainability 🙄

User2: @user3 if she really cared about the environment she wouldn’t be racing 😒

User3: @user2 ummm Sebastian Vettel ring any bells

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

[drabsyo]

Hey drabs,

Firstly, I'm so sorry for my whack English for it's my second language. And I know this is an ask box, but this is the only way I know to send you message anonymously in case this message sounded cringier than what's in my head. lol.

I wanted to say that I hope everything is going well for you because I know that looking for a job these days feels like looking for diamond in a gold mine, which basically almost impossible and I myself is also looking for a job.

And also, I wanted to share a few things in case you get ghosted by the company after weeks of the interview.

1. Have you ever tried Glints or LinkedIn? I don't know what your line of work but perhaps you want to try to apply through those two apps maybe?

2. If the point above still doesn't work, perhaps you should try internship first. I got my first job right after graduating high school because my mentor saw my works are good enough and he recommend me to his boss. But then again, these kinda things are also based on luck, and not to mention that most companies don't pay their intern, so hopefully we don't have to use this tips.

I also wanted to share somethings that helped me to stay sane and during times like that.

1. Don't forget to eat and stay hydrated. As long as you stay hydrated and not hungry, you'll be more focused on the questions the interviewer asked.

2. Don't stay up late. Same goes like the point above, you'll be more focus and have more energy if you sleep enough. And If you're a night owl like me, well... don't forget to drink coffee after you woke up. lol.

3. After all the interviews done for the day, don't forget to reward yourself. Regardless of what happened or whether or not you're accepted, don't forget to reward yourself. It doesn't have to be something grand, something small can do. For me, I usually eat my comfort food that is those korean instant ramen or have a little gaming session.

I know these stuff are basically generic, but I just wanted you to know that no matter what, you are awesome. Sending you all my support and hugs, good luck Drabs ❤

Hey anon! Oh my goshhh first of all, thank you so much for this. It's been a rough few months, exhausting really. I received your message right after I finished my interview, and I know it sounds lame, but it almost made me cry! To know that you care enough about me to leave me this message is so heart warming. So. Thank you. ❤

Your English is wonderful, please don't ever apologize for that and this message is not cringe at all, FAR from it. I'm saving this ask!

I haven't tried Glints or LinkedIn yet. It's also the first time I've heard of Glints, so I might give it a shot. Thank you for the tip! I'll go check it out. My usual method has been applying for jobs on JobStreet.

Glad to hear your mentor was really impressed by your works!!! ❤ I did have an internship before, but the company where I had my internship in ran out of budget for our department so they weren't hiring. Plus, my supervisor from there also resigned. And I was also the unpaid intern!

I keep forgetting to stay hydrated. Yesterday, the interviewer made us wait for an hour and twenty minutes before the interview started and no one would tell us what was happening. I was so thirsty, it was embarrassing. Not to mention I had a fever, yikes. Hope you're staying hydrated on your job hunt too ❤

Ughhgghh I am a night owl too and I absolutely hate it, anon. I love it, but I also hate it? You know what I mean. I am looking into night shift options though. My friends who work the graveyard shift tell me it's disorienting. Maybe we should consider it, what with us being night owls and all? Hm.

Yes!! A quick gaming session does wonders for my anxiety after an interview. That, or I play some music really loud to tune out my thoughts for the day. Or I just lay in bed. Pet my cat. Read fanfiction. Go on tumblr. And now, I have this ask to go back to too ❤ It's the small wins, for sure. I'm happy to hear you give yourself these small rewards too ❤

Anon, this means a lot to me. Grinned like an idiot reading your tips. And please, take your own advice too. Stay hydrated, do things that make you happy, try to get 8 hours of sleep, and take care of yourself. I sincerely hope you're doing great, staying healthy, and are loved. World's tough. Really tough. You've got me in your corner, anon! Sending you hugs!!!! And all my love ❤❤❤

[fullflowerking]

A. Removing my name because some of you can't behave 😁

B. I don't remember my wings that well, but definitely closer to a lighter shade. Perhaps bronze or sandy brown

C. I was a lower ranking angel, tasked with observing humanity. Not intervening

D. See above

E. I didn't fall, I reincarnated to earth as a human being and I still consider my species to be an angel

F. I remember being in a beautiful garden at some point. My mind felt light and airy, and I "felt" things around me with spatial awareness instead of objectively viewing it. If you asked me to describe a single plant or creature in this garden I wouldn't be able to.

G. I resonate with the element fire because I was born in December. My dad was sick with cancer when I was born, and they told him he might not live. After I was born, he got better. I always attach this to the transformative power of fire, and my angelic abilities are still attached to me in utero.

H. I'm a biblical angel, so I guess more likely the Christian god. I don't remember him though, just a faint memory of Him being present.

I. I feel I became confined to earth after observing humans for so long. I think at some point I wanted to be involved more than I was, so I decided to join.

K. The advantage of being an angel on earth really depends on your definition of an advantage. My definition is having more freedom, being able to touch, see and experience the world like a proper mammal rather than like a divine being. You miss out on a lot when you lack the 5 senses.

L. A disadvantage. There are many. When you're an angel, you don't get tired, you don't need to go to the bathroom, you don't need to eat. Suddenly all these things that make you human become an exhausting task that you have to be involved in, all the time. There are more, but I want to keep this short.

M. I was around during the holy war. The crusade before crusades. I remember a few angels starting to feel less angelic over time, and it was like a ripple effect amongst the loyal. Suddenly, the side I was on with my brother Michael felt less and less like the winning side, and more like the side you pick when there's no better option. I desired the same freedoms as the other side but I suppose I was too cowardly to take it.

N. No one around me knows my identity. I feel like it's unnecessary to tell anyone. I can never go back to what I was. The best thing I can do is live my life as heavenly as I can in my current life.

O. Funnily enough, I started suspecting i was something more at a very young age. I didn't know quite what. I remember having mental shifts in the church growing up, and having visions about winged creatures when I was around 10. I discovered angels outside of the Bible and for the first time I felt like these things were the best thing I could use to describe myself.

P. Lol. I was hoping this question would come up. O fortuna is at the top of my list. It always gives me chills. Any songs in Latin or slavic-based languages always makes me go into mental shifts.

Q. To feel angelic, I watch movies with angels in them, read books with angels in them, exercise and ride my bike to just feel the wind against my face. I go to the park with a long black coat on and listen to music, and just watch people. Sometimes I talk to them, but not often because I can be quite introverted.

R. See above. I also veil on occasion, especially when I'm around religious buildings or graveyards or when meditating. (I do not pray to the Christian god)

S. I'm not repelled by religious buildings. I'm also not attracted to them. But when I step inside a place that has been cleansed, anointed or used for worship, I can get mental shifts and my vibration raises to the point that I believe that religious figures and children can feel.

T. Good question. Unfortunately I don't know what my halo looked like. I'm assuming it was closer to light than a physical object, maybe light that my divinity gave off. Like a rainbow spectrum or pure white. 🤷‍♀️ no clue.

U. If I did, I don't remember.

V. Not prophetic dreams, but I've had vivid dreams and nightmares about snakes, naked human beings, violence, starvation and fire. I have had many dreams of what I believe to be pre-flood events on earth, where animosity & disbelief became more rampant between Him and humans.

W. Nope

X. Anywhere that has a beautiful garden. I also like fountains, aquariums, the forest and jungle

Y. Nope

X. I remember being in Europe at some point. I don't know exactly where, I just remember hearing some francophone language being spoken, and there was a lot of political unrest. Unfortunately, the details were never that important to anyone, and as I've mentioned before, I didn't see things the same way as an angel as I do now. My best guess would be middle ages or less. They seemed to be very complicated with the Catholic church back then.

I hope you enjoyed my answers as much as i enjoyed answering them

Angelic Ask Meme

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a while…send some to my ask, and feel free to reblog!

A-what is your angelic name? B-what did your wings look like? C-what are you an angel of? D-what order or rank of angel are you? E-did you fall? If so, why? F-describe a random angelic memory G-what element/s do you align with? H-do you remember or follow any gods? I-do you know or suspect why you are earthbound? J-what other angels were you close to? K-an advantage to being an angel on earth? L-a disadvantage to being an angel on earth? M-were you around during the war? If so, what side were you on? N-does anyone irl know you’re an angel? O-how long have you known you’re Angelic? P-what is a song that reminds you of being angelic, or of an angelic memory? Q-what is something you do to feel angelic? R-have anything you wear that makes you feel like your angelic self? S-are you attracted to places of worship, or repelled by them? T-what did your halo look like? U-any angels you had a rivalry with? V-ever have any prophetic dreams, or things like that? W-are you an empath/psychic/medium/etc? X-any places on earth that remind you of home? Y-ever had irl contact with other divines in this life? Z-have any past earthbound life memories?

[hereticalapothecary]

*tosses a couple bags of Sleepytime tea and Epsom salt in a bath* Witchcraft

[lightwing-s]

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐝. 𝐠.

pairing: dick grayson x gn!reader warnings: brief mentions of blood, but nothing much. word count: 2,9k summary: when nightwing is a dick, but dick is a sweetheart a/n: my first shot at gn writing, so if there's anything in the story that gives any hints at a specific gender, pls warn me so I can make the correct modifications.

pt. ii | pt. iii

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

With his breath heavy and his knuckles sore, Dick stood over four guys he had spent the last half and hour trying put down and who were now spread on the floor of a random alley, after he beat them till unconsciousness. Cleaning the sweat on his forehead and the bits of blood — whoever they belonged to — off his face, he stretched his back muscles, his sore arms and looked up to face the night sky one more time before calling in quits for tonight. Unsurprisingly, though, he didn't meet the sky as dark as he had last paid attention to, when he was just about to rush downtown to stop Blockbuster’s new attempt to rob yet another bank in the same night.

This time, a new source of light rose from the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful cotton candy shades of light blue, pink and lilac, warming the damp city and letting him know that he has, once more, stayed some extra time in his role as Nightwing, even if it’s for a good reason. Three nights in a row, just this week, he has seen the sunrise in black and blue costume.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, careful not to let his domino mask slide, and letting out a long sight, Dick walks in the direction of the exit/entrance to the alley, heading for the phonebooth by the edge of it where, upon entrance, he and dials three very familiar numbers, and with just two rings he is hearing the 911 dispatcher’s voice, tirelessly greeting him just as he replies back.

“Hello, Andrea, it's been some time.” he greets who by this time is a well known voice, smile audible through his as its instantly recognize by the dispatcher who religiously takes the graveyard shift along with him. “Oh, I'm fine, I guess... What will I be needing today? Hmm, I guess the cops, as usual, and…” he looks back to the four men and says: “Perhaps two ambulances?... Yeah, they gave me a thought time... No, no, I can handle my cuts on my own... Alright, let me see …” he takes up some time to look up his location and tells it to the woman on the phone. “Thanks, Andy. Until another time.”

Turning off the phone with a huff, he turns back to the men who were still spread on the floor, knocked out, some of them still grunting in pain, and rests on the side of the phonebooth. A similar pain starts creeping up his body, falling on his muscles, because even if he didn’t receive a single punch that night — a rare but welcome occurrence —, hitting people is an extremely exhausting activity.

Taking his grappling gun in his hands, he aims and is soon propelled to the top of the brown stone building. His legs almost fail him upon landing, and he heads to the parapet, where he takes a seat and choses to rests for a while. The sunrise looks beautiful, and the noises of the city still quiet before people start heading out for work or school. With that in mind, he looks at his watch and is welcomed with a very unfortunate information: 6am. He had to be leaving for work at 6h30. By the time he makes it home from where he is, almost the other side of the city, he’ll have a few minutes shower the blood and sweat — and tears — away, get ready, eat and leave straight away, meaning no rest till the end of his shift at 6pm, not including the extra time he'll have to take to finish up some papers he failed to finish off the night before. Today is going to be a long one.

When Dick was getting up to leave, a black sedan pulls up on the street, taking his attention. Expectant of another group of goons to fight off, he is surprised to find a single person come out of it, running straight to the four criminals. They wore a long, black coat seemingly made of leather or a similar fabric, under the coat they had a white sweatshirt with a hoodie on, trying to protect themselves from the few drops of rain that still insisted on falling down. A courier bag hang from their shoulder and a professional camera from their neck, by the looks of it, quite expensive. Leaning over the parapet for a closer inspection, he found himself curious about the newcomer and completely trapped on their every action. He analyzes the greasy skin of their forehead, meaning they had been working for a while, the tired bags under their eyes telling him they must have been exhausted and the small stain in the white hoodie, from what seems to be a kind of food condiment. Someone seemed to have one night just as busy as his.

Dropping their bag by the wall, they promptly start taking pictures of the bandits that had been taken down not long before, taken by the still fresh bloodstains. Dick now had elbows on his legs, shamelessly watching them in action. Picturing the men, the blood spilled around them, close ups of their bruises and the guns that were thrown further back in the alley. Bending down, they search for stuff out off the guys' pockets like gum, coins and documents. Those last ones had their content write on a small notepad they took from their bag.

A journalist? Dick thought. They can’t be just a curious person, they wouldn't go to these lengths, would they? Dick obsessively follows their every move and pays attention to their small details: how they have their sleeves over their hands, how the chew on the bottom of their pencil, how they suck their cheeks in in concentration, and how their camera is aiming at him now… wait what?!

Cough off guard by their sudden act, Dick loses balance and almost falls down from the roof, managing to regain balance due to years of acrobat training. People don’t usually take pictures of me, damn it! After recollecting himself, he looks back down and back down a catches a glimpse at their beautiful face, the way they stare at him so feverishly making his own face flush a little. But there's something off in their expression, are they... disgusted?

No one, usually, looks at me disgusted.

Shaking their head at the vigilante atop the old building, the photographer turns around, picks up their bag and turns to the street to leave the alley. However, right after they hear the sounds of two feet landing right behind them.

“What was that? Not impressed by the feat?” asked Nightwing.

“There’s nothing to be impressed here.” they reply, not giving him the satisfaction of turning around. “Unless unnecessary violence pleases your eyes.” Unnecessary?

“So you suggest I let them steal the bank? Or let them take the little kids hostage again?” he sneered at the reply. “Perhaps you want me to join them next time?” he goes further with the mockery, not enjoying her distasteful tone.

“I suggest letting the police handle it.” if only they knew… “And not attracting more crazy criminals to this city”

“What?” he questions incredulously. “For someone so charming you have some really inequitable opinions. I’m helping keep Bludhaven safe from crime and…”

“While also letting psychopaths know there's a dumbass in leotards ready to play cat and mouse with them” they cut Nightwing with an indignant smile. “Leave the vigilante bullshit for Gotham, we don’t need you here”. Deciding to leave for good, they tighten their bag on their shoulders and move once more in the direction of their car.

Dick should have been a better man, but he couldn’t help and watch as their hips swayed away from him. What sleep deprivation doesn't do to a guy.

“Sure doesn’t look like it.” he whispered for himself, but apparently not much so.

“Oh don’t come to me with that bullshit” they turn back aggressively. “We were not perfect but we were doing just fine without you here! Do you know Gotham statistics show more people perished from violence since Batman showed up than ever before? And which city do you think is heading in the same direction?”

At this point, they had their finger up on Dick’s nose, and he was starting to get worked up as well, his need to rush home and get to work moving down his list of priorities at the moment.

“You wanna use stats then? Show me how safer people feel since I moved here? Tell me how many more arrests were counted? I’ll answer that sweetie, a lot more”

“Don’t sweetie me, Nightbitch. You won’t change my opinion with arrest stats. The police could do that with a bit more funding. If you want the city to change for real, there are other ways you can actually help it.''

Actually, they were not wrong. Fighting crime is the smallest bit of a much larger problem. But what they don’t know is that while Nightwing operates in the crime fighting jurisdiction, Dick Grayson works to make other changes in Bludhaven. He must have spent too much time thinking of a way to state that without giving any hints of his secret identity, that when he saw it, he realized they were just a few inches from getting in their car.

“What, leaving without a kiss?” Grow up, Dick! he thought. You’re better than this.

But there was something about them, a power they held over him, that easily could make him angry, and he didn't know why. Gosh, this was the first time he had ever met them! Why is he getting so worked up?

And so, the last sight he cough of them was their careless self getting into the car while showing him the middle finger.

Dick had rushed home as fast as he could, and just as fast as he was changed into his work clothes and heading out the door. When running through his bedroom, upon seeing his bed, still unmade from two days before, it never seemed so inviting. All he wanted was a good twelve hours of sleep, or at least just one quick nap before work, but he knew there’s no way that could be a possibility today.

Rushing down the stairs of his apartment building, his stomach started rumbling, telling him to stop at his usual café down the street. The instant he got into the building the smell of coffee took over his entire being, and if he didn’t get a cup within minutes, he was certain he would collapse. Waiting in line to order, he mentally repeated his usual of a large cup of Flat White coffee with the special breakfast sandwiches of the day with ham and salad. Or was it turkey today?

“Nice jacket” complimented a voice from behind him.

“Oh, thanks. But it’s just a work u…” too stunned to speak, Dick was surprised to see the same photographer from the alley standing right in front of him, this time minus all the bags and cameras. “A-hem, an uniform thing”

“So you're in the police?” they asked, and if he wasn’t so sleep deprived he would swear he saw their eye sparkle.

“Yeah! Detective.” he answered, showing him the badge sewn into his jacket.

“Being an officer has to be one of the coolest careers that is.” stated the other, caressing the badge on the jacket, and subsequently Dick’s arm. Were they flirting?

“Well, it sure is an eventful career path” he replied and they giggled. Giggled. Dick was shocked. The same person that not even an hour ago was screaming at him — sure, it wasn't really him, but still! — for apparently being a bad influence on the city was now caressing him and being all flirty? The world doesn’t turn my friend, it flips you over.

He was about to reply with some terrible pick up line (the sleep deprivation doing things to the part of his brain responsible for that) when he received a notification on his phone with the tune that meant he had to check it.

[07:14] jason: looks like someone caught the bird red-handed lol

The strange message was followed by a link that Dick instantly clicked on, interested in knowing why the hell was his brother using his “alert messages only” channel to send him a freaking news article from a tabloid newspaper. And then he saw it…

NIGHTWING IS A MESS WHILE MESSING UP OUR CITY.

And under this aggressive headline was embedded the most unflattering picture of him as Nightwing ever. No, no, the worst picture of HIM ever… taken by the very same person who is now shamelessly flirting with him. Oh, how he's going to enjoy this conversation even more now!

“Nightwing sure is a mess, huh?” they asked, peeking over his shoulder to read the article they probably had a hand on writing as well.

“It’s what it takes to keep the city safe.” he answered.

“... Sure” they agreed, but their tone was uncertain.

“What? Don’t you like him?” he inquired, trying to fully understand why they despised him so much. Well, his masquerade self.

“Hmm” they tried to start an argument, opening their mouth a couple of times before deciding on: “Not really.”

“Well, I think he’s doing an outstanding job helping the city” Dick stated.

“Are you sure? It looks to me he does more damage than good to us”

“How’s that so?” he questioned honestly.

“He fights crime, pulls down bandits and gangs, and so what, I get it. But since he arrived all this crime has escalated, there’s a new bank robbery every week, break ins, gang fights. Don’t you think he’s just a beacon for more crime?”

“Honestly?” he started. “Although this might be true, in some form, he does jobs that could take the police months to act on, he helps us a ton, and I personally believe the media just gives him a lot of bad press.”

“So you making us the villain?” they asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You work with the press?”

“Bludhaven Post.” answered, showing him their company card.

“I’m sorry. Not the villain, but just instigators” he corrected himself, ready to not let this conversation turn into a fight too.

“But what about the rest then? Anything else that he could have done for the city, like charity, helping kids, eating the rich kind of stuff, that would help the city much more than putting down pathetic fat guys with guns?”

“How can we be sure he’s not doing that?” he replied with his own question this time, apparently hitting the right spot, as he watched them open and close their mouth once more, looking around the building as if search for a good argument to fight back, but admitting defeat by saying:

“Touché.” A smile glued to their face, hands up in mock defeat. A moment of silence followed the two of them, broken shortly by the barista calling Dick to take his order. After he got it taken, they immediately followed with:

“I would love to chat with you about Nightwing some other time, Officer…”

“Grayson. Dick Grayson.” he replied, extending his hand for them to shake. Noticing their questioning look after he introduced himself, Dick expected the usual joke about his name, but nothing came of it, instead he saw them reach to their back pocket and take out of it a small piece of paper, with something written on, and hand it to him. Reading it, he found it had a phone number and a name.

“Well, Officer… I mean Detective Grayson” they corrected. “As I said I would love to chat with you some other time, right now I have to head back to work and I guess so do you?”

“I have to say, I’d like to meet you some other time too. Y/n S/n” he read their name slowly, letting their charm slide through every syllable, and if his intentions were to make them feel things, he sure got it done. Y/n’s eyes sparkled at how he said their name, and they unknowingly bit their bottom lip in response to the action. “But I have to ask, do you have papers with your number ready to give to random guys you meet on the street?” he flirted.

“Not random guys. Just cute ones I’ve been eyeing at a coffee shop for a while” they replied in the same tone.

“Did you know stalking is a crime [Missy/Mister]?” he whispered, getting just a bit closer, his hot breath making their hair fly a little.

“Good thing you’re a cop then.” they stated, removing the paper from their hand and placing it inside his shirt’s pocket. And with one last wink at Dick, they concluded. “You can arrest me any time.”

Dick watched, mouth wide open, as they walked out of the café. The same sensual walk, the same hip sway he had admired earlier.

Messing up his hair in other confusion, and barely missing the barista calling up his name, he grabs his drink and sandwich and heads to work. Hoping something might take this encounter off his head, otherwise he's positive he won't do much work today.

Oh lord, he thought. I can't wait to talk to them again.

.

a/n: part 2, anyone?

[alice--pallas]

At first glance, for just a moment, she didn't even realize that it was Abraxis who had entered the room, the giant bouquet so large, it hid their face. However, who else other than Abra would've brought her such an extravagant arrangement in the first place? Despite the pain she was in, a small smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. She was wondering when she'd see them. Lying here in this hospital bed, all she'd really been able to do, aside from watching bad cable, was worry about all of the possibilities. Though she obviously had no idea who, someone had gunned her down in the graveyard and while she supposed that it could've been any old someone, it felt personal, as if someone had been given orders to go out, find Alice Pallas, and shut her up for good. Though she had no idea who might be behind it, she admittedly felt paranoid and was unsure of who she could trust, aside from those in her family. And though they were almost positive that Abraxis would never do anything to hurt her, she couldn't let herself just simply discount the fact that they were on the Council.

Letting out a small sigh in response to their question, she nodded and said "Yes, please. I need...Tylenol or...Aspirin or something." Shifting slightly in her bed, she said "On second thought, maybe Tylenol is a bad idea. My liver's already been through enough..." God, what she wouldn't give for some fucking morphine right now. But that was a road that she frankly didn't have any time to go back down again--not now and not ever.

The last glance that she'd given Abraxis was across the crowd a few nights ago during the Halloween festivities. She'd been absolutely tickled that, by mere chance, their costumes had ended up matching. They'd agreed to meet after most of the night's festivities had died down, as they were still on the down low--however, she hated to imagine Abra standing there waiting for her, possibly thinking that she'd blown him off—meanwhile, Astarion had been fighting to save her life in that godforsaken graveyard. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of that bloody scene.

I tried to come sooner. A genuine smile graced her lips, almost hating how easily they could make her smile. Giving a small nod, she said "It's okay... It's been...really hectic these past few days, so..." Finally getting a good look at the flowers, she said "Damn, that is a hell of a bouquet. You must really like me." Even in pain and put up in a hospital bed, she still had her wit. "Why don't you put those down and come over here?" she said, beckoning them. It was difficult--as weary as she was to trust anyone that wasn't a part of the Pallas clan, she'd also missed Abra. "I was wondering if you were going to come and see me." I apologize for my tardiness. She couldn't help but chuckle at this. "I suppose you're forgiven," she said, hoping that her playful tone was getting through the haze of pain and exhaustion she was currently experiencing.

Alice, what have you gotten yourself into? She could hear the playfulness in their voice as well, though she wasn't sure how to answer the question, mostly because the truth wasn't sexy or fun or amusing. It was scary. Shaking her head and giving a small shrug, she said "Honestly... I don't know. I don't know why...or who... But I'm... I'm afraid that someone's after me." Okay, maybe that wasn't the entire truth--she had an inkling as to why and it had everything to do with what she'd been investigating and sticking her nose in places that it didn't belong.

were it permitted—though firmly discouraged by the vigilant nurses—abraxis webb, wielding their tenuous authority as a city council member, would have been the first to visit alice pallas alongside her family. yet, it seemed that even their position in city council held no sway over certain immutable regulations, rules as unyielding as the city itself. nevertheless, abraxis arrived bearing a bouquet so extravagant it seemed to carry the weight of spring itself—a cascade of pink and white roses, delicate hydrangeas in shades of pink and purple, sprigs of fragrant eucalyptus, gypsophila’s gentle whispers, purple asters, and the soft hues of limonium. the sheer size of the arrangement obscured their face as they entered, a dark figure cloaked in the essence of persephone, carrying an almost mythic touch of renewal and rebirth into the sterile hospital room.

despite alice’s predictably cranky demeanor, amusement flickered across their features like sunlight through a canopy. she was as sharp as ever, her wit untouched by her ordeal, and this reassured abraxis in a way words could not. setting the bouquet on a nearby table, their head tilted slightly, caught in the spectacle of her resilience. yet beneath their outward composure, an undercurrent of dread stirred. they had fought the nurses, argued with the bureaucracy, all the while haunted by the persistent fear of losing someone they had only just begun to hold dear. but they offered no hint of this as they spoke, their tone gentle yet earnest. “you’re in pain?” they asked, voice laced with concern, though they attempted to soften it with a hint of levity. “should i track down a nurse? i’d be cranky too if i were in your position.”

the last time they had seen her was after their so-called arranged meeting—a casual diner dinner and a nightcap that abraxis, with quiet fondness, privately considered their second date. it had been far too long for their comfort, given how fleeting and fragile life often proved to be. they hovered awkwardly now, reluctant to sit, their restless gaze drifting over the medical devices tethered to her. they noted the absence of a morphine drip yet found solace in the rhythmic hum of her heart line coloring the monitor with life.

“i tried to come sooner,” they admitted, the bitterness of frustration clinging to their words. “but i was told only family was allowed—protocol.” their lips tightened briefly, betraying their irritation at the bureaucratic barriers that had kept them away. the hesitation in their voice betrayed the tender uncertainty of their position in her life. after all, what name could they give to this infatuation that had taken root in their chest, blooming with both wonder and trepidation? for all they knew, it might be one-sided, a fragile bud destined to wither. they cleared their throat, pushing past the discomfort. “i apologize for my tardiness.”

as they spoke, their arms folded across their chest, a gesture both defensive and self-soothing. their eyes lingered on her, softened by a quiet vulnerability. over the past few weeks, abraxis had come to realize that alice was their achilles’ heel—a source of unguarded emotion in an otherwise carefully measured existence. their smile was tentative, almost shy, a tender bloom that hinted at feelings not yet spoken. “alice,” they began, their voice warm but laced with quiet exasperation, “what exactly have you gotten yourself into?”

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟓

Imagine: “Could I request a Daniel Gillies smut like they are both at the comic con(they are both in the originals) and he is teasing her while he answers a question ? Or makes fun with Joseph and he says some dirty things.” Requested by @elijahspersonalwifeyyy .

Pairing: Daniel Gillies x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Words:

Edited: Yes

A/N: I apologise @elijahspersonalwifeyyy for the incredibly long wait. I’ve had this lined up to post but with coursework and writing so much at the same time, it’s made it difficult but I refuse to quit. I’m not a quitter. I’m also not a person to announce a hiatus. Either way, hope you enjoyed ! There is a lot to read I know but we needed a build up and this is one of my favourite comic cons ever, I wanted to do the before hand scenes either way so. Don’t forget to check out my new story “On The Way” !

All of us at the current moment in time were stood backstage waiting to be called on. I couldn't tell you how irritated I was when I went on after Joseph and then Daniel followed. They were both irritating enough to me together anyway but they were in a particularly annoying mood today and I was not prepared for it.

“The man who will break your heart and then rip it out and then probably eat it. Joseph Morgan.”

The whole audience cheered as he walked on and he waved quite casually as he did. 

“The women who brings all men to there knees but still can't find anything better to do than drink wine. Y/N Y/L/N”

I giggled as I walked out and I saw the audience screaming and Joseph giving me a mischievous look.

“The brother with a suit for every occasion. Daniel Gillies as Elijah.”

He walked out, threw me a quick smirk and blew a kiss to the audience as they screamed. He pulled his chair out and smiled at everyone.

“Nice jacket.”

“Yeah. Give it up for this jacket ! Huh ? Out of a suit and into a smoking hot jacket.”

“I know right, the one time he's not wearing a suit.”

“Thank you. It was actually a gift from Y/N.”

“Aw that’s super sweet Y/N.”

“Thank you. It was actually a gift for our anniversary.”

“Really ? How many years ?”

“Seven.”

“and very sweet.”

He called the rest of our costars out and we continued on with the panel.

After the host had started the panel with a question for Julie and Michael, it was now a group question for me, Joseph and Phoebe.

“Uh now going to the show, we've seen Klaus and Lily and Klaus and Hayley kind of trying the uh co-parenting thing and it did not really go so well as we all saw. How is Klaus going to be as a parent now that Hayley isn't around and Lily and Elijah have reconciled ?”

As soon as the question was asked, we all turned to Joseph.

“Uh you know, before he alienated his whole family by toasting Elijah's girlfriend, sleeping with his wife and and and cursing the women he thought he was in love with um Klaus survived under this sort of umbrella of Elijah's protection and forgiveness I suppose and so Elijah was always a voice of reason and Hayley was always there to battle it out with him. So, I would say badly. He's gonna do badly as a single parent you know and I think he knows he's kinda messing it up but he's trying. At least he's trying. You gotta give him that. Even if he's warping the minds of his two daughters, one before she's even uttered a syllable and the other before she get's old enough to realise that Klaus and Lily aren't actually together you know like she’s thought for years.”

“Geez. So uh how are are Lily, Elijah and Klaus going to tell her ? Who's going to be the one that does it or will they all do it together ?”

I decided to answer this questions, being more involved with the story line of my children.

“I think that Lily will have to be the one to tell her and whilst doing so will definitely have to be quite cautious when telling Sofia, you know not only because she's only 7 years old but also because she’s thought of Elijah as her Uncle her whole life- and although that hasn't changed it's still going to be difficult since this latest revelation is that, her Uncle Elijah that she adores oh so much is now also 'mommy's boyfriend' or in more formal terms her step-dad. So I think she's going to be confused and it might be quite difficult for her at first but I think she’s mature for her age and that she will understand quite quickly that, Mommy and Daddy aren't together and that despite realizing that her mom was married to her uncle I think she will quickly appreciate the fact we told her because of her understanding personality. “

Daniel quickly leaned forward and spoke before the host could ask another question.

“The moral of the story is, don't sleep with your husband's brother. Especially when not using protection and then deciding to get back together with your husband before trying to force him to sign the divorce papers.”

The whole room suddenly echoed with loud laughter and I couldn't stop giggling myself despite being offended for my character. I hit his arm playfully. He grinned at me and rested his hand on my leg as the room calmed down and he slouched back in his chair a little.

“Very true. So, I mean he can always just compel a few dozen nannies but he does have Elijah there to help him co-parent you know not just with Sofia but with Hope. I'm thinking like shared schedules, late night feedings...Whose doing what ?”

“It’s like we both wake up and the baby is crying and it's like, are you going to get her or am I ? Alright, I'll get her.”

“Yeah no it's gonna be me. I'm gonna do the graveyard shift, I know that all to well. But we gotta remember too, Lily and Freya are going to be doing a large share of the work.”

“Oh yeah, they can do it. There you go.”

I giggled and hit Joseph in the shoulder for the comment.

“Sexist.”

“No, come on. Lily's already been through this twice she knows’ what she's doing and Freya's Switzerland at this moment in time, I think for both of us to be in there...I’m gonna stop talking.”

We all chuckled at Daniel's comment.

                                               *

“Now we're going to go to audience questions in just a little bit but first I wanted to do something fun. I know it's not the holiday's and I know we don't have a big ass bonfire in front of us but I thought it would be quite fun if everybody kinda thinks about a wish for their character for the future, just throw it in the imaginary bonfire.”

“Well, I'm a human....so I just want to stay alive.”

“Good answer.”

“Oh I forgot you weren't a character.”

“I have wishes for everybody but I don't have a character.”

“I do wish for Julie that Supernatural Judge Judy becomes her next spin off and Exploding Ovaries is the title of Daniel Gillies' next memoir. 

“A wish for Hayley would be that Hope can live a normal, happy existence. I think would be what she would want the most.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Thank you. That's it, I'm done.”

“Uh, I think for Elijah...I mean other than wishing that his girlfriend's wouldn't be incinerated or his wife doesn't sleep with his brother again...”

I giggled at Daniel's comment, despite his comment towards my character and spoke with Joseph, simultaneously. 

“Oh, come on.”

“I'm not letting that one go easily. So, uh...I would wish for him. Oh man. I wish for him, I’m actually wishing for something dark, like I sort of would wish for...a great division between the brothers before reconciliation.”

“So that's how it's going to be.”

“So, my wish for Lily is um...to finally find that bloody fertility spell that she's been looking for, for centuries. So that her and Elijah can have children of their own which they want more than anything and move somewhere outside of New Orleans in a nice family home, away from the drama.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Uh, I wish everyone would just do what Klaus says because he's always right. He knows what he's doing. It's for the greater good. Come on. Get on board with his plans. Everything will be alright in the end. Not everyone will be alright in the end but everything will be alright in the end. Right ?”

“Um, I wish Marcel would cross over. No.”

“I wish for more of your cleavage.”

I couldn't help but laugh a little when he says comments like that. Even though it wasn't directed at me, I knew the double meaning behind it. Daniel has not taken his eyes away from my chest today. That's what breast feeding does to you, I suppose. When Daniel picked my outfit this morning, I was glad. I was going to wear some leather pants and a red blouse with some heels but he somehow convinced me to wear a dress. God was I glad, I actually listened to him. It was hot in San Diego summer heat and I underestimated a little when I decided on leather pants. 

“Yeah. We gonna get some dollar bills. Let's see some ones. Tryna make some money out here. Somebody, put on some Usher. Slow jam. Uh yeah...”

“I have a twenty. What can we get for a twenty ?”

“Break it up. Break it up.”

“Make it into ones and let's make it rain.”

“If I throw loose change at you, can I make it hail ?”

“Alright, moving on. Next subject.”

“Um, Davina is a witch and I think it would be really cool if she could fly. So, whether it's a broomstick or something else...I still think it would be really cool.”

“That’s a good one. Um, mines pretty selfish. I hate shaving, so I wish we could work something in so Vincent could have like a huge beard.”

“I changed my mind, I want superpowers as well. Three one foot long, retractable adamantine claws from each hand please.”

”Why is the camera on me ? I wanna fly. I wanna see these guys fly. I want them charging up walls and...we don’t have the budget for that. I wanna see more vampirey stuff. Why am I wishing again ? I exhausted my wish.”

“You guys can make as many wishes as you want. This is your made up tradition.”

“It’s raining wishes on you.”

“Raining for your wishes.”

“God this is embarrassing.”

“T it up.”

“T what up ?”

“What do your need for a rain of wishes ?”

“What happens when it rains ?”

“An umbrella.”

“What ?”

“An umbrella, sweetheart.”

He closed his eye in frustration and dropped his upper half into my lap, whilst we all laughed at his slow mind.

“Oh shit. Umbrella. So sorry, so sorry.”

“The rain, the umbrella...”

“Dropping hints. Awesome, alright well let’s turn it over to some audience questions.”

                                               *

“Hi, my name is Julia and first I'd like to say, I love you all. Especially Joseph Morgan and Danielle Campbell.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t worry, I love you Daniel.”

He squeezes my thigh and leans in to kiss my head. Before deciding to move his arm around my shoulders and hugging me into his side. I rested my hand on his thigh as I hugged him back.

“I love you too, beautiful.”

I blushed and smiled, whilst the audience all awed. Which prompted the red in my cheeks to darken. I sat back up straight and he returned his hand back my thigh, yet this time a little higher up and whilst stroking the fabric of my dress up my thigh.

“My question is for the whole cast and it is, if you were able to play another role...who would you wanna play ?”

“On our show ? Or just in general ?”

“Yeah. On The Originals.”

“I..I think I would choose Hayley. The Hyrbid female. She's a pretty cool character. Your welcome.”

“Um, I would play...Klaus. Mind you probably better but...”

“I don't wanna play anybody else, I wanna play Elijah.”

“I would play, Elijah....purely because it would be an absolute blessing to wake up that hot everyday and he's a pretty awesome character.”

He smirked at me and moved his hand further up my leg, his fingers now resting at the hem of my white lace thong. I gulped a little but held my composure. It seemed hat every time I complimented him, he got further up my leg and closer to my core. Like a game...and I was more than happy to play.

“If...If I had to absolutely play someone else uh, I would play Oliver because I just think he needs to be brought back to the show...and uh #saveollie. Bring him back !”

“Uh, I would play Elijah because I think I look damn good in a suit.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Buttoned up to the naval.”

“There we go. I know it's distracting for you, my body.”

“I cannot concentrate. I refuse to continue.”

“Um, I would play Genevieve. I thought she was a really cool character. She was a lot of fun to work with.”

“I see some Genevieve fans in the house, awesome.”

“Um, yeah I think I might choose Elijah too. I think uh, it's a really cool character that Daniel has created.”

“They both quietly believe they can bring more to the role, is what they’re saying. Not quietly, they're saying it to an audience of like three thousand.”

“Only because of what you've done with it Daniel.”

                                            *

“Hi Guys, wow that's loud. I'm so sorry, my name's Marissa. First, I want to say Daniel I watched saving hope and your death killed me. I'm so sorry that you died.”

“Yeah, tell me about it ! I was gutted.”

He squeezed my thigh a little more and started making circles with his finger on the spot closed to my core.

“Oh my goodness.”

Yeah, oh my goodness indeed. He really knew how to make a woman feel good, without hardly doing anything...quite literally.

“Um, so my question is for Julie and Michael. Um, I was wondering...there’s so much violence on the show and so much adult stuff and I was wondering if the network or the studio has ever told you, 'No you can't do that’ ?”

We all started laughing in reply to the questions.

“Oh, we have a story about that don't we...Leah.”

“I don't wanna tell the story again.”

“There's things that we did that couldn't be shown.”

“So here's the thing about broadcast television is that, apparently you can decapitate someone, you can drive a knife into a vampires skull, you can rip out their heart, you can shove a pencil up their nose, you can stab them a million times with glass but when stimulating a sex scene...if there's any movement at all that one would define as thrusting...”

“No thrusting. Pull back on the thrusting.”

“A motion that originates from the hip.”

Charles decided to get up and share a demonstration of thrusting and everyone on stage started laughing and the audience started to scream. Daniel gripped my thigh a little harder, due to jealously. I didn't have to ask him what the reason was, I already knew. At the best of times, he was not a jealous person. He loves and trusts me and Charles a lot and he knows nothing would happen but when he's horny and in need of some attention...he does get jealous. Understandably so, I know because we both do. His pinky finger then started to stroke me, through the lace of my pants.   

“It’s difficult because I don't actually remember thrusting being in the script. That was something the actors chose.”

“It was a creative choice. I mean, look at Charles...you would do the same thing. Also, let's not forget the originators of this little problem.”

The audience stayed silent, indicating that they weren't sure how to react to her last sentence. I leaned into Daniel and rested my forehead against his bicep in retaliation to Leah's comment. I couldn't stop giggling, despite the finger rubbing against my wet thong and the blush rising on my cheeks. Daniel was using his other hand to pinch his forehead, whilst chuckling.

“Come on guys, explain it.”

“So, what happened was we were doing the flashback sex scene of Elijah and Lily's wedding night. Daniel got a bit too excited and started to thrust a little and I tried hiding it by opening my legs a bit more.As I did, my underwear snapped because it wasn't as flexible as I thought. So, I had to pay a fine for showing too much skin because the sheets had come off of me a little and we hadn't realised. Not that it was much it was just a little side boob, still.”

“So, it wasn't the thrusting ?”

“No, ironically it wasn't.”

“Let me tell you. There was some excellent, simulated thrusting in those scenes. That was cut, per broadcast standards. While, I think in the same episode seventeen people got brutally massacred. It is what it is.”

“Some of the best thrusting. I hope it makes the special features.”

“Charles called Leah, for some extra rehearsal before hand.”

                                           *

“Hi I'm uh Skylar. Um, I know that between you there has been a myriad of different supernatural creatures. Uh, Phoebe...I think you've been a werewolf, a witch and a mermaid. Uh, in really life...What would you wanna be ?”

“Well, I would say witches because witches don't have to turn on a full moon and they don't have to be like plagued by vampire...the demon’s of vampires. They can just have all the power and really cute outfits...and if I can look more like Danielle Campbell. I'll take it.”

“H20 rocks!”

“Thank you ! Well actually I-Im gonna say a mermaid then. Like, life is better under the sea and I think I would be a mermaid.”

“I don't know-"

“Merman ?”

“Merman. No, I...um. I'm pretty pervy...so I'd say like invisibility.”

“Um, so I'm not pervy at all unlike Daniel. I do think that Heretics are soooo cool though. Like, they can do magic and they are vampires but still have all those human capabilities...like procreation. So, yeah a heretic.”

His hand stopped stroking me through the lace of my panties suddenly and I instantaneously felt a cold gush of air race up my well-shaved legs and punching me in my core. I felt the frayed edges of my lace tickling my upper thigh, where they shouldn't be. Hinting that my favourite pair of thongs had been snapped. I turned to Daniel and narrowed my eyes at him whilst he just continued the panel, like nothing happened. His hand when back to it’s original position resting on my thigh, clearly in punishment for making a comment about his pervy answer. 

“Nah, I'm happy where I am. You know, Hyrbid. Definitely not, invisibility. When I joined the show, I thought I was only gonna be a vampire so I was thrilled when I was a werewolf-vampire. I'm sticking to my guns.”

“I like being the token human. I'm just gonna like stay there. Create more mermen.”

“Season three, season of the mermen.”

“The next spin-off.”

“That would be so cool, let me be a mermaid. I would kill it .”

Joseph put his arm on the back of my chair, looking at me after I made my wish known to be a mermaid.

“You better not cum in the water.”

The entirety of the room ruptured into fits of laughter. Even Daniel, who had now moved his hand closer to my core again. Letting his fingers stroke my entrance. Meanwhile, I continued laughing...ignoring the feeling of my husband’s gentle and sensual touch. 

“I’m blushing.”

                                            *

“Hi, I'm Katie. If you were to go to Comic Con, on the floor. Is there anyone you would dress up as ?”

The first thought that came to mind was pleasing Daniel. If I said him there was no doubt he'd give in. The problem was, was it a risk I was willing to take...at a comic Con in front of three thousand fans and some of my closest friends.

“Daniel Gillies.”

Every one repeated my answer and whilst doing so I was discovering that I was unequivocally correct with my thought process. Sure enough, Daniel plunged his fingers straight into my entrance leaving me to deal with the resounding squeal that ripped from my throat. Causing Daniel to laugh at me, influencing Joseph to join in.

                                            *

The final question had just been answered by Daniel and I was leaning my head into Daniel's shoulder to help with controlling the moans erupting inside me. The warmth in my stomach has just appeared as quickly as it vanished again, Daniel had stopped and chuckled at my irritated expression. Nevertheless, I got up and shoved my now broken thongs in Daniel's jacket pocket and waved at the fans with a bright smile on my face as we all walked off. We had just got out of the fan's eyesight when a hand delivered a hard slap to my barely covered assume cheek as this dress was so short. I span around and grabbed his wrist before dragging him further backstage, behind a screen next to the dressing rooms.

“What do you think your doing ? Playing around like that during a panel and then not even letting me finish ?!”

I didn't even let him reply as I dragged his face down towards mine and kissed him lustfully. His hands wandered down to my waist and clutched the already tight fabric tighter around me. The other unoccupied hand drove down to my ass and clutched it, allowing the skirt to rise up. Exposing the bare skin of my cheek. I used one of my hands to undo his zipper before pulling his dick out and stroking it. Clearly, he was eager because before I knew it. I was pressed up against the wall, sticking my tongue down his throat and moving myself up and down on his already hard cock. What we hadn't realised that the screen had moved, as Daniel had knocked it with his foot when walking to the wall. He pulled away and smirked at me.

“You told me we wouldn't have public sex after last time.”

“This is the last time Mr Gillies, I'm promising you.”

We smiled at eachother and kept going against the wall. His tip caused some tension when arriving to a depth he hadn’t before but it was a pleasurable one most definitely. The lips of my pussy enveloped his tip and he ran it through my drenched folds before deciding to plunge into me once again. I was about to scream and he knew I wasn’t good at being quiet when he fucks me so good. I clung onto him hoping it would relieve tha ache he’d created by filling me so good. He sat down on a chair that was sat in a chair of the little area backstage. Sitting down, allowed his thrusts to speed up rapidly and his face to rest in between my smooth and nearly covered beasts. He bit my hardened buds through my dress and caused a shive of please to shoot down to my core and promoting me to burst.

I then decided to let go and couldn’t help but let out a gratifying scream for him. I was coming down from my high and the screen pulled back. A man that looked about 40, eyed us disgusted and told us to move it.

“Well atleast I won the deal ?”

“Remember the deal we had ? If I was right about is having sex in public again no matter how much you denied that we wouldn’t. Your were very adamant.#

*

MASTERLIST

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[moeruhoshi]

For my first full time job after college, I had to work graveyard 12AM to 8Am or 12AM to 12PM due to overtime. Finally got onto day shift which was 8AM to 4PM, or 8AM to 8PM. My current job has me working 5:50AM to whenever I'm done ( generally it's around or after 4PM but sometimes it's 5 or 6PM). Sooooooo yeah; I feel your pain. Let me tell you, the pay doesn't feel worth the exhaustion on some days. -DD42

Okay I have a mini heart attack any time you send me something bc I'm like OMG IM SUCH A HUGE FAN

I give too much to that job without receiving the proper rewards 😂😩💀