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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

Note

hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking.

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk.

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business.

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination.

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating.

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress.

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse.

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her.

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink.

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office.

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.”

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together.

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you.

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her.

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.”

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it.

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story.

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night.

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth.

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter.

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice.

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract.

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart.

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom.

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours.

Still at least two more to go.

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up.

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha.

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you.

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course.

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her.

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too.

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp.

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her.

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.”

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?”

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight.

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it.

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out.

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her.

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear.

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped.

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?”

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.”

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor.

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her.

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now.

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire.

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down.

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you.

But you have to try.

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator.

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked.

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders.

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left.

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out.

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs.

“What does this have to do with anything?”

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question.

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.”

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected.

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further.

You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong.

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more.

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off.

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office.

Not that you’re complaining.

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth.

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress.

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is.

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.”

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on.

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is.

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh.

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her.

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.”

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch.

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you.

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day.

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office.

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more.

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit.

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs.

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump.

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.”

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth.

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there.

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left.

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face.

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good.

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!”

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her.

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe.

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.”

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said.

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle.

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says.

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party.

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality.

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you.

What a way to start the new year, indeed.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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freezeris · 2 days ago

Text

@astrobydalia

Tysm for all the kind words!!! 🫶🥹✨️

I think we're low-key twinning. I'm a Pisces Sun, Virgo Moon and I saw in your bio you're a Virgo Sun, Pisces Moon. And then we also have these placements you commented above in common lol. 😆 And I'm also a Life Path 5. 😎🤝

I'm sorry you have experience with the Pluto square Moon thing though, it's a lot. It was similar for me. 🤧

Yep, that's so true! It seems wherever we have Mars we get "attacked" the most, so unfortunately with it in the 9th House we had to experience being told what to think a lot.

⋆⁺₊❅.🎄personal astro observations ii🎄⋆⁺₊❅.

❗️Just a heads up: I'm not a professional, just an amateur, and these are going to be largely based on my first-hand experiences and people I know. Unfortunately I've had a lot of unfavorable experiences in my earlier life, so there will be a good amount of negative points I make about some placements, but in no way does this mean I think everyone who has these will express them in this way. We all have all 12 signs in our charts, so to hate any one of the archetypes would be detrimental to one's own growth, I think. Also: I mostly use tropical astrology and the placidus house system, so most observations will be based on that.

🎄 I'm sorry Aquarius Moon/Venus, but you are not beating the allegations... 👩‍⚖️ Not to be another person getting on Aquarius Moon/Venus' ass, but them ghosting you as soon as you show too much interest in them is SO real. 😭 If you're interested in one it's probably best to let them do most of the courting/pursuing and let them set the pace.

Aquarius is also ruled by Saturn, after all, so similar to Capricorn they can be more attracted if there's an element of challenge or difficulty in making the relationship work. Although they may not be aware or willing to admit it. 😅 This is why you often see them with partners who are way older, bad boys, rebels or outcasts in some way. Taylor Swift, especially in her youth, was such a good example of this and she is an Aquarius Venus. I mean: the song "Ours" is so fitting for this placement. 😭

That being said, these people usually make for great friends. 💗 It's just hard for them to date/marry because they prefer to naturally transition from friends to lovers without making a big deal of it. Honestly you might be better off not trying to have the "what are we?" conversation if you don't want to risk having them run off to da milk store......even though they're lactose intolerant........😭

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄 One reason why I find the Placidus house system so interesting is because of Interceptions and duplicate houses. I have a Gemini – Sagittarius Interception in the 4H – 10H Axis, and I definitely feel as though I was "denied" the traits of these signs in my self-expression. I was actively discouraged from being too curious or questioning of the worldview the adults around me tried to instill in me. My curiousity and zest for exploration & expansion was not nurtured at all. These themes simply weren't present in my upbringing. We never even took a single trip together as family, which is such a direct way for this Interception to manifest. 😅

Interceptions happen when your Midheaven is in a sign that trines or sextiles your Ascendant, instead of doing the normal square. So if you are an Aries Rising, the "normal" layout would call for Capricorn to be your MC, but it's also possible for it to fall in Aquarius instead. (Although this particular combination is very rare and not every combination is possible.) In that case some of the house cusps will be out of order and one pair of sister signs ends up being skipped, while another gets duplicated.

🎄Staying on the topic of Midheaven: when you have it in a sign that's not "normal" for your Ascendant to be paired with, and you look at your chart in the Whole Sign System, you'll notice that it will fall either in your 9th or 11th house, instead of your 10th.

🎄I've noticed that people with their MC in the 9th are more likely to be remembered for things that happened very early in their career or life in general. They are often more associated with how they got to their current point in life, than how they are doing right now. In celebrities I often see this as the media being obsessed with the one performance or song the star delivered in their youth, but not so much caring about the projects they do later in life. 😅

This isn't me calling anyone with this placement "washed up" or saying they peak early, it's just that people are obsessed with the things these natives did earlier in their career, to the point where it can overshadow their later achievements. I have this too, so I'm in the same boat. 🥲 But the good thing about MC in the 9th House is that it's easier to lay low and maintain a good reputation. As long as you weren't involved in too many scandalous things in your youth, at least.

Some examples:

🎄Dylan & Cole Sprouse (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who are still most famous for starring in "The Suite Life of Zack & Cody".

🎄Uma Thurman (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who is most associated with her roles in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill.

🎄Dakota Fanning (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC), was the youngest child actor to receive a SAG nomination, and is largely associated with the roles she took very early on in her career.

🎄Lorde (Capricorn ASC + Virgo MC) released "Royals" when she was 16/17 years young and it's still her most popular single to date.

🎄Robert Pattinson, (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) he's most associated with his role in Twilight, even though he's been landing other big roles as well, like him taking up the mantle as the new Batman.

🎄Mariah Carey (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) and her most well-known singles were released decades ago.

🎄Ben Affleck (Cancer ASC + Pisces MC), the roles he's most associated with are from films in the 90s and early 2000s.

🎄Johnny Depp (Leo ASC + Aries MC), his most iconic roles are from movies made in the 90s & early 2000s.

₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*

🎄Meanwhile people with their MC in the 11th House, I've noticed, are more likely to have a big breakthrough later in their career. Their reputation tends to shift more frequently as well. Often they are also heavily associated with philantrophy, social justice or how they revolutionized something in their field/the world in general. These natives tend to be more active and popular on social media as well, compared to MC in the 9H.

Some examples:

🎄Chris Evans (Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC) and he had his big breakthrough moment in the 2010s as Captain America, and has enjoyed a lot more popularity from that point onwards.

🎄Antony Starr (Leo ASC + Gemini MC), had been an actor for decades before he took his big role as Homelander.

🎄Ariana Grande (Capricorn ASC + Scorpio MC), of course she is still quite young and has already risen to prominence in her teens/twenties, but her fame and relevancy only seems to be increasing with every year.

🎄Margot Robbie (Cancer ASC + Taurus MC), had her big break in 2013, due to her role in Wolf of Wall Street, and has only continued to cement herself as a popular actor since. The recent Barbie Movie is what really pushed her into the Mainstream.

🎄J.K. Rowling (Aquarius ASC + Sagittarius MC), we all know by now it took her a while to have her breakthrough. Over the years she's been very vocal on social media and her reputation has changed quite a bit. She went from mostly being known as a beloved childrens book author to someone who fights transwomen with tooth and nail... Yet the Harry Potter franchise still continues to grow in popularity, because it has a broad appeal and a lot of people feel nostalgic for it, having grown up with the series.

🎄This one is not 100% confirmed, but I still wanted to bring it up: Taylor Swift (suspected to be a Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC). I personally think this makes sense for multiple reasons. Of course she's always been successful ever since her debut, but her fame only keeps increasing. Even she didn't think she was ever gonna get bigger than she was back at her first peak in 2014, but clearly that has been proven wrong when The Eras Tour rolled around. Her reputation & public reception has changed a lot over the years as well. In part this is definitely due to her strong Scorpio energy (which she would still have even if she wasn't a Scorpio Rising), but having MC in the 11th and in a mutable sign like Virgo can also add to this. She's always been very present on social media, as well. Particularly in the earlier days of her career she was fairly active on MySpace, Tumblr and Twitter.

🎄Not fully confirmed either: but Pedro Pascal said he is either a Gemini or Cancer Rising. His MC would most likely fall in Aries either way, but I'm leaning more towards him being a Gemini Rising. This would also put his MC in his 11th House in Whole Sign, and it's certainly true for him that he has only had his big break in acting less than a decade ago. His popularity only continues to skyrocket with time.

🎄Sidenote: It's VERY RARE, but sometimes it's even possible to have your MC falling in your 8th or 12th house. I know a few celebrities who have, for example, a Gemini Rising with a Capricorn Midheaven, which would fall in their 8H in Whole Signs. I wanted to give a quick acknowledgement that this is also a possibility.

🎄 Paul Mescal is the most obvious Saturn dominant man I've ever seen. All of his planets, except for Pluto & Moon, are either in Saturn-ruled signs or conjunct his Saturn. We don't know his birth time, but no matter what his chart ruler is, Saturn will always be really dominant in his chart. 🪐

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🎄Having Pluto in the 4th or Pluto square Moon could mean your Mother started out as being really controlling, and then somewhere down the line did the opposite thing and abandoned you. Or the opposite scenario happened, where she wasn't very present in the early childhood of her children, but suddenly feels the need to insert herself once they're older. A good fictional example of the latter situation would by Lyra from His Dark Materials and her Mother Marisa Coulter. Pluto rules over extremes and control (issues), so when it touches the Moon or 4th House the mother tends to act in very extreme & controlling ways.

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🎄I would recommend against dating/being close friends with someone who has their Saturn in the same modality as most of your personal planets, especially when it squares. Or rather, you might notice that when you try to, you just don't feel comfortable opening up to them in the first place.

Saturn is where we can have the highest standards and biggest insecurities, causing us to be extremely critical of people who have placements in the same modality as our Saturn.

Unfortunately most of my family members have mutable Saturns, while I'm a mutabe dominant, so I've never felt comfortable being myself with them and they never really appreciated me. For me the ideal partner would probably have a cardinal Saturn, as I only have one cardinal placement. They'd be better off not having too many fixed personal planets themselves, though, since I'm a fixed Saturn and obviously I don't want to constantly feel critical of my partner and closest friends either. 😅

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🎄I've noticed some Gemini/Mercury dominant natives really have a thing for Bees and pollinators. I knew a Gemini Sun, Virgo Rising who said they were her favorites and even got a tattoo of one. She would often try to rescue them too. 🐝

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🎄I've noticed Pisces dominants, especially Pisces Venus, tend to prefer media that is more lighthearted and family friendly. They're pretty sensitive to negative energies, so they don't usually like saturating their minds with too much dark & serious stuff. It can really weigh on them and cause nightmares. It's also probably due to being exalted in Venus, which is a planet that mostly relates to pleasant energies. So Taurus & Libra dominants could also be like this, but for Pisces it's usually more emotionally intense as a water sign.

🎄 Mars in the 9th often gets this rep of forcing their own views on others, and it for sure can manifest this way. But I will say as someone with this placement myself, that I've CONSTANTLY been on the receiving end of this treatment, but I've never actually tried to do this myself because I fucking loathe when someone does that. I notice with this placement that if you (as the 9th House Mars person) don't stand firm in your beliefs, you'll have so many mfers come at you and try to bully you into taking on their belief system. 😭 I guess this is because where your Mars sits you invite in conflict and shows of dominance the most from other people. If you're not adamant and dominant enough in your beliefs, someone else will try to dominate that area of your life for you. You really gotta say: "No I don't take criticism, fuck off! 👊💥👊💥👊💥"

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🎄 8H Suns can sometimes have a father that is considered wealthy because the Sun = Father and 8H = inheritances. However, I will say as a 8H Sun myself, my father/family has always lived pretty close to the poverty line (although it could've been worse and I'm grateful for what I did have growing up), BUT when I compare my father to his parents and siblings, he is indeed the most successful person in his family. I'd say it's the same with Moon in 8H = having a (relatively) wealthy mother. A lot of things in astrology are relative compared to the persons family and peers, so not everyone with this will be RICH rich.

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🎄 Another thing that an 8H Sun/Moon could indicate is having a parent who is often physically (sometimes emotionally) absent from the natives life. It doesn't have to be straight up abandonment, it can also show up as the parent just traveling a lot for work or spending a lot of time at work. It doesn't always have to be in the natives childhood either. Sometimes they will have their parent for most of their childhood, but then the native themself moves away to a different city or country for boarding school/college/work/other reasons and could really miss their parents because of it. Sun or Moon in the 12th can experience this too, from what I've seen. The traveling/long distance aspect would apply even more strongly to the 12th House placements.

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🎄I often see Cancer Rising & a dominant Moon in the Solar Return Chart be cited as a strong indicator for conceiving/birthing children. And that's true, but I've rarely seen people mention Venus dominance in the SR chart being an indicator of this as well.

Because when I checked when my mother gave birth to both me and my sister, she had a Taurus & Libra ASC respectively. In the Taurus Rising SR her Venus (Chart Ruler) fell in her 5th house, along with the Sun & North Node.

In the Libra Rising SR she didn't have the Chart Ruler in the 5th or 4th, but she did have Venus conjunct Jupiter, Juno & North Node (in the 9th) + Uranus in the 5th. The Moon was also conjunct IC but from the 3rd house. And indeed, my sister was not a planned addition to the family, as Uranus would suggest.

🎄Cancer & Leo are the only-children of the Zodiac. They are basically meant to be the most "selfish" signs since they are ruled by the Luminaries (Sun & Moon) which are the most egoic planets. They are also the only signs to not share a planetary ruler with any other sign, hence why I lovingly call them "only children" lol. 😂 I can't stress enough that when I say this I don't mean it as an insult. It's just what the signs and their ruling planets represent. Ego isn't all bad. Plus, that's why they have the Saturn ruled signs (Capricorn and Aquarius) as their sister signs. They're here to make sure Leo and Cancer don't become blind to their surroundings, since Saturn and Capricorn + Aquarius rule over institutions, communities and societal structure, while the Moon/Cancer and Sun/Leo are very "self" & survival based.

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🎄 If you lack a certain element or modality in your chart, you'll probably feel more attracted to people dominant in this energy as well. I have very little fire and air energy, so most of the people that felt drawn to me or that I felt drawn to were dominant in it.

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🎄Very specific, but if you have a T-square you can also find yourself attracting people who have placements in the "empty leg" sign. Basically the sign opposite to the planet that receives the squares. In my case that would be Gemini, and that's probably the sign I used to attract the most. 😂

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🎄I don't know that many Capricorn Moons, and I've never had a super close relationship with one, but those that I have known were usually really sweet to me. Maybe that's just my impression because I'm also an Earth Moon, so we trine and naturally have easy rapport. But based on all the descriptions I've read y'all made them sound so cold and scary? 😭 Well they don't seem to be with me. 😌💅 Might also be in part because they fall in my 5H. Other people's placements in your 5th house will have a hard time resisting being more open and silly around you. 🐐 🎊

I mean, apparently everyone's favorite man, Pedro Pascal, is a Capricorn Moon too. And it even squares his Sun, yet he is extremely charming and likeable (sorry but I can't not simp, I am not immune to this man 🙈).

WELL, that is it for now, folks! Thanks for reading, if you've come this far. MWAH. 🫶

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🎄dividers by dollywons🎄

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otter-trotter · 2 days ago

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WICKED SCENE REWRITE - WHAT IF GALINDA WAS IN FIYERO'S PLACE FOR THE CUB SCENE???

with the existence of the, "you could've picked me" deleted scene, I offer you a timeline in which Elphie was lesbphaba and DID choose Galinda!!!

TAGS: not at all like the og scene lmao, lots of banter, vulnerable glinda, VERY vulnerable elphaba, glinda has depth, GELPHIE, angst/fluff, NOT proofread and i havent written fic in a hot min so sorry in advance 🫶

》》

“…what are we gonna do?”

Elphaba looks to the duo beside her expectantly, hoping they'd understand the urgency of this situation— Fiyero looks taken aback with wide eyes,

“I'm sorry, we?"

Elphaba is seemingly taken aback by his words as he was hers, and before her anger boils into her magic, she catches a glimpse. Galinda, her eyes wide and expecting, not seeming in daze at all, not shuttering at the thought of what in Oz Elphaba's plan could be.

“Well, someone has to do something—” The flowers her nails are gripping into, crinkling the parchment, slam against wood, pollen dusting across the room. Her thoughts quiet as she watches as each and every one or her classmates slowly succumb to sleep - all except for one.

She looks to her right to see Galinda gingery lowering Fiyero's head to the desk with a gasp, looking around with furrowed brows. Suddenly, she gasps for air, looking to Elphaba with blown out cheeks before frantically spitting out words, quickly closing her mouth again.

“Elphie, am I allowed to breath?”

“Oh my— yes, yes, breath, Galinda. If you didn't topple over instantly like the rest, you're fine.”

The green girl mutters, her eyes finding the shimmering gold cage keeping that poor, now snoozing, lion cub captivate. She hears Galinda release all the air from her lungs and pant, before hearing her heels shimmy behind Fiyero. Elphaba's eyes dart up as Galinda delicately hurries down the steps of the lecture hall, quickly fiddling with the latch of the cage. Before she can even process the view, the blonde is cooing softly to the sleeping cub, gently cradling it's limp form in her arms before her eye's meet Elphie's,

“What now?”

“I-I don't have a plan, Galinda!”

“You don't need one, do you? This cub certainly can't stay here and…” She leans down as the small animal yawns, smiling wide and wiggling her nose against it's,

“Now, we have the opportunity to get somewhere less scary and dark and traumatizing, isn't that right? Who could ever cage you…”

The other girl's mind scatters as she searches to make sense of what the seemingly peaceful blonde has set in motion. She takes a deep breath and steps over Fiyero, Galinda quickly unbuttoning her top blazer button and nuzzling the cub into the warmth of the fabric, following as Elphie darts for the door.

They hastily make it to an outdoor entryway to Shiz, spotting two bikes leaning against a banister. It's a miracle they made it with Galinda’s insistent questions as to where they were heading, seeming in good faith but not helping Elphaba's brain scramble.

“The forest, we'll take ‘em to the forest.”

She finally decides as she picks up both bikes and looks off into the distant wood, Galinda quickly gripping a bike and leaning the cub into the basket attached to it's rear, smiling as wide as her face will allow as it snuggles in,

“I mean, our dorm is rather big… it's a suite, after all… and we're both very nurturing…”

She starts and Elphaba just snorts, hopping on her bike and starting to slowly pedal, allowing Galinda to frantically start on her own before picking up speed. The silence of the churning pedals doesn't last long,

“We could name him something depressingly dark!! Maybe even fear-inducing? Elphie, I'll beg!”

“Him?”

“Mhm?” Galinda hums casually, leaving Elphaba to hesitantly mumble,

“Did you… check his…?” She hears the girl gasp as if looking at an animal's genitals would be obscene,

“No, no!! His eyes told me, they were fierce and hearty—” She cuts herself off just as they enter the terrain of the forest, keeping the silence for a moment before letting out a stubborn huff, “Then again, your eyes are like that as well, Elphie. I suppose it's a strength thing, really, rather than a sex determination.”

Elphaba can hear a lightbulb spark above Galinda’s head as she gasps, hardly giving her the time to process the blonde seeing her eyes as strong, whatever that could mean…

“Oh, Elphie! Can we name her ‘Elphie’?”

Elphaba breaks her bike and allows her movements to slow and ease as Shiz is nearly out of sight, leaning the hunk of metal against a nearby tree. The calm allows her to turn attention to Galinda's absurdity.

“Wouldn't that get confusing? Also, frankly, we wouldn't be talking to that cub much longer.” She can't help but smirk as the heartbreaking news hits Galinda like a truck, the blonde slowly picking up the little lion and kissing it's forehead as it yawns again,

“Aw, I know, Elphie, I know…” She coos into its fur, the softness in her voice while using Elphaba's name (of which she's come accustomed to) leaving a soft warmth in Elphaba's stomach. She knows she's talking to the poor animal who certainly deserves the comfort more but, that doesn't at all affect the way the girl now feels grounded, strengthened.

Galinda carefully walks to a small ditch of water, hunching up her skirt with a small gag before pressing her porcelain knees to the dirt. She sets the cub into the pond, clapping her hands from joy as it does a small bounce of discovery.

Elphaba simply watches, now pondering. Without the adrenaline, she starts to wonder - why hadn't the pollen taken Galinda? Had it chosen to spare her, was it apart of Elphaba's subconscious? Was this something she could hone and control—

“Elphie, you're thinking rather loudly.” The silence is broken as the blonde keeps her back turned, her tone unreadable - which is strange for Galinda.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

“Oh, no, it's not a complaint. Just, I've noticed you do that. I can hear the gears turn in that brilliant mind of yours.”

She giggles with the admission and Elphaba can feel her cheeks heat up - she's not sure if it's from being observed or from the compliment, but, Galinda's cheering giggle as the cub splashes down into the water certainly doesn't calm it,

“Well, uh… If you're curious, I'm thinking about the flowers in the classroom.” The blushing girl mutters as she kneels down next to the other, less-flustered girl. Galinda’s shoulders tense softly, practically unnoticeably at Elphaba's words. They hang in the quiet forest ambience before Galinda clears her throat,

“Why didn't I fall asleep, Elphie?” There's a strange, unfamiliar vulnerable to her tone as Galinda whispers, her brown doe eyes finding Elphaba's own. Elphaba stiffens, almost cringing at the unfamiliar sight - not that it isn't welcome but, what's bringing it on?

“I'm, I'm not sure. I mean, it can't be luck.”

“I surely hope not.” She smiles with her words, finding the green-eyed girl's gaze again without an ounce of vulnerability lost, “In all honesty, I hope you chose me, somehow.”

The words hang in the air as their eyes stay interlocked, Elphaba's heart thudding in her chest. She takes a sharp breath before looking away, knowing damn well she can't process a thing with her eyes sparkling expectantly, beautifully, like that.

“And,” The blonde starts again as she adjusts, reluctantly letting her skirt touch the dirt as she shifts towards Elphie, as if trying to elaborate, “I don't expect you to know. I don't need an answer. I just, hope.”

“Why?” the question blurts out far to harshly than intented and Galinda simply stiffens a bit with a grounding chuckle, seeming almost nervous.

“Because that would mean you trust me. With even the parts you can not control, you trust me.” Her usual cheerful tone has taken to a softened whisper, making the green girl's skin shiver. The blonde's attention is quickly back on the thristing cub, encouraging the animal as it laps up water. Elphaba just stays silent, stunned.

Despite how much her and Galinda have grown close in such a short time, it had never even crossed her mind that it was something the blonde had actively noticed and consciously thought of. She'd already dolled Elphaba up and they've told stories back and forth but she'd never seemed to want anything with deeper-roots. Perhaps, however, Elphaba had been the one without that desire. All her hesitance with Galinda was gone except for that building block, trust. Galinda was arrogant at times and often only remembered atrocities and discrimination as they are in history books, never looking deeper, never caring to.

Yet, she'd sprung at the opportunity to help Elphaba, acting before the girl with the actual passion in this endeavor could think. Perhaps their friendship was all the passion she'd needed. Perhaps.

“Why were you so eager to help me? Was trust really your motivation?”

The black hair girl's words immediately catch the blonde's attention as she's rubbing beneath the cub’s tired eyes. Her gaze then turns to Elphaba, trailing down to the sunken skin that matched the animal that shared her name. Galinda swallows as she hesitantly sits up a bit,

“You were my motivation, yes. I mean, you were so passionate, I couldn't help it. If you care then, I care. It's…”

Her voice trails off as she gently reaches forward, cupping the girl before her's cheek and running her thumb along the bag beneath her eye, “It's as simple as that.”

Just as she begins to hear the gears turn, she hears the thump in Elphie's chest, her palm beginning to warm as Elphaba blushes bright. She can't help but smile, just as wide as she had with the cub, who was now frolicking and sniffing around the pond. Something about making Elphie crack, just putting a small dent in her tight-knit walls of security - it made Galinda's stomach swirl like she's never felt before, an unfamiliar thrill.

Elphaba, however, was experiencing a different excitement. Of being wanted. Never in her life had she ever felt the security of that, of being desired in anyway that was vulnerable and true - yet, here Galinda was, gazing into her as if she were all she could possibly want. Elphaba can't stop herself from sinking into the soft girl's palm and, just as she couldn't stop that, she doesn't even realize as she begins to cry.

She only comprehends her shallow sobs as Galinda, frantically, pulls her closer, clearly taken aback but jumping on the opportunity of comfort. She rests Elphaba's forehead to her shoulder, one hand gently cradling her face as the other gently rubs her back. Her gentle tone coos into her ear, with the same genuine calm it had held at the Ozdust ball. How Galinda was always getting her so emotional? Oz knows. Elphaba doesn't even want to ponder anything as she sinks into Galinda's chest, letting her tears soak the already dirty blazer but quickly sniffling and quieting herself.

“You're okay, Elphie, I'm here…”

The blonde pulls Elphie's face up slightly, just to look into her as she whispers soft comforts to her, the kind that threaten Elphaba's tear ducts to burst again. To force them closed, Elphaba starts to softly unbutton the blonde's blazer, knowing that the grime will quickly come to her attention and drive her mad,

“Oh— thank you, Elphie, you don't have to…” Galinda almost sounds breathless as Elphaba shimmys the sleeves off her arms, her delicate cheeks slightly flushing from the other girl's proximity. She almost feels shameful at her fluster, seeing as how the girl causing the warmth was just sobbing into her mere moments ago.

“Let me do this for you.”

The words brust against Galinda's ear, breathy and soft, making her heart sink to her stomach and her throat clench. Elphaba stands with the blazer and slings it over her bike, dinging the bell with a smirk,

“We should, um, likely get going.”

“Yes, yes, right, of course.” Galinda quickly jumps to her feet, dusting off her disgusting skirt and turning back, gazing into Elphie's eyes one last time. Well, not truly. This would just be the last time they belonged to her furry friend,

“Bye, Elphie!!” She calls out before hopping on her bike, watching as the cub moves deeper into the wood, the only sound besides the echoing branches being Elphaba's amused cackle.

They ride off, back towards Shiz, Galinda's eyes trained on her blazer, gingerly bouncing over Elphaba's shoulder. The thought of the dirt and tears and what would look like battle scars getting all over Elphaba's clothes would normally disgust her but, the fact that Elphaba chose for it to be so almost makes it darling.

#also im not that girl is now about how she wishes she could be Galinda’s girl ok? ok #gelphie #glinda upland #elphaba thropp #wicked #wicked movie #wicked deleted scene #wicked fanfiction #gelphie fanfiction

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midnight-mourning · 2 days ago

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All Aboard

❄��❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 27❄️❄️

Once again, Pom, your brain is massive, this was a LOT of fun, i saw the words 'magic' and 'fae elements' and the pot started boiling over ashjadk, anywho, please enjoy!

Prompt: second request >:3c (but no pressure!!) I havent read all the other folks yet to see if there was a Polar Express/Train ride type oneshot. I feel like train conductor/surrealism vibes would be a delight, with holiday magic and spritely, fae elements sprinkled in. Maybe getting lost on to the destination--or the train getting stopped due to a snowstorm. (Very Nana, if you watched that anime haha) Perhaps, yn is in clear emotional distress bc of smth happening interpersonally leading up. Texting, phones, drama. Do they even want to go home…? … (Will they go back home? >:)) mweheh.)

Word Count: 2811

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The train whistle blares loudly outside, starting to roll down the tracks. You watch out the window as the station begins to fade away, sighing as snow hits the pane every so often. You check you phone again when it buzzes, another message to add to the pile. Another half-hearted apology you're guessing.

You're about to look in detail when you stop, cursing yourself and shaking your head. You got on this train for that exact reason, to avoid having to speak to them. You weren't going to give in, you just, needed a break. To go somewhere, anywhere really.

Your ticket was for home, and the idea of being back in your apartment sounds better and better by the moment. You sink back in the seat again, already liking the sound of being back in your own bed with your own food and your own life. You never should have come here, should've listened to your friends, they'd been right all along.

You feel a headache coming on, either from the stress, or the exhaustion of crying so much. Or even, the nagging of your friends as they brag and say they told you so. Which, they did, but you didn't need to hear it again. At least you had a day or so. The trip back was long, requiring you to get a sleeper car, where most of your belongings resided currently, save for the book sitting beside you, along with your sketchbook.

You'd been wanting to do a bit of reading, or drawing, anything to take your mind off things, but after receiving that text you just didn't have the heart for it.

"Everything alright over here, friend?"

You glance up, seeing a well-dressed man standing to your right. He was tall, blond, and wore a sun-themed mask over his eyes, which are also covered with a white shade. His smile is warm, kind.

You straighten up a bit, feeling self-conscious all the sudden. "Oh, yeah. Just fine. Sorry, do you need my ticket?"

"Yes please!"

You hand it over to him, and he punches it, promptly handing it back to you. "There you go! Is there anything else I can get for you? Perhaps a snack, or a drink?"

"No, I'm good, but thank you... Sorry, what's your name?"

The man bows slightly. "You may call me Sun. And you, friend?"

"Oh, my friends call me Nick/N." You smile.

Sun tilts his head, his smile seems, strained for a moment. Then—"Welcome aboard, then, Nick/N. We hope you enjoy the ride!" For good measure, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it for a moment before releasing you.

"T-thanks." You say, watching as he walks off, going over to where the other conductor stands.

You take note that he's wearing a moon mask, with red covering his eyes instead. They exchanged a few hushed words with each other, and when they look over to you, you avert your gaze again.

You didn't pay attention when you booked this train, just got on the first one you could, you wonder if it's themed in some way. It would make sense anyway, why else for the masks?

As you settle in for your ride, the conductors come by multiple times each to check on you. During this you find out the other is named 'Moon', which, pretty on the nose you'd say, but you have to guess it's all part of the act.

Regardless, you find them to be friendly, very chatty, almost too much so. They're constantly offering you something to eat or drink, and if you hadn't brought snacks you'd take them up on the offer. Even then, they try encouraging you to pick something from the train's menu.

"Surely you deserve something better than that, crumbling thing, Sunshine."

"Or something sweet to wash it down, maybe a glass of wine?"

You take another bite of your granola bar. "Nah, this is good enough for now. And I'm not much of a day drinker." You unscrew your water bottle lid, taking a sip. "Appreciate it though!"

"If you change your mind, simply let us know, Starlight."

That was another thing, the nicknames. At first, they used yours that you'd given, almost constantly addressing you in conversation. It was like they were waiting for something to happen. But when it didn't they'd switched to the celestial-themed ones instead.

It was all so, incredibly, interesting.

In the evening, you're sketching in your seat when your phone goes off again. You frown upon hearing it, looking out the window momentarily. It's dark, but you can make out that it's snowing incredibly hard now. You're surprised the train is still able to get through all this—

"What are you drawing, Sunbeam?"

You jump, finding the two of them are across from you. Sun leans over the back of the opposite seat, elbows resting on the top edge, while Moon lounges across the seat itself.

You feel embarrassed now. "Oh, nothing important." You don't want to admit that you're drawing them, that would be utterly humiliating.

You couldn't help it, despite their, overtly friendly behavior—to the point you'd grown slightly suspicious—you found the two to be alarmingly charming despite it all. There was an air about them that was enticing, drawing you in and making you ever curious.

Moon tsks. "Now, now. Don't leave us in suspense. I'm sure anything you create would be lovely."

"It's true, though maybe not as lovely as them, wouldn't you say?" Sun rests his head in his hand, small smirk on his lips.

Moon nods, waving his hand. "Not even a question, of course."

Your ears are burning at this point. And, compelled by their outward flirting you hold out your sketchbook, head ducked to maybe hide some of your awkwardness.

"Just take it already." You mumble. "And go easy on me, please. It's been awhile..."

Eager hands snatch up your book, and they bicker over who gets to hold it. You giggle at the exchange, and they finally settle on each holding one side as they flip through.

As they go, Sun whistles, and Moon hums in agreement, it only serves to fluster you more.

"You made all of these?" Moon asks.

You laugh. "Well yeah, most of those are from months ago. They're, okay, I guess."

"Okay? You have talent, Starshine!" Sun states, waving his hand to the page. "I've never seen a hu-anyone create like this. It's impressive."

You have to cover up your face then, it's on fire. "Please, stop. They're really not—"

"And you drew us?" Sun exclaims.

"They drew me better looking."

Sun huffs. "No, look how they got my jaw perfect!"

They delve into arguing again about who is sketched better and you just about can't take it anymore when your phone starts ringing.

All three of you snap your attention to the device.

When you see the caller ID, your heart fills with dread.

Instead of curling up from being flustered, you curl up with fear, groaning. "Why can't they take a hint..."

As the phone continues to ring, you get ready to pick it up from the seat, either to answer or to decline the call.

You don't get the chance, as Sun asks you a question. "Friend, is this your signature here?" He's pointing to a page of your sketchbook.

"I, yeah. It is." You don't know why you didn't hesitate with that answer, too stressed to think, currently.

You don't notice the shared look between the two, slight grins on their faces at this information.

Your phone is still ringing, so you finally grab it, debating on what to do.

"Do you want to talk to them?" Moon asks you.

You sigh, then laugh. "God no. Not at all. But..." You trail off, and shake your head. "Maybe I should hear them out. Even if I really don't want to deal with them right now."

Your thumb hovers over the answer button, ready to press it—

"Y/n. Don't answer the phone." Sun's words are firm, but there's still a softness to them, almost remorseful?

You don't know, because one moment your phone is in your hand, the next it's not. You... aren't sure why but, it's probably fine, right?

The rest of the evening proceeds like everything is normal. Neither of them calls you by your name again, sticking to their nicknames. You're not hungry, so you don't eat dinner despite their pestering about it not being good for you. And you retire to your bed after a late night filled with chatting. The two of them must have very little work to do as conductors, if they can spend so much time with a single passenger like you.

Speaking of, was the train always so empty, or had people just slowly been getting off without you noticing? You yawn, and as your head hits the pillow decide that you'll worry about it tomorrow. Besides, you should be home by the end of the morning anyhow.

When you wake up the next day, you notice that there's a distinct lack of movement happening. You must have stopped at a station. You stretch and hop out of bed, deciding that after the day you had yesterday, you deserve to walk around in your pajamas for a bit.

You go over to the dining car, incredibly hungry, and expecting people to be boarding. What you find is an empty car filled with piping hot food and—

"Is that a hot coco bar?" You ask to the open air, starting to salivate at the thought.

However, before you even consider food, you decide you need to figure out what's going on. Walking over to the window, you see that the snow is piled high all around the train, almost up to the window. You must have hit a drift in the night, meaning you're stuck until the can clear the tracks.

Normal people would be concerned about this information. But either because you don't care when you get home—as long as you're not there—or because you've developed a strange lack of care for most time related things, you don't mind in the slightest.

With a shrug, you go over and grab a plate and start piling it high, someone's got to eat it, right?

You also grab a large mug of hot chocolate, adding many marshmallows and tons of whipped cream. You sit down, ready to dig in, when you're spooked as you realize Moon is sitting across from you, chin resting in his hand with a smile.

"Good morning, Starlight. Sleep well?"

You nod. "Yeah. You sure know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"We pride ourselves on it." Sun says with a chuckle, in the seat behind you, you realize.

Looking up, you see he's in a similar position to Moon, small smirk on his face as he observes you.

"Seems so. While you're both here, what's going on with the train?" You raise a piece of toast to your mouth. "Unless I'm wrong and you two aren't good at your job."

You take a bite, and have to sit up again, eyes wide. The bread is perfectly crispy, with just the right amount of butter. It tastes like heaven.

You're too caught up in taking another bite to catch what Sun says.

"Oh my god. This is the best toast I've ever had in my life." You finish devouring it, wiping your mouth and looking back up to him. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Sun chuckles, hands shifting to hold your face. "I said, we're snowed in. It will take some time for the tracks to be cleared. Potentially several days."

"Oh, really?" You reach down blindly for more food, and feel your plate be scooted closer to you. You thank Moon briefly and snatch up a piece of bacon, which also tastes divine. "Bummer."

This seems to surprise the masked man, eyebrows shooting up above the mask's edge. "You're not concerned?"

"Nah. To be honest, I don't have much of a place to go back to. A cold apartment in a shitty building on the wrong side of the city." You finish your bacon, grabbing another piece. "Not to mention how my friends are going to be getting on to me about how they were right and I was wrong and on and on and on and, man this food is delicious, like how do you guys have such a good cook for a train?"

Sun looks away from you, and sitting straight you see Moon's looking to him as well. You however, are too busy indulging your gluttony to care. Every single bite is amazing, like, the best breakfast you've ever had.

You're about to take a drink of your hot coco, when a hand grabs your wrist.

"Wait." Moon states, then sighs.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He looks behind you to Sun, and glancing back you see he's frowning, but nods.

He comes around the seat, and sits across from you with Moon. After removing the coco from your hands, he clasps one of yours in both his own.

"We haven't been truthful with you, Sunshine. At least, I believe that's how your people say it." His grip tightens for a moment before relaxing. "It wasn't by accident that you boarded this train."

You furrow your brow. "Well, yeah, I bought the ticket."

"It wasn't the ticket you were supposed to. We, ensured you would board this train specifically." Moon states, sounding, ashamed.

Sun continues for him. "You see, we're not from your world. We come from somewhere else, somewhere long forgotten to most of your kind. Many of our own like to play tricks on you humans, for entertainment and such. We prefer to help."

"The train is designed to find those in need of it." Moon waves to the rest of the car. "The lost, the lonely, the hurting,"—he glances at you for a moment—"It gives them a place to heal, to learn, to change in some cases. Then, when they're ready, the return home, none the wiser to the time that's past or what's truly occurred."

You notice Sun's cheeks are tinged pink under the mask, up until now you don't think you've seen either of them be so bashful. "Though, we've been, 'keeping tabs' on you for some time. Besides the gloomy aura you had we found you to be—" He bites his cheek, and mutters his next words. "Very attractive."

"Getting you here became a bit of a game for us." Moon admits, also blushing now. "As was getting you to share your name, and eat our food. Most never stay on the train long enough to do so. Or at least, they don't think they do."

Sun finally looks back to you, hands still holding your own. "But we wanted to tell you before you took a drink, as that would, bind you to us. But not to the train! You can leave whenever you like, of course. But, you deserved to know our intentions, regardless of whether you would even consider feeling the same or not."

He releases you finally, folding his now fidgeting hands into his lap.

You take a moment to take everything in, reviewing in your head to make sure you understood everything they've told you.

Once you've determined that yes, this is actually happening, you speak.

"So if I drink this, I'll stay here... forever?" You point down to the cup, still steaming.

"You could still leave whenever you wish, but essentially yes—Oh my stars."

The two can only stare, mouths agape as you chug your hot coco in one go. When your finished you sigh, taking your napkin and dabbing your mouth.

"Man, that hit the spot. I'll be getting more of that later. Anywho,"—you start to dig in to the rest of your plate—"It might take me a bit, but which one of you wants dibs on first kiss? If that's your thing, that is."

"I-"

"Me." Moon blurts.

At this, Sun blusters, and you snicker to yourself as they begin to debate back and forth on the subject. You glance out the window at the snowy landscape, taking in how, enchanted it feels now that you fully understand the situation. It's certainly not what you expected to happen when you boarded this train, but you're certainly not complaining about the outcome.

Maybe you'll change your mind, and one day depart from this place and the two fae you've somehow acquired. But as of this moment, spending your days with two magic beings vying for your attention, a warm bed, good food, and helping others?

That's a pretty good deal to you.

Best Christmas present you've ever gotten, by a long shot.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @divinit3a for the request! As i said before, VERY big brained and I enjoyed it a good bit hehe ^-^

Thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

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ambrosiagoldfish · 3 days ago

Note

i’m going a teensy bit feral reading your adam x third spouse story so i guess im just asking for part five and for it to hopefully have focus on dad beat dad and how lucifer would react to seeing the reader again after so long and like what would happen n stuff 🤭🤭 ofc if this is dumb ignore it i like what you’re doing with the story already !! the part im most excited for is the finale tbh but there’s a lot of time in between what you have rn and then so i’m just yapping abt stuff that could be cool in between. thsi is so jumbled omg sorry i just wanna see more of your writing it’s so good

idk how to end this uhh i love you bye 🫡

Benefit of the doubt PT.5

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: GN! Reader, confronting the past, next to no Adam (I know, sad, but it’s for the plot), Reader focused chapter, this is set during ‘Dad Beat Dad’, swearing, the next 2 chapters will have a LOT more Adam DW ❤️❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Request Box: OPEN

Word count: 4322

A/n: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the support on all the other chapters. It’s been 8-ish months since the last update and for that I want to apologize. I’ll save it for its own dedicated post to not full int his page too much. But if you’ve saw one of my post from the other day, I have posted this on A03 and I’m giving myself 8 total parts. 7 will be the finale and 8 will be an epilogue styled thing (not even sure if I’m wanting to do it so when we get there, you guys can tell me if you want it!! ) so yeah, enough rambling, you’ve all been waiting so long for the next part so here you go!! <3

Reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(My posts have been flopping so much, I would love you forever if you did 😭)

Old memories have a habit of slithering their way back into a person's mind, and even sometimes, people

The first few months at fhe hotel were a lot more enjoyable than you originally expected. Most days went relatively the same, Charlie would choose an activity to do and you would observe the progress they made.

At first, progress hadn't shown much promise but as everyone grew closer, things began to look up. Angel had gone clean with his drug abuse and was distancing himself from his line of work. Sir Pentious started to actually trust the people around him and has done no major constructional damage to any buildings as of late.

Everything was going so smoothly that, when you had woken up one morning to the sounds of screaming, running, and just general chaos. You thought everything was finaly going into the ground.

You quickly run down to the lobby, thoughts of what could be happening run through you. Did one of Pentious experiments fail and explode? Were we being attacked by one of the many gangs in town? Did Alastor decide the hotel was actually boring and started destroying it, starting with the occupants? Whatever it was, you hurry faster to the lobby.

But what was meeting you there was… unexpected to say the least. Party streamers, banners, cookies. It looked like some kind of welcome party heaven would do, albeit with less flare and taste in decor. A banner that read ‘Wellcum Daddy’ was being hung up by Razzle and Dazzle, everyone was either cleaning or baking something, and Vaggie seemed to be ordering them around.

You look at the clock, huh, it’s way too early for any kind of Charlie’s trust exercises. Not to mention, she would have told you about the curriculum and there was absolutely not a 10 AM home-EC class listed on your schedule.

You quickly run up to Charlie who seemed to be preoccupied with helping Vaggie put something up “Charlie, what’s going on?” You tap on her shoulder, She jumps a bit before just realizing it’s you,

”Oh- Y/N, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to get you!” She apologizes when Vaggie pops in,

“Don’t be, I told Nifty to go wake you up, but looks like she had better things to do” she points over at Niffty swifty stabbing bugs and removing cobwebs out of habit

“It’s fine, just… what’s everyone doing, what’s with all the party supplies and sweets?” You say, arms to the festive lobby around you.

“Oh well…” she took a deep breath “you know that The deadline is fast approaching and while we’ve made progress it’s not much” she paused, trying to even brace herself for what’s coming out of her mouth, “I have asked… my dad to come over and hopefully get us a meeting with heaven” she stops, completely caved in on herself.

“Wait, so… your dad is coming here?” you thought about the times she had asked you to get them a meeting with heaven but you had already explained to her that it would be next to impossible for someone like you. You had to practically beg just to monitor the hotel

Charlie Picked herself back up and looked at you with a shakey demeanor, “Yeah In about… 55 minutes”

You blink a few times before giving a small chuckle “Well, would you look at the date! I think it’s time I used my 1-per-month trip back home! If you’ll excuse me-“

“Wait! No-“ she trips over herself “We need you here, if dad can see, not only the progress we’ve made, but also that we already have an angel supporter, there’s no way he could say no!”

“Charlie, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“PleasePleasePlease! I will pay you back, promise! But I- we could really use you there!” Her eyes looked at you, similar to a puppy. She hands clasped together In plea.

You looked away in thought. Seeing him again was the last thing you wanted to do at this moment, any moment for that matter. The last time…well to be honest, the whole exchange hadn’t meant anything to you in quite a while. He could say whatever he wanted about you… it was the words he had to say about Adam that kept your heart ablaze in anger at the Morningstar.

Trash? He should really look in the mirror before saying that about your Adam. But… this could be a good opportunity for the hotel -as much as it pained you to admit- You can only sigh, “fine.. for the hotel…” You let out a small chuckle raising your arm in defeat.

Charlie jumped up and down with glee, repeating a matra of ‘Thank You’s’ before continuing “I get it might be difficult since you’re an Angel.” She tries to give some comfort. But that caught your attention.

“Because I’m an Angel?” You honestly didn’t mean to say it out loud but it came out as a question.

She looks at you confused “yeah, you know, considering I don’t think angels have too kind of thoughts to my dad for being… the devil” she laughs nervously

Oh. Oh. So that’s what she means. So she doesn’t know about your past with him? Not too much a surprise, I doubt Lucifer would bring up any of his failures. But that also made you realize one other thing. Charlie doesn’t know about your marriage with Adam.

Look, you didn’t mean to keep it a secret. In fact you had already assumed they knew. I mean you were sitting literally right next to him and Vaggie already knew who you were. You just thought she would have told Charlie, but knowing this now… it may be best to keep it a secret.

You let out a quick “I understand.” and with that, you all went your separate ways, you did contribute to the decor the best you could, as well as helping Sir Pentious and Nifty with the baking until finally, it was time for Charlie’s dad to arrive.

You walked over to a more remote place in the hotel lobby, look… you may have to interact with him today but you will not be doing it that soon. Instead, you decided your best choice of action was to sit and watch quietly until Charlie decided it was time for you two to meet. And in the meantime, you can mentally brace yourself.

Charlie sighs deeply “Okay everybody, it’s showtime!”

With that she swings the door open revealing the one, the only (thank Father) king of hell himself, Lucifer. Immediately Lucifer pulls his, obviously nervous daughter into his arms. He greets her with excitement before moving on to Keekee, and eventually Razzle and Dazzle.

He eyes the room, clearly covering up any distain for the hotels “character” to protect Charlie’s feelings. At least until he got to the bar which even he couldn’t lie his way through.

Even from the distant view you were from, you could see Alastor and Lucifer weren't going to be the best of buds anytime soon. As soon as they were introduced to one another they immediately got into it. Huh, at least now you have something in common with Alastor at least! If that’s even a good thing.

Their quarrel lasted a few minutes, everyone either waiting for it to be over, completely ignoring it, or enjoying it as entertainment. It lasted what felt like an eternity and was only interrupted when a short and plump woman by the name of ‘Mimzy’ came into the scene.

The old time-y dressed woman was one of Alastor’s friends, you honestly didn’t think he had those but you digress. Eventually once the commotion dies down, you see Charlie give you a nervous smile and wave for you, ‘that’s my cue’ you thought. Anxiety still felt taught in your heart but still you pushed through.

You walk out of your hiding spot, walking up to be next to Charlie. Still trying to keep your presence hidden for as long as you could, savoring those last few moments of peace before a wave of interactions.

Charlie clears her throat and puts on a more professional demeanor despite her nervousness, getting the attention from her dad, “And last but certainly not least, i’d like you to meet our Angelic sponsor-“

“Y/N!?-“ the fallen Angel suddenly started coughing, clearly having choked on his own words. He clears his throat “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting… you to be here” he lets out a chuckle.

“You guys know each other!?” Charlie looked shocked, her voice pitching up in bewilderment.

“We’ve… met before,.” Your voice was low, But still you pushed through “Though, it’s hardly relevant to anything of importance now. Isn’t that right, Morningstar?”

Lucifer's face contorted into an uncomfortable shaky smile, fingertips digging into his Apple-shaped cane. Perhaps he felt some type of remorse for the way things happened back all those years ago, but even if that’s true, you had no plans to forgive him.

He clears his throat “Yes it’s- unimportant Sweetie.. “

You 3 stand in awkward silence for a moment, all you can do is glare daggers at the short ex-Angel in front of you. Eventually though, you couldn’t stand the scilence any longer, “Well Charlie, I have to get something done in my room and I’ll be back to help with the tour in a few minutes, if that’s ok?”

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, for you to stay with her through the tour, but she knew you wouldn’t just leave and not come back. “Um, yeah that’s fine! Me and Alastor can get the tour started and you can meet us around the 4th floor?”

You gave a quick nod as agreement and make your way to your room. Sighing, you flop down on your bed, feeling the soft warmth as you sink into comfort. Pulling out your phone, you quickly typing a text to Adam but your thumb simply hovered over the send button, anxiety washing over you. Your message was simple,

‘I promise that everything’s ok, but he’s here’’

You were hesitating, should you even tell him that he's here? You didn’t want to worry him over something so insignificant. He has a show tonight, he wouldn’t be at his best if he was constantly thinking you would be in the same room as the devil.

Or even worse, he could just cancel the show completely and march down here and a cause a ruckus which at best would completely destroy the Hotel’s plans and at worse… No, you can’t think of that.

You look at the message again before just setting your phone on your nightstand. 10 minutes… that’s all you need before you go back out there…

…Lucifer was having… let’s just say a tinsy bit of a bad day. Not only has he been forced to interact with that insufferable yellow-toothed sinner but also, he has been reunited with someone he hadn’t seen in a millenia, you.

The anxiety of the day was only topped off with the added stress of being with his daughter. Don’t get him wrong, he LOVES his daughter and is always happy to see her, but the way she talks and acts with these sinners… Ugh, it reminds him too much of himself back in the day.

Her hotel too… He may have given her the place but he never gave it much thought beyond it being a pipe dream for her. He was just trying to do something for his daughter, especially with… Lilith being out of the picture. He just wanted to cheer her up, and unfortunately it seems ‘grandiose plans’ run in the family.

Even now as Charlie and that Red haired Buck show him around, Charlie explains excitedly about different things they have at the hotel. It reminds Lucifer about how she was when she was little, that glow of joy never seemed to fade away from her despite the conditions she lives in.

But even still, as much as he’s trying not to zone out and actually listen to his daughters rambles, his mind keeps trailing back to one, singular thought. You.

What were you doing here? He knows you were there to ‘support the hotel’ as Charlie puts it. But this is the absolute first he’s hearing about it. Why wouldn’t heaven tell him that another Angel was down here, let alone, you most of all. The last time he saw you was… not the best first meeting

Were you here in secret? You clearly weren't fallen, considering you still had your halo and you didn’t look like you’ve been damaged anywhere close to what you’d be if you had fallen. Not to mention… Adam, the exterminations were his idea so why would you even consider an alternative when you are his-

“Uh, Dad?” Charlie interrupted Lucifer’s thoughts, a look of worry on her face. ”You’ve got a little bit of… horn? Sticking out”

Lucifer looks up and sees that he’s subconsciously beginning to phase into his full demon form. He quickly takes his hand and pats the horns as if he was just dusting off his coat, causing the horns to seem to fade away like dust. Wow, today really seems to be getting to him.

“Ah sorry Sweetie, it’s nothing just… uh..” He thinks for a moment, he has to talk to you alone, just for a second. “*Ahem* I was just realizing I had to… use the bathroom, I seem to have had one too many drinks on the way here. Can you tell me where the… bathroom is?” He lets out a chuckle to hopefully cover his lie.

“Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right, I can take you there-“

Lucifer quickly lets out a loud ”No!“ Before clearing his through again “I can get there on my own, just wait here and I’ll be back!”

Before Charlie can even answer, Lucifer rushes through the halls of the hotel, yelling a ‘I’ll be back soon’ to his Daughter before turning the corner. He lets out a deep breath as he lays out the plan in his head. Figure out why you’re here, and get back to Charlie as fast as inhumanly possible.

Picking his feet up again, he makes his way to the lobby of the hotel, he looks around for a moment before spotting the check in desk. ‘They usually keep visitor information there, right?’

He quickly scours the desk, looking for any forms or documents that have your room number, before finally setting his eyes on your room number. It didn’t take long to find you seeing as there were such few occupants in the hotel.

He memorized your room and repeated it to himself while walking to your door. Past the first, 2nd, then finally, halfway through the hallway on the 3rd floor he finds it. Before he can knock, a sudden wave of worry floods his senses. Seriously, Why would he hesitate now?!

He shuffled around nervously, starting to doubt this little mission of his. Should he really be doing this? Is he really worried about you being here or is the real reason he came here because he wanted to… apologize to you? It’s true that the guilt of what happened all those years ago was still there. But… Digging up old memories just because he’s selfish and wants to apologize to you? He takes a deep breath.

He had to make things better or… at least get some things off his chest. So, with a heavy fist and an even heavier heart, he gently knocks on the hard wooden door…

This had been the longest 10 minutes of your life, trying to decide wether to send Adam the message, or to even return to tour with Charlie at all. As much as it pains you to say, you still become anxiety ridden when he’s in the room or even the mere mention of him. That spark of defiance you had in the lobby earlier being nothing but a small bit of courage. But you remembered that you had promised Charlie you’d be there for her, and you certainly weren’t one to take back a promise.

Before you could decide what to do, you hear an ever so faint knock on your door. Curiosity peaked, You thought Charlie was supposed to be waiting for you on the 4th floor? Had you taken too long and the tour went south? You quickly made your way to the door and hoped you wouldn’t see a very angry Charlie on the other side.

As the wooden-door creaked open, your face slowly turned bitter at The short, impish man who stood on the other side. Lucifer Morningstar. To be honest, you much would have preferred the angry Charlie, TWO very angry Charlies over this.

The man shuffled awkwardly in place, gripping his cane. Neither of you could break the silence . He avoided any eye-contact with you and even you couldn’t hide The disgusted expression on your face when looking at him. Finally after what feels like 3x the eternity you’ve lived thus far, you spoke In shaky words, ”What do you want?”

Lucifer pushed out his words as well as he could, meek they were, but you understood what he said “Can we please…talk?”

Your fingers gripped at the door, nails embedding into the wood, leaving scratches. It took all you had not to slam the door right in his face, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have solved any pressing issues. If anything, it might make him against Charlie’s idea with the hotel, which you couldn’t afford. You take a deep breath before letting out a quick but unsavory,

“5 minutes”

The short demon shuffles his way into the room as you follow in behind him, locking the door to prevent someone like Nifty or Charlie from walking in. Lucifer stands timidly by your nightstand as you stand on the complete opposite side of the room, facing him. Lucifer runs his neck as he lets out a shaky sigh “I just want to know what you’re doing here…” he pauses, he looks like he has more to say but decided not to.

You can only laugh to yourself “I’m here because I believe I think Charlie’s idea has potential to be great. The exterminations, they have to end… that’s why I’m here”

Lucifer seem a bit… surprised? Surprised with your stance on the exterminations. you figured he needed more than that so you continue “I… I’ve never been one for the exterminations. I've been against them from the start. I just didn't know what else to do. Nothing else seemed…right.“

He stayed silent, processing what you told him. He really didn’t understand you, he had a completely warped view of you. “If that’s all you wanted to know I’d rather you take your leave-“

“No!” You step back at the sudden raise in voice but he quickly clears his throat “No, there’s another thing. I would… I’d like to apologize to you about how things went… when we first met.”

You stared at him, the silence once again feeling the air. You didn’t dare break it, you watched as the impish man looked around with anxiety, trying to find the right words. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind. How we- I, treated you. It was unacceptable… Lilith kept telling me to let it go, that she was done thinking about it, but I just couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath “so, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Y/n…”

Lucifer Morningstar. The man in front of you looked more akin to a puddle than a person at this point. Sweat dripped from his face, a scrunched mouth filled with a sour taste. He wasn’t looking at you, focusing his attention to the ground. Finally, after many long seconds later. You step forward, grabbing his attention.

“As much as I appreciate the apology, I don’t forgive you.” Lucifer began to speak or at least say he understood but no matter what his reaction was going to be, you interrupted him ‘“-I don’t forgive you, because I’m not the one who deserves it”

To that, Lucifer's head was struck with confusion, “what do you mean?” He tried to make sense of your words, shifting eyes looking around in unease before landing on a framed photo of a candlelit man, an old and forgotten, yet familiar smile on his face… ”You mean… Adam?” Despite his best efforts around you, saying the first man’s name still dripped his words with venom. That same sour taste filling his mouth at the mere mention of him. ”What does-” he stops himself, he knows why.

You breathe in slowly, “What you said to me, all of those years ago, hasn’t meant anything to me in a long time. I’ve gotten through it 10x over and finally understand that I am more than those words” you take another step towards him, closing the gap, “so… there's no use for your apology to me. But Adam… you’ve hurt him more than you couldn’t possibly imagine“

The room was filled with dense air, like any sudden move could kill the king of hell or even you at any second but still you continue. “Adam deserved so much better than what he was forced to have from you, so if anyone deserves your apology, it’s him.” He goes to speak but you shut him down again “but we all know that you are too prideful to do so, and Adam… he’s too stubborn to hear it”

You don’t yell, scream, all of your words coming soft from your lips “So… what you’re going to do, if you truly mean what you say. You will go back to your daughter, forget this conversation ever happened, then you can march back to your big castle with your Loving wife, and leave us be, for the rest of eternity.”

With that, you step away from him, words that have been bubbling inside you for centuries finally having been let out. It felt like several hundred pounds had been lifted off of you. You begin to walk to the door to let him out, wanting the conversation to be over, When you hear him speak a faint ”Ex-Wife actually”

You pause, your teeth already biting your tongue. Honestly, if you really thought about it, it was poetic. The Angel who ruined two marriages, leaving Adam nothing but a broken heart and baggage, ended up with a failed marriage himself.

But even still, you still felt a slight pain of pity for him. Through clenched teeth you let out ”I'm… sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

This kind of thing, no matter the person, is always tough. You knew the aftermath of it through Adam, even now he struggles with so many issues from it. In that regard, you felt pity for the ruler of hell, but the rest of you felt… glad? Glad that he finally understands just a thorn of the pain he inflicted on Adam.

“The 5 minutes are up so… go now… please.” Your voice shakes near the end, your will power for everything you’ve done starting to break. Lucifer looked equally as defeated, you could tell he wanted to say more but he just nodded his head before walking out the door. slowly, silently, you close the door back before sliding down it as your legs give out.

You wanted to cry, scream, do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. Your voice hurts from talking, your feet hurt from standing, everything just… hurts.

DING DING DING

A luminous yellow light follows the sound, you lifted your head and saw your phone on your nightstand. Adam… You used all of your strength to make it to your bed, practically having to crawl to avoid any more tiredness in your aching body. You finally land on the soft mattress to pick up your phone, seeing the plethora of messages from Adam.

DIXKMASTER69

Yo Bitch, everything good??

You’ve been typing for like 10 minutes

Answer me

Hellllloooooo??????

Oh, that’s why he was texting. You had completely forgotten your half written message you were debating on sending earlier. You start to delete it and rewrite it when suddenly,

INCOMING CALL FROM DIXKMASTER69

You sigh at the screen, your phone vibration sends chills through your aching arms, it acts as a lifeline for you not to fall asleep on the soft plush beneath you. You press the answer button.

‘Fuck Babe, finally! Are you ok?!” Adam’s voice sounded angry but you know he was just worried “you’ve been texting for like 15 minutes”

“Yeah, don’t worry Adam, I... must have fallen asleep while trying to message you”

“It’s 12 in the afternoon, you dont normally fall asleep in the middle of the day” Adam questions, his voice having obvious worry for you.

“Today’s just been very tiring. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just happened a lot today.” You hated lying to him, your other half, but you know this is something that he shouldn’t have to worry about.

You hear him groan, “how many times do I have to fuckin’ tell you not to overwork yourself for those sinners”

“I know, I’m sorry” you pause “I… I have to go now but I promise I’ll call you later, yeah?“

He was quiet on the other side before he lets out “Yeah, just don’t overdo yourself ok?” His voice was soft, no hint of sarcasm or anger, just him.

You let out a small breathy laugh “I promise. Have fun at your show tonight. Talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too”

CLICK

You sigh to yourself, you still have the tour to do. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Tomorrow will be a better day. it has to be.

TAGLIST: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn

@ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che

@edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee @pandaquick @white-00-7 @call-me-nyx @adamstruelove @jennieyeager @sillyycatt @solatiium @my-name-is-heartache @parisiterileymoon @titan-senpai @lovely-night-owl-86 @innergardentoadpony @animefan106sposts @starlightstarbrightmyfirststar @lovkayy @ilikedrinkingsoda @barrythestrawberry041 @deadpoolssweetchimi @asegirllovesreadingporn @ripashy @deleted-1-800 @sirenetheblogger @ur1nonlygabi @aweleyirene @n0tmentallystable

(I really hope I didn’t forget anyone if I did, just asked to be added in the comments!!)

Shoutout to these specific asked as well, love you all <3

92 notes · View notes

szyvrue · 3 days ago

Text

GREEN EGGS AND HAM, miya osamu.

( 10.6k ) tropes ── meet messy(ish?) to lovers speedrun, baker x chef, mistletoe kisses, scheming friends.

wdym this is over twelve hours late ... happy holidays, @tulip-room! i hope the inflated word count makes up for the late submission. getting to know you through the server has been a gift and i really hope you enjoy the fic <3 this was written for @lale-txt's secret santa, thank you sm for organising this lale x

credits to @/nectardaddy for the divider.

The holidays is, par the course, a time of great stress for you: as the designated Christmas host, December finds itself packed full of activities, lists, organisation, recipe testing—this year is no different. When you really think about it, organising Christmas with friends is no different from organising one with a family that halfway hates each other. Two of your friends are unreliable and RSVP two days after the last possible date; one will have his answer in by the day and have weekly check-ins to see how things are going and readily offer you a list of allergies or foods to avoid; one almost accidentally invites half of his contact list, which stretches longer than it has any right to; two (not naming names) decide to ruin all your plans two weeks before Christmas.

Oh, whatever. You’re naming them. Hinata Shouyou and Miya Atsumu. See, you’ve spent the first two weeks of December planning. You have had everyone RSVP, you underwent the arduous task of finding out dietary requirements (have you ever had to figure out a Christmas meal plan when the invitees have the diets of professional athletes and you consider dessert the core of a Christmas meal?), you’ve already mostly decorated your apartment, you’ve made a comprehensive meal plan. You’ve practically organised everything down to the minute. And what do those two do, in the face of your extensive planning?

They spit in your face, that’s what.

“We’re really sorry,” Hinata says, at least having the sense to look sheepish. “We didn’t mean to double book.”

“It just kinda happened,” Atsumu agrees, looking far less repentant. He just has a criminally guilty face like that. “We know it’s a lot to spring on you so close to the date, but seriously, Samu’s a great chef. He won’t make it hard on you.”

“How do you accidentally overbook on Christmas?” You hiss, half offended and half baffled. “Seriously? You couldn’t have told me this earlier? Why not just invite him along? I can accommodate an extra guest, but a co-host?”

The boys exchange a glance. Atsumu is the one to speak. “Well, we didn’t want ta make one of you feel bad but asking you to, uh, give up your hard work. And you guys’ll get along great! He’s really…”

“Friendly!” Hinata pipes up, nodding aggressively. “He’s a chef, too—did we say that yet?—so he can help you with the food. And he probably won’t mind. And he’s conscientious. And—”

“Stop trying to pitch this guy to me,” you groan. You bury your head in your hands, taking a moment to breathe. Okay, okay. You’re flexible. You’re accommodating. You can handle this. Why can’t you just host Christmas, though? Miya Osamu may be a chef, but as a baker you’re far from a hazard in the kitchen. Anyone that’s had your Christmas pudding practically fights to get you back in there. And what about his Christmas guest list? How much more food do you have to make? How many guests do you have to host? Will he want to take over dinner now? What about—

“We’re really sorry.” Hinata leans over the counter, gripping your hand between his own. “We know this is short notice. I really think you’ll get along with Osamu though, and there shouldn’t be too many adjustments. There’s, like, a two person invite difference. You have really overlapping guest lists.”

Your lips purse. Hate to admit it, you already know what your response is going to be.

II.

you: hey, is this miya osamu? you: hinata & atsumu gave me your number for christmas you: are you free anytime so we can discuss plans? sent 11:16am

miya osamu (christmas): yeah this is osamu miya osamu (christmas): sorry for the late response i was at work miya osamu (christmas): i can meet during my lunch break tomorrow miya osamu (christmas): or the weekend if you’re unavailable then sent 7:33pm

you: your lunch break sounds good! you: when around would that be? sent 7:45pm

miya osamu (christmas): about 1:30 miya osamu (christmas): onigiri miya miya osamu (christmas): just come up to the register and ask for me sent 7:47pm

you: alright, i’ll see you then sent 7:58pm

miya osamu (christmas): 👍 sent 7:59pm

III.

So. You meet Miya Osamu.

It’s 1:27pm when you venture into Onigiri Miya, which you Google Reviews prior to get a gauge for the place. A 4.9 star aggregate rating (impressive numbers) with what is alleged to be an affordable menu. If you’re taking it at face value, which you are, it looks like the kind of place you’d visit on your own.

You’re fiddling awkwardly with your bag—which contains a written version of all your plans alongside your usual essentials—when you enter the store, eyes scanning over the crowd as if Miya Osamu himself will pop up with a sign around his neck. He doesn’t, because you’re at his place of work and not an airport.

Settling into line, you peer at the menu and debate whether you should buy something during your meal or just sit there and talk things through with Atsumu’s wayward twin. Or would Atsumu be the wayward twin, given his proclivity to ill-thought ideas? He was the one to suggest you merge Christmas with his unknown brother, and even if you’re the soulmates Atsumu alleges (or the perfect personality match Hinata declared) you doubt you’re both going to magically have the exact same plans. God, what if he’s allergic to, like, flour? That’d wipe out half your menu.

It doesn’t take long to reach the front of the line. “Hello,” you say to the worker behind the counter, lips curving into an awkward smile. “I’m, uh, here for Miya Osamu?” You offer them your name afterwards, just in case they were told to recognise you by it. There’s a moment's pause as the worker disappears towards the kitchen, followed shortly by the appearance of, you guessed it, Miya Osamu.

You’re not sure why you’re surprised to see Atsumu’s face copy-pasted on his identical twin brother, but it still shocks you for a second. Maybe it’s the difference in expression, relaxed and vaguely tired to his eccentric brother’s more proud visage; maybe the silver in place of gold, or the opposite parting, or the fact he’s wearing an apron while working in hospitality. You wouldn’t catch Atsumu dead in customer service.

He says your name, as if confirming that you are who you say you are. When you dip your head in a nod, he offers you a hand. “Nice to meet you. Tsumu doesn’t shut up about you.”

You try to think up a smart response. Something like ha, as if he’s much better when it comes to you or I’ve heard plenty about the enigmatic twin brother myself, but both feel flat. And false. You take his hand, shake it briefly, and quickly return your hand to the strap of your bag.

A pause. “Well, d’ya wanna sit inside?”

“Ah, sure.” You offer him a smile. “I’ll follow your lead?”

“Yeah.” He ignores your awkwardness, rolling his shoulders as if he’s physically letting your cumbrous attempts at responding to him slide off his back like water to a babbling brook. “You getting yourself anything? On the house, for the inconvenience.”

“If you don’t mind.” You rattle off a request for a snack, before being quietly led to one of the booths near the back of the shop. Miya Osamu (is just Osamu okay?) sits first and you follow, the chair scraping as you sit. You wince. “So, uh.”

“I’m really sorry for Atsumu,” he starts out of the gate, which is better than you were expecting—he does share a bloodline with Atsumu, after all. “I wasn’t exactly ecstatic hearing the news either, even if we’ve got a few weeks to sort things out.”

‘A few weeks’, you mouth. You’ve got two. Less than that, really. Twelve days. Your Christmas cake has been in the cupboard since August, feeding off of your fortnightly soaking in brandy. You’ve probably been planning for Christmas since the moment the day ticked over to November 1st. “Right. I was wondering—since we’re merging Christmas, how many more guests do we need to accommodate…?”

“Well, uh, I’m not sure who you have coming ‘round—”

“Oh, I wrote out a list.” You shuffle around in your bag for a second, pulling out the stapled collection of paper. “Sorry, I printed out a copy of everything so you’d be able to read through it. Or bring it home, if you needed to. I don’t know how long your break runs.”

“I can take a minute.” He says off-handedly, taking the paper from you with wide eyes. As he reads it over, you take an opportunity to bite into your food. “Huh. Sakusa must love you.” He glimpses over it. “You’ve even got dietary restrictions? You're an angel.”

You swallow your mouthful. It really is delicious. Atsumu wasn’t underselling his prowess. “I’m a baker,” you offer, “and also preparing the meals. Or, well, was? I figured it was important.”

He hums. “Looks like we’ve got kinda similar lists. You’re just missing Suna, Aran—friends from high school—and Ma.”

“Ma,” you say surreptitiously, “your Mom? Oh my.”

Osamu glances at you before snorting. “I don’t know what horror stories Tsumu’s been telling you, but she’s great. He’s just dramatic, he practically worships the ground she walks on on. Not that she doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s part of what’s intimidating about it,” you groan. “Still, three more people isn’t bad. I was expecting a lot more.”

“You’ve got more people than I do to begin with. Yer inviting Tsumu’s whole team? Rowdy bunch, aren’t they?”

You shrug. “I only moved here a few months ago, so when Hinata took me in I wasn’t exactly resistant. I figured it was only polite, and half of them declined to visit family instead.”

He nods. “The shop should be able to hold eleven. Should I clear a section of the fridge for your stuff or do you want to bring it in on the day?”

“I was hoping we could still do it at my place,” you say tentatively, “I’ve got the apartment set up for Christmas, and you know the atmosphere half makes the holiday.”

“Onigiri Miya has an industrial kitchen,” he replies, “and a proper oven for cooking the ham—”

“The ham?” You stare. “I mean, if we want something, we could just grab some from the deli—”

“The deli? What deli serves Christmas ham?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s gonna be a roast?

“Not gonna be a roast?” Osamu stares at you, slack-jawed. “Whatdya just say to me?”

“Do you usually have roasts for Christmas?” You ask.

He blinks at you. Blinks again. His lips twitch downwards, and oh God, this stranger with Atsumu’s face genuinely looks troubled. It barely takes him a second to flip through your paper, eyes landing on the menu with the dawning horror of a man being served his third divorce. “You’re kidding me. This is a snack platter.”

“Not really,” you defend, “I mean, we’ll be opening gifts, and socialising is important—dinner usually lasts a few hours on Christmas, we can’t have everyone filling up within twenty minutes. Besides, what about dessert? Everyone knows dessert is the main meal—”

“The main meal?” He squawks. “What rock have you been living under? Filled up in twenty minutes? Opening gifts with the food? You have to be joking. You’ll be sending guests home with an empty stomach!”

“It’s not like I’m going to put out a charcuterie board and call it a day! It’s just about smaller portions so people can sample more food and snack for longer.” You take another bite of your onigiri. It’s so good, which just makes it worse when Miya Osamu is so wrong.

“Christmas is the one time of year you’re able to gorge yourself sick during dinner and you’re subjecting your guests to deli ham and pastries?”

“Are you even reading the menu?” You ask, exasperated. “What would you do then? A roast ham, where everyone will be stuffed three slices in? A rotisserie chicken on the side? Because that doesn’t offer many choices. Forget an unfulfilled meal, that’d be boring.”

He gapes at you. “Look, a couple snacks as a pre-dinner meal while the ham is cooking is all fine and dandy, but as the whole meal? ‘Sides, presents are during snack time. You’ve got everything backwards.”

“What about dessert then? I mean, what’s the point of a Christmas cake—which I started in August, mind you—when no one’s got room for it? What about the custard? The pudding? The treats?”

“The dessert is complementary to a good dinner. Of course the desserts gonna feel like a showstopper if all people have had up till that point is crackers and dip—”

“Crackers and dip? Seriously?”

“Look, I said I’m all for snacks while dinner is still cooking, but this is just—”

Things don’t go well.

IV.

“Hey,” Atsumu says the next time you see each other, “how’d you and ‘Samu get on? Do I need to start planning a wedding?”

“A wedding?” You scoff. “Please. You could pair that man with a soggy napkin and the napkin wouldn’t last 30 minutes before considering complete dissolution.”

“Oh.” He looks at you for a second. “You know, most people think I’m the annoying twin.”

“They’ve clearly never met the idiot that calls itself your brother.”

“...Right.” Atsumu doesn’t look as happy as he normally would be when someone calls him the favourite twin—which really is a monumental occurrence—but rather like he’d just tripped on his laces and face planted into the sidewalk. “So, you’re not friends yet?”

“Oh, no, we’re perfectly friendly.” You say bitterly. “Absolutely wonderful. You know, he doesn’t think dessert makes a Christmas dinner? He has the idiotic idea in his head that the ham makes the meal! Can you believe that? Everyone knows the Christmas pudding makes or breaks the holiday, you’d think a chef would have more respect for—”

“Oh,” Atsumu says weakly, “right.”

You take some time to cool off. This is indubitably a good idea. Within an hour, you come to a relatively simple resolution: it’s not that big of a deal. Well, it is, but even then you were overreacting. A bit exaggerative, maybe. You’re not really that angry, even if the both of you were bitchier than you had any right to be.

Maybe he’s right about the roast? Just because it’s not normal for you, doesn’t mean it’s not normal for anyone else. He is a chef. He could’ve been nicer on the desserts, though—what did your apple pie do to deserve that kind of vitriol?

You text Atsumu an apology for the rant. You were in the wrong for that, even if you’re not quite ready to apologise to his brother for acting out. You’ll sleep on it. Maybe the morning will come with the proper words and fully extinguished anger.

As you find out the next morning, you don’t have to send the first message.

miya osamu (christmas): hey miya osamu (christmas): i’m sorry abt how our talk went miya osamu (christmas): we clearly have different ideas of a christmas meal & i shouldntve blown up at you like that sent 6:13am

you: hi sorry, i just woke up you: honestly, you weren’t the only person overreacting. i’m really sorry about how poorly i acted you: i honestly don’t mind your roast idea you: i’m really sorry you: i’m honestly really embarrassed about how i acted sent 8:39am

miya osamu (christmas): dw miya osamu (christmas): i wasn’t exactly an angel miya osamu (christmas): ill be honest i still don’t get the want for smaller servings over a hearty meal miya osamu (christmas): but its not gonna kill me to try something new sent 1:31pm

you: actually i was thinking you: since you’re a chef, you probably have a better idea of what’d make a good christmas dinner you: so if you really want to go the roast route, i’m not going to complain you: i will admit that i really would prefer to have christmas at my place though! sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): i can work around that miya osamu (christmas): only issue is i’d have to transfer meal prep/food throughout the week sent 1:37pm

you: i’m okay with that you: should i send you my address? i was thinking maybe we could meet in person and work out a menu that works for both of us you: and you can take a look at my kitchen to see if it’ll be an okay substitute to your industrial kitchen sent 1:42pm

miya osamu (christmas): sounds good miya osamu (christmas): when are you free? sent 1:43pm

VI.

The second Osamu sees Atsumu coming, he struggles to suppress a groan. He loves Atsumu, he does, but there’s only one thing the guy will want to talk about right now: Christmas. Osamu’s more than happy to be hosting it—their Ma’s been in charge since they were born all the way up to Osamu opening Onigiri Miya, and he’s happy to take over the holiday and let her just enjoy the holiday. That being said, a last minute co-host wasn’t in the cards. At all.

He’s heard your name enough to feel like you should be best buds, given how much Atsumu refuses to shut up about you. He’s never been subtle in his foray into matchmaking, but this? This takes the cake. It doesn’t matter how much c’mon Samu, you’ll love them! or ya know, this friend of mine loves this too or I should invite them ‘round sometime, dontcha think? Atsumu tries to ply him with, there’s no world in which this would happen and you’d both be fine with it. If you’ve heard half as much about him as he has you (which he’s pretty sure you haven’t, given the dumpster fire that was your first meeting) then you’d be just as aware that Christmas planning would probably get a bit messy at first.

Barring the major issue of you valuing dessert over dinner (which, whatever, but who doesn’t have Christmas ham? He’d been half convinced you were joking at first) while he’s always put weight on the dinner—what can he say? With Christmas came free hams from his Ma’s work, and that was a once a year experience. It’s just how things are. However, Atsumu apparently expects the both of you to magically gain the ability to read minds and communicate perfectly and innately understand each other upon your first meeting. Idiot.

You were gorgeous, though. That was almost the worst part; he'd seen you, and he'd gone oh, that's why Tsumu's so desperate to set us up. You smiled, a shy, cracked smile, and for a second it was all he could think about. Then, of course, he started arguing like an idiot and things blew up out of control.

“‘Samu!” Atsumu cheers, rounding the table he’s scrubbing down to slap him on the shoulder, arm snaking across them. “Whatcha up to? Free for a chat?”

He snorts, eyes lingering on the door. “Where’s your henchman?”

“Shouyou’s busy,” Atsumu declares shamelessly. “I was just wondering… everything alright with Christmas?”

“Things are fine,” he says blandly, “don’t worry, yer getting a gift.”

He squeezes Osamu’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I meant planning Christmas. You’re getting on with—?”

“Yeah. Just had a couple misunderstandings. We’re ironing them out.”

“No fights? You’re all good?”

So he’s already interrogated you. Colour Osamu unsurprised. “Yep. Things are fine.”

“You sure?”

“Did they tell you otherwise?”

“Nah,” Atsumu says too quickly to actually be honest, “just worried for the less charismatic twin. I get why you might be having trouble.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Osamu replies. “Now stop nagging. Your food will be fine, your Christmas will be fine, your friend isn’t going to maul me to death. Everything's sorted.”

VII.

Okay, you were overdramatic. You’re not that angry that he doesn’t understand the sanctity of a proper Christmas cake, because, funny enough, different people celebrate Christmas differently. It’s Christmas, he was a little frustrated, you’re a little frustrated; you can offer the both of you the benefit of the doubt.

So when Miya Osamu shows up at your apartment three minutes into your allotted meeting time, lunchbox in one hand and a crumpled pile of paper in the other, you merely offer him an ever so slightly tense smile and let him in.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” you offer, “how have you been?”

“Pretty good. Work’s been busy—always is, ‘round the holidays—and Tsumu’s been annoying as usual.”

“He’s been pestering you too?” You pause, glancing around the apartment. “Sorry, do you want to sit or do you want to look at the kitchen first?”

“We can sit.” He offers you a smile, eyes crinkling at the edges; you can’t help but notice it’s a trait unique to him. You can’t even begin to imagine his brother with crows feet. “I, uh, made some lunch. As an apology.”

“You didn’t have to,” you start, eyes flickering towards the lunchbox tucked underneath his arm. “But, um, thanks. That’s sweet of you.”

“Least I could do.” Osamu looks around for a second, as if waiting for your lead. You both hover there, unsure how to act following the dumpster fire that was your first conversation. “Your apartment looks nice. I like the tree.”

“Thanks.” You take a seat, motioning him over towards your couch. “Well, how are you?” You wince. “Sorry. I already asked that.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s fine. I’ve been good. You?”

“As good as I can be.” You take a deep breath. “So. Christmas dinner.”

“Right. I took a page out of your book.” He gestures with the paper in his hand, pages denting from his tight grasp. “They all come with recipes so we can figure out what we’ll need to get. Just thought I’d run a possible menu by you? I know you said you wanted snacks.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly. “We can just serve my idea as snacks, I hadn’t bought everything yet. Besides, it’s being held at my place, isn’t it? I can’t complain. Considering everything that happened last time we talked, I kind of assumed you’d want to take over dinner.”

“If that’s fine by you.” He offers you the paper, then the lunchbox. “I just made some onigiri. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, onigiri is good.” You place the paper in your lap, reaching over to unlatch the lunchbox and peer inside. “Oh, it’s the one I had last time! It was really good. I didn’t get to say.”

“Can’t blame ya. Tensions were a little high.”

You slide a glance his way. “You’re only half to blame for that.”

“Still half, ain’t I?”

“I suppose.” Your lips twitch as you reach over to grab one. “This looks delicious, thank you.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. At the same time, his lips curl up proudly like an aloof cat begging for attention; too proud to admit he’s pleased, not proud enough to not show it. Wildly endearing. “I make it every day.”

You hum around your first bite of onigiri and Osamu follows suit, grabbing one for himself. “I, uh, don’t have most of the stuff for this. And I don’t know if I have room in my fridge for a five kilo ham on top of everything else.”

“The ham needs to go out a couple days early to start defrosting too,” he warns. “How big is your fridge? I’ll need to see what I’m working with.”

“You’re going to be playing a bit of tetris with it,” you reply. “I’m making a lot of dessert that you’ll be contending with. Since you’re now on dinner duty, I was thinking of expanding the dessert menu a bit and just sending people home with leftovers.”

“I’m fine with that.” He takes a bite, chews, swallows. “We might need to shorten our snack list since it’s no longer meant to be a full meal. I was thinking we keep the mix of savoury and sweet, just lessen portions and maybe cut out the cheeseboard.”

“Thank god,” you mutter, “I felt like I had to put it out since it’s such a staple, but I’m lactose intolerant and a cheeseboard never gets finished. What was I supposed to do with all that leftover cheese? It’s so expensive nowadays too. Yeesh.”

Osamu snorts. “And around the holidays too? Things have doubled in cost.”

“It’s ridiculous. You’ll never believe how much I saw the local grocery store selling butter for the other day. It’s daylight robbery.” You flip past the menu to individual recipes, quickly skimming the ingredients list. “I have a pretty stacked spice cabinet, so you won’t need to buy much. Ms. Sato—my next door neighbour—has a herb garden too, and she’s always happy to spare fresh herbs. You can get the rosemary from there.”

“Nice. How far is your local fresh veggie store?”

“About an 18 minute drive,” you admit, “and it’ll be swamped as Christmas gets closer.”

“Still better than some withering supermarket produce three days away from moulding.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re clearly going to a better supermarket then.”

You shake your head slightly. You’re really not.

To say things go better this time around is a vast understatement; with your individual printed menus (it turns out Osamu never got an opportunity to read your original dessert menu, given his outrage at dinner—all for the better in the end, considering you’d since expanded it) you compare what you’ll need, discuss who’s paying (Osamu insists he pays for ingredients if he’s using your kitchen, even if upon inspection he admits it's a little less well-equipped than he’d like), the dietary requirements of his additional guests, Sakusa’s preferred hygiene practices (fine—honestly just industry-standard requirements, you’ve never understood why people act like he’s the world's greatest germaphobe when he simply strictly adheres to proper hygiene practices and the healthy and safety standard), and an appropriate time to hold the meal (given the guests are coming over at 4 and snacks will be out, you settle for 7 so there’s still enough time for pre-meal socialisation).

When he finally surveys your kitchen, there’s a few issues. It’s smaller than he’d like, given you’ll be simultaneously working on a meal to feed eight voracious athletes (turns out his two friends from high school also went into professional volleyball), a chef, you, his mother, and Bokuto’s “best bud” Akaashi. Your dutch oven is a bit too small, which you deal with by him simply asking if he can bring his own over to keep in your house during the holidays, and your oven is going to be cramped, which is a side effect of working in a regular kitchen as opposed to Onigiri Miya. There’s a couple other issues—he does take one look at the inside of your fridge and freezer and grimace at the limited space—but it turns out that when you can properly sit down and talk, things don’t feel that dire. Who’d have thought?

By the time your kitchen investigation is winding down, the hours have trickled over and your shared meal settles warmly in your stomach. There’s a lingering smile on your face, and the ever-present knot in your chest has loosened into something closer to relief. Now that you’ve got all the major details sorted out and you actually know how things are going to work, the idea of co-hosting Christmas doesn’t feel as stressful.

You follow him to the door, leaning against the doorframe as you bid your farewells.

“Do you know when you’ll want to start dropping things off?” You ask. You’ve both well-established the meal prep that goes into your specific meal. Osamu, given the nature of his ingredients, is going to be cooking a lot more day-of; you’re lucky enough to get away with a lot more meal prep.

“I was thinking I’d start dropping things off maybe nine days before Christmas?” Osamu grimaces. “If I start early, I won’t have to juggle everything while catering to the full Christmas crowd at work.”

You hum in sympathy. You’d mentioned your own work as a baker at a crêperie and to say you hadn’t been experiencing the Christmas activity would be a big, plain, fat lie. It’s been hell on your back. “Alright. Just text me before you want to visit so I have some warning, M- Os- sorry, what should I call you?”

Osamu huffs, amused. “Just call me Osamu. Ya gotta deal with my oaf of a brother too, no need to get all formal. It’ll only get confusing. I’ll come around seven thirty on the 16th?”

“Perfect.” You smile up at him. “I’m really sorry again about how our first meeting went. I’m glad we sorted it out so quickly.”

“Didn’t I say it’s fine?” He asks blandly. “Water under the boat. We were both dicks.”

“Still.”

“Still,” he repeats, lips twitching upwards. “I’ll see ya around. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Osamu. Drive home safe!”

VIII.

you: would you mind taste testing something for me when you drop by to stack the fridge? you: i’m working on some christmas cookies and i need a second opinion on taste and how the icings looking sent 6:57pm

miya osamu (christmas): sure thing miya osamu (christmas): want me to bring leftovers from the shop? sent 7:01pm

you: a man after my heart you: yes please!! sent 7:03pm

miya osamu (christmas): be there in 15 sent 7:03pm

IX.

“Osamu!” You offer the man at your door a smile. “Come on in. The kitchens a mess right now and I still need to do the dishes, but I’ve been working on some desserts—”

“You told me,” he replies, “smells delicious. Sugar cookies?”

“Yeah, but I’ve also got some mini pumpkin pies cooking. I was thinking of serving it as a snack, but I don’t know if it’ll work well with everything else we’re serving.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He follows you to the kitchen, quickly unloading his two full tubs of stuff onto the kitchen counter. “Hope you don’t mind, but I brought my own mixer. Yer KitchenAid looks a little outdated, and I figured a newer model might be nicer until Christmas is over.”

“You’re an angel,” you reply brightly. “Do you need help stacking the fridge, or are you happy doing it yourself?”

“I’ll try a hand at it myself.”

“Holler if you need a hand.” You’re quick to return to your own preparations, practicing for Christmas. With the sugar cookies done (if Osamu approves of them, that is) you’ve also pre-made a few batches to keep chilled until Christmas comes. One thing done, only a hundred others to go. “Try a few cookies while you’re working.”

“Will do. Hey, was your work okay?”

“Same as always,” you say, “we can’t all own our own place. Boss is a jerk, the menu’s alright. What else is new?”

“Sounds boring.” A grunt, likely Osamu trying to fit a 5kg ham in a fridge that can barely hold five kilos of food to begin with. “And I’m making onigiri all day.”

“Maybe, but it’s all pain au chocolat and fruit tarts and those awful cinnamon swirls. Not to mention, the crepes suck.”

“Your fault for working at a crêperie. I didn’t even know those were real.”

“It’s all pseudo-French. I don’t think a real French person has ever stepped foot inside the establishment.”

Osamu whistles. “Sucks to be you.”

“Oh, Shut up,” you say waspishly. Your pie weights are collected back in the bag you store them in, the filling is done, and you’re just waiting for the crust to fully cool before filling them. Stuck with nothing immediate to do, you return to cleaning up. Osamu is busy maneuvering his huge dutch oven into your cabinet as you admire the stand mixer that will be yours for the next nine days, all attachments beside it. It possesses way more than your measly dough hook, beater, and a whisk that’s definitely seen better days. “Get to it, taste tester. Stop messing around.”

“Messing around? Do you have any idea how much this oven weighs?”

“That brother of yours wouldn’t have any issue,” you say teasingly.

“That brother of mine is a professional athlete. ‘Sides, he’d spend the entire time whining about having to do it.” Not something you’ve ever personally experienced, but you’ll take his word for it. Osamu, having finally placed his dutch oven, reaches over to your plate of cookies. You’ve done your best to make them Christmas themed when you don’t own proper Christmas cookie cutters—this really is the season of over consumerism—which largely means using circular cookie cutters and decorating them like baubles, but you think they’ve turned out pretty nice anyway. He picks one up, examines it, and grins. “Not sure why you were worried about the icing, it looks good. I like this one.” He turns it your way, jingling it a bit like a bell will start ringing. You bite back a smile.

“The lines aren’t too shaky?”

“Nah. Looks perfect.” Your mouth pulls into something pleased. You turn your head away to hide it, knowing even as you do it that you’re largely unsuccessful. In the interim of your bashfulness, Osamu takes a bite. “Mm, it tastes good too. Not too sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He grins, blinking slowly at you. “Yeah. Got no reason to lie, do I?”

“Alright, alright, don’t flatter me too much.” You laugh, flattered anyway. Geez.

Osamu merely hums, turning back to stacking the fridge. “Not like it’s hard. You’re a good baker.”

“Can tell from a couple of sugar cookies, can you?”

“Yeah, I can. I’m looking forward to the pumpkin pies.” He grabs a couple trays, slotting them where he can. Your fridge is already looking pretty full with everything in it, but he finds a way to make room.

“So,” Hinata starts hesitantly between mouthfuls of food. You’re at the local park, perched together on a bench as you eat your individual lunches. “How are you and Osamu getting along? Atsumu said you were,” he pauses, “having difficulties.”

“I may have overexaggerated,” you admit, “he’s actually really lovely to work with. He’s a really good chef and, after the initial bump, we don’t really have any issues. I think we were both just stressed about Christmas going perfectly that first time.”

Hinata brightens, his face flowering like the sun. “I knew you two would work it out! Atsumu was scared it was doomed.”

“Well, I did tell him Osamu couldn’t charm a wet paper towel or something. I was a bit aggressive.”

“He said,” Hinata replies gravely, “but I thought you’d talk it out. Kageyama—my setter from high school—and I had a really crappy first meeting too, and we were able to talk it out then. I don’t see why you wouldn’t have been able to now. You’re way more mature now than I was at fifteen.”

You cover your snort with a cough. You have heard stories about Hinata’s exuberance as a teenager, occasionally to his own detriment. It’s not as much of a comfort as he’s probably thinking, considering he might just be the world’s most charismatic individual. “Yeah, we apologised and everythings sorted out. Neither of us hold it against each other, I think. Osamu’s honestly really charming.”

He looks at you warmly. “You’ve both got a lot in common. It’s why Atsumu’s been so adamant about setting you up.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to learn some subtlety,” you grumble, “and don’t think I don’t know your hand in this, Mr. Co-conspirator.”

“I can see his vision.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s on this vision board he’s cultivating? You know, he asked me if he needs to start planning the wedding last time we talked.”

“He’s not that excited! I think. He really wants you to marry into the family though, and obviously their mum’s off limits.”

“You don’t know that. I love women.”

“She’s 53.”

“I like older women too.” You pause. “You know how old their mum is?”

“Yeah, she’s been inviting me to her birthday for the past couple of years.” Hinata takes a long, loud sip of his drink. “And you get along way better with Osamu.”

“You just know everyone on god’s green earth, don’t you.” You look over at the park, watching two kids kick a ball between the pair of them. “By the way, I wanted to ask. Do you know what Osamu would like for Christmas?”

XI.

That Saturday, Osamu arrives in the morning. He tells you it’s because he asked someone else to open the shop for him, leaving him free for the morning; either way, you make the both of you breakfast. He eats your homemade bread like it’s michelin star cuisine, and you swear you’ve never taken so many compliments in your life. You receive more in that hour than you have in the entirety of your existence, you’re pretty sure—a lifetime of deprivation being filled in fifty-seven measly minutes. It means a lot, even if you’re too proud to admit it.

You both end up in the same place you have every day he’s come over that week: the kitchen, Osamu mixing together ingredients for the roast glaze while you make a lemon meringue pie. You lend him an apron, which means that on top of his—admittedly very attractive, despite its simplicity—usual outfit is a pink apron with a classic ‘Kiss the Chef’ embroidered on the front. A gift from Atsumu for your birthday, which Osamu is quick to inform you was exactly what he got from Atsumu for Christmas last year. Hearts and all.

You knock against his hip as you walk past, peering into the fridge (already looking pretty full, which does not bode well for the remaining build up to Christmas) in search of some more pastry you’d pre-prepared for recipe testing. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of thing would your mum like for Christmas?”

“You’re getting her a gift?” Osamu raises his head, turning a near 180-degrees to look at you.

“I’m getting everyone a gift, Osamu.” You busy your hands with scrubbing your kitchen counter free of stray flour. “Now, what does she want? And while we’re at it, what about your other two guests?”

“Get them something cheap.” He says simply. “You don’t know them, they don’t know you. No one needs to shell out for a stranger. I’m pretty sure Suna’s buying you wine and Aran’s got chocolate.”

Okay, simple gifts. That’ll be easy. Simple. Convenient. It won’t hurt your pockets much more than this holiday already is. “And your mum? Hinata recommended a massage wand, but I wanted a second opinion.”

Osamu snorts. “That scrub has no concept of a price range when it comes to gifts.”

“Tell me about it,” you lament. Hinata’s really good at budgeting, up until birthday gifts get involved. You’re not surprised Christmas is much the same. “I’m just worried a massage wand is too much since they run pretty expensive, but I don’t want to just get her wine and chocolate and call it a day. It’s what half the party will be doing.”

He hums. “Ma’s not that materialistic. She likes stuff she can use.”

“Well I’m not going to get her a set of pans, am I?”

He huffs, a soft sound that drags out into the air and lingers in the kitchen. “Not like that. I mean craft items, or something like honey from a farmers market or an artisan soap or some bath bombs. Shouyou’s on the right wavelength with the massage wand.”

“Okay, okay,” you leave the kitchen briefly to grab a notebook so you can scribble that down. “Chocolate, wine, artisanal goods. I’ll go out and grab them tomorrow. Then it’s just waiting on your gift.”

“Waiting on mine?” He asks, immediately curious. “You’re getting it shipped?”

“Nope.”

“Then how’re ya waiting on it? Still coming up with ideas?”

You roll your eyes. “None of your business, is it?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Your heart skips a beat at the endearment. Sweetheart. You. Sweetheart. “Give me a hint about mine, and I’ll tell you something about yours?”

“You’re so conniving,” you say fondly. “Fine. I’m waiting on it because—and you can’t get mad at me for this—I’m trying to thrift it.”

“Thrift it?” His brows furrow. “What is it, a sweater?”

“No,” you huff. “Look, I know it’s got a bad rap, but I like thrifting gifts. There’s always some hidden gems, and you can find some really good high-quality or vintage stuff at affordable prices. It forces me to think out of the box sometimes too. They can make for really good gifts.”

He raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging you. My Ma did the same thing growing up.”

“Then you’d know it’s not just sweaters.”

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Oh my god.” You take a moment, fight back a smile, and continue. This man—you wish you’d met him sooner. “Anyway, I have an idea, but it’s a bit on the pricey side. I was hoping I could get something good quality thrifted, but if I don’t see anything over the next couple of days I’m falling back onto plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“C’mon now! Yer just stringing me along.”

You turn to him, peering at him through your lashes. “Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.”

His expression cracks. “Yer such a brat,” he tells you, even as his mouth splits into a grin. “You think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Well, since you said so,” you say brightly, “it’d be rude of me to refute a compliment, yeah?”

“Whatever,” he says warmly, “you’re a big fan of thrifting?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “As I said, you can find some nice vintage pieces. It’s where I got my favourite jacket, and I’ve been hoping to find a good sweater there for forever. I know cashmere is a far away dream, I just want something that’ll last, y’know? Clothes fray so fast nowadays.”

“Hm.” It’s all he says. A low hum of acknowledgement, a soft curl of huh, a- you don’t even know how to explain it. He opens his mouth to speak, and the pair of you are interrupted by the blaring of your timer.

“Oh, shit!” You squeeze his arm, shuffling past his figure as you hurry over to the oven. “God, I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. Lemon meringue is so finicky—”

“Don’t sweat it, I’m sure it’ll taste great.” Osamu peers over your shoulder as you lay it on the counter, pressed close to your back. “How long until I can try it?”

“You’ve got a black hole for a stomach there,” you tell him, “five hours minimum.” You pause. “Hey, wait, what about my gift? We had a deal.”

His expression twists into a grin. “None of your business, is it?”

XII.

miya osamu (christmas): its really hurting my heart to have to make greek salad for christmas dinner sent 1:32pm

you: your fault for catering for a bunch of athletes! you: here’s to hoping they don’t turn their nose up at dessert sent 1:35pm

miya osamu (christmas): theyd be idiots to miya osamu (christmas): besides whatever they don’t eat ma and i are taking home lmao sent 1:36pm

you: a little presumptuous of you to assume you’ll be taking all the dessert you: maybe i want to distribute it among my coworkers sent 1:37pm

miya osamu (christmas): you dont miya osamu (christmas): you hate all of them miya osamu (christmas): minus the one girl sent 1:38pm

you: stop listening to me when i talk sent 1:38pm

miya osamu (christmas): hard ask sent 1:39pm you reacted to this message with ‘👎’

XIII.

“Ya know,” Atsumu starts, which never bodes well for the collective intelligence of anyone in the room. “Considering the two of you are hosting and all, do you think you should have matching Christmas sweaters? As a show of unity.”

“Whaddya take me for? A muppet?” Osamu snorts. “Didja even try with that one? That’s your flimsiest excuse yet.”

“Hey! It’s a genuine question.” Atsumu nods to himself. “You should get them a gift. They’d love a matching Christmas sweater.”

“Sure,” he says blandly. “You done now?”

“Wait, really? You’ll do it?”

“No.” Osamu turns back to what he was doing, which is making dinner for the both of you to eat when he comes over in an hour with more food to put away. “I’m getting ‘em something else.”

“Wait, really?” Atsumu repeats, even more shocked, which he has no right to be when he was just suggesting matching Christmas sweaters. “You’re actually getting them something?”

“Close yer mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“I didn’t realise you were actually getting along! Shouyou made it seem like you’re best buds, but you know how he is!”

“Shouyou’s clearly got his head screwed on a bit tighter then.”

“Oi, fuck off.” Atsumu groans. “They talked about you like you were, I don’t know, the devil or something. They said you couldn’t convince a soggy napkin to marry you without it wanting to off itself in thirty.”

Osamu snorts. He can’t find it in himself to be offended; that’s pretty funny. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

“And now you’ve learnt humility?” Atsumu’s head jerks, horrified. “What have they done to you?”

Osamu ignores him. Atsumu isn’t wrong, even if he’d rather drop dead than admit it. He does like you, a lot more than he probably should given you’ve barely known each other for two weeks. You’re cute (really, crazily cute), funny, conscientious; he’s had more fun sorting out Christmas with you than he’d ever imagined, even with Atsumu hyping you up to be the second coming of Christ himself. You’ve grown closer than he’d thought possible. If he’s being honest with himself (which he is), he’s kind of dreading the end of your plans come Christmas.

“You’re so full of shit,” he says instead, “I’ve always been like this.”

XIV.

It’s finally Christmas. This, of course, comes with a whirlwind of activity; you spend Christmas eve deep cleaning your house with Osamu as a willing assistant, spend Christmas day rearranging decorations and doing the last of your baking and trying really, really hard not to panic.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Osamu assures you, elbow deep into his dinner prep while you buzz around the apartment, looking for the slightest imperfection in need of fixing. “Your baking tastes great, the apartment looks nice, everyone’s coming to have a good time, and you’ve still got half an hour to get ready in case something does go wrong.”

You nod in agreement even as you rearrange the bouquet on the dining table. “The ham’s already in the oven, right?”

“You helped me put it in half an hour ago,” he replies, “stop worrying. C’mere, don’tcha have a custard to make for the eggnog?”

“Right!” You zip into the kitchen, readjusting your apron as you approach your now stuffed fridge. Getting anything new in it has been a challenge, what with the way you’ve both had to rearrange it three times to make everything fit. You grab the milk carton, dropping it at the nearest counter and reaching over to squeeze Osamu’s shoulder in thanks as you walk past. Everything else is all but ready; the house is arranged, gifts are stacked under the tree, the ham’s already cooking and every single one of your desserts (minus the custard) is tucked carefully in the fridge. Snacks are already laid out on the dining table, the bathroom has been scrubbed until it was sparkling, everyone knows your address, you’re almost completely dressed; there’s little to do but fiddle. And make custard. Osamu passes you the egg carton, and you smile at him in thanks.

You guys work in silence before your own nerves get the better of you. “I’m really sorry about all this. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about everything right now. It’s planned down to the minute, I really shouldn’t be so stressed about this.”

“I don’t mind. Happens to the best of us.” Osamu pauses, taking a break to wipe olive oil off his hands before leaning his hip against the counter. “I’m pretty nervous too.”

“You’re good at looking otherwise.”

He shrugs. “There’s a lot to be nervous about. Ma’s joining us, and I always want to make it a good holiday for her. Work’s been busy, holiday planning’s been busy. I’m doing a more western-style Christmas dinner. I’m worried about where you and I will stand when Christmas is over and I’m worried Ma’s gonna feel awkward being over 20 years older than everyone else. I know she’s struck up that weird friendship with Shouyou, but still.”

“Well, Sakusa does have a weird affinity with middle aged women,” you offer, “and if anything, he’ll be desperate for embarrassing stories about Atsumu. You know how those boys like tormenting each other. I’ve tasted your cooking too, and it’s never been anything less than spectacular—you should know, given how much I enjoy it. And, uh, I hope we can continue meeting up regularly afterwards. At the very least, you’ll need to visit to transport half of your cooking utensils home.”

“Doesn’t stop me from worrying though, does it?” He cracks a smile. “I dunno. I’ve grown attached to this kitchen. Might take a page out of Tsumu’s book and start haunting your apartment.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say softly. “I mean, the circumstances weren’t amazing, but I’ve liked getting to know you. I hope we can stay close.” You hover on that for a moment, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to just gush, but I hope we can stay close isn’t all you want to say, either. The words linger there, sweet on the tip of your tongue, lost only to your inability to verbalise the feeling coalescing in your chest. “You’re, uh, a dear.”

Osamu reaches over, grasping your hand in his own; his palm is warm, soft from the oil he was just handling, a bit bigger than your own. “I’m a dear? What are you, my grandma?” He asks teasingly.

“You know what I mean.”

His lips twitch upwards. “Yeah. I do.” He squeezes your hand, thumb rubbing soft circles into your knuckles. His mouth opens, like he too has something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to say it. Like you, he too cops out. “Keep texting, ‘kay? This has been fun.”

“Of course.” You grin, lips peeled over your teeth, your joy on full display. “What else are we supposed to do with our lunch breaks?”

His gaze flickers. “I have some ideas.”

It sinks into you then; oh. He’s flirting. Probably. Most likely? That’s, like, the most overused phrase in the book. I have some ideas. He doesn’t just want to talk. He has some ideas. You turn your hand in his grasp until your palms face each other, carefully lacing your fingers together. You keep eye contact. He follows your lead dutifully, shuffling ever so slightly closer, and you gather that soft hope in your chest as you respond. “Some ideas, huh? Wanna share with the class?”

It hovers in the air between you. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and slightly parted; his flickers to yours. The anticipation, that moment before an inevitability, yawns. You both know what’s going to happen, your free hand moving to his bicep as his rests on your waist. You bite your lip to contain a smile.

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” He asks, voice ushered into a low murmur.

“Well, you were the one that had some ideas,” you reply, voice just as low. “I don’t want to get the wrong idea, do I?”

“I have a feeling you know what it is.” His hand, a brand on your waist, slides until it rests on the small of your back; he pulls you in until you’re pressed together, a scant thread of air the only thing separating you. You tilt your head up, still making eye contact, and he hums slowly. “You’ve got such a beautiful smile. It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

Your features bloom, a happiness inexperienced unfurling in your chest; you’re sure now, absolutely certain, that there’s not a single person in human history to have experienced the same joy that you do in this moment. It’s not possible, that there’s this kind of giddiness in you that billions before you have been able to experience. Or maybe it is, and it’s your turn to experience it. Either way, you open your mouth to reply.

This, of course, means it’s the perfect time for the doorbell to ring.

Osamu’s head swings forward until your foreheads are touching, a deep groan escaping his lips. A similar sound of disappointment escapes you. “Whoever that is, I’m gonna kill them.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” you say, even as a part of you wants to ignore them. “Those are our guests we’re talking about. Who’s gonna eat all that ham if you kill them at the door?”

“It’s your Christmas cake I’m worried about.” And he steps away, rolling his shoulders in noticeable disappointment. “You started it in August, can’t let all that hard work go to waste.”

The doorbell rings again. Your eye twitches, even as you heft a full-body sigh. “I’ll get it.”

When you open the door, Atsumu’s cruel, malignant face is the one to greet you, a huge bag hefted under his arm. “Took you long enough! Did I interrupt something?”

“You’re obnoxious,” you tell him, stepping out of the way. Hinata follows behind him, arms stacked with about six bags full to the brim. “Gifts under the tree.”

“What’ve you got there, Shouyou?” Osamu asks, moving to grab some of the bags. Atsumu bats his hands away.

“Nah, uh, uh, Samu.” He grins. “Nice apron. Got it for you last Christmas, didn’t I?”

“No, that was my birthday gift.”

He grimaces. Osamu, in contrast, grins. “Nice of you to get us matching aprons. Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.”

“You’re such a dick.” Atsumu claps him on the back. “Geez, get freshened up. You’re gonna welcome your guests looking like that?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Good thing you’ve got me to set you right.” Atsumu nods to himself, rummaging through his huge bag before tossing Osamu a headband with foamed, sequined deer horns on top. “There you go. Get changed and put this on—the wardrobe is half the holiday!”

“Now you’re just making shit up.” Still, remarkably good at annoying each other, Atsumu manages to usher Osamu into the bathroom. The second Osamu’s gone, he turns to you with a wide grin.

“We bought alcohol.”

Instinctively, your eyes snap to the weight Hinata is carrying in horror. Hinata, either not noticing or not caring for the way you recoil, smiles. “The place looks good! Sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s alright,” you say, even though it really, really isn’t. “Did you seriously bring six bags of alcohol? How much did that even cost?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Atsumu pats your shoulder consoling. “We’re gonna need it. You might want some liquid courage for this.”

“For what?” You ask, eyes darting over to Hinata, who’s suddenly very dutifully unpacking the contents of an entire liquor store onto your counter. “Okay, wait, don’t do that. Put it in the pantry.”

Atsumu sighs out your name. “You don’t need to play coy with us. We know the truth.”

“...Right.” You turn away, retreating back to the kitchen and your unfinished custard. “Well, you have fun with that. You’re not getting drunk until after dessert.”

“Now that’s just not fa—” the doorbell cuts Atsumu off this time. Serves him right.

XV.

The party is in full swing by the time gifts are being opened. Your snacks are well received, given they’re all but devoured by the time dinner comes around. Dinner is a smash hit, and dessert is demolished even with 80% of the guest list comprising of professional athletes. Osamu’s ham is a particular favourite (you have to admit, there really is merit to a Christmas roast) and your Christmas cake another, four months of cultivating gone in fifteen minutes. By the time everyone is winding down, Atsumu’s excessive load of alcohol has been brought out even though most of the party is sipping on the homemade eggnog—Atsumu’s brandy an additional ingredient—and gifts, which at that point had spilled out from under the tree to halfway across the lounge, are finally brought out.

“You were right,” you mutter to Osamu, who’s sat so close beside you that your shoulders brush with every movement, which is something Atsumu had been gleeful to point out. Constantly. “The roast was the better idea. I can’t believe I was so anti-ham.”

“Looking a little cosy there,” Atsumu says knowingly for the third time this evening, before Osamu gets the chance to respond. Aran, one of Osamu’s guests and sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside Atsumu, groans loudly. “Got something to share?”

“They were complimenting my ham,” Osamu replies blandly. “Why? You wanna take turns, maybe compliment the salad?”

Hinata perks up from where he was opening a volleyball shaped soap. You’re not sure who bought him it. “It was really good, Osamu. Are you sure I’m allowed to take some home?”

“Go ahead, Shouyou. You think I can eat that and everything else in the next few days?”

Tuning out the conversation, you pull out your next gift. It’s from Osamu, funny enough; you bite your lip, ready to make a comment, only to find him already looking at you. “Go on, open it. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Rolling your eyes, you begin meticulously unwrapping it. It’s square, which you find out is because he put it in a nondescript cardboard box before wrapping it. A gasp escapes you as you peer inside and Atsumu (ever the mood killer) squawks when you pull it out to properly look at it. “You called me a muppet for suggesting a sweater!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Tsumu.” Osamu immediately shoots back.

You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you run a hand along the inside. It’s soft, with a slightly well-worn look to it; you almost feel like kicking your feet, recalling your conversation from several days ago. No wonder he refused to give you a hint—he’d only just decided what to get you, that sneak. You don’t even know how he found this.

Well, you kind of do. You nudge his shoulder, grinning giddily. “Open your gift from me. Right now.”

“Impatient, arentcha?”

“I’m serious.” You beam up at him. “Open it, Osamu.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, pulling it towards you and quickly tearing through the paper. There’s a moment's pause as he stares at his gift. Osamu’s lips twitch upwards, peeling back over his teeth. He glances at his gift, back up to you, back down to his gift again. “You told me you weren’t getting me a sweater.”

“I lied.”

“You’re kidding,” Atsumu groans, “Osamu rags on me about suggesting matching sweaters, and the two of ya do it anyway?”

“They’re not matching,” you argue. “And it’s cute. You were just meddling.”

“It’d’ve had the same result if you’d followed my lead anyway!”

“Yeah, except if we had it your way they’d be ugly, scratchy, and unwearable.” Osamu argues. “This is classy.”

“When have you ever cared about class—?”

XVI.

You knew Atsumu and Hinata were up to something. It was pretty obvious—everyone and their mother could tell. Unfortunately for you, knowing they’re going to do something doesn’t mean you knew what it was. You find out because the co-conspirators divide and conquer and Hinata, for all his fumbling, remains incomprehensibly charismatic.

It only really clicks when you almost slam into Osamu as Atsumu nearly shoves him into a wall before sprinting off like his life depends on it. It probably does. Giggling like a schoolgirl, all he says as he zips off is, “Thank me later!’

You yelp as Osamu nearly sends the both of you tumbling to the floor. “What the hell? Why did he do that?”

Osamu groans. “Something about ‘helping out the less fortunate.’ He thinks I’m too scared to make a move on you.”

That shocks a laugh out of you. “He has such little faith.”

It’s proven doubly true when something hits your shoulder. Osamu swipes it before it hits the ground, displaying it to you with an open palm. Plastic mistletoe, with a piece of tape dangling sadly off the edges. “You’re kidding.”

“That scheming pig,” Osamu says with something akin to wonder, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“He couldn’t even splurge? This looks like a stick with leaves.” You pick it up, feeling along the synthetic edge of one leaf. It really is a sad thing. You show it off to Osamu, a snicker accompanying your next words, “Looks like he really thought you needed the help.”

“Well,” Osamu muses, “since he’s so kindly went through the effort, it wouldn’t hurt to finish what we started earlier, would it?”

“Oh? You’re giving him the satisfaction?”

“Between you and me, I think I’ll be the one better off for this.” Both hands move to cup your cheeks, and you let the mistletoe fall to the ground as your own hands move to his hips. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You bite at the inside of your cheek, desperately fighting a smile. “No complaints here.”

He hums softly, one hand dropping to the curve of your neck. He leans in then, breath ghosting over your mouth, and kisses you. It’s a delicate thing, barely a brush of your lips before you press into it. His lips taste vaguely of cinnamon, pressing into a smile as your noses nearly collide. You grin hopelessly as well, and it’s not much of a kiss at all; you’re two idiots grinning into each other’s mouths, breathing the same air and clinging to each other and hovering awkward in the doorway to the bathroom. It’s kind of perfect.

Osamu pulls away first. “I’m going to do that again,” he tells you, matter of fact. “And if you let me, I’m gonna take you out for dinner this weekend.”

“Yeah?” You ask, features giddy with a full-body happiness; your heart beats like a drum, your fingers twitch with a physical manifestation of your affection, and you rock on your feet, leaning into him once again. “I can make myself available.”

His face softens. “Yeah.” Then he’s leaning in again, hands warm against your skin, thumb rubbing circles into your cheekbones. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re stuck with me now. Hope ya don’t mind.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, leaning up and into him.

#hq x reader secret santa 24 #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #↘ writing

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iandoubt · 2 days ago

Note

scott smajor with number 7 for your spotify asks?

omg anon sorry it took me so long to get to this, but here: Scott smajor with number 7, Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance!

textless and bgless under cut, as well as really long ramble caption vvvvvvv

I hope this is alright! If nothing else, I’m so so proud of drawing hair braiding, that took. So. Long. lol, anyway yeah I also really like how Scott’s hair came out, and I’ve never made a third life Jimmy design before so I came up with this on the fly and I really like how it looks. But yeah, I saw which song it was and thought of them immediately, Scott was so distraught at Jimmy’s death in third life, (prepare for ramble that is mildly unintelligible if you are not really geeky about MCR lore lol. The main stuff you need to understand is that mcr has four albums, I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, The Black Parade, and Danger Days: The True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys, and all of them have a lot of lore) like they are so demolition lovers coded, especially because of the whole back from the dead thing where Jimmy is alive and well in later seasons but Scott is still grieving him and the memory thing with winners remembering which means Scott remembers third life and Jimmy doesn’t, reminds me of like (from my understanding of the story, which is different from other peoples because MCR lore is very vague) the inner turmoil of the lover from the three cheers lore who went to hell, and his lover is in heaven and on one hand he wants to reunite but on the other he knows his lover doesn’t even know he’s alive (-ish. Not sure how much his situation qualifies as “living”) and feels guilty, thinking that she probably won’t even want to see him again, because he’s killed so many people and he doesn’t want to ruin her paradise (I mean she misses him too and wants to see him again but he doesn’t know that, and also he rightly recognizes that he is an actual sociopath. I’m not saying c!Scott is crazy (well, as not-crazy as you can be in life series death games. Everyone is at least a little bit off their rocker. Woah, parentheses within parentheses, what is this!?), but I am saying the guy demolition lover absolutely is. I am also saying that c!Scott has self worth issues. At least in my headcannons. I also have a similar headcannon for Joel. Maybe that’s why they hate each other, their mad that they can’t sacrifice themselves for each other and then decided a murderous rivalry was the only option/j ) but yeah so the torturing themselves over a lover who is both dead for them and also at the same time alive and well but unreachable and in a better place than them and wanting to be with them but holding back for fear of hurting them which ends up hurting them anyway (which is also a theme in the black parade, so ig you could also kinda compare Scott to The Patient, but patient always felt more Joel or Pearl coded to me. Also yes I know I already made a post about smalletho demo lovers au, but idk I can have both smalletho and flower husbands demo lovers I just like projecting my interests onto,,,,also my interests ig lol) is something Scott and the sinner demolition lover have in common. Also this song makes me cry. So much. Could barely even draw this through the tears lol/silly, and I’m exaggerating but less than you’d think. Unfortunately I am a crier. I also cry at Summertime from danger days, pretty much all of three cheers but especially I never told you what I do for a living, demolition lovers from bullets (btw for non MCR fans these are album and song names. Also the demo lover’s story starts in bullets with the song titled for them, and then is continued in three cheers for sweet revenge) as well as I don’t love you, wttbp, the end, mama, and famous last words from black parade. And those are just the MCR songs, not counting all the other sad songs from other bands. I am a CRIER lol. But yeah, thank you sm for the ask anon I really enjoyed drawing this!

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 49

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,870ish

Summary: You and Laura find yourselves in The Void.

Notes: This is basically a filler chapter. I'm sorry if I skipped a lot, I wanted to get to the official scenes, plus I have a lot planned for after the movie scenes are done and want to get to those! I hope you still enjoy it! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

With a flick of her wrists, the bald woman used her powers to pull you and Laura up to your feet. You groaned at the quick forced moments.

“Interesting,” the bald woman mumbled, studying you. Her long pointer finger hooked under her chin, earning a growl from Laura. “You’re Y/N… An Ember. Aren’t you a rare find. Haven’t seen one of you around here, or even your counterpart, Wolverine.” She pulled back and looked at Laura. “And you are a rare sight as well. X-23. Laura.”

“Who are you?” You asked, completely confused about what happened and where you were.

“Oh, my apologies, I’m Cassandra Nova and you’re in the Void.”

“The Void?”

“A place where the TVA sends people they deem as troublemakers from various places in the multiverse.”

“The TVA?” Laura questioned.

Cassandra sighed. “Don’t you two know anything?”

You studied the woman in front of you, there was something familiar about her. “Do I know you?”

Cassandra laughed. “No, but you may have met a version of my brother, Charles.”

“Charles is your brother?”

“In some universes.”

Your mind was reeling. Multiple universes? Multiple Charles? Charles has a sister? Cassandra smirked as she could see your mind trying to catch up. You could feel her slithering around in your mind, despite your best efforts to keep her out. She stepped tauntingly closer to you, making Laura try to find against her hold.

“Show me a flame,” Cassandra whispered, knowingly. “Show me.”

“Don’t do it, mom!” Laura implored. “Don’t—“

“Quiet!” Cassandra forced Laura to quiet down. “Seems like your daughter knows your little secret. You’re not as strong as you once were. Maybe you’re no use to me at all.”

“You want a flame?” You responded quietly. “I’ll give you a flame.”

You let out a shout as you used your whole body to blast Cassandra with fire. Her grip loosened on you and Laura, causing you two to fall to the ground. Laura moved quickly, tightening her backpack on her shoulders before pulling you up.

“We got to run!” She said, pulling you along.

You hated how weak you felt after that, but you knew you had to keep going. Laura pulled you into the woods, allowing you both to miss the group of people that joined Cassandra.

“Do you want us to get ‘em?”

“No,” Cassandra waved him off. “They’ll come find me eventually. I’m the only one who can help that Ember with her little fire problem.”

~~~

Laura kept dragging you through the woods until she felt it was safe enough to stop.

“Sit,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You sat against a large tree, catching your breath. Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to push the pain away.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Laura said, shaking her head. “That was too dangerous.”

“I’m fine, sweetie,” you told her, plastering a small smile on your face.

Laura scoffed. “You know, I’ve known for a few years now that your powers have started to cause you pain.”

“Laura—“

“No. You shouldn’t have done that. I could have gotten us out of there.”

You reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. For using my powers like that and for thinking I could keep the truth about them a secret from you.”

“I understand why you did it, kept it a secret. You haven’t used your powers much since Dad died. There’s been really no need.”

“Yes, but you deserved to know. I’m sorry.”

Laura gave your hand a squeeze. “We should keep moving. She’s probably hunting us down.”

You shook your head. “No, she would have found us already. She let us go.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, but something tells me that her not hunting us down is much worse.”

“Still, we should keep going.”

Laura stood up before reaching down and taking your hands. She pulled you and you tugged her into a hug. Laura melted into your embrace, allowing herself to relax. You let yourself hold your daughter for a moment, forgetting the predicament you were in.

“We’re going to get through this,” you whispered. “Together.”

~~~

The Void was a weird place. No part of it made any sense. Climates were merged together. Random buildings, ships, planes, and vehicles were scattered about. Sometimes, they would just fall from the sky, seemingly out of nowhere. And, so far, you and Laura hadn’t run into anyone else sense your run in with Cassandra. The two of you were able to find food in the abandoned buildings that you passed.

Days seemed to run weird here as well. You thought it had been four days since you arrived, but you were unsure. All you knew is that you and Laura had been seemingly brought here for a reason that you had yet to figure out. Laura and you found a spot to camp for the night. You flicked your wrist, forming a flame nearby. You sighed as the tinge of pain that radiated through your hand. You could see Laura’s concern from the corner of your eye.

“Dad would hate for you to be feeling like this,” Laura mumbled.

“Yeah, well, your father’s not here,” you retorted.

“What would he say? About… your pain.”

You thought back to all those years ago. 2013. When Logan told you what he had found out about your phoenix power, that too many times would start to kill your power. To kill you. It was one of his worst fears and he wasn’t even around to try to prevent it.

“Logan would have gotten angry that I even tried to hide it. He would have noticed something was wrong from the first sign of pain… He knew me too well… We would have fought about me using my abilities and he would have won. He would have looked at me with those eyes… looking at me like I was the world.” Your eyes fell to the ring still on your hand, feeling like it was burning a brand to your skin. “He would have begged me to stop using my powers, telling me that I was the only thing he was living for. And I would have stopped for the most part. For him… I would have done anything for him.” Laura reached over and grabbed your hand. “I— I haven’t told anyone this, but it’s my biggest regret… that we buried him with the dog tags. I wasn’t in the right mind to think about taking them from him… I used to cling to those for comfort, and now… now I rely too much on you and this ring to keep be afloat.” You looked over at Laura with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the person you needed. I’m sorry if I’ve asked too much of you… if I relied too much on you.”

“No, mom,” Laura moved closer. “You’ve been just what I’ve needed.” She rested her head on your shoulder and you rested your head on hers. “I miss him.”

“Me, too, sweetie… so much.”

“He would have hated it here.”

You laughed. “He would be complaining the whole time, but always making sure that we were taken care of.”

“I think he’d still not be okay with sharing you.”

“Not at all. But I’d force him… there’s always enough of me to go around.”

Laura sighed. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

~~~

Laura woke up to footsteps, branches crunching underneath. She opened one eye slightly, taking in her surroundings. You were still sound asleep beside her. She believed that you needed your rest and wasn’t about to have someone attack you in your sleep. Laura noticed it was a woman sneaking up on the two of you. A woman with long brown hair in a maroon leather outfit. The woman had two blades, twirling in her hands. The woman went to lean down but before she could get too close, Laura had launched herself at the woman.

You woke up to see that Laura had pinned a woman down not far from where you were laying. You sat up.

“Laura!” You exclaimed.

“Who are you?” Laura asked the woman she had pinned.

“I should be asking that of you!” The woman retorted. “Are you one of Cassandra’s minions?”

“Cassandra?” You repeated. “No! We are trying to get away from her. Laura, let her go.” Laura stood up, leaving the woman on the ground. “I’m Y/N. This is my daughter, Laura. We were sent here to the—the Void and we don’t know why. We ran into Cassandra briefly but we were able to get away.”

The woman stood up, brushing the dirt off of herself. “I’m Elektra.”

“It’s nice to meet you, under the circumstances.”

“Yes. How long have you two been out here?”

“A few days, we think.”

“That’s a long time for the Void. Impressive.” The three of you fell silent as she studied the two of you. “Come on.” She motioned her to the nearby path. “There’s a group of us trying to survive here and perhaps defeat Cassandra one day. There’s safety where we are.”

Laura and you shared a look, like you were reading each other’s thoughts.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s go.”

~~~

You followed Elektra to a cement building, built into the ground. Inside, it was a makeshift home. There you met Gambit, Blade, and Johnny. They explained to you that they were sent here because the TVA decided that their universes were dying and didn’t want them to fight for it. Laura and you could only figure that your reason for being sent here were the same. They told you that there used to be more of them, but each one of the others had gone against Cassandra and never came back.

The five of you became a weird little family as the days turned into weeks. You learned more about their universes and you shared about yours. You kept the usage of your powers at bay, not wanting to push yourself too much.

“I think we should go out and search,” you said.

“If Johnny’s not back yet, that’s on him,” Blade stated.

“Cassandra probably ended him, Chere,” Gambit added.

“Don’t care,” you replied. “We should still look.”

“I’ll help you, mom,” Laura offered. “I’ll take the East, you take the West.”

“Thanks, kiddo. Let’s get going.”

~~~

Laura hadn’t been gone more than a few hours when she stumbled across the Honda Odyssey. Like stalking a prey, she moved towards it. Peeking inside it, she saw that it was all bloodied and cut up. There were two unconscious men laying in the van, one was tied up with seatbelts and the other made Laura freeze for a second. The face was so familiar, though she knew it wasn’t him. For a brief moment, Laura was torn. She knew she should bring them back for their safety and to see what was going on, but she feared what seeing a version of Logan—of your husband—could do to you.

Staring at the man’s face for a moment longer, Laura decided. She got into the Honda Odyssey, started it up, and drove off.

next chapter >

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star--stilinski · 17 hours ago

Text

wow, you're so fucked.

stiles is standing next to you, a sweaty beacon of pride as he chats with scott and isaac excitedly, his lacrosse uniform still on and not making things any easier for you.

he had just played a game and won. something unusual for him, clear in the way he seems to glow a bit at the attention he's receiving. you can admit that he did better than his regular performances, which often included him sitting idly by on the bench. but you really don't need to deal with this. rambling, hyper focused stiles is one thing.

sweaty, cocky stiles is another.

he laughs at something danny says-oh, danny's here? you didn't even notice him approach, too distracted with the way stiles' hair sticks to his forehead. anyway, his laugh might make you swoon. jesus, are you ovulating? there's a wet patch forming in your panties and you know it. whore.

"oh, yes! we will so be there!" stiles slings an arm over your shoulder and grins at danny. you can smell his sweat, now, and unfortunately stiles' musk only makes you want to ride his dick even more.

"be where?" you blink, turning a curious gaze on stiles, who looks at you all confused and cute and his lips are so pink and his skin glistens with sweat and i bet the rest of him does, too-

"are you okay?" he hums, squeezing you against his side just slightly. you nod and turn to danny to avoid moaning at the sight of stiles' adams apple.

"sorry, i was zoned out."

danny looks like he's disappointed in you. because of-fucking-course danny māhealani can tell that you're this close to giving stiles a blowjob in front of the entire student body. just because he's sweaty and excited and prideful. you glare at danny, just to shut him up.

he talks anyway.

"some of us were gonna go grab food to celebrate, and i was just inviting you guys. unless you'll be... busy." danny drawls his last words with clear implication, but stiles is too busy being excited that he got invited to something by the "in" crowd to notice.

"and i told him we were going." stiles grins down at you, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. you avoid his eyes, tilting your head.

"i dunno..." you pick at your nails, and stiles is quick to stop you. a habit you both have and you're both trying to quit. "it's kinda late, and we have that essay-"

"oh, come on, don't tell me you're passing this up for homework." stiles tosses his head back dramatically and you hear danny snicker. you know if you look at danny again, you'll want to throttle him. but looking at stiles means looking at his moles and freckles, his jawline, his brow.

you swallow thickly.

"yeah, okay, shut up. i was gonna say yes." you fold so quick that stiles actually steps back from you in shock, and you avoid grabbing him by the jersey to keep his scent all over you.

danny smirks at you, nodding once. "see you guys there. try not to fog up the windows on the way."

stiles waves as danny leaves, and you're pretty confident he didn't even hear that last part because of how focused he is on being overdramatic about you saying yes to him so easily. his eyes are wide and his mouth is open when you turn to look at him, and he let's out a squeaky surprised noise.

"what-you always argue about this stuff! did you have some moment of discovery?!" he grabs both your shoulders and you fight a smile, shrugging him off. you can't just tell the boy, 'oh, it's a whole lot harder to say no to you when all i can think about is how far i would go to get you in my pants.'

right?

you settle for an easy half-truth. "just didn't wanna dampen your good mood. you're practically bouncing off the bleachers right now."

when you look back at stiles, he has that stupid crooked smile cocked all smartly at you. feeling bold, he gives your hip a light squeeze and hums, "atta girl."

yeah, you are so incredibly fucked.

☆

this is my most popular from the vault!! it's also one of the first things i published here. stay tuned for more vault releases and an upcoming thomas fic :D

this anon made me giggle so here's a snippet of pt. 2 (its a joke dont get your hopes up)

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf x reader #dylan o'brian x reader

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persevereforahappyending · 2 days ago

Text

A Beacon in the Dark |12|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Joey sat in the living room while you went to get Grace, she couldn’t stop replaying everything you told her. Saying your story was a lot, was an understatement; she couldn’t imagine surviving all that. She survived Abigail’s wrath only because of the others and because she ended up developing a connection with the girl, plus having a common enemy in Frank definitely helped the situation. You were, for the most part, on your own, one stranger by your side, until he wasn’t, she couldn’t imagine someone sacrificing themselves for you like that.

You survived all of that in one night, losing a new friend in the process, and then a month later you learned you were now one of those creatures. Frank tried to turn Joey, it was strictly to control her, but she didn’t want to be a vampire in general. She didn’t fully understand how the whole thing worked but she always considered herself lucky that it didn’t work. She could probably deal with the not going out in daylight thing and even the blood drinking part, but she’d never be able to see her son again. Even if she could have controlled herself like Abigail, she never would have trusted herself around him, couldn’t trust that she herself, or that life wouldn’t hurt him.

You weren’t lucky though; you got bit and now every month you were forced to turn into one of the monsters that did that to you. Joey clocked the self-hatred pretty much right after meeting you, you hid it well, but it was the way you talked about certain things and how you reacted. Honestly, Joey was surprised you were still alive considering how much you seemed to despise what you were. You stopped talking after getting to the part where you met Grace, Joey couldn’t begin to imagine what those first few months were like together, how Grace got you to where you were now.

“You ready?” Grace asked, breaking Joey out of her thoughts.

Joey nodded, a part of her was disappointed you weren’t taking her home, but she wasn’t sure she’d get in the car if you even offered. She wasn’t the biggest fan of Grace at the moment either, but she didn’t have to worry about Grace trying to rip out her throat, at least she didn’t think she did.

Joey followed Grace to her car which was a nice simple black one, nothing like your Jeep. It was definitely nice, the seats were leather, but it looked like any car the average person would drive, it didn’t scream money like the ones Joey saw in the garage. Grace seemed to have cars for every occasion, but this one seemed to be all her, who she truly was, not the mask she showed everyone else.

“I do want to apologize for lying to you,” Grace said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “That’s not something that’s easy to tell someone without them overreacting.” Joey scoffed at that. “I only wanted to protect them.” Joey looked over at Grace, she could see the care the other woman had for you. You were fiercely protective of Grace, but it was reciprocated just as much. “But I truly am sorry for dragging you into this.”

Joey nodded, she believed the apology was sincere, but she wasn’t sure about forgiveness yet, this lie almost got her killed. “Why did you save them?” Joey couldn’t help but ask.

Grace snapped her head to the side and then quickly back to the road as if she remembered she had to focus on driving. “They told you that.”

“You said they’d tell me everything.” Joey furrowed her brow slightly; she wasn’t sure why Grace was shocked that you told her about that part of your story.

“I was prepared to shoot them, had heard reports of werewolves before, they run in packs, not easy to go after on my own.” Joey nodded along; she gathered that based on what you had told her. “But then there were random reports of one in New York. I packed my stuff and took off, couldn’t pass up going after one that was apparently alone.”

“So, what changed?”

“I found them,” Grace whispered, she got a distant look in her eye, probably remembering that day. “They’re hard to kill when they’re transformed.

Joey scoffed. “That’s one way to put it,” she mumbled.

“They killed someone before I found them.” Joey sucked in a breath, she knew you must have had killed people before, but assuming and knowing were different things. “I found the body,” Grace shook her head. “Completely shredded. Then tracked them the rest of the way and waited.

“You waited?” Joey’s mouth fell open. Every mission she’d been sent on had been about taking out the threat and saving the innocents, but here Grace was telling her she waited to shoot you, after discovering the body of someone you killed.

“I was more than prepared to shoot, had them in my sight and everything. If they went after anyone else, I would have taken the shot.”

“But they didn’t.”

Grace shook her head. “When they finally shifted back in the morning I approached, placed the gun right at the back of their head.” Joey tried to ignore the feeling of hearing someone put a gun to the back of your head, how close you were to dying, and she didn’t even know you at the time.

“Then they looked up at me,” Grace whispered. Joey glanced over to see tears had filled Grace’s eyes. “They weren’t like the others, they didn’t lunge at me trying to get another kill in, they didn’t try to run, they didn’t even beg for their life,” she let out humorless chuckle. “They begged me to pull the trigger, they saw the blood on their hands, and they wanted to die instead of risking something like that happening again.”

Joey sat in silence the rest of the way, taking in everything Grace told her. Despite hating what you were, you were always in good spirits. You were protective and liked to joke around, you were more considerate than anyone else Joey had ever met. She didn’t understand how someone like that, who made sure she was safe and always got back to her son, who felt guilty about pulling her away for a job, how someone like that could be in such a dark place like Grace described.

Joey looked up when she felt the car come to a stop, they were outside her apartment already. “Thanks,” Joey mumbled and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Grace said, resting a hand on Joey’s arm, which she was quick to take away when Joey looked down at the hand. “Don’t do anything rash.” Joey furrowed her brow at that. “I know you’re not happy with us, with me, maybe we’ve broken your trust completely.” Joey looked down at the sidewalk, mutual trust was the most important thing in a partnership, especially when it came to trusting someone with your life. “But just consider everything you’ve learned before you make any decisions.”

Joey didn’t say anything, she just nodded and closed the door. She didn’t look back as she made her way into the apartment building, but she knew Grace didn’t drive off until Joey was fully in the building. She trudged up the stairs to her apartment and once she was inside, she slumped against the door, mindlessly tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter as she pressed her palms into her eyes. She looked at the clock on the stove and saw she had a bit over an hour before she’d have to pick up Caleb, just enough time to shower and change.

Ana stripped her clothes and hopped into the shower. She scrubbed herself clean, finding bits of twigs in her hair as she ran her hands through it. She closed her eyes as she let the water run over her, she saw flashes of the night before, of a monster slaughtering everyone. Her eyes snapped open and then she saw your face, the complete opposite of the monster she had seen, the shame that weighed down on you, how it was as if you were afraid to look at her the majority of the conversation.

She finally hopped out of the shower when the water started to turn cold. She quickly changed, throwing on a clean pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. She looked down at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor before balling them up and tossing them in the laundry basket. She glanced at the clock one more time, she had a few extra minutes. She grabbed her leather jacket before heading out the door, making sure to bring the basket of dirty laundry with her and down to the bottom floor so she could toss in a load, she didn’t want Caleb to come home and see her clothes covered in blood and mud.

She made her way down the street, walking quickly to make sure she got to the school before the bell rang. She hadn’t talked to Caleb since she dropped him off at school yesterday morning, he got picked up by her neighbor and spent the night at a friend’s. She had told him she had a late shift and she’d be there to pick him up from school, he seemed excited to stay the night at his friends, but she didn’t miss the forced smile, as if he still didn’t believe she’d be there waiting for him when school got out.

Ana got to the front of school just as the bell rang. She glanced over the kids as they ran out the front door until her eyes landed on Caleb. He had his head down and looked up, glancing at the spot Ana always waited for him and seemed to have to do a double take when his eyes landed on her. Ana gave him an awkward smile as he made his way over to her. “Hey,” Ana greeted when he got to her side. “How was the sleepover?”

“It was fun,” Caleb said with a small smile. “How was work?”

Ana tensed up at the question, but she tried to brush it off as they walked back to the apartment. “It was okay, I’m not sure if it’s going to work out so much anymore.”

She didn’t want to tell Caleb everything obviously, she wanted to protect his innocence as much as possible, but she couldn’t stand the thought of lying to him. Caleb was quite observant; he would notice if anything changed, and she didn’t want him to worry. She didn’t want him to go back to wondering why she was suddenly waiting around to hear back from employers and relentlessly applying to places.

“Oh,” Caleb whispered. “Did something happen?”

Ana let out a long sigh as she pushed open the door to the apartment building. “Sort of,” she admitted. “Let’s just say I’m not sure I can trust my boss and my partner anymore.”

“Did they do something wrong?” Caleb looked back at her curiously as she closed the door to the apartment.

Ana rested her arms on the kitchen counter as she thought long and hard about Caleb’s question. She could choose the easy answer and just say yes. The truth was you had lied, you had knowingly put her life in danger, but it was your secret to tell. Ana couldn’t fault you for not sharing your entire life story, what happened to you still clearly affected you, you only told her, not because you trusted her with the information, but you felt bad and obligated for her to know after what happened.

“Not necessarily,” Ana said slowly.

“Then what’s the problem?” Caleb tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunched ever so slightly.

“They kept a secret from me.” Caleb only seemed to scrunch his brow even more at that. “And it affected our most recent job, I’m not sure I can trust them anymore.”

Ana turned and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, she figured the conversation was done since Caleb had been silent. When she turned around, she saw Caleb was still standing in the same spot with a contemplative look on his face. His eyes were glued to the ground and there was a slight frown on his face.

“Are they a bad person?” Caleb asked, tilting his head as he looked up at Ana.

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, out of all the things she expected, it definitely wasn’t that. “No,” Ana said easily with a shake of her head.

“Then why can’t you forgive them?”

“It’s not that simple,” Ana sighed.

“But why? You trusted them before; you like your job.” Ana looked down at the counter, she barely trusted you before, you had proven yourself and earned her trusting you with her life, but then you lied to her. “Why can’t you just give them a second chance?” Ana looked up at her son again. “Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?” Ana’s mouth fell open, she missed a lot, she wasn’t sure how she ended up with such a thoughtful and brilliant son, it certainly wasn’t her doing, and it definitely wasn’t his father’s. “I thought it was best to not judge someone based on their past mistakes.”

Ana’s eyes fell to the floor again, she couldn’t stand the look in her son’s eyes. She knew what he wasn’t saying, Caleb was too smart for his own good. She was a shitty mother; she only recently got her life semi together to even come back into his life. She came to him, asking him for not only forgiveness but a second chance, one she still didn’t think she actually deserve. The main difference was you didn’t deserve Ana’s anger. You lied, you put her life in danger, and yet Ana couldn’t fault you for that, she had done worse to her own son after all.

Ana looked up and watched her son walk off towards his room. She furrowed her brow when he stopped at the entryway to the hallway and look back at her. “I like how things are now,” he said quietly. “You’ve seemed happier and less stressed.” Ana wanted to laugh at that, she wasn’t sure how she could be less stressed after dealing with various supernatural creatures she thought were just myth and legend trying to kill her. “And,” Caleb’s eyes suddenly refused to meet Ana’s. “You’ve been around more. It’s been nice,” he mumbled at the floor.

Ana smiled at her son’s words and at the way he took off to his room without another word. She still had a lot to prove she felt, she hadn’t completely earned Caleb’s trust again, but it seemed she was well on her way to it. You had been considerate of her time with Caleb, it always seemed like a priority to you because you knew it was Ana’s number one priority. Grace was even considerate of it for the most part, she accepted it when Ana first told her Caleb came first. Grace and you both seemed to accept Ana probably wouldn’t want to return, you seemed to not want to try and convince her to stay but Grace did. Grace didn’t say anything to try and manipulate Ana’s thoughts, she just asked for Ana to think of everything she learned before making her decision.

Ana grabbed her water and moved to the couch. She had enjoyed what the two of you were doing, she felt like she was actually helping people. She guessed she’d have to ask you, but this seemed like the only secret between the two of you and now it was out. She had nothing to worry about, from now on she’d be able to go in knowing all the information, she could say no if a mission during a full moon came up again.

Ana grabbed her phone before she could second guess herself. She scrolled through her contacts and found your name. The phone rang a few times, and she started to question whether you’d answer her. Ana knew you were trying to keep your distance, but she figured if she was calling you, you’d know she wanted to talk to you.

“Hello?” you finally answered, your voice sounding raspy from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” Ana asked, furrowing her brow as she looked at the clock, it had only been a couple hours since she left the mansion.

“Joey?” You had definitely been asleep, it seemed you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering. “Is everything okay?” you suddenly sounded more awake.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ana assured you. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, I would have waited to call.”

“It’s okay, I usually sleep after….” Ana nodded to herself, that made sense, she was sure shifting could be quite exhausting, it must take a toll on you in some way. “Anyway,” you cleared your throat. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Ana pulled out a sucker from her pocket and began twirling it around in her fingers. She could hear you breathing on the other end of the line, but you didn’t ask again, you didn’t try and push her to talk, you just waited. She was sure she could hang up on you right and you wouldn’t call back, you’d just accept it.

“I want to keep working with you,” Ana finally said.

She heard you suck in a breath then nothing but silence. “Are you sure?” you asked, you almost sounded confused that she’d choose such a thing. “You don’t have to. Grace will more then compensate you for the job. You don’t need-”

“I want to,” Ana cut you off. “I want to give this partnership a chance. Assuming all cards are on the table now?” Ana couldn’t think of what else you could possibly be keeping from her, but she had to at least ask.

“Of course, you know everything.”

“Then yes, I want to continue working with you.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when there’s a new job or,” you quickly corrected yourself. “I’ll have Grace call you.” Despite her calling you, it was clear you were unsure where she actually stood involving you.

“You can call me.”

There was silence for a few seconds, Ana could picture you forgetting she couldn’t see you and just nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Ana heard you shout as she started to pull the phone away. “If-if you ever don’t want to work together,” your voice sounded smaller than Ana had ever heard it. “It’s okay, I’ll understand. I’m sure we can find a way for you to still work with us but never have to see me.”

Ana’s mouth fell open at that, you were not only giving her an out but basically telling her she’d always have a job. She had no idea what that would look that, she couldn’t imagine doing this job without you by her side now.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ana said. “I’ll wait for your call and sorry for waking you, get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” you said. Ana could practically picture you smiling, the shy smile you always hid from people, not the one you put on for show. “Bye.”

Ana relaxed back into the cushions, she made the right choice, she was sure of it. She didn’t know what the future held, what monster the two of you would face next, but she knew the two of you would be able to handle it. Part of her felt even more protected knowing what you were and knowing you would be at her side, even if she was still absolutely terrified of your other half. Ana wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to see you like that again, but that was a problem for another day.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121

#joey abigail #joey (abigail)#ana lucia cruz #ana lucia cruz abigail #joey (abigail) x reader #ana lucia cruz x reader #ana lucia cruz (joey)#melissa barrera #abigail movie #abigail 2024 #a beacon in the dark

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the-tech-turn · 2 days ago

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UNFINISHED

Summary: Crosshair finds Tech's old journal and reads through it.

Word Count: 1,136

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, s2 spoiler

A/N: This takes place right after the ending of episode 4 s3. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO FINISH I PROCRASTINATED TO HARD! This was supposed to be my 50 follower celebration but now it's the 151 followers celebration! Now everyone say thank you to my bestie for peer pressuring me into finishing this and proof-reading this.

The moment Crosshair walked onto the ship after reuniting with his brothers he felt like something was off. He knew Tech was no longer with them but as he looked toward Hunter in the pilot's seat he knew it was wrong. That was Tech’s seat. Tech was supposed to fly. Tech was supposed to be there. Tech was supposed to be here. Yes, Crosshair may have reunited with his family but not all of them. Not his genius brother who would never stop talking. Oh, what he would give to hear his voice geek about different kinds of insects or Wookie culture. Crosshair gets up from his seat and walks into the barracks. He walked up to Tech’s bunk staring at all the projects that would never be finished. Gently, he moved the projects enough to sit but still kept them in relatively the same spot. He didn’t want to disturb Tech’s things. ‘He never let us near them anyways,’ he remembered. He threw his head back, a mere attempt at holding back his tears. He missed his brother. Then a thought came into his mind. A long time ago Crosshair had given him a notebook. A real paper notebook. Tech hasn't used it much since “ It is a precious gift that I do not intend to misuse.” He wondered if he ever had used it. He looks around his bunk seeing nothing. He looks under the bunk and in every place that he can think of to find the book. But he couldn’t. ‘Maybe he lost it or threw it away. Wow, Tech, really showing its “value”, he pauses. ‘ Or maybe…it was on Kamino.’ He didn’t like thinking about it much, but the day the city he was raised in drowned was the day he lost all of his memories as a cadet. He recalled the time he first gave Wrecker Lula. Or the time Hunter had come up with the name the “ The Bad Batch”. Or when he found Tech’s hiding place for his datapad. The memory reminded Crosshair of the hiding spot he and Tech used on the ship. Crosshair used it to store his toothpicks, but Tech used it to hide what he deemed valuable.

‘Maybe, just maybe, it was in there.’ Crosshair crawls across the bed stopping when he gets to the edge of the bed. He reaches over to the side of his bed and carefully pries open a panel. With his hand, he searches for the notebook in the dark box until he locates the small red booklet. He grabs the book and flips through it. ‘Yep, he definitely wrote in it,’ but as Crosshair continued to flip through pages he realized just how many pages were blank. Never to be written in. Never to be drawn on. He got up and sat on Tech’s bunk once more. He opened the book, analyzing the handwriting. He saw how the handwriting improved with every entry. While skimming the book one word caught his attention. “Race”. Omega has told him about the time they were bodyguards for someone named Cid and Tech was forced to race to keep everyone safe. “ What’s so important about a mission on some sketchy planet?” Crosshair wonders. There was only one way to find out so he started reading.

I had won the race (obviously) but to my surprise, the crowd cheered which is not uncommon at such events. I've heard their screams since I arrived. I also had full confidence in my ability, but hearing them chant my name with so much excitement, along with the praise from my siblings, I felt an overwhelming joy. All my life I had been made fun of, due to my enhancement. Mainly by regs, I have also endured endless teasing from my brother's thanks to my constant "rambling". It no longer bothered me much but it took a lot of self-reassurance to get to such a point. Little praise was given to me, the only source of which came from my brothers. No one else had a reason to provide that to me for it was my purpose. But now there are hundreds if not thousands of people admiring my skill. It felt nice, to say the least.

Crosshair gave a soulful smile. ‘ He had been mocked all his life, and I participated in it,’ he admitted sorrowfully, ‘At least, he didn’t hold it against me.’ Crosshair lets out a sigh and flips to another page. Crosshair pauses, his name on the page. Hesitantly he begins reading, afraid of Tech’s true feelings towards him after everything. He could only hope his brother didn’t think poorly of him.

Omega asked me why I didn't care about Echo leaving us and while I think I responded appropriately the interaction got me thinking about Crosshair again. I’ve tried to forget, but that plan was flawed. How was I supposed to ignore him if I didn’t want to? I eventually came to accept his decision but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In all honesty, I miss the times when we’d cause trouble in the mess hall. I miss when we’d compete in who shot more droids. I miss the moments when I work on a project and he’d sit next to me and clean his rifle. I miss when we would be up at the latest hours when I would ramble about anything and everything while he’d try his best to stay awake. He enjoyed sleeping a lot so it was difficult for him, but I appreciate what he did. I miss when things were simpler- no that is incorrect. I do not miss fighting for the republic. Back then we had to risk our lives, we were mistreated, we didn’t have Omega and we couldn’t choose for ourselves. I miss Crosshair. But I don’t think I’ll see him again. But, if there's one thing certain about Crosshair is his loyalty. That was evident when he stayed with the Empire. It never falters but it can shift when the loyalty isn’t mutual. I believe that is why he left us. When we denied the Empire he felt that we denied him. I do not regret leaving the Empire but I do regret not taking Crosshair with us. I find myself replaying recordings of him when I am in need comfort. It’s the closest thing that I have to him with me.

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He should’ve come back sooner. If he had his brother would still be here. Crosshair looked around the room and studied it. He sees Tech’s projects, equations, and blueprints. All are things that Tech never got to finish. Looking down towards the journal, Crosshair decided to complete writing on the book. So it didn’t have to remain unfinished.

EXTRA: Here's some old art I made when first promoting this fic.

#tbb tech #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanfiction #Angst #tbb angst #tbb spoilers

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littlemissgeek8 · 2 days ago

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I worked so darn hard on this, you have no idea. Between writer's block and a migraine and having the sudden asexual panic of "HOW ON EARTH DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY FLIRT?" it seemed like the universe didn't want me to write at all! But, hopefully I ticked both boxes. ^^;;; Even if the "angst" is more "wallowing in self-pity," hurt/comfort is my JAM. Once again shoving the bulk of the story behind a cut because it's almost 2000 words, oops.

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

Not for the first time that day, nor even that week, Varric cursed the name of that Maker-forsaken pony. It made sense to travel by horseback--you could carry your equipment better, you could go further in a single day than you could on foot... and, apparently if you were Varric, you could get brushed off your pony and sprain your ankle. Luckily, they'd been almost back to Skyhold, and somehow he'd managed to stay on the pony afterwards long enough to get home.

Still, he never could find a way to get along with the blasted animal, even though he'd been assigned to ride her for months. She sucked in air when she was saddled and nearly dropped him on his head the first time he mounted. She found every. single. branch. to smack him in the head with. She'd even folded her ears back and tried to nip him a few times before he started avoiding her head like the plague.

And she had the audacity of having the same name he'd given Hawke's sister.

Now, he was holed up in his quarters at Skyhold, stretched out on his bed, with a pillow under his foot and several more tucked behind his back. And, though he wouldn't admit it even under pain of torture, he was absolutely sulking.

He should be writing, but his desk was across the room and moving was a lot of work. He wanted to be down in his usual spot in the great hall, curled up in a comfortable chair by the fire. It was the best place for people watching, and of course all the juiciest gossip got whispered about right near him. The table was perfect for writing too, either working on his serials, jotting down notes, or writing the occasional report about their most recent excursion.

The great hall, of course, was a much further walk than his desk, and down more than one flight of stairs too. So instead, he lay in his bed with a scowl, doing absolutely nothing at all.

A knock at the door poked a hole through the gloom of his self-pity. It was timid at first, as if the person knocking was afraid to bother him, then followed by a louder set of rapid-fire knocks. Apparently the person outside had decided to get it over with all at once. Unfortunately, the gloom settled back in stronger than before.

"What do you want?" Varric called from the bed, his voice an irritated growl. A part of him deep down twinged at the harshness of his words. But he shoved it back down, burying it under his frustration at his situation and the layer of pain that swirled up whenever he moved wrong. He wasn't really in the mood for pleasantries or visitors, truth be told.

"Varric? I wanted to check on you, are you all right?" A soft feminine voice came from beyond the door, draped in the flatter tones of a dwarven accent. Inquisitor Cadash, the Herald of Andraste. The woman wrapped in a warning of "look, but don't touch" in his mind.

"No," he answered flatly. Then, after a momentary pause, "The door's not locked." The door opened with a creak, and the Inquisitor's round, curious face poked in. Her brown hair was braided as usual, but this time she had it coiled and pinned at the base of her neck. Not a bad look at all, really, if one was looking at her like that. Varric told himself he definitely wasn't. He was just getting the details right, that's all.

"Sorry to bother you, I thought it must be frightfully lonely up here all alone." She hovered at the doorway, hands hidden under her cloak and probably clasped together out of nerves if he knew her right. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Its your fortress," Varric said bluntly. At least she asked, he thought to himself. Not everyone who had that kind of power would. "Don't worry, I'm decent." He'd managed to struggle himself into a loose pair of breeches earlier, when he thought he might try hobbling off to the main hall. It was after he moved his ankle just wrong in the process that he decided to stay in his room. The breeches he'd kept on out of stubbornness, but he hadn't bothered with a shirt.

The Inquisitor saw his chest hair on a regular basis anyway, this shouldn't shock her, Varric reasoned.

Still, her cheeks took on a reddish cast as she entered, looking at everything in the room but him. Her hands were still tucked under her cloak, and Varric sighed. All the confidence the Inquisitor had developed during Haven seemed to have cracked after they arrived in Skyhold. At least, as far as he'd seen--she'd been so comfortable when they'd spent time together in Haven. Had Corypheus's attack really unnerved her so much?

"So, what's so urgent you came up here to find me? I can't go on any wild adventures right now, sorry. Doctor's orders." Even with his valiant efforts, his usual sarcasm came out harsh. He wasn't really wanting visitors today anyway, even one as easy on the eyes as serah Cadash. It was frankly hard to wallow in self-pity when there was someone around whose feelings he cared about. Somewhat cared about, he told himself, even if it wasn't exactly true.

The Inquisitor laughed softly, her eyes crinkling up as she glanced at him. "No adventures this time, I think you've had enough trouble for a few days." Carefully, she walked across the room to his writing desk, before she finally moved her hands out from under the cloak and placed a covered object on the desk. As Varric sat up a little, he saw her remove the quilted cover to reveal an attractive silver coffeepot. Then, she slid her hands into the bulging pockets of the cloak and took out a pair of silver cups to go with it.

"Coffee?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The Inquisitor glanced back at him with a smile.

"Well, you're not much for tea, if I remember right, and it's too early for alcohol, and you didn't seem interested in that cocoa stuff Bull had you ship in..." Before Varric could ask why that mattered at all, she produced a cloth bundle and set it on the desk before unwrapping it to reveal a selection of baked goods. It was a little hard to see from the bed, but when she held one up, Varric recognized the crunchy, wedge-shaped almond pastries he'd taken a liking to back in Kirkwall.

"Oh," he said, eloquently.

"I thought I remembered you liked these," the Inquisitor said, untying the strings of her cloak, "but I'm afraid you'll have to get up if you want some."

Flames. He did, in fact, want some of those tasty little pastries, and she knew it too. Someone must have put her up to this, maybe Nightingale or Ruffles. He'd have suspected Chuckles, but he knew the two didn't get along. He pressed his lips together into something vaguely resembling a tight smile, and steeled himself in preparation to get up.

The floor was cold and his feet were bare, and the slightest touch made him recoil at first. But, bribery is a powerful motivator, and soon both feet were over the side of the bed as he prepared to stand. Somewhere in the room, the crutches he'd been given lay where he'd discarded them in a fit of frustration. They were awkward to use and walking around like that hurt his pride even more than his ankle. Instead, he pushed himself into a standing position with a bedside table and what little leverage he could get from the bed itself, before lurching sideways to lean against the wall. The stones of the wall felt even colder on his bare arms than the floor did against his bare feet.

Step by agonizing step, Varric made his way across the room to his desk out of pure stubbornness. He only half registered that the Inquisitor had pulled his chair out before he half fell into it. Lifting himself up with his arms, he settled into the chair and shot a glare at the woman beside him. "That was cruel," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Inquisitor Cadash said softly, before shooting him a sideways glance. "Would it have been better if I let you wallow in bed all day?" There was a teasing quality to her voice that gave Varric pause. She'd teased and cracked jokes before, yes, but this felt different. Once again the "Look but don't touch" warning rang out in his head, and he busied himself by pouring some coffee.

The kitchen staff must have added sugar and a bit of cream to the pot itself before sending it up, because it tasted just the way he liked it when he took a sip. Odd, he hadn't known they kept track of his tastes. The almond pastry was just right as well, the dryness offset by dunking it in the coffee. A smile crept over his face despite his dark mood, before he noticed the Inquisitor watching him nearby with an expectant expression.

Varric cocked his head to the side a bit with a questioning expression, and Inquisitor Cadash took a step back. "Was it right? It looks like it was right..."

"Were you behind this?" He asked, an amused chuckle sneaking out of his throat.

The Inquisitor shoved her hands into her pockets and took another step back, bumping into the end of the bed and sitting down with a thump. "I... knew you were feeling down and I didn't do it without help. But the cooks downstairs let me do some stirring and I added the almonds... and I hope I remembered how you like your coffee."

The unbidden chuckle had given way to a genuine smile, one that softened his eyes as he leaned against the desk with his cheek cradled in one hand. It was always a slightly terrifying ordeal, to be seen. Varric had long relied on stories and fabrications and outright lies to keep himself guarded, but at this moment being seen wasn't scary at all. "Do you treat all your friends like this, your Inquisitorialness?" he asked, quietly pushing down a wish that the answer was no.

The Inquisitor elected not to answer, chewing on her lip and refusing to meet his eyes again.

Varric took one of the almond pastries and held it out to her. "Why don't you try one? They came out pretty good." Her grey-blue eyes met his for a moment as she took the pastry from his hand, then she stood up and put her hand on the coffee pot.

"Uh, do you mind?" she asked, indicating the pot.

Varric shook his head in reply. "I thought you didn't like coffee," he said, watching her pour a small amount into the other cup. "Something about it being 'too bitter,' wasn't it?"

The Inquisitor focused on dunking her pastry in the coffee, before glancing back up at him through her eyelashes. "It's sweeter with company," she said softly with a smile.

Varric couldn't argue with that.

Writing Challenge

Alright now that I was both sincere and pedantic(warned y’all I’m almost always both) here’s your writing challenge for the day. Don’t forget there’s no time limit to these, if you find it in a month I’ll still reblog it. I’ll take pretty much any BW fic not just DA. Reblog, tag, or link me!! My ask box is always open as are my DM’s! Without further ado:

I want flirty dialogue without physical touch OR flirty touch without dialogue.

OR OR

If romance like that isn’t your thing I want angst. Give me the longing. Give me the hurt/comfort. I yearn for yearning. Emotional distress???? I love that shit. I’m leaving this one wide open. Bonus points if you manage both categories. Look for mine later.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #varric tethras #varric x inquisitor #varric x cadash #inquisitor cadash #darvia cadash #two idiots in love #awkward flirting from two people who are highly repressing their feelings for each other #not pictured: darvia making A Face over the fact that she still doesn't like coffee #and varric laughing his butt off

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dreamwatch · 2 days ago

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Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Together, Always

Prompt Day 14 : Together | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: MCD, Grief | Tags: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Secret relationship, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Post S4, Sad, Loss of a Child, Angst, Mourning

Again, very late. I've been sitting on it because I wasn't happy with it but I need to set it free and move on!

There’s no television on, no radio. Wayne doesn’t much see the point in it; they don’t bring comfort, and there’s certainly no joy to be had. So he sits back in his chair with his whisky and does his best not to think. Some days that’s easier than others. Today is hard.

He hears the gravel-churn of tires outside the trailer. The trailer, not his trailer; one provided to him to say sorry. No one ever told him what they were saying sorry for. It’s cold and clinical, most of their possessions were lost back in March. But its a roof, and a bed, and that’s really all he needs these days.

There’s no knock at the door, despite headlights lighting up the inside of the trailer, so he grabs the ever-present shotgun from beside his recliner and heads outside onto the porch. He recognises the car immediately.

The driver’s door opens and Steve Harrington steps out of the car. Wayne lowers the gun.

“Guess you better come in.”

Steve stands awkwardly in the kitchen while Wayne grabs a soda from the fridge. He bought a six pack of Coke for Dustin, back when he used to visit. There’s still three cans left. He hands one to Steve.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” says Steve. “Thought you’d be working.”

Wayne drains the last of his whisky. “Na, not much work around this year.”

It’s a lie. There’s more work than ever; they lost men back in March and the town rebuild has put pressure on the plant. There’s hours to be had, especially for a single man with nothing better to be doing. But not for a man who’s boy was accused of murder, and the way things are going Wayne’s expecting to be canned any day now. The bit that sticks in his craw is all the Christmas’s he had to work, either for the money or because no one would swap a shift with him, leaving Eddie alone. Now he has all the time in the world, but he doesn’t have his boy.

“Your folks home this Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “We didn’t do a lot, but… yeah.”

Wayne does his best to muster up a smile. He doesn’t have much use for them anymore so he has no idea how it reads until he gets a wan smile in return.

“How have you been?” Steve asks, and how does a man that has lost everything answer that?

“Getting by,” is what he settles on.

Steve sits rigid in the chair but there was a time when he’d stand in Wayne’s kitchen in nothing but his boxers cooking breakfast for all of them. When he would laze on the sofa, Eddie tucked in close to him, while they all watched a basketball game. When he could be in Wayne’s home and be as much a part of it as Eddie.

“I’m so sorry, Wayne. I should have come before. I don’t even know why I didn’t, I just—” he swipes at his nose, “I was a fucking coward.”

“You’re here now.”

Steve shakes his head.

“I let you deal with all of that on your own. He’d have been so mad at me.”

Steve was the one who called him from the hospital to tell him that Eddie was hurt. The two of them spent weeks posted like sentinels at Eddie’s bedside as he fought infections and complications, until a warm day in April when Eddie’s eyes cracked open just for a moment and Wayne hoped, before they slipped closed again.

He likes to think Eddie was saying goodbye, but then he’s an old fool.

“I thought I’d see you at the grave, but I guess we’ve been missing each other. I weed it, you know, and clean it…”

Wayne knows what cleaning it entails. He went there once, morbid curiosity when the headstone was finally placed. It had been less than a week before someone had daubed it in paint.

“I miss him, Wayne. I fucking miss him.”

A single fat tear falls from Steve’s chin, though he doesn’t seem to notice, and Wayne wants to hold him but he doesn’t think he has the right.

He’s been waiting for this conversation but somehow it never felt right to chase after Steve, didn’t want to impose if the feelings Steve had for his boy had died right alongside him. Not that he would blame him, he’s young. But Steve’s here telling him that he’s been spending time in that place, well now it feels kind of cruel to not say it.

“He’s not there, Steve.”

Steve looks at him, brow dipped in confusion. “No, I know, heaven and all that, I get it, but—”

“No, Steve. I never buried Eddie. I didn’t want him there for people to do that to him. Boy never had a days peace in his life, he’s sure as shit getting it in death. I had him cremated. Put some of his ashes with his mom. I kept the rest.”

He gestures to the black urn, pride of place next to a photo of Eddie as a young boy, all wide eyes and toothless grin.

“I thought you—” Wayne passes him a small white box, and his throat tightens. “You can put them in jewellery, you know?” He untucks the silver feather pendant from under his shirt. “I thought maybe you might want to….”

Steve brushes his finger over the top of the box. It’s nothing special, just cardboard, Eddie’s name in gold on the top. But it’s better than Eddie rotting away in a grave for people to desecrate. Wayne just couldn’t stand for that.

“I know you’ll meet someone, maybe start a family—”

“No—”

“You will, and that’s okay. He’d want you to be happy. But you didn’t get very long and that cuts me, Steve. You made him happy. So maybe you can be together for a little longer, huh?”

“Always,” Steve chokes, before clearing his throat. “Always.”

#steddie holiday drabbles #steddie #wayne munson #steve harrington #cw grief #cw mcd #secret relationship #good parent wayne munson #sad

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zerocoded · 3 days ago

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summary: headcannons about what is like do date zayne.

authors note: yay i love headcannons and i hope you guys enjoy this one! this is all written upon my perspective of zayne and his character, things that i think would suit him bla bla bla, pls don't take everything too seriously. i found this beautiful drawing on pinterest, credits to the beautiful owner.

warnings: husband material zayne i guess? • suggestive but nothing nsfw

word count: 0.8k

☆ zayne who actually laughed when you told him your favorite song was snowman by sia.

☆ i get a feeling that zayne is actually ambidextrous which means he has the ability to use both hands equally well, which brings me to the topic that zayne is the king of multitasking.

☆ like you are having trouble with some buttons on your shirt? this man is helping you without even blinking while scrolling through his cell phone with the other hand.

☆ he been through an exceptionally tough day at the hospital? imagine him getting home and discarding his tie with one hand while already unbuttoning his shirt with the other, all of this while making eye contact with you.

☆ speaking of eye contact, i feel that zayne is another level of control freak with everything in his life. do you see how this man built his whole career around wanting to save mc from her disease? man NEEDS to have everything within his reach and on HIS conditions.

☆ that translates to the bedroom when you both are fooling around. like do you think you are closing your eyes anytime here? no, zayne is making sure you are looking at what he is doing to you or his eyes so he could turn your mind into puddy.

☆ are you embarrassed of your sounds or think you both are in a place too public to let yourself go? zayne is not having it. this man is pinning your hands wherever he feels like it and makes it particularly hard for you to shut up.

☆ well, maybe i should go back to the sfw first, i'll make another post about what i think zayne is like in bed hehehe

☆ BRO IS THE MOST GENTLEMAN A GENTLEMAN CAN BE. like in every sense and that is canon.

☆ you will not be opening any doors from now on and will never have to worry about paying in a date. or in anything.

☆ you know what else he does? he is not only a gentleman in his mannerisms but also in his attitude. you would never catch my man zayne raising his voice at you or anyone ever.

☆ he takes his time to listen to you speak. and i mean listen. be it two minutes or three hours about your new favorite tv program, this man will be devoted to each word you say.

☆ zayne is usually a silent type of guy, being the listener of the relationship instead of the speaker. even if you also don't talk that much, he is happy to enjoy a few minutes of silence with you at home. he really likes the fact that you love him and don't judge his more reserved persona.

☆ i see zayne as more of an insecure man at the beginning of your relationship. i mean, he doesn't let it show but later confesses to you how much he was scared you would go away after a few weeks with him.

☆ on the other hand, doctor zayne knows exactly what he wants. he has his opinions and preferences and he doesn't let anyone change that. i mean that in a sense that you guys would probably have arguments over everyday things like the way he thinks grocery shopping should go or how to dry clean twice a week the kitchen because he is certain that that is the dirtiest place at his house when you come over.

☆ zayne is a hard headed man and you are probably the only one who can convince him to change a little of his demanding habits.

☆ regarding his health, you guys argue over that a lot. somehow this man tends to overprotect you so much that it pisses you off when you see him not sleeping at all. how dare he demand something from you and not pay attention to himself daily?

☆ he always says sorry when you guys fight by building little snowmen throughout the house and leaving a corny note on the fridge promising he will pay more attention to his sleep schedule for now on.

☆ also i think that zayne is a big words of affirmation partner, he LOVES to praise you while making eye contact - again, control freak - and waiting to see your flushed cheeks because that is his favorite look on you.

☆ miss here have a late-night craving? zayne is running to the closest store at the darkest crack of dawn to buy you your wish, even if you try to stop him he is like "don't worry, love, i'll be quick" and proceeds to kiss your forehead while putting a jacket on and rushing outside.

☆ you’re so his passenger princess. this man will be moving mountains to do what you want and he’s so good at it.

☆ you can disagree with me but i will say it: zayne matches SO MUCH with a little age difference. like he is "too sweet by hozier" and you are a little "messy by lola young".

☆ but my favorite trope is zayne with a badass partner that is also a genius like him and they both make the perfect power couple at akso hospital.

☆ i'll stop here but i have so many of these that i could make 😣 let me know if you guys would like to see more.

author's note: pls, i would love to hear what you think of this work! sorry for any misspelling. send me a request • my masterpost

#lads zayne #dr zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #love and deepspace #zayne

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 3 days ago

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Chapter 7 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

[Also Available on AO3]

Summary: Laswell delivers intel that leaves the team dealing with a ticking clock and the risk of Soap and Ghost's lives being in danger

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, smoking, character with trauma, established relationship, dialog heavy chapter, military inaccuracies

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 2.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV.

I always have at least one "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done chapter" and this feels like it might be it. Lot's of dialogue and characters standing around. I tried to make it entertaining, but alas, it is an infodump chapter

November 2, 2022 19:30 - Somewhere over the East Coast of the United States

Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the fuselage in flight, the soothing numbness of weighty limbs that came with the pain medication kicking in, and the bone weariness from the excitement of the past few days, Rory had barely been able to keep her eyes open. Her lids were as heavy as bunker doors, eyes rolling back until irises gave way to whites, her head lolled backwards against the headrest and she faded into a sleep deprived state of unconsciousness.

“For what,” she asked, rubbing at her eyes, sweeping away the sandy particles that had collected in the corners, attempting to erase the glue that had adhered her fan of dark lashes together in a bid to catch up on some much needed rest. With a stretch of her legs right down to her toes, fanning out inside her boots, and a crack of her back, she forced herself to focus. “Did we land already?”

The sound of twin turbine engines roared throughout the cabin in a swell, the orchestral brass section of a vehicle built for war rumbled up through her feet and into her joints. A thunderous lullaby of bellowing white noise surrounded her as she slept like the dead until startled awake by John nudging her leg with his knee and giving her shoulder a squeeze. She blinked around the interior of the plane groggily, trying to gather her bearings. Momentarily confused and disoriented, tense, until the low husk of his murmured voice curled around her with the weight and comfort of one of his oversized sweaters, and the sweet, earthy aroma of smoke carried on his breath.

“Need you awake for this.”

“Dropped off Laswell, en route to Texas as we speak, we’ll get across the border to Mexico from there.”

“Fuck me,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Really must have been out of it, eh?”

Yanking one of the cigarettes from the pack, Rory brought it to her lips and pulled out her lighter, setting the flame on the end. “Watch your tone, Sergeant. Might just find yourself on latrine duty back at base,” she said with a smirk, closing the lid on the flame and extinguishing it.

“You’re doing just fine, Lieutenant,” Gaz ribbed, holding out his pack of cigarettes for her, shaking them like a packet of dog treats. “Managed to go without drooling on the boss’ shoulder and everythin’.” His chuckle quickly followed by a swift elbow nudged into his side by the female member of their party.

“You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” she replied with playfully narrowed eyes, a curling half grin pulling one side of her mouth taut around the cigarette.

The sound of the CIA Station Chief’s voice immediately dragged Rory back into focus, and the mask of professionalism slipped down over her features once more, schooling them into neutrality. “Back to work already, I see.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Sinclair.” Laswell’s voice came from the laptop, voice muffled over the built-in speakers. Her tired eyes on the screen were the only thing visible as she held a mug of coffee up to her lips.

“Always. Sorry to wake you from your catnap, but it was important you heard this as well.”

“I'm all ears.”

The clink of Laswell’s mug hitting the desk was ominous, the only sound in the silence that settled before she spoke. “Botha never arrived.”

“What do you mean they never arrived?” She pulled the cigarette from her lips and sat forward, arms resting on her thighs. “They can't have been bloody spirited away,” she snarked, gesturing with the cigarette in her hand. “They have to be somewhere.” Sitting there stunned, head falling back against her seat, Rory took a heavy breath and tried to ground herself. Eyes snapping open, she met the screen with Laswell’s visage. “Konni?”

Blinking a few times, Rory wasn’t entirely sure she was cogent enough before the words hit her like a slap to the face and she was instantly made alert at the alarming news. The cigarette jostled on her lip as she spoke, mumbling around it. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I know you sent him off with Delaney a few days back… but they never arrived on American soil.”

“Haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”

“What do we know?” Price stepped in, taking control of the situation.

“There have been no moves made for a black box recovery, but the plane never landed. There were no distress calls made either.”

“Aerial strike of some kind?”

“I’d assume so, yeah. Likely didn’t get a chance to respond.”

Rory chewed on her inner lip, raking her fingers through her hair, the ashes at the end of her cigarette crumbling to the floor between her boots – and then it hit her. “So either Konni finally tied up that loose end… or someone buried the lead. Perhaps whoever it was that let the American missiles land in the hands of the enemy in the first place. Missiles that no one knew were missing to begin with. If they’ve got access to weapons that were off the books, what else are they capable of?”

“They’d have to be fairly powerful to have access to weaponry and tactics like that,” Kate confirmed.

Price reared up from his seat, his glower focused on the woman sitting beside him. “You don’t think –”

“I think he’s always been a bit of a dodgy blighter – willing to fight dirty. And I think it might have bitten him in the arse this time.” She turned her attention back to the screen in John’s lap. “Kate, what do we know about Shadow Company aside from being in Shepherd's back pocket?”

“I think someone who’s able to get a task force made up of British Special Forces operatives up and running from out of nowhere is capable of anything. Just like we are.” Rory drummed a thumb on her thigh. “Not to mention he’s got his own PMC at his beck and call.”

“You think Shepherd did this?” John growled.

“Rory,” he growled out her name, something feral brewing in his stare. “If he’s willing to use whatever resources he’s got at his disposal to kill your target, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Soap and Ghost?”

“I'll do some digging.”

Slamming the lid of the laptop shut, Price’s head snapped towards Rory, a quiet fury rolling within the placid depths of his irises, moments before they would become raging storms. “What makes you think it’s Shepherd?”

“What makes you think that it’s not?” she asked, looking taken aback, surprised by his unwillingness to accept her line of reasoning.

“Because he’s got my men working for him on a mission about those fuckin’ missiles,” he snarled.

She sucked her teeth, pursing her lips, before sucking the plump flesh between her teeth and worrying at her pout. “So it’s not trust then, is it? It’s just hope.”

John was protective, he always had been, there was no denying that fact. And he was no different when it came to the lives of his men. Men he had dragged into this, men he had chosen specifically for their skills, for the trust he had in what they would bring to his team. And now that trust was being turned against him by Shepherd, a man he had been foolish enough to allow to use him as a tool in the war they were fighting, one they had been fighting for too long.

She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the rigidity. Beating himself up in silence for believing that someone at the top might have actually had some sort of relative honor like him. That he put his life, and the lives of others as their commanding officer, into the hands of a man so ready to wash himself clean of them all made him twitch, his mouth curling with barely hidden disgust. Led astray by his own instincts, he could lose grip of just how much freedom he actually had while still acting as a cog in the machine. The herding dog pulling away from the pack to snarl at the wolves, to beat them back, taking on beasts bigger than him without fear, until returning with a bloodied muzzle, he would know that those under his protection were safe once more.

“Because that would be absolutely reckless. Not to mention putting his own head on the chopping block. There is no way he is that foolish when it comes to cleaning up a mess like this.”

“An animal backed into a corner goes for the throat,” Price rumbled, his voice low, dangerous. “Shepherd’s not one for complacency.” His mouth scrunched at the thought of what could happen to his men under the General’s orders. “And neither am I.”

“So we’re going in looking for a fight already, boss?” Gaz cocked his brow and glanced past the bickering couple.

“We’re looking after our own,” Price rasped, stare dead set, jaw locked tight.

November 4, 2022 00:30 - Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas

The wait for a helicopter to be refueled and made ready for flight had given them time to set up shop and ready themselves for taking on the cartel, terrorists, and the suspected – and likely– threat from inside of Shepherd and Graves. The table they stationed themselves around was littered with intel, all they had collected from Ghost’s earlier reports about Las Almas, the Los Vaqueros, and their run in with Hassan Zayani.

The three soldiers leaned over the table, planning, preparing, ready to strike, when the radio on Price’s vest chirped to life.

“Watcher-1 to Bravo-6. Watcher-1 to Bravo-6–”

“Here, Kate,” Price said, gripping his radio tightly in one hand, while the other pressed to the table, his weight resting on it.

“Hope you’re sitting down. I got my hands on the redacted intel of the century.”

“Go on.”

“The whole reason Graves and Shadow are under Shepherd’s control comes down to finances. Looked into Shadow's origins. Didn't take long before it fell into the red. Shepherd bailed Graves out.”

“Two months ago there was a black bag operation in Al Mazrah, headed by General Shepherd and carried out by Shadow Company. They were transporting ballistic missiles to our allies fighting the Russians in the Middle East. Reconnaissance had said the route was clear – it was incorrect. They were intercepted by a Russian PMC, one we now know to be Konni, thanks to Rory’s work. They took out all survivors and got a hold of Shadow’s comms,” Kate sighed and continued. “The shipments were illegal and off the books. The entire mission buried by Graves and Shepherd. Three missiles were stolen, we’ve only found two. We need to find the last one.”

“Why would Graves be willing to shoulder a burden like that with the General, why not wash his hands of it? Come clean?” Price’s heavy brow knit together in a tight weave of frustration, moving to stand tall, back straight, shifting his weight slightly as if ready to start pacing. The energy stirring to life within him to fight.

“And made a PMC into his own personal army. Wonderful,” Rory scoffed and shook her head. “So it’s not even a question of loyalty, Shepherd outright owns him.”

“They both got dirty and they've tried to keep it hidden. Now they're willing to do whatever necessary to make sure it stays that way. Picked up on comms chatter. Shadow's overtaken the Mexican Special Forces base in Las Almas.”

“What?” Price’s eyes flared, halting his movements instantly, his hands gripping at the shoulder straps of his vest with white knuckled strength.

“They've detained anyone who has had contact with the mission, either through the cartel or the missiles.”

“Detainment isn't a permanent solution.” Gaz’s jaw clenched, the tic of a snarled lip lasting for only a moment. “The fact that they were quick to take Botha out of the equation makes it worse. Ghost and Soap are in danger.”

“So is Colonel Vargas, my contact.”

The Lieutenant and the Sergeant were a threat to Shepherd’s goal of burying the problem he had helped create. Like nuclear waste having to be buried miles deep in clay and stone to keep the radiation from leaking out and contaminating the earth around it, it had been the General’s goal to keep this out of the light of day. So much so, he was willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater to hide the mistake he had made.

Rory folded her arms over her chest, her one hand coming up to rub absentmindedly at the scabbed over cuts on her cheek, the last reminder of a life she had fought to save, and for what. “So we're on a ticking clock, and not just because of a lost missile.”

“There's a prison the Special Forces use. High security. If Graves wanted a place to store a problem until there was a more permanent solution, that would be a good choice.”

“Right, then we head there.” Price’s fingers pressed to the table top, splayed apart, tapping them slightly against the metal as the gears spun behind his eyes. “Kate, keep an ear on the chatter and send me the blueprints for the prison. We need to figure out the best way in before we get there.”

“Will do.”

“Bravo-6, out.”

Turning to Rory, Price’s head tipped to the side. “You still think Shepherd’s unwilling to take out our own?”

Working her jaw from side to side, her whole face pinched into an angry purse. The sour tang of bitterness was a pervasive taste that caked her tongue. “Suppose you weren't the only one holding out hope. I can't believe he'd go this far. Why burn bridges like this, make himself the enemy? It’s completely illogical.”

“Because Shepherd likes being in control,” he snarled. “He's used to working in the black like us. Sees things as winning’ and losin’, not maintainin’ allies. No such thing as loyalty with him.”

“That's a dangerous spot for us to be in then, eh? Having to rely on him…” Her words trailed off and the small crumb of fear she carried with her, and the weight of just how much Shepherd knew about them all, darkened her gaze.

John gripped the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his body rigid, stiff as he rested her head under his chin. The sturdy force she could lean on. “We arent relyin’ on him. Not anymore,” he growled. Tipping his chin to his chest, he leaned back to look down at her and gave her nape a squeeze. “We cut ties, same way he was willin’ to deal with us.”

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare 2 #captain john price #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #oc: rory sinclair #skelly writes #fic: shadow dance #chapter 7

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