#and I know avoiding my family doesn’t really help feeling a bit isolated

[shatterthefragments]

Just. Half of my issues would be muted temporarily if I could have a snuggle.

But the friend who I know is open bc she loves hugging is so busy and I can’t always afford to go see her. The cuddlist that’s several many hours away that I’d have to straight up book time off and do a big trip for is also not really affordable.

I just wish I could wrap myself up physically in the love you guys give me here in an attempt at osmosis absorption (I know osmosis is only for water but I can’t remember the other term)

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 16

Summary: After your talk with Roman, Jess gives him some friendly advice. And Logan is now deciding on who to throw under the bus for the scandal. Based off of S2 E10 and S3 E1

TW: Mental health issues, NSFW (oral) 18+

Word Count: 4.6K

Notes: Sorry again for the slower updates. Bigger things are being planned for the story so bare with me.

Chapter 16: ken is def bd

Jess had just gotten back onto the yacht after making a trip out to the land to just explore. She saw Roman as he sulked. Roman had decided to just remain by himself, avoiding others, trying to distract himself from the massive fuck up he had put himself through. Jess would’ve never thought she’d do this for Roman in a million years, but she couldn’t help herself. She slowly walked to Roman, hoping not to startle him. “Hey, you guys talk?” She asked him.

Roman removed his sunglasses, looking at Jess completely defeated. “Fucking yeah- uh- yeah we did. She doesn’t wanna hear it.” He decided to open up rather than push. The trip to Turkey had made Roman realize the way he pushed and didn’t talk about his feelings really put him in difficult situations. Any day could be his last.

“I’m sorry- what happened?” She sat down, trying to get all the details. There was no way she was going to get any of these details from you. Roman blew air out, trying to recollect every detail of the conversation to only cut it short enough. “Well- she said she doesn’t love me anymore. That it was before.” He tried to slowly remember all your words. He heard Jess scoff, rolling her eyes. “Bull-fucking-shit.” Jess lightly laughed to herself at how ridiculous the idea was. She had sat right next to you and was lying down. She saw your gaze behind your sunglasses. They were constantly on Roman. You just wouldn’t stop staring. You panicked and nearly had a meltdown because of his trip. You isolated yourself from the court hearings because Roman didn’t need you there. You mentioned him a lot. You would just bring up a funny thing Roman did weeks ago while hanging out with Jess or remember little moments that reminded you of Roman. You were still very much deeply in love with him. Whether you admit it or not.

“Yeah- well, that’s what she said. Uh-so, she said I can’t be forgiven easily. And this could never be what it was.” He shrugged, playing with the corners of his sunglasses. He fidgeted a lot while talking. He just stared off, trying to calm his thoughts. He didn’t know how you did it for him so easily. “That’s just- honestly, it’s just y/n telling you to chase. Just bug her. She’ll scream and yell at you, but trust me, she wants you to chase. She loves to lie about ‘leave me alone’, but as soon as you do, she’s not happy you didn’t run and slam her doors down for her to forgive you. She’s an attached avoidant. It’s her way of- don’t even fucking know.” Jess shrugged, trying to explain your personality to Roman. Jess has seen you do this with everyone; Friends, boyfriends, and family. You would scream at your friends, go hide, and then expect them to come to you. But when they didn’t you told Jess and villainized them. You expected your family to eventually come back. You don’t want them back anymore. The timing has been too long.

“I’m just glad you made y/n actually happy for a bit. I would hate for her to lose that. Despite my distain for you Roman.” Jess admitted. Roman appreciated the sentiment. “Fucking whatever- uh while you’re here and y/n isn’t. Can you get me a beer or something?” Roman teased. Jess flipped him off before leaving him alone. Roman now knew you better. He wasn’t going to let up.

The entire family was set at the table, including the older staff and you and Jess. Roman had made sure to save you a spot and fill the rest of the table up before you had come in with Jess. You took your seat next to him, waiting for Kendall and Logan to make their entrance in. “So, do you think they’re throwing little Greggy into the ringer?” Roman asked the table. Greg shifted in his seat, looking around nervously. “Hey man, not fucking cool- okay? I mean- just...” But he was cut off once Logan and Kendall entered. Roman just laughed at Greg’s anxieties being so present on his face. Logan had finally announced who would take the blame and have to step away from the company. Kendall. No one could speak. The air felt thick, and it felt as though even though all our hearts raced, they were all matching. Your stomach felt disgusted. You looked at Kendall, sympathizing for hearing Roman beginning to protest for his brother. He was the only one to do so. No one wanted to sacrifice themselves to Logan or the company. It was better if Kendall dealt with it then them because… well, it wasn’t them. Roman felt like it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t let it happen. Someone else was responsible and Kendall should have no part in being blamed for it.

But Kendall already accepted his fate. In fact, he stepped up to it. “Hey, it’s okay. Guys, you’re off the hook.” He cleared his throat as he put a napkin in his lap. No one was going to be able to eat after this. You had completely lost your appetite. Roman couldn’t believe what had just happened. His older brother, someone he saw being set up for greatness has just taken a nosedive. Roman leaned in and asked Kendall “You okay?” He couldn’t trust Kendall’s judgment. He knew how much the company meant to him. And for him not to be a part of it anymore, Roman knew it would destroy Kendall.

Kendall tried to put on a brave face and lied about being fine. But everyone knew this was going to become a spiraling downward spiral for Kendall. He was nothing without Waystar. His whole life was set up for Waystar. You put a hand on Roman’s shoulder, trying to relax him Everyone just then began to ask for themselves. Roman and Shiv didn’t bother to ask for themselves. Just kept quiet. Before Logan announced the new Chief Operating Officer.

Roman.

He was shaken at all the news being through his way. He was happy, but so devasted at the same time. He just let out a heavy breath, unsure what to do or say.

Shiv took the news hard. Roman didn’t even want to believe the news, assuming he’d be watched over by Frank. But Logan promised it was the real deal. Roman was now COO. It was finally the real deal. His dad hadn’t been lying to him this whole time like everyone said. It was never Shiv. It was always him. He wasn’t too stupid or incompetent.

Kendall looked at Roman as if he had been stabbed in the back a thousand times by all his loved ones. It was the position he was meant to hold, now given away to his younger brother. Roman looked at him, unsure of how to accept the news, but told Logan he could do it. Kendall let a smile shine, before retracting it. Despite his failure, he was happy to see his younger brother be able to step up. He had faith in Roman. But Roman couldn’t accept it, but Kendall reassured him it was great. That he was happy for him. Kendall pushed everyone to go on with the dinner. But there was a kind of silence. Roman couldn’t eat. He just watched as everyone's forks and knives hit the plate, making that god-awful sound. You just tried to keep Roman calm enough on the outside. You breathed in and out slowly for him, having him follow your league in a quiet way so no one noticed what you both did. But Jess noticed. “Congratulations Rome, you deserve it. Really.” You whispered to him, taking a bite of your food. He nodded, finally deciding to eat after watching you eat. Dinner was awkward. Barely anyone spoke except Kendall and Logan from time to time to ease the awkwardness. But once everyone was finished, they scurried away into hiding like roaches with a flashlight on them. It was as if they’d be next to get the news they didn’t want to hear. Roman could barely move though. He was the last one there with you. You stayed for emotional support. “Hey- come on, let’s get up, alright?” You encouraged him. He was in a complete haze. You grabbed his arm, standing up and tugging. “Come on Rome- it’s alright, come on.” You continued. He just looked up at you, you weren’t sure what he was feeling. His face told you nothing. “I-uh- I finally fucking did it.” He laughed anxiously. He rubbed his face with one hand, roughly going over his jaw and mouth. “I mean- like- what the fuck was that, right?” He continued to just laugh nervously. You forced him up and tried to drag him to his room. “Do you think he was fucking with me? I mean seriously. You can weirdly read him. Do you think he was lying or-“he was ranting. His mind was going too fast. He couldn’t slow down. “Roman- I think he was serious. Now come on. Let’s just get you to your room. You can celebrate there.” You tried to redirect him. You fortunately got him to his room, but Roman could not stop talking about what just happened. He told you everything you just witnessed as if he recounted it to someone who wasn’t there. The door finally shut as you finally let go of Roman.

“I mean- just- y/n I mean come on- you saw that, right?” He reached out for you to comment on his success. But the door shut, leaving all of his excitement out the door as it finally hit him. “I fucking need you.” His mind spoke, before grabbing you once again, pressing you into him. He forced his lips on yours. You froze, not sure you were ready for this just yet. You pushed at first before finally giving in to Roman’s demands. You pushed his body against the wall, your hands roaming his body. His hands stopped yours, not sure if he was comfortable enough to let this go far enough. He pulled away, looking down at you, trying to catch his breath. “You still do like me.” He began to tease, leaning down to kiss you once again. You pulled away.

“Don’t remind me of what a bad idea this is.” You stood your ground. He nodded, watching you carefully.

“But- you didn’t want me back? Not even for a bit? Even if you were trying to get me to fuck you?” He questioned you. You rolled your eyes, denying it.

“Shut up, this is just your little ego boost now that you’re COO.” You denied your feelings towards Roman. He shrugged, knowing somewhat that it was true. Despite being sad about Kendall, the ego boost it gave him completely drove him wild. “Oh yeah- cause- y’know. It makes this so much hotter; don’t you think? You don’t wanna fuck the potential CEO?” He tried to tempt you. He might not fully be there, but he was willing to push his boundaries with you tonight. Especially since you were pissed at him. It was some way to gain control of himself.

The position of COO gave him confidence like no other. It was such a difference since 2 days ago after being taken advantage of in Turkey. He went from a hostage to a COO. You laughed at him, not trying to admit how much you did want him as badly as he did. You had gone months without touching him in any kind of sexual way. You went weeks without even seeing him naked or just in his boxers. You hadn’t allowed yourself to do anything with anyone else either because you weren’t sure it would feel right to do that to Roman. So, you obtained from everything, other than your own hand and toys. And a bit of fantasy you had.

“Oh yeah- cause I’m the slut who’ll fuck the next man in power.” You said in a sarcastic tone. Roman eyed you down before making a proposal to you. “Uhh- do you actually wanna do this though? Just- can we turn the fucking lights off while you just- I don’t know do whatever the fuck.” He never knew how to ask about these kinds of things properly. His sexuality was such a difficult thing for him to get into.

You looked at him, contemplating. “Well- I just-“ You thought, looking at him.

The desperation was apparent on his face. He wanted to be touched by you. He wanted to actually feel whatever you were willing to give him. But if he could avoid any discomfort of looking at himself along with other issues, he wasn’t ready to address.

The look he gave you, nearly pleading to be touched and loved by you, drove you to your decision. You walked to the wall, flipping the light switch off, and turning the lights off as Roman had asked you. You were lucky enough to be able to find his body. It wasn’t completely dark, there was some ability to make out what was in front of you. Your eyes would adjust soon.

Roman grabbed you, excited, but nervous to finally be able to do what everyone else did without it feeling like a chore. He wasn’t willing to actually go through with everything, but anything would be good. “Just tell me whenever you want to stop, okay?” You checked in with him before proceeding. You grabbed his hand and led him to the bed that remained in the middle of his yacht suite. You sat him down, straddling his hips. You sat down, grinding your hips against his, feeling him get hard almost instantly.

You pressed kisses down his jaw and neck, making sure not to leave marks. You didn’t want people to see their new COO with brand new marks on him with only the possibility being a few people that actually gave it to him. His mouth was closed shut, letting hums out. His body tightened as he felt pleasure taking over from simple kisses. It felt nice. He was comfortable enough. “Do you wanna take my clothes off or…?” You tested his boundaries. He nodded quickly, grabbing the end of your shirt before pulling it over your head and throwing it off somewhere. He hesitantly placed his hands on the curves of your waist, feeling them move slightly as you continued to grind into him. You tried to get yourself off in some way. You leaned down, kissing him. Your lips moved together softly, taking this slowly. You moved your hands down to his shirt to remove it before he stopped you. You removed your hands and placed them away from the end of his shirt. You moved yourself away from his lap, moving his legs apart. You leaned down, not breaking the kiss as you got down in front of him. “Tell me when to stop. You reminded him. You kissed down his jaw to his clothed chest before moving away. You laid your head on his thigh. He stared intently, nodding slowly to let you know he was okay to move on. You nodded back before undoing his hands for him. You nearly removed his pants before he stopped them at a certain point. He laid back, propping himself up on his elbows. He wanted to watch you. He hated the sight of himself but adored the sight of you. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He praised you, running his fingers through your hair. Your hands moved towards his cock before pulling it from under his boxers. You looked at Roman again, asking for consent to move forward. Your guidance helped him a lot more than he had expected. Without it, he would’ve stopped nearly immediately. “Touch yourself.” Roman demanded in a soft tone. He didn’t want to sound too controlling, but the neediness in his voice gave away the urgency of how much he wanted you to. You obeyed, licking your fingers before slipping them into the waistband of your shorts. You pressed your fingers against your clit before licking your other hand and stroking Roman at the same time as you touched yourself. His head threw back, biting his bottom lip to keep quiet enough. He couldn’t show off how desperate he truly was to finally be touched by someone. You picked up the pace, watching his reaction getting quicker and more dramatic. He never stopped you though. His head came back to watch you.

“Uh- fucking-uh just- fucking blow me or something.” He tried to get his thoughts in line but was too distracted by your touch. It was intoxicating. You giggled at how much of a mess he was. He needed you so badly. “Don’t fucking laugh.” He seemed almost offended. He held your head in his hand, not pushing or shoving you. Just following whatever he had seen in some kind of porn video he had seen, assuming this was right. “How bad do you need it though?” You asked, slowing down the pace, and pressing a kiss onto the tip. His body twitched, not expecting it to be so sensitive. “Really really fucking bad. Now please- just…” He begged before you finally did as he asked. Your lips wrapped about him, bobbing your head down and up. His lips were slightly separated as he let soft profanities slip through his mouth and whimpers. You picked up a quicker pace, learning what he liked very quickly. He wasn’t too hard to guess. His mouth hung open, his breathing getting heavier the closer he got. He finished quickly, embarrassed immediately as he did. He hid his face in a pillow and humiliated with himself. He wasn’t able to last longer than a couple of minutes. You got up, washing your mouth out, unsure how comfortable Roman would be to receive kisses from you afterward. You came back to see him sulking about being basically sexually inept.

“Hey-…” You sat on the bed, removing the pillow from his face. “Did you have fun at least?” You asked. He nodded, sighing.

“Yeah- Sorry- I just- Sorry I can’t fuck you properly.” He muttered the words out quickly. You let out a stifled laugh, shaking your head.

“Awe shut the fuck up. I had fun. Come on. It was sexy.” You tried to cheer him up. Despite not being able to even get yourself off, it was rewarding watching Roman enjoy himself enough. You planted a kiss on his cheek before getting up to turn the lights on.

“Did you- did you like it though?” Roman asked, insecure about his own abilities. You turned and nodded. “I had the best time Roman. It’s a huge step. I’m proud of you regardless…” You admit, planting another kiss on his lips. “Do you want me to stay over?” You asked. Roman nodded, moving himself to give you enough room on the bed. You scooted in, undressing into just a shirt and underwear before you got in with him. He stayed quiet, finally holding you again for the first time since Dundee. That had to be about 2 weeks ago at this point. He was just glad to finally have you back here with him. He wasn’t going to fuck this up anymore.

You both had fallen asleep fairly quickly.

When Roman woke up a deep set of emotions began to finally sink in. He was COO and Kendall was now going to take the blame. He had taken the job his brother had been waiting for his whole life. And it was all over for Kendall. Roman was conflicted. He was so excited and happy about the position but upset with his brother. This was an injustice done to Kendall. But they were going to have to do a press conference to push out the news. He wasn’t sure if the public would even accept him being COO. His reputation wasn’t the cleanest. He didn’t look fit for the job. But he felt he could do it. You made me feel like he could for the past couple of months. He was grateful for you.

Kendall had been sent out to the states while the rest of the family stayed back. Jess had left with Kendall, and she assured me Kendall was still keeping her on. She assumed he was going to need her for other ventures he might be planning to do.

You felt your stomach turning as you were watching the press conference. It felt sickening. Almost like watching a Shakespearean tragedy but modernized. “I can’t fucking believe this is actually real…” You whispered to Roman. He nodded, biting on his fingernails. He couldn’t either. Everyone watched as if it was watching a slaughter happen on camera. Kendall finally came into the frame before finally talking into the tens of microphones. You leaned in forward, anticipating his announcement.

Kendall then turned against his statements, trashing his father and the company on live television. He had notes set up. Roman got up and rushed to the common room that kept Logan and Shiv. You ran after him. “Fuck…” You murmured. You couldn’t tell if you should be happy or angry at Kendall. You were upset he would ruin his brother's new position, but glad he was standing up against Logan.

Logan watched, feeling a sense of pride. Kendall finally learned the game that Logan has been playing for decades. “We have to go…” Roman whispered to you. You nodded and followed his lead.

“I can’t- holy fuck- fuck- fuck-fuck!” You couldn’t believe what you watched. Roman stayed quiet. He was annoyed he ever felt sorry for the fucking asshole. This was his plan the whole time. He didn’t want to give up the COO position because he was trying to do good by their dad. He wanted to spite his father, even if it ended up hurting Roman too.

Roman’s memories of Kendall putting things before him, rushed to the front of his mind as Roman ranted to you about what an inconsiderate loser he was. How he never truly cared. How Kendall was a psychopath.

“I mean- what the fuck? Right? I mean he encouraged me for getting the COO position. And then he goes and does this? Is he fucking insane? Is he trying to put me in fucking jail or something? I’m too gorgeous to go there. Fuck no. Fuck that cunt.” He couldn’t stop ranting. It really hit you that he put everyone in the company in trouble. Anyone slightly involved could go to jail. This wasn’t just a feud. This was a war to Kendall.

“Ken’s not gonna send you to jail…” You tried to ease Roman’s thoughts. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “No- no more defending that cunt. Kendall isn’t some sweet little no chin having sensitive latte sipper. He’s just as fucking crazy as all of us. He’s doing this out of some crazy drug-induced fucking psychotic break.” Roman called it out. But you weren’t sure if that was truly the case. Kendall did seem to have a lot of regrets and a lot of emotions towards the victims and the incidents that happened.

A slam on the bedroom door occurred, startling both of you. “Roman- get your hand out of your fucking pants and let’s fucking go.” One of the staff called out. You grabbed your stuff and rushed out. You got a look from everyone as they were just down the hall. Why would your stuff be in Rome’s room? Logan was too busy to focus on his son’s relationship with his assistant, not that Logan had any room to talk.

You had gotten into the helicopters, landed in a landing strip, and waited for the private jet to finally arrive. What a fucking nightmare. They didn’t even know where we would fly to and had no pilot for another idea.

Roman tried to ease his father, only getting insulted. Poor Hugo had to be stuck in a car with him. You frantically were texting Jess for updates. All she could tell you was that Kendall was completely out of his mind right now. She thought he was having some kind of midlife crisis. You both passed over information to each other, worried about where this would end.

But Jess thought Kendall was justified, while you were severely on the fence, especially since Roman could potentially see jail time for this.

You decided to stay out of all the discourse, unsure if it was any of your business.

Logan had been scarily silent. He wasn’t yelling anymore. Just genuinely curious and delirious. He had decided to call Kendall. That’s when the threatening began, and he was back to regular Logan. You overheard everything, rushing to Roman. “Hey-uh- how you holding up?” You asked.  

“Uh- well, my brother is a drug addict mentally ill man who wants to ruin us and my dad an angry delirious….” Roman began to whisper so Logan would hear. But he cowered under his father. Everyone did. Roman just fed into Logan’s game and tried to discredit Kendall.

“Uhh- I don’t know if this could help… But I’ve been texting Jess all day and she’s been texting me things we could use against Kendall.” You prompted, catching Logan’s interest. He raised an eyebrow and asked you to read the texts out loud. You nodded quickly, grabbed your phone, and read the texts out loud. “Ken is off his meds….. ken is going fucking nuts again…. I think naomi is feeding this fucker coke again there’s no fucking way….. uhhhh….. ken def is bd…. He’s hitting rock bottom….” You tried to pick out the texts and even handed the phone to Hugo to read them. “We could use this. This could be a source. Someone close to Kendall. It could work.” Hugo admits to Logan. Logan tried to think it through before finally deciding. “Whatever we could use on the ungrateful fucking bastard.” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Logan walked off, leaving you, Roman and Shiv alone. “Uhh- I-I-I don’t know why I just fucking did that…” You deeply regretted your decision. You put Jess up there now. Jess was now involved. Holy fuck. Oh no. Fuck FUCK FUCK FUuuuucCKK. HOLY FUCK.

“It’s alright. We gotta bring this fucker down.” Roman tried to settle it. “No! I- I don’t know why I involved Jess. Holy fuck… Oh god…” You panicked. Shiv got up quickly, wrapping her arms around you. She shushed you and tried to keep you from spiraling. “Shh- hey this is business. I’m pretty sure Jess knows that. You’ll be alright.” Shiv tried to remind you. “I mean look at Tom. You basically cooked him alive twice and he still thinks you’re a great asset.” Shiv tried to remind you. You nodded, trying to reason with yourself. Maybe this could be fine. It’s not like Jess was going to hate you. Kendall needed Jess. He was acting crazy anyways. He was crazy. You’ve seen how he’s been for the past couple of weeks. He’s gone insane.

Staff had been making calls constantly, trying to find some way to keep this calm. Roman tried to settle his emotions with jokes or insulting Kendall while Shiv kept to herself, trying to soothe herself. You just texted Jess, she was your one way to always relax.

You were scared to see where this was going to end.

Notes: Did people not like the last chapter? I barely got any attention on it and I thought it was a pretty good one.

Chapter 17

[piecesofreeses]

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there. 

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!” 

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to. 

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant. 

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him. 

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips. 

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when. 

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater. 

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up. 

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill. 

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay. 

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice. 

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking. 

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks. 

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home. 

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth. 

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris. 

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door. 

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. 

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found. 

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs. 

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated. 

“I can’t find it,” he sighs. 

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice. 

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor. 

Oh thank God. 

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys. 

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction. 

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom. 

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy. 

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips. 

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.” 

[leapdayowo]

Y'know what, #7 for the disability ask game, "what's a struggle you wish more people talked about?"

Oh boy, okay where to start... One of the things I struggle with the most is telling people about my Misophonia in the first place. I know people are going to forget that the sound of them eating or cracking their knuckles can cause me pain because those things are very normal day-to-day things. People have to eat and they get nervous or achy and want to crack their joints. I understand that. I do those things too (albeit I try to be quieter about them or do some of those things when I’m alone). So to tell people, “hey this normal human thing that you do creates a sound that turns on my fight or flight and cause me lots of stress” is difficult. I’ve only brought it up a bit with close family and friends because of this. I always feel bad when I remind them a fidget bothers me because it does help them. Due to this, there are times where I isolate myself, or am very irritated for seemingly no reason and people think it was something they did (which, technically is true, but I really try not to blame people for it) or that I’m always that way. I’ve gotten better at communicating to people when I am irritated, that it’s not a personal attack at them, rather I have extreme auditory sensitivities that are difficult to handle. I could keep going on a rant, but I’d rather wait for another ask about it 😅 However, I wish disabilities, in the variety of forms they come in, were talked about more (preferably in school) so that more people would be familiar with having conversations about their needs and accommodating for others’ needs. I’ve been told a few times to power through what I’m experiencing and that wearing headphones will make it worse (that I rely on them too much), but what I experience can be excruciating and make me want to rush through seeing friends or being on trips with family. I really hate that, but all I can do is avoid those sounds (not very likely), wear headphones (more likely), and breathe calmly or distract myself, which only keeps me from lashing out, but doesn’t make it go away. I’m not asking people to stop making those sounds (though if you are a lip smacker I will be extremely tempted to), I really just want some understanding for when I where headphones during meals or seem moody suddenly or have to leave a room to calm myself. The world is very VERY loud and I am trying my best to cope with that. It doesn’t always work, but with some help and understanding it’s more tolerable

[lilyminer]

I often convince myself no one wants to be around me when I’m overstimulated. I’ll immediately and quickly isolate myself. Yes because that’s also a good way to avoid more sensory overload but also just to get out of other people’s hair.

And how my family treats me when I’m overstimulated makes that idea easy to understand. There’s 6 of us after all, the house is noisy, if I can’t deal with that it makes more sense for me to go off on my own then make it other peoples problem. I don’t blame anyone btw, I understand this is often just how it has to be.

But one singular event completely changed my perspective on what I want, need, and might be ok with when I’m overstimulated. And it’s simple but idk, it showed my friend cares which means a lot.

It was a simple little event. Me and my friends were hanging out at a park late at night. My dad was coming to pick me up and got frustrated when he couldn’t find where I was. His annoyance paired with trying to focus on leading him to the right spot while my friends were still talking overestimated me. I quickly said goodbye in that way you do when you need people to know you can’t talk for long and everyone else said a quick goodbye and I went wandering out onto one of the dark trails with my phone flashlight, a little more nervous now. But of course cuz my best friend ain’t about letting me wander into the woods alone at night they followed behind me. It was hard to notice at the time but them being there absolutely made me feel safer. At this point my dad was sending me an angry text and it was cold and my friend was trying to help me calm down because I was very evidently about to cry from the sensory overload. And of course it was inevitable at this point that the overstimulation would take over and I ended up hitting my head a few times to try to get the loud thoughts out. To me that’s . . . Ig not “normal” but an expected reaction, to my friend who hadn’t watched me have a full breakdown before that was startling, can’t blame them for that. I feel really bad I put them in a situation where they both had to see and react to that. Of course they don’t have any training for that so they jumped in to try to stop me from hitting myself. Unfortunately I was not thinking straight, acting on instinct as I like to say. So to my overwhelmed brain that was just another physical touch to have to process, and I wish I didn’t but I ended up physically pushing them away. The last bit there after the culmination of the breakdown is foggy, they apologized a lot, pretty sure I did too, but I was still in a rush so I said goodbye and jumped into that car with the most hostile energy imaginable coming from my dad.

When I got home my friend sent me a long text apologizing for not doing the right thing and overwhelming me more but honestly all I could think about was just the fact they cared. No ones cared before. No ones taken the correct, physiologist-sponsored course of action, so it still meant so much that they tried something at least. Idk y’all I love my friends, when you grew up in a family of 6 having, people who are just looking out for you, no one else, is so nice.

I have coping mechanisms for being overstimulated, and most of the time isolating myself is actually the best course of action, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t help to have a friend who cares about me around. Although next time some warning is certainly in order before I get to the point where I hit my head.

[pics-and-fanfics]

I'm sorry. I had a bad day and took offense to something you said. I didn't mean to actually hurt you, I just wanted to take out my anger on you and I guess make you feel angry too? That's why i sent that ask.

I'm 16 and I'm just having a really hard time in school and I'm scared of senior year and I was hurt really bad recently. I hope you can forgive me and forget about what I said. I'm just some dumb teenager who forgets how powerful words are I guess. I'm so sorry girl or nb or w/e you prefer. I hope you feel better by now, life is amazing and I hope you surround yourself with people who make you happy. Please go over this with your therapist.

I'm really sorry. I'll be more thoughtful next time i send people ask. I'll try and be a better person

Understandable, everyone has bad days, but maybe a better way to let out that anger would be to write it down and then rip it up or destroy it? Idk, I just isolate myself and hug my stuffed animals until I feel better tbh.

And yeah, I did get upset, but I wasn’t mad, I was just a little taken aback, maybe hurt? I get that school is hard, I’m still in high school too (it fucking sucks ass, I feel you there) and I’m terrified about the future. But I’ve got my friends and family and an awesome support system, in person and online, maybe find people that can be that for you, and vise versa?

Don’t call yourself dumb, that leads down a very dark hole that’s hard to climb out of and it forms into a very very bad habit, trust me. I’m working on that myself, but like everything, esp bad habits, it takes time and effort to fix. I still say stuff like “I’m so dumb” a bit too often, but I’m working on saying “no I’m not, I’m smart, I’m just having trouble” afterwards.

And yeah, words hurt. I’ve learned that the hard way, driving away people that I didn’t learn to appreciate until later, but I can’t apologize bc I have no idea where or even who they are now. Friends, strangers, even my niece (I’m working on not doing that with her tho, I love the little kid, she’s so awesome and smart and kind, at least when she doesn’t have her moms shitty attitude).

And I can forgive, but I will not forget. Kinda like the quote “The lumberjack forgets the pain he causes, but the tree always remembers.” I’m working on that too, trying to forgive others. I’m working on a lot about myself lately, I’m just realizing. I still hold grudges, esp against the person who sent the ask last year telling me to kill myself, but I don’t know if I have or haven’t forgiven them. I don’t know if I have or haven’t forgiven an old friend after what she pulled at my birthday 2 years ago, and I don’t know if I can. There are some things that can’t be forgiven, but this is so small, but it hurts so much still.

I forgive you, and I hope you have some better days coming, honestly.

If you want, you can keep sending asks when you have a bad day? They can stay anonymous, and I can try to help, if that’s okay with you. I can be part of your support system, if you want.

I’m working on a lot of things, and I hope maybe this can help you start working a little to be happier, less full of anger all the time?

But please, be kind to yourself, and if you can’t always be kind to others, then try to find a way to avoid them or ignore them. (I don’t know if I can do that with the boys in my math class tho, they are so loud and I got basically punched in the arm by one of them today, it hurt)

I love you, anon. Please be kind to yourself, and I’m here if you need to talk again. ❤️

You are enough. I love you.

(Also sorry I took forever to respond to your ask, but I saw this right before class, and then school basically drained all of my energy 😭 and then I had a shit load of homework I had to do, at least I get out for break tmrw thank god)

[purplebass]

Congrats 🎉💜 How about "You are my family" with Blackdale? 🤗

I really hope you like this 🥰 You are one of the few people I know who gets them the same way as I do, and I hope this will bring you happiness. It has a little hurt/comfort in it, but also parallels with TDA, so I think you would like it ✨👀🫶🏻

Read on AO3

For the Ghost That I Used To Be

London, 1904

“I feel like I should go to Chiswick,” Jesse announced to Lucie as they lounged on the loveseat by the window of his bedroom, after a long day he spent outside helping her father. “To, you know, sort things out. Or whatever is left of them.” 

It was not too long after Belial had been defeated, and that everyone had reunited in the gardens of what used to be Jesse’s house to bury things from their past. They all knew that they would never truly move on, but they were trying to. They had to try. Some moved on with their significant others. While some others, like his dear sister Grace, by putting her passion into science. 

“Do you think there is something left to save there?” Lucie inquired, dubious. “The place is in ruins, and I wonder if Tat-, your mother –” she shook her head and sighed. “That woman didn’t get rid of stuff that belonged to you or to your sister while you were away.” 

Every time she had to say Tatiana Blackthorn’s name, she didn’t know how to address her. That woman didn’t deserve to be acknowledged as his or Grace’s mother, because she never acted like a mother throughout their lives. Lucie tried as much as she could to avoid speaking about her, unless it was Jesse who mentioned her during a conversation, which was rare. 

“You can say her name, Lucie,” Jesse said earnestly, his expression neutral. 

Lucie opened her mouth to talk, but only a sigh came out, as if she wanted to say something but thought it was better not to. “I’m sorry, Jesse, but,” she bit her lip to silence herself. Instead of continuing, she took his hand.

 “What are you apologizing for?” he squinted at her. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“You don’t want her name to come up in conversation, and as much as it is thoughtful and sweet, and you don’t want me to get hurt, I,” he inclined his head and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips, “can handle the truth, nor I don’t want to be protected from it. Tatiana Blackthorn was an awful human being and even though I would’ve left her to rot in an isolated jail cell in the Silent City instead of killing her, death is what she deserves for what she did.”

“Would you have spared her, why?” Lucie raised her voice, suddenly curious. They had never discussed the topic too much and she never dared to ask about that in casual conversation. She expected him to talk when and if he was ready. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Jesse frowned, and held his breath, his lips pursed. Lucie could tell it wasn’t easy for him, and she kept holding his hand, the summer breeze ruffling his dark hair off his forehead. 

I am here if you want to open up. I am willing to listen. I am willing to be a safe harbor for you. I am willing to let you cry on my shoulder if you need to. I’m willing to love you twice as much as that woman should’ve loved you. Even more. I would love you…

“I do not condone anything she did,” he began, gazing up at her, looking her in the eyes. “But I do believe in mercy. Sparing someone’s life not as an act of forgiveness, but of penance. Death is easy,” he wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. “It doesn’t matter how painful it is that you die, peace comes at some point, for most,” he forced a smile, and Lucie knew he was talking about himself too, and about his seven years stuck on the threshold between peace and misery. All because of his own mother, who had waited for the moment he would be old enough so his body could sustain the parasite. Belial. “You’re a corpse. You cannot atone for your sins, if you die, can you?” he asked rhetorically. “While if you live,” he heaved a deep sigh, and his voice came out uncharacteristically detached and far away, cold. “You will live the rest of your life with your guilt, haunted by the ghost of what you did. I find it the most effective punishment.”

“I know you would’ve stopped her if you could have,” Lucie moved closer to him and started stroking his back, feeling the tension in his bones as she did so, trying to ease some of it with her touch. 

“What angers me the most is that the Clave had evidence to shackle her, to indict her, to even banish her –” he glanced up, his tone bitter. His shoulders shook, and when he turned to her, his eyes had a haunted look. “If only I hadn’t been stubborn, they could’ve stopped her.”

The pale glow of the night behind him made him look ghostly again, but also ethereal. A boy who defeated death and came back stronger. A boy who barely showed his resentment, although Lucie knew, he still harbored some in the depths of his soul. Some of his frustration was also aimed at himself, for not having been there physically to stop his mother. For being left in the dark about it all.

He probably still blamed himself for wanting to become a shadowhunter, and the angelic magic clashing with what was inside of him, leading him to his death. His uselessness as a ghost. That was what he meant with his last sentence, and Lucie’s heart grieved for him. She loved him so much and it destroyed her when he felt like this. But it also made her fist clench in anger because of Tatiana, who didn’t just ruin Jesse’s life, but the lives of many others. 

Lucie understood him well, even though there were sides to him that she still didn’t know, and that she was still learning day after day. Jesse didn’t show much of a temper because he knew how to manage his indignation well, but that wouldn’t disappear overnight. And it was the reason Lucie probably avoided the topic. It wasn’t easy to discuss, it didn’t matter that he was confident that he could handle it. 

“Alas, we will never know that,” Lucie replied sincerely. “They could’ve still favored her. In the eyes of the Clave, she was the one who had been wronged, and she knew how to plead her case,” she said firmly, trying not to shake with fury. “Even if you had been alive at the time, and tried to stop her, I’m sure she would’ve found something so she could throw you to the wolves.”

Jesse’s face fell. She didn’t mean to be too blunt, but he needed to know, since they were talking. “I assume you’re right,” he told her after a long beat. “I think you are right, Lucie. I –” he took in a sharp breath, “I was always meant to be none other than a pawn in her revenge. Mistook her refusal for me to join the shadowhunters as a way for her to protect me from those she said hurt her the most. For love,” he said, dejected. “When in truth, I was one of her means for revenge. One of her possessions.”

Tears welled up in his eyes and she gently started wiping them with her fingers. He closed his eyes, and leaned his cheek into her hand. She drove his face to her shoulder, and he nestled his cheek there. There was so much Lucie wanted to say to him. Yet, she thought everything she wanted to tell him came down to the only words that encompassed all the possible sentences that ran in her head. “I love you, Jesse. I love you.” 

He wept silently until he had enough. Lucie stood beside him on the loveseat, threading her fingers in his hair, trying to soothe him, to tell him it was okay. She didn’t know how much time they had been there. The door to his bedroom was not completely shut, and she wondered if her parents might have come to check on them, and heard him cry. 

“I believe that I can still find some of my belongings and family heirlooms at Chiswick,” Jesse whispered after a while, his head still on her shoulder. Lucie nodded. “And if we don’t, it won’t matter.”

“We can go whenever you feel like it,” Lucie answered quietly, her hand quietly caressing his hair. She wanted to add if you want me to come with you, but she thought it was a given. 

“We can go the day after tomorrow, at noon,” he told her. “With the light.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” she agreed, and kissed the top of his head. 

While in bed that night, Lucie thought about everything that she and Jesse had talked about, and decided that the only thing she could be thankful to Tatiana Blackthorn for was that she gave birth to him. If it was for her, she would’ve killed her several times, or made a voodoo doll to inflict pain on her. Not only because she had sent Jesse to his death. Because she had also destroyed Grace’s life, because she had killed Christopher. Because she decided to burn all the bridges her uncles had tried to build to reach her. She hoped that Jesse could find closure someday. She would try to show him the love she thought he deserved.

Chiswick was even messier than how Lucie remembered. She recalled the last time they went there. Everyone had gathered to bury things they wanted to leave in the past. It was a symbolic action to mean a new beginning for everyone. It didn’t magically erase what had happened, no enchantment could. Trying to start anew was the only option in order to survive. 

Jesse immersed himself completely in his new life as a shadowhunter. He often helped around the Institute, and Will and Tessa also started mentoring him because they noticed he could follow in their footsteps in the future. Of this, Lucie was ecstatic. More than half a year before he didn’t have a future, and knowing he could potentially get her parents’ position someday made her happy. 

She grinned, and looked up at Jesse as they entered the main foyer of the house. She held his hand – something they both liked to do whenever they were out together – and she tightened her grip on an instinct when they crossed the threshold. Jesse exchanged her smile, but Lucie could tell he was a little on edge. They never returned to this place after they buried their belongings, and, without anyone taking care of the house, it gathered even more dust. 

“We should start looking in my grandfather’s study,” Jesse announced, and lead the way. 

Several hours later, they gathered some things that Jesse thought were worth taking away. A couple of old books he had cherished. Some other things he used while he was little. The rest, they arranged on a table but they were unsure whether they needed them or not. 

“I wonder what this is doing here,” Lucie said when they were looking in the attic, where Jesse told her he used to hide most of the things he didn’t want his mother to find as a child. She showed the portrait she had found to him. “I think this is her,” she told Jesse. 

“Her, who? She does look like a Blackthorn, but I don’t know her. Her portrait was never hung on the wall with the others.”

“Annabel,” Lucie whispered, looking at the back of the portrait. There was a date scribbled over, perhaps of when the artist had painted her. “The woman Malcolm used to love.”

“Oh, that Annabel,” he asserted, frowning at his girlfriend. “The one you wanted to find for him.” 

Lucie nodded, glancing at the portrait. She told Jesse about her promise to Malcolm and how she couldn’t fulfill it because she lost her power. She waited to tell him because she thought it wasn’t important, since she couldn’t keep her promise anyway, and it wasn’t like the warlock had helped raise him. That was the original pact. 

But then she realized that she didn’t want to keep things from Jesse, who was reserved but always sincere. To her, a good relationship needed to be built on mutual trust and honesty, which she believed they had. Her secret with Malcolm was the only thing she had kept from him, and she felt the need to free herself from the weight of it.

“I wanted to help Malcolm,” Lucie admitted, her hands twisting on her lap. “I could’ve helped him like I helped you.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Jesse tensed in his seat, and he sighed in frustration. “What could’ve happened to you, if you had? You’ve slept for days after you raised me. Occasionally waking up but still unconscious,” he closed his eyes briefly, the memory of that time in Cornwall still haunted him to this day. “I could have lost you,” he said in a broken voice, flinching, as if only thinking about that made him panic. “You could have gotten hurt,” he added, shaking his head again.

She knew he would get upset. He didn’t want Lucie to risk her life to bring back someone else. She already risked enough for trying with him, and even if he was thankful, he would’ve never wanted her to try again. 

“Yes, your ancestor,” Lucie continued. “Oh, there is something here,” she realized, touching the back of the portrait. A tiny wooden box was built behind the canvas, which opened when she picked on the lock. “I wonder what this is,” she said, picking up a small leather bound book. 

Jesse came closer and he started looking. “This looks like a diary,” he said, opening the first page. “No, it isn’t,” he corrected himself. “It is a poem. A poem by Edgar Allan Poe. He is a mundane poet.”

Lucie peered at the small volume. “My parents would be delighted to see this,” she marveled at the precise scribbles. “It is a poem, indeed. What’s the name? Annabel… Lee,” she gazed at Jesse, who wore the same surprised expression as hers. “Could have been…?”

“Written by Poe to that Annabel? I don’t have a clue,” he shrugged. “But anything is possible. Otherwise, why would it be hidden behind her portrait?”

“And, most of all, who could have hid it here?” Lucie inquired, trying to make an impression of the famous character Sherlock Holmes, a detective written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 

“Give it to the members of the Blackthorn family to still make noise even after they’re dead,” Jesse remarked with a giggle. “What an astounding family.”

They laughed together, and it was liberating. She was afraid that it would be hard to be in his old house, surrounded by a lot of things which used to belong to his family. And indeed, she knew that it wasn’t easy for him. But at least, the mood had softened and Lucie thought that Jesse seemed relaxed after their latest find, and she was glad of it. 

“Can I keep the poem, Jesse?” Lucie asked when they finally gathered everything he meant to take with him to the London Institute. She was a little shy about asking, mostly considering their past talk about Annabel, but she still took her chances. The worse he could do would be saying no, which she would completely understand.

Jesse didn’t seem to be taken aback by the request. “I can already see your mind spinning, Lucie,” he declared, the corners of his mouth turned up into a sincere grin, which made Lucie’s cheeks flush with heat. “Keep it, if you like it. I don’t mind.”

Lucie beamed at his consent, and pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. She put the small volume in the pocket of her dress for safekeeping, and then, they left.

London, 1910

During the first weeks at the Institute, several years before, Jesse tried to get used to living again. He kept himself busy, tried to distract himself from the reality of this new life, and from the overwhelming sensation of being seen. He didn’t mind being around Lucie and her parents. They respected his space and he was sure they knew how to read his mood and dealt with him accordingly. They respected him and he respected them, and always made him feel like part of their family.

Jesse remembered when he gathered the courage to go to Chiswick, and told Lucie about it. And the conversation diverted on the topic of his mother, and he broke down in front of his beloved girl, who carefully avoided talking about Tatiana not to trigger him. She was a sensitive topic, but he realized that, in order to move on, he needed to face his demons, and that included his wicked and loveless mother and the house that she had turned into his prison for years. 

They had been there before, when everyone decided to bury their belongings which were a symbol of the life they wanted to leave behind. Jesse had left his coffin behind, as he didn’t need it anymore, but he had also asked himself whether or not he would be able to move on from that part of his existence where his life couldn’t be defined as such. “It was the ghost of a life”, Lucie told him on a warm afternoon, while they discussed one of her new writing projects. “And now the ghost is finally living his life,” she added. “This is a hopeful story.”

Chiswick hadn’t changed, if not for the excess of dust covering all the surfaces like the eerie cloth of an unkind ghost. The wind, now gentle, now strong, found its way through the broken shutters, and graced the furniture with fresh air in a place otherwise dead. 

Jesse hadn’t been shocked to find his old house in such ruins. On the other hand, he thought it would be in worse condition. He considered this place lost. He hadn’t wanted to go back, but he felt like he needed to. He needed closure, and he was puzzled to see the remnants of his previous life were still there, laying untouched in the attic. Lucie also found a tiny volume with a poem, and it was part of the reason they were there that night.

As one would expect from the heads of the London Institute, there would always be some party to attend, or some people who wanted to meet him. He didn’t mind being around people, but he needed to manage the amount of time he was around people. There were some occasions when he just couldn’t bear to be among the throngs of shadowhunters, and had to catch a break. 

It didn’t happen as often now, but tonight, because of the special occasion they were celebrating, Will and Tessa had invited even more people than usual. He would hide in an alcove next to the ballroom or on the balcony, where he knew people didn’t like to venture when there was music and drinks and food in the party room. He liked the balcony, and appreciated the breath of fresh air that would breeze when out on one, without the constraints of the frame of a window. 

And Lucie always found him. They were like magnets, attracted to each other like opposite poles. He also felt that pull with her. He sensed where she was, when they were in a crowded room. He would smile at her and she would smile at him in acknowledgment. And her presence would calm him, tether him to the here and now. To the world of the living.

“Found you,” she told him playfully, not too long after he fled the ballroom teeming with inebriated shadowhunters. “Is everything okay, Jesse? You seemed distressed.”

“I am,” he decided not to lie to her. “I just feel like –”

“Like this is too much?”

“It is,” he revealed. “Too many people tonight. I just needed to catch my breath and then I would return. And this balcony is the perfect place.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Not at all,” he offered her a smile. “Come here,” he opened his arm, and she nestled close to him, placing her hand on one of the lapels of his jacket. “This is much better,” he said, and secured his hand on her shoulder, lingering on Lucie’s sheer-covered arm.

“This place is the best to take a breather,” Lucie observed quietly. “I was also getting fed with people in the other room. Rosamund Wenthworth wouldn’t stop asking me where I found the material for my work, which, surprisingly, she said she enjoyed.”

“Congratulations for making Rosamund enjoy something,” Jesse commented, remembering how Lucie told him that Rosamund and her brother used to mock her for having a ghost as a friend. If Lucie didn’t like befriending ghosts, he probably wouldn’t be here today. “She and her lot seem hard to please, but they do like to intrude in people’s lives. She once cornered me to ask me about Chiswick and how I used to live there,” he huffed. “Since, according to the stories she’d heard, we only ate what grew in the greenhouse.”

“That’s such an insensitive question,” Lucie was outraged, and Jesse could only grin wider. “If only I had been there! But she doesn’t dare to say those things in front of me,” she snorted. He knew she would fight all the Rosamunds in the world for him, and his heart filled up with so much love just thinking about that. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I replied that regrettably, the story she knew was incorrect,” he declared proudly. “We didn’t just eat the crops that grew in the greenhouse, we also sowed them. Unfortunately, it was just corn and beans.”

“Jesse!” Lucie objected, glancing up at him. He was laughing. “I wouldn’t come up with a better answer, if I tried. It’s easy to poke fun at Rosamund. She believes in everything you say,” she observed. “She tries to flirt, even,” she rolled her eyes. “When she has a husband and a child.”

“I don’t know about that,” his eyes sparkled with amusement at Lucie, who was rarely jealous. “Well, if she ever did, the joke is on her. I am happily taken, and I’m sure the guests your parents gathered here tonight also know it, Rosamund included.”

“She better,” Lucie smiled at him, content, nestling her head back under his welcoming arm. They stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and warmth. “This balcony didn’t exist before my parents started working here,” Lucie said suddenly. “When I was a child, I wondered why. It is uncommon to have balconies in Institutes, since they’re often churches. They’re more common in mansions or other private houses.”

“There are balconies at Chiswick,” Jesse said, and Lucie nodded, gazing up at him. “I even remember you sneaking in from one, when I was still a ghost.”

“I did,” she bit her lip, blushing. “By the way, I overheard my parents talk one day, and found out the reason they wanted a balcony so bad. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“The view is great?” Jesse wondered rhetorically, and Lucie shook her head. “But the view is indeed great, I have to admit it,” he said, maintaining eye contact with her. 

“I agree,” she beamed at him. “Other than that, I reckon that they’re very fond of balconies because,” she took a moment to say it, “they shared their first real kiss on one of the balconies at Chiswick. My papa’s words, not mine.”

“Ah,” Jesse said. “Now that you mention it, I can see the appeal,” he tilted his head to the side, and she couldn’t read his expression clearly. “It is indeed a private enough place for frolicking. It makes me want to kiss you.”

“Then,” Lucie muttered, “what are you waiting for?”

He made a quiet giggle of amusement and then his expression turned serious, yet sweet, as if he was trying to keep her face in his memory before closing his eyes and meeting her lips with his own. Lucie, still trying to hide in the warmth of his jacket, hugged his torso and clung on the back of his shirt. His hand cupped the side of her jaw and they shared a tender kiss which gradually grew in rhythm.  

“Perhaps we should go back inside,” he said placidly, tracing her cheek with his finger after the kiss. “Your skin is cold and your father must request our presence to cut the cake.”

Lucie huffed, still reeling from the kiss, and she tightened her hold on him. “You’re right,” she nodded. “Particularly considering that I am one of the guests of honor.”

“And you spent the last half hour with your socially anxious future husband on a balcony,” Jesse interjected with a raised eyebrow, apologetic, as the two went inside and walked towards the ballroom. “The other guest of honor.” A mix of cheerful and shouting voices could be heard from there. At least, people were enjoying themselves. 

Lucie smiled and halted her step, needing to tell him one thing before they would have to go back into the crowd of friends and family. “I’ll tell them to leave once everyone eats the engagement cake,” she promised him, fixing his tie as she spoke. “Then we can go on the balcony again, if you like. My parents wouldn’t object, since this is our night.”

Jesse nodded. “It’s too cold outside, maybe we should retreat somewhere else? We can decide later.”

“Yes, anything you want,” she said. “Jesse, did you ever –”

“Oh, I found you!” a small girl’s voice interrupted their talking. It was Cordelia and James’ younger daughter Layla. “Grandpa Will asked me to look for you!”

“Dear, did they send you by yourself? Where is your mama?” Lucie wondered, lowering to the child’s height. 

“She also asked me to look for you, saying that they were waiting for you and uncle Jesse to cut the cake! You must hurry, or we will eat everything!” Layla grabbed Lucie’s hand and she grabbed Jesse’s, their conversation cut but far from over. 

It was roughly around eleven that all their guests finally left, and only the inhabitants of the London Institute stayed behind. Will and Tessa had retreated to their room, and they told Lucie and Jesse not to stay up too late, which was something they often said out of habit, as if they were still children. Lucie was sure they would tell them even after they would become man and wife, and she didn’t mind it. She was lucky that both her parents were alive and well, and she cherished every moment with them. Not many people could say the same. 

In the end, they went into the game room. It wasn’t one of Lucie’s favorites, but the fireplace was larger than the one in their rooms and she was in need of warmth. Well, she was warm, if they asked her, but more heat wouldn’t hurt. She outstretched her arms so she could feel the heat on her palms. 

“Tonight was amazing,” Lucie commented, feeling peaceful and at ease. Jesse was in his shirtsleeves, while she still wore her evening dress. She wondered if he was as warm as she was. “I can’t believe we are finally engaged,” her tone was jovial. She glanced at her hand again, a spark of giddiness filling her heart at the sight of her ring. 

Jesse grabbed her hand and glanced at the ring he had picked. “You are breathtaking, if I haven’t told you already,” he complimented her, and she turned red. For the record, he had told her too many times to count, but he still loved to say it and for her to hear it. 

“You look good yourself,” Lucie took him all in, taking in his green eyes and their contrast with his black hair. “I can’t believe mam invited all those people, and they all came,” she leaned on the pool table, the balls scattered in different directions because somebody had probably played while the party went on and forgot to rearrange them. 

“Your parents are influential,” Jesse said. “Even those who might not approve of their union must know that it is better to keep them as friends and not foes,” he shrugged. “Even Rosamund and Thoby know.”

Lucie nodded, lost in thought. “I’m still blown away that she liked my book,” she rolled her eyes. “That anybody in that room who has read it, told me nice words about my book,” she rubbed her hands together, still in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t they,” Jesse held her chin between his fingers, stroking the side of her jaw. “You’ve written many things throughout the years we’ve been together. And I don’t want to pick a favorite among your writing, but to me, this is the finest. Maybe you were meant to write for children.”

“If you told me five years ago that my first published work would be a collection of shadowhunter tales for children, I wouldn’t have believed you,” she said, delighted. “And it is you I have to thank,” she stared at Jesse. “I’m beyond grateful that you let me use the book we found behind Annabel’s portrait. It was a way to remember her, since I couldn’t help her case.”

“To be fair, you didn’t need my consent to write your story,” he replied. “I still have no clue as to why the volume was behind the portrait, nor who put it there. The poem is of public domain. It was published in a newspaper, so it isn’t a secret,” he raised an eyebrow and gave her half a shrug. “I, along with Grace, are the only Blackthorns left in London. It is a great responsibility, carrying this name” he said solemnly. “You are my family, Lucie,” he offered her a smile, and held her hand. “Grace, your parents, my uncles and aunts, they are also my family. But when we get married, and after then, someday,” his eyes filled with affection and devotion, “my family will also be our children. Any children who would want to join us.”

Lucie couldn’t help but give him a wide smile. “Are you thinking about a number? Because I suggest we should have one child for every year you couldn’t fully live. So, seven children.”

“Are you sure? Half the job is mine,” he raised his eyebrows. “But you will have to carry them for nine months. It’s over half a year and –”

“I was joking,” Lucie giggled. “Not about having kids. I love children,” she grinned. “And I would love to have kids with you, someday. I can’t wait to start our own family. Fill the Institute or wherever you want to live with lots of Blackthorn children.”

He blushed, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “Blackthorn children who we will read your shadowhunters tales to,” he fixed a strand of hair behind her ear. “And the best books in English literature but also of literature from all over the world.”

“And who we will teach how to spar in a duel and all the names of the different demons they may encounter at night,” she said, putting her hands behind his neck. “Including ghosts.”

“Here I thought you loved ghosts,” he said. “I’m offended.”

“What if I kissed you for offending you?” she raised an eyebrow alluringly. “Even though you are not a ghost anymore.”

“You can do it for the ghost that I used to be,” he answered. “And I’m not anymore. But please, hurry. Or I’m going to kiss you first.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice.  Lucie smirked, and soon her lips found his, joined in the perfect conclusion to an already flawless night.  

Hi! Thanks for reading everything. I hope you noticed the parallels I wanted to make, especially with Jesse and Lucie being the Blackthorns who will began the new legacy of the family once they're married. And also with Lucie writing the children's stories that we see Tavvy Blackthorn has in TDA :) I thought it would be nice if she found Poe's work and turned Annabel into a magical heroine in order to remember her, just like she did with Jesse when he used to be a ghost. I planned to add a bonus scene where Lucie and Jesse talk about her pact with Malcolm, but I will post it tomorrow, I think. I hope you enjoyed this one! I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

[mistresslynndramione]

And now for something wholesome: sharing your wizard porn with your parents.

A few months ago, I live blogged my parents reading From Wiltshire, With Love on Facebook and have been meaning to cross post it on tumblr since people had so much fun reading it on Facebook. Here you go!

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My mom just started reading From Wiltshire, With Love. She’s seen the Harry Potter movies but her memory isn’t the best for a variety of reasons.

First question: “Who is you-know-who?” 

Second question: “Boldemort? With a ‘B’?”

She wants to read it. I don’t know how much she’ll actually enjoy it but it’s nice that she’s trying. 

It really underscores how meaningful fandom friendships and support are. It’s not exactly a ceramics project that I can bring out to show our guests at a Shabbat meal. 

‘After the blessing over the challah, can anyone help me out with funny euphemisms for vagina?’ 

I wrote FWWL and Blackmailed during a very difficult period in my life (I didn’t know anyone in fandom except Misdemeanor at the time) and didn’t feel like I could share those stories IRL. Writing them was this massive effort which i did in complete isolation and didn’t have anyone to talk to about. (I didn’t want to bother MisD because I was gifting it to her) 

I told my sister but she doesn’t read WIPs. My other sister hasn’t read the HP series, let alone fanfiction. My husband was supportive in general but it took him a while to understand how meaningful this hobby was to me. And he’s ESL, has trouble reading English fiction, has different tastes than me, and is still on my old vampire story. Then I started to make friends in the comment section. Then I got to know people on discord and Facebook. It was bumpy at first, figuring out where I wanted to be and where to avoid, but I’ve found little pockets on the internet with cool people to share this hobby with.

But still. It’s not the same as having IRL people support you. And so, let the updates begin!

UPDATE: Mom reading FWWL while I finish up a technical report.

Mom: You're really imaginative.

Me: Thank you!

Mom: I'm really enjoying this.

Me: That's great!

Mom: You should let Daddy read this.

Me: .....

Mom: I think he'd enjoy it, too.

Me: There's more porn than your romance novels.

Mom: (laughing) 

Me: The porn in fanfiction is better than in romance novels.

Mom: (laughs harder) I haven't gotten that far, who's it between? Hermione and Harry?

Me: No, Hermione and Draco. It's enemies-to-lovers.

Mom: Oooooh.....

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UPDATE: Me: So you're really enjoying it, even though you don't remember most of the series?

Mom: I get the gist of things. It's sometimes confusing to remember who's good and who's bad, but I go along with it. You know who else should read this (names a bunch of my childhood friends that I haven't seen since highschool).

Me: ......

Mom: (mentions their mothers too)

Me: What chapter are you on?

Mom: Chapter 4.

Me: (checking to see which chapter has Draco's forbidden fruit/gateway wank) Maybe read a bit more first.

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LIVE READ UPDATE: My sisters are dying right now. So is my husband. They want to know what my mom thinks of the whole thing as she reads. It's a big family thing right now except for my dad. Live reads for everyone.  Maybe I'll get up the courage to tell my dad to read it one day and we'll do another family live read.

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LIVE READ UPDATE:

Mom: Did you use 'Pinner' because (British family member) lives there?

Me: Yes.

Mom: (laughing) Cool!

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LIVE READ UPDATE: Mr. Lynn set mom up with an iPad so she doesn't have to read off her phone. I notice she's on Chapter 5. Chapter 6 has the gateway wank...

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LIVE READ UPDATE:

Mom: What are all these names down here?

Me: People that gave kudos.

Mom: What's a kudo?

Me: An indication that they liked the story.

Mom: That's a lot of people.

Me: Yes!

Mom: You have hundreds of readers! That's pretty neat!

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LIVE READ UPDATE:

Me: What do you think, Mom? Any more questions? (wondering if she's gotten to the masturbation yet)

Mom: (laughs) What is Obliviate?

Me: Removing the memories from someone's mind.

Mom: (arrived at chapter 6)

Me: (biting nails)

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LIVE READ UPDATE: My sister thinks it's hilarious that I refer to my husband as "Mr. Lynn".

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LIVE READ UPDATE:

Tween Daughter: What are you reading Bubba? (Bubba is yiddish for grandmother)

Mom: Your Mommy's book.

Tween Daughter: Oh! Do you like it?

Mom: Yes, your mommy is a good writer.

Tween Daughter: Mommy, Bubba likes your book! (for the record, tween daughter does not know that this involves smut, but teen daughter does)

Me: Yes, I heard.

Tween Daughter: You should really read Keeper of the Lost Cities. It'll give you good ideas.

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LIVE READ UPDATE:

Mom: What are Legilimency and Occlumency?

Me: (explains)

Mom: Are these actual words or did you make them up?

Me: They come from the Harry Potter series.

Me: (she's still on chapter 6...)

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SHE FINISHED CHAPTER 6!!!!!

Mom: Did you write something called They All Taste the Same?

Me: Yep.

Mom: How many stories have you written?

Me: 5 stories, two of them were 10 years ago. I just started up again in the pandemic.

Mom: Jeez, you've been keeping secrets!

Me: Well, I was kind of embarrassed since they have so much smut in them.

Mom: (laughs)

Me: I figured since you read romance novels, what's the difference?

Mom: (laughs) Well, I just read that masturbation scene and it seemed appropriate.

Of all the reactions she could have, this made me laugh hysterically. Story appropriate masturbation. Definitely not gratuitous satisfying of the female gaze. I love you, Mom! As an aside, my mom has always been ashamed of reading romance novels. I just realized that this whole thing is probably very validating for her right now. It is for me too!

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Mom: This has been translated?

Me: Into Chinese and Russian.

Mom: Are you making money from this?

Me: (laughing)

This bit reminds me of when I got my first patent. I was so proud and told my mom, her reaction: ‘You’ll be rich!’  (grad students will find that especially funny) Several patents and a decade later... I couldn’t buy a pack of gum from those patents. Nice for the resume though.

Mom: What does Obliviate mean?

Me: (laughing that she keeps forgetting this particular word)

We also discussed Apparition (like ‘Beam me up, Scottie!’) Death Eaters and Mudblood and the parallels to Jews and Nazi Germany, Dumbledore as Churchill and Fudge as Chamberlain.

Me: The art is pretty cool isn’t it?

Mom: Yes! Who made it?

Me: Different people.

Mom: That’s really neat! Did you know them?

Me: No, they just felt inspired to draw something after reading. I got to know some of them though, and we became good friends.

Mom: it’s like a separate life you have.

Me: Kind of.

Me: so what do you think so far?

Mom: It’s interesting!

At this, my dad, Mr. Lynn, and I all crack up. You have to understand. ‘Interesting’ from my mother, is the kiss of death. If we go to a restaurant and she says her meal was interesting, that means she wouldn’t feed it to a dog dying from starvation, the food is that bad. ‘Interesting’ is slightly worse than ‘it’s ok.’ She’s just way too sweet to say something negative.

But in this case, ‘interesting’ could be taken at face value. A few chapters later, she said it was addictive and very engrossing. Thanks Mom! 

Mom: Is MistressLynn your penname?

Me: Yes.

Mom: (smiling, because Lynn is actually my middle name)

Mom: Can I please share this with (childhood friend’s mother)? She’s such a big Harry Potter fan, I think she’d like this.

Me: But the porn. It’s one thing to share with you, another with someone outside the family.

Mom: hmm... she stopped watching Working Moms because she didn’t like the foul language.

Me: There’s a bit more than foul language in this.....

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Me: What chapter are you on?

Mom: I’m not sure, Hermione is comparing how she feels about Ron with how she feels about Malfoy.

(Note: my mom pronounces it ‘Mall-foy” as in ‘let’s go to the mall’)

Me: what chapter are you on?

Mom: Twenty something. Are you wondering when I’ll get to the sex?

Me: (laughing) Yes. It’s a while. Another 20 chapters or so.

Mom: oh! That’s a slow build!

Me: Yep!

Mom: I like slow builds!

Me: me too!

Mom: So where did you learn about sex in books?

(Awkward silence)

Me: You.

(We burst out laughing)

Me: I went through your stockpile of romance novels on the floor of your bedroom closet when I was younger.

Mom: I tried donating those Harlequin books once, the library wouldn’t take them!

Update from my dad: we decided he will read it. While my mom needs some help in the event of a tab closing, my dad is tech savvy and said he’ll read it as an ePub file.

Mom: I think Daddy would like this. It’s such a good story.

Me: but there’s porn.

Mom: daddy knows what porn is.

(We all laugh)

Dad: I’ll pretend I don’t know the source of the porn.

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Me: So, how far are you into the story? What part are you at?

Mom: Chapter 60-something. You know, when you asked me before which part I was at, I couldn't tell you. Everything was so complex and engrossing, it's like I'm in a completely different world, I didn't even know how to answer you.

Me: I'm really happy you're enjoying it!

Mom: Oh my gosh. It's so engrossing. I'm so glad you shared it with me after all this time.

Just a thought, my mom usually reads fiction or romance. Not fantasy. This comment makes me think she'd really like fantasy. But I don't think she's ever tried. Probably because decades ago it was perceived as nerdy and masculine. It's not perceived that way any more, but it used to be. Incoming rage at how girls and women are made to feel that entire genres are 'not for them'.

Me: Do you have any questions?

Mom: Was Draco Malfoy a character in Harry Potter?

Me: Yes.

Mom: Do you pronounce it Draco (with a short 'a')?

Me: No, Dray-co.

Mom: Are all the characters from Harry Potter?

Me: Yes, I didn't write any original characters.

Mom: I see that your trip to Universal Studios wasn't just for the kids.

Me: (laughing) Definitely not. It's a widespread family obsession. So...

Mom: ...

Me: What do you think of the sex scenes?

Mom: The sex? It's there. It's graphic.

Me: (laughing)

Mom: It's a 'graphic novel.'

Me: (groan-laughing)

Mom: But they're well done. I don't know how you made each sex scene different but they're all different from each other.

Me: I try! I don't want the smut to be repetitive.

Mom: Are your other books like this?

Me: With sex? Yes.

Mom: No, in the Harry Potter world.

Me: Yes. It's all wizard porn.

Mom: (laughs)

So there you have it. My Mom read my porn and she likes it. She reads romance novels so why not? 

Me: So what do you think about the violent chapters?

Mom: Parts are scary, but you get through it.

Me: There's more violence to come.

Mom: (laughs) I got that impression. You have a philosophy about warfare and how it affects everyone.

Me: Yes.

Mom: I can't imagine how difficult it would be, choosing the lesser of two evils and living with it.

Me: I can't either.

Mom: Well, you did a good job.

My mom does not read violent books or horror. She's not a fan of it in movies or TV shows either. So - just so you understand, she's reading those parts for me, because she wants to read what her daughter wrote. Thinking about that makes me a bit teary eyed.

Me: So what do you think overall so far?

Mom: I like the flow of the story, the pacing is really good. It just progresses and progresses.

Me: What's your favorite part?

Mom: Oh gosh. I don't know. Maybe when Draco and Hermione are tender with each other.

Me: (blech - tender fluff is SO not my thing lol)

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UPDATE: Mom finished!

Me: So was there anything you didn't like? (FWWL spoilers ahead)

Mom: Well, that one scene was shocking.

Me: With the torture?

Mom: No, that wasn't so bad.

Me: The snake sex?

Mom: No. The other one.

Me: The strangulation sex?

Mom: Yes, it was shocking.

Me: You thought that was worse than the snake sex?

Mom: Well, the snake sex was a dream.

Me: Huh.

Mom: Can I read your other stories?

This was a ton of fun. I really enjoyed sharing it with her, and I'm excited for her to read my other stuff.

Since this Facebook post, my dad has read From Wiltshire, With Love as well. He was also completely engrossed, was sucked right into the story, and really enjoyed the world building. He asked a lot of questions about what I had invented, and what came from canon, as well as some terms he didn’t know (he’s only seen a few of the Harry Potter movies, and hasn’t read the books). The other thing he enjoyed was the comments on the story, and how I interacted with readers, and how I cited sources of inspiration when they came from other fanfiction works. 

My parents both agreed that this was the raciest, most graphic novel they have ever read. lol And they’re both eager to read the story that I’ll be working on next year.

If anyone is on the fence about sharing their fics with their family I'd encourage you to consider it. My parents were floored that I've been writing, and they really enjoyed reading my more plotty stuff. (Dad has not read my PWP stories) It's feels really good to get their acceptance and praise. Because I've worked on this for so long and kept it hidden, it feels like a weight has been removed from my shoulders - sharing it with them. I wish I had shared it sooner because this has definitely made us closer. In particular with my mom. We've never bonded over her romance novels, but we're bonding over this. It's more personal.

[lemonlurkrr]

@aureateart​ ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess  (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon) 

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)  

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT???????????????? 

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL??? 

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS

[dancing-in-a-yellow-dress]

Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

--

You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

--

Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Revision.

Commissioned by the very lovely @pyrokittyowo.

Pairing: Yandere!Simeon/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Past Trauma, Toxic Relationships, Codependency, Infantilization, Isolation, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

The sun never sets in the Celestial Realm.

It’s less whimsical than it sounds, to be fair. Sleep is a luxury for angels, a way to pass time for the young and the injured, but that hadn't been something Simeon thought to tell you when you first arrived, as you tried to follow his mangled, irregular cycle of rest and work. You’d gotten the hang of it with time, carved out your own routine and forced yourself to follow it, but you’d be lying if you said you were completely used to it. It was grating, if anything, just how bright all of it was, the shine only amplified by the ivory and gold angels seemed so fond of. It was overwhelming, really. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve called it unbearable.

But, you did know better. This realm was warm, but not stifling, not half as oppressive as the Devildom had been. It didn’t have the same constant chill, a pervasive darkness only made worse by the humid air and that invasive metallic scent, like stone and rock and the blood that must've been soaked into the cracks of both. The darkness was worse. All of it was worse, but you tried to keep your mind on the landscape, the starless sky, the bleakness you’d slowly grown to hate.

If you let yourself think about anything else, you’d have to think about the people you’d met, the brothers, the way they’d looked at you. You’d have to remember how tight Mammon’s grip had been, the first time he took you by the wrist rather than the hand, or how dull Beelzebub's fangs were and how much it hurt when he drove them into your skin, your chest, the sensitive area just below your collarbone that never failed to bleed, when it bit down. You’d have to think about how Lucifer’s hand felt as it wrapped around your neck, the sound of your own failing breath, the way he’d laughed as you—

You inhaled sharply, cutting yourself off before you could get any more lost in the memory.

Because that’s what it was – just a memory. Something you’d never have to worry about again, thanks to Simeon.

Still, you were allowed to complain. Even indoors, perched in one of the many bay windows spotted around Simeon’s sizable chambers, you could feel the unyielding sun, notice the light start to eat away at your vision like a hungry, gnawing parasite. There were clouds in the sky, perfect wisps of nothing, but they'd been their since the day you first arrived, fixed features on an unchanging canvas. They wouldn't move. You already knew that. Nothing moved in the Celestial Realm, not unless it had a reason to.

And yet, you found yourself opening your mouth regardless, asking the question that’d been playing on your tongue all day. You could let yourself have this. You could hope that were wrong. It wasn't like this would be the first time. “It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

Immediately, there was a hum from across the room, one of the many soft sounds Simeon seemed to be so fond of. You should’ve been glad he was there to answer at all, really. Simeon spent most of the day tending to his vague responsibilities. If he had time to sit around, pouring over a scroll in a language you couldn’t recognize, it must’ve meant it was either too early in the morning or too late at night for him to be bothered with anything else. You couldn’t be sure which, not when the two were so impossible to tell apart. “Rarely,” He replied, still distracted. “Michael tries not to leave the weather up to chance. If he needed a storm, I’d be able to tell you weeks in advance.”

You almost felt bad for him. You would’ve hated it, knowing everything long before it actually happened, but you doubted Simeon would ever let himself be so careless. “I don’t know how I’d stay sane,” You admitted, your gaze moving back to the window. A white dove had landed on the edge of Simeon’s windowsill, meticulously sorting through bleached feathers with its pointed beak, and idly, you wondered if the animals bothered to regulate themselves, too. “You wouldn't like my hometown. Couldn’t see the sky most days, and when you could, it was nearly too hot to go outside. Never stopped it from snowing a month before winter, though.” You paused, letting yourself smile at the thought. You missed it; you weren’t going to try to deny that. You were still allowed to miss things. “Luke would probably love it. Say what you want about humans, but we've never gotten a bakery wrong.”

Simeon didn’t hum, this time. The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but your heart still found a way to tighten in your chest, stopping completely as you heard his chair scrape against the floor, sharp footsteps following the noise immediately. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and he was kind enough not to force you to, brushing off your avoidance as he positioned himself on the opposite side of your small shelter. It wasn't much of an improvement, though. If he'd just let himself be a little more cruel, you might've had the pleasure of hating him for it.

“You’re thinking about the human world again.”

He was getting straight to the point. You couldn’t say you weren’t thankful.

“How can I not?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained, out of place against his sober expression. “I haven’t been home in a year. I’m bound to want to go back, eventually.”

“You know it’s not safe.” It was a familiar mantra, one you should’ve been numb to, but it still found a way to hurt, to linger, accumulate into a small, aching knot in the back of your throat as you reminded yourself that he was only doing it because he cared. That was all – he cared. He didn’t want to see you get hurt, not again. He didn’t want to see you face anything more harmful than his clumsy comfort, even if he did have a strange way of showing it. “We’ve talked about this before, (Y/n). It’s still too early to tell if Lucifer left any lasting damage. There could still be a tracking spell I haven’t discovered yet, or worse.” There was a pause, and a gloved hand came to rest on your knee. You could’ve mouthed the words, as he said them. “I can keep you safe here, but your world is neutral territory. I might not be able to stop him, if he and his brothers tried to take you away.”

You hated the way he said it. Part of you, a persistent minority, still wanted to think this was all a misunderstanding, a result of crossed wires and mixed messages and the kind of miscommunications that only ever led to such awful things. You knew it was unhealthy, to try to tint your own memories with such a forgiving light, but that didn't help you smother the temptation to believe all the soft, pleasant encouragements Asmodeus had whispered in your ear as his brothers lived out their distorted, carnal fantasies. Whatever Simeon was trying to do, it certainly wasn’t helping, either.

“I’ll be careful,” You tried, slouching against the glass. It was warm to the touch, a feeling you savored under his cold gaze. “It’d be a day trip, at most. Just a few hours. I…” He was wearing the silk gloves, today, soft and smooth as he raised his hand, cupping your cheek without a trace of hesitation. You trailed off instantly, still unused to the gentleness. “I just want to see my family, that’s all. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“You’re bored of me, now?” It was supposed to be playful, the question accompanied by a light chuckle, but you still shook your head, leaning into his palm as you went on. “I can’t say I blame you. I know I’m not one for company, but if you’re dying for entertainment, I can see what—”

“It’s not just that.” You should've let him finish, but it was already too late to stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself, if you were being honest. You just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere different, a place where the sky didn’t hurt to look at and the sun wasn’t so willing to punish you for existing. You wanted to be able to step outside without worrying whether or not your angelic hosts still thought you were worthy of their concern. You didn’t want this, anymore, even if it was the better option. “I’m just tired, Simeon. I’m tired of being here, I’m tired of running, and I just want to go home—”

There was a small huff, a sharp crack. By the time you realized what happed, by the time that sudden acidic sting faded into a steady throb, his thumb was already digging into your jaw, your head forcibly tilted back in such a way that made it so you had to look at him. You couldn’t avoid the softened anger in his eyes, or the stiffness in his posture, or that tight, unignorable scowl. He was disappointed, and he wanted you to know you were the reason why. He was mad at you, and you’d done everything to earn it.

When he spoke, he did so slowly. Like he was talking to a child who hadn’t quite come to terms with reality, just yet. “I’ve taken care of you, haven’t I?”

“You have.” There was no point trying to deny it. If it hadn’t been for Simeon, you’d still be rotting in that hellscape, subject to the whims of a family of monsters. He'd saved you. He'd helped you escape, and you had to be thankful for that. “I just don’t know if I can—”

“And you care about me, right? You don’t want to see me worry?”

You hesitated, but your answer was inevitable “Of course.”

“And you do remember the last thing Belphie said to you, don’t you? What he did to send you running to me?” He let himself smile, despite the nature of the question. “I could barely understand you back then, with the crying and all. Honestly, I almost didn't notice you were begging me to save you.” It was easy to forget how Simeon could be, when he knew he was right. Most of the time, his confidence was comforting, a gentle reminder that you could trust him, that you should trust him. Right now, it just made you feel weak. “What was it, again? C’mon, love, you can tell me, can’t you?”

You could. Objectively, you could, if you tried to. You could force your mouth to make the words, you could shut your eyes and let Simeon guide you through it, and you could tell yourself they were just memories, that you were somewhere else now, that you were somewhere better, but…

But, you really, really didn’t want to, and you couldn’t convince yourself you did.

If you did, you’d have to remember how tightly Belphegor had held your hand, as he said it, his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip strong enough to leave your palm bruised, after he pulled away. You’d have to think about the small smile he wore, the hatred in his half-lidded eyes, the chill that'd run down your spine as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder and told you that, if you ever tried to leave him, if he ever had to share you with anyone beyond the six exceptions he was already making, he’d kill you. It was as simple as that.

If he ever saw you again, he’d kill you.

You were safe, here. You were safe in the Celestial Realm, you were safe with Simeon, but you still found yourself choking on the words, your throat going dry as your shoulders pitched forward, a bolt of something frozen striking your chest before you could ward it off. You couldn't be sure why something so distant would make you cry, but you could feel it coming on – hot tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision, threatening to spill over and strip you of what little pride you had left, but Simeon only wiped them away, as doting as he always was. As loving as he always was, even when you took his patience for granted. Even when you hesitated to lean into him, as he pulled you into his chest, urging you to hide your face and treat him like the pillar of support he was so clearly trying to be. Even when you didn't deserve it, when you didn't deserve him, when you didn't deserve any of this, not when he was kind enough to pretend he didn't know that just as well as you.

“Poor little thing.” He was humming, now, his tone teetering on the line between carelessness and comfort. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, not in the moment, not when it was all you could do to muffle your hitched sobs into small, pathetic whimpers. “It’s nothing to blame yourself for. You just need a little help.” Another pause, elongated and purposeful. Sadistic, in only because he had to try so hard not to be. “You just need someone to protect you. It’s only human.”

It was all you could do to nod, to agree, as mindlessly as you were capable of. You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to risk remembering something you shouldn’t.

Instead, you just focused on the sunlight streaming the nearest window, how it felt as it hit you.

How, wherever your skin made contact with Simeon’s, it seemed to grow just a little more insufferable than it had been, a second ago.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

So obviously the entire Feanorian Host as a whole is a bit intense about the cause, but I feel like there’s different levels of devotion between their individual followers.

So my question to you is, from least to most intense, which Feanorions followers are the most cult-like and why?

the cultishness absolutely varies by region! i'm being a little facetious when i call them an out-and-out cult, but fëanorian minion culture certainly has... tendencies. the isolationism, the way loyalty to the group supersedes absolutely everything, what they do to those who 'betray the cause,' not to mention how absolutely psyched they get at the opportunity to do murder. still, the precise way that manifests, as well as how intense they are about, does change a lot depending on where you are in east beleriand. surprisingly it doesn't track that much with how tolerant of outsiders each subdivision is, which is most evidenced by:

the gap: maglor and his cronies are easily the most xenophobic part of the host, which is both a cause and a consequence of them having probably the least regular contact with non-fëanorians out of all the armies of east beleriand. paradoxically, this gives them very little incentive to go full cultist; much of the deliberately off-putting stuff the rest of the host does is partially to distinguish them from the outgroup, which isn't something you need to do when everyone you deal with is either part of the gang or an obvious enemy. they still do the elaborate facial deformations, they still have a bit of a Thing about fire, but the thing that's holding them together is much less utter devotion to the cause and much more the organic friendships and kinship bonds between riders

there's a few other reasons why the folk of the gap are relatively less culty. the gap is sparsely populated to begin with, and most of its population is at least semi-nomadic; it's a lot harder to cultivate that kind of obsession when everyone's off doing their own thing most of the time. while the gap doesn't have the highest headcount of mithrim sindar - as stated above, its population is tiny even by east beleriand's low standards - it has more mithrim sindar as a proportion of the population than anywhere else in east beleriand, and the culture of the gap has this big mithrim sindarin focus on community and clan to counteract the noldorin tendency to sacrifice everything for grand ideals. the general lack of new recruits from outside the host only serves to intensify all of this; the riders of the gap fight together because of the spiderweb of social and personal obligations that link them all together, not necessarily because of the cause (though that is still a factor, i want to be clear.) this fairly isolated society held together by individual and familial bonds stands in stark contrast to:

himlad: the thing about celegorm and curufin's people is that they're up against the fuzzy border between east and west beleriand, between maedhros' definitely-not-a-kingdom and the finarfinians' section of fingolfin's defensive line. as such, they're more or less constantly in contact with the outside world, coordinating troop movements, sharing information and resources, recruiting from the same sindarin populations. there's still a clear delineation between the fëanorians and the fingolfinians, partially because there's a lot of mountains between their major centres and partially because this lot actually do have an other to define themselves against and thus a reason to emphasise their own identity, but there's a lot of chatter and petty squabbling and philosophical discussion and a steady regular connection to the outside world counteracting the worst of the cultishness. unlike pretty much any other part of the host, the himlad minions never really lose the sense that they belong to a greater community of elves

which explains what they do in nargothrond. i don't believe that literally every single one of their followers abandoned celegorm and curufin, but i'd buy it was a lot of them, maybe even most of them. it helps that it's specifically the finarfinians their lords are betraying, the people they've - perhaps not fought side by side with, but who definitely always had their backs. even without that, though, the very existence of that relationship means they're used to working with people from outside the host, getting to know them, empathising with them, which is a pretty hefty counterbalance to the specific the-whole-world's-out-to-get-us undercurrent of internal propaganda. by no means was it an instant switch, or an easy one; after finrod got ousted there was a ton of interhost politicking and debate and the occasional brawl as everyone tried to figure out what to do. but the fact that the question was even open says a lot, i think. that probably wouldn't have been the case even in:

thargelion: caranthir’s domain is the most heavily populated part of east beleriand, and the settlement at lake helevorn is the closest thing it has to a city. a significant portion of that population aren’t fëanorians by even the loosest definition; they’re dwarven traders or miscellaneous humans or sindar far enough from the front line of the siege they can just keep on with their lives the way they always have. the fëanorians (and here, more than anywhere else, that’s a fuzzy category; this is the easiest part of the host to join, and the easiest to leave) are mixed in with all these groups, negotiating supplies, managing tribal levies, patrolling the roads, state stuff. out of all the subdivisions of the host, the thargelion minions are the hardest to distinguish from outsiders.

to keep their ingroup coherent, then, they actively mark themselves out. the minions in thargelion are probably the loudest about their collective identity and the cause and the joy of bathing in your enemies’ blood and all that. they have weird midnight rituals and purpose-built meeting halls and elaborate coded language, and while being overly tyrannical about it would be bad for business there’s definitely a sense that they form a tightly knit core which looks after its own above all else. that image is somewhat complicated by the aforementioned blurry edges of the thargelion host - is the sindarin bureaucrat who’s never touched a weapon in her life but plays a vital role in the military administration a fëanorian? is the noldorin freeholder who pays very little attention to the day-to-day minutia of the war but keeps his sword sharp for the hour it is needed? - but the alliance of old soldiers at its heart is a clear and palpable thing, especially when you can feel its eyes. when their hackles aren’t up the minions are perfectly happy to mingle socially with the other peoples of thargelion, though, which sets them apart from:

himring: on the frontlines of the siege of angband, with all the nightmares of the north pressing directly on their spirits, maedhros’ followers stoke the flames of their devotion high. the warriors of the cold fortress are less showy about their fervor than their counterparts in thargelion or even himlad, but the ardour underlying it is markedly more intense; they don’t have much in the way of over-the-top rituals, but they have vast amounts of ironclad unspoken rules they follow unwaveringly. they’re polite to outsiders, sometimes even welcoming, but you never forget that you are, in fact, an outsider, and that himring and its satellite forts form an internal world others can never quite see. even to other fëanorians, they come across as aloof

their fervour also tends to manifest as a deep personal loyalty that borders on reverence towards maedhros himself. all the brothers command respect, of course, they’re all magnetic personalities who draw people in and bind them together, but maedhros’ minions are on a whole other level. they mythologise him, tell stories of his deeds like he personally holds the line against morgoth, treasure the slightest contact with him, hold being called to his direct service as the highest honour of all. most of the new recruits to the himring host are brought in by the vast pull of maedhros’ reputation, from all across beleriand and even from the north. but no matter where they came from, they all understand that they will fight and live and die together beneath the banner of their lord. which is a bit weird, even by fëanorian standards, but they’re nowhere near as bad as:

ossiriand: amrod and amras’ henchelves are considered by the rest of the host to be notably psychotic, which is saying a lot. the minions of ossiriand are utterly terrifying, absolutely fanatical about the cause, the most bloodthirsty murder cult in east beleriand. you’d think the green-elves they share their territory with would act as a calming influence, but in practice the two groups mostly avoid each other, because the green-elves naturally prefer to stay away from these nutbags. you’d think being away from the front lines would lessen the need to solidify their identity through cult nonsense, but in practice it gives them the free time to go full gonzo. most of the horrible rumours you hear about the fëanorians in the rest of beleriand are either specific quirks of the ossiriand minions, or most egregrious in the ossiriand minions. they have an orc pit

or so they’d have you believe. the fëanorians in ossiriand effectively serve as the host’s intelligence division, scouts and spies and saboteurs. a lot of their work is clandestine by its very nature, and they tend to be pretty secretive about what they actually do. half the things you hear about them are probably disinformation, lies they’re deliberately spreading to make themselves sound scarier. hopefully, at least. as anyone who’s chatted with an ossiriand minion knows, they are both eagerly awaiting the fulfilment of the oath, and already preparing for what will come after

(this paradigm does break down after the siege is broken and the union of maedhros fails and the dregs of the armies of east beleriand wind up stuck in the same ever-shrinking territory. still, i think the origins of the survivors are... interesting. the people of the gap were almost completely wiped out in the bragollach, the people of himlad mostly jumped ship with celebrimbor, even the people of thargelion took heavy losses in the nirnaeth. but the people of himring stood firm around their lord, and the people of ossiriand were never really frontline fighters in the first place. minions from the more cultish parts of the host tend to survive longer, and in greater numbers. i feel this could have... consequences)

[kallulovesu]

Heyooo :) can you do headcannons for a platonic yandere allies ?? Am aroace so that's the kind that floats my boat, also do you ever feel tired of writing ?? Like .. ur so productive, it's awsome but like .. I hope ur doing it cuz u have energy not cuz you have followers waiting 😬 take care Plz ❤❤🥺

For the anon that asked that yandere reader ask, thx u inspired this ask ur idea is rad :3

(A/N:) ahh thank you for the worry anon, but it’s no problem really!💞 I wouldn’t be making as much content if I wasn’t having any fun, since it’ll probably end up feeling more like chore...and I hate doing chores 😭

That one protective friend that makes sure to check up on you every second (but it’s turned up to the extreme and downright becomes unhealthy in some cases)™

It was ironic to him. Out everyone that he had gotten to know over all these years— hell, perhaps even Arthur; you were the only one he felt like understood him the most. Not many seemed to notice what was going on beneath the surface of his facade, which was why he appreciated you being there. You still liked him despite the many flaws that he had, and tried your best being with him even if it became downright tiring. Alfred would be heavily dependent on you because of this, often going to you to cheer him up— or before he was going to make a rash choice.

So it was only natural that he couldn’t see himself being without you.

You were like a best friend to him; Alfred would even go as far as to say that he felt a familial connection between the two of you. So the deep desire to protect you was normal, wasn’t it? Even when he felt himself worrying for your well-being at even the slightest approach of a stranger, it was just his instinct telling him that there was something wrong. It wasn’t anything unhealthy. Thus, would usually drag you away from anyone that he found to be suspicious; even those he was already familiar with. This would probably result in a lot of arguments, with him trying to say what was ‘best for you’ and with you denying that you needed this much...protection. You swore that it almost felt like he was just isolating you from the others, to have you purely depend on him for whatever reason you couldn’t make up.

Alfred can’t handle being apart from you— nonetheless the idea of you being angry with him, or even hating him . It truly didn’t matter if the reason was rather ridiculous or not, the idea of you hating him just...made his stomach churn uncomfortably. You were his best buddy, and basically one of the only ones he could trust with his inner worries; and the risk of it all being taken away from him because of a silly, childish mistake was all it took to send the poor boy into a state of panic. Please don’t leave him, he’d do anything to keep you there with him. Begging, gifting— you name it.

Arthur didn’t completely seem to realize his feelings at first, confusing it with romantic attraction for a little while— before quickly seeming to realize that it was all purely platonic. He did feel a bit protective of you, maybe even possessive...but it had nothing to do with romance, nor lust. It was just him wanting to have someone beside him, someone that he could call a friend. And someone that would never leave his side.

It won’t be hard to notice how...bad his communication skills were; with him often saying things that he didn’t really mean and slightly setting you off. Arthur is stubborn, so it may take some time (and slight teasing at how much he hesitated) for him to actually apologize. You’ll probably get used to it after a while, since he’s one big tsundere.

Saying this out loud was an absolute no-no for this man— but you being around Arthur was often enough to make him the slightest bit happier. It felt a bit lonely at times, especially with less and less people being around him these past few years. So having you as a friend almost felt like a breath of fresh air.

He’s very critical of those you choose to be around with, often analyzing even the smallest of things so he can determine if they’re actually worth being around you. Which more often than not ends up... not being the case. Arthur will tell you to stay away from them; saying that they were suspicious, and probably had something bad in mind. He’ll resort to isolating you if you were to disobey him, trying to take as much of your attention— and perhaps even kidnapping you if the extreme were to happen. You were his one and only best friend, and he had to make sure you were safe. Always.

Totally the big brother type...well, he usually proclaims himself as being one, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.

Francis will make sure to absolutely pamper you with his attention; hanging out with you, sending letters whenever he was too busy...and simply sending gifts from France. He simply couldn’t let you go off feeling unloved!

He adores talking about you; usually going off on a mindless ramble whenever someone even mentions your name, like a proud father showing off his child. Others will usually compare him to one due to how much he adores talking about you— or simply the way that he treats you. Which would quickly be disregarded with a: “oh, I’m no father! They’re just such a nice little friend to have around, who wouldn’t want to praise such a delicate person?”

On a second note....he actually did feel like a father figure to you. Huh.

Francis will often suggest helping you out with your love life, perhaps even gushing over cute guys together that you found on a random dating app— before quickly realizing that he didn’t really want this. Those silly moments were fun and all, but having you talk with someone that could just be out to use you made him a bit angry...and paranoid, mainly the latter. He will make sure that anyone that even so much dares to get close you first gets his approval first. The feeling of a broken heart was all too familiar to him, and he didn’t want you to experience such a thing.

This may result in him checking up on you...an awful lot, making sure that those around you were only the best of the best and wouldn’t end up being bad influence to you. Yes, he truly was like a father.

A sibling-like person in his life that he didn’t feel insecure against and acknowledged him as his own person? Fuck yes!!

Jokes aside— Matthew really does care deeply for you. Perhaps it was due to the Canadian barely having those that he could...truly call close friends, so having you around almost felt like a blessing. Unlike Francis, he won’t really show you off or talk about you much, especially around his brother. The American had already stolen enough from him, so why would he let something like that happen again?

He’s extremely wary of anyone that even so much tries to make a move on you. It’s just...you were someone that he held extremely dear; and having you potentially getting hurt due to some lowlife that managed to slip into your life would absolutely break his heart. Matthew didn’t want to fail in protecting you, he would never forgive himself if something like that were to happen.

Losing you is something that he wishes to avoid completely. He’ll even go as far as kidnapping you if it came down to it, Matthew just couldn’t see himself living happily without you by his side.

Yao likes cute things...and you’re a cute friend, so it’s a perfect match!

But seriously, he thinks that you’re absolutely adorable. Whether it be because of your personality— or your appearance, it really doesn’t end up mattering in the end. You’re his cute little friend, and that’s all that matters!

He’ll often treat you with more, yet gentler care than most of the others around him. He knew that you were well capable of taking care of yourself; but he just couldn’t help but see you as something fragile, something that he had to protect. So you can already imagine how frustrated he gets when someone treats you with even the slightest bit of disrespect— Yao will often confront them immediately, while you awkwardly have to sit back and watch it all. Almost feeling pity for the person that had to endure your friend’s seemingly never-ending complaints.

Oh, he probably doesn’t quite realize how he comes off as a father at times; seeing how much he’ll scold you for the smallest mistakes (while making sure to correct you of course!) and how he usually made decisions for you, making it hard to refuse his gestures due to his pushy nature. But it’ll probably become a normal thing for the two of you as time progresses, since it’s just...how Yao was, you assumed.

His controlling behavior will also reflect on how he treats your personal life. Yao is very selective of who he lets you be around with, so he’ll often look at your acquaintances and friends with a very critical eye, immediately expressing his distaste in them if they were even to do the smallest thing wrong. “Such a brute isn’t worth being around, (y/n).” Yao will warn you to stay away from them, but won’t bring it up any further if you decide to do what he says. If you don’t then...well, he had special friends to help him out with his dirtier work.

Yao might consider kidnapping you if this behavior keeps on repeating, but won’t feel compelled to actually do it unless something bad were to happen.

Ivan will always try his best to be there for you! While it most likely won’t quite work with him being a rather busy person; a country, nonetheless, but he’ll do his upmost best. It was extremely hard for Ivan to make friends that...weren’t scared of him or secretly disliked him, so having you was such a relief!

Being his only friend, he’ll make sure to be absolutely devoted to you— perhaps in a way that wasn’t too healthy in a friendship, and would often be looked down upon by those looking at your relationship from an outsider’s perspective. But could one truly blame him? Ever since he was born it felt like everyone around him were either toying with him, or were utterly terrified of the boy expect for his two sisters. It was lonely...so it isn’t hard to imagine how overjoyed he was once having you in his life; someone that didn’t display the usual fright whenever he approached them, nor did you look like you were out to hurt him.

Ivan appreciated you a lot.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that you’d most likely become the target of a few other countries, your connection with Ivan wasn’t extremely hidden from the outside world... (from how much he’d senselessly mutter things about you when daydreaming, and the many times he stuck by your side) and so, others would take it to their advantage. Those like Alfred will probably try convince you to leave Ivan’s side, spewing terrifying stories of the man to try and stir up something inside of you so you could leave him. It was mainly for your own safety, yes. But it was also to make the Russian weaker. It was obvious that he was depending on you heavily, and losing you would...god forbid if that would ever happen. Ivan would completely lose himself, perhaps even snapping completely.

So don’t hesitate to tell Ivan if someone was bothering you! Ivan will make sure to get rid of the little parasite from your life in an instant, giving them a short warning whenever the two come across each other...and making sure that he got his point across! It’s better to ignore their sudden disappearance after that day, since someone like them wasn’t worth lingering in your mind.

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[sasukesun]

Sasuke for the ask game ofc

i was expecting him lol so thanks for the ask

favourite thing about them: i really can’t say just him? ok. so how he fought so hard for the justice he (and his people) deserved but also how even with so much shit threw at him, he still was a good person (idc if people bring kage summit into this, we’ve discussed that so much already), how he still had a strong sense of justice (how he revived the hokages to talk to them and know the truth for example) and how he still wanted to be loved despite how unhealthy his mindset was

least favourite thing about them: his final plan sucks and it’s because itachi spread bad writing everywhere after his reveal

favourite line: idk he’s so iconic “begone with the thunderclap” or “you’ll have your chance to fly, snake, in the talons of a hawk” [kills orochimaru] and “i know your heart, and you know mine” cause romance ain’t dead guys. he has range

brotp: not itachi tbh. if you don’t count naruto… between team taka members i think suigetsu?

otp: narsas obviously ♡

notp: tbh any ship that is not narsas is a notp because sasuke simply isn’t interested in anyone that isn’t naruto and people that say otherwise are just pushing it which is a bit annoying, but honourable mention to sasusaku, because sakura is the worst person sasuke could ever be paired up with, he has been through enough already

random headcanon: i usually post hcs about him and naruto and tag it as #headcanon but if we’re talking only about him hmmm i think sasuke likes tea because it helps him relax. he might like coffee but he avoids it because of the tachycardia and sleeplessness (and he already has trouble sleeping right after the war, before getting therapy i mean, which in my fix-it ending he does get it)

unpopular opinion: is there any opinion about sasuke that is unpopular? depends on which part of the fandom you’re talking about ig, people just can’t be normal about sasuke

sasuke was right about the system and he deserved to get justice in the ending, he’s not an emo, or bitchy, and he definitely shouldn’t just “do what itachi wanted” or whatever (shouldn’t be unpopular but well…)

sasuke is not emotionless, he is very much driven by the love he feels for his family and for naruto, people that say he doesn’t know how to express himself, or lies about his feelings, or anything like that are just focusing on the wrong characters (cof cof sakura), the ones sasuke doesn’t love y’know

sasuke is not horny, or a fuckboy, or clingy, or a player or very sexual or any trait people give to him that belongs to charasuke… fandom still didn’t get that the whole point is that people are attracted to him while he acts aloof about it

i don’t think his rabid stans understand his relationship with naruto nor they understand that his “desire” for isolation is unhealthy and self destructive and not a good thing

sasuke isn’t “bad” or “abusive” or whatever towards sakura, she’s the only one to blame in this whole mess for not knowing how to take no for an answer (also shouldn’t be unpopular…)

song i associate with them: this is probably the only one that will have a song yay so fireworks by mitski because of the melancholy

favourite picture of them: nope. this is just. an impossible task. won’t happen. have some fortnite sasuke giving you love in compensation for it

[persephone-is-here-omg]

In Nomine Patris.

Pairing: Priest!Bucky Barnes/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. This fic features explicit sexual content involving a catholic priest, if that isn’t your thing or it offens you skip this one. If you know this offends you and you still read it, whatever feelings you experience after are your problem, not mine. Otherwise, enjoy. Slight chocking.

Word Count: 5530.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

Father Barnes has your panties in his pocket.

_____________

You brush your hands nervously down your dress as you step into the church and locate the few family members that have made it out today to your youngest cousin’s First Communion. Truth be told you haven’t been near a church in almost three years, struggling with your faith and the relationship with your family has left you nearly isolated. You scurry to a place beside your aunt and greet her with a smile and a kiss as she points out to your cousin, seated on one of the very first benches on the dress that has become somewhat of a family relic, you wave at her and blow a kiss in her direction as she smiles and sits back down.

Your eyes move around the church from the back to the front slowly, landing on some familiar faces. When your gaze falls on the priest your heart skips a beat, he looks at you intently, his blue eyes fixed on you and you can’t look away. His lips curl slightly upwards, he looks away, you don’t know what his expression means and your aunt looks at you “I see you’ve discovered the new priest”

You look at her and blink in confusion, you had been away so long that the priest had been changed and you had no knowledge about it, you look at him again and notice the glove in his left hand, your curiosity picking up.

“When did he arrive?” You ask her, trying to not sound as affected as you feel.

“Monday. Antonia wouldn’t stop talking about him until I reminded her that he is a man of God and talking that way about him was wrong”

You nod, your eyes finding him again as he directs the altar boys in preparing everything for Mass.

Soon enough mass starts and everyone is listening intently to what Father Barnes has to say, you think about how much you’d rather be anywhere but here. Mass advances and the kids at the front are lining up to take the Communion for the first time, Father Barnes instructs everyone else to wait until they are done, then the adults will be able to take theirs. Your cousin waves as she heads back towards her seat, a serene smile on her lips.

Slowly everyone else starts to file into the queue, you included using your hands to smooth down your dress, your nerves grow as you come closer and closer to the front and face to face with Father Barnes. You consider going back to your seat, but if you do you probably won’t hear the end of it.

The person in front of you walks away and you look at him, his eyes are a bright blue and deep, his lips are full and he has a beard framing them. The short hair is styled carefully, but classically. You open your mouth as he raises his hand to it.

“The body of Christ” He says, his fingers press the Sacramental Bread against your tongue, his fingers applying some pressure on it, something no priest has ever done before. You look at him wide eyed, as your lips close around the tips of his fingers, something you have never done to a priest before. Your heart beats fast as you step away and lower your eyes trying to push what just happened away from your mind.

That night you fall prey to a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, unable to get any real rest.

Monday morning you’re surprised when your aunt knocks on your door as you are having your morning coffee, she walks in and looks at you “There’s a part time job at the church. It could help you” She says.

You look at her over the rim of your mug “What’s the job?”

“Father Barnes needs someone to help him organize things in the church, buy supplies, just run errands for him in general” she explains “Will you take it?”

“Well… I haven’t even met Father Barnes yet” You say “But I’ll go and see” You’re not excited at the prospect of working in a church, but you don’t have many options available, and your savings are suffering from it.

Your aunt looks at you and nods “I have to leave, I’ll see you later”

You nod “Ok. See you around”

You look around in case you see Father Barnes or any of his acolytes. You find him standing in front of the Altar, his hands in his pocket and his back to you. You clear your throat to make your presence behind him known “F- Father Barnes?” You ask and can’t help but notice that he is taller than he seems, his back is wide and his shoulders look strong.

He turns around, for a moment you could swear he smirks, but he smiles at you “Yes, and you are? I saw you yesterday during the First Communion mass”

You give him your name and offer him your hand. His handshake is firm, the warmth of it is almost too much, but you smile back at him “I heard you’re looking for someone to help part time here at the church”

“Yes! Yes, I am. Don’t get me wrong, the boys are good, but they’re kids. They’re better off playing and having fun than spending time cooped up in here”

“Probably shouldn’t say that to their parents, though” You laugh and nod in agreement “I don’t… Well, I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for”

Father Barnes looks at you with a weird intensity in his eyes “You are” He says and then adds “If you’re free part time. You’re the only person that’s come up until now”

“I didn’t know. I understand if you want to keep your options open”

Father Barnes shakes his head “No, no. You’re perfect. More than perfect”

Your face heats up, unable to stop the feeling that he means more than being perfect for the job “Thank you” You pull out pen and paper from your bag and write down your name and phone number “Just in case you decide I’m the right person for the job”

“I’ve already decided” He says “When can you start?”

You are taken by surprise “Tomorrow, if you need me to”

“See? You’re perfect” Father Barnes repeats “I’ll keep this” He takes the piece of paper with your name and number on it “We’ll need to keep in contact. Please, could you take the advert off when you leave?”

You swallow and nod “Of course. Have a good evening, Father Barnes”

“You too”

You leave the church and follow his instructions about taking the ad down, then head to the grocery store, you browse the aisles slowly, taking your time in picking up everything you need to buy. 

You collide against a wall of solid muscle and gasp as you look up, coming face to face with Father Barnes "I'm… Father… I'm sorry" You say, avoiding his eyes. But noticing that he is wearing normal clothes.

"Is ok. Just an accident" He says searching your eyes "Are you ok?" 

"Yes, I was just distracted. Didn't see you" 

"No problem" He says and takes your basket "I'll help you with this" Father Barnes starts walking in the same direction you were going before "Do you have a car?" He asks, observing you intently.

"No, I'll just… I just take the bus" 

"Is a bit late" Father Barnes points out "I can drive you"

You look at him and nod "Ok. Thank you" You say with a smile as you pick a box of rose tea and put it on your basket. The silence spreads between you two as you walk through the aisles, picking up different products to take with you. 

The two of you walk out of the grocery store a few minutes later and go toward his car. The car is nothing flashy, a small, black sedan, that you wonder for a second how does he fit inside. Father Barnes opens the back door for you and lets you put your bags in there, you feel his eyes on you as you do so, never leaving you and when you tip too far forward and almost fall inside the car his arm wraps around your waist and holds you up "Careful there, doll" His voice rumbles in your ears and you breathe slowly to calm your nerves as he helps you stand up.

"I'm so sorry about that" You say and step away as you turn around looking at him "I lost my balance"

"No need to worry" Father Barnes says, a smile on his lips, as he grabs the car door and corners you between the open door and his body. 

Your eyes find his and he steps back, letting you move away and then closing the car door. 

Father Barnes opens the passenger side door for you and you get in, his eyes fix on your legs as your wrap dress opens, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs, your eyes lock for a brief moment and then he closes the door and runs to the other side, you fix your dress and your coat, making sure you’re covered.

He gets in on the driver's side and starts the car, steering it out of the parking lot. His eyes are fixed on the road and you try not to look at him, but your eyes keep straying towards his face.

"Thank you for driving me… you really didn't have to"

Father Barnes turns toward you for a second, then looks back to the road "Is nothing really. And your place is on my way back to the church. I'll drive you home any time you have to stay late, so transportation shouldn't be a problem"

"Oh, no. You don't have to do that, really. And people would talk, if you did"

"That doesn't concern me" The way he says it leaves no room for arguing. So you just nod and look ahead.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Father Barnes. I'm between jobs, so this will give me something to do"

"Call me James or Bucky, please" He says "Father Barnes is too formal"

"But… You… I…" You babble and Father Barnes, James, shakes his head a friendly smile on his lips.

"I insist, please. At least while there's no one but us around"

You take a deep breath and nod "Sure, then… James" You say softly.

A while later Father Barnes, James, stops in front of your small apartment building. He looks at it out the window and smiles at you "Is it a nice place?" He asks.

"The nicest I can afford" You say "Is a good place, not too big, but I live alone, so that is not a problem"

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow” James says looking at you “Can you be there at noon?”

You nod “Of course”

“Another thing, I know the fliers said part time, but… If you’re at all available for full time, I’d appreciate the help”

You think for a moment “Yes! I do need the job so, the more hours I can get, the better. I’ll see you tomorrow, then”

“Yes” He says and just as you open the door and turn to get out of the car he grips your wrist firmly and makes you turn to look back “Thank you”

You swallow and smile again then, after he lets go of your wrist, you get out of the car, take your bags from the back and rush inside.

Your heart races as you close the door behind you and set the bags on the kitchen counter, and you shake your head as you try to clear your thoughts “Of course none of this means anything. He’s a priest” You say out loud, more to convince yourself and try to calm your racing heart than anything, really. Your hands tremble slightly as you put the groceries away.

The hot water helps you relax. Soon enough you’re wearing your pajamas and getting into bed. The long day soon taking its toll on you as you fall asleep almost as soon as you are under the covers, your dreams are hazy and heady and you can’t quite remember them as you wake up, your hips rocking into your pillow slowly but desperately.

You’re not sure of where you are exactly as you wake up, but your eyes land on your clock and, you realize, is still too early for you to start getting ready for work, so you end up laying back down and trying to get some more sleep. But, after whatever dream you had you can barely think straight. You sit up and decide to start your day early, going for an elaborate breakfast and an even more difficult lunch that you pack neatly in an effort to waste the free time at your disposal and trying to keep your mind from straying into whatever happened last night in Father Barnes car. Nothing happened, anyway. So why are you so nervous about going in today?

You hope this new job is something temporary, you have been questioning your faith for a long time now and spending time in a church with an admittedly attractive priest is something that won’t help you in the least. If it was in your hands you’d stay as far away from the church as possible, but you need the money and James, as he insists you call him, is paying very good money for such a position.

You step inside the church smoothing your dress down and making sure nothing that would be considered inappropriate is visible. He is already waiting for you by the Altar, for a moment you wonder if he should use a shirt like that. Your curiosity about his gloved hand pikes up again, but you refrain from asking or even setting your eyes on his arm, not sure how he would take that question or the scrutiny.

You smile at him as you stop in front of Father Barnes, James, you remind yourself “Father” Stopping you correct yourself “James”

James smiles at you “Welcome” He starts walking and you follow him out into the inner yard of the church and toward his office “This will be where we’ll spend most of our time together. I will mostly need you to help me organize schedules, do you remember the previous priest’s one?” He asks.

You shake your head “I… I’ve been… I haven’t been coming to church regularly” 

“Questioning your faith?” He says inquisitively, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not…” You trail off, realizing that it is probably quite obvious for James that you have been struggling with your faith for a very long time, your relationship with your family already complicated before you stopped attending Church, suffering even more about it. They didn’t appreciate your positions on a variety of subjects and made certain you knew about it.

James smiles at you “That’s ok. It won’t be a problem. Everyone goes through that” He takes your hand between his “Right now, the most important thing is that you can help me organize the mess in here” He chuckles and let’s go of your hand.

“That shouldn’t be a problem” You say, looking around and trying not to think about your hand in his “We could get a couple more filing cabinets, to start”

“I’ll have to see what I can do. But that shouldn’t be so hard to get” James says.

The filing cabinets arrive a few days later and you delve into the task of ordering all the files, especially the ones concerning the church’s finances starting by the oldest ones available. You focus entirely on the work at hand, the time going by as you go through folder after folder of disorganized paperwork. You jump, startled when there is a knock on the door and look over your shoulder, smiling when you see James standing at the door.

“How are you?” He asks, his voice low and deep traveling through the small space.

“I’m ok… I think I lost track of time” You admit “But I have gone through a good amount of folders now, so I think this will be ready sooner than I thought”

“That’s great to hear” James says stepping inside “I was wondering if you’d like some pizza? Is late and I don’t think you’ve eaten”

You look at him “That’s very nice of you, James, but you really don’t have to do it. I don’t want to impose”

“You are not imposing in any way… Just a few slices, then I’ll drive you home” He insists and offers you his gloved hand, which you take. It feels strangely hard, almost like some kind of prosthetic, he uses it to help you stand up from the floor.

“Thank you” James lets go of your hand and you smooth your dress down, follow him down the hall towards the small apartment in the back of the church’s grounds.

James opens the door and lets you step in “Over here” He says walking towards the kitchen “Sit down” James points you towards the stools, sits down beside you and tugs the pizza box over, flipping the lid “Ladies first”

You smile at him and take a slice “Thank you” The bite of pizza you take tastes amazing and you hum, smiling “This is amazing”

“Is from that place down the road from here” James explains.

You laugh “Oh, I used to go there all the time back when I was still in school” You take another bite “With the girls that used to be my friends”

“Not your friends anymore?” He asks and you shake your head, swallowing the pizza.

“Not anymore… We just drifted apart, probably the fact that they all are married with kids already and I’m not doesn’t really help”

“And that you are not coming to church?”

“Not a nice addition to the mix” You admit and look at him “Do you ever… Think about what would your life be if you weren’t a priest?”

James smiles and takes a sip of water “Sometimes”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that” 

He chuckles “Is just a question, doll” The word doll slips out casually and your face heats up “I do think about it. Everyone wonders about the what ifs, don’t they?”

“I guess so” You follow the movement of his gloved hand as it moves and takes yours, you notice the hardness of his hand again, you almost open your mouth to ask, but his strength caughts you by surprise as he pulls you into a bruising kiss.

He lets go of your hand and both his arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight against his firm chest. James’ lips feel unyielding and soft against yours, his tongue licks your bottom lip and you open your mouth in response to his actions, giving him the chance to deepen the kiss, your hands move from his shoulders into his hair, fingers knotting on the silky brown strands. You whimper when he bites your lower lip and pull your face away, breathing hard.

“What… Why did you do that?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

James licks his lips, but doesn’t answer your question.

“I think I should go” You say standing up and James takes your hand, stopping you.

“Is late, I should drive you” James stands in front of you and lets go of your hand “Let’s go”

You stare at James for a few seconds and start walking behind him, unsure of what to do now.

James opens the door to his car and lets you get in, as he closes the door and walks to, jogs really, to the driver’s side your mind goes back to his arms around your waist, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, jumping as James closes the door.

“Are you ok?” His voice is low and he sounds concerned.

“I… I’m ok. I just didn’t expect that” You say.

The silence extends as James drives and you wonder if you should even go back to the church, you’d have to come up with an excuse to explain why you left the job so soon, but you can come up with something. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.

James parks the car and turns to look at you, but doesn’t say anything until you turn to look at him, his hand clasps on the back of your neck and his lips are on yours again, demanding. You whimper and he takes the chance, pulling you closer, your arms are around his neck, one of your hands on his hair before you can stop yourself.

“This is not ok” Your voice trembles and so do your hands, placing them on his chest to distance yourself from him “We have… We have to stop” You turn around and open the door of the car and get out.

Your heels click on the pavement as you walk towards the door of your building, you think James will come after you, but he doesn’t. A part of you genuinely wishes he did, it makes you feel like you’re not good enough to chase after. The other part of you is relieved. You don’t have the best track record, people still look at you and whisper under their breath when they see you in church, rumors of you and the new priest? That would not help.

You run up the stairs to your floor and then open your door, close it behind you and throw your bag and jacket on the couch, then start pacing. Mind racing as you go over what happened. You should have seen this coming, you should have. The way he looked at you that night he drove you home. How you were never sure if he was talking about your work or you. Do you have to quit? The anxiety starts to eat at you because how are you going to explain that you had to quit a comfortable, well paid job. You know how your family would react, you have seen it before. But the thing is, and this is the real issue, that you are not sure you want to leave.

You know you won’t be able to sleep tonight. Not when every time you close your eyes all you can think about is his hands on you, his arms around your waist, his lips. You shake your head and start pacing again. You know you didn’t start it. You would have never acted on it, not on your own. Would you? You walk over to the window and look out of it, you can see his car is still there. The temptation to go back out is strong, so much so that you turn around and walk back to your door, take your jacket, your keys and head back down.

The car is still there and you stop, should you go back? James notices you standing there and gets out of the car, walks decisively towards you and cups your face again, his lips crashing against yours as he kisses you one more time “Why did you come back down?”

“I…” You start but stop again “I saw your car still here, I don’t know…”

James takes a deep breath “You should go back up… We can’t do this. Not in public”

“We shouldn’t. Not in public and not in private” You counter.

“I will see you tomorrow” The way he says it, is almost as if he is certain you will show up the next day.

Will he see you tomorrow? You don’t know, you rest your forehead on your hands and think back on the way his lips feel on you. Almost like being branded by him. A shiver runs down your spine and you stand up, go to the fridge and get the vodka bottle out, open it and take a swig off of it, your face scrunches and you sit back down, closing your eyes. The decision is only yours, but not showing will have your family asking questions, they always ask questions. Just not the ones they should ask. Never those ones.

You step into the church and look around as the few people present start to walk out, you can’t see him and take a deep breath. You are not sure what you’ll do. Not yet, at least. James walks into the church and waits until every other person inside it, except you, has left to close the doors. All of them.

His steps are fast when he starts walking towards you. James stops in front of you 2I wasn’t sure you’d come today”

You shrug “I wasn’t sure either. I’m not really sure what I am doing here” The admission slips out of you and you can not stop it. It feels almost like getting rid of a heavy weight over your shoulders.

“Why did you close the church?”

“I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks” 

“Risks? This is already risky enough” You counter and shake your head slowly “What… Whatever…” You stop and take a deep breath “What happened last night it shouldn’t have happened. You could… You don’t understand. We can’t”

James grips your chin in his hand and wraps his left arm around your waist, pulling you close, so close there’s no space between the two of you and he kisses you.

His kiss is intense, bruising, the beard framing his face scratches at your skin, you feel the burn on it and moan. You push on his chest for a moment and then wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tiptoes and push your body closer to his muscular one.

James lets go of your chin, hand moving down your arm slowly, lets go of your hand and grips your hip, squeezes for a moment and then moves it around, to squeeze your ass.

You jump and gasp, opening your eyes and looking at him, eyes wide and hands trembling. This is wrong. The voice in your head says. Is your mother’s voice. It says it is your fault. Everything is your fault.

You shake your head to try and silence it. Let the feeling of James’ hands on you drown everything else. It feels good and you want it. You want it. Your fingers play with the collar on James’ shirt and he takes your other hand, brings it to his mouth and kisses the tips of your fingers.

You look down, at your fingers over his collar “Are you sure… This could end badly” You say.

“I am. I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever since I saw you that day” He admits, kissing each of your fingers again “I can’t”

You’re the one who starts the kiss now, fingers closing  around the fabric of his shirt. You bite his lower lip when his hand squeezes your ass again, moaning his name.

James lifts you up with one arm and, by instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he starts to walk. You’re not sure where he’s going until he places you on top of the table and you stare at him in shock “Here? We… Here?”

“Yes, here” He says in that voice that makes you think that arguing is pointless.

James just sets you down on the Altar and you swallow hard, you’d think a priest would be more concerned about this, but his eyes have turned dark, only a thin ring of blue around them. It makes a shiver run down your spine. James steps between your legs and kisses your lips again, big hands cupping your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. His hands move down to the sides of your neck, your shoulders, your waist “I can’t stop thinking about this” He repeats.

“Me either. You’re in my head all the time” You admit, playing again with his collar, it comes loose and you look at it between your fingers. James takes the collar from you and places it beside you on the altar, then his hands are tugging your skirt up, fingers skimming over your boots, he looks down when his fingers change from suede to smooth skin. He licks his lips and that affects you, it makes you whimper. His hands on you make your skin feel like it is on fire, like you will burst into flames and be turned to ashes and dust right there. Maybe is what you deserve for what you’re doing now. Maybe is what will happen.

You lift your hips so he can tug your panties down, but instead he takes his glove off and you see a metal hand he rips your panties and stuffs them in his pocket. You swallow and move your hands down his chest and further down his stomach, reach his belt and unbuckle it, tugging at his shirt after and following with the button and zipper on his pants. Your hand is inside his pants before you can really think about it and you squeeze his cock over his underwear.

James groans, licking his lips and crashing them against yours again, tugging you closer to him as you push his pants down his legs, you look down between the two of you, and take a deep breath to steady yourself. He wraps his left hand over yours, firmly, lips ghosting over yours. James takes your hand away and, finally, you feel him tease your slit with the tip of his cock. You nod, opening your mouth and closing it again. You can’t talk, you want to, but you can’t find the words. He thrusts in, a slow, fluid motion that leaves you entirely breathless, mouth hanging open as you throw your head back, something that James reads as an opening to go for your neck, his kisses are fervent and his teeth scrape against your skin, leaving a delicious sting in their wake.

You wrap your arms around his neck just as he pulls almost out and thrusts back in, the same slow and fluid motion as before, making you shiver and moan his name in his ear, your walls tightening around his cock, your eyes closed, hands buried in his hair as you tug and arch your back. Throwing your head back. 

James’s left hand grips your jaw and makes you look at him, his intense blue eyes fixed on you as your legs tighten on his sides. He kisses your lips again, swallowing your moans, your groans, your whines. Claiming every sound you make as his. The hand on your jaw moves slowly down to your neck, tightening around just a little bit. Just enough for your nails to dig on the small of James’ back as you gasp after a deep thrust. James looks at you again, his gaze consumes you, takes hold inside you. 

“Fuck” You groan, clamping around James when his pelvic bone drags against your clit.

“I want to cum inside you, make you mine” James whispers in your ear, the arm around your back tightening and holding you in place.

You nod, slowly. Kiss him and nod again “Do it” You say “Please”

James pushes you to lay back, his left hand on your chest as you go down, his hands wrap themselves around your thighs and tug you closer to the edge of the altar, flush against his hips. James’ cock buried deep inside you, so deep you feel like you have trouble breathing. His left gloved hand moves to where your bodies join and circles your clit, it feels so good you almost try to flinch away. But James holds you in place as you bite your lip and look at him, wide eyed and pleading for him to keep going. He doesn’t stop circling your clit until you cry out his name, breathless, as you cum around his cock. Your vision goes white as the orgasm stretches through your body, it makes you tighten up and then relax almost completely as you fist the cloth over the altar.

“That’s it” James encourages, his own hips starting to stutter in their pace, he licks his lips as you push on your elbows to watch him, eyes moving down his torso, to his cock thrusting in and out of you. He growls low in his throat, hips grinding into you as he cums “Fuck” He mutters, grinding again into you.

You sit up and cup his face, kiss his lips. He wraps his arms around your middle again and rests his forehead against yours “Are you ok?”

You nod, slowly “I am… I just…”

“We’ll be careful” James says “No one can know”

“Yes, I know… The people here, they wouldn’t…”

James looks at you “I know they don’t like you being around, but I have your back. I’m here”

You take a deep breath and decide to put your trust in him. Whatever happens.