#as of writing these r sold out :(

[stimstar-of-stimclan]

sonic enamel pins by SharpeDesignStore on etsy

source | source | source source

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring��”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[a-spes]

| THE PLACE WE'VE BEEN DREAMING OF - Imagine (1,109 words).

| Summary - when Natasha enventually gives in, and accept her wife's demand to adopt a pet.

| Tags & warning - Men & Minors DNI, soft dark!wandanat x R, not really pet play but R is reffered to as one (stray/mutt/it), a man being mean, mentions of death, hints of (past) abuse, pure fluff/comfort.

| Author's note - I wrote that quickly because it has been on my mind for so long, and I definitely needed to share it with the world, but hope you'll enjoy it anyway! I'll definitely write a longer version of it when I've time, but for the moment, here goes the first introduction to The place we've been dreaming of alternative universe (and it's only the beginning because i've so many thoughts to share about it) <3

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

it was wands' idea. she had begging nat for years, talking about how good it would be to have a pet, just to bring a bit of life in the household.

and that's exactly what natasha feared. because she likes how quiet, and tidy, her house is. she likes the routine she built with her wife over the years, and she is reluctant to bring another piece in her house.

but how could she deny her wife when she begs her with those puppy eyes?

so she eventually gave in, and they went into a place that's only known by the richest persons. it's kind of a shelter, but instead of animals, human being are sold.

they walked in, wands looking in the cages while nat roll her eyes everytime she tries to have her opinion. "did you find what you want?" the seller asked, and nat looks at her wife that seems to hesitate. "what's over here?" she asked back, pointing to a noisy alley that constrats with the quiet one they've just travelled.

the sellers just dismissed her question, "they're unfit" he just replied, "they're going to be send off tomorrow". "where?" wands asked. "to be killed", he replied, but when he tried to get the conversation back on his best goods, wanda ignored him: she wanted to see these ones. nat isn't surprised, her wife always having a thing for saving broken being, but she still roll her eyes, thinking about the additionnal trouble it'll bring.

so, before the man could say anything, they walk in the alley. the ambience is different. yells, cries, and dark glances greet the women, while in the first alley, everyone's was perfect. nat cringes while her wife walk around, until she crouches in front of a cage that, at the first sight, appears to be empty.

except that, that you are here. in the back of the cage, hiding where the light can barely find you, trying to forget where you are. the noise is frightening you, but your hands covering your ears isn't enough to reduce it. the yells from the other still bugging you.

you've no idea for how long you've been here, but it felt like an eternity. you've been sent back here by your previous owner, it was your last chance, you've been told, and you don't know what's going to happen. when the door clicked, you thought your hour had come, and it only made you curl up further.

but the hand that came for you wasn't harsh. it hasn't tried to grab you. when you eventually open your eyes, your met by the sight of a woman, that's trying to get you to come to her. her voice is sweet. she doesn't yell as you thought she would when you didn't move at first.

the men had to bang against the walls to get you out, which earn him a glance from both of the women. he ignored them. "this stray has one of the worse behavior. she bites, is noisy, messy, agressive, ..." but wanda isn't listening anymore. she is just looking at you, sitting in front of her, unable to ignore the look on your eyes. the fear, and the exhaustion.

you didn't bite. you didn't made a noise. you didn't try to run away.

you only flinched when she reach out to stroke your cheek, but a second was enough for you to lean into her contact. it was so sweet. so gentle. and, for the first time, it felt genuine, and even the slap or the harsh grip you were waiting for never came. she was looking at you with pity, and something you couldn't name yet.

"... she couldn't behave even to save her life, we've tried everything. she's trouble", he adds, still talking even if none of the women is caring about his opinion, "believe me, she'll be better dead", and nat muttered something how he should be the one to die, while wanda didn't listen at all to his speech, all her attention being on you right now.

"you're sure that's the one you want, wands?" she asked, but she already knew her wife would nod, and she is definitely not going to fight her, especially when she sees how attached she already seems to be.

she looked at her while she take a biscuit out of her pocket, just to give a bit to you, but ends up giving you everything when she notices how you inhaled it. her brows furrowing together, but she doesn't say a word. she knows it would be useless to start a scene right now, this man perfectly knowing how bad he is treating you, and everyone else here. or maybe he doesn't, and doesn't realizes, thinking you deserve it, and then it would be pointless to argue with him. in that instant, she wishes she could take them all home, and if she can't, she can at least save one life.

"we didn't even bring her home yet that you're already spoiling her" nat complained, rolling her eyes. a whispered, "she deserves it", is muttered under her breath while the man seems annoyed, "if you're too lenient, you're going to regret it. you need to be firm with these things, you know." "and how would you know?" nat would ask, "apparently it didn't work well, from what you said earlier" and she smirks when she notices he starts to loose his temper, his voice being harsh when he replies, "then do not even think about taking her back when you'll realize how bad she is," just to nat to assure him that he "doesn't need to worry about that".

she isn't found of her wife's choice. she would have prefer it if she choose one of the perfect pet from the first alley. one of the one that wouldn't disturb her peace. but obviously her wife had to go for a stray, a mott, and a broken one by the way. but if there are two things she enjoys it's seeing her wife smiling, and pissing off men that thinks they know everything. if adopting that one allows to do it both at the same time, then she's all for it. a part of her wanting to prove the man that he is just wrong, and is the problem in that story.

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

[moonchild033]

Random astro community related thoughts going on my mind 😏😑

I would request u all to read it thoroughly but yea whatever😏

Idk how many ppl are going to get offended or have controversial views to this but since it's MY BLOG, I'm gonna write things that are constantly disturbing my mind.🙂

First of all, I'm feeling truly devastated by seeing the number of astro posts circulating around Liam Payne's d*ath. Why r u hellbent on dissecting someone's d*ath? Idk what tropical astrology teaches, so I can't say anything about that, but as far as ik, traditional vedic astrologers are trained NOT to predict someone's demise or dissect a de*d person's chart, so kindly refrain from using vedic astrology and its tools such as divisional charts to do this, I find it very disrespectful. Vedic astrology can just be a science or interesting content for u, but for other ppl it's a part of their heritage and it has its respect, so don't misuse it. Also I kind of think it's literally humane to not make content out of someone's demise, be a human first then u can be a celebrity.😒

Be responsible about what u say, u might not know how much impact your words have but there are ppl who are following and reading your posts. I feel like some knowledge should've stayed in the same place, protected and safe in the right hands rather than accessible to everyone, Kali yug is definitely not the era where ppl r sensible enough to understand how to wield knowledge bcoz it is literally a POWER. 😌

The way the world of Nadi astrology is destroyed by the same means, knowledge going in the wrong hands, now it has become a whole scam, spinning tales and extorting money. Nadi is where sages like Agasthiya wrote future horoscopes and its predictions along with their past lives. Our lives have been written in palm leaves years ago, the main sanctuary of the collection is in Tamilnadu, it was passed on from generation to generation in certain family lineages, then some of them sold it, made fake ones and it got sparsely distributed and now almost vanished (Ik in specific temple some of the originals are stored even today, I'll not mention the name, I'm tired of misuse of knowledge, if u r genuinely interested Google is free). Even our accurate d*ath incident is written in there but the real nadi families back then were trained not to reveal it, so they just say 'Stay healthy and careful in that time, be cautious while driving' that's it. I know of real life incidents predicted through that, my dad's friend and my bestfriend 's mother both d*ed on the same predicted year and month by the same warned incident, my dad's friend was asked to be cautious of vehicles in that time period and he d*ed due to an accident and my friend's mom was asked to take care of health issues on a specific time period and she d*ied due to cancer. It's ur choice to believe in an age old writing of ur destiny in a palm leaf but it was an accurate tool some 20-30yrs back but today when it went into the wrong hands, that is when the knowledge got spread rather than being protected and reached ppl with wrong intentions, it all went berserk, now they just bluff nonsense. Still there are authentic family lineages with real texts and skills but it's very hard to differentiate between a whole lot of fraudsters. 🙃

So yea, overall I'm pissed off about the fact that some things are better to have left the way it is rather than showcasing it to the whole world to have it misused, like vedic astrology too, if u r learning it, respect it's ethics too, don't disrespect it's norms for the sake of ur content.😌😬

Idc if u disagree with me, this is MY opinion and I'll stand by it, BYEEE 😤😌

(But I'm angry too 😒)

[chrisgetsmewetter]

Mile high club

Pairing: Bratty!Black!fem x Dom!chris

Summary: you and chris are in a private plane section together, what’s gonna happen when everyone on the plane is sleeping and it’s just you two?

Warnings: Dirty talk, Overstimulation, sex obvi, oral, p in v, pet names (mama, ma, baby)

word count: 5.6k

authors note: i hope u guys like this one😝 i had a fun time writing it and i think y’all will like it toooo. enjoy you lil freaky frogs

you and Chris have been together for over a year, which is crazy because of how much commitment issues he said he had.

you’ve gone public recently and most people have given you a ton of loves so now your youtube channel of 7.3mil has went up to 9mil.

because of this you and the triplets had the idea to go on a combined tour which sold out immediately. now you guys are in the airport going to the next city.

“okay ma’am step here” the security guard gets the metal detector and goes down my body slowly. then you look at chris nervously as they get down to my boobs

“BEEP BEEP BEEP!!” chris bursts out laughing and can’t even stand up straight so he leans on matt who chuckles but hides it

“um ma’am..” the security guard looks at me awkwardly

“oh sorry i have piercings..” the security guard widens his eyes and nods then continues scanning my body.

you notice chris staring at your ass as you impatiently wait for the security guard to be done

just when he finishes scanning the triplets you push chris by his arm “chris why’d you laugh at me” you pout as he laughed even harder.

“passengers on private flight 2834 to Chicago start boarding now” you and nick start jumping up and down excited to get on the plane “i can’t believe we got a private planeee i’m so excitedddd”

“I CALL SHARING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND” chris yells. you slap his arm for being so loud since it’s nighttime.

nick rolls his eyes and groans already walking towards the plane then matt grabs your small suitcase that chris nor you couldn’t carry

he looks at nick and frowns jokingly “so u don’t wanna sit with me nick” matt says in his baby voice

“no actually. i want to sit by my best friend but chris’ crusty bitchass won’t let me, i know it”

you see chris stick his tongue out at nick while smacking your ass “chris stop acting like a child” you say

“your ass just looks so good in those shorts ma i can’t help it” chris whispers in your ear and you can’t help to smile but also low key squeeze your thighs together

*

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- heyy bae how’s the flighttt?

little troll😻🧌- hii madii the pilot said we just took off and aren’t expected any turbulence, so me and chris are abt to watch a movie

little troll😻🧌- nick n matt are already sleep even tho we jus got on😔🤦🏾‍♀️

Madi w that fattyyy- i wish i could’ve cameee, what time is it where u are??

little troll😻🧌- it’s 11:25 at night girl we’re still in LA😭

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- oh..

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- wait. so u and chris in a private plane at night with evb sleep😧

little troll😻🧌- yes..🌚

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- y’all r abt to join the mile high club😰

little troll😻🧌- no.. we’re not madi😡

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- yea okay..

read 11:28

*

“what movie mama” chris takes your phone and throws it on the other side of him

“ooo let’s watch adventures in babysitting” you start to get excited and pull the blanket over yourself

“newer or older?” chris says smirking already putting on the older one

“noo the newer one is better why are we watching the old one”

“because we’re not gonna watch the movie” chris turns the volume up a little and takes his shirt off

“chris not in the plane !!” you whisper yell then look to see if anybody might’ve woke up

he takes advantage of you not paying attention and slowly slips your shorts off

“my god chris calm down” u see him slide under the blanket and pull your panties off

“we won’t have a lot of time to do this on tour so let’s take advantage of it.“ he looks up at you with low eyes “can i?”

as soon as you nod your head he slowly puts his long finger in your pussy.

“fuck mama ur so wet for me” he twists his finger and spits on your pussy and starts slurping it

“fuck chris oh my god” you whisper yell then chris slaps his hand over your mouth “we can’t do this on a plane !!” you squirm

“be quiet or i’m gonna stop” chris sternly looks at you and continues doing the fingering/eating combo.

he starts licking it and fingering you at an unbelievable pace then as he’s doing that chris licks up from your stomach then stops at your lips to kiss you

he starts to suck on your sweet spot right under your ear and then he feels your breathing slowly speed up and he fingers you even faster

your confused on how he’s doing it this fast but you enjoy it

“chris i’m gonna cum” you say as you feel your high coming up “yea baby cum for me” right as he said that you cum hard right on his fingers

then without giving you time to recover chris pulls his sweats taking his boxers off with them and strokes his dick and pushes it in your pussy without any hesitation

“fuck~ chris wait a sec- oh my god” you try to push his arms away but he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head

“you thought you were going a slut and wear those shorts then walk in front of me the whole day huh mama?”

you moan when you hear this, remembering that u indeed did intend to tease chris when you put them on

he smirks as he pounds into you not making as much noise as one would think “are you gonna be a good girl and give me words?”

you shake your head knowing exactly what you’re doing and what’s gonna happen. chris bites his lip and nods “well i guess i’m gonna have to treat you like the slut you are”

“turn around” his eyes are darker then ever so you comply. chris lays down, put props himself up and forcefully grabs your hair and shoved his dick down your throat

you started to lick his tip then spit on his dick making it easier to get in your mouth. you took his full length but gagged a bit.

you hear chris moan a bit as you felt his cock hit the back of your throat.

you loved every second of seeing his groan and shake because you usually have to force his submissive side to come out.

"Fuck I'm going to cum mama" chris said as he grabbed your hair. you felt his dick twitch a bit and his cum shot into the back of your throat as you swallowed it all

“fuck baby you’re such a good girl” chris wipes some saliva off of your lips and kisses you “you want me to get you some water?”

“yes please” you nod and chris helps you slide your shorts and t-shirt on.

—

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- y’all are nasty i just know it

little troll😻🧌- uhh🌚

Madi w that fattyyy😝🍑- disgusting🤦🏻‍♀️

[fayesia]

Okay DONT JUGDE ME PLEASE but I have an idea for mike schmidt. Okay so basically she(y/n) gets these new meds for the two of them it was basically like had idk what it's called but sm that makes them horny af and yk what happens next and also they r just friends when this happens. U can fill in the details with whatever.

a/n: Ahh no trust me i’m not one to judge people ever about what they’re into and stuff like that, obviously it’s different when i’m asked to write about smtg i’m uncomfortable with or if it’s illegal, but nonetheless here it is, i apologise in advanced as i did rush to get it posted but ye enjoy!! 😭

warning: most of my replies to requests i get don’t include warnings but please keep in mind before reading that this will contain ⚠️drugs, taking of drugs, irresponsible drug use!!⚠️ other than that it’s just the usual smut stuff :)

“come on you’re not gonna pussy out on me now are you?” you jab at Mike knowing he was the one boasting about the drug being a placebo that wouldn’t work.

“of course i won’t since i know it doesn’t even work. whoever sold it to you just got a free 30 dollars.” he looks down at you kneeling in front of the living room table slicing the pill in two. You were told by the seller that it was a hormone enhancing pill that was basically just stronger weed, so you were being cautious about how much you both took.

“ok fine hurry up give it here” sitting down next to you, Mike grabs one half swallowing it down in one go, you do the same. After 15 minutes neither of you feel anything.

“see i told you, it’s a fucking scam”

“no no we must’ve not taken it right, come on one more chance pleaseeee” you whine looking at him with your hands clasped together.

“fine. only cause your my best friend” “mike..i’m your only friend but ok”

Taking out two more pills you grab a cup using the base to crush them into a fine powder, with your credit card you finely crush it and seperate the pile of white powder into two even lines. Meanwhile Mike neatly rolls up a dollar bill leaning forward to snort up one line, handing the note over, you sniff up the powder feeling a sharp sting in your nose leaning back against the couch to relax and let everything settle.

First there was nothing and suddenly so much was happening all at once. In two minutes you and Mike had gone from sitting beside each other dazed as ever to feeling heat all over your body. The sensation causing you both to remove layers of clothing to avoid any effects of what felt like heatstroke. “god what the fuck is happening y/n?” you hear Mike say as he removes his clothing leaving him in a pair of black boxers, “idk mikey everything’s so hot and suffocating” you respond back stripping down to just your bra and denim shorts.

You feel the heat rising especially at your core, the denim shorts getting increasingly more uncomfortable once you’ve soaked through your underwear. Raising your head you notice Mike sitting with a pillow on his lap, “Mike…is that what i think it is?” Before he can reply you’ve already removed the pillow, the sudden movement of his body attempting to hide his raging hard on shocks you as you fall on top of him. His arms support you pulling you on top of his lap as you straddle his thighs. Not even caring at this moment, you grind your pussy against his thigh the rough denim rubbing against your clit as more liquid gushes from your pussy. A dark spot forms on your shorts as Mikes hands grab your hips to push you down harder. He abruptly stops,unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down, he flips you over on the couch so your legs hang off the edge while your back lays on the seats. Kneeling down between your legs he spreads your thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft squishy flesh.

“fucking soaked aren’t you”

“please do something please”

“say it i wanna hear you”

“please touch my pussy”

His nose brushes across your clit through the thin material of your thong as his fingers rub you you’re getting increasingly wet. He quickly rips at the flimsy strings leaving you bare to him, your folds glisten with your wetness as you feel it dripping down. His fingers enter your mouth as you suck on them like you would a lollipop, tracing down past your hardened nipples and to your clit. The first few seconds after contact has you writhing around on the couch, things only getting more intense once you feel Mikes mouth on you. His tongue explores every crevice, caressing your delicate folds and spreading your juices all over. He spits on your clit watching it drip down before collecting it with his index and middle fingers, entering your tight hole and watching it stretch. you moan at the intrusion finally being filled by something, his two fingers feeling like three of your own. You’re so close to coming, his fingertips rubs harder and harder against the soft sensitive spot inside of you, until he removes them. your eyes shoot open widening even more once Mike flips you over onto your front holding both your hands above your head, you’re barely able to turn your head due to the position of your shoulders. The tip of his cock is pulsing and red as it rubs between your folds, poking at your sensitive clit.

The gentle movements lulling you into a further daze, however that’s quick to end once his dick starts easing into your pussy. It’s a tight fit and you weren’t sure about how much would fit but Mike just said “gonna stretch you til’ we fucking make it fit”, his words have you moaning into the couch, spit dribbling from the side of your mouth the more that he enters. His cock is about three quarters in and you’re sure you can’t take any more, that is until he starts pulling out and pushing back in.

Finally he’s all the way in and you’re pulsing around him, your channel trying to fit around the girth of him.

“ok i think it’s fine, you can move”

his thrust start picking up speed, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass bounce off the walls of the room, his heavy balls slap against your clit adding to the pleasure.

“fuck mikey harder please, i’m so close omg”

He picks up the pace going faster and deeper into you, his cock pushes hard against your g-spot spurring you closer to the edge.

“baby i’m gonna cum, fill you up nice and full, fuck you everyday you want that?”

“yesyes please i need you, cum for me baby”

He continues ploughing into you, hips stuttering as he tilts his head back releasing a low guttural groan, you can feel drops of liquid releasing every time he pulls outwards. Finally a stream of Mikes cum pools inside of you, his groans grow softer the more that spurts out, your pussy clamps down on him and more of your come is leaking down his length the droplets staining the couch. Mike rolls over off of you to lay on the couch beside your panting body. The two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat, out of breathe and still coming down from the effects of the drugs you both took. After a few minutes you’re both still in your underwear, Mikes head resting on your lap while you stroke his hair, the two of you thinking about having a discussion on what this would change about your friendship but with the state of high you were both in that topic was for another time.

“well now that we’ve proven it works what do we do now?” Mike asks looking back up at you.

Reaching over to grab something off the table you simply smirk and wave a small clear packet containing two pills, identical to the ones just taken around and hour and a half ago.

~unedited~

[skateordiebitch]

Request: Dom proposing after a short while of dating (like a year idk) because he’s just never felt like that before and is really happy with you. Maybe even eloping after a while of being engaged? Lol idk

I love the way you write him though, and your latest fics made me think of this! 🫣

Thank you🤍

DANCING IN THE COURTHOUSE || D.F. x reader

summary: in which dominic finally pops the question.

word count: 3.1k

wait y'all are so good at coming up with these... i just recently watched 'anora' hence the las vegas eloping!!! #inspired. the movie was so good! anyways i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 requests r always open!

Dominic’s hands trembled slightly as he slipped the key into the door of the apartment you shared. The moment you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the night—his sold-out concert, the long months of hard work, the screaming fans, the adrenaline. 

But in the quiet of the apartment, away from the lights and noise, it felt like it was just the two of you again, alone in the world, as it had always been when the chaos faded.

It was just past midnight, but the air in the apartment still buzzed with energy, the kind of energy that only a night like this could leave behind. 

Dominic closed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a second as if he needed a moment to catch his breath. 

His eyes found you immediately, and in the soft light of the apartment, you looked more stunning than ever. Your eyes sparkled, still alive with the afterglow of the concert, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for you.

You kicked off your shoes and slid your jacket off, your movements a little sluggish, a little carefree, as if the world outside was a distant memory. 

“Need some water or something?” you asked, your voice teasing but full of warmth. You were always the one who kept everything grounded, even in the wildest moments.

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” he chuckled, but it wasn’t the water he was after. 

He grabbed the glass you handed him, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt through him. The simple touch made his pulse race. 

But instead of drinking, he set it down on the counter, his eyes never leaving you. His mind was elsewhere, the weight of everything building as he took in the room—this apartment, this life, this person.

You looked at him curiously, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and reassuring, “You never look like this after a show.”

Dominic swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “You know, tonight’s been pretty crazy,” he said, the words coming out more fragile than he expected. He smiled, though, the thought of the night’s success still buzzing in the back of his mind.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “You mean the part where you performed in front of thousands of screaming fans, and fucking killed it?” You smirked. “Yeah, I was there. I saw it.”

Dominic’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Yeah, that was incredible. But I wasn’t talking about the concert, or the show. I was talking about you and me. The last year… it’s been more than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him, sensing the change in the air. 

This wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore. He was serious. And it slightly terrified you, “What do you mean?” you asked, a little breathless.

He reached for your hand, his thumb grazing the skin of your wrist as he gently pulled you closer. 

“It’s weird, you know? It’s just… I grew up dreaming about this life—touring, being on stage, making music. I thought that’s what I was chasing. But then… then you walked in, and suddenly everything changed.”

“In a good way… Right?” You asked, feeling your heart skip a beat.

He chuckles softly, nodding his head, “Yeah, baby. The best way possible. I realized that everything I thought I wanted wasn’t the real dream at all. You were. You are.”

You felt your breath catch as his words settled in, and for a moment, everything else in the world fell away. 

The noise, the expectations, the future—it all blurred, leaving only Dominic and the intensity of his gaze.

“I never thought I’d be someone who needed someone else, but with you, I feel different,” he continued, his voice steady now but filled with emotion. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m finally moving in the right direction. It’s like for the first time in my life, I’m running toward something, not away from it. You’re that something. You make me want to be better, to be more. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

His words struck a chord deep inside of you. You could feel your heart flutter wildly, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Dom, you make me feel like I can do anything. You make me want to be better, too.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with that familiar affection. But then his expression changed, growing more serious again. 

He squeezed your hand, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know this is sudden, but I need to know. I need to ask you something.”

Before you could respond, Dominic reached into his pocket. 

You froze for a second, heart pounding, unsure of what was happening. 

Was this a dream?

He pulled out a small velvet box and slowly, carefully, opened it. 

Inside was a simple but stunning engagement ring, sparkling softly under the kitchen lights. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you looked from the box to his face, the gravity of the moment sweeping over you.

“I’m asking with everything in me… Will you marry me?” Dominic asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of vulnerability and earnestness. “I know it’s only been a year, but I’ve never felt this sure about anything in my life. I want this. I want us. I want you.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the words barely reaching you as a flood of emotions crashed over you. 

Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of—it was right here, in front of you, in the form of Dominic. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you simply nodded, tears filling your eyes. It started as small tears, trickling down your cheek, to you almost full on sobbing;

“Yes. Yes, of course I will! I want this too… I want you, always.”

Dominic exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

A grin broke across his face as he slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking with excitement and disbelief. Then he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground in a tight embrace, as if he couldn’t hold you close enough.

“I fucking love you,” Dominic exclaims, “So much,” He was the happiest you’ve ever seen him; No sold out show, no amount of followers, fans, or fame, has given him the smile that you saw on his face in this moment.

He held you there, his lips pressing against your temple as you both stood, basking in the joy of the moment. You laughed, shaky and breathless, feeling overwhelmed by the love that wrapped around you both. 

No sold-out show, no roaring crowd, had ever given him the feeling that surged through him now—the pure, unadulterated joy of knowing you were his, and he was yours.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered.

Dominic pulled back just enough to look at you, his face soft with tenderness. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment, you know that?” His voice was thick with emotion. 

“But, Dom, I haven’t even given my wedding day a thought, I don’t even know when, how, where— I never thought I would get married,“ You admit.

You truly haven’t; All your life you just assumed you’d be stuck in the dating phase. That you would date until you were fifty. Marriage had seemed so out of the question— Even with Dominic, you could see marriage, but never in a million years expected it.

The smile on Dominic’s face never disappeared, so you assumed that he had yet another trick up his sleeve. Your brow furrowed in curiosity, a grin emerging, “What are you thinking?”

Dominic grinned, the familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “Well… I’ve always dreamed that if I ever got married, it had to be in Vegas. And it had to be by Elvis.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden burst of excitement. “Wait, really?!” you giggled, “You want to get married by Elvis?”

He laughed, his hands sliding down your arms to hold you by the waist. “I mean, shit, why not? It’s been my dream forever, and you’ve made all of mine come true already. This is my last one, and I can’t think of anyone better to share it with than you.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. 

This was so Dominic—spontaneous, weird, and a little crazy—but in the best way. This man is unapologetically himself. And for the first time, you realized how much you loved that about him. 

This wasn’t a traditional proposal, and that was exactly why it was perfect.

You looked into his eyes, seeing that raw sincerity, and your heart swelled with affection. 

This was the man you loved, the man you were going to marry, and you were going to do it in the most ridiculous, perfect way possible.

“Alright,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek as you grinned at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas and get married by Elvis.”

Dominic’s face broke into the widest grin you’d ever seen, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely. A rockstar marrying me to rockstar? It’s perfect.”

“This is why you’re about to be my wife,” He kisses you, “Let’s pack our bags, baby. We’re going to Vegas!”

Within hours, you were on a plane, Dominic’s hand tightly gripping yours, his gaze flickering to you every few moments like he couldn’t believe you were really there, his. 

By the time you stepped out onto the neon-lit streets of Vegas, his excitement was contagious, electric, as if you were both living out some incredible dream.

And with that, the two of you laughed together, the future ahead of you feeling brighter than ever. It was just the beginning of a crazy, wild adventure that you knew you were meant to take together.

—

His hand gripped yours tightly as he led you through the crowds, his gaze never straying far. 

You could still feel the rush of his concert echoing between you, the hum of adoration from thousands of fans, but now the night felt quieter, more intimate, even as the neon signs cast their colors across the night.

He caught your eye and gave you that familiar mischievous grin, the same one he’d given you the very first time you’d met. That smile alone was enough to make your heart race—still, after everything you’d been through together. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were his whole world, that made even the chaos of Vegas feel like a sanctuary.

“This is happening, huh?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as the two of you approached the iconic Little White Chapel.

Dominic stopped and turned to you, his face softening with a look that held nothing but adoration. 

“This is really happening.” Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was charged, his hand finding its way to your cheek as he held you close. “And it’s the best damn decision I’ve ever made,” he murmured.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and it was only then, standing just outside the chapel, that the weight of it all truly hit you. 

The reality of what you were about to do settled over you—a leap into a new life, a promise as bold and wild as the city around you. 

Only hours ago, you’d watched him light up the stage, and now you were about to start the rest of your lives together in this little, quirky Vegas chapel with an Elvis impersonator as your witness.

As you stepped into the Chapel, the surreal charm of the place sank in—the pink walls, the tacky floral arrangements, the warm glow of tiny white lights that seemed to twinkle just for you. 

But nothing around you really registered. 

The only thing you could focus on was Dominic’s hand in yours, steadying you, his fingers laced with yours as if he’d never let go. 

He looked at you with such warmth, such intensity, that it was almost overwhelming.

Dominic turned to you, his eyes glistening. He looked as though he was holding back tears. "I… I've been waiting my whole life for this,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know it until I met you, but every part of my life before this was just… waiting for you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, knowing his words were as raw and true as they came. 

You squeezed his hand, trying to ground yourself in the moment, trying not to get lost in the tidal wave of emotions washing over you.

The Elvis impersonator cleared his throat. “Well, I reckon it’s time to exchange vows, if you two can bear it,” he said, his voice deep and dramatic, but with a glimmer of humor. “Let’s hear what you got.”

Dominic looked at you, inhaling deeply before he spoke. He hadn’t written anything down—he didn’t need to. 

He pulled your hand up, holding it close to his heart as he began.

“Before I met you,” he said, voice shaking slightly, “I was always running. From what, I’m not even sure. My past, my demons…just the weight of everything I carried. But then you walked into my life, and for the first time, I felt like I didn’t need to run anymore. I didn’t need to be anyone other than exactly who I am.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ve never let anyone in, not fully. But with you… you just saw right through me. You never cared about the mess, the chaos, the broken pieces. Somehow, you made it all feel like…like maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.”

You felt your heart break and mend in the same instant. 

Tears welled in your eyes, and you let them fall freely, your hand shaking slightly in his. He reached up, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb, his touch so gentle it nearly undid you.

“I love you,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you so much, it scares me. I didn’t think I could feel this way. But I promise, for the rest of my life, until the day that I die, I’m going to do everything I can to make you as happy as you’ve made me. To be there for you, every single day. To show you that you’re my whole world, because… you are.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you couldn’t find any words. Dominic’s eyes searched yours, as if waiting, hoping, and in that moment, you realized just how deeply he felt this—how much he needed you to feel it, too.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. 

“Dominic…” You glanced down, gathering your thoughts before looking back up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t think I’ve ever known what it meant to be loved until I met you. I thought I was fine on my own, that I was… okay being guarded, keeping people at arm’s length. But you…you walked right in and didn’t give me a choice. You showed me what it means to let someone in, to be seen, really seen.”

You paused, feeling the weight of what you were saying. “And somehow, in all my mess, you saw something worth loving. You showed me that I could let someone close and not be afraid. I promise, with everything I have, that I’ll always be by your side. Through every high, every low, every laugh, every tear. I’ll be there. I’ll be yours.”

Dominic blinked back tears, a tremulous smile breaking across his face as he laughed softly, almost in disbelief. “You’re mine,” he echoed, his voice thick with emotion. 

He held your hand a little tighter, his eyes brimming with a joy so profound you felt it in every inch of your soul.

Elvis, somehow just as moved by the scene, cleared his throat again, smiling at you both. “Well, if you two lovebirds are ready, I believe it’s time to seal the deal,” he said, his tone filled with a warmth that softened the otherwise kitschy ceremony.

Dominic grinned, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is it,” he whispered, almost as if he needed to say it out loud to believe it himself.

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that held everything—every promise, every unspoken word, every hope for the future. The world faded around you, the sounds, the lights, everything blurring into nothingness as you felt his love in every heartbeat, every breath. 

 It was a kiss that held all the promise of your future, a kiss that was wild, tender, and full of everything you felt for each other. When you finally pulled back, he kept you close, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.

As you stepped outside, hand in hand, into the vibrant Vegas night, the neon lights glowed around you, casting everything in a surreal, magical light. 

You looked at Dominic, still in disbelief that this was real, that this man was now your husband. He looked back at you, his eyes full of excitement, and with a grin, he said, “We really did it. We’re married.”

You laughed, your heart overflowing. “I can’t believe we just got married by Elvis.”

He squeezed your hand, his grin wide and full of joy. “I told you it was the only way.” Then he leaned down and kissed you again, pulling you close as if he wanted to keep you there, in that moment, forever.

“Mrs. Fike,” he whispered, a playful smirk on his face. “Guess that’s you, now.”

You laughed through your tears, unable to contain your joy. 

“It’s official,” you replied, grinning as he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around you as if he’d never let go.

And as you walked through the crowded streets of Vegas, the noise and lights swirling around you, everything felt perfect. You knew that with Dominic by your side, every day would be its own adventure, filled with love, laughter, and the kind of magic that made even the most unexpected moments feel like a dream.

[radiant-reid]

In The Dark

Summary: After a few months without contact, Reader assumes Spencer has ghosted her and she's shocked when he has the nerve to turn up.

based on the request: would you write something about spencer going to prison and being in a relationship for a few months, so the team doesn't know about her and no one tells her about him, so she thinks he just ghosted her and is really sad :( but someway she finds out?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Content Warning: prison arch and mention of Spencer's SA and drugging

Word Count: 4.0k

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Spencer Reid is a great boyfriend. For someone with such little experience, he's mastered date planning, check-in phone calls, and romantic words. It's not a surprise when he's good at everything he tries, but it's impressive and incredibly appreciated by his girlfriend, Y/n.

He gets back into DC late from a case, something about an UnSub murdering people he sees as a threat to his soon-to-be ex-husband in the hopes of rekindling their relationship. It was sad and tragic but nothing exceedingly troubling. After more than a decade on the job, Spencer had seen just how powerful a motivator jealousy could be.

Adding to his stress, Y/n knew he was still struggling with looking after his mom, not as much as before, but it was still stressful. So she was a little surprised when Spencer called, wondering if she was free that night to go out. She tries to keep her calendar flexible when working around Spencer's unpredictable schedule, and she quickly agrees to spend some time with him before he gets whisked away on his next case.

Spencer's never late, but he knows to knock on the door no sooner than five minutes early to avoid Y/n worrying about not being ready if he arrives early.

Every time he sees her, especially after he's not seen her for a while, Spencer can't believe how he got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

"Hi." He says softly, trying to remember to function despite being totally blown away by her. "You look gorgeous."

Y/n gives him a little twirl in the new red dress she knew would be perfect for a date night. "Thank you. I missed you." She replies, not letting him get past the entryway of her apartment before wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I missed you too," Spencer says, resting his head on hers. He didn't know what it was like to miss someone until he met her, to think about someone fondly and wish you could see them. That was a first Spencer had never experienced before her. He still hates the longing to see her, but he loves that he has someone to miss.

There's not a feeling like being in Spencer's arms. It's safe and warm, and she loved it from their first hug.

When she pulls back, Y/n smiles up at him. "Also, you look very handsome." She tells him before leaning in to kiss him softly.

Spencer always grins like an idiot about having someone to kiss casually. There's no other feeling like it.

"Should we go?" She asks, her tone just slightly teasing at the spaced-out look on Spencer's face.

He snaps back into it. "R-right, uh, yes, yeah, let's go." His actions are more decisive than his words, and he steps aside to let her into the corridor before him.

"So, where are we off to?" Y/n asks curiously on the way to the elevator, hand-in-hand with Spencer.

With the hand not holding hers, he reaches into his suit jacket pocket and produces two ticket stubs. "The theatre."

Her eyes light up with delight as she takes the tickets to confirm they're real. "How did you- these were sold out?" She's as puzzled as she is excited.

"I know people," Spencer says mysteriously, making her giggle and playfully nudge his arm.

"Thank you." She says, voice overflowing with gratitude. She had mentioned how much she wanted to go, but she couldn't find tickets, and somehow, Spencer found some. Things like that make him the best boyfriend.

He proves he's better than other boyfriends by opening her door when they get to the car, and even drives, although he doesn't like it.

They arrive at the Kennedy Centre with enough time to get food and drinks before the show, and Y/n's even more impressed by his feat of getting tickets when she realizes just what good seats they are.

Despite being shy to touch her at the start of their relationship, Spencer has quickly warmed up, and his hands don't leave her the whole night, holding hers or resting on her thigh or his arm wrapping around her shoulder.

After the show, they walk down the street to a restaurant for dinner when Spencer offhandedly mentions an idea. "We should go to the real thing." He says dreamily.

"Like, in Paris?" Y/n replies with a frown. It's a very forward proposal to get from a boyfriend of two and a half months, who she's only been out with on seven dates and never slept in the same bed as.

Spencer quickly shakes his head when he realizes the implication of what he's just said. Of course, it's in his future plan to take her to the City of Love- even to see the entire world if she wants that. But telling her so soon would be coming on too strong, potentially scaring her off, and he does not want to do that.

He chuckles awkwardly, clearing his throat. "No, uh, I just meant to New York to see it on Broadway."

Technically, it's only a three-hour train ride, which isn't a huge commitment, but the show would end late, so they'd probably have to spend the night in the city together..., and she should stop fantasizing so much about something he's only suggesting.

She settles on a more laid-back answer. "Yeah, we should. I'd really like that."

Spencer makes a promise to himself right there as they walk down a street of DC on the way to dinner. He'll take her to New York City and then Paris one day.

He only gets the confidence to speak the latter thought that night. They're lying in bed together after Spencer once again has proved he's good at things he says he doesn't have much practice at.

"We're going to go to Paris." He vows, holding out his pinky to lock with hers.

Y/n frowns. "Right now? I'm too comfortable here." It's so cozy under her covers, and she feels safe beside him, resting on his bare chest for the first time.

He shakes his head, messier curls dancing on his forehead. "No, I mean just at some point in the future. You know, eventually." He explains before waggling his pinky finger. "Now, promise me."

She snorts with laughter but locks her pinky around his. "I guess we're going to Paris together."

He's about to add something, but his phone ringing on the side table stops him. Spencer can guess who it is, but he knows that she doesn't know he has a BAU-specific ringtone and that that wasn't it. He avoids showing her the screen, taking advantage of her focus on her fingers drawing patterns on his skin.

Y/n notices how he stiffens once he reads the message. "Do you have to go?" She asks softly, purposefully making herself not sound upset. She's not, but sleeping alone won't be as easy as it was about to be when she assumed he was staying the night over.

"I'm sorry." Spencer quickly apologizes, but not for needing to go, just for lying.

She shakes her head quickly, leaning up to kiss him softly. "Don't be." She assures him before moving off him so he can get out of bed and leave. Spencer slips out of the covers, collecting his clothes from the floor and awkwardly- but adorably- clumsily redressing. "Where are you off to?"

"Houston."

Brownsville, then Matamoros, Mexico.

He hates himself for lying to her. He hates himself for lying to the team too. He hates himself in general recently. Lies always snowball. He's only lied by omission to her before, simply saying he was out of town when she asked rather than admitting he was in another country.

When he's finished redressing, he stands awkwardly by her doorframe. He wants to kiss her goodbye but doesn't think he's worthy of affection.

Like he knew she would, Y/n ushers him over. "You have to kiss me before you go." She reminds him with an innocent giggle.

"Right, sorry." Spencer apologizes, making his way across the room to her and resting his hand on the mattress to lean over and capture her lips in a soft kiss.

She pulls back with a smile. "Be safe."

He nods. What he's doing, although technically not illegal, is definitely not safe. For a moment, he thinks about telling Y/n. It would be easy to blurt out what he's actually going to do, but he's not about to dump all of his problems on his new girlfriend. She's too precious and innocent to be involved in his mess.

"I will." He promises. He needs to be for her and for Paris. "I'll call you when I'm back. It shouldn't be more than a few days. Then we can plan New York." He promises as he moves away from her towards the door.

She grins broadly, nodding eagerly. "Okay. I'll look forward to that."

He will too. In fact, dreaming about their future plans is where he'll go in his head as his happy place.

To say Mexico didn't go as planned would be a drastic understatement.

The plan was not to get high, enter a car chase with the police with cocaine in the trunk, and ultimately get arrested.

And there are no words to describe even a tiny fraction of Spencer's despair as he comes down from the awful mix of cocaine and heroin and realizes what's happening. Y/n's on his mind when he starts coming down, but there's so much else happening around him while Emily tries to save him from ending up in a deadly Mexican prison.

Thankfully, his face is so pale, and he looks so ruined that no one notices the dread set in when he's on the jet back to the US, and he finally focuses on his girlfriend. It's a moral dilemma that he doesn't have the morals or energy to work through.

Don't get the team to tell her, and Y/n will believe he doesn't want to be in a relationship with her but is too cowardly to say.

Or get the team to tell her, and she'll be forced into his mess.

He chooses not to tell anyone he's in a serious relationship and holds onto hope that the team can quickly prove his innocence or that he'll get bail and be able to do it himself. He knows JJ, Penelope, or Emily would be delicate, but it's jaw-dropping news, and he needs to be there to beg her to stay if- when, in his mind- she decides she doesn't want to be with a suspected murderer.

At his arraignment, she's who he's thinking about when he gets hauled away, having not been granted bail. He can't make his mind up between speaking up about her and the existence of their relationship or not, and as time goes on, it seems easier not to.

Y/n's not worried the first night he's away, and she doesn't get a text. They're still getting into a routine, and she knows his job often doesn't allow for breaks. On the second day, a missing child's case hits the news, and she figures, although not explicitly stated, that possibly that's what Spencer and his team are working on.

Once it's announced that they found the little girl, Y/n's concern amplifies. It's the longest there's been no contact between them. All her phone calls go straight to his voicemail, and her messages only send as texts.

It's inconceivable that he would purposefully not contact her, so she repeatedly puts his name into Google, knowing it would be published if he were injured or, even more heartbreaking, killed. Something like that would probably make a martyr of him, but it would be an explanation for his disappearance.

Nothing.

There are a few articles on notable cases he's worked on and his remarkable intellectual achievements, but they're all from much earlier.

So it's logical that he's alive and unwilling, rather than unable, to speak to her.

And eventually, she accepts that she got ghosted. The person she thought was the most honorable she'd ever met left and never explained it.

It's heartbreaking, each unreturned message and call piercing her heart and crushing her spirit. Everything about Spencer seemed so perfect. He treated her like glass, delicate and beautiful. He was gentle with her feelings and his words. He never pushed too hard or didn't care enough.

Spencer was everything she wanted, and she had him.

And then he was gone.

She wishes she could be more angry. Of course, she's furious at the abruptness, at Spencer leading her on and possibly treating her so well she won't be able to accept less in the future. She's angry that she looks like an idiot, played perfectly by someone who's probably laughing about it to his friends. And she doesn't even know any of his friends! That's how blinding his affection was.

But she's hurt, heartbroken. What about her is so unloveable that Spencer couldn't stay? And, on top of that, what makes her so unworthy of an explanation? It's worse than a breakup in that way, no answers to the questions plaguing her mind. Doubt and insecurity plague her mind every day. The weight of her sadness felt suffocating. Y/n tried to occupy her mind, but the memories lingered and taunted her. Then there were the inquiries from everyone around her about how her relationship was progressing, everyone who had seen her overjoyed just days before.

She took a weekend to cry about it, to mourn the loss of something good with a promising future.

But, even more than two months after their last contact, it's still difficult to think about. Spencer's absence is found every day in her life. He's not an easy person to forget.

It feels like hundreds of times she's typed out text messages to him, ranging from begging him to reconsider their relationship to demanding answers about why he left without a word. Then it dawns on her that maybe it's not even still his phone. Maybe Spencer does the whole dating thing with lots of different girls to get off, and he has a burner SIM for each of them, and he's thrown hers out.

Still, she has to send that last text message. A final conclusion, two months after the "Please just let me know you're okay" text message that Spencer didn't return. It got sent with trembling hands and a heavy heart, but the final one wasn't. It's impersonal. Structured formal language, blocked out her feelings, and commanded he never contacts her again.

So, the last thing she expects at 7 pm on a random Tuesday night is Spencer to be at her door.

Spencer with, through her view from the peephole, a blonde woman. So this is probably his wife, and now she's about to get accused of being the other woman and sleeping with a married man.

Y/n only opens the door for the chance of seeing him getting slapped by her or slapping him herself.

His eyes soften as hers fill with tears. It hasn't even been that long, but Spencer looks different. He actually looks like shit, totally worn down with his messy curls, deep bags under his eyes, and unshaven facial hair, and she's unsympathetic to it. She felt like that, so he deserves to look like it. Spitefully, she might be enjoying it.

"You good?" The blonde next to him asks, but her eyes aren't judging, just concerned.

So she's probably not a wife, but he has no right to bring an emotional support person to a confession about being a complete dick to her.

Spencer barely glances in her direction as he nods. She hastily exits down the hall while Y/n stares him down.

"I don't want to speak to you." She informs him sternly, shaking her head to avoid tears falling. She's not going to let her walls crumble for him. That was a lamentable mistake and a pitiless lesson.

When she goes to slam the door, Spencer puts his hand in it. He's an asshole, but she won't go as far as to break his fingers.

"Please." He begs, voice grave. "Please hear me out."

Y/n scoffs, dramatically rolling her eyes. It's a facade for how destroyed she is internally. "Why? Why should I?" Unfortunately, she couldn't turn off her caring like he could turn off his attachment.

"I promise I can explain." He assures her.

Her patience is gone in an instant, and she snaps. "Explain!?" She balks. "You can explain why you've been ghosting me for two and a half months? Why you lead me on with these fantasized plans of us going on vacation together only to not speak to me again? Well, that sounds delightful."

Spencer had anticipated the hostility he's met with. "Can we talk inside?" He offers calmly. His fuse is shorter after prison, but he needs to set this right. There's not an ulterior motive. All he wants is for her to know the truth, even if she never speaks to him again.

"Sure." She voices, stepping out of the way to let him in.

It chills her to think that the last time he was here, they were making gentle love and vows.

"Was it all just a ploy to fuck me?" She spits out.

That was the deep insecurity she had about the situation. It couldn't have been a coincidence that, proceeding their first night, he wouldn't return a call.

She continues, voicing all the built-up feelings that are finally exploding. Her emotions are like a pressure cooker with a strong need for release. "Because that's so fucking low. I trusted you! I let you in, and you were such a coward you couldn't tell me you finished with me."

The cracks show. Spencer can hear the pain in her voice and see the tears she's fighting. He wants to reach out and hug her- he needs to. It's what he's been thinking about for so long, but he can't, not yet.

"I was in prison." He says calmly. There are so many ways he's played this out, but in the moment, it came out simply.

"Fuck off." She says, not at all believing a word. An easier lie to sell would be that his mom died or his phone got stolen. Neither are good excuses, but they're much more likely.

Spencer shakes his head. "I'm not lying, I promise." His voice is so profound that it's hard not to believe him.

But he could easily be a psychopath, doing this for more sadistic pleasure.

"Why should I believe you?" Her arms cross over her chest defensively.

"Because I am crazy about you." Her heart stops, and those butterflies are impossible to suppress. They're second nature when she's around him. "I would never jeopardize that on purpose." He swears, but he can tell she needs more. "You are lovely, everything I could ever want in a partner and more. Your kindness is like nothing else I've ever experienced, and I'll always be grateful I met you."

The self-preservation instincts in her brain are screaming at her, warning bells going off. "I need to hear the rest of your explanation." She says strictly.

"Can we sit?" He asks, nodding at the couch. "It's a long story."

Hesitantly, she agrees. She needs to guard herself, but she needs answers just as badly.

So Spencer recounts it. From why he was in Mexico, what substances he was getting for his mom, the other times lies about his whereabouts, the cocaine and heroin forced into him, his hallucination about having sex with her in the motel room, the car chase, the arrest, the cocaine in the trunk, coming off the drugs, the holding cell in Mexico, his team turning up, the times they had to repeat what had happened because of how high he was, the childhood flashbacks, the eleventh-hour transfer to the American authorities, the realization of his situation, the arraignment, the horrible verdict, prison without protective custody, the beatings, his friend dying, the fear, feeling like it was forever, all the interviews and meetings with his lawyer, the unlikely savor on the inside, finally getting out and having his name cleared, and the somehow more stressful ending.

By the end, he's crying, not trying to wipe away the soft tears falling down his cheeks. Y/n hasn't realized she has started to cry, but she can't stop it.

"I'm so sorry." She apologizes, but it's primarily for the internal resentment she's harboring for him and all the hateful things she said about him in her head.

"It's okay," Spencer promises. His guilt is overwhelming already, but it's going to increase tenfold if she's remorseful about it. "You didn't know."

"But I sure as hell didn't give you the reasonable doubt." She adds in.

He shakes his head. "I haven't spoken to you in almost three months, Y/n." He speaks softly, still weeping. "The logical conclusion to draw is that I left you on purpose. I can't imagine how much I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry for it."

"I know it's not your fault." She says, before tacking on, "Now."

He's so grateful she just gave him a chance to explain. He's hopeful it will bring her peace, but there isn't a doubt it will do that for him.

He stands up awkwardly. "Thank you for hearing me out... and for the best few months of my life. It's truly been a pleasure."

"Wait." She pleads softly, making him spin around quickly. "You're leaving?"

"Do you need something?" Spencer asks. He'll do anything she wants in a heartbeat, hoping it will ease some of the misery she's been in.

Y/n bites her bottom lip, thinking through what she's about to ask, but she knows she has to go with her heart and gut. Spencer is Spencer, and she'll never be able to convince herself that he's hurt her on purpose.

"You." She admits.

Spencer's heart gets crushed in an instant. She knows about it now, but there's no way she can fully understand the changes, so he'll have to let her down again and break both their hearts, hearts that long for each other.

"Y/n..." He trails off. "I'm not who I used to be."

She shakes her head. "I don't care." Her confession is nonchalant. It's a quick decision, but it feels right. "Please don't leave again."

"I've been in federal prison." He reminds her.

She gulps, feeling the full power of his rejection. It's a much more Spencer way to do it, letting her down gently. "Mm-hmm." She mumbles. "Okay, I understand." She gets up to show him out, and it feels like the weight he's relieved has been piled back on. "If you ever want to be with me again... you know where to find me." She knows it sounds pathetic, but she needs to say it.

If he ever wants her. There's nothing more than Spencer wants. "Y/n." He coos softly. His hands come to cup her cheeks, relishing touching her skin and being close to her again. It's a natural desire to kiss her, but he stops himself from doing it a few inches away from her lips.

"Don't." She begs in a whisper, more tears clouding her vision. "Not if you're not going to stay."

"I want to." He promises. "But I'm different."

Y/n shakes her head in his hands. "Not inside. You might have more walls, but your heart will always be good."

So he doesn't let himself self-sabotage. When he kisses Y/n, it feels like everything is right in the world again. It's what he's been dreaming about for as long as they've been apart. It's fireworks and butterflies and every cliche possible, but there's a reason those cliches get repeated: they're true.

Spencer pulls back once he's kissed her until they've both run out of air. He's crying as much as he's smiling. "We're okay?" He double-checks.

"You're going to be," Y/n promises. "And that means we're going to be."

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[writing-havoc]

HEY! HOW ARE YOU? would you be willing to make a kaz brekker x reader? if possible a soulmate au? I'm obsessed with this trope! maybe name on the wrist or the one where with just a touch of skin you see the colors? I imagine one where r is not part of the dregs but is quite indifferent/receptive to the fact that kaz is the leader of a gang. r is a seamstress, using her skills to hide that she is a fabrikator, and she (can be gn if you want!) and kaz know they are soulmates, though they never talk about it. they can even be a 'thing' secretly, and it would be adorable if they were both childhood friends. maybe before the events of SoC kaz decided to make their relationship official (with a request for courtship alá brekker or even a marriage on paper) and after CK he is even more desperate for this, wanting to protect r at all costs. oh, it would be very interesting if r had a younger sister aged 8/9 who loves kaz and vice versa since she is very quiet and obedient and loves to listen to kaz's stories. even better if he secretly called her little crow. bonus if the girl's name is astra and she is also a hidden grisha, an inferni or another etherealki i would love to see this from your point of view and with her writing it would be amazing but feel free to decline if you don't want to. Did I already say that you write very well? well then know. YOU ARE INCREDIBLY TALENTED!!!!!!

Silent tears

♡ Summary: Before the events of the ice court, Kaz feels relatively content with his feelings and relationship with you. After? Not so much.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Mentions vomit a few times, Gun, Death, uses yn twice

♡ WC: 5.4k

Aaaa thank you sm for this request!! Loved all the little details I had to include. It was interesting writing for a reader that wasn't part of the dregs.

Thank you for your kind words <3

I made Astra a Squallor here. And it's up to your interpretation if the reader and Kaz are dating or otherwise before the ending.

As always, please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The sound of a sewing machine filled the small shop. It was loud, punching the table he knows it's rested on and creating a rumbling in the floor.

Gowns and suits and vests filled the racks around the store, some on display on fake bodices. They wore outfits, tantalizing window shoppers to enter and run their fingers along the fabrics.

The velveteen looked high quality, mixed with some sort of spandex fabric around the waist to hug its wearer. Pearls and lace flow across shoulders and down the side of gowns, some even including embroidery.

As he moved along, suits and gowns turns into vests and petticoats. The walls were decorated with hats of various function, most made for looks and flare rather than functionality. Behind the desk even existed a rack of long coats and various sweaters, more than likely just to fill up space than to be sold.

The sound ceased, and he rung the bell at the desk.

"Coming!" Called a voice. He stopped himself from smoothing out his own coat, in turn adjusting his gloves.

Heavy footsteps presented him with your kind figure, heels unconsciously stomping against the wood floor compared to the concrete of the backroom.

You smiled at him, picking off little strings of thread the fell into your lap and stuffing them into a pouch at your side.

"I've just finished your order." He felt just as much as he seen you change from business to something more lax, shoulders drooping and the lines between your brows disappearing. "Gimme one moment to put everything in the box- oh, would you turn the sign around, please?"

"A bit all over the place, are we?" He turned around, hearing you release a big sigh.

"Just about, it seems."

The people walking outside turned to look at the store, smiles on their faces. It was mildly amusing to watch them fall as he turned the sign, giving him a glare as he continued to stare them down. He didn't turn until they left, everyone else's eyes only flashing to the window for a moment before diverting elsewhere the second the closed sign came into view.

Window shopping is pointless when the building is closed.

"You wanted... two suits, one the shade of coal and the other a light purple, a wine red gown, a mask, and a pair of gloves?"

He turned his attention back to you, holding a rather large, yet flat, wooden crate. The inside was filled with the colors you just mentioned, a pair of leather gloves on top acting as paperweights for his order.

You set the crate down for him to look through. He removes the paper, taking the gloves into his hands and holding them out to examine.

And admire.

You aren't a leatherworker. You're a seamstress. And yet, you make the finest pair of leather gloves he has ever seen. Sometimes he'll even catch little designs marked into the gloves, the integrity of the material somehow unfazed.

"Make the slits bigger. Just two millimeters." He hands them to you.

You raise a brow, knowing that you made everything to his usual specifications.

But you take them back, entertaining him. You look at the locked door, and then raise your hand over the gloves.

Grisha power isnt super fascinating to him anymore. When he was little he would beg you to demonstrate your power, handing you pieces of worn fabric to do as you pleased with.

He would watch the thin threads thickened and the material became warped around the edges. Jordie would stand next to him, watching you solely because Kaz dragged him over every single time. You would hold out the newly mended piece of cloth, and he and his brother would clap ans rejoice.

But he still likes to watch you work. To see as your mouth opens and your tongue folds over your canines as you focused.

You give them back to him, and he inspects them once more.

"These will do." He ends up saying, appreciation left for the darker hours in the night.

You roll your eyes and rustle around with the paper held underneath your arm, fingers quickly calculating the math of the order.

Usually he doesn't do a batch of this size while he's still figuring out a job, but the way he sees it there's no way he can't have just about everybody present. Which these days is incredibly rare.

A pin is taken from the cushion on your wrist, planting itself into the red gown. But as you take out two pieces of paper, writing probably a total and your name, he can't help but stare at the ink peeking out from beneath it.

He knows what it says, just as well as he knows the name on his own.

He's seen it once as you pulled up your sleeve during the summer, the fine etching displaying his name, his old name, clear as day before you hurriedly slipped the pin cushion back onto it. He looked away that day, pretending he didn't see.

It feels so much harder to pretend now.

"This is your total. And I will need your signature on both of them, Mr. Brekker."

Your smile is playful, then. As he takes the pen from your outstretched hand.

"As I've told you before, yn, Kaz is fine."

"Oh, but how could I be so informal, Mr. Brekker?" You put your hand on your chest, face twisted into a poor impression of someone who has just been scandalized. "We are business partners, after all."

And just like in those books you always read, he feels his eyes soften, if only a bit as his brows and jaw relax. "Business partners doesn't cover the surface."

You take the confession and relax with it, rubbing the center of your chest. "You're right."

He thinks back to a time when you were both little, each staring at your blank wrist with solemn eyes. He would look at you as you rubbed the soft skin, fingertips and dirty nails gently tracing lines into it.

He would sit next to you, shoulders knocking together, and you would look up at him, expression changing as you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

At the time, he would never say it, the thought turning his ears pink and quickening his adolescent heart, but he would hope that your wrists would match, displaying the others name. He would hope that one day that sad and far off face would cease to exist, and instead would be full of complete and utter joy as you looked at him and exclaim that you knew it. Because you wanted him, too.

But now that he knows, he still wouldn't say anything. You never said anything, and he wasn't in any position or state of mind to say anything to you when he eventually saw his, ash sticky and cold flesh tainting the memory, your scream as you watched him swim to the harbor on Jordie's corpse, and his own as you went to grab him.

It stays locked away, with the rest of the things that feel too hard to touch.

He signs a fake name on both of them, taking one and handing the other to you for your personal records, and then takes out the kruge and hands it to you.

"Is Dirix out back to handle these or do you want a bag for them?"

He sighs. "Dirix is down at the Harbour. A bag will have to do."

"Can I pick the bag?" A new voice calls from the backroom.

He holds back a smile, but fails to stop the corner of his lips from turning up temporarily. He averts his eyes to the doorway where a little girl peeks around the corner, a wide smile on her face as she looks right at him.

"Of course, Astra." You say, and immediately she scurried up to the counter to take a look at the load she has to find a bag for.

Your younger sister, Astra, was moved up here a few years after you were, your parents having passed from the flu and grandparents too old to take on the task of raising a six year old. Much less a six year old who could summon the wind at any time she wants.

Thankfully, you had started your seamstress business a year before that, and had this store with your living space up above to take her in with.

Business was always booming here, your talent for fabrics and all things fashion put on display and loved by the masses. You spent pretty much your entire life studying the trends that wormed their way here, even getting ahead of the train numerous times and working into the darkest hours to make your profit.

Now you can afford the more pricey fabrics, and get the attention of the richer folk over in the Geldstraat.

He helps, of course, with his dirty work.

"I know the perfect one." Astra scurries away.

You chuckle, hearing a small "wow!" and a flurry of footsteps. "She's going to pick the most obnoxious bag, I hope you know."

He takes a breath then, and looks down at the gloves still in his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

There's a moment of silence, watching you from his peripheral as you stare at the gloves too.

"I didnt like the last pair." You admit. "So I made the design more low-key. The last one was too flashy for your aesthetic."

He's wearing those gloves now, and they aren't even flashy. The design is just slightly more pronounced.

The way you measure how flashy something is has a much smaller threshold than most. Even by his standards, it's very small, and he's far from the most colorful being in Ketterdam.

Astra comes back with, of course, a large bright pink fabric bag, twine tied in the shape of a flower tied around the handles.

"Good choice!" You praise, taking the clothes out of the crate and laying them neatly in the bag while she beams at him.

"Do you like the bag?"

And normally, he'd say something incredibly passive aggressive.

But he actually likes Astra, and knows how easy it is to stamp out a child's heart, that level of emotional regulation and individuality not yet found in them.

"Its wonderful, little crow."

"Alright, give this to him, like I showed you." You pushed her along, and she rounded the counter, holding the sides of the bag, leaving the handles free for him to grab.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little moved by that.

Astra wasn't allowed to help you until a few months ago, when she basically got on her hands and knees and begged to be of some help. You claim that you didn't give in right away, but he knows you better than that.

You have told her that he doesn't like to be touched, and it was a little hard for such a touch reliant girl to wrap her mind around that. After a few close calls, she got the general idea down.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He tips his hat, and watches as her little cheeks become pink as she curtsies.

"Ill be making stew like my mom made if you want to stop by later." You suggest.

Astra grins from ear to ear. "But not too later, if you can help it. I want to hear another story."

"At this rate I won't have any stories left to tell you."

She thinks about that for a moment, lips pursing and looking around the room. "Oh!" She shouts, face lighting up. "Can you tell me that one story again? About you and my sister getting lost in the woods down south?"

He pretends to think about it, looking around the room as if in search for the memory. "I think I can do that. You and your sister might have to fill in on some of the details, though."

She grins, pride welling up in her chest that she puffs out, holding out her hand. "The deal is the deal."

He takes her hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "The deal is the deal."

Kaz takes a moment to look back up at you, and his heart nearly leaps out his chest when he sees the way you're looking at him, a small smile he doesn't think he's seen before and eyes filled with so /much/ that he's surprised your whole eye isn't black. Your head rests into your fingers, arm wrapped around your waist. It's an expression he's seen rarely, but it always seems to catch him off guard.

It looks a lot like yearning, he thinks.

But he puts it away for later.

When you catch that he's looking, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression and wiping off imaginary dust from your clothes.

"Alright Astra, Kaz has important business to attend to."

Astra pouts from beside him, but gives him her goodbyes and walks into the backroom again.

He straightens. It's oddly difficult to keep eye contact with you, but he does anyway, flicking between the both of them.

"If I have time, I'll stop by." He gives in.

You're happy with that. "Ill even add extra broth for you."

"Sweetening the offer I see."

You put your hands on your hips, shrugging. "A girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The implications of that are hefty, too hefty with a cane in one hand and a bright pink bag of clothes in the other.

So he ignores it, and nods, taking his leave out the front door and back to the Slat.

-----

He stares at the plan before him in his mind, going over each and every way this can and probably will go sideways.

Breaking into the most secure prison in probably the whole world with nothing more than the scrapings of a plan, one of the essential persons in a different prison, and your presense completely plaguing his mind.

The third one isn't exactly new, but he can't help but think about you when his survival rate went from low on the daily average to basically zero with one handshake.

But thirty million kruge...

Thirty million kruge could go a long way. That's four million for him, most of which he could put towards the crow club and expanding his empire, taking down Pekka, and securing his place as one of the top bosses in Ketterdam.

He could secure his place in the food chain, and maybe, maybe then he...

Maybe.

He entertains the thought of a marriage certificate. Having something that ties you and him together both eternally and in the eyes of everyone else. Being able to hold that slip of paper when he can't hold your hand and feeling like it matters.

It's hard to keep the thought away, now that he's alone with a glass of kvas and death staring him in the eyes.

He doesn't plan on dying soon. Not for a long time. He has vengeance to exact and many more dinners to join you for.

But it's a very real possibility, and he must debate with himself going to you and telling you all this before he leaves.

If it was any other job, Kaz would send Inej to tell you that he would be gone for a few days and to not expect him. If it was literally any other job, he wouldn't even consider getting up from his chair, marching down those stairs and up yours, and discussing the undiscussable to at least satisfy the gnawing in his stomach.

Because he knows that if you find out he died and he knew that he was basically guaranteed to do so and he didn't bother to tell you himself, you would never forgive him.

Granted, he would be dead, so in theory it doesn't matter.

He picks up his cane and gloves, shoving them over his hands and throwing on his long coat. He doesn't even have to look at the coat rack to find his hat, putting it on and making his way out of the Slat and to your address without a word to anyone else.

The theories mean nothing, in the face of reality.

You're making stew with extra broth, he might die in a few days, and he doesn't want you to think ill of him when he can't look you in the eye and try to convince you to feel otherwise.

As the cold bites his nose, he thinks back to that look you were giving him when he made that deal with your sister.

It's nearly enough to make him turn around, muscles tingling and a shiver rolling down his back that's unrelated to the cold. He feels sick. Warm and a feeling in his stomach he only feels late in the night in the comfort of his own bed.

He can't do this.

He picks the lock on your door.

He can't tell you.

He opens the door, locking it behind him.

He can't think of you like that.

He walks up the stairs, the smell of stew just barely reaching his senses as he enters the kitchen.

He can't.

You're sitting at the table, two empty bowls on the table and fabric thrown over your legs, threading them together. Your finger is bleeding, and he wants to wipe it away.

"You're late." You smile, eyelids heavy.

He takes off his hat, putting it on the hook you installed when he started coming over. "Or I'm just in time."

You laugh quietly, sticking the needle in the fabric and pulling it off your lap. "Just in time about sums it up."

He's a monster.

You turn your back to him and enter your room, draping the project on your desk.

The pot is still steaming, and his throat feels clogged.

"Ill be gone for a while."

You turn around, and he can't watch you anymore. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair.

"How long?" Your voice is soft, approaching him.

"Few weeks."

He's a coward.

You hum, setting down a bowl of stew with extra broth in front of him. "Thats a long time, even for you."

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding in his ears. The light catches the stew, making rainbows in the broth. Chunks of lamb, potatoes, pieces of ham, carrots, and greens he can't see dance in the soup as he stirs it.

"Bigger reward for the troubles." Is all he says.

The troubles, he thinks, that he can't get past the lump in his throat. The trouble that you of all people deserve to know.

He glances up at you, and he recognizes the look on your face all too well.

You're very aware of his gang affiliation.

He actually attempted to cut ties with you after he got associated with the Dregs. You threw a crate at him and called him mad for suggesting as such. He only risked to bring it up one other time, and you had yelled at him and about cried when he turned to leave, throwing a rock at his freshly poorly healed leg.

He swiveled around at glared at you, but you didn't flinch in the face of Dirtyhands. Just glared at him, told him you're not going anywhere, and then left /him/ before he could protest.

It took him a week to figure out that, despite you not wanting to cut ties with him, you didn't completely agree either. You didn't bother trying to convince him to leave, but you have on numerous occasions begged him to be careful, adorning this exhausted look.

You don't say a lot anymore, but the expression has stayed relatively the same, if a bit rounder on the edges.

"How bad?" You asked.

He abhors the way his heart squeezes, like it has a mind of its own while his brain yells at him to keep you out of it.

He wants to throw up.

How does he tell you there's a greater chance than not he'll die, now matter how much he wants to make it back to you?

How does he tell you you might never get to see him again? Or see Jesper or Inej?

He swallowed some broth, licking his lips.

"Pretty bad."

He's such a fucking coward.

"Ynnn." He hears a hoarse voice call. He looks up, seeing Astra stroll in and rest her chin on the kitchen table. "You didnt tell me Kaz finally came."

When he looks at you to see your response, its to his absolute horror that he catches you wiping your eyes, then pull your little sister to your side.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"M'you should've."

You glance up at him, and smile against Astra's hair.

"You're right. I should've."

-----

'Damn it all,' he thought in a panic. 'Damn everything. Go find them.'

It was a dangerous, recurring thought that he had when he went anywhere near the Zelver District, whenever he had to go through the canals that run along its edge and connect to nearly every other canal.

Even now as he puts everything in place to send Kuwei off on a fake bodyboat. It only half surprises him that the sight doesn't make him all that uncomfortable. He's exhausted, lovesick, and has had the experience of several lifetimes within just a few weeks.

He wanted to send word to you to stay put during the alarms. But Pekka's crew strolled through your storefront not a few days ago, asking about your wares and probing for information. Inej had seen as such when she finally had the opportunity to check on you.

There was no guarantee that this plan would work. Pekka would have been dealt with regardless but the auction with Kuwei could have gone differently. No matter the confidence with which he laid out facts or with Wylan's newfound acting skills, there were too many variables that relied heavily on the actions of people outside his control.

It worked out, though. But now he has to worry about being unable to find you. It makes him nauseous. He actually feels his mouth begin to fill with saliva, but he keeps it down. Right now, he just has to get rid of Kuwei, and send off Colm, Nina, and Matthias to the boats that will take them to their respective countries.

A small part of his conscious nags at him. Of course he feels grief for his fallen Crow, incomparable to the grief Nina will have to face for the rest of her life.

But there's that much larger part of him that can't feel anything except the itching for your eyes on him.

Kaz makes a snarky comment about Kuwei's dead position, and leaves everyone to fill in the silence around him. There isn't much talking, aside from Jesper and his father, and then they're hugging and parting.

He hardly has it in him to stay while they leave, and eventually, before they even disappear from his eyesight, he's turning and marching up the Van Eck lawn towards the Zelver District.

He feels like he's going insane. Energy is surging through him like there's a heartrender pumping his system. When everything becomes familiar, that coffee shop you like with the Stroopwafel's coming into view, he can't help but break out into a run.

His leg feels like it may splinter.

But he's 4 million kruge richer, and he has something to ask you.

He's learned a lot, quite a bit of it against his will, since he left for Fjerda.

He will not let you become another life lesson.

Your door comes into view, and he nearly slams into it when his legs can't seem to stop and one of them is straining against his own body weight.

The lock picks nearly fell to the floor before he manages to unlock the store. He didn't even let the door close behind him before he rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You were at the top, rifle in hand, pointing it at him with a fierceness in your eyes.

It all but crumbled when you seen who he was.

"Kaz?" You called, disbelief choking your words.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, most of his gasping done before he unlocked the door. But again, hes exhausted and lovesick, so air isnt really a luxury he seems to be able to afford. "The bruises don't make me that unrecognizable." He stands straighter, favoring his left leg.

You had half the mind to put the rifle on your kitchen table before you completely broke down in tears. Your arms hug your sides while your eyes boil over with tears and hot rage.

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled. "Getting put on the Stadwatch and the entire barrels shitlist? What the fuck kind of job did you take?"

He stepped forward, setting his cane next to your rifle and dropping into the chair next to you.

It still made his skin crawl. It still made his lungs burn with freezing cold water. It still made deadly blue hands grip at his legs and pull him under.

But he reached out, pulled you between his legs, and hugged your body to his, his cheek resting against your stomach.

You were warm. So very warm from working yourself up. And stiff. He could feel it under his arms as your thighs stuck together and the muscles surrounding your spine tightened into stone.

"Ka-Kaz?"

He ignored you in favor of ignoring his own body, tightening you into him as the waters punched his stomach and licked up his back.

You were warm, and as you relaxed, his face further sinking into your stomach, the water began to still. Still crushing against his organs, but not going any further.

Tears pushed on the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, taking in a shakey breath.

He was doing it. He was holding you, touching you, and it only made half his mind scream to be yanked away.

"I fought." He whispered. "I fought to come back." He swallows. "To you."

Tears thumped against the crown of his skull. He could hear your heart pounding despite its location.

"You left-" Your voice cut off in a squeak. Clearing your throat, he could feel, felt like a chore. "You left. And then you didn't come back. Your face was all over Ketterdam, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep- I couldn't answer Astra's questions because I didn't know anything-"

"I was tricked." He gritted his teeth, loosening his grip on you just as you reached down and dragged your fingers over his shoulder, fixing a loose thread. "Deceived, and made a complete fool out of. I couldn't come back because they would have got you too."

Your fingers stopped. "Who did they get?"

A few tears leaked out the side of his eyes. The only tears, he decided, he was going to allow through. He was not a crier. And he had no intention of becoming one.

"Inej." You gasped, hand flying away from his head to cover your mouth, he would presume. "Which is why I couldn't get word to you. Why you had to remain in the dark."

He pulled back, looking up at your tear stained face. You wiped them away, sniffing up any snot that remained in your nose and cleared your throat.

For a while you didn't speak. You just stared at him. His hands had fallen to his knees, fingers barely touching your leg while your own held your elbows.

You were deep in thought. Occasionally a silent tear would work it's way down your cheek and tick against the floor. He remained still, watching as you worked your way through your thoughts.

Whatever you had to say, you were fighting for a better way to word it.

Eventually you reached out, swallowing as you searched for any indication he would retreat.

Instead he stared you head on, sweat building on brow. He was all touched out at the moment, but you wanted this. And he thinks it's the least you deserved after the complete emotional shipwreck he just put you through.

Your thumb brushed over his bruises, watching him wince when you accidentally pushed on them.

Scabs had begun to form over some of the wounds he refused to be healed. Two thin lines on his lips, one on his cheek, and one to his brow. You went over all of them, touching his lips last.

He thinks you meant to do that.

"If I had known this would be my fate when I saw my name on your wrist when we were children," you whispered, "I'd have slapped you stupid."

That makes his lips twitch. "And now?"

You swallow again, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead so that your nails barely scratched the surface. "Now, I just want to look at you." You smiled, taking your hand back. "Somebody's already slapped you stupid for me."

"Believe me, there was no slapping."

The words make your smile disappear. He regrets saying them.

Somethings missing though, and he realizes it a lot later than he likes.

"Where's Astra?"

You smile, an airy breath escaping your nose. "She went down about half an hour before you stormed in here."

"You didn't send her off to your grandparents when the sirens went off?"

You scoffed. "And go where you couldn't find us?" You looked down, scuffing the floor with your sock covered feet. "You'd have lost your mind."

And that, you knowing him so intrinsically, is what he's going to use as an excuse for what he says next.

"Marry me."

It's so unlike him. He should have been less forward about it. Presented it to you like a business offer instead of demanding it of you.

Your head snaps up. Eyes wide as they stare at him.

"What?"

He scoots back, chair scraping across the floor as he stands.

"I do not present this to you lightly. After the events that have taken place, there will only be more people willing to tear me down. People who will want to use you to get to me."

The thought almost makes him want to back out. But if Kaz Brekker is anything, he is not someone who back tracks.

"It would be done in private. No one would know but the Dregs, or only the Crows, and your family. But if anybody does any digging and finds that certificate, you and Astra would be in danger."

You continue to stare, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Sweat beads down his back, not helped by the long coat he neglected to take off. He also realizes that he's lost his hat somewhere on the way here, probably flown off in his rush to get here.

You close your mouth, clearing your throat. "I will marry you, Kaz, on one condition."

He shifts on his feet, leg still horribly sore. "That is?"

You cant help but smile. "I won't have to wear white."

And a giddy, childish sort of glee bubbles in his chest. There isn't anything, he thinks, that could have stopped the smile forming in his face, growing so wide as to show teeth. "You could wear the muckiest yellow the nation as to offer if you so wished."

Your nose scrunches, and one day he thinks he could kiss it.

"Astra will want to hear about your adventure." He could see your exhaustion from just thinking about that, your gaze averting once again to her door. "She'll be so excited to hear about your proposal too."

He follows your gaze, seeing the little drawing nailed to surface of her door.

One of them shows you and him with smiling faces, a little heart above your heads. You're holding hands, Kaz's gloves a distinct part of the portrait, with Astra above, clouds and a sun at the top of the page.

"Little crow will blow the entire building apart." He grimaces, thinking of a way to cover that up if the neighboring businesses hear it.

You sigh. "I have no idea what to do with her."

He turns back to you and leans forward, arms clasped behind his back as he presses his lips to your temple.

It didn't feel real, the way he could initiate touch despite his body screaming at him to stop. Your hair stuck to his lips as he pulled away, but it was worth it to see the way your face fell open, eyes boaring into his.

Silently, he tells you he'll get better. With time, a long time, he'll be able to hold your hand, kiss your lips, stand shoulder to shoulder and lay with you. He tells you that fleeting kisses and barriers will be a thing reserved for bad days only, and even on those bad days he'll still love you in other ways.

He thinks you understand.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[gejo333]

A Misunderstanding

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider Reader

—> pt. 2

Summary: Your relationship with Miguel was doing amazing. But when you find out your pregnant Miguel begins to close himself off . You decide it’s best not to tell him and end things. But what happens when you see him again after five years and learns that he is a father?

There is a sensual scene, if you feel uncomfortable just scroll past it.

I was going to write it all in one post but I decided to do a part two. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Hope you enjoy🤗

Wc: 3.2k

____________________________________________

A heavy breath leaves your lungs; sitting on a piece of rubble, you stare at the anomaly being taken away by another spider back to HQ. On a mission like this one, an anomaly of this low stature wouldn’t make you sweat. But for some reason, you had a hard time defeating it.

Peter B comes up to you, lending you a hand. You gladly take it rising from your makeshift seat. After walking through the portal back to HQ, Peter puts his hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

“Are you feeling alright, Y/n?” Peter looked concerned about your tired complexion.

“I’m fine. I must not have slept well last night. But thanks for checking in and for your help with the mission.”

“No problem. Are you reporting back to Miguel?”

“Yeah. I should tell him about the mission getting out of hand. I’ll see you around.” You wave goodbye before making your way to Miguel’s office. When reporting missions that didn’t go exactly to plan, spiders asked you to report to Miguel.

Before you began dating him 6 months ago, you still had a close relationship with him. Ever since he recruited you, he’s had a soft spot for you, never once getting mad with you.

Walking into his “lair,” as most spiders called it, you tried to shoot up a web to him, but your web shooter malfunctioned.

Miguel jumped down from the platform, walking towards you. His gaze crossed your entire body, checking to see if you were hurt.

“I heard the mission went a bit south.” Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. He lifted your chin and leaned down to kiss your lips lovingly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your toes to press deeper into the kiss. Breaking apart, you caress his cheek as he leans into your touch.

“Yeah, I needed to call backup. The anomaly was more to handle than I thought. I’m not sure why. I just don’t feel my best today.”

“How about we get some delicious empanadas near my apartment and watch a movie. How does that sound? We can leave right now if you want?” A smile graces his lips as he gazes at you with so much love waiting for your response. You smile back at him as your e/c meets his mahogany eyes. You were the only person to see his true eye color.

“That sounds perfect.”

Pressing a few buttons on his watch, Miguel opens the portal back to his universe. The two of you walk through, entering an ally a block away from Miguel’s place. Both of your suits dissolve underneath casual clothing hiding underneath.

The two of you walked into the little store that sold the best empanadas in all of Nueva York, as Miguel had told you multiple times.

“Miguel! Mi cliente favorito. Cómo te va?” An older woman walked around the counter, hugging Miguel, which he gladly accepted.

“Estoy bien. Y usted?” Miguel said as he led you fully into the store. You loved seeing this side of Miguel. He only revealed his true warm side when he was back in his world or alone with you on missions or at HQ.

“I’m doing good. Business is good. And who is this gorgeous woman by your side Miguel?” The woman looks at you with a bright smile. You look up at Miguel as he looks down at you with a smile.

“This is Y/n. My girlfriend.” Miguel’s response made the woman beam with joy as she hugged you.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n. It’s so nice for Miguel to find such a nice woman as you. The usual order Miguel?” The woman returns behind the counter, grabs a box, and puts in empanadas.

“Sí, plus a few extra.”

“Of course!” She adds a few more before handing them to you. Miguel pays her before adding $500 to the tip jar. The woman looks astounded and takes the money out, trying to return it to him. He closes her hand, pushing gently back towards her.

“Miguel, this is too much.”

“Nonsense. You make the best empanadas in all of Nueva York.” The woman hugs Miguel again as tears brim her eyes.

“Thank you so much. You truly are a good man Miguel.”

“Until next time!” He waved goodbye before leading you out of the store.

Miguel opened the door, letting you go first before making your way to the kitchen, setting the empanadas down on the counter. Miguel places both arms at your sides, trapping you against the counter. You turn to face him, leaning back a bit against the counter. Hands run up his chest and wrap around his neck. You run your hands through his hair as he leans his back, enjoying the sensation of your hands through his hair.

He leaned down, lips centimeters from yours. His gaze goes to your lips, his eyes starving for your touch. You give him a quick kiss.

“Let’s choose something to watch.”

“Yeah.” Miguel calms down his breathing before letting you go. The two of you grab an empanada and head to the living room as you get comfy on the couch, putting a blanket over the both of you. You rest your head against him.

Almost halfway into the movie, your gaze is directed toward Miguel as he stares ahead. He shifts slightly, uncomfortable. Your gaze falls down to his lap, where a tent appears. Sliding a hand to his lap, you pull down his sweats, setting him free as you give him a handjob.

Miguel’s head leans back, a groan escaping his lips.

“Y/n” You continue your movements as you feel your hand getting covered in precum.

“You like that?” You lean towards him as you kiss his neck towards his lips, where he hungrily captures yours.

“I need more of you, mi vida.” He groaned before removing the blanket. He grabbed you by the waist, sitting you on his lap as he ripped your panties off, thrusting himself fully into your wet folds.

“Those were my favorite.” You moaned out. A pout was on your face before Miguel captured your lips.

“I’ll buy you all the new pairs you want,” Miguel whispered into your ear as he thrust his hips into you.

“Miggy!” Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened, sending you into euphoria.

You awake from your bed in a sweaty state, your breath uneven. Sitting up from your bed, you place your head against your knee as you calm your heart. Why that memory again? You’ve had that same memory plague your dreams for the past week.

Looking at your phone, it was 8 am. You get up from your bed and go to the room next to you. Opening the door, you walk up to the small race car bed. Leaning down, you brush the dark brown hair from your son’s face and press a kiss to his forehead.

You watch his eyes flutter open, his big brown eyes tiredly staring at you.

“Good morning.” You say, gazing at your five-year-old as he wakes up. He jumps into your arms as you pick him up.

“Are you excited for today? It’s your first day of kindergarten!”

“Yes!” His arms went up in excitement. You set him down as you grab the outfit you prepared for him today. After the both of you got dressed, you went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

“What would you like?”

“Pancakes! With chocolate chips!”

“How about pancakes with blueberries? Make it a bit healthier.” You suggest as you already begin making the batter.

“I love blueberries!” He cheered.

You place the small pancakes in front of him as you finish getting ready in your room. After you finish putting on your makeup, you see your son walk in with a face covered with syrup. You chuckle at the cute site as you get up and bring her to the bathroom to wipe her face and hands.

“Mommy, can you do my hair how I like it?”

“Of course!”

You set her on the bathroom counter as you brush his hair. You combed your fingers through his hair. You look at him through the mirror. Distinct brown hair and eyes. Warm honey-toned skin. He was the spitting image of his father.

It’s been almost six years since you last saw him. Ever since that fateful day, you wonder if you made the right decision. But he made it clear to you.

“Mommy?” You’re brought out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, sweetie.” You finish the combing his hair. You grab your purse and his brand-new fire truck backpack. Grabbing his hand, you walk out the door and towards the school.

Arriving at the school, you walk through the front doors to his classroom. You see the other 5-year-olds entering the classroom or clinging to their parents. Arriving at the door, you see the teacher come out.

“Hi! My name is Ms. Williams. And who might this be?”

“This is Mateo (L/n). Say hi, Mateo.” You say to your son, who clings to you. Hiding his face behind your leg.

“Hi.” Mateo slowly waves to the teacher. Ms. Williams holds out her hand toward Mateo. Mateo looks up to you as you smile.

“It’s ok, Mateo. Go make some friends. Mommy will be here to pick you up in a few hours.”

“Promise?” He holds his pinky out to you, which you hook with yours.

“Promise.” Mateo smiles at you before taking his teacher’s hand, walking him into the room. He turned to wave goodbye before disappearing into the room.

A tear escapes you as you wipe it away. You couldn’t believe he was already 5. It went by so fast.

After drying your tears, you make it back to your apartment. Sitting at your desk in your bedroom, you stare at the drafted article before you. Since you quit Spider Society, you got your job back as a journalist.

Your mind drifts off from the work before you.

Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, you stare down at the small object in your hands.

Two lines. These two lines answer the question that was in the back of your mind all day.

You were pregnant. Your body jumps up when you hear someone walk into the bathroom. Unlocking the door to the stall, you quickly wash your hands and clean off the stick before hiding it in a secret pocket of your spider suit.

A beep from your watch tells you to go to Miguel’s office. Miguel… what would he think? You rush out of the bathroom and towards his office.

Ben Reilly and Jess are talking with Miguel about a mission. Standing next to Miguel as he continues talking. However, everything he said was unheard as your thoughts raced.

“Y/n?” You came back to reality as Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Yep! Understood.” You say, hoping he didn’t notice you drifting off into space. Miguel dismisses Ben and Jess as he turns to face you.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes grew concerned as you weren’t your usual happy self. You decided not to tell him yet. You were too nervous to tell him. Since movie night, Miguel has been nonstop busy and stressed from work. You didn’t feel you should stress him out more with your news.

And it’s only been 6 months since you started dating. You didn’t know if he wanted children, especially after what happened to his daughter.

“Yeah! I’m good. Just tired. So my mind is a bit off.”

“How about you go home and rest. I’ll do the mission with Jess and Ben.”

“It’s ok. I can still go on the mission.” You try to reason with him.

“No mi amor. Go home and rest. I don’t want you getting hurt on the mission if you’re tired.” You decided to listen to him as he would not change his mind.

“Ok, fine. See you later tonight.” You give him a kiss before saying goodbye.

…

“You’re 2 months pregnant.”

The doctor’s words shocked you. You didn’t think you were that far along. It’s only been two weeks since you found out you were pregnant.

After leaving the doctor’s office, you head back to HQ. Going to the doctor at HQ was free, but you knew word would get back to Miguel, as everyone knew you two were in a relationship.

Spider HQ felt off today as barely anyone was here. You go to Miguel’s office but find all the lights turned off except one of his monitors.

Miguel sat in his chair, his head resting in his hand. He looked so sad. You never had seen him this way before.

“Miguel?” You walk closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. You look at the monitor. It was a video of him and his daughter.

“Y/n? I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

“I wasn’t. But I’ve barely seen you for the past two weeks. I wanted to just check in on you.” He moved his chair to face you. As he opens his arms to you, you sit in his lap. Wrapping his arms tight around you, he nestled his head in your neck. You comb your fingers through his hair to help comfort him.

“Today’s her birthday.” He mumbled against your skin. His words clenched at your heart.

“Miguel…” You lifted his chin to look at you as you softly caressed his cheek. He leans into your hand, looking at you with red eyes. Not his normal ruby red, but red from tears.

“She would have been ten this year.” A tear slipped from his eye, trailing down his cheek, which you gently wiped away. You never have seen him in such a vulnerable state before. It made your heart break seeing him like this.

Would it be ok to tell him now about the pregnancy? To try and lift his spirits? Maybe it was too sudden. It was Gabriella’s birthday, after all.

“The thought of having another child is unbearable. I couldn’t handle the pain again if something happened.”

His words shattered you. He didn’t want to have more kids. You placed a hand on your stomach. It would be pointless to tell him. He didn’t want to be a father again.

His watch suddenly beeped, indicating that there was an anomaly he needed to deal with.

“Maybe you should let someone else do the mission.” You got up from his lap as he continued to sit in the chair.

“No, I’ll do it. He stands from his chair as he opens the portal. Before he leaves, you gently grab his arm.

“I can go with you.” He smiles at you as he brushes some of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m going to do this one myself, Hermosa.”

“Oh, ok. Be safe.” You say before he walks into the portal.

…

You gaze at the surroundings of HQ, seeing various spiders interacting with one another. Ever since Gabriella’s birthday, you’ve barely seen Miguel. He buried himself in work. You tried several times to see him, but he was so distant from you that you decided to stop visiting him.

That was a month ago. Now 3 months pregnant, you have a baby bump, so when you came into HQ today, you decided to wear casual clothes that hid your bump. For what you’re about to do. You didn’t want anyone to know, especially Miguel.

Anxiety blossomed at the bottom of your stomach as you walked to his office. Were you being selfish? Maybe you should wait until he’s better. But time would run out in 6 months, and you didn’t want to face the truth of him rejecting his child. You wouldn’t be able to bear it.

You reach his office, where he talks to Peter B. and Jess about past missions. The three turn when they notice your presence.

“Y/n! It’s been so long! You’ve barely been to HQ this past month!” Said Peter as he went to hug you. You quickly give him a side hug so he wouldn’t find out your little secret. Peter gave you a confused look at your gesture but decided to ignore it.

Your gaze shifts to Miguel as he looks back at you. He’s barely seen you this month. Longer even.

“Jess, Peter. Is it ok if I talk privately with Miguel for a few minutes?” Your serious tone makes the two briefly look at Miguel and back at you before leaving his office.

Miguel walks up to you and places his hands around your waist.

“Is everything alright, cariño?” His gaze turned serious when you didn’t wrap your arms around him like you used to. Bile felt like it was threatening to come out of your throat. Not from the pregnancy. But what you were dreading telling him the past few days.

“I’m quitting Spider Society.” His eyes widened slightly before worry and confusion replaced them.

“What for?”

“Other life commitments need my attention back in my universe.”

“Like what?” He pushed you to tell him.

“Just other things.” You can see hurt in his eyes by your answer.

“You don’t have to quit. You can take a break if you need it.” He suggested.

“No, I’m sure of my decision.”

“Fine. But we’ll talk about it later. I don’t think you should quit. You’re an amazing Spiderwoman. I’ll come over after work with some food.” He wasn’t happy about your answer, but he let it slide.

“Miguel…” His heart dropped when you moved out of his arms.

“I have loved every second we’ve spent together…”

“Y/n?” You held up your hand to stop him from talking to let you finish. Tears began to threaten to spill out.

“But our lives are starting to go in different directions. I think we should stop seeing each other.” Tears spilled down your cheeks as you saw how hurt he looked. You felt terrible.

“Mi amor…” He tries to caress your cheek, but you move your face away, breaking him further.

“It’s for the best, Miguel. I hope you find someone who brings you happiness and love.” You turn away from him. But he grabs you by the arm and pulls you into an embrace. He kisses gently up your neck.

“You brought me that. I’ve never been happier in my life when I’m with you. Please don’t leave me.”

You wanted to melt into his arms and forget everything you said. But you couldn’t let your guard down. Removing his arms from your waist, you walk away from him. You turn to look at him one more time.

“Goodbye, Miguel.”

Tears fall onto your computer as you relive those memories. Even after five years, the look in his eyes broke you. Your heart still aches for him. There were times when you thought of reaching out. But you remembered he never came to your universe to fight for you both. To say he wouldn’t accept you breaking up with him.

You knew you told him it was over. But you still hoped he would run after you. Looking at the time on your computer, you realize you need to pick up Mateo.

You wipe your tears before grabbing your wallet, phone, and keys. As you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. Your spider-sense was going off, which you didn’t know why.

Slowly you open the door. The air from your lungs briefly left you as you dropped everything in your hand.

“Miguel?”

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it.🥰

[flowerakatsuka]

.*🍀 KUROKARA LORE [ 01 ] — rainy day reunion. 🌹*.

after putting off finishing the art and writing for this post, i finally dump the first major bit of kurokara lore on ya'll — their " first " meeting! i also wanted to include the song i imagine being the bgm for this lore event so please enjoy while you read the post. :3c

SO, i imagine this taking place during the first half of season 2 ( probably around episode 5 since rainy season is during summer in japan. )

their meeting happens one day in june, when karamatsu had decided to make the most of the ( at the time ) sunny weather and gallivant around akatsuka. the previous night hadn’t been the best — with osomatsu eating the pudding he had saved for later, being forced to buy the rest of his brothers snacks when he went to go replace it, and then getting splashed by a car going through a rain puddle on the way back from the konbini. but it was a new day, surely it will be kinder to him with how beautiful the weather was!

well, it seemed like kara’s bad luck from the previous day had decided to linger. everything he had decided to do to enjoy himself that day was not going in his favor ; totoko had already left home to go on a date when he tried to visit, catching only tiny cans and broken sunglasses at the fishing hole, the last croquette being sold to the previous customer. he even tripped and fell in front of the girls he was attempting to flirt with. at this point, he was really starting to wonder if he was cursed or something, but quickly picked himself back up and tried to reassure himself. there was no way this day could get worse, after all.

yeah, it definitely could.

meanwhile, kuroba had just managed to bring in the last of the store’s outside decorations before the rain really started to come down. thankfully, they were lucky enough to spot the accumulating storm clouds early and act accordingly. still, it was strange how suddenly it started raining when there wasn’t anything about it in the weather report that morning. sure, it was rainy season, but the rain really came out of nowhere. before they could get too lost in their pondering about weird weather patterns, they spotted someone walking through the ongoing downpour with nothing to protect them from the rain.

karamatsu was trudging through the rain on his way back home, having already resigned himself to whatever divine punishment he had brought on. it took him a moment to notice the shadow that had overtaken him and blocked the rain, only really coming to when a concerned voice called out to him.

kuroba handed him a towel to draw himself off with and suggested he wait out the rain in their shop ; walking around in rain like that wouldn’t be doing himself any favors, after all. taking them up on their offer, they let karamatsu in and excused themself into the back for a moment. while wandering around the shop, he wondered why he hadn’t remembered there was another flower shop in akatsuka... Until he recognized the shop’s name : yotsubana florals.

he definitely remembered passing by there in the past and being greeted by the kind granny that ran it before. kuroba overheard him wondering aloud if they had sold the shop and cleared some things up for him. they’re actually the previous owners’ grandchild, having taken over the store’s ownership and daily operations not too long ago after their grandmother’s passing and grandfather’s ( forced ) retirement. with things clarified, they directed karamatsu to a spot in the shop where he could relax while he waits out the rain and handed him a cup of tea to help warm him up.

much to his delight, it ended up being his favorite.

kuroba struck up a conversation with karamatsu while they continued their work and the two hit it off pretty quickly. their chat bounced from topic to topic and, in spite of him lulling back into his usual casanova shtick, they both seemed to have plenty of fun talking with each other. so much so that karamatsu hadn’t realized how much time had passed when he noticed that the rain was starting to let up.

he decided that it’d be best for him to head out despite there still being light rain, which kuroba had some objections to.

after being told to be careful and sent off with a wave goodbye, karamatsu started to head back home. he couldn’t help but wonder if his luck was starting to turn around while looking at the clover-patterned umbrella.

a week or two passes after that and it’s rained a few more times since then. unfortunately for kuroba, their umbrella still hadn’t been returned yet. it was a shame, they’ve had that umbrella for a long time, ( and they were being genuine when they said they’d like to chat more with the person they helped, ) but there wasn’t much that could be done about it. at least, there was a bit of reprieve from the frequent rain that day.

just as they had finally resigned themself to getting a new umbrella, the shop’s door opened with a jingle and a familiar face entered with much more bravado than he had before. karamatsu was ready to put on the best casanova act he’s got, this could be the first beautiful chapter of his own sweeping love story, after all. he explained that a mild fever had kept him from coming back sooner, but assured kuroba that it wasn’t a result of the other day by going “ it seems not everyone shares your stunning kindness, “ and leaves it at that. ( really, he tried seeing if he could get something like his meeting with kuroba to happen again by standing out in the rain with. obviously poor results. )

while he came to return kuroba’s umbrella, he also hoped to return the kindness of his ✨ rainy day savior ✨ and, well, what’s a better way to show that than by showing patronage.

yeah, he really didn’t think that all the way through. karamatsu quickly perks back up when they tell him they were just teasing and would be happy to make up a bouquet for him, especially if he’s willing to stay and chat…

AND THAT’S ALL I’VE GOT! sorry that this took me forever to finish, so many different things kept on getting in the way. but i’m really happy to have some more kurokara lore out now, i’m hoping i can get some more out soon. >;3c

[marigold-hills]

Precious Things (Part 5)

a Remus Lupin Yuletide Miracle

Day Five: Boxing | @wolfstarmicrofic

488 words

PART 1 | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

*🎄🎄🎄*

What are your thoughts on mistletoe?

Throughout the Sunday Remus looks at the words. At the delicate lines of the t’s and the sharp edges of r’s. He memorises them, quite without intending to.

Because:

Perfectly matched, he thinks and wonders what it means. Is this, somehow, beyond reason and logic, Remus’ person? A commercially approved approximation of a soulmate, as far as such a thing could exist?

Remus felt the magic happen. Felt it in his spine and in his head equally, like it was testing the both of him: body and mind.

But - he argues with himself - but. All he knows is that he felt something. Some patented hidden unexplained thing. It could very well just be for show, something to explain the staggering price tag, something to boost sales.

Or - he approaches it from another angle yet - even if it is correct, how many of these sets could have possibly been sold? Not enough, Remus doesn’t believe, to be able to make boasts of matches of such a perfect calibre. Remus doesn’t think himself particularly special, but if finding his perfect person was that easy, surely he would have had some luck with it already.

Surely he would have found someone already.

So he goes back to the words, again and again, as he makes tea and doesn’t focus on the books he wanted to read.

(Surely, he thinks, if there was someone he needed, and who needed him in return, they would have found each other before.)

He doesn’t have extensive thoughts on mistletoe, never in a position which would have prompted him to develop them. He can’t decipher how the message is meant to come across. Flirtatious? Funny? Or is the person on the other side of the enchanted Quill (and ink and paper) really trying to get his thoughts on the aspect of it as a parasitic tree-killer?

Finally, Remus caves. In between boxing up his autumn decorations and unboxing the winter, sticking charmed snowflakes to the living room curtains and a wreath of holly and berries up on his door, he touches the writing.

From then, it just… happens. He doesn’t mean to pick up the Quill, nor dip it in the ink, nor mark the lines-letters-words on the page. He can feel the words on paper like they’d have been written into the pads of his skin, and something takes over the cowardice and writes back.

(Later, once he’s removed from the moment, he’ll tell himself he wrote back to be able to tell Aberforth he did. So he wouldn’t have to admit to being scared of a line on paper, or silly enough to believe a sales pitch. For now he thinks nothing, feels nothing but anxious excitement pulling somewhere at his navel, like a jolt of energy too rapid to contain. A spark.)

Are you being forward or do you really want to discuss botany with a stranger?

*🎄🎄🎄*

NEXT PART

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in new parts as they come out!

@dead-gay-wizard-poet

@hoje--aqui

@prancingpony42

[nightcolorz]

Prompt: for whatever reason (cursed object, vengeful witch, wrong wish to a djin, whatever) Armand is human and his memories are only until the point where he got the mortal wound

He doesn't remember ever being a vampire, now he is in a strange place where strange magical things are everywhere (the elevator, the TV, cars, the blender...) and he doesn't know how he got here, doesn't recognise the strange old looking man nor does he understand his language but it is clear to him that he is like the Master

He is confused and scared but the man who is like the Master seems kind and he looks at him with love on his lilac eyes, he is very confused when the man doesn't respond to his advances and fears he'll be put out in the streets to fend for himself in this strange land so he tries extra hard to seduce the stranger

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT I NEED THIS FIC!!!

I loooveee fic concepts like this. Human Armand (Amadeo) is also like, so much of a different character than *The Vampire Armand*. Armand is incredibly resigned and self victimizing and weak willed, and Amadeo is a bad bitch who takes no shit. This little shit mocks the millennia yr old vampire to his face while he actively is beating the shit out of him + could rlly kill him, throws an ax through said millennia yr old vampires door cuz he’s been a dick to him, tells the performers at the party that Marius is killing people at to play funeral music as he dances around them, is a super athletic actually and a very skilled swordsman who won in a fencing battle against his violent ex to save his brothers (Assad zamans impressive pecks r character accurate believe it or not), responds to sexual harassment and rape threats by laughing in their faces, etc etc I could go on. My point is, I think it would be such a fun and interesting ride for Daniel to meet Amadeo, an armand who was still incredibly traumatized but hadn’t yet had his strength and agency cult indoctrinated out of him.

what’s interesting too is that Amadeo has experience with being thrust into a strange technologically advanced world full of perceived magic and devils work, that’s how he thought of Venice when he was sold there, and I think he would be able to adapt to it unusually well considering his situation. I could see an Amadeo equivalent of Armand’s technology explorations and blender experiments happening 100%. And he would 1000%% attach himself to Daniel and get weird and panicky over it. The idea of him trying to seduce Daniel to get himself security and failing bcus Daniel doesnt want to have sex with someone in such a vulnerable position and neither of them r either to communicate their perspective is heartbreaking 😭 but so character accurate. I imagine Amadeo would be confused by Daniel is refusing his offer of sex but still taking care of him and offering him shelter. He’s probably anxious as hell waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sooooo much potential here!!! Anon I rlly hope u write this cuz omg!!