#could you rent systems back in the day in the US

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[prettyboykatsuki]

you start living with isagi out of convenience.

you're a long-time friend, someone he's know since he was a preteen and remained incredibly close to years later. you were worried about where you were going to live after college, having finally aged out of the dorm systems.

isagi offers his other room up immediately, though he knows you'll try to refuse. reason being he's barely at home to begin with and it's sort of feeling like a waste for him to own his place when it's a little more like a glorified closet. you've co-habitated before on trips and you're good room mates.

you hesitate at first and enforce that you're still going to pay rent which isagi absolutely refuses. after a while of bickering though, he convinces you to live with him after you compromise on you taking care of some household expenses and bills.

after a lot of hooplah, you move into isagis guest room. he encourages you to treat it like your own since his house barely gets any use and honestly it's nice living with you. your room is across from his and some days your schedules align and you can eat breakfast and hang out. isagis never lived by himself so he likes having you as a roomate.

its fine mostly. isagi isn't super conscious of you until he starts to understand your routine. when you wake up, when you sleep, what times you eat.

it's not until he puts the pieces together one day. how he hears you shuffling in the middle of the night, well past when you're supposed to be asleep. when you go into the bathroom and turn the faucet on but don't flush. it occurs to him that you're probably...

he tests it out one night. waits for you to leave the bathroom before meeting you in the hallway. sometimes he wishes he never did because seeing you makes it so clear.

flushed face, sheen skin, an obvious post orgasm haze. you seem startled by isagis presence but then get over it quickly when he sees you.

"what you're up for?" you ask because isagi is nearly always asleep through the night. he could ask you the same.

"had some tea before bed. just need to pee."

"oh," you rub your eyes and isagi is self conscious of your hands. where they've been and what they've been doing. your fingers are just barely pruned. "okay. sleep tight then,"

"uh-huh,"

you disappear into your bedroom again before isagi shuts himself into the bathroom - fumbling with the lights as his back hits the door. he looks down between his legs, warm flush crawling up his neck and turning him red and the very obvious erection swelling up against his sweats.

shit.

[foone]

Do you ever get the almost-writers-block feeling where your brain gives you an idea but then completely deserts you when it comes to actually fleshing it out or writing a story with it?

Mine came up with "a future where people subscribe to patreons for body models, which they then can wear"

So like you would pay 5$ a month and now you have the body of the person you subscribed to.

And all I can think of is some complications:

* if you stop subscribing or they end their patreon, you're out a body. You gotta find another one, fast. Your clothes might not fit anymore! You bought them for that body!

* the person who actually owns the body has to maintain it, as any changes will be reflected on all their patrons. Get a tattoo? Now hundreds or thousands of people have the same one. Dye your hair? I hope everyone likes being blonde! You'd probably have, like, polls for this sort of thing. Monetized Democratic body choices.

* what if they get hit by a car? A thousand people suddenly break their legs at once?

* licensing differences for bodies. Like, plenty of body patreons to have a "no doing porn" clause (because it'd be visually identical to the owner doing it), but some restrictive ones have "no having sex" (or "no having straight sex", in one notible example)

* you can subscribe to multiple body patreons and swap between which one you use on a daily basis

* pirated bodies on the darkweb

* police trying to solve crimes when the face that shows up on the cameras isn't the perp, it's some instagram model from Atlanta.

* society gets even weirder about fat shaming because anyone can wear the body of a person who weighs less than a sack of flour. Men on social media saying you gotta get her to show you childhood pictures so you can figure out if she's "really" fat.

* "we'd talked a lot online and she seemed really nice and we had great chemistry but when we finally met up, it turns out she always wears the Caitlin body!" "oh no, isn't that what your ex wore?" "exactly! And you know I've still got trauma from everything she put me through..."

* lotta young trans people figure some things out really quick. Forget "trying out crossdressing in secret" or "asking if people can use different pronouns on discord", how about trying having a different gender's body for a day?

* weird hackers trying to figure out how to modify the body-rental system so they can be dragons or elves. Speaking of which,

* people with body modifications to make themselves look less human being very popular. You can be an elf, thanks to that guy in Bowling Green, Florida who got the surgery to make his ears pointy. Apparently it paid for itself within 6 months.

* body reviews. People try out bodies and review how they are in looks and flexibility and stamina and any random aches and pains they might have.

* imagine reading one for your body. Someone walked a mile in your feet and gave a review of how your body looks and feels.

* weird couples who both wear the same body. Worse, polycules. They get together for a big cuddlepile and it's just 7 of the same body, and it gets difficult to tell where one begins and another ends.

* getting a bunch of information when you rent a new body, so you can know how it works and any odd things you gotta watch out for. Plus makeup tutorials and such, to know how to look exactly like how that body looked in certain photos

* everyone goes back to passwords on their phone. Fingerprints and facial recognition are no good, since someone could just rent the same body and now they have the same fingerprints and face.

* a subculture of disabled people who rent specific bodies not for their looks so much as their painless functionality. One of the most rented bodies amongst them is a woman from Minnesota who is definitely no model, but she's a 26 year old with no aches and pains and body that has plenty of energy and flexibility.

* oh so much drama about if it's ethical to rent bodies from other races. Predictable scandals where it turns out some musician or TikTok star is a white guy, despite their appearance as someone non-white. People get a lot madder at the white people wearing blackbody than the ones wearing asianbody, for reasons.

* a little post-it note inside a Starbucks where the customers can't see it, counting how many of a given body they've had in that morning. Someone named Stephan had 12 tally marks, and Lauren has 8. It's only 9:32 am.

Anyway yeah I have writer's block and can't do anything with this concept. Clearly.

[watchmegetobsessed]

WING IT

A/N: we are slowly getting more content, lets just hope something drops soon!

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: It's your first day working in Selma's Home, you're nervous enough already, but when an emergency calls your boss away and you're left alone, the situation is topped when famous CEO Harry Styles casually strolls in.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It doesn’t matter that this job is just an in-between. Something that earns you money until your dream position opens. A first day is always stressful, especially when you have no idea what to do.

You were applying to dozens of jobs at once, just shooting everywhere you could, hoping to get an answer back before your rent was due. Selma’s Home was the first one to invite you for an interview and somehow, miraculously you even got the job despite the fact that you have no experience in retail. You suspect that desperation was a big factor in your hiring, because Selma lost 2 of her employees at once when the young couple that was working for her moved across the country. 

Now here you are, walking into the store, nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you head down the aisles where you see Selma behind the cash register already getting ready to open.

“Hi!” you greet her, her head snapping up at your weak voice. Selma is such a fierce, kind of intimidating woman, but you can see how it helped her to open this store and make it one of the most successful home decor stores in the city, offering tasteful stylish pieces along with practical utility items for one’s home. 

“Oh, hi! Welcome to your first day, you ready?” She even cracks a smile, but somehow it just makes you gulp hard.

“Yeah, readier than ever!” you manage to squeeze out a nervous chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense your jitters.

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

With an hour until opening Selma is eager to squeeze in as much information into it as possible. She walks you through the store, talking about the most important items, but also handing you a handbook about everything that’s currently selling in the store.

“Use your downtime to roam around and you’ll learn them by the end of the week without the handbook,” she says, eyes running over the shelves as she is talking, already moving to the storage room in the back. 

She talks about the system, how to unload the new arrivals every two weeks and then you move on to the cash register, aka your biggest fear. It’s quite the stress factor to deal with money, making sure everything is neat and correct, you can only hope you won’t mess it all up.

Then the store opens and you follow around Selma to learn the ropes. What’s different here is that whenever a customer comes in you offer them help right away and if needed, you assist them throughout their whole time shopping. There are quite some designer products selling and you’ll need to know everything about them to be able to sell them to the customers just like Selma does.

She is so good at it. No matter who comes in, she so effortlessly talks them into leaving with not only what they came for, but some more as well. She is enchanting, nice, open and warm and you just keep taking notes mentally, though you don’t feel confident enough to be as charming as she can be the moment the bell rings above the door. 

When lunch rolls around you allow yourself to feel relieved for a second that you survived half the day already. Selma sends you to the back to have your lunch and you just sit in silence, staring ahead of you, mustering up all your energy for the rest of the workday. You’ve just finished your sandwich when Selma barges into the breakroom.

“Y/N, there’s a bit of an emergency.”

You jump to your feet, scenarios already running through your mind. Is there a fire? Did the storefront just collapse? Someone stole those hella expensive Japanese tablecloths? 

“What happened?”

“My daughter, she is ugh! Such a menace, she got into trouble at school, so I have to go there. I need you to cover for a bit, just an hour tops, I swear!” 

She is already grabbing her purse, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, car keys in hand while you just stand there dumbfounded. Is she actually gonna leave you alone in the store on your first day?

“Selma, I-I don’t…”

“You do, Honey. Just an hour. This is a dead time anyway, if anyone comes in, just try your best to help them and ring them up at the end. Easy, I know you can do it!”

She is storming out and you follow her like a lost puppy.

“B-But what if I mess something up?” you ask, panic setting in. 

“As long as you don’t set the store on fire, you’ll be fine. I trust you, Y/N!”

And with that, she is already gone, the bell rings above the door as you stand there like a statue. 

You watch the storefront in pure panic, your stomach dropping every time it seems like someone is approaching the shop, but no one comes in. 

Until the bell rings above the door. 

For a split second you hope it’s Selma, but looking up you see a tall, broad figure and your heart threatens to burst right out of your anxiety filled chest, at first because hello! It’s a customer! But then as he steps further into the shop and takes off his sunglasses, realization settles in. 

This is not just a regular customer, this is Harry Fucking Styles, CEO of Pleasing Productions, the studio that’s given the world the absolute best romantic movies in the past decades and the man is famously known for being a ladies favorite, but appearing as a total mystery in the media. 

You’ve read about him a lot before, it’s hard not to bump into his name online, thanks to his looks he is always somehow in talk for either having dinner with a model, appearing on the red carpet looking like a fucking snack, or, your personaly favorite, declining giving an answer to a question regarding his private life. 

And now he is standing there, looking around the store. 

It takes a couple of moments for you to push out of this frozen state and finally step forward.

“Hello!”

Wow. Did your voice actually sound like that?

Clearing your throat you keep moving towards him.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

You try to rake your mind to remember everything you’ve seen and heard from Selma to use now, but the moment he looks up, your mind goes blank. He is just as beautiful as he looks in pictures or maybe even more. Unlike on those red carpet photos where he is always dressed in designer suits, now he is wearing a pair of simple pants and a gray long sleeve, his hair is a bit tousled and it appears he is growing his beard out, a bit shaggy, but he makes it look very… hot. That’s all you can say looking at him.

“Oh, hey!” He is sporting a polite smile as he looks up, about to keep talking, but he stops for a moment upon looking at you and he stops.

Everything stops. 

It’s as if he is taking you in, you can feel your cheeks heating up, the nervous fidgeting starts again, but you hide your hands behind your back so he doesn’t notice. 

“I’m looking for some kitchen stuff,” he then says, hiding his hands in his pockets. 

“Great!” you breathe out. “We do have… those.”

You flinch internally, but ignore just how awkward you are in his presence. 

You ask him about what he needs specifically as the two of you start walking down the isles and for a moment you think of grabbing the handbook, but that would look awful, so you make a decision on the spot.

You’re gonna just wing it. 

What could go wrong? You’ll just pretend like you’re Selma, confident and know everything about the items, you’re gonna say whatever comes to your mind and just… wing it. 

All while ignoring how attractive this man is up close. And intimidating. And charming. And…

“I think I want to check out the coffee stuff first,” he suggests and nodding you walk him over to the kitchen items.

“Do you have a coffee machine and you’re looking for some accessories, or…”

“I just got one of those old fashioned moka coffee pots,” he says with a boyish smile. “But I want to get that to the next level, if you know what I mean.” You do not.

“Of course,” you smile, eyes scanning over the shelves. 

Your grandmother has one of those old moka coffee makers, but you have absolutely no idea what else could be used for those, so you just start grabbing things and making up what they are used for. 

One after the other, you just keep showing him stuff with no idea what you’re talking about, but the longer you’re talking the more confident you’re growing, especially when he just keeps nodding and humming along to anything you say. 

“So… which one are you more interested in?” you ask at the end of your little speech. You look at him and find him already looking at you with a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth. 

“What can you tell me about those?” he asks, ignoring your question and just moving to another shelf. 

He keeps asking about items and you just make up everything as you go. Of course, you know some of the stuff, but you were never really a true chef in the kitchen, so there are way too many items you don’t know that much, but somehow, you’ve gathered enough confidence that even you believe what you say. 

Slowly, Harry fills his basket as you move through the store and every time you look at him you catch him already looking at you with the same smile you can’t quite decipher. 

“What about those?” he points up at a set of plates on the top shelf.

“Oh, those are so pretty! Let me show you them!” you enthuse and run to grab the ladder from the back. 

It’s not the steadiest tool for sure, but you ignore the wobble you feel when you start climbing it.

“Are you sure it’s–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you chuckle, reaching the top step, but your knees are definitely shaking. You focus on grabbing the plates and getting off as fast as possible, but right when you take them off the shelf you already feel yourself losing balance. 

But Harry is quick to come to your rescue. One of his hands grabs the ladder to steady it and the other… the other one grabs the back of your thigh to help you hold yourself up. Until then you were shaking because of the ladder, but now it’s definitely because of his firm hold on you, the warmth of his touch and the thoughts that unrelease when you realize just how perfectly his fingers are digging into your flesh. 

“You good?” he asks in a deep, husky voice. 

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than just a whisper as you hold onto the plates as if they could hold you up. 

You start moving down on the ladder, but Harry’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it works up on your hips and waist, grabbing onto your elbow as you finally step onto the ground and even then, he is still touching you, his eyes locked on yours as you’re still holding those damn plates. The image of dropping them and pushing up against him flashes through your mind and your knees wobble again when you catch his gaze flickering down to your lips for a second. 

“The plates,” you blurt out then. He looks down and a smile stretches across his face.

“They really are pretty.”

“Right?” you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Now that you risked your life for them, I guess it’s only fair if I actually buy them.”

Fuck, your heart is about to jump right out of your chest, how is he so smooth?

You gather a few more things and then move to the cash register to ring everything up. 

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, patiently waiting for you to finish. 

“Um… Do you want the truth?” you ask, with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah.”

“This is my first day,” you admit, just as you finish the scanning and when you look at the amount it all added up to, you almost choke on your own saliva. “Um, your total is 1630.”

For a moment you think he’ll question how it’s so much, but without hesitation he whips out his card and taps it on the terminal.

“First day, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed?”

“Oh, I kind of did,” he chuckles and he starts to help you with putting everything away in bags. “You really should learn what the items are used for.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed that he noticed how much you just made up, but the smile he is gifting you with vanishes all negative feelings and you can actually find it funny. 

“I will.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” he smirks, grabbing the bags from the counter. “And if I happen to leave a review about the excellent service, what name should I drop?” 

“I’m Y/N,” you say with a sheepish smile. He then sticks his hand out and you take it.

“Harry. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

With a final wave he turns around, slides his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose and then walks out of the store. You stand there completely overwhelmed by the experience and you have no idea how much time passes by before Selma barges through the door.

“Hi Darling! How did everything go?” she beams, walking up to the counter where you’re still standing. 

“Great!”

“Did anyone come in?” 

“Yeah. Harry Styles was just here.” Selma freezes for a moment before looking up at you.

“Harry Styles? As in…”

“Yeah. That Harry Styles.”

“How did it go? Did he buy anything?”

“He spent 1600 dollars on kitchen stuff.”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Selma claps her hands. “Was he satisfied? Could you help him?”

“I think I could,” you say with a knowing smile. “He seemed… satisfied, yeah.”

The first day jitters are luckily gone by the next day, especially because Selma looked at you with so much pride after you told her about your encounter with Harry that you feel like you can’t do anything wrong. 

Before lunch Selma asks you to rearrange some stuff in the storage and you’re a bit relieved you don’t have to take any customers for now.

But because of that, you’re not out when one specific person walks into the shop. Again. 

Harry enters the store confidently, a smile already on his lips as he looks in the direction of the cash register, but it fades when he only sees Selma, but no sight of you. Selma, on the other hand, becomes ecstatic when she sees and recognizes him.

“Welcome! How may I help you?” she chirps, walking towards Harry, who is still looking around, eyes searching for you. 

“Hey, is the… Is the woman who worked yesterday here? Y/N?” Selma stops, surprised.

“Y/N? Uh, yes, but she is busy now, I’m sure I can help you–”

“I want her,” he states.

“She is still training, I’m sure I can–”

“Look,” Harry sighs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Selma, the owner,” she states proudly.

“Selma, I’m more than happy to buy everything in this store if it means I get to talk to her. How does that sound?”

Selma stares back at him, finally understanding the situation. Her stance changes instantly.

“Let me go get her for you.”

You’re going over your list in the back when Selma appears, her spotless appearance feels odd in the storage room’s setting. 

“Oh, hey! I just finished with–”

“I need you outside.”

“What? Why?” Panic washes over you, because you can’t read her face and what could she possibly need you for outside on your second day?

“Just come. Now!” She turns around and heads out, not even checking if you’re following her. Of course you do.

“Selma, what did I–” you start mumbling behind her, but just when you step out and spot Harry at the cash register.

His face lights up the moment he sees you and those damn butterflies start raging in your stomach. 

“Harry, you’re here. Again,” you state the obvious. 

“I am,” he chuckles and you see Selma walk away from the corner of your eyes. 

“How, um–What can I… help you with?” you ask, clearing your throat. Why is he here? Could it be… because of you? Yesterday you definitely spent an awful lot of time daydreaming of the way he was touching you on that ladder and you’d be lying if you said you felt disappointed he just walked out, knowing you might never see him again. 

Well, so much for that.

“I forgot to get something yesterday.” 

“Oh,” is all you can say, the disappointment snaking back into your gut. He is not here because of you, how could you even think about that?

Harry’s smile widens as he watches your face drop and then he finally continues.

“Your number.”

Your eyes widen and you must look quite funny, because Harry chuckles at the sight of your expression. 

“Was this too straight forward?”

“No!” you snap right away, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Not at all.”

“Great, then…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over, you type your number in quickly and hand it over. He taps on the screen and a second later your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Just checking you didn’t give me a pizzeria’s number,” he jokes, making you laugh. “And… now that I’m conveniently here, maybe you can show me some more stuff.”

“What do you need?” you ask as the two of you head down one of the aisles. 

“Hmm, how long is your shift?”

“Um, another four hours,” you scoff.

“Then I guess I’m interested in everything. Whatever takes four hours to look at so I can take you out once you’re done.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[hiraethwa]

purposefully

for ellie @nekozaki <3, hope you enjoy it! i took some liberations with your wishes (part of the hq x reader secret santa exchange by @lale-txt) pairing: miya atsumu x reader cw: hurt/comfort, cursing, atsumu is careless with your feelings, mutual pining, confession wc: 2k

miya atsumu, starting setter of the star-studded msby black jackals lineup, is gifted with looks and charms of a god, graced with sculpted features and a chiseled jawline, his body honed through years of training and experience. 

you don’t doubt for a second that his physique is what draws men and women to him alike, and to be fair, he could be so unbelievably charming when he wants to be. but when it comes to you, his dear roommate, he is so damn infuriating, driving you up the wall with every little thing he does. 

there’s always a clever quip from atsumu awaiting you, as if he could not bear not having the last word, or a teasing remark when you do anything nice for him, a “did you fall in love with me?” or “your loverboy would be jealous if he knows about this” that you have learnt to ignore, not giving him the satisfaction of your reaction. 

every time it irks you, hanging him out to dry for the next day or two, until your forgetfulness comes creeping in, and the vicious cycle repeats itself all over again. 

if you had a choice, you would not have moved in with him to start with, but you were in a rough financial situation, and osamu had offered you a solution—cheap rent and nice apartment with a catch—having his annoying twin brother as a housemate.

you had taken it, since it was miles better than moving to a rundown apartment with a shoddy heating system and questionable neighbors. 

atsumu had been nice and courteous in the beginning, helping osamu move you into the apartment and making sure you had everything you needed to feel at home, to the point where you were confused as to what osamu meant when he called his brother an insufferable idiot. 

it had gone swimmingly, with the two of you getting along almost scarily well as housemates, leaving osamu in disbelief when he shows up at your apartment unannounced to find you two huddled together in front of the tv watching horror films when you both hated them. 

he finds you making dinner in the kitchen the second time with atsumu obediently following your orders, and finds it hilarious that he is trying so hard to comply with your instructions when his twin is a hopeless mess when it comes to cooking. osamu bursts out laughing, and atsumu ending up chasing his twin who is dying of laughter in circles until you snap at them both.

the third time he stumbles into the apartment with extra food he ended up making, only to witness you argue with atsumu whether your coworker was flirting with you, an unreadable expression on his twin’s face. osamu just interrupts the argument with a knowing smile, peace offering held up in his hand.

that was one of the last times you hung out with atsumu, before something in him changed, as if a switch had flipped in him, taking the miya atsumu you knew and fell for away, leaving you with a cocky and provocative atsumu—the one that osamu had tried to warn you about.

it was a hell of an adjustment, getting used to this current atsumu who returned to serial dating and bringing his dates back to the apartment with its thin walls, awkwardly interacting with the ones who wander into the kitchen in his clothes in the morning, the sight of them torturing you more than the sounds at night did, reminding you of a time when it was you in his hoodies and sweaters.  

worst of all, atsumu did not seem like he felt bad in the slightest about bringing his various one night stands home, not failing to greet you every day with his charming lopsided smile and a ‘morning, sweetheart’, which had grown to be maddening.

there wasn’t any sign of things between you going south, the friendship you had formed with him going down the drain. you didn’t understand it, whatever made him change so drastically without any warning, and it drives you insane.

because miya atsumu is insufferable, and you just happen to be hopelessly in love with him.

because there was a time when you were close, with inside jokes that even osamu was not apart of, late night talks at 2am about your hopes and dreams and everything in between, not so secret glances thrown between you. a time when you believed for a moment that atsumu, despite his well known playboy persona, might have felt the same way towards you.

because in those short months when everything went right, you had truly seen miya atsumu, beheld him in all of his fame and glory, that facade of swagger and charm, and past it to see the sweet man underneath. 

but atsumu has always had a short temper, and the same holds true tonight, as the brawl unfolds before your eyes in slow motion. his arm unfurls, muscles rippling with force as his fist makes impact with the other man’s cheek, sending him backwards into the crowd. 

he grabs ahold of the man’s collar, barely restrained anger fueling his punches into his face, leaving it a bloody mess.

“miya!” the shrill scream that leaves your lips is unrecognizable, as your body moves on its own, struggling to hold his arm back with everything you have. osamu jumps into the fray, forcefully separating the two of them. 

this is bad. it looks bad, especially on atsumu’s part, as if he had assaulted the poor guy without reason. 

“get atsumu out of here, we will deal with the rest,” osamu tells you, and you could only nod, wide-eyed and in shock at the events that just unfolded. 

thankfully, atsumu does not protest as you tug him away from the crowd, escaping the club and returning to the comfort of your home. 

he barely registers the change in scenery from the dimly lit club to the bright city lights illuminating your way home, eyes focused on you, all determined and purposeful, your hand wrapped tight around his, as if you were afraid that you might lose him in the christmas crowd. 

he wonders if you knew the reason he had lost his temper back there, if you heard the unsavory words that the guy said about you.

the dull throb in his right knuckles goes ignored as he allows you to pull him along, into the train station, onto the line that brings you home, just a mere twenty minute ride from here. 

he does not speak, afraid of breaking the fragile silence, a temporary unspoken truce. 

the buildings fly by outside the train as you rest your head against the glass, staring out into the distance. the lump in his throat stays with him, involuntarily and fully aware of where your skin still touches his skin, the contact searing hot against his wrist. 

he swallows, wishing to run away and stay here with you forever, all at the same time. 

you drag him onwards, out of the train, out into the fresh air of the cool night, the skies stretching above you, reminiscent of the feeling within him that expands and expands with no end in sight, that spiraled out of his control, scaring him to death. 

love. it scares him. the relatively unfamiliar concept of caring about someone out of choice, unlike his brotherly love for osamu that was forged on the basis of familial ties, or his love towards his parents ever since he could remember.

you scare him—the worry in your dark eyes as you notice the split skin on his knuckles, scolding him for his rashness, pulling the first aid kit out. the tenderness in your hands as you carefully dab antiseptic ointment on the raw skin with a cotton ball, asking him if it hurts.

why, why do you bother?

the words die in his throat as he feels a prickling sensation behind his eyes. he shakes his head at your question, hoping to blink the feeling away, before the tears well up.

why do you still bother, after how awful he is to you?

but then you pull away, leaving him cold without your touch on his skin, shooting him a small smile and asking if he wanted a snack.

“why do you still bother? you don’t have to be nice to me just because we live together.”

you sigh, a loud exhale through your nostrils, seemingly frustrated with him. “it’s on purpose, you know.”

“what?” he does not understand.

“i’m loving you on purpose.” your hands pause on the cabinets, hesitating on the next words spilling out of your mouth, words that have long smoldered within you. “maybe one day i will stop falling in love with you, but my heart is stubbornly yours tonight.”

silence stretches in the space between you. your traitorous eyes flit over to the blonde whose mouth is agape, staring back at you in surprise and disbelief. 

you chuckle nervously. “what, cat got your smartass tongue? don’t tell me you didn’t see it coming, i thought i was being obvious enough despite my efforts to hide it”

atsumu still appears to be speechless so you forge on, emboldened by how good it feels to get this off your chest after holding it in for so long. 

“i know you don’t feel the same way, so don’t worry about it. i am working on getting over you, i just– i haven’t found a way yet, and my heart still clings on to the atsumu that i fell in love with in the beginning.”

the stubborn thing refuses to let go of the atsumu that you had the privilege of knowing.

“then don’t.” it stutters in your ribcage, confused by his words, his admittance. “because i am a stupid fool, and i–i love you too.”

“it’s not funny, if you are trying to mess with me.” you beg for your heart to still, for hope to delay its flight—you are not sure if you would be able to recover this time if he is fooling around. 

“i am not– fuck. i messed up. i have been a terrible person, sleeping around to try and get over my feelings for you but it’s no excuse.” atsumu kneels before you, sincerity shining in his warm chocolate eyes, offering you the truth, admitting his mistakes. “when i realized that i am in love with you, it scared the shit out of me. i have never felt such immense feelings towards another person in my life before, and so i ran away.”

“i fucked up and i am sorry, but if you will allow it, i will make it up to you, please. just one chance, i will never make you doubt my love for you ever again.”

his touch burns, sets you on fire, as you get on your knees before him, holding his hands tight, as your heart soars, despite the hurt that he inflicted on you unknowingly. “one chance, that’s all you get.”

his lips spread into a large grin as he tackles you to the ground in a hug, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans down, lips ghosting over your skin. “does that mean i can finally do this–”

you beat him to the kiss, pulling on his neck and joining your lips before he could finish his sentence. you smile into it, feeling satisfaction from his surprise and even more when he breaks away in incredulity.

“that’s a yes, by the way.” you chortle from your rare successful attempt of shutting atsumu up. he only makes a noise of protest before he reels you back in for another kiss. 

[usagiarchive]

love. — jing yuan x reader.

나의 작은 마음도, 그 안에 작은 파도처럼, 부서지고 밀려와선, 네게 녹아내리고, 그제서야 보이는 나의 영원.

sypnosis. [ 1.1k words. fluff + sfw. ] — the usual weekend trip with your lover turns into an unexpected, but welcome surprise.

usagi's note: àirén - my love (or quite literally the person i love) xīngān - darling, heart, or my humanity

“Are you ready to go?”

You nod as he reaches out to take your hand carry for you, giving him your hand as he lets you step into the starskiff first.

It had been tradition, since the two of you started dating, that every weekend, you would have a date night, every two weeks, a whole day together, doing whatever, as long as you spent it with each other, and every three months, you would go on a weekend trip.

This was established to work around both your busy schedules, with you working as a full time healer in the Alchemy Commission and with him always at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

This weekend, he was the one to choose this time and he decided to take a drive to an island beach four system hours away from the Luofu.

As soon as you took off, your lover made sure you were comfy and okay.

“You should take a nap,” he tells you, “I'll get us there, besides, I know you took Li Meng’s graveyard shift last night,”

The tone of his voice betrays little, but you know he's scolding you for putting others before yourself again.

“I know, I know, her daughter had a fever and no one could take care of Xiao Ying,” you say, snuggling into the soft, fluffy blanket he draped over you the moment you were buckled in.

“Sleep, Àirén,” he leans in to give you a kiss on your forehead, “I'll wake you when we're there,”

He does not wake you up.

Or maybe he did and you didn't get up, because the moment you open your eyes again, you're already settled into the bed of the villa he rented.

You hear him tinkering away with something in a different room, so you get up and look for him.

You find him in the walk in closet fiddling with both your clothes and putting them up in hangers.

Quietly, you sneak up on him and hug him from behind.

You feel him chuckle, “How's your sleep, my love?” he asks as he puts his hand on top of yours and draws circles on it.

“Had a really good nap,” you rasp, “Why didn't you wake me up?”

He detaches and turns around, booping your nose then cradling your face, “I did, you wouldn't wake up, so I carried you in,”

You pull him into a hug again and snuggle his chest, “Mm, okay,”

The two of you stay there for a moment, with him hugging you back, one hand on the small of your back while the other the back of your head.

“How about we go and have dinner, Àirén?” he asks, and when you nod, he pulls back, takes your hand, and leaves a kiss.

“I'll be wearing cream,” you tell him and he smiles, “I know, I packed a matching one,”

You smile back and he gives you a kiss on your forehead, “I'll leave you to get ready then.”

Jing Yuan never skimps out on dinner. Ever.

Especially so when he's with you, which rings true when you then find out that the restaurant he brings you to was one he rented out the entire outdoor deck for the two of you.

Again, as always, he reassures you that it's simply for privacy considering his position as the Luofu Arbiter General, but you know better than that.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile as he gives your intertwined hands a kiss.

The view was wonderful, the outdoor deck overlooked the beach with the orange-pink hued sunset, the breeze was cool, and it was really quiet, save for the crashing of the waves.

“It's beautiful,” you say in awe.

Jing Yuan squeezes your hand, admiring how pretty the sunset reflects on you, “Yes, it truly is beautiful,” he whispers.

The dinner goes as planned, the two of you had wine, ate really good food, then headed back to the villa.

Of course, you didn't forget to update Yanqing on what was happening (the boy worries, okay?) and sent him what he calls a “proof-of-life” picture. Yuan was sure to send him plenty.

Other than that, the night was really peaceful, the two of you snuggled together on the bed, reading books, nothing out of your usual routine.

And as always, Yuan falls asleep first and you have to stifle your cuteness aggression with how he looks. You snap a few photos to Yanqing before telling him to go to bed.

He replies with pictures of paperwork, followed by ‘as soon as i finish this i will >n<’.

You smile and put both your books away before tucking yourself into bed with him, too.

Jing Yuan wakes without you beside him, and for a moment he panics. He's always the first to rise on weekend vacations, or on the off chance that he does not, you wake him to have breakfast together.

His worries were quelled when he sees you outside in your sleepwear, reading a book.

He walks into the closet and pulls out a shawl before getting out to join you.

“It's cold,” he says as he drapes the fabric around you, “I don't want you to get sick,”

You give him a soft smile and sink onto his side as he sits next to you. He wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you close. The two of you sit like that, just watching the ocean wake up as the sun rises.

Suddenly, Jing Yuan says your name and you look up at him.

He pulls away from the hug and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he starts, and immediately your lips part in shock.

“You helped me in the times I was in my lowest, you helped me raise Yanqing, and you've become such an integral part of my life it would be a mistake not to do this,”

He pulls out a simple gold band from his pocket.

“I've spent most of my life with you, and now I want to keep living it with you,”

There were no questions needed to be asked, he knew, and you knew, too.

With a smile and a sigh, you bury your face in his neck and nod, “Yes, I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, too, Xīngān,”

Your now fiancé pulls you back and slips the ring on your finger then cradles your face.

“May I please kiss you?”

You lean forward as your answer.

BONUS:

usagi's note: im so happy i survived omg guys, i only have one presentation left then my finals THEN IM FREE. like our holiday break spans until the 3rd week of january. aaaa r u guys proud of me ?? also i love 'love.' by w2e, i like calm songs and ive always liked calm wedding proposals, i am TOTALLY projecting okay bye!!

@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI.

[starlostastronaut]

SUNSETS AND BUCKET LISTS

han jisung × reader - fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au - 1.8k

summary - spending your last day with your best friend before school should be sad, but this time it took an unexpected turn

cw - use of yn?

links - masterlist

so! i'm almost late but, still made it in time. i guess you could call this ji's bday fic (tho there will be more sunshine twins content coming soon), but most importantly, happy birthday katsy!! ( @catiuskaa ) this one is for you <3333

and shout out to my mars who saved me several times writing this. not proofread and idk what is that ending, but i hope you like it! <3

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Jisung whispered into your ear, his hot breath spilling over your skin, making you shiver and instantly startling you awake. Or mostly awake. Still half asleep, your brain only registered that someone is in very close proximity to you and we do not like that, before your hand tightened on your plushie and you whacked Jisung in the face.

“Ow, what’s that for?” he whined, dramatically holding his palm to the right side of his face. His mischievous grin was replaced by a scowl and he looked at you like you just stole his dog, not simply hit him with a stuffed cat. With your consciousness finally catching up to speed, you realized that it was not an alien coming to abduct you, but it was Han Jisung, your best friend since you were three years old. And he carried the title proudly, always mentioning your sixteen years long friendship to anyone who (did not) care.

“Sorry, Ji, oh my god!” You swiftly rose up on the bed, it was a miracle your head didn't collide with Jisung's as well. “I thought you were, I don't know, a pervert or something.”

“YN,” Jisung sighed. “It's literally just us two and our parents. There's a security system in the house. How would a pervert even get in?”

He was right. Growing up in the same town, just three houses away, your families have known each other very well. It was a tradition that started when you and Jisung were old enough to travel and actually understand a vacation. Your families always rented out the same beach house to spend the last two weeks of summer holiday together.

By now, you knew the place front to back, being able to move around while blinded and you would be just fine. So Jisung was right, but you couldn’t possibly let him have the win so easily.

“I don't know,” you shrugged. “They always find a way?” Jisung gave you an unimpressed look. “Okay, okay. But it's still your fault. You shouldn't have woken me up like a creep.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Jisung rolled his eyes and grabbed your hands, quite literally dragging out of bed and out of the warm comfort of the covers. You hissed and a shiver ran over your skin as your, due to the summer heat barely clothed, body made contact with the cold floor. “Come on, get up, we have so much stuff to do!”

Jisung let go of your hands, bouncing around happily. You shook your head, amazed at the amount of energy he had so early in the morning. Had he eaten just sugar for breakfast?

You slowly stood up, rummaging through the closet for some clothes. “Turn around at least, perv,” you laughed, smacking him over his chest with a shirt. Jisung laughed, but left the room, giving you privacy to change. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you put on the first shorts and shirt you found. It's not like you were going to meet many people so who cares, right? On your way out you grabbed a hoodie too. The summer was in fact nearing its end and the mornings were often chilly. And knowing Jisung, you will have breakfast outside.

As per your prediction, the small outside table was full of food, with Jisung impatiently waiting for you, bouncing his leg and playing with a fork.

After a quick breakfast, Jisung shared his plan for the day. You listen in disbelief, wondering how he wanted to fit all of that into one day. Despite your doubts, you were going to do everything for it to happen though.

This was your last day together. In pursuit of your respective dreams, you and Jisung not only attended different universities, but in different cities too and the distance made it even harder. In order to visit each other, you would have to spend several hours traveling, and that was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You tried, but then a test came up, or a friend's birthday party or Jisung was sick… After three months you gave up trying, resigning to seeing your best friend on Christmas and summer only.

It was hard enough to leave him last year, but you called each other a lot. In the beginning that was. Once you got your bearings and university properly started, you were often so exhausted you fell asleep on the video call. Or didn't call at all, because Jisung forgot to charge his phone in the whirlwind of classes and deadlines.

You never knew it was possible to miss someone so much. Being without Jisung felt like someone was slowly tearing off your limbs. And when you saw him at Christmas, it felt like the puzzle finally found its missing piece. A week later, in your dorm room with friends and soju, some revelations were had, but by the time summer came around, your mind was in a completely different place.

And this time, knowing what kind of year you were up against, letting go of Jisung for another several months suddenly felt impossible. Knowing this shared vacation was coming, both you and Jisung made a list of activities to do and places nearby to visit. But with how excited you both were, you put off checking boxes in favour of lazing around, watching anime, going to the pool and talking for hours.

So there you were, left with a list impossible to complete by the end of today. Yet nothing would deter you from trying.

“I think I'm actually gonna die.” You fell onto your towel, lying motionlessly on the beach. Not even having enough energy to watch the sunset, which you would have taken countless pics of any other day.

By some miracle, you managed to complete Jisung's entire checklist for the day, which left you completely exhausted. You were seriously thinking of asking Jisung to carry you back, because unlike you, he seemed as if powered by the air he breathed - he hadn't run out of energy the whole day.

“Noo, you can't die yet. We still have to check off the paddleboard at the sea,” Jisung said. And there it was, he actually brought the paddleboard down to the beach. You saw it lying next to your things when you sat back up.

“Ji, seriously?” you laughed. “You can't swim? And it's dark.” The idea seemed a little funny and a whole lot crazy. It was one thing to be at the pool, where there was a bottom and a limited amount of water. To go to the wild, open sea, in the dark, and tired after the whole day? k

“Actually… I can. Kinda. Lix taught me,” Jisung admitted. You knew who he was talking about, Jisung wouldn't shut up about his roommate and new best friend Felix, he actually mentioned him in about every conversation he could. It was kind of cute actually. You were worried Jisung would struggle, being an introvert with social anxiety, but Felix waltzed into his life and saved him for you.

“Okay…” Felix teaching him solved one problem at least. But you still didn't feel like it was a good idea. “Ji, do we have to? What if something happens? We're tired, we're alone here…”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped. “Right, yeah you're right. I just had this plan and I wanted to… nevermind.”

That wasn't fair. Now you felt bad. God, why was Jisung so cute? “Maybe we could… I don't know. Put it just by the shore and sit on it?” you suggested, wanting to make Jisung happy. You would do anything to make him happy, even go out on the sea when you thought about it.

Alone together on the beach, the sun setting over the water, the atmosphere was romantic. And thought your brain, because all your feelings that you pushed aside to focus on quality time with Jisung, now came rushing back all at once.

Jisung's face lit up. “Yeah, we can do that. I guess it counts as completing.” You helped Jisung push the paddleboard just behind the first waves, sitting on it with your feet in the water, still in the safe distance to the shore.

You looked over the horizon, the sun reflecting on the water begging to be photographed. “Selca?” you asked. Jisung nodded and leaned closer, posing for the low quality picture. With barely any natural light left, the photo was bound to be blurry and dark, but you always liked that kind of aesthetic anyway.

Feeling daring in the moment, you pressed your lips to Jisung's cheek. Barely, just a few seconds, but enough to capture on your phone.

“YN…” Jisung whispered. If it wasn't so dark, you would see the pink dusting his face.

“Sorry, I just… I just had to,” you said. What did you have to lose anyway? You were leaving tomorrow morning and wouldn't see Jisung for another few months. “I had to know what it feels like,” you whispered.

Jisung lowered his gaze, choosing to look at the waves rather than looking at you. Somehow, the silence was scarier than a rejection of your implied confession.

“Say something Ji, please,” you begged, not knowing how to bear the crushing weight of the silence anymore. You feared what message it carried.

“You crossed the last box for me.”

Before you could ask what it meant, Jisung took out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to you. His checklist of activities for the vacation. When you unfolded the small ball of paper, your eyes skimmed over the completed activities, all the way to the last one.

Kiss YN in some super romantic moment.

“I planned to tell you,” Jisung spoke up. “How I feel. I guess you beat me to it.” He lifted his head to look at you. “I did understand it correctly, right? It wasn't a platonic friend kiss, because Felix sometimes gives me those and if it was then forget everything I said because-”

You surged forward, interrupting his rambling with your lips on his. It was a wonder you didn't fall off the paddleboard, with how much force was used. You felt him freeze and smile, as he slowly kissed you back, overcoming the initial shock and surprise.

And you kissed, until there was no sun in the sky and your parents had to go look at why you took so long. That night, you laid in Jisung's bed, making promises and wishes for the upcoming year, already making plans, determined to not give up this time.

Somehow, coming back to campus and the insanity your university could be sometimes, wasn't as hard as it was last year. This time around, you had something new to look forward to in the darkest moments of endless texts and assignments. You had a boyfriend and a promise to keep. No giving up this time. And you both dutifuly kept it.

Jisungie <3

still alive after that test?

YN <3

barely

i'm dead inside and lonely

my roommate's out this weekend on a family thing

leaving me all alone in this dorm

Jisungie <3

good thing i have no classes this friday

see you then ynnie <3

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© starlostastronaut 2024 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[jellymochii]

My Angel

♱ pairings: Guardian Angel!Felix x F!Reader

♱ genre: fluff, angst, smut

♱ cw: smut, cunnilingus, religious themes, mentions of abuse/foster care system.

♱ wc: 4.1k

↪author's note: Hiya! I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or if it seems rushed, I'm still a new author so any feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy :)

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

*Abrahamic-denoting any or all of the religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) that revere Abraham, the Biblical patriarch.

_______________

An angel's task was always difficult, yet fulfilling. Serving at the right hand of the Lord and doing everything possible to assist humans in gaining access into heaven. Some angels, however, we're granted one of the most difficult tasks of all– becoming a guardian to a human.

The tradition of every abrahamic* Religion states that at birth, a guardian angel is assigned to the human, overseeing the physical and spiritual protection of that individual, as well as encouraging them through various methods to turn back to God. While it can be a daunting task for many, especially the angels who were assigned reckless and bold humans, it was overall a beautiful and rewarding experience for many of the angels, watching their little humans grow and live life to their fullest. 

While it was quite normal for angels to grow quite fond of their little beings, and even experience love for them, becoming in love with them was something that was forbidden entirely, as it represented otherworldly and ungodly desires and lust not suited for the pure kingdom of God. This was something, of course, that a newer guardian angel would quickly learn.

_______________

Life would always find a way to kick you down, no matter how hard you tried to crawl your way back up. Not a single day in your life was free from pain, even on the day you were born.

Growing up in foster care was less than ideal, switching from house to house on a whim, leaving any friends you may have made in that town behind as you started fresh. Some of your foster parents and towns were much more pleasant than others, but living in a cycle of rejection of adoption from everyone led you to spend 18 years of your miserable life in the care of facilities and strangers. You were never wanted, not even by your own parents.

The only people you ever considered to be your true family were a pair of twins in the same boat as you, Hyunjin and Yeji. Much like you, the two never had any luck with getting adopted and struggled a lot with trusting others after what they'd been through, and yet, they welcomed you right in every time you found your way back to the facility after another failed fostering. Once all of you had turned 18, you collectively decided to scrape together moments from part time jobs and rent out a small apartment south of the city, where you'd been residing alongside the Hwang siblings for a while now.

Since the foster facility was highly faith-based, you were always subjected to weekly preachings and visits from the local pastor. He was kind, sure– but he always said that God had a path for all of us, and that everyone would find peace eventually, and that your guardian angel is always watching over you and protecting you. Despite listening intently every Sunday, that peace and protection from the world you were promised never seemed to make its way to you. You were cursed and cast out in the eyes of the Lord, left being the second option to everyone. There was no way in your eyes someone out there could truly love someone like you. And yet, you felt that there was someone out there who desired nothing more than you. It had to exist somewhere. Maybe somewhere, love was right next to you all along.

_________________

There you found yourself that day, umbrella in hand, taking the usual 10 minute commute to your part time job. The pouring downfall certainly wasn't ideal for walking in, but you trudged through nonetheless, passing through familiar streets that were usually bustling with life at this time of day. It felt quiet, unusually quiet. 

As you're about to place your headphones on, hoping to drown out the sound of pouring rain around you, a loud THUD coming from behind a coffee shop quickly grabbed your attention. Normally, you wouldn't give it a second thought. It could just be the usual raccoon rummaging through the dumpster, but something didn't feel quite right. Why did you feel so compelled to stop in your tracks and investigate? Perhaps it was a natural wave of curiosity or something compelling you to walk towards the source of the sound. As your feet dragged you towards the narrow alleyway, you felt something stronger than any rummaging dumpster critter could possibly make you feel, almost as if you were being pulled by a string of fate to peek behind the rundown bricks of the shop.

What you didn't expect to see, however, was a man with large wings rubbing his head in pain sitting on top of piled garbage bags in a dumpster.

You froze in your tracks at the sight as your mind raced. What the fuck was going on? Was your brain playing tricks on you again? Was this a lucid dream of sorts? Who is this guy?

The man’s eyes met yours, suddenly snapping out from his pained and confused state as his eyes widened as his face turned into a state of shock.

“Uhhh, Y/N, can you see me?” He said hesitantly.

Who is this guy? You thought. How does he know my name? And most importantly, how big are those fucking wings? Are they real?

“Who are you? How do you even know my name?!” You shouted, taking steps back out of fear.

“Wait...you CAN see me? Is this real?” The mysterious man questioned as he took notice of his large wings wrapped around him, now covered in dirt and torn white cloth from his attire. 

Admittedly, he was extremely beautiful. Warm brown eyes, long golden hair, and sun-kissed skin lathered in a constellation of frekels. Not to mention, the once delicate white fabric wrapped around his muscular arms.

“That doesn't answer my question, who are you and what's with the giant wings?” You retorted.

He paused for a moment as if contemplating his next thought.

“Felix...yeah, I'm Felix. I'm your guardian angel, Y/N.”

“My...what?” You questioned.

He hopped down from the garbage bags he sat on and approached you slowly. Every neuron in your mind was screaming at you to run away, to call for help, but your feet kept you planted as he crept forward, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I’m from the Kingdom of Heaven, I've been with you since the moment you were born, and God... you are so beautiful.” He spoke softly as he wrapped his arms and wings around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

Your mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that a gorgeous man in a dumpster with comically large wings was hugging you like his life depended on it. You felt your nostrils flare up as a stray feather from his wing fell on top of your nose, as your face twitched.

“AH-CHOO!” You sneezed. Okay, maybe the wings were real.

He quickly pulled back from you after the sneeze. “Oh, sorry about these, let me just-” he said as he quickly retracted his wings, almost making them vanish into thin air.

“So.” You said. “If you're really my guardian angel, and you're really from heaven, then why are you here?

“It's...a long story. I made a bit of a mistake, but hey- at least I'm here with you now!” He beamed.

“So then you've seen me this whole time? Everything I've gone through, and everything I've ever done?” You questioned, as you felt your cheeks flare with anger. How could he be real, and how could he let you suffer from rejection your whole life?

“Well, not everything you've ever done, most just the major ones-”

You cut him off quickly with a slap to the face.

“How could you ever let me go through hell and back?! You know all I ever wanted was to be loved, and yet you let me suffer?” You screamed, memories of the past flooding into your head.

Felix hunched over slightly, hand cupping his cheek from the sting you gave him. He crawled away slowly, like a rejected puppy, before he spoke.

“I really...tried my best Y/N. I know you've suffered so much, and it's my fault, really. I was still a young angel in heaven when you were born, and I got assigned to you. I felt every emotion you had and tried my best to keep you safe. It was for your own good...I promise.”

This was unbelievable to you. How was all of that for your own good? The countless lonely nights, praying to God that you'd finally get a loving family, only to be shut out and left to rot in the foster home until the cycle would repeat.

“My own good? How was any of this shit for my own good?! I suffered because of you, asshole!”

His heart shattered. You were everything to him, and yet it seemed like all his dedication to you was worthless.

“I'm done with this conversation, I need to get to work.” You declared as you began to walk back to the alleyway before a voice stopped you.

“Y/N...please. You can hate me forever, but just look at this, please?” He spoke with a whimper in his voice, holding up a soggy newspaper with 2 faces plastered on the front cover.

As much as you were frustrated, you decided to indulge him for once and take a look. The headline of the local paper issued in bold letters stated “BREAKING: FOSTER PARENTS ARRESTED FOR SERIAL CHILD NEGLECT AND ABUSE.” 

Once you actually saw the couple's faces, you felt the color in your face begin to fade. It was one of your foster couples. Your favorite one, in fact. The two seemed so sweet all those years ago, spoiling you with frequent gifts and homecooked meals that tasted amazing - it was the rejection that hurt the most because of how much it appeared like they loved you. Were they really monsters this whole time, and did Felix know about this?

Maybe you hadn't given him a fair chance.

“Did you know they were terrible people, Felix?” You asked, almost regretfully.

He nodded, head still tilted down in ache. 

“They were evil. They wanted to hurt you, I couldn't let them.”

“What about the rest of them, then? There were... some nice ones, I suppose.” You responded.

“No...none of them were ever good enough for you. They would never give you the life you deserved.”

You felt immense remove and guilt for the poor angel, covered in dirt and in pain from your harm. You'd heard so many horror stories from the Hwangs’ about cruel foster parents in and around the town, and maybe Felix was just doing his job. Maybe he did care.

“Hey, listen-uh, Felix. I'm sorry, I didn't know they were horrible. I shouldn't have slapped you.”

His head slowly rose, warm eyes locking into yours. “It's okay, Y/N. You didn't know. But man...I guess this is what pain feels like, huh?” He spoke as a smile crept back onto his face.

“Listen-forget work, okay? How about we just get a coffee or something.” You remarked.

“Oooh sounds fun! I've always wanted to try it!” He beamed.

________________________

You learned a lot that day, to say the least. Felix told you his life story–about how he died when he was only 5 from leukemia, rising up to heaven and living amongst the paradise of heaven, until he was assigned by the elder angels to become a guardian to a human, a high honor for such a young angel as him. At the very moment you took your first breath, Felix was there with you. While still young himself, he quickly matured and aged alongside you, almost as if you were going through everything with him. 

Felix began to tell you how he could sense when you were in danger with your life, and how we knew the moment your mother gave birth, you would be in harm's way with her, hence why she felt compelled to give you up to adoption.

He really did want to see you in a loving home, truly. Yet no one who welcomed you had the best intentions, he'd rather you be alone than in the house of monsters. Call it bad luck, or call it fate.

“So Felix, what grave mistake did you make to get kicked out? Did you try to murder one of my foster parents?” You asked, almost humorously as you sipped your coffee.

“Oh...just a fight with another angel, was all. Not supposed to fight in heaven, y'know?” He muttered.

He couldn't tell you the truth.

The truth that he was cast out of heaven by the elders for falling in love with you.

He's always adored everything about you as a young angel, but as the two of you grew together worlds apart, his feelings grew even more. However, his obsession didn't become out of control until recently. He loved everything about you, inside and out. He loved how you always had your nose stuffed inside a book when you weren't on the job. He loved how your sneeze was so high pitched it sounded like a mouse squeaking. He loved the way you walked, talked, and slept–to say he was a man possessed was an understatement.

Unfortunately, God was all-knowing. He could see his desire, and word quickly got around of a lust-filled angel. 

That's when this morning, after a long meeting with the elders to decide his punishment, he chose to come to earth, to be with you. It didn't matter that he would grow old and feel pain, he loved you, and he would do anything to simply bask in your presence.

You decided to keep him in your life. You let him follow you around and keep you company (as long as he promised not to have his giant wings out). At night, he'd find someplace to sleep, which during the cold and wet season broke your heart, so you let him slowly become accustomed to your shared apartment, introducing him as a friend you met at work. You gave him an allowance to buy whatever clothes/shoes he wanted (to which he quickly became addicted to shopping, spending the bare minimum on clothes while splurging on stuffed animals for the two of you.) 

You couldn't complain, truly. He was a ray of sunshine, and brought something new to your life.

________________

Time flew by quickly with your newfound friend by your side. While Yeji was a little unsure at first of him, Hyunjin quickly became inseparable to Felix, and frequently taught him how to play video games and cook for the house. Turns out, Felix had quite the knack for baking, specifically brownies, which tasted better than any dessert you'd ever had before. As quickly as Felix came into this world, he'd swiftly become the best thing that ever happened to you.

And yet, there was still something that was bugging you.

How could someone as perfect as Felix in every way ever possibly be cast out of heaven? He didn't have a mean bone in him, and surrounded everyone close to him with his graceful love and support. 

He had to have been lying to you about the fight.

One night, while he was enjoying some soup and TV, you decided to confront him. Something wasn't right.

“Felix, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what's up?” He said as he patted the empty spot on the couch, giving space for you to sit beside him.

You sat down and took his hand in yours. You were desperate to know the truth.

“Be honest with me, please. Why did you actually get cast out from heaven?”

He froze in his spot, face becoming pale.

“Felix...you know I won't judge you, I promise. Hell, even if you murdered someone, I'd still forgive you since you've done so much for me.”

He breathed a heavy sigh, there was no turning back now. He had to know if you loved him the way he loved you.

“Ok…I'll tell you but promise me that this won't ruin our relationship, okay?”

“Of course, pinky promise.” You said as your pinky interlocked with his.

“Well–I love you, Y/N. That's why I was kicked out.” He muttered, face heating up his freckles with a rosy pink.

“What do you mean? I'm sure you do love and care for me, but how is that wrong?”

“No, Y/N. I'm...in love with you. I have been for a long time. You're everything to me, I love every detail about you in ways I shouldn't.”

He paused, catching his breath and staring into your now widened eyes.

“Guardian Angels aren't supposed to fall in love with their humans…” He stated. “It's considered Lust, which is a sin. I'll probably never be let back into heaven unless I repent to God, and to you. Even though I’m head over heels for you, I'll never deserve you.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he let go of your pinky, standing up and turning towards the door.

“I'm sorry Y/N, I've ruined everything, but I'll leave you alone now.” He whispered as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob preparing to leave.

Only to be stopped by you, as you spun him around and smashed your lips against his.

Your soft lips and gentle cusping of his face made his heart soar back to heaven, leaving him no other choice but to pull you closer and embrace you while your kiss continued.

You pulled back first, almost reluctantly. 

“I love you too, Felix. I actually have for quite-” Your speech was cut off by his lips fervorishly smacking back into yours.

A long, drawn out groan came from his lips as your kiss melted all his worries away, ever so romantic and tender, yet wanting more.

The other angels were right, he needed more, a desire like no other was consuming him, making him hungry with lust. To him, just the chance to taste you was worth more than any eternal life he could have, because who needed Heaven when his Heaven was here in front of him? The more your tongue danced with his, the more something he'd never felt until a few months ago burned in his heart. He needed to taste you, he needed to worship the ground you walked on. He could feel his length hardening every second he spent engrossed in your presence, not claiming you as his was not an option anymore, he had to.

“Baby…” He whispered into the kiss. “...Please. I'll do anything you want, I'll make you feel so so good, j-just please let me have you.”

You parted your lips from his and looked deep into his eyes, now expanded from the love and lust consuming his system.

“Then take me Felix, I'm all yours.”

That was all it took for a switch to turn on inside of him, swiftly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style to your bedroom. He laid you down gently on your back, almost as if you were a delicate sculpture, eyeballing your figure attentively. 

“Can I?” He asks as he fiddles with the zipper of your jeans. You quickly nod and help him remove it from you, leaving only your delicate yet soaked panties exposed.

Felix wasted no time, as he quickly pressed the pad of his thumb to your clothed clit, rubbing circles at a torturously slow pace, causing you to whimper gently.

“Felix...please, I need more.” You whined.

“Oh, sorry love, I got a little carried away.” He giggled at himself, as he began to take off your panties, exposing him to your glistening and throbbing cunt.

It was more perfect than anything he could have ever dreamed of, and all he could ever want.

He looked up at you with pleading and glowing eyes like a puppy begging for its food, looking for any sign of approval to feast on you. 

“Go ahead Felix.” 

Without hesitation, his face dived into your needy pussy and began desperately licking stripes up your folds like a starved man. It was truly the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted, he needed all of it. Every last drop.

You felt almost helpless with him devouring you at this pace, a firm grip on both of your thighs as you squirm at his every touch. His tongue turns its attention to your clit, as his lips wrap around it and begin sucking it for dear life. Jolts of electricity were sent flying across your entire body as you let out a series of high pitched, whiny moans, making Felix suck even harder.

“Felix, p-please!I-Its too much!!” You cried out from overstimulation.

His lips released from your clit with a “pop” as he turned up to you. He looked disgustingly beautiful, with puffy lips dripping with your juices, and pupils dilated in an almost drunken state. 

“S-so good baby, you taste so good!” Felix said desperately. “Cum for me, please? I need it so bad, you have no idea.”

Soon enough, your fingers guide his head back down and begin tugging against his hair while you drive him deeper into your cunt. Felix can’t help but rut against the bedsheets to your moans, his eyes shutting from time to time from the friction of his cock and the sound of your voice as you cry out his name whenever his tongue hits a sweet spot. 

“Oh my god oh my god, Felix please! I'm gonna cum!” You cry out, earning a moan from Felix as he speeds up the already brutal pace, eating you out like it’s the greatest meal he’s ever had. His wings swiftly materialized to hold your thighs in place, allowing him space to bring your body closer to the edge.

One little peck to your clit was all it took to send you over the edge as you released the most guttural moan you'd ever cried out, your whole body trembling as your pussy released the sweet juices Felix desired so much. He wasted no time in licking every spot of your folds clean, drinking it all in as his whole body shook alongside yours.

Your breathing became erratic and heavy, trying to come down from what was possibly the greatest orgasms of your life- when you noticed Felix pulling himself up shakily from his position, taking notice to the newfound stain, and you see why. Right where he was lying down on your sheets, a puddle of warm liquid sat with some running down his leg, with underwear completely soaked. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you pulled him into a warm embrace, his breathing still heavy. 

“I love you...so fucking much Y/N.” He spoke softly, head tucked into your shoulder.

“I love you too Felix, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” You replied, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, rubbing his neck and scalp gently.

Even after only a few seconds, you heard a sniffle followed by a wet feeling on your neck.

“Felix, baby...what's wrong?” You whispered, tilting his chin up so his eyes could meet yours. Tears were streaming down his face, and his lip quivered violently.

“I'm the luckiest angel in the world.” He croaked out through his soft sobs. “I'm glad I get to spend the rest of my life here with you.”

As his soft wings wrapped gently around your body, you finally realized that maybe love was around you this whole time. A sweet boy who loved you and always did his best to protect you, even if you couldn't see it at the time. You were truly grateful to God for sending him to you, and you knew your story with him was far from over. No matter what, you knew he'd always be there for you, and see the best in everybody.

“You really are my sweet angel, Felix.”

[toxicanonymity]

Silence can never be bought, only rented.

pt. 2 of 6, 2.5k | dbf!Joel x fem!reader | 18+

picks up after Pt 1 . Story Master List

Joel Miller List

“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat. As he pulls his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair. The glimpse makes your knees weak.

Thank you @dark-scape for the mini mood boards!

Warnings/notes: no-outbreak AU. Reader confident in string bikini, there may be more to joel than meets the eye. Legal age gap. Masturbation. cumshot. Kinda dom reader. i don't know all triggers, not used to detailed warnings in my usual fandoms sorry

NEXT: PART 3

Catch up on Part 1

-----

It's June in Texas.  You packed your swimsuit this weekend.  You don't know why Joel would wear a jacket in this weather anyway.  Hopefully he doesn't fuck your stepmother while he's breaking it off.  In the big scheme of things, one more time wouldn't make much of a difference. It's more about the fact that he's your property now.  

-

Back at your friend's place, you plug in your phone across the room while you settle in to watch another movie.  Her new sound system is badass, so you don't hear it when your phone rings, but she does. 

She’s a lot closer to it than you are, so you tell her she can send it to voicemail.  She leans over and looks at the screen. 

“Joel." Her eyes widen. "DILF Joel??”

You scrunch your face up.  “Gross, he's like 50.”   

“Okay, what does non-DILF Joel want?”  She rightfully uses finger quotes around "non." In the back of your mind, you always knew Joel was hot.  It turns out, you had no idea.  

You sigh,  “Probably just checking on me while my Dad is away.”  You're tempted to tell her–at least the part where Joel is fucking your stepmother–but for now, you don't.  You enjoy being the only one who knows and could ruin both of them.

“So why not answer?” 

“Guess I just don’t feel like talking.” 

She looks at you sympathetically.  She knows why you came home this weekend.  You needed a change of scenery after things got messy with a guy you were seeing.  “I get it,” she says.  “But I promise you’re gonna be over him before you know it.  Then on to the next,” she smiles.  

If only it were that easy.  You really don’t feel like going back and facing life.  Technically Chad is right, you never defined your relationship or agreed to be exclusive.  But you spent so much time together, and he said he loved you.  You know he’s a chode and not at all worth your tears.  You just hate feeling so powerless.  On the plus side, you've barely thought about Chad at all since the moment you first saw Joel's truck this weekend. 

Your phone dings.  Your friend looks at it.  

“Who leaves voicemail?” she asks. It dings again and her face gets serious.  "Oh, shit.  You should really call him. He said Trouble."

"That's just what he calls me."  You suppress a smirk at the nominal determinism. 

"Oh, yeah. Ugh. I hate that I'm gonna miss the HOG barbecue this year. " 

HOG. . . Hot Old Guy.  She really tickles herself pink with that.  Your dad and Joel cook out at Joel's pool every independence day with a couple of other friends, and you normally bring her.  

Your phone dings again.  She looks at the screen and side-eyes it. 

"What?" You ask 

"You should block Chad." 

You feel a rush of satisfaction followed by shame as you eagerly go over and look at the phone.  

Chad: miss u already. 

In a way, it’s the best possible message, but seeing the dumb way he writes, your shame is replaced by anger.  

"God what an asshole," you fume. You don't respond. 

-

You finish watching the movie, and eventually start catching up on Joel's texts. Come out and talk to me for one minute.  A pit forms in your stomach. He was here? Are you that predictable? 

When it's time to leave and you get to your car, there's a note.  It's the same one you left on Joel's truck, the one that said You're sick. There's a response scrawled under your writing: 

You have no idea.  

Your heart races as you look around the street.   How dare he? And why are your cheeks burning?

You start driving back to your apartment. It’s well under two hours away, it's still afternoon, and you don’t know what you'll do with the day when you get back.  Laundry, you guess.  You can hardly bear the thought of being back there alone with your thoughts. 

-

Instead of 35 South to San Antonio, you find yourself on Joel's street.  Joel is a successful contractor and has a nice house.  Comically high-security, too.  Today, the gate is already disarmed, so you don't have to put in the code or talk to him.   You park in his big wraparound driveway, grab your bag, and head around back.  The pool gate is disarmed, too. You enter the code to the pool house door.  

When you walk in, the air conditioning blasts on and it's freezing.  Kind of obnoxious in a state with a power grid crisis.  You throw your stuff down on the big couch, not bothering to go any further.  You strip down to your underwear, ass facing the window.  Then you put your swimsuit cover-up over your underwear.  Feigning modesty, you take your underwear out from under the cover-up and replace it with your two-piece. 

When you come out, Joel is sitting in a zero gravity lounge chair across the pool in front of the big glass windows of his house.   When you see him, your heart skips a beat, even though it’s no surprise.  It’s like when you’ve been thinking about someone so much they practically become a celebrity in your mind, even if they don’t deserve it.  

You bring your bag out to the deck and sit across the pool from him. He’s wearing the same tight, blue t-shirt and jeans. Now he has on Ray Bans and flip flops instead of boots.

You slather your sunscreen on as he watches.  He doesn't bother pretending not to watch.  You slip your hands inside the cups of your bikini top, lotioning up your breasts.  He adjusts himself, which sends a tingling rush to your core.  

-

Once your sunscreen is dry, you wade into the pool.  You walk around aimlessly, then swim over to his side, keeping your head above water.  When you get to the edge, you rest your forearms on the deck, then put your head down on the crook of your arm and float your legs behind you.  

“Come to give me my jacket?” he asks. 

“I don’t know how you’re wearing jeans, much less a jacket." You lift your head to look at him.

“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat.  

He stands up, and as he's pulling his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair.  The glimpse makes your knees weak.  He pulls the elastic waistband up and leaves the boxers on.  He sits down again and crosses his ankles.

You ask, “How’d it go?”

“Oh, about how you’d expect.”

“How long were you fucking her?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re gonna tell me everything I ask.”

“Few months.  Look, Trouble, I’m human at best.  She came onto me.”

“Knew you’d say that.” 

“What if I could prove it?”

You don’t say anything.  He takes out his phone and scrolls for a while, then brings it to the edge of the pool.  You watch his heavy quads quake with each step but avert your eyes while he bends his knees.  You have no interest in seeing his balls or anyone else’s.  His boxers tighten around his muscular thighs as he sits down and lowers his feet into the pool right next to you.  

“There,” he says, handing you his phone.  You can barely see in the sunlight and don’t really care who initiated it anyway.

“Why don’t you just get a girlfriend?” you ask. 

“You wanna set me up?” he smiles.  “Got any single friends?”

“Why don’t you ask Sarah? She’s older than me.”

He grabs his chest like you shot him. Sweat is blotching his softwash t-shirt already.

You hand his phone back.  

"There's one inside for you," he says. "It's on the counter." He gestures through the window. 

"One what?"

"iPhone pro.  Since you can't seem to answer whatever piece of crap you're using." 

"What do I need an iphone pro for?" 

"They didn't have the regular one in blue." 

Your favorite color is a nice touch, but an iPhone isn't going to make this all go away.  

-

"How’s it goin’ with what’s his name?”

“Chad? It’s not.” You hate him for bringing up Chad. You harden your face, but it isn't convincing. 

Joel nods regretfully and there's a long moment of silence.  

“You’re better than him, Trouble."

You don't say anything. 

"Shit, you can have any guy you want.”  

You can't see his eyes behind his shades, but something in his voice tells you how hungrily he's looking at you.  

You still don't say anything. 

Joel stretches his leg and the top of his foot grazes your quad, then your inner thigh.  All your blood rushes to your loins.  You don't move.  He strokes your other inner thigh with the arch of his foot, getting a little higher with each pass.  A tent forms in his boxers and he adjusts himself again.  

“See what you do to guys?” The top of his foot brushes your crotch and you throb.  When he tries to slip a toe inside the fabric, you float out of reach. 

“You’re not a guy, you're a grown man.” 

"Exactly. And he's just a guy."

"A grown man and a pervert." A wave of anger hits you when you remember your stepmother. "And apparently you'll fuck anything."

If he's still listening, he ignores it.  

-

“God damn.  Look at you.”  He shamelessly palms himself over his boxers and suddenly his body is the only thing on your mind again:  The way his naked ass flexed while he looked at you.  The length of his cock slamming into her when he came.  And now it's right there for your taking.  Your core churns needily, slickening itself for what it desperately wants.  Too bad he doesn't deserve it. 

“Yeah. . . ” Your hands slowly reach behind your back to unfasten your top as you sink down into the water. "Look at me," you echo as you take the halter over your head. 

You lie back with your nipples above the water line, lazily floating and barely pushing yourself around in the water, watching him watch you.  

He takes a deep breath and his lips part.  He digs the heel of his palm into his boxers. You grip the deck with one hand.  You hover just far away enough that he can't touch you.  He picks up his phone, swipes it, puts it down. He exhales through pursed lips and adjusts himself again.

"Take it out," you tell him, then lean back,  jutting your tits into the air again.

 "Yes ma'am," he growls. 

He reaches into his boxers and holds his hard cock with the tip pointed toward you. 

"The whole thing." You nod at it.  

He pulls the fabric back. 

"Now take your hands away."

"God almighty," he groans as he complies. He sits back with his hands on the pool deck.  

Big mistake if your goal is to stay in control. This is going to take more restraint than you thought. 

"Take off your sunglasses," you demand. 

The sky is getting cloudy enough. He complies. 

It’s the only cock you’ve ever seen that actually makes you salivate. Thick, slightly tapered, circumcised, prominent tip.  Salt and pepper peeking out from the fabric and creeping up the base.  You recall for the hundredth time how he felt pressed up against you by your car the night before.

Your nipples harden and his cock bounces on its own.  He inhales deeply through his nose, his chest stretching his sweaty t-shirt. You wet your lips and he exhales loudly.  You approach his knees and rest your hands on his thighs, letting your nipples graze his shins. His phone buzzes and he ignores it. 

A bead of precum grows at the head of his cock.  He clenches his jaw.  

“Go ahead,” you tell him as you back away.  He gathers the precum with his thumb and begins to stroke himself slowly.  He’s proportional - His massive hand is a good fit.

“I’m gonna put this back on in two minutes,” you tell him, dangling your swimsuit top in your hand. 

He shakes his head slowly.  “Yeah, you would.” 

He looks down at himself then back up at you.  His eyes darken.  The vein on his hand makes you weak - his big, masculine hand wrapped around his thick cock. . . 

His breath becomes ragged, his eyelids get heavy. 

You disappear below the water, and when you resurface, you come to the edge of the pool between his legs.  You plant your hands just above his knees and inhale his musk from several inches away as you watch.  

“Thirsty?” he breathes. 

“Hell no.  Just wanna see what a sicko's cum looks like.” 

He smirks, then it fades. The dark, hungry look on his face makes you breathe heavier, throb harder, and twitch.

His ass clenches and he points the tip directly at your neck, then he groans as a hot, white rope meets your collarbone and the halter tie.  A few more ropes gurgle into his fist.  

“Gross,” you say.  But you ache for him so badly.  “You know, a gentleman always asks.” 

“I'm a sicko, remember?" He dips his hand in the pool, shakes it around, then wipes his hands on his boxers and puts his dick away. "Give me a minute." 

-

You dip your head under the halter tie of your bikini top to put it back on, but you let  it float, not covering your breasts. He pushes himself up and grabs his phone.  He looks at it and says under his breath, "gotcha, pendejo.”  Then tells you, "I've gotta make a call."  He pulls on his jeans but leaves them unbuckled.  Somehow, that’s even hotter than his pantsless look, but you’re miffed that he got dressed so quickly. 

You would've made him take off his shirt, but you love the way it stretches with every move he makes.  Half of it is dark with sweat now.  His back is a sight to behold as he walks over to the watertight, faux wicker box with the dry towels.  You squeeze your thighs together and clench around nothing.  

He pulls out two perfectly folded towels and you wonder out loud, "Are you fucking your maid, too?"

"Not this one," he says matter of factly.  He drops a towel on the deck near you, then goes into the house. 

-

He stands in his large window, spreads his feet as he does something on his phone, then looks at you as a water jet blasts into your thigh right at crotch level.  

How devious of him.  

You shift your hips slightly, just like he knew you would, and try to manage your best poker face as you let the jetstream carry you over the edge. You close your eyes before they roll back in your head.  Your core implodes and your whole body pulses as a much-needed orgasm is wrenched out of you.  Your mouth falls slack and you open your eyes in time to see him watching you with his phone to his ear.  He smirks as the jetstream fades, then walks away. 

-

You lay your head in the crook of your arm and let your bikini float near your breasts as you recover, with the occasional aftershock.  Then, you hear his truck start up and drive away.  Asshole.

[leqonsluv3r]

funeral

—your boyfriend leon supports you after you start your new job, a drabble

masterlist taglist

an: this is so self indulgent because i just started my new job. i needed to write this though, to get it out of my system and to stay somewhat active. imagine whatever leon you desire, used re2 for aesthetic purposes <33

you were tired.

so very tired after your first day. you just wanted to crawl under the sheets and let your cramping legs wither away.

you kept running through the day with images encompassing your mind, like snapshots of the day passing through a slideshow. you had been up since 5:30 am, it was now 4:30 pm and you had just gotten home from your shift.

you were beat, worn out and just wanted to wither underneath the sheets. to just relax and not move a singular muscle. even reading, your favorite pastime, sounded tedious and the idea made your head throb.

serving senior citizens, the breakfast and lunch shift. it was rewarding but grueling, so tiring and your back ached. the coworker that you shadowed just smiled, saying; “you’ll get used to it after a while.” and you hoped, you really fucking did.

because how you would do this five days out of the week, you had no idea. you had no clue. you knew that you needed the money, that you needed the stability even though leon, your boyfriend, lived with you.

you had been financially unstable as a kid, could count on both hands how many times you’ve had to move. because rent was just too much for your single mother, or the neighbors picked a fight, or your moms terrible ex boyfriend knew you & your mothers current address.

that was enough to push you to work yourself to the bone, even leon, saying that it wasn’t a good idea. and he was a cop, he had been for two years. he’d seen shit, worked himself overtime. and if they didn’t live together, they’d never see each other. hence, them living in a one bedroom apartment together.

but if leon was telling her to slow down, to take it easy, you knew it was going to be tough. it was going to take all of you to have the life you dreamed of. going back to school in august, seemed like a pipe dream after your first day at your new job.

because how would you ever have time?

and you feared this, you feared the loss of the future that was so close in your reach but…just not within shot of your fingertips.

but you were grateful for leon, for him and just…how he made things so much better. he just loved you, supported you and knew how stubborn you were to prove yourself, despite the reassurances that you would be fine. that things would just work out, he had been in the trenches too once, as a child, he had made it out.

but you couldn’t compare your childhood to his, it was awful in different ways, it wasn’t worse. wasn’t something that could be measured. it just was. it was the past though. and you were desperate to prove yourself to leon, to your kid self deep inside of you and to the others that have told you that you wouldn’t, couldn’t do it.

because you could. and you would.

just to prove them all wrong.

you were beat.

only your second shift shadowing someone and you were a goner, your back was killing you and your feet ached. you wish you could just win the lottery sometimes so you didn’t have to work yourself to the bone just for some money.

leon was helpful, he rubbed your feet, massaged your back and pressed kisses everywhere he needed to. he was supporting you, the thought and idea alone made you want to cry. because you didn’t feel appreciated, no one had showed it up until this point. but leon had, he’d cheered you on despite his skepticism of you taking on a larger workload. 

you loved him so much, so much that it hurt.

and that was maybe all worth it in some sense, to have him to come home too. it made things easier, made you feel cherished and loved, even considered in the sense that he knew what you were sacrificing.

what he sacrificed everyday he went to work and put on his uniform.

you couldn’t imagine a world without leon, in any timeline, any universe he didn’t exist, was an unlucky one. a very unfortunate one. one that you never wanted to be a part of.

in the weeks that followed as you continued your new job, he just kept saying sweet things, buying you flowers and books from your TBR list and cheering you on. “your doing great, baby. i’m so fucking proud of you.” or “i’m so grateful for you, your so appreciated.” or your personal favorite, “i love you so much, beautiful. so strong, so kind and sweet.”

and that was enough, it was enough.

even though your hands were dry from washing copious amounts of dishes, your back hurt from standing for so long or your feet were killing you, or your mind was swirled with exhaustion. it pushed you, it made you want to push forward, it was hard. but with leon loving and supporting you, holding your hand and kissing your exhaustion and stress away…it was enough.

you didn’t think that without him you would’ve made it this far, that you would’ve pushed past the boundaries that you did. but you were thankful for him, for everything he did for you.

you wouldn’t be able to push forward alone, you’d likely fall. and leon would be there to catch you…

every.

single.

time.

an: this isn’t the update i promised, i know. but i just needed to write something. to deal with this change in my life and what better way to do that then with writing something about leon??? but anyways, pls like, reblog and interact with my masterlist linked at the beginning. let me know if you wanna join my taglist (also linked). i’ll have a oneshot up soon, pinky promise. i love you all, kisses. xx

[redeyerhaenyra]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Summary: It's been a month since you've broken up with the moon knight system, and you start to notice someone.. watching you

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, kidnapping, yandere themes, angst, no beta we die like harrow

Notes: So after all the positive responses on this post I just had to create in headcanon form- for those who want to listen to the song that inspired this fic, here :)

Breaking up with the moon boys was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do, but it did need to be done.

With the near constant dissappearing to do Khonshu's bidding, sometimes for weeks on end, with only a note or a text to tell you where they were and then radio silence, it was just too much for you. Your heart couldn't take waiting for them, worrying that they would never return, even if Khonshu was protecting them.

And so, you had begun the process of moving out during the time they were away on a mission.

Marc had come home to find your clothes, trinkets, anything that would indicate your presence gone.

You were there though.

Normally you'd be so happy to see him again, running up to him and kissing him with all your might.

Today, instead, you sadly smiled at him.

"Baby, what's up?" Marc had asked, gently holding your forearms after you had rejected his hug. He could tell you were upset.

"Baby?" "I'm leaving, Marc. I'm sorry."

He had stared at you, dumbfounded. You swallowed down your tears- "I can't do this anymore." You didn't have to explain, you knew what he meant.

You waited anxiously for his response, instead spying his eyes roll back into his head, and now you were faced with Steven and oh god, his eyes, they were already tearing up.

Coward, you thought of Marc, which was admittedly a little harsh but breaking up with them would be so much harder facing Steven's sorrowful gaze.

Steven looked terrified, moving to cup your face in his hands and you had to physically move back to stop him.

"D-darlin', please, what'cha talkin' about?" "I'm sorry steven-" "Please don't leave us love, please, 'can't do it without you please-"

"Stop it." You'd said firmly, Steven sobbed. You couldn't help but take his hands in yours, ever wanting to comfort him.

"Steven.. I will always love you," "Then why'd you have to leave!?" "Because I can't do this anymore!!"

You were both crying now. "I-i can't take waiting for you to never come home to me anymore, Steven, I can't do it."

Steven's gazed was fixed on the ground, his tears dripping onto the floorboards. You gave his hands one final squeeze, before pulling away.

"I will always love you, all of you, but my heart cannot take it anymore.. goodbye."

The strength with which it took to pull yourself away from Steven should have won you a medal, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying even more as you left him.

That was a month ago- with the help of a few friends you'd found yourself a decently priced flat for rent on the other side of London. Far enough away, you hoped.

It wasn't far enough. Jake had found out where you lived within days of you leaving. He knew it was wrong, but the part of him that didn't care grew and grew into something monstrous. At this stage the other boys weren't saying anything to disapprove of his actions, and so he continued to watch you.

He'd drive circles around your block to relearn your new routine, and you hadn't yet realised it was his cab you kept seeing.

The one person you actually hadn't said goodbye to was Jake- he hadn't fronted when you'd left, and you would always wonder if he was there, just choosing not to show himself. But if he wasn't? He'd have woken up to the discovery that you weren't together anymore and you'd always feel guilty for that.

But... you tried to move on with your life, as best you could.

It felt wrong to start dating again, but your friends had urged you to, even if it was a one night thing.

The guy you'd matched with on bumble was nice enough, smart, good looking- he wasn't them though. While he was polite and friendly during your dinner date, he wasn't your boys.

He'd walked you home, and you'd set up a second date. All things considered it was successful- but you just felt.. wrong about the whole thing. Like you were cheating, even though you weren't.

You'd guessed it wasn't all that successful, as he'd ghosted you a day or so after your date.

It was a week or so later that you'd seen the news report of his body having turned up in the Thames. God how awful! He hadn't ghosted you- the poor guy had been murdered.

Jake had really earned a bollocking off of Steven and Marc for that one, but he knew they were relieved you wouldn't be seeing that man again.

You'd decided to halt the dating game after that, for a while at least.

You were lonely though, there was no denying. Having no one to cuddle up to in bed sucked.

And so.. the logical conclusion was a pet, no?

Eventually, you found a young, ginger tomcat named "Franklin" in a nearby animal shelter and you just fell in love, you brought him home the same day.

He was great, not exactly filling the whole in your heart left by three men but you certainly adored him, and who wouldn't say no to curling up in bed with a cat every evening? Certainly not you.

One day, you'd left work for your lunch break only for the horrifying realisation to hit you: You'd forgot to feed Franklin that morning! You rushed home as fast you could- only to discover that, you had fed him, even when you were sure you hadn't.

And yet there he was, munching on his bowl of kibble.

Something squeaked under your foot- you looked down- oh, it was one of Franklin's toys. You threw it across the room for him to play with but- hang on... you didn't remember buying him that toy.

You shook your head free of thoughts that you were going mad- everyone forgets things, even buying specific cat toys. Or maybe one of your friends had left it when they'd been over- it didn't matter.

You moved to leave your flat and return to work- only to find your door lock jammed.

The locksmith you'd hurriedly called in was able to fix it in a jiffy, though advised that the jam was probably due to a break in, and that you should change your locks.

A chill ran down your spine- you checked and double checked, nothing of value had been stolen, but someone had been in your home! Is that who had fed Franklin? Who'd left him the toy?

You changed the locks, and threw out the strange toy.

Jake couldn't stop watching you. It was becoming more and more of a problem.

He was ignoring Khonshu and actively pushing Marc and Steven out when they tried to front, knowing they'd put and end to his antics.

But none of them could deny that they wanted, needed you back. Jake just considered himself the only one with the balls to get you back.

There was no warmth in his life now that you weren't there. Steven's flat no longer felt like home without your t-shirts in the laundry, or the brand of coffee you love but Marc hates in the cupboards.

He knew he ought to leave his little girl alone, but the fact remained you were his little girl. Jake would stop at nothing to have his bebita back.

Now it was two months since you'd broken up with the system. Life wasn't perfect, but you were chugging along.

You turned the lights on in your flat, yawning. Work was tough today, but it was Friday, and you had some left over popcorn in the cupboard. Film night~!

"Franklin? Baby? Mummy's home~!" You cooed, knowing that he always came bounding up and purring whenever you came home.

But.. he didn't. Your flat was silent. No distant meowing or the jingle of the bell on his collar. Nothing.

"Franklin?" You stepped further into your flat, worry seeping through you.

"Franklin..?!" Your tone became more and more erratic with the realisation that Franklin wasn't home- and then someone had covered your eyes with their hand, and pressed a strange scented cloth to your mouth. You kicked and screamed and struggled but it was no use- the chloroform had knocked you out in seconds.

Jake held you tenderly to his chest as you faded into unconsciousness. Steven had earlier expressed his distaste at this plan, but neither him or Marc said anything now, so close to having you again.

You woke the next day, nauseous and tired. The distant meowing you heard gave you comfort- it had all been a bad dream.

But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the horrifying scene of Steven's flat, not your own. So familiar, in any other situation you would have been glad to be here.

You shifted to sit up, eyes working their way down to notice your ankle tied to the bed with the restraint normally reserved for Steven.

You choked back a sob- a hum ripping your gaze to the other end of the room.

There lay Franklin, enjoying some pets from the man who's lap he laid on.

Jake Lockley stared back at you, you could tell it was him, you could always tell between them.

"Buenos dias, hermosa." His voice was rich like coffee, normally so comforting but now? It sent a shudder down your spine.

"You and I have some things to discuss, sí?"

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3,5k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

"Jason and Greg were little Atlanta rich boys," Gale explained to the group as they made their way through a narrow alleyway. The walls were plastered with graffiti, but one piece caught Iris's eye: a hauntingly detailed Ghostface painted on the wall, its hollow eyes seeming to watch them as they passed. Of course, this was the kind of place that suited those two lunatics perfectly. "Apparently, they used fake names to rent this place."

"How did you find it?" Kirby asked, walking beside Gale, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

"It's called investigative journalism for a reason," Gale replied, her tone dripping with confidence. Iris exchanged a glance with Sam, who rolled her eyes. Here it comes, Iris thought, suppressing a smile as she noticed the weird dynamic between those two.

"How didn't you find it? Weren't you tracking them?"

"I went through their financial records dozens of times," Kirby shot back, her frustration palpable. "This was not in any of them. It doesn't make sense."

"Don't worry," Gale murmured dismissively, waving her hand as if swatting away a fly. "I'm just really good at my job. You'll get there one day." Kirby rolled her eyes, letting out a loud sigh that echoed through the alley.

Gale strode over to a heavy door marked with rust and age, fiddling with the entry system until it clicked open, once she swiped a card. With a confident push, she bounded inside, the group trailing behind her. Iris couldn't help but wonder how Gale had managed to get her hands on a keycard that could unlock all the doors to this place. It felt both impressive and a little unsettling.

As they stepped inside, Gale produced a flashlight from her bag, its beam slicing through the darkness. The light illuminated a narrow corridor ahead, revealing another fence that needed to be unlocked. Gale approached it, pushing the gate open with a loud shriek that echoed off the walls.

"What's with this place?" Sam asked, her voice reverberating in the eerie stillness. "What's with all the security?"

Gale flicked the light back on, and they all stopped in their tracks, jaws dropping as they took in the sight before them. The room was expansive, filled with rows of glass shelves, but it was the stuff inside them that left them speechless.

"It's a movie theater," Tara realized.

"It's not just a theater," Gale corrected, her lips pursed in a serious line as she scanned the room. "It's a shrine."

"That's a funny way of saying this is the dollhouse of some psycho," Iris muttered, her gaze flickering from the creepy altar of the murders  to the large stage that loomed ominously at the front.

"What the hell?" Mindy whispered, taking a step closer, her curiosity overshadowed by unease.

Iris began to stare straight ahead, her heart pounding as she took in the scene. One by one, the others followed her gaze, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock. The room was a museum dedicated to the Stab franchise, filled with clothes, weapons, and haunting photographs. The curtain that usually shrouded the stage had been pulled up, exposing a chilling display of Ghostface costumes but the masks were absent. The sight of the Ghostface outfits, each representing a different killer twisted her stomach into an uncomfortable knot.

"Wow," Sam whispered, her voice barely audible, mirroring the stunned silence of the group. Mindy and Chad brushed past them, eager to investigate more.

"They've got the whole goddamn franchise," Mindy exclaimed, disbelief etched across her features. She turned to her brother, her eyes wide. "Chad?"

"Hmm?" he replied, distracted by a particularly striking costume.

Mindy gestured toward a faded black t-shirt hanging on the wall. "This was Uncle Randy's..." Her voice trailed off as she took in the vast collection around them. "They've got everything."

Iris's gaze drifted past a series of photos featuring a younger Sidney and a portrait of Dewey, who looked so vibrant and full of life. She felt Gale's presence beside her and couldn't help but speak. "He was so young in this picture."

"Yes, so handsome too," the older woman replied softly, a sadness glimmering in her eyes. They exchanged a brief, bittersweet smile before Iris stepped away, sensing that the woman needed a moment to herself.

As she continued her walk, she spotted Kirby staring intently at a stripped blue shirt and a knife displayed behind the glass. "Kirby, is that...?" Iris asked carefully, her heart sinking.

"The knife I was stabbed with," Kirby replied, her voice heavy with sorrow. Iris instinctively rubbed her arm in comfort, trying to ease the weight of the moment. As she turned her attention to a dark blue crop top on a nearby shelf, a chill ran down her spine. She leaned closer to the glass case, her breath hitching when she saw the name inscribed beneath it. "Belonged to Olivia Morris."

"How the fuck do they have that?" Iris gasped, pressing a hand against the glass as if to will it to disappear. The reality of the place began to suffocate her.

"I don't know," Kirby said, grabbing Iris's arm gently but firmly. "Let's move on. Don't look at that."

Tara noticed the distressed expression on Iris's face and approached her, concern etched in her features. "What happened?" she asked, her voice low and soothing.

"They have a shirt that belonged to my sister, like it's some kind of trophy," Iris admitted, her words tinged with sadness. The weight of loss settled heavily on her chest as Tara wrapped her arms around her in a comforting embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Ris," Tara murmured, her voice soft and sincere.

"It's not your fault," Iris replied, pulling away reluctantly. She took a moment to steady herself before heading over to join Chad and Mindy, who were engrossed in examining another set of weapons.

"How did they get all of this stuff?" Tara asked, glancing around the room with a mix of disbelief and horror. "Isn't this evidence?"

"Well, cops like money," Gale replied nonchalantly, her tone dismissive. "And evidence can get lost pretty easily. Present company excluded, of course." She shot a pointed look at Kirby, who was already glaring back at her, with her arms wide open.

"Um, why am I here exactly?" Ethan piped up after a moment, his tone laced with irritation. "My alibi check out."

"So we can keep an eye on you," Chad said calmly, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned casually against the wall.

"You're not excluded, pretty boy," Iris chimed in, her voice sharp. At the same time, Mindy made a gesture with her eyes, a clear indication that she was keeping a close watch on him.

Gale nodded, her expression turning serious as she surveyed the room. "He must've found this place before he murdered Jason and Greg," she deduced, her voice low but urgent. "And then he took the masks off the mannequins. All nine, from Stu and Billy to Amber and Richie."

As Gale spoke, Iris and Sam made their way toward the Ghostface outfits, each drawn to different displays. Sam approached her father's outfit, her expression unreadable, while Iris found herself standing before Amber's costume. It felt surreal to look at something that belonged to the girl who had caused so much pain.

For the first time in a long while, Iris stared at the costume without feeling sadness or betrayal. Instead, a simmering anger boiled inside her, anger that she hadn't been able to stop Amber before she hurt Wes, Dewey and Liv. The memory of their faces haunted her, and she clenched her fists.

Chad approached, his expression shifting to concern as he noticed her distress. "You okay, Ris?" he asked softly, his voice comforting as he stared at the costume of the girl who used to be his friend.

"Yeah, just tired of this bullshit,".

"I feel you, girl," Chad said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Together, they stepped away from the horrible display, ready to rejoin their friends.

As they made their way back to the group, the air felt thick with tension. She looked around, catching glimpses of Sam standing by her father's outfit with Tara beside her and Gale flipping through various shelves trying to find some type of clue.

"So, somebody killed these chucklefucks and took over?" Chad crossed his arms, his expression showing disbelief.

"Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro," Gale replied, her tone grave as she surveyed the room.

"If this were a normal Stab movie, this would be the killer's lair," Mindy added flatly, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if trying to piece together a twisted narrative.

"Jesus, this is insane," Iris muttered.

"Which means this isn't a normal Stab movie," Kirby confirmed, her voice steady but laced with anxiety.

Kirby's words hung in the air, echoing in Tara's mind. Something shifted within her, and before anyone could react, she darted down the small steps of the stage and out of the large room, urgency propelling her forward.

Sam and Iris exchanged worried glances, their concern deepening as they quickly followed after her. They found Tara in the hallway, visibly shaken as she took a deep breath from her inhaler.

As Tara turned to face them, the worry etched on Sam and Iris's faces was unmistakable. "You okay?" Sam coaxed gently, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Sam, when do I get to be a normal person again?" Tara asked, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to shield herself from the world. A silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, shaking her head, a frown deepening on her brow.

"I don't want to be a part of this," Tara continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to be part of some stupid legacy because I'm—"

"Because of me,"

"Sam, it's not your fault," Iris interjected, her voice firm yet gentle, desperate to defuse the tension building between the sisters.

"Just drop it," Tara murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Without another word, she hurried away, making her way toward the second floor.

"I got her," Iris assured Sam as she followed Tara's retreating figure.

As she ascended to the second floor, Iris turned into a random room, her heart racing with concern. There she found Tara leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on the floor as if the ground might swallow her whole. The vulnerability in Tara's posture struck Iris, and she felt a rush of sadness.

"Hey, you okay?" The words hung in the air between them, soft but heavy, as Iris watched Tara's shoulders slump.

Tara looked up slowly, her eyes tired, a little lost. She gave a half hearted smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's not easy to be here". She sighed, staring at the floor, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"No, it's not. " Iris said softly, taking a cautious step forward. "But you know it's not Sam's fault, right?"

Tara let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "I know. I was a total jerk, wasn't I?"

"Yep. But she understands you didn't mean it. This place has a way of driving everyone insane."

"I'll apologize, she didn't deserve that."

"Good." Iris smiled gently, relief washing over her. "It's important that you guys stick together."

Tara glanced at her, concern evident in her eyes. "How are you holding up? I know this is hard for you too."

"Yeah well, It's not that bad. I mean, I'm extremely mad about my sister's clothes being here. But what can I do? I just have to hope we get justice for her and for all of us."

"That's really mature of you," Tara remarked, a hint of admiration in her tone.

"You almost sound surprised, I'm a little offended," Iris teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Tara chuckled softly. "It's just... you're usually the one who's ready to lash out." Iris could not disagree with that.

"And what about seeing Amber's costume? Are you okay?" Tara asked, her tone shifting to something more serious.

"Honestly? I'm great. I haven't felt anything for her in a long time. Maybe just anger that I didn't have a gun sooner," Iris admitted, a smirk creeping onto her face.

"Ah, here comes the sadistic side again," Tara said, shaking her head, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Don't lie to me, you kinda dig it." Iris nudged Tara playfully with her shoulder, trying to draw her out of the heavy atmosphere.

"Maybe," Tara said, allowing a smile to break through.

"You okay though? You seemed really mad" Iris asked.

"I'm just overwhelmed, you know? Everything that's happening... it doesn't help to see it all laid out like this. It's like a constant reminder of what we've lost."

"I know, this sucks," Iris replied, her voice tinged with empathy. She took a step closer, her voice lowering, trying to offer some comfort. "But hey, it will be over soon, I promise. We'll make it through this.

Tara nodded slowly, but it didn't seem to reassure her. She glanced around at the room, the yellow walls, the relentless buzz of fluorescent lights above them and the poster of older films "I don't know," she muttered, her voice shaking slightly. "It doesn't feel like it'll ever end." Iris understood. The situation they were in wasn't one that could be easily escaped, not with their lives on the line every day.

And in the silence that followed, Tara spoke again, almost as if the thought had been eating at her from the inside.

"Do vou ever think about what would happen if we died?" Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as though she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer.

Iris blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. She ran a hand through her hair, unsure how to respond at first. "Well, I don't really think about dying, so... no," she said lightly, attempting to ease the atmosphere with a touch of humor.

But Tara wasn't laughing. Instead, her eyes narrowed, her hand reaching out and giving Iris a playful slap on the arm. "Asshole," she muttered. "I mean it though. I think about it a lot, especially now. More than I'd like to admit."

Iris raised an eyebrow, her expression softening with concern. "Why?"

Tara hesitated for a long moment, her gaze drifting off, as though she was lost in her own thoughts. She exhaled, the air leaving her lungs like a deflated balloon.

"I guess I just don't want to go with any regrets, you know? Like, I don't want to leave this world without having done the things l've always dreamed of." Her voice dropped. "I've spent so much time worrying about everything, and now... now it feels like I don't have enough time to do all the things l've put off."

Iris's chest tightened as she watched Tara struggle to voice the thoughts that were clearly haunting her. She moved closer, her voice softer now. "And you have a lot of those? Regrets, I mean?" She tilted her head slightly, noticing how close they were standing.

Tara's eyes flickered briefly to Iris's face before returning to the floor. "I do," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Like I have a whole list of things I want to do. I want to see the world, finish my major, do something that matters." She laughed bitterly. "But instead, l've just been stuck here, letting the fear of what ifs ruin everything"

Iris took a deep breath, trying to steady her own emotions. She reached out, touching Tara's arm gently. "Well then, what are you waiting for?" she asked, her voice firm but gentle. "Once this is over, you should do everything you've always wanted to do. No more waiting. What comes to your mind right now?"

Tara's lips twitched upward in a small smile. "Like going on a cruise, mavbe?"

Iris froze for a moment, her brows furrowing. "You want to go on a fucking cruise?" she asked, her voice filled with amusement. "They kinda suck"

Tara shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a spark in her eyes. "What? Don't look at me like that, it would be amazing," She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Here I was, about to invite you to come with me and everything."

Iris's lips curled into a grin, her heart skipping a beat at the thought. "Count me in," she said without hesitation.

Tara's eyes widened for a second, but she quickly recovered. "But you just said cruises suck" she reminded her, crossing her arms with a teasing grin.

"I did." Iris admitted, shaking her head in happiness "But if I'm going to be stuck on a filthy boat, it might as well be with you." She paused, her voice lowering as she took Tara's hand in hers. "I would go anywhere with you, Tara. Even on a horrible cruise."

The words hung in the air between them, a silent promise. Tara squeezed her hand in return and for a moment, it felt like everything else faded away and it was just the two of them.

Tara's breath caught in her thoat, and she pulled her hand back slightly, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "That's not the only thing I want to do, though," she said, her voice suddenly quieter. She stepped back, her gaze flickering to the ground as she struggled to say what was on her mind. "There's something I need to do first. Something that comes before anything else."

Iris raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Well then you should also do that, whatever it is".  She placed a hand on Tara's shoulder, her voice steady. "We'll end this nightmare, together."

Tara shook her head, the sadness in her eyes apparent. "You can't promise that," she whispered. "Not everything is in our control."

"Maybe not, but there's one thing I know for sure." Iris moved closer, the space between them almost nonexistent as she looked directly into her eyes. "I know that I'm going to protect you, no matter what happens. I'Il do anything to make sure you're safe."

Tara's heart skipped a beat at the words. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. "Why?" she finally whispered. "Why would you do anything to protect me?" Tara's eyes softened, but there was still a depth to her gaze that Iris couldn't fully read. She hesitated, biting her lip as if the words were stuck in her throat.

Finally, she exhaled, her voice barely audible. "Well, I... because you're my best friend," she stuttered. "And I don't want you to die."

"God, I hate that word so much," Tara whispered, the intensity of the moment thickening the air around them.

"Which one? Die?" Iris tried to laugh, but it came out forced, nervous as Tara's gaze locked onto hers.

“No, best friend. I hate it when you call me that”.

Tara grabbed the back of Iris's neck, her fingers tangling in her hair as she pulled her in, their lips crashing together with a force that took them both by surprise. Iris hitched her breath in shock, the warmth of Tara's mouth sending ripples of sensation coursing through her.

As the kiss broke, she pulled away just enough to catch her breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Their eyes locked, both of them momentarily speechless, Iris's mind raced, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that surged between them.

Tara's cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her gaze flickered between her eyes and lips, a spark of desire igniting in her expression. It was a look Iris had never seen before, raw and vulnerable yet filled with longing.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Iris wrapped her arms around Tara's waist, drawing her in closer as if trying to merge their bodies into one. The move was instinctual, fueled by a longing that had been building for what felt like ages. She pressed her lips against hers again, this time with a desperate intensity that spoke volumes of the feelings she had kept locked away.

Iris felt Tara melt against her, her body responding to her every touch as they lost themselves in each other. She placed her hands on Tara's waist, feeling the warmth of her body beneath her fingertips as she pressed her against her body. Iris's fingers slipped to the small of her back, holding her tightly as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of her lips.

Tara grabbed onto the side of her jaw and ran her tongue across Iris's bottom lip, every brush of their mouths was electric and made her crave even more. Tara wrapped her arms around her neck, her fingers tangling in her hair. She tugged gently, the sensation sending shivers down Iris's spine, and she couldn't help but let out a soft whimper, opening her mouth slightly to allow Tara to easily slip her tongue.

Iris moaned softly at the sudden contact, and with a gentle yet firm pressure, she pushed Tara  until her back met the cool surface of the wall behind them. She wasn't willing to let go of her, not now, not after everything that had led them to this point.

One hand pressed firmly against Tara's lower back, pulling her even closer, leaving no space between them. Her other hand drifted through Tara's hair, her fingers weaving through the soft strands, relishing the feeling of her body against her.

Tara's hands roamed up to her shoulders, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her shirt as if anchoring herself in the moment. Tara responded to her touch with a soft sigh, her body arching into her as if instinctively seeking for more. Iris could sense her excitement, the way her fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her closer still.

She explored the curve of Tara's waist with her hand, a sensation that made her heart race even faster. Iris could hear the soft gasps that escaped Tara's lips, each sound sending a thrill through her. She had never experienced anything like this; this raw, unfiltered passion that seemed to consume them both.

As their kisses grew more fervent, Iris couldn't help but lose herself in the moment. She marveled at how right it felt to hold her like this, how natural it was to be entwined in each other's arms. Finally, as the lack of air was starting to become present, Tara pulled away, tugging on Iris’s bottom lip and releasing it before speaking, making the girl chase after her lips.

"That's what I wanted to do more than anything," Tara whispered, her breath warm against Iris's lips. "In case you were wondering"

Iris felt a rush of heat wash over her, her entire mouth tingling. With her eyes still closed, she leaned her forehead against Tara's, both of them trying to steady their breaths. "Tara, that was..."

"We should go. Let's find Sam, we have things to do" Tara replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Iris's cheek before pulling away. She stepped outside of the room, leaving Iris standing there, her mind racing with questions.

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Monsters walk at night (Monster!Price x f!reader)

Another one for @glitterypirateduck Price writing challenge!

Scenarios used, 16. ‘A Pursuit takes place’ and 44. 'A world where mates exist':

Warnings: monster fucking, NSFW, unprotected p in v, partial smut, literally getting chased down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off as an innocent walk through the woods by the large cabin Price had rented, (seemed more like a house when you saw it), stating you all needed a break. He had distributed the rooms when you all had arrived, securing the perimeter and making sure the security cameras and alarm system worked. You remember the day clearly.

The fridge was fully stocked as were the bathrooms, all the amenities needed for a few days stay away from civilization. You walked into the kitchen getting ready to make some food, the drive there was long and you were absolutely starving. “What are ye plannin ta make and can I have some because I am famished.” You turned to find Johnny strolling into the kitchen. “Well I wasn’t offering to make dinner just looking for a snack, but it’d be a shame to have the cabin burn down.” Johnny groans from the table, “It was one time bonnie! Was nae like I was plannin on burnin the place up!” “Johnny you set the place ablaze tryin to make CUP OF SOUP!” “I was tired!”

Price walked in shaking his head as Ghost and Gaz came in behind him chuckling. Simon piped up, “So you makin food or not?” You roll your eyes, “I’ll make a steaming pile of dog shit just for you Ghost.” “Make sure it has garlic and potatoes, yeah?” After dinner was decided on, (not dog shit), everyone settled in for the night with the exception of you and John. “Fancy a walk luv? There are lights on the trails.” You think about it for a minute and nod, “Sure. Seems like a nice night, gotta walk off that meal too.” You both chuckle and walk outside, the night warm so there was no need for jackets.

You both had been walking for about 20 minutes, the scenery beautiful and calming, making small talk as the scent of Price’s cigar smoke wafts around in the night air. The light from the cigars burning tip gave Price’s already attractive features a boost, almost making him look scary in the dark of the woods. “You know, I could use a bit more exercise. Up for a chase?” You look at him confused as he takes a hit from his cigar and blows the smoke upwards, the red embers showing in his eyes.

He leans closer as you take a step back, his eyes gleaming, his teeth seeming sharper. “Run.” That was all you needed as you took off into the trees. You don’t know how long you ran before you finally heard his boots hitting the ground behind you. He was far but not by much, the sound of his boots thudding loudly, almost like he was heavier now. You had briefly stopped behind a large rock but continued when you heard his voice ring through the forest, loud and strange. “Run all you want sweetheart. I can smell you from a mile away.”

You had barely made it to a clearing when you were tackled from behind. You managed to turn over, finding Price but he looked different. Horns protruded from his head, a spiked tail swaying behind him, teeth razor sharp and eyes glowing like the flames of hell. “Caught you darling. Smelled you the second you started running. Getting chased down turn you on?” You blushed, turning your head away. Sure you had always found Price attractive, you knew he wasn’t totally human, and maybe you had some disrespectfully spicy dreams about him, so who could blame you for being turned on.

He nudged your cheek before moving to your neck, inhaling your scent. “My mate.” “What?” “You’re my mate luv. Smelled it the second you walked onto base.” “ O-oh, um I-“ “Do you accept? I may be a monster but I’m not an asshole. I’ve seen your dreams, heard your whispers.” “This isn’t a joke right? Because…I love you, have for a while and if this is some weird or cruel joke just so you can get laid it’s not funny.”

His eyes widened, stunned. “You think so low of me? That I would make a joke of something so serious?” You shake your head no and he sighs in relief. Nuzzling into your neck, he licks and groans as he tastes your flesh mixed with sweat. “Do you accept?” You nod, “Words, dearest.” “I accept.” A rumble forms in his chest as you kiss him and you both begin to undress. You had felt the bulge of him rubbing against your thigh through the talk and it had you needy.

To say he was large was an understatement as you openly stared at the size of him. “It’ll fit fine luv, no worries.” You nodded hesitantly, “Please be gentle.” He kisses you to smooth your nerves as he slowly pushes in, catching all your pretty noises in his mouth. “That’s it darling. You were made to take me.” He was only half way in but you already felt so full of him but he continued to slip inside unhindered. When his hips finally connected with your’s he left out a drawn out moan into the night air and pulled back slowly. “I hope you’re ready sweetheart, because it’s about to be a long night.” Running a hand over the obvious bulge in your skin, you clench and that’s enough to get him started.

The night is spent surrounded by the sound of his hips meeting your’s, breathy moans, the name of your captain loud on your lips and hands firmly gripping his horns for the ride. He didn’t let up until the sun had almost broken the horizon, both of you spent and newly mated.

[eatyourmaker]

How about some burningholysacrilege if you have time ^^

I am definitely not the person that came up with that ship trust /silly

I just had to do this one, but I didn't know how to tackle it, so I just drew a snippit of a long going rp I have going on.

I'm glad you started publicly shipping these 3, bc I've been privately shipping them for around the same time I've shipped FieryFaith, but I was too anxious to even draw them let alone share any art 👉🏾👈🏾

While I'm here lemme share some hcs I've accumulated throughout the duration of these 3 living in my head rent-free

Hcs under the cut

(TWO OF THE HCS ARE SUGGESTIVE, I will mark them so you can skip them)

1. Ignacio and Skiddad were a thing before Ignacio got together with Gregor. They were always an open relationship though, so both parties were free to explore and experiment with others. At the end of the day though they'd do their own independent things, they knew they would always be together. They belong together. They're soulmates. Bonded for eternity, and it didn't matter what would happen, they would always find their way back eachother.

2. The aforementioned point is why Gregor entering the picture was really confusing for Ignacio at first. Skiddad is the one. So how could there ever be another? In my hc Skiddad died for a brief period of time and then was resurrected. This period of time is when Ignacio got together with Gregor. After the whole enemies to lovers type shit happened, he was confused by how well he was treated— how at home he felt with Gregor. It was the same feeling of safety he got from being by Skiddad's side. Very confusing, especially during his time of grief. Eventually he caved to loneliness and fell into Gregor's warm embrace.

3. When Skiddad came back Ignacio felt overwhelming anxiety about the two meeting. You know what the cult does to priests. But Skiddad is much more composed as calculating than lower ranking members. He wouldn't kill Gregor, especially if his soul mate has feelings for him. He'd simply convert him instead. It may seem crazy, but indoctrination is a slow process to begin with, and I hc that Skiddad also has a Christian background before the cult. With coming from the same systems of beliefs, and having the same interest in Ignacio's health and safety, conversion would be a cinch. He doesn't mind Gregor being a permanent addition to the relationship if it makes Ignacio happy.

okay now onto some some lighter hcs

4. Ignacio gets smothered with affection from both Skiddad and Gregor.

5. Gregor is probably the only person who could ever fluster Skiddad. Unprompted and genuine kindness is not something he's used to. Skiddad slowly becomes aware of why Ignacio likes his priest so much.

6. (SUGGESTIVE) Skiddad has definitely gotten a kick out of teasingly calling Gregor "father". Gregor praying that he don't go to hell good lord.

7. (SUGGESTIVE) Skiddad- Top | Ignacio- Switch | Gregor- Bottom/Service Top, and that's that on that ��🏾

8. Skiddad tries to relate to Gregor a lot under the guise of "being a pastor too," which he's trying to use to desensitize him to the idea of the cult.

9. Skiddad and Gregor were both raised in a chruch

10. Skiddad and Gregor both speak Latin

11. Skiddad and Ignacio both speak Spanish

12. English is Skiddad's third language

13. Skiddad calls Ignacio "starlight" and Gregor "Amate" (love). Gregor calls Ignacio "Spitfire" and Skiddad "angel eyes". Ignacio is too embarrassed to call either anything besides basic terms of endearment NDNDNDN

Ok lemme end there, there's more but I've written literally so much.

[theswordwrites]

PART ONE (the alchemy)

Juniper receives good news and has no choice but to celebrate with her closest friends, leading her right into the path of Aemond Targaryen (again.)

(TW: 18+ partying, drug use, nothing too crazy!)

word count: 4.3k

NEXT PART

By midnight, June’s feet ached in the heels required by her uniform. It was ridiculous, truly. The gala attendees barely looked at her for longer than a few seconds, so why was she squeezed into a cocktail dress that had probably been handed down a dozen times and shoes that made her calves tense and sore for days? As she ran drinks to and from tables, flashing her best million-dollar smile, she reminded herself the paycheck would be worth it. Her rent would be paid, her credit card debt knocked down, and she could finally buy the cat tree that had been sitting in her online shopping cart for weeks. Maybe she’d even splurge on a night out at The Velvet Throne with her roommate, Arianne, and their friends.

After a night working the Green Party’s latest altruistic-yet-off-putting kickoff gala, she would need at least four martinis and a cigarette. She had spotted Alicent Hightower, as beautiful as ever, gliding through the room in a deep sage silk gown. June wasn’t sure what the gala was raising money for, but they had raised a hell of a lot of it. She had to admit, Alicent was so stunning she might have emptied her own pockets for her, too. The Targaryen-Hightower children had made an appearance. The eldest—whose name escaped her—was drunk by the time the opening speeches began. Helaena had left early, trailed by three bodyguards. She’d seen the second son, Aemond, only from behind. Taller than his older brother, and surprisingly, not wearing green. Odd, considering the rumor was he was at odds with party advisors ahead of the election.

That morning, Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina had dissected the election over bagels and coffee. Edith claimed he seemed different from his father, with more progressive policies aimed at gaining the younger generation's vote. Arianne rolled her eyes and insisted he might put on a good show, but he was just as much a Targaryen as his father, with his scheming grandfather pulling the strings. “I’m sure he’ll say anything to get into office, and once he’s there, he’ll line his pockets like the rest of them.”

June had stayed quiet, editing her thesis on her laptop and mulling over her use of the word "delve." She had no faith in the system, nor those who upheld it. But she had heard a speech Aemond had given about student debt, arguing that education shouldn't have a price because knowledge was power, and everyday people deserved to hold it. It intrigued her—how young he was, and the impact that could have. She promised herself she would research more closer to the election and do her duty as a citizen of Westeros. Her brain was too full of edits and deadlines to give it much space now.

“June, we need more champagnes to the front table, like right now,” one of the other servers hissed at her, voice anything but subtle. She nodded and forced her aching legs to move.

At the table sat the Hightowers and their equally powerful, politically savvy friends. She spotted Larys Strong, who had served the late Prime Minister, looking as intense and off-putting as ever as he leaned on his cane. Jason Lannister's spray tan was a shade too deep, and June had to bite back a giggle. How could someone be so rich and yet so blind? Surely, he could hire someone to remind him that a few hours was more than enough.

She set the glasses down gently, adding a smile and a dragon-embossed napkin. June tried to ignore that Alicent Hightower was looking at her but managed a polite, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re okay for now, thank you,” Alicent replied, her voice as graceful as her movements.

June smiled again, hoping her lipstick hadn’t smudged, and glanced around the table. The eldest Targaryen son sat to Alicent’s left, and next to him was Aemond, the current parliamentary candidate. He was all sharp lines and elegance, with blue eyes that were now fixed on her. June paled, frozen in place. Her gaze traveled from his silver hair to the scar etched over his eye and then to the gold signet ring on his pinky.

He was a Targaryen in every sense of the word, elegantly leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, eyes like steel.

The seconds stretched into an eternity before her brain caught up with her body. With another awkward grin and a slight tilt of her head, she turned—no, scurried—away.

Nothing embarrassed June more than feeling out of place. And that had been mortifying.

Back in the kitchen, she sipped water and fanned her face, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. She quickly asked the manager—an older woman with a sharp determination to break in the new servers—if she could take her first break. The manager nodded, and June didn’t waste a second before slipping outside. The cool air of a late August evening felt refreshing against her skin, drawing out some of the heat as she leaned against the brick wall. Her phone dinged.

TO: JUNIPER GREYSONFROM: DR. ORWYLE

Miss Greyson,

I apologize for the late correspondence. I have just received confirmation that your dissertation has been approved by the committee. Please call my office tomorrow morning to set a date for your defense.

CongratulationsSent from my iPhone

She squealed—a high-pitched, elated sound that escaped before she could stop it. It didn’t matter who heard. She had spent three years on that thesis, hours upon hours of research and writing and scraping by, and now she’d done it. Her fingers found Arianne’s contact, and she didn't care if the brunette was with her “so-not-my-girlfriend” girlfriend.

After a single ring, Arianne answered, “Junie! Are you off work yet?”

“No, not yet. Another hour, maybe. Do you have a second?”

“For my beautiful, smart, strawberry blonde best friend? Of course!” June could picture her now, animated, hands moving as she spoke. Arianne always had a flair for the dramatic—and for flattery, which June usually appreciated.

“It got approved! My thesis, I mean. Dr. Orwyle just emailed. It’s going to committee as soon as I set a date.”

Through the phone came another excited, ear-piercing squeal.

“Oh, Seven! June, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I—” June stuttered, adrenaline catching up to her, “I think I’m in shock. I expected another round of edits, you know? The conclusion didn’t feel right on the last read—”

Arianne cut her off before she could spiral into self-doubt. “Breathe, Junie. You got approved! That’s the only thing that matters right now. Any chance you can leave early so we can celebrate?”

June glanced from her phone to the open kitchen door. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina were waiting for her with wide grins and a drink in hand when she finally stumbled through the front door. In the mere twenty minutes it had taken June to get home, they had somehow managed to drape a glittering “Congratulations!” banner across the mantle, fill the room with balloons, and crack open a bottle of champagne. The faint scent of perfume and laughter filled the air.

Her heart swelled as they swarmed her, squealing and hugging her like they hadn't seen her in years. "Junie, we are so, so proud of you!" Edith sang, throwing her long arms around June in a hug that rocked them back and forth. The others echoed their congratulations, their voices bright and cheerful, brimming with the kind of excitement only best friends can muster.

They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, herded her straight to the bathroom, insisting she shower and change. She let them fuss over her, laughing as they debated outfits, finally settling on something so skimpy it would’ve made her mother clutch her pearls in horror.

For a moment, June thought of her mother, a sharp pang tugging at her chest. She should call her, share the news— but just as quickly, she shoved the thought away, burying it deep. Her mother had been so distant since the accident, so different from the bubbly, over-involved PTA mom who used to cheer too loudly at every recital, every bake sale. It broke June’s heart, but it had been three years, and she had learned to lock those feelings away in a box that she only opened on rare, quiet nights. She was different now too—tougher, more self-reliant. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she swiped concealer under her eyes and dabbed on a thick layer of blush.

"Come on, Junie, let’s go!" Arianne urged, grabbing her arm with a grin. "The Velvet Throne is gonna have a line out the door!"

She barely had time to grab her purse before they were out the door, tumbling into the warm night air. The city buzzed around them—cars honked, street lights flickered, and the distant thrum of music seemed to pulse from every corner. They giggled like schoolgirls as they raced down the street in their high heels, their excitement infectious. After a few glasses of champagne, the ache in her feet had disappeared and she was ready to dance.

When they reached the Velvet Throne, the line was indeed snaking around the block, a mass of people dressed to impress, chattering with anticipation. But Edith, ever the charmer, knew the bouncer. With a coy smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, they were whisked inside and escorted up to the VIP level.

The music hit her like a wave, a deep, pounding bass that vibrated in her chests. One drink turned into two, two into three. The bartender, hearing their redheaded friend was on her way to becoming a doctor, poured them free shots. June held her breath, pinched her nose, and downed it, wincing at the bitter taste but reveling in the warm, numbing sensation that spread through her limbs. The music was so loud it seemed to drown out her thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, she let go.

She danced like she was weightless, the beat coursing through her veins, her friends spinning around her, hair flying, eyes sparkling under the neon lights. They were all in their own little world, a blur of laughter, movement, and joy. At one point, she caught sight of Edith slipping a small baggie from a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.

Edith grabbed her hand, pulling her into a corner and shouting over the music, "Cregan’s at a party at the Keep! He said we’re invited." She opened her palm, revealing the little baggie with a sly grin. "I say we take our new little friend here," she gestured to the baggie, "and head over! Lots of sexy, rich men and free drinks!"

The girls cheered, their excitement infectious, and June felt a surge of adrenaline. This night was far from over.

The Keep was the heart of King’s Landing, home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential residents. The girls had been to a few parties there before, the most memorable being the one where Seraphina ended up spending the night with a Prince from Dorne. They hadn’t let her live it down for months, teasing her with “Your Majesty” until they were breathless with laughter. The prince had texted her the next day, practically begging her to hop on the flight back with him. Sera had only shrugged, saying that while he was amazing in bed and seemed like a nice guy, living in the public eye wasn't for her.

Arianne and Edith had disagreed, dreaming up all the scandalous headlines they’d make if they were ever involved with someone so high-profile. "We’d be the perfect all-Westerosi girls," Arianne had insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

June, as usual, had just nodded and giggled along, content to listen. But now, with the buzz of champagne and a little powder still fresh in her system, she was feeling more chatty. “How did Cregan manage to get into a party at the Keep?” she asked, her voice louder than she intended, her words slightly slurred.

Edith shrugged, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “Old money, babe. His parents have a house there. I’m sure he’s got connections.”

June leaned in closer, her eyebrows raised, chin tipped playfully. “So, are you two ever going to date? Or finally address all that crazy sexual tension?”

Edith laughed, tossing her hair back, her eyes gleaming under the streetlights. “Ask me that tomorrow,” she replied with a wink, just as a car pulled up to the curb. She quickly touched up everyone’s lipstick and hair with a practiced hand. “That’s us!” she shouted.

The Uber ride was a blur, the city lights whizzing by in streaks of neon and gold. It took only fifteen minutes, thanks to the late-night traffic, but it felt like a heartbeat. By now, it was past three in the morning, and though June wouldn’t admit it, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the night beginning to weigh heavy on her bones. Still, she was committed to the bit, the thrill of the night pushing her forward.

Cregan was waiting for them outside, leaning casually against the wall in his usual outfit: an open button-up shirt and jeans that clung just right. They exchanged quick hellos, June’s eyes flicking to Edith, who was already batting her lashes and nodding eagerly at everything Cregan said. She nudged Sera with her elbow, tilting her head toward the two of them.

“He’s definitely ending up at your place tonight, I hope you can sleep through it.” June whispered, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger. Sera managed a quick eye roll before they were whisked inside.

The drunk crowd sprawled across the plush living room seemed almost out of place, like they’d stumbled into the wrong kind of party. The room felt like it belonged to someone who read classic novels by the fireplace or debated politics over brandy. June noticed a distinct lack of personal photos; instead, the walls were adorned with stunning artwork, pieces that seemed to glow under the soft lighting and made her mouth water with envy.

She glanced up, her eyes following the endless ceilings that stretched toward a glittering chandelier, so ornate it looked like it belonged in a palace. Above it, a second level.

“Who’s place is this anyway?” she asked, turning to Cregan.

He tore his gaze away from Edith, though his hand remained comfortably on her lower back. “One of the Targaryens,” he replied with a casual grin. “I play ball with Aegon on the weekends. He’s around here somewhere.”

June raised an eyebrow, amused by the casualness of his tone, as if dropping the name of one of the city’s most influential families was no big deal, “He’s the oldest, right?” Cregan nodded, “I worked their gala event tonight. Rumor has it he left early because he was smashed.”

An arm slid around her shoulder, the weight of it startling her. She could see blonde curls from the corner of her eye. A voice, smooth and amused, spoke close to her ear. “Smashed would be correct, little red. But I have sobered up enough to throw one hell of a party.”

“June, meet Aegon. Aegon, meet Juniper Greyson.” Cregan interjected, gesturing between them. The blonde took his arm away from her shoulders and offered his hand to shake.

June took it, taking him in. While he and his brother shared the same icy hair and serene blue eyes, there was a softness to Aegon’s features that set him apart. His nose had a gentle slope, and his eyes, though strikingly similar in color, lacked the hard edge she’d seen in his brother— but were identical to their mother’s set and shape.

Aegon turned his attention to her friends, his grin widening as he introduced himself. His blue eyes stuck to Seraphina as they walked to the kitchen. June withheld her giggle, watching Sera blush under his gaze.

The girls chatted and the boys eventually drifted away to find more of their friends, not before finding the girls cans of seltzers and bottles of water. June watched as her friends chatted, feeling that odd sensation of being inside the conversation, but also outside of it. She figured the drinking, dancing and coke had caught up to her.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom— be right back.” She gave her friends a tightlipped smile.

“Want me to come?” Edith offered, but June shook her head.

“No, I’m alright. Go talk to Cregan again, he’s been staring at you this whole time.” She nodded her head at him across the room, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d been caught.

The first bathroom had been occupied but what she could only assume to be the raunchiest couple in King’s Landing with the sounds that they were making. She scoffed, sure she hadn’t really ever had mind-blowing sex, but that level of noise was just so obviously unnecessary. The second had just been locked with no answer to her knock. She sighed as she made her way up the stairs, finding not a single bathroom, but a bedroom with one connected. 

After taking care of her business and washing her hands, drying them off on the fluffiest hand towel she had ever touched, she wandered around the bedroom. It felt wrong to snoop, but with the lack of trinkets or personal belongings she assumed it must have been a guest room. The bookshelf was full of classics and history books, a few well-loved first editions she could guess by the aged and worn spines. Now, in the silence, her head began to pound as the music faded away. She counted the drinks in her head. 

One at home. Three at the bar. Add two shots at the bar. One downstairs. Two lines in between. 

She realized she had definitely overdone it. While June enjoyed nights like these with her friends—welcomed them even—it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of every weekend. The way her vision blurred told her it would take weeks to muster the courage to drink again. Sitting on the bed, she ran her fingers over the dark green quilt and giggled.

Green. Of course it was green. Like the hand towel and the bathroom rug. She wondered if that’s what the owner of the room had told the interior designer, “Well, you see I like green. And I’m so, disgustingly rich.” She said aloud in the poshest accent she could manage, making herself laugh even harder.

The door swinging open seemed to sober her up quickly, pulling any laughter out of her chest.

She looked up, horrified to find Aemond Targaryen in the doorframe. He was wearing the same dark suit from earlier in the evening, but his jacket had been shrugged off and tossed over his arm and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. “You.” He said, something like recognition washing over his face.

“Me,” June stammered, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. “I, uh, just needed to use the bathroom and get away from the crowd for a moment. The one downstairs was occupied by a couple making the most disgusting noises, and the other one was locked—someone probably doing coke or something. I thought this was a guest room. I’m sorry. I should go. My friends might be looking for me.” She rambled on, the alcohol making her spill a play-by-play of how she ended up in his bedroom.

Aemond remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Despite leaning against the frame, he was still a head and a half taller than her. “You were at the event tonight, and now you’re in my bedroom. Stalking me?”

“You’re a very tough guy to stalk, Mr. Targaryen. I spent all night knocking on doors until Aegon let me in here,” June found herself looking down at her feet, the carpet much easier to maintain eye contact with. 

“So, you’re friends with Aegon then?”

“No, not really. One of my friends is kind of seeing Cregan Stark, and he’s friends with Aegon. We were out celebrating and he invited us. I didn’t realize whose house it was—or that you must live here with Aegon.”

“I don’t live here with Aegon. The place is mine, but Aegon thought it’d be a good joke to throw a party here.” He crossed his long arms over his chest, and June tried to ignore the enticing hint of skin peeking from his undone shirt.

“Oh, that’s kind of shitty.”

“Kind of shitty should be Aegon’s middle name. I’ve already kicked everyone out. Your friends might be gone, but if my driver is still out front, I can have him take you home.” He gestured to the hallway and began to walk. June followed, too tired to argue.

“You don’t have to. I can call an Uber.” She said, not wanting to be a bother. But she did think, in the back of her mind, that Edith would have a fit if she knew Aemond Targaryen’s personal driver had taken her home. Arianne would pretend to be less impressed, but would hound her later on the make and model; asking if there was a privacy shade and free champagne.

“Ride-share crime has gone up 10% last quarter, I can’t in good conscience—especially not to a constituent.” 

“Trying to win my vote, Mr. Targaryen?” She asked, grinning.

“I was hoping I already had it.”

“You probably do. I saw your student debt speech and liked it, but I’ve been putting off thinking about the election until school settles down. So I can make a well-informed decision of course.”

They descended the stairs. Indeed, Aemond had kicked everyone out, and only Aegon lay sprawled on the leather sofa. “Little red! I see you met my brother, charmer isn’t he?”

Aemond’s gaze was cold as he replied, “Go back to sleep, you oaf. I’m going to have Criston take her home.”

“Oh, I sent Criston back home. Oops.” Aegon giggled, clearly drunker than the last time she saw him. Aemond only sighed as they reached the door.

“I can take you home. I don’t drink, so I’m as sober as can be.”

June nodded, again too tired to argue. The liquor made her pliant, and she was eager to get home. Aemond led her to a sleek black Mercedes, opening the door for her with a practiced ease. She found the gesture oddly chivalrous.

As he turned on the engine, the hum of the car snapped her out of her daze. She glanced around at the luxurious, leather interior. “You’re a PhD student at KLU, right?”

“Stalking me, Mr. Targaryen?” She peered at him.

“Aemond,” he corrected, his tone softer but still firm, glancing over at her as he handed her his phone, maps open and ready for her to enter her address. “Call me Aemond, please. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old. I stepped out for a smoke this evening and overheard you on the phone. Congratulations, by the way. Dr. Orwyle is not an easy man to impress.”

“Oh.” June’s lips curled into a smile at the praise as she handed his phone back to him. She watched as the map popped up on the car’s screen, showing it was only a ten-minute drive home. “Thank you. I’m excited for it to be over, I think. You studied under Dr. Orwyle?”

She found herself looking at him again, her gaze lingering on his muscular hand gripping the steering wheel. “For my first PhD. He was a hard-ass, but pressure makes diamonds, and I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Were you nervous for your defense? I know you do speeches all the time now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his voice dropping close to a whisper, as if anyone else could hear him. “I still get nervous. Every time. Whether it's a crowd of twenty or two thousand. But I remind myself that it’s not about me; it’s about the content, about getting people to listen. All the other stuff—the cadence of your voice or your posture—will come naturally.”

She hummed in response, her head resting against the cold window. The city lights blurred past, and she wondered if Edith had gone home with Cregan. “That’s good advice, thank you.”

“If politics doesn’t work out, my mother thinks I should go into consulting. Perhaps I have a knack for it.” He glanced over at her, his gaze intense. June tried to imagine the setting of that conversation. Was he worried about losing, or was the confidence from his team (or his family) faltering?

“You might, but I think politics might suit you better. The whole country seems to be buzzing about you.”

He shrugged, a flicker of something—appreciation, relief?—in his eyes. “We’ll have to see if that's the case in a few months.”

“Oh, this is me, with the red door.” She pointed out, and he brought the car to a slow stop. Before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he was out of the driver’s side and rounding the car to open the door for her. She found his chivalry oddly compelling, a sharp contrast to his earlier indifference to seemingly everything and everyone.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, Aemond,” she said again, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude and something more. He just nodded, watching her unlock the door and step inside.

Juniper and Aemond failed to notice the blacked out SUV across the street, a long camera lens poking out of the passenger side, snapping away.

okay part one is out! I see this being 7-12 parts, depending on how much i daydream about it in class tomorrow. please leave comments questions etc! so excited to share this <3