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[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.1

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch Notes: Minor character death, Near death experience, Parental Neglect/Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence

Summary: The passing of your older brother forever changed your relationship with your parents. After a particularly brutal incident with your mother, the Maximoffs welcome you into their home.

An: It's been a minute, but I said I was coming back with a vengeance. I've already got multiple chapters of this drafted so be ready for weekly releases. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy this series!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Often the word delicate is used interchangeably with fragile. The only main difference is an obvious and inherent beauty that comes with something delicate. Something fragile on the other hand is viewed as predominantly breakable. Glass is fragile while a flower is delicate. Some items have a duality to them like a vase or feelings.

You were fragile.

Not entirely frail, there was some strength to your bones. It was more so from your unwillingness to be perceived as weak than anything else that kept you semi-strong. You were aware that life could be unkind, but also knew that it took pity on no one. There would be no exceptions made for you, no matter how much your mind craved it.

You were young when you learned the cruelty of life. The memory lives in your mind as clearly as the day it happened. It was summer, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down ferociously on your hometown. It was well over 90 degrees, the perfect weather for swimming. Your parents suggested that you and your brother get in the pool to cool off.

Lucas was wearing blue trunks while you had on a black and white one piece. He was 12 and you were 8, merely children. Left unsupervised, you played in water as you always had with each other.  You couldn’t swim so you always stayed on the shallow side of the pool.

After spending the majority of the day in the pool, you wanted to get out. You hoisted yourself out of the pool by the side, instead of going to the steps. You were successful in getting out of the pool. It was walking along the side of the pool that made you slip. Your head hit the cement and you felt your body hit the water.

You couldn’t recall much from there. The rest had been recounted to you more times than you could remember. You sank 12 feet to the bottom of the pool. Lucas hadn’t noticed immediately but once he did, he sprang into action.

He could swim, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Regardless he swam to the bottom of the pool to retrieve you. He found you there unconscious blood surrounding the water by your head. On the darkest days you speculated about the moment he knew that he was losing air.

He was only 12, but he used his strength to get you out of the water. You had laid on the cement unconscious, while your brother passed out in the pool water. By the time your parents decided to check on you, your head was resting in a puddle of its own blood on the concrete and your brother was face down in the pool.

They called 911 and by some miracle, you had survived. Lucas didn’t make it. You could never forget the look on your parents’ face when they told you. The pity in your father’s eyes and the hatred in your mother’s.

You could recall nearly every time your mother said you killed your brother. It was her favorite thing to throw in your face. She said it so much that it was hard not to believe it.

Your father would argue with her for talking to you this way. It never led to anything other than a screaming match between the two. It only took a few months for divorce papers to be filed. With the divorce papers came a nasty custody battle. The courts decided on 50/50 as your mother became the actress of the century claiming that she couldn't stand to lose another child.

Handling her cruelty forced you to toughen up. The words she spoke to you were nothing compared to the violence she inflicted against you. The bruises were endless with her. Even when you grew taller and stronger than her, she'd taken to throwing things at you.

When you were with your father things were calmer, but he worried a lot. So, you spent a lot of time alone when you stayed with him. It was better than your mother's and you were always grateful for that even though you wished he was more present.

The only thing that helped soften your reality was your friend Pietro. You met him in high school. He knew about everything. He was your only friend, the only person who had taken a liking to your semi-stoic personality. You were by no means an open book, but Pietro showed that he could be trusted. So, you found yourself telling him about your life.

He hated the way you lived. Any time he could, he’d invite you to his place to remove you from your situation. You gladly took his house as a safe haven. His family was affluent. He lived in a home with too many rooms to count. It was a stark difference from either of your parents homes. His family was also the most caring group of people you had ever known. It was evident after the first few visits that they had taken quite a liking to you.

It took you a long time to understand just how much the Maximoff’s cared for you. There was one instance that solidified how much you meant to them.

“Y/n, come over later tonight. Mama misses you, she said she'd make your favorite,” the then 16-year-old Pietro commented as you exited school grounds.

“I’ll try, but this is my mom’s week.”

Pietro frowned, “That just means you should come over earlier.”

You gave him a sad smile, “You know I want to, it’s just- you know how she is.”

His jaw clenched, “Abusive.”

Your gaze lingered on the floor. You heard him sigh loudly before you felt his arms wrapped securely around you. His chin rested on top of your head as he hugged you like you were going to disappear. You fight the urge to say that you were sorry, he hated when you apologized for no reason.

“I’m sorry, you know I just don't want you getting hurt,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I know,��� your voice was smaller than you liked it to be. Pietro always found a way to show your more vulnerable side.

He released the hug and looked at you with soft eyes, “Be safe, Y/n.”

You nodded curtly, “I will.”

The walk home was as anxiety provoking as it always was. Dread filled your body as you approached the run-down apartment complex. You tried to be quiet as you entered your mother’s apartment.

“Well, where have you been all day?” You knew that tone indicated that your mother was already drunk.

“School,” you answered shortly, attempting to continue to your room.

“Don’t walk away when I'm talking to you,” her words made you freeze in your tracks.

There was venom in her glare as she looked at you, “Lucas would've been in his second year of college this year, if you weren't so fucking careless.”

You inhaled slowly, knowing there was nothing you could respond to her with.

“Probably would've been top of his class. He would've had friends and a girlfriend, but because of you he's been rotting in the ground for 8 years because of you.”

You balled up your hands into fists, digging your nails into the skin of your palm. You needed something to ground you, to keep you from crying as your mother continued to speak.

“If he could see you now, he would regret saving your life. You’re stupid, you’re ugly, and you’re disgusting. Still dressing like a little boy at your age, like the sinner I know you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tongue, “He wouldn't even recognize you, you drunk piece of shit.”

She slapped you, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

Your cheek stung and your gaze hit the floor.

“You should've died instead. You’re hardly even a girl, we could've had another daughter.”

You couldn't take it anymore. Walking away from her, you went to your room.  She followed you, but that didn't deter you from throwing all of your things into a duffle bag.

“Where do you think you're going?”

You ignored her and continued to grab the things you cared for.  She screamed more as you packed but you didn't give her an answer. Once you were done, she was stood in your doorway with a wild look in her eyes.

“Leaving,” is all you said as you roughly pushed past her.

“Did you just put your hands on me?”

Her tone was hysterical. You kept moving through the apartment calmly.  It wasn’t until she threw a glass bottle at the wall near you that you flinched. It shattered right by your head. Glass shards flew towards your face, and you felt one slice through your cheek.

You weren’t stunned by her actions. She had done this before in her drunken rage. The glass shattering was just what she needed to get within arms reach of you. Her bony fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly. You hissed at the feeling, knowing there would be bruising.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” she attempted to pull you back, but you were stronger than her.

You pried her fingers off of your wrist. The freedom didn’t last for long as she grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to slam you backwards onto the ground. While you were on the ground, she kept one hand wrapped in your hair as she started to stomp and kick you.

The pain was immense. You struggled against her, trying to find her hand that was holding your hair. When you found it, you grabbed her arm similarly to how she had grabbed yours. You squeezed as hard as you could, and you heard her shriek. Her grip on your hair dropped and as soon as it did you pushed the woman away from you.

“No one wants you; no one cares about you. You don’t even have anywhere to go, you worthless fucking murderer,” your mother stood still where you pushed her to. She tried to bluff you and you knew it.

“Anywhere is better than here,” you rushed for the door.

She threw one more bottle near the exit and you felt a sharp pain in your side, but you kept moving. Your entire body was burning, but you didn’t stop moving.

You let your feet carry you until you realized you were standing in front of the Maximoff’s house. Usually, you'd text Pietro and he'd get the door for you, but instead you rapidly knocked on the door before ringing the bell.

You didn't wait too long before the door swung open, revealing Pietro’s older sister, Wanda. She looked happy to see you until she noticed your state.  She gasped silently before gently pulling you into the house. You could hear the light family chatter happening in the dining room.

Wanda took your bag from you and led you to the rest of the family. Fear coursed through your veins as your heart started to pick up speed. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Wanda sensed this shift in you and spoke.

“We’re going to help, I promise,” her words were few but there was a conviction in them.

You took a deep breath and let her take you into the room with the others. When they saw you, the chatter stopped. Your eyes locked on to Pietro’s. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked at you.

His voice was shaky as he spoke, “She did this to you?”

That’s all it took for you to burst into tears. You collapsed into Wanda’s arms, and she held you upright.

“Wanda, Flora, take her upstairs get her cleaned up and prep a room for her. Pietro, come with me,” Dragos softly ordered his wife and kids.

Without much effort Wanda picked you up and carried you to the upstairs bathroom, her mother trailed behind her. Wanda sat you on the bathroom counter before rummaging through a few cabinets.

“Mama, I can patch her up while you get the room ready,” Wanda said, already prepping to help you.

Flora left the room, leaving just you and Wanda. You were hardly there; your eyes were cloudy as Wanda looked into them. She could tell you were far away.

“Y/n, I need to know where you’re hurt. I see you’ve got a cut on your face and some bruising on your arm, anything else sweetheart?”

You were hesitant and Wanda saw you fiddling with the end of your shirt. Her hands were delicate as they rested on top of yours, “You’re hurt under there?”

You nodded slightly.

“Can I take a look?” Her eyes looked into yours begging for permission.

You lifted the shirt up not only to reveal a bruise forming but a shard of glass sticking out of your side. It was like seeing the glass triggered something in you as more tears began flooding down your face.

“I’m going to fix it ok, sweetheart. You can trust me. It might hurt a little, but you’ll feel loads better after.”

The most painful part was Wanda removing the glass. Your hands gripped the counter until your knuckles were turning white. The red head talked you through everything she was doing, which gave you a little comfort. She also praised you for being as still as possible as she knew how much this was hurting. Though she imagined it wasn’t worse than the wounds being inflicted.

Once she was done, you felt a lot better. You could tell that she wanted to ask you something by the way her eyes wouldn’t leave your figure.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes locked on to her eyes. They were a soft green tone; they held a certain warmth to them. It was easy to get lost in them.

You hummed in response to her.

“Can I ask, what happened?”

Your thumb tapped the pads of your fingers and you focused on them as you answered Wanda, “My mom got mad at me because I wanted to leave. “

You saw Wanda’s jaw clench and it was almost identical to Pietro’s from earlier in the day, “She’s never going to lay a finger on you again.  We’re going to protect you.”

Leaning forward slightly you rested your head on her shoulder. She smelled good and it calmed your nerves. She let you stay in that position until there was a knock on the door.

“I brought some pajamas and towels for a shower. Do you think you'll need help or can I steal this one for a moment,” Mrs.Maximoff peaks through the door.

Wanda looked at you for an answer, “I can do it myself.”

The older woman sent you a small smile, “Very good dear. Just holler if you need anything.”

Wanda paused before she exited the bathroom, “After your shower I'm going to bandage your torso, ok? Be gentle around the tender areas.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” she smiled at your words and left at that.

When you were finally alone with your thoughts, your tears began to fall again. You let the hot water of the shower cascade down your back. The stinging sensation felt good on your skin. The words your mom said were echoing through your head. You knew they wouldn't be going away any time soon.

While you showered Pietro gave his family some insight into your life. He had told them your brother died in an accident and your mother blamed you. He spoke briefly about your father’s busy working schedule but went into details about your mother’s abuse.

Even the short version of events was heartbreaking to the family.

Flora met her husband’s eyes, “She can’t go back there Dragos.”

He nodded his head in agreement, “She’s not.”

There was a dangerous look in Wanda’s gaze, “What’re we going to do about that bitch?”

Dragos looked at his daughter with a slight smile on his lips, “We’re going to take care of her. She’s not going to bother Y/n, ever again, unless she's got a death wish.”

“If she’s going to stay here, she needs to know the truth,” Pietro said looking down at the table.

“What good would that do her? She’s already had enough,” Wanda defended.

Pietro’s glare matched Wanda’s, “She’s my best friend and we all know there’s a danger that comes with being in this household. If she’s at risk to be hurt, then she deserves to know, and I will tell her.”

“We can keep her safe without her knowing,” Wanda argued back.

“I am not lying to her,” Pietro said with finality.

Wanda scoffs, “You have for all this time, what’s the difference?”

Pietro slammed his fist down on the table, “I would’ve told her from the start if it was an option. She has barred her soul to me, entrusted me with her deepest fears and secrets, you don’t know her like I do.”

“I know she came here barely able to talk, a piece of glass lodged in her side, a cut under her eye, her entire midsection is a bruise. “

“That doesn't mean she doesn’t deserve to know the truth.”

Neither of them was backing down.

“The truth about what?”

The family shifted their attention to you. Pietro crossed his arms over his chest while looking at his family expectantly. Wanda turned her attention to her father to see what he would do.

It was actually Flora who spoke, “Y/n if you’re going to be staying with us there is something we must tell you dear.”

Pietro started, “Remember when you saw my house for the first time and asked what my parents did?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro’s prolonging of the situation, “Y/n we’re a part of a crime syndicate.”

Dragos quickly corrected Wanda, “We aren’t just a part of it. I’m in charge of it. We aren't so bad either, we do a lot for the community.”

You wanted to laugh, but they looked so serious. They were waiting for your reaction, but you were still processing. This clearly wasn't a joke.

“Ok,” was all that you could muster up.

“Do you get what we’re saying dear?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re criminals,” your eyes cut over to your best friend, “All of you?”

Pietro tore his eyes away from you.

Wanda saw the hurt in her brother’s eyes and tried to take over, “Beyond criminals, Y/n we’re the same Maximoff family that you know. We care about you and your safety. We would never let any harm come to you.”

“Do I have to be involved with that stuff?” You questioned.

The family all eyed Dragos, seemingly searching for an answer of their own. His eyes met yours, “I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. However, if this is something you're interested in all you have to do is ask.”

You took in a deep breath, before exhaling, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Flora shook her head, “You’re family Y/n.”

For once that night you held back the tears. You let Wanda redress your wounds and then went to bed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, you believed the Maximoff's when they said you were safe. That was the first time in your life where you felt delicate and not fragile. However, things change consistently, and life moves fast, even faster when you’re entangled with the biggest crime family in New York City.

[floweycidal]

clover would be nice to bugs, i think.

they don’t crazily save every insect they see, nor do they keep a census of lives rescued. this isn’t that kind of story. not at all.

but when they come across a beetle on its back, legs cycling through air like broken clock hands, there is no internal debate about morality, no performance of kindness for an invisible audience. they simply reach down, right what's wrong, and move on without waiting for thanks.

all those tiny lives that others casually swat at or sweep away. the spider rebuilding its web for the third time today, patiently reweaving what was thoughtlessly destroyed. the ant dragging a crumb twice its size across an endless expanse of floor. the moth fluttering desperately as it searches for a way back to the light.

more often than not, clover stops.

again, nothing ceremonial about it. no fanfare or fuss. just a tender hand extending a leaf to bridge a gap, or a solicitous finger nudging a fallen to safer ground.

they'd probably be cracking terrible puns in their head, something about giving beetles a "turn" for the better or how “moth-ers” know best. it stays there. tucked away with all the other small jokes that no one else will hear.

clover understands. they know what it feels like to live in spaces where you’re not wanted, to move carefully, noiselessly, hoping that the larger, more powerful beings in your world might just pass you by. they know exactly how heavy a careless footstep can be. you can see it in the way they move through the underground. this perfect quietude, like they're walking between raindrops.

it’s the kind of placidity born of understanding that survival sometimes translates to being so quiet that even the air forgets to stir around you.

being small doesn’t make you less deserving. powerlessness doesn't make you wrong. occasionally, the truest form of justice is simply making space for others to exist.

and clover would know.

their life on the surface was hardly rich with comforts or attachments. it was a life of static-laden tv shows, dishes washed with nary a nod, and spaces that felt more borrowed than lived in. they know what it is to go unnoticed, to be treated like something inconsequential, a minor nuisance at best.

more presence than person, clover has lived off scraps and donned garments stitched together with hope and necessity. they'd understand, better than anyone, what it means to exist underfoot.

it feels so natural, so right, to imagine clover giving a bug a second chance. where others see something disposable, clover sees something familiar. just trying to live. get by.

not a saint by any stretch, they’ll “borrow” what they need without asking. still, they’ll mutter a soft “excuse me” to a ladybug flitting too close, and still they'd find the time to guide a caterpillar out of harm’s way with a scrap of paper.

they'd choose to handle the fragile and easily breakable with care and fairness, for mercy matters most when it’s offered to those who cannot demand it.

the world has a way of teaching its smallest inhabitants to expect cruelty—to see a hand coming down like judgment, a step as an unthinking end. to know that to exist while small is to always be one breath away from being deemed an annoyance, a pest.

the bugs are blissfully unaware of their reprieve. they don’t realize that someone paused, saw, and judged their lives worthy of continuing. clover never needs them to know. it's not why they do it.

clover permits these lives to continue without condition because being bigger doesn’t confer more importance. having strength doesn’t mean it must be used to crush the small. that wouldn't be fair now, would it?

and i like to believe this compassion for little critters isn’t so separate from their pursuit of justice; it’s part of the same whole.

justice isn't always the thundering declaration people expect.

justice here wears a shabby hat. walks without sound. respects a balloon's privacy and even waves it goodbye.

justice can very much come in the form of realizing that the most revolutionary thing you can do in a world that worships its own thorns is to be solemnly, persistently kind and just.

even to the things that everyone else would much rather squash than spare.

especially then.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is the freebie of all freebies. Write whatever you want whenever you want how often you want. Save this in your inbox or post it, I do not mind either way. I always love to see what you write, doesnt really matter what :)

You look the man in front of you up and down and don't bother to keep your lip from curling, "No."

"Come on baby," he purred, stepping closer, reaching out to straighten your jacket, forcing contact. He screams of lust. Of the need to dominate and control. He sees what a lot of men see when they look at you.

A fragile little doll. A breakable little girl. A lost little lamb. Someone who just needs a daddy. A protector. Easy prey.

"Touch me," you warn, "and you'll forget to sit before you take a shit." You don't bother to specify whether or not it'll be because you'll mindfuck him until he bashes his head against a wall to make it stop or because Batman, Nightwing, or any number of the other heroes in the vicinity right now will curb stomp him until he's a blithering idiot.

His eyes are lifeless. Like a puppet's. And when his hand closes around your wrist his skin is hot and dry. It feels like crepe paper left in the sun and he reeks of burnt sugar. Target. Suspect.

So before you carry out your promise, you ping Cass. Trusting her to alert Bruce. You might not QUITE be able to mindfuck him into oblivion but NO ONE was ever going to prey on you again. And as he pull you close to his chest, it was immensely satisfying to make him piss his pants in the alley, writhing in wordless unhinged terror as you skipped your new black velvet boots neatly out of the puddle.

"Hn."

"Interesting way to make new friends, Changeling," Clark observed, surveying the scene. Trying not to react to the fact that you look a little too pleased with yourself.

"I did tell him not to touch me," you inform them, watching dispassionately as his sobs turned to vomiting.

"Can you let up before he aspirates things into his lungs," Bruce sighed. At least it was focused rage. And at least he'd probably cooperate as long as they didn't leave him alone in a room with you. That was... something.

And while you don't reply, at least not verbally, he can tell that you comply. Mostly because the man stops writhing and starts gibbering. "Shut up," Batman said rolling his eyes, watching Clark grab him by the back of his coat. "Just tell us what we wanna know or we'll let her do it again. Harder."

"Okay, Okay, Jesus," he protested, "I didn't know I thought she was kidding!" He looked at you and your lip curled reflexively making him flinch. "Everyone always said you were just a joke."

"Let's go," Superman said, "This drug is gonna kill-"

"Anything you wanna know! Just don't let her do it, please!" he pleaded, letting himself be lead away.

"What did you say to him?" Bruce asked, watching Clark load him into a transport where Jason and Dick were loading some others that had been rounded up.

"That if he touched me he'd forget to sit when he took a shit. Granted, I didn't say how."

"Vulgar."

"What was I supposed to do? Scream?"

"Just don't make anyone else piss themselves," Bruce sighed.

"Then don't let Stephanie pick the outfits. She dressed us like sexworkers not nuns and people keep taking liberties. It's gross."

"Point." Bruce admitted. "Point taken." He pinched the bridge of his nose and not for the first time, he just wanted all of you to be little again. You were 19 now. Still a kid. But he wondered if he'd ever stop seeing you as a little girl in his head. Because as Cass took you to the next location and he went to help Stephanie, it took an absurd amount of self-control not to call after you to put on a jacket or something.

[starandcloud]

Little Tsawksyul

Neteyam Sully X Human!female!reader

ATOW Masterlist

Masterlist

There was a different between affectionate nicknames ones that are purely for torment. You're dancing a fine line between them with Neteyam.

"Smurf?"

It started as something to get his attention quickly.

"Smurf!"

Something sweet and attention grabbing.

"Smurf!?"

It was something simple and he would respond to but now...

"SMURF!?"

Neteyam wanted to kill himself and you. Gently smacking his head against a tree he cursed under his breath. The sun gently warmed the earth in the early morning, he just wanted to go with Kiri to see her mom before everyone woke up. He wasn't expecting you to be awake.

"Your little human is calling you~"

Kiri teased as she walked past her brother, her tail gently swaying as she walked. Neteyam's eyes cut over to her, if looks could kill Kiri would've been a pile of ash on the floor.

"Tsawksyul- Y/N is not my human Kiri."

Neteyam corrected, walking behind his older sister. Granted she was only older by a year but still, she insisted she was better than him because of it.

"Neteyam. You call her 'Tsawksyul', water lily. You adore her and you know it."

Clicking his tongue, Neteyam gently shoved her before rolling his eyes and stepping into the lab. The methodic hissing and whirling of the air lock brought a sense of comfort to Neteyam. As soon as the air lock twirled open your arms wrapped around him, your bright smile was the first thing that caught his attention. Your smile was always the first thing he saw when it came to you, how could he not? It was so happy and loving that there just wasn't anyway he couldn't. Gingerly, his arms wrapped around you; slowly lifting you off the ground to hug you back. You were so... breakable compared to him. Your human bones made you like paper, so... fragile.

"Guess what!?"

Your voice was laced with excitement, coaxing a smile from Neteyam as he held you up and stepped inside the lab.

"What Tsawksyul?"

His Na'vi went over your head as you looked smugly up at him.

"I"m an inch taller, five foot six now. I'm gonna be taller than you soon."

Shaking his head with a grin, he gently pushed your head making you laugh and then lean back to dangle off his arm. As you leaned back, his heart raced. He panicked he wanted to grab you back up and press you tight against him to keep you safe he wanted to keep you away from any type of danger and in his arms... Maybe he did adore you, but so what? It was a stupid crush that would fade quickly. Or that's what he's told himself, you were one of Spider's best friends. You grew up with the Sully's... you were raised alongside them. You weren't anymore liked by Neytiri than Spider was but... it was something about you that always brought forth that protective side of Neteyam. Even when the two you were kids he had this... sense to protect you from others. You were his lifeline most days. If he had a bad day, he was at the lab. If he had a rough hunting trip, he was at the lab. If he had gotten yelled at by his dad, he was at the lab. Even if it was something positive; he was at the lab, telling you about it. You were his reason to breathe and wake up every morning, you were why he decided to be out on the battlefield more often than to be home. To keep the sky people from hurting you, even though you are one... He knew it was an odd mindset to have, to protect a sky person from the other sky people but... you were to precious to him to lose... Setting you on your feet, he nodded attentively as you talked about some flowers you had found. He wasn't actually listening though, he was focused on your voice. Not your words. Stumbling to find a seat, Neteyam sat down. Watching you drift about the science tables talking about your favorite plants again, you always ended up talking about Pandora's plants. One way or another they found their way into a conversation, anyone but Neteyam would be annoyed. He found your interest in his home's plants... adorable. How you were so interested in the plants and life around you, it made him stupidly in love with you. Watching you flutter around the plants watering them, he had tunnel vision. Seeing you and only you, you were... so beautiful and graceful... every step you took had purpose and was gentle as not to hurt anything... you were so kind and gentle with Tuk and Lo'ak, despite both being taller than you. How patient you were with him mom and her short anger... How happily you volunteered yourself to help her with hunting and gathering or anything else just... to be out in the forest without the fear of being hurt. You were so... sweet with every living creature you came in contact with, no matter their intentions towards you. You were kind.

"..am?" "Ne...am?" "H..lo?" "SMURF!?"

Snapping back to reality he jumped back and fell off the stool, you were casually standing on a step stool in front of him. Watching him fall and hit the floor laughter bubbled up and out of your chest as you doubled over in laughter. The stool rolled out of the way as you lost your balance and fell on top of Neteyam, your laughter never ceasing as you came in contact with his hands. His arms had instinctively gone out to catch you, they gently cradled you as they pulled you into him. Cushioning your fall. His arms protectively wrapped around you as he felt your body shake as you laughed and his heart melted. Hearing your laughter and feeling how hard your body shook as you laughed... it was almost perfect.

Hours passed in what felt like seconds as you adjusted your face mask and walked along side Neteyam well... you jogged to keep up as he calmly walked. You're short and stubby human legs weren't doing you much good compared to his longer and more muscular ones. Neteyam noticed your jogging and slowed down more, just so that you could walk with him. Watching you clutch your satchel close, his heart warmed. You were so anxious with your steps as you walked along the Mother Tree's branches. You knew you wouldn't fall, Neteyam wouldn't let you. You trusted him with everything in you, you'd do whatever he said.

"Neteyam?"

You asked, making his blood go cold. You never used his actual name, not that way not in such a short sentence not in that tone.

"Yes?"

You stayed quiet and calm as you stopped on a limb of a tree, you watched the wildlife around you before continuing.

"Would you catch me if I fell?"

You asked, looking down at the ground below. You just wanted to know, you were curious.

"Of course." "Do you promise?" "To the Great Mother."

You smiled gently as you felt his presence suddenly become closer, you listened to the birds around as you felt one of his hands gently trail up your back and over your shoulders. To pull you into a hug. You stood there for a while, just... watching the world around you before you continued towards the base. The silence was... sickening as you walked, every sound seemed amplified as you quietly walked. At some point your hand had found Neteyam's and the silence became bearable. Peaceful almost, your eyes softened as you watched the wildlife. The surroundings becoming soothing as the sounds of camp drew closer.

When you arrived, you felt your stomach drop... So many were wounded and it made your stomach sick.

"Where is Lo'ak..?"

You asked, as Neteyam branched off from you. His strides long as he searched for you, you tried to keep up with the people around you but... being so much smaller you weren't handling it all well. Backing up you bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry, I'm loo-" "You're fine Y/N"

His voice cut you off and you whipped around.

"LO'AK!"

You yelled as you hugged him, digging your palms into his back you let out a shaky breath before grabbing his Queue and giving it a gentle yank.

"Where the fuck were you!?"

You yelled before hugging him again, he was like a little brother to you... and he had scarred the shit out of you. The way you expressed your concern was... confusing to Lo'ak. Who gingerly hugged you back. The hug was short before he picked you up, and placed you on his shoulders.

"I can walk Lo'ak." "You're short, you'll get crushed" "Fuck you Lo'ak"

You said, making him laugh before he walked towards the medical tent. Where you both found Neteyam who was listening attentively to his father. There was a tension that seemed thick enough to slice through as Jake spoke in a hushed voice. Lo'ak carefully put you down and walked over, standing beside his brother he listened. You wanted to call out Neteyam's name but... the glint in his eyes... scared you. The angry and vengeful look in his eyes made you physically take a step back, you were terrified of what that look meant. You'd never seen Neteyam like this, you'd seen him gentle and caring. You've seen him cry and laugh and annoyed but... you've never seen him angry. You watched from the side of the door for a moment but when Neteyam's eyes flicked over to you.

You fled.

You legs burned when you rushed back to the science base. You legs burned as you ran and was littered in cuts and gashes when you returned. Slamming the door shut, you panted heavily. Ripping the mask off, you put your back to the wall and slid down it. Sitting on the floor you heaved for air. The look in Neteyam's eyes was murderous and deadly, you didn't know what to do. You felt like a deer in headlights. Fight or Flight kicked in, and you flew.

The next few weeks, you tried not to anger Neteyam. You cut back on your remarks and sass, you went to the base less and always seemed to have an excuse to be out on Pandora. Trudging through the wildlife and making friends with the animals and analyzing the plants. Your distance hurt Neteyam, he didn't know what he did to make you avoid him like this. He thought he had always been so... careful. Around you. Not to hurt you or scare you. So he did the most logical thing a teenage-boy could do, and asked his sister.

"What did I do Kiri?"

He asked, slumped in the medical tent as she tended to Navi and Avatar fighters.

"Did you scare her after that big fight?" "What? No! I... I don't think so..."

Neteyam said, letting his head loll back against the animal skin hut. He had been so angry that day. So angry and afraid. He hadn't been able to find Lo'ak and his father had to talk to him and once Jake had started talking about needing to cut back on his visits to you because of the sky-people... he looked at you. He watched your body language, the curiousness of your eyes as you watched them. How innocent and small you were... How easily you could get hurt here, how easily you could get lost, how easily you could be taken by Quaritch, and... how easily he could lose you. His fear only grew as he realized how quickly he could lose you, how easily you could die on him. How easily you could be shot or pierced by an arrow, or hit by shrapnel or or or or or... Fuck he was afraid. If that was even the right word, he was fucking terrified of losing you, what would he do without you? How would he know what day it was? How would he know which stars were which ones, not that he really needed help with that. How would he live without you? You were the reason he woke up everyday, the reason he was breathing, the reason he remembered to eat, and the reason he kept himself in such good shape. So he could protect you. He could honestly care less about the girl in the clan, they could take care of themselves. But you? You couldn't protect yourself, you were so small and breakable... Just like a Tsawksyul, and he'd be the protective rocks at the edges of the pond that kept out those pesky snails that would hurt you...

"Where were you yesterday?

Kiri asked as she galnced at her brother but didn't stop her work.

"What?" "Yesterday was Tuesday? Where were you?" "Oh fuck..."

Neteyam groaned out and pushed his hair from his face.

"That was yesterday? Yesterday was Tuesday? I thought it was Monday..." "God, you're really a mess without Y/N, aren't you?"

Kiri asked, laughter filling the medical tent as she chuckled at her brother's situation.

"You should go see her, she should be home, I doubt she'd... and he's already gone. Guess we won't be seeing him tonight woill we?"

Kiri asked the warrior she was patching up. Making a smile break over his face and a small chuckle leave his lips. He hissed in pain as he pulled a stitch and Kiri immediately applied a soothing salve to the deep wound.

Neteyam rushed through the Great's Mother's terrain. He barely noticed the way the pricker thorns cut his arms and how leaves got stuck in his hair or how hard his feet hit the ground as he ran or how he had a slice going across his cheek. He barely recognized how he had rushed through the air lock or how the harsh metal of the lab cut into his kneecaps as he fell to his knees in front of you. His arms wrapped around his arms around your waist and buried his face in your shoulder. You had tensed up and screamed but... he didn't hear that over his own heartbeat.

"I'm sorry..."

Neteyam whispered out, you weren't entirely sure how if he had said it or not but... You quietly placed a hand on his back. The xhilled skin of your palm against his warm, and sweaty, back made him shiver.

"I'm sorry if I scared you I'm sorry that I didn't apologize soon I'm sorry i was a bad friend i'm sorry i didnt realize soon im sorry i didnt tell you sooner i-" "Woah... Woah, tell me what..?"

You quietly asked, slowly moving your hand up to the base of his neck. Sending a pleasureful shiver down the boy's spine. Neteyam was silent but his grip on you didn't falter. He held you closer and pressed soft kisses to the exposed skin on your shoulder, it was only then he realized what you were wearing... It was the sweater he had snagged for you off one of the older sky-people's bases. He remembered how he was going to burn it but noticed how... pretty your eyes went with the color of the fabric so... he gifted it to you instead. It was the way your fingers gently traced along the side of his hair and how gently your other arm wrapped around him that brought him back, that rebooted his system enough for him to lift his head. Neteyam stared into your eyes and one of his hands came up and gently caressed your fact. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into the palm of his hand and how your melted into his touch.

"I love you Tsawksyul... I love how your hair glows in the early morning sun and how you always have some sort of fun fact for me when I come over and how gentle and kind you are how you are so careful with where you step when you're out in the forests and how you appreciate every life you come in contact with. It makes me so happy to know that there are people that see the beauty and god be damned I'm so happy I get to see one everyday. I get to see you everyday, that I get to see the most beautiful being on this planet. I love how precise you are and how good you are with my siblings... and my mother, especially my mother-

He said, making the both of you laugh.

"But most importantly... I love you..."

He said, his eyes finally meeting yours. A dusty blush had rushed across his cheeks and god you thought it looked so pretty... A similar blush had rushed over your cheeks as well, your face burned as you stared into those beautiful amber eyes of his. You could easily get lost in them... You were silent for a while, you could see his ears fall back ever so slightly. He was expecting rejection. What he didn't know was that you had loved him since you were kids. Since you had found out what a crush even was, since you had watched him break a kids nose for taking your oxygen mask. You'd never forget the look of horror on Neteyam's face when he saw you gasping for air, when he remembered Pandora air was leathal to humans... You'd never forget the terror that flooded his eyes and how he frantically helped you.He was so angry that day... It almost scared you... But the way he held you after and hugged you tight reminded you... he'd never hurt you...

"Neteyam... I... ]"

You had to think for a moment, how would one even react to this information?

"I accept your feelings..."

You whispered out, your eyes still meeting his. You watched his face creep closer to yours, how he anxiously flicked his eyes from your eyes to your lips. When his lips finally met yours, it felt like fireworks were exploding within your stomach walls. You wrapped yours arms around his neck and let your eyes flutter closed. You weren't sure how long the two of you kissed but.... when you pulled away your watched as Neteyam stuffed his face in you neck and peppered gentle kisses to the sensitive skin there.

"Mnn... mine... minemineminemineminemineminemine mineminemine.."

You listened to him repeat, that simple action made laughter bubble up in your chest as you relaxed against him. You knew better than to think he'd let you fall afterall... The way his arms protectively wrapped around you... it made it hard to think he'd let you get hurt.

@tumblingdevils @elvyshiarieko @christinechickiee @stefcatgirl @neteyamyawne

[jake-g-lockley]

Cookies and Whiskey (Javier Peña x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: This is co-authored by @lil-stark ! She literally handed me the most beautiful idea on a platinum platter AHHHHH. I loved writing this so much, my heart is so happy at soft!Javier.

Word count: 2.7 k

Warnings: yearrrrrning

You glance at the clock as the man before you stubs out his cigarette and loudly yawns. He rubs his eyes with the edge of his palms a groan emitting from deep within his chest.

“Tapping out, Peña?” You smile understandingly.

“None of these words are really words anymore.” He mumbles as his big brown eyes meet yours causing the army of butterflies to tickle your insides.

The past few days have made everyone increasingly tired and you could see that it was taking a toll on everyone, even on the DEA’s most resilient. You and Javier often burned the midnight oil at the office, not wanting to mix business with the comfort of your homes. It worked out easy for you because you’d often commute to work with Javier, with the additional advantage of Javier living in the same apartment complex as you.

Javier slaps the file he was working on close and stands up to grab his jacket, with you following suit. You smile at the guard who took the office keys from Javier, locking the office behind the both of you. The ride home was relatively quiet, only punctuated by you humming something that had been stuck in your head. Javier focused on your humming, feeling his whole body tune towards you as he drove on autopilot.

The spell only broke when Javier turned the corner of the street to the apartment complex, his demeanour turning slightly sour at the prospects of having you leave him for the night. He spends most of his day with you but he can’t seem to understand why he feels the nauseating need to continue being around you. The few hours that he spends with you not around are agonising to him, hurts him in places he didn’t realise could hurt.

You closed your eyes the second the complex came into view. You always hated this, saying good night and not having a good night. Sometimes you find yourself hearing so hard that you would fight the urge to kick Javi’s door down and barge in like you owned the place, taking what was rightfully yours.

You glanced at the way his hands gripped the steering, strong and powerful. You wondered if they would grip you the same, holding you down and steering you in the right direction. You sigh to yourself and set your hand on the handle, waiting for Javier to stop the car.

Javier tries hard not to feel the indescribable anguish as you click the car door open, gently closing it behind you. He loved how your hands held the capability to kill but chose to be gentle with everything else. It mesmerised him, the way you would hold files, papers, or coffee mugs; he wondered if you would hold him the same way, fragile and breakable. Then something fired up in him when you would hold a gun, powerful and strong, the agility showed him something that he could not resist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You say as Javier admits defeat with his emotions and slips the key into the lock.

“Only if you get me coffee.” He replies with a fond smile, before slipping inside.

He shuts the door and sighs softly, his eyes becoming heavier by the moment as he tossed his keys into the glass dish by the door. He can’t keep going on like this, his mind was overruled by thoughts of you. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, not carrying where it landed. You were not his to keep or to lose and he needed to get his priorities straight. Slumping onto the couch, he presses his face into his hands, groaning slightly at his plight.

He sat like that for a few minutes, getting his thoughts straightened out. He didn’t want to dream of you, only to wake up in the morning, upset at the fact that nothing was real and he had to go back pining for you. He was rhythmically massaging his temples with his knuckles when suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

“Javi?” Came your soft voice, making Javier immediately jump up from the couch, all thoughts of sleeping evaporating from his tired mind.

He scrambled quietly, trying to find his shirt that he threw away, but it was nowhere in sight. He tried to act casual, slowing his steps as he approached the door, slowly opening it and peaking around to see your sheepish face.

“Everything alright, hermosa?”

A few minutes ago, you had sleepily trudged your way to your unit, trying to fish your keys from your bag, your mind filled with thoughts of Javi. You frowned when your fingers couldn’t grasp the familiar keychain amidst the mess of your bag. You knelt down and split the contents of your bag onto the floor, rummaging through to find your keys. A panicked pang slammed into the depths of your stomach as you realised that you had left your keys at the office.

You bite your lip as your mind shifts to your second option as you eyed the window to your unit, contemplating whether you should break it. You could just sleep over at Javier’s place. The both of you were already inseparable, it wouldn’t be so hard for you to just crash on his couch for one night. Your brain was still going through the scenarios as your legs began to carry you towards Javier’s place.

Eyeing the rust on the knob, a voice saying “Are you sure?” sounded in your head. You sighed and knocked the door, praying that the man hadn’t already succumbed to his tiredness. Your mouth dropped open as you eyed the golden skinned, half-naked man who opened the door. You blinked up at him as you registered his question, your brain slow and mushy from the sight you have been blessed with.

“Uh, yea, umm. So a little bit of a problem, I'm locked out of my apartment, and I don't want to break any windows just to get in.” You ramble slightly, and Javier’s mouth twists into a light smirk.

“Well, you know you're welcome here, make yourself at home, I’ll get you some clothes you can change into." He says as he takes your bag from you and steps aside, opening the door a little wider for you to step inside.

You had been to Javier’s unit before, during Steve’s birthday and it was the complete contrast of the man you knew at work. It was homely to say the least, constantly smelling of candles and cookies, along with the lingering scent of cigarettes that Javier would chain smoke. It's warm inside, humid really, explains why his shirt is off, but doesn't make it easier to stay focused.

“Do you want a drink, or water?” He gently asks, setting your bag aside.

You blurt out "water" without thinking twice and he nods, walking to his room to get you the stuff you need. He comes back and hands you a towel, toothbrush, one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

“Bathroom’s down the hall, to your right.” He says softly, nodding towards the small hallway.

You quietly padded towards the bathroom, your heart soothed at the hospitality he had shown you. You stripped as fast as you could, eager to get under the water to soothe your aches and knots. When you were done and switched off the shower, you heard the soft tinkle of music and you smiled, slipping on the clothes Javier lended you. They smelled like him, coffee and smoke, your favourite things about the pretty man.

You step out and make your way back to the living room, where Javier is sitting on the sofa, his hand over his face as the other one holds a glass of whiskey, your water on a coaster on the coffee table before him. The radio was playing sweet melodies and you sank into the sofa, leaning slightly forward to take your glass of water.

You watch as Javier tips the rest of the whiskey into his mouth and stands up, going to his little bar and filling it with another finger of the brownish liquid. The music changes and it's one of your favourites, making you smile as Javier approaches the couch again. He sets the glass onto the coffee table and holds his hand out for you, making you blink up at him with a confused look.

“Wanna dance? I know this is your favourite song.” Javier says, a little too smoothly for your liking.

You smile and slip your hand in his, letting him pull you up. You cling onto his shoulder as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer than he intended to. Your eyes fall onto where your hand settled upon his shoulder, trying hard not to linger at the sharp toned muscle. They quickly snapped back to his eyes as he pulls you away from the coffee table, into the empty space of the living room, swaying you and him to the rhythm.

“So, are you really locked out of your apartment or did you want to see me?” He breaks the quiet suddenly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“In your dreams Javier, I really am locked out.” You sigh, your hand unconsciously tightening its grip on his shoulder.

“Well, then pinch me because this does seem like a dream to me, cariño.” Javier says.

You let go of his shoulder and pinch his cheek without even waiting for another second and he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Actually, to be completely honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing you like this more often.” He whispers, almost to himself, but you were already hooked, questions flooding your head.

“Like what?” You say, watching him from under your lashes.

“Like this, wearing my clothes, in my arms, doing whatever we pleased.” His face was so close to you his breath fanning your face.

“And what do you think would please the both of us?” You whisper, your lips now a hair's width from his, your cheeks blazing.

“Baking cookies.”

“Huh?”

This was certainly one of the top five things that you hadn’t expected from Javier Peña.

“You know, making yummy cookies and then eating them?” His eyes were twinkling under the dim lights and you couldn’t tell whether he was humouring you.

“Say yummy again.” You ask, a laugh edging up your throat.

“Yum-my” he punctuated, squeezing your hip, causing you to giggle.

“Fine, show me how you bake cookies, Agent Peña.” You smirked, trying not to melt at the way he was holding your hip.

You were sure you were in a fever dream, soon you were perched up on the kitchen barstool, watching as Javier mixed up ingredients in a bowl. You had to swallow a little more times than you had intended to, your mouth pooling with saliva at the half naked man whisking eggs. He was meticulous, carefully measuring out the ingredients one by one.

As soon as Javi left the kitchen island to put something in the fridge, you reached out to pull the mixing bowl.

“Do not eat raw cookie dough, cariño!” He shouts and you jump in your seat as your eyes snapped to Javier who was glaring from the open fridge, his hands on his hips.

“Fine.” You pout and slump back.

Javi moves on to scooping the cookie dough onto the trays after preheating the oven, pressing extra chocolate chips onto the flattened cookies. Without a word, he takes a little bowl and fills it with chocolate chips, sliding the bowl to you. You grin and pop the chocolate chips into your mouth as you continue feasting your eyes.

“Your stare is going to burn a hole through me, angel.” Javier suddenly says, when his back is turned to you, sliding the cookie trays into the oven.

“I wasn’t staring.” You stammered a little and Javier turned around slowly, anchoring his hands onto the kitchen island separating the both of you.

“Says the person who loves me saying the word ‘yummy’.” He smirks.

“Your charm won’t work on me, Javier Peña.” You say, straightening your back.

“Well, I beg to differ, hermosa.” He licked his lips and leaned in.

Javier decided to test out something that Steve had told him over a couple of beers, crossing his fingers and toes, hoping to god that Steve wasn’t just teasing him.

“Bullshit.” You said, all sing songy and Javier decided to finally catch you at your own act.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so confident, given the fact that I know what Steve knows.” He says and you swear your heart almost stops.

Steve fucking Murphy.

You had confided in Steve and Connie a long time ago, them being your closest friends. You told them how you felt about Javi after a few too many glasses of wine and they promised to keep it a secret. You made a mental note to place a swarm of ants in Steve’s work drawer if you ever got out of this situation alive.

“Well maybe Steve lied.” You say, your response automatic.

Big mistake.

“So you know what I’m talking about?” Javier raised an eyebrow.

Your breath hitched as Javier circled the kitchen island and prowled closer to you.

“Steve can’t lie for shit, angel, we both know that.” His eyes were sparkling with something unknown and you didn’t know whether you wanted to reach for the unknown or stay planted in your seat.

So instead, you slip off the stool and edge away from him.

“Thank you for your hospitality Javier, I promise this won’t happen again.” You mumbled your eyes downcasted.

You turn on your heel and try to walk to the bedroom when his hand wraps around your wrist and twirls you, making you collide with his chest.

“Is that really what you want, hermosa?” Javier says as you tried to catch your breath.

You nod, trying your best to keep eye contact. What was the use of trying though, you were already caught.

Javier suddenly dips his head into the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss onto your searing skin, making you shiver.

“You’re a worse liar than Steve, amor.” He murmurs, his nose pressing into your neck.

You stiffened in his arms, making him stop his ministrations and look up. You were looking at him like he was your world but there was a veil of doubt covering your eyes and Javi could sense it.

“Hermosa, que paso? Did I do something wrong?” Panic rushed over him, terrified that he had taken it too far.

You took a deep breath, trying to word the things you wanted to say gently.

“Javier, you cannot use me and then leave, my heart can't take that. Please.” You say, your eyes welling up in tears at the prospect of you and him ruining what you already had with him.

“Oh, cariño.” He sighs and literally melts at the sight of your tears, pressing a lingering kiss onto your temple as you wrap your arms around his bare midriff.

Suddenly, his hands are on your arms, easing your grip around him. He drops to his knees, still holding your hands as he gazes up at you.

“Look, my sweet angel. You’re my best friend and I would literally die if I had to choose to walk out on you or us. So don’t you dare think that it would happen in this lifetime or in the next few lifetimes.” Javier surprised himself with what leaves his mouth, your presence making him delirious.

You kneel down too, bringing yourself to be at eye level with Javier. You cup his cheek as he pulls one of your hands to his chest. You search his baby doe eyes and smile, a feeling inside you blossoming and you realise that he was most definitely true to his word.

Before you could think twice, your lips were on his, kissing him softly. He sighs ever so gently and pulls you closer, falling back slightly and letting you lead. You pressed harder against him, licking his bottom lip gently when suddenly the timer goes off, causing the both of you to jump.

The both of you laugh shakily, your cheeks tinted in the prettiest pinks. Javier stands up and pulls you with him, turning off the oven, before kissing you again.

“Let’s snack, then, maybe, continue this in a place a little more, quieter?” Javier whispers.

“Okay.” You whisper back.

Just like that, your little mishap had the biggest silver-lining you had ever encountered. You squeeze Javier’s arm a little tighter as he pulled the cookies out of the oven, smiling to yourself.

Everything was going to be alright.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Tagging: @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @nyotamalfoy @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @bloodredwolfsbane @euphoricosmo @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @magic-schoolbusdropout @anony-muse @anonymously35

[five-and-dimes]

Safe in the Palm of Your Hand

Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares, Dream of the Endless.

Lord Shaper.

For Dream, his body is not always a fixed thing. He would even go so far as to say that most of the time it is not a fixed thing. He is sand, so many countless pieces shifting under the lightest winds and the softest touches. His form changes based on how others see him, on how he sees himself, on how those two expectations interact, on whether one is stronger than the other or if a reasonable middle can be found.

Sometimes, though, he is sand in an hourglass (impenetrable glass, no wind, no air, no gentle touch to guide his form, motionless, frozen in his helplessness) and he doesn’t feel solid, he feels fragile. Breakable. Like the same soft touch and gentle wind will shatter him. In those moments, his expectations of himself will always outweigh anybody else’s.

And it is such today. His status as an Endless does not protect him from his own nightmares, not when they are his own memories, and on this day his body feels wrong. He does not feel like an Endless. He does not feel like a king, or a lord, or a person. Even months after escaping the Burgess Mansion, after regaining his power and repairing his realm, even now, he finds himself feeling… small. His form shudders and shivers and he feels weak, he feels like a vermin to be caught, a prey to be hunted and devoured, he feels dirty, unwanted, unloved, unsafe, small, small, small-

There is a mouse in Hob’s apartment.

He almost didn’t see it, was only alerted to something being amiss by the soft, frightened squeak when he opened his front door. Turning his head, he caught just a glimpse of a small shadow darting behind the old armchair in the corner. Closing the door behind him, Hob hums in surprise. Living above a pub, he’s never dealt with mice or other creatures in his home, most being more attracted to the kitchen and trash cans on the first floor before stumbling into the catch-and-release traps set around the property.

Sighing, he lets his bag fall from his shoulder onto the floor, resigned to his new task for the night. He can finish grading in the morning, once he’s dealt with his unexpected guest. Over the centuries he’s managed to overcome the instinctual disgust and fear at the sight of rodents, but that doesn’t mean he wants one running around his apartment. For a moment, he considers going back downstairs to get one of the traps from the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to give the small creature a chance to hide deeper in the apartment. Besides, he’s wily- he’s certain he can herd the mouse into a box and get it outside himself no problem.

There is a box next to the coffee table in the center of the room, full of papers and documents he’s been procrastinating on organizing, and he casually dumps the contents onto the floor as he approaches the armchair. He keeps his footsteps soft and slow, hoping not to spook the mouse into bolting. So far though, Hob hasn’t seen it since it darted into the corner. Kneeling carefully, he positions the box on its side in front of him, reaching out to move the chair to one side in an attempt to give the mouse only one direction to run.

The mouse doesn’t run.

Hob can’t help but furrow his brows sadly once he’s able to see it, huddled as far in the corner as it can get. For a moment he feels his heart clench in a way he doesn’t fully understand, something more than just general compassion for a small creature, and then he gasps as he realizes what he is looking at.

Two bright points of light emit from the mouse’s eyes.

“...Dream?” The name is less than a whisper on Hob’s breath.

He doesn’t receive an answer, but he doesn’t need one.

Since the stranger's delayed return, he and Hob had seen each other several times, a surprising change in their relationship that Hob welcomed with open arms. After so many years, Hob was finally given answers to some of his countless questions, including a name, and a summary of what exactly his friend is. Dream had even been generous enough to visit Hob in his dreams once, and Hob still gets flutters in his stomach when he thinks of the bright stars of Dream's eyes.

The box is quickly tossed aside and he crouches down farther. Dream had explained to him during one of their recent meetings that he was able to shapeshift (his explanation was far more detailed and complicated than that, but shapeshifting was the closest Hob's human mind could get to understanding) and his heart cracks in his chest as he takes in the sight of his friend in a form he has never seen before; has never even imagined in relation to the Endless being.

Pitch black fur contrasts the bright white of his eyes, but the fur looks matted and thin, tiny ribs peeking under the skin, and he doesn’t know if mice can cry, but the fur looks wet and clumped around the eyes. A long thin tail is sickly pale, and Hob can see him trembling even through the rapid rise and fall of the tiny chest.

Dream is always so strong and untouchable in Hob’s mind, it’s jarring to see him so small and clearly frightened. He doesn’t know what happened- why Dream is in this form, why he’s here, but Hob doesn’t think there’s a force on Earth or off it that could stop him from reaching out to comfort.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he keeps his voice soft and gentle, afraid of frightening him further. Afraid of hurting the small, fragile ears. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re alright,” slowly, so slowly, Hob cups his hands and lowers them to the ground before his friend, “you’re safe here, can you come out? I just want to help.”

Still no response, unless you count Hob’s heart breaking more each moment he watches the mouse shake and shiver in the corner. Part of him wonders if he should leave Dream alone, but it feels too cruel, and Hob has always been one to trust his instincts when it comes to matters of the heart. And so, taking a deep, steadying breath, he cautiously moves to gently scoop the mouse into his palms.

It hurts more than he expected to actually feel tiny trembling paws against his skin, but Dream doesn’t run. In fact, he turns jerkily and tucks his little face against Hob’s fingers, curling into a ball as if trying to hide. He lets out a soft shushing sound, bringing his hands to his chest, cradling the mouse against his chest and making a shelter with his hands.

Dream isn't sure how he got here either.

He had been feeling off kilter for days now, the weight that lived in his chest feeling more unbearable than usual. More and more he found his surroundings reacting to him; walls closing in and curving, clothes growing thinner and thinner, air becoming frigid and still. His lungs felt tight, desperate for breath he didn't need, and then he caught his reflection and the glass shattered in response and he heard someone yell, maybe worried, maybe angry, angry, angry, and then he was gone.

When he lands, he knows he's in a new form, but he can't focus on it, too scared in a primal way he can't identify. All he wants is to hide, it's all his mind can hold on to, so when he hears a door open he runs. If he can just stay hidden, if he just avoids capture, maybe he'll be able to pull himself together. But when he is found, his terror and sorrow are so great he freezes. He thinks he recognizes the man in front of him, even if he looks different being so much larger than him, but it doesn't matter. It doesn’t ease his fear, his grief, his hopelessness. Dirty, unwanted, unloved, unsafe.

Dream feels small. Dream is small. So small and easy to hurt. He thinks maybe he always has been.

But…

But the hands don't crush him. He is lifted slowly and then he finds himself… held. Not held down, not trapped, not caged. Even as one hand folds above him, there is no tension, and Dream feels certain he could escape if he wished too.

He does not wish to.

Hob's hands are warm, so warm, and soft, and nothing like the cold hard glass of his memories. Dream finds himself curling up as he is cradled against his chest, soft fabric covering a strong chest that doesn't scare him as much as it did a minute ago. Cupped against him like this, he feels ensconced in a gentle cave, the shadows beneath his hands a welcome peace against the thought of a hundred years of harsh light keeping him on display.

Slowly, his trembling body stills, curling up tighter and soaking in the warmth.

"There you are," Hob coos, sitting on the couch, ever careful of his precious cargo. It is a great honor, he thinks, to hold an Endless in the palm of your hands. To be tasked with protecting something so valuable. Cautiously, he lays down, smiling as he sees the mouse curl deeper into his sweater, resting right over his heart. Hob keeps one hand cradling him, and brings the other up to pillow his own head against the arm of the couch. "Sorry if I scared you earlier," he keeps his voice low, "wasn't expecting company. But I meant it when I said you're always welcome. I'm glad you came to me."

Hesitantly, he moves one thumb to carefully stroke the matted black fur of Dream's back. It almost looks like the mouse sighs, relaxing even further, and Hob grins.

Continuing his gentle petting, Hob does what he does best.

He talks.

He tells the little dream mouse about the annoying staff meeting he had, and his favorite and least favorite coworkers, and one of his friends who wanted Hob to start a karaoke night at the New Inn, and how he thinks in his next life he wants to buy a fixer-upper and do as much as he can with his own hands. He tells Dream the little mundane things that have made Hob think of him, and how he wants Dream to get a phone but he thinks his head would explode if Dream ever sent an emoji.

He talks, and the mouse relaxes more and more, no longer curled desperately tight, but burrowing comfortably into him, and Dream thinks that maybe being small isn't as scary anymore if it means he can feel Hob's heartbeat drum against his entire body.

Eventually, Hob's hand goes limp above him, draped over Dream's form like a weighted blanket, as Hob talks himself to sleep.

Dream is still small. Still fragile. But he is surrounded by Hob Gadling, by his warmth and his compassion and his love, and he realizes that all he wanted was to feel safe, and Hob managed to give him that and so much more.

When Hob awakes, it is to the sun shining through his living room window and Dream, his familiar, gangly, human-shaped Dream, laying across him with his head on his chest. Hob's hand is resting on his wild black hair, as gentle with him now as he was the night before.

"Hi," Hob's voice cracks lightly as he wakes, but his grin is wide and bright when Dream turns to look at him.

"Hello."

They'll talk about it, later, after Hob has stretched the kinks out of his neck and has used his puppy eyes to convince Dream to eat some breakfast. Later, Hob will hold his hand and let Dream tell him fragmented details of where he's been this past century, of what was done to him. He'll stroke Dream's back when he seems to shrink, stuttering and stumbling over words about how who he wants to be and who he's supposed to be and who he's been turned into all cut into who he is like broken glass. Dream will speak a lot about broken glass. Dream will speak a lot about being broken. Later, Hob will hold him and tell him that being hurt is not the same as being broken.

Later.

For now, Hob just smiles and gathers Dream in his arms, letting him rest his head back down to listen to his immortal heartbeat, happy for the heavy weight against his chest.

[ashdreams2023]

Hi! I hope you are well :) I had a request it might sound weirdly specific but I read this ages ago on wattpad and I can’t find it anymore and I was wondering if youd be able to recreate it? You’re my fav so I know you would do wonderfully. but basically it was like Loki x reader and Loki and the avengers went on a mission but it was like really long; gone for like almost a year or whatever and then Loki comes back and through that time the reader hasn’t been eating and there was like paparazzi talking about her weight loss and all that stuff idk if that makes sense but yea :) it’s okay if not 🫶🏻

I’ll try love and thank you for your sweet words

It made the news

Loki knew something had went horribly wrong, because why did he just hear your name in the news on the radio.

He’s been out the country for too long and couldn’t contact you for months now, he had hoped nothing bad would’ve happened while he’s gone, you weren’t exactly alone, there was still pepper and Peter at the compound but still.

"Reindeer games I think you should go back early"

"It’s you think but I should stark"

So Loki took the first opportunity to travel back to New York, he had to know if what he heard was true and if it was he will blame himself to no end.

When he did arrive at the city he grabbed the first newspaper he saw and cursed himself, the front page had an article about you and a picture.

You looked so fragile and extremely underweight, the article spoke about the drastic change in appearance throughout this period of time and how you stopped going out anymore.

The picture was taken when you were looking out one of the windows.

Loki burned the news paper in his hands and teleported to inside the building, the lights were off, it was the end of the day. He went straight to your bedroom.

The lights were off and you were sitting near your window staring out aimlessly, you hadn’t noticed his presence until he walked in and warped his arms around you, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Loki?! You’re back-"

"What happened to you?!" He looked down at your sunken cheeks and weak looking arms "Why…dove answer me, why?"

You opened your mouth then closed it, the look on your face gave it away and Loki didn’t know how to feel, he wanted to be angry, upset with you but you looked so…breakable that it just felt wrong.

"I missed you" you managed to say.

He felt his heart getting swallow up "Why didn’t you eat?"

"I lost my appetite?"

"Dove….when was the last time you ate something?"

You shrugged "last Friday….cornflakes…I think?"

Loki groaned and warped his arms tightly around you but no tight enough to hurt you "You crazy woman, you could’ve killed yourself! From now on no more long lasting missions, I don’t care if I have to stay here and be a bloody maid in this place"

"You would look good in a maid outfit"

He smacked your butt at that "you would like that, wouldn’t you?"

You hummed hiding your face in his chest "Maybe"

"You’re so spoiled"

"Only for you"

"Just how I like it and no more cornflakes"

"Come on-"

[pet-holographic-film]

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[foxes-that-run]

Cruel summer (and when was it)

Cruel Summer tells of an affair that ends with loving someone other than a significant other. When Cruel Summer went to #1 on 19 October 2033 Taylor released this top photo which is reminiscent of the Cannes Sunset referred to in Lover also.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Fever dream high in the quiet of the night You know that I caught it (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it) Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price You know that I bought it (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it)

Middle of the night reminds us of Wish you would.

A bad boy is referred to in Blank Space and bad ones in End Game.

Shiny toy separates the muse of this song and paper rings where she sings “I like shiny things but I’ll marry you with paper rings”.

With a price refers the Haylor theme of paying a price

[Pre-Chorus] Killing me slow, out the window I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

Here the muse is the same as in Wish you would, Harry drove past her house at night, and style he picked her up during the night.

Taylor used Devil/angel about Harry before, in the intro to the thematically similar Trouble: “how can the devil be pulling you toward someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you?” Here she takes chances having an affair. This line appeared in a game of the Lover video.

[Chorus] And it's new, the shape of your body It's blue, the feeling I've got And it's ooh, woah-oh It's a cruel summer It's cool, that's what I tell 'em No rules in breakable heaven But ooh, woah-oh It's a cruel summer with you

The shape of his body means different to her boyfriend. Harry also changed to low impact training post 1d and his body did change, but I hear it as a different person

Blue was the colour of the 1989 album, depression and Harry is called “sad boy” in Question…?

No rules, breakable heaven - their love is fragile and they make their own rule.

[Verse 2] Hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine I'm not dying (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it) We say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times We're not trying (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it)

vending machine glow places it in hotel

Another reference to buying (as in Fine Line) and that they are not trying to avoid being together, again similar to Fine Line

Screwing it up in trying times is reminiscent of Sign of the Times

[Pre-Chorus] So cut the headlights, summer's a knife I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know, oh

Style has cutting headlights to go undetected when picking her up

Summers a knife/cut to the bone tells us this person is someone with a history that she has feelings for. Willow has a similar line: “I’m like the water rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife”

If I bleed is saying she won’t share her feelings with the muse

It's a cruel summer with you [Bridge] I'm drunk in the back of the car And I cried like a baby comin' home from the bar (Oh) Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh) And I scream, "For whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?" He looks up, grinnin' like a devil

Taylor has pay the price, crying in the way home. “Get drunk but you’re still not my baby” from Death by a thousand cuts,

Keeping secrets and Sneaking in through the garden gate confirm this is an affair, the garden is in many Haylor songs.

The Garden Gate to me is a metaphor for sneaking around, not the front door but through the garden to not be seen. However I’ve also heard it could be a physical gate or may actually be a pub in Hampstead Health, it’s close to Harry’s house and where Joe and Taylor rented. Taylor was seen in Hampstead Heath several times. The beer garden and red brick wall look to me like the promo photos for Lover. If it is a literal location I still think its use in the song is to indicate being hidden and shifty.

“he looks so pretty” … similar to Style and "pretty face" in Slut!

“I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve heard” sounds like something said to/by a person who is not your significant other.

Why 2018 seems like the time period to me

29 January - Fine line written with similar meaning.

12 April - both in london, Harry chipper, on stage

11 March first medicine, ever, the crowd don’t say tasted 🥺

19 March - Harry cried in MMIH, he sang twice the Gotta get betters and no 'Cause nothing else will do' and left.

22 June - Harry teared up during Sweet Creature, and sang Still the One by Shauna Twain, setlist changes rare on that tour.

1 July - when Taylor in US he smiled on the same line and replaced 'running with the wolves' with 'running with you'.

July - Me! Video features Harry’s LOR US suits June - July. 

The next week, Harry’s shows were energetic, Medicine Saint Paul is here, grinning during Woman, speaking clearer in Dining table, Me! references his ‘enthusiasm’ during Medicine in California

4 July Taylor and Joe at Turks and Caicos, lots of photos

21 July Harry Camille break up announced

Falling, to be so lonely and Afterglow recorded by September 2018.

October 2018 Harry went to Tokyo and was still there when the Rep last show was there 21 November. Taylor played Haylor songs. HS wrote Little Freak. Then Taylor went to UK with Joe, HS stayed

[sariahsue]

Marinette’s Three Rules for Preventing the Apocalypse

Final Chapter: Happiness Pending

Set shortly after the events of Chat Blanc, Marinette uses her knowledge of what happened that day to create three rules to prevent disaster. What happens when she can’t keep them all?

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Check out the art for this chapter!

Marinette didn't have to wait long.

She'd stumbled through her skylight, knowing Adrien would be seeking her out so they could talk about it. She just hadn't thought he'd reach her room only five minutes after she did. With flowers.

"I want to make sure you know that me leaving didn't mean I was rejecting you." He held the yellow and red roses to her. It looked like over a dozen of each, all mixed together, wrapped in green tissue paper.

"Adrien, we can't." She took the bouquet from him anyway. The paper crinkled under her hands.

He shrugged. "I know it's dangerous."

She traced the edge of a petal with her fingers. His expression looked fragile. He was on the verge of hope and the verge of despair, and she couldn't add guilt over something he hadn't done and could do nothing about, so she didn't explain. It was a relief when he didn't ask.

"So what are we going to do with all this?" he asked, motioning to the space between them. "I'm sure you have some idea. You always have a plan."

Marinette shifted her weight from side to side, looking for Tikki, but the kwami had disappeared for this conversation. "My instincts say to just forget. Bury it. It would be so much easier."

Chat Noir opened his mouth to protest that idea.

"But," Marinette continued, "common sense says that wouldn't work."

He nodded. "There's no way I want to forget this."

"The grimoire would probably tell us to give up our miraculous. It's that bad." She let the weight of that statement hang there.

Chat Noir studied her carefully. "You've left something out."

Marinette cocked her head. That was every angle she could think of.

He took a step closer, green eyes bright. "What does your heart say to do?" He tilted his face toward her, intent on what she would say.

But what could she say? Her heart had always known what it wanted. Him.

Carefully, as if he'd been the one running away this whole time, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him down. Just as slowly, like he couldn't believe this was really about to happen, he responded by putting his arms around her and pulling her in.

The kiss was timid, like whatever between them was breakable. Soft and trembling, until Marinette lifted herself up higher on her toes to press against him, and Chat Noir took that as a sign to wrap around her more tightly, sliding his hands across her back and his mouth against hers.

Marinette pulled away first, but couldn't make herself go very far, just enough to see the dusting of pink peeking out under the edges of his mask and the shining love in his eyes.

"Yeah," he whispered. "My heart's telling me to do that all the time, too."

She rested against his chin, breathing in the stillness of the moment and him. Her forehead tingled as he started to pepper kisses there.

There was only one rule left. One flimsy layer of protection sat between them and total disaster.

"We can't," she whispered.

He sighed, warm breath fanning across her face. "I know."

"No, you don't." She tried to yank herself out of his orbit, but only managed to put a handspan of space between them.

Chat Noir considered her. "You were talking about me earlier. It's more dangerous to be with me than with anyone else, isn't that what you said?"

Marinette closed her eyes against the unasked "Why?"

She didn't want to tell him what would happen. That wasn't fair. But she couldn't leave him completely in the dark either. "This is more than just rules, or Hawk Moth, or how I feel about you. We can't risk it. Not right now."

One of his cat ears flicked at her final word. "I meant what I said earlier," he said. "I'm willing to wait."

"How long, though?"

"If you're waiting for me, too? If we're going to be together when the waiting is done?" He placed another kiss on her forehead and then murmured against her skin. "As long as I need to."

"I love you," Marinette gasped, and then she was kissing him again. "I love you." She punctuated each declaration with another kiss, on his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his nose. It was like a dam bursting. All the love she'd ever felt for him overflowing and running over her carefully constructed walls. "I love you," she whispered, and then kissed his broad smile.

They would have to stop this, and soon, but a few more kisses wouldn't hurt anyone right now.

And maybe, she could make up some new rules to navigate their new situation.

---

A/N: Haha, I tricked you all! This story was merely a set up to a different story! (Not true.) I have a sequel already planned, and it's a much happier vibe. (True. Mostly.) The premise is basically: "Marinette and Adrien kiss a lot even though they know they're not supposed to." :D

I have a few stories I want to get through before I tackle that one though. I hope you stick around for those and/or check out my 70ish other completed Miraculous stories in the meantime!

I’ll link to the art for this chapter once it’s posted!

[puella-peanut]

any ideas for a silverusso involving super hot crackerjack!terry and precious baby daniel/teddy from cuba and his teddy bear?

Terry Silver’s an undercover narcotics officer with a taste for cocaine on the sly. But when he catches wind of several rogue drug deals that a low life, illiterate drug dealer has run too close to his neighborhood of choice—he sets out to investigate. 

But one day early into the hunt, on the fire escape of a crumbling brownstone on the Lower East Side—instead of an uneducated man with a penchant for a hustle, Terry runs into a child. A teenager, really. And the sweetest boy he’s ever seen. All shaggy, dark hair, matching eyes. Plump lips. But there's an ugly bruise on his thin cheek. The remains of a scar puckered on his forehead.

He’s not much more than sixteen. 

He’s terrified. 

Their eyes meet for just a moment, across soot and stairs. Curiosity and fear. Before and after. 

Not even a second later, the boy tries to make a run for it, his sneakers slamming into a dirty puddle at the start of what could have been a sprint—except that Terry’s too fast for him. Too tall, too strong. Too ready. 

Too much. 

He reaches, turning as he does so the kid slams against the alleyway wall. Crying out pitifully as his narrow back crashes into dirty brick, and shaking so hard that Terry simply holds him there like that, against the graffiti swear words scrawled high as if to challenge god. Moments pass, rats scuttling between them towards the overflowing garbage nearby. The boy is reduced to shivers, then to the occasional twitch. On the street, grimy, shifty-eyed people walk by either unaware, or unconcerned. In Terry’s arms, the kid eventually manages to hold himself very still, face deathly white. As if willing himself to vanish. Curl up into the air and take to the sky like the foul smoke from neighboring factories. Or a bird. 

Terry’s grasp on him tightens.

He feels the bone shift and flesh stir, and the boy comes alive again; cheeks flushing red, a whimper that shouldn't be pretty but is, spilling from his slender throat. Terry presses into him at that, inhaling the scent of fresh cigarette smoke and something more foul, desperate—and then his hand sharply rolls up an arm of the kid’s jean-jacket. The faded sleeve of the old red sweatshirt under. He holds up a scrawny arm to the scrutiny of his eyes, to the judgement of a cold winter sun. The boy’s pretty face crumples like paper. 

Track marks. Scratches. A scar from the jagged edge of a switchblade. 

Bruises so dark they’re almost black. 

Terry breaths out, slowly. Breath fogging into unspoken ghosts between them. 

Heroin, of course. Child abuse a given. The boy’s too slight and timid for brawling, though. Bullying? Easy target, this one. But underage sex work? Child prostitution? For fuck’s sake. Surely…

Terry studies him again. The long lashes. The delicate line of his clavicle. The fragile, breakable beauty of him.

A looker. 

And on these streets—a victim. 

“Name, kid?” Terry asks finally. 

“I…I wasn’t doing nothin’, I promise, Officer, I, I’m just—“

“Name. Now.”

The boy swallows. Sniffles. A tear runs down the side of his nose. There's salt in the air, cold sweat on skin. Pain.  

“D…Daniel. Sir," he whispers.

That’s all it takes. 

...

Terry Silver’s an undercover narcotics officer with a taste for cocaine on the sly. But when he catches wind of several rogue drug deals that a low life, illiterate drug dealer has run too close to his neighborhood of choice—he sets out to investigate. 

...But what starts off as just a run of the mill drug bust very quickly turns into something more. Terry says he won't get involved, he can’t. Shouldn’t. Just catch the dealer, get the kid off the streets. Foster care, GED. A child psychologist. End this shit, let him go. Go back to black coffee and blacker toast. His daily white line of cocaine. Out of tune pianos and the creaky kneelers of Saint Patrick's down on Coogan. Return to his lonely apartment after hunting down criminals past midnight on the mean streets, just to wake up at five come next morning to do it all again. 

But he can't forget the trembling body he should never have touched. That sweet voice that sang for him so prettily when he carved the boy into his bed. The warm, slender hands tangled in his hair. Those pleading doe-eyes—pleading for what? Drugs? Protection? A lingering hold? Terry himself?

Terry knows he shouldn’t. 

He should keep away from this boy. He’s better than this, isn’t he? He only slipped that one time. Twice, goddamnit. He couldn’t help himself. One look into those fathomless eyes, one taste of that sweet mouth—and he falls. Away from his better judgement, right into Daniel’s welcoming body. Doing exactly to the boy what he said he was going to save him from. After a while, he can’t even bring himself to let it bother him. If it ever truly bothered him in the first place. 

Terry knows that broken boy in his arms, in his bed—is his. And if he’s got to break him more to keep him that way—so be it, then. 

So be it. 

[internationaltransportcompany]

INNOVATIVE WAYS INTERNATIONAL MOVING COMPANY MOVE FRAGILE GOODS

Moving to some other country involves huge planning and care while sending all your stuff to the destination, much more so with breakables. International moving company have devised various methods of efficiently transferring all your fragile items over long distances. This article talks about some advanced techniques and practices used by international movers to help avoid damage to fragile items during transit.

1. Custom Crating Solutions

The most outstanding innovations in the movement of fragile goods are custom crating solutions. Moving companies design and build custom crates for the dimensions and requirements of each type of fragile item. Crates of this nature are developed with robust materials, such as wood or heavy-duty cardboard, and lined by foams or other cushioning materials in order to absorb shocks and restrict movements. Custom crates are very useful in moving large, highly valued, or oddly shaped items like artwork, antiques, and sculptures.

2. Advanced Packing Materials

The quality and grade of the packing materials used constitute another highly critical aspect for safeguarding fragile items. Various specialized materials that international movers use to protect fragile belongings include:

Bubble Wrap: Very good at cushioning and absorbing shocks, suitable for glassware, ceramics, and electronics.

Packing Paper: This is used to wrap each item individually. This will avoid scratches or minor impacts.

Foam Sheets and Peanuts: These fill up empty spaces in the boxes and avoid the shifting of objects within them. They provide extra padding, too.

Edge Protectors: Reinforce corners and edges of items; they are easily susceptible to damage.

These materials withstand the rigors of international transportation, ensuring your fragile items remain intact.

3. Double Boxing Technique

Probably the best measure to protect fragile goods in international moving is going to be the double boxing technique. The process consists of placing the fragile entity in a well-padded smaller box and subsequently in a larger box with more padding material. This double layering for protection of the items will help in absorbing the shocks or vibrations that may occur during transit, thereby providing extra protection from damage. This method applies very well to extremely fragile items, like fine china, sensitive electronics, and small antiques.

4. Climate-Controlled Shipping

These include items that are sensitive to temperature and humidity changes, such as fine arts, musical instruments, and antique furniture. International moving companies provide climate-controlled shipping for these kinds of items to help guard against environmental fluctuations. The use of climate-controlled containers or trucks helps to avoid damage by extreme temperatures, moisture, or dryness; hence, it is very important for the integrity and value maintenance of sensitive fragile items over a long-distance move.

5. Real-Time Tracking and Monitoring

The traditional way of handling fragile items by international moving companies has undergone a sea change with the introduction of technology. Real-time tracking and monitoring systems enable movers and clients to trace, at all times during the journey, the location and condition of their shipment. The progress of the shipment continues to be updated through GPS tracking devices, while temperature, humidity, and even vibration can be constantly monitored by sensors inside the containers. This level of control is very important in ensuring that any problem is addressed on the spot, thereby giving clients peace of mind and greater safety for items of a fragile nature.

6. Expert Handling and Training

The human factor is at work just as much in the safe transport of fragile items. A professional international moving company is serious about investing in the training and expertise of its employees so that fragile items are treated with the care that they need. Moving people have received special training in careful packing, appropriate lifting techniques, and how to handle delicate things best. Such expertise minimizes the risk of accidents and ensures that packing, loading, and unloading of fragile items are done safely.

7. Comprehensive Insurance Coverage

After all the precautions, there can be an accident. Reputable international moving companies provide comprehensive insurance coverage on your fragile items. This could provide clients with financial protection against damage or loss while in transit. Many insurance options will ensure that the values and fragile goods of clients are well protected.

Conclusion Innovative techniques and sophisticated technologies have dramatically changed the way in which international moving companies handle fragile items. This will ensure that treasured possessions are moved safely and securely through advances in custom crating, advanced packing materials, climate-controlled shipping, and real-time monitoring. Such methods, allied with investment in expert handling, help international movers provide clients peace of mind regarding the safety of their fragile items. Knowing the following new techniques can ensure that your fragile goods reach their destination safely when you have another international move lined up.

[sweetfirebird]

Hey, quick heads up, anyone shipping in or to America this month, things are already weird and that is without the threatening rail strike. Ship early if you can.

Also, I've said this before but, insurance on most packages through UPS is fake. UPS is gonna fight you hard on ever paying out unless *maybe* you had UPS/UPS Store employees wrap it for you--but the upcharges for them wrapping packages for you is so fucking high and ridiculous omg.

I have never fought the post office on a damage claim but I have on a missing package claim and most of the time, you will lose those too. I blame deJoy, honestly. He ruined the postal service.

If you are packaging valuables (aka things that break) you need to arrange your padding so that the breakable thing and the walls of the box have several inches between them.

You also do not want anything to move in the box. If you pack it up and seal it and then pick it up and shake it and you hear stuff shifting in there???? You need to open it back up and add more padding. This is the shake test and it is real.

Paper tends to condense and flatten as it travels. (Boxes get handled, boxes go in trucks and on trains and in airplanes, all of which vibrate. Vibrations have an effect.) If you are using paper as padding, you will need a lot of it. Tissue paper? Don't bother.)

UPS standards are something like 200lbs. Meaning your box is going to get many, many other boxes stacked on top of it over and over again. It needs to be able to withstand that and also being chucked all over the place.

Yes, they will throw your package. Yes, even if you write "Fragile" on it. Tbh, most of them will not even see the Fragile.

Seal your packages. Yes, all the sides. Boxes will get stacked in the rain etc... You want to try to keep moisture out.

Used boxes, no matter what their condition, are not insurable.

If you are packing liquids, which you really are not supposed to do but I ain't telling, put them in ziploc bags if you can, so if something breaks, at least everything isn't destroyed. UPS will toss the whole thing rather than try to salvage gifts for you. You will maybe get 100 dollars out of this, maybe, unless that liquid was something you weren't supposed to be shipping anyway.

Anyway. Ship early and good luck!

[gigglymovers]

Label your Stuff like a professional packer

There are no strict rules on how exactly you will label your moving boxes as it is a uniquely individual process that comes down to personal preferences. And yet, you are encouraged to follow a few guidelines which have been proven to work great and which should help you eliminate the chances of making unpleasant packing mistakes.

For best results, follow these tips for labeling your moving boxes to complete the packing project in style:

How to label boxes for moving

Pick the box labeling method that you feel most comfortable with and stick with it until you’ve labeled all your moving boxes. The worst you can do while labeling boxes when moving house is to decide to switch from one labeling method to the other in the middle of the packing process.

Write the following information on each box (unless you’re using numbers): destination room, contents, and handling instructions. If you just finished packing a box full of fragile and breakable items, you must mark that fact down on the outside of the box so that whoever’s handling it can be more careful. Whenever needed, write FRAGILE or HANDLE WITH CARE with big black or red letters to attract the carrier’s attention.

Label the top and two sides of each cardboard box. You want to make sure that your writing will be visible on at least one side even when the boxes are neatly stacked one on top of the other. After all, you can’t afford to waste valuable time moving around and looking at each and every container until you get lucky enough to spot the one you need at that very moment.

Attach moving labels to your boxes by using clear packing tape over them so that they don’t fall off, or get torn or wet during transportation. You could choose to use glue to make the colored or non-colored labels stay where they are supposed to, but that is usually slower than taping the labels over with quality tape. Besides, using glue can make things unnecessarily messy during the haul.

Be extra careful when labeling second-hand boxes. If you have secured used cardboard boxes in great condition, some of the containers may already have inscriptions and markings on them. To avoid confusion, tape your labels directly above the old ones to mask them. If that is not really possible, then take pieces of colored paper and just glue them over the old labels or stickers.

Consult this FMCSA Moving Checklist to make sure you are 100% ready to move.

It’s not a big secret that packing up an entire home can prove to be a truly overwhelming job. In fact, it’s one of those pre-move tasks where extra non-professional or professional help is strongly advised.

And if packing up all your earthly possessions proves to be too much for you, why don’t you contact reputable full-service moving companies and ask them to quote you a price that includes the add-on service of professional packing?

The efficiency, safety, insurance, and peace of mind you get when letting professional Packers and Movers Chennai to Pune do what they do best should be worth every single dollar of your investment.