#grandfather: you have to push the buttons to make it go up or down

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Can’t stand my fucking family

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: bickering, some modern family references (just names n stuff), smut, penetrative sex, f reader, riding, tit play (??) idk he just likes ur tits, etc.

a/n: this is kinda meant to be a modern family au based on haley and andy's first meeting so theres some references to the show (just fyi) except this ends as smut 🫡 can also be read as nanny!seokmin and richbrat!you tho

wc: 1370

masterlist

modern family au where you, ditzy and careless granddaughter of rich business owner, incidentally meet your family's new manny!seokmin while sneaking into your grandfather's house for some alone time by the pool. you grab a few beers, knowing your grandfather and his wife probably wont be back for a while when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. startled, you drop the glass bottles on the floor and turn around to see who the hell is in your supposedly-empty grandfather's house.

you're taken aback as soon as you meet his eyes. pretty boy your age in what's supposed to be a place only your family had access to ? you wont complain, but you're still pretty bummed about the wasted beer.

the first words out of his mouth are to scold you. great. yet another person to get in your way just when you're re trying to relax away from your overbearing family. but wait, you think, you still have no idea who this man is.

"who are you?", you question as he leans over to clean up the bottles you had broken (the bottles he broke, if anyone asked you).

"no. who are you?", he gives as rebuttal. "mr pritchet didnt say anyone would be here today. are you alex or __?" he says, cutely tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, making your heart melt role your eyes.

"im alex," you lie, knowing your sister wouldnt get in trouble for this anyways. "now my question."

"i'm your grandfather's new manny," he replies with a boyish smile, stretching his free hand towards you.

"you're not manny. i know manny and you look nothing like him," you say frowning, knowing this is totally not your uncle manny.

"oh, you're __. i'm seokmin. the new male nanny," he says in a tone that makes you think he mightve meant it as an insult .. you choose to ignore it, instead looking at his arms as he continues to wipe the broken glass. why hadnt you noticed his arms earlier ?

"i'm sorry, but im gonna have to tell your grandfather that you broke glass near the pool," he interrupts your thoughts as he finishes picking up the broken glass.

fuck. you just got out of being grounded, you cant have your mom know you snuck into your grandpa's house again, specially for day-drinking (you're over 21 now, whats the big issue?!).

you panic, so you go for the first thing that comes to mind.

"do you really have to do that, seokmin?", you flutter your lashes at him, untying the top of your bathing suit cover and pushing up your barely-covered tits for him to see.

he looks down, momentarily forgetting what he was talking about, but quickly looks back up. "thats not gonna work, your grandparents warned me about you," he says as he looks away from your chest.

he already bit the hook. there's really nothing to lose now.

you take slow steps towards him, making sure to sway your hips as you do so, placing your hands on his shoulders as soon as you're close enough. "listen. this can stay between us, right? you've already cleaned everything up. there's no reason we need to waste our time in telling him how you caught me off guard and made me drop the glass, is there?", you rub your hands up and down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while he stands still, letting you continue your actions.

"m-me?! y-YOU broke it! you're not even supposed to be h-" he cuts himself off when you get tired of his talking and decide to just rip the rest of the buttons off.

"listen to me, seokmin. we can waste the next hour arguing about who did what while we wait for my grandpa to get here," you start pressing your mouth to his ear, almost giving him the attention he really wants, but not fully. "or we could go to the guest room and i could give you a little something in return for your silence. wouldn't that be more fun?"

with one more look from him, you find yourself moments later sitting atop him in one of the mansion's guest rooms, bouncing on top of him with your back facing his chest. his eyes were glued to your ass, with his hands groping your hips tightly as he furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure. never would he have expected that the airheaded girl his new employers warned him about would be this pretty and feel this good wrapped around him.

"fuck," he exhales, rubbing his hands up and down your back, ultimately landing on your ass, melding his hands unto the soft skin. "b-baby fuck. slow down."

"but minnie .. my grandparents could be back any second. besides, you're doing me a favour. it'd be mean of me to not make it up to you, wouldnt it?", you put on a sweet voice for him as you bounce faster, also wanting to reach your high as the pretty boy impaled you.

frustrated at not being able to see you, he uses those beefy arms you were eyeing earlier to lift you up and turn you around on top of him, now looking into your eyes as you held onto his shoulders for support. looking at his pretty eyes staring up at you with softness despite the lewdness of the act made you feel crazy. feeling addicted to the way he looked at you, you decided to give him a show.

"fuck, minnie. feel so fucking good," you moaned, dragging your hands up to your tits to play with them, rubbing your nipples in a way that had you rolling your eyes back. "dont you wanna help me, minnie? be a good boy and put your hands on me."

he whined at your words, sitting up a bit and replacing your hands with his. pinching at your nipples, he made you cry out loud and rub yourself even harder, now catching an angle that allowed your clit to rub against him. feeling drunk on your enthusiasm, he moved one of his hands to your hip in order to guide you, moving his mouth to bite and lick at your nipples, making you roll your eyes back.

both your ends approached, now with you maniacally bouncing on him while his mouth stayed stuck to your chest, alternating breasts to suck and whine into. feeling completely cock drunk, you increased the intensity of your movements, leading yourself into a mind-blowing orgasm with him following soon after, his moans muffled by your chest.

you spent the next five minutes softly cleaning each other up and getting rid of the evidence (dirty sheets, condom, etc) before anyone arrived home, all while shyly exchanging glances at each other. it was unlike you to feel shy when interacting with a guy (i mean, you did just seduce your grandparents new nanny within minutes of knowing him), but there was something about his good-boy attitude and soft demeanor towards you that just drew you to him. that, and how easy on the eyes he was.

your thoughts were promptly interrupted by him quietly speaking up "listen, i know i'm probably overstepping and just embarrassing myself by saying this but, i kind of uh. i kind of felt a connection there. i think you mightve even felt it too? would you like to maybe see where this goes? i could take you out, or if not we could start off as friends too, you know? or maybe this again? wait, no. i'm not suggesting that you should uh- but if you want to! i mean, whatever you want! it's just tha-" he continues to ramble, clearly losing track of what his original question was.

just like him, you interrupt his monologue by grabbing onto his face, making him stop mid sentence and look at you. "yes," you giggle. "we can go out seokmin. i'll know where to find you," and with that, you leave him with a peck and a wink as you exit the room, successfully leaving the house before anyone arrived, knowing you'd be coming back whenever possible to get some alone time with your grandparents' pretty manny you were now planning to make yours.

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You… (Part 6.5)

YouTube! Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️: cursing, crying, confusion, fatigue, Lee Know coming in clutch, Chan admits to being jealous of reader (let me know if I missed anything)

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (Taglist open)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Third Person POV

Y/N never imagined that she would be summoned to the conference room at her workplace, especially by unfamiliar individuals not from the United States. Nevertheless, they were seated on one side of the table, while Y/N found herself on the other, facing a stack of papers with the word "CONTRACT" emblazoned across the top.

“So, what do you say? Would you like to work with us?”

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Y/N’s POV (One week ago)

I felt like I was glued to my computer screen for an eternity. Realizing I was making no progress, I pushed myself away from the desk and flopped onto my bed. I had never felt this exhausted before. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was falling behind. Perhaps it's time to hit the reset button and start from scratch.

Flashback (Two weeks prior)

Pulling up my camera, I press record and wait three to five seconds before starting. “Y’all.” I huff, still trying to catch my breath. “When I made this address, I expected to get some packages here or there. The post office called and told me I must pick up my packages because they overflowed. I thought….You know what, let me show you instead.” I pick up a vast draw bag of packages inside. “I have three of these, and that’s not including them.” I grab a basket of letters or other small packages. “I had to take my grandfather’s truck because my car was too small to fit everything. I honestly thought that I wasn’t going to get this much stuff. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get through all of these before they call me again, saying I have more waiting. I told y’all I don’t need anything; I already have too much.” I start looking around my room. “Where the hell am I going to put all this? I have no room, ugh.” I turned back to the camera. “I love y’all to death, but this is way too much.”

Looking around, I let out a big sigh. “I’m grateful, honestly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad or upset. I’m more surprised than anything. I don’t want y’all to waste your money on me. I'd rather you keep that for bills, food, clothes, etc. Though at the end of the day, I can’t stop you from sending anything.” I sit down in my chair, worn out since those bags were heavy. “I know I promised you that I would record everything I open, but then again, I didn’t expect to get this much fan mail. I’ll do my best to record what I can. Hopefully. What I can’t, I’ll try to thank you in letters.” I laugh a little to myself. “I feel like I’m digging myself a hole, making all these promises and talking about sending letters. I don’t want to let anybody down. I want all of you to know that I appreciate everything you do, and I don’t want any of you to feel left out if I don’t show you opening up your package or letter.”

I get up and grab one of the big bags. “I’ve got to record an upcoming video, but as soon as possible, I will record myself opening up some of these packages. I could do a live stream of me opening some of them, too. I’ll have to see how I’m feeling that day. Either way, I love y’all and hope you have a great day. Bye!” I turn the camera off and instantly drop my shoulders and head. ‘Why do I do this to myself? I knew I was in over my head when I did this.’ I look down at all the stuff people sent. “Well, I better get started on the album review before I worry too much about these.”

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Third Person POV (Before Y/N’s video above)

The boys had been worrying/stressing over what to send to Y/N. Chan had convinced the rest of the boys to send a gift and a letter from each of them so that she would know who it was from. Some guys knew exactly what they wanted to send, others couldn’t decide. Each one agreed that they would all send their stuff at one time, so hopefully, she would get them all around the same time. Lee Know walked into Felix’s room, seeing the Sunshine himself writing a letter. He knocks on the door to announce his presence.

Felix turns to his older Hyung. “Hey.” Lee Know grins, and Felix responds. “Hey.” His Hyung sits by him. “How’s it going?” Felix drops his head on his gaming desk. “Terrible. I can’t think of anything to write.” Lee Know observes him before replying. “You don’t have to think about it so much. Just write what comes to your head.” Felix scuffs. “Easy for you to say. You don’t overthink everything like I do.” Felix runs his fingers through his hair. “Normally, I could already know what I’d want to tell someone. Right now, I’m coming up blank.” Felix, frustrated with himself, pulls on his hair.

“Do you want to see what I wrote?” Felix turns to his Hyung. “I don’t want to copy what you wrote, Lee Know Hyung.” Lee Know smirks. “I know. I wrote two of them, in case you couldn’t think of anything. They’re not the same letter. Here, take it.” He pulls it from his back pocket. “You can always rewrite it in your handwriting if you want.” He gets up to leave before turning around. “We’re sending them out tomorrow, so have it ready by tonight.” Felix nods his head, smiling. “Thank you, Hyung.” Lee Know returns the smile. “You’re welcome.”

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After Y/N had recorded and edited both versions of the review for the Oddinary mini-album, she sent one to JYP and saved the other for the release date. She decided she’d take a small break before she would start recording herself on opening fan mail. She had to wait a couple of days before she got the chance to re-record herself.

“Hello, Lovelies, and welcome back to the channel! So, we will start opening some of these packages today since I have so many. I will warn you that I’m bad with names, so if I don’t pronounce your name correctly, don’t get mad at me.” I laugh lightly. “These will probably be different videos since I know I won’t be able to open all of them in just one video. Okay, let’s get into it, shall we?”

Little did Y/N know eight boys were waiting for her videos to come out. They wanted to see her reaction to the gifts they gave her. When the day finally came, they gathered around a TV to watch her. “What in the world is this?” She pulls out a package and sees there’s no name on it. It’s also from a PO Box address but from Seoul, South Korea. She looks at the camera with a questionable expression on her face. Pulling out her scissors, she cuts the package open. The first thing she grabs is a letter with her name on it. She opens it, and what she does next makes all the boys happy. Her jaw drops, “There’s no fucking way. This cannot be real.” She looks at the camera, back to the letter, then back to the camera again. She swallows slowly before speaking.

Dear Y/N,

I’ve followed your videos since you reacted to our MV God’s Menu. The guys and I have been quite your fans. When we saw that you created a PO Box, we knew we wanted to give you something from each of us. We hope you enjoy everything you get, and thank you for always supporting us through our journey.

Signed,

Lee Felix

She tears up a little bit and wipes her eyes immediately with her hands. “So that means you’ve seen me make a fool of myself this entire time. Damn. Well, at least you know this is the real me. What you see is what you get. Now you just made a lot of Stays very jealous.” She laughs and points at the camera. “Y’all don’t come after me now.” She puts the letter to the side and opens the package more to see what’s inside. She pulls back and starts laughing hard. “Felix, have I ever told you how much I love you? Because I do. Hold on, everyone, I’m about to show you what he got me.” She pulls out a container of brownies he made along with the recipe on top. “I knew the package looked weird, but I now understand why. He said he had to use vegetable oil to preserve them while being shipped.” She looks at the camera and smiles. “Thank you, Felix. I will enjoy these.” She puts them off to the side and grabs something else from the package; she turns it over to see a little bracelet with his skzoo. “Ooh, I love that. That’s very precious.”

She turns to look at her other bags. “So I’m not constantly thinking about the other guys’ packages. I will see if I have them all to open them one after the other. I’m quite nervous now. Especially since I know they’ll be watching this video.” The boys can’t help but smile at her. She searches through the bags and manages to find all of them. “This one looks promising.” She had grabbed Hyunjin’s and carefully opened it. What was inside made her gasp. It was a painting of flowers in a glass vase. The painting itself was mute but had pops of colors on the flowers. “That is so beautiful, Hyunjin; I love it. Did I ever tell you that my grandmother is an artist herself?” Hyunjin’s eyes widen upon hearing that statement, and the boys do, too. She steps out of view and calls for her grandmother.

Her grandmother comes into view. “One of my fans painted this for me.” Her grandmother compliments the painting, and Hyunjin lets out a breath he doesn’t know he is holding. He also gave her some facial masks since he knew she enjoyed those more than makeup. Each member gave her a letter with similar words to Felix’s, hoping they would meet her one day. They went for more sentimental value ideas since they knew she didn’t like costly items. Seungmin had given her a book he enjoyed reading and even got her a box of tea he wanted. I.N. gave her their Oddinary album book and an unreleased box of photo cards. Changbin had given her a couple of their shirts from the Oddinary merch collection. Han had gifted her a new light stick with a Quokka keychain.

Y/N thanked all the boys for their beautiful gifts, which finally reached the last two members. If anyone ever asked her which two she would consider her biases, she would tell them Chan and Lee Know. While she loves all the members equally, those two (including Felix) stood out the most to her. One package is bigger than the other, but only by a little. Both feel soft like a pillow, and she’s torn over which one to open first. She almost forgets that she’s being recorded. “I don’t know which one to open first.” She laughs to herself. “I feel that there’s more clothing in both of these. I guess I’ll go with this one.” She grabs the slightly smaller one and cuts carefully. Inside is a hoodie, not just any hoodie, but one she’s familiar with. She pulls the letter out and opens it. She’s glad she knows how to speak and read Korean; otherwise, she would have to use her phone to translate.

Y/N,

Usually, I wouldn’t say I like sending things to people, but I will make an exception for you. Your channel has brought me comfort on hard days. I never realized how much they meant to me until I unconsciously looked up your videos. I want to give you this to have on your bad days. To know that you’re not alone and have people who care about you. I have included a small bottle of my cologne that you can spray on it when my smell starts to fade. I also included a unique Leebit plush that hasn’t been released yet. Thank you for being your true self and making others happy.

Sincerely,

Lee Minho

Y/N had tears rolling down her face, but she didn’t go to wipe them. Lee Know didn’t know whether he went too far or his gift wasn’t good enough. But she turned to the camera and smiled, hoping Lee Know could see her. “리노님 정말 감사드립니다. 너무 마음에 들고 잘 보살펴 드리겠습니다.” He smiled right back. “천만에요.” She grabs a tissue and wipes her face. “Okay, this is the last, then I’ll end the video here.” She opens the last package and inside is a black jacket with white writing. Her eyebrows scrunch together as she looks at it. Once she realizes what it is, she looks at the camera with her hands on her hips. “Christopher. Now I know damn well that you better not have spent a lot of money on this jacket. Don’t act like I don’t know my clothing brands; I know just how much this cost and it’s too much.” She shakes her head like a mother would when disappointed in her son. “Good grief. What am I going to do with you, mmhm?” She pulls out the letter and opens it.

Dear Y/N,

I wanted to be honest with you from the start. I didn't know how to feel when Stays first talked about you and how much you were like me. I felt like someone was trying to copy me. It didn’t help that the other guys adored you and talked about you constantly. You were always somewhere in my head, and I couldn’t get you out. I tried, but it only seemed to make it worse. It wasn’t until I found you crying your eyes out that it all changed. I’m not saying that your crying made me change my views about you, but I realized you’re a human being like me. Seeing you upset made me want to comfort you. You were holding my skzoo to dear life. I let my emotions control my thoughts of a person without getting to know who they were. I wanted to give you something to remember me by. This jacket is mine, and I also included something to spray on it when the smell starts to fade. There’s one crucial item in here that I want you to have. It’s not mine, but it’s a replica. I want you to have it and remember that not only are you by our side, but we are by your side, too.

Sincerely,

Bahng Christopher Chan ❤️

Y/N’s emotions were all over the place. He was jealous of her because he thought she was copying him. But it changed when he realized she was kind all along. Chan was feeling the heat from waiting for her response and the looks on his member's face. They see her pull out a bracelet. It’s the same Stay bracelet that Chan wears. She finally spoke up. “Wow, I don’t know how to feel about this. I, for one, appreciate you being honest with me. I don’t understand why you would be jealous of someone you’ve never met, but then again, I don’t see things from your point of view. I could understand if you have people who say I’m exactly like you. However, that’s not entirely true. Um, I’m kind of at a loss for words right now. I don’t hate it, but believe me, I don’t. I love the gift; I love all of them. The letter makes me ask, where did I go wrong?”

She looks back up at the camera before continuing. “I’m willing to look past this as long as you and I get along. And to Stays, please do not go bashing Chan for any reason. I better not find any of y’all being mean to my boy. I’ll find you.” She points her index and middle fingers to her eyes and the camera. As if saying, ‘I’m watching you.’ “I could see that if it were the other way around, I’m sure he would react the same way if I were him in this situation. But outside of that, I greatly appreciate the gift, Chris. Thank you.”

“Thank you all for watching! I hope to have more of these videos up soon. Until then, I will see you next time. Bye!”

End of Flashback

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Present day

Which brings Y/N to today. When she arrived, the overhead boss told her the CEO wanted to see her. She started replaying everything she’d done, and nothing stood out. The only thing she could think of was something outside of work that had to do with her channel. After her Ordinary review went up, she received a call from an out-of-country phone number. She didn’t answer as she didn’t know anyone outside of the States. Maybe besides the email she got from JYP, there wasn’t a phone number listed.

She had let it go to voicemail, hoping that if it were necessary, they would leave a message. They left a message, and what she heard stunned her.

“안녕하세요, 저는 MNet Digital Studios에서 전화를 겁니다. 나는 여기 입장에 대해 y/f/n과 이야기하기 위해 전화하고 있습니다. 다시 전화해 주시면 감사하겠습니다. 안녕.”

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I kind of threw some things together hoping that they’d work. Wasn’t really sure what I wanted each member to gift to the reader, but I hope it makes sense. Anyways there’s more to come!)

((A/A/N: I forgot to add the translations in.

Blue- “Thank you so much Lee Know. I love it so much and I will take very good care of it.”

Green- “You’re welcome.”

White- “Hi, I’m calling from MNet Digital Studios. I’m calling to speak with Y/F/N about a position here. If you could please call us back. Bye.” ))

[quizzicalwriter]

Hey I love ur work sm! Could u do a Dallas x reader smut where they meet up at a motel and Dally isn’t around a lot so he is apologizing for lost time?

Free Bird

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oh how sweet reunions can be.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Angst and comfort, just a bit. Fingering, dirty talkin’.

A/N: Thanks for the request!

Word Count: 3.2k

One hour. That’s all the time it took to reach the familiar seedy motel that you’d grown accustomed to during the month-long stretches Dallas found himself indebted to the rodeo for. You’d been there often enough for the woman at the front counter to know you by name, a look of pity in her green eyes that you hated more than the reeking odor of cigarette smoke that lingered everywhere you went.

He’d call you, your house, your work, anywhere; until he finally got a hold of you, and then he’d let you know he had a week off. You knew where to meet him, just where you currently found yourself. You set down your travel bag, sighing to yourself as you fell backward onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. You didn’t know when Dallas would be back, you only knew that he would. Sometimes it’d take hours after that phone call for you to finally see him, but once you did he was all yours for the week.

It was a shitty predicament, one neither of you were too fond of, you least of all. Yet Dallas seemed to somehow thrive off of it, something that hurt you to no end. He’d been faithful, of course he had, but when you only saw him for a week after months of practically no contact besides a weekly phone call, it didn’t leave much room for love. He’d always come back with new bruises, stitches, scars, and one hell of a story to boot. You’d laugh, ensure he was alright, and as he slept you’d lie awake, looking over him to try your damnedest to memorize every facet of his face.

The way his lips parted in his sleep, the worry line between his brows, the way his nose would scrunch right before he’d mutter something in his sleep - it was funny in a way, how he managed to be pissed off at someone even as he slept. Eventually, you’d fall asleep, waking up hours later being held close to his chest, his nose buried in your hair with his arms wrapped so tightly around your middle that you could hardly breathe. And then the days would come to an end, you’d stifle tears and he’d kiss your temple and be off again.

You wrung your hands in your lap, feet shuffling against the red patterned carpet as you gazed out the window, waiting for that familiar car to pull up in the parking lot. There wasn’t much else to do, the television worked fine, but there was nothing on besides public access and a few infomercials, something that tended to make you sleepy, and you didn’t want to sleep just yet. You could only imagine how women felt waiting for their husbands to return from war, it was a long shot from what you were going through, but the anticipatory anxiety felt all the same, along with the worries of him leaving yet again.

After a moment you’d grown too peeved of the silence, pushing yourself off of the spring mattress with a huff before fiddling with the buttons on the television. You’d somehow managed to find a channel broadcasting old western shows, something your grandfather loved to watch but you never really got into. As boring as it was, it was preferable to the overwhelming silence. You moved back to the bed, making yourself comfortable as you proceeded to watch the show.

It was as though God himself had answered your prayers when you heard the familiar thrum of Dallas’s car, the engine had always been damn near deafening, but in that moment you couldn’t have been more happy to hear it roaring through the gravel parking lot. You jumped up from the bed, nearly tripping over your feet in the process, opening the door just in time for Dallas to exit his car.

He looked beaten to hell and back, one of the more noticeable bruises curling around his upper arm and onto his shoulder. You found yourself thankful that he didn’t have any cuts, none that were visible anyhow. All those worries were pushed aside when he smiled at you, hoisting a bag of his own over his shoulder as he extended his other arm out to his side. With a tear-filled laugh, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you buried your face into his chest. You could hear him groan when you made contact with him, but he quickly stifled the pain in favor of wrapping his free arm around you, placing a kiss of his own against your forehead.

“Act like you haven’t seen me in months or somethin’.” He quipped, usual sarcasm dripping off his words. Normally you would’ve been pissed, scowling at him, but all you could do was laugh into his chest before pulling away to smile up at him. He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw affectionately.

“I haven’t.” You replied. “Been four months this time.”

He sighed, smile faltering as his hand dropped from your jaw, moving instead to fidget with the denim of his jeans. He looked to the motel room, nodding his head toward the opened door, not waiting for you to respond before moving into it. You followed closely behind, closing the door behind you once both of you were inside the heavily air-conditioned motel room.

“‘Gunsmoke?’ Really?” He laughed, motioning to the television with his free hand before plopping his bag down onto the floor, moving to sit down on the bed afterward. You shrugged, a faint smile on your lips as you moved to sit down beside him. As much as you wanted to enjoy the time you two had together, you couldn’t help but feel the hurt still echoing from within your chest.

As if sensing your discomfort he hooked an arm around you, pulling you over to sit comfortably in his lap, your face tucked into the nook of his neck. Your hands fumbled with the fabric of his shirt, both of you sitting in comfortable silence as the western continued playing on the television. Dallas’s hand smoothed down your back, his chin resting atop your head.

“I know you don’t like my work.” He murmured, voice reverberating in his chest as he soothed you. “I have to make money, doll. I’m- I’m not someone who can take a company job.”

You knew the truth behind his words, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Dallas was never bound for a life of calmness and serenity. The man was born amidst chaos, it was in his blood.

“Just wish you could be safe.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. “I hate going so long without seeing you. Been together for years and yet I only see you a fraction of the time.”

“I know.” He sighed, tilting his head down to look at you as he raised a hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “I do this for you. You’re the only reason I’m not bootleggin’ anymore. Rodeo’s safer.”

“Safer?” You asked through a sarcastic laugh, hand moving down to lift his shirt, where sure enough a large bruise encompassed the left side of his ribcage. “That’s safe?”

He rolled his eyes, abruptly shoving his shirt back down to cover his side. “Quit that.”

You moved back, still halfway on his lap as you moved to be in his line of sight. You were both stubborn, it was something that’d initially attracted you two together, but it certainly became a pain in the ass whenever you needed to discuss something.

“What?” You asked through a scoff of a laugh. “Am I right?”

He glared at you then, a warning hidden in his eyes, one that you’d never heeded in the entirety of your relationship with him. He brought his hands up, wiping tiredly at his face, sighing heavily into his palms.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands before he leaned up to meet your gaze, hands dropping down to his lap. “Work an office job? I’m not that type of man, I never have been. You knew who I was when we met, I haven’t changed.”

Whenever he got irritated his New York accent would grow thick, something that grew to be a telltale sign of his frustration. You looked away from him, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as you fumbled with your hands.

“Can’t I want you to be safe?” You finally asked, turning on the bed to face him. “I hardly see you, Dal. And when I do- you’re like this.” You motioned to his bruises as you spoke, worry evident in your eyes and tone.

He knew you cared for him, it was something that terrified him years ago, back when he didn’t know how to handle love and instead shoved it away. There were moments where that still flared, rearing its ugly head during disagreements or discussions on the future, but he’d never leave - he wouldn’t. He could hear your tears building in your words before your mind had even registered you were about to cry, moving to wrap his arms around your middle as he scooted back onto the bed with you, pulling you up onto his lap in an almost cradle-like position.

You went to say something but found your words broken off by emotion, earning you a soft hush from Dallas as he smoothed his hand up and down the curve of your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in your scent. You could feel his hands clutching at you, just as you’d grab at him in your sleep.

“I know.” He whispered. More lingered beneath the words, silent promises of how he’d try to be safer, take less risky jobs - all for you. He’d never voice these things, but you knew him well enough to hear the words he didn’t have the strength to say aloud.

You tilted your head back then, brushing his hair from his forehead, letting your hand rest against the back of his neck as you smiled up at him, earning you a smile in return.

“Your hair’s grown.” You stated, lightly tugging on the longer-than-usual strands. Dallas groaned out a laugh, swatting away your hand as you laughed.

“Hair tends to do that.” He replied, tone dripping with sarcasm, causing you to roll your eyes with another laugh and a murmured, “I know that, smart-ass.”

He leaned back against the headboard, smiling down at you as you situated yourself on his lap, effectively straddling him. His hands found their way to your hips, thumbs tucking into the belt loops on your jeans.

“Ain’t one to talk back when you’re on my lap, huh?” He teased, tilting his head to the side with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. You couldn’t deny his words, any time you found yourself on his lap all it took was a singular buck of his hips and you were putty in his hands, whining, desperate putty.

“Hush.” You responded, failing to hide your smile, tone soon broken into something more whiny when he shifted his hips below you. He quirked his brow at the sudden shift in your expression, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he pulled you down by the belt loops on your jeans. As he guided the roll of your hips your eyes fluttered, feeling your cunt clench around nothing.

“I think you’ve gone too long without me.” He whispered, voice husky as his right hand moved to the buttons of your jeans, the other hand still guiding your rocking motions against his lap. “You get all testy whenever you haven’t been fucked.”

“Dallas-“ You started, head falling back right after as a moan erupted from you at the feeling of his hand sliding into your jeans, fingers finding home against your slick cunt. “So- so crude.”

“Yeah?” He asked through a laugh, thumb circling your clit as his middle and ring finger buried themselves in your cunt, a low grunt leaving him as you clamped down around his fingers. “Feels like you love it when I’m crude, doll.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when his fingers were buried to the knuckle inside your cunt, brushing against a spot he knew better than you did yourself. You rode down against his palm, looping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to whine against his throat as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

“Cum on my fingers, doll.” He murmured against your hair, hand tightening its hold on your hip as he moved his fingers within you. “Let me take care of you.”

Your brows furrowed together, hips stuttering in their movement against his palm. You could hear the soft rumble of laughter in his chest as he helped you regain your pace, muttering something incoherent as your whines turned into keens, your lips parted against his throat as you clutched onto the back of his shirt for purchase.

“Good girl.”

That was all it took for you to come undone, crying out his name against his neck as your cunt spasmed around his fingers. He pressed kisses to your forehead as you rode his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb never stopping its circling of your clit until you whined through breathless words for a moment to breathe.

You could audibly hear the sound of your arousal as he removed his fingers from your cunt, both digits coated in a thin veneer of your cum. He looked at you, smiling wickedly as he pressed the fingers to your lips. You quickly opened your mouth, tasting yourself as he pushed his fingers into your mouth, nearly touching the back of your throat in the process. You noticed his breath deepening, pupils blown as he watched you suck his fingers clean.

“Missed that mouth.” He hushed out, words breathless as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth. You leaned up then, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his. His tongue sought yours, the kiss full of hunger and need, teeth clashing, and moans swallowed. You could feel his hard cock straining against the denim of his jeans, each shift of your hips on his lap causing him to all but whine into the kiss.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, trying his damnedest to tug them off you as you straddled him, only for him to pull away with a frustrated, “Help me take these off of you before I rip them off.”

You laughed, lifting yourself as your hands moved over his, removing your jeans moments later along with your underwear, both items of clothing falling to the floor with a soft thud. Neither of you had the patience to get him undressed as well, so he sufficed with allowing you to unbutton his jeans, almost breaking the zipper in the process. Your hand curled gently around his cock, lazily pumping it as you returned to kissing him.

He moaned into your mouth, brows furrowing together as your thumb swiped over his tip. It wasn’t long until his touch on your hips grew needy, thumbs pushing into your hip bones in a silent plea for you to get on with it already. You’d half a mind to make him wait, but you needed him just as badly as he needed you. With a short lift of your hips, you guided him to your entrance, sinking onto his thick cock seconds later.

The stretch had you whining against his lips, slick sounds pooling from between your thighs as you slowly rocked down against him, each movement of your hips bumping your clit against his lower stomach. You could feel his thighs tensing beneath you, muscles flexing in tandem with each canter upward of his hips, pushing him deeper within you.

His hands guided your hips, breaths coming out as short grunts whenever you’d squeeze around him. You could feel his cock dragging inside of you, brushing against that spot that had your thighs twitching under his hold. He trailed his lips from yours to your jaw, breath hitching against your skin in between open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It was slow, passionate - everything you’d missed in the months he’d been absent. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the back of his hair as you rode him. He kissed down your throat and onto your chest, free hand moving up to cup your breast. You tightened your hold on him, head falling back as he bent his legs, planting his feet against the mattress as he fucked himself up into you.

The new angle and urgency had your cunt squeezing around him, legs giving out beneath you as he continued fucking you. He let out a breathless laugh, hands moving to your hips, essentially pushing you forward to rest against his chest as he rutted up into you, each thrust of his cock brushing against your g-spot in an almost blinding sense of pleasure.

Your hands blindly grasped at his shoulders for purchase, uttering pleas for him, words soon turning into incomprehensible sobs as the pleasure left you unable to do anything other than whine out his name against his chest. You could feel your cunt fluttering around him with each thrust of his hips, the movement causing you to rock forward, clit brushing against his lower stomach.

“You hear that?” He grunted out lowly, grasp on your hips tightening to an almost painful degree. “Hear how desperate you sound for me?”

With a strangled cry of his name, you came undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he pumped into you. You went limp against him, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise against the shell of your ear as he chased his release inside of you.

“So fucking good.“ He grunted, words followed by a sharp thrust upward, tip pushing against your cervix as he flooded you full of his cum. You whined against his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. As he caught his breath he lifted his hand, gently cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, eyes searching yours to ensure you were alright.

“‘M okay.” You whispered, voice barely audible. He nodded, sighing out a lungful of air as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You rested back against him then, shifting your hips slightly to make yourself comfortable - or as comfortable as you could be with him still nestled inside of your cunt.

“Just-“ He started, wrapping his arms around you to ensure you stayed put. “Just stay there, I’ll carry you to the shower later.”

A faint laugh left you as you allowed him to hold you close, knowing neither of you had the strength to move from the bed anytime soon. You’d have to call the front desk and get clean sheets once you did, but for now, you were content resting against him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat echoing within his chest.

“I love you.” You whispered, moving your head to press a kiss over his heart, earning you an affectionate hum as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too, doll.”

A/N: Did you guys miss my Dallas writing? I hope you did. I got three more cookin’ along with other characters. I felt like including him working at the rodeo tied into the canon well, it’s one of my favorite things about his character. Anyways, thank you all so so much for the love you’ve shown my work and all the requests you’ve sent my way! I appreciate it all more than you know! As always you can find all my works over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 16)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

It is cold and dark, woken from a peaceful slumber to run. Everyone around them is yelling, it’s always scary when grown ups yell.

They are scrambling now, tripping over each other in haste, to get to the woods. A place they’ve been forbidden to go.

“Come on, baby. Keep up.” His aunt insists, in a voice that sounds so like his mother’s. His mother.

“What about my mom and dad?” Everest asks.

“We’ll see them soon.” Madge tells him.

The sky opens and rains fire.

“You said we had an hour.” Gale shouts, over the commotion.

“They must’ve launched the fleet out of district eleven.” Everest’s grandfather calls back. “Get to the woods.”

He is a quiet man. Even tempered, he does not yell; yet he is yelling.

“Dad!” Aunt Madge tries to catch him, but her hands are full.

Full of Arista and me.

“Captain goes down with the ship.” He is gone, lost in the smoke, never to return. A debt paid for the lives he saved.

“No!” Everest wants to go back. Run to him, change it, but he can’t. Someone is holding him still, shaking his shoulders.

“Everest.”

His mother. But she isn’t here. She couldn’t be.

“Shh, shh.”

Mom. The boy startles awake, in their new living quarters of district thirteen. Just a dream.

The baby is crying, he must have woken her too.

Still his mother is there, rocking him gently, smoothing down his hair. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

Everest clings to her, watching as she uses a foot to push the bassinet from side to side. Quieting his littlest sister.

Daisy May.

A child wrought into the world through his mother’s blood, sweat and tears. She cries like it pains her to be separated from the woman who’s given her life and he does not blame her.

“Here, you can come lay with me.” Y/N offers, it is hard to be in two places at once.

Everest climbs into her bed, the spot left vacant by his father. The doctors are trying to make him comfortable, while his body adjusts to the lack of alcohol.

To the victors go the spoils.

————————————————————————

Morning comes much too early, signified by the shifting brightness of lights, rather than the sun.

Everest and Arista leave with Madge for school. There aren’t many children here in thirteen, most teachers have been made useful elsewhere.

This is one of the few things she has allowed, over their three weeks underground, hoping it will help the children acclimate.

Y/N sets her daughter down, in the makeshift bassinet, causing the infant to wail in protest.

“Just for a minute, just for a minute.” She’s coos, pulling on her jumpsuit as fast as she can. Even showering has proven difficult without the extra set of hands. Without Haymitch.

“Civilian Abernathy.” One of the guards call from outside the door.

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him, finishing up the last of her buttons and tossing the baby sling over her head. Reaching down for the infant, she situates her gently. The silence is instant.

“Happy to hear it. Your presence is requested by President Coin.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. If it’s not one president it’s another. She opens the door to find the same man who’s been keeping an eye on her since arrival. “It’s not on my schedule.” She holds out her forearm, showcasing the printed timesheet.

“Your schedule will be revised to compensate the time.”

“Perfect.” Y/N forces a smile. “Any idea what this is about?” She follows him down to the elevator.

“I’m just here to escort you.” He draws the large metal doors closed around them.

“Ever had anybody jump?” They must be thirty stories up.

The soldier shifts. “Are you thinking about it?”

“No,” she shrugs, “just making conversation.”

They reach their destination and the gates plunk open, “charming.”

The rest of their trek is silent. He opens the door and then closes her inside to stand watch. Leaving her to the wolves.

“Y/N, thank you for meeting with me.” Alma Coin says, seated at the long rectangular table. “Please, have a seat.”

“She likes it better when I stand.” Y/N says, patting the child on her chest as she approaches the table.

“Of course.” Coin nods, “you look well.”

“I’m weller than I was when I got here.” Unconscious and hemorrhaging from birth complications.

Plutarch smiles. Hello again.

“I was glad to hear that you’ve received a clear bill of health from our medical team.” Coin runs the tip of her pen over paper as she speaks.

“So the therapist you have me meeting with is just for fun?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“For anyone to endure the level of psychological abuse that you have seen and still persevere…you are an inspiration to us all.”

Y/N swallows hard. What do you want?

“Even still, we feel it’s beneficial for you to continue your sessions with Dr. Aurelius.”

“Any word on extracting the victors being held in the Capitol?” Peeta. Johanna. Annie.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to find a safe and effective way to liberate the other victors.”

Y/N nods, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other.

“I hear Haymitch is nearing the end of his withdrawal process and will be assimilated into the general population in the next few days.” Coin continues.

Another nod.

“I understand how delicate this subject may be for you, but if you’d like to keep separate quarters-”

“Why would I do that?” Y/N demands.

Plutarch clears his throat. Alma Coin is about to step over the line and finally understand why Snow kept such tight reins on his Capitol darling.

“Given your history.”

“History?”

“This can be a fresh start for the both of you.” Coin replies, softly. “Dissolve the marriage, with custody arrangements for the children.”

“I don’t want to dissolve my marriage.” Maybe there was some version of her that did. A casualty of war, buried long before his babies grew inside her.

“This is all you’ve known since you were nineteen. I can see how the idea of leaving would be intimidating.”

“You don’t know half the hell I’ve been through, or what Haymitch had to do for me to be standing in this room today. If you did, you wouldn’t be insinuate that this ‘arrangement’ is something I want.” Y/N’s chest heaves, anger boiling in her veins.

“Forgive me.” President Coin concedes, “I didn’t mean to offend you, it was only an offer.”

“I appreciate the thought, but it won’t be necessary. If that’s all-”

“There is one more thing,” Alma is not yet finished, “in regards to Katniss.”

Leave her alone. “Katniss needs more time.”

The president steeples her hands. “I wish we had that to offer, unfortunately the revolution has grown stagnant. We need to fuel this fire, otherwise we might be waiting another seventy-five years.”

“What do you want her to do?”

Now Plutarch takes the floor. “We’d like to shoot a series of propaganda, I like to call them propos. Ideally, we would use you and Katniss in tandem. The districts will follow Katniss, but the Capitol will follow you.”

We would use you. “Can I talk to her first?”

“Please do.” This is a clear dismissal.

————————————————————————

“Sorry I’m late.” Y/N is all but panting when she reaches her husband. Past the rooms harboring Cashmere, Finnick, Katniss and the other patients of thirteen.

He stops bouncing the muted green ball off the wall, catching it in hand. There’s not much to do down here, especially in what feels like solitary confinement. The good doctors are all concerned with his fine motor skills. Haymitch simply tells them, ‘they’re fine.’ Somehow they don’t find this funny.

He gives his wife a tired grin. “Word is, you got stuck in a meeting with Coin��anything new on Peeta?”

“No,” Y/N sighs, “she called me in to tell me about her master plan with Plutarch.”

“Ah,” Haymitch chortles, “do tell.”

“They wanna use Katniss to appeal to the districts and use me to rally support in the Capitol.” She plops, unceremoniously, onto his bed, shoes and all. Removing the baby from her carrier when she begins to fuss.

Thirteen’s jumpsuits are nothing to write home about, but easy enough to open and nurse at a moment’s notice.

“I can think of a few reasons as to why it won’t work.” Haymitch sits at the foot of his mattress.

“Lay it on me.”

“First of all, Katniss can’t act. Not to save her life.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “maybe she’ll do better with practice.”

“I think it’ll be harder than they’re expecting. Especially now, without-” Peeta.

“Yeah,” Y/N looks away.

“What else is wrong?” He knocks her knee.

“Coin offered to dissolve our marriage.”

Haymitch shifts, “and what did you say?”

“I told her to fuck herself.” Y/N says, with a hand over Daisy’s ear. “Nicely.”

At this he smiles, “good. I’m glad we’re both in agreement.”

Y/N reaches for his hand. “You look really good today, Haymitch.” Healthy. No longer trembling or in pain, from lack of alcohol.

“You too.” This separation thing is brutal. They’ve never been apart like this since before they were married.

Y/N can’t run down, at any hour after a nightmare, to crawl into his bed. Same way she couldn’t sit by his bedside and comfort him, when he needed it most, because their children needed her.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

“Don’t cry. Don’t.” He moves in closer, putting an arm around her, with Daisy nursing between them.

“I just miss you.” I wanna be with you.

Haymitch inhales, deeply. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna be so far up your ass-” This earns him a laugh, so he keeps going. “You’re going to be sick of me.” I wanna be with you too.

————————————————————————-

“Katniss.” She is in the same place Y/N left her. Alone in her room, with her mind out to sea.

The girl says nothing, acknowledging Y/N with a glance as she rolls Peeta’s pearl between her fingers.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Katniss pauses to consider. “I stayed with you.”

“Hmm?”

“I stayed with you and slept in that stupid chair by your bed for three days, before they made me leave.”

“Katniss.”

“They took Haymitch first, when his headaches got too bad. Madge took the baby and it was just us.” Katniss recounts, “I thought you were gonna die.”

Y/N runs a hand over her dark hair, loose from its braid.

“Then you got up and kept on living, like nothing happened. Like Haymitch wasn’t drying out in some facility, like the bombs never went off, like the games never happened and Peeta isn’t gone.” Katniss says, “but I’m not like you, I can’t do that.”

I hope you don’t end up like me, Katniss. “Can I show you something?”

Katniss nods.

“This is a trick somebody taught me a long time ago. I think it might help.” Y/N holds out a hand.

Katniss mirrors her.

“I feel everything right in my chest. All my pain, worry, anger; it always starts right there.” She gently rests her hand over her heart, just above where her child sleeps, content in her sling.

Katniss follows, placing a hand on her own stomach.

“I just hold it there and think.”

“Think about what?”

“What I’m going to do with those feelings. Sometimes all I can do is feel them. Other times I can channel them into something else, something good.”

“Haymitch taught you that, didn’t he?”

‘That’s where it hurts, huh? Right here?’ Haymitch rubs at the ache in her chest.

That was a lifetime ago. “He did.”

Katniss allows her hand to fall away. “I can’t forgive him.” Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I’m not asking you to.”

This stuns Katniss, eyes wide, searching.

“I do want you to remember that he cares about you and he cares about Peeta. Leaving him behind isn’t something he wanted. It was a choice we had to make; the Capitol fleet was within firing distance. We took a hit and we still circled back, but Peeta and Johanna were already gone.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you know?” Y/N replies, ruefully. I wasn’t here to tell you.

Katniss blinks at her.

“I had a meeting today, with Plutarch and President Coin.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanna use us, namely you, to fuel the revolution.” Y/N cuts to the chase, “I’m no stranger to being used, but I have found that if you play your cards right, it can be mutually beneficial.”

“Beneficial how?” She wonders.

“Help us get Peeta back and take down Snow.”

————————————————————————

“It’s been a week since our last session. Any changes? Anything specific you’d like to talk about?”

Y/N sinks back into the chair. “My son’s been having nightmares.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dr. Aurelius jots this down. “About anything in particular?”

“The bombs, district twelve, losing his grandfather.” My dad.

“This was your father, correct.”

“Yes.”

“And what about your husband’s family?”

“They were killed before I met him.”

“Killed?” This is news.

Y/N nods, “Snow had them killed as a punishment for how Haymitch won his games.”

“That must have been hard.”

“That’s not my story to tell.”

“Tell me your story.” The doctor crosses one leg over the other.

“Which one?” Y/N picks at the bed of her thumbnail.

“The real one, if you feel so inclined.”

“I’ve never told anyone.” Not even people I’ve known for years.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I don’t even know how to tell it.”

“Try.” He says simply.

“Well, I was born in district twelve, to my mother and father. My dad was the mayor and my mom…” My mom- “they both grew up in town.”

“What does that mean?” There is an implication he doesn’t understand.

“In district twelve,” which doesn’t exist anymore, “only the merchant families live in town.”

“They’re wealthy?” He deduces.

“By comparison.” Nothing like a victor’s salary.

“To what?”

“People from the Seam.” Y/N explains, “where Haymitch grew up.”

“I see.”

“The first few years, I was close with my mom’s sister, her name was Maysilee.”

“Was she lost in the bombing as well?”

“No.”

“How did she pass?”

Don’t you watch the games down here? “In the Quarter Quell, same year Haymitch won.”

“Did he kill her?”

“Come on, doc, the story’s not that twisted.” Y/N shakes her head. “They were allies.”

Part 17

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21

[aestheticaltcow]

Alone with the Baby

Gator's alone with the baby for the first time. CW: N/A Fargo Masterlist

Gator woke up to soft cries from the baby monitor on his side table. He slowly sat up and pushed his hair back before looking at the clock: 4:45 AM, “Well, guess I’m awake.” he chuckled before exiting your shared bedroom and walking across the hall into the nursery you’d decorated with soft pastel colors and squiggly lines he hadn’t understood. “Good mornin’ princess.” Gator yawned as he picked up his daughter. She calmed down as he cradled her close to his chest. “Did you just want a cuddle?” he asked, “You really are your Mamá’s daughter, huh?” her bottom lip poked out as tears silently fell from her eyes. “Let’s get you changed and fed… you’re gonna have the best day.” 

“I gotta go, honey bee. I love you.” “Love you too. Have a good day at work, Gator.” he grinned at your words before hanging up the call and shoving his phone in his pocket. You being out of town sucked. Granted, he liked the extra time with your daughter, Vivi. It was always more fun when you were around. Roy came outside as Gator exited his truck and opened the back door to retrieve Vivi. “There’s my grandbaby,” Roy said coldly in a way only he could do. “Where’s that little wife of yours, Gator? Why is it that mine is taking care of Vivianna?” Roy smiled down at her. Gator was a disappointment, but Roy was happy to be a grandfather before he was senile. “She’s in Austin visiting her sister.” Gator answered before lifting the baby carrier out of his truck to take Vivi inside, “You sure about that kid?” he ignored Roy’s question as he hurried to get his daughter out of the cold.

“Thank you again, Karen.” Gator grinned as he handed Vivi off to her. She shook her head, “I told you, Gator, we’re family. I’m more than happy to watch this little angel.” Gator chuckled at her enthusiasm; since the twins started attending regular school, she’d become bored at home. “When’s she comin’ home?” Karen asked, bouncing Vivi on her hip. “Couple more days,” Gator answered before turning to Vivi. He squished her chubby cheek, making her squeal happily, showing off her toothy smile. “Be good, baby girl.”

Gator’s smile faded as he got into a cruiser with Roy.  He was in a bad mood, and Gator knew it was probably his fault. They drove in silence until Roy finally broke the silence to criticize you again, “So your wife keeps your balls in her handbag, right?” Gator looked up at the car's roof, not wanting to fight. “We couldn’t go to her sister’s wedding-” Roy’s scoff cut Gator off. “You provide for her, and she cares for the home and my grandbaby. How do you even know she’s in Austin?” Roy criticized as he pulled up to the sheriff’s station. Gator ignored the question and left the cruiser immediately to take a hit from his vape. He trusted you completely, but he’d be lying if he said his father’s words didn’t affect him. 

Roy continued his rant about your mothering abilities as the two walked inside the station; thankfully, Bowman cut off Roy before he could degrade you further. Gator slipped away and was able to avoid Roy for the majority of his shift. He couldn’t help but let Roy’s words bug him throughout the day. Gator trusted you. He knew you were in Austin with your sister; you’d sent him updates frequently, and he was happy you were enjoying your time away from him and Vivi. It’s only been a week, but it had been the longest you’d been away from her, and while you could conceal some of the mom guilt, Gator could tell you were upset. 

As Gator sent you a picture of Vivi from that morning, he tapped the call button in the upper corner of the screen, only for it to go immediately to voicemail. His eyebrows knit together. You never turned your phone off; maybe it had died. Gator sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He tried to distract himself with paperwork, but it proved ineffective. 

“Hi, princess.” Gator cooed as he picked Vivi up from the crib Karen had dug out of the garage. He watched as she adjusted herself in his arms as he walked downstairs. The twins looked up at him before returning to setting the table, “Are you leaving?” Karen asked as she put a stack of plates on the table. Gator nodded. “Yeah.  The wife asked me to keep up with her bedtime routine.” Karen looked disappointed but nodded. “Are you dropping her off tomorrow?” Gator shook his head. “I’m off until Thursday, and then we’re pickin' her up on Friday morning.” Karen frowned but walked over to say bye to Vivi. While Gator just saw Karen as Roy’s wife, he did respect her love for his daughter and half-sisters. “Well, this little angel can visit me whenever she wants.” 

Gator sat on the couch that night, vape in one hand and his phone in the other. Football was on the TV, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was waiting for you to call him back. As the hours passed, with every tick of the clock- Roy’s words got louder. He was snapped out of his trance when he heard cries over the baby monitor. He rose and walked upstairs quickly, “What’s the matter, princess? Drop your paci?” he asked as he stepped into the nursery. Vivi’s cries filled the room; Gator scooped her up and rocked her, “Oh, you just need a diaper change… We’ll get ya cleaned up, baby girl.” he cooed as he looked into her big brown eyes filled with tears. 

“All better. I knew I could manage to take care of you, Vivi.” Gator laughed as he balanced her on his waist, “I know it’s not part of Mommy’s bedtime routine, but you’re gettin' extra cuddles, baby girl.” Vivi had her head on Gator’s shoulder, furiously sucking on her paci as he walked back to the living room. He sat on the couch and began explaining the football game to her. Vivi stared up at him, bored, which made him laugh. “Mommy makes the same face when I explain plays to her. Just wish she’d call me already…” 

The following day, Gator woke up on the couch. His back was already sore. He groaned as he opened his eyes. Vivi was still asleep on his chest, making him grin. He carefully sat up, trying not to disrupt her sleep, as he reached for his phone from the coffee table and saw five missed calls from you and a voicemail. “Oh shit…” he pressed the callback button. When you answered, he could tell you’d been crying, “Gator! I’msosorrymyphonediedwhilewewereoutyesterday-” Gator chuckled. “Baby, I can’t understand you when you’re like this.” he heard you take a deep breath. “Okay… I’m sorry I forgot to call you last night when I got back to Erica’s house.” Gator nodded. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You havin' fun?” “Yeah… I love Erica, but oh god’m ready to come home and be with you and Vivi again.” “You’ll see us on Friday, angel.” “I know… I just feel guilty.” Gator frowned and took a second before responding, “Hey. Don’t feel guilty, baby. I can handle our daughter.” “I know you can, but I just miss her.” 

That day and the next were a blur. Gator opted to spend his days off fixing up the house and cleaning up after himself. He didn’t want you to come home to a dirty house and think you could never leave him alone with the baby again. “Okay, Vivi. That’s how you fix a drippy sink. Mamá will be happy I finally did this, which means Daddy will also be happy-I’ll let Mamá explain that one…” he washed his hands before picking Vivi up from her ‘baby jail’ and walked out of the kitchen. Gator sat on the porch swing, holding Vivi’s waist as she stood on his lap, pointing at the sky as clouds rolled by. Her giggles were music to his ears, “What does that one look like, baby girl?”. Moments like this felt like magic to Gator, watching Vivi smile and listen to her giggles and snorts as she discovered the world- it was a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“Gator!” he couldn’t help but smile when you called out his name and ran up to Vivi and him. You smiled and quickly kissed him before snatching Vivi from his arms. Vivi squealed as you held her to your chest, “I missed you, princess.” you mumbled into her head as you felt a hand on your lower back, “Let’s get you home, Mamá.”

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Ehm...Mr. Lomax?👉🏼😗 👈🏼

Lilith is chomping at the bit for her boyfriend and like 2 other anon’s asked for this, so here he is…. I have a feeling y'all know what I’m gonna say 🤭🤭🤭

Kevin has a foot fetish. I could go into detail but… oh, okay I will. He sucks toes. Licks feet. He likes to be stepped on every now and again. The thought of an open toed sandal makes him feral. For the love of god, do not expose your pretty feet to this man. He will chomp them.

Repressed kinks. A lot of them. He’s the son of the devil who grew up Baptist, okay? He’s into some freaky shit. And closeted as hell about it. Because he’s a gentleman. Doesn’t wanna push you too far and scare you away. You’re gonna have to ask him to tie you up and drip hot candle wax on you (clears throat, @lilithlinen) and watch him vibrate with excitement and internally scream for joy as he says, “yeah, okay, sure, we can try that, honey.”

Would have some freaky demon powers after he leans into the whole son of the devil thing. Could make you insanely, ravenously horny without even lifting a finger. There are probably other things, but that’s the important one.

He loves kids. He’s really good with them. He wants a few of his own but he’s scared because of who their grandfather would be and that he wouldn’t be a good enough dad. The sight of you walking around with a baby bump would make him explode from happiness.

effortlessly reads people. Can always tell how you’re feeling before you even say anything. This would be especially embarrassing for you if you were his new secretary, trying to pretend you didn’t find him delicious while he’s leaning on doors and rolling up the white sleeves of his button downs.

[dracoxmalereader]

Christmas Tree

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Part 2 to Wrapping Paper <3 It is now implied that my Huff!Reader dude's dad is the Slytherin, so sorry if you read the headcanons and make a different relative the Slyth. TT

Summary: Christmas Eve is going normal, until it isn't. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

Word Count: 796

The tree jingles. Ornaments glitter in twinkling light, and the garland rustles with a last firm jostle shoving the whole of it into a corner. 

“Everyone in front of the tree, let me get pictures before I put the presents under it!” Your mom nudges the lot of you and your family into position.

Sugar cookie wafts in the air, warm with traces of fruitcake and a cooking turkey in the oven. Candles and string lights cast a cozy glow over your home. 

Your mom fiddles with the settings of her camera. Just as her finger is lowering over the shutter button, five heavy knocks fall at your front door. Your mom sighs and lowers her head in exasperated defeat.

“I’ll get it.” You tell her. You slip away from your other relatives, through the house to the door. 

You unlock and swing it open. Closing your eyes for just a second when the chilly breeze bites at your face, you adjust to the cold. You blink open. Behind a mountain of vibrant green, platinum blonde hair contrasts against the night sky outside. 

“Are you going to let me in sometime this century?” Draco’s voice is strained. His arms shiver in the winter air. The pile of presents in them slides.

“Why are you here?” You step to the side, allowing room for Draco to squeeze past you. 

“What, I can’t come visit my favorite Hufflepuff?” He wobbles as he enters. His face is tinged pink from the cold. “I even brought gifts, thought you’d be a little happier to see me.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I’m your favorite?” You push the door shut behind him when he’s fully inside.

“The bar is in Azkaban, don’t let it get to your head.” He rolls his eyes. You tell yourself the way he flushes a deeper red is just the warmth of your house setting in. “Where are your house elves? I need to put these down.”

He steps to widen his stance. Your hands twitch into the air. You start pulling the presents from Draco’s grasp before they can slip again. The familiar wrapping paper from Stitches and Draughts smiles up at you, the glossy finish shimmering.

“We don’t have house elves, dear.” Your mom pipes up. She walks over, setting a hand on your shoulder. “Who’s this?”

“Ah,” You start. “Just a friend from school.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “You didn’t tell me we’d be having guests.”

“I didn’t know-”

“My apologies, Mrs. L/N. For showing up unannounced.” He cuts you off to explain. 

He holds his hand out for your mom to shake, and introduces himself. You carry the presents further into your house to set them down by the tree. 

“I knew you got on well with Slytherins, Y/N,” She speaks again. “But I hadn’t expected a Malfoy to turn up for Christmas.” You linger, and when you look back, her hand is still in his. Her brows are raised in surprise.

Draco preens like he’d caught the golden snitch. He fluffs up the lapel of his wool coat and smirks.

She tells him to take off shoes, waddling away back into the kitchen as he’s toeing them off. Snow falls from the soles onto your wooden floors. 

“So this is your place, hm? Terribly small,” Draco remarks. His socked feet pad against the ground towards you until he’s standing close, closer than the size of your house can probably justify. “I reckon there’s more than enough room for the lot of you in the manor.”

You feel your face heat up. The sound of your family bickering amongst themselves roars like a fire through thin walls. Your grandfather sways into the room with you. 

“That the seeker boy you've been fussing about?” He asks. “Your father’s losing his marbles over ‘im.”

In your peripherals, you see one of Draco’s eyebrows quirk up. “Ah, it’s a wizard family thing. Big deal in Slytherin.” You hurry out. 

“Figured.” Your grandfather mutters back. He looks Draco up and down, then back at you, protectively. “Not like those pricks your father had to put up with, is he?”

You shake your head, and try not to let the embarrassment eat you alive. Your grandfather hums and continues down the hallway until he’s disappearing up a flight of stairs.

Silverware clinking echoes from the kitchen, stronger scent wading into the comfortable air. Turning, you see Draco’s expression morph into a cocky one. 

“Fussing about?”

“Shut up.” You groan.

His smug look gives way for a genuine, toothy smile. Jagged canines gleam in the tree’s string lights. Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but hope whatever excuse he gave his parents to be here lasts long enough for dinner.

I tried to make the family as reader-accessible as possible without clogging it up with "X/N"s left and right. I had to google what british Christmas is like for this because all I had to go off of was my family and I don't think this would be very entertaining if the whole story was just reader and Draco listening to them argue in spanish. 😭

I will admit though, the idea of having to explain to Draco what de pinga means is hilarious. He just wanted to spend quality time together and now the reader has to tell him what a jinetera is and why his tia just called his dad one.

If there’s any typos, it’s because I wrote this while singing the national anthem to my sister. They’re playing gorilla tag and whenever they put their arm up they look like the statue of liberty. Like okay get into it George Washington. Singing while simultaneously writing is what I imagine k-pop idols feel like when they're singing and dancing. So basically I'm Bang Chan but for Draco fic.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @siuspider @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222 @ashton-laufeyson @0-alastair-0

[catherinerandom-blog]

Started a little thing. JRWI mass crossover where everyone lives in a futuristic superhero society where WATCH was never established, and everyone has their own goals :)

It's gonna be super random who we follow each chapter and it's gonna be super casual. I'm trying to start a project where I can be really casual about what/how I write and just have fun.

First chapter below the cut, if you wanna check it out

Sonic Speed hates to do this, but Lightspeed was relying on her and she needed to prove herself as a real hero. Lightspeed had a real dream for heroes, and a plan too. She was just- So cool. Sonic had been following the lead Lightspeed gave her diligently for the last three weeks, but it had just gone cold and she was running out of time. If she couldn’t capture The Prince soon there’d be another attack and the heroes would be just as stuck as last time. 

So here she was at 3:00 am, making her way towards the only building still sporting a flickering green neon open sign on this street. Up ahead she could see the dull LEDs through the sliding glass front doors of the Rusty’s. Further pulling her hood up over her dark blue hair, a signature of her hero identity, Sonic stepped from the muggy night into the artificial chill of the corner store. Instead of making her way towards the four aisles of junk food, she walked right up to the front counter. 

The cashier, a girl with purple dyed hair and brown roots growing in, looked up at Sonic, unimpressed. Her name tag said “Violet.” “Welcome to Rustys, what can I help you with?” The voice was dead pan, and she looked back towards her phone right after speaking.  

“I-” Sonic cleared her throat, “I would like to purchase a Rustys credit card.”

At this the Violet’s demeanor completely shifted. She turned her phone off and stood up from her slouched position over the counter. She reached under the counter and pressed a couple of buttons. “Sure, what color do you want?”  

Sonic swallowed before taking a deep breath, and answering  “Blue, I’d like a blue one.”

She nodded and gestured for Sonic to follow her into a back room. Violet hit a button on the wall that shaded the window on the door and turned on the light. Sonic had to keep her eyes from straying to the desk where an ancient computer sat. She hadn’t seen a non-holo monitor since she sold her great grandfather’s antique a couple years back. 

“Alright, tell me who you are, what you need to know, why, and what you’re gonna do once you know. This doesn’t determine whether we help or not, we just like to keep track of our customers.” The girl sat in another chair in front of the old computer and booted it up before spinning casually in her chair a few times. 

“I’m Sonic, a hero, I need to know where The Prince is hiding, so I-well so Lightspeed can capture him, and we can use him to negotiate current gang war to a standstill.” She’s almost proud of herself for getting it out without much stuttering. 

“Hmm,” She types a few things into the computer, and her brow furrows. “Seems our current data on The Underground is a bit out of date. Too many jobs about top side.”

Sonic nervously bites her lip, if this doesn’t work she really doesn’t know what she’s going to do. Even being here makes her skin crawl. The things she’d had to do to get her hands on the verbal code to access the Wisperer’s organization still haunt her dreams. She’d promised never to use it, but… Lightspeed had asked her to find The Prince. Lightspeed. She had to succeed. 

“Your lucky he’s been looking for a new case. I’m going to deliver your case, he’ll take it, and he’ll contact you when he has the info you’re looking for.”

“How will he-”

“He’ll know, he’s the Wisperer.”

There are a couple of dead moments where Violet stares at Sonic. Eventually Sonic realizes she is being dismissed, and tries to push down her frustration and anxiety as she leaves. When she opens the door to leave, Violet’s voice rings out once more. 

“Don’t forget store policy!”

Sonic’s hand doesn’t break the door hand she’s holding, but she does leave a hand-shaped dent. 

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [32]

chapter thirty-two, act four: somebody else

masterlist

little Author's note /TW before this act begins. There's going to be alot of talk of drug use and addiction within the chapters coming, if you're not comfortable with these kinds of things please don't read.

October 18th 2016

Adam smiles to himself, watching the huge grin on Tommie’s face as she and her grandfather walk ahead discussing the newest Star Wars movie that’s coming out.

Their nan is beside him, they walk in silence back to the tour bus. Adam looks between his grandparents a few times trying to think of the best way to say what’s come to his mind.

Maggie sighs and looks at him in the corner of her eye, “What Adam?”

“Hmm?”

She raises one of her dark eyebrows, “Tell me what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Why are you guys actually going home?” He asks.

Adam’s not stupid, despite having a lot of the same characteristics one thing he inherited from their maternal grandparents was his observation skills. Whereas Tommie inherited her paternal grandparents' naivety. 

Maggie sighs watching as Tommie skips ahead with Button, Thomas watching on with that proud fatherly look he saves for only her.

“It’s come back.”

Adam pauses, he stares at her, for too long and she nods slowly, “Doctors gave him a year.”

“It’s back?”

She nods, “He wanted to come see you one last time.”

Adams shakes his head, “We- we can stop the tour, I mean, we have money now, nan, we can pay for the best treatments, get him private-”

Maggie shakes her head, “You know he won;t let you do that-”

“What about Tommie?” He asks, “This will break her.”

Maggie keeps quiet, looking forward and Adam shakes his head, “Nan…”

“We’re not telling her-”

“You have to.”

“I want to.” She says honestly, “I want to give her the chance to say goodbye, the chance to be with him, she didn’t have that with her mother. I don’t want to keep another thing away from her.”

“But he won’t?”

She nods slowly, “He refuses to.”

“He was never able to hurt Tommie.”

“Hurt her? This will kill her.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

Phoebe’s dyed eyebrow is raised higher than usual as Tommie sighs blissfully and wraps her in a hug.

“Uh, you okay?”

“This has been the best day ever.” She grins, bending down to twirl Max around and kiss his little head, “Went for ice cream with nan, Granch and Ads, had a Star Wars marathon, drank a shit ton of dr pepper, ate pizza and even watched all the prequels.”

Phoebe smiles, “We still going to that party?”

She nods quickly, “Oh, fuck, I forgot.”

Phoebe shakes her head in an adoring way as she laughs, “Of course you did.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Raid my closet, I’m planning on wearing the black dress laid out on the bed so don’t have that.”

“Thanks,” She kisses her cheeks as she passes through her kitchen, “Life saver, love you.”

Phoebe hums, shoving some crackers into her mouth as she shares with the two dogs.

“Is Caleb picking you up from here?”

“Um, think I’m meeting him there, can I catch a lift with you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommie settles on a long white and green summer dress that’s been folded and pushed to the back of the American’s wardrobe.

When she steps out, hair let down from the half up hair do it had been in and her docs on Phoebe makes several comments on how good she looks and how lucky Caleb is to have her that causes a blush to rise up her cheeks.

“I forgot I had that dress, you can keep it?”

“Really? I love it.”

Phoebe hums, “Thrifted it when I was in high school, I wore it to a wedding.”

“White to a wedding?”

“It was an aunt who was mean to my mom once.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

Caleb smiles leaning in for a quick kiss, “Hey, babe, took your time.”

“You having fun?”

He nods, “Get yourself a drink, I’m going to go talk with some friends, catch up with you in a bit.”

Many drinks later, when Phoebe had decided to call it a night and half the party goers had left Caleb was still in some corner with some guys and Tommies sat nursing a double vodka-red bull on a sofa alone.

The sofa dips beside her, a pair of feels landing on the coffee table where her doc martens rest.

“You look as bored as I feel.”

Tommie’s eyes drag up a pair of tanned legs, up a pretty silver dress and land on a mop of dark curly hair.

Her eyes shine brightly as she smiles, assessing Tommie in the same way, “I’m Roxanne.”

Tommie’s mouth opens a few times until she clears her throat and shifts so she’s sitting upright, “Tommie.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommie.”

“Yeah, you too.”

She smiles, pretty teeth revealed once more and Tommie swallows thickly as she watches her lift a fruity drink to her lips.

“Nice night, huh?”

“Beautiful.”

“You look like the moon.” Tommie winces, shaking her head but Roxanna laughs and she internally groans, or moans, she can’t exactly describe the feeling in herself right now. But she does it because even the woman’s laugh is beautiful.

“Thank you. You look like a star.”

Tommie grins at that, she hates the sun, it burns, it’s too warm and she hates when it gets in her eyes.

Stars are beautiful, not always seen but always there.

“Do you want another drink?”

“I’m okay, thank you, but I can get you one… if you want?”

“I’m good, still got this one.”

“What do you do?” Tommie finds herself asking.

Her heels click as she drops them back to the floor, she shifts and pushes herself back into the sofa, “I own a clothing line.”

“That’s cool.”

She nods, “Yeah, it was my mother and I’s dream to design clothes when I was a kid.”

“You get into it together?”

She hums, “I draw she sews. We make a good team. What about you?”

“I play guitar,” She says, “I’m in a band… I write sometimes too.”

“With your mom?”

“Uh, no, no… my childhood mates.”

They talk for a bit longer… until early hours of the morning, tucked away in the lounge away from the party.

She learns she’s from San Diego, and moved to LA when she was twenty-one a couple years ago. The business took off and they went from a t-shirt company, to a clothing brand partnering with all different celebrities here in LA.

Roxanne’s silver ringed fingers brush hair from Tommie’s face to see her better, she’s just made a comment on how the guys in the music industry in LA rival the childishness of frat boys and Tommie’s drunken mind had found it incredibly funny. Head tilted back on the sofa as she gasps for breath.

Roxanne smiles again and lets her hand rest against her collar bone for a few seconds.

Tommie goes quiet when the fluttering in her stomach is revealed not to be the alcohol like she’d assumed but a swarm of butterflies.

She wets her lips and her eyes soften as Roxanne goes on to tell a story about a guy she hooked up with who was a bassist and gave horrible head. Tommie’s about to butt in with a story of her own when they’re interrupted.

“Hey, Babe.”

Roxanne smiles as she stands, long slender arms wrapping around an equally as beautiful man, “Hey, honey.”

Tommie’s smile slowly fades as she watches them get off for two minutes too long.

Roxanne pulls back and looks down at her, “This is Tommie.”

“Hi.”

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

He turns back to Roxanne and she sends an apologetic look over his shoulder to the younger girl, “Ready to leave? I’m exhausted.”

She nods, leaning beside Tommie to grab her purse, her hand brushes against the skin of Tommie’s thigh exposed by the slit in the dress.

Tommie’s face flushes at how quick warmth spreads between her legs and she gulps as she clenches her thighs together.

“Hopefully I’ll see you around again?”

She nods, “Hopefully.”

Caleb passes by them, exchanging friendly words with Roxanne’s boyfriend who he seems to know, he leans down to kiss her lips, “Making new friends?”

“Yeah… yeah, new friends.”

“Ready to go?”

His hands land on her waist and she finally drags her eyes away from the silver dress to his, he leans forward to kiss her deeply and she finds herself pulling away, “I’m too drunk to do anything tonight.”

He nods, “You don’t need an excuse, babe, if you’re not up for it just tell me.”

She nods, “I want to, I’m just drunk and don’t want to spew on your dick.”

He laughs with a nod, “Okay.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

Because this chapter is so short here's a sneak peak of the next one

“One minute.”

“Tom…”

“One minutes to explain or I start hurting people-”

Adam sighs, “Tommie, just wait until Matty’s better-”

“What the fuck is going on!”

“He OD’d.”

Adam and Ross’ heads snap towards George who shrinks back into his seat slowly.

They’d kept it a secret. The three of them. For four fucking years. 

Then George had to open his big gob at the wrong moment.

“George!”

“What?”

“It’s about time she knows!” George defends himself. “I’m tired of keeping this secret if he’s going to be doing this to himself again.”

“Again?”

She pauses, looking around the three of them, “What do you mean aga- again? What do you mean George?”

He stays silent, eyes looking down, “George? G, what do you mean again? Again? Again what? Another OD? This happened before? Again? A-Again? Ads? Again? Ross..? What does again mean?”

She steps back, brows furrowed, breathing uneven as she looks between them all.

Adam stands slowly from the settee, hands outstretched, “Tommie…”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[v1nsmoke]

𝑮𝑼𝑵𝑺 𝑵' 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑺 // 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹!𝑳𝑨𝑾 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

spooktober week 3 - cult leader law part 3

tw: blood, guns, explosives/explosion, depiction of violence, murder

summary: there's far more beyond the dimly lit interrogation room, and now it's up to you to escape the underground base filled with armed cultists, but unbeknownst to you, somebody is watching - meanwhile, a group enters the county

a/n: i didnt expect this story to go this far, it was supposed to be just a quick oneshot for his birthday, but here i am, ill make a part 4 soon

tags: @lawsmommymilkerwife

wc: 2.1k

you are now reading... chapter one chapter two CHAPTER THREE

"There's no escape for you." Law's deep voice rings from a loudspeaker that you tried to locate as soon as you heard it. "You thought I'd just let you murder and injure all my men? Even if you do manage to get out, I'll always find you. Didn't you notice what I did on your chest? You're marked. You are cult property now."

Your eyes widen at his statement. You quickly look down to see a pattern under your collarbone, etched into your skin by his blade. It was a circle, straight lines branch off from it in several directions. It was the same logo you saw sewn into the clothes of the cultists you came across. It was likely the logo of Law's cult, and now it was on you, and there was no way of getting rid of it.

But that didn't matter to you, because you will get out of this place and escape either way. You still didn't know anything about your sister's location, but it looked like she had to wait. You were this close to escaping, you won't turn back. You had to inform everybody about this cult, get the authorities involved instead of fighting it off all alone.

~●~

The van is bumping along the road, which no one seems to have taken care of renovating ever since it was built. The landscape is relatively empty, one or two trees on the lawn next to the road, the grass of which began to dry more and more as the team gradually approached their destination.

They had been traveling for several days, but luckily none of them were too fussy. The driver would have liked to give up, but he drove tirelessly for the pleasure and request of his captain. The navigator in the mother-in-law seat also held his will up.

There was chaos in the back seats, if there was noise, you could bet it was coming from there. This is exactly how the driver lost thirty thousand Berries to the navigator. Maybe they should have come up with a different seating arrangement before they set off on the multi-day trip, but the navigator is better off sitting in the front, and no one else in the group was qualified to drive except the tired man sitting in front of the wheel right now.

They have already wondered several times whether it was really a good idea to listen to their captain and come here. However, the boy was determined and stubborn, nothing could stop him from this adventure. Calling his grandfather to see what's going on in this small town because it's his job? Oh, no. He wanted to see it himself, with his own eyes, and if the news was true, he wanted to act himself.

And there was no turning back now as the van passes by the sign on the side of the road, the words "Welcome to Dressrosa" written on it.

~●~

You can feel your heart pounding faster, placing the remote explosives around the base as you head towards the exit. The plan? Once you're outside, you just push the button, activate the explosives, and hopefully destroy the base. Your sister was likely elsewhere, this was closer military base, you could bet the interrogation room was the only place that wasn't a control room or a weapon storage room.

When a cultist appears, you're quick to react, sending a bullet to their chest. You rush to the stairs, leading to an upper floor, but still not outside. By now all the alarms were ringing, the red light flashing like crazy.

Law can hear the sounds outside the security room, footsteps, sound of boots, gunshots, and piercing screams in anguish. He was spectating the situation from this room, able to see most hallways and access all loudspeakers around the base. He didn't expect you to actually escape, people usually just accept that they are now part of his cult. You didn't.

He was surprised at how you had built yourself up to this point from nothing, armed and all in less than an hour. However, it really bothered him that a nobody, a lady from another town who only came for her sister, was currently fleeing and murdering his people. You may not have realized this, but you can cause huge damage to his forces with this operation.

Through the security cameras, he saw you sprinkle the corridors of the base with explosives, but no matter how many people he sent to defuse them, none of them succeeded and no one returned. He believed that if he confronted you with the fact that you were now the property of his cult, you would abandon your plans, but as he saw, that was not enough.

Law sees you knock out another member, then your steps slow. It looks like you just realized that he was watching your every move with the cameras. You look up, straight into the camera, gun in hand pointed straight at it, then one of the screens goes black in front of Law. As you moved on, the signal left the monitors one by one.

Law knew he had to stop you before you caused even more chaos and madness. He just didn't know how. He would try to send more people after you, but it hasn't worked so far, so why would it work now? He personally had no plans to go out, no matter how good he was with a weapon. He couldn't know when the explosives you just scattered might explode to his face. Was it a proximity bomb or could it be activated from a distance? He didn't want to find out.

He knew that you came for your sister, and that you would not go back to the city where you came from - because he has been terrorizing the residents of the city for almost two months, and he had not seen you until yesterday - without her. You might not destroy everything and go looking for her, but you'll still be around, hiding somewhere, calling authorities.

Lucky for Law, nobody will come to your rescue. He had the authorities, either brainwashing them into joining the cult or paying tremendous amount of money to keep them away. You were alone, and he had hundreds of men under his command, so even if you escape this base now, he will have many chances at getting you back.

He knew that letting someone like you to just leave would be a great loss and a wrong choice. You now knew about the existence of this cult, if you get more people involved it might cause trouble. You knew too much, and Law didn't plan on just abandoning you.

You step into another control room, wired phones and some monitors placed next to the walls. None of the security cameras showed anything except a black screen, which meant your plan worked, and wherever Law was hiding he was not able to see you now. You had no idea if there was any signal outside, they likely blocked all means of communication.

This might be your last chance at getting help from outside, you had to act, right now. You turn a monitor's camera to your face, starting a live broadcast right there. Apparently it should reach all nearby cars with their adio active, maybe some TVs.

"The cult is taking over, if you hear or see this message, SEND HELP! I-" you desperately try, when somebody shoots your way, breaking the device. This was your only hope, and if nobody heard it, you're fucked. You raise your pistol towards the man who shot, aiming at his legs and firing. He lets out a scream in agony, falling to the ground as blood seeps trough his jeans.

~●~

"Damnit! The radio does not work well here... there are barely any stations!" The blonde in the driver's seat sighs. The music stopped the moment they passed by the welcome sign. The navigator next to him turns the knob, hoping that she will be able to find a station that isn't just static noise.

She was about to give up and forget about it, when she suddenly heard a feminine voice.

"The cult is taking over, if you hear or see this message, SEND HELP! I-" the line cuts off, static noise taking over yet again.

The group in the van is shocked, nobody saying a word for a few moments.

"Can you track where this came from?" The driver asks, the question directed at the guy sitting behind him, already coming up with a plan.

"Uh, not sure, but I can try I guess." He replies.

This one message confirmed their fear, the news turned out to be true. This only proved the fact that the town was now under the control of a cult. The driver steps on the gas pedal, thereby exceeding the speed limit. Who would punish him for it, the police, which is not even here? If there was, then this cult would not be here long ago.

The moods calm down in the rear periphery, the other part of the team also getting serious, now that everything has been proven.

"I know where the broadcast came from!" The man shouts, instantly gaining the attention of everyone in the van. He passes his device - likely homemade, knowing him - to the navigator, who extends her hand and takes it from him.

She reads the map, examining it, and immediately directing their driver to the desired location. It seemed to be in a tree-surrounded area, bit further from the road going trough the city of Dressrosa. It was like a smaller base, bit she was sure that there was more to it, hidden underground from prying eyes.

~●~

After losing the last means of communication, there was nothing left to do at the base, so you headed straight for the exit without stopping. Using the floor plan of the building prepared in case of fire, you found the only main entrance leading outside.

You didn't know where Law could be right now, but he was going to explode along with the whole building anyway in just a matter of minutes. You started to get tired, but let's be honest, it was still a big, even huge achievement. You may have used an air rifle a couple of times before, and here you are, now you've killed a base of cultists.

It took you a few shots to get into it, but eventually you got the hang of it. Aiming became easier, and you were firing better and faster.

You huffed as you ran up the stairs that theoretically lead to the exit. You were so close now. Law likely ran out of men, because there was barely anyone after you at the moment. Was he hiding? Likely. But he saw you trough security cameras, which means he knows you you loaded the base with remote explosives.

If he's smart, he gets out before you do, knowing that you won't blow the base up until you get outside. If he's not smart, he stays inside thinking it's nothing. But even though you didn't know him well, he seemed and acted like the smart type. The other tools back at the interrogation room even hinted that he was a surgeon, or at least knew a thing or two about it.

Here it is. You burst trough the door, literally throwing yourself at it. The bright moonlight illuminates the star-filled night sky, pine trees surrounding the base built on top of a hill, next to a mountainside. From here, you were able to overlook the whole county, the town, fields, roads, a perfect panorama view. Too bad this base is about to cease to exist in moments.

This was not the time for you to enjoy the mesmerizing view. You turn back once more, stealing one last glance at the building before running down the dirt path between the pine trees, and activating the explosives. Your ears ring after the loud noise coming from the explosion, the orangeish cloud-like formation behind you giving a slight tint to the grey mountainside and the surrounding area.

This was it. You did it. But who said it all ends here? Your sister is still missing, and Law might have escaped. Nobody's going to do anything about it anyways. Nobody, except you.

trafalgar law and one piece belongs to eiichiro oda

© v1nsmokes 2023. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[thedreamworldlibrary]

Nothing Bad Happens Chap. 1-Alright

Hi everyone! Here is a new WTDW Fanfic!!!!

So, for being in fandoms for a LONG time I’ve seen my fair share of “Nothing Bad Happens” AU’s. I figured Welcome to Dreamworld should deserve that treatment. However, I never came up with a good name for the AU, so we’re calling it Nothing Bad Happens for now.

I’ve had this AU since WTDW episode 5 or 6 so it’s been in my head for a while, but I recently started writing it because I had a bunch of other stories being worked on plus life stuff.

Big thanks as always to my beta readers, @gigilefache and @mun-auroralore! 

Enjoy!

The Dreamworld Entertainment Facility, an entertainment center where kids don’t have to feel alone.

This is the facility where a young man named Wiatt Nicholson stood. He heard about this place for a while now; his boyfriend, Lewis Bright was one of the founders of this facility. The two made a promise when Lewis left to build it with his two best friends. 

If you stop calling me, you know I’m coming back to find you.

Wiatt hadn’t heard from Lewis in over a week, and now was more than ever ready to run to the facility and check to see if his boyfriend was alive and well. 

However, he was scared. Scared that when he opened the door he would be welcomed by everyone saying Lewis is gone.

“I can’t do this,” Wiatt said to himself. 

He was about to walk away from the facility and drive back home-but stopped, realizing that he had driven a couple of hours from his grandfather’s mansion. Plus, he kept his promise of coming to find Lewis and he was gonna do just that.

Wiatt sighed and pushed open the door, hearing the sound of arcade games and kids laughing and having fun. Slowly stepping in, he looked around-and froze, seeing a familiar sight in front of him.

It was Lewis.

Lewis was talking with some workers and sharing a laugh. He had slicked-back, light brown hair with a few fringes hanging over his face, green eyes, and oval glasses. He wore a light blue vest over a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes.

Wiatt smiled, seeing Lewis was safe and happy. However, he soon frowned, not understanding why Lewis hadn’t called him in a week.

Taking a deep breath, he entered and walked up behind Lewis. 

“Uh, hi I’m looking for a Lewis Bright,” Wiatt spoke up.

Lewis froze, recognizing the voice. He slowly turned around, eyes widened after seeing Wiatt. 

After a few years of not seeing each other in person, he was here. 

“W-Wiatt?” Lewis asked, surprised.

Wiatt nodded. “Told ya, I’d come find you if you stopped texting.”

The workers stepped back and decided to give the founder some alone time with his boyfriend. 

The two stood there awkwardly not sure what to say to each other.

“So…” Lewis started.

“So…” Wiatt repeated.

“You're probably wondering why I haven’t texted you for a while,” Lewis said.

Wiatt nodded. He took a look at Lewis and saw he was fine, no wounds, just tired. “Did Sara stop you from talking to me?” he asked.

“No, darling!” Lewis yelled, reassuring his boyfriend. He sighed and looked around to make sure no one could hear, “If I tell you, you promise you won’t tell?” 

“Lewis, what’s going on?” Wiatt asked again, now worried.

Lewis took Wiatt’s hand and dragged him to the elevator. Wiatt stuttered and complained to Lewis about dragging him, and not telling him the reason why Lewis stopped answering his texts. Once inside, Lewis pressed the button to the Staract. 

As the elevator went down, Wiatt was able to talk. 

“Lewis, what the fuck is going on?! You're not telling me anything!” he shouted.

Lewis sighed. “It’s best I show you, darling,” he replied.

The bell on the elevator rang, and the doors opened.

“Follow me,” Lewis said. 

Wiatt sighed and followed him to a theater. 

Once there, Lewis turned on the spotlights for the stage, and soon, a star animatronic came down.

“L-Lewis, what is this?!” Wiatt asked, frightened.

Soon, the star animatronic opened his eyes and smiled at Wiatt. “Why, hello, darling. I’m Starlight.”

Wiatt’s mouth dropped, and his glasses fell on the bridge of his nose. He stammered out words to Lewis- who stood there chuckling nervously.

“W-What’s so funny about this, Lewis?!” Wiatt yelled. “Why does this animatronic talk like you?! A-Am I talking to an imposter?”

“Wiatt! Wiatt, calm down!” Lewis reassured his boyfriend. 

Wiatt was breathing heavily, trying to calm down. After taking one slow, deep breath, he was officially calm.

“Is he okay, Lewis?” Starlight asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Lewis replied. He cleared his throat and put his arm around Wiatt. “This Starlight. Starlight, this is Wiatt Nicholas, my boyfriend.”

Starlight moved closer. 

Wiatt saw Starlight move via a support beam on his back as the animatronic stopped just a few inches near him. 

Starlight smiled and held his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, Wiatt.”

Wiatt looked at Starlight’s hand and back at the animatronic. before shaking his hand.

“Lewis, are you gonna tell me what’s going on, now?” Wiatt asked.

Lewis nodded. “Well for starters, Sara did have something to do with this,” he started.

Wiatt groaned. He knew Sara had given him a weird vibe since he first met her. “What did she do?” he asked.

“This might sound crazy, but during the early days of building Dreamworld Entertainment. Sara acted… weird,” Lewis started.

“Like always,” Wiatt grumbled.

“Huh?” Lewis asked.

“Nothing!” Wiatt lied.

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Anyways, Sara was trying to create immortality-”

“Create what now?!” Wiatt shouted.

“Let me finish, Wiatt,” Lewis groaned, “but yes, I thought what she was thinking was crazy too, until…”

His voice trailed off, not wanting to tell Wiatt what Sara did to him. “... she found a way to take a part of my soul and put it into Starlight.”

Wiatt put his hands together and took a deep breath, before letting it out. “May I ask how she did that?” she asked.

Lewis and Starlight looked at each other, and both chuckled at the same time. 

“It’s complicated, darling,” Starlight answered.

Wiatt opened his mouth, but he stopped and decided not to ask. Seeing Lewis okay was enough to know what Sara did didn’t kill him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wiatt said. He walked up to Lewis and hugged him. “I’m just glad you're alright, Lewis.”

Lewis blushed and smiled, hugging Wiatt back. “Y-Yeah.”

Starlight sniffled as his scarlet mask went on. “Aww, you two are so cute together!” he cried. He then grabbed the two and hugged them tight. 

Wiatt and Lewis giggled, still blushing.

“Yep! He’s definitely you, Lewis!” Wiatt commented.

Lewis chuckled. “Me, but more of a theater kid!”

The three shared a laugh- before Wiatt got an idea. 

“I’ve been thinking, are you hiring right now?” He asked.

“Of course, we’re always hiring,” Lewis replied. Soon his eyes widened, knowing Wiatt was planning something. “Why?”

“Because I wanna work here,” Wiatt answered.

[eryiss]

The Liar Prince of Fiore: Chapter One

Summary: Laxus knew Freed better than anyone else, but everyone had secrets. With Freed's secrets laid bare. his past life of royalty, titles and expectations come back to haunt him. Laxus makes a promise to protect him. For as long as necessary, he will play the role of Freed's husband. It might have been easy, if Laxus didn't wish so much for their lie to be true.

Notes: Hi all. I'm back. Hopefully I'll update this regularly but I can't promise anything as my enthusiasm has been coming and going. But still, nothing like a fake relationship prince AU to get things going again. Hope you like it.

Link: Ao3, Next Chapter

Chapter One - The Violin

As Laxus walked into the guildhall, he heard the sound of frantic violin music. His chest clenched in automatic worry, and he looked around the room with sharp movements, trying to land his gaze on Freed. He couldn't find him, and another quick look made that growing worry bloom into something close to panic. Everyone in the guild – everyone who knew anything about Freed, anyway – was looking at the door to Makarov's office. There was mingled concern, sympathy, and fear, all of which Laxus now felt too.

Freed was in there, with the guildmaster, playing the violin. That was enough to raise Laxus' hackles and make his palms sweat in worry.

The playing was a discordant sound, with no real melody other than the sound of chaotic panic. It was fast, fast enough that Laxus could imagine Freed's thin fingers moving quick and erratic as they danced around the instrument. The notes were higher than they were low, sometimes so high that Laxus flinched at the sound of them.

"Erza," Wendy's voice cut through the music, quiet by comparison and confused in tone. "What's happening?"

"Freed; he doesn't exactly…" Erza began but trailed off. Laxus didn't miss how she glanced at him right before she began to speak again. "Freed isn't always emotional, not in the typical sense. He doesn't always process his emotions in the same way that you or I might. For the small things, you probably wouldn't notice. But sometimes, if something overwhelming has happened to him, he falls to other ways to deal with his thoughts. One of which is music."

Context shaded the situation differently for Wendy, and Laxus watched as she too gained a cloud of concern and looked to the door of the office. "Do you think he's okay?"

Erza didn't say anything to that, and the silence was all anyone needed to hear. It was certainly enough for Laxus, who dropped his duffel bag onto the floor – he had returned from a two-month long mission and had intended to debrief before returning to his apartment – and stormed towards the office door. He paid no mind to Mirajane, who politely but firmly insisted that he wait for a moment and give his friend and his grandfather time alone. The volume of the music seemed to double as he opened the door, but he pushed on undeterred, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.

Makarov was sitting at his desk, having been watching Freed with the paternal concern that had often been used on Laxus, particularly during his teenage years. Laxus disregarded him, and instead looked to Freed, who stood in the corner of the room with his eyes shut, body clenched, and hands manipulating the violin with rigid authority.

Either he hadn't noticed Laxus arrive, or he didn't care enough in the moment to acknowledge him. Makarov startled as Laxus slammed the door shut, eyed flicking to his grandson and hands immediately going to a piece of paper on his desk, which he flipped over with no subtlety at all. Laxus didn't pay any attention to him, instead he slowly looked Freed up and down with an analysing, worried gaze.

His coat was gone, the three top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair tied higher than normal. It looked as if Freed had somehow been caught halfway through his morning routine, something that he typically adhered to with an annoying amount of rigidity.

Laxus' patience, which was a small thing at the best of times, snapped.

"What's happened?" He demanded of Makarov, because he doubted it would be useful to speak to Freed right now.

"Could you give us some privacy, Laxus." Makarov said it lightly, but there was weight in his words.

"No."

"This doesn't concern you."

He glanced at Freed, ant it firmed his opinion. "I disagree."

"Laxus," Makarov glared. Laxus glared back. "This is something that Freed has come to me about, not you. I'm sure if he wanted your assistance then you would have been the first person he would come to. As he didn't, I think you should leave."

"No," Laxus repeated. Instead, he sat in the chair opposite Makarov and crossed his arms, leaning back to make it clear he wasn't going anywhere soon. "If you're not gonna tell me, then we can wait until he does." Laxus was sure that Freed would tell him. Their friendship was one of the pillars in Laxus' life and they always would tell one another what they needed to know, eventually.

Makarov fidgeted slightly, glanced at Freed, then spoke again. "Laxus, please, just let this one drop. I give you my full assurances that the situation will be dealt with. You trust me to do that, I hope. If you do, then please trust me and let this happen without you."

Laxus didn't respond, and the sound of Freed's music taunted them both. It seemed to be getting louder and more manic, reaching crescendo at an alarming pace. The stress of the song reflected the mood of the room, or perhaps that was just Laxus' own emotions in that moment. It was getting faster and faster, playing at Laxus' nerves and giving rise to the desire to scream at his grandfather or take the instrument out of Freed's hands and demand an explanation as to what was upsetting him so much. Makarov's posture shifted before Laxus could do either.

"I can't make you leave, but I won't tell you. It's not my place. If Freed is willing then he can, but I certainly won't do it for him."

A shift of the jaw was all Laxus allowed himself to show his annoyance. Makarov's tone left no room for argument, so Laxus instead turned to look at Freed. There was a thin sheen of sweat on him now, and his eyes were clenched tight rather than resting as they should. His whole body looked tight and contained in what could only be described as stress, and Laxus hated it.

Whenever Freed played the damn violin, Laxus hated it. Freed was his friend, and always seemed so put together and in control. During the moments where Freed couldn't cope, all Laxus could do was sit on the sidelines; lamely and uselessly.

Worse still was how magnificent Freed looked when he was playing music. It was a side of the man unlike any other, one built of creativity yet discipline. Freed never followed sheet music or replicated a song he knew; everything was improvised as far as Laxus could tell and yet there was such skill involved. Freed at the helm of an instrument, orchestrating new pieces of music without even thinking, should be something that elected pride, and perhaps a little wonder inside of Laxus, yet all it brought out was panic for him and anger at himself. Freed was hurting and Laxus wasn't able to do anything for him.

With an abrupt strike of the bow, the music ended, the aftershock of it ringing in Laxus' ear for a moment. He watched as Freed took a breath, cheeks tinged red from exertion. He was still tense, looking off into the middle distance for a moment, before he must have caught sight of Laxus. He turned, looked at him for a moment, then spoke.

"Laxus," he said in greeting. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"Mission ended early," Laxus answered; Freed wouldn't drop it otherwise. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Freed said.

"Bullshit," Laxus snapped, having expected that response. As bad as Freed was with dealing with his emotions, he was worse with sharing them. Sometimes Laxus would let it slide and try to be there in a way Freed could accept without losing face, but not today. If Freed was acting like this where everyone in the guild would know, then something bad had happened. "Tell me what's wrong, now."

"Laxus," Makarov spoke up again. "You shouldn't push him."

"Tell me what happened," Laxus insisted, ignoring Makarov and capturing Freed's gaze. No doubt, Freed could see the merging of worry – which would quickly turn to anger with Laxus – growing inside of him. He hoped that would be enough to push Freed to tell him. There was a moment where Freed just looked at him, or perhaps through him, for a moment, before speaking again.

"Why do you want to know?"

"What the hell kinda question is that?" Laxus demanded. Surely Freed knew the answer.

"I need to know exactly why you're asking before I can answer."

A sound of irritation slipped out of Laxus before he could stop it. Laxus was tired after the mission, annoyed that he didn't know what was happening, and worried for his friends. Well, if Freed wanted to know why, then Laxus would tell him.

"I want to know because I want to help you with it, dammit. I don't like when you deal with shit on your own, which is what you usually fucking do, and if something's pissing you off or getting under your skin so much that you get all," he gestured to the violin with a wave of the hand, "then it's clearly bad and you should have someone helping you with it. I want to know because you should trust me with this kinda thing."

Freed didn't respond for a moment. He was almost entirely still, expect for his eyes which were flickering over Laxus with only the slightest of movements. It was an intense look, one of immense scrutiny, and it was hard for Laxus not to squirm under the intensity of it. He managed though, because it was Freed looking at him rather than anyone else.

After what was likely only a few second but seemed to stretch for an eternity, Freed turned towards Makarov. He glanced down at the paper that still laid face down on the desk, and Makarov followed his gaze before looking back at Freed with a slight shade of hesitance.

"What?" Laxus demanded before a silent conversation could start between the two of them.

Freed took a small breath, before taking the paper off the desk and offering it to Laxus still face down. Laxus took it but didn't look at it, because Freed's brows were knitted a little with something akin to regret. "I apologise for not telling you this before."

"Telling me what?" Laxus demanded.

"The letter explains it better than I could, I expect."

Taking the prompt, Laxus turned the paper and looked at the letter he'd been given. It was written in cursive, a few paragraphs long, and at the bottom of it a stamp had been printed. Laxus was quick to skim over it, starting again the moment he finished. The letter was a summons of some kind, talking about duty and demanding, with all politeness, that the recipient return somewhere or else there would be consequences. Marriage was mentioned as a responsibility that couldn't be ignored any longer, and that arrangements had been made. Laxus looked over it again, before turning to Freed.

"Why is this upsetting you?" He demanded. "Some kid has to get married and go home. Why do you care?"

Freed avoided Laxus' eyes as he spoke. "The letter is addressed to me."

"No it isn't," Laxus argued, looking back to the letter. "Your name isn't Albion, Freed."

"It's not the name I currently use, nor the name that I believe that is my own," There was remorse evident in Freed's tone, and Laxus looked up at him with a hard stare. It pushed Freed to speak further, but Laxus felt a sinking feeling as he predicted what he was going to say. "But, for a time, my name was Albion."

That didn't make sense, and Laxus refused it immediately. Laxus knew Freed, he'd wager he knew Freed better than anyone else in the guild, or even in the damn kingdom. He knew his likes, his dislikes, his pet peeves, and his secret indulgences. He definitely knew the man's damn name.

A quiet voice told him that wasn't entirely true. Freed never spoke of his life before the guild, and Laxus never pushed. But, Laxus knew his names. He did.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Laxus snapped, annoyance bubbling forth. "Your name isn't Freed? That what you telling me?"

"No, I'm saying that my name hasn't always been Freed," Freed still wasn't looking at him, and the avoidance was quickly beginning to piss Laxus off. "Freed is the name I chose, and the identity that I adhere to. But it wasn't always."

"What the fuck-"

"Perhaps we should start from the beginning," Makarov said, voice mediatory in its calmness. Laxus snapped his gaze towards him and was met with a look of serious meaning. "And we should calm down before we do it. We don't want anybody doing anything we might regret later."

Fighting back the scoff at the pointed words, Laxus pushed back against the chair, his leg bouncing slightly with unused adrenaline. Freed, who still wouldn't look at him dammit, took the seat next to Laxus'. The second he did, Laxus shifted so that he was looking directly at him; just because Freed didn't want to meet Laxus' eye, it didn't mean that Laxus had to accept that. Fuck cowardice, Laxus had never accepted it and definitely not from one of the bravest men he knew.

If he did know Freed, that was. Because apparently, he had another name that Laxus didn't about, and if Laxus didn't know the man's goddamn name then what the hell did he know about him?

"Before I say this, I want to make something clear," Freed said, looking at his lap. "I am the same person you have known, it's-"

"Bullshit," Laxus interrupted. "Anyone who needs to say something like that is a liar. The man I thought I knew wasn't a liar."

"Laxus," Makarov snapped. "Let him speak."

"Who? Freed or fucking… Albion?"

"Albion is a name that I haven't used for over ten years," Freed said, voice a little firmer now. He looked up, hard eyed and firm. Laxus didn't flinch away from the look, met it, and leant forward. Daring Freed to continue. "Albion was a person who I didn't wish to be, and an identity which I have refused to adhere to. I am not him, I do not answer to that name, and the reason you have never heard the name nor heard about him is because it's irrelevant to you."

"That ain't your choice to make," Laxus growled, digging his hands into the arms of the chair. "Why don't you tell me who you used to be – and it was you, not some other guy – and then I can decide if it's relevant."

Freed sighed a little, fingers pushing into his thighs before speaking. "Before I jointed the guild, I belonged to a family that revolved around wealth and power. An upper-class cliché, if you'd like. I was my parent's only son, and as such there were certain expectations put upon me," His eyes were distant, looking past the room they were in. "These were put on me not only by my parents, but by the society that I was living with. I was to be obedient to my station, do as I was told and conform to type. As I showed signs of disobedience, be that in personality or in actions, I was punished accordingly. I was told to come to heel by everyone surrounding me. You can likely guess how I reacted to this."

It was a joke. Laxus didn't laugh.

"They wanted me to be a different person, a person who I refused to ever be, so I began to learn magic and eventually ran. I changed my identity, and became myself," He blinked himself back into the room and looked directly at Laxus. "And I mean that, Laxus. I haven't been lying about who I am. This is me; the truest version of myself. Not a lie."

"Lying by omission is still lying," Laxus snapped, and Freed flinched just a little.

What the hell did he want from Laxus, exactly? Just to casually take this like it wasn't fucking massive. Like it didn't change things. Like this didn't undermine basically everything he knew about Freed! He could accept that Freed didn't like talking about his past, but Laxus deserved to know something like this! Surely he had earned Freed's trust enough for this!

Looking at Freed and his restrained regret only pissed Laxus off more. He was upset that Laxus was reacting badly? Well, too fucking bad! Laxus didn't like being lied to; Freed should have known that by now.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Laxus leant forward again. "This guild is full of people dealing with their past, people who were fucked up before they got here. If you told me earlier, I would have understood. It's not like I don't know how to drop something if I'm asking too many questions. I could have helped, or I could have never mentioned it again," he huffed. "Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I do," Freed insisted, and Laxus had to scoff. "Laxus, I do trust you. I haven't been keeping this a secret from you, I just don't think of my past as part of my current life. I changed my identity because I wanted to change who I am, which I believe that I have done. I don't think of my past because I don't see it as relevant. The moment I joined the guild I drew a line under my past, cut it off."

"Really?" Laxus snarked, raising the letter. "Then you did a pretty bad job of it, huh? Thought you knew how to look after yourself. Guess I was wrong. About a lot of things."

"You know me Laxus," Freed insisted. "The letter was… an exception."

"How?" Laxus grunted.

"It was sent to the guild, not to Freed specifically," Makarov interjected. Laxus turned to him to see him looking down at the desk. "During our time on the island, our absence was noted and became a regular topic in the tabloids. Profiles were made about us, and apparently someone in Freed's old… social circles-" Laxus couldn't help but notice Freed tense at that, "-realised who he was. Of course, our return was big news as well, and suddenly it was known that Freed, or Albion as they see him, is still alive and working at the guild. A few letters have been sent which I have disregarded as Freed has requested, but this was delivered by the rune knights."

"As you saw, this was a summons," Freed said quietly, looking at the letter that Laxus was still holding. "The fact that they're resorting to commissioning the Rune Knights is concerning. I should have expected that."

"For fuck's sake," Laxus muttered, snapping his fingers in Freed's face. He had a habit of getting trapped in his own thoughts, and Laxus wasn't in the mood to find it charming. "If you'd cut them off completely, then you'd just tell 'em to fuck off and you wouldn't be panicking. But you're not gonna do that, are ya? If you were, you wouldn't need that thing."

He gestured to the violin, which now rested on the desk. Freed looked at it, silent for a moment, before relenting. "I would, but these are the kind of people who won't let things go and have the resources to put an immense amount of pressure on me – and the guild – to get what they want. I doubt they'd stop just because I told them to."

"And what exactly do they want? What's so important about you, Albion?" Laxus grunted, but he knew. He'd read it.

Freed winced at the sound of the name but answered anyway. "To find me a wife, so that I can become a father."

Laxus knew it was an awful thing to be forced into doing. Even if Freed liked women it would be awful, but the fact there was no woman Freed could love made it worse. He knew that once his anger and the roiling feeling of betrayal had died down, he would fully understand how revolting it was that someone who apparently meant nothing to Freed could turn up and dictate he change his life in such a drastic way. Later, he knew he would feel disgust on his friend's behalf and would call this bullshit out for what it was. But the bubbling of hurt hadn't yet dissipated, and Laxus found himself speaking without thinking.

"So, who's going to be the future misses Justine?" He grunted. "Well, probably won't be using that name, will it? You wanna tell me your real last name?"

Freed looked away, and Makarov tensed. Laxus looked between the two of them, and opened his mouth to tell them to hurry the hell up, but Freed beat him to it.

"Fiore. My real – previous – surname was Fiore."

"Fiore, what-"

It took a second. Only one family had that surname in the entire kingdom, and it was a closely guarded title. The idea that Freed was part of that family was ridiculous. Until it wasn't. Because Freed had been born into a wealthy and influential family who valued obedience and common rules. He came from a family who apparently had enough power to have the rune knights deliver a damn letter to make a point. He came from a family who needed their wayward son to do as he's told, marry a girl apparently chosen by them, and have kids.

Fiore; the title of the kingdom's royal family.

Laxus lurched upward and began to pace, the need to move overwhelming as he ran his hands through his hair. This was… stupid! Freed was not a goddamn member of the royal family! He wasn't! He was the guy who camped out under the stars and did missions for a job. He was the guy who, just half a year ago, fought a giant vomiting slug while waist deep in a swamp! He was the guy Laxus confided in and who confided in Laxus right back. That guy was not a… not a…

"You're a motherfucking prince!" He yelled.

"Technically, yes," Freed admitted.

"Technically?" Laxus barked. "How can you technically be a prince? You either are or you aren't," He let out a manic laugh and looked around for something to settle on. "Are you in line for the throne?" There was no answer, and Laxus spun around to look back and looked at him incredulously. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"I'm third in line."

"Third!" Laxus barked.

"That is a recent thing," Freed tried to argue, but Laxus shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. "Before we left for Tenrou, there were more than forty people in line before me. Over the seven years, many of the elder set have died off, and apparently there was an incident of an attack a few years ago. That has somewhat… thinned out the numbers."

"So, all it takes is three people dying, and you're the king!" Laxus laughed because this was so ridiculous. What else could he do? "But no, that doesn't matter because you decided that that part of your life doesn't matter right? So it's fine that you didn't tell us."

"Laxus, if I had known it would come to this-"

"You'd have told me, sure," Laxus snarked out, pacing again. "But you didn't tell me for years, when you had plenty of time to. You didn't tell me when we were sparring and I broke your damn leg; which might get me arrested for treason apparently. You didn't tell me when I nearly got you fucking killed trying to take over the guild. You didn't tell me when we met up again, and we made a deal to stop bullshitting each other!"

"Laxus," Makarov snapped that. Laxus ignored him, words coming out before he could think them through.

"I drag you to places where you might die all the goddamn time. What if that happened? What if you got hurt or died and then they started to point fingers at me? You think that'd go well for the jackass idiot grandson from the guild of idiots? You ever think about that."

"Laxus Dreyar!" Makarov snapped it, loud enough to cut through Laxus' growing tirade. "Shut your damn mouth right now. Freed, I want you to go home for a little while and try not to worry about this. I need to speak to my grandson, right now."

Freed looked ready to protest, but stopped himself, murmured a quiet 'of course, master' and made his way out of the room. Laxus noticed a shimmer of runes bursting to life as Freed walked through the door, and a glance over the lettering made it clear that they were silencing runes. He'd be thankful about that later, just like he would be regretful later, but the anger still was running through him. Just before Freed shut the door, he looked over his shoulder with sad eyes, and quietly murmured "I am sorry, Laxus."

Laxus said nothing, and looked to his grandfather.

"You're right, you are a jackass and an idiot," Makarov yelled. "What the hell were you thinking? Your friend – and he is your friend and not some stranger, so stop that bullcrap right now – is scared and backed into a corner. What did you do? Yell at him!"

"He's been lying to me since I knew him!"

"No he hasn't. Not in a way that matters anyway. You think that the bond you've made together over the past six years just goes away? You kidding me!" He slammed his hands against the desk, the bang echoing around the room. "He's scared. He's going to be forced into a marriage with someone he could never love, and have a kid he doesn't want, so-"

"Oh fuck off," Laxus laughed. "Like that's ever gonna happen. Like we're ever gonna just accept that. It ain't gonna happen, so I can be pissed off at him for a while. That's just… just how it has to be."

Makarov looked at him for a moment, then deflated and leant back in his chair. "I do understand why you're angry, but that part of his life is something Freed has been fighting since I've known him. He made it clear the first time he met that he wants no association with his family or his title. I think the reason he said that is because he wants to be treated equally, and that he was scared of people reacting… exactly like you just did."

Laxus got that, but he was still angry so muttered. "So you've been lying too."

"No. Stop being a brat." Makarov huffed, but Laxus didn't respond to it. He just sat there, unmoving. "Laxus, it's fine if you have to be angry. But, once you've cooled off, talk to him. Promise me you will," His words were sad, the same way he 'd spoken hen he had kicked Laxus out of the guild. "He really is scared, Laxus. He thinks they'll win. He shouldn't be alone."

Laxus didn't respond, but looked at the violin Freed had left on the desk. Makarov was right. Freed was hurting, and as angry as Laxus was, he would always be there for Freed when he needed to be. Always.

That was the damn problem being in love with a guy who didn't know it; it turned you into an idiot.

[stevie-evans]

Closing Time

Who: Stevie Evans and Delilah James When: June 9, 2024 Where: 'Sip N' Time's Cafe Triggers: none Notes: Stevie talks to Delilah about his crush... 🙈

Stevie -Stevie went through the closing checklist. This is out of habit than actually using it. He tosses down a series of check marks and only had to sweep and mop before calling it a night. He lifted the receiver and pressed the conference button as a means to speak to Delilah over the store speaker instead of dialing her in the store’s office. “Hey boss. All I have left is the cafe sweep and mop. I should be done and ready to go in 20 minutes.” His finger removed from the button and Stevie grabbed the broom and dust pan and set to work moving chairs and tables to give the cafe a good sweep.

Delilah - The store had been closed for the last twenty minutes, and while Stevie cleaned up, Delilah went to go count the money in the back office. They'd surpassed last years earnings, and the year before that. Every time she used the green highlighter it made her surge with pride. Her little store was doing well thanks to all those that worked there. She'd just finished up doing the daily count when she heard Stevies voice over the PA system. A chuckle tumbled past her lips and Delilah got up, exiting the office. "Youve not got to stay, love" she yelled, wandering through the store to find him. " You can go home, I'll finish the clean up. You've done more than enough for today."

Stevie -With a song playing through a wireless bud, Stevie did quick work with the broom. He hum sang an old 50s song when Delilah’s voice barely pushed through the song’s instrumental break. “It’s fine. Truly. I want to make sure tomorrow’s opener has a clean cafe. Besides, this is a part of my work duties, boss.” He said with a charming smile. Stevie paused the music as it was rude to keep it going while they spoke. He returned to sweeping. “How’d the store do today?” He casually questioned, partly because he was proud of this place and wanted it to succeed. He sees firsthand the amount of work Delilah puts into it.

Delilah - "I know it's part of your work duties, but I can clean up." She replied, grabbing the dust pan and a hand broom, picking up what Stevie had begun to clean up. "We did really well, we made $800 more than last year. I'm quite proud - hence me trying to get you off early" she replied with a chuckle, glancing up at him. "Everything ok for you today?"

Stevie - They worked together, which came easy as it’s not their first time closing shop. Stevie went to get the mop bucket and set to work in the far corner. “That’s amazing, Delilah! Do you think that boost is from the Founder’s Day boost? I overheard several people raving about the pastries, especially the chocolate chip cookies.” He spoke and mopped in unison. “Remember that one woman who orders the dirty chai with a pump of mocha? I hadn’t seen her in a month. She surprised me this afternoon and said she’s been away taking care of her sister. She has left a big house in her late grandfather’s will and went to help move. Can you believe that? It sucks she lost her grandfather, but now I have this image of an old Victorian house filled with spirits and secret passages.” He said, reaching where Delilah was with the broom. Stevie eyed her for a quiet moment and then smiled, shaking his head slowly. “I was just thinking…” he started, then changed his mind. “It’s probably best I don’t bring this up while I’m technically on the clock.”

Delilah - She considered his question for a moment and shrugged, "Anything's likely at this point. I reckon the booth helped a bit, but our hard work has helped immensely." She replied, focusing on cleaning up the floor as best she could. Delilah listened to Stevie speak. She remembered the patron he was talking about, and pursed get lips. "Next time she's in we best be sure to give her a free coffee. I might ask for pictures of the place though, I've always been partial to a Victorian." She myself with a chuckle, dumping the collection of dirt in a waste bin before looking at Stevie, a brow arched, "Well, now you've got to say it. You can't just begin saying something only to stop!"

Stevie - True, it can be an amalgamation of reasons. Whatever it may be, it brought a smile to his boss’s features, something Stevie enjoyed. “If you’re in, I’ll tell you, but I’ll make sure she gets that freebie no matter what. Can’t have you miss out on that Victorian.” Stevie stuck his foot in this mouth and wished he could return that minute. Delilah’s eyes on him caused Stevie to falter momentarily. With a steadying breath, he stopped his mop job and casually clasped the long pole with his two hands. “I wasn’t trying to bait you by starting and stopping. My mind and mouth sometimes don’t sync. I think it’s a family trait.” He laughed, nerves tried to swoop in, but Stevie curtailed it. “It’s about that crush admission. I feel I need to apologize for it. It wasn’t appropriate of me. You’re my boss. Don’t places usually frown upon that kind of…I don’t know. Behavior?”

Delilah - A bright grin formed on her features at Stevies statement. He was a good egg, and she appreciated him and his hard work. " Why thank you kind sir," she replied with a chuckle, hoping that the patron came in when they were both working so they could get more of a story. Part of Delilah wondered if the house was haunted now that she knew it was a Victorian. They always seemed to have some sort of tragic past. Stevie stopping his movements had her pausing, head cocking to the side. As he spoke, her cheeks depend to a deep red. She had just been teasing him, and she'd regretted it after mentioning it. She didn't have an HR department, and she didn't want Stevie taking her texts the wrong way. Even if he was a very handsome guy. "Stevie... You don't have to apologize." She began, putting the dustpan and hand held broom down. "It's not like you were openly checking me out at work, or asking me out...Besides I'm your boss, I shouldn't have texted you the way I did, even if I was just teasing you. I suppose I just got a little carried away with it.

Stevie - “I felt I needed to. I’m glad you weren’t offended or wanted to move me to the back room to deal with inventory all day, so you don’t need to see me.” So, she was teasing him because she didn’t see him that way? Stevie wanted to question it, but this could lead to that awkward place he was trying to prevent. He likes Delilah, and he likes this job. It’s one of the better ones he’s had since ever. “I didn’t mind the texting. I found your reaction to it cute.” He admitted, giving her a sheepish smile. “I meant what I said with my answer; anyone who gets to know you as I have will see how incredible you are.” Even though he feels internally deflated, she doesn’t see him like that; Stevie knows that whoever she likes will be one lucky person.

Delilah - She waved a hand at him "I wouldn't banish you, Stevie." She replied, blue eyes assessing him. There was something in his gaze that had her wanting to furrow her brow. That though ght however, was quickly extinguished when he admitted to finding her reaction cute, the pink hue of her cheeks deepening. "You really are very sweet and good, you know that right?" Her heart felt like it was in her throat. She wasn't trying to flirt or give him mixed signals. Her feelings were all over the place what with Ethan coming back into her life, maybe if Stevie didn't work for her she'd give him a chance. The last thing she wanted was to lose him as a friend and coworker. "You do realize that the sentiment goes for you too, right? I'm quite shocked that you're single all things considered. I mean, you're so sweet, and charming, and just - look at you!" She bit down on her bottom lip, "Sorry, as your boss I need to not say that kind of thing. Just know that anyone who meets you should be honored. I know Im honored to know you."

Stevie - “This makes me happy to hear. I like the backroom crew. They’re cool people, except Joann runs a tight ship, and I don’t know the ins and outs. She’ll have me out and on my butt in a matter of minutes.” Stevie laughed. The blush on Delilah’s cheeks brought out the sparkling sapphire in her eyes, and Stevie secretly marveled at her beauty before snapping out of it. Sweet and good. These are the perfect words to describe Stevie, and he can’t tell if these words bother him at that moment because, yes, he’s those two things, but Stevie also wants to be seen as desirable. Even captivating. He wants to display the traits he’s read in countless stories where characters swoon in their intended presence. However, his self-confidence hit with the demise of his last relationship, leaving Stevie in a quiet, protective bubble. “I can say the same about you. My last relationship left me feeling like I wasn’t enough. I haven’t been able to get past it, I guess.” He shared. What harm can there be with doing so when he’s already admitted his crush? “I know. It’s okay. This situation with my crush on you isn’t exactly ideal. I think a secret HR person will appear out of the coffee machines and ask what’s happening.” He laughed at the visual. “It’s cool if you don’t see me like that. Or if you do, but the timing sucks or whatever the reason is. I just wanted you to know you’re crush-worthy. 100%.”

Delilah - A laugh passed her lips upon hearing Stevie speak. He was always cracking her up in one way or another, and that was one of the things she liked most about him, his humour and his ease around people. “She’s hard but good, I’m grateful for her even if she can drive me mad.” They really should have been cleaning, but Delilah couldn’t help but feel like getting to know Stevie and really listening to him was far more important. Besides, she lived above the store, she could pop down whenever and finish cleaning up. Her heart clenched slightly at his words. She knew that pain all too well, and it broke her heart to know that someone would do that to Stevie. Her first instinct was to wrap him in a hug but that wasn’t appropriate. Even if she desperately wanted to. “Look, I’ll start by saying this - your last partner was a bloody wanker for making you ever feel like you’re not enough. And there’s definitely no HR person because what I’m about to say would get me fired from my own job no doubt -“ she began, cheeks aflame. “It’s not that I would be opposed to anything Stevie. You’re kind and charming, and easy to talk to and so so handsome. I’ve just got a lot going on and I rather value you as a friend” she managed to get out, running a hand through her blonde hair. “I just wish that you could see you the way I, and undoubtedly many other people do. You’re amazing. If your ex ever shows up you let me know, and I’ll set them straight.”

Stevie - Delilah's store has a good mix of employees, all eager to watch the shop thrive. When Stevie applied for the job, he was still working late nights at a diner and in dire need of a change. Now, all these months later, he feels as if he's part of something important—not just for a paycheck but to watch a dream flourish. Stevie couldn't anticipate the direction this conversation would take when he brought up the whole crush topic, but now he felt guilt pit in his stomach. Stevie's not a woe-is-me sort, and he doesn't want Delilah to feel she needs to protect him from his cheating ex. Yet, the sentiment does chip at the guilt and he breathed a sigh. "If she shows up in Bearcreek again, I don't think you'll need to worry. She and I are ancient history. I don't even miss her anymore." He missed the friendship they once had, but that ended as soon as she told him about the other guy she slept with. Stevie's eyes settled on Delilah's blushed cheeks again, curious if his face was as red as hers because it felt hot. He's embarrassed and wishes he didn't bring any of this up. "Of course. I-I should have realized all of this was out of the question. I value our friendship too, Del. You're one of the few people in this city I talk to daily. None of that small talk." He knows she gets his meaning. "Are things okay? With what's going on in your life?" He remembered the mop in his hand and lifted it to place it back into the bucket. No matter how awkward he feels, he'll put his friendship with Delilah first.

Delilah - The store was her pride and joy, it was a miracle that it was still running so well, and she had to thank her employees for being so amazing. Without them the store wouldn’t be half as successful. “I have to worry about it a bit, I care about you.” She replied, lips pursed. Even if he didn’t kiss his ex anymore, the fact that someone had hurt him caused Delilah to feel protective. Even if she didn’t really have a full right to. It wasn’t that it was out of the question, but there were other factors at play that Delilah normally wouldn’t have to worry about. In a perfect world she might have teased him a bit more, even kissed him, but they didn’t live in one of those. “I consider you one of my closest friends, you know that.” Talking with him was easy. Comfortable even. Her mind immediately went to thoughts of her conversation with Ethan, and all the complexities that came with that particular relationship. “Someone I thought would be a part of my life in a certain serious way and then left… is now back. I’m not sure if you remember Ethan, but he’s back and it’s a rather big cock up.”

Stevie - As much as this conversation pains him, Stevie's thankful for it. For starters, they're speaking about it like adults, something he's not too surprised about, given how he and Delilah typically talk to one another. The thing is, once Delilah mentioned Ethan, Stevie's demeanor changed. He abandoned the mop in its bucket and faced her. "Oh..." he said at first as his gaze focused on Delilah's features and body language to gauge what this return meant to her. "Have you talked to him about what happened between you?" He asked and went to take the chairs down and offered Delilah to sit, Stevie taking the one opposite her. "How are you handling this?" Stevie said he would be okay if his ex returned, but that doesn't mean a storm of tumultuous emotions wouldn't brew underneath the surface.

Delilah -To say she was a bit of a mess about everything would be an understatement. Ethan leaving and torn something out of her that she was only just mending, only for him to walk back into her life. She sat down opposite Stevie, grateful that he still wanted to talk to her even though she didn’t exactly fully return his feelings. “We talked yeah… He said that he realized he messed up, that he wants to settle down and make a life for himself.” She pursed her lips then, crossing her arms over her chest. She hadn’t fully opened up about the Ethan issue with anyone yet, scared to know how her friends would react. “I feel…. Confused. My feelings aren’t as gone as I thought they were, but I’m still quite hurt. We- don’t have to talk about this if it’s odd.” Guilt ebbed in her and she hoped she wasn’t making Stevie uncomfortable.

Stevie - With a sympathetic gaze, Stevie took hold of Delilah’s hand and clasped it between his much larger ones. “We can talk about as much or as little when it comes to Ethan. You mentioned the guy to me in passing, but I never got what happened. Is it okay for me to ask why he suddenly left? Did this happen when you lived here or elsewhere?” If it was elsewhere then Ethan deciding on Bearcreek to be the place to settle will seem as if he wants a second chance…

Delilah - She looked at their joined hands, taking slight pleasure in the fact that his hands practically consumed hers due to the size difference. Her blue eyes closed and she let out a small sigh. She really was grateful for him. “We were friends and then it got to be more and it got intense and it was like we were dating? And I guess it went too hard too fast for him and he left.” She looked up at Stevie then, “it happened here, so he’s come home. So I can’t be too mad about him coming home but…” her smaller hand squeezed the hand clasped with hers. “I’ll be grand, I just have to take some time.”

Stevie -It’s as if a puzzle piece clicked in, and Stevie sees why Delilah is careful for anything to transpire between them. She’s already been through this with a friend, and the aftermath left her without that close connection with Ethan that she once had. It slightly pained him, but he’ll be okay. But will she with this current situation? She says she’ll be, but Ethan’s the one who left her when things got too serious. Stevie would struggle with that if he’s in Delilah’s shoes. “Has he mentioned trying to pick up where you left off?”

Delilah - Her chat with Ethan had been in her mind on repeat, the only thing that was distracting her was work. Though it felt nice to talk about it with Stevie, it was still fresh and hard to wrap her head around. “He has, but I’m not ready for that. I dont really fancy getting my heart broken again. I’ve told him I’m down to being friends and getting to know one another again, but as of right now I’m protecting myself… do you think that’s the right course of action?”

Stevie - “He wants to pick up where he left off with the more-than-friends part.” Stevie asked after he realized he wasn’t clear with the initial question. “I-“ He paused to think about this. What would he do? Could he return to a friend with his last ex? He was able to with exes before her, but the last one brutalized his heart. “I think you’ve made the right choice. Trying to pretend he doesn’t exist and avoid him at all costs isn’t realistic. It sounds like you have things to work through if restoring that friendship is important for you and him. But it’ll get tricky not to fall back into the familiarity of how good things felt when it was more than friendship.” They’re adults; there’s no point in pretending sex doesn’t happen. He’s stupidly fallen into that with his ex when she returned to visit her family over Christmas.

Delilah - A slow nod came from her at his words. The affirmation that she was doing the right thing was welcome. Even if it was probably hard for Stevie to hear what she was saying. Delilah had to admit that it would be difficult to not fall into patterns with Ethan. She had needs, and seeing him even with all the pain brought back passion filled memories. “I will admit that’s what I’m most afraid of. I have a hard time withholding from myself when it comes to … certain aspects of being more than friends so, I will most likely just be working much, much more to mitigate that.” Delilah squeezed his hand again and offered him a small smile. “You really are very good Stevie. I’m so lucky to know you… thank you for listening to me and not pushing me away when I teased you about your crush.”

Stevie - You’ll do great, Delilah. I know you’ll at least try your best. If there’s a slip, don’t do what I did and beat yourself up for months.” Stevie’s one to find things he likes about other people. The beauty in it. However, it takes a lot for him to fall head over heels, so he keeps gravitating towards an ex who wronged him in the worst way. The hand squeeze brought Stevie back, and he hoped it wouldn’t be too painful to see Delilah with someone else, wishing it was him instead. “Hey,” he said, his voice low yet sincere. “That’s what friends are for, yeah? We can talk about anything. Which includes teasing.” He offered a sweet smile and soon let go of her hand. “I better finish this mop job, and before you offer, I’ll take care of it, Del. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

Delilah- Her blue eyes assessed him, knowing that even despite his words, if she did slip up with Ethan that she'd most likely be chastising herself for a while afterwards. It was just human nature. She offered him a small smile, hoping that despite his crush, they could always remain friends. losing his friendship wasn't something Delilah really wanted to experience. "You finish up the mopping and get out of here, I've kept you far too late. I've got to go tidy up the freezer." She replied, attempting to not dwell on how cold she felt after Stevie let go of her hand.

Stevie - At least Delilah didn’t insist on finishing his mop job. “You got it, boss.” He said, lifting the two chairs onto the table again. Stevie watched as Delilah left, feeling an instant pang of loneliness. Why is it so hard for him to get out and date? It feels the few relationships he’s had were with people he’d grown close to, and their absence from his life sucks. Reaching out to his most recent ex is a mistake, but he’s someone he used to turn to about everything, and he doesn’t want to talk to Delilah about his feelings after the talk they just had. Stevie shook his head and set himself to work. Maybe he’ll go to Troubletones after work and put himself out there. Or he can talk to Sam about dating app advice. Something is better than nothing.

[ofbrokendreams]

Everything, Everywhere, All at Once. Part Four

Part four of four of Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Hit up AO3 for the full fic.

TW: cursing, discussions of sex, discussions of abuse, discussions of mental health, discussions of drug use, discussion of suicide, depiction panic attack, pregnancy (let me know if I missed anything)

FUTURE TOGETHER

Aisha Antonia Berzatto is born on a rainy-sunny Tuesday afternoon. And Carmen’s a fucking idiot because he thought babies were like exclusively born at night or early in the morning. But his daughter, fuck, his daughter is born at two seventeen in the afternoon. And it was storming like crazy in the morning as he looked out the hospital window and Syd dosed as best she could and then it was sunny, the warm rays breaking through and landing on Sydney. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t fucking been there.

But Syd opens her eyes and presses the nurse button. “I really, really, really need to push,” she says calmly and the nurse nods. The sun is shining for the hour it takes for Aisha to arrive and with her first little cry the rain starts again. 

Carmen cuts the cord and hands her to Sydney who places her on her bare chest. And Carmy laughs, soft and real when her little nose crinkles and she roots (he thinks that’s the right word) around for food. Truly her parent’s child.

Carmy holds her a lot in the hospital. Won’t let the nurses take her and begrudgingly hands her off to Mr. Adamu (“Your mother would be honored, Baby.” He says when they tell him her name) and Sugar and Pete (“You really named her after this one?” Sugar asks with a laugh and Sydney shrugs “I wanted to name her Carmen straight out but he turned me down.” “God you really are love sick,” Sugar gags and its so childish and perfect.) and Richie (“She’s gorgeous, shit, look at all that hair- uh sorry, Cousins.) when they stop by individually. But he holds her and stares at her a lot. 

She’s got dark eyes like her mother and her grandmother he remembers from pictures, a slightly different shade of beautiful brown than her grandfather. She seems to stare back at him all the same.

She’s perfect and beautiful and tiny. So fucking tiny. 

They get to go home two days later. Syd does so well, she’s feeling okay she insists sore but okay, no tearing and the bleeding is what it is.

When they’re home, they sit together on the couch and just stare at Aisha in her little teddy bear onesie and matching hat. Her little yawns and lip smacks and curls of her tiny brown fingers. She’s got this full head of black, black, black hair that’s silky soft and Sydney thinks she’ll have curls closer to Carmy’s then her own. Her skin is so soft, only slightly lighter than Sydney’s skin tone which Syd says surprised her but makes Carmy happy. He’d love her no matter what color her skin was. But if he had his way she’d look exactly like Syd. But she doesn’t, not exactly. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if people called Aisha Sydney’s twin in the future cause she does look like her mother but she’s got his nose. He whispers apologies into her sweet baby scent when he puts her into the pack and play bassinet next to their bed that first night. Sydney rolls her eyes when he gets into bed. “You’re very good looking, Carmy. Like I know-like how do you not know that? You’re incredibly handsome.” Carmy shakes his head and shrugs. “As long as you’re happy.” Syd rolls her eyes again tracing his nose with a finger. “I’m happy.”

“You’re very beautiful,” he says quietly a few minutes later in the darkness of their room. Syd hums and curls against him. Carmy thinks of the vice memo on his phone, the one where he told Aisha about that first time he saw her mother, of ‘oh no she’s pretty’, he wants to tell Syd what he thought even back then but it-its a nice secret just for him and Aisha. Just for the two of them to know how long he’s loved Syd.

They baptize Aisha in Sydney’s church because Carmy’s catholic in the way people say all Italians are which is to say he hasn’t stepped foot in a church since he was like fourteen and it was Christmas morning. But he’s been to the church Mr. Adamu and his wife went to and Syd grew up in a couple of times now. And it feels right. 

Marcus hugs him so tight Carmy’s afraid he might bruise something when they ask him to be her godfather but he hugs him back. They’re friends, in a way Carmy doesn’t have to ask at this point, he may be his best friend outside of Syd and boss-employee only in a literal way (Carmy does employee Marcus). Professionally Carmy trusts Marcus completely and personally he trusts him in general (which for Carmy is practically everything). Sydney’s best friend Tori is her godmother and the two stand up at the altar with Syd and Carmy as Aisha cries, the pastor and the congregation chuckles. 

They eat the best soul food he’s ever had in the church basement after service. He’s still not completely sold on church and faith but these people are good and kind and they love Sydney and Aisha and maybe even him. 

And Sydney and Marcus and sometimes Sweeps, raz him about being a white boy but it’s nice somehow, it’s like funny. Like they’re sharing an inside joke. And it’s ten fold in her church but it feels like acceptance.

He enthusiastically agrees when a couple older ladies offer to help teach him how to take care of Aisha’s hair when she’s older. He knows Sydney’ll be able to teach him but he figures there’s wisdom in the village.

He wants to learn everything there is to know about rising a black daughter, wants her to be proud of her Nigerian and African-American heritage as much as her Italian. 

He’s scoured all of Sydney’s cookbooks and recipes, memorized some of them. 

Syd laughs at him sometimes, reminds him he has a lifetime to learn and sighs wistfully when he explains that he just wants Aisha to be happy and carefree for as long as possible.

Sydney thinks of the first time he helped her take out her braids. Both of them nervous and laughing at themselves. The first time he touched her natural hair and how he’d whispered almost in awe, “it’s so soft Syd, it’s beautiful.” And she’d felt her face warm and it was almost to much attention. 

Ever since they started this, since they became partners in every way. He asks too many questions and wants to know to much. Is to earnest in his quest for cultural knowledge. 

But then in her head she hears “I’m trying Syd. I’m trying and I just I need time and-“ and then she’s happy to explain this shit to him again. And he listens because he really does want to get this right. 

It’s not exactly equivalent to sharing her whole culture with him but she asks him about Donna. She gives him a safe space to discuss anything he wants to, to give her any burden he wants to share. She asks him to explain what he now knows was abuse growing up. How it felt to grow up in that house, twelve years younger then the brother he idolized and only four younger then the sister that attempted to protect him. 

She gives him space to talk about how hard it was when Mike cut him off, pushed him away and how he left and thought about never looking back but Chicago was his home. He admits late one night that he always knew he’d come back but he’d assumed it’d be in a box or some shit. But then it wasn’t him, it was Michael and it was shocking more so because he didn’t know it was coming. 

Because Michael wouldn’t take his calls, wouldn’t talk to him and so he didn’t know about the drugs or the money and- She places her hand over his heart and feels the edge of his ring-her ring under her hand and the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Their apartment is quiet then save for the baby monitor and Aisha’s soft baby breath and Carmy’s harsh inhales.

Life moves on, continues on. 

Aisha grows daily and it makes his heart beat to fast when he thinks about it and if he’s fucking up but then like Sugar or Syd or fucking Uncle Jimmy at her first birthday are telling him he’s good, he’s doing good and people love him and his kid and his wife. And fuck he has a wife and a kid and an award winning restaurant.

They still fight, and it gets bad, sometimes about life and sometimes about their business. But they apologize and make up and promise to be better and they actually try to keep that promise. 

And sometimes he gets so angry that he calls her by her full name, Sydney Berzatto. Its like a hard reset, allows him to recalibrate, to remind himself that he’s not fighting alone. Even when they’re pissing each other off and messing up and hurting each other they’re together, they’re partners, they’re a family.

He looks at all he’s built and had gifted to him. He misses Michael and his mom, who he’s had to completely cut out of his life for his own mental health. He’s guiltily grateful for the way things turned out. 

When Sydney walked around that corner in The Beef he’d have given anything in that moment to have Michael back and not speaking to him just to have him alive. And now Sydney and Aisha are his whole world and it’s good and wholesome and bright. 

Its beyond dazzling sometimes he can’t breathe with how overwhelmed he is by how good his life is now. Then he does breathe, he lives and keeps living.

[tea-with-eleni]

What went wrong?

So... the whole education department is leaving my museum. Well, okay, not the whole education department. The manager and the two part time workers are staying. But the three of us who were the actual museum educators, who did most of the legwork and actual educating? we're out after the eclipse.

I consider the other two educators my friends. We have quite a bit in common. We're all the same awkward not-quite-millennial, not-quite-gen-Z age. We went through college at about the same time. We're all the kind of people who will teach somebody something if you leave us along in a room with them long enough, but have no desire to be classroom teachers. Our skills aren't quite identical, but we can all cover for each other in a pinch. We're all single and likely to stay that way for the immediate future, have religions but don't really publicize it, don't drink (two of us never bothered, one of us can't), are adhd, and share similar tastes in literature. They couldn't have found a more evenly matched team if they tried. Which is, it turns out, to their detriment.

see... it means that we all generally agree with and empathize with each other. If they wrong one of us, they wrong all of us.

So... a rough list of grievances, in approximately chronological order.

They threw one of the educators out of the loop and effectively banned her from working in the planetarium. The planetarium she built up from ground zero. That one.

They told the other two of us to make a push-button show in two months. It takes experienced teams with no other responsibilities six months. Then, they yelled at us about how much time we were spending working on the show in the planetarium, even though we were going a bit mad, even though we were effectively casting from hit points to keep going, even though we were making incredible progress and could tell EXACTLY where the time had gone; we were hardly goofing off. Even though it was not, in fact, detracting from our other responsibilities. All three of us ended up breaking down inside the planetarium.

They drove us to varying degrees of anxiety/meltdown at their holiday event and didn't need to. Nor did they apologize or even acknowledge what happened. I'm sorry, I don't forget when multiple coworkers have to talk me through an autistic meltdown while they themselves are coping with their own sensory hellscapes.

No educators qualified for a raise this year, ostensibly for assorted minor reasons but probably because they were trying to gaslight us into blaming ourselves rather than fessing up that they couldn't afford it. Had they been honest, I think we would have been understanding. But. Yeah. They lied. Not cool.

I was written up for showing too much emotion at my manager when something went wrong that wasn't my fault, on my recently deceased grandfather's birthday. And told I would be fired if it happened again.

They assigned a stupid and pointless recurring task to the worst possible team member they could have assigned it to. I offered to take it over, since I didn't mind it and (as previously stated) all of our skills overlap to the point where it didn't make a difference. Then they refused to listen, for months, when we pointed out that giving them what they wanted was actually impossible with our current staff -- we can't teleport.

They totally ignored almost all of our suggestions to improve the planetarium and, in fact, told the other two of us to not work on it so much too. Some of the suggestions they used to deliberately insult us and the hard work we'd put in about something we were truly passionate about.

Policy decisions are routinely made by our manager without consulting us concerning things like the planetarium, which she never enters and cannot even turn on. Let alone make it work.

They care more about how effectively we've swept and vacuumed and put away gross toddler-spit-covered blocks that aren't even our department's property than how well we do things that are much more obviously in our job description. The blocks have been disappeared by one aggrieved part time worker. We will never tell. When we leave, they can pin the blame on us. It's fine.

They seem to have it in for the one male coworker. Not sure why. Could be misandry, antisemitism, or maybe they just don't like that he's speaking his mind. Or maybe they don't like that he's a northerner. Impossible to say.

They sent the most personable manager, who isn't even our manager, to try to boost our morale.... her tips were received as "don't think about it too hard", "accept you'll be written up, a lot", and "your anger at your current treatment is overrated".

They fired the education coordinator two months after she started. Was she good at her job? Not really. Did I like her as a person? Not especially. Was she properly trained in her job? NO. Should she have been fired? Probably not.

I genuinely don't think they realize how much we do empathize with each other. I genuinely don't think they realize that we relate much more to each other than we do to management; the differences in stage of life or maybe generation (managers are much more firmly millennials, we relate more to the Gen Z part time employees) is quite sharp.

And clearly, they don't value that they have three employees who all possess fairly rare and valuable skillsets. We can wrangle our planetarium. We can plan low budget educational activities that capture public interest on a dime. We can run summer camps for kids ages 7-13 with very little prep work. We can lecture on things we barely understand and convince people we're experts because we all have that broad kind of knowledge acquired by ADHD people with internet connections. And we're all very comfortable public speakers. We can analyze a situation and come up with ways to creatively improve it.

Other museums -- other institutions, we're not all going to museums next -- can see what we are. They're bending over backwards to get us to join them.

So. We're out. And we're looking forward to some very.... interesting.... exit interviews.

Assuming they get around to doing those, since our last day is April 8 and a little bird told me there's going to be some kind of major celestial event that day that the museum might be a little bit busy wrangling. IDK.