#green is slowly becoming my favorite color now

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fading Into Lilac Skies✨

Boyfriend’s Dad! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: “Colors” by Halsey inspired this one-shot, and I’m absolutely in love with them. Thank you to the lovely @alltheirdamn for being my beta reader 💜 This has been permeating in my mind for a few months, and I’m so glad I finally wrote it. Reblogs and comments make my day ✨

Summary: You never meant to fall for your boyfriend’s dad, but it happened. You just couldn’t stay away from those shades of blue and grey. But your favorite thing was turning them the color your soul was. Lilac.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: Yearning, longing, forbidden love, secret affair, secret relationship, mentions of smut, falling in love, angst, boyfriend’s dad! Joel, age gap, no use y/n, no outbreak! au

“Everything is blue. His pills, his hands, his jeans. And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams. And it's blue, and it's blue. Everything is grey. His hair, his smoke, his dreams. And now he’s so devoid of color, he don’t know what it means. And he’s blue, and he’s blue.”

- “Colors” by Halsey

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

There’s a point you had passed long ago, a restricted section that should’ve had bolted locks forbidding you from ever daring to enter such a dangerous territory. Those gates were torn down and ripped open the moment you met him. Your boyfriend’s dad, Joel Miller. There was just something that kept you coming back to his house, back into the lion’s den. Back into his arms. Joel Miller’s.

It all started that first time you laid eyes on him while he sat in his garage, a large brewed cup of coffee in hand, taking slow sips while he watched the sun slip into the sky, painting vivid pinks and oranges from the sunrise.

He was intense, pensive, brooding. Something about him screamed sorrow, regret, maybe mournful like he had lost something or let someone slip from his fingers. His salt-and-pepper scruff framed his shadowed face, long greying sandy hair silhouetting his hooded chocolate eyes. His green flannel clung to his large arms, broad shoulders hugging the soft fabric. His thick veins spiraled down his tanned arms like a waterfall, and his thick fingers hugged the curve of the coffee cup with every sip he took from the steamy drink. You almost wanted to become the sides of that curved coffee cup, just so you could maybe taste what it was like to be kissed by lips that looked like they were soft enough to fall into, and maybe he’d swallow you whole.

His dark eyes fell on you, slowly slipping over your form entirely as your boyfriend, Jackson, introduced you to his father, an extremely handsome man that made butterflies flit through your stomach.

“Dad, this is my girlfriend. Had to finally introduce you,” Jackson smiled enthusiastically, like he was the proudest boyfriend in the world.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you said shyly, fingers curling against your cotton summer dress, eyes widening with the slight grunt and nod your way from him.

“Call me Joel, sweetheart.” He took your hand slowly, calloused fingers colliding with your own to leave you choking on your own shaky voice. His eyes were like wildfire, dark flecks glistening up at you, tempting you to jump into the raging flames.

His big hand lingered against yours a little too long, not even paying attention to his son who stood right next to you, until he dropped your hand and flicked his eyes back to his only son. “I trust you’re takin’ good care of her?” he asked, eyes slightly narrowing at his twenty-eight-year-old son.

“Sure am, pops.”

Joel hummed, flicking his eyes back to you as they nonchalantly slid over your body again, making your breath falter at the sight. “He gives you any trouble you come to me, understand?” he demanded with a slight gruffness to his deep voice, almost sounding like he was commanding you.

You nodded, gasping at the dominance in his tone. “Yes, sir,” you murmured.

“Attagirl,” he smiled, coffee eyes swirling in your vision. You nearly buckled your knees at the word. Attagirl. Jackson never told you that, didn’t dare call you a good girl. But Joel? He might as well have fucking just said that, he basically did say that.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. You two stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Sure, dad. See ya later. Gonna go drive down to the lake.”

You gave him one last glance as he said your name low, nodding his head your way as he watched you walk to the hunter green jeep, waiting for Jackson to unlock the car.

Your eyes trailed back to the garage, making you gasp when you saw Joel staring directly your way, sipping on his coffee and keeping those cool, dark eyes on you. Your breath shifted and your heartbeat skipped a beat, making your legs feel like mush. And when you finally drove off the pavement, his eyes still stayed locked on yours, even as you left the street. They never once looked away.

Fuck. You never expected to have a crush on your boyfriend’s dad, but here you were. Fingers tangled in your fabric with your breathing rapid and unsteady.

Yeah, this was not going to be good.

Jackson later told you his father had gotten a bad divorce a couple years ago, had a struggling fight to keep custody of his daughter, Sarah, and had gone through a bunch of shit with his previous contracting company. He really had seen the tolls of hell lately, and now you started to get why he always seemed so sad when you’d see him working in his garage by himself or sitting out on his wooden porch drinking freshly brewed coffee and strumming along softly on his acoustic guitar. He was lonely.

There was always something missing, a fraction of a piece lost in those dark, somber eyes of his. And you felt bad for him, even sorry, like it was somehow your fault. You wished you could make it better, give him something to cling to for the sadness to settle away, maybe take a teaspoon of those grey skies and turn them to bright blue ones. But you shouldn’t think that, not with your boyfriend’s dad. What kind of girlfriend would that make you? But apparently those thoughts completely flew through your mind, getting lost to the soundless wind and muted regrets.

A couple of weeks went by and you found yourself at his house again, just so he could fix something on Jackson’s jeep. Something with the alternator. Just when you thought you were safe, Jackson ran to the car parts store, leaving you alone in Joel’s house. Somewhere where you should’ve never been left alone.

You meandered out on the back porch, finding him sitting in a wooden rocking chair and sighing, his back hunched while he watched a pack of deer graze on the tall grass. He looked somewhat content, but you could see in that far off gaze he was contemplating something very deep in that ocean of a grey mind.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, watching him nod his head to the polished rocking chair sitting next to him. You took a seat cautiously, careful not to disturb his morning peace, but he didn’t seem so bothered by your company.

His eyes flicked to yours slowly. They were a shiny amber color today, deep brown flecks glittering against the rising sunshine. And they were so beautiful that a gasp slipped from your lips unexpectedly. Closing your gaping mouth, you briefly smiled, and his eyes seemed to crystallize over into a deeper chocolate color.

He was so beautiful.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asked calmly, his breath warm, gently blowing against the side of your face. You smelled the coffee simmering on his tongue, and his pine scent kissed your skin, awakening something deep inside you that should’ve never bloomed in the first place.

“Oh, mhm. Great, actually. But what about you?” You tilted your head and watched the way his jaw flexed, his eyes cloudy with a tinge of gloom in those brown doe eyes of his.

He shrugged and took a slow sip of his coffee, looking far off into the open field that had deer and cattle meandering out in the lush green acreage. “Workin’, stayin’ busy. Guess you could say I’m jus’ fine. Got everything I need right here.” His eyes flicked over the open field, but you saw the faint hint of regret as his eyes darkened, and his body slid a little further down into his hand-made rocking chair.

Slowly turning your knees to him, you leaned against the solid arm of the rocking chair and caught the way his eyes slid back to yours, like he knew you were about to say something else. Taking a deep breath, you went for it. “Jackson told me about… about everything you’ve been going through these past couple of years. And I wanted to say, if you ever need a friend or just someone to talk to, then you can talk to me. I’ll be here.”

Your hand slowly reached over, timidly grazing over the top of his rough hand, until your palm cautiously settled against his broken skin, starting a warm fire in the pit of your stomach as your skin brushed against his.

His back went rigid, and the way he was looking at you all wide-eyed and soft had your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest. An unsteady rhythm that had your throat closing up like there was no more air available in your lungs. There was only him swirling around your heart.

He flicked his gaze across your settled hand and slowly but surely, his other hand came down to rest on yours, his fingers lacing in the crevice of your fingers until they formed like impenetrable clay. And suddenly, a shade of grey cleared from his foggy eyes, and warmth spread across his tanned cheeks. He wasn’t so blue after all, at least not when you were around.

“He told you?” he asked quietly.

“He told me everything,” you answered back discreetly.

“Why?” His thick eyebrows threaded together, and the wrinkles on his forehead formed a map of lines that you strangely wanted to trace with the tip of your finger, so you could maybe reach into his mind and tear away anything that hurt him in the past.

“Because I asked him…” you answered shakily, your fingers curling nervously into your white summer dress, twisting them until you pinched skin and flinched.

“I see.” His voice came out hushed, his eyes stormy as if he looked to the past and saw heartache all over again. You could see it in the way he held himself, fingers flexing, his shoulders hunched over, his back stiff. And your heart broke just thinking of the years that tore his body to shreds.

“And jus’ what did my son say to you?” His voice was deep, but it didn’t come out unkind or aggressive. It was just quiet, almost silenced, like he didn’t want to hear those hurtful words repeated.

“Well, he told me about Sarah and your messy divorce and then your job and…”

“‘Course he did. Always runnin’ his mouth ‘bout private matters that don’t concern anyone else,” he scoffed, shaking his head like he was used to his son always sharing secrets that should’ve been kept under lock and key.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You scooted your body into the back of the wooden rocking chair, making yourself smaller like you had just crossed a line. You shouldn’t have asked Jackson, but you just had to know. You weren’t sure why, but some part of you yearned to know what made this beautiful man so weathered and frayed like his cracked, calloused fingers. It wasn’t any of your business, but you wanted it to be.

“Nah. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize like any of it’s your fault, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” His arm came down on the side of his rocking chair briefly, thick fingers digging absentmindedly into the polished wood. His eyes were long gone into the hazy field ahead of him, the wildflowers gently blowing in the breeze, the oak trees swaying like the shiny pond water that lapped against the lush grass, your heart thundering in your chest with every stolen glance to the broken man who sat right next to you.

You couldn’t help but memorize the shine of his syrupy eyes, dark chocolate irises glowing in the rays of the sun peeking out of the grey clouds. They were so beautiful yet so sad. They deserved to be sparkling. Instead, they were full of turmoil, and that made you feel so empty for some unknown reason.

“Oh, okay then,” you eventually answered after staring way too long at his worn but immaculate face, his calloused fingers still on top of yours, the tip of his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckle like maybe he was trying to commit to memory how your skin felt against his. And just the thought of that had you dripping with sweat on the back of your neck.

“And jus’ Joel,” he replied, pressing his hand deeper against yours.

“What?” you whispered out.

“Jus’ call me Joel, darlin’. That’s my name, after all.” You blinked a few times, your mind reeling at the ask. He already told you to call him Joel once, the first day you met him in the garage, but something about first name basis was dangerous, forbidden. You shouldn’t say his name, shouldn’t call him anything but Mr. Miller, but here you were about to let his name be tattooed on your tongue like it was the only word you knew how to speak.

“Alright. Joel…” you answered cautiously, letting the wing sweep through your messy strands.

After waiting a beat, you spoke again. “Well, the offer still stands. I’ll be here, if you need someone to talk to.”

A gentle smile curled against his mouth slowly and for the first time, you saw the clouds clear fully in his dewy brown eyes. “You’re a pretty fuckin’ special girl, ya know that? Jackson got lucky. Beautiful girl like you deserves the world…” His eyes flicked down to his lap momentarily, but they quickly reverted right back to yours.

“Oh, I’m not… no, I’m not that special,” you laughed, shaking your head like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said to you. You’re nothing special.

“Don’t be modest, sweetheart. Beautiful and special. The perfect combination. Don’t you ever forget it either.” His smile was so genuine. And his eyes, those exquisite brown doe eyes that made your voice shake, were making you forget how to form a coherent thought.

Oh. Beautiful…

“That’s kind of you to say, Joel, but I really don’t think...”

He lifted a rough-edged palm and stopped you right there. “Well, s’true. Don’t take anything less than what you deserve. I mean it when I say if you ever need anything, you come straight to me, darlin’. Wouldn’t ever leave you hangin’.”

His hand slowly reached out, your body completely paralyzed with every steady movement his fingers made. His fingertips brushed against your cheek, leaving scars you’d soon regret ever touched you, but they felt like a fine paintbrush drawing an entire masterpiece with every careful stroke he drew across your skin.

Electricity zapped through the cool air, sending sparks of lightning across every square inch he touched. And his eyes were absolutely sparkling, crystal domes that reminded you of citrine and smoky quartz. And when his fingers traced a loose strand behind the shell of your ear, it was like the world completely stopped, and the only sound you could hear was his slow breaths that smelled like strong coffee and pine trees dancing in the wind.

He was magnetic, and you wanted to burn right there in that little wooden rocking chair until you were nothing but burnt embers in his gentle palms.

Tires treading over gravel broke the intense spell you were under, and Joel’s palm fell from your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth behind in their absence. Both of your eyes were wide and daunting, and you knew you were fucked.

You shouldn’t be out here sitting alone with Joel, but you didn’t really care. He had you hooked, and now you were a baited fish.

“I should probably get back to Jackson,” you said quietly, pushing your shaky body from the rocking chair. The one that Joel had made by hand.

“Yeah, afraid you should,” he murmured in a hushed tone, his dark brown eyes following after you until you turned a corner where his electric stare couldn’t hold yours anymore.

You watched him sigh, his thick fingers curling back over his ceramic coffee cup as his plush lips met the sides. And in that moment, you so desperately wanted to be the dark coffee that caked his tongue in a swirl of various flavors. You wanted to be the sugar that left his body begging for more.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke without thinking it through. A plea to continue the conversations with this dream of a man. “Joel, your ex-wife was stupid to leave you. The way she treated you? You never deserved that. You deserve much better. I just hope you don’t think you were ever the problem because it never sounded like you were.”

Your hand latched onto the handle of the screen door and just as you started pulling it open, his deep voice made you lose your grip, and then the door swung shut with a bang.

“Sweetheart?” he called, craning his neck to look back at you with deep brown eyes.

“Yeah?” You slowly circled around and met those dazzling brown eyes that turned you into mush.

“You sure do know how to light up a room. Bring that pretty smile around here more often. You seem to keep the cloudy skies away.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and for the first time, you felt a heated warmth pull through your entire body, twisting around your veins until his name imprinted a mark on your heart.

Giving him one last smile, you turned and made your way back through the house, back to where you should be. With Jackson. But was that what you really wanted now? You never expected to have a crush on your boyfriend’s fifty-year-old dad, but here you were. Completely and utterly falling for something that should be so forbidden.

As the weeks went by, you found yourself at Joel’s more and more often, finding any excuse to visit or to have Jackson take you there. It started so innocent, so friendly but quickly faded into something that started to smother your insides until you bled Joel entirely.

Mornings became fresh cups of coffee on the back porch as you watched the golden sunrise and talked about life; the evenings you’d spend curled up on the floor, reading a book while he scanned over articles in the newspaper. Sometimes you’d sit on top of his workbench in the garage and watch him work on his truck.

It was the way he completely spilled his soul to you, making you feel alive, a feeling Jackson never could quite reach. Even just being in his warm presence was enough, where you could breathe in his lingering coffee scent, his cologne that smelled like pinewood and cedar trees, the aroma of sandpaper and palms caked in traces of paint that made you completely dizzy.

The small conversations started to not be enough later on; none of it was enough for you anymore. The slow touches became more frequent. Each time he’d walk past you, he’d brush against your shoulder, letting his hand trace against your strands of hair, your back, your hand. And you let it happen because it felt warm, right. And Jackson didn’t even fucking have a clue. Joel was that subtle; Jackson never saw it coming. You didn’t see it coming until that first day in his garage. You knew right then he was something special, and you just couldn’t learn to leave him alone.

Jackson was completely oblivious when the two of you would stay for dinner at Joel’s, not even noticing the lingering glances and the small brushes of knees under the kitchen table. And that’s all it took to fall.

And that first kiss. God, that first fucking kiss. The one that was so earth shattering it felt like you had the world in your hands. You were only supposed to help him with the watermelon in the kitchen, but then he pulled you into his arms, crushing you to his broad chest, and looked at you like no one else ever had before. Like he was completely and utterly in love with you.

You saw flickers of onyx and dark chocolate swirling in your vision, tempting you to jump into the flames. And when his calloused palm traced your cheek softly and he leaned in, you drowned in the flames.

His mouth molded to yours perfectly, shooting sparks of lightning through your bloodstream the way his taste fell like water against your soft lips. And you lapped it all up, committed his coffee taste to memory, even the wafts of spice that drizzled off his slicked back greying locks.

And that was the moment you sold your soul to hades because this calamitous decision would drag you down into the inferno. But you’d burn, never regretting the day his lips fell into yours.

It wasn’t even a one time thing. No. It formed into the most catastrophic, impending decision of your life, but you let it happen anyways. If Jackson was granite then Joel was gold. Impenetrable, unique, beautiful. You just couldn’t let him go.

Hot summer days turned to cool autumn evenings where you spent hours curled up against Joel’s warm chest. The sheets damp, clothes long forgotten, sweaty bodies that burned hot for each other. You forgot all your morals each time his head was between your thighs, his mouth fused to your drenched center, his tongue stroking and lapping up your breath-taking release each time he took you over the edge. And the way his cock stretched you, filling you so full of him, felt like fireworks shooting off inside you. His mouth swallowed your echoing moans with each snap of his hips, his body like a burning furnace that set you ablaze time and time again.

And that first moment he told you he loved you while you were curled up in his lap on the porch swing was magic. He was magic. And god, you loved this man with every fiber of your being.

There were no more cloudy days, no more grey shades threading his body like his tousled curls. No. He was vibrant, alive, and your red shades collided with his blue hues, mixing together to form the prettiest lilac skies you ever did see. And when he weaved his body around yours like a tight string, claiming you as his, entire hurricanes crashed and left your body to float out to sea. But Joel would keep you afloat, even through the pain of losing Jackson.

One day you’d have to tell Jackson, end it, but you had no strength to do that. Neither did Joel. So you were both doomed, damned to burn together in the pits of hell. You’d never forgive yourself for betraying Jackson, but Joel… well, you just couldn’t lose him. So you wouldn’t.

Joel found a way to thread every inch of you to him, sewn into the very essence of his soul as you swirled yourself into his shades of blue.

And then you were nothing but lilac skies.

[loviingpedri]

feliz navidad - jude bellingham

prompt: jude’s first christmas tree in madrid

warnings: grammar issues, cheesy lines

credits to owners for all images

“jude! look at all these ornaments i got.”

“they’re really pretty. remind me, what is the theme for the tree again?” he picked up the green ornament with the unique carvings of it.

“traditional christmas of course. classic colors like green and red. it’s gonna look beautiful.”

“beautiful like you?” he winked at you while you grinned from his flirty comment.

“anyways! are you ready to start decorating?” he nodded his head as he opened the box of lights. he began to put the lights on as you tried to find hooks for the ornaments.

“do you think we should do fake presents again. i mean, it looked pretty last year.”

“do whatever it takes to make it your dream christmas tree. the least i can do is help you. take this as my appreciation for your sacrifices in moving here with me.” the lights were blinking at you as he finished his sentence.

“you always say that. can’t leave the love of my life in a foreign place alone.”

“aren’t i special then?”

“don’t let your ego get to you jude.” finding the hooks for the ornaments, it was finally time for your favorite tradition. decorating with jude.

grabbing a sparkly green ornament, it was already matching with the lights. soon, dozens of red and green were everywhere.

“jude! did you put these green ornaments together?” he was just happy to help. you appreciated everything he did, but sometimes it didn’t quite match your ideas.

“yeah? what about it?” he grabbed another red ornament as the tree started to become overwhelming.

“they aren’t suppose to be next to each other. it’s a contrasting kind of idea, you know?” he just nodded, but he didn’t understand the point of it. another rule added to the list, don’t put the same kind of ornament together.

the tree came together perfectly. especially with the ribbons and lights. the only challenging part next was the star. you attempted to put it on there yourself, but it was no use.

“having trouble?” as you finally stopped stretching your arm, you couldn’t deny it.

“yeah i am. do you have a ladder or anything?” now, the jude bellingham started laughing in your face. usually, you would be offended but it was definitely more confusion. “what are you laughing at?” giving him a sassy pose, his smile became vivid.

“the only thing i should be smiling at. why get a ladder when you have me?” jude really thinks he’s the smartest man out here.

“what?”

“oh come on. i’m strong enough to hold you.”

“jude, what are you on about?”

“get on my shoulders of course. you’ll be tall enough to put the star on.”

pure shock was seen in your face. “are you serious? i mean you could seriously get hurt.”

“don’t you trust me?” he crept down slowly and told you to just get on. after awkward movement, you felt your stomach drop as he stood up. everything was much clearer in this view.

“this is absolutely crazy.”

“don’t fall, please.” as you got closer to the tree, the star was shining bright on your face. jude walked to the couch to playfully yet gently throw you off. a lot of giggles and cuddles were shared as you admired your new masterpiece.

“it’s so bright.”

“yeah, just like you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable under the blanket right next to him.

——————————————

author’s note: happy holidays to those who celebrate! it’s crazy how this has been in my draft since november and it finally came together. wishing you all happiness!

[hcsiqs]

💌, 33 ,georgia amoore!

| called it puppy love

• pairing: georgia amoore x fem!reader

• prompt: “did you just confess your feelings for me?”

• warnings: none!

Since freshman orientation you and Georgia have been attached by the hip. You guys were the ones who got put into a random door together for the few days that the orientation lasted.

And due to Georgia’s outgoing personality you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get rid of her, which you didn’t want to. Then once you found out she was on the basketball team she made sure that you came to all of her games. From then on you two could always be found with each other.

Which is what led you here, Georgia lying under you as you sat on her legs applying makeup to her face. She had been begging you, for weeks now it seemed, to do her makeup. It wasn’t like the brunette didn’t know how to do her own, she wore little amounts of it, she just wanted to be close to you.

And finally not having practice at night, it seemed like the perfect chance to make you do this.

“Georgia, you actually have to close your eyes if you want me to do your eyeshadow,” you pouted as you sat above her holding an eyeshadow brush in one hand.

“Don’t do anything crazy while my eyes are closed,” she replied, biting back her smile as tried to remain serious, something very hard for her.

“Shut up and close your damn eyes,” you laughed as you nudged her shoulder and watched her eyes close. You placed your non dominant hand beside her hand to balance you while you leaned over her and covered the brush above her eyelid. “I’m gonna put the eyeshadow on now,” you told her, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you delicately swiped the powder over her lid you felt a warmth on your thighs, your eyes flicked down to them to see her hands resting against them. You could feel her stomach doing backflips at the sensation, but you had to stay focused.

Georgia had always been touchy. Almost as in a way that if she wasn’t touching you in some proximity she would die. She always had an arm around your shoulders, waist, or just her hand resting against your back.

You pushed away all of your romantic thoughts that you had about her because she probably just placed her hands there out of comfort. Maybe she felt awkward just having them lay beside her?

You finished the with base color on both lids before going in with an angle brush and a darker color to do a small wing. Her lids fluttered at the way the brush was so close to her lash line, “Sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable,” you apologized as you finished up the eye makeup.

“No, it’s fine,” she replied, her eyes still closed.

“You can open your eyes,” you giggled and watched her slowly open them, having them adjust to the soft lights around the room.

“God it’s bright,” she blinked her eyes rapidly.

“There’s like three lamps on. You’re fine,” you said shaking your head as you grabbed the mascara. “Do you wanna do it or do you want me to?” you asked holding the tube up.

“You can.”

“You sure?” you asked as you started to lean back down over her.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head slowly as she watched every movement of yours.

“I’m gonna hold the wand to your lashes and you just blink ok?” you started moving the wand closer to her green eyes.

“Kay,” she responded before you held the mascara to her lashes and she repeatedly blinked until you were satisfied with how her lashes were coated. You then moved to the other eye and did the same, then once you finished you closed the mascara tube and dropped it on the bed.

“Lips time!” you smiled as you pulled out your favorite tinted lipgloss. Georgia made duck lips at you and you laughed shaking your head at her, “Just relax.”

“No duck lips?” she frowned, her fingers tapping against your thighs.

You smiled as you shook your head and leaned down. Your hand came to her jaw as you began swiping the gloss against her lips. You could feel the way her eyes watched your every movement, suddenly becoming self conscious. “Stop looking at me like that you,” you let out a breath as you sat up and put the gloss back down.

“Like what?” she turned her head to the side, obviously playing dumb like she wasn’t looking at your lips like she was going to kiss you.

“Like you want to kiss me,” you said, as you got off her and started cleaning up the makeup. Georgia immediately sat up in the bed and watched you walked around your room, putting things away.

“Maybe I do,” she replied, her voice so calm it made you wonder if she was actually telling the truth.

“You’re not funny,” you shook your head biting back a smile.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” she replied and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

“Georgia,” you turned around to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped together and sitting between her legs. “If you’re joking I’m gonna be really pissed,” you started walking towards her until you stood between the opening of her legs.

“I’m not,” her hands moved to your hips, her fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I really fucking like you,” her voice was slightly above a whisper as she looked up to meet your eyes, trying to gauge a reaction from her confession.

“What?” you had to practically keep your jaw from hitting the floor. It was like your heart had been waiting to hear those words for as long as you had known her.

“I like you,” she repeated.

“I like you too,” you smiled, but she immediately brought you into a kiss. You could feel her smile against your lips as her hands pulled your body closer to hers.

You brought your hands to her jaw, pulling her even closer as her hands snaked around the backs of your legs, pulling you into her lap.

You could taste the mint of the lipgloss on her lips as her lips moved in unison with yours, but then she pulled back causing your eyebrows to curl upwards in confusion, wondering if you did something wrong.

“Wait, did you just confess your feelings for me, Y/L/N?” she smiled and you just shoved her, causing her to fall back on the bed.

“Shut up, Amoore,” you giggled, copying the her by saying her last name before your lips found hers once again.

[togrowoldinv]

Fear of Heights

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Natasha takes you on the jet for the first time, it’s a night with many firsts

Note: Soft Nat! Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“You know I’m scared of heights, right?” You say as Natasha puts the jet in motion.

“You’re going to be fine, detka,” Natasha says. She’s wearing a mischievous grin.

You’re sure she didn’t ask Stark before bringing you here. You’ve been dating Natasha for a couple of months. When you asked her if you could see more of her world of avenging, you didn’t think she would take you up the super jet. But here you are.

“Natasha,” you say quietly, gasping a little when you feel the gravity shift from entering the air.

“Y/n, hey look at me,” Nat says. You look into her green eyes that have become your favorite color. “Just one second and you can hold my hand, baby. Okay? Hold on.”

Natasha seems to kick the jet into high gear and soon her hand reaches for yours. You lean your head closer to her. She gets the memo. Nat stands by your chair where you’re tightly strapped in and you grip onto her.

Natasha chuckles a little at your death grip on her waist.

“I think you’ll enjoy it when we get there,” Natasha says. “I’m sorry you’re scared right now.”

And she does sound sorry. Also, a little amused.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, sweetheart. But it’ll be worth the wait,” Natasha replies.

You keep a tight grip around her waist as you rest your face against her abdomen. Natasha doesn’t mind and she hardly moves as the jet hits air pockets. She’s a practiced flyer.

“Here we are,” Nat says.

You glance away from her and look out the window. In front of you is a beautiful sunset over a mountain with water all around.

“Oh wow,” you say. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says but she’s looking at you. Not the view. “We can land and watch it if you want. Or stay right here and I can make the top open.”

“Let’s land and watch,” you say.

Nat smiles and leaves your side to land the jet. When you land, she unbuckles you and takes your hand. She stops before exiting and grabs a basket from the floor. You didn’t notice her bring that on.

She just smirks at your surprise. Nat lays out a quilt on the ground.

“Ladies first,” she says, gesturing for you to lay down. You do so and she joins you.

Natasha’s arm rests under your head as you watch the sunset. It’s the perfect kind of silence where neither of you feel uncomfortable.

That’s how you always feel with her. Like you can talking, quiet, or living in a daydream and everything still feels perfect.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say once the sun has sunk below the mountain. You look at her from the close distance and see her beauty.

“Are you glad you faced your fears?” Nat asks. You scrunch your nose up in dislike. “It’s okay to say no.”

You both chuckle at her words. The moment is so soft.

“Will you say yes if I kiss you right now?” Natasha asks.

“You’re a cheeseball,” you tell her.

“You love me,” Natasha teases with a grin.

Her eyes go wide after she realizes what she said. But you don’t hesitate.

“I do love you, you know,” you say.

“You do?” She asks so quietly, so innocently that you could cry.

“I love you Natasha Romanoff,” you say. “I’ve loved you for a while now and I want to love you forever.”

A single tear falls from Natasha’s eye. It’s a poetic scene as you reach out and wipe the tear.

“I-“ the simple word comes out of her mouth slowly. She’s not said this to anyone and truly meant it. “I love you.”

You smile and kiss her lips. Natasha kisses you back like she’s never kissed anyone before.

When you break for air, you keep your hands on her face. You hold her delicately.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you too,” Natasha says. It’s easier for her this time.

You two lay there and talk for a while before you go back to the jet and fly home. Facing your fear was absolutely worth it.

[obxsummer]

End of the Line // JJ Maybank

summary below the cut to avoid spoilers for s3 ep5

part of #obx3celebration

navigation

--

request: hi can i get jj x reader, soo basically instead of kie she is the one on the bike with j BUT she refuses to jump off so they distracting the cops together

warnings: cursing, accidents, minor injuries

--

In terms of a quick and simple in-and-out rescue mission of the cross, this was the worst outcome you could imagine. Pope and Cleo had managed to find the correct train car, but the whole train started moving before you guys even had a chance to see if the cross was inside.

“Shit! Let’s go.” JJ began to shuffle off the train car that he, Sarah, Kie, and you were looking off of. Sarah had somehow managed to convince Topper to let your group use his dad’s truck, but he was slowly becoming freaked out by what you were doing.

“Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay with ending up in federal prison,” Topper said after Sarah asked him for jumper cables. She handed them over to you before you moved to climb on the bike of JJ’s bike.

“Uh, if it gets to that, yeah. I’ll do it for Pope,” Your boyfriend didn’t leave room to argue before taking off, the two of you in the lead for Topper and your friends to follow. 

JJ took the first turn a little too sharp causing you to tighten your grip on him. You were used to his recklessness at this point in your relationship, and of course, you trusted him to keep you safe, but this bike was not on the list of your favorite things.

“This should be far enough.” JJ pulled off the main road into the grass to park before you both ran towards the train tracks. You made it a whopping three steps before JJ tripped over nothing into the dirt below. He groaned and got back to his feet, sparing the glance to see you laughing at him. “I meant for that.”

You hummed, “Sure you did, babe. Let’s go.”

The plan was simple - use the jumper cables to reverse the charge so the train would have to stop, hopefully leaving enough time for you guys to unload the cross and get out of here. JJ connected one of the cables to the crossing lights before placing the other two on the tracks. 

“Okay, now all you have to do is change the current,” He scrambled around to get everything in the right order.

You looked behind you, the horn of the train getting louder by the second which didn’t help your nerves. “Please don’t get electrocuted.”

“Yeah, no promises with that.” He placed the red cable on first before clamping the black one next. The two of you looked up at the signal, anticipating the lights to change to red, but they continued to flicker green. 

“Why isn’t it changing?”

“That’s literally what he would do. He would do, and-and then it would change to red. Oh my god.” JJ started pacing in frustration as the train continued to near. “Think think think. Okay, what if I blockaded the track?”

You crouched down by the cables, giving him a look. “How about moving the cable because the train touches both sides of the track, hmm?” You switched the red cable over to the other side before standing up. JJ’s fingers curled around your wrist in anticipation as you stared up at the crossing lights. They blinked green for another few seconds before switching to a solid red. 

The two of you cheered at the color change, JJ reaching for a high five. “You’re a genius.”

“Nope, it’s all you.” You kissed his cheek quickly before grabbing his hand and tugging. “We gotta hide.”

It didn’t take long for the train’s brakes to kick in and start slowing down. JJ let out a small ‘yay’ once it finally stopped in front of you, hopefully giving Cleo and Pope a chance to climb off. The excitement was short-lived, however, when a service truck pulled up next to you.

“Shit, back up, back up.” JJ tugged the back of your shirt, moving the two of you further into the tree line.  “This was not part of the plan!”

Two workers climbed out of the truck and started surveying the area for the possible cause. “What is this bullshit?” It didn’t take long for them to find the jumper cables attached to the tracks, both you and JJ mumbling curses when they did. They were quick to remove the cables so the crossing lights turned green.

“You’re all set over here. Some asshole put jumper cables on the tracks.”

You turned to JJ as the workers climbed back in the truck. “You think that gave them enough time?” The answer to your question came in the form of the train honking that it would start moving again.  “We gotta go get them.”

“There goes the plan, come on!” JJ offered his hand to get you off the ground, the two of you sprinting back to his bike.  The engine kicked to life beneath you just as a familiar pickup truck came flying around the corner with a large crate in the back. “That’s Top. And that’s the cross. Get on!”

You didn’t hesitate to climb behind him, arms looped around his waist tightly before he took off behind your friends. Blue lights came up behind you not too long after.

“J!” You placed your forehead between his shoulder blades, suddenly terrified about what would come next. 

“I know, I know!”

The bike moved faster beneath you, JJ guiding it to ride alongside Topper’s truck. You glanced over to see Cleo and Pope in the bed of the truck, staring right back at you. “What the hell are you doing?” Pope yelled.

“Get ready to jump,” JJ yelled back at you. 

“What?” You flicked him in the neck. “Are you insane?”

Pope let out an expression of equal shock, the two of you in disbelief that JJ would actually suggest this.

“Probably,” Your boyfriend replied back, his eyes not leaving the road. “Get ready to jump.”

“JJ, I’m not fucking leaving you!” You argued back, grip tightening around him to reinforce the idea. “You can’t make me.”

JJ’s whole body tensed at your disagreement but he didn’t have time to argue back. Brakes kicked in as Topper’s truck moved ahead, JJ using the momentum to swing the two of you around. He hesitated for a second, wanting to chew your ass for how stubborn you were.

His eyes met yours for a brief second. “I’ll rip you a new one later. Grab that rock.” 

You did as he asked, grabbing the hefty stone from the roadside before rebalancing behind him. 

JJ let out a sigh as the police sped closer. He turned back to you one last time. “I love you.”

Your throat tightened at the tone of his voice, like this was the last time he was going to say it. You nodded, kissing his cheek before settling behind him. “I love you too, but I’ll tell you that again after we’re done with this.”

JJ revved the engine, the tires squealing beneath you as he got back on the road, this time in the opposing traffic lane. The second the cop car was close enough, he yelled back, “Throw it!”

You did your best to remain balanced behind him and launched the rock at the windshield of the car, watching the glass splinter as soon as it made contact. JJ continued to drive steadily, the only goal in mind to get the two of you out of this safe and sound. He took a sharp turn, the cops drifting behind as you hit the overpass. 

Everything happened so fast. One second, JJ had a clear road ahead of him, and the next thing he knew, a pair of headlights were blinding him. The car honked, swerving towards you at the last second.

The bike collided with the concrete barrier, and both you and JJ got separated and thrown onto the ground below the overpass. The air in your lungs escaped as you hit the solid grass beneath you, your body aching with the sharp collision. You could hear the sirens above and the screech of tires, not wanting to know what damage you left behind. 

“Fuck,” You hissed as pain radiated through your body, your wrist suddenly numb and your head pounding. “Jayj.” Your voice was hoarse from getting the wind knocked out of you, but you needed to find JJ. Now.

“Right here, I’m right here.” He came stumbling out of the brush next to you, his knees hitting the grass next to you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You used him as a support to sit up, clenching your jaw at the movement but shook your head. “Probably sprained my wrist and have a concussion but I’m good. Are you okay?”

JJ stared back at you, eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, do you understand? I can’t lose you, Y/N. I-” He sniffled, looking up to the sky so his tears wouldn’t fall.

You shushed him and pushed yourself up to hug him close. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” JJ let you hold him for a moment, relishing in the feeling of you on his body. “You’re severely mistaken if you think I’m gonna let you do stupid shit like that yourself. I’d go to the end of the line with you, if you asked, J.”

JJ let out a small laugh before kissing you a bit harshly. He’s had too many close calls with losing people important to him. The shouting of voices interrupted your moment, the blond Pogue getting to his feet to help you up. 

“JJ!”

“Y/N! Answer us!”

JJ’s arm wrapped around your waist for support as the two of you stumbled up the hill to the roadside. Topper’s truck had slid to a stop just before JJ’s totaled bike, your friends desperately searching the area for you with their backs to you. 

“I wish I could say we did that on purpose,” JJ interrupted their concerned conversation as you looked up at the broken bridge above. “But that was quite literally, the gnarliest powerslide I’ve ever done.”

Pope reacted first, slamming into JJ with a hug. “You’re alive!”

“That was gnarly, dude!”

“That was trucking, dude!” JJ winced as Sarah’s hands collided with his chest, her face purely angry before she embraced him tightly. “Oh Jesus, oh God.” 

Kiara’s arms wrapped around you tightly, Pope on top of her as the two of them held you close in relief. “Don’t ever do that shit again.” Pope’s voice was strict as he mumbled into your shoulder. “John B would kill us if you two died.”

Sarah practically pulled you away from them to hug you herself, her eyes scanning for obvious injuries. She sobbed beneath you, reality setting in for everyone on how close of a call that actually was. 

“The pleasantries are really nice, but we should really get out of here!” Pope interrupted the reunions to run back to Topper’s truck. 

Sarah gave you one more squeeze before heading to the passenger seat. JJ moved towards you, hands reaching out before you crashed into his chest. “Can we never do that again?” You whispered, tears falling on your cheeks in shock.

“Hey! Hey, you kids, don’t move!” A flashlight interrupted your calming moment, sending the two of you running for the truck. JJ was quick to shove you in the backseat with Kie behind Sarah before climbing into the bed of the truck with Pope and Cleo.

Topper took off a second later, rushing to get away from the scene. It didn’t take long for the group to start arguing about Topper’s driving only for you all to hit a bump in the road and have the wooden crate go flying from the back. 

“Shit!”

“You guys told me to go faster!”

You tumbled out of the backseat, Kiara and Sarah right behind you as everyone rushed towards the crate. Pope shoved the top of it off, everyone stopping short at the contents inside. Concrete-filled tires were lying in the place of where the cross should’ve been. 

“It’s fake.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Of course, we almost died for stealing a fake.”

“Pope, I’m so sorry.”

Silence enveloped your group for a moment before the noise of sirens approached again. Topper held his hands up. “Y’all hear that? Okay, I can’t be here. My grandfather’s a judge.”

“Dog, would you relax? They’re not gonna think some dude in flip-flops is part of a robbery.” JJ argued back to Topper, the two of them occupied as they climbed into the vehicle. You let out a deep sigh before following Sarah into the truck, ready for this nightmare to be over. 

You eventually got dropped off at your house, the entire mood somber for whatever had just happened. You would’ve gone back to the Chateau but that was out of the question since you didn’t know where John B was. Luckily, your parents were fast asleep, leaving you and JJ to your own devices. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” JJ hovered by the doorway of the bathroom, the concern never leaving his eyes. “I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

You were quick to dry off your hands from washing your face and stepped towards him. He looked much better after you both had taken a shower and put fresh clothes on. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you brushed your nose against his. “A few scrapes and bruises are nothing compared to losing you, J. I’d do it all over again if you asked.”

JJ gave you a sad smile before wrapping you in a hug, resting his chin on your head. He was used to doing stupid shit all the time, obviously, but you’d never been in the direct path of his decision-making before. He felt horrible knowing he’d put you through an accident like that, something that could potentially be the end of the line for the two of you. But in moments like this, where it was just you and JJ, he felt so overwhelmingly grateful to have you. 

“Let’s agree to avoid any high-speed chases from here on out, yeah?” You looked up at him with a teasing look on your face. “Someone’s gotta keep you safe.”

JJ chuckled before kissing you softly. “Anything you ask, baby. No more high-speed chases.” And he’d make damn sure of that.

--

navigation

[science-lings]

Extra details bc polls have a character limit and I am a certified yapper

1- Naturally quiet Bruce my beloved, selectively mute even. He knows he's bad at words and if he doesn't know what to say he just doesn't say anything at all and that is not good for being a decent communicator. Thankfully Cass doesn't need words to know, so they just hang out without saying a single thing.

2- Brucie is who he is when he HAS to interact with people and HAS to come off as 'normal' and it has never been who he really is. Also, this guy fixates on strategizing and some of the most random things with the excuse that it could be useful at some point, he has trouble in social and emotional situations. Yes, Battinson opened my eyes to this concept and I am not letting it go.

3-As much as I like the masks having glowing white lenses, I need them to put makeup on each other for crime-fighting reasons. Battinsons raccoon eyes are so important to me. I want to see him carefully putting some green eye makeup on a hyperactive 9 yo Dick Grayson RIGHT NOW

4-Titus and Ace have gone through therapy dog training (specifically for PTSD) and the rest are only qualified because they make Damian feel better, they don't actually get much special treatment. He just likes introducing people to his emotional support cow/turkey/bat-dragon-demon creature/ Alfred (cat).

5- I think canonically he can cook and the joke is that haha he needs Alfred to do everything for him but like this guy went alone off the grid for years and can in fact take care of himself or at least his basic health needs. The thing is that when he cooks he gets distracted while things are cooking and forgets to put on timers. He just puts food low on the scale of things that are important to pay attention to so if anything comes up to take his attention he's screwed. He works better if he's part of a group of people cooking or there's someone there to tell him to pay attention.

6- I think while the Waynes were alive, Alfred was mostly pretty distant, he was part of the staff even if he was one of their favorites. He wasn't Bruce's nanny or anything. But he was trusted by them and they didn't trust any other family to take care of Bruce in the event of their death. Even after the Incident, Alfred wasn't really prepared to raise a child, I feel like we always make Alfred the emotionally intelligent one when he mostly raised Bruce post-horrific trauma. I don't think Alfred is perfect, I think there was always that barrier keeping him and Bruce from really connecting during his childhood.

Bruce saw everyone leave, his parents, the rest of the staff, and he is convinced that one wrong move means that Alfred will leave him too so he doesn't want to do something wrong and drive his last person away. Even though he is a traumatized child filled with rage, every time it becomes too much and he gets into a fight or breaks something he is terrified that means Alfred will find someone else to take care of him. Slowly this fear fades but it comes back when he turns 18 bc that's when he becomes an adult which means Alfred won't be obligated to stick around. But it comes and goes and Alfred is... still there? It's only at this point that he starts to think of Alfred as part of his family and over the years he actually allows himself to think of Alfred as his father.

7- I don't think I have to explain this one, I think he has a weird relationship with sex and will seduce people for the Mission but has never been particularly into it. Sometimes he does it because that's what his partners want but if no one asks for it or there's no outside reason to do it, he has better things to do. Maybe he's even uncomfortable with it but can do it to keep up pretenses and because that's what Brucie would do.

8- I think the big scary vampire-coded vigilante should take off his big scary cape and wrap it around his kids and carry them off into the night. It's good for people going into shock as well. I think it is secretly very warm. It is also a good hiding place for robins of a certain size. Full-grown Jason would have trouble hiding there but its blanket use is still fully applicable.

9-We typically only see the big cavern with all the vehicles and the batcomputer but I think it would be fun if that was just the Hub of the cave system. There are tunnels that lead to labs and rooms made for the creation and upkeep of armor and other vigilante wear, there are quarantine rooms and containment vaults, target ranges and a surgery center and so much more. It is a labyrinth in there and there is always a new section being worked on. There is also a tunnel that leads to the Drake residence which made it especially easy for Tim to sneak home when he needed to.

10- how is this 40(?) yo man doing the splits while fighting, he does flips, how is he moving like that. He's not just a big strong guy, he's also fast and evasive and I like to think that aside from the lack of quips, he did a pretty good job convincing ppl he was Nightwing that one time.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi how are you? I love your writings❤️ Can I get a romantic matchup with LOTR, HOBBIT, Harry Potter, Marvel? I am 25. She/Her. I can match with a man or woman. I have short dark brown curly hair and hazel eyes. I have white skin, my height is around 1.65 and I'm curvy.

I'm generally introverted and cold-blooded. I'm stubborn. I'm generally pretty patient, but when I run out of patience I can get very grumpy. I'm a bit of a pessimist. I don't talk much outside unless necessary and prefer to observe. I am a good listener. To outsiders, I seem strict, distant and sometimes a little scary, but to those around me, I am very talkative, friendly, affectionate and fun. I'm also a good secret keeper, tell me anything and I'll take it to my grave. I am a faithful and loyal person. I'm a perfectionist. I always like to have everything orderly and under control, but sometimes it can be very challenging. I'm independent, I try not to get help for anything and I don't like to fit into certain stereotypes. I am always respectful and even interested in opposing views. I have a hard time voicing my opinions on anything, which can sometimes make me seem rude or disrespectful, but I really don't mean any harm. I'm a nerdy girl and I'm okay with that.✨️

I live in my own world. I love drawing, watching TV series and movies, and listening to music. I also love writing. I love learning new things about any subject. I love art, literature, philosophy, history and mythology. My favorite colors are black and green. I can listen to any genre of songs I like depending on my mood. But some of my Favorites are Diary of Dreams, The Gazette, The Neighbourhood, Chase Atlantic, One Republic, Marina and The Diamonds, Paris Paloma, Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Hozier, Melanie Martinez, Mitski, AC/DC and Iron Maiden. My favorite TV series is Hannibal. I love thrillers, true crime, detective and mystery, fantasy and sci-fi. I think these are the things that come to my mind right now... thank you! I hope you have a good day❤️

Hi! I am so sorry that I got to this so late! I feel terrible! <3

But, I hope you like your matchups!

{Trying a different layout}

Romantic Matchup; LOTR, The Hobbit, Harry Potter, and Marvel

~~~

Lord Of The Rings;

Aragorn -

You met Aragorn at the very beginning, and despite being a lady, you were personally invited by Lord Elrond himself to join the meeting to see who would take the ring to Mordor.

You didn't really talk much, or at all, but you observed, being a good listener; though, as one by one spoke up, debating, your attention went straight to the mysterious, tall, dark, and handsome stranger whose voice you really liked - he was handsome, as said, and he was bringing up some good points.

Hands clasped together in your lap, you watched as people began to argue, and you were just a smidge annoyed.

Well, who knew you were going to become part of the Fellowship Of The Ring?

It was difficult at the beginning of the journey. Gimli and Boromir were pretty adamant that the journey was no place for a lady - far too dangerous, they said!

But Aragorn, you had learned his name, stood up for you, bringing up the fact that Lord Elrond himself asked you to join, that they should all trust his judgment.

Well, you showed them, on more than one occasion, that you were a wise and strong person.

Now, throughout the journey, you had slowly, slowly gotten used to the people around you. The Hobbits were easy to befriend, honestly.

But, at some point, you had grown comfortable in their presence, enough that you had grown to become more talkative and friendly.

Though, it was different with Aragorn. You didn't know if it was just you, but you thought that maybe there was something different in the way he spoke to you than he did with the others. Maybe it was just you...

Maybe...

Well, it turns out that Aragorn was quite taken with you, having caught his eyes the moment you joined the meeting in Rivendell; dressed beautifully, presence respectful, and eyes shimmering with a certain intelligence and strength that captured his interest almost instantly.

And his interest had only grown the more he got to meet you, get to know, and understand you; not only were you intelligent, respectful, strong, and understanding, but you were also loyal and independent - something Aragorn admired greatly.

As the journey continues, minus the orcs and whatever troubles you all run into, you and Aragorn's bond begins to grow the more you spend together.

From late nights of keeping watch sharing your favorite stories and books to recalling your favorite topics in history; there are even nights when you talk the night away about everything your heart desires, until you fall asleep, your head resting on his shoulder.

Aragorn didn't have the heart to wake you...

Despite you being an incredibly good fighter and defender, Aragorn always makes sure that you are alright after an attack from orcs or something. You do the same, your eyes at the end of a fight would search for each other, small faint smiles of relief on your faces.

In the end, Aragorn gives you the best room while you and the rest of the Fellowship stay in his kingdom after he is crowned king. Your room is one of the biggest, and close to his room, in case you need anything.

He makes sure that you have everything that you could possibly need. Someone to wait on you in case you need something, need help changing, a bath to be drawn, a snack, anything. And do not worry, you are not a burden. Aragorn would do anything for you.

Another thing; Aragorn gifts you lavish clothing, in green and black, that you are comfortable in. The sight of the new article always brings a smile to your face and a rush of blood to your cheeks. And, of course, he always compliments you when he sees you.

Whilst you stay, Aragorn often finds you in the library, reading, drawing, or just admiring the view outside - he often joins you, to talk, laugh, or just spend time in your amazing company.

Aragorn finally confesses his feelings and admiration for you after you.

"You have been my strength through every shadow and trial - my heart has long been yours, though I have been too much a fool to say it."

Well, let's just say, that you didn't end up leaving after that.

You and Aragorn work seamlessly together, both of you valuing independence and the quiet strength that comes with keeping order. Patience is a shared virtue, though he is perhaps more steadfast than yours.

Your friendly and affectionate nature balances his quiet reserve, while your stubborn loyalty earns his deepest respect.

Even in moments when your pessimism clouds your thoughts, he admires your unwavering commitment to those you care for, finding strength in the fire that drives you.

~~~

The Hobbit;

Thorin Oakenshield -

You had run into the Dwarves and one Hobbit when they were getting attacked by the spiders in Mirkwood.

You were heading to Mirkwood - Thorin thought that was suspicious - but instead of just letting them suffer through spiders, you helped them cut out of webs and stab spiders to death; you were truly skilled fighter, it was no wonder most of the Company wanted to keep you.

Though you were a bit hesitant and distant - you met up with them, fighting off orcs, jumping in an empty barrel, and holding onto Bilbo so he wouldn't drown.

As you were all racing down the raging river, you didn't know if you were having fun or not. More like worrying over the whole group and making sure after every small waterfall that you counted each Dwarf.

One, two, three, ah, okay, all accounted for, all alive...

Thorin, even though you helped him and his family/friends out of danger, he didn't really know what to think of you. His blue eyes would watch you, observing you, as you also observed your surrounding, whilst also listening to the Dwarves about their stories and adventures.

He didn't know what to think of you at the very moment, but he thanked you for your help, to himself.

But you had been able to bond with most of the other Dwarves, like Fili and Kili, which consisted of laughter, shared stories, and affectionate hugs.

And when Kili was in pain, though you worried and your mind thought only of the worst, you held his hand.

These actions made the King Under The Mountain reconsider you for a moment. Maybe there was something different about you.

That night, as you curled close to the fire that night before he and the rest of the Company - minus a few - left for Erebor, Thorin found a spare blanket and placed it upon your sleeping form.

And only after the defeat of Smaug, and after the war - and everyone surviving - did he finally realize that maybe the 'something different' about you was actually because you might've been his One; he just was too stubborn to truly see it.

This new realization hit him hard, and at first, the King was scared. He had wished that he had gotten to know you more, had spoken to you more.

Well, you were here now, partying with the rest - of men, dwarves, elves, and Hobbits alike. Maybe, this was his chance to push aside his stubbornness and brooding and speak to you.

He made his move, surprising you by asking you to join him for a drink, where he gave you a goblet of red wine. And for the next hour or so, you spoke among yourselves, on the sidelines of the raging party. *Disco music.*

There, you and Thorin spoke about the music, your favorite instruments, books your loved to read, and more. All the while, you didn't seem to notice the way Thorin's eyes softened as you rambled slightly.

At the end of the first night of many more nights of partying and celebrating the return of their home, Thorin finally spoke up.

"You have fought beside me with a courage that humbles even a king - I would wish it that you stay here in Erebor a while longer, so I may properly show my gratitude."

It is while you are staying longer in Erebor that he finally reveals to you that you are his One.

To keep a long story short, all while courting, you and Thorin would sit by the fire and read quietly together, take walks through Erebor's halls, write sweet letters to each other, and Thorin would braid a piece of your hair, clasping it with his homemade, one-of-a-kind bead.

You and Thorin share a bond forged in mutual respect and quiet understanding.

He admires your love for reading and thirst for knowledge, seeing it as a strength that complements his vision for Erebor.

Even your perfectionist tendencies, though sometimes a point of contention, earn his respect - he sees in you someone who strives for greatness, much like himself.

Your unwavering support has become a pillar he relies on.

~~~

Harry Potter;

Remus Lupin -

You and Remus first met at Hogwarts as students, though your friendship didn’t blossom immediately.

You were a quiet, observant presence, often keeping to yourself. He was aware of you from a distance, admiring your calm, controlled demeanor, which differed from his more lighthearted friends.

It was a nice different.

Although you were distant from new and strange people, your shared classes often brought you together.

You both preferred studying in quiet corners of the library, where Remus noticed how you worked meticulously, seeing how much you loved to learn not only from books but also from lessons.

Finally, after you had both gotten use to each other, you began studying together in the library.

You even started correcting his notes.

When Sirius and James found out about that, they teased him.

Over time, you became close enough for him to see the softer, affectionate side you reserved for those you trusted.

You’d often listen patiently as he confided in you, especially during stressful times.

Full moon times. It had taken him a year and a half to tell you he was a werewolf, and he was incredibly nervous that you would tell everyone or just not be his friend anymore.

He was scared that you would look at him in disgust.

He would miss your hugs as hellos in the mornings, he would miss the peaceful conversations regarding your interests.

He would miss the way your face would light up at the mention of your favorite muggle movies or show, or how you would ramble beautifully on and on about myths and philosophy. He wouldn't dare stop you.

He loved the sound of your voice.

He was a bit of a pessimist himself.

Surprisingly, and to his shock, he found great comfort in your reaction. When he finally gathered the courage to tell you his secret, his heart raced, waiting for the look of disgust he feared you’d give him.

But instead, you remained calm, simply listening, your eyes thoughtful yet soft. You placed a hand on his, a simple gesture that spoke volumes, steadying him as you always had in the quiet way that had drawn him to you from the start.

“You’re still Remus." You had told him. “The rest doesn’t change who you are.”

Years after graduation, you both found yourselves back at Hogwarts, now as professors.

Remus was pleasantly surprised to see you again, finding it easy to pick up where you two had left off.

Your no-nonsense attitude and perfectionism made you a strict professor, yet students respected you for your dedication and fairness. And also quite enjoyed that you would give them little treats and snacks after long quizzes or tests.

Remus often visited your office to chat after classes. You’d sometimes scold him for his relaxed teaching style, though he found it endearing.

Despite your -sometimes - grumpy demeanor, you cared deeply, which he always noticed in the way you’d subtly check on his health and workload.

Especially when the full moons were around the bend.

Remus would find chocolate on his desk in DADA.

And you'd find books on your favorite topics on yours.

After long days of teaching, you and Remus would often sit by the fire in his quarters or yours, sharing tea or hot chocolate. The two of you would talk about myths, Muggle literature, and your favorite Muggle music, losing track of time until the early hours of the morning.

It reminded you of how you and Remus would sit in the Common Room studying until the wee hours of the morning.

He loved the way you spoke passionately about the things that you were interested in, and he’d always encouraged you to keep talking, no matter how tired he was.

You’d both spend hours in the library or his office, quietly reading together. He’d occasionally glance up from his book to watch you, marveling at how beautiful you looked when lost in thought. When you found an interesting passage, you’d excitedly share it with him, and he’d always listen intently.

Adding onto the topic of full moons; on the nights leading up to the full moon, you’d make sure he had everything he needed. You’d sit with him if he was feeling anxious. After the full moon, you’d bring him breakfast and sit with him while he rested, healing, reading aloud from his favorite books, or telling him stories to help him relax.

On particularly difficult days, you’d end up falling asleep together on the couch in either of your quarters, surrounded by books and papers for grading. He’d wake up first, brushing a strand of hair from your face, marveling at how peaceful you looked.

Those quiet moments reminded him just how much he loved you and how lucky he felt to have you by his side.

You and Remus are great together because you balance each other out perfectly - his calm, steady nature complements your quiet strength, while your loyalty and understanding provide him with the comfort and support he needs.

Together, you share a deep, unspoken bond, rooted in mutual respect, affection, and a quiet love that grows stronger with each and every passing day.

~~~

Marvel;

Natasha Romanoff -

As Avengers, you and Natasha work seamlessly together. Ever since the beginning, when she wasn't on solo missions or with Clint, you were with her.

Your cold-blooded efficiency in battle complements her own calculated and lethal style.

You’re both perfectionists who thrive on order and control, often planning out every detail of a mission to ensure success. While you can be distant or strict with new recruits, Natasha sees through your tough exterior and knows that beneath it lies a fiercely loyal and caring partner.

You're not one to speak much during operations, preferring to observe and stay silent, but Natasha appreciates the way you always anticipate the next move.

You’re skilled in hand-to-hand combat, just as skilled with weapons.

You’re not just observant on the battlefield but a force to be reckoned with. You’ve honed your combat skills, and even Natasha, with all her experience, finds herself impressed.

She often asks to spar with you, in which it often ends in a tie or the both of you winning the same amount of times.

Away from the chaos of the battlefield, you might not be as expressive or outgoing as some of the other Avengers, in the beginning. It takes you a bit to open up, but when you do, you have become friends with all of them.

You are talkative, laughing along, having fun with them; along with being affectionate, joking punches to the arm, or hugs goodbye.

However, when not spending time with the team, a quiet night spent watching movies or reading is how you like to spend your nights. Unless you are dragged to one of Tony's parties.

Natasha being similar to you, needs time to really get to know you, see what makes you tic, before she can truly let herself be vulnerable around you. And you have proven to her that you were worthy enough, and trustful enough for her to break out of her own shell.

She finds herself finding you around the tower, joining you in the kitchen to grab a snack, or even joining in when you put on your favorite show; Hannibal.

This friendly bonding becomes more and more often, almost weekly you and Natasha find yourselves spending more time together, even time with just the two of you.

The more you spent together, the more the bond between the two of you began to bloom into something more, something beautiful.

"You know... I think I trust you more than anyone else." She would speak up randomly as you both sat against the headboard of your bed, watching your favorite movie.

"Even Stark?" You would ask.

"Yeah, even him." She would reply, her smile matching yours.

Before you knew it, everything would shift.

From small, gentle brushes of the fingers as either pass by or a rare, soft smile just for each other... It was obvious that there was something happening between you two.

On lazy days - not really, the both of you end up in the gym sparring most lazy days - but if you aren't in the gym; pushing for each other to be better, you and Nat would sit in quieter corners of the tower, away from the hustle of the others.

She'd sit beside you as you read, her hand resting on your leg or her head resting on your shoulder. She would sit and listen to you read, or when you weren't reading aloud, she would rest her eyes, maybe even nap; the soft sound of Paris Paloma and Lana del Rey in the background

As a couple, Natasha respects your boundaries and your need for space, but when she needs you, you’re always there— - strong and reliable. In return, she supports you, offering her own quiet form of affection.

You’re never truly alone.

You balance each other, and neither you nor Nat would have it any other way.

[strawbrerian-writes]

Take Me As I Am

Summary:

Long after the fall of a death lord, Lucien and Elain have become friends. Teammates even. He's learned to be content in this, never believing he could have more. As his parents prepare to take their vows, he's readying himself to become Prince of Day, and Elain has a question for Lucien.

for @elucienweekofficial

“Lucien?” 

Lucien slowly looked up from his book at the quiet intrusion, the scent of jasmine and honey filling the space. Elain was standing in the open door to his rooms, dressed in a long linen robe covering much of her sun-kissed skin.

“Yes, Lady?” Lucien stood, cognizant of the fact he was only in a pair of low-slung linen pants and a loose white tunic. He laid his book on the small table beside him. She seemed nervous her hands fisted in the tie of her robe.

“What is your least favorite food?” she asked the question in a rush. Lucien barely caught it.

“Why do you want to know?” Lucien asked in return, cocking his head just slightly. His long, unruly hair brushed over his shoulders. He shifted his weight, settling against the back of the sage green armchair he’d been lounging in.

“Don’t answer my question with a question, fox,” she quipped, standing a straighter as she found her courage. Jutting her chin forward, Elain marched into the room.

It made Lucien smile. To have her here. In his room, in his court. In his home.

Getting to that point was no easy task. She was cautious, skeptical, and surprisingly, the most stubborn of all three sisters. It had taken months, years even, from the moment he met her to the day she decided they were friends. Of course, a little danger and the heavy potential for death tended to bring to light long buried things.

After Koschei, after nearly dying in her arms, Lucien found that Elain did have feelings for him. Though even now, they spent time most of their time dancing around each other. She was just more likely to join him on his trips and whims now then to let him leave without her. 

She’d arrived in Day just that morning, coming ahead of the rest of the Night Court for the wedding. Tomorrow, his mother would marry Helion. His place would be solidified and legitimized in the Day Court. Elain would be beside him through it, had insisted she be there. The knowledge thrilled him.

He questioned why she’d arrived so early, and she’d brushed him off. Claiming a desire to assist his mother before the wedding, as well as keep the hot-blooded Vanserra’s calm.

“We make a good team,” she’d claimed. “And I know this is going to be awkward and overwhelming for you. To go from exiled seventh son of one high lord to the heir and prince of another, and teammates stick together.”

Lucien had only given her a hug, because it might have been the nicest thing she’d ever done for him outside of saving his sorry ass, and then whisked her off to wherever Sylva was fretting. He’d spied her flitting from room to room, but hadn’t been able to talk to her until now.    

Lucien thought for a moment, tapping his long fingers against his chin. “I supposed it’d be … century eggs.” 

It was Elain’s turn to quirk her head. Golden-brown hair tumbled over her shoulder, her robe shifting with it. Lucien struggled to keep his eyes on her face and off the sun-kissed skin revealed.

She’d be the death of him one day. Though he knew he’d die a happy man.

“100-year-old eggs?” Elain asked skeptically. The peach-colored robe dipped a little further, exposing a delicate collarbone.

Lucien wanted to dip his head and run his tongue across the exposed skin. His instincts riding him to taste, taste, taste. He adjusted his stance, crossing his legs as he reclined on the back of the chair. One hand gripped the wooden frame to give him some grounding, while the other pushed his hair off his face.  

“No, not a hundred years old,” Lucien answered, his voice just a touch strained. He watched her pink lips purse as he spoke. “Though, they are left to ferment for one hundred days.”

Those full lips twisted into a snarl, adorable nose scrunching up in disgust. “Why is it called a century egg then?” she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her. The movement pushed her small breasts upward.

Lucien stole a glance before shaking his head trying to dislodge the lewd thoughts trying to surface.

“I don’t have an answer for that,” he admitted. Elain sighed and walked around his sitting room.

“What is it, exactly?” she asked while perusing one of his bookshelves, running her fingers lightly across the spines.

“An egg,” Lucien laughed. Elain threw him a look over her shoulder. He winked his good eye and shot her a smile back. “One that’s fermented for 100 days until it turns black.”

“Ugh, why?” she groaned. She pulled a book from the shelf whose spine had little green vines decorating it and flipped it open.

It was a book of the horticulture of Scythia. It depicted the native plants and flowers of the small southern kingdom. Vassa thought Elain would enjoy it, and thus gave it to Lucien.

“Probably started from someone just trying to survive and evolved into a delicacy,” Lucien shrugged. “It tastes about as gross as it sounds, I promise.” 

‘Where did you try one?” she asked, fingers running over the pages. She had that cute little crease in her nose when she concentrated hard. Lucien watched her do it often when they were in Spring, trying to convince a sullen Tamlin that yes, he had to deadhead the roses.  

“Dawn,” he replied easily. “They hail from the continent, originally. From Xian, though several street vendors sell them in the market district, if you’d like to try one for yourself next time we go.”

“No thank you!” Elain squeaked, slamming the book closed. “I have no desire to eat a black fermented egg.”  

Lucien laughed “Then why did you ask?”

The faintest hint of a blush creeped over Elain’s skin, over that collarbone, up her neck. Lucien tracked it like a predator tracking prey.

It was intoxicating. He wanted to lick the trail up the side, bite at her pulse point until she was as breathless as he felt. He wanted --

“There’s still a lot to learn about each other,” she whispered softly, interrupting his thoughts. He watched her nose flare slightly, breathing in.

Shit. He could smell his own arousal beginning to saturate the air around them. She had to be scenting him.

Lucien nodded tightly. “True, very true,” he murmured. His chest thrummed, the mating bond tugging on him. Taste, claim, mate. His cock twitched to life in his trousers. He wanted to give in. Let go and think with his lesser brain. Things were so…good between them.

He couldn’t risk it. Precisely because things were so good between them. He couldn’t push her. She didn’t want the bond. Not yet. In all their time together, they hadn’t broached that subject. Still a sore point he supposed.

That sobered him a bit.

Elain brushed a thick strand of golden curls behind her ear. She put the book back on the shelf and turned, a small smile on her face.

“Mine’s nowhere near as exciting. It’s celery,” she said, fixing the robe over her shoulder. Lucien fought back his frown. “It just tastes like stringy watery weeds. I hate it.”   

“Duly noted,” he nodded. “My favorite is —”

“An apple tart sprinkled with cinnamon and a strong cider for the drink,” she finished with a grin. “Remember Eris’ birthday?”

Lucien’s face lit up at the memory. Elain had thrown the newly crowned high lord a birthday party during their trip to Autumn, and Eris kindly repaid her by getting Lucien so shitfaced he stood on the tables singing bawdy tavern songs and eating apple tarts and performing like a court jester.  

“I remember nothing,” he lied with a grin.

Elain threw her head back with a warm laugh that wrapped itself around his heart. It was enough to bring Lucien to his knees if he’d let it.  

“If I recall,” he continued, basking in the glow of her smile “you both conspired against me that night.”

“I seem to recall a certain emissary who couldn’t hold his liquor eating about twelve of those tarts before they came back up,” she teased, close enough now she poked his chest with one delicate finger. On instinct Lucien grabbed her wrist with one of his larger hands, holding it there.

“I can hold my liquor just fine. It’s not quite as easy when I’m drinking for you as well. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice you slipping me your whiskey every time one of my brothers refilled it?” Lucien smirked.

Elain opened her hand until her palm rested against his chest. The linen of his shirt was thin, her hand burning a hole through to his heart. She looked up at him with doe eyes, lips still pulled into a smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my lord,” she said, voice breathy and light.

Lucien held her there, so close that one step and they’d be flush against each other. They’d been here before. That night in Autumn. Lucien, blitzed off fire whiskey and faerie wine, had decided to give in, to go for it. He’d followed her back to her rooms, stood just like this before her. Ready to give her everything. He’d believed she wanted it then too, with her face turned up eyes wide and wet lips parted, or at least the alcohol let him think it. But before he could taste those sweet lips –

“Are you going to puke on my shoes this time too?” Elain asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she fisted her tiny hand in his shirt. He opened his mouth to argue when it hit him in the chest.

A sweet, musky scent right under the jasmine and honey. She was aroused. As soon as he released the groan that had been building, Elain ripped on the bond between them until he nearly fell into her. He had to wrap his arms around her to steady himself. Elain wound both hands into the collar of his tunic.

“Tell me to leave,” she whispered against his chest. Lucien leaned down, running his nose through her hair, drunk off the clean scent of her. He barely ghosted his lips over the gentle arch of her ear.

“Do you want me to?” he whispered into that soft ear. She shuddered and shook her head against his chest. “Then stay, Elain. Please.”

Lucien gently cupped the side of her face with one large hand, the other sliding up her back to pull her closer until there was no room between their bodies. Her soft flesh gave against his hard muscle.

Elain let him tilt her head up, lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath.  Her arousal was so potent he wanted to drown in it. Wanted to breath it in until all he could smell was his mate wanting him.

“Lucien…”

The sound of his name on her lips did him in. He leaned down, intending their first kiss to be gentle, just a brush of lips before he devoured her whole. Elain had other plans. She rose up and crashed her lips against his. He rocked back with the force of it, taking it all and moving against her.

Her fingers ran a trail up from his chest to his hair and buried themselves, holding him against her as she licked the seam of his lips. He parted them quickly, taking the opportunity to meet her tongue as it delved into his mouth. All thought escaped him at that first taste of her. His mind that had been running with a thousand questions just…stopped.

He devoured her. Pressing hard, scraping his teeth along her tongue, licking the inside of her mouth like he was trying to memorize it. She met him blow for blow. Nip for nip. Hands flying across his body, nails gently scraping against his shirt and skin.

Finally, Elain withdrew just enough to wrap her lips around the tongue in her mouth and suck, flicking the tip of it with her own tongue. Like a promise, for what could come. He moaned obscenely into that mouth. There wasn’t a drop of blood left in the rest of his body. His cock held on to that promise and began to throb, screaming at him.  

Lucien wrapped her curls around one hand and pulled until she had to release him, a pathetic little moan slipping from her lips. Her eyes were wild with want. She liked her hair pulled. He put that away for later.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he began, “but where did that come from?”

Fear flooded her eyes, replacing the desire that had just burned him. Idiot, you fucking idiot, his cock threatened mutiny. Elain began to pull away as her hands fell to her side.  

“I-I’m so--”

“No,” he interrupted. He adjusted his grip, holding her tighter, giving her no room to escape. His erection dug into her hip. “Never apologize to me, Elain. I’m just…confused. Very fucking happily confused.”

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered. “That’s what you are.”

“Certifiably, sweetheart,” he chuckled. He dip his head to her neck and placed a gentle kiss there before looking back into her eyes. She watched him, half wary. “Still waiting on that answer though.”

Elain ducked her head into his chest, mumbling something incoherent. Though he could make out the word mistake.

Lucien’s heart dropped. Of course, she’d think it was a mistake. He made to drop his hands and step away. “I don’t want to be your mistake, Elain,” he hissed, a little harsher than he meant.

Her hands gripped his biceps and dug in. He met her eyes, surprised to see fear mingled with the silver tears. He lifted a hand to brush them away before they fell, the pad of his thumb resting on her cheek.

“You could never be a mistake, Lucien. You’re my choice,” Elain nearly choked out the admission. “I’ve wanted this for months. I was just…was trying to say — “

“I don’t give a fuck,” Lucien growled. He grabbed at her with more force than he meant, both hands enveloping her entire head, and crushed his lips to hers.

If he’d thought he was devouring her before, it was nothing on that moment.

The thread in his ribs sang out, going taut and…thickening? He’d try to decipher it but Elain gasped so deliciously and that was his opening. His tongue delved into her mouth once more, fucking her mouth like he would her cunt just as soon as she let him. It took Elain all of a breath to regain herself and match him.

The kiss was wild, all tongue and teeth. He was a madman. He lived and died in the space between their mouth. She bit his lip hard enough to bring blood and the taste of himself mixed with her broke him. He slid his hands under the curve of her perfect little ass and dug in, lifting her. His mouth slid from hers long enough for him to bury his face in her neck, sucking and biting the pulsing flesh there.

Lucien’s stumbled across the room as Elain’s fingers threaded through hair, pulling at the scalp. With little urging, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her robe riding up around her thighs. Lucien immediately took advantage of the exposed skin, shifting his grip until he could run calloused hands over the smooth skin revealed. She ground her hips against his erection and growled.

Elain growled at him.

Lucien was a goner. He bit her then, hard and claiming, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Elain made some noise between a whimper and a moan that stilled him. Then her hand was there on his head, urging him to continue. So he did. Licking, biting, sucking his way back up to her face. No one in his entire existence had tasted like this, had felt like this. He could come from her lips on his alone. From the feel of her heat so close to his cock. They’d barely done more than made out and he was undone. He felt like a boy groping his first pair of tits.

Speaking of, he’d yet to actually feel his mate’s breasts.

He sat on the bed, Elain straddling his lap. His hands immediately fell on her breasts over her robe. They fit so perfect in the palm of his hands, so pliant and warm. His thumbs teased and pulled at the still covered nipple. He wanted to throw her down, rip the robe from her and put his mouth on them. He broke the kiss finally, pulling her hair back, exposing the long length of her neck, already bruising from his ministrations.

Good he wanted his mark on her.

His lips immediately went to the dip of her collarbone, that damned thing that had been teasing him from behind that robe. He kissed once, twice before licking his way up her neck.

Elain kept her head thrown back in both ecstasy and submission to his hand on her breast. She ground down, straight onto his weeping, throbbing cock and moaned at the friction. Lucien whimpered, his control nearly a forgotten memory.

He let go of her breasts, hands finding the end of her robe and nightgown as he began to bunch it together, intending to rip it off her, when small hands stopped him. Disoriented, he pulled away from her. Her pupils were blown, the black covering the brown. Her cheeks were ruddy, breath coming in hot pants on his face.

Elain shook her head once. Lucien stopped immediately, bringing his hands to her back just to hold her.

“No?” His voice was low, rugged. He’d stop. He’d set her down, tuck her in his bed, go straight to the bath and stay there all night if she wished.

Elain, the tease, rocked against him again, hard. They both moaned, gasping for air as Lucien rested his forehead on hers.

“No,” she breathed out finally, stopping her hips. Lucien made to move her but Elain once again threaded her hands in his hair. This time she gripped it by the root and pulled his throat to her mouth, where she began biting all along the base.

Lucien’s eyes rolled up in his head. “Elain… you’re giving me very mixed signals here,” he growled out, head lolling to the side while she mouthed at his neck. He was going crazy, bathing in the scent of her arousal while she bit and pushed him away.

Elain slowed her kissing, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “You taste so …good,” she groaned into his skin. “It’s so hard to stop. Is it the bond? Is that what makes you so …delicious?”

Lucien chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down her spine. She was trembling, the poor thing. “No,” he whispered. “I just taste that fucking good.”

Elain laughed into his neck, her breath tickling him. The vibration of her laugh shook her core, and his cock, embarrassingly hard and wedged between them. If she did that one more time, he’d come in his pants. He was already weeping so much his linen pants were ruined.

“I’m not ready to… lie with you,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Then don’t,” he said into her hair, stilling running his hand along her spine. “There’s no rush.”

“You aren’t upset?” she looked up at him, eyes big and hopeful. How could he be upset with her? She could do nothing but kiss him like that for the rest of their lives and he’d take it.

“Of course not. I will be elated with whatever you choose to share. I am just happy to be here with you,” he acknowledged softly. “It is a far cry from you running from the room when I enter.”

She batted at his chest with an indignant yelp. “I can still run you know.”

Lucien tightened his hold slightly, just enough to draw her attention. “Run this time, little fawn and I’ll chase you,” he teased, nipping at her nose. She squeaked.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he stated, stroking her cheek with one long finger. “So…months, huh?”

Elain blushed. “Yes,” she admitted. “Since before Autumn at least, though I think it was then that I realized what exactly I wanted.”

“Which is what, Elain?” Lucien asked, half afraid of the answer.

Elain smiled, holding his face between her hands. “For now, I want to sleep in your bed. If that’s ok?”

Lucien quirked a brow, then stood, still holding her tight to him. “You have to go to your side, I’m very partial to this side,” he said as explanation while walking around the bed.

“My side?”

He nodded. “Been reserved for you for a while.”

He gently lowered her to the bed, brushing the hair from her forehead with one hand while the other pulled the coverlet up.

“Oh?” she smiled as she settled into the pillow.

“Yeah,” he grinned. He reached for her hand as he knelt by the bed. “I’m sorry…I got carried away,” he apologized, squeezing her much smaller hand in both of his.  

Elain raised one eyebrow incredulously. “Luicen, I attacked your face with my mouth.” His grin widened. “I wanted it. I still want it. There’s just…I want to do this my way. Can you give that to me?”

Lucien nodded. “There’s no limit to what I can give you.”

He’d meant it to be a romantic gesture, but perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. Elain rose off the pillow so quickly she nearly crashed into his chin. “Will you give me my own Pegasus?”

He roared a laughed. “What the hell would you do with a Pegasus?”

“I’d love him, of course,” she sniffed. “Besides it would make Nesta so incredibly jealous she’d probably scream.”

“Why Elain Archeron, you do have a little wicked in you, don’t you?” Lucien teased, brushing a kiss to her temple. He’d have to talk with Helion, find some way to wheedle or beg but Elain would get her Pegasus.

“A lady never tells,” she giggled. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Ah…not right now,” Lucien stammered. He could feel his dark skin turning a little red. He was still painfully, glaringly hard. If he didn’t take care of it now, he’d likely wind-up covering them both in his own spend in his sleep. After which, he’d have to walk off the highest cliff he could find and pray the cauldron let him have a quick death.

“I need a quick bath. To cool off,” he offered as explanation, resting his forehead to hers. “I’ll be right back. If you want me to.”

“You’ll stay with me?” She asked softly. He nodded.

“Of course, love.”

Lucien stood and turned to walk to the en suite, trying to hide the wet tent in his pants.

“Think of me in here!” Elain called out before the door closed.

***

Her side of the bed was empty, cold, her scent lingering on the sheets, his skin. He had taken a deep breath that morning, drinking the remnants of her in. Had he chased her off? If the way she was clinging to him through the night were indication, he’d say no.

Still, Lucien had woken up alone. 

She had missed the entire ceremony.

He’d thought perhaps she went to join her family. The guests had started arriving that morning. Though she seemed ready to be with him, perhaps she still wanted to hide their budding…whatever from her family. 

Still, she promised to be there for him. They were a team.

But Feyre had glided in on Rhysand’s arm, as lovely as ever in a gown of rich purples. Nesta and Cassian had arrived shortly after, each holding onto one of Morrigan’s toned arms. Elain was nowhere in sight.

Neither was the shadowsinger. Which had been a source of petty joy for Lucien until he began to wonder if perhaps that was the reason for his mate’s absence. Had Azriel held her up? Found her in some corner waiting for her family only to scent Lucien on her and whisk Elain away for safety.

Lucien had never forgotten how the winged male had actively pursued his mate. He’d tried not to hold it against the entire court, who had dangled Elain in front of him whilst one of their own slipped in behind him. Elain was free to make her own choices after all.

She still was.

Lucien growled, unable to control the slant of his thoughts.

The wedding was long over. Helion and his mother had quite literally ridden off into the sunset on the back of a pegasus while the partygoers were instructed to dance, drink, and revel for as long as they pleased.

And Elain wasn’t there.

It drove Lucien so deep in his cups he couldn’t remember his own count, nor the name of the female with the big green eyes currently trying her best to flirt with him. His mind was wrapped up too deeply with thoughts of his missing mate. Turi maybe? Yuri?

Where the hell was she? Had she already changed her mind? Was he cursed to a miserable life without her after having just learned how she tasted, the beginnings of the sounds she makes. And if that bat had her tied up…

Politics be damned, he’d gut him. Hang his wings and head from the top of the palace.

Down killer, Feyre chuckled into his mind. He tried to resist the urge to flinch and wound-up swaying on his feet. Her name’s Illya by the way. How’d you fuck that up so bad?

Lucien groaned. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

Green eyes narrowed; her painted brows furrowed together. “You’re not even listening,” she hissed with a thick accent, punctuating it with what he was sure were curses in a different language before turning heel and running off.

“That went well,” Feyre mocked. She sidled up beside him, glass of wine in hand.

Lucien tried to glare at her. At least, he was pretty sure he picked the right High Lady – there were three of them standing beside him after all. They all looked him up and down in unison. As the newly crowned Prince of Day, he had a loose robe draped across his chest, pinned over one shoulder with a golden brooch shaped like a burning sun – clothes fitting his father’s court. He wore green linen pants under the robe, however. He wasn’t sure his cock would behave around Elain, and he wanted the extra fabric between them.

A lot of use they turned out to be.

“Pretty sure you’re going to have whiskey dick at this point, my friend,” Feyre nodded to his cup before taking a sip of her own. Lucien snarled. Or, tried to, but it came out half strangled by the burp that overtook it. “Classy.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he slurred. It had been a long day and was becoming a longer night. He needed to sit down. Jerk himself to the memory of Elain’s tits bouncing in his face until he was raw and go to sleep.

“Ugh, I do not want that image in my head,” Feyre groaned, shaking her head as if it would dislodge the thought.

“Don’t go where you’re not welcome.”

“True,” she nodded. “But I was worried about you.”

Lucien slid his eyes over to his friend as he tried to grin to the one in the middle. He was pretty sure that one was actually Feyre. They were standing outside the main party, the ballroom still full despite the late hour. Cassian and Nesta were spinning in circles so tight and neat in the center of the dance floor that Lucien felt motion sick from the sight alone.

He looked away. Everyone was smiling. Happy. Enjoying themselves.

Why couldn’t he?

“Because you’re in love,” Feyre answered his thought with a whisper.

Lucien cut back to her. “I thought I just said stay out of there.”

She shrugged, completely unconcerned with the boundary she was crossing. “Still worried, Lucien. Besides I have permission.”

His mechanical eye whirred at that, tightening in on her aura. She didn’t have any unusual wards on her, nothing outside the ordinary for foreign dignitaries. At least, he was pretty sure of that. He was only 75% certain he was even staring at the right Feyre, the three fae heads still dancing in front of him. “From who,” he slurred again. “I didn’t give you any permission.”

“From me,” a soft voice came from behind him. “I asked her to.”  

Lucien whipped around, swaying so hard Feyre and Elain both had to reach out and catch him to keep him upright.  

“Are you alright?” Elain said softly. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t move or breathe. His heart was thundering in his chest.

She was here.

Elain was here.

 Finally.

He drank in the sight of her. She was glowing. Her long golden hair swept over one shoulder, one side of it with three little braids behind her ear — the exact way he wore his hair. Golden earrings dangled from her arched ears, little suns dancing by her long neck. She was wearing a beautiful, muted orange. A long gown, tight through the bodice and embroidered with tiny crimson leaves. The skirt slit all the way to her hip, showing miles of creamy white skin — scandalous. She was wearing the laced up sandals common in Alexandrina. She was dressed in Day Court style…in Autumn colors.

Lucien was speechless.

“I was going to see if you wanted to go for a walk, but…” Elain trailed off, making an exaggerated effort to look him over. She still held him by one arm, Feyre clutching the other between her tattooed arms. “What happened to you?”

“You missed the wedding,” Feyre answered for him. She was straining to hold in a smile.

Shock seemed to register on Elain’s face before she contained it, her mouth twitched. One delicate brow rose above those beautiful doe eyes. “You’re drunk? Because of me?”

Lucien could feel his face heating. He nodded his head in an attempt to shake out the cobwebs.

“Absolutely hammered,” he admitted sheepishly, leaning a bit more into her touch. He needed it. Needed the confirmation she was real and not a fever dream brought on by three full bottles of fire whiskey — and two bottles of wine. “I…didn’t think you were coming back.”

“He thought you were fucking Azriel,” a deep voice interrupted with glee. Lucien cursed.

“Rhysand!” Feyre admonished. She let go of Lucien to slap her mate’s chest with one tattooed hand. Lucien swayed before wrapping his arm around Elain. He pulled her close and tried to hold his own weight but his legs kept struggling. Elain bore the weight with a small smile.

Rhys’s feline grinned widened as his eyes glazed over from whatever Feyre must’ve told him mind to mind. He focused those violet eyes on Lucien. “I was stopping by to …”

“Be a nosy fucker,” Feyre hissed. Takes one to know one, Lucien thought loudly. He wasn’t quite sure how it worked but with the look the high lady shot him, he was certain his message got through.

“Extend an offer to return to Velaris for the evening,” Rhys continued, his grin never faltering. “The townhouse is empty. Mor tells me that Helion is planning…something for his sunrise return. And this party is one more tango from devolving into an open-air orgy. I thought I’d offer you an opportunity to escape.”

Lucien opened his mouth to…disagree he thought. At least to tell Rhysand where to shove it when Elain began nodding, vigorously.

“I didn’t…consider that,” she whispered. Then she stuck up her chin. “Yes, I think we’d like that.”

We? She caught Lucien’s gaze. “Right, Lucien?”

He’d follow her to hell if she asked. He meant to tell her. To say something profound and romantic. How he was hers to command, her loyal servant. Wherever she would go he would follow.

“I’m yours.” Well, that worked.

Elain’s answering smile was…everything.

Once, when he was a boy, his mother took him to a little cabin by the ocean. They slipped out in the earliest hours so he could dip his feet in the cool water and watched the sun rise over the waves. She held him tightly as they watched the stars blink out, one by one, the sky fade from darkest purple to orange to the brightest blue he’d ever seen.

In all his years, that was the moment he felt most loved. Even with Jesminda. Even with his friends and family.

Until Elain smiled at him.  

“Fantastic. Feyre darling?”

“I’ll take Elain. You can winnow the drunk home,” she declared, reaching for her sister’s arm. Elain gave him one last lingering look, and then they were gone.

Lucien’s thundering chest guttered at that.   

Winnowing when drunk had always been a nightmare. Something about folding the world while the senses were out of commission made him feel like he’d been dragged behind a horse running circles. Even just going across the room made him ill.

Across the courts? His clothes were not making it out of this clean.

Vomit on me Little Lucien, and I assure you, I will return the favor, Rhys’ smooth voice purred in his head.

Sympathetic puker?

A dark chuckle. Ask Cassian.

Rhys stepped up and offered his hand to Lucien at arm's length.

“Sure you don’t want to hold me a little tighter?” Lucien crooned, taking the offered hand. “What if you drop me?”

“Shit floats,” Rhys smirked. The High Lord of Night gave no warning before Lucien’s world tilted sharply.

As everything around him folded, trees and lakes and mountains blinked by faster than his eyes could truly process, Lucien held tight to the promise in Elain’s smile. Even as they were deposited in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lucien, golden brown skin turned sickly pale, immediately emptied his stomach onto the hardwood.

“Mind the shoes, please,” Rhys hummed beside him. Lucien, not entirely on purpose, puked again. The resulting splatter hitting Rhys’ black boots.

Feyre laughed somewhere in the townhouse. Lucien righted himself as the door began to open. He shot a panicked glance at Rhysand, who waved his hand nonchalantly, whisking the vomit and its horrendous smell away.

Thank you. He tried to convey.

Rhys inclined his head, a small smile playing on his lips the only indicator that he’d heard Lucien’s thoughts.

“Come on Rhys, let’s get him to the sofa, hmm?” Feyre reached for the unsteady Lucien, who graciously took her offered help. Rhys grabbed his bicep leading them through to the living room where Elain was waiting, a glass of tea in her hand.

“Try not to ruin the upholstery, please,” Rhys pleaded, depositing him on the sofa. Feyre tucked her chin into her mate’s shoulder, but not before Lucien caught the grin she was fighting. 

“No promises,” Lucien groaned and settled into the soft cushions. Cauldron, it felt so nice to sit down, even if his head was still spinning so fast he could barely keep up.

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain piped up. Lucien felt her warm presence beside him before he ever opened his eyes. Even without the bond thrumming in his chest he’d know her. Her spirit sang to him.

And here he was, so in love he couldn’t bare it, and too piss-drunk to do anything about it.

Again.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Feyre said softly as she tugged on her mate’s arm. Lucien nodded, the motion setting off another wave of nausea, as they winnowed out.

Leaving him and Elain. Alone. 

“Drink this,” his mate urged. She lifted a cup of tea to his lips and gently poured the liquid in as he opened for her. “It’s ginger. It’ll settle your stomach, at least.”

He hummed his gratitude. He kept his eyes firmly screwed shut against the low fae-light in the sitting room. He didn’t imagine this was how tonight would go. He’d hoped that it would end in a bed. Preferably with those long legs wrapped tight around his head, shaking.

Elain nudged at his head derailing his thoughts before they fell any further down the gutter. “Raise up a little…there, now come back,” she instructed as she parked herself on the couch, with his head in her lap.

Her fingers immediately went to his hair and began to brush it out, long strands gliding over her knuckles. It pulled lightly at his scalp, and he purred.

 He purred.

Elain chuckled softly, head cocked as their eyes met and held. He’d known people who considered brown eyes ordinary, unremarkable things. No, to Lucien Elain’s deep brown eyes held all the warmth of the earth after a summer rain. They were where life began and ended. Should he be so lucky to spend all his days staring into them.

While he waxed poetic in his drunkenness over the beauty of his mate’s eyes, she began to withdraw. Her hand stilled in his hair. Her eyes began to shine ever so slightly with rising tears. His heart guttered.

No, his Elain wasn’t supposed to be sad. She’d shed enough tears for this life. No more. He had to say something. Do something to stop them.

“Lucien, I’m sorry I …”

“I love you,” Lucien blurted out at the same time.

Okay, not where he meant to go, but there it is.

Elain’s eyes widened, mouth hanging open.

Lucien had always been smooth with his words. It was one of the reasons he was asked to be emissary. He could sway almost anything to his advantage, navigate inter-court relations and politics with ease, and talk his way out of damn near everything.

So, he decided to just keep going.

“I know this has never been easy between us. I know that I’m not what…what you wanted.” He winced. “I know you saw me as a villain at worst, and at best a nuisance. A sword hanging over your head. Something you never wanted but felt chained to from the moment you were poured out of that cauldron. The enemy who stood by while your life, love and everything you knew was taken from you. And I…I could live a thousand lifetimes, Elain, and I’d never be worthy of your forgiveness. Never worthy of you. I’ve always known this, but…all I ever wanted was to get to know you.”

“Lucien…” Elain’s voice was soft, emotion heavy in her throat. Lucien shook his head where it lay on her thighs.

“No, please…just let me get this off my chest.”

She searched his face for a moment before she whispered. “Alright.”

“I was so confused. So on edge, myself. I thought I’d lost my mate years before even your own father was born. I thought I’d never have a chance at that kind of love again. And there you were… all …” he choked, unable to say the words he felt upon seeing Elain poured from that cauldron. Upon the knowledge that he’d had even the slightest hand in it. “I wanted to know you, Elain. All I have ever wanted since the moment you fell out of that cauldron was time. Time to correct my mistakes. Time to beg for forgiveness.” Lucien swallowed, his mouth inexplicably dry. He ripped his chest open, baring all he was to his mate. He only had once chance at this.

And he was shitfaced.

“Mostly, though,” he began again, his voice a tad hoarser, “I wanted time to get to know you, to learn what makes you tick. What drives you to wake up in the morning. Whether you prefer the sunrise to the sunset, and if you take sugar in your tea. And I know… I know when you saw me, you only saw a monster. An unwanted burden.”

Elain began to shake her head, unshed tears threatened to spill over her eyes. Lucien was unable to raise his head up. He was barely holding in his own tears, his heart deafening in his ears. He gently cupped her cheek with one calloused hand.  

“Don’t…we both know I was never your first choice Elain. Not even your second. You’ve never…anyway, I know the bond was never what you wanted. And now that I know you, I can’t go back Elain. I can’t go back to the me who never knew your name. But…I would carve out my own heart if you wanted. I’d pack my bags tonight, leave for the continent. Waste away in some village no one has ever heard of. Fuck everything else in this life, Elain. I love you. I live or die by your word, sweetheart. Tell me to go and I’m gone. Tell me to stay…tell me you love me and I will spend every day of –”

“I love you,” she interrupted. Tears flowed freely down her face and dropped on his cheek.

Lucien snapped up though the motion brought a new wave of nausea. He gripped the back of the chair as he searched her face. She was…smiling.

She loved him? 

“For cauldron’s sake Lucien the only reason I missed the wedding was because I can’t winnow and you had to pick something so fucking difficult to get ahold of.” The curse rolled off her tongue with an ease that made him giddy. She didn’t speak that freely around the others.

Her words finally registered in his liquor addled brain.

“Huh?” Lucien, who’d given a heartful impromptu speech, was nearly speechless. Maybe he’d passed out when Rhys was winnowing him and this was all some alcohol induced fever dream.

“Oh for crying…this Lucien!” Elain exclaimed, grabbing a small box off the table beside the teacup. How long had that been sitting there?

 “I had to ask for Eris’ help to get there and he thought it’d be hilarious to drop me off on the other side of the city. Then I had to hunt down someone willing to show me the right place. I got lost three times. Then getting back was a disaster,” Elain rambled. She paused and took a deep breath.

“I asked you what your least favorite food was for a reason, Lucien,” she said softly as she began to untie the ribbon on the little black box. “This has never been easy for us. You were right, I did see you as a villain. We were raised to fear the fae, that you would steal us away in the night if we weren’t vigilant. We went against what we’d been taught, opened our home to fae and what happened? We were quite literally stolen away in the night. On two different occasions.”

Lucien winced. He so often forgot how it all must’ve been for them. When Feyre was taken by Tamlin, and then Hybern. Shame threatened to overwhelm him, and he must have flooded the bond with it because Elain paused in her unwrapping to lay a hand on his thigh.

“I know now that’s not the case, Lucien,” she said softly. “You never meant us harm. I know that…had you known, you would’ve fought against it with everything you were.”

He could only shrug, his head lolled to the side as the female he loved continued.

“And you are right, I wanted love. I wanted choice. I still do,” she admitted, courage growing as her chin came up. Elain released the ribbon from the box and grabbed his hand. She placed the box in his palm and curled his fingers over the painted wood. “I have made my choice, Lucien. But I need to know you are choosing me, not a mating bond. That you are choosing me for who I am. Not what Hybern made me, not what the cauldron gave me, not what the mother wove between us. I need to know it is Elain Archeron you love.”

She took a deep breath, let go of his hands and stood.  She walked to the other side of the room. Her hand came up over her nose.

“What…are you doing?” Lucien asked. The gears in his brain were stalled. They seemed to have slowed from the moment she admitted to loving him. They seized at that knowledge, and that his mate, his love, his life was on the other side of the damned room from him.

He began to lift the lid on the box. Oh fuck.

The smell slammed into his chest like a well-placed punch. What little was left on his stomach well on its way back up. Lucien fought to keep the gag down. His eyes watered from the effort.

“So, I present you that.” Elain’s voice was nasally as she waved her unoccupied hand to the box in his lap. He’d have remarked on how funny it was if he hadn’t been trying so hard to conserve air. “Accept this cauldron-damned abomination, and I will be satisfied for eternity knowing I am so much more to you than a bond. Because only someone in love would weather this disgusting pile of shit, mating bond or not.”

Lucien stared down at the black egg nestled in the bottom of the box. The pungent odor was just as he remembered. He wanted to die then too.

He toggled between staring at the egg and staring at Elain huddled in the corner, both hands now shaking over her face.

She wanted him. She loved him. She accepted the mating bond! No matter it was in the most…unorthodox way possible.

Gods but he loved her.  

“You really are a wicked little thing,” was all he managed before he yanked the egg from the box and shoved it in his mouth. He swallowed it whole.   

The idea was if he swallowed it whole he wouldn’t taste it. That idea was bullshit.

Lucien felt himself turn green. It was the oddest sensation. It tingled up his spine, up his stomach, alongside that thin bond that was strengthened by the second. He wanted to throw up. The only other time he’d ever eaten a century egg, he’d immediately threw it back up.

He’d be cauldron-damned if he threw it up this time. Lest it unravel that shining golden bond thrumming in his chest. Lucien didn’t know how these things worked. He wasn’t risking it.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked, words muffled behind her hands.

Lucien’s nod was strained. “I think I’m sober now, at least.”

Elain chuckled and braved the still biting odor to come close enough to shut the box up. Immediately the smell lessened, though it lingered in the room like a hateful ghost.

“How?” Lucien managed.

“Bespelled box,” Elain offered. “Eris made it for me this morning when I explained what I was doing.”

Lucien nodded. Every muscle in his body was still tensed. He gripped the couch so hard he could hear the wood groan.

“Lucien are you…” she trailed off and eased onto the cushions. She lay one hand over his on the back of the sofa, the other on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles.

“I’m fine, you beautiful terrorist,” he joked and let go of his grip on the sofa. He grinned at her. “If the trade-off were that all I had to eat for the rest of my life was that fucking thing, I’d do it with a smile on my face as long as it meant I have you.”

All tension released out of her with a sigh. “Thank the mother you don’t, then. You’d grow to hate me.”

Lucien’s smile threatened to split his face. The bond glowed in his chest. “I could never hate you, my love. I would just be very, very skinny.” He leaned in, the need to taste her becoming a living thing in his gut.

Elain shoved him back with impressive force.

“I’m not kissing you until you’ve washed your mouth out!” she exclaimed. “Between the alcohol, the vomit and that thing you could literally peel the paint off the walls, Lucien!”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged as he came to stand. His intention was to go to the washroom, brush his teeth a few dozen times and immediately pounce on his mate. Upon standing, Lucien realized he was not in fact sober, as the ceiling very quickly turned into a roiling sea.

Lucien half-turned to Elain. “Sweetheart, please don’t take this next thing the wrong way.”

“Lucien?”

Lucien dropped to his knees and vomited all over Rhysand’s precious handmade rug from Sangravah. All the whiskey he’d imbibed mixed in the most atrocious way with the century egg, the smell reminiscent of some sulfurous hellscape. It made him hurl again. His stomach contracted painfully as it betrayed him.

He was vaguely aware of the small hands that pulled his hair back at the nape.

“Do you still love me?” She giggled in his ear.

“Ugh,” he moaned. “Were I not about to die, I’d take you to a priestess and wed you tonight.”

Elain laughed. “Maybe in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[adobe-outdesign]

Is there a pokemon you haven't reviewed that you're really itching to? Maybe one that bothers you a lot? I'd love to hear about some of your least favorites

(I'm pretty sure I've reviewed all of the Pokemon that I don't care for already, and it's not that big of a list to begin with. That said, I'm doing the Grimer line for this one because I don't care for the originals that much, even if I love the Alolan forms.)

Grimer... is kind of boring, if I'm being honest. Slime monsters are a classic in fantasy and RPGs, and you can see a lot of different takes on them across the board. The beauty of a slime monster is that they don't have a solid body, so you can do whatever you want with the design.

Not only do we already have a slime monster in Gen 1 in the form of Ditto, but Grimer is pretty standard. It's a blob with arms, a wide open mouth, and big eyes. Color-wise, it's pure purple to represent its poison type with no details on its body. (For the record, I thought this line had stripes for years, which would've made them a bit more interesting, but the 3D models confirm that the stripes are shading.)

What I do like about Grimer is that A) the expression is kind of fun, especially in the earlier sprites, and B) it does have some great lore. I love details like how it dies if there's not enough trash and filth for it to eat, and how this has caused them to slowly become endangered because the Pokemon world has been cleaning up its pollution. It's good world building, and adds some much needed interest to the line.

Ultimately, while I find Grimer pretty bland, Muk is really what kills the line for me. There are so many things you can do with a pile of slime, and all the line does is... get bigger. It does change its eyes, gain a strand of slime over its mouth, and loose an arm (or rather, the other arm is merged with its body). The shape of it is kind of nice, and I like the mouth even if the eye is a bit of a downgrade, but overall it's about as uninteresting as an evo as you could get.

All that said, while the Kantonian version of these Pokemon don't do a lot for me, the Alolan regionals knock it out of the park. My main complaint was that the original line felt very standard, so Alolan Grimer imminently works on fixing this by making the body green (also clever as it's another toxic color, as well as a standard slime color) and giving it a blue tongue with a bright yellow mouth outline and two small teeth (actually crystals). Some black accents around the eyes help them pop a bit as well. This instantly makes it stand out a lot more.

The reason for this change is that the line now feeds primarily on chemical waste instead of regular waste, having been introduced to Alola to deal with their trash problems. Once again, great worldbuilding!

And if Alolan Grimer wasn't enough, Alolan Muk improves on the line even further by massively changing the design. What was one yellow line around the mouth is now four different colors, (yellow, green, blue, and pink), which are incredibly bright. Under normal circumstances they'd look clashy and garish, but they work perfectly when used to represent chemical poisons and the like. It's also nice that the line actually has stripes after all these years, and they ripple in its animations, which is even cooler! (The blue stripes don't move, which is odd, but I digress.)

And in addition to that, Alolan Muk expands on A. Grimer's little "teeth" by including more crystalized poisons all over its body, giving it a jaw full of jagged, uneven "teeth" and "claws". The line went from being way too similar and fairly standard to incredibly distinct and unique. It's basically a perfect example of how regionals can be used to improve on older, plainer designs.

Overall, the original line is harmless but pretty par for the course. The Alolan versions are a big improvement all-around and a much appreciated addition to the line.

[sea-owl]

Violet woke to the sound of humming and light tugging on her hair. Her cheek resting against smooth scales while the rest of her lays in their soft bed.

The song wasn't familiar to Violet, but she could feel the magical effects of her wife's voice. Violet should be becoming more alert the longer she's awake but, instead her body remains relaxed and sleepily dazed. Her limbs heavy and her breathing remaining a slow steady rhythm.

Slowly she moves her hand forward until she hits Portia's knee. Giving it a squeeze Portia stops her humming.

"Oh you're awake," Portia said. "I was hoping to be finished by now."

More alert now Violet could tell the tugging she felt earlier was actually Portia braiding part of her hair. She turned, now gazing up at the sea queen. "Is that why you were singing?"

Still braiding Portia said, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me?" Violet asked.

Portia nodded, a smile on her face. "For the battle you won yesterday against that sunfish Araminta."

"I wouldn't say I won a battle," Violet said. Despite her wife's eagerness to duel Araminta to help Sophie, Violet was able to scare the countess in dropping the charges with the threat of opening an investigation of Sophie's missing dowery since Benedict finally embraced the love he had for the girl. "And if anyone won a battle against Araminta yesterday it was Sophie and Posey."

Portia smiled proudly. "Yes indeed. The girls are going to visit later to gift them their own prizes. All done."

Portia dropped the braid she was working on. There was a slight weight to it. Violet sat up, inspecting the braid. It was a simple three piece braid, but within the braid was a blue pearl.

"Normally, you take a pearl from those you defeated, but anything that sunfish would have would be cheap and not worth tying into your hair," Portia said. "So I went to find one. I know most of you land walkers prefer round white ones, but the blue looks beautiful on you."

Violet blushed, but then she looked over Portia's red curls. Dozens of pearls tied into her hair of all different colors, shapes, and sizes. She thinks back on the four merprincesses and their own pearls tied into their hair. Some of them arranged into a pattern or style while others have them randomly placed.

"These are all battles won?" Violet asked.

Portia nodded, pulling one strand up for Violet to see. On it was five pearls, one gold, the other four black with different overtones ranging from silver to purple to blue-green to peacock. "These are my favorites, though." She points to the golden pearl and then the four black ones. "First year of life and then each time I survived giving birth."

"And this one?" Violet points to a rosey pink pearl.

The rest of the morning the wives talked about battles they fought and won.

[blackholesun321]

OKAY MORE BIRB AU TALK!

I had this idea that their feathers when born are more colored like an actual bird, maybe like the bird that represent, but as they grow older, the colors change to their primary colors. Like Shanks' feathers turn red, Zoro's green, Perona's pink, and so and so forth.

ALSO YES! "fatherhood be up on ye" is exactly how Mihawk acquires Perona. I don't make the rules.

Speaking of more birb culture, mishanks is traditional and did the whole courting rituals of giving gifts and all that before becoming actual mates. Beckman 100% officiated the wedding. I don't make the rules on that either.

A fledging without a flock doesn't grow properly. Their wings become somewhat underdeveloped and are smaller in adulthood. When Zeff acquires Sanji, he was really worried Sanji's wings wouldn't develop properly. (They did, but Birb Dad Zeff was really worried and bodied anyone who commented on his son's small wings.)

When a flock member dies, the ones closest to said member gets one of the fallen's feathers as a memoir. Flock mates can give their closest friends/their favorite children a feather they can put in their hair or wear around their neck on a necklace. Zoro definitely has some of Kuina's feathers as well as a feather from Mihawk. Luffy has feathers from Shanks, Ace, and Sabo. Sanji has one of Zeff's feathers and so forth.

YES! ALWAYS MORE BIRB TALK! 🪶 ✨ and to answer your ideas—

And bird slowly changing colors as they grow old is just ‘chefs-kiss.’ Like maybe as an adaptation for predators? Like how some species don’t grow into there actual plumage till and adult. And maybe a bit of Haki like the will and soul of an individual can effect what colors show up. Little bit of genetics little bit of magic like someone with red hair will more then likely have red in there adult plumage— as well as someone small will probably have smaller wings for their frame.

———

The universe just stares at the absolute disasters that are Shanks/Mihawk and went “you know what would be hilarious?” And then slapped them both round the head with Random Child™️ and you know what the universe is on to something.

———

Absolutely, once they both get their heads out of their respective sand dunes of denial, Shanks and Mihawk have the most step-for-step, beat-for-beat traditional courtship. Only because Shanks started being all romantic, and Mihawk was even more romantic the next time they saw each other, and Shanks goes bet! And Mihawk went, "I'm going to get such a good grade in courting" (like that is a normal thing to want, an actual thing you can achieve). And both their competitive streaks have them overdoing it on many an occasion.

And once they get married, the Grand Line gives a sigh of relief because, gods and devils, those two were—well, are—freaking insane. Ben officiates their wedding, yes, and ends the ceremony by saying, "With the sea as witness, I now pronounce you idiots. You may now kiss the bride, or whatever." Then he proceeds to go off to have a final drink in peace away from those two fuck heads.

("Ah, but we're your fuckheads, Ben!" 'Shanks and I mean this with every bone in my increasingly irritated body. If you don't leave me alone in the next five minutes, you're about to go from newlywed to newly widowed.')

———

Imagine having wings on your back. Now, imagine how difficult it would be to groom them. By nature and necessity, you need a community to help you take care of your wings. So, imagine you are Judge Vinsmoke, and you know a good part of communication and connection comes from grooming. You want your kids to be dependent on you and your expectations.

Now, imagine you are Sanji, alone, bullied, starved, and beaten. Your wings have been falling apart your whole life, and the only person who ever groomed you had died. You are not in an environment where you can get the necessary supplies and aids to help you become self-sufficient in grooming. Based on these facts and the stories you've heard about fledgling wings not being taken care of, you believe you have been crippled for the rest of your life.

So, you wrap up your horribly ugly wings so no one has to see them and become a dish washer for a cruise ship. They feed you, house you, and start to train you in the ways of cooking. Some even offer you to join the grooming circles that form from long nights together and no one else around. You deny them, and your wings fall into further disarray.

Then, Zeff happens. Then, on that rock in the middle of the blue, someone touches your feathers for the first time with care since your mom. You don't cry, only because you don't have water to spare. And Zeff huffs, pulls open the stiff joint, counts the flight feathers, touches the bald patches where feathers should be, and lets the dry, salt-encrusted down crumble in his hand. He nods once, allows the wing to fold back up with a wince from Sanji, and says, "It's bad, real bad, eggplant. But not hopeless. You'll have a lot of physical therapy in your future, medical creams and oils, along with a specialized diet. This is probably going to affect you for the rest of your life, but you will be able to fly eventually."

And Sanji, small and weak, Sanji, who was told his whole life by family, by those meant to love and care for him, that he would never fly, should never fly, and that them taking away the sky from him was a blessing to the world. Sanji, whose mother's name was Sora, who dreamt of light blue eyes and bright blue skies, wind beneath his feathers, and hope it would be as gentle as nails through his down. Every moment of Sanji's joy has been taken from him. But with this hope that blooms in his chest like fire, Sanji laughs because they tried to take his freedom from him, and they failed.

———

Why stop at just one single cultures idea of feathers? Why not have each Blue have a different meaning for feathers, how to gift them, where to place them, and how to preserve them? For example, the East Blue is the most relaxed about giving and receiving feathers. They wear them in their wings, hair, or as jewelry. Mothers braid their baby's down into their braids, and fathers put the first lost down into resin. Friends make bracelets, crowns, necklaces, and earrings for each other. Lovers who place painted or treated feathers into the others wings to they will last longer. On some islands part of the funeral rights is too burn the loved one feathers into pottery. It's still considered special to give someone a feather and then to wear it, focusing on the placement in the wing.

But Luffy, who loves fully, whose heart is open, grasping, and desperately eager to show the world who he cares about, has never cared much about propriety. He just loves the people he loves and wants everyone to know it. His wings would be a riot of feathers, with greens from Zoro stuck in his primaries, sunset orange, yellows, and reds from Nami braided into his hair. The soft whites, creams, and browns from Usopp are made into necklaces, and the yellow and black of Sanji's slide in side by side with his flight feathers. He's covered in his devotion and gives just as freely.

By the time they make it to the Grand Line, people are practically clutching their pearls around them. It takes Vivi a while to get used to the way someone will just drop a feather into her hand like it's no big deal, as in some parts of the world, that would be considered essentially a marriage proposal. She gets used to it, and eventually, everyone who joins the crew does too.

Shanks thinks it's hilarious personally. And, as someone raised by a man from the East, he doesn't see much issue with the way Luffy drowns himself in his loved ones' feathers. Mihawk is at first a little more clutching his pearls about it, not for cultural reasons, but more due to his discomfort with physical displays of emotions (disgusting!). However, he quickly gets over it because his kids can do whatever they want, as long as it isn't stupid. As much as being emotional makes him break out in hives, it makes Luffy and Zoro happy, so who is he to deny them?

[thecapricunt1616]

The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 16

♡ Chapter Inspo: Call It What You Want (Reputation - TS) ; I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck. Not because he owns me, but 'cause he really knows me. Which is more than they can say, I recall late November holdin' my breath, slowly I said "You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?"

♡ Summary: Carmy x Winnie are finally calling things what they are after 3 months of beating around the bush, YAY!!!

♡ W/C: 10,775

♡ Posted Date: 04/05/2024

♡ A/N: Here we have chapter 16 - I hope you all like it! I have been stepping back and seeing where I want things to go, & I think I have generally a good idea now, so I was able to finish up the next 2 chapters finally haha. As per usual thank you for reading, remember requests for one shots are open - or even if you want to see WxC doing something specific let me know! I am here to please hahah one shots I've already written are on my masterlist linked below! Also - no one has asked, but I usually see people will read one chapter, then go back and read all of them 1-15, so if you want to be on a tag list so you can keep up w/ the story just tell me in the comments and i'll make one!!

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Speaking of smoking, Weed, Smut!, Nervous Carmy, Mushy fluff!!!

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

It was a few weeks later, and the beginning of spring had well arrived. The trees were becoming green again, the flowers were blooming, and Carmy and I were still hanging out nearly every afternoon, and he was staying over nearly every night. 

That Friday evening, around 11pm, after Carmy had gotten off his shift, he came over to mine and had a shower after we ate dinner that he had made us before he came over. Tonight had been a favorite - a true garbage plate per my request. 

It was currently 1 am and we were snuggled up in bed, mostly I was watching a rerun of Criminal Minds, and Carmy was distracted by his phone, texting with someone back and forth. 

“Did y’wanna come w’me to Richie’s Sunday? We do Palm at his usually. He’s been textin’ me about comin’ over a little earlier to help with the lamb.” He said and I looked up at him from my spot snuggled up on his chest, my cheek adorned with lines from his sweatshirt since it had been mushed there while I watched the show, my hands playing with the tie of his sweats absentmindedly so I didn’t pick my nails. 

“Oh- yeah. Sure. I didn’t know you like- did that. Y’re…religious? I mean- I know the chain and everything but..” I gently play with the charm between my fingers. He smiled a bit, forefinger gently rubbing over the dark red marks in my cheek from laying. 

“I mean- nah. Not really it’s more like..tradition I guess? Palm Sunday and Easter were huge when I was growin’ up. I guess it’s just an Italian thing, but it’s like- second Christmas. The whole family gets together and has a meal” he said and I nod. 

“Well of course I’ll be your date baby. Thank you for asking, I assume we’re doing church? Like Christmas Eve if it’s a big thing right?” I ask and he nodded a bit. 

“You don’t…you don’t have to go. I mean- I don’t go unless it’s Christmas Eve or Palm or Easter Sunday. So..but I get it if y’arent comfortable” he bit his lip nervously. 

“No baby- no…I think it’s sweet. I grew up Catholic too, well- Irish Catholic. But- I was baptized, so I’m rightfully Catholic. So we can get married someday and not go to hell” I giggled and he snorts a laugh. 

“Oh thank god y’re baptized baby, how could we ever marry if you haven’t devoted yourself to our lord and savior” he teased, earning a laugh from me. 

“Does this mean I get to crack out my veil again? What do I wear? Well I know I can’t have my tits out - but like, color scheme for your church, still red?” I asked and he rubbed my back gently. 

“Yes still red baby.” He kissed my neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. “I didn’t know you wore a veil. You were dedicated, huh? Such a good little Catholic” he teased, pinching my bum playfully. 

I laugh a bit “mmhmm- my mom was serious about it. I used to hate it but since I stopped believing in the Catholic god- er- worshiping him, anyway, I just think it’s hot. D’you think we could sneak away to the bathroom for a quickie during the service? I’ve always fantasized about fucking in a church it sounds really hot.” I said causing him to laugh into my skin. 

“Babe. Holy fuckin blasphemy you trying to get on the big man’s ultimate shit list?” He bites my shoulder playfully. 

“Ohhhh we’re way past it Carm. Plus- since he’s so big and mighty and he’s the one that created my twisted fucked up mind- it’s really him who thinks it’s hot. So if he’s mad it’s not on me” I giggled, poking his cheek. “D’you have a bite kink I’m not aware of sir?” I teased. 

“Mmm no you just taste good, and y’so cute it just makes me wanna fuckin bite you I can’t explain it” he bites down on my neck gently, running his tongue over my skin. 

“Awwww you have cute aggression?” I gently play with his curls and he chuckled into my skin, his breath causing goosebumps to appear. 

“That’s a thing?” He questioned and I nod a bit, a wide smile adorning my features. 

“It’s super sweet. Like…when I was at college studying, I took my first round of psych credits, and I guess that uh…when we see something that’s cute, or makes us really happy we wanna like squeeze it or bite it because we’re so overwhelmed with how cute it is that we’re like…searching for an outlet almost? But yeah, so thank you I guess. I do have the urge to just” I take his forearm, gently biting down and giggling into his skin and he chuckled. 

“Y’can bite me. Maybe not in public so we don’t look like a couple’a freaks, but this is ok” he said and I released his flesh 

“Oh yeah I’m just gonna bite you in front of all the staff at work next time I see you. I’ll do it when you’re really angry” I teased, lacing our fingers together and resting our hands over my tummy. 

“Ugh no work talk right now baby today was fuckin’-” he rubs over his face with his other hand “remind me to never trust Richie with shipment ever again.” He grumbled, grabbing his phone to resume whatever he was doing. I mentally rolled my eyes. 

Really, Richie? The one time. One time, that Carmy decides to let someone else start the day- and sleep until 5 am instead of 4- he fucks it up somehow. 

“ ‘m sorry baby. You want a massage? It’s getting late. Maybe it’ll help you sleep, how’s your back?” I asked gently, rubbing his forearm. 

He sighed a bit, putting his phone on the wireless charging pad on the nightstand that had begun living there since he had been sleeping over. “Hurts..Think I pulled a muscle ‘er somethin’ in my shoulder too, fuckin bags of rice were on the lowest shelf and I didn’t use my knees at all apparently” he said and I sat up, grabbing my massage oil from the nightstand. 

“Alright roll over mister, no more work talk tonight, got it? Were Resting our brains now” I kiss his cheekbone and he nods tiredly, tugging off his sweatshirt and laying on his stomach.

“No more work talk” he agreed with an exhausted sigh. I warmed some of the oil in my hands, kissing the little freckles along his back as I did so and he hums softly. 

“Okay so where should I start on the map baby?” I asked him. I had taught him the system my mom and I used to use when she’d give my brother and I massages as kids, where you tell a state on the map so she could better gauge where it was hurting. 

“Fuckin’… Vegas to the Carolina’s. It hurts so bad babe” he said and I gently felt over his lower back, this was usually where we started, unless Wyoming and Nebraska which were more his mid back was hurting him worse, that only happened when he went too hard at the gym, though. 

“It’s probably Texas. Usually Texas, babe” I said, gently working my thumbs with light pressure from the middle of his lower back outwards and he lets out a groan. 

“Fuck Texas” he muttered into the pillow, causing me to giggle a bit. 

“I’ve never been, I hear they have great Mexican food.” I said, adding a bit of pressure as I got to his hips where he held a lot of his stress. 

“Mmm I’ve been- shit”  he hissed as I work at a knot at the back of his hip. “Fuck- keep going babe- ahhh mmhmm- yes” he grumbles. I added more pressure and he sighed gratefully. “Thank you” he said softly, resting his cheek on his forearm, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“You’ve been? Lucky! Did you try the Mexican food?” I asked, dragging the pressure across his lower back and he moans out quietly. 

“Mmhmm…Dallas…ACF conference- went in November. They do have great Mexican food. And the drinks are enormous, crazy strong for how cheap they were.” He said. 

“Ooo that sounds like my kinda place. We should go on a trip sometime, if I could ever afford it that is. But a road trip would be fun” I gently rub up to his mid back. 

“You don’t have t’pay anything baby, I didn’t know you wanna travel- where d’you wanna go? I just have to get the time off. That's the problem, not the money. But what’s y’dream place y’wanna go?” He asked. 

“Anywhere. Well, anywhere with you. I’ve never been on a plane before, I took the train here. Cause my Grammy wouldn’t let me take a plane, since our Grandpa died in one- she says they’re bad luck. But I’ve always wondered what it was like. It seems fun. Are airports fun like they make it look in the movies?” I smile a bit, gently massaging over his ribs. 

“No. Totally not. They don’t really put airports in tv and shit after 9/11 if you’ve noticed because now they’re a fuckin’ nightmare- but I mean…not as shit as being on a train for what- 30 hours babe? Y’not doin’ that t’go do that nanny thing right? I don’t want you sittin for 30 hours with y’hip.” He said and I shrug a bit, continuing to rub over his mid back with the pressure I knew he liked. 

“I set a timer on my phone, and get up and walk around every 20 minutes, So it doesn’t hurt so bad. Also- it’s like…50 bucks cheaper so. 50 bucks toward my next therapy session” I say simply. 

“50 bucks?! Baby. No. I’m buyin’ y’ticket and you can get there in 2 hours, so I can have you for an extra whole day. No arguing. It’s done” he said and I laugh a bit. 

“Oh so you boss me around now?” I said and he smirks, looking at me over his shoulder. 

“Hasn’t that been established? That I only make you do something when y’too stubborn to allow me to help?” He asked and I kiss his lips gently. 

“Control freak” I teased, starting on his shoulders and his eyes flutter shut in bliss. 

“Consider it payment f’r all the massages I’ll need when you get back. I dunno how I’m gonna manage babe it helps so much. Fuck ah- yes. There- there honey” he groaned as I drag my thumb with a good amount of pressure in the dip of his shoulder blade. 

“Y’know you can see a real masseuse, Bear. You don’t have to torture yourself until I’m home again” I said, adding a bit more pressure and he whimpered, burying his face in the pillow. 

“Mmm- don’t wanna” he said into the fabric as I work his other shoulder the same way. “Holy shiiiit. Baby. Fuck- fuuuuck me.” He moaned and I laughed a bit, rubbing my thumbs up to the base of his neck and back down. “Mmm shit- fuckin’ hurts soooo good” 

I laughed at his bear like grumbles “Jesus baby. Thank god I don’t have roommates they’d think we’re sex addicts with the way you moan when I give you your massages” I straddled his hips as I work from the balls of his shoulders in towards his neck. 

“Mm not my fault you have tiny magical hands” he teased and I laughed. 

“Do not make fun of my little hands. I can’t help it, and it makes my life tedious” I joked, gently using the knuckles of my thumbs to release the tension in the sides of his neck. 

“How is me calling your doll hands magical, making fun of them?” He said and I smiled, pinching his arm gently. 

“May I remind you Bear who’s mercy you’re at right now?” I bite down on his neck playfully and he chuckles. 

“My favorite girls” he counters and I smiled big, a blush creeping to my cheeks. 

“You are a big flirt” I sat up, continuing to work at the base of his neck. 

“I am being accused left and right t’night, of crimes f’which you have zero admissible evidence” he teased and I laughed, covering my mouth to not wake up the neighbors. 

“Okay- we’re watching way too much criminal minds and SVU lately, admissible evidence, babe?” I shook my head, working on rubbing his biceps in sections since they were quite large. 

“Not my fault I wake up f’work and it’s still on. That shit can’t be givin’ you good dreams babe. Y’need to turn it off” he said and I smiled a bit at his concern. 

“Oh, and you when you go home, and turn on YouTube cooking videos until you pass out, that’s not giving you bad dreams about work?” I mused and he hums. 

“No. Cause I usually don’t watch the English ones, my italian is spotty, which makes my Spanish shitty. And our French lessons have only gotten me so far. So- if my eyes are closed, nothin but noise” he countered and I roll my eyes with a smirk. 

“And how do you know how much of everything to put in?” I ask curiously, massaging over his biceps. 

“By the look” he replied as if that said anything at all. 

“So, if I right now, gave you my water bottle- you could tell me how much water was in it?” I snort 

“Depends, is there ice?” He asked and I raised my brows. 

“ Carmy you can’t just- I mean you can guess. But you’ll have no form of accuracy.” I said and he hums. 

“Think of it like Cooking is biology, and baking is science babe. 2 different sides of the same coin. I don’t need accuracy, I need flavor and balance. A good chef doesn’t solely stick to a recipe. But a good baker always sticks to a recipe. F’r cookin’ It’s about what the dish wants. F’baking it’s what it needs. So yeah I’m confident I could give you a fairly accurate measurement by look” he explained and I gently massage over his wrists, paying extra attention to them because of all the repetitive motion he did at work with all the chopping and stirring and whisking. 

“Mmm I love it when you get all sexy technical chef on me” I kiss the top of his hand lightly and he smiled a bit. 

“Well I’ll tell y’anythin y’wanna know angel” he said, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned big. “Mmm. Y’always put me t’sleep” he mumbled. 

I giggle a bit “that was the point. Geez like a colicky baby sometimes, so overtired y’can’t sleep” I said and he snorts. 

“Mmm this is my favorite part” he rolled on his side as I took my place next to him and he lays his forearm over my tummy so I can lightly drag my nails across it for him. 

“Spoiled, spoiled little bear” I teased, obliging him and gently dragging my nail across his skin with a featherlight touch causing goosebumps to appear. 

“Mmhmm, the most spoiled” he said and kisses me sweetly I hummed softly, cupping his cheek and gently rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone. 

“Just one more day”  I said when he pulled away, alluding to his Sunday off. 

“One more.” He said softly and snuggled into my chest as I continued gently caressing his arm, my other hand tangling in his muss of damp curls and scratching his scalp as I usually did to help him fall asleep. 

This had been our routine for the last 2 weeks now, he’d come over after working out, we’d eat dinner, he’d have a shower, then we’d sit on the balcony and smoke together, then come in and get in bed, I’d give him a massage after cuddling for a while, and stroke his arm and give him scratches to help him fall asleep, since the first night I did it for him he was out in less than 10 minutes, (which was an all time record for him) - and he’d be little spoon until he fell asleep. Then when I eventually did as well- we’d wake up in the morning with me having stolen the title of little spoon once more. 

He nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck, his warm breath hitting my collar bone. I focused on the tv and continued stroking his arm gently, a few minutes went by like that before he muttered a half asleep “night honey” bringing a small smile to my lips.  “Night Bear” I said softly, brushing his curls off his forehead and gently kissing it, lingering for a moment before resting back on the pillow and continuing to stroke his arm gently.

I was woken by the sound of Carmy’s first alarm that he’d nearly knocked his phone off the nightstand trying to silence, before groaning tiredly and plopping his arm back around me, pulling me closer to him. 

“Morning” I said softly, my eyes still closed. 

“Mornin’ babe.” He said quietly, planting a soft kiss to my jaw. He’d been setting his alarm for 4:00 instead of 4:30 for the past week or so, so we’d get a little bit of snuggle time before he had to get in the shower. 

“How’d you sleep?” I asked, lacing our fingers together and turning to face him, wrapping my leg between his and hooking them together. 

“Alright. My back feels a lot better, thanks for the massage honey. How’d you sleep?” He rubbed over his face, yawning which caused me to catch it and yawn myself. 

“Course love. I slept okay, had a really weird dream, wanna hear about it?” I ask and he smiled lazily, nuzzling his face into my neck. 

“Mm. Always” he said softly. 

“So-“ I giggle softly at the absolute bizarreness “so, Syd was there- oh I’ll have to send her a voice note about this. But Syd was there, and we were at my middle school? But it was here, in Chicago. And it wasn’t my middle school, it was a hospital? But my teachers were there. Well they weren’t my teachers they were strangers, but I like knew they were my teachers, ya’know?” He chuckled a bit into my skin. 

“Okay, and what were you and Syd doin baby?” He questioned. 

“Literally Carm- playing with a Ouija board? Like?” I laughed a bit, causing him to follow suit. 

“Who were you trying to get ahold of?” He asked. 

“I don’t know! But it was like scary lookin. I don’t even - oh! Yes! That’s how I know it was a hospital cause we were in this dingy like basement, and there was a gurney? Like. I dunno. Oh! And she was like” I laughed, shaking my head. “She was like Winnie- they’ll know the right ingredient. Like- like we’re summoning the dead for recipe advice? But she was so stressed like she was dyyying to find out what they had to say” I said and his chest vibrated with laughter. 

 “And yeah, that was it that’s the dream- dream Syd, and real Syd, both are OCD about recipes to the point of insanity” I said and he shook his head, planting a kiss on my temple. 

“Thanks f’r sharing babe. Y’know, maybe the dead could help us out with recipes- dream Syd could be onto somethin’ ” he joked and I gently play with his sleep tousled hair. 

“Mmm I think the only ghost that would give a shit about food they can’t eat- would be you and Syd baby. I can totally see that. Us hanging out in the afterlife, and you’re like ‘but honey, if I help them and tell them it needs more lemon it’ll be so good’ “ i mimicked him doing my best Carmy impression and he snorts a laugh. 

“I do not sound like that, when did I turn into a fuckin- southside chain smokin’ uncle?” He teased and I laughed, poking his cheek playfully. 

“Not too far off, you’re a north side chain smoking uncle in real life, so I guess the accent was a little off” I said and he rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah. I’m down to half a pack a day now I wouldn’t call that chain smokin anymore” he mused, kissing my neck with open mouth kisses, trailing down to my collarbones. 

“Mmm Bear?” I question and felt him smile into my skin before biting down gently in the fleshy spot between my neck and shoulder. 

“Mmhmm?” He mumbled, his teeth still gently clamped around my flesh. 

“It’s 4:09” I said, gently scratching his scalp with my nails. 

“So that means we have..21 minutes, no?” He questions and I raise my brows with a smirk. 

“And what are we doing with this twenty one minutes, Bear?” I muse and he lifted the covers, crawling underneath, and getting between my thighs. 

“Don’t they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day?” he asked, kissing over my pantyline in the way that made my breath hitch. 

“Real breakfast, baby. Which you refuse most the time” I told him, gently pushing his curls back, watching as he carefully slips my panties to the side. 

He licks a stripe up my heat with the pad of his tongue, stopping at my clit and applying more pressure, open jawed, rubbing his tongue messily back and forth. I whined in pleasure, my head dropping back to the pillow. 

He hooked my knees over his shoulders, pulling me closer by my hips and gently sucks on the sensitive bud that was now getting firmer and more prominent, flicking and smoothing his tongue over it in small circles, earning hot moans of satisfaction from deep in my chest. 

“Oh-“ I breathe out, my voice coming out as more of a squeak then anything and my hips buck involuntarily as a jolt of pleasure cracks through me at his actions. 

“Mmm so fuckin sweet” he grumbled into the slick flesh, the vibrations causing my core to clench around nothing.  

“Holy fuck Carmy” I gasp as I felt his tongue lapping over my enterence, thrusting his tongue inside in one swift motion, humming in satisfaction as he felt me squeeze tightly around his tongue and I tugged his hair between my fingers. 

“Ah- shitholy-fuckingchristCarm” I moaned out as he nudged the bridge of his strong nose against my clit with a pressure that was gonna drive me right over the edge- and fast. 

“Mmhmm- mmhmm” I nod quickly, biting my lip hard as I feel that all too familiar tightening in my stomach, the pool building quickly and the dam walls getting ready to snap, all of my muscles tightening and my thighs quivering. 

“Breathe” he reminded me gently, reaching up and grabbing one of the hands that had taken grip on his hair, lacing our fingers together and squeezing my hand gently. 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, “sorry” I mumble sheepishly and he continued, humming happily into my slick when I gasp in a enormous breath as he flicks his tongue wildly over my clit, pressing my hips into the bed to make me remain still with his other forearm. 

“Oh- oh- fuuuck! Ah- ahh! cumming! Yes- yes!!!” I cry out, squeezing his hand tightly, my head thrown back in bliss and spine arched off the bed. 

“mm- shit- fuck- too sensitive” I whine, as he continued the rough assault on my clit, digging my nails into the back of his hand. 

“I think I can get another one babe - cmon be good f’me, please?” he said lowly, his voice coated in thick, honey-like lust. 

“Ah- fuck-fuck- okay- mmmmillbegood” I slur, my thighs pressing against his temples and ankles locked behind his head. 

He removed his forearm from my hips. “Y’gonna be a good girl, mmm? Y’gonna stay still f’me? Er do I need t’keep holdin’ you?” He asks and I shook my head. 

“Ill be still, promise” I said quickly, squeezing his hand gently. 

“That’s my girl” he brought his mouth back to my clit, slipping two fingers in my entrance and curling them expertly into that amazing spongy spot he seemed to have memorized by now, that I could somehow never manage to get to so well on my own. 

“Holyfuck” I groaned, tugging his hair taut and he moans into me, the vibrations on my over sensitive clit dragging me to the edge and leaving me dangling there. 

“Ah- fuck mmm-d’that- keep doin’ that Bear pleeeease” I begged as I tug at his hair harder, earning a deeper moan out of him. My hips snap back into the mattress, twitching and shaking as I mewl and whine through my second orgasm, my back arched and hand leaving his hair to grip the sheets so I wouldn’t hurt him as I held them in a white knuckle grasp. 

His alarm goes off for 4:30 a few moments after my thighs stop quivering in pleasure and hips finally stilled. He messily wiped his wet chin, mouth, and the tip of his nose on my thigh, slick with my arousal, before placing a gentle kiss on my mound, and popping his head out of the sheets, casually hitting the stop button on the alarm. 

“Thanks f’breakfast honey” he joked, getting out of bed and stretching his back, before giving me a peck on the lips and heading off to the bathroom, leaving me fucked absolutely dumb. 

“Anytime” I said tiredly, feeling exhausted once again after only a few hours sleep and being feasted on so intensely, and so early in the morning. 

He left the bathroom door cracked so Persephone wouldn’t scratch the whole time trying to get in and investigate what he was doing, and I heard him start the shower before I rolled back over and fell asleep. 

I was awoken by sweet gentle kisses about 45 minutes later, feeling the icy metal of his chain brush over my chin as he pressed lingering kisses on my forehead. “Hey sleepy” he said softly, rubbing my side. 

The smell of his cologne and minty toothpaste hits my nose and my eyes flutter open. He was sat next to me, backpack and hoodie already on. 

“Already?” I whine, laying over his lap and nuzzling my face in his tummy, breathing in his scent and wrapping my arms around him. 

“Mmhmm. But 3:30 yeah? I’ll come pick y’up from the library we can have lunch in the car?” He gently runs his fingers through my hair in the way that made me sleepy, and my eyes flutter shut once again subconsciously. 

“Can’t you call out sick?” I mumble into his sweatshirt and he chuckled. This was the same conversation we had nearly every morning. 

“And do what princess? Mm? Follow you to the library and sit around while you put away books?” He joked and I huff. 

“Yes. Exactly that.” I said and look up at him, puckering my lips, knowing I wouldn’t win this battle possibly ever unless he was actually sick. 

“Mmhmm I’m sure y’boss would love to just have a chef loitering around all day waiting for her star employee” he teased, leaning down and giving me a sweet, tender goodbye kiss. 

“Be safe.” I said softly when he pulled away, cupping his cheek and rubbing over his cheekbone with my thumb. He leaned into my touch, sighing softly and eyes fluttering shut. 

“Always. We have a big catering order today, so if I don’t text back that’s why. What do you want f’r lunch in case I forget to ask?” He took my hand, gently kissing my palm. 

“Mmm- dunno. Surprise me, nothin’ spicy but you knew that” I said, covering my mouth as I yawn. 

“Surprise it’ll be then baby” he leaned in, kissing me once more before pulling away and rubbing my stomach signaling it was that dreaded time. 

I sigh, sitting up off his lap and giving him a big hug, kissing his cheek with a smooch “have a good day baby” I said softly into his damp hair, kissing his head once more before letting him go. 

“Thank you angel, lock the door behind me please” he said and I nod, following him to the door and see Persephone was sat on top of his shoes in the hallway.  

“See I think Persephone says you should stay home too” I smile and he shook his head with a grin. 

“Not t’day snowball” he picks her up, kissing her head and he licks the tip of his nose, causing him to scrunch it adorably. 

“Ugh fish breath” he mutters and I giggle. 

“She looooooves her Carmy, isn’t that right little baby?” I scratch her chin and he plops her in my arms so he can slip on his sneakers. 

“Mmhmm and I love her too but duty calls, stinky” he tells her in a sweet voice and kisses her head once more before pecking my lips once he had his shoes on and opening the door. 

“And put some panties on Winnie the Pooh” he said in my ear, spanking my bum lightly before heading down the hall. 

I laughed “Sorry- I’ll make sure to put your leftovers away sooner next time” I call after him teasingly, shutting the door behind me and clicking it locked.

I was in the Young Adult section at the library, putting returned books back on the shelf, when I felt my phone start buzzing in my bra. I fished it out, abandoning my cart of books I’d yet to put away, quickly heading to the employee back room once I realized it was Carmy. 

I clicked green answer button. “Hey Bear! How’s the-“ he cuts me off suddenly. 

“Hey- um- hey. I need like- a huge favor baby”  

He said nervously. I put a concerned hand on my hip, nervously pacing the break room. “What is it love? Are you ok? Are you hurt?” I asked, already on edge due to the anxiety lacing his tone. 

“No- no I’m ok- it’s uh. Syd. She’s….fuck I’m sorry - her stomach? Something about her stomach. She’s in the office right now, she can like- barely move but she doesn’t want to go to the hospital and uhh.” I could see him in my mind nervously shaking his hand and pacing. 

“Okay- okay I’m coming. Is it like a girl tummy ache- or something different?” I asked, grabbing my purse and light jacket I’d worn, quickly putting it on as I held my phone pressed to my cheek and shoulder.

“No - no way honey. This is like- she can barely speak - I’ve never…I’m scared baby.” He said, his voice cracking a bit. 

“Shhh. It’s ok, it’s ok, Bear- Syd has had stomach ulcer problems in the past, I need you to get her to try and eat something, ok? Shes gonna say no, but she has to eat- the acid in her stomach is irritating her. I’m coming. I’m grabbing an Uber right now, breathe baby. It’s all gonna be fine” I said and he took a deep trembling breath. 

“Ye’…yeah. Ok. Okay, I’ll see you baby, be safe” he said and I sigh softly. 

“Always” I said softly and hung up. I shoved my phone in my coat pocket, untucking my hair and heading to my bosses office. 

I lightly knocked, waiting for her ‘come in’ before nudging the door open. 

“Hey- Family emergency, I have to head out. Could you let Jessie know I left some returns in the YA section?” I ask and she nods. 

“Hope everything’s ok, call me if you can’t make it in Monday.” She said and I nodded. 

“Thank you” I told her before shutting her office door behind me. 

The Uber ride to The Bear was torturous, I’d texted Syd thrice - to no avail. She was constantly pushing herself so hard- that she was making herself literally burn from the inside out. I’d told her time and time again, from everything I’d learned in my 3 years at college- stress can literally kill you, and that she should really take some time off before she seriously injured herself- but unfortunately she never listened. 

I got out of the car when we’d barely come to a full stop, rushing to the front door, stepping inside and seeing Sugar at the host stand. “Oh- thank god- Carmy is freaked out Winnie- he literally is convinced she’s dying- can you go cool him off? Please?” She begs and I nodded quickly, heading behind the counter and pushing the back door open to the loud kitchen. 

Everytime I was here during the day, I made it a point not to come in this way because the environment made my skin crawl. The noise, the lights, the crashing of pans and pots, the yelling, the sudden bursts of flames while various chefs flambéd dishes that would singe your hair if you weren’t paying attention. 

I swallowed thickly “uh- oops! Sorry” I squeak, quickly getting out of a foodrunners way as he briskly moved past me, shoving the door open with his hip and heading to the front of the restaurant with a large tray of food he held with one hand over his shoulder. 

“Uh- behind you? I’m behind you!” I tried to call over the noise as I pass various people. Usually if I came through the front, Carmy greeted me and people parted for us like Moses and the Red Sea- but without his presence, I was just another body in here and no one seemed to even realize I was there. 

I finally made it back to the hall where the offices were, taking a deep breath to center myself before pushing open the door. 

Carmen was knelt in front of the big comfy couch in Sugars office, offering Syd some water. 

“Winnie- if you don’t get your boyfriend the fuck away from me- I’m gonna peel off his skin and enjoy it” Syd said through gritted teeth. 

“Syd- Syd- eat. Y’have t’eat.” He pleads and I shut the door to silence out all the noise. 

“Carmy” I said softly and he looks up at me, concern and worry written all over his face. “Take a walk, yeah? Go have a cigarette ok?” I said gently and squat next to him, rubbing his shoulder that was hard as a rock with all the tension he was currently holding. 

“No- no. She’s sick Winnie. She’s just bein’ a jagoff because she hates bein’ cared for. Cmon syd” he looks at her and she glared back at me with the fire of 1000 suns, a look that if I was quite honest- scared me slightly. 

“Bear” I gently play with his curls, earning his attention once more. “What Syd needs right now, is the energy in the room to be calm, and you’re literally vibrating with anxiety. Please, f’me? Go relax. Ok?” I said and kiss his temple. 

He huffs and got up, leaving the room with a hard closing of the door, but not quite a slam. I look at Syd, and before I could start, we both hear Carmy going off 

“I’m steppin’ out f’r 5 FUCKIN MINUTES- If that GOD DAMN DIRTY BOWL I ALREADYTOLD SOMEONE TO WASH IS STILL SITTING AT THE EXPO WHEN I GET BACK HEADS WILL ROLL FUCKERS. MOVE. IM NOT FUCKIN’ AROUND T’DAYISN’T THE FUCKIN’ DAY “ he barks before we hear his heavy footsteps stomping off down the hall and a harsh slam of the back door. 

Syd rolls her eyes and I gently sit next to her. “See what I have to deal with? And you wonder why I’m - fffuuuuck oh my gooooddd” she groans, keeling over and laying on my lap as she clutches her stomach. “Fucking kill me. Oh my god- kill me please” she moaned in pain. 

I gently rub her arm, digging through my purse and taking out one of my vials of RSO I kept in there for emergencies. “Here, Y’gonna have to go home- but..it’s gonna make it stop” I told her. 

“Give it. Give it. Whatever it fucking is. I’d literally take heroin right now holy shit Winnie it feels like I’m being stabbed” she said, hands shaking from how much pain she was in. 

“Open.” I told her, tilting her face towards me. “Tongue up” I said when she opened her mouth and I squirt a decent glob of oil under her tongue. 

She closed her mouth, nose scrunching at the taste “what the fuck is that weed?!” She mumbles and I nod. 

“Mmhmm, well kinda- don’t swallow. Let it sit until the pain stops enough that you forget about it and wonder why your mouth is so full of spit” I teased, gently dabbing her sweaty forehead with a napkin from my purse. 

“Thank you” she mumbled, closing her eyes and sighing softly as she waited for it to kick in. 

“He was really worried, Syd.” I said after a few minutes of silence, when I knew the pain had started to dull since her hands had stopped shaking. 

She shook her head in annoyance, unable to speak yet because of the oil and scrunching her nose as if to say ‘he shouldn’t be.’ 

“Y’re his only friend. Other then me, and Richie. But Richie raised him. Of course he’s gonna worry for you. Especially when you’re like- near the point of vomiting blood because of how bad this is getting. You have to do the surgery, Syd.” I said and with that she swallowed, sitting up and looking at me. 

“No- no. Winnie. No! I’m- I can’t. I can’t and I won’t. It’s not even that bad and I’m not vomiting blood miss theatrics- I’m not gonna take 3 weeks off work to do a stupid surgery that isn’t even guaranteed to find anything wrong! What if they go in there and find nothing and I’m back at square one- and out of work for THREE WEEKS?! I can’t leave Tina yet, she- she’s. No. I can’t let her drown. Carmy too- a-and Richie. We can’t-“ I inturrupt her 

“Sydney.” I said in a dead serious tone. “Y’need to get it. This is literally like - this should not even be a discussion at this point! The reason the doctor wants you to have it is because before they can just give you all these medicines to fix your gut bacteria that’s all shot from fucking stress- it’ll hurt you more on the very slim chance you don’t have a stress ulcer, but it is something with your stomach, Syd. It’s an exploratory surgery they don’t do those for no reason.” I said as Carmen came in and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. 

“Surgery?!” He exclaims and slams the door shut behind him. “What? Syd- what’s going on. This isn’t a stomachache you didn’t just eat somethin’ that’s not agreeing with you. What is it, Sydney” she said and I crossed my arms, sitting back and letting her do the talking. 

A slow smile grows on her face, and she covers her mouth with her hands as she begins to giggle. Fair to say the oil has now done its trick. 

“Have I ever told you, when you get mad, there’s this vein in your forehead- and- it’s- it’s so funny” she said, causing me to start laughing with her. 

Carm’s eyes flickered to mine. “What the hell did you give her?” He asks and I shrug with a smirk. 

“Somethin’ t’make her floaty, and” I shield my mouth from Syd so only Carm could see “agreeable” I mouthed and he smiled a bit, shaking his head. 

“Syd.” He looks at her. 

“Caaarrrmeeennnn” she replied in a sing-songy voice “I need to get back to the spice mixture for my cod now- but this was a great chat guys. Winnie- you’re the best” she said and got up, heading towards the door. 

“Noooo ya’ don’t” Carmen stops her, spinning her around by the shoulders and leading her back to the couch. She groaned dramatically, sitting down next to me once more. “What is this about a surgery, Syd?” He asked, pulling up the rolling chair and sitting in front of us. 

“A stuuuuupiiiidd surgery Carmen. Stupid. Doctors wanna slice me open and prod around hoping they find something. And then when they don’t i'll be stuck at home with my dad glued to my bedside, for no fucking reason, and I’ll loose three weeks minimum of work. And that’s if they find nothing. If they do find something, I’ll have to schedule another surgery and I’ll be out for SIX weeks.” She said and Carm nods, rubbing over his face for a moment as he thinks. 

“And how long have they been buggin’ you t’get this surgery, Syd?” He asked finally, brushing his hair back and looking at her seriously. 

“Mmm….” She crossed her arms, averting his gaze “7 months” she mumbles. 

“What?!” Carmen leans forward in disbelief. “Say that- say that again? I know y’didnt just say you’ve been dealin’ w’this f’r a fuckin year” he said and she shrugged. 

“They reccomended it a year ago, they’ve just been hounding me for the past 7 months. It’s really not that bad, Carm.” She said and he shook his head, getting up and going over to the filing cabinet silently. 

“What are you doing?” Sydney sits up as he opens a drawer, thumbing through different file folders before popping out what looked to be a blank information sheet of some kind and plops back down in the chair, rolling over to the desk and beginning to fill it out with a pen. 

“Carmen - what are you” she stood up, looking at the form he was filling out “no” she said, ripping it from under his pen and crumpling it up, throwing it in the wastebasket next to the desk. “Fuck you. No” she seethed. 

“What’s going on?” I sit up. 

“Syd- there’s like 50 million copies, I really don’t want to do it like this, but I know you aren’t gonna do it unless I make you do it.” He said and got up, walking back over to the same filing cabinet. 

She followed him, holding the drawer containing the forms closed with her hand. “No! Carmen are you fucking kidding me?! You aren’t my fucking parent. Stop! We are equals here! You can’t do this” she said and he shook his head, resting his hand atop the cabinet. 

“Sydney. This isn’t a discussion, are you really gonna make me say it, you’re really gonna push me?” He asked lowly. 

She crosses her arms, “say it.” She countered chest quickly moving with rapid angry breaths. 

“As your partner. I’m ordering you, mm? It’s an order, Sydney. Y’gonna go to the back, Y’gonna empty out your locker- because y’not gonna be around here for a while, and you are going to come back to this office, Y’gonna take the short term disability form I give you, Y’gonna call them, file. it. I will be checking, and then, Y’gonna schedule whatever fuckin procedure you need, and when your doctor clears you to come back in the kitchen, then, and only then will you return to work. I’m being more then fair, considering you’re making me force you t’do this, so I’ll be paying you your full wages while you’re out. Even though, im gonna have to train 3 dumb fucks to even-“ he shook his head, sighing deeply. “T’even keep us runnin’ half as well. So there. There. You wanted me to fuckin’ play mean mentor partner there ya go.” He said before opening up the drawer, plucking out another blank form and sitting back at the desk. 

She scoffs, looking to me. “You’re just gonna let him do this?” She narrowed her eyes at me, brows furrowed with anger.  

“Syd- this..this isn’t my restaurant…you only answer to-“ Carmy cuts me off. 

“Do not. No. Sydney, out. Step the fuck out, now. Y’not doin’ this t’her. She fuckin-“ he shakes his head, rubbing his eyes before pointing to the door. 

“Fuckin- go. Go before I say shit I’ll regret. Leave. Now.” He orders her and she left the office with a loud slam of the door. 

I sighed, dropping my head back on the couch and closing my eyes, wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby” he sighed, the soft sounds of pen on paper filling the silence. 

“Not your fault” I mumbled, crossing my arms. 

“I-it is. Babe I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringin’ you into this shit. It’s not fair, she’s your friend” he said. 

“Exactly- she’s my friend. I love her, Carm. She’s a hard headed fuck at times, but it’s because she loves being here. She just- has this idea that I have some semblance of control over what you do” I took off my shoes before sitting crisscrossed on the couch. 

He snorts a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Well. I mean, not full control- but I listen to you” he gives me a small smirk and I roll my eyes. 

“In our relationship of course. But I can’t honestly give you advice about that. Shes gonna cool off and apologize, to you too babe. Shes gonna realize we just want her better” I sighed softly. 

He nodded, continuing to fill out the form. “I get if you don’t wanna sit around here, want me t’drive you home?” He asked. 

I shook my head “why not? Well if I can stay back here. I don’t like being in the kitchen like at all” I said and he chuckled. 

“Why? Too busy?” He asked

“Too busy, too loud, too bright, to many stabbey things, too many people, too many smells, too much yelling.” I said, pulling my kindle out of my purse. “But back here I have a comfy couch, my books, and my bear. So, I’m ok here” i smile a bit and he rolled over, giving me a peck on the lips. 

“Thank you f’comin, honey. Really” he tucked my hair behind my ear. 

“Baby, any time. If you’re ever scared, or need to talk, or just- I dunno…need a hug? I’m here. That’s what I’m for.” I said and he kissed my nose sweetly. 

“Then I’m the luckiest guy alive” he said softly before kissing my lips in the way that gave me a feeling of a swarm of monarchs being trapped in my chest.  

“Oh you are the mushiest ever” I said and kissed the cute little moles on his cheek.

The door slammed open and Syd comes in “give it.” She snipped, outstretching her hand. 

Carm rolls back over to the desk, handing her the form and she plucks it from his hands. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and they look at eachother in silence, almost like 2 lions deciding if it was worth it to continue a fight over dominance. 

“Please.” She said quietly after a few moments, her big brown eyes teary. 

“Syd” he said softly, signing to her ‘I’m sorry’ over his chest and i bit my lip, looking out the window, trying to appear uninterested so that they could have some semblance of privacy. 

“Then I want you to get your back checked out. Fair is fair, Carmen.” She said shakily. 

My eyes flicker back over to him and he sits back in his chair, rubbing over his chin for a moment as he thought. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go to the doctor. Back pain is different Syd you know this. But fuckin’ whatever. I’ll go if it’ll make you get Y’r surgery” he said and she nodded once. 

“Fair is fair” she outstretched her hand for him to shake, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Really, we have to seal this with a handshake?” He asked. 

“Fair, is fair.” She replied and he shook her hand firmly. 

“And I’m sorry” she said to me. I nodded 

“It’s okay, I know this is…it’s hard, kid. I get it. But did you have to give me the near impossible task of getting him to the doctor?” I tease with a smile. 

The faintest upturn of a smile replaced her frown and she shrugs. “It’s his deal to go through on. I’ll be checking.” She repeated his words from earlier and he gave her a smug smile. 

“And how will you do that? You don’t know what doctor I see, or if I’ll just go to an urgent care and have some random ass doctor write me a pain pill prescription and that’s it.” He countered. 

“Oh- because I have eyes on you at every angle.” She told him. “I’m always watching.” She teased, closing the office door behind her when she left. 

“What- is she gettin’ daily reports from you ‘er somethin?” He asks and I laughed, shrugging a bit. 

“Mmm. Not reports. I don’t like tell her everything, but- mood reports” I giggle and Richie opens the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! How are we gonna run this shit without Syd?!” He shuts the door behind him and looks over to me. “Sorry sweetheart, nice t’see you” he gives me an apologetic smile before turning back to Carm. “You let her go?!” He asks and Carmen looks at him as if he had 3 heads. 

“Let her go?! No, jagoff. I told her to take short term, I’m paying her full wages as long as she needs, and she’s gonna be back when she’s fuckin’ better.” Carmy explained. 

“Short term? Short term termination? Short term what?!” Richie asked frustratedly. 

“You IDIOT. SHORT TERM DISABILITY!” He shouts at him and I flinch. 

“Carmen” I said sharply, he quickly looks over to me. 

“That scares me. Please. You don’t need to yell, Bear- also- you aren’t an idiot, Richie. He’s just…in a mood.” I said softly and Carm’s cheeks flush red.  

“ok” he muttered, turning back to Richie. “It’s-“ he takes a deep breath. “It’s fine. I have it under control. What I need you t’do, is ask Nat for the login shit for the recruiting website she used to find the runners and shit. Can you handle that f’me while I figure out how this shits gonna work while Syds out?” He asked him calmly, but I could still…feel him. His energy. He’s way too wound up. 

I wish I could just tell him to come home, talk it out with him, I knew all of this rage was just him burying his fear. He was so fucking scared. 

“I can. I can do that” Richie nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “So- so what’re we doin’ what’s the fuckin plan?” He asked and I give him a look. 

I knew he had to get out of here or Carm was going to rip in to him just because he could. “Richie, Syd just left- like 5 minutes before you came in here? Carmy is still working that out…can you- can you do me a favor?” I asked and his brows raised in surprise. 

“Yea? Yeah. Wha’dyou need?” He asked. 

“Can you go get that stuff from Nat and then make me a grilled cheese? Eva said you make really good grilled cheese. So Carmy can have some quiet time to figure this out, and you guys can tell everyone what’s going on together.” I look at Carm. 

“Because you don’t have to do everything alone, you’re a team. Breaking difficult news is hard, but when you have the people you love with you, it can make it easier to bare the weight.” I said, looking directly at Carmen. 

Carm nodded, swallowing thickly and biting at the inside of his lip nervously. “Sure- yeah. She uh…she said that?” Richie asked and I smiled, looking over to him once again. 

“She specifically said - ‘My daddy makes the best grilled cheese in the whole wide world’ “ I told him and he smiled a bit, a light blush creeping to his cheeks. 

“Alright well the kid has quite the flare f’dramatics, but I can make a pretty good grilled cheese. Comin’ right up” he said and headed back out to the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. 

Carm got up, locking the door, before coming over to the couch and laying down with his head in my lap. I knew he didn’t have the confidence to ask, so I gently start scratching his head in the way that he liked and his eyes fluttered shut. He let out a deep sigh, like a pressure valve releasing so it wouldn’t explode. 

“So let’s make a plan, baby. I don’t think you need three. I think you know that but you’re planning for someone to drop” I said softly, gently stroking my nails through his hair. 

“Cause someone will drop babe it’s how it fuckin goes. If I hire 2 we’re gonna be left short when one quits because they aren’t as good as the other one.” He said. 

“Well why do you say that, baby?” I asked. 

“Because no one’s gonna fight to be the best when they inevitably find out they’re a temp” he said and I furrow my brows. 

“Carmen. You weren’t planning on hiring someone without telling them right?” I asked and he got quiet. “Carmen. Are you kidding me?! Absolutely not! Oh my god that is so- so mean baby!” I said and his cheeks heat. 

“Well who the fuck is gonna wanna work here when we already have a full fuckin staff?!” He asked annoyed. 

“Because you are the best fucking restaurant in Chicago, are you kidding me baby?! Just like you sent Richie to Ever to gain experience? There are fucking talented chefs Carmy, ones like Richie who don’t have the time to save and go to super nice culinary school like you did and garner that expirience. There would be a line out the door if you were honest and said ‘hey who wants a 2 month opportunity at a luxury fine dining restaurant that’s been nominated for best new restaurant by the JBF in its first year open’ “ I told him. 

He was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. “I guess” he mutters. 

“Babe cmon we can write the posting together. We don’t even have to do all this today. Don’t rush, y’know what would be a good idea?” I ask. He hums in response. “I think, that you should go back out there, work as usual, keep Syd’s stations covered best you can, and we can have a nice Sunday together, relax, recharge, and then we’ll have Palm Sunday dinner with the family, and then on Monday, you can come in fresh and rested with a great plan on what you’ll tell everyone with Richie.” I explain. 

He contemplated for a moment, looking over at the desk in thought before looks up at me, “thank you.” He said softly. I gently caress his cheek with my knuckle. 

“Nothin’ to thank me for, Bear.” I said and he took my hand, placing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. 

“There’s too much to thank you for. We’d be here forever” he mumbled against my fingers with a small smile.  

“You’re getting mushier by the day” I ruffle his hair and the doorknob jiggles. 

“D’you still want this?” Richie calls from outside. 

“Yeah! Sorry” I said getting up when Carmen got off my lap. I opened the door and Richie offers me a plate with 2 grilled cheeses. 

“He hasn’t eaten” he said so only we could hear and I nod. 

“Thank you, best cousin ever” I took the plate. 

“Course, anytime. Oh Carm” he looks to him “user is MBerzatto87 password is fuckin password234.” He said and Carm chuckled a bit. 

“I coulda guessed that shit. But I guess I was hopeful he gave more a shit about cybersecurity” he shook his head. 

“RICHIE. DID YOU TOUCH MY ORANGE ZEST?!” Tina shouts from the kitchen and Richie heads back 

“What the fuck would I need orange zest for?” He yells back as I shut the door, locking it once again. 

“How do things always go missing?” I giggle a bit, sitting next to him and placing the plate on his lap, taking one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. 

“Cause people at the same stations doin’ the same thing will think they already did their orange zest, and just take it.” He said, staring at the plate on his lap. “Also I’m not hungry” he put the plate on the desk. 

I shrugged, putting my sandwich back on the plate. “Okay” I said, brushing off my hands before grabbing my kindle again and continuing to read. 

“What- what’re you doin’ babe. Eat” he said, putting the plate on my lap. 

“I’m not hungry” I said, not looking up from the page. 

“Yes you are, you - you don’t ask for food unless you’re hungry, Winnie.” He said. 

“Mm- I like it when we eat together. I don’t wanna eat by myself so, my appetite is gone.” I lie with a shrug. 

“Y’really gonna be difficult right now?” He asked and in response, I playfully stuck out my tongue before going back to reading. 

“Oh you are a child” he huffs, picking up the untouched sandwich and taking a bite. 

“Oo! I’m hungry again!” I teased, grabbing mine as well and taking another bite. 

He snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Y’re lucky y’cute” he said before taking another bite. 

I smiled, “I love winning you over. It’s my favorite game” I said teasingly. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m just saving myself, you turn into a tiny demon when you’re hungry. Especially on your cycle” he said and I laughed. 

“You’ve learned your lesson though so you don’t have to meet that demon again as long as you keep us fed.” I peel off the crust, setting it on the plate. 

“You don’t like the crust?” He asked. 

“No…well- I don’t know..really. I didn’t as a kid, but Chris did, so I always gave it to him. Never stopped” I said, staring at the crust on the plate as I got lost in memories of sitting in the school cafeteria with Chris over lunch, carefully peeling off the crust after taking my first bite and putting it on the top of the empty ziplock he’d taken his sandwich from. 

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he’s happy you still leave it for him” he said. My heart melts at the sentiment and I gently kissed his cheek before resuming eating my sandwich. 

“I don’t like pickles, so when we were kids- Mikey always picked em off for me.” He says quietly and I looked up at him. It wasn’t often that he brought up stories about Michael, so each one I safely tucked away in my mind where I’d never forget. 

“I love pickles, I could eat a whole jar if you let me. I’ll always take unwanted pickles” I smiled a bit. 

“Ahhh ok. So you’re a sour person not a spicy person. It’s usually one or the other” he said before finishing off his sandwich. 

“Yes- exactly. You like spicy stuff? We haven’t eaten a single spicy thing” I said and he nods. 

“Love spicy shit. But you don’t, so doesn’t really matter” he shrugged. 

“Wha- Carmy. No! No you can eat spicy things, I feel bad. I don’t want it to always be what I like. Just like- make mine less spicy” I said. 

“It’s fine babe, I try spicy stuff here all the time. Plus the food I like with a ton of spice in it is usually Indian and Filipino and shit where the whole profile is about the heat and the spice so-“ I inturrupt him. 

“You like Filipino food?!” I asked and he nods 

“Yeah- why, do you?” He asks and I nod happily 

“My neighbor! Ms.Mendoza! She’s from the Philippines! Before you started bringing me dinner I’d usually stop by her place because she always made too much and asked me if I wanted it, you have to talk to her babe she’s like- amazing! I’m sure you guys will have so much in common she loves cooking- and she has like all these connections back home in the Philippines and they send her spice mixes and stuff for her to try. You have to try this stew- she calls it um..” I think for a moment “inew? Inihaw? Yeah- I think that’s it. Inihaw na leimpo! “ I said excitedly. 

“Oh- the lady- the lady I met?” He asked and I nod. 

“Yeah- I…I never asked- was she there when you got there?” I asked

“She- well” he chuckled. “Almost knocked me out with her cane cause I guess she thought I was trying to break in, cause I heard you screamin’ and I was trying to pick the lock, I told her I was a friend and she didn’t really believe me, but then she saw the flowers and she nearly dropped the keys getting the door open.” He said and my cheeks go pink. 

“I’m…I’m sorry- she’s like….such a grandma. She’s been hounding me about a boyfriend since I moved in don’t mind her pushyness about it. She’s been trying to hook me up with her friends grandsons left and right” I finished off my sandwich. 

“Well, she can stop looking now right?” He asks. 

I brushed my hands off before nervously picking at my nail polish at the question. “What does that mean?” I asked and the room went eerily silent for what felt like minutes. 

“Cause’…” he trails off. “Are you…are you still seeing other people?” He asks and I look over at him. 

“No. No, Carmy. No just you..are you?” I asked and he shook his head. “So…what does that mean?” I asked biting the inside of my lip nervously. 

“I…I dunno…” he looked at the clock. “I uh- I have to get out there, you still wanna hang out here?” He asked. 

I swallowed thickly, realizing that I didn’t want to be here all day if he was just going to run away. 

“So…what Syd said. You’re- you’re my boyfriend now?” I asked and he went pale as a sheet. 

I stare at him, waiting for a response, and he opens his mouth like he was going to say something but he closes it again, nervously rubbing his lips together. 

“Well- are you?” I ask. 

“So- so Y’re like…my girlfriend now?” He asked. 

“That’s my question, am I your girlfriend?” I asked and he shrugged. 

“I guess? I dunno…I’ve never done this I just…kinda assumed?” He said rubbing his neck nervously. 

“Well- I don’t remember you ever asking me…” I nudge his knee with mine gently. 

“You didn’t ask me to be your boyfriend either!!” He said. 

“Because I knew you’d freak out! And like- Y’re a masculine guy Carm I didn’t wanna make you feel insecure!” I exclaim. 

“Okay fine! Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, a small smile on his lips. 

“Hmmmmm….” I put my finger to my lips, pretending to contemplate. “Of course I will dummy” I pull him into a deep wanting kiss and he hums happily, gently rubbing over my hip with his palm. 

“Y’know y’mine baby I tell you like every day” he said, his breath fanning my lips. 

I look up at him, biting my lip to contain a grin. “I dunno…I thought you said it just t’like..please me when we fool around, I didn’t know you meant it.” I said softly. 

“I’d never say something I don’t mean baby, everything I tell you I really mean” he leans in, kissing me again. But this kiss was sweeter, somehow more intimate then the last. It felt…truthful. 

I gently cup his cheek, humming softly and he pulls away when the doorknob to the office starts to jiggle and someone pounds on it. 

“Chef?! We need more hands out here if we’re gonna be gettin’ this order out on time are you with us?” Tina calls through the door. 

“Duty calls” he sighs softly. “You know where to find me baby” he kissed my forehead sweetly before heading back out to the kitchen.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡

[authorred]

Loki Laufey/Odinson NSFW HC’s cause I’m slacking off in class

This will definitely be NSFW (18+) so minors DNI (do not interact). Unless you do, which in that case I refuse to be held responsible for the content you consume.

Warning(s): NSFW

Superiority complex through the roof

I really want to say switch top

Has lacked true control and power his entire life, so allow him to take the reins every once in a while

However, his cockiness and brattiness can and should be tamed

Very servile when submissive--will pleasure you in whatever way he can, and you want

When he’s dominant, he’s calm and very soft. Rarely gets rough on his own incentive. You’d have to ask for it specifically and/or tell him it’s alright before hand

He’s probably more submissive than dominant, so if you want him to be your good boy, just lean up and purr into his ear how much he’s pleasuring you/how good he’s doing

He will melt and lose his dominant front

KISS HIS NECK NOW

Kiss the back of his hand whilst keeping eye contact. He won’t say it, but that gets him off

Call him ‘My Prince’

His favorite position in general would be underneath you

Ride him whilst he sitting or lying down, he will hold you and assist you if you want or need

Choke this whore

Quickest way to get him horny is to challenge him

Whether he wins or loses doesn’t matter, though if he loses to you that’s bonus points

If he wins his ego will go through the roof

If he loses, on his knees he’ll go

It really depends on your preferred dynamic tbh

He’s a complex person with a bunch of contradicting emotions and feelings

Sometimes he’ll sub and then decide to dom because he’s so used to submitting to others, it’s a habit to try and ‘be better’ than them, or ‘one up’ them in some way

If you want him to sub to you, not only do you have to show him he can trust and respect you, but you have to show him you’re worth it

Might cry one of the first times icl

Body worship, affirmations, praise

EMPHASIS ON THE PRAISE--PRAISE THIS GOD FOR THE LOVE OF DFGNJBHHNBUJGDTRHBUAREBH

If you ask him to fuck you over a desk or a table or on a piece of furniture, chances are he’ll do it

Emerald green lingerie, that’s it

Any lingerie you wear would get him to go awooga, but EMERALD GREEN would get him to bark without a doubt, that man’s a whore for that color

Look him dead in the eye, tell him ‘Kneel’ and he’ll give you that ‘really?’ look of his before obeying

Play with his hair, pull it, grip it, use it to guide him

Will whimper--MAKE him whimper--literally turn this god into a submissive whimpering mess

Slight mommy issues, but will never you call ‘mommy’

Will call you things like ‘My Princess’, ‘My Love’ ‘My Dear’, ‘Darling’, ‘Sweetheart’

Will use your actual name in times of intense of pleasure

Might not be into pegging that much? He might try, but there’s a bigger chance of him disliking it

Slap him (not too hard) when he brats. He’ll become shocked and that’s the perfect time to dom him

Sit on his lap and kiss his neck, he’ll be gone

He probably knows how to play some sort of classical instrument like piano. So, when he’s playing, come up behind him, wrap your arms around his waist, hickey up the side of his neck, and watch him mess up the entire song

Push him against the wall and boldly proclaim he’s yours

Soft touches and tender kisses between rough moments whilst fucking

Eye contact--a lot of it

‘My beautiful prince’ is his favorite compliment/name

He will get on his knees and kiss up your leg and slowly unclothe you if that’s what you desire

Absolute god at using his tongue

Hits that specific spot (regardless of what he’s using: tongue, fingers, dick) and keeps it up until you cum

He gets a bit lost with toys, and seems a bit offended if you bring it up first (he believes he’s all you need)

Will have to reassure him that toys are friends, not foes

After the first few minutes of disgruntlement, he does come to the quick realization of the possibilities

Will pleasure you the way you want with them 4/5 times

Wants to give and receive pretty equally if he’s not in a certain headspace

If you’re between his legs and you kiss his thighs, he’ll blush and tell you to ‘not do that’ only because he’s flustered

[s4bbatical]

YOUR GIRL | Part 3. Patrick Zweig x Female!Reader

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x female!reader, Tashi Duncan x female!reader (platonic)

Summary: After your parents announce their divorce, you're sent to New York to pursue your passion for the arts at NYU. Your cousin, the infamous tennis player Tashi Duncan, introduces you to her insufferable colleagues at a house party in the upper east side. Already a sore thumb from rural Canada, Patrick can't help but find interest in an untouched territory.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, profanities, mentions of alcohol use.

MINORS DNI

Notes: The timeline is inaccurate in comparison to the film, this is an AU. All characters introduced are barely in their early 20s, unless stated otherwise. No use of y/n.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.

CHAPTER THREE: “Master of None”

"Jack of all trades, master of none. Cry all the time, because I'm not having fun."

As days blended into weeks, you found yourself walking through Manhattan on a chilly October afternoon. The trees have begun to shed their green hue, replaced for the autumn shades of red and orange. You no longer could wear your H&M shorts without tights, and it was a given to consistently wear your grandfather’s leather jacket. You couldn’t have been more than happy. It was now your favorite time of the year.

“What do you mean you haven’t figured out your costume yet?” You ask your friend, Chloe. She was in the same program as you, same year. The two of you didn’t hit it off until you complimented her cross ring, unveiling a wonderful friendship. She knew everything about you, including your family and the drama you’ve encountered since moving to New York.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” Chloe reassures, sipping her hot chocolate.

“You realize Halloween is in a week? There’s already flyers for parties this weekend, so technically you have two days.” You remind her, opening the front entrance to your school’s library.

She shrugs. “Still don’t care. I’ll be a black cat or something.”

You groan at the low effort idea. “Why don’t you do a duo costume with me?” You suggest, walking through a group of students to make it to the stairs.

“Then we both have to figure out a costume right away. Aren’t you doing Marie Antoinette though?” Chloe asks, looking over her shoulder at you as you reach the silent study area. A random student shushes the two of you, Chloe rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but you can be King Louis or something.” You whisper, grinning.

Chloe raises her eyebrows, nodding slowly. “Right, cause that will surely get the message across.” She says, putting her backpack down as she retrieves her laptop from within the sack.

“Or you can be like, my lady in waiting. Just dress like me but in different colors?” You suggest again, sitting across from her.

“I do not feel like buying all those accessories just to not use them again, sorry.” Chloe admits, beginning to type on her laptop. “Don’t worry I’ll figure it out, seriously. I’ll be Mclovin from Superbad or something.” She says, grinning.

“You know, that would be quite fun.” You whisper, smiling back at her as you unlock your MacBook. “Very lesbian costume choice though.”

Chloe scoffs, kicking your leg lightly.

“Ow!” You exclaim, rubbing your shin as the same student shushes you once again but with more verbatim. You glare at the young man wearing the ugliest glasses you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll probably still pull a beautiful woman, just you wait.” She says, wagging her finger at you.

“God I hope so. I think our classmates assume we’re together, so it’s better if you do.” You both laugh silently.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you away from your attention on Chloe.

pat_zweig: any halloween plans yet?

You: nooo, i think tashi was gonna bring me to a house party but she’s sick. no party rock for her :(

You and Patrick have become more friends than foes over the past month. You kept ignoring his advances, and he eventually stopped making moves all together. He’ll throw out a comment every now and then, but nothing worth getting worked up over. You actually liked being his friend. You found it was easier to deal with him that way, or at least the physical attraction you still had towards him. It was better to make him untouchable all together in your eyes.

pat_zweig: i was hoping you’d say that

pat_zweig: not the tashi being sick part, sorry for her loss ouch. but there’s a halloween party happening at some rich kid's loft in manhattan. you interested?

You: can i bring my friend chloe?

pat_zweig: the lesbo? yeah sure she’s cool

You raise your eyebrow, chuckling at Patrick’s texts.

“I think I just found our party spot this weekend.” You say confidently, putting your phone down.

“Oh? Which mediocre man of the week invited you?” She asks, typing away.

“Ha ha.” You say flatly. “It’s Patrick, and he’s just my friend now thank god.” You explain, opening your study guide from the documents folder on your laptop.

Chloe looks up from her screen and furrows her brows. “I still cannot believe you managed to turn that around and become friends. I would’ve just pretended he didn’t exist.” She says into her palm, her elbow resting on the table.

"Can you guys go somewhere else?" Four eyes snaps quietly, annoyed by the volume of your conversation.

Chloe turns and faces the antagonist of the day. “How about you fucking go somewhere else Napoleon Dynamite?” She says passive aggressively.

The man huffs and gathers his belongings, giving you both a glare before walking off.

“To be fair Chloe, we are in the study area.” You say quietly, pointing to the sign by the stairs.

“There’s like literally no one else in here.” She states, gesturing to the vacant space. “I will never understand why our professors set our exams for the end of month instead of earlier like the rest of the NYU population.” She retorts, returning to the assignment on her laptop.

“Because we’re basically in communications. I don’t even know why we have mid term exams.” You say begrudgingly, going through your flash cards.

“Hey, can you quiz me with those?” Chloe asks, pointing to the deck of cards in your hands.

“Yes ma’am.”

-

It was Saturday, October 26th. Your Bluetooth speaker blasted out a curated playlist for the pregame of the evening from your desk, Chloe watching you assemble your costume while swigging back a mickey of vodka.

“What do you think?” You ask, putting your hands on your corset.

“You look hot, good job.” She says, raising her bottle of sourpuss.

Chloe did in fact dress up as Mclovin, which was as expected.

Your hair was also a pain in the ass to do. After about 20 bobby pins and an enough hairspray to probably put another hole in the ozone, it was satisfactory.

“When’s Patrick showing up?” Chloe asks, sitting up straight and readjusting her glasses.

“What time is it?” You ask, looking over at Chloe in your vanity mirror as you packed on white face makeup.

“It’s uh,” She looks at her phone. “Nine on the dot.”

“He should be here, actually–“ Your bedroom door opens, revealing the exact man you were speaking of. He seemed to be dressed business casual, a pair of glasses upon his face that suited him very well. He looked good, but you would never tell him that.

“A–ha! Speak of the devil and he shall come.” Chloe exclaims, clapping her hands together.

“Nice seeing you too, Chloe.” Patrick feigns a smile, squinting at her. “What are you dressed as? Closeted?” He asks, stepping into the room.

“Why? You wanna know if I made up my mind so we can bone?” She asks sarcastically, scoffing.

“My life hasn’t hit rock bottom yet for me to wish that upon myself.” He argues. Chloe purses her lips and glares at him.

Art shows up behind Patrick, looking over at you. “Hi, I hope you don’t mind I’m here too.” He says.

“That’s fine, hello you guys.” You laugh, looking back in the mirror.

“Nice costume. It turned out well.” Patrick says to you, clearly checking you out.

Chloe rolls her eyes at him. “What even is your costume? You look like a pathetic nine to five.” She says, referring to his attire.

Patrick unbuttons his shirt, revealing the superman logo underneath on a t-shirt. “I’m Clark Kent.” He says as if it was already obvious, rebuttoning his shirt.

“And I’m a cowboy.” Art states, tilting his hat at Chloe.

“Awe, that’s cute actually.” She says, smiling at Art.

“Thank you!” He chirps, grinning widely.

“Why do you hate me.” Patrick says flatly to Chloe, who simply shrugs in response.

“I just don’t like you that much. Someone has to keep you humble."

“Why though? We both love women, we can at least agree on that.” Patrick points out, throwing his hands up before letting them fall to his sides.

“Okay you guys, start drinking we have to leave soon.” You interrupt, pointing at the boys with your eyeliner pen.

“Finally.” Art sighs, sitting down in your desk chair. “Nice playlist by the way.” He says, setting down a pack of coolers on your desk.

“Thank you! I’m glad someone recognizes taste.” You say, finishing up your makeup as Patrick puts a can down in front of you.

“For you, your royal highness.” He says, tapping your unopened drink with his own.

“Mm thank you squire.” You open the can, chugging the carbonated drink fast enough to cause a small burp to erupt from your stomach. “Sorry, I’m catching up.” You excuse yourself.

Patrick and Art laugh.

“Real classy, admirable.” Chloe says, swigging her mickey again.

“So is that bottle of yours.” Patrick comments, raising a brow. “Did your mom teach you to drink like a washed up loser?”

“No, your mom did actually. She’s a real dime.” Chloe smiles, putting the lid back on her bottle.

They begin mocking each other, causing you to stand up. “If you guys keep fighting we’re not going anywhere. Knock it off.” You say sternly, finishing your drink.

“It’s hot when you command a room like that.” Patrick says, smirking at you.

“See?!” Chloe gestures towards him in disbelief.

You look at Art for support, who simply shakes his head with a sympathetic smile.

“I am not babysitting you guys tonight.” You state, sitting back down.

-

The taxi ride to the location was the same as the pregame. The two were bickering in the backseat as you sat in the middle, Art up front with the taxi driver.

“…And that’s why I think you’ll die before the rest of us.” Chloe says, leaning forward to look at Patrick.

“I hope it’s soon if that means I don’t have to hear you speak anymore.” He mutters, only you hearing his words. You stifle a laugh.

“We’re here!” Art exclaims, paying the driver as you all begin to exit the vehicle.

"It's very... brick." You simply say, staring at the tall building. Considering the location, you knew it had to look better on the inside.

"So is ninety percent of New York." Chloe states, readjusting the ID tag on her shirt.

You notice other people standing outside the building, smoking cigarettes and joints. There was a mix of extravagant costumes and low effort ones, nothing more expected.

Your group walk up the stairs to the landing, a security guard opening the door. "Name?" He asks, glancing over the four of you.

"Patrick, Zweig." Patrick states, pushing up his fake glasses.

The security guard looks down the guest list, flipping it over to the next page. He looks up. "Come in." He gestures, stepping out of the way to allow entrance. "Third floor." He says nonchalantly, pressing the button to call down the elevator.

The four of you squeeze into the cart, your finger pressing round button with '3' written on it.

"I wonder how the neighbors feel about this." You question aloud.

"I bet you they’re at this party too." Patrick says, leading the group as you make your way out of the elevator. He approaches the only door on the floor, where music is blasting from behind. He opens it to reveal a very, very large duplex loft space.

The lighting is dim, the music pumping over a sea of costumes. It's the usual social scene, one that you were still getting accustomed to. There’s an air of freedom and possibility, but it also means that anything could happen.

"I need more alcohol if I'm gonna enjoy myself." You say to Chloe, who nods in agreement. The two of you part from Art and Patrick, finding yourselves in the kitchen where at least a dozen bottles of liquor were. "Is there any mixers?" You ask Chloe, looking around the perimeter.

"Shots?" She suggests, raising her hands. She was already holding a bottle of Jose Cuervo.

You give her a look of hesitation before nodding. These rich kids partied like they were gonna die tomorrow, might as well join them.

Chloe pours you shots, consistently until you're about four down in under two minutes. "Okay, that should be enough for now." She states, putting the bottle down.

You cough over the last one, wincing at the burning sensation. You look across the room, seeing Patrick flirt effortlessly with a woman dressed like a playboy bunny. You grimace at the sight.

"One more for extra measure." You say, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig straight from it. You felt your stomach churn, but kept it down.

"Slow down, don't get too fucked up right away." Chloe warns you, grabbing the bottle and putting it back down.

You laugh at her, gesturing to leave the kitchen together. The last thing you wanted to do is watch Patrick in action, a pit in your stomach gnawing at you. You are friends. You do not want him.

You notice people smoking inside, seeing lines of coke being snorted off an architectural digest magazine. You decide to pull out your own pack of smokes, sticking one in your mouth.

"May I?" Chloe asks, gesturing to your pack. You nod, allowing her to pull out one for herself.

You both smoke your Marlboro Reds as you join the mass of people dancing in the open space, finding the music to be rather well curated.

Chloe gasps when she sees someone, grabbing their arm. "Hey!"

The girl turns and smiles at Chloe, giving her a hug. "Oh my god! Why are you here?" She asks in a playful tone, inhaling her joint.

"I know, I'm surprised myself. He brought us here." Chloe points over to Patrick in the distance, who was now talking to Art.

"Patrick? You're friends with him?" The mystery girl asks, laughing.

"Fuuuck no, she is." Chloe refers to you. "This is Annika, by the way." She introduces her friend. Annika was dressed as a vampire, a very sexy one at that.

"Nice to meet you." She says, getting your name. "You're friends with him? How did that happen?" She asks curiously.

"By force. He kept trying to get with me and it eventually turned into us just being friends because I wouldn't let him sleep with me." You explain, inhaling your cigarette.

"I don't get it. He clearly still wants you." Chloe remarks, pointing towards him with her cigarette.

"Nah, I don't think so. He gave up on me." You try to say, shrugging. You look over at Patrick once more, making eye contact with him while Art speaks to him.

You look away, scoffing. "I wouldn't even dare to let that ever happen. I love myself too much." You joke, causing the two women to laugh with you.

"Oh joy, he's coming over." Chloe says, taking the joint passed over to her gladly.

Patrick looks you up and down. You expect him to make a comment, or maybe you hoped he would. Instead, he looks over at Annika.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Patrick." He says, sticking out his hand and giving her a playful smirk.

Annika chuckles. "Annika." She places her hand in his, Patrick lifting it up to place a kiss on the top of her hand. She raises a brow.

"You're very beautiful, Annika." He states, letting go of her hand.

"Barf!" Chloe exclaims, smacking his arm. "Leave my friends alone, ignore him Annika." She tells her vampire friend.

It felt like there was a little gremlin in your stomach, punching your gut repeatedly. You couldn't help but wonder if Patrick was doing this on purpose, flirting with others blatantly in front of you to be punished for the fact that you wouldn't let him overcome your stubborn ways.

"Do you listen to your friends? Or do you have your own right of mind?" He asks Annika, giving her a look.

"It's fine." She tells Chloe, looking back at him as he leads her away to the dancefloor.

If your brain had the ability to strangle your heart, then you're quite positive it did just that in this moment.

Chloe is taken aback. "That motherfucker! I swear to god!" She exasperates. "He's taking the piss out of both of us. I don't understand what his deal is." She harshly remarks, finishing off the joint Annika gave to her and tossing it in a nearby ashtray. You look over at the coffee table with lines of coke being done by a medusa and a knight in shining armor.

"Have you ever done coke before?" You abruptly ask. You had a premonition that you'll only feel worse if you keep drinking to ignore the fire in your abdomen, deciding to do something else about it.

Chloe's eyes widen. "Well yeah, who hasn't?" She reasons, looking at you closely. "Are you okay? Why are you asking?"

"I wanna do it." You say. You were drunk, sure. However, the idea of adding something to the mix to ignore the scenario at hand made you feel somewhat better, even if it wasn't the best idea.

"Well," Chloe digs into her pocket, pulling out a small baggie of white powder. "I do have some. But seriously, are you sure?" She asks once more.

"Yes. Just, give it to me." You urge, gesturing towards the bag with your hands.

The two of you head to a bathroom, surprisingly vacant. You suggested to do it out in the open like everyone else, but Chloe was insistent on keeping it private so no one else tried to ask for her stash. There was a frame signed above the toilet that said Please Don't Do Coke In The Bathroom, which you found very humorous.

Chloe got a bump onto her house key, snorting it. She rubbed her nose a few times before scooping another hit, handing it over to you. "Do what I just did." She instructs.

You grab the key and hold it to your left nostril, pressing the right one closed. You inhale deeply. The sensation of powder going up your nose feels diabolical at first, you too rubbing your nose and inhaling the rest. You felt it enter your system, exhaling through your mouth with a grin. "Jesus, that felt weird." You say looking at yourself in the mirror. The longer you stare, the faster it enters your system. You slowly start to smile widely, looking at Chloe in the reflection. "Ooh, I think I get it now."

"I'm glad you like it." Chloe grins, the both of you looking at each other in the mirror. "Hey," She places a hand on your shoulder, gathering your attention. "Just putting this out there, but don't let Patrick get to you. He's a waste of space, not worth your time."

"I know." You say, nodding.

Chloe sighs. "You like him, don't you?" She asks, dropping her hand.

You purse your lips. "No, I'm over it." You say, fixing your hair. "Let's fucking party." You say with a grin, giving yourself a final look over before exiting the bathroom.

The two of you head back into the party, the scene now feeling brand new to you with drugs in your system. Where's Your Head At by Basement Jaxx was playing, giving you the exact energy that you needed. The two of you start dancing with everyone else, finding yourself moving swiftly along to the beat. You see Patrick in the distance, making eye contact as you continue dance, moving your hands all over your torso.

He looks away, looking back at Annika. You grow frustrated as the two of them begin to make out. You look around for a free body, a man dressed as Westley from Princess Bride making eye contact with you. You move your way over to him, moving in sync with him. You quickly turn your head at Chloe, who has found a pretty woman to dance with.

The vibe was becoming a good one, turning back to face the Westley lookalike. You move your head side to side as he places his hands on your hips. Your hands land on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. You glance back over at Patrick, who is watching your every move like you intended. He looks away once more when he realizes you're looking at him.

Annika scoffs at Patrick. "Seriously?" She says, dropping her hands.

"What?" Patrick asks, confused by her sudden change of mood.

"You keep looking at her. The fuck are you even doing man?" She says, dismissing him with her hand. She walks away from him, leaving him alone on the dance floor.

You watch as Annika abandons Patrick, confused by her actions yourself. You try to keep your eyes on your new arm candy, turning to grind against him. You look again for Patrick, who has disappeared from your field of vision.

"Hey, can you get me a drink?" You ask your dance partner, deciding you were done with him. He nods eagerly before making his way towards to the kitchen. You move your way through the crowd, heading towards the the staircase. You decide to go upstairs, realizing most of the people on the upper floor were coupled up and very much paying no mind to the rest of the attendees. You look down from the railing, trying to find any of the members of your group. Chloe was still with the random woman from before, and Art was talking the ear off of one of his mutual friends. You still couldn't find Patrick.

You turn and spot the fire escape, figuring that some fresh air would be good. You walk over to the window, propping it open to step onto the landing. Sitting down on one of the steps, you pull out a cigarette.

The alcohol and coke acted as a coat against the cold, feeling numb as you pulled out one of your cigarettes. You light it, inhaling as you watched the busy street below you. You wondered how you ended up here, and the way the night was going. You thought about your friends, and about Patrick. You let yourself acknowledge that you were jealous. You wished that were you dancing with him, not Chloe's friend. It felt pointless to do anything about it. Patrick was your friend, and that wasn't going to change anything. You didn't want to become one of the many women he walked over in his path of destruction. You knew better, you deserved better. You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, accepting your own fate. You spent so much time trying to avoid the fact that he was getting under your skin, there was no point in fighting it anymore.

"Hey."

Your head turns towards the open window, spotting Patrick standing there. You may be quite inebriated or simply fed up with the night, but there's a palpable tension in the air. He doesn’t immediately apologize or even confront you about what you've seen—he’s just standing there, maybe a little unsure of how to handle the situation.

"You alright out here?" He’s being casual, almost too casual, but there's an underlying question in his tone.

You sit there in silence, letting the frustration over him bubble up inside. This is your moment to vocalize how you feel, but also to confront the fact that you do care about him, which is exactly what you've been avoiding.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just clearing my head." You say coldly, inhaling your cigarette once more.

Patrick hesitantly steps onto the landing, but maintains distance. "You looked like you were having a good time down there." He says, an undertone of defiance to his own statement.

"I could say the same about you." You reply bitterly, putting out your cigarette beside you.

Patrick eyes you carefully, his face stone cold. "I didn't realize it was a problem. Am I not allowed to have fun?" He asks defensively, leaning against the guard railing.

You laugh. "You don't get it, do you?" You say harshly. "Stop fucking with my head, Patrick. It's not fucking funny anymore. I'm not one of your stupid little games to keep you entertained." You claim with the same bitter tone, standing up.

Patrick's eyes widen, taken aback by your change of mood. "What are you talking about?" He exclaims, furrowing his brows.

"I don't know what you think was gonna happen, but I've had enough of your shit." You spat, taking a step towards the window.

He puts his arm out, preventing you from leaving the closeted space of the fire escape. "I don't know what you think I'm trying to do here, but you've got it wrong." He tries to explain, his voice now stern with you. "I'm not playing any fucking games," He says, looking down at you. "But I can't say the same about you." He scoffs. "I don't know what you want from me!" He exclaims, laughing in dismay as he runs a hand over his face.

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of how to react at first. "If that's the case Patrick, then you've got a real fucking funny way of showing it." You snap.

Before you can acknowledge what's happening, he grabs your face and kisses you.

You let a few moments go by before pushing him away and giving his cheek a firm slap.

"Fuck. You." You say through gritted teeth, pushing him out of the way as you re-enter the loft.

"Don't walk away from me!" Patrick yells. "This conversation isn't over!" He exclaims, unintentionally gathering the attention of other guests.

You hold up your middle finger, hastily making your way down the stairs. As you reach the bottom, the Westley lookalike approaches you with a drink in hand. "Hey! There you are!" He exclaims, grinning.

You groan. "Not now, for fucks sake!" You exclaim, putting your hand up as you continue walking.

Chloe spots you from the crowd, coming up to you. "Hey what the fuck is going on?" She asks, noticing your seething gaze.

"I am going home, tell Patrick if he can't figure it out then he can go fuck himself." You snap, continuing your path towards the exit.

Chloe looks up and sees Patrick at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely crushed. As they make eye contact, she shakes her head in disapproval. She turns and starts following you.

"I'm going with you, fuck that guy! Fuck Patrick Zweig!" She yells very loudly, exiting the loft alongside you.

You laugh bitterly, heading towards the staircase instead of the elevator. "I want to kill him." You state, nearly tripping over your own feet as you make it to the lobby. "That asshole thinks he can mess with me? He thinks he can fuck with me?! He has no fucking idea what he has done!" You bark, pushing the front entrance open. You step down the stairs, your shoes making contact with the concrete sidewalk. You continue to speed walk away from the building, Chloe catching up to you.

The other party goers eye you as you make a commotion, Chloe testing them with her demeanor as the two of you keep up your pace. "What happened?" She asks, out of breath from trying to keep up with you.

"He kissed me after I tried to confront him about fucking with my feelings." You state, trying to keep yourself together as you hail a taxi. "I can't fucking stand him. I just wanna... AHH!" You scream, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Oh, that's seriously fucked up." Chloe says, waving down a taxi for the both of you.

The two of you hop into the vehicle, telling the driver where to go.

"Long night ladies?" The driver asks awkwardly, noticing the tension.

"Yeah, something like that." You say sarcastically, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms.

Chloe rubs your arm, giving you a sympathetic look. You try to smile her way, attempting to not let out your anger on her.

Patrick soon leaves the building, rushing outside to look for you. He can't spot you anywhere, muttering profanities. He’s pissed at himself, but more than that, he’s confused and frustrated because he can’t quite figure out how to resolve things. His go-to method of using charm and physicality to resolve issues has backfired in a big way. He pulls out his phone and tries to message you.

Your phone buzzes. You look at it subconsciously, fuming with rage as you see his username.

pat_zweig: im sorry, i really fucked up. lets fix this, please let me talk to you

You aggressively type back.

You: FUCK YOU!!! GO FUCK YOURSELF DONT EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN

You go to his profile and block him before putting your phone back in your lap.

Patrick's eyes widen at your response, watching your profile go nonexistent. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He exclaims, groaning.

Art comes up beside him, concerned. "Where did they go?" He asks, looking around.

"They both left, her and Chloe." He sighs. "She fucking blocked me, man." Patrick says in defeat, sitting down on the stairs and putting his head in his hands.

"That's a you problem." Art says, crossing his arms. "Why didn't you just tell her how you really feel?" He argues, sitting beside Patrick.

"I don't know! I'm a fucking idiot, don't tell me cause I already know." He sighs, shaking his head. "She never wants to speak to me again Art. I really fucked up."

"Oh, I know." Art responds casually. "You finally met a girl worthwhile and you still couldn't be normal about it." He hums. "It's who you are, Zweig. Always have been." He pats his best friend's back. "I can't help you with that."

Patrick sighs, covering his eyes. "What the fuck am I gonna do?" He groans. "This is such a big mess, I didn't even think she liked me like that man."

"I don't think you can do anything." Art says. "You have to leave her alone, let her figure out what she wants. I think trying to be persistent will only make it worse right now." He admits, clasping his hands together. "Come on, let's go home. It's not worth it." He insists, standing up and offering his best friend a hand.

Patrick looks up, begrudgingly grabbing Art's hand.

-

don't look at me, i didn't do anything! i write and they simply command my next move. he's a big dumb idiot and you're simply trying you best you're just a girl wtf ):

thank you again for the support you guys, you have no idea how much it means to me. writing helps me get thru rough times so thx for being here (: i apologize if the drug and alcohol use is a lot in this chapter, im just trying to be more realistic with how it could've been in this area and societal standards of 2013. young people do stupid shit all the time. i might be downplaying it if anything actually lol

hopefully when I post this I also manage to release part 4, but i know its unfair to keep all of you on your toes! till next time

isabel

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: If the world was perfect(you would have never invaded my space)

summary: Damian is absolutely done with Jon's shit. Jon...didn't get the memo.

But hey, what says friendship and love more than a punch in the face?

Damian didn’t ask for this, and was currently unsure of why he’d gotten such a punishment. Did he anger some deity? It definitely wasn’t karma, surely he would have remembered doing something so horrible that would warrant being in the attention of Jon Kent.

He was everywhere . And intent on bothering him. 

Damian prided himself on his clean record, the A’s that were always neatly lined up in his transcripts, nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t had a major offense…well, not anything that he hadn’t slipped his way out of. 

That might change soon, however, because it seemed Jon Kent was just itching to get a punch in the face, and Damian would be sure he was the one who delivered it.

Two weeks into tutoring the bane of existence and being constantly probed for his attention was becoming tiresome. Jon demanded his attention and it was exhausting to outsmart this dimwitted oaf on top of his studies on the daily.

Going into the lunchroom, his friends were subjected to yet another lengthy rant about how the teen, this one including some rather colorful insults in Arabic. They took their food out to the courtyard, Damian not stopping once for a breath. 

A shadow loomed over the three of them, Maya poking Damian in the shoulder to shut him up, and Colin standing slowly from his spot next to him. 

“Wayne.” 

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, cursing everything he could possibly think of, before opening them and looking up from where he was sitting.

“Kent.” He gritted out.

“You sound so happy to see me, Angel.” Jon cooed.

“Is there any distinct reason you’ve come to disrupt our lunch, or was it simply to make my day as horrid as you possibly can?”

“Sorry, Teach, just thought you would have wanted a hello from your favorite student.”

Damian could feel his eye twitching and his friends moving away from the scene. Maya nudged Colin to go find a referee for whatever was about to go down and stood, pulling up Damian with her.

“Kent, do you not have anything better to do with your life? Your studies, perhaps? Other idiots, such as yourself?” The shorter boy huffed, crossing his arms and glaring up at Jon.

Said boy was bent slightly at the waist, hands on his hips so he could be level with the angry green eyes. 

“They’re not as nearly as fun to play with then you are, Wayne.”

His face flushed in red-hot anger, teeth gritting in obvious frustration. “You have no shame , do you? I don’t pretend to understand what about this is appealing to you, but mark my words, there’s going to be a time where that smartass mouth is going to say something to the wrong person at the worst time and make you regret it.”

A dangerous smirk appeared on Jon’s lips, a tell tale sign of something that would provoke the shorter boy to all hell. Before he could say anything, Damian chuckled lowly, leaning forward till their noses were nearly touching.

 “I hope that person is me and that day is soon.“

Jon scoffed. “What’re you gonna do about it, pretty boy? Hit me?”

The resounding sound of a punch to his face echoed in the courtyard, Maya rushing to hold Damian back as Jon held his nose, cursing up a storm.

Damian grinned at him, sticking out a leg from where he was scrabbling in Maya’s hold and sweeping him off his feet.

“Damian!” Maya scolded, as if she were chastening her little brother instead of a friend who’d just punched the school delinquent.

Colin came running, Skylar, another friend, behind him. A teacher was eyeing the scene now, unmoving. The red haired boy snorted at the scene, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

They all tensed as Jon stood, lunging for Damian again, who wrenched out of Maya’s grasp and sent another hit to his face. The whistle from the teacher who was watching them sounded out, not stopping the now brawling boys, other kids during lunch circling around them.

“Break it up!” the teacher hollered, muscling their way through the crowd. Skylar and Maya yanked Damian off Jon, Colin making a path for them. 

“Wayne, Kent, the office, now .” Jon wobbled, bruised and bloody, with not even his pride left standing. 

The other boy, however, had a grim but smug look to his face, a few scratches, and bleeding cuts along his knuckles. He could hear Damian’s friends clambering over him, and what they said intrigued him.

”Dames, dude, that was badass!” the boy cheered.

”Thank you, Wikes.” Damian sounded pleased, but was quickly smacked on the back of the head by the girl with an iron grip around his arm.

”Colin, don’t encourage him. Damian, you’re a fucking dumbass, what the hell were you thinking?”  

”You promised you were done with fights, you’ll be in so much trouble!” Another girl with short mousy hair and a braid through her hair followed behind the boy, Colin apperantly. ”I can’t hold up student council or Art Club by myself if you get grounded!” 

”I’ll be fine. I’m not stupid, mind you, I did think about this beforehand.”  

”For like five seconds, maybe.” the girl holding onto him muttered, stopping as they were at the office's door. Jon lingered behind, pretending to at least look like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

 The girl with the braid patted Damian’s shoulder and whispered, ”Good luck!” , following after as Colin and the other girl pushed past the taller boy, giving him dirty looks on their way. Jon shot similar looks back, rolling his eyes and going through the office door.

Kon was waiting with an annoyed look that quickly turned concerned and mildly amused. There was another man there, somehow familiar in a way Jon knew he should have remembered. He had black hair and blue eyes, and a disappointed face that nearly made him feel bad for Damian.

The principal was there, sitting at his desk with a tired expression on his face. He saw both boys and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Mr. Grayson-Wayne, Mr. Kent, thank you for coming in your parents absence. Jonathan, Damian, sit.” 

They did so, Damian being prodded by who Jon assumed was his older brother. The smaller boy scowled and swatted back, sitting.

“Now, I've had various witness recounts. The teacher who saw it says that Jonathan  lunged first, but was already injured. Now, the second time could have just been self defense, and was provoked, clearly. This is a first for you, Damian, and I would have expected this from Jonathan, not from you.” 

“With all due respect sir,” he said suddenly. “I was provoked, and I am not kidding when I say that Ke- Jonathan asked for it.”

“How so?”

“I’ve been bothered by him for weeks now, and when I offered some very wise life advice and asked him to please let my friends and I eat in peace, he asked me, and I quote, ‘What are you going to do about it? Hit me?’ So I did.”

Kon snorted, Jon turning to give his brother a very dirty look. He covered his mouth, trying to muffle the noise and failing miserably.

The principal looked fairly amused himself, Damian’s smug look going from grim to mildly pleased. 

His brother slapped him upside the head lightly, and Jon quietly applauded him for knocking the look off the shorter boy.

“Well, this is your first offense, and since Jonathan seems to have suffered the brunt of it, I suspect that a dire punishment is mostly unneeded. Two weeks of weekend detention, and your study sessions are to be upheld. Your brothers are to take the both of you home.”

The principal sighed as they left, muttering under his breath. ”Waynes and Kents, Wayne and West, Wayne and Harper. Why do they all insist on coming to my school?” 

“So, a Wayne kicked your ass.” Kon grinned at him. “How’d that feel?”

It was kind of hot . Jon choked on his spit as the thought barreled forcefully into the front of his head. “What the fuck ?” 

“Knew it.” Kon snickered, dodging the hit sent his way. 

“I would have thought you’d had enough punches today.” Damian called out as they went past, ducking away from his older brother’s hand. 

“Damian!” He scolded, sounding like Maya had a few hours ago. “Apologize.”

The boy scowled and crossed his arms, spitting out an “I apologize” as if it cost him physical pain.

“Sorry, Kon.” the older man holding onto Damian sighed. “I should have known it would have come to something like this.”

“The little shit asked for it.” Jon’s brother ruffled his hair, much to his annoyance. “I’ll see you this weekend, I think? Tell Wally I say hello.”

“Will do! See you, Kon.” Both men dragged their little brothers out of the office, going separate ways.

Damian avoided his brother’s gaze in the mirror, choosing to hide in the back and look out the window.

“I really thought we’d gotten over this, sweetheart.”

He hated that voice. It was a disappointed dad voice perfected over the years of rowdy siblings, leaving him as the youngest with the flawless model. It made him feel like he’d gone out to kick puppies for fun. And what was worse, was how soft and sad it sounded, like he was comforting him but wrecked at the same time.

“I know,” he whispered. 

The drive home was silent, and with his siblings at work or in class, so was their large house. It wasn’t quite a mansion yet, but with their ever-growing family and account balance, it would be soon. 

He trudged after his brother as he was led to the restroom, wincing as antiseptic was dabbed on the cuts.

“You promised all of us. You promised me that it was going to be the last time. What really happened, baby bat?” 

Damian shielded his eyes from the look on his face, knowing that if he saw it he would cave.

“He was just annoying. There’s something about him, it’s aggravating. He deserved the punch in the face.”

Dick sighed, wrapping the bandages around his hand. “You’re not going back to this are you? You can’t afford this, Damian, you know that this is your last chance. I don’t think this will go on your record, and you got damn lucky for that.”

The younger swallowed the lump in his throat. This was not a crying matter, but the immense shame and worry with all the bubbling emotions caused his throat to close up. He rarely cried, most of the times he had were as a child. The last time he’d cried was the last time he was in a fight, the life he’d left behind.

He had worked too hard to be where he was now, and that was something he wouldn’t waste. 

As loath as he was to admit it, he needed to start getting along with Jonathan Kent, and what was a better place to start then detention?

[sophisticatedgia]

I wrote in my journal. It's an old leather journal of my boyfriends. Sorry I know that's not vegan but it is recycling of a sort. I forget to mention my favorite color is also deep forest pine tree green. My favorite pens are precise point pens and I have the green one currently. I wrote about stressors with my boyfriend. Then I read him what I wrote. I wrote about how I feel he isn't considerate of my mental illness disability, when it comes to him wanting to progress and travel in life. I have my support system here, family, gym, behavioral mental health services. I don't want to travel. Progressing, he wants to get a shop or build a home and have an online shop and travel. I said I can't perform normal job duties due to my psychological inability. But I can love him at home, make food, wash dishes, sweep the floor, organize clothes, take out trash, do laundry, and be his gal. He said he'd sacrifice anything for me. Even his dreams of traveling. He told me, "id sacrifice anything for you. That's what true love is."

Omg I was so not expecting that response from him. I am so... relieved and released from my burden of self shame.

I admit when I was very mentally ill I worked at mcdonalds. They did not have me work with the customers and there was another disabled employee working there in the back too. I was able to prep the apple pies, strawberry and cream pies, prep the parfaits (often added extra berries for the customers) and mop and sweep and do dishes. It was hard work truly lol. it was taxing on me psychologically, spiritually, and physically. I was terrified of the fire extinguisher for some reason. Thought it might explode or signified my head exploding like an atom bomb somehow. At the time I was not on anti psychotics. I often talked to myself out loud there too~while working, I feel like I was a little weird kid inside an adult woman's body. Calling myself "doody" and just making stuff up in my head all the time. I thought people were constantly signaling to me in some energetic or real way, and I had to obey them. How strange am I. I thought I was humanity's dog. I thought I was Harley Quinn. I'm not. I felt deep love for everyone there and thought we were family. I even sent them flowers when I had to quit.

I am happy that I am on abilify now, an anti psychotic. And luvox which helps with depression and OCD intrusive thoughts.

My hands are slowly healing , can you believe it?

do you think I'm autistic?

When I sat at a fancy family dinner for moms birthday last February, I could barely make eye contact or chat with anyone. My hands were trembling and legs constantly shaking. It was my extended sophisticated &educated family and my boyfriend and parents. I am not socialized at all.

I used to be highly sensitive to light and sound. I would wear earplugs constantly at work or while walking to gym or the therapist. I felt the beep of machines or noises from TV or radio go straight to my heart in a harsh manner. Also not to mention people's voices and the click clack of any machine.

That has all dimmed down since being with my boyfriend. I amazingly don't even wear ear plugs to sleep anymore. I've become a better sleeper and accustomed to constant noise in the background. It doesn't bother me, barely at all. Though I do love/adore silence.

My boyfriend is like my mother. She needs background noise to sleep. She sleeps with TV on. I used to think my mom was communicating with heavenly light angels in that way. electricity is intense.

I believe we are each a soul and every soul is in need of healing. I believe manmade electricity helps us communicate...but , it doesnt quite emit the same frequency as our bodies and souls do and our holy innate ability to communicate with all creation.

I believe in light pollution. It's not good for us. We are each light beings and infused with divinity. But there are so many bright flashy lights that overstimulate and overwhelm our souls. Manmade electricity is desensitizing to our sacred wholesomeness. Of course we need to see in the dark though. But wouldn't it be cool if humans could evolve to see better in the dark through our own innate spiritual and scientific ability eventually?

Also before I end this tumblr entry. I wanna say I love pastel colors. All pastel colors. My boyfriend says my aura is seafoam green. I ordered, instead of pale pink, a minty light heathery green cardigan. I feel like it's more mature and suits me more.

Also I love the colors green, pink, and orange together. Something so fitting and summery, almost tropical about it.

I'm really excited my sacred friend on Tumblr may be crocheting me a colorful blanket. That makes me feel so precious and valued and calm. I just want her to know any colors she chooses is a blessing and I am immensely grateful.

Also another mutual of mine said she'd send me something. Her art is so beautiful I am absolutely amazed she is cool with me. I ordered something off her Etsy today. Her art is so gentle and cutesy and she's a bright light in my Tumblr life.

And of course so are you.