#i doubt shes calling them on herself or whatever. but she is allowing herself to be seen and papped in public

[princessracecar]

“Describe to me in detail the exact texture of a perfect pumpkin pie.” Says Armand from behind his notebook.

“Uh” says Janet, the manager at the all night bakery exactly 3.475 miles away from the condo he shares with Daniel.

He doesn’t need Daniel knowing about his plans and Daniel is a great many things, but stupid is not one of them.

The bakery’s two regular employees, Elizabeth and Garret shoot them furtive glances from behind the counter. He’s not allowed to talk to Elizabeth and Garret anymore. Apparently he was being “creepy” and “intense” and waiting to ambush them with questions out in the parking lot was also not acceptable. Daniel wants him to rely less on his vampiric gifts. “If you’re going to act like a human, you should maybe try to actually act like a human” he had said. Whatever that means. Armand hasn’t been a human in a very long time and many of their behaviors are confusing to say the least. But if he isn’t to use the Mind Gift to parse the answers he needs, he needs to be… personable.

And so he sits with Janet, who had agreed not to call the police on him as long as he promised to “stop being weird” and buy something. The look on her face implied that he should buy several somethings. Perhaps many somethings. There was now a box of individually wrapped slices of cake settled on the table next to them in the corner booth that they are currently occupying. He can’t bring the cakes back to Daniel because then he will absolutely know something is going on, but perhaps he can leave them on the doorstep of a family the next street over without arousing suspicion.

He can tell that Janet is trying very hard not to ask him why he doesn’t try some of the pies the bakery has on display. It’s a fair question. Maybe he can pretend to be allergic to eggs. There are eggs in pies aren’t there? Food is so much different now than it was when he was alive. He takes a breath he doesn’t need and says very quickly “This is my first Thanksgiving with my husband and I want it to be perfect.” There, that was a normal thing to say. It even had some relation to the truth. Somewhat. If you squinted a lot. Janet, however, visibly relaxes in the booth across from him and beams in delight.

“This is Armand.” Says the still smiling Janet to the tall and rather disheveled looking blonde woman wearing chef’s whites with her hands buried in some sort of floury mixture spread out across the top of the metal table in the back room of the bakery. The woman had tersely introduced herself at Katia before turning to Janet and proclaiming “Isn’t that the guy who was being weird on the security cameras?”

“This is shortcrust pastry.” Says Katia after several tense minutes and a very pointed eyebrow from Janet. Armand dutifully writes “shortcrust pastry” in his notebook.

Katia takes on the air of someone about to deliver a very in-depth lecture. The slight tightening around her eyes (as well as her inner monologue) implies that he had better pay attention.

“It’s used in both sweet and savory pastries, tarts, and pies and is referred to as a “short” crust because the texture is light and crumbly.”

Katia explains to him the process of making the pastry. For some reason there is rendered animal fat involved and he is made to absolutely promise that he will not use “the devil’s ingredient” although he is utterly unsure what “Crisco” is. Perhaps some sort of poison.

“We roast our own pumpkin in house. It’s sourced from a local farm that’s known for their pie pumpkins.” says Katia. Armand feels his eyes widen ever so slightly in doubt.

“Of course, you can always use canned pumpkin” she continues with the air of someone who has just suggested that he eat raw sewage.

“It appears very… orange” hazards Armand. Katia narrows her eyes at him.

“I am certain most humans love it!” He backpedals. Katia gazes at him a moment longer and then visibly moves on.

She shows him the finished pies balancing on the cooling rack. They are no less orange than the roasted pumpkin that she had shown him earlier. He had looked up pictures of pumpkin pies on the internet and hoped that they would perhaps look less orange in person. He thinks that actually, the opposite is true. At least the baked ones no longer looked like soup.

“And people enjoy these?” He asks

“Yes.” Says Katia irritatedly. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

He strolls home through the night, box of cakes wedged awkwardly under one arm. He had no idea human food was so complicated. He supposes that he hasn’t given much thought to human food in a very long time. When he was alive it was more about sustenance than pleasure. He realizes that he wants this meal to be pleasurable for Daniel, after all it will be his last Thanksgiving as a human.

[sparklestheunicorn]

All these candids really do make me feel like we're back in the 1989 era

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.2

Summary: You're trying to make nice with Sam's little sister, for everyone's sake. Maybe it leads to an interrogation. Maybe it leads to more. And maybe you end up sucked into the unusual events that follow Legacies

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, distrust, mentions of past trauma, mentions of blood, mentions of Scream typical violence Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Yule, and whatever holidays y'all all celebrate 🫶 (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked as you nearly tripped over your feet.

Sam gave you a look that was both sweet and condescending. “Yes, because I said so.”

“That doesn’t seem like solid reasoning,” you mumbled, but nonetheless continued following her up the steps to her apartment.

It was nearing Halloween, with the cooling air finally allowing for the use of jackets. Which you had few of, since Sam had decided to keep them for herself. Not that there was anyone to blame but yourself; it was what you deserved for offering her jackets every time she forgot one. She had simply decided it was rather nice to have an unlimited selection of jackets, both too-large and just right.

In all her wisdom, Sam had suggested the two of you, and Tara and her partner have a movie night. Tara got to choose the movie, and no one could object. All in all it should have been a win for the younger Carpenter; she could make you suffer if she truly wanted, and you couldn’t say a word about it. Which was going to cause the night to be very, very long.

Oh, the things you would do for her.

“Is she going to pick something scary?” You asked before you both approached the door. “Because I don’t like scary.”

“I have no doubt it will be scary,” Sam said with a barely-concealed smile. “I’ll hold your hand to keep you safe.”

“You’re my hero,” you said as you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips. She tasted strongly of the cigarette she had smoked on the way from your apartment to hers.

You tried to pull away, but she quickly followed, keeping her lips pressed against yours. Every sense was enveloped by her. Her smell, her taste, the feel of her body pressed against yours so tightly it was as if you would float away without her. There was nothing you could have ever wanted more than your Sam.

“We shouldn’t give Tara something to be upset about,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips when she finally pulled back just the slightest distance.

“Tara’s always upset,” she answered before sighing, “but you’re right.”

“Baby steps,” you said with a smile.

“For the big baby.”

“Samantha.”

“I’m kidding,” she tried to argue as she grabbed your hand and started finally moving into the apartment.

You both knew she wasn’t kidding.

“My dude!”

You had barely walked through the door when Tara’s partner called out to you, a genuine, toothy grin visible on their face. They had asked you to call them J, which you had happily agreed to. Sam teased that it was short for Joker - you assumed because of the scars - but the look on Tara’s face told you not to ever bring it up. Ever.

It was a rule you could oblige by.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” you said as you hung your coat on the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. It had only taken you dropping your coat once before you realised the Carpenters saw no need for a coat rack.

How utterly uncivilised.

“They think it’s a pleasure to see me,” J said to Tara, who rolled her eyes almost instantly. 

You would never say it aloud, but you noticed the small smile she sent their way. So, she wasn’t as heartless as she wanted you to believe. Exactly like her older sister. It would be simple enough to chalk it down to their past experiences with the world; it had taught them nothing but hardness. But maybe they both just needed a safe space to let those walls come down.

“What did you choose?” Sam asked. She very quickly made her way to the couch opposite Tara and J.

“Depends,” they said.

“On?” Sam asked.

J turned to look at you and held something up to their mouth. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” The voice came out almost robotic, sounding similar to… something you possibly recognised? Vaguely?

“That’s not funny,” Sam said quickly.

“Lighten up, Sam,” Tara said even though she pushed J’s hand - and the voice changer - into their lap. “We’re watching Hellraiser.”

“Thought you didn’t like that one,” Sam said. She reached over and grabbed your hand the moment you sat down beside her on the couch.

Tara’s eyes darted to where your hands were joined and lingered. “I don’t.” She looked back up at you with a hard gaze. “I picked it out just for you.”

“Oh,” you said, perking up instantly. “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Sam with a stupid smile on your face, missing the look J sent Tara. Well, this was turning into a lovely evening! Tara had picked out a movie just for you! Surely that was progress to the finest degree, was it not? If all it took was watching a movie with them every month, you were more than happy to do so. This was turning out to be a rather lovely evening.

At least you thought so until the movie started and you realised just exactly why Tara had picked the movie out just for you.

It was… well, it was a movie. Filled with hooks and needles and… blood. Oh gosh, so much blood. There was a singular blessing amongst it all; you hadn’t eaten before coming over. Thankfully the popcorn sat untouched between you and Sam as your stomach twisted and turned and tried its best to embarrass you.

Sam squeezed your hand as you did your best to keep your cool. Not that it was such an easy thing with all the… you couldn’t even think the word without feeling queasy. Surely there was no way they all enjoyed this kind of thing, right? It was grotesque! The creatures on the screen, the inhumanity of it all, how was it an enjoyable movie?

The room started to shrink around you. Oh, that wasn’t good, you didn’t want to feel claustrophobic, you were trying to be tough. You couldn’t let anyone know that you had an, um, aversion to blood. What would they say? They were all horror fans, how could you ever possibly mention that you just… didn’t enjoy it? Quite frankly, it made you sick to your stomach, like all those science experiments you had to do back in grade school.

The credits couldn’t have rolled a moment too soon. If anyone were to ask you what you thought, you wouldn’t have been able to answer. The only thing you were aware of was your heart beating loudly in your ear and the saliva that continued to fill your mouth. Maybe it would actually be better if you didn’t try to answer anyone for a few more moments.

“So, Professor,” Tara asked all too soon. “What did you think?”

“I-”

-You cut yourself short. There was a part, a rather significant part of your mind that said you should lie. Tell Tara it was a wonderful movie, and you would love to see more if it existed. But lying had never gotten you anywhere in the past, had it? It certainly wasn’t going to assist you in winning over Tara, not when she was already sceptical of you. How was a lie going to assist you?

It wasn’t. 

“It’s not my cup of tea,” you finally said before swallowing the remaining saliva in your mouth. “I don’t really enjoy scary movies.” You nodded to yourself. “Or blood.”

“Oh my god,” Tara huffed, “why can’t you just lose your shit about something?”

“Tara,” Sam warned.

“No, this is ridiculous,” she continued as she stood up from the couch, ignoring J reaching for her hand. “Why can’t you lose your shit?” She pointed at you. “Nobody is this level-headed about everything.”

“That’s enough,” Sam said as she followed suit, standing up from the couch. Similarly, you reached out for her hand but she moved just far enough away.

“Get out,” Tara said before promptly looking Sam dead in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Sam asked.

“Get out,” she repeated.

“Hey, T-”

“-You too,” Tara interrupted J, who froze with a comically shocked expression on their face. “Both of you get out so I can talk to them-” she pointed at you “-alone.”

“Absolutely not-”

“-Sounds reasonable,” you interrupted Sam. She looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would love to talk.”

“Come on, Baby Ghost,” J said as they stood up. You were starting to feel left out by being the only one still sitting. “I’ll buy you a new pack of cigs.”

Sam looked like she wanted to argue, but both you and Tara gave her a look. Differing looks, of course, but still. While Tara seemed to get her a death stare that was almost permanently etched onto her face, you tried to go the more convincing route. If Tara wanted to talk, who were you to tell her no? Talking was key, that’s what your family had always done and it had never ended poorly.

“Fine,” Sam finally said. She seemed resigned. “But you have 15 minutes and that’s it.”

“Deal,” Tara said. “Now get out.”

You stayed as still as a statue when Sam leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. A little more forceful than usual, but you wouldn’t complain. Any kiss from her was perfect. A sigh came from behind her, and you both knew who it was from, but she took her time before pulling away and standing back up.

“Don’t let her bully you,” she said.

“Sam,” Tara said forcefully. “Get out.”

“Fine,” Sam said, throwing her hands up. “But I mean it,” she said as she and J walked to the door together. “15 minutes.”

You and Tara both watched your partners leave the apartment, practically abandoning you to the force of nature that was the youngest Carpenter sister. It shamed you to admit you were a little afraid of her. You knew there was something going on deep down that she either wouldn’t or couldn’t accept, and you wouldn’t dare fault her for it. But she let her internal frustrations out in a very external way.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tara asked the moment the door shut behind the two. You stayed silent. “You don’t yell, you don’t scream, you don’t even freak out when I put on a movie I knew you would hate.”

You waited a moment to make sure she was finished. “I was raised by two very… pacifistic parents,” you said, gesturing for her to sit on the couch opposite you. “We talked through our issues, we didn’t yell about them.”

Tara opened her mouth as if she was about to argue, or complain, or something. Slowly, her mouth closed and she pursed her lips. She kept looking at you, but slowly took a seat opposite you. There was something going on behind her eyes, you could see it, but you knew better than to question her just yet. Just like your mom had taught you; let them lead the conversation.

“I don’t trust you,” she said slowly. Her eyes stayed locked with yours. “You’re too understanding and too kind.” You stayed silent. “Sam only ever falls for freaks.”

“Didn’t she date an FBI agent?” You asked. You could vaguely remember what Sam had said about her, but she had seemed nice enough.

“Kirby is cool, I’ve always liked her,” Tara said with a dismissive shake of her head. “But she was attacked by Ghostface twice,” she said, “so she’s a freak by proxy.” She looked back at you. “So what’s your deal?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you said, “ask your questions and maybe you can find out.”

It had initially been your idea, but before Tara could even open her mouth you started to second guess yourself. Perhaps allowing her to ask whatever questions she wanted without any repercussions was… not the smartest idea on your part. You had nothing to hide, but what if she really started to ask unusual questions? What if your answers weren’t what she wanted to hear?

But when you thought of Sam, and being with her, you felt that, without question, it was worth the gamble.

“Have you ever used a knife?” Tara asked quickly. It seemed she wasn’t going to wait.

“Not outside of cooking,” you answered just as quickly.

“How about a gun?” So, it would be a rapid fire interrogation. Game on.

“Never.”

“Ever hurt anybody before?” A tilt of her head.

“Not on purpose.”

“What about animals?”

“No.”

“Not even in science class?”

“I-” you attempted to clear your throat to buy a bit of time “-I fell ill that day.”

Tara paused and narrowed her eyes. “Because of blood.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” you said anyway. “It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“You’re pretty pathetic,” Tara said as she leaned back on the couch. For the first time in… well, ever, you thought you almost saw her smile at you. “That’s exactly Sam’s type.”

“I thought you said it was freaks,” you pointed out.

“Pathetic freaks,” she corrected quickly. That quirk near the corner of her mouth rapidly disappeared. “Why did you choose Sam?”

You paused. It was uncertain what exactly Sam had told Tara about you both meeting. Surely she wouldn’t have overdramatised it, but had she told her the truth? The truth was… well, it was pathetic as well, but you weren’t entirely convinced Tara would approve. Not that it was entirely her place, but the two were the only family each other had. They both had a right to be cautious of anyone new coming into their lives.

But perhaps you could answer the question a little differently.

“She’s kind,” you said with a subconscious nod of your head. “And bold, and intelligent - god she’s intelligent - and brave.” You averted Tara’s eyes. “And she’s really pretty too.”

Tara nodded once. “What are your intentions with her?”

Another question that you believed was potentially a trick. You couldn’t very well say you loved Sam just yet; you hadn’t even told Sam that little piece of information. But there were other intentions with her even if you didn’t necessarily use the word “love.” There were other things that were just as important.

“I don’t want to sound overly self-important,” you started off, looking back up to meet Tara’s eyes. “But I would very much like to be the one by Sam’s side as she continues on this path she’s created for herself.”

Tara looked at you; really looked at you. She was so very difficult for you to read. Unlike Sam, Tara did a better job at hiding her emotions. While Sam would give it away with her facial expressions, Tara did not. No, her feelings came out differently, whether in the slight twitch of her fingers or the impatient tapping of her foot on the rug. You hadn’t been around her long enough to know what exactly those feelings were, you simply acknowledged they were feelings.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Tara finally said, her voice far softer than you had ever heard. At least when it was directed at you. “But if you do anything to hurt her, or upset her, or lie to her, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” You gulped. “I’m not afraid to kill again.”

“I forgot you’ve both killed someone before,” you mumbled to yourself before speaking up louder. “Those are acceptable terms.”

“Good,” she said with a single nod of her head. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you.”

You could both hear the other two finally approaching the door, bickering in a way that mimicked biological siblings.

“I would expect nothing less,” you told Tara as the door opened and the moment ended.

—---

The rest of the semester went by without incident. Tara had stayed true to her word and gave you a fair chance to prove that you could be trusted with her sister’s heart, and it wasn’t something you had taken lightly. You knew how important the both of them were to each other, and you had done your best to prove that not only did you care for Sam, but you cared for Tara too.

She had finally eased up during classes, allowing you to properly teach without an ounce of disdain for you personally. In fact, she had even dared to come to office hours on more than one occasion to discuss certain pieces you had offered as optional readings. The Carpenters were immensely intelligent, no matter what the subject matter was.

You and Sam had fallen into a rather comfortable routine, always going for a date night on Thursdays to whatever new place your colleagues had recommended, and movies with Tara and J on Saturdays. You would spend the night at her place Thursday through Monday morning, and she would stay at yours Monday through Thursday morning. It was comfortable, and you were more than content.

But with school finally over for the semester, you could focus on the real gem; Christmas.

Both Carpenters - and J, for that matter - had been nonchalant with their decorations. A minimal Charlie Brown tree that had, at most, four ornaments on it. It was awfully quaint, and if they hadn’t been so blase about it you would have been content to leave it standing. Nevertheless, they had made it clear they didn’t care if there were any decorations, and you had taken that as a cry for help.

Your own apartment had, of course, been decorated since the day after Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful gift from your mother, learning how to decorate for the holidays, and you weren’t keen on squandering the skills and letting them fall off the wagon, so to speak. Sam had made a few comments, though you hadn’t taken her for a non-believer.

“It’s okay, really,” Sam tried to say when you and J finished bringing in what had to have been the seventh box of decorations from your apartment.

“Oh no, I insist,” you said with a smile. “Besides, my mother would be downright dismayed if she knew the decorations were sitting in my apartment unused.”

“Great,” Tara mumbled as she walked by without even offering to help, “we get to live at the North Pole.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” You said with a smile. “These are more neutral, so you shouldn’t feel too out of place, but they still embody the holiday spirit.”

“Well I think it’ll be fun,” J said with their own smile. “Do I get to hang the ornaments?”

“Why-”

“-the ornaments won’t be the only thing hanging this Christmas,” Tara said, tossing a mini marshmallow into the air and catching it in her mouth. “Especially with those blinding lights.”

You looked down at the ones in your hand and frowned. “I thought they were rather tame.”

“And they’re lovely,” Sam tried to cover, even though you could see the fake smile she had on her face. “You’re doing great,” she continued as she left a simple kiss on your cheek.

The decorating ended up being a one person job, you quickly realised when you discovered J could not, for the life of them, listen to instructions. More than once, the lights had been blown and you had to find the faulty one to fix it. Normally you would chalk it down to bad luck, but when it was only the ones that they were installing? You became a little suspicious.

At least they were all eager to help with the snacks and desserts, and that was something you could live with. Surprisingly, Tara was the one who had the most ideas. You knew you weren’t the best cook; you could follow instructions but that didn’t necessarily mean they would turn out nice. But with Tara at the helm? They were almost as good as your mother’s! Though obviously you would never dare to tell her that.

You also rather quickly discovered that they were not gift giving people. Understandable, you supposed, they had much more important things to worry about in life. It was still unacceptable. The moment you had found out, you had called your parents and told them the tragic news.

Gifts for all three of them - plus a gift each for Mindy, Chad, and Anika - had been delivered to your house within the week. Express shipping to be certain they would arrive before Christmas.

Which led to yet another tragedy; they had no stockings.

“It’s really not worth buying,” Sam attempted to persuade you over the phone on one of the rare nights you two weren’t spending together. “Just stay home tonight.”

“It’s no trouble, Sam,” you argued. “I’m heading out for a bit anyway.”

You didn’t admit you were already at the store, trying to decide which one would fit each person best.

“Just stay safe,” she said. You could hear car horns in the background but thought nothing of it. “I mean it.”

“I’ll be safe,” you insisted, “I always am.”

“Call me when you’re back home,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a smile that she couldn’t see.

She hung up first, and you continued your search without any second thoughts. In the end, you had decided on a Santa stocking for J, a reindeer for Tara, and a snowman for Sam. They would look lovely hanging underneath the mounted television in their living room. But with the stockings, you needed things to fill them with.

Santa’s work was never finished.

It was dark by the time you finished buying everything you believed you needed. Stockings, fillers, and some snacks to make for a lovely evening. That should surely be enough to give the three of them a very merry Christmas, would it not? Your mother had already sent their Santa presents, and their other presents were underneath the tree, so as far as you were aware of at the moment, everything was taken care of.

You were still going over your mental checklist when you heard a commotion down one of the alleys on the way home. Every cell in your body told you not to bother looking; people got desperate around the holidays and it would do you no good to go poking your head where it didn’t belong. But if someone was getting hurt, then you needed to attempt to help.

Or at least make enough of a scene that someone else would come help.

“Excuse me?” You called out foolishly as you started down the dark alleyway. “Is everyone alright out there?”

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you continued walking. It hadn’t been raining or snowing recently, and yet something started to soak through your shoes and socks. The shocking cold that normally came from liquids in December wasn’t present; it was warm.

There was another noise. It almost sounded like something solid, but it was overshadowed by something metallic. You did your best to see something in the dark, even as your body continued to tell you to move along. But something didn’t feel right; you were feeling queasy again.

Something hissed in front of you, but it wasn’t a snake. No, you knew what those sounded like and this wasn’t even close. This sounded much more human, though that sound would only ever really happen in dire circumstances like if-

-a large white mask faced you. It was the only thing you could see in the dark, thanks to the lights behind you causing just enough radiance to make the mask almost seem luminescent. You weren’t a movie buff, especially not scary movies, but you weren’t stupid. Everyone knew what that mask was.

Ghostface.

All those cells that had been telling you to run? They were silent. Frozen in fear, just like your mind. The killer wasn’t moving toward you, simply facing you, almost as if it was the very reason you were stationary. Which, it was, but not in the typical way that most would be privy to. You felt like a deer in headlights, and if you moved then you died.

You supposed that was how all the movies went.

“Aren’t you going to run?” Ghostface asked, in that same voicebox that J had had during the movie night.

You swallowed the saliva filling your mouth. “No,” you said in a trembling voice.

“Why not?” He continued. “I like when they run.”

“I’m not very fast,” you said. “You’ll catch me before I get to the street.”

He still didn’t move, and your eyes finally adjusted enough to see the silhouette of a body slumped at his feet. Your throat constricted at the sight; you were going to be sick. The very image started to worm its way into your brain; there was a very simple explanation for what was still soaking through your socks. It wasn’t snow.

“You should get home, Professor,” Ghostface said.

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if he could see you. “Yes I should.”

“Stay on the sidewalk next time,” he said.

“I- I believe that’s sound advice,” you said with more frantic nods of your head. Your palms were starting to get clammy.

Ghostface lifted up a hand - holding a knife - and waved. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night,” you said with your own shaky wave.

You walked backwards out of the alley, keeping an eye on the figure until it was completely out of sight. Your feet were frozen on the ground once you were under a street light. There were no more sounds coming from the alley, not even the sound of someone leaving. Wherever Ghostface had gone, he hadn’t followed you.

In an incredibly brave moment, you leaned over and vomited directly into a storm grate before going back home. You called Sam the moment you got back into your apartment.

You couldn’t find the courage to inform her of the night’s mystery encounter.

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

I rush into my apartment, slamming the door behind me, and take a sharp left to get into my room before Lex can catch me. Once inside, I lock the door and remove my smelly clothes from last night as quickly as I can. I’m tempted to shower again after having to walk home in them, but I don’t have time. As it is, Iris is going to be calling in an hour to ask why I haven’t arrived yet, and I really don’t have it in me today to deal with her moods, which are even worse now that she’s very pregnant. Spencer is due to arrive in a couple weeks, and my sister ran out of patience a couple weeks ago.

“Ash?” Lex pounds on the door as I’m pulling clothes from my dresser.

“Give me two minutes, I’m just changing.” I really don’t have time to chat with her, I have to leave, but I also kinda need my best friend.

Once I’m fully clothed, I walk into the living room to find Lex standing there, waiting for me. She takes one look at my face and holds out her arms with a concerned pout, “Baaabe.” Years ago, I told her that I hate it when guys call me “babe”, that it was a total turn off. Her solution was to call me “babe” herself, that way no one else would be allowed to call me that ‘cause it’s hers; and it wouldn’t feel so icky because she’d be saying it ironically. But then it stuck and now it really is hers and there’s nothing ironic about it.

I fall into her arms and let her embrace me as only she can. Lex gives the best hugs. Sometimes she squeezes the life out of you, but on days like today, it feels like she’s holding all the broken bits of me together. If she hugs me long enough then it will heal me, but if she lets go too soon, I’ll fall to pieces, so I squeeze her back just as tight and bury my face in her shoulder.

“What happened?”

“I made a fool of myself, Lex.” As I say the words out loud, I feel a lump form in my throat and I’m grateful that my voice is muffled by the sleeve of her jacket so as not to give me away.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I thought... I don’t know what I thought,” and then the dam breaks. My tears burst forth so quickly that I have no chance of stopping them, so I just let it happen. The sobs rack my body, making my chest hurt. I cling to her like she’s a lifebuoy in the middle of the ocean during a storm. And she stands there, solid and safe, holding me until the storm passes and I start breathing normally again. It’s over just as quickly as it started.

“I’m gonna kill him, y’know,” she says finally.

I sniffle and let out a pitiful laugh, “Please don’t.”

“Seriously? You come home in this state, and you expect me to let him live?”

I walk into the kitchen to splash my face with cold water and clean myself up. “Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean he deserves your wrath. Besides, I think I’m just extra sensitive coming down from whatever the hell you gave us last night.”

“So, this is my fault?”

“No. I’m just saying my breakdown is at least partially chemical. And maybe that explains Atlas’ mood today actually. Oh, I might’ve completely misread everything. Fuck.” I groan as I clench my stomach and lean against the counter, suddenly feeling sick with regret and embarrassment.

“Okay, hold on, what exactly happened?”

“I don’t have time to get into it. I have to run out to my parents’ house and help Iris with fucking baby furniture or something.”

“Well, let’s go then. I’ll come with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do today, and we’re not done talking. And I like your mom’s cooking.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders and kiss her cheek dramatically, “Thank you.” I’m grateful to have her to talk to during the two-hour drive. I would no doubt be stewing and obsessing the whole time if not. My family will be happy to see her as well. They’re always asking why she doesn’t come visit more. Of course, I know it’s because she feels like she has to go see her own family if she’s in town, and that’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Alright, calm down. Let’s go.”

Prev // Next

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part five

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this one got me y'all i won't lie-

series masterlist // playlist

"Is everything okay? You look upset." You ask Coryo, mere moments after he joined your side of waiting tributes and mentors to tour the arena. How had you seen it so quickly? He curses himself mentally for making his distress so obvious.

For you, it was how pale he looked. All the colour had been drained from his face, and you doubted that was from him running up to you to catch up. He looked too fit to be sick just from running. The crease in his brow and bloodshot eyes certainly didn't help, either.

"Nothing." He replies quickly as the line starts to move. "How are you doing today?"

"Well." You nod, allowing the shift in topic. You wouldn't want to press him, you just didn't want whatever he is upset about to be because of you. "I have been reading. It helps."

"Oh, good. I'm glad." He hums, looking down at you for the first time.

"Thank you, again. I hope it wasn't too much of a hassle to get."

"Not at all." He shakes his head, returning your ever-present smile as best as he can within an hour of witnessing the possible death of another one of his classmates. Truth is, it was hard to get Romeo and Juliet for you. It wasn't commonplace in the Capitol, clearly, and he only knew one person, more broadly, one family who had ever so much as set foot in the Districts.

"Coriolanus! What a pleasure! Please, come in." Sejanus's mother greets him at the door, stepping out of the way and gesturing for him to enter.

"Mrs. Plinth, how are you?" He asks politely, stepping in and wiping his shoes on the doormat.

"I'm good! Yourself?"

"Good." He nods.

"Come eat, I just finished up some baking." She walks back into the home, and he follows suit. He's shocked when he's led into the kitchen, and she pats a stool at the kitchen island for him to sit. "Would you like some tea?" She offers, already cutting a slice of pie for him. It was still steaming. Still warm. His stomach growled just at the sight as he sat down. Typically one wouldn't host guests in your kitchen, but she was District. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

"Please." Coryo smiles at her gratefully.

"How is your mentorship going?" She asks, and he can tell by her refusal to make eye contact that it's purely to make conversation. She likely shared some perspectives with her son, but she was too mature to state such unpopular opinions in a way her son was not. "Sejanus told me you got paired with the girl from District Twelve. He really likes her. Said she's very smart. Very kind."

"She is. She's lovely." Coryo nods as she slides a plate in front of him, handing him a fork moments later. "I think it's going well."

"It's such a shame..." She mutters, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as she puts the tea on the kettle on the burner in between them. "Anyway," She catches herself, moving on quickly. "What can we do for you? Shall I call for my son?"

"Y/N is the reason I'm here, actually." He replies, ignoring her comment. Admittedly, when it came to you, he agreed with Mrs. Plinth and her son. It is such a shame.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I would like to get her a copy of her favourite book. I was hoping you might have it, I've never heard of it before."

"We have a library." She nods. "I can certainly take a look, what is it called?"

"It's very, very old, so no worries if you don't have it, but it's called 'Romeo and Juliet'." He tells her, eyes gleaming with hope. If they didn't have it, he wasn't sure what he would do.

"Oh! That is familiar to me." She smiles. "I haven't read it since I was your age, but I'm sure we still have it kicking around here somewhere. Do you mind keeping an eye on the tea while I take a look?"

"Of course." Coryo nods, wanting nothing less than to make his own tea as a guest in someone's home, but he has to do what he must to get you that book.

As soon as she wipes her hands on her apron and walks out of the kitchen, he hears her voice again. "Sejanus! Your friend is here!"

Internally, he rolls his eyes. He didn't want to see his classmate, but he was in his home. Maybe Sejanus would handle his tea, at least. He took this opportunity to start eating the warm pie in front of him, he hated people seeing him eat, but he was making all kinds of sacrifices today. Maybe he should ask if he could take a piece for you.

"Oh. Coryo." Sejanus says, walking into the kitchen. "What brings you?"

"Y/N." He replies. "I'd like to get a book for her. Your mother says she has it."

"Ah." Sejanus hums, slotting himself into the seat next to Coryo. So much for the tea. "What book?"

"Romeo and Juliet. It's her favourite." Coryo explains. "She's going to do a monologue from it in her interview."

"At least she'll talk to you." Sejanus sighs. "Marcus won't even look at me."

"Well, Y/N is nicer than most." Coryo says, much more eager to talk about you than Sejanus and his problems.

"She's something, huh?" Sejanus smiles, taking the bait.

"Yes. Very intelligent."

"I think it will be easy for her to get donations. Even if people don't know what she's talking about." Sejanus elaborates. "She's pleasant to look at, and the people here are so shallow that that might be the only thing that matters."

Pleasant, to Coriolanus, was an understatement. Surely, you were the most beautiful thing the Districts had to offer. That didn't mean that Sejanus or anyone should be valuing you based on that, though. Your mind was just a bonus. It would work wonders in humanizing you to the people of the Capitol. It had certainly worked on him.

"I hope it's more than that." He replies, and truth be told, it's a lie. He doesn't want anyone to look at you the way he does, but if it meant people sending money so he could save your life, so be it.

"I do too, but it's doubtful. Regardless, she'll do well. You'll have lots of donations to work with." Sejanus says, attempting to comfort his friend's worries. "My ma will convince my father to send some for her. I heard them talking about it, she wants to help you."

"Is that not a conflict of interest?"

"Maybe." Sejanus shrugs. "They can't donate to Marcus, obviously, but Ma really likes her. Asks about her every day. She's rooting for both of them. The problem is they can't both win."

Coryo would take it. One hundred percent he would take it, but it makes his heart crack even more.

"Here! Here it is!" His mother calls out as she returns to the kitchen, excitedly placing the book on the counter next to Coryo, patting the top of it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Plinth." He sighs in relief, picking up the old book in his hands.

"Please, call me Ma. We're so far past formalities." She grins, leaning against the counter across from them as the tea starts to whistle. Coryo would sooner die than call her 'Ma', but once again, he would do just about anything for you at this point. "I hope she enjoys it."

"I'll get it back to you before the games." Coryo promises.

Her smile fades to a sad one as she pours out the tea into a mug for him. "Yes, well, feel free to hold onto it as long as you need to, dear. I have more books than I could read in a lifetime."

"I did promise her I would read it." He matches her sentiment. "So I'll get into it after the games. I doubt I'll have any free time until then."

"Keep it. It's yours." She smiles.

"Thank you." He says again, flipping briefly through some of the pages. It was old, practically falling apart in his hands, but he knew you would take good care of it. And after you, he would do the same.

"I hid it with the blanket." You tell him. "I sure hope it doesn't rain..." You mumble, looking behind you to check how clear the sky currently is. So far, the book would be safe.

You're careful, hesitant even as you approach the turnstiles ahead of you. You wish that it wouldn't speak when you walk through it, but you know it will as you watch every other tribute ahead of you push through the metal gate.

"Enjoy the show!" You wince at the words, then you're on the other side. That wasn't so bad, but the statement echoes endlessly in your mind, bouncing off every other thought you've had today as you carry on into the open arena, allowing the other tributes and mentors to enter behind the two of you as a camera is shoved in your face and you smile, giving it a small wave.

"Well, hello there." You grin, looking past the camera to the man holding it. "How are you today?"

You don't get an answer as one of the mentors is yanking him away to point the camera at someone else. As you look around, instinctively, you step closer to Coryo's side as you gaze around the arena. "Gosh, It sure is... small." You mutter, swallowing the lump in your throat as reality comes crashing down on you in the dark space.

He grabs your hand.

Coriolanus has always thought the arena was huge. From his memories at the top of the stands, it did look big, but down here, on the floor, it did feel a lot smaller. Especially when he forced himself to imagine that it would be him who would be killed in this very room, not even a week from today.

There was nowhere to hide, he knew that, but now, the idea scared him. What would you do? He doesn't even have any good advice to give you.

You jump as the door slams shut behind you, turning quickly to look. Even Coryo looks scared, and you pull yourself closer to him. Had they lied to you? Were the games starting today? You didn't want to say goodbye yet. To the world, your family, to Coriolanus. You weren't ready- but would you ever be?

That's when the windows start to slide open above you, letting the light back in.

"Welcome to the arena for the Tenth Annual Hunger Games. Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy." The voice over the loudspeakers is reassuring to you, but you know that's only temporary.

Coryo stays silent as he looks around. Clearly, you were ahead of him, though, already pulling on his hand in the direction of some of the other tributes. He only slightly resisted, confused as to what was happening, but he would let you have this ounce of freedom to do what you pleased.

"Hi!" You smile hopefully at Marcus as he's standing with Sejanus. "I think we're supposed to be forming alliances. I trust you, Marcus."

Your candidness almost shocks Coryo, but he quickly realizes what you're doing. You have almost no shot without somewhere to hide, so your best bet is to find allies. He didn't want you to do this, but now he sees few other options. He makes brief eye contact with Sejanus as Marcus ignores you, just walking away. Coryo starts scanning the rest of the tributes, suddenly focussed on who would be your best strategic option.

"Hey." Coryo whispers, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "If you want allies, talk to them." He points over to Reaper and Dill. He could see that Reaper was strong, and Dill was clearly a liability. You could slot right into the middle as far as skillsets go; he could defend you and she was no threat.

"Okay. Come on." You nod, dropping his hand to head toward them. Coryo looked around on the way, trying to see what other mentors were doing. What he was supposed to be doing, but most of them were just talking to each other, others only to their tribute. There was no right action, but what the two of you were doing was different. That was good.

"Dill, Reaper!" You smile as you get closer, giving a slight wave. Immediately, Reaper is looking past you and glaring at your mentor, tucking Dill behind his back and shaking his head. "Oh." You stop, looking between the two of them and the glare that Coryo is matching. "Never mind, then. I'll leave you to it."

Coryo is already trying to find another option for you, it wasn't looking good. You turn back to him, sighing before plastering a smile on your face, trying not to look too discouraged. "Okay, well..." You look around. "Oh! Lamina. She's lovely." You grab his hand again, but he stays in place as he watches the interaction she's having with Coral and the team she's already forming as they're actively casting Lamina out in favour of the boy from her District.

"Coryo?"

"Not her. Them." He explains, pointing them out to you.

"Oh, I don't know..." You're hesitant, and he understands why, but that's not an option. Without Reaper, numbers would be your biggest safety.

"Safety in numbers." He mumbles, overriding your reluctance and starting to walk their way, pulling you with him.

"Oh, okay. Yeah." You agree, subconsciously cowering behind him. "Actually, Coryo, I'm really not comf-" You speak up, trying to stop his crusade before you're jumping from the sound of an explosion above you.

You both freeze, looking up as the ceiling begins to collapse down on you, more blasts making your ears ring.

Quickly, Coryo is changing directions, running in the opposite direction and pushing you ahead of him as you follow your feet, sprinting toward the light at the door over the shaking ground. You don't last long, stumbling over some already fallen debris and falling. "We gotta go, we gotta go- Y/N, get up!" Coryo is ahead of you now, and you can hardly hear his yelling even though he's right in your face, pulling you back to your feet.

Just as you regain your footing side-by-side, Coryo is the next to fall. As he takes you down with him with the grip on your wrist, you quickly realize it's because a beam fell on his back as the two of you stumbled forward. The flames spreading to the back of his red uniform were the first thing to clue you in.

In your panic and heavy breathing, you can still see his lips moving. You're already trying to pull the bars off of him when he first even gets the chance to scream for help. You groan, inaudible even to you over the commotion as you put all your weight into pulling it back, hoping he's not already severely burned, but you're sure he is as the flames burn the metal rod in your hand.

Your grip slips and you fall back into another piece of the fallen ceiling that surrounded you, apparently sharp as a protruding piece of metal pierces your upper arm. You yelp, looking down as the blood begins to pour from the wound, but you ignore it to keep trying to free your mentor. Then, you're being pulled back by your dress. "The gate is open! The gate is open, come on!" It's Marcus, and by the time you even turn to look at him he's running toward the open door, motioning for you to follow. He gives up quickly as two of the other tributes follow. You don't even hear the gunshots that knock them down. He's trying to escape. You could escape.

You hesitate, looking back down at the boy in front of you who you can see is choking to try and breathe. Someone else slides in at your side as you continue to pull, but they're pushing you back. "Y/N! Run!" Sejanus shouts in your face, quickly removing his hands from you to grab the beam where you were just holding it. "I've got him- Go!"

"My honest, best advice?" Your conversation from the other day immediately comes to mind. "Figure out a way to escape."

You frantically look between the door and the boys in front of you, trying to decide. You have to decide right now. Right now, right now, right-

It's an easy decision. You grab the hot bars again and start pulling with every bit of strength you can muster.

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination, @fantasticchaosthing, @coolcatyarb, @yokolesbianism,

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 11 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 1k

warnings: established kidnapping, physical and psychological abuse, power dynamics, manipulation, stockholm syndrone, choking, gun play, sexual themes

Natasha wasted no time in exploring the territory of the new dynamic she found herself controlling. Though she told herself to refrain from breaking any more bones, the redhead certainly wasn’t cautious to become heavy handed with you again. In fact, she was itching to do so. It was effortless to ease you back into it, simply bringing back out the larger toys she had already familiarised you with to make you stretch and ache while still yearning for her. 

  Similarly, Natasha was able to introduce you to more sinister toys she hadn’t gotten around to using such as the riding crop. Surprisingly, you took it better than the belt even though she wasn’t holding herself back then like she had been when she was cautious of breaking you too early. That wasn’t a concern any more and left Natasha free rein to create as many welts on your ass as she pleased. They looked so pretty on top of the bruises and the screams that had been torn from your throat made your voice weak for days. The same could be said for your legs, leaving you almost bedbound for a couple days. 

  But this wasn’t enough for the assassin whose violent urges seemingly came out of nowhere. One evening Natasha had been in a sour mood from a mission gone wrong and came home to you watching a film on the sofa. She had sat with you for a while without many words exchanged when the sound of popcorn suddenly drove Natasha up the wall so she had wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed. Hard. You were no doubt shocked at first, but after several seconds the doting smile upon your face struggled to be replaced, with the noticeable leanway for the discomfort of having no oxygen. You had continued to gaze up at her as though you were waiting for her to either stop or make you pass out. Even after she withdrew her hand to slap you, not giving you a second to catch your breath, you tried to kiss the redhead.

  It was when she was kissing the red marks around your neck better that you told her you loved her for the first time. Once it processed, Natasha made you say it over and over, loving how vulnerable you sounded when it tumbled from your lips. You were as infatuated as she was, dangerously obsessive.

  Things certainly became interesting for Natasha after that night. Frustratingly, that was limited as the spy had already taken a good chunk of time away from her work and couldn't continue to decline calls from Fury for much longer. The only upside that came from it was that Natasha kept the power on for you to watch tv or make yourself some snacks while she was gone. 

  You weren’t allowed back upstairs though and hadn’t been since spending the night in the upstairs bedroom. The door remained locked, just like the balcony door, for what Natasha assured was ‘your own safety’. “I can’t have anyone coming to steal you,” she had told you before leaving one day. You had practically swooned at how protective it was. Not possessive, protective. Even though she had told you that after splitting your lip open, you hung off her every word. 

  After that, Natasha realised she could do whatever she wanted to you. 

  Much to your delight, the redhead brought down all of her personal belongings from her bedroom and placed them in your own, allowing you to admire them better and pushing Natasha to get some art for the apartment. She had rolled her eyes with a small smile at the suggestion at first but twenty minutes later she gave you her ipad to pick something, under her watchful eye of course. 

  The redhead had also installed a panel on the wall by the kitchen that she could send messages to. You couldn’t receive any from anyone else or send anything back because there was no need. Though Natasha never said it, if you really needed something she would be able to see it when she checked the cameras when she was out. She would tell you through the new screen if she was going to be gone for much longer or remind you to complete some chores you may have forgotten about. Either way, whenever you heard the simple chime from the screen, you practically ran to see what it said. Natasha always liked watching that. 

  It was almost midnight on the day when Natasha eventually told you she loved you. In the time running up to that moment she had made you say it to her countless times a day without ever saying it back, not sure if doing so would shift the power balance but soon discovering it would only make it greater. The three words had slipped from her lips after playing Russian roulette with you for the good part of an hour. It had been terrifying…but also thrilling. Each click had run through the apartment and made you fear for your life that was forced into Natasha’s hands. 

  Once on the final chamber, at the last second the assassin had pointed her gun just past your head and fired into the wall behind you. The ringing went on for a while in your ears and the hole in the wall was one Natasha never planned on filling, leaving it as a memento of the night she first told you she loved you. 

  From then, you never let yourself question your safety in the hands of the redhead. Sure, she could hit you, beat you, burn you, ruin you, but none of that mattered in the face of Natasha’s love. She took care of you and knew best and in return, you just had to let her.

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You save Miko from a risky situation and end up losing your patience with her.

Warnings: violence, reader getting annoyed, Miko giving bad name ideas, killing a con, an outburst, some regrets, and making up.

Chapter 13

-------------------------------------

A few days have passed and you have started to get used to your new life. You worked on the hologram projector with Raf, making great progress on it. He taught you more tech stuff and even agreed to teach you a few cybertronian things. Miko started calling you two nerds when you were invested in your little project. When you were not working on the projector, you would be helping Ratchet in the sick bay. He showed you the ropes, and whenever he was done, you would help fix things or clean his tools.

Today, Emily had to go back home to check on things, so you were alone with the kids and the bots. It wasn’t too bad since you had time to get to know them better. 

With Ratchet’s permission to use his tools, you worked on making your prosthetic fingers. It was challenging but with the things you learned and the parts, you had an idea of how to create the joins and make it detachable as you doubted you could modify your own hand without causing any nerve damage. 

You adjusted the finger joints and the straps you used to attach the finger between your two main fingers. You placed the tool down and looked it over, testing its mobility and density. You then grabbed a box and tested how well it helped you hold it. 

“Hey, not bad,” Raf complimented as he watched from the side. 

“Yeah. I guess this makes holding things much easier now. Maybe I could try making a little finger as well,” you said. 

“Not a bad idea, then you five fingers again,” he said.

You then heard someone come from the entrance. It was Bulkhead as he came back from his drive with Miko. The energetic girl stepped out of the passenger seat, allowing the bot to transform into his robot form. 

“What’s up geeks? Got anything interesting going on?” she asked. 

“Nothing much. (Name) managed to make herself a new finger,” Raf said. 

“Cool. Hey, maybe you could make new weapons and stuff? Maybe you could make one of those wrist blades or brass knuckles,” she suggested, throwing punches in the air. “Oh! oh! maybe you could make a cannon to blast cons away,” she said. 

“I just made a new finger. I’m not a weapon engineer,” you shook your head. 

“Oh, come on. Have some fun little?” Miko pestered. 

“By the way, we should come up with a bot name for you,” she said. 

“What’s wrong with my current name?” you asked with a frown. 

“Nothing. It’s just it's a human name. You are a giant robot now. So how about you get a cool robot name!” Miko said.

You groaned as she had been at it for a few days now. It was constantly about being a cool robot and doing cybertronian stuff. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find it a bit annoying by now. 

“How about… Skullcrusher?” 

“No,” you shook your head. 

“Mauveine,” 

“That’s a color,” you said. 

“Metallica,” she threw in 

“Isn’t that the name of that one metal band?” you frowned. 

“Oh, now I got it. Mirage,” she said. 

“I think I am going to stay with my current name,” you stated. 

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Miko whined. 

“Sometimes boring is good enough. Deal with it,” you said, taking out your finger. 

A loud beeping came from the main computer. You looked over as Optimus and the other bots checked out what their computer found. 

“The cons are active,” Arcee said. 

“Could be a false alarm,” Bulkhead added. 

“Whatever it is. It is worth investigating. “ Optimus said. 

“Autobots. Transform and roll out,” he said as they opened the ground bridge. They transformed and drove into the green vortex. 

After the ground bridge closed, you tried to get back on your project, but then you noticed someone missing. 

“Where’s Miko?” you asked. 

Ratchet, Raf, and Jack looked around but the girl was nowhere to be seen. 

“She was just here a moment ago,” Jack said. 

You were then reminded of what Jack said about Miko joining the missions despite the dangers. She disappeared right after the bots left through the ground bridge. 

“You don’t think she went after the bots?” you asked, glancing toward the ground bridge. 

“Well, it would not be the first time,” Jack said. 

Ratchet groaned loudly before contacting Optimus and the other bots.

“Optimus. Miko disappeared right after you left. Did she follow you?” he asked. 

“Negative. We are currently engaging the decepticons,” Optimus said. 

“I have eyes on her. Miko! Get to cover!” Bulkhead yelled as you all heard blaster fire in the background. 

You felt worried for Miko’s sake. 

“Scrap! They sound too engaged to get Miko out of there,” Ratchet said. 

“What should we do?” Jack asked. 

You considered your options. Ratchet was pretty much needed at the base. Jack and Raf would be too at risk to go get her. The bots were engaging the enemy and it would be too risky just to wait and hope for the best. There was only one option. 

“I could go get her,” you stood up. 

“Absolutely not,” Ratchet said strictly. 

“I’m not gonna join the fight. I stay hidden, find Miko, and come back,” You explained. 

“Are you sure?” Raf asked. 

“We could wait here and hope nothing happens to her. Besides I’m a robot now, I have the least chance of getting hurt unlike Miko,” you answered. 

You all then looked at Ratchet. He groaned with a sigh. 

“Fine.” he opened the ground bridge. 

“But you better be quick and stay out of harm,” He said as you turned toward the ground bridge. 

“Be careful,” Raf said as you ran into the vortex. 

You jumped out of the ground bridge as it closed behind you. You quickly hid when you saw the bots fighting the cons. It was violent as punches and kicks were thrown at each other. You looked around for the girl. However, you couldn’t see her. 

“Bulkhead! Where’s Miko?!” you called out as he was the nearest. 

“I told her to hide over there!” he pointed at rocks before continuing the fight. 

You quickly sneaked toward the boulders where Miko should be and soon enough, saw her watching the fight. 

“Miko!” you called out. 

“Huh?” Miko looked toward you, but then one of those vehicons noticed her. Your eyes widened in panic. 

“Miko! Get down!” you yelled as you ran toward the vehicon and tackled him to the ground before he could grab the girl. Miko yelped then watched as you started wrestling with the con. 

The vehicon was stunned but struggled hard against you. You groaned as you tried to push him down. He then tried to shoot you with his blaster arm. You tried to push it away but when he fired, you were forced back to avoid getting shot. The vehicon then tried to get up. You tried to think something then remembered you shared a similar body, which meant you should have a blaster arm as well. 

“Come on…” you tried to think of your arm as a weapon, and then a click happened and your arm turned into a blaster. 

“(Name)!” Miko pointed at the vehicon as it prepared to shoot you. 

You aimed and a blast came out of your blaster arm. You were thrown back from the recoil, however, your shot struck the vehicon right in the core, causing it to fall and lay on the ground motionlessly with smoke rising out of it. 

You both stared at the dead con in stunned silence. Your arm turned back to normal and you released a heavy breath. 

“Dude! That was so cool!” Miko said beside you. You frowned and then grabbed her into your hands. 

You ran away from the battlefield, returning to the spot where you first arrived. 

“Ratchet! I got Miko! Bring us back!” you said through the com and he then opened the ground bridge again. You ran into the vortex, away from the battlefield. 

Back at the base, after the ground bridge closed behind you, you placed Miko back on her feet. 

“Are you okay?” Raf asked when he saw you rub your head. 

“I’m fine,” you uttered annoyed. 

“Dude! That was epic! You totally scrapped that con!” Miko said excitedly. 

“You are tougher than you look,” she said. 

You looked at her. “You got to be joking you could have gotten yourself killed!” You said. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you came. You make one awesome bot, and I got some sweet pictures” she said like what just happened wasn’t a big deal. Your patience finally ran out. You had enough of her antics. 

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?!” you snapped. 

“Oh oh,” Jack said, covering Raf’s ears. 

“We were on an active battlefield just now and all you cared about was getting some dumb photos? Do you think this is some kind of a game?” you asked with anger in your tone. 

“Relax. It’s alright now,” Miko said. 

“No! Miko! It’s not!” you stepped toward her, causing her to step back and look at you with a bewildered expression. 

“We could have gotten ourselves killed! I did not want to be there, but one more second, and you would have been a goner for good. No second chances. Like, come on Miko! That was an actual battle zone! You could have actually died there!” you yelled, pointing at the ground bridge from where you came. 

“I…I…” Miko stuttered under her words. 

“How about you actually think with your head once in a while instead of trying to get dumb photos?!” You asked. 

“Okay. Everyone calm down,” Ratchet tried to de-escalate as he stepped forward. 

“(Name). How about you go outside for a moment? Cool yourself down,” he said. 

“For the record, Miko. I find none of this cool. My human body is gone. I can never return to my human life, so how about you stop with the stupid name suggestions,” you marched out of the hangar while Miko looked after you with tears in her eyes. 

“That was��� intense,” Jack said. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Miko sniffed. 

“Calm down, Miko. Give her some alone time. She’ll come around eventually,” Ratchet said before returning to the monitors. 

Miko dried her eyes and quietly walked to the yellow couch where she continued to sit in silence. Raf and Jack looked at her with worry but did not know if they should try to comfort her after that outburst. 

The bots soon returned to the base after dealing with the cons. Bulkhead quickly walked over to Miko after seeing her. 

“Miko. Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, now did ya?” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” Miko uttered. Bulkhead immediately noticed the sullen look and tone in her voice. 

“Hey, Miko. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked. 

“Let’s just say… when (Name) brought Miko back, she kinda lost her patience and had an outburst,” Raf explained. 

“Yeah, she did not like the experience and apparently there was a con she had to scrap to save Miko,” Jack said. "I guess she also got annoyed about being a bot," he added.  

“I didn’t mean to make her that upset,” Miko exclaimed. 

Bumblebee beeped something. 

“Understand that (Name) did not become this out of her choice and that her condition is irreversible, which means she can never return to the life she once knew,” Optimus said. 

“Meaning she can’t go home or do human things anymore,” Jack said. 

“Maybe she actually misses being a human,” Raf added. 

“Whatever the case, perhaps giving each other time to think will help you both resolve this issue,” Optimus stated. 

Arcee looked toward Miko before her thoughts came to you. 

At the top of the base, you were sitting at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the view after releasing a few angry tears and thinking the whole thing through. You felt regretful for cursing out on Miko like that. 

“Hey,” 

You looked behind you and saw Arcee walking toward you. 

“Ugh… hey,” you replied, slightly awkwardly.

“I heard you had a blowout with Miko after bringing her back,” she said. 

“Yeah. I lost my patience. I shouldn’t have done that,” you sighed, holding your knee as your other feet hung from the edge. 

“No. I get it. Miko does tend to get herself into dangerous situations,” Arcee said as she sat down beside you. 

“Yeah, but I still shouldn't have blown up on her like that. God. I’m so stupid. I said some pretty nasty stuff to her, “ you said. 

“Don’t beat yourself over that. Miko is just how she is even though she could be more considerate of her own safety, and it’s completely normal to feel the way you did after saving her from a con,” Arcee comforted.  

“I really didn’t think much. When I saw that con trying to grab her, I just ran and tackled the con to the ground,” you explained. 

“It was a close call and her being so careless about it kinda pissed me off,” you said. “Now she probably won’t talk to me after that whole episode,” You uttered sadly. 

“Don’t overthink it. Everyone can get frustrated at times and need to blow up steam. And Miko is just a kid. Kids tend to do reckless things without considering the consequences,” Arcee said. “I doubt she thinks badly of you. You came to make sure she would come back safely and fought a con. Bulkhead already appreciates you for it,” she said. 

You considered her words. “You’re right. But… I think I still need to make up to her in a way,” you said. 

Arcee smiled with a nod. “ You know, you might look like a con, but you’re definitely not one from the inside,” 

You chuckled as you two then gazed at the view before you. 

Back inside the base, you walked up to Miko as she was sketching on the couch. 

“Miko,” you said, catching her attention. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. The thing is I’m scared by this whole alien war thing, and I was really worried when that con nearly got you,” you said. 

“I’m sorry too. I know I can get a bit ahead of myself. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said. 

“It’s fine. Also… I kinda miss being a human. As a robot, there are now some things I can’t do anymore. Like I can no longer eat my favorite food. I can’t drink any of my favorite drinks, not even something as bland as water. I can’t run my fingers through my hair, and I can barely feel the wind on my face. I can’t even take casual walks outside to clear my head. Those seem like small things, but after a long time, you can’t help but grow to miss them,” you explained. 

 “I— didn’t really think of it that way. I can’t imagine myself never being able to drink my favorite soda again, “ Miko said thoughtfully. 

“I know right? Energon doesn’t really taste much and now it’s the only thing I need to survive. Being a robot might have been cool if it was temporal. However, I’m stuck like this forever,” you said. 

“(Name). I’m sorry,” Miko said. 

“No. it’s okay. There are some positive perks in being a robot,” you said. 

“Like what?” she said curiously. 

“You do not need to worry about getting a driver’s license. You can pretty much now climb and jump from any high places that would have gravely injured you as a human. And… well, you no longer suffer from periods,” you said. 

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Miko grinned. 

“Periods?” Bulkhead looked confused. 

“What I wanna say is… well… don’t stop being you, but maybe be a bit more considerate of your safety. I’m pretty sure none of us here wants to see you get hurt,” you said. 

“No promises,” Miko teased, making you tilt your head at her. “But I promise to try,” she said. 

You smiled and then glanced at her book, having an idea. 

“You know, Emily has been talking about getting a new look for me. Do you wanna help us out on that?” you asked. 

“Absolutely! I can come up with the most rad colors ever,” Miko said, taking out her pencil and began drawing. She rambled ideas while you just listened, nodding along as she came up with interesting color design ideas. 

[aprill-99]

I was mulling it over today, and I think we haven’t talked enough about how the kindest Gods in the PJO show are the lonely outcast ones.

Think about it, the gods we see on screen are Poseidon, Zeus, Hades, Ares, Dionysus and Hephaestus.

We spend the most time with Dionysus and he’s arguably the most well socialized, but he isn’t shown to actually care about the campers. Ares is at best manipulative and capable of being manipulated and at worst short cited, violent, and cruel. He sends children into a known trap and dresses it up as helping them, then tries to start a war (whether or not it was his idea).

Zeus, king of the gods and always surrounded by them, is portrayed as controlling with a childish need to win no matter who else suffers or how stupid the game. He won’t agree to stop a war that would tear the world apart until Poseidon will admit he’s won, even after hearing that Kronos has returned.

Poseidon is portrayed as being more alone and separate from the other gods. He has his own realm, and while that makes him more powerful, he’s also more isolated. He shows care for both Sally and Percy. Particularly with Sally, she feels alone and like she has no one to talk to, and he comes as soon as she calls. Percy is in danger and he directly intervenes against Zeus and lets his pride take a hit to save him (in direct contrast to Zeus).

But Hades? Hated and feared god of the dead. Even more isolated than Poseidon and only allowed to be with the rest of his family once a year with a wife gone half the year and his children far away. The moment he hears what is actually happening, what does he say to Percy? “Ask me for sanctuary.” Then he follows it up by offering to keep his best friend and only family safe too. The last person Hades offered that too was probably Bianca, Nico, and Maria. Hades’ default move when the world is fraying is to put the innocent kids somewhere safe. Batten down the hatches, get any advantage you can for sure, but for the love of Hestia hide the kids until they’re old enough, until that’s not an option anymore. He doesn’t doubt Percy for a second. He just gives him a way out and offers Perseus -fatal-flaw-is-loyalty- Jackson, a way to keep his only true family safe. I think if Percy cared less about the rest of the world (remember he has other Camp friends and Annabeth is already gone) he’d have seriously considered it.

Hephaestus, (coup de gras) a god cast out of Olympus, married to a wife who hates him, crippled by his parents, and kept around for being useful. What does he end up telling Annabeth? “You’re a good kid, Annabeth.” Said to the girl whose own mother gave her a hat that makes her invisible - the girl who’s greatest wish is to build something that last forever - who wants acknowledgment and feels like she has to prove herself.

And he tells her she’s a good kid. Good already for being who she is now, not for whatever she might be later. Guy is really out here breaking cycles of abuse all over the damn place and he had like, 4 minutes of screen time!

Anyway I’m supposed to be studying for the Bar, but this was haunting me…..

[youarejustintime]

Before playing Before the Storm, I honestly didn’t think I would have so many feelings about Rachel Amber but oh boy, here we are.

I just want to start off by saying that I am a Rachel defender through and through. I will die on this hill. Call me Chloe Price because I am president of the Rachel Amber fan club. 

The belief that Rachel had no care or compassion for Chloe and was only using her is insane to me. We are talking about a 15 year old girl who feels like she has to be everything for everyone all the time while still maintaining perfect grades and a perfect reputation. She has a broken family with a father who is a master manipulator so of COURSE Rachel knows how to manipulate, it’s all she’s ever learned and she thinks that’s how you have to move through life. Chloe is the first person she’s ever met that she could maybe be real with and she doesn’t know how to handle that emotionally. She does love Chloe, she just doesn’t know how to show it very well because it’s never been demonstrated to her.

When talking about Rachel, I think we need to remember that she is a victim, right up until she was buried, and even during her burial, she was victimized. Even her body could not get the peace it deserved. 

Firstly, she was 100% a victim of her family. The mother who was sick and couldn’t recover for her until it was too late, the mother who lived a lie Rachel’s entire life and didn’t have the heart to say anything, the father who demonized a hurt woman and refused to get her help, who kept a part of his daughter away from herself, and who would rather hire a hitman to kill her real mother than actually allow them to meet. Say what you want about him doing what he believed was best, he was still wrong.

She was a victim of Frank. I have a lot of mixed feelings regarding Frank in general, however I do believe that this is another case of Rachel being victimized. I’ve seen a lot of “Why would she cheat on Chloe with Frank?” online and it’s baffling. Are we forgetting that Frank is a fully grown adult who is 13 years her senior? Regardless if they started dating after she turned 18 (which we do not know for sure is the case), he still met AND liked her when she was 15 years old (considering in BtS, if you tell Frank over the phone that you’re helping a friend, he asks if it was your friend from the other night at the mill, and agrees to help only because of her). In the diner during the storm, he does acknowledge that she was too young for him, but that he did genuinely care about her, which I don’t doubt, but the relationship is inappropriate regardless. The relationship also likely started because she was a user and running drugs for him as a means to make money to leave town with Chloe, who he believed was “trying to take her away from him,” a sentiment that is common within grooming.

She was a victim of Jefferson, having been coerced into whatever their relationship was, her feelings for him being self-described as “obsessed”. She never truly loved him, only being manipulated into it because she was young and desperately needed a father figure-esque man to make her feel worth something. All he really was was an adult who wanted to do disgusting things to a child.

And lastly, she was a victim of Nathan, who she gave years of friendship to, but he was so broken and so blinded by pleasing his so-called mentor that he allowed her to die and left her in a junkyard like she was garbage.

Rachel was a just baby who was crying for help ever since she moved to Arcadia Bay, and the only one who could hear her was Chloe. Unfortunately, despite doing everything she could, Chloe was also a child who was dealing with her own trauma. She couldn’t always be at Rachel’s side to protect her, and Rachel was scared to tell her the truth in fear of losing her. No one was able to step in to give Rachel what she needed, and she continued to escalate, lash out, and put herself in more and more danger until it led to her death.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 4

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. But - nudity! 😉

Word Count: 4,328

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 4. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Map of Camp || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N woke with a start. She was breathing fast, her heart pounding. The sense of fear and worry that had lived trapped inside her chest for months lifted quickly as she looked down to see Emma laying beside her on the narrow cot, having migrated there from her own bed sometime in the night.

Y/N resettled herself so she could pull her daughter’s warm little body closer to her, tucking the gray, wool blanket tighter around Emma’s shoulders to protect her from the cool September morning. She looked at Emma’s pale face, the bones a little too prominent, and was grateful once again to be where they were.

They’d been traveling around, nomadic and scrounging for whatever food they could find, for months. They’d spent a week in an abandoned church one time, a few days in an old hunting cabin. If they were lucky they sometimes found a camp of other survivors who would allow them to stay for a day or two. But the people would inevitably shuffle them along quickly, not willing to divvy up their resources amongst two more people.

When they’d found the Billings camp, she’d been so happy. They’d taken them in without much issue, but she’d soon discovered why. The camp had been made up of somewhat fanatical people, calling themselves Christians, who believed the apocalypse happened because people had turned away from the church. So while they did feel it was their duty to help Y/N and Emma, unfortunately they also felt it was their duty to bring them to the light. They’d spent most of the month they’d lived there praying and listening to the leaders call upon God to cast away the evil.

If the Croat attack hadn’t happened, Y/N knew she probably wouldn’t have stayed much longer anyway. She’d heard people talking about this camp, Camp Chitaqua, saying that it had a good leader, a man named Dean Winchester, and she’d wondered whether it could be the same man who’d saved her all those years ago.

She sighed deeply now, breathing in the fresh scent of the pine trees around them, giving thanks again that they’d made it here, and that, despite all odds, she was still alive. Even more miraculously, she was still herself. For a while, she’d been secretly worried that she’d only managed to stave off the virus in the same way that mothers could sometimes lift a car off of their child, by sheer power of will and desperation as mothers. But Emma had been here, and safe, for a week now, and she still felt exactly the same. 

She couldn’t explain it, but she was trying not to question her good fortune. They were in a well-run camp, complete with guards, supplies, and a leader who, whatever he might claim, cared a lot about the welfare of the people in his care. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After Emma woke up, Y/N cooked them their oatmeal ration for the morning, gave them both basin baths, and braided Emma’s hair. As she was tying the last ribbon, two small voices were calling for Emma from outside the tent. When they went to look, there were two little girls, Keisha and Julianne, looking for Emma to come out and play. 

Their mom, Monique gave Y/N a warm smile as she shook her hand. If Y/N’s bloodshot eyes worried the woman at all, she didn’t show it. 

“We’ve heard a lot about you from Emma.” Monique said as the girls ran about, giggling and chattering all at the same time. “She spent a lot of time with us over this last week. We’re so glad to see you’ve recovered.”

Y/N was eternally grateful that Monique didn’t ask questions for which she had no answers. They spoke for a few minutes about their children, and Y/N mentioned her intentions to start a school. Monique’s eyes lit up.

“It won’t be much,” Y/N warned, “but I thought the kids could use something.” 

They talked for a little while longer and then Monique requested Emma’s presence for the morning. Keisha and Julianne were looking for their favorite playmate. Y/N sent Emma along with a tight hug and a tug on one of her braids. 

There was a small part of her overextended protectiveness that worried any time Emma wasn’t right next to her. But she knew how important it was that her little one got the chance to play, so she kept her worries to herself and waved her off to have fun, with thanks to Monique for watching her.

She spent the next couple of hours wandering around the camp. She learned the layout of everything, where the medical tent was, where they went to get their food rations for the week. While she was there, she finally got to meet Theresa’s mother, Brandy. She was a big barrel of a woman with russet-colored skin, long dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, big strong hands, and kind brown eyes.

She explained how the ration system worked, and explained that she worked with “The Boss” and “The Angel” to make sure everyone got their fair share, and that absolutely no food was going to waste.

Y/N’s forehead crinkled at that. “Angel?” 

Brandy nodded. “Castiel.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He’s an angel?” She quietly berated herself for not figuring out that someone with a name like “Castiel” was an angel. 

Brandy nodded again, and then spoke quietly. “But he doesn’t have any angel mojo. No wings or halo, or whatever.” She shrugged. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

Y/N chatted with Brandy a bit longer, offering up her idea for the school. The older woman was intrigued with the idea and gave some suggestions for where they could hold their classes. She scoffed at the idea of holding them outside. 

“Gonna be winter soon and the wind can be really wicked around here. I’ll talk to The Boss about giving you one of those sheds at the Northeast edge of camp, behind the main cabin. They built them new there this summer for storage - for tools, and supplies like propane and such. But one shed will do for the winter, and they can build a second one for storage in the spring if they need it.” She said decisively.

“Well, please, don’t bug Dean too much about space.” Y/N cautioned. “He was reluctant enough to say yes to the school existing at all. I don’t want to make him doubt his decision.”

But Brandy just waved away the worry. “The Boss is hard, but he knows a good idea when he hears it.”

After a few more minutes of chatting Y/N gave Theresa a squeeze goodbye and headed back to her tent. She was excited to start putting some ideas together for lessons. She’d have to be a bit creative since there probably wasn’t a lot in the way of school supplies available. But she loved a challenge.

She was working at the little table in her tent when she heard a familiar throat clearing before Dean’s voice called out her name.

“Hi!” She called back. “Come in!”

Dean pushed through the tent flap, and walked in, a big green duffle bag in his hand. The height of the tent was just barely tall enough to accommodate him; it brushed against his spiky hair as he walked towards her, and Y/N had to smile.

Their tent home had seemed spacious when they’d arrived in it the other day. There was room enough for two narrow cots, a table and two chairs, a small wooden box for clothes and other supplies, and a little metal camping stove that was vented to the outside through a hole in the roof of the heavy canvas tent. She assumed that was for when it got really cold, and they couldn’t survive without some heat through the night.

It met all their needs and she’d been impressed by its size, having felt lucky enough to get the little two-person pup tent they’d had when they were at the Billings camp. But now, with Dean inside, the space felt much smaller. He seemed to take up most of the room in the tent, and he kept his neck bent forward slightly to avoid brushing against the top again.

“So, the river?” He asked, thumbing behind him. 

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. That would be fabulous.” She grabbed her clean clothes and followed him out of the tent. She asked him to wait for a moment and dashed over to Monique’s to get Emma. But the three little girls didn’t want to stop playing, so Monique offered to take Emma with them in a couple of days when she took the girls down to the river.

“Okay.” Y/N gave in to her daughter’s pleading eyes and the three little girls squealed and jumped around. 

Y/N was thrilled to see Emma having so much fun, and she couldn’t justify derailing that fun just for a bath. But she made Monique promise to let her watch the girls for an afternoon very soon as payback, and she hurried back to where Dean waited, somewhat impatiently, by her tent.

His face held a deep scowl. “Are we good?” He asked.

Y/N nodded and he turned away, obviously expecting Y/N would follow. Once again she found herself walking quickly to try and keep up with his long-limbed, brisk pace. They went east towards the medical tent. But before they got to the tent, they reached a wide, open area where five vehicles were parked. Four of the vehicles, two trucks, a Jeep and a van, sat in a three sided aluminum building. Inside the building two men and a woman were working on one of the trucks, a black Ford F-150.

Dean nodded in their direction as he entered, and they lifted their hands in a salute before returning to their work. He walked towards the Jeep, but Y/N had her attention snagged by the car that sat outside the shed, towards the back, almost behind the building. The tires were flat and vegetation grew all around it. The front windshield had a big crack in it, and both bumpers were missing. Rust covered the tire rims and the bottom of the passenger side door. 

But she still recognized it. She still remembered the way the sleek, black beauty had shined as it pulled into their driveway so long ago. She remembered the way her dad had whistled when he saw it and the way both Dean and John had beamed with pride when he told them, “That is an American classic right there!” 

She walked towards it, and her heart was sad to see it so beaten up and neglected. Dean followed her around the side of the building. “What are you doing?” He asked angrily.

She looked back at him. “I remember her. What a shame.” 

Dean’s jaw ticked and he grabbed her wrist to yank her back into the building. “Just a car, it wasn’t practical. Now, come on, you wanna a bath, or what? I don’t have all damn day here.”

Y/N kept her mouth shut as she climbed into the Jeep, flinching slightly when Dean slammed his door; she’d obviously hit a nerve. In deference to that fact she stayed quiet for a little while. But eventually, she risked starting a conversation.

“How far is it to walk out to the river?” She asked.

He shrugged. “‘Bout an hour or so.”

“How long will it take us?”

“Five or six minutes.”

She smiled. “Well, then I really appreciate the ride.”

He shrugged again. “Sooner we're there, the sooner we’re done.”

“I also appreciate you taking the time out of your day.”

He just grunted in response and she wasn’t sure exactly how to interpret the sound. Whether it meant, It’s fine, or I’m regretting the offer, she wasn’t sure, but she plowed on anyway.

“I can only imagine how busy you must be, running a camp this size. How many people live here?”

“Don’t know exactly.” He answered and she thought that might be the only answer he was going to give, but then he continued. “Somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty, I’d guess.”

“Wow!” Y/N said, truly impressed. “Billings only had about 60, and they were the biggest group I’d ever seen.”

Dean didn’t respond as the Jeep jolted over a big rut in the uneven path they were driving down. Trees scraped against the sides of the Jeep as they passed, and Y/N almost bounced out of her seat as they hit another deep rut. 

“Put your fucking seatbelt on.” He barked at her. “You tryna fly through the windshield?”

Y/N grabbed the strap and clicked it in place. Then she frowned at him. “You’re not wearing your seatbelt.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.” He warned her.

She snorted. “That’s crap advice.” He scowled at her but said nothing more.

They were silent until they emerged from the trees onto a wide river bank and Y/N could see a sparkling river laid out in front of them. She gasped.

“It’s beautiful.” 

Dean threw the Jeep into park and turned off the engine. “It’s advantageous.” He admitted as he climbed out, pulling his duffel bag out with him.

Y/N jumped down and walked quickly towards the river, already itching to feel the water wash away the layer of grime she could feel sitting on her skin. When they reached the side of the river, they stood for a minute. Y/N looked over at Dean, waiting for some privacy before she took off her clothes and jumped into the river.

Instead he nodded towards it, and warned her. “Don’t go too far east. The current here is slower, but it picks up around the bend up there, and it can be hard to stand.” 

He dropped the bag on the ground, reaching in and grabbing a bar of soap and tossing it to her. It wasn’t new, but it smelled fresh and zesty, so she didn’t care that it had been used previously. 

She stood still, holding the soap, making no move to get into the water. Dean looked at her, annoyed again. “Are you going in or not?”

She knew she was blushing and she felt ridiculous for it. But she waved towards him. “Could you turn around or something?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, actually, I can’t. There’s a reason no one ever comes to the river alone. We’re almost five miles from camp, there could be wild animals, rogue Croats, or desperate men around.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Someone needs to stand watch.”

Y/N nodded, accepting that logic. But she still didn’t want to get naked with him watching. When she continued to hesitate, Dean gave a huge huff and shook his head. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Even though you definitely don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, if it will make you hurry up and get in the fucking water, I’ll turn my head while you strip down. Just tell me when you’re covered up in the water, so I can go back to making sure nothing tries to eat you.”

With that, he turned his head away from her and sighed again, before holding up his finger. “And be careful - the deeper the water, the faster the current.”

She shucked her old grubby clothes quickly, practically moaning about how good it was going to feel to be clean and then actually step into clean clothes. She ran into the river, squeaking slightly as the cold water hit her skin.

“Whoo! It’s freezing!” She said with a slightly manic giggle. But she kept walking until the water covered her breasts. “Okay.” She called out over the rushing of the river. It was a little hard to keep her balance as she began washing, but she managed.

She tried to ignore Dean standing barely twenty feet away as she washed her body quickly and then dipped her head back in the water, lathering up her hands to scrub through her hair and across her scalp. As she rinsed her hair out she couldn’t take the silence anymore and started talking as a distraction, like she usually did. 

“So you guys keep chickens? I’m assuming that’s where the eggs come from?”

Dean nodded. “And one young cow. We found her in the spring. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. So we brought her back to camp. The kids in the camp take it in turns to spend the day gathering grass for her to eat. They pull up buckets of it every day to fill her trough. In return she gives us fertilizer for the crops, and if we can somehow find her a bull next spring she’ll give us milk and more cows too.”

Y/N smiled as she finished her bath, and then ran her hands down her leg to rinse away the last of the soap. “How is it you can manage -”

Y/N stopped talking to let out a scream as her fingers brushed against something slimy on her leg. And then screamed even louder when it brushed over a second one. Before she could let out a third scream, Dean was in the water, having shed everything but his jeans and white t-shirt on the way.

“What’s wrong!” He was yelling as he barreled towards her. 

“Something.” She pointed at her leg. “Something’s biting me. Something slimy.”

Dean looked relieved and then annoyed. “For pete’s sake, it’s probably just leeches.”

Y/N stared at him like he was completely insane. “Just. leeches?” She shrieked. “Get them off.”

Dean grabbed her hand and started to pull her out of the water. But she wrapped her other arm over her breasts and dug her heels into the rocky bed of the river. “No, I can’t leave the water. I’m naked.”

Dean spun around to face her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He dropped her hand and threw up his arms. “You wanna stay in the water with the leeches?”

“Can’t you just pull them off while we’re in the water?”

“No.” Dean said shortly. “I can’t. I have to pry them off gently, meaning I have to be able to see them properly. You may also have leeches other places than just your leg. I need to check you.”

Y/N’s face turned blazing hot, but she decided she was more horrified by the slimy things sucking her blood than by Dean getting up close and personal. So she followed him out of the water to stand on the sandy bank. He walked back to his duffel bag and grabbed a knife. She covered herself with her arms and hands the best she could.

Dean came close and got down on his haunches to work at unsticking the leeches from her thigh. His fingers were warm on her chilled skin, and she knew it wasn’t only the cold breeze that was giving her goosebumps. She peered down at him, admiring the way his long lashes swept downwards as he focused on his task. His white t-shirt was wet and clung to him, outlining the muscles in his back that shifted slightly as he worked.

Thoroughly distracted she didn’t notice the leeches pop off until Dean tossed them back into the river. “K, I’m gonna check for other ones.”

Y/N’s whole body flushed as Dean walked around behind her, scanning all of her looking for more of the parasites. He came around to her right side where her arm was folded over her chest. 

“Lift your arm.” He ordered. “They like the soft skin under here.”

With a sigh, Y/N shifted her other arm over her breasts, while crossing her legs to make up for the hand that was no longer covering her below. Then she lifted her right arm and Dean clicked his tongue. 

“Yeah, there’s one more here.”

He brought his knife up again, and Y/N tried not to think about the way she could feel Dean’s breath move across the tops of her breast as he pried off the disgusting creature. When it popped off, Dean threw it back into the river and let his other hand trail down to her waist, leaving a fiery trail in his wake. 

He moved to the other side and checked too but thankfully there were no more on that side.

Dean waved towards the parts of her that she had covered up. “Do you want to check the rest, just in case?”

He turned his head without being asked and Y/N was grateful as she searched her skin. 

“There’s nothing.” She said with relief.

Dean nodded. “Good. Hang on.”

He walked over to his duffel bag and pulled out a towel, also grabbing her clothes that sat beside his bag. He tossed them all to her and then turned away so she could dry herself off and get dressed. She dried quickly, but as she started to pull on her jeans, Dean pulled his wet t-shirt over his head, and pushed off his jeans, treating her to the truly disarming sight of his beautiful bare torso and round, plump ass. His back was bronzed and tan while the fleshy skin of his backside was milky white. 

He must have worked outside without a shirt on a lot this summer. 

That image left her brain spiraling, and while she was melting into a puddle, Dean pulled a pair of jeans out of his duffle bag and put them on, before slipping his long, muscular arms through the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

He stood quietly for a moment after he was dressed before he called to her without turning around. “Are you dressed?”

Shaking her head like a wet dog, Y/N answered quickly. “Not yet, just give me a minute.”

“Already had a minute.” Dean mumbled.

Y/N hopped into the jeans; they were a size smaller than she normally wore, so they fit a bit snug. She put on the bra that was also a bit too small in the cups, but she wasn’t about to complain about the free, clean clothes, so she just tugged on the t-shirt.

She could practically feel Dean’s impatience as he stood there with his hands on his hips. “I’m finished.” She told him and he finally spun around to face her, his expression annoyed as usual.

He started to say something, but when he caught sight of her, the words seemed to die on his lips. He scanned her from head to toe and Y/N felt her cheeks flame. It was silent between them, but something crackled in the air, hot and vibrant. 

Dean took a step closer, and her eyes wandered over his flannel shirt and the way the open sides framed his tanned, broad chest and flat abdomen. She looked at his belly button and the light trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans and she had the sudden urge to lick him, dip her tongue into his belly button, and then…

“Clothes good?” Dean asked, his voice soft and deep.

It took Y/N a solid ten to twenty seconds to figure out what he was talking about. Finally she nodded. “Oh yeah,” she ran a hand over her skin tight jeans, “they’re great.”

“Good.” Dean cleared his throat and nodded his head sideways towards the Jeep. “We should get back.”

The ride back to camp was tense as suddenly Y/N was aware of every move Dean made. She watched his hands on the big Jeep steering wheel and became immediately distracted by them. They moved smoothly, but she remembered the calluses she could feel when he grabbed her wrist, and it made her want to feel them again, feel them in more sensitive places.

The five minute ride felt twice as long on the way back.

When they reached the garage, Y/N practically leapt from the Jeep before it had even stopped fully.

“Well, thanks.” She said in a high pitched, squeaky voice. 

Dean followed her silently out of the Jeep and out of the building. When she started back across the camp to her tent though, he called her back.

“Y/N!” She turned around but kept some distance between them. She was honestly afraid of what her addled mind might try if she got too close to him. 

Unfortunately, Dean didn’t seem to be suffering from the same problem because he walked right up to her, leaving barely a foot between them.

“Just keep an eye on the bites. Leech bites aren’t usually dangerous, but the itch can be a real pain in the ass. If they get bad, you can go to the medical tent.” She followed his finger as he pointed at the big white tent to her right. “They'll probably have something for you.”

She turned back to face him and her breath caught in her throat. He was so close, and he smelled so good, like gunpowder, fire and something a bit warmer, softer, that she couldn’t place. She stared up into his intense green eyes and her stomach started doing somersaults. 

His gaze fell to her lips and for one insane moment, Y/N thought he was going to lean forward and kiss her. But he took a step back, nodded and then turned on his heel and walked away. Y/N stood staring after him for a lot longer than she had any reason to, holding her breath the whole time.

As he disappeared into the main cabin, she exhaled slowly, finally able to admit to herself that she was incredibly disappointed by the kiss that didn’t happen.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[little-diable]

Drunken Longings and Sober Actions - Prof!Tommy Shelby (smut)

God, how I adore writing with @zablife – thank you for joining me, my love! This imagine is shamelessly inspired by some new Cillian pictures that give off the prof!Tommy vibe. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader takes on the position of Professor Shelby's assistant, the man who is also the advisor of her PhD thesis. How long can the two endure to be around one another before they finally give into their longing?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), professor x assistant/student, unaddressed age gap

Pairing: Modern!Prof!Tommy Shelby x fem!assistant!reader (5.3k words)

picture credit to Document Journal

“Dear (y/n),  I’m happy to let you know that the topic of your PhD thesis has been accepted by the dean! I’d say we’ll fixate a few meetings over the upcoming semester for you to update me on the status of your thesis and to go over any questions you may have. Since your thesis has been accepted, you’re also allowed to help out with my courses from now on, for that I’d like you to come by my office on Friday, so we can go over the details before you officially start next Monday. We can combine the meeting on Friday with some coffee, if you want.  I’m very proud of you, (y/n). You’ll be an exceptional asset to our faculty, I’m very lucky to have you as my assistant.  Best, Tommy”

A gasp left (y/n) as she read the email with dilated pupils, with her teeth buried in her lower lip, and her heart racing in her chest. She had been waiting for this moment for months, praying to whoever was listening, begging them that her thesis would be accepted. Deep down she had always known that she’d get the position as Professor Shelby’s assistant, and yet she had doubted herself, not daring to believe in the path laying ahead of her.

(Y/n) could still remember the first time she had asked the professor if he’d take on the role as her supervisor, the one to guide her through ups and downs, the one to help her with her questions, the one to pick her up whenever she doubted herself and her research abilities. Professor Shelby – or Tommy as he told her to call him – had been in her life since her first semester, he had instantly caught her attention, perhaps it had been the piercing blue eyes of his that reminded her of a melting glacier basking in the heat of the July sun, perhaps it had been his cold, mysterious demeanour that had called her closer like an ancient whisper only she could understand. Whatever it had been, it had lured (y/n) closer, trapped by his spell, and now, after all these years, she finally got to work alongside the smart professor she adored, the handsome professor she crushed on. 

Her hands were shaking as she started replying to the email, thanking the professor one too many times, taking on the invite, and adding that she’d take care of the coffee. (Y/n) had spent many hours in Professor Shelby’s office, finding comfort in the room that appeared darker than all other offices, stacked with books, old and new ones, with pictures and drawings of people and places (y/n) didn’t recognise. And even though it had taken the two a while to adjust to one another – even though he had always taken his time to answer her every question, the professor had kept his distance, only slowly had the surface began to crack, finally letting her in – she now loved spending time in his office, finding shelter with him close. 

(Y/n)’s mind started racing, painting one picture more vivid than the one before, producing stories she’d dream of for nights to come. She couldn’t help but wonder how it must feel to have the professor close, how he’d touch her, how he’d hold her. Heat rose to her face, clinging to her like a warm blanket tossed over her trembling upper body. Carefully wrapped around her, like he’d carefully tug her closer, protectively, lovingly. 

……

“Please, come in!” Professor Shelby’s voice echoed through the morning, making a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips as she stepped into the office. She carried two cups of coffee, closing the door with her foot before she met him halfway, pushing the professor the coffee into his outstretched hand. “Morning (y/n), thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course, it’s the least I could do. I’m very excited.” His chuckles filled the room, echoing off the books he cherished like nothing compared, a sound so distinct, (y/n) was sure she’d always recognise it. The professor thumped through his notes, not picking up on the way her gaze flickered between the steam of his coffee rising like soldiers preparing for battle and the piercing eyes she wanted to watch explore her naked body. 

“There we go, I printed out this semester’s schedule for you. If it’s alright with you, you’ll join my Monday, Thursday, and Friday classes. For the first few weeks you can help me with preparations and the homework we will have to grade, and then you can slowly take over and teach a few classes on your own.” Her smile kept growing, clearly projecting the excitement she felt, grateful for this very opportunity. She took the sheet from his stretched out hand, reading through the lines over and over again, wondering if this was just a dream she was caught in. 

“Thank you so much, you know how much I appreciate this.” Tommy studied her for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, taking yet another sip of the coffee. There was an undeniable tension lingering in the room, growing between them like the heat of the summer would grow with every rising of the sun, adding to the crackling atmosphere. This very tension had nothing uncomfortable to it though, something (y/n) was all too used to, wondering if this was something only she could feel. 

“Of course, we both know how much me and my students will profit from your knowledge. I’m very happy to be your advisor, (y/n), I hope you know that.” Once again (y/n) could feel heat flushing through her system, still not used to his praises the other students weren’t fortunate enough to experience. Back when she and Tommy had met, (y/n) had been jealous of those that had gained his attention, forcing her to do even better on her homework and his tests, hoping, perhaps even praying, that he’d finally notice her. And now, all these years later, (y/n) still struggled to accept that their relationship had changed this much, like the tide rolling back in, bringing news from unknown territories. 

“Is there anything I can help you with? Any presentations I should put together? I know how much you hate doing these.” Both couldn’t help but chuckle at her lighthearted teasing, reminded of all these times (y/n) had helped him with his powerpoint presentations, taking over before his annoyance could take over like a tsunami wave swallowing whatever was standing in its way. 

“You know what, I’d actually really appreciate it if you could take over the presentations this semester, it seems like my students enjoy your designs more than mine anyways.” His grin kept growing as he listened to her chuckles, hearts beating in sync, even though they were sitting too far apart to pick up on the beat of one another’s strong muscle keeping them alive. 

……

“We are so proud of you!” (Y/n)’s chuckles blended in with those of her two friends, smiling at them as they touched glasses, drowning yet another sip of their beverages. The music of the crowded bar rang in their ears, distracting them whenever a song they knew by heart started playing. “So, tell us, will you finally fuck him this semester?” 

The first week of joining Tommy’s course was just about to start, and deep down (y/n) knew they’d continue their days filled with teasing glances, with loving conversations, and encouraging phrases. An almost unfamiliar kind of pride had filled his eyes as (y/n) had first asked him if he’d be her advisor, and now, as they finally got to work together, this very kind of pride was still filling his pupils. 

Their bodies searched one another’s closeness like magnets, like the stretched out hand Leander would have needed before he drowned. There was an undeniable attraction between the two, something awfully frowned upon, hence why neither (y/n) nor Tommy dared to address whatever was buzzing between them. 

“God, I wish.” (Y/n)’s friends couldn’t help but cheer, once again taking another sip before (y/n) kept speaking. “He’s just so, I can’t even describe it, perfect? I’m so sure that he’s perfect for me, but I can’t, he’s my advisor and boss after all.” 

The three of them were all too tipsy by now, no longer able to reflect on any advice their sober minds would produce. (Y/n)’s eyes started wandering through the bar, recognising a few familiar faces, students and professors that would find this bar close to their university. Her breath hitched in her chest as her eyes found a pair of piercing blue ones, momentarily leaving her frozen. 

Tommy was surrounded by some colleagues, barely listening to the stories they shared as he held eye contact with (y/n). Her friends followed her gaze, silently chuckling as they recognised the man (y/n) had been crushing on for years on end. Before either one could stop themselves, (y/n) and Tommy started moving, meeting halfway. 

“Do you want to join me outside?” His soft voice left her heart racing, wordlessly nodding her head as she followed him, engulfed by the balmy breeze, stroking up and down their goosebump covered forearms. “You should have told me that you’d end up here tonight.”

She watched him alight his cigarette, taking a deep inhale before he exhaled the blue smoke reminding her of the way the ancient city of Troy had burned, flames climbing higher and higher. (Y/n) had to blink a few times to rip herself out of her trance, fully entranced by the handsome man, by the way his hair fell into his features, by the way his body seemed to invite her in, not stepping away from her. 

“I didn’t want to intrude on your time with them, you seemed very excited about seeing them again this morning.” He nodded his head, staring at her with something she couldn’t pinpoint. There was an unfamiliar kind of distance growing between them, blue eyes rather icy, no longer filled with the pride she now longed for. Her heart kept hammering in her chest as her mind begged her to keep quiet, hoping that no embarrassing words would come upon her alcohol tinted lips. 

“I see, it’s probably not the best idea to be seen outside of work after all, not like this.” Her eyes couldn’t help but flicker to his lips as he spoke, silently wondering how it must feel to have them pressing against hers, to taste the beer he had sipped on, the cigarette he had just finished smoking. Fuck, if she’d be any more drunk, (y/n) would probably close the gap between them, not caring that all other people could watch them share a kiss. The sound of Tommy clearing his throat ripped (y/n) out of her trance, slowly catching up with the cold words he spoke, pushing her away from him before she could take another breath. 

Before either one of them could speak another word, the sound of Tommy’s ringing phone popped the bubble they were engulfed by, forcing them to step away from one another. (Y/n) cleared her throat before she looked at him one last time, body suddenly filled with an uncomfortable wave of sadness, of confusion, stepping back into the bar in a desperate need for some more alcohol. 

…

“Dear Tommy,  It was lovely seeing you tonight. I’m really looking forward to working with you this semester and I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your support.  I think our meeting Friday was productive and things seemed to be going well until I ran into you down at the pub. I’m a bit of a worrier and I over think things a lot so forgive me for asking, but have I done something? You seemed cross with me when I spoke with you earlier and it’s all I can think about now. I have to know before we begin working together, otherwise I don’t know if I’ll be able to concentrate properly.”

(Y/n) watched the cursor blink beneath her thumb, inhaling deeply as she thought about Tommy’s blue eyes darken as he stared at her earlier. He hadn’t held the same warmth or congeniality as he did in his office. This look was withering, as though she’d offended him, but (y/n) couldn’t think of what she might have done to warrant it. 

Her head was pounding and her mouth felt dry as she slid her phone onto the table and went in search of water. As she stood at the sink, reaching for a glass, she heard her friend Sylvie giggle. “What’s this, Y/n?” she asked mischievously. 

(Y/n) spun around to find Sylvie holding her phone, reading the email she’d left open. Abandoning her water, (y/n) attempted to grab for her phone, but missed as her friend held it over her head. “Give it to me! That’s important, Sylvie. He’s my thesis advisor.” 

“Yea, I remember. I was there two hours ago when you were drooling all over yourself! You want to fuck him, after all!” She chuckled with a wicked grin. (Y/n) gulped, realising she might not have been as graceful as she’d hoped. In fact, Sylvie made it sound as though she’d made a fool of yourself. God, had she? (Y/n) didn’t have time to ponder her behaviour further as the clacking of her phone brought her out of her head and back to reality. 

To her horror, (y/n) realised Sylvie was adding her own text to the email. “What are you doing?” (y/n) mumbled, furrowing her brow in suspicion.

“Giving you a shot with hot professor,” Sylvie replied, biting her lip as she typed out another line quickly before rushing into the lounge and diving onto the couch with a squeal of delight. 

“No, no, no!” (Y/n) shrieked, barreling toward her friend for the phone. Sylvie had dropped it onto the table as she swung her legs over the side of the sofa, humming to herself. (Y/n) couldn’t help but gasp as she heard the swooshing noise notifying that the email had been sent. With wobbly legs and tingling fingertips, (y/n) reached for what awaited her on the bright screen. 

At the bottom of her somewhat emotional, yet still professional work email, Sylvie had added three lines.

“You should take me to dinner to apologise. And wear the trousers from tonight that kept me staring at your arse. You looked really fit! Xx”

 “Thanks, Sylvie. Thanks a lot,” (y/n) deadpanned, sucking your teeth. 

“You’re welcome, babe!” Sylvie smiled back at her contentedly, though her eyelids were closed and she was half asleep already. How was I going to explain this? (Y/n)  wondered.

……

With her eyes focused on her phone, (y/n) kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was wrapped in her most comfortable jacket, finding shelter with the fabric that had engulfed her too many times to count, hugging her close. Her heart was pounding, counting the seconds, wondering when he’d turn up.

Even though she had somehow survived their first Monday class together, Tommy hadn’t said anything to her. Well, besides the occasional small talk. She had woken that morning to the sound of an email finding its way to her, Tommy’s reply to the words her drunken self had typed with trembling fingers, paired with the words of her friend. 

“Dear Y/n, I must say I was surprised to receive your email after our chance encounter this weekend. I had no idea you felt uncomfortable in any way when we parted. As we will be working closely in the coming months, I will confide that my Aunt Polly has been unwell. If I seemed off, it was only because I’d taken a concerning call from her moments earlier. However, I assure you that your thesis has my full attention and I am committed to a good working relationship between us.  If you would join me this Tuesday for dinner at the Italian bistro around the corner from campus, I’d be interested to hear your feedback about the first day of class. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble providing thoughts if your wardrobe tips are any indication. By the way, thank you for the enthusiasm over my style. It’s good to know I still have some. Best, Tommy"

She had been torn between embarrassment, confusion, and a small fracture of pride. Yesterday, after leaving the class, he had told her that he’d await her in front of the bistro at 7 pm. And now, as she was waiting for him, a few minutes too early, (y/n) couldn’t help but give into the anticipation flooding through her, would they finally address whatever was happening between them? 

“Evening, (y/n).” Tommy’s raspy voice snapped her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering up to meet his. With a slight smile tugging on his lips, he held the door to the bistro open for her, catching the way her eyes seemed to recognise the all too familiar pair of trousers her friend had mentioned in the email. “After you.”

Slowly she stepped into the place she had last visited months ago, unable to stop her gasp from rolling off her tongue as he placed his hand on the small of her back. Tommy guided her to an empty corner, wordlessly helping her out of her coat before he sat down vis-a-vis her. 

With an almost too straight posture, (y/n) and Tommy looked through the menu, caught in the silence that had nothing uncomfortable to it, yet it was so thick it felt like neither of them could speak up. Only after the waiter had taken their order did they finally give in, eyes finding one another. 

“I have to say, I was quite surprised about your email. But I am truly sorry if I hurt you in any way, that wasn’t my intention.” He kept his voice low, without any emotions dripping from it as if he was scared that she could see straight through the barrier he had built around himself. 

“That’s alright, I probably shouldn’t have emailed you in my state.” No longer could she hold eye contact with him, gaze focused on her fingers. 

“You had every right to. It’s true, if we keep working with one another we have to properly communicate.” A sigh left the man, eyes flickering down to her fingers, watching (y/n) fumble with them for a few moments before he started talking once again, giving into the words he shouldn’t speak. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I act differently around you, and I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable with saying this, but our relationship has nothing professional to it. I can’t hide whatever it is you’re making me feel.” 

……

“Here, let me help you.” Tommy reached for her jacket, helping (y/n) out of the warm fabric before he guided her through his house, towards his kitchen. The two were engulfed by an unfamiliar kind of silence, clinging to their bodies as if it was scared that the two would part ways before they could finally give in. Minutes ago they had left the bistro, and even though their dinner did have an almost carefree touch to it, they were back to chasing their distance just now. 

“Tea?” (Y/n) could only nod her head as she watched Tommy move around his kitchen, eyes focused on his task at hand, not looking at her once. Fuck, she hated this, the awkward tension so thick one could cut it with a knife, ripping the two out of this very state they seemed to be trapped in. (Y/n) couldn’t remember a day where they had acted like this, like strangers being forced to spend time with one another, not knowing how to speak up, how to get to know one another. 

“Tommy,” the word rolled off her tongue before she could stop herself, moving closer in a desperate need to minimise the distance between them like ships sailing an ocean so big their chances of crossing paths were slim to none. “What am I doing here? What is this?”

He stared at her, jaw muscles twitching as he clenched his teeth together, pondering over his words, unsure how to break out of this state. Tommy wasn’t quite sure why he had invited her to his place, not yet wanting to let her go though struggling to give into the shift of the air around them. A huff left (y/n) at his silence, turning from him to step out of this room, out of this house, but Tommy didn’t let her get far, hand clamped down on her wrist. 

(Y/n) felt herself being spun around, chest colliding with his, and before she could even try to protest, Tommy had closed the distance between them, finally kissing her. It took her a few seconds to snap into motion, hand finding his clean shaven cheek, allowing herself to deepen the kiss. Their tongues met, slow at first, allowing themselves to adjust to this new sensation, to the fire simmering inside of them, unable to hold back. 

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I should admit.” His raspy words left her chuckling, no longer caught in the web of unspoken confessions, of an awkward tension, rather breaking through the invisible barrier. She kissed him again, and again, squealing in surprise as her professor pushed her onto his kitchen island, lingering between her thighs. 

A gasp left (y/n) as Tommy’s lips found their way down her throat, sucking on the spot where her neck met her throat, making sure to leave marks at any given chance. The moment had something so forbidden to it, and yet they were taken by the thrill of it, begging them to keep on touching, to give into their longing. 

“Can I?” His whispers left her smiling, nodding her head to allow Tommy to pull her dress over her head, exposing her underwear to his dilated pupils. Not once had a man looked at her like this, with so much love, with so much desire filling his eyes, an unfamiliar gaze she’d probably never get used to. It seemed to be an unspoken fact between them that Tommy would take care of her like no other human being ever could, made for her, for her body, the flesh cage that had called out to his, claiming one another before any confessions could be spoken.

Skilled fingers undid her bra, exposing her goosebump covered chest to his wandering eyes and to his eager lips. He kept switching between her breasts, kissing and touching the skin he had longed to touch for years. Fuck, he had once promised himself that he’d never cross this very line, but now all promises were lost like the ships that had sunken to the bottom of an ancient ocean no living being remembered. Lost like all the souls Tommy kept researching, finding comfort in the thought of retelling stories of those that had shaped this very world into the world they knew now. 

His warm lips kept kissing their way down her body, down her flesh to the outlines of her panties, toying with the fabric for a few seconds before his piercing eyes flickered up to meet hers, once again asking for her permission. 

“Touch me, please.” It was simple, really, and yet the moment was by far more complex than either one would like to admit. There was no going back once he touched her there, there was no letting go of whatever they were about to create, perpetuating their love on their bodies and souls. Tommy hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he shuffled her panties down her legs, eyes focused on her heat, on the arousal glistening on her skin. 

The cold surface of the kitchen island pressed itself against her skin, grounding (y/n) before she could get lost in Tommy’s touch, in the careful movements of his wandering fingers, exploring her body all too curious. Her thighs were trembling, fighting against the urge to press them together, to get rid of the ache between them, reminding (y/n) of all these times she had touched herself to the thought of her professor. 

“I’ve been thinking of this moment way too many times, and now, as I have you before me, I know that my mind could never imagine a sight like you, so beautiful.” Her heart swelled in her chest, once again taken up by the unexpected praises leaving Tommy. (Y/n) reached for his hand, wordlessly squeezing it before he brought it up to his lips, kissing her skin. For a few seconds they kept holding eye contact before he let go of her hand, mouth meeting her cunt. 

She arched her back, letting go of the moan wanting to claw through her, hand coming down flat on the kitchen island she was laying on. Curses left (y/n) as his tongue brushed through her slit, moaning at the taste of her arousal, already addicted within the first few seconds. Her heart was pounding, racing faster than ever before, making (y/n) wonder if she’d pass out any moment now. 

(Y/n)’s body tried to push her even closer to him, breath hitching in her chest as his warm thumb found her clit, matching the rhythm of his movements to the speed he used with his tongue. Tommy had turned her into a moaning mess within a few seconds, holding a different kind of power over her body, a power so strong (y/n) feared she may never be strong enough to ever let him go again. 

Without a warning, Tommy pushed his tongue into her tightness, unable to bite down his smirk widening on his lips as (y/n) called out his name, hands balled into fists, leaving crescent shapes on the skin of her palms. (Y/n)’s eyes were squeezed shut, lips buried in her teeth – a pathetic attempt to stop herself from giving in just yet, not wanting to break the moment she had been longing for for way too long. 

Tommy could tell that she was close, upping the speed of his movements, of the way he circled her pulsing bundle of nerves, of the way he kept using his tongue. Deep down he had tied himself to her the very first day he had met her, set on (y/n) quietly, secretly, hoping that nobody could see through the cold facade he had built to protect himself. She had been Ariadne’s thread, luring Tommy out of his hiding with the sweet smile of hers, with the glistening eyes that seemed to follow him around. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop, please.” He grinned against her skin as he pushed her over the edge, allowing her to let go, to cum on his tongue and fingers. (Y/n) was trembling, body taken up by the powerful orgasm he pushed through her system, kidnapping her soul to bind her to him, without needing to ask for her permission. 

Her eyes snapped open the second he let go of her, body struggling to breathe through the intense sensation still clinging to her. For a few seconds neither Tommy nor (y/n) dared to speak up, studying one another to figure out where to go from here, but with her hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, their bodies seemed to snap into motion once again. 

“I’d take you to my bed and fuck you there, but I can’t go any longer without burying myself inside of you, sweetheart.” His raspy voice left her choking, wordlessly staring up at him, watching her professor shuffle out of his dress shirt, trousers soon following. Her eyes followed the movements of his hand, taking in the sight of his hard cock pressing against the fabric of his boxers. “I’ll be right back.”

Her hand shot out to stop him, murmuring a soft “I’m on the pill”, needing to feel his skin pressing against hers. With his teeth buried in his lower lip, the professor stepped out of his boxers, hand pumping his cock, using her arousal to coat himself. The heat in the room kept rising, buzzing through their veins like poison made to kill them, hoping to find shelter in a comforting death like Romeo and Juliet, tied together for eternity. 

“You look so pretty, spread out for me, I’ll need to fuck you on every surface I can find.” His teasing left (y/n) gasping, fingernails clawed into his veiny forearms, keeping him close as he brushed the tip of his cock through her folds. With their eyes connected, Tommy pushed into her, unable to bite down the groan ripping through him. 

Neither Tommy nor (y/n) would ever be able to let go of this moment, longing, aching for it on lonely nights, needing to reach out to one another. He moved slowly, relishing in her closeness, needing to soak up every second he was fortunate enough to experience. Their eyes didn’t dare stray from one another, watching the different expressions tugging on their features, clearly communicating their every need, their every want. A desire they were finally giving into. 

One of his hands clung to her thigh, keeping the leg she had wrapped around his waist close, leaving marks he’d kiss when morning rolls upon them. The way she mewled his name forced him to pick up his pace, hips snapping against hers, burying himself deeper inside of her with every passing moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, don’t ever stop touching me.” (Y/n) choked on her words, eyes rolling back into her head, trapped in the darkness he emanated, a personification of all things forbidden, and yet so bittersweet (y/n) knew she’d never be able to let go of him again. Whatever may come upon them, they’d stick to one another, fuelled by the desire keeping them chained together.

Tommy pulled her even closer, allowing his cock to nudge against her sweet spot with every thrust, once again pushing her closer to the edge she had been pushed over moments ago. He murmured soft praises, pushing waves of heat through her, heart swelling once again as he spoke the words that would ring through her head for weeks to come. 

“Doing so well, sweetheart, I got you, it’s okay.” His thumb found her swollen clit once again, rubbing it a few times before (y/n) came on his cock, walls clamping down on him. It took Tommy some more thrusts before he followed her down the edge, painting her walls white as a heavy groan left him. 

Both kept clinging to one another, holding on for dear life without daring to speak up, scared that reality would catch up with them, forcing them to adapt to this very new change. His eyes studied her calm features, trying to read the fucked out gaze swimming in her pupils. Slowly he pulled out of her, lips meeting hers for a sweet kiss. 

“How about a shower?” Both weren’t ready to address what was laying ahead of them just yet, not ready to talk about whatever they’d have to change, if they’d had to change something at all. And yet both found comfort in the thought of doing this together, with their hearts intertwined and their souls wordlessly communicating.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Perfect For You : Epilogue (H.JS)

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : swearing, briefest mention of sex, champagne, slight angst, mostly fluff

A/N : I know it's been a while but it's here now! I hope you enjoy! I think I'm going to come back and start posting again soon. I have lots of stuff to share. Including some fake texts AND a Changbin written series! Keep your eyes out because ya girl is coming back. Thank you for your patience. I love you all.

            She was pacing the room, tears stinging her eyes as she kept glancing at her phone, the only thing she could see was the passing time. No texts. No calls. She stared at herself in the mirror, fixing her makeup, making sure her hair looked okay, smoothing out her outfit. It felt like months since she’s last seen Jisung, despite it only being a couple days. Would he like the dress she picked?

            “Y/n, pumpkin.” She turned at the sound of her dad’s voice. Tears were welling up in his eyes as well. He took a few steps towards her, a warm smile on his face, as he took her into his arms. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered. When they pulled away from the hug, she did a little spin for her dad, smiling at him.

            “Oh my daughter!” Her mom exclaimed. “Look at you.” She hugged her mom as well. Her mom pulled out her phone, exclaiming how she needs pictures, since this day only comes once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. Y/n posed alone, then next to her dad, then next to her mom. Just as her mom was about to put her phone away, someone else walked in.

            “Would you like me to take one of all three of you?” Chan said with a smile.

            “That would be lovely.” Her mom answered, handing her phone over to him. Y/n stood in between her parents, smiling as Chan took a couple pictures. He handed the phone back when he was done.

            “You look amazing, Y/n. Jisung is going to fall in love all over again.” Y/n giggled, shaking her head, telling him she doubts he’s ever fallen in love with her more than once. “Oh I have stories.” She raised an eyebrow at him, asking him to go on. “You’ll find out. I wrote about it all in my speech.” She wrapped her arms around him, thanking him for getting them here.

            “So Y/n, baby, will you marry me?” She was speechless. Unsure if she was sad, angry, or happy. All the fights ran through her mind. The nights going to bed alone while he lived it up at the dorms. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as she stared at him down on one knee. And she shook her head. “What?” His heart broke. Did he really mess up that bad that she didn’t want to marry him anymore? “Baby what can I do to make you see that I’m serious about you? About us? I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you, making up for all the mistakes I made.”

            She wanted to marry him. She knew there was no one else for her, that if she walked away right now, she’d spend the rest of her life alone. But all the fights kept running through her mind. The times she allowed him to do whatever he wanted. The guys night. He came home early, but it still bothered her, wondering if anything happened. Wondering if he touched another girl the way he was only supposed to touch her.

            “I’ll call Chan. He can tell you everything.” Jisung said, still refusing to get up from his knee that must be hurting by now. Before she could say no, he was dialling and Chan was answering, and Jisung put the call on speaker.

            “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your engagement right now? Why are you calling me?” She met Jisung’s eyes when Chan said this. It wasn’t spur of the moment. He wasn’t trying to get her to stay. He had planned this.

            “Ask anything. Anything that’s stopping you from saying yes.” Chan and Y/n could hear the brokenness in Jisung’s voice. And Chan started talking before Y/n could say anything.

            “Say yes, Y/n. I know the last few months have been a rollercoaster with you two. And that you heard things you weren’t supposed to. You have your doubts, but Jisung loves you more than anything in the world. Even given the opportunity to be with another girl, he’d still choose you. I could sit here for hours telling you all the things he’s said about you, but I promise you that you’re his entire world.” Her eyes didn’t leave Jisung’s the entire time Chan was talking, seeing the tears in his.

            She reached over and ended the call. “Promise this is what you want?” She asked. And he nodded.

            “More than anything.”

            “Ask me again.” His smile widened as he cleared his throat.

            “Y/n, baby, you are my absolute everything. I am so in love with you that I’ve written at least 6 albums worth of love songs about you. Will you marry me?” She giggled this time, wiping the tears away as she nodded. Jisung slid the ring on her finger, finally standing up, and pulling her in for a kiss.

            “I didn’t do anything. You two would have ended up here eventually.” He said. She wanted to deny it, say she really meant it when she said no. But she knows that’s a lie. She would have changed her mind the second they got home. Seeing their stuff together. The stuff they accumulated separately before moving in together and the stuff they accumulated together while living together. They were meant to be together, she knows that much is true. Otherwise, one of them would have given up a long time ago.

            “Yeah.” Was all she could say.

            “It’s almost time so I should get in place. I’ll see you out there.” He gave her one last smile before leaving the room. Her friends ran into the room, letting her know they made her everything was exactly the way she wanted it.

            “The wedding of the decade.” Her best friend joked, linking her arm with hers and resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder. “Can’t believe I’m losing the love of my life to a man.” Y/n giggled, resting her head on top of her best friend’s.

            “Say the word and I’ll run away with you.” She said softly.

            “No you wouldn’t.”

            “Yeah. I love him.”

~

            The doors opened, revealing his soon to be wife in all her glory. He was speechless as he watched her walk down the aisle. She’s always beautiful to him. Dressed up, or casually dressed. Just waking up with bed head and her eyes barely open. Date nights when she puts on her best dress and does her makeup. Every second of every day she’s the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

            But something about her in a wedding dress walking towards him, her arm linked with her dad’s, had tears welling up in his eyes. Her eyes were only on him as she got closer and closer, tears welling up in her own eyes when she saw him in his tux. Everyone watching could see just how in love they were.

            Jisung stepped off the small step towards Y/n and her dad, his smile warm and loving. “I’m trusting you to love my daughter forever.” Her dad said as he took her hand and placed it in Jisung’s.

            “Loving her forever is a dream come true.” Jisung replied, and the two of them finished her walk down the aisle together, him helping her up the small step so she didn’t trip. And then they were standing across from each other, neither one listening to anything that was going on, only focused on each other. So lost in their own worlds, Minho, the obvious choice for best man, had to smack Jisung so he would say his vows.

~

            They walked around the reception thanking everyone for coming before taking their seats. Chan stood up, clinking a fork on his glass of champagne to get everyone’s attention. The chatter came to a halt, everyone waiting to see what Chan has to say.

            “Now I know I’m not the best man, but I still wanted to say something to the newlyweds.” He began, looking directly at Jisung and Y/n. She was resting her head on his shoulder, their arms linked together. He was tracing random shaping into the skin on her arm, making her giggle. “I’m sure it’s no secret to anyone here how whipped these two are for each other.” The entire room agreed. Jisung used that moment to steal a kiss from his wife. Wife. He thought to himself. He loved the sound of it.

            Chan continued his speech, telling everyone the amount of times Jisung would barge into the studio, going on and on about how he’s fallen in love all over again. Whether it was because she changed her hair. Or because she sent him a text that said I love you. Every small thing had him falling in love all over again.

            Jisung’s face was red, and Y/n couldn’t help the tears that fell, realizing just how lucky she was to be in love with someone that loves her just as much. So many people dream of a love like this, and she almost let it go. But she knows she’ll never doubt his love for her again. The monster has been permanently vanquished.

            When Chan was finished, Y/n’s best friend and maid of honor stood up and began her speech. Going on about the time Y/n would gush about Jisung and the things he did. From their first date, all she could talk about was how perfect he was for her. How he was the one she’d been waiting for since she was a little girl.

            She continued saying how she thought things were going too fast when he was making it official after the second date. But she never said anything because Y/n was the happiest she’d ever seen. And she’s glad she never said anything, because now everyone is gathered together, watching the couple be more in love than ever before. And she’s excited to watch them be in love forever.

            More and more people stood to make speeches. Telling their own stories about the couple and how clearly in love they’ve always been. Changbin thanked Y/n because the songs they’ve gotten out of their relationship were top tier. But also because he liked seeing Jisung so happy. Minho jokingly said he would steal Jisung back one day. But then said he didn’t mind losing Jisung to Y/n because he knows Jisung is in good hands.

            By the end of all the speeches, there was not a single dry eye in the room. Jisung was wiping away Y/n’s tears, whispering about how embarrassed he was, but it was okay because he loved her. She wiped away his tears as well, telling him she loved him just as much.

            “Do you think they’ll notice if we dip?” Jisung asked a bit later. She laughed and playfully smacked his arm. “What?! I want to start our honeymoon a little early.” He said before kissing her cheek. Her face flushed pink. “You’re so cute. Let’s go home.” He pulled her up from her seat. She was looking around, trying to see if anyone was watching them, but everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations. Except Chan, who just mouthed for them to go.

            “Fuck it. Let’s go.” She giggled, lacing their fingers together and following close behind him. They loved being with their friends and family, but it’s been a couple days since they’ve had alone time, too busy trying to get everything set up for the wedding. Jisung stayed at the dorms for a couple nights.

            Both of them couldn’t wait to get home, consummate their marriage. But by the time they got home and got out of their wedding clothes, they had passed out, exhausted from the day’s events.

            They went through ups and downs to get to where they are. Neither one wanting to lose the other but almost doing so. Fights and arguments that led to slamming doors and Jisung staying at the dorms. Screaming matches that ended in tears. She almost ran away, he almost moved out. She did everything to be perfect for him, but she never knew that to Jisung, she’s always been perfect. Since the very first date when he accidentally showed up late after getting lost, and she just smiled and said he was cute when he was flustered. He knew then that he was going to marry her.

            And he did.

back to masterlist

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[raainberry]

Crowd Pleaser

« One (performer or product) that is notably or reliably popular or appealing »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst

synopsis - players play, but there can only be one winner

wordcount - 980?

T/W - definitely suggestive

A/N - short angst bc its been a while, although im on the fence about this one, enjoy!

Opposites attract. Or was it birds of a feather?

In your three years as a philanderer, you found neither of those rules to be truer than the other. It was easier to call it what it always is : chemistry. Or chemicals went awry?

The latter seemed more fitting ever since Sana started playing around you. Your appointed rival, for gossiping’s sake. You wondered why she’d suddenly taken interest in you, and got your answer pretty quickly.

She’s crazy.

Loves the eyes on her, the attention. You couldn’t blame her. You understood her—at least to certain extent.

You liked it better when the attention was given behind closed doors. Privately, in hushed whispers, wordless stares as you walked by.

Sana…. She liked to make a show out of it.

Her sweet idea of fire worth playing with was the campus’ must try. At least for the worthy enough in her eyes. For the others it was a must see. As cruel as she could be, her behavior was art. Something about her eyes, her smile; it was a performance.

The way she messed with people them left them clueless, barely aware of themselves, their mind in pieces scattered around their dignity; the only thing she was kind enough to leave them with.

You watched every time a poor soul foolishly lead the way to its despair, hand holding onto its downfall.

You could say they were unkowing, unaware of the damage they laid themselves open to, but it would only be a lie. They were simply human enough to risk it all for a taste of what was popular.

It was captivating.

The way her eyes left her toy, looking back to the crowd she was leaving behind. A gesture as innocent as she could display herself to be, but only for the less aware. The most informed knew, she was looking for you.

Her gaze never wasted time, to the point she knew exactly where to catch yours. No matter the place, all she had to do was look past everyone else’s spellbound faces.

There you were, looking right back at her. The only one conscious enough to appreciate the end of her show.

Her winks stuck on your mind long after she disappeared into the whatever car her date got their hands on in hopes to impress her.

BMWs, rented Mercedes, a sweet Chevy, daddy’s Aston Martin… You chuckled at every single attempt. Not that you had any better, or even the means to get anything close to those.

In all humility, you didn’t mock their efforts either. It was only hard not to laugh at the thought of how easily you could turn all that blood and sweat into tears.

All you had to do was reach for her hand.

Though that ease worked your mind down, weakening it until you couldn’t hide anything in there anymore.

“Why do you make it so easy?” You asked her one night.

You’d helped her leave the mess she’d made of someone hours ago. Habit had her following you into your apartment, borrowing your bathroom before joining her roommate back in the dorms.

Her makeup was halfway off, revealing nothing but an even prettier sight. Her eyes seemed to be softer on you than they were moments ago. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you make it easy for me to steal you away?” You repeated, looking away from her to grab a cushion to hold against your chest.

Your studio apartment was a very small space, one allowing you to reach the bathroom in two steps from the couch you also used as a bed.

Sana loved to leave the door open, inviting you into her late night routine. Whatever had to do with her skin, you somehow knew about it. From the products she used, down to the weak spots; their complicated names and the sounds that rolled off her tongue whenever you let curiosity get the best of you.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She smiled at her own reflection. “But I doubt the answer will please you.”

“Since when do you care to please me?” You scoffed, kicking a stuffed animal at your feet.

Sana’s hands stuttered on her skin before letting silence claim the room. It certainly was better than anything she could answer to that. Better than the truth you definitely didn’t need to hear aloud.

So she left you in it, gathering her stuff and placing them neatly inside of a pouch she probably cared about more than you before walking out. The sound of your front door closing behind her only made it all painfully obvious.

You blinked your tears away, and held back on your sobs. Pride was too much of a strong word to make it a motive. You probably never had any, or it stopped existing when you started to play a part in her performance.

Shame was just as bad of a choice. Nothing shameful about succumbing to desire. Maybe a little in blurring the lines between the scene and reality.

It took a while to break the silence she left behind. About the same amount of time it took for your tears to reach your lips.

You winced at the feeling, the taste… It was all too familiar, you ended up choking at the memory.

The kisses you shared were always stained by her own tears. Not from sadness, nor happiness. Anger. Emotions you were both supposed to leave out of the equation.

You sniffled, still holding the sobs within your chest. The pressure built up enough to force a chuckle, a laugh out of fear of letting her win.

Funny.

That’s what it could be, the word. Ironically funny.

You barely even knew what you didn’t want to lose anymore, if at all.

It was neither a matter of pride or shame—nothing.

Nothing mattered.

In the world, in your eyes, in her mind.

Nothing except her.

[laylajeffany]

targeted ad - microfic

Wednesday stepped into her shared bedroom after the sun had set one evening, finding Enid holding out a little blue bag with orange drawstrings. She wore a beam of a smile so big, it practically hurt Wednesday’s eyes as much as the offensive color scheme of the package clashing with her overly printed sweater.

“Finally, you’re back! I saw this on Insta, and I know you’ll think this is totally lame and not your thing, but it’s also - fully you.”

Wednesday tried not to wrinkle her nose. “I believe we’ve spoken about you giving in to targeted advertisements on my behalf. You have to stop allowing corporations to get the best of you, Enid. The American dollar is worth less every day, partially due to the over consumption of cheap goods manufactured overseas.”

Rolling her eyes, Enid pulled open the strings of the bag, still wearing a smirk. “These aren’t cheap, okay? And yes, it was targeted at me, for you, and I’m aware I’m playing capitalist games, or whatever,” She said in Wednesday’s classic deadpan voice. “But this one got me right through the heart and I couldn’t help myself. You only accept dead-accurate shots. So, reach in!”

Giving her own eyes a spin, Wednesday placed her backpack on Enid’s colorful quilt on her bed and closed her eyes, reaching into the bag. Her fingers gripped around something surprisingly soft and squishy. Pulling it out, she stared harshly at a six-inch wide plush raincloud, with a severe frown stitched onto it with a face and…feet.

“Isn’t it so cute!? And what totally sold it – guess what the name of it is?”

“Sunny,” Wednesday quipped flatly.

“Amuseable Storm Cloud! That’s what your dad calls you sometimes!”

“I can’t say I find it amusing,” She grumbled, placing it flat on her palm, taking in how the legs sort of dangled over the edge while it pouted.  

“Well, I think it’s very fitting. Thing likes it!”

The hand gave a thumb up from where he appeared over Enid’s shoulder. Enid picked it up the plush with a little squeak of a sound, squishing the sides of it together before holding it up next to Wednesday’s face, giving a delighted nod. “Yup – as I expected. You’re twins.”

“The doctor said I ate mine in the womb,” Wednesday argued.

Enid continued to glow, skipping across the floor and putting it on a shelf next to one of Wednesday’s taxidermized squirrels. “Not your usual sort of stuffed creature, but for sure – less likely to decompose.”

“I’m very good at my craft. You don’t know what chemicals they put in the polyester stuffing. No doubt some sort of acidic compound that could burn through your skin and lead to necrosis. I’d argue that’s worse than decomposition of the dead.”

“Sounds like a Wednesday Addams personal challenge,” Enid teased, bringing the stuffed storm cloud back and waving it in front of Wednesday’s face. “Give it a hug – see if it causes you to burn from inside to outside!”

When she didn’t move a muscle, Enid carried on, “Unless, of course – you’re scared to hug a plushie. I get it. Very intimidating to show such vulnerability in the privacy of your own room.”

Without betraying a single movement of her face, Wednesday reached out, squished the plush creature to her chest, then threw it across the room when Thing snapped a picture of the moment on one of Wednesday’s old timey cameras and the flash went off.

Enid chastised him and picked it up as Wednesday sat herself at her desk, pretending not to be any further fazed. Enid sat the plush beside her typewriter and slid a hug over Wednesday’s shoulders, holding on for about ten seconds. Just when Wednesday felt her about to pull up, she lifted a hand, clutching her arms together over them before turning her face upside down to look at Enid – where her frown would be a smile.

“Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always, Storm Cloud.”

X

buy your own Amuseable Jellycat Storm Cloud here

[singularity-and-co]

(Response to: https://www.tumblr.com/sinnohsiblings/760004501567619072/galadriel-felt-singularity-smile-against-her-lips?source=share )

That cackle. Like a tingle on his mind, it was incredible to hear. It made Singularity smile.

"I'm definitely not going to let him live this down."

A small blush flushed his face when her hand fell upon him. Feeling her warm hand grace his cheek was so comforting. Incredibly so. Gods, it made him feel so good. He'd never had any kind of affection like this before. It felt like a crime not to have experienced this sensation before this moment. In all of his years of living, he'd never been given the opportunity to be in some kind of relationship that wasn't familial. Ever since Epoch's awful relationship, their father swore to never allow for a relationship that he deemed unsuitable for them. Drawing his thought back to the warm palm that rested on his cheek, Singularity knew he didn't want it to end. The wink afterwards was nice to see. He gave a small smile to that.

"I had to apologise. It's still my family which have caused this night to not go according to plan. It's probably a good thing it was Galaxis. I imagine Epoch would have had stronger words and actions for this."

As she quickly stood up from sitting on Singularity and began to apologise for her rather intimate actions, he gave a small laugh.

"No need to apologise, my dear. It was what needed to be done. Galaxis has always been one to absolutely hate any forms of affection so I think you effectively scared him off. I doubt we'll ever see him crash another date ever again. Besides, I very much enjoyed having the most gorgeous woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting rest herself upon me. Wouldn't mind if it happened again. Perhaps I should accidently bring only one chair for our next date." Singularity gave a flirtatious smile and cheeky wink towards Galadriel. Then he realised what he'd said. Next date. Would she even want that to happen? Galadriel had said that his brother had not caused her to gain any ill feelings towards him. He was assuming far too much. He shouldn't. Singularity stood to meet her eyes. She really was beautiful. Every single little detail. Simply marvellous.

"It's entirely up to you. If you feel ready to call it a night, I'd be fine with it. I know whatever happens, father will be waiting for me with stern words. A potential banishment. Who knows." He shrugged his shoulders. "Your call, my sweet. I've definitely enjoyed this night we've had, regardless of the little intrusion."

@sinnohsiblings

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (21/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4.6k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either

Feyre gets her ring, and there's angst about it that literally no one asked for.

Some text in this chapter is taken directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-first chapter below the readmore.

Well met, High Lady.

The words clanged through me.

But there was hardly time to consider them. The Weaver's dress rustled as she stood and prowled towards me. Though her features were so rotted and warped that they could hardly be called a face anymore, I still recognized a look of hunger—I'd seen it enough back in that cabin.

I suspected, however, that her appetite was far more gruesome than mine.

"I'm here to make a bargain," I said quickly.

She took another step closer, the motion oddly graceful—the Weaver carried herself more like a lady than I could ever manage. Perhaps, millennia ago, she'd been one.

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" she said in that voice that sounded so youthful, so clear and lovely.

"Lives," I said. "A few dozen, enough for several meals and bolts of cloth. There isn't much meat on my bones, but they'll have more."

"Not even a thread from your own life, little wolf?" The Weaver reached out a sickly-looking bone-white hand, running a gnarled, spindly finger down my ribs. I trembled. Her touch was feather-light, but it seemed to leech the heat from me all the same. "The one I see right here is quite beautiful."

The mating bond. Nothing was worth giving that away. I took a step back, all-too-aware that I was dangerously close to being cornered.

"That is not on offer."

The Weaver's laugh was bright and and musical. "Are you sure about that?Powerful magic makes for fine cloth. I'd pay a pretty penny for a golden thread like that."

The Weaver of the Wood might have been a death-god, but she sounded no different than the businessmen I'd overheard meeting with my father before his downfall. I was too much of a merchant's daughter to fall for it.

"I"m here to retrieve the ring that's rightfully mine as Lady of the Night Court. Nothing more." I seldom voiced my title aloud, and perhaps for the first time, saying it didn't make me feel like a girl playing dress-up with clothes far too big for her.

The dark lines of the Weaver's mouth widened into what might have been a grin. "And I was told by the last one not to make it easy on you."

Of course his mother did—Rhys could be maddening, and I supposed he must have gotten it from somewhere.

"If you accept my offer, there may be more than one mating bond in it for you. I don't know how many of them have a mate, but the rogue Illyrian war-bands are yours if you return my ring and allow me to leave this place unharmed."

I'd practiced the words in my head, careful to close a loophole, but it still came as a surprise that my voice didn't shake. The Weaver circled me, occasionally reaching out a bony hand to inspect the knives strapped to my waist and thighs. I let her look, even as I shivered—if they were something she wanted, she could have them, too.

"You will touch nothing in this cottage save the ring. Bring me half of your prisoners as a show of good faith, and you will have until I'm finished with them to find what's yours. Then deliver the rest immediately and leave me be."

I doubted she'd take very long doing…whatever she did to her victims. But I still didn't feel a pull towards a single object in any of the crowded shelves or piles of junk filling the cottage. There wouldn't be time for a thorough search.

And the bloodthirsty delight sparking in pits that should have been her eyes told me she knew it, too.

"What happens if I don't find the ring?" I said, letting my hand drift towards the handle of the knife at my hip.

"My terms have been more than generous, High Lady. Don't push me any further."

There it was again…that title. "Why did you call me that?" I should have focused on bargaining, but the words were out of my mouth before I could think them through.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

More cryptic faerie bullshit, then. I flexed the fingers of my left hand self-consciously. A death-god could probably see through a glamour. Nothing more.

I squared my shoulders. "Fine. I accept the terms of your bargain."

The tang of magic filled the air as a small, curling tattoo formed just behind my ear. A crescent moon—its twin was now inked on the Weaver's forearm.

One tug on the bond, and Rhys delivered half of the rogue Illyrians to the cottage door.

I'd turned away just as the Weaver's mouth of stumped teeth went wide in anticipation. There were screams, sickly gurgles, wet noises as she ripped flesh into pieces, the crunch and crack of bones breaking.

Bones. Snapping, splintering bones, just like—

I forced myself to breathe, even as my heart raced and bile climbed up my throat. Borrowed time. I was on borrowed time, and there wouldn't be much of it.

I scanned the shelves, hoping to catch sight of a jewel glittering in the gloom. But all I saw was junk, even as I crouched and looked over the cluttered tables and overstuffed drawers…

Then I felt it.

A tug, a tap on the shoulder. A glimmer of something reaching for me, familiar as the whorls of night that had left me with my tattoo, laced with a constellation pointing the way. But even as it grasped me…there was something else.

The star-flecked power felt quintessentially Rhys, but…there was something of me in it, too. It was strange, like looking into a mirror and finding two sets of eyes—one violet and one blue-grey—staring back.

Take me home, it seemed to say. I've been away far too long.

Heedless of the horrible noises behind me, I barreled through the maze of tables and junk, letting the pulse guide the way. I stopped at the shelf on the wall next to the hearth. Close—it was close.

An old letter knife, books in leather that I did not want to touch or smell; a handful of acorns, a tarnished crown of ruby and jasper, and—

The ring.

It was made of twisted strands of gold and silver, flecked with pearl, and set with a stone of deepest, solid blue. Sapphire—but different. I’d never seen a sapphire like that, even at my father’s offices. This one…I could have sworn that in the pale light, the lines of a six-pointed star radiated across the round, opaque surface.

My ring.

"There you are," I couldn't help but whisper. "I've been looking for you."

Careful to keep my bargain, I plucked it from the shelf, pinching it between my forefinger and thumb to avoid touching anything else. Time to go. I turned towards the door.

And nearly retched on the spot. The Illyrians weren't dead yet—they were still shrieking like wounded animals—but their shredded entrails were…everywhere. And the Weaver had unhinged her jaw to sate that unholy hunger.

As I walked past them to leave the cottage, I did not look away. I had chosen this fate for them, horrible as it was. The least I could do was bear witness, even as my feet slid along the blood-soaked floor and crossed the threshold.

The rest of them were hers, too. The screams started again, and I felt the tattoo fade. As I stalked towards the trees, I clutched the ring so tightly that the prongs around the sapphire nearly split open my skin.

And perhaps it made me a monster, a murderous human with ice in her heart, but…I didn't feel guilty. If anything, I was relieved. The echo of magic that had wormed its way into my soul belonged solely to the Night Court, and there was nothing linking me back to Tamlin or Spring. I wasn't…tainted.

I found Rhys leaning casually against a tree, hands in his pockets—lounging practically. As I approached, his groomed brows flicked up in a silent question.

I held up the ring.

A smile—a real one, not a smirk, something boyish and decidedly un-High-Lord-like—bloomed on his face. Despite the agonized screams still ringing in my ears, my stomach flipped pleasantly. I grinned back.

With the horror growing even more distant, I let myself feel proud of what I'd done. And maybe it was just the way Rhys was smiling at me, but I felt…lighter. Giddy, almost.

I'd done it. The ring in my hand was tangible proof that I deserved my place in the Night Court, at his side, and I hadn't realized how much better it made me feel to have it.

Too eager to walk, Rhys winnowed the last few feet of distance between us. I pressed forward to kiss him, rising up on my toes, and he scooped me up in one smooth movement.

Not that I'd ever doubt you, he said in my head, but should I take this to mean it all went smoothly?

Of course it did—I only ever bargain fairly.

Rhys laughed against my lips, setting me back down. When he pulled away, his violet eyes were soft. "You're brilliant," he breathed, reaching up to run a thumb along my cheek. "I didn't think I'd ever see that ring again."

He took my free hand and winnowed us away. I'd assumed we were going to the townhouse, or at least, back to Velaris, and blinked in surprise when a clearing in a pine forest materialized instead. Illyria.

Before us were two stones—headstones. They were small but unworn, with no decoration or text other than two names I didn't recognize. And in front of them, the grass was covered in pebbles and small rocks.

Rhys must have understood my confusion. Voice thick, he said, "Our kind don't leave flowers on graves like humans do. As immortals…we prefer something more permanent and leave stones instead."

Each stone a visit, and there were piles of them, small stacks like miniature fortresses. I wondered how many Rhys had left, if any had been added since he'd been imprisoned Under the Mountain. The grass around the graves was well-kept—someone had been taking care of this place, or at least cast a few preserving spells. Rhys slipped his hand from mine and stepped forward, folding his wings back so they didn't drag on the ground as he sat in an empty patch of grass.

"I'm sorry," he said, and I almost asked why he was apologizing before I realized he wasn't speaking to me, "for going so long without visiting both of you. I was— It's over now. I'm back. And I didn't come back alone. This is Feyre. She's my mate, and I kept my promise, mama. Feyre bargained and got the ring back."

Still feeling like a bit of an intruder, I took a few cautious steps forward and sat in the grass next to him. I reached a hand out, but Rhys didn't take it, just wiped at his eyes. For a long moment, everything was quiet except for the distant sound of birds and the wind blowing through the pines.

I'd never visited my own mother's grave. It had been years since I'd missed her, and if our situations had been reversed, I doubted she would have visited mine. I'd long since made my peace with it.

Perhaps my mother-in-law could have filed that void, been someone I could lean on. But all I had from her was a lesson on ruthlessness that had won me the ring in my hand.

"I wish I could have asked you for advice, on how to be Lady of Night when you're a nineteen-year-old outsider. I have the ring but…I don't know if it's enough," I said quietly. "More than anything, though, I'd like to thank you. For raising him."

A ragged noise escaped Rhys, and I reached my free hand out again. He interlaced our fingers, squeezing almost to the point of pain. I squeezed back, then turned to the other grave. "I grew up with two sisters, Nesta and Elain. But now…I suppose I have three," I said.

As one, Rhys and I got to our feet. We stood there, hand-in-hand, and for a moment, the hole where his family should have been seemed deep enough to swallow everything. It didn't matter that centuries had passed—so much was missing and irreparably broken.

But I wasn't finished, and I forced myself to keep going. I'd fulfilled a promise today, but I had a new oath to swear. "The male who got you killed ripped me from my family and manipulated me for his own ends. If Rhys and I hadn't found each other…my blood would have been on Tamlin's hands, too. I won't allow him to endanger a Night Court female again."

We lingered in silence a bit longer, then left two stones behind on each grave. Rhys winnowed us to the living room of the townhouse. There was more to do—Amren would no doubt want to be informed about what I'd sensed in the Weaver's cottage, and I wanted to change out of my leathers first.

But I couldn't keep holding onto the ring forever. I uncurled my fingers, holding it out to him. "Do you…want it back?"

"It's yours," he said, as if that settled it.

I didn't have the nerve to slip the ring on, even after shedding blood to get it. Not even here, in the privacy of our own home. I'd never questioned the mating bond—how could I when it was the strongest thing I'd ever known? But this was different.

The bond belonged to the two of us. Wearing a family ring was a public declaration.

Rhys cocked his head, studying me again. I was still too caught up in my own thoughts to move. For a moment, I expected a familiar caress of talons against my shields, but it never came.

No, Rhys just plucked the ring from my hand and dropped down to one knee. "Feyre—"

My heart hammered in my chest, and I nearly bolted upstairs. But I couldn't run from him without a word—not again and certainly not like this.

"Don't," I choked out. Rhys went utterly still, forcing his expression into something blank and composed. My eyes stung, but I kept going before I made this worse than it already was. "You wouldn't marry me if I were a faerie."

He blinked. "Of course I—"

"You wouldn't. Because marriage is a silly, pointless formality when there's already an unbreakable thread binding our souls together. But I…" My throat bobbed. "Please don't start treating me differently because I'm human."

In Spring, I'd been something to be gawked at, addressed as "human" instead of my name. I'd felt small and stupid and useless, and I would not let anyone do that to me again, not even if they meant well, like he did.

And especially not in the Night Court, where I belonged.

Rhys stood and wiped away the tears that were now streaming down my cheeks. I let the soft brush of his calloused hands settle me as his wings nudged me closer and encircled us both.

"I'm sorry. You looked so unsure just now, and I… I needed you to know I'd choose you in every way possible."

A surprised—if still a bit teary—laugh bubbled out of me. I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. "I know you would. Sometimes what we feel for each other is the only thing I think I'm sure of."

I felt the tension melt from his body. With a stab of guilt, I wondered if running off to the House of Wind on our first night back had left him with doubts that ran deeper than I'd originally thought. But I let it go—it was hard to keep dwelling on the past when he was letting out a contented hum and kissing the top of my head.

I let myself savor the peace for a few heartbeats, but I couldn't ignore the way he'd only wrapped one arm around me. The other still held the ring.

"For what it's worth, I do want to wear it," I whispered. "I know I can't, at least for now, but if things were different, I would. Every day."

Rhys stepped back and smiled, taking my left hand in his, cradling it as if it were something delicate—not calloused in odd places from holding a bow, with crescents of dirt and blood under my ragged nails. The glamour fell away, revealing the swirling lines of the half-finished tattoo.

He slid the ring onto my finger. I'd thought it might look wrong there, but the ring was Illyrian and my hands were rough like a warrior's. The fit was perfect, and it sat in a gap that had been left between the whorls of my tattoo.

Like it was always meant to be there.

The intensity of emotions rippling across his face was so strong I nearly had to look away. Love, reverent adoration…and that purely male, possessive gleam in his star-flecked eyes. My toes curled in my boots.

"I'm yours, mate," I whispered.

His mouth crashed into mine just the way I'd hoped it would. I parted my lips eagerly, ready to lose myself in the sweep of his tongue.

Maybe I'd never get used to how quickly I could be ready and aching for him. But the pleasure he'd wrung from me last night hadn't been enough, not after several days keeping our hands off each other in Illyria. One scrape of his teeth against my bottom lip, and I was scrabbling at the fastenings of his leathers.

I reached for him through the bond, and his shields were down in an instant. Will you wear one too, Rhys? To let everyone know you're mine?

Those last two words dragged a groan from deep in his throat. He shucked the leathers and undershirt off in one smooth movement, and I ran my hands down, down the hard planes of his muscled chest. Lower and lower, until I brushed the trail of soft hair above the waistband of his pants.

Even in our minds, I sounded breathless. Fuck me while I wear the ring and nothing else.

A flash of pain sparked and lit up the mating bond, even as his tongue plunged deeper into my mouth. I leaped back, shocked as if a bucket of ice had been thrown over us both.

Rhys was breathing hard, eyes wide and wild. He pushed me out of his mind, and his shields were firmly in place again. The walls of adamant were higher and thicker than I'd ever felt them.

"What's wrong?" I said aloud.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. Darkness fell from his shoulders in pulsing, furious waves. A few tendrils wrapped around him like a cloak, and the rest dimmed the room.

He reached for me. I stepped back again. "Rhysand. Tell me what's wrong."

For a long moment, Rhys said nothing. He pressed his eyes shut, his breathing still uneven. I waited. The darkness kept leaking into the room, and when it was pitch-black, he finally spoke.

"The ring with Jurian's eye. She never took it off. Not even when we…" he managed to say.

My heart cracked in two.

"Cauldron, Rhys, I'm so sorry. I should have realized." That ring had featured in so many of our nightmares; I'd been utterly, monumentally stupid not to think of it.

I wanted to hold him, but that seemed….unwise. It might startle him if the dark was too thick for him to see me coming closer. With his shields up, I couldn't reach down the bond and drag him back to the present like I wanted to.

His wings. He still had his wings out. "Rhys," I said, as gently as I could manage. "Go fly. Circle Velaris as many times as you need to. I'll be here when you get back."

There was a rustling noise as his wings snapped outward. Something soft brushed my cheek, and then I was alone, squinting in the too-bright sunlight when the darkness disappeared with him.

I'd ruined everything, so there was nothing to be done but change out of my leathers and wait. My heart was heavy as I sank into one of the chairs on the roof and watched the sky, hoping for a glimpse of him.

I wished I'd been the sort of person who could have just smiled and happily accepted a proposal. Or at the very least, not someone who made it worse by dredging up his nightmares unexpectedly.

Maybe we'd never get completely free from Under the Mountain.

The other end of the bond was silent, and I twisted the ring around my finger so many times I nearly rubbed the skin raw. I could just make out his dark shape against the clouds, the powerful beat of his wings as he looped and looped over the city. One day, I hoped, he'd do the same and carry me with him.

It was a while before Rhys landed on the roof. The movement was easy and graceful, the draft of wind from that massive wingspan ruffling my hair as he touched down with silent feet. He regarded me, eyes dry, standing stiff-backed in a way that seemed unnatural for him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I said, though I knew he didn't.

He shook his head. "I just want you."

In an instant, I was on his lap on the other chair. His breath was warm against my ear as he sighed, draping both arms over my shoulders as he leaned his chest against my back. Exhaustion seemed to roll off him the way his power usually did. We said nothing, but Rhys laced our fingers together and pressed a kiss to the knuckle of my left hand, right next to the ring.

No hard feelings, then.

It was another day before we met with Amren, who made me describe everything I'd felt in the Weaver's cottage in excruciating detail. There was more research to be done, but she had a new working theory—that the Spring Court hadn't left me with any of its own magic, just reshaped the Night Court's existing claim on me.

The faint magic within me wasn't an echo—it had become a seed.

Whether it would bloom or bear fruit or something else entirely was anyone's guess. If given the opportunity, I had the sense Amren would pick me apart to find out. But it was better than going on no information at all.

A few weeks later, I landed a hit on Cassian with a wooden sword the same day I finished the first book I ever read from cover-to-cover. The days had passed as a steady rhythm of training and reading, mostly spent in the House of Wind.

Life was…quiet. Better, though not perfect. Rhys and I still depended on the sleeping draught, and the library was the only windowless place either of us could tolerate for more than an hour at a time. We chipped away at the work of catching up—me on literacy, him on the business of running the Night Court—in companionable silence on sunlit balconies or tucked away among the priestesses.

The rest days were the hardest to tolerate. Without exhaustion to settle my mind, I found myself wandering the city aimlessly, too restless to sit still. The streets of Velaris quickly became familiar.

All of it, except for the Rainbow. I hadn't gotten up the nerve to set foot in the artists' quarter. I'd skirted the edges carefully, and in truth, stared at it wistfully on more than one occasion.

I suspected that Tamlin had given me paints as a distraction, a ploy to quiet me down and soften my feelings towards him. And even if it had just been an attempt to break the curse and save his people…it hurt. Something I loved had been used against me, and I wasn't sure I could throw my whole self into painting so fearlessly ever again.

But I did finish the snowdrops lining the edges of the kitchen table. And it had felt…good. My heart squeezed at the way Rhys smiled every time he looked at them.

There were more leftover paints, so I took to hiding clever decorations in my room, just as I had in the cabin. Behind the curtains, under the dressing table, inside drawers…and nothing more than flowering vines, curls of flame, or intricate, abstract designs. Nothing with me in it.

It was all I could manage. Not a secret, but…I didn't want to be watched or talk about it.

Rhys spotted them eventually, of course. He'd been sprawled out on my bed one morning, staring at my ass as I slipped off my nightgown to get ready for the day. When I heard his sharp intake of breath behind me, I figured he'd noticed the ivy painted on the inside of the drawer I'd just opened.

I'd whirled around, ready to lob a pair of socks at his head in response to a teasing remark. Or worse, for him to be upset that I hadn't told him I'd painted.

But he'd just tilted his head, regarded me thoughtfully, and said, "That's one way to hide what's precious to you."

He'd once said something similar about his wings. And I'd supposed the same thing was true for keeping Velaris and our mating bond hidden. Those violet eyes met mine, and I felt…understood. Somehow, it wasn't terrifying.

It gave me the confidence to start leaving those little hidden designs around the rest of the townhouse. I'd started with his room, then expanded to the kitchen and the foyer. Claiming marks, if you knew where to look for them.

Similar to my mating band, which I took to wearing hidden on a chain under my shirt. Rhys did the same, after he'd offered to find a horrible creature to retrieve his from and call us even.

I wasn't quite sure what I'd do when the paints ran out, and I'd been deliberately not thinking much about it. But my walks took me past the city's outdoor sculptures and murals more often lately, and perhaps that was progress.

But it was only a matter of time before the peace was broken again. We were roused from our beds with news of another attack on a temple, this one at Sangravah.

The security measures Rhys had arranged for the priestesses left survivors this time, though not many. Once he left for the temple, I headed to the library, prepared to help with whatever the priestesses needed, just like before.

I'd expected to prepare more bodies for burial, but Mor walked in with an auburn-haired female wrapped in a blood-soaked cloak that was far too big for her.

"I healed her," Mor said, "but she needs someone to help her get settled."

I agreed to handle it, and the priestess turned at the sound of my voice. Her teal eyes were distant—haunted, really. More blood, hers or someone else's, had spattered on her face.

Clearing the mess away with magic wouldn't be enough for her to feel clean after whatever ordeal she'd just gone through—I knew that after everything Under the Mountain. I fetched a washcloth and basin and helped her clean off.

She didn't speak. And perhaps that was for the best—I had no idea what I would have said anyway. Later that night, I learned from another priestess that her name was Gwyneth Berdara and Hybern had slaughtered her twin sister during the attack.

As Catrin Berdara's name was read during the funeral service a few hours later, I decided it was finally time to stop avoiding my own sisters. Mortal lives were short, and in a hundred years, I'd regret not making the most of the time I had with them.

Even if I couldn't find the words to tell Nesta and Elain all the ways my life had changed since coming to Prythian, I'd go to the mortal lands tomorrow.