#i just hate it and i'm assuming the fact that i chew the insides of my cheeks and have swollen gums rn doesn't help

[mishkakagehishka]

I hate raw garlic but i decided to start eating a clove a day and if you're wondering how it's going it's been 20min and i ate half a clove

[galadrieljones]

A demon among angels, huh? 👀

Let it be known that I don't think Daryl is a demon lol. Obviously, he's a good man and a moral character. I do, however, think he's a fallen angel. With his tattered, black leather wings, his fall from grace and journey through hell has reminded me of the literary Lucifer. Lucifer means "light bringer" and also "morning star," which is the name of the weapon that Daryl has wielded since season 10, the eponymous episode, in which he leads his people into rebellion against Alpha, a psychopath who certainly regards herself as a god.

In Christian texts, Lucifer, an angel, was cast out of heaven for questioning God and even believing that he could become God, as well as for recruiting a third of God's angels to join him in his rebellion against God. In Dante's Inferno, Lucifer is portayed as a cold and grotesque being in the Underworld, lonely and chewing the heads of betrayers such as Judas Iscariot. He's not a villain, per se. He's just lost, and in the old literature, he was never found again.

Re: the dialogue with Genet:

Speculation time. I believe Daryl is being used by Losang, and I think that Genet knows this, and I think that's what she's referring to in this scene, and why she's laughing maniacally. I think that possibly, Genet is not the "true" villain of the story. She is a villain, but that's just our current point of view. We don't know what Losang wants, but we do know that he wants something that has to do with Laurent. We know that Genet is his enemy. We also know that Genet's faction the Power of the Living has persecuted the Wildfire scientists, hunting, jailing, and killing them since the Fall. Since persecution is bad, we all assume that what Genet did was bad, and that she's the bad guy. But what if it's not really that simple? And what if she truly believed she had a good reason to do what she did? Everybody views her as the devil, but what if the "angels" that she fights are not as angelic as they seem?

For example, what if the scientists were abducting and experimenting on innocent people? On children? Would the fact that they are working on a cure for mankind excuse this? We have proven precedent for this kind of thing happening before, in both World Beyond and The Ones Who Live. The CRM has been used as a major proxy for the magical science of unethical thinking. This exact same conflict (sacrificing the few for the greater good) is also explored in "Coda," when Dawn tries to convince Beth to stay, because her sacrifice is important, because what she's doing there could be "the most important thing she does in her life."

Of course, we have no idea what Dawn is talking about.

We know now, too, that Laurent will be taken from Daryl and Isabelle, as TD predicted some time back, and I'm guessing it will be Losang who takes him, whether by force, or because he somehow gaslights Laurent into going with him willingly. Where is Losang taking him, and why? What is the "ceremony?" What is Losang's relationship to the scientists that Genet hates so much? Why is he Genet's enemy?

Realize that this is all pretty much hypothetical speculation at this point, so just consider it food for thought.

Re: Losang's motivations at the Nest:

Remember that Daryl was outside with Laurent when somebody came and told him that Losang wanted him at that meeting, where they discussed what to do about Fallou and Emile. Losang dismisses Daryl's suggestions, obviously, because he's a *pacifist,* but if Losang truly didn't want to hear it, or if he truly didn't want others to hear it, then he wouldn't have told Daryl to come inside. He wanted Daryl there. Because, ultimately, he needs him. He just doesn't want the others to know this, or to know why.

Later, Losang tells Daryl that a team is being assembled to intercept Genet. Daryl tells him he is going to go. Losang doesn't say no. He simply *discourages* the use of violence. He is *unhappy* with how Daryl conducts himself, and yet...

He knows that Daryl will do whatever it takes to get Fallou and Emile back. If he fails, or people die, then Losang can simply blame Daryl for being too aggressive, overly violent, for rushing in too soon. It makes Losang look good. If he succeeds fully, and he even manages to kill Genet, well, then, that's great. It makes Losang look good, too. Losang is using Daryl as a means to an end with Genet, but he also fears that Daryl's influence on Laurent will be too strong. Daryl is an A, remember. He may not relish the fact, but he is very good at leading people, particularly the disenfranchised and the meek.

Like Dawn, Losang needs his "wards" to be as weak as possible. They need to be Bs. If they begin to fight back, then they might accidentally find out what the hell is really going on here, and that's bad. (I have really longwinded, detailed theories about what the hell could be going on here, but it's not time yet for those lol). Anyway, commence the comparison between Daryl at the Nest and Beth at Grady. More on that soon. But first.

Re: Lucifer Archetypes:

This is a slight digression. I have begun to think of the literary Lucifer archetype, the trope of the renegade, fallen angel, because it's indicative often of a character who is struggling with their faith, and struggling with how to proceed in a derelict world. This is very relevant to Daryl right now.

This trope is not relegated to Daryl in TWDU. Though he's the one with the wings, there are many Lucifer archetypes in the series, including major characters like Rick, Shane, Madison Clark, and Father Gabriel. These are essentially rebellious thinkers, revolutionaries, a lot like Daryl, who, at one point or another, get a little too ahead of their skis and go tumbling off the mountain, face first. They lose their pious nature, their goodness, their faith in God and in people, but the key to being the hero in a sick and dying world is that, despite the odds, they find their faith again. This is where the Lucifer trope becomes, essentially, a Christ allegory.

I know that @frangipanilove has written brilliantly about the Lucifer/Christ dichotomy, and while this is mostly unrelated to that, I think there is some similarity at work. Lucifer and Christ are two sides to one coin. Often times, in a story, a character must fall from grace before they can rise again and lead their people to salvation. Of course, not all characters make it past their descent. Some of them are too far gone (Shane, I'm looking at you) and for some, the jury is, essentially still out (like Father Gabriel or Madison Clark).

Beth, by the way, also struggles with her faith while she's at Grady. It's quiet, but she risks losing who she used to be. One of the reasons her "death" is so frustrating, in fact, is that she sort of dies at a low point. She is framed as a hero, and yet, we never really get to see her "rise again." Not truly. Her death is senseless, the point of view confusing. We don't know what she's thinking, or why she does the things she does. Her journey is incomplete.

Re: Dirty Work

Now, more on Beth at Grady. Beth, while in the process of trying to figure out what she believes, is, like Daryl, used by some sort of manipulative "superior" to do the "dirty work." In searching for who to believe, she finds herself caught in the crossfire, a puppet in a war that doesn't even involve her. This is what spurs her renegade spirit, and her desire to rebel. This is SO MUCH like Daryl in France, right down to the part where Dawn is trying to convince Beth to stay, against her own instincts, I don't even know where to begin.

The phrase dirty work is interesting because it shows up several times in relationship to Daryl. Pope mentions "dirty work," too, in "Rendition." He tells Daryl about his mercenary company, who were once hired by "politicians" to do their "dirty work."

The role of a mercenary is related to the cardinal sin of indifference, more popularly known as sloth. Indifference is used to describe sinners who cannot make difficult choices, who will not choose sides in the great big war of our lives. Yes, this is a sin. Perpetrators of indifference only make choices that are most beneficial to them in the moment, or which constitute the path of least resistance. Biblically, it's often associated with one turning away from God, because making choices to live a life dedicated to Christ have become too demanding. In the episode "Indifference" (4.4), Carol essentially accuses Rick of such, re: "You can be a farmer, Rick, but you can't only be a farmer." Maybe Carol acted rashly in killing Karen and David, but at the same time, in growing too comfortable with his situation at the prison, Rick has essentially lost his moral compass. He's missing the war.

Indifferent characters often end up doing a LOT of the dirty work in a war, and they make many deadly mistakes, because their code is compromised. Wolves on either side of the war can sense this and have figured out how to use them to their benefit. They pay them, they threaten them, they manipulate them, etc. etc. etc. To win the war, you have to choose a side. That's the message. Otherwise, you get used, as a mercenary.

This keeps coming up. The concept of having to make difficult choices, of having to choose sides in a war you never asked to be a part of. Somewhere along the line, you find yourself doing things that will haunt you for the rest of your life, and then later, you realize that these choices came at the behest of some fancy "politician," be it a police officer, the President of the United States, or some other "diplomatic" wolf who used you. While Beth was busy trying to save her friend Carol and trying to figure out how to escape from Grady, Dawn was busy using her, to kill not one but TWO of her officers, in a bid to further her own agenda. It is, in fact, this very indiscretion that finally turns Beth against Dawn for good, empowering her to finally choose a side.

Remember, too, that while *we* and Team Family referred to Pope's group as the Reapers, which are, in and of themselves, like "angels" of death, Pope never once refers to them as such. Pope calls his people "The Chosen Ones."

He calls them this because, at the end of the world, while doing their dirty work, they were in a city that, like so many others, was napalmed during Operation Cobalt, and they walked out of the fire, not only alive, but completely untouched, "without a scratch." Pope seems to believe that his people are chosen and protected by God, and he anoints Daryl as such. They are a religious organization. They may appear to be misguided, but they chose God. So while they're angels of death, sure, they're also apparently immortal, Christ-like figures out to cleanse the land of evil. They accept Daryl into their home. They feed him, defend him. We like Daryl, so this is good, right? In a lot of ways, in TWDU, whether someone is an Angel of Death or a Chosen One, a villain or a hero, is simply a matter of perspective, which can change dramatically depending on where we are in the story, at any given time. That's part of what I think is going on this season of DD, with Genet and Losang. I think it's also a really important theme to remember when dealing with a character like Daryl, who has many sides and is capable of many things.

I really don't know what any of this means yet, by the way. And I'm kind of tired and so I know I'm rambling on and on about angels and Jesus and Lucifer, etc. etc. But there has to be a reason that Losang, like Dawn did to Beth, is using Daryl to do his "dirty work." I think it says something about Daryl, and about Beth, that they are living in limbo. I think that Pope and the Reapers are likely meant to function as a sort of allegory here. They're what happens when this sort of thing plays out to its most demonic conclusion. You get somebody like Leah, who has become so twisted that she can no longer function in any sort of cooperative society. She ends up trying to kill the same man she once loved, because she's been manipulated by Lance Hornby, a wolf. Leah dies a mercenary, but she wasn't always one. At one point, she helped Daryl, offered him comfort, etc.

Similar to Shane, she's like the cautionary tale, what could happen to somebody like Daryl OR Beth if they become "too far gone," and they can no longer get on the right path toward redemption. That's what I'm trying to get at with all the Lucifer/Christ/Indifference stuff. Daryl must choose a side, and he must rise again (or, he could descend forever, though I think that's unlikely lol). The side he chooses may not even be Genet or Losang. In fact, it probably won't. It will likely be rebellious, but this, in and of itself, IS a side for a character like Daryl. This stuff also informs what we never saw with Beth, despite narrative promises that were made in season 5. Beth certainly led her own rebellion in the halls of Grady Memorial, even though we saw just a snag.

Anyway. Whatever happens with Daryl and Losang, I essentially think it could really inform our understanding of what happened back at Grady, too. We'll just have to wait and see.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 8

WARNINGS: none

"I can't help with your project if this is going to be a regular thing," you whisper during Professor Flitwick's class introduction.

The twins, who sit on either side of you, stare blankly.

"What do you mean?" George asks.

"I mean the pranks. I don't mind you pulling anything on other people, in fact, please, do so! Your jokes are brilliant..." At this, the boys sit up straighter, puffing their chests out with pride. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me the butt of them."

After a moment of thought, Fred and George nod understandingly.

"Alright, but only because you asked nicely," George says.

"And because we need you," adds Fred.

"I'm sorry, y/n, I really am," George apologizes, jutting his bottom lip out in a pout. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. It's hard to stay serious around these two.

"I'm more sorry than he is," says Fred. He makes an even sadder expression, and you break a smile. Fred laughs triumphantly.

"Shut up," you giggle, shoving him playfully.

"Can I get some physical contact, too?" asks George innocently.

You snort, then punch his arm.

"Thanks a lot," George grimaces, massaging his bicep. You laugh.

At lunch, you happily sit with Fred and George, though it's upsetting that you haven't seen Maddy since yesterday morning. You would have liked for her to join you and the twins.

"Have either of you seen my friend, Maddy Dewmond, recently?" you inquire over a salami sandwich.

Fred stops chewing momentarily, and George hides behind the Daily Prophet. You set your sandwich down.

"You guys know something, don't you?" Your stomach churns with anxiety. Why are they acting so strange? "What's happened to Maddy?"

"Dunno," George's muffled voice says from behind the paper. Fred keeps chewing and avoiding your gaze.

"I have a right to be aware of whatever it is," you state firmly. "She's my friend."

"Not anymore..." Fred mumbles. George elbows him in the stomach.

Your voice cracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Just then, Maddy walks into the Great Hall... holding onto Draco Malfoy. He's got his arm around her shoulders. You can't believe it. You blink twice, assuming that your eyes must be deceiving you, but they aren't.

Malfoy smirks at you, pulling Maddy closer to him. Maddy avoids your gaze and looks at the ground instead guiltily. She knows she's done you wrong. The new couple go to sit down at a different table, far away from you, with a pack of Malfoy's loyal Slytherins trailing behind.

No one speaks for a long moment as you take in what you just saw. George eventually folds his paper and sets it neatly on the table beside his empty plate, asking politely, "May we hurt him now?"

You sigh and rest your forehead on the table top, burying your face in the sleeves of your robes and ignoring George.

"I hate Slytherins," you sniff. It was all partially Malfoy's fault. No doubt he did this to get back at you for humiliating him, but Maddy has been your only real friend for four years. And she always seemed to despise Malfoy just as much as you do... Did she secretly have feelings for Malfoy all along? Did he threaten her in some way? What could possibly be going on in her head right now...?

"Nasty little buggers, they are," says Fred.

"Excluding present company, of course," George adds.

You don't respond. You're on the verge of tears, so you keep your head down. Minutes later, after you've made sure you're not going to start crying, you sit up, get out of your seat, and brush yourself off. The twins watch with curiosity as you gather your things. You swing your bag over your shoulder and plant your hands on your hips confidently.

You smile. "Let's get going with this 'Project Nosebleed' of yours."

The twins practically leap off of the bench in excitement, cheering loud enough for the entire room to hear.

[lozchic3]

full thoughts on EoW now that I've had time to chew on it, ie full spoilers under the cut.

tl;dr: 15/10 game, GotY 2024 and definitely top 5 Zelda title for me.

EoW at it's core is a game so hard coded to not just be a return to the series format. But also a love letter to 2D titles before it, while utilizing what the devs and even Grizzo had learned prior to this game. It has BotW/TotK style UI. There are several different ways to solve puzzles. There are TONS AND TONS of little nooks and secrets to find on the overworld map even post story. and Swordfighter mode is the anti-frustration mode.

And I do mean Swordfighter mode is the anti-frustration mode. Sans the story, it feels like early on development someone on staff noticed that players might want to go hand in hand combat or could get stuck in a room if they didn't find an echo before, etc reasons. And I think that solves the issue nicely. The mode has a stamina bar so it's not a core get out of jail free card, it still incentives the players to puzzle solve, and you can upgrade the items you get as you progress at your leisure too. There's a whole chance you can go through the game without ever using swordfighter mode outside of 3 rooms and even that is simply used a tutorial for each part of the form introduced.

The story of this game is probably what I wanted from the series for a while. The entire zag from Ganon being the true evil to "actually there's this primordial eldritch being that encompasses entropy" trying to destroy Hyrule caused my jaw to drop. It's a much needed departure from the usual chemistry of Ganon/Ganondorf being the culprit and adds so much lore. I mean VERY chunky lore despite what was presented too. They added more on the Golden Goddesses and Triforce here as well. This is also the title to bring both back as lore in the series. The last arguably being ALBW which was over a decade ago now for the Triforce and Skyward Sword (disincluding the HD remake) for the goddesses being mentioned again. So to see there's a reason why they stay at the edges of time was so cool to me.

The other half was also seeing better, more personality driven designs for every NPC in different regions. It felt more lively here than any previous titles. Even the Deku Scrubs had nice little touches that differentiated themselves from each other. I think out of all the NPCs in each region, Draston and Dohna won my heart. But even then there's a lot of breath and heart to every NPC in this game. The sidequests presented pushes that further as well. My favorite being the lucky clover quest in Hyrule Castle Town.

That said... I think I'll address the elephant in the room. I've seen this mentioned elsewhere but I'm 1000% certain this game is going to be hated by players who jumped into the series with BotW and TotK. It's not the kind of story telling that both those games had and it's not an open world. In fact I'd fully argue that EoW is a traditional Zelda title and I'm hoping it'll be the one that cues Nintendo into making more games like this. That is not to say BotW/TotK are bad but both are a departure from the series core chemistry. And I know EoW is most likely an experiment for whatever the next game in the series will be. (Arguably just as much as Triforce Heroes with costume options was for BotW) But I'm hoping Nintendo will at least consider bringing elements of that format back for whatever future games they plan on making.

Besides that, I think the other qualm some players will have is that the game assumes players know all ins and outs of the mechanics after laying it out from the start. I had a moment where I forgot pots can let Zelda hide inside them. Or another where I zoned out and just summoned an army of Keese. (My very early go to strat). But I see those as minor hiccups and things that showed why Swordfighter mode was included and how it tested my critical thinking in ways I hadn't thought of before. Those are good things to me.

and overall I'll still be crawling over every nook and cranny of this game before ever putting it down.

[nikkisheep]

The heart wants what the heart wants(Part 2)

Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Eventual Steve Harrington x fem. reader

Warnings: More Angst (sorry),drinking, smoking weed, reader is just a mess right now, sassy reader

Summary: After confessing to Steve, you can't handle the lost of your best friend to his girlfriend.

Tag list: @khaylin27, @sundarksposts, @ssolariiaa, @imagineme2you, @mess-in-side

Weeks pass since Steve walked away. To be fair, I told him to leave but I was not expecting to lose my best friend, my only good friend. Days were spent crying, drinking, and getting higher than a kite on weed. All while I sat in my room listening to some song on the records, Steve was living it up with Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend. If I was being honest with myself, I would date Nancy too. I mean, she is pretty, smart, and kind. I mean she is basically perfect, only she is in Steve's eyes.

With a joint resting on my lips, I pull into the school parking lot. Honestly, I had changed since I had confessed to Steve. My world felt numb and dull so I acted like it was. I dressed in a ripped up black shirt with a black skirt. My shoes kicked at the pavement as I made my way inside. With the high filling my veins and mind, I make my way to class. Only two minutes late.

"Miss Y/l/n, care to explain why you are late? And for God's sake, throw that vile thing you have in your mouth outside."

"Sorry teach, I must have forgotten I had it." I smirked before making a big show in front of the class, of putting the joint out in the trash can.

"Please take your seat," She said.

"No problem."

I walked and sat right next to Steve and Nancy. I pulled out a piece of bubblegum and started chewing on it. The teacher droned on and on about something, I stopped paying attention. Steve and Nancy kept staring and playing footies. Honestly, it was annoying.

"Do you two care to stop that? Some people are trying to listen and learn, something you both have no respect for," I hiss at the two.

"Groups of three," The teacher started to group people together and then she put Steve, Nancy, and me in a group.

"So here is how it's going to go," Nancy starts.

"Wow, wow, wow, who made you the boss?" I ask.

"Y/n, really? Right now?" Steve scoffed.

"What? I am simply asking a question Stevie," I bat my eyes at him.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Nancy here, calls you that in bed or something?" I smirk.

"Y/n!" Steve shouted.

"What? I'm right here, no need to yell." I laugh.

"Alright back to work guys," Nancy pleaded.

"You heard the lady, Stevie." I whisper in his ear.

After a couple of other classes, school was over for the day. Every class, I sat by the couple and I swear I could see the steam coming out of Steve's ears. I kinda feel bad for Nancy, I mean she didn't do anything wrong. It was Steve I had a problem with. I tell him I am in love with him and he ditches me for weeks.

I turned to weed and drinking to help numb my mind and heart. Walking to the kitchen of my again empty house, I pour me a drink. I down it and refill it. I may act like I don't care on the outside but losing Steve to Nancy was the worst pain I had ever experienced. Now, I don't hate Nancy. No, I hate who Steve is becoming. He turned from caring to a jerk in a matter of weeks. I believe it was his own doing. Nancy does not deserve my hate but if she had not started to date Steve, maybe, Steve and I would still be at least friends if nothing more.

James came over and we hung out for a while. Slowly, James has been filling the Steve size hole in my life, only James is a tad bit shorter than Steve so he can't fill it completely. I explained everything to James and he understood. In fact, he asked me to go on that date to help him get things off his mind. I am assuming that "things" is Melanie from third period. I actually was fine with the new infromation because it was the same thing I was doing.

James was about to leave after spending the day with me when Nancy walked up the porch. James left in a hurry and I invited Nancy inside.

"Hey Nancy," I start.

"Y/n, what is going on between you and Steve?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Is he cheating on me?" Nancy asked.

"Nancy," I try.

"So he is."

"No, Nancy, you are all he talks about and even if he was, I would not know."

"You are all he talks about, Y/n." Nancy deadpans.

"I had no idea what you speak of. I haven't spoken to Steve in weeks."

"Nancy, I seriously don't know what is going on and I am sorry for how I have been to you. You don't deserve it." I told her with tears in my eyes. Damn that drink.

"Y/n, I am sure you mean it but he told me you were in love with him."

"Yes, I will say, I did but he is with you. He loves you."

"Y/n, I'm not so sure." Nancy says with a shake of the head.

"Nancy, listen to me. That man, Steve Harrington, best friends for ten years, he loves you with all of his soul. Okay? I have listened to him talk about you." I tell her. It kills me to say all of this to her but it is true.

"Y/n-"

"Nancy, the heart wants what the heart wants and let me tell you, Steve's heart wants only you. His heart only belongs to you." I say with a shaky breath. The tears fall and Nancy was crying too. I have never seen her cry before.

But what I said was true. As Nancy and I sat on my living room floor, crying, I realized that it was true. Steve's heart belonged to Nancy Wheeler. There was no room for Y/n Y/l/n anymore, only Nancy. But we can't control who we fall for. I fell for Steve and he fell for Nancy. It's simple. Steve Harrington's heart does not want me and never will.

[max-cortez]

He couldn't pretend to know the woman past what he'd learned about her in their one night together. He knew that her smile could light up a pool table, knew that her voice could draw him in deep. He'd liked the way her laugh tasted on his tongue and how the hem of his shirt had brushed just above her knees the morning after. It was the first night he'd fallen asleep without an ounce of regret dancing in his chest and was the first morning he'd awoken to the beams of light peeking through her windows rather than from his own anxiety.

Every little thing he'd picked up amounted to virtually nothing. She was a stranger to him and some version of a friend all the same. "You gave it a shot. That's about all you can do." He chewed at the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit that he'd fallen into as of late. Was there a line in the sand that he couldn't cross? Would asking her anything further be too much for their lack of a rapport? "No, I get it. You have to do what you have to do."

Her gentle rejection had no sting to it. He'd been there — a place where nothing could kickstart his enjoyment to a night. On those occasions, anywhere other than a crowd was where he wanted to be.

He was eager to do just that, but her suggestion left him all too impressed. She could hold her own at a game of pool and could drink most men under the table. Pencil in the fact she loved classic rock and she was everything in a woman that he could have ever asked for. "Underappreciated classic."

Tongue swept across his bottom lip as any and all amusement left his system. This wasn't the place? Her touch did little to reassure him, but he slipped his fingers in between the cracks of her own and held firmly as she led the way from the noisy coffee shop and out to the parking lot where few people lingered. Turns out, they weren't the only ones who needed to step away from the buzz of the night.

As their stepped slowed, his grip instinctively tightened. He'd always prided himself on being a shoulder to lean on, but he feared what could cause such sadness to be written all over the woman's face.

I was pregnant. Confusion flickered over his own features as he worked through the three simple words she'd given him. She was pregnant. Was? "You were," he exhaled in a low tone, voice weak as he repeated the statement over a few more times in his head before he spoke up once more. "But you're not?" Anymore. He couldn't mutter the last word of his question, but it hung in the air to be assumed.

She'd been pregnant and she was telling him. He could play dumb, could entertain the idea of a hundred different reasons why she'd confide him, but he knew why. "I'm sorry." He hated the way the words sounded, how vague they were, but they were far from empty.

"Can I take you home? I'll drive," he offered, dark hues focused on her hazel hues as he kept his hand in hers.

Maybe Chey should've tried harder to fake her way through the night and all the social interactions she was bound to come across, especially this one with Max. The last thing she wanted was for her sadness to bring someone else's mood down. When they'd met and played pool and drank rounds of good beer the Chey'd had a great time with him. One that she wanted to repeat many times if possible but there she sat unable to completely pull herself out of the gloom

The doctor had told her that part of it had to do with the swing of hormones. It was the rest that was all on her. For the first time in her life she'd felt real and genuine hope. Something really beautiful, albeit unexpected, had entered her life. There had been pure love burning in her chest. Then there was nothing but absence. And the person that had been apart of that creation, unbeknownst to him yet, was standing there hoping for the same engagement as the last time they'd been together.

For Chey it had been hard to look at him but only because there was a good chance she'd breakdown and cry. Especially since there was an internal war raging if she should even tell Max what he'd gained and lost.

"Yeah," the professor nodded, hanging hanging a little, "I was hoping coming here and spectating would at least lift my spirits a little." The offer a beer was enticing and yet she was afraid she wouldn't stop drinking in efforts to numb the pain. "Generally, I'd love one but I think I'm actually gonna head out." It hurt to let him down and essentially turn him away, because it was the last thing she felt. If anything she'd wanted to get to know Max even further but she was sure she was screwing that up now.

Chey just didn't know how to be at this time. The feelings were that of being less than human. Some part of her had failed and the guilt dangerously mixed with self loathing.

It was then, the comment of a song, that finally brought her hazel eyes to connect with his. Despite the pain in her gaze her lips flashed smile, "you could always ask me." And thank the lord for Max because that little flicker of humor had done wonders. Her own, something she hadn't uttered in the last few weeks, spilled— "I think you'd do an amazing rendition of Hold the Line by Toto." The mention was giving herself away, Chey O'Hara was a fan of classic rock.

As she inched closer to the door Chey appreciated that Max hadn't given up and blown her off, there was hope that in some way he sensed her want and need for him even as she was actively trying to run away. Impossible, she knew, but the professor could dream. At his question her hazel gaze panned around looking at the coffeeshop and crowd around them. "This isn't the place, Max."

It was the worst thing to say to someone, or one of the worst, due to the anxiety it could fill a person with— Chey knew that. So, if she had to rip off the bandaid in a less than ideal setting then it was par for the course because everything had been so unorthodox thus far. Bleary eyes held him as something gentle crossed her features when she approached and took his hand to bring him outside with her.

In silence she led the man she'd created a life with to her car and turned to face him with the levee about to break at any moment as her eyes brimmed with tears. "I was pregnant." Still holding onto his hand Chey gave it a squeeze.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton

[soccerbites]

tea party mademoiselle, JJ Maybank

masterlist in bio

a.n: i posted this a few months back so if you think it's familiar that's probably why :) english is not my first language so i apologize in advance for any mistake.

words count: 2,1k

warnings: maybe a little cursing??? but i think not.

(not my gif if it's yours please tell me so i can give you credits)

You woke up by someone jumping in your bed and instantly remembered the promised you had made the night before your mum about taking care of your little sister that day. She had to do double shifts at work, meaning she would be out from seven a.m until around nine p.m.

"Lena stop" you told the five years old girl and she obeyed to your order, sitting next to you where you were laying.

After looking at your phone and noticing it was almost nine a.m you asked her if she wanted to have breakfast, to what she replied with a yes, filled with excitement because she loved your french toasts.

While you two were enjoying the flavorsome food you had prepare, your phone started buzzing and the name of JJ appeared on the screen, you answered the call.

"pretty girl" your friend said through the speaker.

"how you doing gorgeous?" you decided to follow his little game that after all the years of friendship was a completely normal thing between you two, flirting all the time was like the signature of your personal bond, making everyone think JJ and you were involved in something more personal and intimate; which was not close at all from reality.

"our plans for today still on your agenda?" JJ asked, you could tell he was eating due to the weird way he was talking and also your friends had this bad habit of chewing really loud and it made you go insane, but it didn't matter when you recalled on how you were supposed to pick him up and spend the day at the beach together.

"oh shit-" you started but he interrupted you.

"i knew you would forget traitor ass bitch" he didn't sound mad, in fact he was laughing.

"i'm so so sorry Jay" you began talking with your hand on your forehead while the little monster in front of you was watching you, "my mom is doing double shift at work today and i promised to take care of Lena, i'm so so sorry".

"wait, you are with Lena right now?"

"yes, she is looking at me right now, in a malicious way, sometimes she scares the hell out of me" JJ laughed at what you said.

"put me on speaker i wanna talk to her" you could feel how he was smiling on the other line, JJ loved Lena and she loved him, your sister even told you once how she had a crush on him, even though she pissed you off most of the time, it was adorable.

"k", you pulled the phone away from your ear and pressed the button, "someone wants to talk to you" you said to her and then placed the electronic gadget between you two so both could hear him.

"hi princess!" your friend greeted Lena and you saw how her were flooded with joy when she distinguished JJ's voice, "you ok over there?" he asked after a few seconds without any answer, your little sister was shocked.

"Lena! say something to him!" you laughed at her priceless reaction.

"i can't, i'm nervous" she 'whispered' but you knew very well that he had heard her.

"why?" you asked Lena just to mess with the poor little girl.

"he is too cute! you know i like him" her face was close to be red as a tomato, "you talk to him! he is your boyfriend!".

"you know he is not my boyfriend silly kid!" she looked at you deadly in the eyes, "fine fine, i'll talk to him" you brought your phone closer to you but the speaker was still on, "Lena can't talk right now JJ" you glanced at her, she was pointing at the bathroom, "She's on the bathroom right now" with a smile on her face she pulled her thumbs up, indicating you were doing alright.

How the fuck a five years old can be like that?

"oow, that's too bad! i wanted to ask her if she would like that i come over and play with you guys!" JJ and you knew exactly what you were doing, and both loved it.

"shit man" your sister opened her eyes wide open and started moving her head up and down very fast and drastically, "but, i'm sure she would love that you came" you said after getting her message.

" i don't know, i think she hates me-" JJ couldn't finish talking 'cause Lena yelled.

"NO JJ I LOVE YOU PLEASE COME TO MY HOUSE" you held back a laugh.

"oh Lena, there you are!" she was sitting on the floor with her hands over her mouth, not believing what she had just screamed, drama queen just like you, "if you ask me like that i can't say no, i'll be there by midday with food to eat".

"see you Jay"

"see you girls" he hang up and you smiled at your sister who's mouth was wide open.

Waiting for JJ was life-threatening when Lena didn't stop running around the house while howling around the house "JJ is coming here! JJ is going to play with me!", at the beginning was funny and sweet, but after almost two hours of hearing it you wanted to kill her cold-blooded style.

The knock on your door sounded like angels melody entering your ears, your little sister ran towards the door and when you arrived there she had already opened it and let JJ get inside.

"Lena! what if it was a murderer?" you complained for her actions, but she just ignored you and turned to face JJ.

"JJ you have to promise me one thing" she spoke as one of her fingers got close to JJ's face, "you will play with me and not just kiss my sister!" she said extremely serious about it.

"it will be hard not to 'cause she looks beautiful today but i promise you i will not" the blonde expressed as he handed you a greasy brown bag, which you assumed contained the food he said he was going to bring, and winked at you, making you roll your eyes,

"i knew it! JJ is your boyfriend! you were lying to my Y/N!" your dramatic and innocent sister yelled at you.

"No kid, he is messing with you, we are just friends" you replied to her laughing it off.

"I WANT JJ TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!" Lena started crying an ran to her room.

"five years old and she's already a drama queen just like her big sis" your best friend scoffed.

"go after her you blondie king" you ordered while setting the table to eat.

"why me? she's your sister" JJ complained

"because she loves YOU way more than she loves ME, besides, you started this, you fix it" you said as placing glasses for the three of you.

JJ used his beauty features to persuade Lena to eat.

Lunch went by fast, lots of laughs and jokes included. The golden boy and you love to mess with your little sister.

You were playing UNO in the living when suddenly the tiny monster stood up full of excitement.

"I have an idea!" she happily said.

"what is it princess?" JJ asked, his angelic blue eyes were focused on the cards held by his hands, thinking about which one throw and deciding over a plus two, thing that made you lift your middle finger and picked up two from the little mountain over the table.

"we're going to bake cookies!" the boy and you looked up to her with a frown on your faces.

"why?" you asked.

"why not?" JJ replied, it was pretty obvious he just wanted to piss you off.

The three of you followed an easy recipe your mom always made on weekends. When you finally introduced the tray filled with the raw cookies the kitchen was a mess, flour everywhere and some cookie dough was sprayed all over the mount kitchen from when JJ picked you up and spun you around.

Five minutes before they were done you told them to go and play or something like that, giving you time to make some coffee and clean a little bit.

You walked into the living room and what you found was the most amazingly cute thing you had seen in your short life. JJ and Lena were sitting in the floor around the little table you were playing cards, unless that now it was filled with plastic mugs and plates. Your little sister had her Rapunzel dress on and the blonde boy was wearing a silver crown with fake amethysts on it and around his neck a pink and purple boa. You decided to appreciate the scenario for a few more seconds, JJ was faking drinking from his cup and Lena was saying something to him that you couldn't hear because you were to immersed into how great your best friends was with kids.

"what are you two beautiful kids doing?" you asked while walking towards them.

"it's a tea party mademoiselle you have to talk properly" JJ scold you.

"oh! i'm so sorry! it was very inconsiderate of me! i brought some tasty cookies to share with you" Your sister gave you a similar boa to the one that JJ was wearing but yours was electric blue and your crown was actually a flowers one.

It was almost seven p.m and after lots of begs and promises you gave up and let Lena and JJ do your make up.

The little girl went running to her bedroom to find her 'products' as she called them and you took advantage of being alone with JJ and told him what you had thought about earlier.

"JJ" you called him and he looked at you, "you are great with kids, you will be an awesome dad" on his face appeared the biggest smile of them all, you knew how much what you were saying meant to him due to everything he had gone through with his dad. He told you multiple times before how he was afraid of ending up being like his dad, but after today you were sure there was no way the pretty boy that was in front of you ended up that way.

"Thank you Y/N it means that you think of me that way" you smiled to him, almost letting an i love you slip from your mouth.

"WHO'S READY FOR THIS?!" Lena screamed.

"Let's get to it" you said, still looking at JJ.

"And JJ" he turned his head, now facing the girl, "i'm doing your make up too"

"Of course you are princess! i want to be as beautiful as Y/N is!"

The whole day was just perfect, you had no words to describe how happy and delighted you felt.

When your mum arrived JJ left. Lena told her everything and she was amazed with the boy, it was a side of him that no one, not even you had seen before and it was a lovely one.

You were turning off the lights of your room when someone entered your room, your mom.

"i do not really know what is happening between you and JJ but, from what you guys told me he was the best today" she smiled at you "so i would reconsider the 'no pogue on pogue macking' rule you told me about and finally leave the just friends aside, it's pretty obvious you two like and love each other in other ways than that" she closed the door without giving you the chance to answer.

The screen of your phone lighted up when you got a text from the boy.

- i was thinking about what you said about me being a good dad, you will be an awesome mom too, but i don't want to have kids if it's not with you, whatcha say?

You were shocked by what he was saying.

- i'm pretty sure that for that to happen there are lots of steps ahead ;)

- like what?

- idk, asking me out first? a kiss?

- my precious Y/N would you do me the honor of going tea partying again? this time just the two of us.

- i'll be delighted JJ Maybank

- and what about letting me kiss you at that tea party?

-it'd be a little inappropriate but i might give in

-god you have no idea of how happy you make me pretty girl.

- you too golden boy

[whatiftwilight]

“I have to leave...”

Jasper Hale x reader

My breath catches in my throat for what feels like the thousandth time today, my ears deceiving and tormenting me with the sounds of movement in my room, someone at the door or the window, none of which reveal themselves as real as I sit in almost complete darkness at the end of my bed.

I hadn't thought to turn a light on when I assumed my spot here an hour ago, and now that the sun has gone down completely, my stress has seemingly inhibited my ability to move from my frozen state.

Every few seconds my eyes will dart to the clock, simultaneously willing the time to go faster and wishing the time I'm waiting for will never come.

Anyone who saw me would think I'm going crazy; hands fiddling unrelentingly in my lap, knee bouncing at a speed I thought could never be reached, teeth chewing mercilessly at the inside of my cheeks and my whole body  jumping at every single sound my ears can pick up.

My usually calm persona flew straight out the window the moment I sat in my car to drive home from school, seeing a note written in my boyfriends perfectly cursive handwriting: we need to talk, I'll be at yours at seven.

That sentence would never usually trigger this response from me, but when your boyfriend is a vampire who has a somewhat "brother" with a girlfriend that clearly has a hard time avoiding catastrophe, he could be on his way to tell you anything. And given the escapade that happened not too long ago with a psychotic vampire who went by the name James, my mind had learnt to assume the worst.

Ten minutes.

For about an hour and a half when I got home from school I was able to distract myself to a certain extent, doing the laundry for my mother so she doesn't have to do it when she gets home from working a late shift at the hospital and cooking a meal for myself that she can easily heat up when she gets home; but there's only so much television you can watch that will keep your mind occupied when something so big is weighing on you.

"Y/N?" I almost scream, jumping to my feet at lightening speed as Jasper appears through my window.

I must have been worrying too much about how much I was worrying to notice him even coming through the window. That, or his speed as a vampire is just too superior to my human eyesight.

"Jasper" I breathe quietly, only really noticing now that I had been holding my breath.

He doesn't say anything for the moment, just approaches me slowly and reaches out for my hand, taking it from where it hung limp at my side and bringing it to his lips for a second before tangling our fingers together.

"What's wrong, Jas?"

My feelings of worry solidify after watching his behaviour, if what he wants to talk about isn't bad then why hasn't he kissed me like usually does? Why hasn't he made a joke about how messy my room is? Why hasn't he made an excuse to call me "ma'am" in his perfect southern accent?

"You're going to hate me" He says after a few minutes of silence, my heart clenching at the thought of him thinking I could ever harbour that strong a feeling against him.

"Jasper you know I could never, just tell me what's going on"

He sighs and for a moment, just a moment, I let myself get lost in his honeycomb eyes that usually make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world when they're focused on me. Now they're just filling me with dread.

"I have to leave"

My eyebrows raise immediately, my first instinct being to accuse him of lying or trying to prank me, before I really look into his eyes and see no trace of a lie, no trace of him trying not to crack a smile.

"Excuse me?" Is the only thing I can seem to muster at this point, needing more explanation before my brain can even begin to comprehend what he means by that.

"Edward wants to leave. He doesn't want this life for Bella, he thinks if we leave for long enough she can learn to live without him and be happy"

His voice is monotone, no emotion to it whatsoever as he apparently tries to avoid meeting my eyes again as I glare up at him.

"Okay? So let him leave what does that have to do with you?" My stubbornness is coming out, playing naive when I know full well the Cullens are a family and would never let Edward leave indefinitely on his own if he didn't have to.

"Baby you know I can't st—"

"So you're telling me you're leaving me because Edward can't get over himself and let Bella choose what life she wants to live?" I interrupt, panic flowing through my body at the thought of losing the one person I don't think I could survive without.

I know he can feel it, but I know he knows better than to try and influence my emotions at a time like this.

"What happened to not being able to stay away from me? To me being the only thing that makes you sane? Did all that just go away?" He doesn't speak for a long period of time so I do it for him, challenging him with his own words that he's spoken to me more than once.

I can tell that this hurt him, whether it was the insinuation that he lied to me, or the accusation that his feelings for me were so weak that he could just turn them off and leave. Deep down I know neither reason is true,  but at this point I don't care. He knows he's hurting me beyond what I've ever felt before and my instinct is to fight back.

"You know that's not true..." His voice is just a whisper when he finally speaks, his eyes closing for a second before he looks at me again. My heart falters at the sadness in his eyes, wanting to reach out and fix it. But I can't. He's the one leaving.

"I can come and visit...you can come away with me for a while in the holidays I promise" He lifts his hand to tuck a piece of my hair away behind my ear but I step back, refusing to look at him.

I'm being stubborn and slightly unreasonable and I'm fully aware of it. Part of me hopes that if I throw a tantrum he'll stay, but I know it would kill him to stay away from the family he's been with for so long.

"It's only until graduation and then you can join us wherever we're staying!" I can hear the desperation in his voice and it makes my heart break a little bit.

I don't know when he did it, but he'd reached over and turned a lamp on at some point, possibly when he got here, which allows me to see his pleading eyes, begging me to be okay with the situation he's laid out for me.

"I can't lose you" He steps towards me again and reaches out his hand to cup my jaw and this time I let him.

"Then you won't"

This is me surrendering to him. Accepting the fact that  he will leave and I can either throw a tantrum and shut him out of my life completely or accept that I'll have to make do with seeing him when possible until I graduate. It would kill me to go on without him. So i'll have to make do.

His hands slide around my waist to take their place on the small of my back, pulling me into him as I slowly place my arms around his neck, aware that he still has problems with his thirst from time to time and not wanting to trigger anything.

"Come on, you need to sleep" Jasper speaks after a long period of silence, neither of us wanting to let the other go.

He sits on my bed while I change out of my jeans and into an oversized shirt, pulling me on top of him as soon as I climb onto my bed. This is something he wouldn't usually do, scared that his control would slip and he'd do something to hurt me, but he underestimates himself hugely and I trust him with my life.

"Please don't cry" He lifts a hand to my face to wipe the few tears that grace my cheeks. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until he acknowledged it.

"I love you" I whisper in the dark, taking his hand from my face and intertwining our fingers together.

Jaspers lips are soft against mine as he pulls me down gently to kiss him, his free hand holding my body against his.

"I love you more"

[chrysalispen]

kissing prompt: ‘a kiss meant to seduce’

not answering these in any particular order but tbh i’m trying to get these nero/WoL wips out the door so have another prompt response. more or less a lead-in to this fic i wrote which i don’t hate quite enough to take down.

not explicit, but probably a T/M rating on AO3 for mention of dirty talk etc.

=============================================================

All told, no one had seemed to be in an agreeable mood on the way down to the Find from the Crystal Tower courtyard, or after they'd arrived. Cid's expression had been positively thunderous, blue eyes dark with his agitation, and the overall feeling from the other Ironworks engineers on site ran the gamut between confusion and suspicious resignation.

Well. Almost no one. Their sudden interloper seemed quite cheerful about the entire circumstance, as though all of this were going exactly the way he had wanted and they were all just cogs in some machine he'd set in motion.

That idea was absurd, of course; Nero tol Scaeva couldn't have had much more of an inkling of what was behind those doors than anyone else here, surely. But the calm, self-assured way he moved told her he did know something, and more to the point, that he had some plan in mind for it once they’d bypassed all the security for him.

That alone was more than enough to make her wary.

She glanced from side to side, looking for Cid, but he appeared to have quit the Find in a fit of pique (not that she particularly blamed him). The other engineers were just as busy, and G'raha was animatedly chattering to Unei and Doga who were both attempting to answer his flood of questions as best as they could manage.

Everyone seemed to have quite forgotten her presence now that her ability to brute-force the doors to the Labyrinth open was no longer necessary. She wished she could feel even slightly surprised, but that was what she was here for, she supposed. The muscle, the good luck charm.

With a sigh, Aurelia approached Rammbroes' study pavilion and lifted the tent flaps, letting herself inside. If the scholar or one of his fellows -- or better yet, Cid -- was there, she could talk with them, feel out if there was anything that they ought to be concerned about before venturing into the tower should Nero's timely appearance be subterfuge for something sinister...? But the tent was---

---the tent was not empty, as it had appeared from the outside. A familiar figure turned towards the sound of her entrance, a leather-bound book clasped in one hand.

She immediately reached for her weapon, snapping, "What are you--"

Nero tol Scaeva lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"Before you cut me down in cold blood, the journal is mine own. I was attempting to compare my notes with that of your associates here."

Aurelia's eyes narrowed but the tribunus only stared back, a look that was both coaxing and challenging at the same time, as if waiting to see what she would do. Finally she relented, tucking her staff back over her shoulder. While it was obvious he'd come in here by himself to rummage through papers, it seemed that he hadn't been here much longer than she had. So it wasn't as though he had had sufficient opportunity to do anything.

Nothing she could prove at the moment, anyroad.

"And the tomestones? I can't imagine you'd want to leave those behind without having a look for yourself."

"They're welcome to them," Nero said with a dismissive shrug.

She blinked. “That was... not the answer I expected.”

"Personal experience from the Ultima Project. The majority of those tomestones will be naught more than particularly expensive paperweights; what useful data exists on them has quite likely been eroded due to time and exposure. As counterintuitive as it may seem, their decision to keep written documentation of the dig may be the wiser course of action."  His pale blue eyes had not tracked away from her face the entire time he had spoken. The gaze he’d leveled upon her was sharp, scrutinizing, intense, and this time she didn't have the benefit of his magitek armor to hide that interest from her sight.

Not that he was bothering to hide it in any way. What game was he playing...?

She broke eye contact, feeling ill at ease as she glanced at the entrance to Rammbroes' tent. She'd backed up against a nearby worktable; heavy and sturdy, it sat just below her waist, at hip height. Perfectly appropriate for a roegadyn sitting down to pen missives or peruse dusty old texts or review Allagan tomestones.

Nero was smiling but he still hadn't said anything, and that made her uncomfortable enough to finally break the silence between them with a defensive "What?"

"Any particular reason you happen to be blushing?"

"Wh- I'm not blushing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

The right corner of his lips tugged slightly upwards, just enough to reveal a flash of canine. She chewed on her lower lip, grasping at the table for a sense of purchase and trying not to think about things she... really should not be thinking about. Really shouldn't. Like how in the seven hells a man was born with a mouth like that. It was- it was unfair.

His answering chuckle made her realize, much to her chagrin, that she had spoken aloud.

He braced his hands against the table's surface and leaned his weight back against it, slotting himself in the open space at her side. Unconsciously, Aurelia shifted herself to put a few ilms of space between them, trying not to think about the difference in height that was somehow far more noticeable now. Nero tol Scaeva was damnably tall; she was average height for a Garlean woman and still barely came up to his shoulders when they stood side by side, let alone in a position like this.

"To that end I've a question for you, eikon-slayer,” he continued smoothly, “if you would be so kind as to indulge me."

"About...?"

"I find it passing strange that a woman who can slay gods without blinking should find my presence in any way disconcerting. An artifact of your upbringing, I assume?" He was baiting her, she knew; the tone of his question was decidedly mocking. But that smile-- that had turned into something speculative and dark. Combined with the intensity of his stare, it set alight a strange, pressurized heat in the pit of her stomach. "Does Garlond elicit this reaction?"

"Cid? Hardly." Aurelia wrenched her gaze away from the movements of his lips to stare over his shoulder at the tent opening. Scholars and Ironworks engineers were passing to and fro just outside; she could see the shadows they cast upon the tarpaulin. "Cid also doesn't stand two ilms away from my face and stare me right in the eyes like he's about to devour me, so take that as you will, I suppose."

" 'Devour' you? What an interesting turn of phrase. Although I must admit you make a salient point. I cannot imagine that you are embarrassed by the slightest of his attentions as you are mine."

Was... was he trying to do what she suspected he was doing? The idea seemed laughable on its face -- Eorzea had no shortage of beautiful women, so who on earth would find her appealing? -- but the problem she currently faced was that it was actually working, damn him. It didn’t help that it had been... she couldn't remember how long since anyone had taken any sort of prurient interest in her, now that she thought about it.

Assuming of course that she wasn't just overthinking this and he wasn't putting her wind up for fun. Either way, she had to put an end to this now before it escalated any further.

"Unfortunately for you, I am not interested.” Calm, collected, and to the point. Yes, she thought; very well done.

She'd hoped that her bluntness would deter him, but that smile only widened, the maw of a hunting predator about to strike.

"Something tells me you are perhaps not being forthright with me." His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. "Shame on you, hero."

"I mean it. I am not interested," she repeated, this time with more resolve. "After what you did in the Prae-"

"Ah, you're concerned that I might turn on you all like a rabid dog, as it were. Worry for Garlond? Thinking I might sabotage his precious Ironworks or somesuch?"

"Not---no, none of those things, not as such, but to say I trust you would be a stretch. Not a word in all these weeks and suddenly you turn up, unannounced, as thought naught had transpired?"

"Your concern is unwarranted. Merely do I find myself with a plethora of free time in the wake of my sudden discharge from military service.”

“You-,” she began, but he was not finished.

“Lest you labor beneath the assumption that I intend you any sort of bodily harm, for a long while before we were... shall we say ‘formally introduced’, I had this recurring dream about you, me, and an interrogation chair-" At the wide flare of her eyes, he paused, only to grin at her: "...Now that, eikon-slayer, is a very interested look."

She tried to scoff at him, but it came out as a short, sharp, nervous bark.

"What look? I didn't give you any look."

"You most certainly did."

"You're reading intent where none exists-"

"Am I? Couple that with the fact you're mortified by the slightest hint of insinuation on my part and it's quite telling."

"Scaeva, I was in the legions myself once. Do you seriously think I'd not been exposed to the odd bit of barracks chatter?" She scowled at him. "I'm a chirurgeon by trade. I think I know enough of the human condition not to be easily embarrassed by such things."

There it was--the look she'd seen him pass Cid every time he was wont to needle the man in the space of a single conversation, coupled with the upwards arch of one eyebrow. She’d not realized how aggravating it was to be on the receiving end of that look until this moment, now that she was the subject of Nero's condescension. 

"I'd wager that what you believe passes for 'barracks chatter' is overwhelmingly tame. You've not heard the half of it, I assure you. Even the worst among the rank and file will behave themselves around a skirt, especially if the lady in question is a pureblood."

"Perhaps if the lady had seen no military service. I imagine there is precious little they could say that would shock me."

He pushed himself upright and turned to face her, bracing his hands on either side and giving her precious little in the way of an escape route. 

“I am very willing to test your hypothesis."

"I'm sure you are.” She kept her voice steady with some considerable effort. His mouth now lingered but a bare hairsbreadth apart from her own, and trying not to think about that fact was only causing her to hyperfocus on it.

"No time like the present,” he said, “and I am a man of science. Call it professional curiosity, if you like. May I?"

He'd called her bluff, and after her own assertion she felt she had little choice but to accept the consequences. At last Aurelia nodded, stiffly, trying to ignore the faintly triumphant curl to his answering smile.

His hand cupped her jaw, warm and callused fingertips trailing the shell of her ear, palm just barely cradling the soft skin over her throat. If he wished he could close his grip and tighten it, squeeze until she had no air to breathe- but the Echo would have warned her of any killing intent. Although it gave her no indication of any danger from him, it took a conscious effort not to bolt under his arm and flee the tent. Tension thrummed through her frame like a live wire.

Nero leaned inward until they were cheek to cheek. Her breath hitched for the briefest of moments when she felt the light scrape of stubble and caught his scent: some kind of aftershave perhaps, a bit stringent but not unpleasant, and the heat in her belly clenched tight. Lips lingered at her ear and she could feel the tribunus' warm breath fanning very lightly across her skin.

Then he began to speak.

Sotto voce, in their native Garlean tongue. A soft, soporific rumble, breath just slightly uneven- and not the mildly suggestive banter or off-color jokes she’d expected but a soldier's words of coupling, rough and lascivious and filthy.

All of it aimed at her. 

Her grip on the table tightened as she willed herself to remain still through the impulse to slap him or shove him away in shocked mortification, as he well knew a proper young lady of gentle birth would have been expected to do. He knew, too; could sense her dismay, how much it cost her just to maintain some semblance of composure, and he wasn't fooled by it.

He was laughing at her, the bastard: she could hear the soft, breathy chuckles woven through his unending stream of vulgarities. Her face felt as though he had set it afire and she knew she was probably bright red right down to the roots of her hair---and then she felt the press of his mouth, a light kiss along the juncture of her jaw just beneath the earlobe.

A hot shudder of anticipation warped its way down her spine.

"So the eikon-slayer is undone by a bit of bawdy talk after all." He had not moved his lips away from her skin before speaking. She could feel the heat of his breath against her, warm and velvet and damp and gods, he was practically purring in her ear- "It would appear your theory has been disproven, hero."

She found herself unable to respond, mouth feeling suddenly very dry, swallowing with some effort. The clicking sound her throat made in her ears as she did was so, so loud.

And before she had quite managed to gather her wits again, Nero tol Scaeva straightened his posture and backed away from her position against the table with a mocking bow before tucking the journal in his coat pocket and strolling towards the tent flap. Turning his back on her, quite deliberately, and making his exit.

As though the entire exchange had never occurred.

She let out the exhalation she hadn't realized she was holding, sagging back against the sturdy oak surface of Rammbroes’ makeshift writing desk and attempting to ease her breathing into something resembling an even pace. He'd left her rattled and flustered and... burning. There was a deep, aching knot of tension that had formed in the base of her belly, one that would not fade quickly.

And she suspected that like as not, he’d only done it to prove a point, namely that his wits were malms beyond hers and her victory in the Praetorium had been but a simple fluke, a stroke of blind luck.

Small wonder Cid's hackles had been raised by his mere presence. Hells take him, the man was utterly insufferable.

After some time had passed (and the heat in her cheeks had faded), she slipped out of Rammbroes' "study" and saddled her chocobo. She had to talk to Cid about this, she decided, regardless of how sour his mood might be. Someone was going to have to keep an eye on Nero once they set foot in the tower, and given everyone else’s relative importance in the grand scheme of things, it might as well be her; she could endure his baiting so long as she made sure they had an understanding.

Aurelia didn’t see any sign of him on her way out of the camp. Doubtlessly he’d gone in search of someone or something else to act as his temporary source of entertainment until the expedition into the Tower was underway, she thought. She could not well decide if she was disappointed or relieved. 

But if he planned to behave this way the entire time, it was going to be a very, very long expedition indeed.

[creedtheconquer]

A Christmas Miracle (Pt.1) AU

Request-"Hey hoe I got a request for you do a Micheal Mafia boss au with a female reader and he helps her out like she drops her wallet and he finds it and sees she’s not doing so well so he feels like helping her only to over time fall for her and then so on."

Summary-"(Y/N) is a struggling college student who loses her wallet, only for Michael to find it and he takes a liking to her and starts to shower her with gifts but the catch is, she has no idea who he is."

Pairing- Michael Langdon x Reader

Warnings- slight angst, slow burn, slight fluff

*This story kicks off day 4 and I really hope you enjoy this. This will be a series that I'm already starting to fall in love with! Remember my ask box is open and I'm always taking requests! I write for Cody and any other character he has played minus David for obvious real life reasons and I wish to respect him as a person as. I also write for other AHS characters.*

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Day 1

It was just like any other dull morning, minus the fact it was December first. Michael didn't hate Christmas per se, he just never had a good memory of any past Christmases. His childhood was all sorts of fucked up, a family that never really gave a shit about him and who quiet literally threw him out onto the streets. He bounced around from place to place not really staying for long, never fitting in, never belonging anywhere. As he got older, now in his early 20's he's made a name for himself. Sure it wasn't of the best circumstances but how he saw it the world chewed him up and spit him out like he was poison, so he figured why the hell not and became the poison the world thought he was. He wasn't a fast acting "poison", no he was one of those classy poisons. He never bothered to get his hands dirty, he had people to do that for him. He also wasn't a bad person but if someone pressed his buttons the wrong way they had hell to pay. After his rise to power everyone stop looking at him like the freak no one cared about and started trying to be the biggest kiss ass, trying to get on his good side but he saw through their facade.

(Y/N) was a 22 year old sophomore at college who was just barely scrapping by. Her home life growing up wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst either, her dad left when she was in middle school leaving her mom to raise her alone. Her mom had a steady job so money was never really a problem. Once (Y/N) graduated high school her mom gave her two options, either go to school or be kicked out. So weighing her options she opted for school but her mom was no help really, yeah sure she would send a carepackeage every 3 months or so but that was it. Thankfully she got a full ride thanks to her high test results but that only pays for school. She was stuck with paying for her own place and food, which she was barely managing to afford with her 2 jobs.

Her day was going just as shitty as it could be, she was late to class, got chewed out by her professor and on top of everything her mom called and threatened to disown her because she got a B- in one of her classes. She had just made it home from job number one only to realize she didn't have her wallet on her, "Fucking good one (Y/N) that had all your money in it." She said to herself bitterly.

Michael had just walked out of the small coffee shop when his foot kicked something, "What the hell?" He questions looking down to see a wallet. He bent down picking it up and he opens it, inside he finds an ID that told him the owner of said wallet, one (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Also inside the wallet he found only about $100 max along with credit cards and a few business cards. Turning on his heels he heads back inside to ask, "Um excuse me does anyone know (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" He asks as he leans against the small little counter, it coming to just above the middle of his thighs due to his towering form.

"She works here, how can I help you?" A guy Michael assumes is the manager comes forward wiping his hands on his apron.

"I'm an old friend, and I just got into town I was just wondering if you had her address wanted to drop by and surprise her." Michael say flashing that charming smile he knows works on everyone. Sure enough the manager nods grabbing a napkin and he writes down the girls address.

"Here you go, she's lucky to have a friend like you." He says shaking softly and Michael smirks enjoying how much power he has over anyone he comes into contact with.

"Thank you." Is all he says before dropping his smile and he turns and walks out of the shop.

"You lost your wallet?" Rachael asks (Y/N) as the dinner rush calms down.

"Yeah it fucking sucks it had all the money I had left for the rest of the week." (Y/N) groans cleaning off the plates she had just picked up.

"Do you know where it is?" She asks and (Y/N) shrugs leaning against the counter looking at the clock.

"My other job, or any where between there and home who knows." (Y/N) says taking off her apron getting ready to leave.

"Well I hope you find it." Rachael says and (Y/N) nods collecting her stuff.

"Thanks Rachael." (Y/N) says giving her a hug before heading home.

Michael knew he shouldn't have entered her house, magic or other wise it wasn't right. When he got to her little apartment he was just going to leave her wallet on her door step with a little note but when he got there he just felt the urge to go in. He chocked it up to not wanting to just leave her wallet out for anyone to take, so he took it upon himself to enter and leave it on her coffee table. He was going to leave right after, he really was but once he got a look around her apartment he noticed she was worse off than he first thought. Not really much food in her pantrie or fridge, a small couch and a small tv on the opposite wall. Not really any decor, it was all just so plain. He cursed himself for entering because now he felt the urge, no the need to help this complete stranger. So he did the best he could do for the time being, he found an envelop and put $500 inside with a little note. Then like that he left not leaving a trace anyone was there and on his way out of the building he told the person at the front desk to put the envelop in her mail box.

"Really good job (Y/N) You can't find your wallet anywhere." She says to herself as she enters her building. She pulls out her keys and goes to her mailbox pulling out the stack of envelops and magazines. She sighs turning and making her way up to her apartment. She opens her door and turns on the light and enters before closing the door behind her. She throws the mail on the coffee table and turns to go walk into the kitchen when she stops and turns back towards the table. There she saw it, her wallet sitting perfectly in the center of the table, right where she had thrown the mail. She walks around her couch and she takes a seat picking up the wallet and she opens it, sure enough it was hers. She laughs shaking her head, had it been here all along? She questions in her head as her eyes shift to the mail and she sees an envelop that simple reads "From A Friend." She sets her wallet down and picks up the envelop and she examines it. She notices it's kinda think and heavy but she shrugs as she opens it. She nearly throws it when she sees the money inside, tears form in her eyes as she takes out the little note.

"I know you don't know me yet, but I've noticed you struggling and I felt the need to help. So I've left you $500 dollars hopefully that is enough for now. I have a feeling this won't be the last time you hear from me or the last times our paths cross." It reads and she sees it's signed with two simple letters, M.L and a tear falls from her eyes.

Day 5

"Ms. Mead I have a job for you." Michael says sitting back in his office chair as his adoptive mother stands on the other side of his desk.

"Yes, what is it?" She asks placing her hands behind her back and he smiles up at her.

"I want you to keep a tab on (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and report to me anything you find out about her." Michael says folding his hands into his lap and his pale icy blue eyes shine with wonder.

"Right away." She says but she gives him a questioning look to which he waves her off.

"Thank you Ms. Mead." He calls after her as she closes the door.

"Do you know who this person is?" (Y/B/F) asks as her and (Y/N) relax at her place.

"No idea but he has left small little gifts after that $500." (Y/N) shrugs placing her drink on the coffee table.

"It sounds like you have a rich, powerful secret admirer." (Y/B/F) teases causing (Y/N) to blush.

"Oh as if." (Y/N) fires back slapping (Y/B/N)'s shoulder.

"So any news?" Michael asks later that night as he gets ready to leave.

"Her favorite color is (Y/F/C) and her favorite flower is a (Y/F/F)." Ms. Mead says and a smiles finds its way on to Michael's lips.

"Perfect." He whispers to himself, grabbing his jacket and he leaves making a beeline for the nearest flower stand.

"How can I help you tonight sir?" The lady at the stand says and he can see her check him out. He scoffs giving her a once over before waving her off.

"I would like a bouquet of 12 (Y/F/C) (Y/F/F) for my girlfriend." Michael says stressing the word girlfriend. It seems to do the trick considering she looked down disgusted.

"That will be $10." She says handing him the flowers and he smiles handing her the money.

"Thank you." He says very curtly before he walks away.

Michael makes it to (Y/N)'s apartment and a small smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he sets the flowers on the door step and knocks on the door before turning and walking away. He sees her open the door and then he sees the biggest smile appear on her face as she picks up the flowers. "There's my beautiful girl." He whispers to himself softly before turning and walking back to his car.

"Was it him?" (Y/B/F) asks from the couch and (Y/N) nods closing the door.

"Yeah it was." She says a smile plastered to her face.

"You're so hopelessly in love with him and you don't even know what he looks like." (Y/B/F) says and (Y/N) rolls her eyes.

"No I'm not." Is all she says setting the flowers on the table as she gets a vase and puts water in it before placing the flowers in it. Little did she know was she was destined to meet her secret admirer and little did she know she will fall so helplessly in love with him and he her.

@madamfae

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Better Together: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Six:

"I think I'm pregnant!"

With wide eyes behind wire-framed reading glasses, Dr. Strange nearly choked on his coffee. Steve winced for his outburst, but he needed to get that off his chest. It had been three weeks since his heat and – while he didn't want to get his hopes up – his period was late. Late, late. And over the past week he had been cataloging every little thing that could be pregnancy related.

"And you're... excited?"

Briefly, Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wanted this baby. He just didn't want to –

Stop it! Steve internally berated himself. Even shaking his head to shake the thought out.

"You're not excited?"

"No," Steve shook his head and then clarified, "I mean, no, I am excited."

Dr. Strange nodded, observing Steve. Correctly assuming, "But you're nervous."

"Yes," Steve readily admitted.

Another nod, Dr. Strange asked, "Why are you nervous?"

Steve hated having to distinguish and clarify why he was feeling what he was feeling. He knew that it was for his own benefit to be able to understand so he could help others understand. But that fact didn't make him hate it any less. Especially not when he was already stressed.

"What if I –" Steve paused. Still not able to form those words. Thinking of it as a curse. If he admitted it aloud, it could make him lose the baby. As though speaking it into existence.

Dr. Strange didn't interrupt or try to put words into Steve's mouth. He just sat there quietly, letting Steve work up to it. Knowing by now that Steve sometimes needed a little time before fully opening up.

"I'm afraid," Steve inhaled deeply, "That if I am pregnant, it'll end up going the way the last one went."

"Which is understandable," Dr. Strange assured, "And you're not the only one who goes through this."

Steve nodded and moved his gaze to the ugly brown carpet. Worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he realized that that wasn't his only fear. Instead of needing Dr. Strange to coax out the next truth, Steve confessed, "I'm afraid that if I'm not pregnant, I'll never be again."

"And you've talked to Bucky about this fear?"

Another nod, "Before I started coming here."

"Good." Steve looked up at Dr. Strange, and the therapist reiterated, "That's good. Having open communication is important in a healthy relationship. The fact that you and Bucky can talk about this stuff is good. For both of you."

"Right," Steve agreed, feeling a little relieved. Dr. Strange had his best intentions in mind. It was what he was paid for, after all. And knowing that helped.

Shifting in his chair, Dr. Strange decided, "I'm going to assign you homework for next week."

Glancing up at the clock, Steve realized that they were out of time. Always shocked with how quickly the sessions tended to fly by once they got going.

"I want you to buy a pregnancy test. You don't have to take it today if it's too much today. But I do want you to take it soon. You can have Bucky there with you, or you can have a friend or a family member. But I think that knowing more concretely will benefit you. Especially with your fears."

Standing, Steve nodded, "Oh – okay."

Crossing the office to open the door for Steve, Dr. Strange assured, "Once we have more information, we can come up with a plan."

"A plan," Steve agreed. Finding himself even more relieved because he didn't have a plan right now. He was stuck at a crossroads and would be worrying about everything until he knew the first question: am I pregnant?

Leading him down the hallway, Dr. Strange reminded, "I'll see you next week."

"See you," Steve smiled, giving a little wave to the slightly older omega.

Climbing in behind the steering wheel of his Volvo, Steve hyped himself up before driving to the supermarket. Of course, that needed a pep talk of its own.

"You don't have to take it today," Steve quietly told his reflection. Reassuring himself, "You don't have to take it by yourself either."

With that, Steve left his SUV and crossed the parking lot for the store. Worrying his lower lip, he wandered over to the hygiene products. Unlike how he was when he tested for Oliver for the first time, Steve stood there just looking at the different tests. The first go-around, he had been frantic and grabbed any and all tests that he could get his hands on.

Brows set into a heavy furrow, he reached with a shaky hand for one of the boxes. Reading the back, "'Can be used as early as five days before missed period.'"

That's good, Steve decided even though his period was late and continued reading, "'Takes as little as two minutes.'"

Two minutes can feel like a lifetime, Steve knew.

"'The earlier you know, the better you can prepare.'"

Ain't that the truth, Steve agreed.

Heading for the check-out, Steve smiled at a little girl who was skipping after her mother as they went down the shampoo aisle. As he stepped into a cashier line, Steve startled when he realized he had been rubbing at his lower abdomen.

The cashier had noticed as she rung him up and kindly wished, "All the best to you."

"Thanks," Steve blushed and shoved the receipt into the bag along with his wallet and the cash he was having difficulty shoving into it. Not wanting to hold the line up, he quickly headed for the door.

Taking a moment to catch his breath before leaving. Looking down at his flat abdomen, Steve asked, "Is anyone in there?"

Rubbing the spot again, Steve whispered his biggest truth, "I hope there is."

Once he got home, Steve was greeted by Greg first. Shaking his head and trying not to step on the needy cat, Steve gave the top of her head a good scratch before toeing off his shoes.

"Papa, look!" Oliver greeted, almost tripping him up the way Greg did. Holding up a piece of blue construction paper covered in paint handprints and glitter, Oliver just beamed up at him, waiting for his papa to praise his work.

"Wow!" Steve started, instantly causing his son to preen. Cautiously taking the artwork, Steve held it up so he could really look at it. Ignoring the glitter that was falling off the picture and was on his fingertips, he complimented, "This is the best one yet!"

"Thank you!" Oliver smiled. Noticing the plastic bag that was looped around Steve's wrist, he asked, "What's that?"

"This is a papa thing," Steve answered, putting the picture on the fridge.

Entering the house further, Steve made eye contact with Bucky. Subtly, Steve gesture towards the back of their house. Understanding the hint, Bucky lifted Finn off himself and rose from the floor.

Finn started whining, but Bucky assured, "I'll be right back. Play with your brother."

"Nicely," Steve amended so they wouldn't come back to a blood bath.

Leading the way to their bedroom and not stopping until their bathroom, Steve shut the door and locked it. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Steve pulled the box from the plastic bag. Bucky's sight caught onto it, and softly asked, "Stevie?"

"I'm late," Steve answered, keeping his own gaze down. "Dr. Strange thinks it would be best if I took a test. Just so I can then start planning, ya know?"

"Okay."

Steve looked up at his mate, confirming, "Okay."

Opening the box, Steve removed one of the tests. He had some trouble opening the test's wrapper and joked at his own expense, "Maybe we should rethink the baby thing."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes, "Just pee on the damn thing."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Steve dismissed, pulling down his pants.

While he peed on the test, tiny knocks came from the door. Oliver calling out, "Daddy? Papa? Why're you in there?"

Coming up with a tiny white lie, "Papa's sick, honey. We'll be out soon. Go watch some PJ Masks."

Not getting a reply, the couple assumed that their oldest left. Now Steve needed him to stay away for two minutes. The entire time, Steve's teeth remained fixed in his lower lip as he stared at the little results window. He could feel the strumming of anxiety coming through the bond from Bucky, but couldn't focus on that. Not when he was –

"Pregnant," Steve said, wide-eyed when he looked up at his husband.

Bucky held back, and Steve knew that it was for his benefit. So, Steve jumped into his arms, embracing his alpha and allowing the bond to easily flow with his own affection. This was what he wanted. What they both wanted.

"We're having a baby?" Bucky breathed, kissing Steve's temple. When Steve nodded, Bucky enthusiastically repeated, "We're having a baby!"

Pulling back, Steve shushed his husband and decided, "I don't want to get the boys' hopes up."

"Okay, yeah," Bucky nodded. Miming zipping his lips the same way their children had started doing.

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and good-naturedly teased, "Who needs a baby when I have three kids."

"Yeah, well," Bucky happily paused, kissing Steve's forehead, "What's one more?"

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag

[undercovermcdfan]

Hey I'm new to this and I don't really know how it works so um... ‘a man who can’t die is no tragic hero.’ centered around Vylad? Maybe?

‘a man whocan’t die is no tragic hero.’ 

title: tea and cake

summary: A conversation over some tea during astormy afternoon. Vylad-centric. MCD pre-season 3.

a/n: So, this is so… loosely based offthe prompt, I’m so sorry??? It was supposed to be something deeper andVylad-centric but I ended up writing him having a conversation with Isabel andthrew in a bit of Vylance because I’m a sucker for that pairing? I hope youlike it—I thought it was rather cute, even if it’s so… loosely based off such agood prompt jfc. I might take another shot at it on another date.

warning(s): fluff, tea, Isabel being a sweetie

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Rainfall doesn’t bring melancholy feelings it once did.

As denizens scurried, seeking shelter in the nearby establishmentsor rushing home, he stood there in the street. His cloak, soaked. His hair,flatten against his forehead. The comforting rumble of distant storm thisintense rain was bring only made him want to shut his eyes, listening as hisbreathed out even breaths and lulled into a fond memory which rain only broughtnow.

Irene island went from a peaceful village to a sprawlingcity. It’s impressive, walking down the cobbled streets and not recognizing thebuildings, nor knowing which turn to take even though it’s been a year or sosince he decided to stop by.

He watched as a mother pulled along her inquisitive child,chided him softly when the child attempted to jump into the large puddle formingon the side of the road and adjusted her umbrella.

An older gentleman holding a newspaper over his head,squinting to the sky and grumbling something Vylad couldn’t quite catch beforeheading back inside the tavern.

A young girl who ran a storefront staring at him concernedand mild curiosity from behind the glass window. He spared her a glance and shelooked away quickly, embarrassed for being caught.

Ah, well Ican’t drag my feet any longer. He pulled up his hood, andhurried down the road—he was late enough already.

He wasn’t sure when he indulged Isabel and her requests tosee him whenever she heard he was in town.

Honestly, she shouldn’t have known—Vylad preferred his methodof dropping in and leaving when he’s finish reporting of whatever informationhe managed to gather. But by chance, the other day, she caught him— “Two years and you haven’t change one bit,”she said in giggly tone—and managed to rope him into staying for another day,to visit her.

Maybe it’s nostalgia; he couldn’t quite say they were friendsbut Isabel had a charm that’s hard to place and a presence which reminded himof a caring mother mixed with enthusiasm of a child—if she wasn’t hanging offthe arms of Laurance or Katelyn, tending to the younger kids that took upresidence on the island, or buzzing like the more social creature that she was,she’d always hunt him down to ask some questions (usually to satisfied hercuriosity about his ‘mysterious’ nature). She rarely caught him, true, butafter a while, she grew on him like Laurance told him she would.

And after a while, sometimes he’d seek her out. Strange howmissing the same person could make an unlikely pair—and they were the mostunlikely.

He, quiet and never much to say beyond being an ear she couldtalk to tirelessly.

She, understanding way of speaking and made warm tea with thesweet cakes whenever he visited.

The place she called home was small and humble, sandwichedbetween two other homes; on the upper left windowsill, he could spot a smallgarden and a welcome mat was on the top of the steps that led up. It said ‘welcome’,in blocky letters and a simple picture of a kitten pawing at the ‘e’ inwelcome.

She opened the door on the third round of knocking, looking alittle disheveled and flustered but smiling brightly when she saw him.

“I’m so sorry,” she ushered him in, smoothing down her hair—it’sshorter now, something he didn’t note until now; she frowned, giving him a onceover, “You’re soaked! Don’t tell me you walked here without an umbrella, Vylad.”

He shrugged off his cloak, and she immediately took it,propping it on a coat rack and a grimace at the water droplets dripped onto thefloor. “It started raining as I was walking.”

“Still not a reason to just… never mind,” she sighed, holdingup a hand, “Wait here. I’ll give you something to dry off.”

And she disappeared back up the stairs.

There was evidence she didn’t live alone. The open closet hadmore coats than necessary for just one person, and the number of shoes it held—Isabelalways been on the humbler side of living and even if she grew a taste ofshopping, he was doubtful she’d owned thatmany.

When she returned, throwing the towel on his head andinstructing him to take off his shoes— “I spent all day mopping. I’m notletting you track mud in here.”, she hurried away again, into the kitchen sheassumed.

There wasn’t much of a living room area, so of course hefollowed her, undoing his bun as he started to dry it off his hair.

He zoned out slightly as she started to chatter; taking upseat on one of the two chairs in the kitchen, he mused at the cutesydecorations adorning the table, walls, around the small kitchen.

“—anyway, it was lucky I decided to make a run to the bakerythis morning rather than later; the weather been so gloom and doom the pastcouple of days,” she said, placing tea in front of him before placing the milkand sugar cube; of course, he went straight for the sugar cube, adding two tohis drink as he gave quiet thanks. “Hmm.”

He paused, glancing up and Isabel waved her hand beforeletting out a small laugh. “Oh nothing. I was remembering something,” shesmiled, as she turned away to fetch her own cup and the cakes she alreadyprepared on a tray, “Remember three years ago, when the island had only Aphmau,Travis—you know. Before the island was theisland. And there was that nasty storm.”

His brow raised, absentmindedly rubbing his hair. “I do.”

“And remember how we both got caught in it? The lectureLaurance gave us…” the soft smile faded for just a moment before it returnedbrightly, she slid the cake and fork towards him, taking a seat, “I never sawyou look so embarrassed until that day, honestly. I didn’t know if you could feel embarrassed? Or look so uncool.” Henarrowed his eyes and frowned. But she shrugged off his gaze, rather, she wasgrinning now at his expression. “He even made you sit down and dry off your hairafter you sneak off.”

Normally, the reminder of… him would leave his heart aching.But never with Isabel, she never let either dwell on the bitterness of the facthe was gone.

“He was treating me like a child.” He took a bite of cake.

“In his defense, it’s a little childish to run off.”

He squints at her, pointing his fork with an accusatory point.She shrugged, continuing the story, “You looked like an angry cat. And Laurancekept talking and talking, how we both were asking for a cold.”

“You did catch a cold.”

“Huh, I did, didn’t I?” she chuckled, before softly sighing, “…youknow. Sometimes I miss it. Miss Laurance being around. When he left, everybodyended up going their separate ways… especially you.” He took a sip of her histea, avoiding with her searching eyes as she looked at him. “Do you ever wonderwhat he’s up to?”

…Maybe he should take back the statement of the ache nevercoming.

“Every day.” He whispered, after a pause.

She hummed, propping up her cheek with her palm, “Not everyday for me… but often enough. Same with you. I wonder about you a lot. Aph toldme you been busy in Tu’la and… it’s a little worrying, you know?”

He’s quiet, taking another bite of his cake.

“I know both you and Laurance can handle yourselves… but aweak-willed maiden like me can only worry about her friends when they’re offdoing whatever dangerous things they do. I hate how much of a pessimist I’vebecome.”

“You’re not weak-willed.”

“Ah,” her eyes still read sadness but a fond smile appearedagain, “I’m ‘soft hearted’ as you all put it.”

He shook his head. “Isabel. You don’t want to be like me. OrLaurance—he wasn’t…”

“Happy. I know,” she sighed, stirring her tea as she shut hereyes, “Something to do with that shadow knight business, right? He always triedbut… anybody could see he was struggling at times.” Vylad swallowed thickly—andthe tea didn’t help. Isabel continued, “You struggle with it to. At leastLaurance had you… you’re all alone, and always away, sometimes I wonder what ifthe next time I hear about you i-is… you know. It’s your job and you’re servingfor heroic reasons but… it’s… lonely, isn’t it? I know you a-are.”

Part of him froze, instinctively, when he saw a tear roll downher cheek—like always did when he saw her cry. He never was the type to comfortbut pity filled his heart whenever he saw the young woman cry.

“Isabel.” She sniffed, quickly wiping away the tears butbefore she could have uttered an apology, he cut her off, giving a tentativesmile, “I appreciate your concern. What I do… isn’t heroic like you say, I mustconfess.” He paused, collecting his words as he chewed on a piece of cakethoughtfully—Isabel got up for a moment to fetch the kettle and pour them bothanother cup. “I am lonely. Sometimes I think I took up the task to punishmyself.”

“Punish?”

He nodded, “It’s complicated… but yes. For somebody likemyself, I don’t really deserve your tears. I only been selfish.”

The silence was… uncomfortable. He closed his eyes. He couldstill hear the rumbles of thunder and the house slightly shook from the strongwinds the storm was bringing.

But her tone shifted when she spoke up, breaking the silence.“…It isn’t a crime to feel what you feel. I know you aren’t… talkative aboutthis, but it’s okay to feel lonely and not feel at home here on this island.Also,” she smiled, “You are a hero. You do heroic stuff. And selfish or not, I’llstill cry over a dear friend.”

“...friend.”

“Yes,” she giggled, knocking on the table, “No matter whatyou say, we are friends! End of discussion.”

Vylad sighed. I supposethere’s no point to argue. He then reached for his cake, abandoning thepolite eating and held it, shoveling the rest into his mouth.

Isabel laughed at that, throwing her head back. “I knew youwere holding back!” she got up, smiling, “Let me get you another piece—I gottenextra for you and the fact Amber has bit of a sweet tooth.”

He perked up. “Amber?”

Isabel smiled, brightening up again, “Oh. Sit tight—shoot,you missed a lot since you been gone?”

He returned her smile, small but it was still there. As shechanged the subject—now talking about this ‘Amber’ girl affectionately--, hecouldn’t help but think of her words: Youare a hero.

It was a lie. Because he was only selfish, and a person whocheats death, existing by the whims of something so unholy… he couldn’t ever bea hero.

But then again, a small voice whispered: You don’t have to be. You could do your best and just be good.

That voice suspiciously sound like one that made his heartflutter. He waved it all away.

Taking a sip from his tea, he said, “You love her.”

“Well,” Isabelblushed, her smile wide, “I mean what gave it away?”