#it took me too long to figure out how to add tags to asks without editing after posting

[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [5]

series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder

> summary: big nun, little nun > tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab

When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 

Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.

He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.

Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.

So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.

There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.

Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you

You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.

On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.

“What's that?” you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.

Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.

Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.

Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.

“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.

“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”

“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.

He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.

“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.

“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.

I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?

“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”

“Like a bairn?”

“A what?”

“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.

You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?

“You punished me,” you settle on.

“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”

“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”

He turns to you.

“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”

Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.

You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.

When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.

You have to admire that. At least a little.

“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.

“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”

He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.

“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”

That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.

“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.

“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.

“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”

Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.

Some spirit of confidence grips you.

“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”

“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”

“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.

Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.

“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.

“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”

“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.

Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.

“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“

“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 

“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.

“How else..?” you frown.

Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.

“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”

“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.

Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.

“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.

Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.

“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”

You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.

The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 

Such was the world.

Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.

“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”

“So, those scars…?”

“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”

“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.

Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”

“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”

“A fight to the death.”

“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”

They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.

Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.

“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.

“Yes,” and it’s honest.

He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.

“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”

Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.

Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.

Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.

Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.

His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.

You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.

“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.

In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.

“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.

So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.

Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.

A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.

After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.

“Why me?”

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”

It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.

“Don't you think it's cruel?”

“No,” finally, he turns to you.

“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still scared?”

“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”

“Not at first.”

“Then when?”

His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.

“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”

“You were cruel to me then, too.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.

You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.

A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 

Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 

The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!

The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.

He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.

You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.

Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.

With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”

“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.

“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”

“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”

“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.

“I know.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.

“Mm,” Simon confirms.

You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.

How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.

Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.

You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.

 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.

“No.”

You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.

Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.

The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.

He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.

“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”

“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”

He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.

“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”

Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.”

He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.

“Haven’t you?”

Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.

But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.

“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.

There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.

“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.

Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.

“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.

God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.

You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.

Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.

Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.

Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.

Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.

When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.

It’s like flying.

In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.

More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.

When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.

He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.

Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.

“For you,” Simon says.

You look up at him, heart dancing.

His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.

Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.

You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.

“For me?”

Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.

“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.

 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.

Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.

Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.

You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.

Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 

“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.

“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.

You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.

“Yes.”

[agaypanic]

Hey! Could you do Charlie Swan x wife fem!reader where she own a bakery and they first met there (sort of flashback) and their journey through their relationship. And please add Bella (as someone nice & she accept her). Tag me later! Thank :)

Black Coffee and a Bagel (Charlie Swan X Baker!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan coming into your bakery for breakfast one day turns into a life full of love, baking, and coffee.

A/N: this took forever to write holy shit. i usually dont add the word count to the actual fic, but i feel like i should tell yall this is over 5k words… when i read the twilight books (its been so hard getting through them bc they’re lowkey boring guys…) i envision charlie as billy burke but with kinda curly hair bc that’s what he has in the books, so that’s how he looks in this lol reader’s age isn’t specified so she can be read as charlie’s age or younger (legal obvi). maybe a bit ooc charlie but idc

***

It was a usual cloudy day in Forks, Washington. Like most other town residents, you didn’t really mind the gloomy weather. As long as your heaters worked and you had a decent jacket, you didn’t really care.

You were always the busiest in the morning. You owned a bakery in the middle of town, the only one open at six in the morning. Almost everyone came through your shop for breakfast or a drink before heading to work or school. 

But every now and then, you had a first-time customer.

The bell above your front door jingled, and you heard footsteps enter with a bit of hesitancy. You looked up from the espresso machine you were cleaning to see a man with curly dark hair, a mustache, and a badge.

“Chief Swan,” you smiled, moving to the counter. He was looking around the bakery with mild curiosity. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I uh… I forgot to grab a coffee before I left the house.” He sounded like he was a bit embarrassed by his mistake. Then he finally looked up, chocolate brown eyes locking with yours. “And a lot of people talk about this place, so I figured it’d be a good opportunity to check it out.”

“Well, I’m glad to have you here. Welcome to Bear Claw Bakery.” You smile at him, maybe a bit too cheerfully for how early in the morning it was, but it was all part of your brand. Seeing such a handsome face also helped. “I can make any coffee you’d like.”

“I can see that.” Chief Swan said, gesturing to the convoluted drink menu on the wall behind you. He seemed a bit intimidated by all the choices.

“How about a black coffee?” He lit up, seemingly relieved by your suggestion.

“Yes, please. Large.”

As you made his coffee, you fell into a comfortable silence. You became focused on his drink, and he decided to peruse your display cases of baked goods. After all, this was a bakery.

“See anything you like?” You ask as you put the lid on his cup, remembering to add a sleeve so he wouldn’t burn his hand.

He hummed, staring at a tray of bagels for a few seconds before looking at you. He straightened up, pointing to the baked goods.

“Could I get a bagel? Plain.” 

“Of course!” You slid the glass door open and grabbed a bagel with your tongs, putting it in a goody bag and folding the top a few times. Chief Swan watched you for a small moment before fumbling for his wallet, keeping his eyes on the counter in front of him. You watched him pull out a bill and waved your hand. “Oh, no. On the house.”

“What?” He looked up at you in surprise, and you just smiled at him.

“Think of it as a first-time discount.” You shrug as you push his coffee and bagel towards him. 

He folded the bill but didn’t put it back in his wallet. Instead, while maintaining eye contact, he dropped it into the tip jar beside him.

“Thanks, uh…” He said as he pocketed the wallet and grabbed his coffee. It was then that you realized that he didn’t know your name.

“Oh! Y/n.” You stuck your hand out without thinking. But before you could pull it back, he shook your hand with a polite smile. “And you’re obviously Chief Swan.” You said with an airy laugh.

“Please, call me Charlie.” He punctuated his name by squeezing your hand before letting go. There was a softness to his tone that you didn’t suspect, but you enjoyed it.

“Charlie,” you repeated, liking the sound of it. “I hope you like the coffee and the bagel.”

He nodded once, grabbed the goody bag still on the counter, and left with a small wave. You didn’t have much time to think about the interaction because a group of high schoolers soon came in, chattering loudly about different things. One thing you knew for sure, though, was that you hoped he’d be back sometime soon.

***

You were surprised to see Charlie back at the bakery the next day. You were unlocking the front door when he pulled up next to your car in his police cruiser.

“Right on time.” You laughed as he exited the car. “I’m just starting to open.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know your hours,” he said, checking his watch. The sun was barely starting to peek out from the clouds. “I have to go to the station early today, was hoping I could get coffee and a bagel.”

“Of course! Come on in,” you say, holding the door open just long enough for him to catch as you rush to behind the counter.

You started on Charlie’s coffee before going to the back to get a bag of fresh bagels. At the front, he was leaning against the counter, waiting for you.

“So I’m guessing you liked it?” You asked with a smile as you bagged up a bagel for him, putting the rest in the display case. “The coffee and bagel? Since you came back.” You added after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yeah!” He said, sounding as if he was a bit distracted by something. “Both were delicious.”

“I’m glad.” You placed his bagel and coffee on the counter.

“Now I’m hoping to actually pay this time,” Charlie said, raising his brows, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You told him the total, and when you gave him his change, he dropped it into the tip jar. “Thanks again. And sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s no problem, Chief-” You cut yourself off, receiving a knowing look from him. “Charlie. It’s really no problem. Hope you have a good day.” 

“Same to you, Y/n.” 

Charlie grabbed his things, waved at you, and walked out. After watching him drive away, you continued to open the bakery for the day. As you served the people coming in, you wondered if Charlie’s coming in would become a regular occurrence. Deep down, you hoped so.

***

Charlie Swan coming to the bakery became a daily habit. It pleased you not only because you were proud to have such a loyal customer, but also because the man was handsome and very nice, despite his usual awkward demeanor. He’d be one of the first people to come in, or the first if he had to go to the station early. You always savored the small talk you shared with him, silently begging for no one to come in when he talked because then he’d stay a little longer, no matter how many times he said that he should really be going.

You were really starting to like Charlie Swan, both as a friend and something more. Of course, you kept that part to yourself.

“Black coffee and a bagel.” It was more of a statement than a question as Charlie opened the door. He ordered the same thing every day; honestly, you admired his consistency.

“Yup.” He responded, pulling out his wallet before he even reached the counter. “Oh, by the way, I was wondering if you did like, deliveries? Or something like that?”

“Depends.” You answer. “I do catering and delivery for parties and stuff.”

“Ah,” Charlie clicked his tongue, seeming a little disappointed. “Was just wondering because I’ve been having to work a lot of late nights with all those bear attacks.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a bit about those,” you sighed. “Poor people.”

“Yeah, I know. And anyways, if I’m being honest, your coffee’s better than the stuff we have at the station. But I get it if you don’t do that sort of thing.”

“I can do it!” You decide before even thinking about it. But when you gave it some thought, you remembered that you were the boss. If you went while one of your employees was working, they could surely hold down the fort for the ten minutes you’d be gone. “I, um, I can do that for you.”

“Really?” Although his expression didn’t change much, you could tell that Charlie’s eyes were lighting up. He must’ve really loved your coffee.

“Yeah! Perks of being your own boss.” You laugh, grabbing a piece of paper and writing down your number. “We don’t have a phone for the bakery yet; I just keep forgetting to do that. So this is my number.” You slid the paper over to Charlie, who grabbed it without letting his eyes leave you. “Just call me, and it’ll probably take me five to ten minutes to get to the station. We close at nine, but I stay way later than that most nights, so feel free to call whenever.”

Charlie pocketed the piece of paper like it was a precious item he didn’t want to get wrinkled or crumpled. 

“I’ll do that,” he said, reaching for his breakfast. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

“See you later, Charlie.” You watched him leave, and once he was out the door, you finally realized that you had just unabashedly given the cute Chief of Police your phone number. Telling him to call you anytime. 

And he did. At around eight that night, you got a call from an unknown number, and a somewhat groggy Charlie was speaking on the other end.

“Y/n?” He asked, as if he was unsure whether or not you had actually given him your number.

“Hey, Charlie!” you responded, clearly more awake than him. “Need a coffee?”

“Please.” He sounded desperate, and you were a bit embarrassed by the fact that his tone needed you to take a moment to recompose yourself. The way he said it was a bit whiny, but his voice was husky, probably from his tiredness. A long sigh came from the phone. “I feel like I’m going crazy over here.”

“Then I’ll be over soon.” 

You and Charlie said quick goodbyes to each other, and you went to the counter to make his coffee. You told Maddie, who was working the closing shift with you, that you’d be back soon, but she could lock up without you if needed. Then you were on your way to the police station.

The parking lot was empty except for one cruiser, which you guessed was Charlie’s. Walking into the building to find it empty and dark, aside from an office at the far end, confirmed your suspicions.

“Delivery for Chief Swan.” You say, knocking on his office door, which was cracked open the slightest bit. Charlie looked up at you from his desk, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your presence had awakened him from an unplanned nap. His dark curly locks were a tousled mess, probably the result of his hands constantly running through them, and his eyelids seemed heavy.

“My savior,” Charlie grumbled, sitting up the slightest bit and reaching for the large cup. You stood in silence as you watched him gulp down the hot liquid, wondering how he didn’t immediately stop in pain. You guessed that his fatigue made him immune somehow, or less caring about burning his throat. “Good stuff.”

“Maybe instead of drinking it and scalding yourself, you should head home?” You suggested with a small laugh.

“Too much to do,” Charlie said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Too much going on for me to stop.”

“Well, it’s better to stop before you reach your limit, or you might be stopping for good.”

Charlie thought about what you said with a slight hum. His half-lidded eyes scanned his messy desk, cluttered with reports and other papers. To be completely honest, he was starting to doze off a little by the time you came, and words were starting to jumble together when he tried to read. 

“M’kay.” He sighed, taking another sip of coffee, this time wincing a bit at the heat. “You got a point there.” 

You watched as Charlie somewhat sluggishly got ready to leave. He threw on his jacket and turned off the lights, gesturing for you to leave the office first. When you got to the station’s front entrance, he held the door open for you.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He said after walking you to your car. “And drive safe.”

“Anytime,” you respond, opening the door and getting in the driver’s seat. “And the same goes for you.”

Charlie smiled, patting the top of your car as a farewell before walking over to his cruiser. Although he had turned on his car before you, he didn’t start driving until you left the parking lot.

***

A few months later, you were at your absolute busiest. Graduation was just around the corner, and almost every senior’s parent in Forks called asking if you could cater or do pick up orders for graduation parties. Although it meant your business would be booming for a while, you were slowly losing your sanity.

“Just a second!” You yelled from the back room after hearing the bell above the door ring. Carefully, you slid a large tray filled with cupcakes into one of your fridges and closed the door.

“Take your time!” Charlie yelled back, making you want to be as quick as possible. You wiped your hands on your apron and ran to the front, where Charlie greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/n. You busy?”

“Always am,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. “But I always have time for you, Charlie. Black coffee and a bagel?”

“You know me so well.” Charlie watched as you moved around, making his hot drink and picking out a bagel from the stack you had made this morning. “How are things?”

“Hectic.” You answer, rising from your crouched position to bag up the bagel. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Almost every parent has been ordering at least seventy-five cupcakes for their kids’ graduation parties, and there’s at least three parties happening every week.” You grabbed Charlie’s coffee, putting a lid on the cup before handing it to him. Despite it being scalding hot, he took a sip while he listened. “I’m grateful, obviously, but if I have to frost another cupcake, I think I’m gonna get carpal tunnel.”

“I forgot graduation parties were a thing,” Charlie said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know if Bella would want one, though; she kind of hates being the center of attention.”

“Well, if she decides to have one, you know who to call for the baked goods.” You say with a smile, taking Charlie’s cash and watching him put the change in the tip jar. You loved the familiarity and routine that you had with Charlie. Every day, he ordered the same thing without fail, asked how you were doing, used a bill that was anywhere between a few dollars more to over twice the amount needed, and put the change he got into your decorated tip jar. 

“I’ll ask her about it.” To most, it looked like Charlie was wearing a straight face. But you could tell that there was a slight upward curve to his lip. “Kinda hoping she says yes. I think it’d be fun.”

“Have a good day, Charlie.”

“Have a good day, Y/n.”

Later in the day, the bakery was crowded. School had just gotten out, and most of the kids came for a little pick-me-up, whether it was some kind of caffeinated drink or a sweet treat. Plus, some parents came by to pick up their party orders.

You didn’t expect to see Charlie in the crowd today, accompanied by a girl who seemed around high school age. You assumed that this was Bella, his daughter.

“Hey, Y/n.” Charlie greeted you once they reached the counter. “Place is packed.”

“Yup! I think finals are just around the corner, so these kids need all the help they can get.” You looked over at the young girl who stood next to Charlie. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yeah. Y/n, this is Bella. Bella, this is Y/n.” You greeted each other before Charlie spoke again. “I asked Bella about the whole graduation party thing, and she said it sounded like fun. So I decided to meet her here on my break so we could set up an order.”

“Awesome!” You grinned, grabbing an order form. Usually, you would be slightly dying on the inside if someone was making an order like this. But there seemed to be something about Charlie that diffused any annoyance or dread you would normally feel. “So, what were you thinking? Cupcakes?”

“Actually, we were thinking of a cake.” This answer made you perk up. Bella nodded, confirming the decision, which you quickly jotted down. While the three of you talked, Charlie’s radio on his shoulder sounded. “I gotta take this, I’ll be right back. Bells, just tell Y/n what you want, and I’ll pay for it. And if you want a drink or something, go ahead and order. Oh! Could I get a-”

“Black coffee?” You finished, giving Charlie a knowing smile. His usually pale cheeks seemed to turn pink, but you just chalked it up to the slightly warm and crowded room. “Of course, now go take your call.”

You waved Charlie away, who fought against the small crowd of students to get out of the building. You asked two of your employees to get on the register and start taking orders before turning back to Bella. As you wrote down what she wanted, she spoke somewhat timidly, as if she was saying something that was supposed to be a secret.

“He talks about you sometimes.” You looked at her with slight confusion. “My dad.”

“Oh?” Your heartbeat quickened at the information. It surprised you that Charlie thought of you outside of the bakery, let alone talked about you. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, trying to keep more from spilling. But it didn’t work. “Half of the time, he’s raving about your coffee.”

“It’s just black coffee,” you said with a shrug, flipping the pen around with your fingers to release your giddy energy.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who makes it. And the other half of the time, he’s talking about how nice you are.”

“He thinks I’m nice?” You were glad your employees were taking care of the other customers because you were now completely distracted from the task at hand. Bella nodded, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well, I think he’s nice, too.”

“Who’s nice?” You and Bella jumped at Charlie’s surprise return.

“Uhh, no one.” You brushed off, quickly filling out the rest of the paper before turning it around and handing Charlie your pen. “Sign here, and we can get started on the order. Oh, did you want to do pick up or delivery?”

“Delivery,” Bella answered before Charlie could, eyes darting from you to her father. Neither of you opposed, so when you got the paper back, you marked the delivery option.

“Delivery it is.” You said, putting your pen in one of your apron pockets. “Charlie, I’ll get you your coffee. Bella, did you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” You nodded and quickly made a large black coffee. After checking them out and Charlie putting his change in the jar, you waved goodbye to the two Swans. “See you next week, Bella. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie?”

“Of course.” He said with a smile before guiding Bella out of the shop.

You couldn’t wait to see Charlie Swan again.

***

A week later, you loaded Bella’s finished graduation cake into your car. After telling Maddie you’d be back soon, you got in the driver’s seat and drove to the Swan house. Everyone knew where everyone was in this town, but you still had your eyes glued to your map when they weren’t on the road, too scared to miss a turn. 

Soon, you pulled up to a white two-story house. You were confident that it was Charlie’s place when you saw his police cruiser and a red truck, which must have been Bella’s. There were a few cars scattered up and down the street, but you found a free spot right in front of the cop car. When you got out and grabbed the two-tiered cake, Charlie emerged from the front door.

“Y/n! You made it!” He jogged over to you as you closed the car door with a swing of your hip. “Here, lemme get that for ya.”

“You’re sweet, Charlie.” You carefully handed the cake to him and followed him inside. The place seemed to be packed with teens and their parents. Some stood out, and you knew exactly who they were from their pale complexions and beautiful features.

“Did you wanna stay for a bit?” Charlie asked as he set the cake down on a table. He scratched the back of his head, growing a bit shy. “You, uhh, you could taste your masterpiece. Mingle and stuff.”

“I should probably be getting back to the bakery…” You looked down at your watch. You supposed you could spare a few minutes. After all, you were the boss. Maddie was responsible; she would call you if she had any problems. “Well, I think I could stay a few minutes.”

“Great.” Charlie put on a large grin, one that you had probably never seen before. But it suited him nicely. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Charlie laid a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the small crowd. You already knew most of the people here, either regulars of yours or having recently become well acquainted with them because of delivery or pick-up orders. But then Charlie took you to a small group of people that you don’t remember every meeting, but you knew of them well.

“Y/n, these are the Cullens.” Charlie introduced. “Doctor Carlisle, his wife Esme, Bella’s boyfriend Edward, and his sister Alice.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You said kindly, shaking each hand that reached out to you. Their hands were cold, but that didn’t bother you. It was actually a bit refreshing after having your hands in and out of ovens for the past few weeks.

“Y/n made Bella’s cake,” Charlie said, proudly pointing to your creation on the table. “She owns Bear Claw Bakery. She’s… pretty amazing, at what she does.”

“I see that,” Carlisle said, looking at the cake. “Amazing detail, I bet it looks even better up close. You’re quite talented.”

“All you need is a steady hand.” You said, not used to compliments or attention like this. 

“Well, I know a thing or two about that,” Carlisle said with a laugh. You laughed along, and you couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s hand move to wrap more around your waist.

“Thank you for making Bella’s cake,” Edward said, his voice cool and even. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“She will,” Alice said with finality, as if she had already seen Bella’s reaction to the cake.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but lean slightly into Charlie; he was just so warm and comfortable. He seemed a bit surprised but didn’t reject your actions. Instead, he welcomed them with a squeeze on your waist. “I was happy to do it, really.”

“Do you want a drink?” Charlie asked, leaning close to you to ask.

“Sure.” As Charlie guided you to the kitchen, you looked over your shoulder at the Cullens. “It was nice to meet you!” They all gave similar and polite responses. And then they were out of view, and you and Charlie were alone in the kitchen.

For a while, you and Charlie stayed in the kitchen, watching people pass by to talk to others or get a refreshment. This was the first time you were around Charlie in a non-professional environment. You were both nervous and ecstatic.

“So, how’d you get into, uh, baking and stuff?” Charlie asked, taking a swig of his beer. You took a sip of your Coke before responding.

“My mom, I think. Every birthday or special occasion, she always insisted on making a giant cake or cupcakes or whatever, instead of buying it from the store. I liked to help her, mainly because she’d let me eat the leftover frosting and pour the batter in the pan.” You leaned on the counter, smiling fondly at the memories that ran through your head. “Even when you’re by yourself, I think it’s really special. I dunno, that’s kind of a sappy answer, but-”

“No, no.” Charlie shook his head before smiling at you. “I think that’s really sweet.”

After a brief moment of eye contact, you both took a sip of your drinks, lifting them to your lips and setting them down simultaneously.

“Are you doing anything this Saturday?” The question surprised you and Charlie, even though Charlie had asked it. But he didn’t take it back. Instead, he waited for a response while anxiously tapping his fingers against his beer bottle.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Charlie’s fingers smoothed over his mustache, which you had noticed to be a habit of his when he was thinking. “I’ve never really baked before, I think. And you make it sound like a lot of fun. So… I dunno, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over or something, and we could make something?”

“I’d love to.” You said, butterflies filling your stomach. 

“Really?” Charlie seemed relieved by your answer, and you nodded swiftly to solidify it. “Great! Maybe this time, I can make you a coffee.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You took a sip of your Coke to contain your growing smile, but it didn’t help much. Your giddiness was infectious, Charlie feeling the exact excitement you were.

***

When Saturday came, you had an extra pep in your step. You made sure to put a slight bit more effort into your appearance before you left. You knew you didn’t have to impress Charlie in any way, but this felt like a sort of milestone. You were going to spend time with him outside of work, doing one of your favorite activities together.

“Bella’s out with Edward,” Charlie said as he let you into the house. “So we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me.” You responded, setting your bag on the kitchen counter and pulling out a recipe card.

“So, what are we making?” He asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together as he looked over your shoulder.

“Black Forest gâteau.” You answered, looking down at the card and then up at Charlie. He seemed slightly confused, but looked like he didn’t want you to know he was confused. You laughed lightly. “Basically, a chocolate cake with cherry filling.”

“Ah.” Charlie nodded in understanding. “Sounds delicious.”

While you started taking ingredients out of your bag, Charlie made a pot of coffee for the both of you. After pouring himself a plain black coffee, he asked you what you wanted in yours. When he was finished, he handed you the warm mug, and you both simultaneously took a sip. You sighed in delight.

“Delicious.” You said, giving him a wink before turning back to your ingredients. Charlie took another gulp of coffee to hide his flusteredness before moving to stand next to you.

You guided Charlie through the recipe, working together to measure ingredients and mix them. While pouring the batter into a few cake pans, you made light conversation about your days since Bella’s party. After the pans were put in the oven to bake, you made the cherry filling to put between the layers. 

“This is really nice.” You said, slowly dropping down to sit in front of the oven to watch the cake layers bake for the next few minutes. Charlie dried his hands and walked over to you, looking down at you curiously. “Thanks for having me over.”

Charlie crouched next to you and sighed, probably because he wasn’t used to sitting on the floor. He mirrored your position, legs crisscrossed and elbows resting on his knees.

“No problem.” 

The two of you watched the cakes slowly rise through the small oven window. Basking in the quiet and comfortable moment, you couldn’t help but lean over and rest your head on Charlie’s shoulder. 

“This is really nice.” You repeated, albeit quieter, even though there was no need to whisper. Charlie’s head tilted to rest on yours, lifting his bent right leg and planting his foot on the floor to be more comfortable.

“Yeah…” Charlie’s hand drifted towards yours, and in a moment of bravery, you grabbed it and intertwined his fingers with yours. “It is.”

***

Over the next two months, you and Charlie grew closer than you ever thought possible. He still came to the bakery every day for his coffee and bagel. But almost every weekend, you’d go to each other’s house to make some kind of treat, and Charlie always insisted on making coffee for both of you. 

Getting closer to Charlie meant you also got closer to Bella. She was a bit reserved, spending most of her time with her boyfriend and his family. But you were able to make conversation with her whenever you were both at the Swan house. It was usually only a few minutes, the sweet spot where you had arrived and Bella was about to leave. But it was special to you.

You were a bit shocked when you found out that Bella and Edward were getting married in August, just under two months after they had graduated high school. Bella hadn’t even turned nineteen yet. But you knew love when you saw it, and it wasn’t like you had a say on the matter. Bella was grateful, however, for you being able to calm Charlie down when he found out about it.

When she told you she was getting married, Bella asked if you could make the wedding cake. You didn’t even think before saying yes, feeling honored that she wanted you to do it. After some talking, you both decided on a green triple-tiered cake covered in fondant flowers to resemble a meadow.

“You did amazing.” Charlie had snuck up behind you during the reception, the two of you looking at the cake you had worked so hard on.

“Thank you, bear.” You don’t really remember how Charlie’s nickname came about, but it fit him so well that you started to refer to him with the nickname more than his real name. Although you weren’t together, it was said with all the affection and love you held for him.

Music echoed throughout the Cullens’s backyard, where the wedding and reception were held. It was a beautiful forest, lit by fairy lights strung around tall trees. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Charlie asked timidly, looking at the dancefloor littered with people for a moment before returning to you. “I mean, I’m not much of a dancer. But if you want to, I-”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the crowd.

Despite saying he wasn’t a dancer, Charlie moved well. He kept one of your hands in a gentle grip while his other was planted firmly on your waist, radiating warmth. As you listened to the music, you rested your head on his chest, sighing contently. 

“I love you, Charlie Swan,” you said softly, too relaxed and in the moment to keep your filter. You felt Charlie stiffen under you briefly before he, too, relaxed. He held your hand tighter, keeping it to his chest.

“I love you too, Y/n L/n.” You lifted your head just enough to look at him. The soft look he gave you made you weak at the knees, but you found the strength to reach up to kiss him. 

“Alice,” Bella said softly to her new sister-in-law, the two girls watching you and Charlie closely, unbeknownst to you. “Do you think this’ll last? Them, I mean.”

Alice turned to Bella and smiled before looking back at the two of you. You broke apart from the kiss and continued to dance.

“I’ve had the same vision of them since I met Y/n. They get to grow old together.”

“So Charlie will be happy? And Y/n?” Alice placed a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, knowing why she was asking these questions. The Cullens knew what Bella wanted, and Bella knew it would probably kill Charlie when she got what she had been chasing after for so long.

“The happiest. Whatever it is they have, it’s special. You won’t have to worry about either of them.”

Bella sighed in relief, patting Alice’s hand.

“Thanks.”

[casimirlovescoffee]

Hello, may I request an Alucard x Succubus Reader, where he allows the reader to feed on him?

Feeding on him (GN Succubus Reader)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI, NSFW)

Tags: NSFW, Oral Sex, Anal fingering, Nipple Play

A/N: Heyo Anon, I made this GN Reader as you did not state a specific gender. I hope that is okay. I also apologize that it took me so long to write. As always, enjoy!

-Alucard and you have been involved with each other since a while now. You were fully aware that he was a Dhampire and he was fully aware that you were a Succubus.

-The two of you ate human food as both of you were able to. But he often noticed how, no matter how much you ate, it often left you still looking hungry. You always said you were okay and full when he offered you more food after noticing it, to a point where he figured that you were hungry for something else.

-So one day when you said no to a second portion of food, he offered himself as your second portion of food, which caused you to almost choke on the sip of wine that you had just taken. You looked at him with a mixture of shock and surprise. Surely, he was not serious?

-Except he was, which was not verbally said by him, but it became clear when he sat down onto your lap and leaned in to give you a deep, filthy kiss. When he leaned back from the kiss and looked at you, his eyes half lidded and his lips kiss swollen. He panted a bit and licked over his bottom lips slowly then, before finally speaking up again.

-“Feed on me.” He said in a voice that showed that he was both serious and also already a bit aroused.

-And holy shit, that was quite attractive!

-It wasn’t like you two had never been intimate before. It was just that you had never feed on his pleasure before. Not because you didn’t want to, more so because you would never do so without asking first. Somehow, asking him was something that you were always too shy to do. But now he actively asked you. And who were you to deny him now?

-You had no choice but to pull his head into another deep kiss, moving your plate out of the way so you could stand up and lay him down onto the table carefully. Alucard blushed a bit as he now laid on the dining table, his face turning an even deeper shade of red when you slowly undressed him until he laid there all naked.

-“What a lovely feast~” You cooed and then leaned down to suck on one of his nipples, one of your hands rubbing his other nipple.

-You were instantly rewarded with sweet and delicious moans, both of his nipples slowly hardening as you toyed with them, before you kissed your way down his chest and stomach, leaving a few bite marks here and there.

-Once you reached his cock, you got on your knees and kissed the tip before slowly taking it into your mouth. You were grateful that you didn’t have a gag reflex as you were able to take his cock down your throat, deepthroating him and feeding on his pleasure, his moans getting louder and louder.

-You decided to add your fingers after a while. You pulled off of his cock, and then licked over your fingers slowly, coating them in your saliva.

-“What are you- Oh! Oh~” Alucard was about to ask you what you were doing but cut himself off with a moan when you slid two fingers into his ass slowly, rubbing his insides. Your mouth found his cock again and you sucked on it while fingering him.

-You instantly noticed how his pleasure tasted even better now and after slowly fucking him with your fingers, you were soon able to find his prostate. You thrusted your fingers against it, sucking on his cock hard and he arched his back, cumming a lot into your mouth while his back arched off of the table.

-Once you stood up, you leaned down to peck his lips and then smiled.

-“That was delicious, my love. I hope you let me feed more often~” You cooed and Alucard nodded quickly, looking eager.

[bunniesanddeer]

I really really LOVE the Touch chapters with Alastor. You write it so well! Although you have a fic on touch now already I was wondering if I could request something similar?

Persoanlly I think I'd be a really affectionate and touchy person but I simply cannot initiate touch without knowing where to touch, how long, how much pressure and so on. And asking people before hand makes them really confused and tbh I hate having to explain myself and sound needy about it. Idk if it's just me having some weird thing going on.

Anyways, would you consider writing Al with a reader that just got to the hotel and is very straight forward with people about their fear of initiating physical contact during times where reader knows someone would appreciate a hug or pat or any kind of physical contact but reader can't give it them before clearing just how hey want the touch to be.

So Alastor notices that reader acts very affectionate in moments with people who initiate touch (cuddles with Angel on the couch, does Charlie's hair). But at the same time he notices that they shy away and sometimes flinch away when reader touches someone by accident (handing someone something and their hands brush, etc) and apologizes as if they had just burned them.

He goes to figure out why that is and kind of challenges reader to touch him (after him consenting of course) whenever because the struggle and fear amuses him plenty but somewhere deep down he wants them to grow comfortable and confident since that is how their personality is over all and it suits them way better than the cowardly insecure overthinking reader who is too scared to ask for a hug on an especially bad day, even when it could literally save their afterlife.

Just fluff and more physical affection and soft Alastor

You don't have to though! We have already been blessed with some amazing works by you

Would appreciate it to the moon and back if you would take this request (or add another part to your Touch chapters because I am a girl OBSSESSED and starved, hungry for more lol)

Thank you sooooo much for reading and I hope you have a lovely weekend!!!!! <3

Hi! I hope this is something like what you wanted? I had fun writing this. Sorry it took me a little while, haha.

Challenge

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: Fluff, touch sensitive reader/Alastor, slightest tinge of angst

Word Count: 2,839

When you had come to the hotel, Alastor was sure you weren’t going to last long. You avoided eye-contact with others, and your hands constantly fidgeted. You shifted on your feet, and rocked back on your heels constantly. Even when standing in one place, you couldn’t seem to be still. You seemed shifty, and he was sure you would pull something, and he would have to remove you. Alas, he was wrong. You stuck around, even if your weird tendencies only got weirder.

In the several weeks you had been residing in the hotel, not once had you initiated contact with anyone, not that he had seen. Alastor was sure you didn’t like it, until he saw Angel pick you up like a stuffed animal, and make you cuddle with him while watching the television. You had melted into the embrace, nuzzling against the soft fur of Angel’s upper shoulders. So Alastor needed to keep watching, and come up with a new explanation for your behavior.

At some point, Charlie had begged to ‘play’ with your long hair, so the two of you ended up dragging everyone into the sitting room for an impromptu ‘spa’ day. Charlie sat behind you, you were nearly in her lap, braiding one section of hair, and Vaggie was painting your claws. Angel was brushing out Husker’s fur. Niffty and Sir Pentious were talking and looking at the make up laid out across the coffee table. Alastor merely watched, amused by the group's antics every once in a while. 

He watched the way your eyes fluttered when you were embraced by the girls, and the way you seemed so at ease. Nothing seemed particularly amiss. He wondered if you hadn’t been comfortable yet, and had nearly settled with that. That was, until Angel came home, nearly in tears, one day.

“Fuck!” Angel yelled, tossing his phone harshly. It was rare for Angel Dust to have such an outward burst of anger. He always put on a show of being satisfied with his work, even when he clearly wasn’t. When Angel had settled on one of the couches, his face collapsed into his hands. “I’m so fucking tired of Val…”

Angel mumbled to himself as you entered the lobby. You glanced at Angel, and then his shattered phone. You frowned, your soft features looking nearly angry, and then picked up his phone, and made your way to him. Alastor watched from the bar, interested to see how this interaction went.

“Hey, Angie. I uh, I got your phone,” you said quietly. You sat off to the side of the couch, looking out of place, and uncomfortable. 

Angel mumbled something back, and your frown grew more severe. “I uh,” your voice trailed off, and your eyes started darting around. “Do you - do you want, like, a hug? I don’t really know what you need right now, I’m sorry.”

Alastor watches as Angel turns his head and whispers something to you. He doesn’t seem confused, not like Alastor is. He is clearly missing something. His eyes narrow, and he watches as you crawl up on the couch and awkwardly settle yourself against Angel’s side. 

How bizarre! How could you possibly not know what he needed? You were a very empathetic person, always looking out for others, and you liked being held, clearly, so how would you lack this kind of knowledge.

Alastor decides to confront you about it, at a later time. He needed to know everything about this. Perhaps it would be useful!

The next day, Alastor decides to try and get you to touch him, and then go from there. (It had been a little while since he had decided to ‘wing’ something like this. How exciting! You weren’t a bore at all!) His best bet would be to invite you to assist him for the day, so he invites you to when you’re heading down the stairs that morning.

“Ah! Just the woman I was looking for! How are you this morning, dearest?” He settles his hand on the banister, near where yours is resting, and waits.

“Oh! Good morning Alastor. I’m doing okay. What is it you needed me for?” Your smile is gentle and your demeanor open, even if you can’t keep eye-contact. 

“I was wondering if you would like to assist me today? We haven’t had much ‘bonding’ time as you and the others! I was hoping to rectify that,” he responds. He keeps his normal flair and watches you giggle at him.

“Of course, Al. It’s not like I had much going on today.” You pull back from the banister and twist to look at him better. “What do you have in mind?”

Alastor merely nods, and starts leading you down to the kitchen. “I was thinking you could assist me with breakfast, and then we can do some minor paperwork! We’ll decide what to do after that.”

You happily agree, and trail after him, leaving just enough space so you can’t ump into him. 

“We are going to make french-toast, fried green tomatoes, and ham. Should be simple enough, dear!” He snaps, and the two of you are wearing aprons. You let out a surprised laugh, and smile up at him.

“I will never get over how cool that is!” 

He waves you off, and starts pulling things out of the cabinets. He hands each one to you, waiting for you to make contact. 

Then it happens.

You jerk your hand back so fast that the whisk he’d been handing to you falls to the floor with a clatter. Your whole body seems to shrink in on yourself, and your expression collapses.

“Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You start rambling apologies, and it makes Alastor’s head cock to the side.

“Why are you sorry, dear?” His voice lilts with just the slightest amount of amusement, but you don’t seem to catch on to it. 

“I- I touched you! I’m sorry! I don’t know how to do it appropriately, and I’m sorry! You have more boundaries than the others and I just-” Your rambling starts to annoy him, just the slightest bit, and his eyes narrow.

“I would tell you, if I had a problem with it,” he starts. “You don’t normally have a problem. Why is it a problem now?”

You frown, harshly. It is the first time he has seen such a negative emotion on your face. (Something in him is unsettled at the sight. He ignores it, as he often does). “What do you mean? That’s not the same!”

Alastor is now genuinely confused. It is absolutely the same! How could it not be?

You seem to catch onto his confusion, and a small growl rips from your throat in frustration. “I’m okay with people touching me first, because that’s initiating contact, and they lead the whole time. It’s easier to understand what people want, and where it is okay to touch, based on how they feel, and how they are touching me. But, but when I do it first, it’s hard to know what’s okay! I don’t have someone to mimic, and it’s- it’s hard!” Your face contorts further, and you’re palpably angry. 

“All these social rules, and stuff can be so hard sometimes! It’s easier to just not do it! How can I hurt anyone if I don’t give myself the opportunity, you know?” You sigh, and drop your upper body on the kitchen island’s counter. “It sucks,” you say, your voice muffled by the counter.

Alastor feels a modicum of sympathy. You nearly have the exact opposite problem to him. You want to touch other, craving that closeness, but don’t know how to go about it. He would rather go without it, but knows exactly how to use touch on others, especially to get what he wants.

His mind whirls with thoughts of how pathetic you seem like this. You are normally so confident! Why let this silly worry prevent you from being the best you can be? His thoughts settle on a plan before he can really acknowledge it. 

“Alright then, dearest!” Alastor smacks the counter, drawing your attention. “I have an idea. A challenge, if you will. To help you get over this silly fear of yours, I challenge you to this; you must touch me every day, at least once. Each touch must be a different kind than the last, and it can’t be for the same reason.” Alastor tilts his head at you, waiting for you to take the bait.  “You are allowed to do it without asking, and it can be as big or small as you are comfortable with, but you need to do it. If you can do this, to the point where you are comfortable hugging the others without worrying about “hurting” them, then you win.”

Your head pops up from the counter, and you narrow your eyes at him. “What do I win?”

Alastor feels his grin widen. Yes, you would be fun to play with. “A small favor. Something simple. And confidence. It’s a shame that you are being held back by something so simple!”

You huff, but nod your head. “Fine. I touch you, once a day, unsolicited, and it’s gotta be different each time, or something like that. I win when I can hug everyone else without being touched first.”

“There’s my girl,” he says, watching your whole body stiffen in response. He laughs, and picks up the whisk from the floor. “Let’s continue with breakfast, yes?”

The first time you touch him is during a “movie night” that Charlie sets up the next day. She demanded Alastor participate, despite his well known hatred of television, and everything to do with that technology. You had silently approached him as the group set up pillows and blankets on the floor around the TV, and against the couches. The two of you watched idly, before you spoke up.

“Can I sit with you,” you asked softly. 

“Of course, dear! Good company might make this terrible idea more… palatable,” Alastor grumbled. You smile at him, and laugh a little. 

“Oh, the horror. Sitting with your friends, and relaxing,” you respond, tilting your head at him. His static surges for a moment, but he says nothing in response. You laugh again, although he’s not quite sure why.

When the group finally gets settled in for the movie, and the lights are turned off, he watches you shift about in your seat. Your eyes dart around the room, and your hands fidget. It takes a few minutes, the intro to the movie already going, for you to finally look at him. You scoot closer to him, more than halfway across the couch. You wait another moment, and Alastor’s eyes don’t move from your form. He just watches you fidget with amusement. Finally, you speak up, barely a whisper.

“Hey, can- can I lean on you?” You are so hesitant, and it makes his eyebrows furrow, just the slightest. 

“Of course, dear,” he whispers back, his static barely a murmur. Your body slackens, all the tension drawn out. 

“Oh, good,” you mumble, pressing your small form against his side. It takes a few moments, but then you are completely calm against him, head pressed into his arm, your hands against his waist, and knees curled up under you and tucked against his thigh. You mumble something about him being warm, and all Alastor can do is agree. 

You are so very warm, and it has him almost anxious. He isn’t sure what about, as the room is calm, and the silly animated picture-show is easily ignored. You are so very warm, and he can feel each breath your body breathes in. He can nearly hear the soft pound of your heartbeat, even over the picture-show. His nose twitches at your scent. He will have to take a far-too hot bath later to remove it. It’s fine, though. It’s all part of the game. 

Alastor ignores that you’ve fallen asleep on him. It’s for the best.

The next day, you offer him a “fist-bump”, which he doesn’t understand. You laugh, and explain the gesture, and show him how it looks.

“You do it when you did something cool, or when you’re having fun with your friends.” You smile at him and constantly gesture with your hands while you talk. It keeps his attention quite easily. “Ah, here, let’s see if you understand. What was the last cool thing you did? It can be whatever.”

Alastor thinks over the last few days exploits, and shrugs. “I made a sinner cry by merely looking at him, this morning.” 

You go stock still before bursting out laughing. “Really? Oh my gosh. Seriously, fist-bump,” and you offer your knuckles. Alastor hesitantly returns the gesture, knocking your hands together. However clumsily it was done, it makes your smile wider. “Nice! Yeah, that’s exactly how you do it!”

If he tries the gesture on the others later on, he never tells you. Charlie got a kick out if, though. He refuses to tell her who told him about it. 

One day, you’re assisting Niffty cleaning, but can’t reach a spot way too high for either of you to get. Neither of you can find a ladder, and Alastor is watching with a far too delighted smile. When you spot him, you smile mischievously.

“Alastoorrrrr,” You call, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Come here. Please.”

He strides over, not letting his hesitance show. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“Can I get up on your shoulders? I need to be able to reach that spot with the duster.” You point up at where you need to dust. He looks over at it, and realizes you are definitely not getting  up there without help.

Alastor cocks his head at you, thinking over the logistics, and then nods. He kneels down, and feels you pull yourself onto his back, propping each leg over his shoulders. When you are still, hands gently around his neck, he stands up straight. He feels you wobble and then balance with a laugh. Your hands let go of him. He feels each breath and laugh and words from you gently vibrate his head with how close the two of you are. 

“I’m so tall! Hahah! This is great! I wish I was always this tall, haha!” You keep laughing, and readjust your duster, pointing at your destination. “Onwards, my steed!”

Alastor rolls his eyes at your antics, but obliges, standing closer to where you need to be. Niffty is squealing, and it’s making you laugh harder. Alastor joins in at some point, and then the three of you are running around the first floor of the hotel, terrorizing the others with your hijinks.

Alastor thinks, privately, that you make him laugh over the little things, something that he hasn’t done in a while. He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

It’s several weeks after the challenge had been initiated, that he finds you hiding in a side-closet. Alastor isn’t sure how he knew you would be there, but the discovery throws him. You’re crying. Nearly bawling your eyes out, and you look uncomfortable with the way your small body is curled into a tight ball, surrounded by cleaning supplies. 

“Oh, hey, Al,” you say, your voice rough. “How’d you find me?”

“Just needed to follow the sound of despair, apparently, my dear,” he responds without a thought. He nearly winces when his words process, and he shakes his head. “I’m not sure, dear. Whatever are you doing in there?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something upset me, but I can’t remember what.” Your voice trails off, and you look at where you have situated yourself. You huff, and pull yourself out with a grunt.

You dust off your knees, and the back of your pants, frowning. “Sorry you had to see that, haha.” You try to muster a smile, but Alastor sees right through it. “Right.”

Alastor simply watches as you shut the closet door, and try and calm yourself down. 

“Gosh, I feel dumb.” You frown at the ground, and sigh. “Alright. Can I have a hug?”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. Oh. You were finally ready to hug him. How interesting. 

“Of course, dear.” He opens his arms, not even bothering to check for others seeing the interaction. You rub your face, and then step between his arms. You wrap yourself around him, loose at first, and then you embrace him hard. His arms fall around you, and he pulls you in close. His head settles on top of yours. 

You are still so warm, and you smell wonderful; something comforting, something familiar. Your heart thrums against your ribs, and he can feel it pounding. His ears twitch at every soft sound. 

This is nice. Although there is still time, part of him mourns the day you are ready to win his challenge. He supposes he can enjoy each little bit of connection the two of you have, until then. 

Taglist: @numetalnerd2007 @girl-nahh-two Remember, you can be added to my taglist by replying to the tagged post on my page!

[intoanotherworld23]

Calling You Mine

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: just some swear words and mild kissing, someone getting punched

Summary: You haven’t seen Bradley Bradshaw since the two of you broke up, and you run into him at the Hard Deck

If you wish to be added to my Bradley Bradshaw/ Miles teller tag list please don’t hesitate to ask me so I can add you! Heart it! Reblog it! Enjoy it! XOXO

✨Please do not copy and paste my work or take credit for this without my permission or you will be reported✨

It has been too long since you've last been to the Hard Deck. Every memory you've ever had of this place went flashing across your eyes. Smiling to yourself at all the laughs and kisses you shared here.

Bradley Bradshaw was the love of your life and you loved him with every once of your being. The two of you grew up together, and had talk of plans to spend the rest of your lives with one another. The two of you even at one point talked about have little ones running around.

Every pilot always joked with you guys saying how head over heels you guys were. Your dad absolutely loved him and his mom loved you. It was like the two of you were made for each other. Nothing could break the two of you apart.

Frowning once images of him started showing up remembering this was the last place you saw him. This was where you had your big fight that ended your relationship with him. Not even remembering what the fight exactly was about.

It was the worst night of your life when you lost the love of your life. Constantly looking at your phone praying he was going to call or text you but it never happened. The pain was too much you moved to a completely different state.

Seeing him tonight would bring back all those horrible memories and thoughts you had or yourself. Blaming yourself every day for why he left you.

All you know is that you were hoping he wouldn't be here to remind you of everything. Walking inside the bar already seeing that it was filled with people. Almost every person here was in uniform wondering if they were going to be joining in the mission as well.

Seeing the familiar khaki uniforms over by the pool table. Instantly recognizing some of your fellow pilots Coyote, Fanboy, Phoenix, Bob, Payback and Hangman. If they were here surely they all got the same letter as you. They were all the best and they wanted the best.

Your eyes doing a quick glance around seeing if you could see that familiar mustache anywhere. Wherever he was you were surely going to avoid as along as possible. Which was probably going to be damn near impossible.

"He isn't here yet." Pennys voice called out when she noticed your figure standing by the bar looking around.

"Who?" Asking playing dumb damn well knowing she knew exactly.

"Please Y/N I know exactly who it is you're looking for." She scoffed as she grabbed you your drink placing it in front of you. "He usually comes in later than everybody else."

"Does he always come in?" You already knew the answer to that you still just wanted her to say it.

"All the time." She smiled at you and you couldn't help but smile back knowing he's always loved this place when you two were going out.

"It's good to have you back in here." She said as she cleaned out some dirty glasses. "Brings back good old memories."

Nodding your head as you took a sip of your drink avoiding the subject looking back over to your group of friends. Penny knew everything about the two of you, and how close you were with one another. You were like a daughter to her and she hated when he broke up with you how crumbled it left you.

"Do you think he'll be angry if he sees me?" Asking her as she stepped in front of you now placing a rag on her shoulder.

"No I don't think he will." She shook her head as she thought about it.

"Do you think he'll talk to me?" It was a question you didn't want answered but needed to hear something hopeful.

"Probably." Not liking that word or the way she said it. "Which means if he doesn't talk to you you'll just have to talk to him."

"I don't know if I can Penny." Shaking your head as you looked down at your hands on the bar top. "He hates me I know he does."

"Bradley does not hate you." Her voice stern as she gave you a certain look.

"I guess we'll see huh." Grabbing your drink and heading over to your friends not giving her a chance to respond.

Penny knew very well about what happened between you two, and always had hope both of you would make amends. She truly believed the two of you were perfect together, and always told you her feelings.

When you two broke up everyone left it alone, and knew it was a sensitive subject. Everything around you reminded you of him, and surely he was feeling the same. Laying in bed just staring at the ceiling wondering if he would ever speak to you again.

"Hey." A chorus of greetings rang out when they saw you approaching their table.

"Hi guys." Greeting back as you stood by Phoenix giving her a tight hug she was your best friend out of everyone.

"Well we can all go home everyone Y/C/S is here." Patting you on the back as you rolled your eyes at her.

"I'm here." Hangman pointing to himself which was responded with eye rolls.

"Oh shut up Hangman." Phoenix snorted out with a shake of her head. "Need remind you she graduated top of the class."

"Yeah and kicked your ass during training every time." Smirking when you saw it was getting to him as his jaw clenched.

"Not every time." Mumbling to himself as he picked up his pool stick lining up his shot.

"Yeah they only brought you here to make us all feel better." Snapping back making everyone break out into ahh's as they smacked him on the back.

"Ouch sweetheart you're as ruthless with that mouth as you are in the sky." Putting a hand over his chest trying to act like he was wounded.

"Yeah I agree I don't want you to kick my ass in the sky." Coyote joked reminding you the last time you flew together you blew him out of the sky with your skills. "Again."

"Not my fault you're scared of a girl." Shoving his shoulder everyone laughing.

"I'm not scared of a girl." Coyote pushed you back. "I'm scared of you."

"Yeah I don't ever want to face off with you in the sky." Fanboy agreed with Coyote looking over at him. "No offense."

"None taken." Crossing your arms over your stomach as you watched the boys playing pool.

"She doesn't scare me." Recognizing that voice instantly your entire body froze afraid to even turn around.

"Bradshaw as I live and breathe." Hangman smirked at the man getting his attention off you who you still couldn't turn around to face.

"Hangman." His voice stoic as he leaned up against a stool behind him not even acknowledging you. "You look...good."

"Oh I'm good Rooster I'm very good." The blonde haired man cockily said as he shot one of the balls into the pocket.

Feeling someone walk right next to you looking up to see Hangman standing there with a huge grin on his face. You knew exactly what he was about to do, and you just closed your eyes and prepared yourself for whatever was about to happen.

"Doesn't our Y/N here look absolutely stunning." Putting an arm around your shoulders as he moved your body to face towards Bradley. "God I wish you were mine."

Looking up timidly at Bradley whose eyes were now glued to yours. You couldn't tell what kind of emotions were going through his mind but you knew he wasn't happy with Hangman hovering over you like that. He was breathing heavily through his nose not trying to get angry since the two of you were broken up.

Hangman always like to flirt with you when everyone found out you and Bradley were going out. It made it his life's goal to mess with you and say things to piss him off. You could tell it was something that Bradley really didn't like, and he was close to punching Hangman in the face sometimes.

"She's all yours." Sneering through his teeth as he glared at you and Hangman who looked a little surprised at his lack of reaction.

Everyone was standing there awkwardly listening to what was going on. They tried to act like they were doing other things but they wanted to hear what was going on.

You gotta admit hearing Bradley's harsh words stung you. A tiny piece of your heart break at his lack of affection and feelings towards you. Turning your head away from him when you felt your throat start to close up, as you tried to keep yourself from getting too upset.

"I'm getting another refill." Mumbling as you moved Hangman's arm off you practically running back up to the bar.

Penny could see your flustered look and without even responding handed you another drink. Your hands gripped the counter as you tried to control your breathing. You didn't realize seeing him and how little he talked to you would upset you that much.

"He hates me Penny." You stated staring off into the distance not wanting to walk back to them. "He hates me."

"Y/N he doesn't hate you." She stood in front of you throwing a rag on her shoulder. "The two of you just need to talk."

"Penny he pretty much handed me over to Hangman." Throwing your hands up as she gave you a yikes look.

"I am sure he didn't mean it." She was trying her best to make you feel better but it wasn't helping anything.

"Think I should just go home." Feeling defeated as you looked over to Phoenix and Bradley talking.

"You can't go home Y/N." Her voice stern as she spoke not liking your answer. "Just talk to him."

"He won't listen to me." You argued back making her groan.

"You'll never know unless you try." Nodding behind you as you turned around to see Bradley walking straight to you. "Now might be your chance."

Turning back around to face her giving her a help me look but she just shrugged and continued her job. Standing there like a statue as you felt someone now standing next to you already knowing who it was.

"Y/N." Hearing his low voice calling your name felt good. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah what's up?" Trying to act cool like you had no idea what he wanted to even talk about, and he just scoffed at your reaction.

"Can we talk outside?" He asked again nodding his head towards the back deck where there was nobody.

Also noticing that everyone from your group was now standing there watching the two of you. Phoenix looking at you with a reassuring smile and giving you two thumbs up. Hangman looked bored by what was going on and continued to play pool.

"I guess." Sighing as you led the way through the many patrons and headed to the back deck was the noise already went down a few notches.

Wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold beach breeze smacked against your skin. Rocking back and forth on your feet as you avoided eye contact with him. As much as you wanted to look into his eyes if he was going to give a cold shoulder than so we're you.

It's been so long since you and Bradley have spoken and neither of you knew what to say to the other. It was like both of you had so much to say but you just couldn't find the right words to say it.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." He spoke first and you stopped moving as you looked up at him.

"For what?" Asking him with curiosity to what exactly he was talking about.

"For earlier." Clicking your tongue realizing it wasn't about what actually happened between you two. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine I'm already over it." Which was a complete lie and he knew that.

"You know I can tell when your lying Y/N." He had a tone of amusement behind his voice as he tried not to smile. "You've never been able to fool me."

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" Not bothering to respond to what he said watching as his smiled faded.

"No it's not." Shaking his head as he stepped a little closer to you. "I also wanted to apologize for how I ended things."

"The way I ended things with you was completely wrong and I had no right to do that without talking to you first." You could have sworn you were holding your breath the whole time.

"You're right you were a dick to me." Finding your voice as you snapped back at him. "Not even explain to me why you broke up with me."

"I'm sorry believe me I am I wish I could go back and do things all over again." Slowly leaning forward to press his forehead against yours.

Both of you standing there without exchanging any words and enjoying being with each other again. Smiling to yourself feeling like you finally got your Bradley back. It felt so good to have him touching you and holding you like this again. Not wanting him to let go of you in fear this was all a dream.

It was like you back in time before you broke up remembering how he would always just hold you like this. Sometimes he would even start dancing around the parking lot making you laugh as other stared at you like you two were crazy.

"Why did you break up with me?" You couldn't help but ask wanting to know his exact reason.

"I was just angry and I thought you were acting out on purpose." Now you were even more confused as to what he was talking about.

"What are you talking about?" Questions him as you scrunched your face up. "Whadda ya mean how I was acting out?"

"That night Hangman was all over you and you were flirting back and it really pissed me off." You we're about to respond when he put his hands up to let him finish. "I confronted Hangman to leave you alone."

"That's when he said you two dated before and were sleeping together." You swear your jaw dropped down to the floor in shock by what he was telling you and you didn't know whether to he disgusted or pissed off,

"Excuse me?" Screaming at Bradley as he looked at you nervously judging by your reaction it wasn't true. "That is further from the truth."

"I know I know I wasn't thinking clearly." Putting his hands up when he watched you walking back and forth trying to control your anger. "I should have talked to you but I just assumed it was true."

"Your damn right you should have talked to me first." Shaking your head at him as you scoffed. "I would have never ever dated Hangman let alone sleep with him."

"Seeing him touch you like that tonight brought back memories and I just got angry." He was sounding angry himself and beating himself up for letting you go like that.

"Wait a minute." You stopped him from talking as you thought back to what he just told you. "So Hangman told you specifically that we dated and were sleeping together?"

All Bradley did was nod at you and that was enough to send you sprinting back into Hard Deck looking for that cocky blonde asshole. Looking to see him still standing with everyone laughing and joking which only fueled your anger.

"Hey sweetheart decide to join us again?" Hangman smirked as he started walking towards you Bradley right behind you as you brought your hand back punching him square in the jaw.

"Oh shit." Bradley spoke as everyone in the bar stopped what they were doing to watch everything unfold.

Phoenix looked proud of you and wishes she could have done what you did. Some of the guys felt bad for him but knew it was a long time coming. It was just a matter of time before someone punched him even more so a woman.

Bradley looked at you like a proud father who wished he had been recording it so he could play it back over and over. Hands on his hips as he stood right behind you in case you wanted to keep going. The last thing he wanted was for the admiral to find out and kick you off this mission.

"You son of a bitch." Screaming at him as he grabbed his jaw moving it to make sure it wasn't broken. "You told Bradley we dated and slept together?"

"What?" Phoenix exclaimed as she looked at the three of you shocked and wanting answers.

"Didn't think he would actually believe it." Shrugging his shoulders as you started moving forward only to be grabbed by Bradley.

"Don't you ever say anything like that again or I swear to god I'll kill you." Pointing a finger at him in warning making him put his hands up in defense.

"Yes ma'am." Quickly nodding his head as everyone around him chuckled at how terrified he was of you.

"Let's go." Bradley whispered in your ear rubbing his hands up and down your arms pulling you away.

Walking out with Bradley behind you people cheered you on even Penny. Who lifting up a glass to you with a huge smile on her face making you laugh. It felt so good to do that and you didn't realize how much you wanted to do that until now.

"I gotta admit." Bradley spoke stopping you by grabbing onto your waist turning you to face him as he smirked at you. "That was pretty hot what you did."

"Thanks." Smiling up at him as he stared down at your lips and then back up to your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He timidly asked afraid you would say no and walk away.

"I thought you'd never ask." Wrapping your arms around his neck Bradley smiling showing off his teeth as he pulled you flush against him his lips on yours.

——————————————

Tag list for Miles Teller/Bradley Bradshaw: @mak-32 @florencediet @maverick-wingman @khaylin27 @angeeeelinx @allie131313 @phantomxoxo @katieshook02 @alanadetigy @bradleysgirl @acesofspadess @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @classyunknownlover @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @roosterforme @mushy-mushroom04 @rosiahills22 @pedrohoe04 @fandom-life-12 @noz4a2 @rossylightwood @itsdesiree86 @topgunbb @sexytholland @spaceygirly1 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @abaker74 @tallrock35 @ondina-granger @blackcatdhisgf @dreaminglandsworld @bangsterz @k-k0129 @roosterschanelslut @ishipit1420 @atarmychick007 @artemissunn @michaelaandthediamonds-blog @adoringsebstan @sydneejean @igotmajordaddyissues @m-rae23 @alana4610 @calsjack

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98

[headspacedad]

so you're ready to socialize

You've got your blog set up. You've posted or reblogged something. Your icon isn't a faceless orange shape. You're no longer in danger of being blocked on sight as a bot.

Now what?

I recently got an ask in my inbox for help with this whole 'tumblr' thing. The person that asked me had a lot of the basics down so I focused on expanding your social circle - except it took me so long to write that I saved it in my drafts to add to and only then found out that once its in your drafts you can't reply privately.

so - Imma post it here without the actual ask so if the person didn't want to be mentioned they won't. Let's go!

First off, doing what you're doing right now by sending me an ask is a great way to get the ball rolling. Reaching out to other people and engaging them is a big part of how you can build a circle on tumblr.

You can do that with inbox messages.

You can do that with DM/PMs (the box that pops up to the side where you can have real time text conversations).

You can do that by reblogging other people's posts and leaving notes in the tags commenting about the post (most posters read these, though they're more for your followers to get your thoughts on a matter, like whispering in a movie theater except without the dirty looks)

reblog their post and add your own comments in the body of the post, basically chaining a response to their post, usually used when you've got something that adds to the original post like a continuation of the joke or more facts, etc.

and you can comment on the posts via the little speech bubble next to the reblog button, which is kind of like replying personally to the post (interacting with the poster themselves).

Not everyone will automatically engage in response. Some people are just here to chill and don't want to be social (some days I know I don't have the brainpower for it). A lot of people do want to be social though and so the more you comment outward the higher your chances of finding other people you can jive with. A good way to make your chances better at finding someone that will back and forth with you is over shared interests. We're a very interest based site. So find something you're excited about - maybe its a hobby like knitting, maybe its a streaming series like Good Omens, maybe its hamsters, maybe its Elizabethan neck ruffs! Whatever it is that you're interested in punch the words that will get those kinds of results into tumblr's search bar and look at the posts that come up. I tend to search by 'newest' instead of 'most popular' because it guarantees me people that are currently interested in whatever I am, who are actively putting their posts out there for others to find. Often if you start reblogging someone's posts, they'll see it and check out your blog. If you really want interaction though, the best way to go is one of the above bullet points, especially inbox or speech bubble commenting. It shows you want to talk about something they want to talk about too. A lot of times this is a great way to get more interaction with others and widen your circle (as well as find new stuff about something you enjoy). It might be slow going, I still haven't figured out what the magic is that gets someone a blow up of followers overnight, especially not the all important holy grail of Interactive followers but slow and steady still builds a good group of people you can enjoy sharing things everyone's interested in and it keeps growing over time.

This also works in reverse. A good chunk of my followers (friends honestly) come from my days in the Voltron fandom. I was VERY active making posts while the show was airing. Lots of fanfiction, lots of meta, lots of speculation, just lots of being loud and excited (and then loud and not excited). A lot of other people were interested in VLD too at the time and they found me and bounced off my ideas with ideas of their own and things really ballooned. To this day, a huge hard core of my social group are ex-VLD fans who have moved on to other things (mostly) but still hang around because we built that core and we enjoy seeing what the others in the group have moved onto and found to share with the team. So, again, find your interests and make posts about them so that other people with the same interests can find you. The more popular something is the more attention its going to get - but also the easier it is to get lost in the shuffle of everyone talking about a thing. Not every post is going to get responses. Sometimes I'll post something I think people will enjoy and get crickets. Sometimes everyone and their cousin jumps onboard. Don't get discouraged. DO use the tags. tumblr sucks when it comes to finding things in the tags but its still worth doing because sometimes, randomly and with no pattern, it doesn't suck. The first five tags are the really important ones. Make sure you put the biggest details there. For instance if you're making a post about the One Piece live action from Netflix your first five tags should be something like: one piece, opla, netflix, zoro, swords are cool. You want people looking for One Piece posts about Zoro and his swords to be able to find you easily. And, once they find you, hopefully to engage you about Zoro and his swords.

There are a lot of ways to find other people to interact with on tumblr. One of the pleasures of the site is you get to take things, for the most part, at your own pace and level of comfort. Just remember, the more active you are interacting with other people and their posts, the wider your circle will grow. Its not a 100% success rate, like I said, a lot of people are just here to vibe after a long day of having to be socially 'on' all day, but a lot of people are happy to find other people to get to natter about interests with. Do what you're comfortable with and before you know it, you'll have a group of people that interact with your posts, and you, regularly!

[noforkingclue]

No Questions Asked (Laszlo Kreizler x reader) Chapter 20

Chapter warnings: mentions of character death

No Questions Asked tag list: @fandom-lover-4, @ajeff855, @booksarekindaneat, @greeneyedblondie44

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You didn’t know how long it had been since you had seen Laszlo, John or Sara but you didn’t particularly care. If they managed before you then they could manage without you. You had patients to deal with. There was still underlying tensions but people were desperate. Some even gave you cash so you knew that Alice had been spreading the message.

Still, it was a night like this that reminded you of the first night you met Laszlo and John. You sat, staring at your bed taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey. You grimaced at the rough taste and put the bottle to the side. You slowly staggered to your feet and muttered,

“Going to need more than new sheets this time.”

*

It was raining by the time you got the Laszlo’s. You were surprised that he opened the door and he took one looked at your slumped figure as he ushered you in. You practically collapsed onto the sofa and put your head in your hands.

“What happened?” Laszlo asked eventually

“Why do you care?”

“You disappeared for weeks and then you turn up on my doorstep. In the middle of the night while it’s raining,” you could practically hear the faint smile in his voice, “I am curious.”

“I killed a man.”

A thick silence fell between you. You peaked at Laszlo through your fingers. His back was turned to you but you could see him tense.

“What do you mean?” he asked

“I let a man die.”

“You let him die or you killed him?”

“It adds up to the same thing.”

A glass of whiskey was handed to you and you shook your head. You already had too much to drink tonight. Laszlo sat down in a chair opposite you and said,

“So what happened?”

“Why do you care?”

You looked up at him and froze at the look he was giving you. You felt yourself getting hot and you don’t think it was just from the fire.

“One of my friends died.” You muttered

“Oh.”

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t been so focused on this then I would’ve been able to save her.”

“Do you know that?”

“I could’ve helped!”

You stood up so quickly and leant over Laszlo. You slammed your hands against the arms of the chair.

“Instead I wasted my time with this and let her brute of a pimp beat her to death.”

You staggered back and fell back against the sofa.

“So you blame yourself for your friend’s death?”

“Yes but-“

“Yes?”

“But this isn’t the one I’m talking about?”

“Oh.”

“That bastard turned up on my doorstep. He’d been stabbed. He was begging me for help. Begging and pleading as though he had never done anything wrong in his life.”

“What did you do?”

“Well I brought him in. It isn’t good to have someone bleeding on my doorstep. Makes people think I’m uncaring.”

“And after?”

“Well he dragged himself onto my bed,” you sneered, “fucking bastard. He was bleeding out and I could’ve saved him or at least try to.”

“Well?”

“I didn’t. I let him bleed out.”

“Right.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? Isn’t this what you did to Barker? Did this just bring it to reality?”

“I’ve seen people die,” you said, “you expect to see people die in my line of work. But I’ve never let someone deliberately die before.”

“Besides from Barker.”

“Besides from him.”

“But the question is,” Laszlo leant back in his chair and steepled his fingers, “do you regret it?”

“No. He caused the death of someone I cared about. Much like with Barker, more people will be safe now that he’s dead.”

“So if you don’t regret it why are you here?”

You bit your lip and stood up. You paced about as you tried to find the right words.

“Were you expecting me to tell you that what you did was right? To try and clear your conscience.”

“I…”

You trailed off and shook your head.

“This was a mistake.”

You started to walk towards the door but in a flash Laszlo was on his feet. He gripped your arm tightly and you looked down at his grip. You raised your eyebrows but Laszlo didn’t let go. Instead he tightened it and pulled you towards him. The crackling fire was the only sound in the room. Laszlo’s gaze burned into yours and you found yourself unable to look away.

“You came here,” Laszlo said quietly, “you must want something.”

Once again, you cursed your chosen disguise. It was needed but you wished it wasn’t. You swallowed thickly and resisted the urge to lean into him. Instead you pulled your arm free. You took a few more steps towards the door and said,

“Before she died Polly left me a note. Think you might find it useful.”

You pulled it out and tossed it on the sofa. You pulled your coat around yourself tightly and said,

“Good bye.”

Just before you left you heard Laszlo call,

“Thank you. I’m sure we will be seeing each other again very soon.”

[quietwingsinthesky]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Gabriel & Lucifer, Jack Kline & Lucifer

Additional Tags: Lucifer is Jack Kline's Parent, Post-Canon Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Happy, Gabriel and Lucifer are Siblings (Supernatural), The ArchAngels Discord Drabble Weekly Challenge (Supernatural), Child Jack Kline

Summary:

Definition: 1. A test of the child to figure out who the father is. 2. A test of the father to figure out if he's ready to be in the child's life.

"He doesn't look much like me," Lucifer says. He's quiet enough that Gabriel second-guesses what he heard and doesn't bother to respond, up until the silence gets to Lucifer and he pushes, "does he?" Gabriel opens his eyes. He's sprawled out over the back of the picnic bench, and without turning, he can see Lucifer's shoulder and the back of his head. The sky takes up most of his vision. It's strikingly blue, barely a wisp of a cloud cutting through the middle of his vision. The sun is a warm, bright reassurance of freedom, and, not for the first time, Gabriel wonders if Lucifer feels the same way about it. He was stuck in Hell for a lot longer. Gabriel still doesn't answer for another minute, letting his thoughts collect into something more coherent than the lazy mess they've become, but he makes a noise so that Lucifer knows he's thinking about it. Lucifer leans back, resting one arm on the table.

Gabriel's exhausted. He must be getting old, or maybe no one's immune to being run ragged by their baby nephew, not even archangels. It's Raphael's turn with Jack, now. They're teaching him to fly.

Michael wanted to be here. Lucifer almost allowed it.

They'll have time to figure that out later.

Gabriel's a little surprised he's allowed around Jack. Maybe he and Lucifer have finally hurt each other enough that it evened out. He knows that can't be the case (or else, wouldn't Michael fall into the same category?) Still, there's a certain satisfaction in the idea that they each took their licks and can let bygones be bygones.

(He envies Raphael sometimes, for getting out of the game before it got worse, but then he remembers how the Empty felt, how it-

No one won. Except Dad. Until he didn't. Really should have paid attention to how the rest of them went down and realized that you don't fuck with the Winchesters, no matter how big you are, because they make sure you fall harder.)

"He's blond. Darker than you, but close enough to count," Gabriel says, finally. He runs his tongue over his lip, feels the minute indentations of the skin. It's soothing, so long as he doesn't think too hard about why that is. "You have the same smile," he adds.

"I wasn't talking about my vessel." Gabriel shifts and rests his hands over his stomach. One very brave mosquito buzzes up to his ear. Gabriel flicks his head, once, twice, but the little daredevil doesn't scare easy. He sits up, crossing his legs under him.

"I know you weren't," Gabriel says, waving the mosquito away. "Shoo. I taste bad."

"What?" Lucifer turns to look at him. The mosquito drifts towards his neck, and Gabriel swats at the air beside it. It finally catches the hint and flies away.

"Not talking to you." Gabriel can actually see Jack and Raphael now. He'd like to say that Jack's a natural, but he's far from it.

Michael used to tell stories about Lucifer as a fledgling and about how awkward of a flier he was for decades. Gabriel was never able to square that with the older brother he knew, he was so graceful, so beautiful, so perfect. Now, he looks at Jack, and he thinks he can see it in every mismatched flap of his wings.

"Weren't you in a different one, anyway?" he asks. He knows bits and pieces of the story. The funny parts.

"I don't want to talk about it." Lucifer's tone turns sharp and upset, and Gabriel stows the taunt he has on the tip of his tongue about Lucifer slutting his way through prospective vessels. Above them, Jack tumbles, one wing beating slower than the other and sending him into a nosedive as he frantically tries to correct himself. Lucifer jumps up, watching Jack. Gabriel reaches out to grab his wrist and stop him. His eyes are on Raphael, who plummets faster than Jack and spreads their wings below him to cushion his fall. Jack lands against one, rolls back against the third pair, and by the time he hits the ground, his momentum has been broken. Gabriel and Lucifer can both hear him laugh as Raphael settles on the grass beside him. Gabriel catches the hint of a smile on their sibling's face, and he's reminded that it's not just him who missed taking care of the younger angels. Gabriel relaxes his grip, and Lucifer sits back down.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. You were throwing grace into the mix, not DNA."

"But he doesn't-" Lucifer cuts himself off. Gabriel eyes him.

"Are you doubting he's yours? You need Maury to announce to the world that you're the father?" Lucifer chuckles, which catches Gabriel off-guard.

"I know he's mine." Lucifer's voice is soft, affectionate. Familiar to a part of Gabriel that's centuries out of use. "He's perfect."

Gabriel would beg to differ. The kid was raised by Winchesters, killed a couple people, declared himself God, the works.

"He's good," Lucifer whispers. "He's nothing like me."

Oh, Gabriel thinks. It takes less than a minute for his pity to twist into a scowl on his face. Jack's right there, and Gabriel can see it on his face that he wants something with Lucifer. There's a place in his life for Lucifer to be his father, and Lucifer, instead of taking it, is sitting back and watching from afar. He's so scared of corrupting Jack by getting close to him that he's going to make the kid wonder what he's done wrong when Lucifer is willing to make amends with his brothers, but not with his own son.

"Lucky for you, you come by being a deadbeat dad honestly," Gabriel snaps. He expects Lucifer to get angry with him for that comment, not to stare at Gabriel like he's stuck a knife in his back. Some of that pity stirs up to soften Gabriel's blows. "What do you want more, Luci? To put him on a pedestal so high you can't see him, or for him to hug you whenever you come around?" Lucifer watches Raphael help Jack to his feet, their wings brushing against his as they run their hands over the arch like they're making sure he isn't hurt. Of course he isn't. Raphael would never let that happen.

"I want him to be happy." Gabriel nods his head at Jack.

"Then, look. He's happy," he says, "and if you spend time with him, I promise, he's not going to hate you and become miserable." Lucifer doesn't move, and Gabriel loads his final argument and aims where he knows he'll hit hardest. "Besides, what a way to stick it to Dad." Lucifer looks back at him, and he smiles. Gabriel wasn't lying about the family resemblance there. Raphael and Jack take to the sky again, and after a moment of watching them go, Lucifer stands. Even their wings could have been perfect mirrors once, but Lucifer's are more scars and hellfire now than the shiny pearl coloring of Jack's feathers. Lucifer follows them, cutting a jagged path through the air, not the awkward fledgling that Michael remembered nor the graceful older brother Gabriel looked up to. If Gabriel told Jack about those old ghosts, he wonders if Jack would believe that Lucifer was ever like that. If he could square who he was once with who he is now.

Gabriel pushes himself off the bench and spreads his wings. They groan protest. He really is getting old.

He flies after Lucifer.

[wispisstillverybored67]

Marilyn O' Mairest Wouldn't Hurt A Fly

"Fine! How about THIS?!" Her phone lit up as she showed me the content.

"A... Christmas show?" Weird offer...

"Yes! Now, normally, I would never show these things to someone like *you*. I would, however, make a promise with you... In exchange for KEEPING TIGHT LIPS ON THIS, you're allowed to see this. Do I make myself clear?!" She put the phone down. I got up, finally.

"Fine by me, honestly. But I could easily watch this without the condition. Now how about this... I don't speak of this, and you don't pull anything funny if Benji showed up. Got it?" I proposed instead.

"Alright, alright! It's a deal then!"

"Yes. See you next week, Calliope~" I didn't think she'd be so... bedlam-ish. But, conditions are conditions. I'll go tell Gracie about this in private the next time I see her...

>Mod B.A.B, can you go investigate my friend? He's been acting weird since our uh... spat-out, so to speak. I hope I didn't tick him off to bad, but I want to confirm something. Just what goes on with him? He's never been this shy before...

God... How am I supposed to answer this? *sigh* I promised Marilyn (or Calliope) that I wouldn't speak of this to anyone, and anyone exactly. My code dictates that I have to keep this between us, so I'll just have to tell the poster, someone by the name of Grace Fairest, that I'll have to decline this. But I can't go more then that. And the price tag was so high too... I do hate to leave a client high and dry, but a code is a code.

If either party adds a condition separate to the original commission, then it must be followed exactly. Failure to do so will result in the betraying party be punished by however the opposing party see fit.

This is taken word for word at the Rumor Mille Terms of Service, word for word.

And here I am, standing in a shopping mall, trying to locate the aforementioned show. Actually, it must be it over there...

I headed over there, only to be met by... Wild? Stalking me so I don't act out wasn't enough, apparently?

"You... How?" I questioned as we met up.

"Me? I was just... curious." She claimed. I know she's lying. See? Her ears go red when she's lying, and she's now covering her ears.

"About what? A fanfiction scene? My question is, how did you get here? I'm the one with the portals, not you." Heh. Busted.

"Let's go figure that out later-" She hurriedly shooshed me. I'd ask what for, but I quickly saw why. Two of her "idols" appeared. The nun and the thief. What were their names again? S... Savant? Satanael? Salvation? Uh...

"Are you two hear to watch the show, too? I haven't seen you two before." The nun spoke to us quickly, ignoring the flustered octo in front.

"I can say the same to you, any-" "Uhhhhh... Hehehehe... Th-that's just Silver, and m' Wild, please don't get mad..." She interrupted me! She spoke the last part really quickly, too.

"Uh... Anyways... You can call me Sarv, and this is Ruv!" Ah. Ruv and Sarv. That's their names. Phew.

"Ah. I know you. Wild's been gushin' about you since ya-"

"SILVER." She quickly pushes me to the other side of the mall. Well, the other side of the rim overlooking the stage show, at any rate.

Oh, stop looking at me like that. The show is gonna start soon. 

______________________________________________________________

"NEVER DO THAT AGAIN." She complained.

"Oh do what? I didn't do anything wrong~" I took a sip of my slushie. While she was bemoaning her new problems with the ice cream duo, I took out the flash drive. *sigh* This flash drive is what I had taped/saved my interview with Calliope with. I would've presented it to Gracie and hoped for a long overdue epiphany, but then she swore to me to not tell anyone about this. I had only added that I'd do this on the grounds of not acting up if what's-his-face showed up. I only have a vague recollection of how this world ends, based on whatever Wild told me, I don't remember, but I doremember the little guy showing up. I do hate to see a happy ending changed, but I'll keep quiet about this.  

"Hello?" A ladies' voice called from over there. Out stepped a tiny, red ponytailed human sporting a cat's mouth. She looked as if she was expecting someone, eyes a little unsure, but never lost that :3.

Speak of the devil...! It's Gracie! Dammit.

"I recognize the voice... You're Mod Back-Alley Blitz, right?" Gracie said.

Wild stopped from her bemoaning to look to me. In a very concerned fashion. I assured her I got this, so I took to her on our own.

"Yeah... Listen, about your commission you posted." I began. Only reason I know her despite having went on anon is because she signed off on her own name for some reason. Maybe she didn't know she could've just left it blank? Oh, and I had to meet her in person anyways, so there's that. I was dressed like normal, my hair was my usual red armpit length, compared to this world, where I'm instead sporting long blonde. I'm still rocking this look, of course, but she probably doesn't recognize me because of that.

"Oh, do you have any updates on it?" She gave an expectant look.

"...Listen, I found- Uh... Let's get back to this later..." Fuck this shit, abort! Abort! Abort! I can't lie to my clients!

I headed back to Wild, now I was the one bemoaning my problems with this world.

"Is... she okay?" Asked a mildly concerned Sarv.

"Probably not..." Wild responded.

*tsnk* *tsnk tsnk tsnk ttttd* Huh? Shit-

The flash drive is dropped. Where is it?!

"What happened?" she questioned.

"Just a lil' search out-Can you help me find the flash drive?"

"I don't know, the show's starting!" NOW?! *sigh* Fine. Wonder what this'll be?

Oh look it's Benji. He looks super nervous. I don't blame him at all, honestly. He was face to face, and caroling with, his tyrannous and draconian parents. There seems to be no sort of malice between them now, though. And by between them, I mean from the Fairests to him, not the other way around. Behind the three singing it out, sat that green and orange rat-looking guy. Yeah, that's Pico alright. Calliope had a picture of him to use as a dart target. Said he was a "pest" or something. I just know him from that Red Riot Massacre rumor that I haven't found out. Wild won't let me go there. But oh well. The song now is fast, and quite catchy. The only beat was the snowflake sounds, and was punctuated by the Fairests surprisingly nice synchronization in singing, and their son's slightly raspy voice. I can tell that Pico is glaring a hole in someone's head, but who's? How will this play out, I wonder? It's very catchy though, I'll tell you that much again. Makes me wanna sing, too. ♫Cut you in a thousand slices, bake you 'til golden brown♫

"Oi. You missin' this?" An incredibly bitcrushed voice called to me when the song stopped.

"That's... Yes, that's mine, thank you." I looked up to reveal the stranger. Woah! How bestial! How alien! This guy's head is all black, and his limbs are all orange! He was over there, playing with the flash drive like you'd do with a knife. I plainly took it from him, think he was laughing a little at that. What ARE THOSE teeth?! I want that.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!!" Screamed a very flustered and furious Marilyn. What did he even do?! Forget what I said about no malice from the Fairests to their son, there is very much some malice in the air. Oh wait, just some?

"Woah." I said, quietly. I glanced at Wild, who was looking like she was expecting something big to happen, and was already ticked off. She was making that angry face with the puffy cheeks thing.

The father, Frank I believe, then spoke up about how he (Benji) just needed to do what he was told. He was still smiling, yeah, but he got that shadow under his eyes, and now his eyes were glowing red instead of the families' usual yellow. His tone was just flooding with poorly hidden contempt and malice, malice at his runaway slave prince of a son, malice at the boy who took him away from him, malice at the world, perhaps, for having his cover blown. Now, I don't see movies, but I expect more screaming after this. And he caps this speech off with the "If you were a real man..." shutdown... I should be surprised at this, but I'm not. Ultimately, I have every piece of information I need right here. I glanced over to Sarv, the beastly one, and Gracie. The former were pissed off (Ruv was as well, I guess, but that's just his normal expression, and the beasty one is embering a bit), while the latter was more... shocked? But... what for?

"Now be a good son, and listen to your parents this instant!" Calliope demanded. Benji, as suspected, was having NONE of that any longer.

"DON'T CALL ME YOUR SON!!!" He screamed out in a fit of deep-seated (assumed) rage.

"Huh...?" I could vaguely make this out from Gracie. She's definitely stunned, but about what? Didn't she see this coming, and was kowtowed into keeping silence? No? Hmm...

The little one began to rant off loudly about how they stole everything from him, and now did he realize that that's not love. He added that he realizes now that abuse is not love, so something about it sounds like he's been a doormat to more then just his parents. Even as they objected, he stood firm. Now here's something you don't here anyday, he denounces his parents, and not the other way around like how it always plays out. Where did such backbone come from? I took a good look in the crowd. Yeah, now everyone was 5 minutes away from being able to tear those two apart. Gracie has gotten blue in the face. The next song was on, contempt filled the air, and Gracie then headed to me.

"Is that it...?!" She said, highly concerned. "Is that why BF was acting so weird?!"

It's 'cause he's gay and abused. "..." I didn't listen. I'm not angered that Benji had such shitty parents, I'm angered because Marilyn lied to me. Okay, yes, the great and gracious Silver has a type of person she hates. What about it?! She will aptly try as she may to justify lying to me, and Gracie and I will have to come up with a suitable punishment for this. No one was, at this rate, enjoying the song. Not with what truth has been leaked out. I'll go wait and see what happens with Calliope before delivering judgement. How high? Put your hands up to the sky and watch me.

"Is THAT why you didn't want me dealing with the Fairests?" I whispered to Wild. 

"Apart from the fact that you may fuck up this timeline? Yeah..." She said back.

I checked our acquaintances. Sarv was ticked, how could I tell? She's doing that smile only a serial killer makes, and her eyes got shadowing. The bestial one though, he was another story. See, there's a railing on our part of the mall. This guy was lunging and jumping around it like, let's see... You guys ever went to a zoo, and there's these animal displays of sorts through glass, and whenever you tried to get a good look at it, it would dash to the glass and act all crazy? Picture that, if you will. And Ruv... I, honestly don't know what's up with him. I don't really care either. I can tell no one even cares on the song playing. But still... Something about this makes me... smile? I guess? Pretending to have another personality in this world is hard, but getting off on the turn of events is easy. Oh... the song is over now? Time to make my move now!

"Excuse me, Gracie! I believe this is yours." I spoke up quickly. Walk over to her, give her the flash drive.

"Is this the..."

"Yes. This is the item I compiled the information in of our interview. I told you this commission will be done." I responded.

"What the-?! SILVER YOU TRAITOR!!" Marilyn saw me give it out... Hehe, now it's my turn to say what is needed. She quickly ran up to me, ignoring her currently (why though?) unconscious son, as expected of her...

"Listen, Norma Bates, we're done here. Leave, please." I had no time for this. I didn't even face her.

"We're done?! We're done with business YOU promised to keep under wraps! As far as I care, YOU'RE the problem here!"

"Hmph. My condition is final. I told you not to pull any funny shit with Benji if he showed up. You betrayed my orders even knowing this, and you still expect to have a shred of satisfaction?"

"Why you-"

"You ought to be glad I am not choosing a more... harsh punishment. But for now, our stories have wrapped up, and now?" I looked around to the crowd. They looked as if they were encouraging me to do something. Hah! Glad no one's under her spell! Then, we'd soak up just HOW she fell!

I finally looked at Calliope. I could finally smile for this turnabout. I held up the accursed flash drive.

"SUCK ON THIS MARILYN O' FAIREST!" I yelled. Finally, I threw the flash to the ground. Haha... Good riddance to bad trash! Gracie scrambled to pick it up.

With Wild by my side, I walked to the exit. Our business is donzo. Ohohohohohohohoho!

______________________________________________________________

>Thank you so much for helping me out, Mod B.A.B! I'll go check out the video when I'm ready... For now, though, I'll count this as done! That's okay with you right? Again, thanks so much!!

And with this... another commission is done. Easy as... SHII-SAH-YACKEE!

[sainz100]

in my opinion you should always add the source to the post, especially if it's a photographer who posted something publicly so they need to be credited

thank you for your message anon!! 💝✨ and thank you for reading my silly long tags!! I love to ramble in there! 💞 ahhh, I agree!! this topic is always on my heart as I navigate what's, like, the protocol in f1blr and since I love searching for content, so more yapping & thoughts under the cut!!

When I was really active in a fandom for a musician, many pals who took photos at gigs lamented how often they saw their stuff yoinked without credit and put on twitter, pinterest, tumblr 😔 It can be hella demoralizing, especially for pro photographers who take a ton of time editing and crafting a shot 📸 so the least I can do as a mere insta searcher is link and credit!! 🔎✨ plus, then folks can go check out a photographer's other work! (also thank you for your ask since two of the posts this morning didn't have the instas in the source part, just the name!! Gotta go add those!) the only time I hesitate is when I want to be mindful of someone's privacy 😶‍🌫️ I only share publicly available content, but there's a bit of nervousness if its a smaller, personal instagram account that I'll put this poor person on the spot on tumblr dot org dot net just for happening to having a hot Max selfie in the RBR HQ location tag ahhhhhhhh I probs should get over this worry and add the account name for best practices tho!! 🫡 Ahhhh I always worry tho! Also I love crate digging in insta, like searching up old hashtags & finding fan accounts that haven't been updated since 2017! My thanks out to the universe for them since there are so many insta stories that would be lost if not archived!! 🌌💝 but for some of the older content and fan selfies from these accounts that I can't reverse image search or figure out, I usually put them in a collage (and I like to crop out fans for privacy from these older selfies) I'm always tempted just to blast photos on here, but I like to take time to credit/source/date things & to make it meaningful for lovely folks following this blog 🥺 Sorry, this is so long!!!!!!!! But content and crediting on the web is always on my noggin, especially as a blog that kinda is all about these sweet, sweet jpegs of millionaires. And this is all a lot of mental haranguing for photo posts that will get 5 notes!!!!!!!!!!! 🙂‍↕️✨ hehehe, maybe its the ex Catholic in me thats guilty having fun at every turn! Or as a history major who loves the search and the citing. And as a part of the web, I wanna do my part to keep it nice. Also, tmi, but I fear I'll do something wrong on in the tumblr space, like a faux pas? I do see other tumblrs with like mega popular posts with 500+ notes that have no source, no date, no context. If f1blr is kinda a closed ecosystem 🌲🌱🖼️🌳🌿 of just admiring these motorsports stars, then that's one thing (like, gosh, I miss having a discord server where I could just drop fun finds and everyone was so nice about it!! but I've seen how stuff can travel after posting on the web! Like, surely other folks would've found that Max air hockey vid back during the Austin GP [especially if they were also nosily keeping up with that car club all weekend that posted the party hehe] but I remember coming here, not seeing it, and posting! to putting on tumblr, anything can go to twitter and tik tok etc. suddenly, a photo/vid has an unsourced life of its own. as much as I see this as tagging geese here on sainz100, posting photos that aren't mine comes with concerns) and like..sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't share here, too. I get so stressed sometimes, and its of course easier to have my private dragon's horde of pngs. But it makes me so happy to find something that resonates with folks. I just have to accept that I can only do my best & it's not up to me if someone yoinks from here to share elsewhere sans credit.

Tbh, at the end of the day for this blog, I just want to go "wow this special guy sure is neat! Love imagining him in situations and thinking about his tiddies 🥰 shoutout this photo fr" (also the search is half the fun for me so yeah!!) Folks sharing here on tumblr for blorbo admiration and contemplation and kind jesting and commiserating and hoping & rooting for ahhh it is so fun!! ❤️ And as best as possible I want to share who took these lovely pics so we continue to be gifted more blorbo fodder for years to come (ahhhhhhh if I think too long about f1 fangirling in 20+ years I'll think of dad bod Carlos and get too flustered to function 😵‍💫❤️✨ hehe! Hot!!!!!!!!!!!) anyways!! Tldr I agree!!!!

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

hiiiii i really liked make you better. i think the relationship between the two characters is so so interesting and the way toji simultaneously tries to run away but literally can’t bc of his injury makes the tension that much better. u can really feel his pain and understand how hard he’s been working and how little hope he has that it’ll work out. i really like this more complicated version of toji who is doing what he does for love. also, i don’t think part two is on the masterlist or linked in the first part, so i only knew it existed bc i was searching up different tags in ur blog. finally, i was wondering about the ending to part two. maybe it misunderstanding but isn’t the reader betraying him to shiu and getting him in trouble? why?

hello lovely anon!! first off I’m sorry it took so long to respond, I had originally wanted to answer with the next part of the story but I’m not quite there yet!

secondly, THANK YOU for such a thoughtful message wow!! I’ve reread this a bunch of times and I’m still honored that you enjoyed my work, especially enough to put thought into it like this.

also thank you for letting me know about the issues navigating my blog! I’m pretty new to tumblr and am still figuring out things like masterlists and tags. I’m going to add a link to the other parts in my posts and masterlist, I hope that’s more readable!

you’re not misunderstanding at all, that’s how I was hoping it would be read! without giving too much away, I want to challenge Toji’s resistance to asking for help and explore the relationships he has with the people around him! Reader is not a bad guy, I promise. this is definitely reminding me that I need to continue this one and fight through the writer’s block, I left off in a weird place!

in conclusion THANK YOU anon for sharing this with me, I hope you have a great day and ty for reading 💖💖💖

[syldexter]

long story short, it was a bad time➝  zaxter.

tagging: dexter sylvester, zach wilde @zachwilde, mentions of gabe wilde and various sylvesters.

location: psu cafeteria.

timeframe: october 17th, early afternoon.

warnings: poorly managed anxiety.

summary: zach does nothing wrong. dex takes offense to it anyway.

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

If you were serious about heading outside, far be it from me to stop you.

ZACH WILDE.

Only if you join me, Dexy.

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

[Eye twitching] You first, I insist.

ZACH WILDE.

Should we hold hands as we do it together?

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

You are an incredibly insufferable human being.

ZACH WILDE.

I’ve heard I’m a peach to be around, actually. [they grin] Come on, Dex.

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

No. As I said, you are insufferable, is that a family trait? You can’t seriously be smiling about any of this.

ZACH WILDE.

The Wilde’s are great. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you seemed to think Gabe wasn’t insufferable, so…. [they whistle.]

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

[Dex turns to Zach, jaw clenched, something ungodly high-pitched ringing in his ears] Do not.

ZACH WILDE.

[Zach quirks an eyebrow.] What? You miss him?

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

No. [His mouth twitches] I just know how to mind my own business.

ZACH WILDE.

[Zach can tell Dex is getting upset, but they figure it’s their normal ‘annoyed with everyone’ type of attitude.] I hate to tell you that Gabe is kind of my business.

DEXTER SYLVESTER

I’m not currently attached to Gabe, meaning that any business I have is none of his or yours. [Dex chooses to ignore the pounding in his own chest in favor of glaring at Zach]

ZACH WILDE.

Dude. Come on. You’re telling me you have no feelings for him anymore? That seems impossible.

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

That is exactly what I’m telling you. And even if I wasn’t telling you that, I’ll reiterate that my acquaintanceship with anyone, regardless of your relation, is none of your business. You have a brain in that thick head of yours, don’t you? Use it.

ZACH WILDE

Alright, alright… [Zach puts their hands up. They pause.] Are you okay?

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

[Through gritted teeth] What did I just say

ZACH WILDE.

[Zach starts to realize that maybe he pushed a little too far.] Hey. I’m just concerned. [He points to Dex’s family.] They’re here. Doesn’t that make you feel better?

DEXTER SYLVESTER.

I did not ask for your concern, I do not need or want your concern. [Dex looks in the direction that Zach is pointing. The reminder of his family nearby does little; if anything, it serves as a reminder to keep his voice low so that he doesn’t draw any of their attention. He can feel his heartbeat. The room suddenly feels too warm, and Dex finds himself speaking incredibly fast without realizing] Better? No, it does not make me feel better. Not when the last god knows how many days have been spent without most of them here, and they are still not all here. And even if they were all here, they are nowhere even close to where they should be. My brother is still not here, my stepsister is not here, my mother and youngest sister are not here. My sibling spent their birthday here. [He bites back the urge to add how much Sage hates their birthday but he refuses to give anyone that information without their consent. He points at Zach] Your brother had to be a gentlemen and refuse to dick me down, I am breathing the same air as the adopted demonspawn of my family’s enemy, this room is spinning, and I have eating more canned food in the last week than I ever wanted to. Tell me exactly what part of any of this is meant to make me feel better?

ZACH WILDE.

[Zach immediately realizes that he took it too far, and Dex is actually upset. He lets him complain and get it all out, nodding. It was a shitty situation to be in and he understood completely. He takes a few cautious steps towards Dex.] Hey, if the room is spinning… You should really sit down. I promise I’ll stop being an asshole. Just sit here, okay? [They motion towards a chair, hoping Dex will listen. Perhaps being in lockdown made them go crazy, because they are not the type of person to badger someone until this type of blow up.]

DEXTER SYLVESTER

Don’t tell me what to do. [It’s missing the bite he intended his voice do have, and somehow that just puts him even more on edge. Dex shakes his head. He runs the back of his hand across his mouth. If nothing else, it’s temporary relief for just how hot this room is. The fact that nobody else seems to notice feels like another kick in the teeth.] I’m leaving. Enjoy the rest of this apocalypse party. [He’s not subtle about the way he bumps into Zach on his way out of the room.]

[quietwings-fics]

Paternity Test

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Lucifer, Jack & Lucifer) Additional Tags: Lucifer is Jack Kline's Parent, Post-Canon Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Happy, Gabriel and Lucifer are Siblings (Supernatural), The ArchAngels Discord Drabble Weekly Challenge (Supernatural), Child Jack Kline Wordcount: 1259 Podfic Length: 10:31 Summary:

Definition: 1. A test of the child to figure out who the father is. 2. A test of the father to figure out if he's ready to be in the child's life.

"He doesn't look much like me," Lucifer says. He's quiet enough that Gabriel second-guesses what he heard and doesn't bother to respond, up until the silence gets to Lucifer and he pushes, "does he?" Gabriel opens his eyes. He's sprawled out over the back of the picnic bench, and without turning, he can see Lucifer's shoulder and the back of his head. The sky takes up most of his vision. It's strikingly blue, barely a wisp of a cloud cutting through the middle of it. The sun is a warm, bright reassurance of freedom, and, not for the first time, Gabriel wonders if Lucifer feels the same way about it. He was stuck in Hell for a lot longer. Gabriel still doesn't answer for another minute, letting his thoughts collect into something more coherent than the lazy mess they've become, but he makes a noise so that Lucifer knows he's thinking about it. Lucifer leans back, resting one arm on the table.

Gabriel's exhausted. He must be getting old, or maybe no one's immune to being run ragged by their baby nephew, not even archangels. It's Raphael's turn with Jack, now. They're teaching him to fly.

Michael wanted to be here. Lucifer almost allowed it.

They'll have time to figure that out later.

Gabriel's a little surprised he's allowed around Jack. Maybe he and Lucifer have finally hurt each other enough that it evened out. He knows that can't be the case (or else, wouldn't Michael fall into the same category?) Still, there's a certain satisfaction in the idea that they each took their licks and can let bygones be bygones.

(He envies Raphael sometimes, for getting out of the game before it got worse, but then he remembers how the Empty felt, how it-

No one won. Except Dad. Until he didn't. Really should have paid attention to how the rest of them went down and realized that you don't fuck with the Winchesters, no matter how big you are, because they make sure you fall harder.)

"He's blond. Darker than you, but close enough to count," Gabriel says, finally. He runs his tongue over his lip, feels the minute indentations of the skin. It's soothing, so long as he doesn't think too hard about why that is. "You have the same smile," he adds.

"I wasn't talking about my vessel." Gabriel shifts and rests his hands over his stomach. One very brave mosquito buzzes up to his ear. Gabriel flicks his head, once, twice, but the little daredevil doesn't scare easy. He sits up, crossing his legs under him.

"I know you weren't," Gabriel says, waving the mosquito away. "Shoo. I taste bad."

"What?" Lucifer turns to look at him. The mosquito drifts towards his neck, and Gabriel swats at the air beside it. It finally catches the hint and flies away.

"Not talking to you." Gabriel can actually see Jack and Raphael now. He'd like to say that Jack's a natural, but he's far from it.

Michael used to tell stories about Lucifer as a fledgling and about how awkward of a flier he was for decades. Gabriel was never able to square that with the older brother he knew, he was so graceful, so beautiful, so perfect. Now, he looks at Jack, and he thinks he can see it in every mismatched flap of his wings.

"Weren't you in a different one, anyway?" he asks. He knows bits and pieces of the story. The funny parts.

"I don't want to talk about it." Lucifer's tone turns sharp and upset, and Gabriel stows the taunt he has on the tip of his tongue about Lucifer slutting his way through prospective vessels. Above them, Jack tumbles, one wing beating slower than the other and sending him into a nosedive as he frantically tries to correct himself. Lucifer jumps up, watching Jack. Gabriel reaches out to grab his wrist and stop him. His eyes are on Raphael, who plummets faster than Jack and spreads their wings below him to cushion his fall. Jack lands against one, rolls back against the third pair, and by the time he hits the ground, his momentum has been broken. Gabriel and Lucifer can both hear him laugh as Raphael settles on the grass beside him. Gabriel catches the hint of a smile on their sibling's face, and he's reminded that it's not just him who missed taking care of the younger angels. Gabriel relaxes his grip, and Lucifer sits back down.

"It doesn't matter. You were throwing grace into the mix, not DNA."

"But he doesn't-" Lucifer cuts himself off. Gabriel eyes him.

"Are you doubting he's yours? You need Maury to announce to the world that you're the father?" Lucifer chuckles, which catches Gabriel off-guard.

"I know he's mine." Lucifer's voice is soft, affectionate. Familiar to a part of Gabriel that's centuries out of use. "He's perfect."

Gabriel would beg to differ. The kid was raised by Winchesters, killed a couple people, declared himself God, the works.

"He's good," Lucifer whispers. "He's nothing like me."

Oh, Gabriel thinks. It takes less than a minute for his pity to twist into a scowl on his face. Jack's right there, and Gabriel can see it on his face that he wants something with Lucifer. There's a place in his life for Lucifer to be his father, and Lucifer, instead of taking it, is sitting back and watching from afar. He's so scared of corrupting Jack by getting close to him that he's going to make the kid wonder what he's done wrong when Lucifer is willing to make amends with his brothers, but not with his own son.

"Lucky for you, you come by being a deadbeat dad honestly," Gabriel snaps. He expects Lucifer to get angry with him for that comment, not to stare at Gabriel like he's stuck a knife in his back. Some of that pity stirs up to soften Gabriel's blows. "What do you want more, Luci? To put him on a pedestal so high you can't see him, or for him to hug you whenever you come around?" Lucifer watches Raphael help Jack to his feet, their wings brushing against his as they run their hands over the arch like they're making sure he isn't hurt. Of course he isn't. Raphael would never let that happen.

"I want him to be happy." Gabriel nods his head at Jack.

"Then, look. He's happy," he says, "and if you spend time with him, I promise, he's not going to hate you and become miserable." Lucifer doesn't move, and Gabriel loads his final argument and aims where he knows he'll hit hardest. "Besides, what a way to stick it to Dad." Lucifer looks back at him, and he smiles. Gabriel wasn't lying about the family resemblance there. Raphael and Jack take to the sky again, and after a moment of watching them go, Lucifer stands. Even their wings could have been perfect mirrors once, but Lucifer's are more scars and hellfire now than the shiny pearl coloring of Jack's feathers. Lucifer follows them, cutting a jagged path through the air, not the awkward fledgling that Michael remembered nor the graceful older brother Gabriel looked up to. If Gabriel told Jack about those old ghosts, he wonders if Jack would believe that Lucifer was ever like that. If he could square who he was once with who he is now.

Gabriel pushes himself off the bench and spreads his wings. They groan protest. He really is getting old.

He flies after Lucifer.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[samaqmalfiction]

In the Name of the Lord - First Person

I prayed for my death.

     For the longest time in my life, I held my breath. I was huddled underneath the stairwell that connects Block B’s ground floor with the rest of its upper levels. I wrapped my arms around my legs to minimize myself, an attempt to further hide myself. Time passed by – or did it? The last time I checked my phone, it was 2:46 AM. I had lost track of how long it had been since everything had happened. The patter of footsteps – three of them, to be exact – echoed in the stairwell as they ran searching for me.

     “Did you find him?!” One of them asked, in a strained loud whisper.

     “No, he’s not in his room.” Another answered with a pant. I felt a slight pride in outwitting my pursuers.  In the midst of darkness, I feel myself cracking a victorious smile that was so quickly quelled when I remembered I was praying for death.

     “Well, he can’t be that far! Keep looking!” One of them barked. They ran down – or maybe up? – the stairs.

     I had no idea where they were. All I knew was that I was too afraid to even breathe. There was an itch on my back but I ignored it, fearing any movement would give me away. Death - right here, right now - was easier to imagine than what they had in store for me. The shadow of the stairs consumed me, but that night I felt that even shadows would betray me.

      They dragged me. I don't know how they found me, but they did. The three boys took me by the arms and dragged me, and in the darkness of the night without any lights, I could only guess where they had taken me. It was the showers. Block B's haunted showers.

     The lights weren’t turned on. Only the distant lamp post light seeped in through the windows to illuminate their features. Shafeeq and Naz were by my side, holding me by the arms before shoving me to a corner. Adam was behind them, tagging along.

     “You shouldn’t have hidden. You are wasting our time.” Naz was almost growling. He cracked his knuckles, purely to add effect since I knew he was the last person in that room to be throwing a punch. The lamp post light was not fair in outlining their haunting figures, and I wished I could turn on the lights overhead.

     "Don’t cry, don’t cry". That was the thought that went through my head. Three boys have cornered me, and they were probably planning to beat the shit out of me, but I can’t cry. Predators feed off of weakness. "Don’t cry", I repeated to myself.  I would stand strong and get out of the situation I got myself in.

        “Give me your phone.” Adam sounded cold - bored, even. The emptiness in his voice made me shiver, scarier than Naz's outward anger.

      I stood still. I wasn’t going to answer. I wasn’t going to give Adam my phone. "Defend yourself", I thought to myself.

           “Guys, look, I just want – ”

     Something hard – or was it sharp? – hit me across the face. It didn’t hurt too badly; I figured it was intentionally meant to not leave a mark. It was meant to humiliate and, humiliate, it did. For a moment, I even believed that I deserved that hit. I collected myself and held in my tears.  Naz was too far away, and Adam would never.

     “Give him your phone,” Shafeeq said with venom, his face a grimace. His hand was raised again. I flinched at the sway of his open palm.

     I took out my phone from my jeans pocket, trying hard not to tremble as I passed it to Adam.

     “You know,” Shafeeq started as he circled around me, like a vulture that is stalking its dying meal. “We actually looked up to you... I mean, best student in the school!” He scoffed, standing so close I could almost smell his breath. “And yet, here we are.”

     Shafeeq threw a punch at me; hitting me square in the abdomen. I folded over and toppled to the cold tiled floor clutching my abdomen, trying to soothe the instant searing pain. “Here we fucking are,” he hissed.

     “I didn’t mean to – ” I tried to explain. I’d never been punched in the stomach before, and it hurt. I wonder how some people could pick themselves up and walk it off because I was sure I could not.

     “It really is you." Adam interrupted. "I thought it could have been a joke, but you were the one who texted it". I wondered if the warm liquid running down my face was tears. “ 'Want a blowjob?' ” Adam said, his face eerily lit by my phone screen as he read the message out loud. “ 'Let me know where you want to meet and I’ll come suck –'”

     “Stop it.” Naz said as he glared at Adam. Shafeeq spat, but where? I couldn’t feel anything land on me, but it must have been for me.

     “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were better than this but it turns out… you’re worse than I could ever imagine.” Naz commented. I wished I was punched in the stomach again instead of hearing those words. I was disgusted, but I wasn’t sure if I was disgusted by the boys assaulting me or by myself. I wish Naz would kick me too, but instead, he said, “Did you ever think about how people would think about you? How your parents would think about you? How God would think about you?”

    How would God think about me? I didn’t care.

     “Fucking faggot.” Shafeeq murmured before kicking me on the floor. I kept count for a while; three kicks to the thighs, one to the stomach, one to the back. I squirmed in an attempt to lessen the blows, but I don't think it worked. After a while, I lost count of the number of kicks I was awarded. I bit my lips to stop myself from sobbing at the pain pulsing through my body.

    The kicking stopped. How long has it been? I don't know. I only knew the pain. I was wet and sticky – was it sweat or blood? I appreciated their ironic mercy – no injuries would show when I put on my uniform tomorrow morning. “Just let me go, please. Just let me go.” I heard my plea in my own ears and winced at how pathetic and helpless I sounded.

     “You asked for this!” Shafeeq continued, and I counted two more kicks close to my groin.

     “Enough.” Adam commanded. “Tell me why I should let you go.”  Again, his lack of emotions scared me. Adam should be just as angry as Shafeeq and Naz. I welcomed Adam’s anger; it was better than seeing him calmly leaning against the door on one of the shower stalls with crossed arms.

     “I won’t do it again, okay? I wasn’t thinking, and I didn’t mean it! Just stop!”  I spurted, ashamed of my own words. When did I plan to say that? I didn’t mean anything I said; I was simply saying whatever it took to get me out of this. “Adam!” I knew who I had to beg to. It wasn’t God, or Shafeeq, or Naz. At this moment, it was Adam. Adam was rational and – most importantly – the leader of the wolf pack.

     “Swear it. Swear in the name of God, you’ll never be a faggot.” Adam said before Naz and Shafeeq could react. I wanted to hear him yell it to me and not say it so priestly.

     “I swear in the name of God,” I said it crisp and clear, without hesitation. It didn’t matter to me. It never will. I just wanted to run to the showers in my Block, wash off the blood, and count the number of bruises I couldn’t properly tend to. The Lord won't mind me swearing in His name.

     “We just want what’s best for you.” Naz started, going off of Adam. “I understand that this is hard for you, but all this is just… wrong.” Naz sounded annoyed but sincere, much like a grandmother who is tired of giving the same advice to her rascal grandkids. “We might be hard on you now, but you’ll thank us later for this. We’re looking out for our brother here.” He paused. "God can fix you, you know?" Silence after that, as if they were giving me time to think about God. I just wanted Him to get me the fuck out of there.

     “Apologize to Shafeeq. Then, leave.” Adam broke the silence.

     I looked up to face Shafeeq but couldn't bear to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” What for? I don't know, and I don't really care either.

     “Go.” Who had said it? It was probably Adam, but I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t looking, and I wasn’t paying attention. All I knew was that I heard it. I got up from the floor and took off, almost slipping. I felt warm blood trickle down to the waistband of my shorts. Despite my body’s painful protest, I ran as fast as I could for the stairwell in Block C that would take me to my room. In the dark of the night, the echoes of my loud footsteps reminded me that I was wide awake.

As I ran, I prayed for my death.

END

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #8: Shed

Characters: Silva Cataracta and Ricmorn Silverkin (Cataracta)

Rating: Mature (PLEASE READ CW/TAGS!)

Notes: This scene takes place not too long after the start of Heavensward 3.0. Silva and Ricmorn are NOT in a relationship/courtship at this point in time, but they are very aware of the feelings they have for one another. Things are just complicated as they work through their issues.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Anxiety, Depression, Dark Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Discussions of Xenophobia against Au Ra, Anger, Compassion, Nudity (Non-sexual), Mildly Suggestive Themes (but it leads to nothing).

Silva sat on the edge of the large stone tub, swirling the steaming water around so the special lotions and oil she added would mix and dissolve evenly. A small growl of annoyance slipped past her lips as her skin crawled, fighting the urge to itch at her dry, peeling scales. How inconvenient this all was for her right now.

Today was already rough for her. Now to add shedding scales on top of it? Another Auri trait of hers to be weaponized by the Ishgardians, another excuse for them to call her a dragon heretic or a draconian whore — their favorite insult to throw at her. 

If only she and the others had somewhere else to seek protection and aid. Solace and safety. 

She didn’t belong anywhere, did she?

A sudden knock on the door to the room given to her to use during their stay in the Fortemps Manor alerted her ivory horns, yanking her from her depressive thoughts. Ah— so he came at her summons, after all, she thought. Gods and kami bless him. She would have to figure out a way to express her thanks for his aid later — if he stayed to help her, that is.

“Come in!” Silva called out after clearing her throat. Blood rushed loudly in her horns as she heard the knob turn, soft footsteps echoing off the stone walls as someone entered her room.

“Silv? Where are you?”

“In here — the washroom on your left,” she answered, heart fluttering. “And… if you could lock the main door behind you before coming in here, that would be lovely. Please and thank you.”

“I— O-of course. Give me a moment.”

The sound of her Warrior of Light counterpart stuttering like that would have usually made her smile. Maybe even giggle. It wasn’t often that she could fluster him like he could do to her — a habit he loved and annoyed the hell out of her. But she was tired and cold and so godsdamned itchy all over the fucking place. Silva just didn’t have it in her right now.

She turned her head toward the open door to the medium-sized washroom as she heard Ricmorn approach, anxiety curling in her belly, steeling herself just in case he shot her request down. And if he did… Well— she would just resort to her other plan: remove what old scales she could and be uncomfortable for the next week or two until the rest fell off.

But something in her heart whispered reassurances he wouldn’t leave her to deal with this by herself. Not after what happened to her earlier in the day.

“Apologies for the minor delay,” he said as he made it to the doorway. “I came the as soon as I got the notice and— Oh.”

Ricmorn didn’t know what to make of it when he received a knock at his door and found a maidservant standing before him, holding a small folded note in her hand out to him. He mumbled his thanks as he took it, curious and confused. It was late, nearly midnight. Who could want him for something at this bell? He didn’t pay attention to the young Elezen as she quickly curtsied and left, leaving him alone as he opened the note and scanned over the words written on the stiff cardstock.

Apologies, Ricmorn — I know it’s late, and this is such an inconvenience. But… something has come up unexpectedly and I need you if you could spare some time. You’ll understand once you come to my room.

Though there was no name scribbled anywhere, he knew who the elegant writing belonged to. And he would do anything for her — no questions asked. Without a second thought, he made his way to her room.

But the last thing he expected to see was Silva sitting on the edge of a bathtub filled with hot water, wearing a short midnight blue silk robe. Several empty and full glass bottles and jars scattered along the smooth stone ledge, as well as a small washcloth, a few different blunt-edged tools, and a small bucket. Items that would have been out of place for anyone who wasn’t an Au Ra. 

He already had a feeling of what was happening and why she requested for him to come — the tools almost gave it away. He had similar ones stashed away in his bag. But it wasn’t until he looked down and saw a few of her old scales lying on the ground that his suspicion was confirmed.

Silva gave him a tiny smile when a look of understanding washed over his features. “I didn’t wake you, did I, Ricmorn?” she questioned. “I’m sorry if I did.”

He swallowed the invisible lump in his throat, shaking his head. “No. I was still awake,” he assured her. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t sleep.”

She hummed, empathetic. “Seems that makes two of us.”

“Your scales are shedding, I see.” The lumbering Auri man slowly entered the washroom, his steps hesitant as he regarded her. “I’m surprised you’re not already soaking in the tub. You must be itchy.”

“Considering the temperature difference is massive to what I’m used to, it was only a matter of time before it happened,” she shrugged, her long tail slowly swaying. “Though I will admit, I thought I had a few more months before this shed cycle started.”

“And you want my help.”

It wasn’t a question, but a curious statement. One filled with caution and… a sense of relief? The latter she wasn’t too sure about, but perhaps her coming to him for something so personal and intimate touched him. It wouldn’t surprise her if it were true. While their relationship was sitting somewhere between friends and lovers, he kept his promise from half a year ago that this was all at her pace. That he wouldn’t push her one way or another and wanted her to decide for herself.

Silva met his sky-blue eyes, unable to decipher the emotions shimming in the pretty crystal pools. “If… if you do not mind spending the better part of the night picking off dead scales,” she joked with a watery laugh. “If not, t-that’s okay too! I know it’s so sudden. I-I can deal with what I can on my own and—”

“No— Silv, I don’t mind at all!” he rushed, cutting her off. She fell silent, gazing up at him. The white mage reached to rub the back of his neck, his beige-scaled tail twitching. “If anything, I’m glad you decided to reach out to me for something like this. But I can’t help be ask… why me? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with another lady helping you—”

She cut him off with a hard shake of her head, a growl rumbling in her throat as the spines at the base and tip of her tail bristled. “I do not trust anyone else to help me with something like this right now! Not after today!” His eyes widened when she abruptly stood up, her hands clenched into fists. “You are an Au Ra — just like me, Ricmorn. You understand how this works. You know that my scales, horns, fangs, and tail do not make me a dragon. They do not make me some kind of monster parents tell their children to run away from when spotted. I. Am Human.” The tears she’s held in for almost the entire day finally fell, blurring her eyes as she fought back sobs. “You know me — know who I am… You know that I’m not—”

The words died on her tongue the moment Ricmorn closed what little distance there was between them and gathered her in his arms. Silva buried her face in the crook of his neck, listening to his soft shushing and gentle, kind words filling her horns. He rubbed soothing circles at her lower back and she melted against him.

“I’m s-sorry!” she cried, guilt crushing her. “I’m so, so sorry! You do not deserve my misguided anger a-and—”

“Shhhh… It’s okay, Silv. It’s okay. I know it’s not at me, I promise,” he whispered, refusing to let her bring herself down. His heart was breaking alongside hers. “You have every right to be angry and hurt by the things people said to you today, and it’s not okay that they did that.” Ricmorn gave her a warm smile when she eventually looked up after a few minutes, sniffling and bright sea-green eyes filled with wet tears. “You are not a monster because you have features that stand out from everyone else — they are beautiful things about you,” he murmured, wiping away the droplets. “If they cannot see the sweet, genuine, courageous woman that you are, then they are absolute fools and do not deserve to know you as I do.”

I will always protect you — always.

A few more quiet sniffles escaped Silva as she let his heartfelt words sink in. They were words she desperately needed to hear, and she would forever be grateful for them and the time he took to speak them aloud.

She was so glad he came.

The smaller Raen carefully rubbed one of her ivory horns against his beige one, taking extra caution not to poke her eye out, before bumping her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispered.

It took his brain a moment to understand what happened, and he couldn’t help the pleased growl rumbling in his chest at the affectionate gestures. “Of course, Silva, “ he returned, giving her waist a comforting squeeze. “You’ll always have a safe space to talk about anything with me. I’m here for you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I… I know. You have no idea how much that means to me, Ric. Truly.”

“Good.”

When he shifted his head so he could rub his horn against hers, one part of him wanted to return the gesture, and the other needed to feel those sparks of levin whenever they touched again, she sighed. He could hear the exhaustion behind it. The lingering heaviness. It’s been that way ever since they settled in this cold, unforgiving city that glared at them with hatred.

And that wouldn’t do.

Ricmorn gave her one last hug, being mindful not to crush her. “Come— Let’s get you settled in the tub,” he suggested, keeping a hand on her back as he guided her. “You’ll feel a little better once you soak and we get these old scales off you. Is that magical teapot of yours tucked somewhere in your bag? Could I fetch it and make us some tea?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it's in the same place it always is. You're welcome to look for it — tea sounds lovely.”

“Be right back.”

Silva waited until he walked away to remove her robe, knowing one reason he went to busy himself for a few minutes was to give her a moment of privacy. Another deep sigh slipped past her lips as she sank into the hot water, immediately relaxing and letting it work its magic on her sore muscles and molting scales.

※

The Auri pair sat in mostly silence as they worked together to remove her dead scales. Not that neither of them minded. Every once in a while Ricmorn would ask if the table needed more hot water when she shivered or if he had hurt her when she would flinch after removing a stubborn scale. Silva quickly reassured him he didn’t, that it just felt good to be free of them.

After another bell of quietness, she decided to speak up.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, Ricmorn?” she asked shyly.

He hummed, curious. “What do you mean?”

Silva waited for him to remove the last dead scale from the patch on the back of her neck before turning around and facing him. She felt her cheeks warm at the same time a bright red flush stained his porcelain skin. His throat bobbed as she lifted herself out of the water, only everything below her navel remaining submerged.

And yet his eyes never left her sea-green ones.

“You said I was beautiful,” she stated, the water sloshing as her tail swished. “Did you mean it?”

Ricmorn wet his suddenly dry lips. He placed the blunt-edged tool down on the tub's edge — without breaking eye contact. His hand gently cupped her face, tenderly brushing his thumbs across the patches of plum-colored freckles decorating her skin.

“May I speak honestly for a minute?”

The amount of love she saw shimmering in those pretty sky-blue orbs took her breath away. “Always,” she breathed, trying to ignore the rush of blood in her horns.

“You, my dear, are the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes on, Silva. Inside and out. Especially now — bathed in silver moonlight with stunning iridescent scales,” he grinned. His heart fluttered when she leaned into his touch and felt a happy noise rumble in her throat. “Who wears her heart on her sleeve and can see the good in people — no matter their flaws. Who fights for what she believes in and is fiercely loyal to those who have earned her trust and a place by her side. And I am grateful she considers me as one of those people.” He reached up to brush some of the wet strands of purple and magenta behind a horn. “You… you are an amazing woman. I’ve always believed that — I will never stop believing that. You have my word and my faith.”

They stared at one another for a long time. Eyes never breaking free as they roamed over the other’s face. Neither one of them wanted to pull away and shatter the illusion of this little world of theirs they entered when they started this. There were no Warrior of Light titles and falsehoods hanging over them here.

It was just Silva and Ricmorn. Two Au Ra who found something unspeakable in one another and were desperately clinging to it as they traversed through a land he judged them without merit. Worse come to worse, they would always have each other.

“Stay the night with me?” she whispered once she found the words. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I would love nothing more.”

[chatonyant]

are u planning on making any major (or minor) changes revolving the kekkei genkais? :D

OhohO yeah I’ve got plans :> thanks for asking, I have an excuse to ramble about them now :D

The ideas I have actually came before the idea of this au because I was chatting with my friends and had a whole ramble on “Hey, kekkei genkais don’t make sense. What if they did?”

The ideas, much like pretty much everything else, are still a work in progress BUT the general idea I have for them is that they’re learnable jutsus-- it’s just that they’re harder to learn and control and may have physical debilitations due to the nature of the jutsu. 

This is excluding the things that are obviously physical/biological like the doujutsu and the bone kekkei genkai. Though that does bring up the question of why Ao could activate and deactivate his Byakugan but Kakashi couldn’t do so with his Sharingan. Personally I want to think that it may have something to do with a battlefield implant by a still-learning (but highly talented cause wOW) medic-nin. But that’s more food for thought at a later time :D

More rambling underneath!

So to go more in-depth with kekkei genkais being learnable, I want to first talk about the original concept itself. It’s interesting how within the Naruto universe, there’s this concept of knowledge being passed down through genetics. Because this isn’t the Avatar universe, where movements and will are what control the elements. Though their movements are akin to martial arts, accidental bending exists, as does bending with casual movements. Ninjutsu isn’t like that. Ninjutsu requires specific hand movements in a specific order. The control of chakra could be instinctual, like someone knowing how much energy they need to jump, but hand signs are a lot more precise and complex(?) than that. So how is it that such knowledge is passed down through genetics? Haku and Tenzou both wield their bloodlines very well without having a teacher with the same kekkei genkai. 

I’ve got no proper answer for that in canon (except the idea of “why not?”), but I do want to go more in-depth with the idea of knowledge and instincts within the au at a later time, tying it in with the idea of yokai and spirits ;)

So. The fundamental elements of kekkei genkai aren’t unusual. It’s the combination of two chakra elements to create a secondary element. But is that impossible for other shinobi? What makes these clans so special? 

In this redesigned world, this combination of chakra elements isn’t impossible for other shinobi-- just really really difficult and requires high chakra control. If a shinobi doesn’t have the chakra control and just slams the two elements together, sure it could work, but it may not have the results that they particularly wanted. These jutsus COULD be copied by someone who has a Sharingan, but it would difficult for the copier to control said chakras if they didn’t have experience beforehand. 

Another reason it’s difficult is the physical requirements. For example, Haku’s ice. So say someone eventually DID learn how to utilize the ice style. But there are consequences. They can’t use it for long before the cold seeps into their skin and bones and begins numbing their fingers and potentially causing hyperthermia. Haku, being born with this kekkei genkai, has a body better suited for such jutsu which could vary from naturally lower body temp to being more resistant to the cold. 

Another example is Tenzou and his Mokuton. I mean really, this man can turn his body into a tree. Enough said about physical requirements. 

HOWEVER.

That does not mean that someone couldn’t learn a modified version of Mokuton that doesn’t require turning your flesh into wood. 

But before I get into that, let’s go into ambient chakra. 

I don’t know if this is canon or not and frankly i’m too tired to find out because it doesn’t matter, i’m doing my own thing. 

I’ve got this headcannon that there is ambient chakra that infuses the air, water, and nature in general. This is not nature chakra, because nature chakra is a special type of chakra that does not usually float around in abundance because if it did, sages would just need to tap into the near infinite energy of nature around them and spend less time “gathering” the energy. No, this is just casual chakra that just vibes in the world. 

Haku’s ice is created by the moisture around them. Ok, cool. Fire jutsus are created when the user breathes out chakra elements. Aight, makes sense. You could totally science that and say something about chakra and friction and sparks and- yeah. Kisame creating a fucking mini ocean in the middle of a desert?

I hate my brain trying to science this. Did I just make ambient chakra a thing just to make some things make sense? Yes, among other things? Am I going far too into things when I really don’t need to/ probably shouldn’t? Probably.

So. Conservation of matter really doesn’t apply to this world, but ANYWAYS, shinobi subconsciously use ambient chakra to create and manipulate the world around them. They basically use their chakra as a fishing line to hook onto the chakra of their surroundings and yank it into position. Or create a mini-ocean in the middle of a desert, whatever. 

The idea I have of how Mokuton works is that the user manipulates the roots and seeds of plants around them into growing faster and moving where the user wants them to be. Thus, their jutsu is weaker in areas with very little plants. At first I was thinking “hey maybe they make wood out of nowhere like they do with water” but then I was like “wow that would use up a LOT of chakra.” And also i just like the idea of a Mokuton user carrying around seeds and tossing them around but I digress.

So a Mokuton user would use their chakra and ambient chakra to feed the plant and make it grow. (wow such a simple explanation that took too long to explain-- I’m sorry, words get ahead of me sometimes.)

Thus a person can learn to manipulate the plants in their vicinity but not be able to turn their own flesh into wood like Hashirama and Tenzou :D with Obito as honorable mention.

Stuff like chakra chains are less of “wow that require pinpoint control and understanding of chakra natures” it’s more of “oh fuck that’s a lot of chakra and i have to mold it into shape outside my body??? nope” it’s like Rasengan! except with wayyy more chakra and more density. (Tailed beasts!!! It can fucking hold down tailed beasts-)

Chakra is said to have five (+two) natures but there’s also so many different types of jutsus shown within the show that things inevitably get very very confusing