#it took until like midnight to wind down enough for sleep

[thatfaerieprincess]

Do y’all want to see me hopping around dressed up as a green tree frog for our Halloween kids event at work???

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

pt. 2

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

In The Lonely Shadows (2/2) Dean W.

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

the first part of this was requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

A/N #2: people were rabid about asking me for a part two. So please, enjoy!

WC: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, dean returns. sassy & protective crowley

[READ PART ONE HERE]

Read on Ao3!

--

Dean watched as your chest heaved up and down with every breath you took. The wind was howling outside, with rain pouring down. He was only partially soaked, having run for cover under teh pitiful awning above your hotel door. A suitcase was tucked into one hand and a backpack filled with supplies slung over the shoulder. He'd wanted to say goodbye before he left. But he couldn't. He was a coward, after all. He'd had a few visits from Castiel and Crowley, neither of them saying a word about you.

Though, he asked. He hasn’t spoken a word about Sam, either. The horror of watching Sam fall into the pits of Hell with Adam devastated him. So he ran away. He ran away to the person who would get him away from the hunter’s life, Lisa and Ben. He played pretend for as long as he possibly could.

Until he couldn’t keep up with the facade anymore. All he did was think about you, and the life the pair of you could have had. He’d find himself hovering over your name in his cellphone but never pressing the call button. Oftentimes, he’s stay up late at night, while Lisa laid peacefully next to him sleeping.  He knew he couldn’t lie to her forever about what - or who - truly had his heart.

Oftentimes, when he dreamed, it was about you, your face and your hands wrapped tightly in his as you started behind him on hunts. Thats what he loved about you the most, how much you trusted him to protect you.

So months after he departed, he located you in this dingy motel, where rodents and garbage littered the parking lot, and a few street lamps flickered dangerously in this damned storm. He’d gotten a replacement key to your room, claiming to the sketchy old man at the kiosk that he was your husband and you didn’t leave the key outside for him. So, on the threshold of the hotel room is where he stood, his fight or flight response kicking in the moment he laid eyes on you again.

He hadn’t seen you in months, far too long. But not long enough to forget the way your cheeks puffed out while you were embarrassed or the way your hair always fell into your face when you’d laugh at his stupid jokes. He couldn’t forget the way you would shuffle into his warmth at night, either.

God, did he miss the way you infected all of his clothing with your perfumes. 

He hesitantly stepped into the room, only to stop midway through in almost a panic. What if you moved on? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you shot him? He wondered at that moment if you held any protection on you, or if you’d thrown all of it away.

But he took the chance anyway and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He quietly toed out of his shoes and turned around before fully surveying the room. He couldn’t see any other person’s belongings in the room, so he assumed you were indeed alone.

Nervously, he tiptoed to the bed and studied your face for a long moment. He remembered everything about you-- your eyelashes, the dimple on your cheek. He wanted to reach out to you, nearly stopping himself as he felt his arm move without his command. He brushed his fingers against your cheek before he knew what he was doing and stepped back as your eyes had flung open in terror.

“Y/N,Y/N, it’s me, it’s Dean,” he said, reaching behind him for the pistol he always carried with him, though, he would never attempt to hurt you in any sort of way. “Hey, hey.”

“Dean?” you blinked through the darkness of the room. You must have been sleeping. Because you thought you heard Dean’s voice. And you thought you seen him standing mere inches away from where you slept on the bed.

Before he could get the chance to respond, another voice filled the room, a voice you’d come to recognize and acknowledge throughout these last few months.

“She doesn’t need you, Squirrel. She’s doing great without you.” Crowley’s voice echoed in the small room. 

Pulling yourself into a sitting position on the bed, you wiped at your eyes before switching your gaze between the pair in front of you. Crowley had been watching you over the weeks, which you had grown weirdly accustomed to, so it was no surprise that he had appeared out of the blue. What had startle you, was the other man standing mere inches away from you. If you just lifted your arm a few inches, you would be able to clasp your hands together.

“You left her high and dry after Moose had fallen into the depths of Hell, where, mind you, he’s been shacking it up with Lucifer. You should hear the agonies and woes from him.”

You could see the agitated twitch in Dean’s cheekbones, even in the poor excuse of light shining through the cracked window curtains.

“But now, back to the matter at hand, hmm?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the two-night lamps turned on, casting the room in sudden brightness that none of you was prepared for.

“How’s Lisa and Ben?” Crowley smirked as Dean looked entirely uncomfortable at the jabs. “Didn’t want to be a family man anymore, huh? Did she decide she didn’t want your baggage?”

“It’s none of your business, Crowley,” Dean quipped. He snuck a look towards you and almost melted at the sight of tears in your eyelids. He wanted to erase the heartbreak he had caused you. He wanted to erase the pain away from you.

He only wanted you to forgive him. He wanted you and only you. He wished he hadn’t run off after Sam had gone to Hell, but he was broken and insecure. He was scared that you would leave him as well, so he did the only thing he could think of doing at the time: He ran away.

He begged for Lisa to forgive him, and she did. She took him in immediately, even after he explained all that went down with Lucifer and Adam and Sam. She took care of him. And for a while, he could forget all the pain. He could mourn the loss of his brother in peace. But there had always been a hole in his heart that Lisa nor ben would veer be able to fill.

He hadn’t known it at the time until he had sat up the night before and wallowed in misery after having nothing but dreams and nightmares about you for months.

“No harsh words, Not Moose?” Crowley taunted as he took a step toward you, causing Dean to nearly topple backwards onto the bed you were still sitting on. “No quips? Nothing? What do you have to say for yourself? Because while you were playing house, I was left to pick up the piece of her broken heart! How noble of you.  Leave her behind to wallow in misery, and now what? You expect her to swoon because you're back? Pathetic."”

You never thought you would see the day when the king of hell would be red in the face at the Winchesters. But here he was, pointing a threatening finger in Dean’s direction while the other man looked like a kicked puppy. 

You wanted Crowley to stop the insults at Dean. But the fact that he was protecting you in this way meant so much to you. You never knew how much Crowley actually cared about you. 

"I bet she’s just thrilled to have you back. Nothing says 'I care' like a good old-fashioned abandonment, right?" Crowley scoffed.

“Crowley, enough,” you sighed as you finally pushed the duvet away from your body and stood up, causing Dean to look at you with hope. With your request, Crowley quieted down, though he didn’t cease the glare or scowl on his features. Ignoring him, you took a breath, taking Dean’s height in stride. “So, what? You show up at my doorstep and nearly scare me to death, for what?”

“I was wrong,” Dean swallowed, blinking slowly as tears piled against his eyelids. “I never should have left you the way i had. You were mourning Sam as well, and I was a coward for leaving you. I never once stopped thinking about you. I never once let you out of my mind. Lisa knew it, Ben knew it.’

“I’m not forgiving you, Dean.” you held your ground, even as you had to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “How could I forgive you? Do you know what the hell I’ve been through? You weren’t the only one to lose a brother, you know? Sam was my family as well.”

He opened his mouth, only for you to cut him off.

“It’s been fourteen months, Dean—fourteen long, terrible months. I celebrated Sam’s birthday without you. I celebrated your birthday without you. Crowley was the only one to check with me. Do you know he saved me from death on numerous occasions? That could have been you.”

He looked utterly defeated at the mention of the birthday celebrations. He could only imagine you singing to yourself with some cheap cake and a gas station lighter, wishing for the family you once held as you blew out the candles.

“Dean, I don’t know whether to hit you, kiss you, or put a bullet in you.” you scowled, pushing past him to walk over to the bathroom to wash your face. Leaving the door open, you heard Dean shuffle around Crowley to get to you again. 

“I can’t leave you, not again. Never again,” he watched your reflection as you grabbed for a hand towel and wiped the water from your face. 

Glaring at him momentarily, you sighed heavily before turning around and leaning against the counter. “Crowley will kill me for this. But I can’t help but think that I’m still in love with you. We can talk more about this in the morning. I had a long few weeks, and I’m absolutely exhausted.” 

Eagerly, Dean followed you out of the bathroom, barely noticing Crowley’s absence as he tucked you into the bed before he climbed in himself.

--

**totally up for a part three IF people want it. So please, please, please, if you enjoyed this reblog this & leave comments.

[lesvii]

The Dinner

Valeria Garza x F! Reader

Valeria Garza fic… yeah this is the diner by Billie eilish😶‍🌫️… anyways hope u enjoy

Tw: toxic val, brief mention of smut (just touchy).

You’ve been living in a small apartment, big enough for two people. Waking up at 6am coming home at 2am. You’ve work two shifts at least to keep the rent going. Working in a coffee shop near by, at night on bar 5 min away from your place. Today was a calm evening, you sighed as you walked back to you place, fist clenched. You knew Las Almas wasn’t so “calm” at least at night… you knew you had to be careful, looking backward once in a while, just to be sure no one was following you. But that feeling of someone watching you didn’t wash away.

Don’t be afraid of me.

I’m what you need.

You’ve arrived at you place at 2:30 A.M. as you took your work shoes off and change to some comfortable pink fluffy slippers. You turned the TV on, exhausted as you stroll to the kitchen opening cabinets to see what quick meal you can make. Until something catches your eye.

“We been notified that a near squad militar unity had capture a cartel suspect, just a quick reminder on how Las Almas is quite a dangerous place—“

The TV when quiet for a second when you served yourself a bowl of fruit and yogurt as you sat on the couch near the TV. The lady on the screen looked nervous, quite astonished as she talked to someone behind camaras.

“I— um- we’ve been informed that the suspect we’ve mention has scaped the military quarters, we suggest you to no go outside past midnight, keep your doors locked, and don’t answer the door if you don’t know who they are”

“The characteristics we have been informed is a Tall woman, tan skin, tattoos in both arms, dark short hair, we repeat—“

I saw you on the screens.

I know were meant to be.

It got cut off by you changing the channel, but sadly this was all over the news, you groan as you finish your dinner.

A thunder straddle you as you jumped from the couch, you looked outside the living room window as a thunderstorm was covering Las Almas when a huge thump made you turn around in shock, you walked slowly as you tried to gather yourself, a cold breeze hit your body from behind as you turn to see the door was open.

“Fuck.. that scared the shit out of me”. You mumble as you came to close the door, this time with a lock, probably the wind made that.

You stood in silence as you decide to go upstairs to your room, wash off the stress, you took a shower, put on a set of black silky shorts and a top, quickly hoped to bed, closing your eyes, you drift to your dreams quickly.

A black shadow stare at the corner of the room, your breathing becomes heavier as you can see the woman described walking towards your bed, a knife at her hand, looking at you like a prey, the next meal she’s gonna have before disappearing into the darkness again.

You’re starring in my dreams.

In magazines.

Your looking right at me.

You scream, waking up cold sweating as you try and regulate your breathing back again, you groan as you rest you face in your hands. That’s why you don’t like to watch TV so often, too many deaths and negative propaganda. You sighed as going back to sleep wasn’t an option, finally your body stopped shaking. Nothing but a mare nightmare right?.

You sat up on bed as you turn to face your nightstand where your clock was at 3:33 A.M.

The devils hour.

What a coincidence you thought as a shiver down your back was known.

I’m here around the clock.

I’m waiting on your block.

You heard a weird creek on your stairs, strangely the same as when you set your foot cause by a weight, they are wooden stairs after all, they do made noices, you think. You stay silent for a second as you decided to be brave enough to get out off the comfort and safety of your bed, as if no monsters could ever get you there. You slowly open you bedroom door, as you peak your head a little to watch, not being at peace you decided to go downstairs quietly.

Step by step, slowly but calculating your way down to your living room, your breathing a bit on edge, you hear a noice coming from your kitchen, scared shitless you turn to see where the noice is coming from, but fear not, for your surprise was just a loose branch clicking the kitchen window, you decided to peak on the window.

“Care to have some company, chula?”

A husky voice straddled you to the point you were too scared to look back, you froze in the middle of the kitchen, as your worst fear came true.

But please don’t call the cops.

They’ll make me stop.

I just wanna talk.

You left out a trembling sighed as you turn around to face the femenine husky voice. You shook your head as you open your mouth to speak but for a moment nothing c,w trough.

“I— I don’t want any problems just take whatever you want and go-“.

Your voice practically trembling, fighting the urge to not look weak. She makes a low giggle, as she takes a step towards you.

“Really?, anything I want, careful for what you which for florecita”.

She grins taking a final step towards you, as she examines your face, the moonlight hitting your face in the most perfect angles. You stare right into her eyes, there’s something about them… something about the way they look at you, with desire, lust, possession.

“You know… I was planing to knock the fuck out of whatever perro was living here…”

Valeria makes a pause examining your apartment surroundings.

“But— I didn’t knew there was a pretty little thing living here, now you’ve just changed my mind?”.

She said as she caressed a strand of hair that was messy from the commotion.

“How about I bring you back to my place?, you can have anything with me, just name it.”

Bet I could change your life.

You could be my wife.

You stare at her confused of who she was, what was she doing here?, and now she was telling you she was going to take you away. What’s this a kidnapping of some sort?. You started to panic but something kept you grounded, the way her hands were now resting over your hips pulling you closer to the heat of the older woman’s body. You looked down to her hands as you looked away in shyness.

“Aww, no chula don’t go all shy on me now..”

Valeria said, making little circles with her fingers massaging your hips. You sighed at the touch, she leaned over as she dominantly kissed you, bitting your lower lip, her hand traveling down to your pajamas shorts. As things started to get more heated you pushed her away, as you try to make a run for it.

Bad decision

She was right after you, in a split second she cashes you like a lion stalking his pray, ready to make the last kill. She pushes you right into the corner of the living room.

Could get into a fight

I’ll say your right

And I’ll kiss you good night.

“And I thought we were getting along?, you don’t wanna get me mad princess..”

Your breathing accelerates, adrenaline pumping into your veins. As she Hoover over you, you manage to set a punch as she straddles back.

“get away from me !”

I waited on the corner till I saw the sitter leave.

Was easy getting over.

And I landed on my feet.

You scream hoping someone would come for your rescue, Valeria backing up from you finally when you see her walking to the kitchen, confused you stare at her not knowing what to do.

I came in through the kitchen.

Looking for something to eat.

As she comes back to you she grins, you hear some commotion outside, honking in general.

“My rides here… but you can call me if you change you mind sweetheart.”

She finally said as she caressed my lips, final look as she went through the front door and disappeared in the darkness.

I left a calling card so they.

Would know that it was me.

[mandiemegatron]

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙔𝙤𝙪

ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ꜰɪᴄ! ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɢ, ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴍᴅɴɪ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʙᴇʟᴇᴅ 18+, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ.

ᴀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛɪᴇ, ʙᴇᴛᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪꜰᴇʏ @moss-woods 💖 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱʟʏ!

ɪ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀɢᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴛ ʙɪᴛ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ ʙᴜɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ!

It was freezing cold the night Sanji realized he was lucky enough to love you.

With a winter storm beating into the Thousand Sunny, most Strawhats were unable to sleep, tossing and turning in their bunks as they tried to ignore the frigid breeze sneaking under the bedroom doors.

You'd silently snuck out of the woman's shared bedroom and into the kitchen, the sound of your thick furred slippers muted by the whistle of the heavy winds. When you opened the door, you weren't sure if you should be surprised to see Sanji at the stove, warming up some tea for himself.

“You too, eh?”

The blonde man jumped slightly, turning to you with a wide eye before huffing out a soft laugh, covering his heart with a hand as he answered, “No way I can sleep through this and Zoro's snoring. I can only take one or the other,” he half-jokes, flashing you a wide grin before fetching a second mug for you.

“Hot chocolate for you, dearest?”

You can't help but give him a sleep grin in reply, sitting down at the table to watch him. “That sounds great, Sanji. Thank you so much.” He waves you off with a soft, “Anything for you my dear.”

it was the warm way your fingers touched as he handed you the steaming mug, reminding you gently, “It's hot, just be careful…” as he slides his fingers away from yours. His heart stops at the smile on your face, gentle and genuine, as you take a very small sip.

“It's perfect! As always.”

His face lights up like the sun at your praise before bringing his own mug over, sitting across from you comfortably.

“Were you able to sleep at all, Y/N?”

You took another sip before shaking your head slightly, fighting back a frown as you commented, “No… I tossed and turned for a few hours before deciding to just get up.” You threw him another small grin as you added, “I wasn't sure if I should have been shocked to see you in here already.”

Sanji chuckles before taking a sip of his own, placing his mug down and holding it between his hands as he replies, “I would have gotten up in about an hour to start breakfast prep anyways, but thought I just might as well get up now.” His fingers tap on the ceramic gently as he adds, “Honestly I was surprised it was you coming in and not our shitty captain.”

You can't help but laugh, rolling your eyes as you reply, “Ah yes, Luffy's midnight rest crusade… how could I forget.” You both shared a laugh, thinking about the crazy fiasco that happened a few nights prior. “I never saw colour drain from his face so fast before,” you laughed out.

Sanji snickered, taking another sip before he jokes, “I told him I'd kick his ass across the ship if he did it again, especially right after we just restocked, and he thought I was joking!” He grins and chuckles out, “Not my fault he's stupid.”

You laugh with him, shaking your head as you defend your captain, “He's not stupid, he's just… ballsy! And very determined!” Sanji laughs outright at your words, shaking his own head slightly as he agrees softly, “Ah, yeah, I suppose.”

You both settle into silence, watching each other sip your hot beverages until he finally blabs out,

“... What do you see in that shitty marimo?”

You blink a few times before slowly asking, “Uh…. What?”

Sanji groans and covers his face, the tips of his ears bright red as he sighs heavily, rubbing at his flesh with another, more irritated groan before he finally gets out,

“I see how he looks at you… and it makes me so mad…” He clenches his hands into fists on the table, unable to look you in the eyes as he glares a hole into the wood. “He doesn't deserve someone like you, someone made entirely of sunshine and goodness, someone beautiful and perfect,” He sighs again before mumbling, “I'm so sorry, Y/N, just pretend I didn't say anything.”

You sit there in shock, blinking in absolute confusion as you hold your mug. The stinging heat doesn't register, unable to pull you from your confusion as you suddenly ask in return, “Why the hell do you think I have a thing with Zoro?!” Your face contorts into one of slight disgust, not towards Zoro but the thought of being intimate with someone you only have respect for. “Eugh, Sanji, no! I do not have anything with Zoro other than friendship, and I can promise you that he feels the same.”

Sanji's face turns up to stare you down, his eye wide and confused himself as he slowly presses, “You… nothing? Not even once?”

You shake your head with a laugh before replying, “Not even once, Sanji! And why would I like him when I like y-” Your eyes go wide as you stop yourself, your eyes slowly sliding down to the table as you press your lips into a fine line.

There's a pause between you as you hold your breath, hoping he would drop it.

No dice.

“You… me?”

His voice is almost a whisper as he speaks, his eye still wide and almost desperately searching your face for any sign of deceit.

His heart does a loop when he sees your face burn in bright reds.

“Eh?! Me?!”

You slowly look back up at him, an unsure look on your face as you somehow croak out, “Y-yeah?”

Sanji immediately lets out a loud “WOO!” before nearly jumping out of his seat and going to your side of the table and dropping to his knees, gently picking up your hands and holding them to his chest as he beams down at you, “You're serious?! You like me?!”

You shush Sanji loudly, taking your hands from his and gently patting his shoulders as you beg him, “Yes, yes I do, now please! Hush Sanji, you're gonna wake everyone up!”

Sanji swore he could have cried, looking down at you as you stared at him, begging him to stay quiet but with a large grin across his face he nearly shouts, “No way! There's no way I'm keeping quiet about you, or how I feel about you!”

He stands in a flash and turns to rush out of the kitchen when Robin and Nami enter the kitchen, a frown on the orange haired navigators face as she snaps, “You two better shut the hell up! Just because you couldn't sleep doesn't mean we can't either!”

Robin hides a sly grin behind a hand as she winks at you before adding in a tired tone, “We're all exhausted from this storm. Some peace and quiet would be appreciated.”

Sanji immediately apologizes, nearly falling at their feet as he gushes, “Oh yes of course my lovely ladies, my absolute apologies for running your beauty sleep!” He doesn't even flinch as Nami punches the side of his head as she snaps, “You better keep quiet or I'll wake up Luffy with his favourite words!”

Sanjis balks at her, shaking his head madly as he begs her in a low tone, “Nami please, I swear-” He flinches this time when she raises a fist threateningly. He gives her a silent salute and crawls back over to you, sliding back into his chair with his lips pressed together tightly.

Nami flashes the fist at you as well and you give her a tight lipped smile before the two women finally head back towards the women's room.

You two sit in silence once again, hearts beating like wild drums and it's only after a good ten minutes that you finally whisper to him,

“Does that mean you like me too, Sanji?”

He looks up from his mug, blue eye bright as he grins and whispers back,

“Yeah. It does.”

He reaches out a hand across the small table and you reach back, your fingers gently intertwining as he continues,

“I'm so glad… you chose me.”

Tears burn in your eyes at his loving touch, your fingers burning in his as you reply gently,

“I'm glad you chose me, too.”

In the silence of the kitchen, it was then that Sanji thanked the freezing storm that crashed against the Thousand Sunny. With you in his heart, it suddenly didn't feel so cold anymore.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Imagine... (‘hosting your first new years party’)

Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

December Daze Challenge - Day 23 - @the-slumberparty

Warnings: (500w). Established relationship - marriage, pregnancy/baby, becoming parents. Fluff.

Imagine getting to experience becoming first-time parents with Bucky. He was overly attentive your whole pregnancy, accompanying you to all your doctor appointments, even the uneventful ones at the beginning. Once you reached the third trimester, he took an extended hiatus from work, refusing to be anywhere without you. You’ve had the privilege of experiencing a multitude of firsts with Bucky, but nothing compared to that first day after your little one was born. Watching him carefully hold your tiny, perfect daughter with tears of joy streaming down his face made you fall in love with him all over again. Becoming parents changed everything of course, those first few months a blur of sleepless nights and new things to worry about it. Was she eating enough? Was she warm enough? Was she happy? Will she eventually turn into a moody teenager that refuses to smile? Even with the never-ending anxieties that came with this new chapter, your lives were infinitely better, despite how truly unprepared you were. Everything revolved around her now, neither of you even really able to remember what it was like before her, her precious face sneaking into old memories, as if she’s been with you forever. The peace Bucky found with you was only amplified by his love for her, her sweet, gummy smile easing the burdens of his past. Becoming a father wasn’t a role he ever thought he’d be capable of, and as terrified as he is every minute of every day, all the winding, painful roads life has taken him on has been worth it. It’s led him here, devoted to the most captivating woman he’s ever laid eyes on, raising a beautiful daughter together. A daughter who is currently sleeping in her crib, the baby monitor front and center on the coffee table, level with your head resting on his lap. You fell asleep a while ago, your assurances that you’d make it to midnight more hopeful than based in reality. It’ll be your first time ringing in the new year as parents and you worked so hard to plan the perfect New Year’s Eve party, the festivities starting well before the baby’s bedtime so she could be included. Bucky refuses to wake you at first, content to listen to your steady breaths while he watches the monitor, thanking whoever deserves the credit for making this his fate. He waits until there’s only a couple minutes to spare, his soft caress of your back stirring you awake, a throw pillow soon replacing his leg so he can kneel in front of you. There’s nothing better than slowly waking to gentle kisses and tender touches by your husband, your frustration at falling asleep quieted by his embrace. As much fun as today's been, the only thing that mattered was being together, you and Bucky deciding at the last minute to countdown to midnight in hushed voices over your still-sleeping daughter, wanting to bring in the new year as a family.

Day 22 | Imagine… Masterlist | Day 24

Banners by @cafekitsune - Divider by @saradika-graphics

[goldencherriess]

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Fem! Reader

Summary: Y/N had never been a normal kid, she knew this much. But a certain night puts everything into perspective.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood

Series masterlist || Main masterlist

Y/N often dreamed of the skies. Clouds and stars twinkled behind her eyelids every time she closed her eyes. Deep sleep often carried her across the midnight universe until thunder struck and slashed the skies in two. That was when she woke up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

She wouldn’t fall back asleep after that. She’d lay back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the background, muffled sounds of a still lively Manhattan. 

She wasn’t born and raised in Manhattan. She faintly remembered, as through a mist, a cottage hidden from prying eyes, surrounded by rolling hills, cutting mountains and whistling winds. And if she let her mind focus long enough, she could remember stormy eyes looking down at her. But as fast as the vision came, it went. 

She turned on her side, her gaze catching her reflection in the mirror aimlessly hung on her wooden chipped wardrobe. It was dark in the room, but her eyes glowed all the same. Growing up, her mother always did say her eyes resembled her father’s, brave, tumultuous and violent. Like a storm, the most beautiful eyes, she used to say. 

Y/N blinked before she sat up. Her bare feet touched the cold floor and she gathered a moment to herself to stare out the window. The tall blocks of Manhattan obscured the silver vision of the moon. She turned to look at the electronic clock on her bedside table. It read 2:14 am. A sigh escaped her lips and she got up, letting the duvet fall soundlessly on the purple carpet. She tiptoed all the way out of her bedroom and down the corridor. She passed another bedroom. The door was ajar and she could hear her aunt softly snoring. 

When she entered the kitchen, she was greeted by the humming of the old fridge. She opened it, a wave of coldness cooling down her hot body, the sweat trickling down her temple. The blue light of the fridge cascaded down, illuminating the dark corners of the kitchen. Seeing nothing that could interest her or satiate her thirst, she closed it back, a few polaroids appearing before her eyes. Her mother smiled at her through them, ringlets falling down her back. Y/N appeared in all of them, either hiding her face away from the camera or boldly sticking her tongue out. 

Her father was absent in every photo. She never did meet him. She never knew how he looked, or what his name was. Or what his favourite colour was, the simplest of things. She only knew that he cared enough to leave. 

She could tell the photographs were chronologically pinned on the fridge, because down the line her mother disappeared from the photos and was replaced by her sweet aunt. If she squinted she could have said they were the same person. She remembered a hospital bed, her mother’s pale and sickly face and her aunt’s gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She turned away from the refrigerator. Her hands opened the cupboard and took hold of her glued back Milka mug (she had broken it a few months ago when she thought she saw a winged horse on the roof of the neighbouring block. When she recounted to her aunt what she saw, her aunt only kissed her forehead, picked up the broken pieces of the mug and promised she would mend it back together. Y/N never told her again of the visions).  She opened the tap and let the jet of water fill the mug. She closed it, raising the mug to her lips, the sound of falling droplets onto the sink filling the air. The water felt like a cleansing wave down her throat and she almost forgot the recurring dreams she had. They’ve been hunting her mind for a few years now and she started to wonder if there was something wrong with her, if the winged horses, the lightning and the thunder were clear signs that she was going insane. It didn’t help that she moved schools every few months (“She gets into trouble too often”, “She’s too impulsive”, “She must go to a school for children with special needs” were some of the things the school counselors and the principals always did say to her aunt. They thought she couldn’t hear them, but she did. Always). 

She couldn’t help glancing out the dirty kitchen window. Thunder lightened the Manhattan sky for a split second. She started. Silence and darkness came and she was, once again, left alone in the kitchen, with only the humming of the fridge and the splashing of the droplets to keep her company. A shaky breath escaped her lips. She raised the mug to her lips, but she didn’t get to drink any more water. Lightning illuminated the kitchen once more and a two-headed dog appeared before her, just beyond the window. She screamed and her mug slipped from her hands, shattering. 

The dog was there, tauntingly bearing its teeth at her. Thunder reverberated and rain started falling from the open sky, pattering against the window. A storm was brewing in Manhattan and she took a step back, gaze frozen on the dog. The moment it started barking (she swore she could hear it as though it was beside her), she yelled. Padded footsteps announced her aunt’s presence. “Y/N?! What is it, sweetie?” 

Y/N could hear her gasp, but she was too paralyzed to turn around. The dog jumped on the window and a crack appeared. She jumped back, colliding with her aunt’s waist. A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, much as it did a few years ago in a small hospital room. “Y/N, we need to leave.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide and her mouth fell open. The dog jumped on the window again. Another crack. 

“Y/N, did you hear me? We need to leave. Now.”

Thunder. The heads of the dog hit the window in an attempt to break it. Two cracks.

“Y/N, look at me,” her aunt said, turning her around and gripping her shoulders. “Your mother entrusted me to take care of you and this is what I’m doing. She said that when the time comes, I need to take you to the camp.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and searched her aunt’s gaze for clues. “Camp? What camp? It’s the middle of October.”

“Not just any camp. Camp Half-Blood, a place where you’re safe.”

“I don’t understand. Safe from what?”

The dog hit the window with its heavy paw and the window almost shattered. 

Y/N didn’t need to look into her aunt’s eyes to understand what she was referring to. Safe from two-headed dogs, safe from storms. Safe from nightmares. She simply nodded and her aunt took her by the wrist, dragging her out the kitchen and down the hallway, only stopping to pick up the keys from the glass table. “Take your jacket. It’s raining outside. And you are not catching a cold under my eyes,” her aunt commanded. 

Y/N did just that, taking a hold of her yellow rain jacket, noticing that her aunt just threw a cardigan on herself. She was a woman in her late twenties, with no college degree and rent issues. She was barely getting by (and Y/N always did have the gut feeling she was a burden. She could see it in the extra shifts her aunt took just to get some money and in the dark circles she would wear under her colourless eyes). “Won’t you be cold?” she dared to ask.

A shattering sound filled the air.

“No, come on!” her aunt responded, taking her by the hand and running down the stairs with her in tow. Y/N threw glances behind her shoulder. She didn’t understand why she was being hunted by a two-headed monstrosity and how she was seeing it without thinking, for the first time, she was off the rails. She couldn’t understand how her aunt was seeing it too, nor why she was never told that there was nothing wrong with her, that she was seeing things for what they truly were. 

“Why is it chasing us?” she yelled over the dog’s mad barking. 

“It’s chasing you,” her aunt replied, before opening the block’s door. 

Rain cascaded down on them, soaking them to the bones. Thunder and lightning cut the skies. “Why?”

Her aunt opened the car’s door and pushed Y/N inside, before she ran to the driver’s seat. She entered the car and closed the door with a bang. “Seatbelt on,” she ordered. 

“Why’s it chasing me? What did I do?”

Her aunt put the keys into the ignition. “Seatbelt on, Y/N,” she repeated, her voice strained.

Y/N huffed, before complying. Her aunt drove the car out of the driveway, speeding down the road. Rain splashed the windows angrily. “Your mom told me you’re special. And you are. I saw you. You dream and see all these things-”

“I thought I was going insane!” yelled Y/N, red in the face. “I thought there was something wrong with me!”

Her aunt spared her a sad glance, before focusing on the road. “I know, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know how to-” she sighed. “How to raise you. I’m still learning, Y/N.”

Lightning enlightened their way out of Manhattan. “So, you believed me all this time? When I told you about the winged horse-”

“I knew your mother was right. She told me of the time she fell in love with a powerful man and then she had you. She said that he wasn’t like any man she had ever met, that he was different. Different from anyone.”

“You know who my father is?” demanded Y/N, turning in her seat.

“I wish I knew. She just told me that he was a god.”

Y/N’s brain stopped for a second, confusion darkening her features. “What? How’s that possible? Did she meet Jesus?”

“No, no. She met a Greek god. All those stories she told you growing up, they’re true. And you’re the child of one of them.You’re a half-blood, a demigod.”

Thunder boomed and the car rolled down the road. Loud barking carried over the storm. Y/N turned into her seat, looking behind the car. A dark haired dog was running through the rain towards them, tongues sticking out of its mouths, teeth glinting in the lightning. “It’s on our tail!”

Her aunt glanced in the rear window, before her foot pressed the pedal, accelerating. Soon, woods covered the car, and the city was no longer in sight.  A river slithered down, reflecting purple and silver lightning, angry waves dancing on the surface. Y/N frantically opened the glove compartment of the car, ruffling through all the brochures and papers, before her fingertips felt the sharpness of a silver penknife. 

“Y/N, darling, what are you doing?” her aunt asked, worry seeping into her voice.

“That thing’s following us. And it’s obviously settled on having me, so it will get what it desires,” answered Y/N, staring at the shimmering silver of the knife. 

“What?”

“Just enough to buy you time. And for you to arrive safely at this camp-”

“Y/N, the camp’s for you,” stared her aunt at her, before settling her eyes back on the road.

“I’m only safe in your arms, auntie,” replied Y/N, voice soft. Her aunt turned to look her in the eyes and she started at the determination in Y/N’s, bolts flashing in them. “I’m not afraid.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and threw open the door. Ruffling wind entered the car, swaying her hair upwards like a veil. Stinging droplets whipped her skin, cold nicking at it like unforgiving, cutting glass. The dog’s barking cut through the storm’s aggravating simphony and Y/N smiled softly at the woman who looked so much like her late mother. She jumped out of the car, rolling into the mud and hitting her elbow into a slippery rock. She hissed once she felt her skin ripping open, blood curling down her arm. Thunder boomed in the distance, but she only blinked the rain out of her eyes. The car skidded down the muddy road and hit a tree. 

The two-headed dog trampled the leafed wood path, fury lightning its red eyes. Y/N got up, drenched to the bones, shivering in the freezing wind and raised the only weapons she had: the penknife and her ambition. She heard the car’s door open and being slammed. “Y/N, don’t-”

She frowned and hurled the penknife towards the monster’s chest. It stabbed its flesh, blood flowing down its fur. The dog only growled, it raised one of its paws and struck Y/N, casting her into the river’s abyss. Before her whole body was engulfed by the chilling waves, she saw a rumbling lightning striking the two-headed dog. The wind carried away what remained of it: dust and ashes.

Y/N tried to stay afloat, but currents dragged her down and she didn’t know how to swim. Water invaded her lungs and her eyes stung. The cut on her elbow burned her under the unforgiving currents. Panicked, she kicked her feet. She couldn’t see the surface, she could only feel the embracing cold, darkness. Her hands numbed and her legs stopped trying. She felt gentle hands, grabbing her by the waist. Her head broke through the tumultuous waves and her lungs welcomed the sweet, refreshing air. Her eyes came into focus and she recognized her aunt carrying her to the shore. Cold air hit her as her toes touched the muddy earth. Her aunt enveloped her into a bone-crushing hug and she accepted it, sobbing into her already wet cardigan. “You’re so brave, so so brave. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe, now. You’ll be alright, you’ll be alright.” Her aunt caressed Y/N’s wet locks, whispering in her ear and gently swaying her. 

Y/N’s gaze caught sight of a tall tree in the horizon and an imposing, ivory gate with Greek columns braved the already dying storm. Thunder and lightning shied away behind grey clouds and the moon scared away the last raining drops. 

She’d be alright. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: There it is! The prologue to my first ever PJO series. I'm very excited to share this fic with you all, it is very close to my heart. This was a very short introduction, to get into the feeling of the story and to meet Y/N. Fret not, the chapters will get longer! (like, much longer, 10k words longer). I hope you enjoyed it!

If you'd like to be added to my main tag list or the series tag list, drop a comment or send me an ask!

Lots of love xx

Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead @asgards-princess-of-mischief @islayhawkin

Series tag list: @mynicknameisgasoline @constellation-archive

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Could you possibly do head canons or a fanfic of Ghostface! Keigo(Hawks) x reader?

You have free creative control to what would happen and stuff like that (I just think the idea would be interesting) but you don’t have to do it if your not comfortable.

(Also I love your work)

Thank you so much!! (I"M BACK BITCHES FR THIS TIME! Also this is my very late Kinktober contribution because college is kicking my ass rn)

He would wait until a day you knew he wouldn’t be home.

“Kei, I promise, it’s alright."

Your boyfriend whined into the receiver. “Yeah, but we had plans tonight."

“And sitting in front of the tv with a bowl of candy and some Jordan Peele movies tomorrow night will be just as lovely.” You reply. “Besides, you gotta protect us from all the toilet-papering teens terrorizing the city tonight.”

“Hardy-har. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you.”

“I love you back.”

Preferably at a time when your other emotions were likely to overwhelm any idea of his plans.

Setting the phone down, you allowed your body to slouch into a sigh, one final act of disappointment that you didn’t want your boyfriend to see.

While one could argue that you were technically used to his fluctuating schedule, it still didn’t make it any less disheartening when he was called in last minute on holidays. Of course, you didn’t let him know that.

Then he'd play with you just a bit, letting your sense of anxiety spike just the slightest by leaving the overhead skylight ajar.

Had he really left it open?

“Dumbass,” you muttered with a grin, quickly standing up to grab a ladder.

A chill rattled through your spine as you climbed, fall wind blowing through your hair and poking goosebumps in your skin as you pulled the window closed, making sure to lock it before wandering into the kitchen for an after-dinner snack.

A bowl of cereal was always an easy solution, especially when it was accompanied by a spooky flick and a comfortable bar seat at the counter.

Your phone would ring at exactly midnight, a voice he knew you'd find familiar, yet still unable to place, would answer.

Unknown Number.

"Hello?"

"Hey there," the voice was masculine and deep, like the sound had been covered with a sheet of gravel before being released.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, come on, don't you recognize me?"

"Uh, no. I think you might have the wrong number."

"No, I don't." Silence followed for a few moments, just enough for a touch of unease to stir in your gut. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You gotta have a favorite. I know you like them."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you're watching one right now."

He also knew how well you liked horror films, how easily you would recognize the reference and think of the surprise call as a prank. Then he'd make sure to get your heart beating once more.

"I also know your boyfriend left the window open on his way out. That's dangerous, dontcha think? Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone with the door locked?"

"What do you want?" Fear shook your vocal cords, the question coming out in a ridiculously less forceful manner than you would've liked.

"You."

Being the over-protective boyfriend he was, you had been taught how to react to a situation like this beforehand. That just meant he had to move quickly, sliding a hand over your mouth to smother a scream and prying the phone from your fingers before you could even think of calling for help.

"Calm down, sweetheart." The masked figure tossed the voice changer away, black fabric tickling the rim of your ear. "I've got ya."

Keigo was thoughtful. He'd give you a moment of realization, and another to stop struggling, before forcefully turning you around and lifting you on top of the counter, one hand encasing both of your wrists and the other toying with the end of your sleep-shorts.

Eyes widening in shook, you took in the white mask in front of you. Lifeless black eyes and a horrifyingly exaggerated mouth, one that left the expression into one of pure terror for eternity. The dark fabric surrounding it just exaggerated that pristine look, one of perfectly untouched cartilage.

Still, despite its velvety presence, you recognized the hands poking out from the robe. Bronze skin kissed by years in the sun, interrupted by the lines of scars that you had spent countless nights running your fingers over.

The hands were warm, just as they always were, as they slid over your thighs, forcing them open before sliding underneath the bottom hem of your pajamas.

He would watch you try not to moan as he brushed his thumb over your clit, caressing gentle circles over it before pushing a finger inside. The soft whimper he earned made his cock jump.

"That's right, gorgeous." The masked figure slid another digit in, undoubtedly smirking as he felt you clench around him.

"I wanna hear you scream."

[couldyouimagine-that]

Midnight Snacks

Genre; Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Word Count; 1.0k

Warnings; Nothing I can think of :)

Pairings; Dean Winchester x Reader

This is pretty similar to the other one I just wrote but sans the hurt/comfort; this time it’s 100% fluffy romance. Also I got some really kind comments on ‘I Gotcha’ so thank you all, I’m glad you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

-

It was almost pitch black in the kitchen, the only dull light coming in from the moon outside. An owl called out from somewhere beyond the windows and you winced slightly when a floorboard creaked beneath your foot. You were trying desperately to be quiet so you didn’t wake anyone up whilst on your midnight trip to the fridge. The dull light it emitted almost blinded you as you began searching around for something to eat, hissing out a curse as a couple of beer bottles knocked into each other. You paused for a moment, hardly breathing whilst you waited to see if there was any movement elsewhere in the house. You breathed a sigh of relief at the continued silence.

Once your search for food proved successful, you took a moment to stand by the window and watch the shadowy outlines of the trees blowing in a light wind. Unbeknownst to you, Dean had shown up before you had even closed the fridge. He leaned against the doorframe of the door into the kitchen, watching you with a gentle smile. He silently laid aside the blade he had picked up before coming downstairs, just in case a threat had entered the house in the middle of the night, and slowly folded his arms across his chest.

You were absolutely beautiful. It was all he could think as his gaze traced the line of your shoulders and back, as he took in your loose sleep clothes and whatever you were snacking on at this ungodly hour. He stepped into the kitchen, starting to move towards you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmured gently, offering a roguish grin when you leapt up at the sound of his voice and almost dropped your food.

“Dean!” You whisper-yelled, conscious of not wanting to wake up Sam. “You terrified me!”

“God, you’re so cute.”

“Dean!” He was right in front of you at this point and well within range for you to whack his shoulder several times in a row. Laughing quietly, he put his hands up in surrender to your assault and tried to placate you.

“Hey, okay okay, I’m sorry,” he tried, though he didn’t even attempt to hide the smirk which ruined any effect his actions may have had. “Look.” The word was rounded and full of mirth. He gently laid his hands on your shoulders, looking down at you with glittering eyes. You simply raised an eyebrow in silence. “You just had a real scared little look on your face and you- sweetheart.”

You had shoved him back to get away from him before he could see the grin you wore and crossed the kitchen, staring out of a different window and stubbornly refusing to turn around. You heard Dean’s steps come sauntering along behind you, felt his heat as he stopped just behind you, close enough to touch.

“Baby.” His voice was playfully reproachful and when you didn’t answer, his hands alighted on your hips. His thumbs began a gentle circular motion, lightly massaging your skin. He drew closer until his chest was almost pressed against your back, the pressure on his thumbs steadily increasing. His nose found its way into your hair, breath soft over your scalp. And you had your lips pressed together trying to repress your grin. “Come on, talk to me.” You could imagine the way his eyes were crinkled at the corners; how beautiful he looked wearing the smile you could hear in his voice.

You cut him a glance over your shoulder out of the corner of your eye. The smile you were already expecting to see made your stomach leap and bloom with a wonderful warmth.

“’You had a real scared little look on your face’?” Your raised eyebrow was back.

Dean tilted his head to the side and slightly forwards, giving you a look of helplessness. There was a pause in which it looked like he was deliberating on giving you a serious apology.

“You should’ve seen it-”

“Unbelievable,” you huffed, but you stopped trying to hide your smile. When you went to put down what little remained of your food, Dean simply stole it and popped it straight in his mouth with all the mischievousness you would have expected from a young boy. You pursed your lips. “I rest my case.”

As you turned around to face him, Dean reached around you to drag your body against him. You reached up to wind your arms around his neck, your gazes locked.

“Look at you,” he murmured, grip tightening the longer you stood together. You leaned more of your weight against him to let him hold you up then pressed your cheek against his own. You were still holding each other’s gaze. “You comin’ to bed?” When you nodded, he indicated to the kitchen door with a glance.

You were back upstairs together in a few moments, Dean pulling the covers up around your shoulders as you settled onto his chest. You sighed happily as his hand began tracing gentle patterns over your back and in response he tucked your head beneath his chin. Dean felt solid beneath you, his body a comforting warmth as sleep began to pull at your eyes and mind. From the steady passage of his hand, you knew he wouldn’t fall asleep again for at least a little while and you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said gently as he squeezed his arms around you, then resumed his affectionate tracing of your skin.

He knew the moment you fell asleep (just about as soon as he told you goodnight) and even though it would leave him tired and cranky in the morning, Dean kept awake for a long time, simply enjoying having you in his arms and holding you while you slept. There was something he found indescribably heartwarming about your unwavering trust in him, how you believed without a glimmer of a doubt that if you slept in his arms, you would be safe. It was this thought that he finally nodded off to over an hour later, fond smile still in place.

[cecropiacrown]

Fic #4 for my December Writing Challenge

Characters: Mu Qing, Feng Xin, mentioned: Mu Qing's mom

Pairing: pre-relationship fengqing

Word Count: 2k

Plot Points: grief, overwhelm, panic, hurt/comfort - whumpee: Mu Qing

Two weeks.

Two weeks until Mu Qing will be allowed back into his apartment complex after a water main break caused significant damage to his unit and almost every other unit on his floor.

Before being forced to temporarily vacate, he was able to grab a few bare essentials from the tattered remains of his flooded apartment, but it's certainly not much. His unit—unfortunately—took the main brunt of the flooding and, save for a couple of well-preserved keepsakes and the laundry that was tumbling away at the laundromat down the street, the place is a total loss.

And, perhaps one of the worst parts about the whole ordeal, is that it's not like Mu Qing can afford to stay in a hotel in the meantime. Hell, he's lucky to have enough money to meet the minimum balance requirement in his savings account.

He has no car to sleep in and his initial plan of splitting his time between work, public libraries, a 24/hr gym, and the large train station in the center of the city, fell apart within the first day and a half of his homelessness.

So it's with a clothes basket's worth of belongings and his battered pride that Mu Qing finds himself sitting at Feng Xin's kitchen counter, sipping on over-steeped tea and trying—desperately—to not tear his hair out from the humiliation.

It's December and a heavy layer of fresh snow covers the ground. Mu Qing can see it in all its undisturbed glory as he looks past the lace-like frost on the kitchen window. It glitters in the pale bluish light of the streetlamps, looking endless and unforgiving in a way that makes Mu Qing feel incredibly grateful to be indoors.

The sky is overcast this evening, wispy looking clouds visibly roiling through the sky like smoke. It's nearly midnight, but Mu Qing has only been in Feng Xin's apartment for less than half an hour, not having been able to accept he needed help until he had no other choice but to reach out to it before it crawled into bed for the night.

Feng Xin is still rummaging around in the closet in the hallway. Mu Qing listens, but keeps his eyes on the window, tracing the pattern of the frost until he feels dizzy and then, with his eyes still open, he tries not to see anything at all.

A heavy wind licks at the building and Mu Qing shivers involuntarily, curling his fingers ever so slightly tighter around his mug and trying to bleed the warmth of the tea into him by osmosis alone.

Though he'd never admit it out loud, Mu Qing is quite sensitive to the cold, and the walk from the bus stop to Feng Xin's apartment building was not a particularly short one. He lets his eyes come back into focus and, in the reflection of the window, he can just barely make out his face, which is still flushed with cold from his walk. His cheeks—the tip of his nose—his ears—they have yet to warm up completely and he's acutely aware of the ache in the joints in his hands.

He brings the mug up to his dry lips and sips on the tea, just to have something else to focus on.

"You should have called me sooner," Feng Xin says as he emerges from the hallway with a heap of fabric in his arms—a towel, a couple of blankets, and a pillow, it appears. The clear reprimand in his voice makes Mu Qing roll his eyes. He shifts in his seat and doesn't reply. Snow begins to fall anew, only visible in the cones of lamplight illuminating the parking lot.

"I would have picked you up, y'know. You didn't have to take the bus," Feng Xin continues, piling the things onto the counter and taking a seat across from Mu Qing. He drags a hand through his messy, untied hair and sighs, loud and put-upon. It makes Mu Qing feel sick to his stomach so he scoffs and takes another sip of his shitty tea to at least appear like he's being a gracious guest.

"What were you going to do," Mu Qing can't help but snark, "Come pick me up in that?" And as Mu Qing says this, he frowns and waves a hand in Feng Xin's direction, indicating his choice of bedtime attire: a t-shirt and boxers.

"I would have gotten fucking dressed first, asshole."

"You didn't bother to get dressed to open the door, so you can't blame me for not having any confidence in you."

Feng Xin's face grows hard and impatient—a button Mu Qing has always been skilled at pushing. But he appears to bite his tongue and shake it off, much to Mu Qing's displeasure.

"I would have gotten dressed for you."

"I got here just fine on my own, didn't I?" Mu Qing says, shrugging. He purposely ignores Feng Xin's attempt to be civil, not really knowing what to do with such a thing.

Feng Xin clearly disagrees with that statement, scrutinizing Mu Qing's face like it holds all the proof he needs.

"Why?" he asks suddenly, his eyes hard and his brows furrowed. Mu Qing turns back towards the window.

"Why what?" he replies, annoyed. His leg starts to bounce and he anxiously thumbs at the handle of his mug. The sight of the falling snow suddenly pisses him off so he turns again, grimacing down into his nearly empty cup of tea.

"Why do you always need to do it all by yourself, Mu Qing?"

What a stupid thing to ask.

"Because I can," he answers easily, rolling his shoulders back and forcing himself to finish the rest of his tea.

"You don't have to."

"Of course I have to," he snaps, setting down the mug with a bit too much force and pushing it away from himself. He glares at Feng Xin and only grows angrier having to see all the kindnesses Feng Xin has offered him spread out between them like they're trying to remind Mu Qing of what an awful fucking person he is.

"What would you even know about doing shit yourself—as if you haven't always had a fucking safety net to fall back on. You might live on your own, Feng Xin, but daddy's money has never left your fucking sight—"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Feng Xin snarls, slamming a hand down on the counter top as he stands up.

Mu Qing follows suit, ripping himself out of his chair and accidentally kicking his laundry basket. He growls under his breath and kicks it again—on purpose this time—denting one of the handles until it snaps cleanly off. He snatches the basket off of the ground, stuffs the broken handle in amongst his things, and makes for the entryway.

Feng Xin moves to block his path, one hand gripping the corner of the counter top and the other pressing into the wall beside the fridge, effectively cutting Mu Qing off. Mu Qing doesn't dare look him in the eyes, staring straight passed him and trying to shove his way through.

"Don't fucking be like that," Feng Xin says, having lowered his voice considerably. There is a lingering kindness in the way he speaks, in the way he looks at Mu Qing like he's disappointed, as if he expected better of him. Mu Qing can't stand it. He tries to shove through the barrier of Feng Xin's arm again but Feng grabs hold of the other side of the basket to try to stop him.

Mu Qing loses it.

He rips the basket out of Feng Xin's grip but uses too much force. The basket knocks into the pile of blankets on the counter, slips out of his hands, and slides all the way to the other end of the island. It collides with the mug, which hits the chair Mu Qing had been sitting in and clatters to the ground, shattering.

Feng Xin's rage boils over again. Any gentleness he may have had for Mu Qing is gone—just like Mu Qing deserves.

"God, what the fuck is wrong with you, Mu Qing!?"

What's wrong?

"Get the fuck away from me, Feng Xin! I'm leaving! I don't want to fucking be here anyway!"

What's wrong?

Feng Xin makes to grab Mu Qing's wrist but Mu Qing swivels on his heel and shakes him off, ending up with his back to the fridge and no where else to go except around the the counter in the other direction and through the path of unnecessary destruction he caused.

What isn't fucking wrong?

It's December again.

Another year without Mama.

Another year where nothing seems to have gone his way.

"Why are you always trying to start a fucking fight? Can't you just say what you fucking mean for once? None of this meaningless, petty bullshit—god, I'm so sick of it!"

Mu Qing squeezes his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to try to ground himself. He wants to move, but there's broken ceramic all over the floor and he doesn't have his shoes on.

He's cornered—like an animal.

Feng Xin sighs, dropping his hand from the counter but keeping his other one firmly planted on the wall beside Mu Qing. Their eyes meet and something vile swirls in Mu Qing's stomach, making him feel like he's going to vomit.

"Listen, just—" Feng Xin searches Mu Qing's eyes, his own expression having softened into something too tender for Mu Qing to hold and yet, too nice to bear looking away from.

"Just say what you want. None of this deflecting, roundabout shit. I'll fucking listen, okay?"

Mu Qing swallows hard, his breathing picking up against his will. He stares at Feng Xin's face, waiting for him to lose his patience, but all Feng Xin does is stubbornly stare back.

It's too much.

It's all just too much.

Mu Qing's resolve starts to deteriorate.

"I'm so tired," he finally says, not having known what words were going to come out of his mouth until they had already been spoken.

Feng Xin's face falls, his hand twitching uselessly at his side. He's looking at Mu Qing with too much care in his eyes and Mu Qing can't possibly stand it.

"I'm so tired, Feng Xin," he says again, his voice so hoarse he almost chokes on it. A familiar ache throbs in his chest and he's left feeling horrifically small and on display. His next inhale is too shaky to be his own; he's not allowed to make such sounds.

Feng Xin reaches out to him then, his hand gently encircling Mu Qing's wrist, and the touch is all it takes for Mu Qing to finally crumple under the weight of it all.

His chest heaves with his next breath and he stumbles over the ensuing sob, his whole face trembling from the effort to hold it back—but he can't. He slams a hand to his chest to try to calm himself down, sucking in breath after breath to no avail. Helplessly, he looks around, as if he'll suddenly be able to see a previously overlooked escape route through his tears.

"Mu Qing," Feng Xin murmurs, and the sound of it hits Mu Qing like an arrow shot clean through his lungs.

"I can't—" Mu Qing shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it will change anything.

Feng Xin steps further into Mu Qing's space, his warmth so overpowering it makes Mu Qing unsteady. He stumbles and ends up with his face pressed into Feng Xin's shoulder, hands grasping at Feng Xin's shirt with an urgency he's never felt before. Feng Xin doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Mu Qing and pull him close, cradling him with a hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm here," he says into Mu Qing's ear and Mu Qing sobs again, shaking apart in Feng Xin's arms whether he wants to or not.

"I have you."

And—for the first time in Mu Qing's life—he's never been more relieved to have been had.

[snezus-christ-risen]

I read a beautiful fic the other day that DEVASTATED me so I decided to cope by writing this fluffy Christmassy Agathario AU. They live in an apartment in the city (doesn’t matter which, take your pick) with their young son Nicky. Rio travels a lot for work and comes back from her most recent business trip feeling a little under the weather — just in time for the holidays!

Not a lot of spellings this time, sorry if that makes it less enjoyable for anyone! I just needed a bit of a break from mashing letters together and hoping they sound good lol. I’m sure you all heard the interview, you know what they sound like. (;

I had another prompt request, I’ll probably do a little follow up to this when Agatha (not a spoiler because the prompt is literally contagion) inevitably gets sick from the bioweapon that is Rio Vidal.

CW: contagion

Prompt: Contagious & Tissues

Agatha could hear her before she even got to the front door; in fact, it was the sound that set her stirring in the first place. She sat up on the couch where she had dozed off waiting and tilted her head to hear better. There it was again – “ASCHh!-ue” — a resounding sneeze thundering down the hall, shamelessly loud and unmistakably Rio. It was followed seconds later by another, then another. They seemed to grow in volume as she drew closer, and Agatha swore she could hear the wheels of her rolling luggage skip a beat with each outburst. Rio concluded her fit with a biting “Fuck!” that echoed down the hallway like the crack of a whip. Their neighbors hated the Harkness-Vidal family for many reasons, most of them totally bogus, but this one… well, this one was valid.

A quick glance at her phone told Agatha it was just past midnight. Forcing herself to leave the warmth of her blanket cocoon, she shivered as she padded barefoot to the front door, guided by the glow of the Christmas tree they had erected out of parental guilt. Agatha would never admit it, but she had grown fond of the giant green carcass that took up most of their living room. Nicky had chosen it himself, Rio had chopped it down, and they had decorated it together as a family. With her own hectic schedule and Rio traveling so much for work, Agatha learned to cherish the little moments in between when they were all in the same place at the same time.

She heard her wife fumbling with her keys at the door, noting the hesitation in her movements before they ceased altogether. The short-lived silence was broken by an aggressive “AH’TCHHh!” that was close enough to make Agatha jump.

“Jesus Christ, Rio,” she hissed under her breath, not looking forward to the passive aggressive letters that would be slipped under their door in the coming days.

The keys resumed their jingling and the door swung open. Rio hesitated in the hallway, eyes closed and hand still gripping the doorknob. She looked pale, exhausted, and on the verge of sneezing again. Agatha waited until she snagged a preparatory breath to poke her in the stomach, quite literally knocking the wind out of her.

“What the fuck?” Rio exclaimed, more confused than annoyed as the urge to sneeze faded abruptly. She squinted at Agatha in the dim light and rubbed where she had poked her with a frown.

“Get a grip,” Agatha snapped. “Nicky’s sleeping.”

“Hey, babe, I mbissed you too,” Rio deadpanned, hauling her suitcase across the threshold.

She dropped it abruptly when her nose scrunched up. An irritated look creased her face as she pinched it, then rubbed it, trying to find the right combination of pressure to subdue the persistent itch that was making it squirm. Her nose was cherry red, like it had been when she chopped down their tree. It kept running from the cold that afternoon, even after they returned to cups of hot chocolate in the warmth of their apartment. This was clearly from a different sort of cold.

Agatha sighed, not sure how to feel. She didn’t want her family getting sick for the holidays, but there was something sort of… spectacular about watching Rio navigate a cold. While colds always seemed to knock Agatha on her ass, Rio somehow became more energetic. Her devil-may-care attitude was rarely dampened by her symptoms, making her an asset to the virus. Nobody could stop Rio if she wanted to do something while she was sick, not even Agatha, and so she went about her usual business, coughing and sneezing her way openly through the duration of her illness without any consideration for who might be caught in the crossfire. Nicky was the only exception.

When Rio raked in a shaky breath, Agatha put her finger to her lips, a reminder to be quiet. Nodding vaguely in agreement, Rio guided her face into the nest of tissues she had clutched in her right hand and tried to muffle the sound of her sneeze. It was still louder than Agatha would have liked, but she knew it was the best Rio could do, and certainly a better effort than what she gave in the hallway.

“I didn’t know you knew how to use those things,” Agatha joked lightly. Normally she just sort of sneezed at them, if she bothered with tissues at all.

“I got a — huhh! — a c-crash course at the codvendtiond,” she said, keeping her nose in the tissues as she waited for the next sneeze to manifest. “Everywud there was sih-hihhh—hh’hihh!… ohh, I’be godda—”

“Oh honey, I know,” Agatha said with a smirk, just as Rio exploded with a pair of sneezes — “ASHH’hoo! huh’ATCHH’oo!” — that ruffled the tissues. Her smile switched to a frown in an instant.

“Babe.” Agatha’s tone was firm but gentle as she pointed behind her, in the general vicinity of the bedrooms. “Nicky. Sleeping.”

“Ugh, sorry.” Rio blew her nose, trying her best to do so quietly. “I’be so tired, Aggie…”

“Then lie down, my love,” Agatha said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips when she lowered the tissues. She was probably teeming with germs, but with them sharing the same space, it wasn’t going to matter if they kissed or not. Rio never brought something home without also sharing it with Agatha. “I’ll take care of all of this.”

Kicking off her shoes, but keeping the coat and hat, Rio took over her spot on the couch as Agatha brought the suitcase and a shopping bag inside. It was from a toy store, and when Agatha saw the action figure peeking out of the top she gasped. Taking it out, she held up the box and glanced at Rio, who was now face down on the couch.

“You found it?”

“Hm?” Rio turned her face from the cushion to look blearily at Agatha. When she saw what it was she smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh. Yeah. Last wud, too.”

“Nicky’s gonna flip,” she said, already looking for the scissors and tape. “I’ll wrap it now. You keep watch.”

“Now?” Rio whined, clearly wanting company on the couch, but Agatha put a hand on her hip.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said bluntly. “When else would I do it?”

Rio sighed in resignation, then coughed as she rolled onto her side. She glanced at the pile of presents that were already wrapped and under the tree, her eyes watery and twinkling in the soft warm light. Squinting, she lifted her hand slightly and sneezed towards the tissues, the sound surprisingly soft and airy. Agatha could see all the spray she didn’t catch — which was most of it — illuminated by the light of the tree. At least she remembered to use her inside voice with that one.

“You humans and your strange wrapping rituals,” Rio croaked, rubbing her nose with a wet sniffle as Agatha settled on the floor with the wrapping supplies.

“You say that like you aren’t one too.“

“Am I though?” Rio asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” Agatha couldn’t help but laugh. “Sometimes I wonder.”

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Welcome to SunnyVale Oneshot

(Guyyyyysss Im literally just writing and posting whatever pops in my head at this point My Alpha is about two paragraphs from being done :P Be watching for it!! Cruel Summer Ch. 2 should be finished by the weekend too annnd im gonna work on Midnight Rain Ch. 2! So lots goin on! :D anywho, I love Trailer Park Boys and have been watching it on repeat for WEEKS. So I just had this cute idea and figured I'd write it since I cant sleep! :P )

_________________________

“Come on Bubs! Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Julian yelled as Bubbles said goodbye to his kitties. “Boys, boys, boys!” J-Roc ran over across the road toward them. “Yall aint never gonna believe this! We got a reunion comin!!!” J-Roc grinned as Ricky looked at him, “what in the fuck are you talkin about J-Roc?” 

Julian took a sip of his drink as a large black bus pulled into Sunnyvale Trailer park.”So listen I heard from a friend of a friend that Y/N was in town. Rumor has it, she's gonna come do a tour of the park.” J-Roc said looking from Bubbles and Ricky, to which they all glanced at Julian. “What?” he snapped at them. “Well Julian…last time you and Y/N saw each other…she was tellin you she was leavin and you were ...well you were gonna ask her to marry you, until she……said……that….and you…..well…you know….broke her heart,” Bubbles said as an awkward silence filled the air. Julian sighed loudly and took a bigger drink of his drink as the large black bus drove slowly and carefully down the road, before coming to a stop. 

The air brake let out and the door opened, a few moments passed and suddenly, Julian felt like his heart had stopped and dropped into his stomach. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for him as you stepped off the bus. You wore a pair of suede thigh high heeled boots, a pair of black tights, they were the sheer kind that made Julian’s knees weak, you had on a burnt orange tight mini skirt on, and a black long sleeved shirt. When you looked up, your hair was curled in loose big curls, the wind lightly blowing your hair. You suddenly got the biggest grin on your face and darted toward the group of guys standing there. “Oh my gosh!!!” 

You laughed as you jumped hugging Ricky, the guy who was like the dumb, protective big brother you never got to have. You don’t know how many times Ricky saved your ass from getting into trouble either with Jim Lahey, the trailer park supervisor, or the cops whenever Julian and Ricky came up with some stupid plan. “Hey bugz!” Ricky had started calling you bugz when you guys were just kids, because you always had a ladybug or butterfly landing on you. He said you attracted bugs and teased you about it alot. 

Next to whisk you into a bear hug was your very bestest friend Bubbles; which the guys didn’t know but you still talked to regularly. “I’ve missed you bubs!” you laughed as he pinched at your belly “Whos got your belly?” “Don’t touch my fuckin belly bubs!” you both laughed again as he hugged you one more time. “I’ve missed you around here Y/N, we all have.” Bubbles said as you both pulled apart. You smiled and looked at Julian, “Hey Julian,” you said, willing to step up and hug him, but the longer the silence went on, the more awkward it got. “Hey fucktard, are you gonna speak or did your brain not get enough words movin arounds in there?” Ricky smacked his arm as you laughed softly. You’d forgotten just how Ricky talked, sometimes you really missed living here, other times, you wish you could have brought them with you, but you knew they would never leave their beloved trailer park. 

Julian let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d held since you turned and stared at him. “Wow,” he whispered to himself, but it was loud enough that all of you heard him. You felt a small blush creep up your cheeks, “Still drinking rum huh?” you asked him, smiling some as he cleared his throat, taking a large drink, and not the usual sip. “Oh, I brought presents! Give me one second!” You turned your hair flipping around, wafting the smell of your shampoo, mixed with your perfume all around. “Hey Mike!” You hollered while walking toward the bus, “Can you grab that blue duffle bag in the back for me?” you asked as you stood just a few feet from the guys. 

That smell hit Julian like a brick house as he closed his eyes, “I can’t do this.” he mumbled to Bubbles and Ricky before he turned and stormed back to his trailer, slamming the front door shut. He leaned back against it before flinging his glass at the opposite wall, letting it shatter and liquor spill to the ground. 

You turned at the sound of the door slamming and frowned. “Why’d he leave? I have a gift for him too.” you smiled a little awkwardly at Ricky and Bubbles. “Uh, I think he had to um, go, look at a book or something, anyways what’d you bring us Y/N?” Bubbles asked as you gave him a soft smile. It wasn’t easy for you either to see Julian, that night before you left played over in your mind a lot. 

******

15 years ago

You rode your bike down the street, the sun setting on your last few days of summer, you couldn’t wait to tell Julian, he was going to be so proud of you. You rode up to the stairs of his trailer and put on the kick stand before jogging up the stairs and letting yourself inside. “Jules? You home?” you called out, but not hearing a word. You pushed out your lips and walked toward the back where his bedroom was, “Yeah Ricky. I fuckin know. I'm nervous as hell the way it is. Dont you think I know that you fucking idiot?” He was on the phone in his bedroom. “Listen I’m busy tonight but I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Just don’t fuck up,” he hung up the phone and turned around to see you leaning on the doorway smiling softly. “Hey-how long you been standin there?” he asked as you smiled and shrugged. “Long enough to know you’re nervous about something...you two boys doin another deal?” you asked as he sat down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, what are you doin here this late?” you smiled, kissing him softly. “I have something to tell you,” you whispered against his lips. 

*****

You’d given the boys their gifts, Bubbles got a rocket ship, directly from NASA with his own spacesuit and a couple of real moon rocks and Ricky had gotten a customized glass bong. “Take care of that Ricky…..I figured you’d like it.” you laughed as they ran off starting to play with Bubbles rocket. You took this chance to slip away and go to Julians, knocking softly on the door. 

A few moments later the door opened and Julian stood there, hair wet from a shower, slicked back by the water, sweatpants hanging low on his hips with a towel around his shoulders. “Y/N. Hey, uh, what are you doin here?” he asked as you forced a smile. “Uh, I have a gift for you.” you said patting the duffle bag that hung off your shoulder. “Oh, you didn’t need to get me anything.” he said as he stepped aside and let you come in. 

Walking in, you stood awkwardly as he closed the door and moved toward the couch. “You can come sit down ya know?” he said, looking at you. You nodded and walked over sitting next to him. “Um,” you cleared your throat and dug around in the duffle bag. “Sorry, I would have wrapped it better, but I made a special stop for it.” you handed the box to him, watching him look confused, you smiled as he opened it. 

Inside, laid a very old and special bottle of Rum, Harewood Barbados 1780, to be exact. “Holy…fucking…shit.” he looked at you, a look of shock on his face. “Oh! It wasn’t a big deal….I know a guy who knows a guy,” you laughed softly. “You know someone who owns a $29,000 bottle of Rum?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you smiled bashfully. “I know two guys now who own a bottle of $29,000 Rum.” you said as he smiled watching you grab another box. “Can’t drink expensive rum without new glasses.” you said handing him the black box. 

Julian smiled down at the gifts in his lap, before the memories came rushing back. “Listen…Y/N….I meant to write back…when you wrote me that letter….I just…got busy…and I didn’t…know exactly what to say.” You shook your head waving a hand. “Not a big deal….I moved on, I’m sure you did too. We’re adults now and that was 15 years ago so, you know, what's in the past,” you said looking down. 

Julian put his gifts aside and moved closer to you. “I’ve followed your career,” he said smiling as you looked at him. “What?” you tried not to laugh. “I doubt I sing the kinda music you like,” you laughed as he did, “While that’s true, I do listen to your music. You’re talented. You always have been…” he said softly as you stared at him, “Julian…I’m sorry I left. But tomorrow I’m going to show everyone where I was raised and where I lived with my parents. And I want you and the guys to be in the video.” you smiled as he chuckled “I’m sure we can make that happen.” 

Julian got you both a drink, and you began to get caught up on each other’s lives. “See Ricky…I’m tellin you that was a genius idea.” Bubbles whispered as they peaked in Julians windows. “He’ll finally tell her after all these years.” 

You were trying to catch your breath from laughing so hard when Julian put a hand on your leg. You looked at him as he stared at you, smiling softly. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded. “I’ve missed you too.” A few more moments of staring at each other passed before he grabbed you and pulled you in close, kissing you deeply. 

After a few moments, Julian pulled away and sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” he got up running a hand through his hair. “Fuck!” he yelled causing you to jump. “I should go.” you said quietly as you gathered your stuff and stood up. “No, please don’t go,” he sighed “just…..wait here.” he walked back to his bedroom, returning a few moments later, his signature black t-shirt clinging to the muscles that ran through his chest and stomach. “You weren’t the only one keeping a secret….” he pulled his hand out of his pocket, a black velvet box resting in his hands. “It’s nothing fancy…..I got it from Mrs. Peterson. When she died, she willed it to me, along with some money and other stuff…but….” he opened it, revealing the small, beautiful gold ring inside. The tiny cluster of diamonds sat directly in the middle. You stared down at it, unsure of what was going to happen, or what would have. “.....you….you wanted to marry me?” you whispered as he nodded. “But…then you said everything you said….and….” you looked at him, your brows pulling down together as confusion took over your face. “You lied to me didn't you?” you asked as he sighed. “I panicked, I didn't know what else to do…” you scuffed, shaking your head as you backed away and grabbed your stuff. “I can’t believe you Julian…you lied to me…you swore you never would.” you shook your head. “Whoa, you lied to me too.” Julian said as you looked appalled at him. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t lie to you, Julian. I WAS pregnant when I left. I took the damn test. And guess what? I rehearsed through the miscarriage, I performed when and where I needed to, so now I can go around and buy $30,000 bottles of Rum to impress someone I was head over heels in love with, in the hopes that I might get a tiny taste of what I used to have in life before I lost it all!” you yelled before you stormed out.

[badteavee]

Happy birthday , by the way.

Tws / Cws : Suicidal Thoughts / Suicidal Ideation , just shitty mental health in general

Genre : Angst + Fluff

Word count : 1,074

Parings : Jeremy Heere x Michael Mell

Note : This is outside of my usual content but I love bmc and it’s super easy to project onto Michael Mell

11:30pm.

Most knew that Michael wasn’t the most stable individual , not by choice , it was just obvious. Almost weekly if not daily counselor visits , zoning out in class , starting to grey at 15 , barely functioning if he wasn’t high out of his mind. No one was more aware of it than Michael himself. Now he sat in his bedroom , staring at the wall because he couldn’t bring himself to look at his phone. He didn’t want to look at the time again , even if Jeremy texted , he couldn’t handle seeing how close it was to midnight. It’s too close to his birthday.

Ding.

Jeremy’s probably confirming that he’s on his way or he’s here. If he was , one of Michael’s moms could let him in.

11:42pm.

Jeremy slowly opened Michael’s door , a small plastic bag in one hand and a shitty blueberry muffin from Seven Eleven in the other. He knows Michael hasn’t been big on his birthday for a couple of years now but he didn’t like the thought of not getting him anything so he always got something small.

He met the taller’s eye as he set the goods on the side table , he obviously hadn’t slept the night before , his nails were halfway peeled , hang nails torn off. He won’t mention any of it , Michael barely was in a condition to talk , let alone about this.

11:44pm.

Jeremy saw how Michael turned away when he checked his phone , that was his mistake , he should be used to not checking until it was at least 1 am. He took his and Michael’s phones and put them in a drawer , grabbing the wii remotes. He handed one to Michael and sat back down , setting the tv up to play Super Mario Bros.

Michael considered declining , he didn’t feel like he could distract himself this year , he knew this was his best bet to not feel the existentialism however.

11:56pm.

Michael found himself pleasantly distracted , he should’ve known. Jeremy has known how to distract him since diapers. Every time loading takes a little too long or he has to wait for Jeremy to win for them , he can feel it clawing at the back of his mind. <i>It’s getting close to midnight.</i> he thinks. The game starts again and he feels it fade , being replaced by the competitive nature he definitely got from one of his moms.

It was game , wait , dread , game , repeat. It was a distressing cycle but distracting enough for him not to spiral. That’s all that mattered to the both of them.

11:59pm.

Jeremy quickly checked his watch while Michael was distracted , looking back up at the boy yelling at the game for something that was entirely his fault. He smiled , knowing he did his job correctly. He rolled his hoodie sleeve back up. “You know that was totally your fault , right ?”

“It was the controller ! It’s old and the buttons don’t work !”

“Excuses.”

Michael sighed , exasperated , while Jeremy laughed at his dramatics.

12:03am.

Jeremy spotted one of Michael’s moms , Rosemary , cracking open the door to quietly check in. He gave her a smile and subtle thumbs up that Michael was too busy singing along to the AC/DC vinyl he’d put on when he decided it was too quiet to notice. Rosemary grinned , slinking in to hand the boys the bowls of mac and cheese she usually made when they stayed up late.

“You boys don’t stay up too late now.” She ruffled Michael’s hair on her way back to the door , to which Michael groaned , trying to get his hair back to normal while still dancing in his seat.

“I’ll make sure he goes to sleep soon , Mrs. Mell.”

“Thank you , Jeremy.”

1:02am.

The boys had winded down by now , Michael putting on some documentary about dolphins , knowing that Jeremy had no say in the matter of what they watched. The shorter rolled his eyes , choosing to check his watch again.

In years passed , this would usually be the time he’d retrieve their phones and wish Michael a happy birthday but he knew better than to do that this year. Michael never actually thought he’d make it to 17 , something he’d only admitted once to Jeremy but explained a lot about his attitude towards birthday celebration. Every other year since he turned 13 was a possible last year but this one , now , was proof that he did make it. It’s something he should be proud of , it’s definitely something Jeremy and his moms were , but it felt weird.

Living passed what you were supposed to was an interesting experience , it felt numbing knowing you now had to plan your life , but it also was a relief. It’s nice to know you can prove yourself wrong.

Michael’s not thinking about any of that though , thanks to Jeremy , who grabbed the muffin and bag before cuddling into his best friend’s side. He held them just in case Michael didn’t want to take them just yet but he surprisingly took the small bag from him.

There were just a few new pins and patches for his jacket in there , some retro patches Jeremy found off eBay and Bob Marley pins. Michael smiled , hugging the other closer. “Thank you , Jerem..”

Jeremy returned the smile , pecking his cheek. “Of course , Micha.” He held up the muffin. “Wanna split it ?” The taller nodded , both of them trying to split the pastry best they could. It kept breaking off in smaller pieces or just crumbling all together so they gave up after about thirty seconds , resigning to just eating the pieces and taking bites from their halves.

1:53am.

Rosemary came by to check in once more before she joined her wife in bed , slowly opening the door to see them slumped against each other , fast asleep with Michael snoring into Jeremy’s hair. She softly crept in to turn off the record player and restart the documentary that autoplayed.

She paused to look through the drawer , taking the boy’s phones out. She caught a glimpse of Michael’s notifications as she did , multiple messages from him and Jeremy’s new friends all wishing him a happy birthday with stupid and excessive emoji combinations. She smiled and left the phones on the bedside table , leaning over the bed to kiss Michael’s forehead. “Happy birthday , baby..” She whispered before leaving the boys to sleep , she’ll give Michael his gifts in the morning.

[devilsprophet]

⏰ Geole’s birth

A Prophet’s Past

Astor was two when Geole was born, and while there was very little he would later remember from that day, there would remain a vague recollection that it began with a blood curdling scream.

He had woken up in bed alone, which was odd in and of itself. There was normally at least one parent resting beside him when the other happened to be gone for a water or any other small midnight ordeals. He could hear his mother’s muffled crying from downstairs, but there was no lit lamp or candle to guide him out of the bedroom.

Astor tried calling out for her. There was a pounding of heavy footsteps up the stairs but when the door opened, it was his father in place of his mother. He seemed irritated—well, so was Astor. He hadn’t asked for his father, he had asked for his mother, so where was she?

Despite Astor’s wailing protest, his father scooped him up and grumbled something about being quiet so that his mother could focus. Astor told him, in the limited words of a toddler, to fuck off.

In the end, his father brought him downstairs and shoved him into the arms of a woman that Astor somewhat remembered as the one who occasionally brought him sweet breads. She settled him down as his mother remained out of sight but never unheard. The woman took him outside and held him in a rocking chair until the repetitive motion and soothing cool wind eventually lulled him back to sleep.

When he awoke again, it was next to his slumbering father—but his mother was still no where in sight. Astor climbed and pushed on his father’s shoulders until he blinked away with gruff grumbles of, “Go back to sleep, Astor,” but his little hands remained insistent. Finally, with a great sigh, his father gathered him up once more and carried him downstairs.

And there was his mother, lying on a cot with a baby sleeping on her chest, resting with a contented smile. The woman who had rocked him to sleep was on a cot next to her, and she awoke first when they entered the room. Astor reached for his mother and his complaining was enough to wake her up, but her face became bright with a smile when she saw him.

She gestured him and his father closer. Astor was allowed to sit on the cot with her as she showed him the new baby that had once been in her belly—his younger brother, Geole.

Astor had carefully touched his wisps of hair, let his tiny grip fasten around his fingers, gently poked at his puffy cheeks. Geole was laid in his lap and he was in awe of him, this small baby that did not exist in his world the day before, conjured like magic.

He loved him from the start, and when Geole was not sleeping on his mother’s chest, he was often found curled next to Astor, who would hush anyone who tried to disturb them.

[neverwantedtowritefornobody]

Multi-Love Miracle (2)

Gambit stared at the ceiling, absolutely miserable. He couldn’t sleep and he was starving, despite having dinner just two hours ago. But it wasn’t his fault. He was eating for three.

The only reason why he didn’t get up was because he was currently sandwiched in between both Rogue and Ororo and he didn’t want to risk waking either one of them up.

It only took a few minutes for him to finally decide to get up and out of bed, even at the risk of waking up Rogue and Ororo. He slid out of bed, clumsily moving over Storm to get out of bed, even though it caused her to stir and sit up a little.

“Remy ?” Ororo asked groggily, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Go on back to sleep Gal, Remy’s gonna be back soon.” Remy assured, cupping her cheek tenderly before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. “You go on and get back to your beauty sleep” he then pulled himself away from Ororo and headed out of their shared bedroom.

Remy looked down the dark hallway that led to the stairs before rubbing the small of his aching back.

“Give me strength…” He mumbled to himself, feeling alongside the wall before eventually grasping the guard rail to the staircase. He carefully walked down the steps, running out of breath quickly, not even halfway down. He groaned, leaning against the railing to catch his breath, pressing one hand against his side as he felt one of the twins shift against his hand.

“I know, I know, Papa is sorry but this didn’t used to be so hard until you two got in there.” He chuckled then grimaced as he felt a rough kick. “Okay, okay I’m sorry” he winced and straightened himself out, continuing his struggle down the stairs.

When he had finally managed to reach the bottom, his lungs felt like they were on fire. Not even the most strenuous workouts in the danger room made him feel as winded.

“Whoo, you two sure know how to wear papa out” he said as he continued his journey into the kitchen, his legs aching from the short trip down the stairs. When he finally made his way to the refrigerator, he opened it only to be met with disappointment. There were only leaves of lettuce, a bag of baby carrots, a carton of eggs with only two eggs left in the carton and a swig of milk left. The leftovers from that nights dinner were no where to be found, devoured by the other X Men no doubt. Guess they didn’t think that their fellow pregnant teammate would get hungry.

Remy pouted and let out a few curses as he glared at his pitiful choices. None of which his kids wanted to eat. His stomach growled and he frowned, resting a hand on his abdomen.

“I’m sorry chers, but these are our only options.” He said, his frown deepening. “Papa would go out and get ya somethin’ but it’s late and ain’t nothin’ open, I’m sorry.”

“Remy ?”

Remy jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice, gasping and putting a hand on his abdomen to steady himself, as it was just Rogue and Ororo, with worried looks on their faces.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya sugah.” Rogue apologized, going over to Remy, Storm following. “What’re ya doin’ up so late ?”

“The little ones were hungry” Remy answered, gesturing down to his bump with his eyes. “But there ain’t nothin’ in the fridge, reckon Wolverine finished off the leftovers.”

“Oh Remy.” Ororo sighed, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You should have told us that you were hungry, Rogue or I would have gotten something for you.”

“Didn’t want to wake ya, Gal.” Remy said, putting his hand on hers. “ ‘sides, you two do enough, I’m capable of gettin’ a midnight snack on my own.”

“Oh don’t give me that hog slop, ‘Ro woke me up ‘cus she could hear ya huffin and puffin to get down the stairs from the bedroom” Rogue said, crossing her arms.

Remy’s face turned red as he sheepishly looked away. He wasn’t that loud going down the stairs was he ?

“I didn’t mean to wake ya.” He said, his cheeks and the tip of his ears turning pink, embarrassed that they heard his struggle down the stairs. If they heard him, the whole house must of heard him.

“Now, what is it that you’re hungry for ?” Ororo asked, snapping him out of his embarrassment.

“I dunno, somethin’ sweet an’ salty ? Like…chocolate covered pretzels ? Or potato chips dipped in chocolate ? Hell, I’m even thinkin’ bout a pickle dipped in chocolate.” The thought of the snacks made his mouth water.

“How about I get my keys and drive on down to the nearest convenience store and grab ya some chips and a chocolate bar ? Will that satisfy ya ?” Rogue asked, letting out a soft chuckle at the thought of Remy eating a chocolate covered pickle of all things.

“Aw cher, you don’t gotta do all that, it’s late.” Remy argued “I’d feel bad if I ya went out in the dark just for me.”

“Now why on earth would ya feel bad ? My man is hungry, and ‘sides, it ain’t just for you, it’s for the babies too and I sure as hell can’t let them starve, what kinda mama would I be ?” Rogue asked, as she got up to get her keys. “I’ll be back lickity split, you keep our papa entertained, alright baby ?”

Ororo nodded, guiding Remy to the living room, helping him sit on the couch.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet dear.” She said, placing herself next to him “You’re ankles are so swollen”

“Tell me about it” Remy groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Sho’ hope Hank was right about twins comin’ early cus’ Remy don’t know how much more he can take.”

“You’re doing great” Ororo assured, putting his legs in her lap. “Now, just relax yourself, Rogue will be back soon, I hear her car pulling off now.”

“Might as well turn on the TV.” Remy said, shifting a little to adjust his weight “Think they usually show Twilight Zone reruns this time of night”

“And you know this, why ?” Ororo asked as she started to gently rub his ankles. Remy chuckled sheepishly, averting his gaze from Ororo but deciding to tell her anyways.

“Well… I cant sleep when y’all are out on late night missions, I get restless and the twins get restless too, cuz I wanna be out there helpin’ but I can’t.” He rests his hand on his bump, rubbing over it gently. “So I stay up and watch TV till I get tired and The Twilight Zone has been a favorite, comes on around ten and keeps my attention and it’s better than the dreary news.”

“I never took you for a horror sci-fi fan, Remy.” Ororo mused with a smile, as she continued to massage his sore ankles.

“It’s pretty good, only one episode I don’t really like.” Remy said, reaching for the remote on the coffee table, turning on the tv and flipping through the channels.

“Oh ? And what’s that ?” Ororo asked out of curiosity, wondering which of the many episodes Remy didn’t like.

“The one with that one kid who controls the town.” Remy said with a frown, as he finally found the channel he was looking for, that was indeed showing Twilight Zone episodes. Thankfully it wasn’t showing the episode he didn’t like.

“I vaguely remember that one, care to tell me why you don’t like it ?” Ororo inquired, noticing Remy’s frown.

“It had me thinkin’…. What if one or both of our babies turn out that way ?” Remy asked. “Silly, I know, but we all powerful mutants, wouldn’t be so far fetched, just bothered me, y’know ? Imagining them turning out so powerful that even other mutants are scared of them, that they turn into tyrants at the age of six and we can’t do nothin’ bout it. Just scared me is all.”

“Oh Remy, I can assure you that they won’t.” Ororo said, stroking his leg “Our children won’t turn out to be evil tyrants who’ll use their powers to harm others, because they’ll have you as a father and Rogue and I as mothers to steer them in the right path.”

“I know, I know, it’s just a stupid fear, pregnancy anxiety and all that.” Remy said, waving his hand. “With you as one of their mama’s there’s no way our chirren gon’ turn out to be bad eggs.”

Ororo smiled, but then turned her head as she heard Rogue enter the room, plastic bag in hand.

“My, that was quick.” She said, amused at how Rogue was back so quickly “You didn’t break the speed limits again, did you ?”

“What could I say ? I wanted to get back and feed our papa” She said, walking over to the couch and giving Remy the plastic bag “Mind if I join ?”

Remy moved over a little to let Rogue sit down before leaning against her, smiling as she put an arm around him. Remy opened the bag to see a bag of plain salted potato chips, a king sized chocolate bar and a bag of dill pickle bites. He immediately went to open his snacks, snapping off a piece of chocolate and putting it on top of a potato chip, or a pickle bite. Eventually he got the bright idea to sandwich the pickle and the chocolate between two chips. It definitely hit the spot.

“Oh I can’t thank ya enough cher” Remy moaned through bites of his odd snack “This exactly what tha babies ordered”

“Glad I could be of service to ya sugah.” Rogue beamed as she ran a hand through Remy’s hair.

Before the trio knew it, Remy had finished his snack, while they finished three Twilight Zone episodes. Storm had happened to look at the grandfather clock, seeing that that it was a little past midnight.

“We should all retire for the night.” She suggested, taking Remy’s legs off her lap “It’s getting late and I promised that I would take Jubilee to the mall in the morning.”

“A mall trip ? Count me in sugah.” Rogue said, never missing an opportunity to go shopping. Remy sat up and stretched, rubbing the small of his back

“Remy comin’ too.” He said “It’s been ages since I been out dis’ house.”

“Are you sure you can handle it ?” Ororo asked, concerned “You couldn’t even get down the stairs without a struggle”

“Remy will be fine, they got escalators an’ if I get too tired, there’s always benches.” Remy assured, standing up from the couch with a struggle “Just don’t wanna be stuck here”

“Well then, let’s head back to the bedroom Sugah” Rogue said, scooping Remy up into her arms. Remy let out a surprised yell and and clung to Rogue.

“ Mon Dieu, what you think you doin’ ?!?” He exclaimed, not exactly used to being swept off of his feet.

“You had to struggle goin’ down the stairs by yourself, so I figured I’d carry ya.” Rogue let out a laugh and headed towards the stairs, Storm following right behind her “You just hang on tight and let me carry ya, okay ?”

Remy clung to her until they got to the top of the stairs, but Rogue still didn’t let him down. She was determined to carry him to the bedroom.

Once they got to the bedroom, she laid Remy in the middle of the bed, Ororo and Rogue getting in next to him.

“Sleep tight dear” Ororo said, pressing a kiss on his temple. “You and our precious cargo need your rest.”

“I know, I know.” Remy settled himself into his side, trying his best to get comfortable. He never was much of a side sleeper, preferring to lay on his back, but Hank told him the dangers of sleeping on his back while pregnant, so he reluctantly had to sleep on his side.

It wasn’t all bad though. With his two girls cuddled up to him and his stomach full, he was bound for sleep in no time.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 5, 1973

“There’s this thing when you’re way up north, the Midnight Sun? You know?”

Daniel shrugs. He sort of knows, but wants the explanation on tape. 

“Like up by the Arctic Circle, during the summer the days are so long. It only gets dark for like two hours in the middle of the night, it’s crazy. But then in the winter it’s dark all day, too. People get super depressed or whatever.”

“So it’s good that you went in the summer,” Daniel says.

“Well yeah, but the thing is, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t fucking sleep.”

Daniel holds a finger up for a pause so that he can flip the tape. When he clicks the record button, the guy continues.

“So I’m one of those people, you know, I need it completely dark or I can’t sleep. Like fallout curtains. I swear to god I should just sleep in a bomb shelter. I need it be—“ he gestures with his hands, like an orchestra conductor to his syllables “—pitch black.”

He leans back in his chair. “Huh. Yeah, that would be crazy.”

“It sucked! And then I’d finally fall asleep, and I’d wake up thinking it was morning, right? I’d be getting dressed, heading downstairs, out in the world to go grab breakfast or some shit and it’s just empty! It’s like the whole world is dead. Twilight Zone shit!”

He shrugs. Pulls the tab off his soda can and spins it on the table. 

“So anyway, you know, if you don’t get any sleep you start going nuts, right? And at the hospital they told me I had, like, delusions of grandeur or whatever they called it.”

“What were the delusions?”

“I was completely convinced that there was this, like, deeper meaning beneath all things.”

“That doesn’t sound so crazy. I think I believe that, too.”

“No but like, on this whole other level. Like cosmic horrors. I was convinced I could hear all these messages coming from the ice. Like way up north. Up at the top.”

“So how did you wind up at the hospital? What lead up to it?”

“Well right, I wasn’t sleeping, yeah? And I was thinking like, all the light coming into the windows, I felt like it was something looking at me. Invading my space. And you know man, I don’t really remember all of it? Just, next thing I know I’m screaming in the middle of the street. And it’s like, bright day time. You’d think it was the middle of the afternoon. But it’s like, one in the morning and I’m waking up all these poor Icelandic people. Like moms coming outside in their bathrobes to see what the problem  is.”

Daniel think he has a good burnout decoder. He’s patient when people ramble, when the story meanders. This guy isn’t even so bad, but it takes them almost four hours to get through the story of how he got institutionalized overseas. If Daniel were to edit the tapes down himself, he thinks he could fit it into a single radio hour.

It’s sincere, though. That’s all he can ask for.

He takes the long way home, even though his car has been making a weird noise for a couple weeks. He probably shouldn’t push her so hard until he figures out what it is. But even trying to wind down through the emptier neighborhoods, there are signs of life everywhere. 

Sometimes he wishes it were truly quiet. Aside from the mental collapse, the interview tonight sounded so soothing. Going somewhere quiet. 

Well. He has a job now, sort of. His parents have almost cut him off. Things like that don’t feel easy like they used to. He’d been naive. It would take some money, not just for the trip, but enough to miss work. He’d have to bank a dozen interviews to bridge the gap if he took off somewhere. 

But it would be nice. After everything. Just be somewhere quiet. If he could swing it. If he had the time.

He laughs at himself as he parks his car, as he listens to the engine clicking. Presses his hands to his face.

“You’re fuckin losing it, man,” he says, out loud.

Too young to be thinking like this. Too soon. He’s not ready to turn into his parents.

He shakes it off. Scratches his hands through his hair. Tilts his mirror down so that he can see his face in the ugly yellow streetlight.

Young still. No matter how weird he feels. Young. Tired as fuck but he doesn’t have wrinkles yet. Could still pass for a high schooler. This is okay.

He’s got plenty of time. 

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