#like half of her food space is JUST BEVERAGES

[the-faultofdaedalus]

why the fuck is there nothing but beverages in wanda's fridge

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #2

Danny loved his life. After his reveal to Jack and Maddie as a half ghost went right, everything started falling into place.

Vlad stopped his insane schemes once his parents were set loose on him. Sure he’s still mayor but he funds the town, keeps them protected from unwanted visitors, and is no longer trying to kidnap/adopt/clone Danny anymore.

Speaking of clones, Ellie was officially adopted into the family. She didn’t live with them full time with her obsession being freedom, but at least she has a home to return to now.

Dan was also adopted into the family. He is still on probation but turns out having their adopted family again (and as many ghost fruits as he wants) helped ease the rage. That’s not to mention Dan’s and Skulker’s bi-weekly figh- errr meetups.

Well at least there’s been no property destruction since he’s been crowned. After he and his rogues began scheduling their own meetups, his grades started going up again. So while he may never become an astronaut like he always dreamed of, he could still go up to space and see the stars whenever he wanted to.

Sure, being king wasn’t exactly what he wanted in life (or death) but he could protect his ghosts and liminals better this way. And considering his entire town is either ghost or liminal, it was just easier to protect them from the GIW and the government in general with a crown on his head.

Besides being king isn’t all bad either. He’s rich now meaning they won’t be racked up in college debt, he has cool artifacts that were gifted to the ghost king over the millennia that were left untouched but he’s not about to return them (they were gifts to the ghost king, practically funeral gifts like flowers but more rare and expensive), and he has crazy powerful Ancients as friends/family/mentors/protectors. He’s still a baby in ghost years and a minor in human years so he’s not expected to do much either way.

Life was going great, especially after Amity Park adopted ghost etiquette and ecto-infused food and beverages.

So why the Ancients are the Justice League of all people standing outside his front door with the Batman looking thoroughly freaked out the moment he opened the door? He hasn’t said anything yet either!! Stupid fucking government heroes.

[janeyseymour]

Intervention- pt 2

an anon asked for a part 2 where Barb might be hurt that she doesn't know about you.

WC: ~2.9k

“You have a girlfriend?” Jacob is the first to gasp out. “Mel Mel, I didn’t know that I wasn’t the only queer one in the school!”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, I do have a girlfriend, and you ain’t nothin’ special kid. I just don’t make it as known as you do.”

“I’m Y/N,” you smile at the group. You then address them all by name. They look impressed. And then you get to Barbara Howard- of course you know that she’s your girlfriend’s work-wife. “And Barbara, I’ve heard the most about you. It’s truly a pleasure getting to finally meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she glances at you as she shakes your offered hand. “Melissa has kept you her dirty little secret for how long?”

“Barb,” the redhead warns lowly. “She ain’t my dirty little secret- just a topic that hadn’t really come up in conversation.”

“Well, I would say that-”

“Why don’t you guys come on in,” you tell the group softly, trying to get the two squabbling women to quit. There does not need to be any point of contention while your girlfriend’s friends are here, and it certainly does not need to be over you. All you want to do is make a good impression.

They all enter the house that they thought they knew and had seen prior to the breakup with Gary. But now, it’s different. It’s… definitely still Melissa- but the plastic on the couches are gone, it’s a bit brighter, and there’s a sense of someone living in the space. It’s nice. You don’t miss the way that Barbara only continues to study you as you lead everyone in, offering drinks or food in the kitchen.

“Melissa wouldn’t let me in the kitchen for this, so please… know that you won’t get food poisoning from today,” you joke as you hold the redhead’s hand. “There are other beverages outside in a cooler if you would rather a beer or something like that. Please… help yourselves.”

You head outside yourself to go grab yourself and your girlfriend a Yuengling. “Does anybody want a beer?”

Mr. Johnson is the only one that agrees, the others deciding that a water or a soda is okay for now. So, you head out to grab three beers.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is staring down the mob-like woman that they thought they all knew.

“What?”

“Damn, Schemmenti,” Ava raises a hand for a high five. “She’s hot!”

Melissa just rolls her eyes, but she does give her boss a high five, along with Mr. Johnson.

“Well, tell us about her!” Jacob and Janine both look at the redhead urgently. “How long have you been together, what’s the deal with her?!”

Barbara just looks at the woman she thought trusted her enough to tell her about a relationship like this with crossed arms.

“She is here, so you can just ask her yourself you know,” Melissa chuckles as she sees you come back inside. You go for the bottle opener on the fridge, expertly popping the tops off of the beers before distributing them out. 

“Ask me what?” you ask as you snake an arm around Melissa’s waist and pull her closer gently.

“About you!” Janine states with fire. “We didn’t even know you existed!”

“Well,” you chuckle. “I’m Y/N, I’m an accountant down at one of the firms in Center City, Mel and I met at a Bally’s in Atlantic City, and we’ve been dating for about… a year and a half?”

“You kept this from us for a year and a half?” Gregory cuts in.

Your girlfriend just shrugs. “Youse never asked if I was dating anyone- just assumed I was single and mopey.”

You see the way that Barbara glares down her friend, and you try to cut the tension by inviting everybody to come sit outside in the small backyard that you have. They of course follow. 

You and Melissa allow everybody to find a seat before you go to sit, but of course, there is only one chair. She takes it while you perch on the side of it. With an eye roll, she pulls you into her lap.

“We’re dating, hun,” she tells you. “You’re allowed to act like you love me.”

“I do,” you laugh. “Was just trying to be respectful and not make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Greg and Janine were grinding up on each other at the club,” Ava laughs with a wave of her hand. “And that was before they were dating. Y’all are together, and have been for some time.”

The two mentioned blush as they look at each other… they were hoping their boss would’ve forgotten that by now.

It’s a bit of time as they chat and catch up, Melissa filling you in on the missing pieces as she sips from her beer, before conversation comes to a quiet lull. Barbara only continues to stare down the two of you, and it’s quite clear she isn’t happy.

Barbara Howard not approving of this relationship is something that could make or break what you have going on with who you genuinely think might be the love of your life. Barbara Howard was the one person that you were really hoping to impress, and she’s making it quite clear that she does not care for you. Barbara Howard hasn’t spoken a word to you or Melissa since the first few minutes that she’s been at the house. And it is making you beyond uncomfortable. 

“Well, I think I might start firing up the grill,” you sigh softly as you stand from your place in Melissa’s lap. “We have stuff for burgers and dogs, so… if everyone wants to let me know what they want, I can get that started?”

You have everyone’s orders being shouted at you faster than you can type the orders down in your notes. All of the orders have been taken except for… except for Barbara’s.

“Barbara?” you ask softly, eyes full of warmth. You’re really trying to get her on your good side.

“I’m fine,” she says astutely.

“Make a couple extra of each,” the redhead tells you. “I’ll grab a couple plates for you to put ‘em on as they’re finishing up.”

Of course, Mr. Johnson, Jacob, and Gregory both follow you over to the grill and make conversation with you as you cook, leaving the rest of the Abbott crew with your girlfriend.

While Jacob is questioning what feels like every aspect of your life at the grill, you can hear Barbara and Melissa getting into it.

“Are you seriously mad?” you can hear your girlfriend ask her work wife, clearly annoyed. 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t trust me enough to tell me who’s courting you,” Barbara states, hurt evident in her voice.

“Nobody’s courtin’ me, Barb. This ain’t Bridgerton,” the second grade teacher retorts with a sarcastic laugh. 

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me,” your girlfriend’s work wife tells her. “We’ve been friends for over fifteen years, and you’ve told me about other relationships- like Gary.”

“Because you approved of Gary,” Melissa tells Barbara.

“And what would make you think I wouldn’t approve of Y/N?”

“Well,” your girlfriend drawls out. “She’s a woman, you’re a woman of God, she’s a hell of a lot younger than we are, and it started out at a casino and sharing a cigarette. Forgive me if I thought that Barbara Howard, woman of God, might not like the backstory I would’ve given you.”

Barbara goes to spit something else out, but Janine cuts in rather quickly. For once, her and Ava are on the same team and are able to divert the conversation elsewhere. 

You awkwardly make your way over to the group, juggling plates in hand. “Dinner is served,” you smile as you set them on the table. “Did anyone want a beer or a seltzer or anything like that?”

There are a few that chime in, ready for a drink. You oblige their requests with a smile. Dinner is nice, if a bit stilted as people try to find common ground to chat with you about. It all ends up leading back to Abbott, and you can’t find yourself complaining. It’s quite funny to hear the hi jinx that happen in an elementary school and all of the background things that happen out of sight of the kids. And then the topic shifts to the relationship that everybody has with Melissa. You find that Melissa is like a mother to Jacob, an aunt to Janine and in turn Gregory, close friends with Ava despite appearances at school, Mr. Johnson and her have some sort of ally between the two of them, and of course you already knew her and Barbara were like work wives.

Barbara just huffs at that sentiment before sighing. “I suppose I should be heading out.”

“But Barb!” Janine protests. “We haven’t even started setting off fireworks!”

“I got the good ones too,” the custodian cuts in. 

But the woman dead set on heading home holds up a hand to halt their protests against her leaving. “It is time that I leave.”

She says goodbye to everybody before turning to you and your girlfriend. “Thank you for inviting me over,” is all she says. And then she’s seeing herself out.

The rest of the fourth of July gathering is quite nice, and you find yourself quite glad that you were able to meet the people that Melissa constantly talks about during the school year.

Before you know it, the school year is right around the corner. Despite having been in the same classroom for the last several years, Melissa asks if you’ll accompany her down to the classroom to prepare for her incoming students. You wholeheartedly agree, knowing that a good deed on your part will end up in well… a good deed.

As the two of you are lugging in a few boxes of new supplies, Barbara pulls up. There is no hello, no ‘how are you’. Just a simple glance before she turns her nose up at the two of you and begins to unload her own car.

“Barb,” your girlfriend calls in the direction of the kindergarten teacher. There is no dignified response. “Jesus Christ.”

“Give her a few minutes,” you tell the redhead softly as you pull yet another box of supplies out of your car. “She’s probably just in a rush to get all of her things in here before she exchanges pleasantries.”

“No,” the second grade teacher huffs. “She’s still all pissy that I didn’t tell her about you. Hasn’t reached out since the cookout.”

You know that to be quite odd. When the two are on good terms, they speak quite frequently- last year over Summer break they had spoken almost everyday. 

You just nod before jogging over to Barbara’s car and politely asking you if she needed any assistance. She told you no. So you jogged back to your own car before picking up the same box that you had earlier and carrying it into the school.

The two of you make another trip, as does Barbara. Still, there are no words spoken between the two, and you can clearly see that it’s upsetting your girlfriend.

In the confines of her classroom, you close the door and perch yourself on Melissa’s desk. “Babe?”

“What?” she asks as she continues to staple the border around her bulletin board.

“You need to take a breath and maybe consider things from Barbara’s side,” you say quietly.

“So you’re on her side?” Green eyes whip around and land on you.

You slowly climb off of her desk and go to pull her in gently by the waist. You give her a sweet peck on the lips before whispering, “I just don’t like seeing the tension between you and your best friend.”

“I’m not even mad at her,” Melissa shrugs. “She’s mad at me.”

“I understand that,” you promise your girlfriend quietly. “But… imagine how you would feel if she started dating someone seriously, and you didn’t find out until they had been living together and dating for a year and a half.”

“I wouldn’t have to imagine that, because she’s been married to Gerald for thirty years, and the two of them are more in love than-”

“Mel,” you sigh quietly. “Just… put yourself in her shoes. Please.”

“I would… I would be pissed,” the teacher admits. “But I know that she wouldn’t like how our relationship started, and I know she was pissed when I ended things with Gary, and-”

“She stood by you through your divorce, she stood by you through your breakup with Gary; you’ve seen her through almost everything her and Gerald have been through. I can see why she’s hurt right now, hun.”

“I don’t,” your girlfriend huffs. “She knows I’m a more private person.”

“But you aren’t with her,” you reason. “Around her, you’re you. She knows every piece of you, even pieces I don’t know yet. I don’t think she’s mad at you- I think she’s hurt. This is just how she’s showing her hurt right now.”

“So what do you suppose I should do about it?” Melissa purses her lips. You can’t resist stealing a quick kiss.

“I think you should talk to her,” you advise. “I think you should apologize for not telling her once things got more serious between the two of us, and then I think you should invite her out for a dinner with just the two of you so you can chat and tell her more about us before suggesting a dinner with all three of us.”

“When did you get to be so wise?” your girlfriend asks you as she pulls you just the slightest bit closer to her.

“I’ve had some practice,” you chuckle softly. Then you pat her butt gently. “Go. Talk to her.”

Melissa bites her lip nervously before nodding. She heads out the door. You follow a few seconds later.

“I’m just going to stand outside the door out of sight in case the two of you need any mediation,” you tell her when she turns around and looks at you curiously.

She nods before continuing her journey down to the kindergarten wing. She knocks on the door in a rhythm that you know is only saved for her work wife.

“Melissa,” Barbara says, but there’s a bit of bite in her tone.

“Barb,” your girlfriend says quietly. “Can we… can we talk?”

“About?”

“I came down to apologize to you,” the redhead says softly as she steps into the room a bit further.

“For?” You can practically see the woman folding her arms across her chest and looking at Melissa as though she’s a student.

“For not tellin’ you about Y/N,” Melissa breathes. “For keeping her a secret from you, and then not being considerate of the feelings that you have. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just… nervous? I know that you’re a woman of faith with morals higher than I ever thought possible, and if it were to go up in flames with her, I didn’t want you to have to be there to pick up the pieces like you’ve done so many times before.”

“Melissa, if you thought I wouldn’t approve of the relationship you have with Y/N because she is also a woman, I would like to remind you that I adore Jacob like the son I never had,” the kindergarten teacher says evenly. “And we are best friends- I want to be there for you at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I do not care that you are dating a woman; I just want you to be happy. I wish you would have let me know earlier than you did. I thought we were closer than that.”

“We are,” your girlfriend says. “I messed up, Barb. An’ I’m sorry.”

“Well, thank you,” Barbara says quietly.

Melissa shifts where she stands. “How can I make it up to you? Dinner maybe? Just the two of us?”

You can hear the shift in tone between the two of them. Something changes. “I’d quite like that. I’ve missed you these past two months.”

You know it’s taking everything in Melissa to not make a comment about how she had reached out over the summer, but Barbara had not reciprocated. “I’ve missed you too,” you hear her say.

“And I better get to hear all about Y/N,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles. “She seems like a sweet girl, and she knows her way around a grill.”

“She’s… she’s really great, Barb,” you hear your girlfriend’s voice go soft- something she really only does when she’s talking about you. “She’s something special.”

“Well, I look forward to getting to know her,” Barbara chuckles. “And ooh, girl, do I have some things to tell you about what my girls got up to over the summer.”

“Over dinner? I’d be delighted, but right now Y/N is here helping me clean up my room for the upcoming year, and I’m sure she’d be more than happy to come help you too.”

And just like that, you know that everything just may be okay. Barbara and Melissa have made up, the kindergarten teacher herself said that you seem like a sweet girl, and now your girlfriend won’t be as much of a grump coming home from a hard day’s work today.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Part 6

We’re Back to the present day! This chapter is early because I’ll be going to do nerd shit in the woods for the weekend

Content: vomiting/emeto, food mentions, fear of punishent, conditioned whumpee, comfort

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763 Ziar sat in the shower, letting the sonic waves wash over her. The vibrations were soothing, though not like warm water would’ve been. She was saving her water ration for Kim, since they’d need a bath and she doubted they’d be able to shower on their own. Stasis was exhausting, and their ankle couldn't be comfortable to stand on.

Sighing, she reached out her hand to turn off the shower. As much as she wanted to stay, there was stuff to do. The prospect of a highly caffeinated beverage was starting to sound more appealing. She wrapped a towel around her waist then stepped out of the shower, using the railings to support herself until she could reach her crutches.

The showers and the berths had the advantage of being close, just a couple meters across the hallway, and Ziar gratefully collapsed back into the mattress. It was tempting to let her eyes close and drift off, but she forced herself to stay awake.

After a couple minutes of blissful laying down, she heaved herself back up. She needed to redress the bite wound and replace the dermafibran around her connector. Osteomyelitis was not all it was cracked up to be. When they landed, she’d needed to go out and buy more. Just another thing for the list.

Reaching under the bed, she pulled out the small box of wound care supplies she kept underneath for when she was too tired or sore to get to the infirmary. She pulled the latch open and pulled out what she’d need, grabbing the DF pack and some dressings.

Carefully, she peeled off the bandage on her upper arm. The double-crescent shaped wound was looking better than it had last night, with the bleeding stopped and wiped away. It only produced a dull throb now, and was clear of any pus or redness. And really, what more could she ask for?

She pressed another bandage over it, feeling the cold tissue growth solution it was impregnated with fill the wound. After crumpling up the trash and tossing it into the bin, she reached for the drape so she could take care of the stump. Before she could get it unfolded, her communicator buzzed with Oka’s ringtone.

This was gonna be good.

“What’cha need?”

*** The weapon had tried to eat the food. It really had.

Oka had been so nice, letting it eat real food, people food, instead of bland slurries and nutritive bricks with the texture of concrete.

Previously, it had only ever been fed people food as a treat. A scrap off the table for breaking a course record. This was so much more than that.

The meat was smokey and salty, and the fruit was sweet but also a little bit tart. This was already a lot, but the bread was fluffy and soft. Despite it being relatively small in quantity, it sat heavy in their stomach, like a bowling ball.

Just as it had opened its mouth to thank them, its stomach rolled and squeezed. Its eyes went wide as every piece of food it had just eaten came back up.

No, no, no!

Vomit splattered all over the blanket that they’d given it, chunks of meat and half-digested fruit still visible. Its throat was on fire, acid burning at the back of its mouth, as it stared in horror at the mess it had made.

In its peripheral vision, it could see Oka moving around it, and braced itself for the blow. They had provided with food, real food, good food, and it had made a mess. It had been trained to have more self control than that, to be better. It could already feel the acid burns on its hands from having to scrub the floor until it could see its face in it.

Would it even be able to stand on its ankle?

A green bag with a plastic rim appeared in front of it. “Here, use this.” They didn’t sound angry or annoyed. They must’ve been the type who enjoyed meeting it out, then. Just great.

The blanket was pulled away from their legs, and even though Ziar had given it some sort of loose fitting tunic to cover it up, it still felt entirely exposed. Goosebumps raised on its skin.“I’ll get you something clean.”

It swallowed, gripping the bag tightly as Oka dug through a cabinet. When its stomach turned again, the vomit thankfully landed in the bag. The contents were mostly bile; there wasn’t much left in its stomach for it to throw up.

Another blanket was tossed over its legs, shielding them from the cool air. “Do you want some water?”

Their words washed over it as it tried to get its mouth to work. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The sound of the sink felt a thousand times louder than it probably was as they filled up a small cup. Oka carefully nestled the cup in between its shaking hands. It was half full, probably in an effort to conserve water. “Take small sips, alright. I don’t want to upset your stomach more.”

It obeyed, taking small sips while they watched it. Maybe they were waiting for a functionality report? Then it hit them. It needed to clean up its mess. They wanted to see if it would be responsible and solve its own problems. They didn’t want an automaton with no thoughts. It needed to make itself useful.

The blanket was resting in a bright orange bag on the sink. It finished the last of the water so that it wouldn’t spill, then pulled the blanket away from it. While the sink wasn’t exactly close, it could make it, bad ankle notwithstanding. It pushed its legs over the edge of the bed.

It needed to be useful.

“Kim-” Oka said, stepping forward, but it was too late.

It pushed off the bed, letting its uninjured foot hit the oor st. Assuming success, it took another step.

The moment its second foot contacted the oor it crumbled, letting out a yelp as it came crashing down. Pain pulsed up its leg, and it couldn't help the tears that well up in its eyes. It knew that it wouldn’t be able to get back up.

All it did was make things worse.

Oka squatted down next to it. “It’s okay,” they said, reaching out a hand and placing it on its shoulder.

It shuddered, and they pulled their hand away. “It was-Unit KM-4682 was going to clean its…its…” it choked out, body racked by sobs.

“You don’t need to do that, aza.” It wasn’t familiar with that word. It probably meant “stupid,” if it had to guess.

All it could do was cry harder. It was falling apart, on the floor, like a fucking baby. It was weak and useless and it was a small wonder that it had been kept alive as long as it had. Maybe they were right to kill it, to remove its useless body from the universe.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” A blanket settled over its shoulders.

It pulled the edges closer, wrapping itself tighter. Oka smiled at it gently. “It’s alright, aza. I’m going to call Ziar so we can get you back up on the table, alright. You just stay still.”

It nodded. An order. Something it could do without trying to guess if it was right. Something easy.

“You’re safe now. We’re not going to hurt you,” they repeated.

It wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. The weapon had always been safe, from everything but its own failures. And maybe things could be painful, maybe punishments and corrections weren’t fun, but it had never been hurt.

Still, Oka seemed to think that what was happening to it now was better. It bowed its head in respect. “Thank you, sir.”

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

[dorkydiaz]

INSPIRATION//SEVERAL SENTENCE SUNDAY and just like that im writing again 🤪here is some of chapter five i wrote last night tagged by @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @stagefoureddiediaz @hippolotamus @hgejfmw-hgejhsf <3

With Chris on his hip and a Chinese takeout in his other hand he finds Karen on her couch, glass of wine already resting on the coffee table, there is something spacey happening on the TV, probably straight from NASA’s streaming service, and her nose is buried in a book, and her phone is playing classical music. She looks up and barely acknowledges him before holding her hands out for Chris.  “Am I nothing to you?”  “Wine, or whatever other beverage you want, is in the kitchen.” She replies, beginning to play hide and seek with Chris from behind a pillow.  He just half smiles, placing the take out bags on the coffee table and the diaper bag on the floor, before heading to get something to drink. He grabs himself a glass of water and the bottle of wine, knowing that Karen will inevitably want more and ask him to go get it anyway.  “Oh you know me so well, I love you,” she says grinning when he sets the bottle down. “Did you know you have the cutest baby on the planet, excluding my future children of course, but–” “Our future children you mean,” he interrupts, a shit eating grin on his face. She promptly wacks him on the shoulder with the back of her hand.  She takes a generous sip of wine, playfully rolling her eyes.  And this might be it really, speaking of future relationships and children…what if my future was with a guy? Not that he was picturing dating Evan, let alone a domestic life with him. That was never going to happen.  For the next twenty minutes, Karen points at the space happenings on the TV screen as she explains them to Chris, and Eddie’s focus shifts between bites of food, the denial spiral, and the anticipation anxiety. It finally reaches the point where he just has to spill it, brave it and ask.  “So, um, you know me…better than basically anyone?”  “Is that a question Edmundo, who is this other person, give me names–”  “No one! My point is I have told you details about stuff I would tell no one else.”  “And I have told you the same.”  He swallows, “Do you think I could be queer?”  She pauses, her chopsticks gently landing in her fried rice, and then slowly placing it back on the coffee table. She considers him for a moment, as if flipping through the catalog of their conversations, interactions, every detail she knew from over the years. It was obvious she was taking this seriously.  “Not entirely out of the question.” She picks up her food again smiling at him. “What could have possibly brought this question to your mind?”

tagging: @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @dijkstraspath @disasterdiaz and anyone else who wants to play!

[ask-wren-zhang]

Shrub Club: episode 3

As promised, she has come bearing snacks and beverages. Or rather, she insists on helping with the garnishes and a few ‘taste tests’, while a few mutual friends of Deek carry out most of the work, such as setting up the small catering station and serving platters, adjusting the centrepieces and the food presentation. The house elves take great pride in their culinary magic, and Wren is left mesmerised by it every time without fail. A miniature picnic table is finely set with a tea kettle and a jar of syrup, accompanied by trays of fruits, cheese and seasonal fare. The main menu consists of Butterbeer and a blueberry pie, big enough to satisfy a party of four. Wren did hear @justaskmagnoliaellistor enjoys all things blueberries.

She takes a slice and nibbles on it, scanning the area; the location is near perfection, with ample sunlight, good drainage and accessibility to the Herbology greenhouses, though the lack of proximity to water sources she finds mildly worrying.

Conjuring her notebook, in which having already briefed a list of magical elements she’d planned to incorporate, involving enchanted soil, lighting, and now adding irrigation enchantments, if applicable.

Wren scarfs down the slice of pie and marvells as arrays of wood and stone diligently slot themselves together like an intricate puzzle - the greenhouse already looks half finished, and the construction carries on swimmingly. Turns out @demetrius-haggarty is much more adept at spellcasting than he realises.

She sits back, her lap balancing her sketchpad, and worries if her efforts may be too ambitious. Bits of charcoal and worn pencils rattling as she unfurls each page. Colours bloom like stains on oil paint, edges of her vision sharpened, details now finer.

Wren wants to plant a tree in the middle, Hawthorne (hehe), to grow wild and deep, belonging to no one but the soil beneath the ground base, and the dappled sky above. A dome is to be put in place, and it will be sheltering an even bigger world, with every unused space, they will fill with their own touches, the turning of seasons itself. The Extension Charm should do the trick.

Just as she scouts for any availability for walkways, or even additional features like seating areas or ponds. One minor detail sticks out regarding the layout of the greenhouse's dimensions: there is no glass.

“Well, that just won’t do. I wonder what are the chances of a glassmaking charm?” Wren ponders aloud, wondering if it’d be easier to up and transfigure a pile of sand into glass instead. That said, it wouldn’t hurt to try. She taps her chin, and looks out towards the lake, where the narrow, gently sloping land lies along its edge, an idea begins to surface. She wonders if @theodoradevlin would be willing for an experiment.

Her eyes flash with inspiration, it is brief. “What’s between beach sand and lake sand anyways?”

Wren’s notebook:

Climate control charms with heating, cooling, and humidity control to ensure optimal growing conditions.

Research and select plants that thrive in the chosen environment. Incorporate a mix of exotic, rare, and unique species, if one wishes. (Want to plant a pumpkin patch albeit unsure if Maggie would like that.)

Integrate both natural and artificial lighting to mimic day-night cycles, ensuring the plants receive adequate light.

Implement protective charms to keep magical plants safe from pests and potential intruders. Magical wards or enchantments can be used for additional security.

Maintenance Plan: a regular upkeep schedule for watering, fertilising, and pruning plants.

Decoration: sculptures, fountains, or artwork (?) a butterfly garden perhaps.

Ensure that safety measures are in place, such as emergency exits. Must include protective gear e.g. earmuffs or dragonhide gloves, to protect both the greenhouse and its occupants.

[dracarialove]

📄 F it, I'm posting my finished fics here, too 📄

*Check the 'rouge's heart' tag if you haven't read previous chapters

[Chapter 4: Romance]

Shadow went to work with no expectations that the eye-catching bat would show up, the hedgehog knowing very well how many people skipped out on plans. She hadn't even confirmed a definite desire to visit him, so he went about doing his job as usual.

But every time the bell on the door chimed, his ears perked up and his eyes darted hastily towards the entrance. Still hoping to see her walk in, his heart beat rose for a second before returning to normal when he realized it was just another stranger.

After hours of pouring coffee and serving pastries, he'd gotten caught up in the flow of steady customers and the mysterious woman had slipped his mind. It wasn't until her white Corvette pulled into a parking space – glimmering under the setting sun – that he remembered again, briefly being distracted from the order he was taking.

The customer – an older, orange bobcat – asked in a gruff voice, "What's the total?"

Shadow turned back, looking down at the register. "$7.50."

His gaze wandered to look out the big glass windows again while the customer paid, and he saw Rouge step out of her car. His eyes didn't linger once he knew it was her, handing the bobcat his food and beverage. A faint smile pricked at the corners of his mouth, his heart rate rising again. As the older man left, Shadow watched him in an effort to naturally catch the bat's eye when she entered.

The customer kindly held the door for her, Rouge thanking him and immediately looking at Shadow with a smile on her face. The hedgehog's eyes widened a bit, enraptured by how happy she looked to see him; it was something he wasn't used to, let alone from a beautiful woman. Part of him didn't trust the way she was making him feel, unsure of how to act when his demure nature was being challenged.

"Hi," she greeted, her eyelids lowering slightly. "Told you I'd be back."

Her playful opener made him react a bit awkwardly, Shadow not quite ready to respond in kind, but trying anyway. "You said you might come back."

Her smile didn't change – a sign he hadn't messed up yet. "Well, how could I not? The service is so good here."

Instinctively, he let forth a breathy chuckle. Another thing he wasn't used to – compliments, even from clientele. He wasn't skilled enough at witty banter to continue, so he instead asked, "What'll you have?"

"Just a hot chocolate this time," answered Rouge, refusing to break eye contact even as he put in the order and gave her the total.

"I'll take my lunch break so we can talk," he offered, handing her the drink, then nodded toward the front door. "Outside – it's more relaxing."

She nodded, taking the steaming cup and turning to walk out. The hedgehog removed his apron on the way to the back room, leaning in and addressing the coworker who was unloading inventory. Once his place had been taken, Shadow prepared a cup of coffee and met Rouge at one of the parasol-covered tables directly outside of the shop.

The bat's left elbow was resting on the tabletop, her cheek leaning into her palm. "Hopefully your afternoon wasn't too crazy."

"It never is," he replied, pulling his chair up to the table and setting down the coffee. "I don't think this place is popular enough to get that busy."

"It's a cute little shop," Rouge commented, glancing at the building. "They'd better be treating you well."

His eyes moved up from his cup as he took a sip, admiring the twinkle in her turquoise irises; her ivory hair looked soft, curling cutely behind her shoulders. He swallowed the scalding coffee, feeling the warmth hit his stomach, and managed a half-smile.

"It's an easy job," came the calm response. The intensity in her gaze strangely intimidated the hedgehog, forcing him to look away.

Rouge took the opportunity to sneak a peek at his figure, noticing lean muscle that meant he took care of himself; she liked that his fingers were anxiously tapping against his cup, finding it endearing that such a mysterious man would be nervous around her. She followed his gaze to study the darkening sky, running her eyes over the clash of orange and purple as the sun slowly sank.

Shadow suddenly spoke, drawing her attention again. "Dusk is my favorite time. Something about the harsh brightness of the orange meeting the melancholy indigo..."

He trailed off – Rouge raising an eyebrow at the poetic observation – then shook his head. "I don't know."

"No, I agree," she said encouragingly. "It's sort of like opposites attracting, or one piece completing another – even when they don't look like they go together."

His face slowly turned back to hers. "Yeah... I don't usually meet people who appreciate this time of day. Everyone seems to like dawn better."

He chuckled and added, "For some reason."

Rouge liked the way he laughed; it was soft, relaxing. A nice change from her boisterous ex, as Shadow seemed much calmer overall. Still, he had a certain alertness about him, quickly turning to look at the street when a car loudly zipped past. Raising his cup for another sip of coffee, the hedgehog could see a level of interest in her eyes that made him feel like she really was having a good time.

"Crazy people," she said, chuckling as well and shaking her head. "Although, I'll admit, I would have thought a guy like you would enjoy nightfall more."

Shadow shrugged and looked down, briefly cocking his head to one side as he did so. "Well, I used to. Not anymore."

His expression looked to be in reaction to a negative memory; Rouge thought about asking, but decided it wasn't worth it to prod at something that might be unpleasant for him to explain. Besides, then she would be obligated to do the same – and she was not ready to talk about Knuckles. So, she went to change the subject, when the hedgehog spoke up again and did it for her.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked. It was a safe question, an easy transition to a new conversation, and something that the bat was much more comfortable discussing.

"I'm a jewel hunter," was her answer, the woman gracefully sitting up straight and cupping her drink with both hands. The motion naturally brought her chest forward, which she didn't mind if Shadow glanced at – but his scarlet eyes remained on her face. "Well, I guess career-wise, I'm a government agent. It's what pays the bills, but that's not exactly what I'm passionate about."

He nodded, his half-smile returning. "So, you serve the people, in a way."

"In a way, sure – when I'm not doing my own thing. If I could just travel and take vacations for a living, believe me, I would."

"Well, anything to get away from the mundane world, right?"

She smirked and nodded definitively, then picked up her cup before asking, "What're your own desires in life?"

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, pausing for a few seconds as she sipped her hot chocolate. His mouth opened slowly and he stated, "I'm not sure I really have an answer for that."

She lowered her drink again. "Really? You don't have a big goal you're striving for?"

Shadow shifted awkwardly, then leaned forward and rested both arms on the table, crossing the left over the right. After thinking for another second, he said, "I guess I don't. Maybe that's a problem."

His sentence sounded more like a statement of fact rather than a prompt for her to disagree, but Rouge felt inclined to reassure him anyway. Reaching her arm out, she rested her gloved hand on his forearm.

"Not at all! Actually, it's potential for lots of opportunities! Think about it: you could do anything you want just for the enjoyment of it. Not having to worry about working towards something... that's not all bad."

Her grin brightened his mood a little more, the hedgehog's own smile growing. He pulled his right hand out from under his arm and placed it on top of hers, feeling warmth in his chest while their gazes lingered on each other. Then Shadow's buttery smooth voice broke the silence and sent a light shiver down her spine.

"Would you like to go out to dinner? Perhaps tomorrow night?"

Rouge almost immediately said yes, but remembered that she had already made a promise to Blaze. Her excitement settled and she answered, "I would, but I made dinner plans with my friend and her boyfriend for tomorrow. Could we do it the night after?"

The hedgehog nodded, his curved quills flowing with the movement. "Sure."

Before he could continue his thought, the other barista opened the shop door and called out, "Hey, Shadow, is your lunch over yet? My shift's almost done."

Shadow turned – his right hand leaving Rouge's – and replied, "Yes. Just a minute."

The coworker walked back inside and he looked to Rouge with his resting, neutral expression. "Does 8pm sound alright?"

"Perfect," she answered, slipping her hand off of his arm. "Let me give you my phone number so we can set up a location."

They both stood and pulled out their cells, Shadow programming her number into his and sending a text to make sure she got it. Then they wished each other a good night, the bat taking her drink with her to finish on the drive home.

Rouge smiled to herself as she saved the handsome hedgehog's contact, taking her phone off of silent before opening her car door. She looked back once more and allowed herself a moment's glance at Shadow through the window as he donned his apron, then climbed behind the wheel and backed out of the parking lot.

***

When the jewel hunter arrived home, she felt more energized than when she'd woken up, pulling out her phone again and opening up the near-empty message history under Shadow's name. She suggested an upscale restaurant, revealing it to be her favorite establishment and offering to pay her own way.

He responded, "I've never been. But I trust your taste," making the bat bite her lip as she subconsciously swooned over the compliment.

Soon, she was preparing a meal to fill her grumbling stomach and tapping her foot to lively jazz music. Her melodic voice harmonized with the instrumental while she cooked, shutting out any detrimental thoughts and preventing her previous worries from ruining the evening. After dinner, she went up to her bedroom and began preparing an outfit for the following night out with Blaze and Silver, putting on calming classical tunes to wind down.

The stylish bat didn't spend too much time ruminating on what would look good enough to wear on a casual friend-date. Instead of her typical heart-shaped chest piece and purple bodysuit, she chose a dark blue blouse with long fanned sleeves, deciding to drape it over simple black leggings. She would couple the ensemble with plain black boots, opting to skip wearing any gloves.

Once she was happy with her choices, she hung the outfit on the outside of her wardrobe and went through her nightly routine before throwing on a thin black night gown. She briefly thought about going through the pictures on her phone again, but denied herself when the idea still caused a tinge of hurt to rush through her chest. Instead, Rouge let her body sink into her soft mattress, calming her mind before drifting off to sleep.

***

After the captivating woman had told him goodbye, Shadow stole a glance as she walked away; he couldn't help but swiftly run his eyes over her curves before turning and entering the coffee shop to let his coworker go home.

After the hedgehog put on his apron, he looked through the lobby and at the front door to make sure there were no customers around. The headlights of Rouge's car shone through the window shortly before she pulled away, Shadow disappearing into the back room as soon as she was out of his sight.

He leaned his back against the cold cement wall and let out a deep sigh, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. His hand raised to press against his chest, feeling the heart inside thumping firmly against his palm.

Trying to steady the pulse, he took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes again. The bumping slowly subsided until his heart rate was back to its resting state, the hedgehog confused at the shaky feeling fluttering through his body.

He got back to work, soon addressing a customer while thoughts of Rouge still lingered in his mind. A little while later, he received a message from the bat telling him about a fancy restaurant; the name was unfamiliar, but he skimmed the reviews and decided that it was a good choice. His lips curved into a smile more naturally as he typed out a response, the reserved man finding it easier to compliment her through the screen.

His gaze scanned over their short conversation for a moment before he slipped his cell phone into the pocket of his apron, continuing the evening shift with little enthusiasm until it was time to lock up for the night.

When he did, he contemplated texting Rouge with a good night message, wondering if it would be rude to leave their exchange where it was; but he concluded that he was overthinking things. Shadow closed out the night by taking one last look up at the stars, silently thanking the universe for letting him meet her.

[pr1ncesspopstar]

An Admiral's Deal - FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 9: Lend an Ear

Ao3

-

The Drowning Wrench was always busy come Saturday. For many it was the first day their ships finally returned to dock, and land welcomed them back with open arms. It was known that a dog could love the sea more than any other, but there were simply some luxuries only found with your feet planted on terra firma. Space to stretch your arms, better food than any found in the gully of a ship, and of course, the variety of pretty company one might get lucky with or could slip a few coins to increase their chances to land a night in a softer bed with softer cabin mates.

All walks of life sat and wandered from table to table. A band of bards taking it upon themselves to play music to back the sea shanties sang by the roughest pirates, and the more homely folksongs the wives and daughters of these men. Drinks were passed, and sometimes fists were thrown, but all was done with mirth and joy of the new astral era.

And yet, Halditar seemed oblivious to it all.

She had her mane of hair pulled over her shoulder, finger twirling amongst the pale locks before combing through, undoing the tangles her restless fingers made. Her glass was half-empty, her eyes unfocused staring at the blurry visage of her reflecting off the surface of green-tinged grog. The music in her ears was dulled by a constant ringing, high pitched but not loud. Adding a layer of snow to every thing that surrounded the Warrior of Light, as if smothered by fabric.

“You look like you’ve just seen ghost, ‘kind knight.’”

She jerked her head up, having not expected someone to break through the haze. The chair across from Halditar screeched against the wooden floor before the person settled into it, waving a hand laxly to call off a waitress.

“Probably seen less than you have, ‘wife of the sea.’” Halditar laughed some weak, little sound, far from the opposite of her usual volume. It felt hard of late, to bring it forth with intention. Her fingers dug hard into the sharpened edge of her dragoon armor, the pain a slight aid in easing the bubbling thoughts in her skull. She didn’t need those dulling her senses further.

Though bereft of her usual coat, the Admiral of Limsa Lominsa was ever recognizable. She was the quickest person Halditar had ever seen served, soon with a glass of wine in hand and bottle she was free to refill herself. She savored the fragrant beverage, Halditar catching a with of elderberries of flower, before continuing on, before speaking,

“I had gotten word you’ve been seen about the port quite frequently, and found it strange you hadn’t sent any message with want to meet, or just dropped in on my unannounced. I thought perhaps I could be the one to extend the invitation to drink first this time.”

Even speaking on something so simple, Merlwyb had such confidence and assurance in her words. She knew what she meant, and how to say it. No fussing or second guessing. Halditar wasn;t even sure she had seen the woman hesitate before. It was respect worthy, and something the redhead liked very much about the Lominsan leader. Part of the reason Halditar had started getting close to her, whether the Admiral had wanted it or not.

Perhaps the former pirate had at one point been annoyed by the over-eager adventurers pushing and radicalness, overzealous with youth and inexperience, flames of ambition threatening to extend themselves too far and get snuffed out but just one wrong encounter. But a shared love of combat, fishing, and a certain type of conversational wit that was really only ever understood between their ilk made for a fast friendship. That and a sort of draw between each other. Halditar wasn’t sure if Merlwyb felt it, but around her, Halditar felt… secure. Safe to be herself and let whatever weighed on her shoulders roll off.

If only it hadn’t felt like her arms were starting to shake. Not yet failing, but the strength she had wasn’t enough to hold up the weight that was building. It was only for moments at a time, but in the face of the deaths, the building tension in the air it seemed like only she could feel… She had been more staunch in training of late, picking up the bow alongside lance, spending long hours helping others, and spending her evening recovering before repeating the next day.

To the outside eye, the Warrior of Light was like an animal in a cage. Pacing, waiting for the moment to strike, the cage door to open and to be let out either to hunt, or have her foe charge in.

Perhaps that is what Merlwyb recognized in her as she leaned forward, middle finger gently tracing the rim of her wine glass, creating a soft, ethereal ringing sound.

“What is on your mind, friend?” She emphasized that word. Halditar wasn’t so daft to miss it, and her companion not so foolish to believe she didn’t.

Her insomnia-darkened eyes dragged over across the floor. She couldn’t see too well, but she didn’t need the enhancement her Echo granted to know that shade of blue. Maybe the others didn’t notice, but it was everywhere, hung over the back of seats and upon the coat hooks if it wasn’t being worn.

“Nothin’ anyone should hear.”

The words came out harsher than she meant them to, punctuated by draining her glass in several heavy glugs. It wasn’t the best she had had, a strange vegetal after taste following a fake sort of lemon, cinnamon, and vanilla that didn’t play nice together at all really. But it wasn’t heavy and she could knock back a lot of them without anyone getting on her case. She wiped away the moistness it left on her lips with the back of her hand and before she could wave down another, Merlwyb had popped the cork on her wine, and was filling up Halditar’s glass of her own will.

“Would it suffice that even if they heard, they wouldn’t understand?”

In an instant, the Warrior of Light froze.

How to describe the feeling and sensations was over her at that moment. Like lighting? No, too quick. The crashing of waves? That would imply a calm between the shock… Quicksand, was the best descriptor she realized. At first she did not believe her ears, taking a few moments to connect that those familiar words did indeed come from the Admiral’s lips. Her hands started to shake, refusing to stop even as she turned her fingers into a fist. She couldn’t name what it was she was feeling. Excitement, fear? Whatever it was, it made her mouth dry and some small pain blossomed in her chest. 

“You know the first tongue? How? I thought no one in Eorzea…” Halditar almost stammered her question, not only because she was shocked but it took her brain a few solid seconds to remember how to speak her native language.

“My grandfather taught me. Supposedly, before being run out, his side of the family had been record keepers. He thought it was important to carry on the legacy of the only language he had ever known, spit as it was in this land.” The way she spoke lended itself to the idea at the least. The emphasis on certain letters was more Eorzean, no doubt from having to so rarely speak the rainy tongue. That mattered little though, when put against her trained ears… Ah.

Halditar recognized this feeling now. Homesickness. Longing. Relief at hearing something she recognized after so long.

And how her stomach curdled at the realization.

“And if I were to guess where you learned the first tongue…”

“You would guess damn right,” Halditar knew she sounded snappish this time, and did not regret it. Anything to keep from talking more than needed about that place. She ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling the build up of alcohol on them and the taste of tannins flooded her tongue. “Admiral, let’s make a deal,” Halditar leaned in, grabbing the glass of wine she had been poured and using it to wet her parched throat. “While we speak like this, we only say what we truly feel.”

“Aye, I can concede to that.”

“I’m scared, Merlwyb.” Neither of their faces gave away the nature of their words, but voices did. A shake added to the timber of Halditar’s tone, unnotable unless you could speak like the rain. “Everything, it doesn’t feel like too much yet but it’s getting there. Things are happening that I think I understand, but then more happens and I start to realize I don’t. For a while when that happened, I’ve managed to roll with the punches but this time…”

No matter how sweet the drink, it did nothing to cover the ashy taste in Halditar’s mouth as the memories of death and whisperings she’d been hearing ‘round every corner, the inconsistencies she noted moment to moment clung tight to her brain. An answer, an explanation so close but just out of reach. “I feel like I’m being used, by friend and foe alike. They hear me talk but they don’t listen, I do as asked because it’s right but the more these circumstances build, I feel like the blade being aimed, and I don’t know where. My head just won’t stop spinning with all of these thoughts, I just can’t stop them.”

Halditar had to release her glass, for with each word her grip on it tightened and before long she felt it begin to yield. Any longer and glass would have embedded into her fingers. Her blood was hot, some warrior adrenaline pumping in her veins by the means of fear and fury. A blade being aimed… Her own words made her sick to her stomach. At some point her grip went white knuckled, still tight on the table before a larger hand placed itself atop it. A touch smaller with just a slight chill, Merlwyb’s eyes were steady and steely, an anchor for Halditar to latch to.

“I can only know as much as you tell me about the situation, and whatever ends up on my desk by reports and news. With that in mind, Halditar. I’ve seen far too many die foolish deaths because they didn’t trust their instincts and their senses. You’re especially lucky with a sense none of us have in that blessing of yours,” Merlwyb spoke carefully. It was a tone Halditar hadn't heard from her before. There was a fullness to her voice, her normal timber when addressing guests and those of the Maelstrom didn’t have. “So trust in yours. Tread carefully, it may not only save your life but those you wish to protect. And open yourself up more, to your Scion associates. That’s one of the ways you can push them to start listening to you.”

“I don’t know how I can do that when I barely even know them.” She snorted.

“That means they probably barely know you, too. I doubt you’d listen to a warning based on a ‘feeling’ from a stranger, would you?” That felt like a smack in the mouth. On instinct she ‘tsked’ in frustration. She told them all they needed to know, and presented herself plainly enough. She knew who she was and made it known. Any more than that was the past of someone that existed no more. No need to speak of who was dead.

“Of course, you're free to ignore a friend's advice.” Merlwyb could tell her suggestion wasn’t met with resounding reception, speaking as much.

“I’m not ignoring it. It’s just complicated, as I’m sure you can guess.”

“Plenty.” She said it like it was an excuse she heard before. Halditar could guess it was, knowing the immature nature of some privates, having a few herself in her own squadron.

They spoke more, some in aerzoeng, some in Eorzean common. The words at least kept Halditar anchored in the present rather than sinking into thoughts she needed to drink herself silly or dig her sharp armor into her fingers to manage. Her gaze was captured in the dark liquid that filled her glass, nearly black as she could only make out the vague shape of herself in its reflection, distorted and rippling, with no sign of peace for it this night until the liquid was drained to the final drop.

[somethingelseishere]

A stabbing pain across his side rouses Crawford from a dead sleep. It’s later than his usual start, half past eleven, pushing his activities further into early afternoon. He rolls to a sitting position on the edge of his flattened mattress, inhales deeply and drags to his feet.

The trek into town was lacking - the atmosphere bland, abated. The magic of the morning had been lost to the humdrum of mid-day.

He finds his regular bench already in use, the suspect - quite the fetching lass - tall, slim, blonde and presently immersed in a hefty volume of literature. Crawford leers at her from thirty feet away, she turns a page taking no account of his presence.

He strides to a vacant accommodation - a bench made of concrete, foregoing his old standby of wooden slats. Opening his bag, no cigarettes - still on the counter at home - so it’s camera check and down to business - but then a searing pain hits directly over his right rib cage.

“Urgh!” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Ever self-conscious in public, he scans the surroundings for any attention he may have attracted. No eyes upon him.

He rubs the spot with his left hand, pressing gently inward. His stomach churns as a result of skipping breakfast. Perhaps a quick stop at a local eatery would bring relief. A club sandwich and iced tea sounds grand. His feet are in motion.

The small, empty diner allowed seating of his choice - near a window with excellent view of passers-by as well as anyone entering. The waitress arrives, sets his plate and beverage on the table, smiles and beats a path back to the kitchen.

Crawford shoves a corner of the toasted sandwich into his mouth just as she walks by. Her eyes fixed forward, sloping down, minding the cracks and ruts of the uneven sidewalk.

Crawford’s attention is glued to the young lady, her gaze ahead unbroken. He takes another bite and experiences his worst pain yet - ripping through him like a gunshot. He expels his food onto the plate, grabs his side with both hands and moans loudly. His thoughts spiral, breath quickens - he hastily drops a twenty onto the table and hurries from the establishment.

The walk home was punishing. He spills through the front door and onto the couch. Eyes squinting shut, in through the nose and out through the mouth. One more shot of blistering pain.

“Fuck!”

A few seconds drift and his biology finds equilibrium. His eyes crack slightly, falling onto the door in the hall. A door that was shut tightly at his departure that was now minutely ajar. Panic swells. He thrusts upward and jolts to his feet. Each slowly measured step across the ancient wooden floor creaks a warning to whatever may await him beyond the threshold. A breach is made.

“Hello?”

Eerie silence pervades as Crawford descends into the black obscurity of his basement. The timeworn steps were curiously mute with every advance. At the bottom - all was swallowed by darkness - until a flicking noise births the dim glow of the safe light.

His head jerks involuntarily to the right. First, a silhouette, then an image more clear - one of vague familiarity - it was her. Standing beside his work space - the blonde girl from the park.

“Hey, I’ve been watching you.” she admits with a devil’s grin. “What are you doing here?” he probes in a fissured voice.

The girl takes to hand one of Crawford’s many cameras.

“Such a tiny little hole - but with enough light, it has the power to keep you forever.”

She returns the piece of equipment to the table and moves towards him.

“Stop!” he demands.

The young lady halts abruptly, locking eyes with her besieged host.

“Who are you?” he stammers.

She takes a few more steps.

“Oh, I think you know.” she offers flirtatiously.

Before he could challenge, a final burst of pain spears through Crawford’s midsection, collapsing his knees to the floor.

“Argh!” he cries in certain agony.

A clap of thunder bleeds through from above, he trembles in the fetal position with her looming over. She kneels and speaks softly -

“I can make it all go away.”

He grapples desperately for words.

“What do you want?”

The girl holds up her left hand and blows a fine powder into his face. He fights the intrusion - coughing, retching - then loses himself to a state of calm, slowly fading. She crosses the room to the work station and disrobes.

Crawford revives in the old wooden chair, fastened securely to its timbers with nylon rope, several layers of duct tape over his mouth. He watches the young woman perform a ritual similar to the one he had the day previous.

She removes the photos of the unsuspecting women from the wall and methodically tears them in halves, then quarters before setting them to flame.

“No!” Crawford screams from behind the tape.

The girl turns and snarls.

“Such a filthy habit, taking things that do not belong to you.” she scolds.

The domineering femme saunters over in a confidence that disquiets the tenebrous room.

“I’ve got something you are going to love.” she quips, tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger.

Her svelte, nude figure ambles back to the table. She removes a photo from the wash tray, hanging it to dry. He strains to focus, not close enough to fix the blur.

“Would you like to see?” she teases.

He mumbles obscenities through the mouth covering.

She faces him - smirking, then delivers the freshly developed photo, holding it just inches away. His composure immediately dissolves. Muffled screams and lunging as the young man’s body fights violently against his restraints.

“You don’t like it?” she taunts.

The temptress returns the picture to the table.

“I tried to get your good side.” she says, squirming in delight.

Crawford perseveres as his uninvited guest concludes her obligations. Moments later, the dank and dirty basement falls absent of sound. The once occupied chair - now empty with nothing but bindings and a ring of wrinkled duct tape. She casts her eyes upon the stealthily taken photo lying helplessly on the table.

“Goodbye Crawford.” she utters scantly above a whisper.

"The Aperture" - Final in the three-part series 'Darkroom' Mixed media on plywood. My 157th painting.

[rjmauney]

introducing r.j mauney !

Basic Information

Full Name: rj mauney

Nickname(s): moons

Age: twenty nine

Date of Birth: february 14, 1995

Hometown: aurora bay

Current Location: aurora bay

Ethnicity: english

Nationality: american

Gender: cis man

Pronouns: he/his/him

Orientation: bi romantic & bi sexual

Religion: spiritual

Occupation: boat tour guide

Living Arrangements: fisher’s cove, mauney family beach house

Language(s) Spoken: English

Accent: none

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: tom glynn carney

Hair Colour: dirty ash blonde

Eye Colour: green

Height: 5’10

Weight: 170 pounds

Tattoos:

Piercings: left earlobe

Health

Physical Ailments: type 1 diabetic, he requires insulin injections as well as monitoring.

Neurological Conditions: mild anxiety,

Allergies: none

Sleeping Habits: he is a heavy sleeper who can sleep for like 12 hours, he makes noises when he sleeps "moaning" and whines

Eating Habits: diabetic friendly diet, natural sugars, lots of water, high protein and low carbs. she does sometimes treat herself with hot chocolat or a smore once in a while (very strong-willed)

Exercise Habits: cardio and weight training, once a day, 5 days a week for one hour and a half.

Emotional Stability: like, fairly stable, 

Sociability: think of r.j as a very snuggly cat who does spooky easily, very affectionate once familiar and comfortable with someone 

Addictions: none.

Drug Use: none.

Alcohol Use: very limited, if she will drink she is restricted to 1-2 beverages, no sugar or carbs, and must check her sugars regularly. this is only for very special occasions though.

Personality

Label: the mooncalf

Positive Traits: observant, kind, empathetic, supportive, dreamy, positive

Negative Traits: shy, gullible, short-attention span in general life, inability to stay still for too long

Goals/Desires: to be happy and spread positivity, make every day count

Fears: confined spaces, 

Hobbies: boat rides, fishing hosting small friend gatherings

Habits: lip biter and lip licking when he is focused

Favourites

Weather: autumn

Colour: blue seafoam

Music: grunge, 80’s, rock

Movies:  the mummy, dazed and confused

Sport: hockey

Beverage: hot chocolate

Food: chicken wings

Animal: cat

Family

Father: rj does not know his dad.

Mother: rachel mauney, rachel and r.jgrew up together, as they'd like to put it. 

Sibling(s): younger brother, r.j’s younger brother by 4 years. They are close, though bickered when they were younger.

Pet(s): snowshoe black & white cat with blue eyes, he is 3 years old and his name is yugi

Family’s Financial Status: the family’s money situation is well taken care and is not an issue.

Extra

Zodiac Sign: aquaris sun, leo moon, and scorpio ascendant

MBTI: isfp

Enneagram: the enthusiast

Hogwarts House: gryffindor

Moral Alignment: true neutral 

Element: air

here is his pinterest board

SUMMARY:

Tw: bullying, body-shaming

r.j is a bit of an odd soul, bullied for being chubby and not being ‘on par’ with the other boys in his year when he was 10-14 (his sugars were out of wack due to hormones, he was a late bloomer and couldn't stop the weight gain). he does have some self-confidence issues and a lower self-esteem but he works very hard to stay on track with his diabetes and is quite conscious of his apperance.   he has some social learning to do but is overall genuinely a sweet dude who always tries to look for the positives in life.

he is a loyal friend, a honest person who just wants to enjoy life.

he is a big mama's boy, loves that lady to hell and back. he definitely was a bit sheltered growing up due to the fact that he is a diabetic and she fusses a lot over him. this does cause some family stress as his younger brother sometimes get jealous (except they still love each other and rj always does his best to give all the extra love to him) also very close to his aunt, who sort of tag teamed with rachel to raise these rowdy, adorable little boys. rachel is a lot like a lorelai.

not much of a party person for obvious reasons. he wants to prove himself except he gets in his head sometimes and tries not to overstep anything.

Inspired by such characters as stiles stilinski, conrad fisher, peter parker, bucky barnes, rory gilmore ( dont @ me)

his family does come from money but it isn’t obscene or flashy, just some generational wealth inherited from grandaddy mauney that keeps them comfortable.

some wanted connections would be high school friends, co workers, MAYBE A CRUSH?,

[briamichellewrites]

16

Bria bought a pre-owned 1973 hunter-green Ford Bronco with one thousand nineteen ninety-nine miles on it. It still worked as well as it did when it was originally bought. The only thing that didn’t work was the speakers. The seller gave her the speakers she and her family had been using. The car was selling at seven thousand, four hundred dollars. She brought Mike and Phoenix with her to check it out with her. They inspected it and asked questions until they were satisfied.

Phoenix helped her look at cars online to replace the one that was totaled in the accident. Awesome! She was excited to drive it! After handing over the money and signing the title, she thanked the woman and got into her new car. Phoenix rode with her, while Mike followed behind them home. Since the speakers were already hooked up, they could listen to the radio.

It drove great! When they got back to her place, she drove it into the garage with her other vehicles. Mike had spent twenty-four hours with them. He had yet to hear from Joe. Was he still angry? He didn’t think so. Since he was at home, he was probably busy playing video games. He would call him eventually and ask him to come home. Anna called and asked him what happened. She had gone over but he wasn’t there and Joe didn’t know where he was.

They argued, so he was staying with Bria to give him space to cool down. It wasn’t anything serious. He just knew better than to poke the bear. She was relieved to hear he was okay. Since she had anxiety, she worried about different things. He helped her through them. She worried about him because she loved him. He thought it was cute.

As he watched Bria and Phoenix, Woody jumped on the couch to see what he was doing. Hi, human. He said hello to him when he heard his purring meow. Woody head-butted him, a sign of affection. He got petted in return. Thank you, human. Phoenix and Bria came over to them after talking about their plans for the evening. She was thinking about taking them out to dinner. Mike didn’t have a problem with that. They talked about where they were going to go.

The Chateau Marmont was where they decided to go. She called ahead to see if they had a spot for them since the restaurant only took reservations. They had an opening in half an hour. Awesome. She put her name on the list. How many people were in her party? Three. After finishing the phone call, they all got ready to go. Woody reminded her to leave food in his bowl.

The restaurant was busy with people eating or waiting for their reservations. They were a little early, so they waited with the crowd. The restaurant was gorgeous! The sun was going down, so they turned the lights on. The outside looked like a fairy tale. It was a little chilly but not too bad, so they decided they would eat outside. The hotel was popular because of the history behind it. It was completed in 1929 and is the place where old Hollywood used to party.

Celebrities liked it because they got privacy from the paparazzi. The restaurant banned cameras, giving them a chance not to be photographed. The rooms were still a place to party. The staff didn’t blink an eye until they had to get the police involved.

The food was expensive but worth it! She invited them to pick whatever they wanted. They did. Mike asked Phoenix if he would be comfortable with him having a glass of wine. Yes, he would be okay with it. Thank you for asking. He and Bria were going to ask if they had any nonalcoholic beverages. She ended up getting a cocktail without alcohol. He just had water.

Mike’s phone went off. It was Joe, so he excused himself to talk to him. Once outside, he listened to him apologizing for his part in the argument. He thanked him for his apology while acknowledging his part. They would have to sit down together and discuss the chore list. Where was he? He was having dinner with Phoenix and Bria at the Chateau Marmont. Yes, he would see if he could bring him his leftovers. Thanks, Mikey! He laughed.

He went back and told them about the phone call. They were happy to hear they were getting along again. What was Joe like when he was angry?

“You mentioned not wanting to poke the bear”, she said.

He laughed. “He gets quietly angry. By that I mean, he doesn’t yell or shout or anything like that. You can tell by his body language and his facial expressions that he’s not happy. He also storms into his room. The best way to describe it would be telling a teenager they can’t borrow the car. But he’s mature enough to admit when he’s wrong and he can apologize. You just need to give him space to do it.”

Anna likely helped him through it. He could see her doing that. Dinner was delicious and well worth the expensive price! They talked while they ate about whatever they could think of. She and Phoenix had fun hanging out with Jon and his band. It was his first time meeting them but they were cool guys. Where did he meet them? She met them at the studio where they were hanging out.

Bria came in later. She and Jon were joking around with each other. The next time they were in town, they wanted to meet Linkin Park. Mike was more than interested in doing that. He thought they would be. Before they left, Jon had her show off her guitar skills.

“What did you do”, Mike asked amused.

“I played Metallica. Enter Sandman. Hugh let me use his guitar. I accidentally and unintentionally wore my Bon Jovi shirt, so they pointed that out”, she answered.

He laughed. “Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin.”

“Fuck yeah, dude!”

They laughed. Maybe she was a rockstar like Joan Jett in a previous life or something. Phoenix thought it was possible. When the waitress dropped off the bill, it was hundreds of dollars. She got her wallet out and took out her card. They both thanked her for dinner. They were both welcome. Mike joked about Joe kicking him out more often.

Hell no. He laughed. Speaking of, he remembered to get a to-go box for his leftovers. They then walked around the main floor of the hotel. It was a beautiful hotel, even at night. It had a mix of old and new. A housekeeper said hello to them in English with a strong Spanish accent. Were they guests?

“No, acabamos de cenar en el restaurante. Entonces, vamos a caminar antes de irnos a casa.”

“Sabes español Buena para ti Tienes una noche encantadora.”

“Nosotras lo haremos Gracias Tienes una buena noche, también.”

“Gracias.”

Phoenix asked her what they said, so she translated. She, in Spanish, explained how they had just eaten at the restaurant and were walking around before they went home. The housekeeper was surprised she knew the language. She then told them to have a good evening which she returned. He called her adorable. Mike jokingly asked them to get a room.

They were at a hotel, so they could easily do that. He laughed. That was too much information. Phoenix reminded him that he started it. Yeah, yeah. They drove back to her place, where he thanked her for letting him stay there. It wasn’t a problem. She joked about kicking Joe’s ass. He laughed before saying goodbye. Yeah, they all needed a kick in the ass sometimes. Bria was good at doing that. Joe was passed out asleep when he got back, so he put his leftovers in the refrigerator before going to his room.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[mycharacterdump]

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

You know I'll do anything you ask me to But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you Standin' here alone now, think that we can drive around I just wanna say how I love you with your hair down Baby, you don't gotta fight, I'll be here 'til the end of time Wishin' that you were mine, pull you in, it's alright.

BASIC INFORMATION ,

FULL NAME: riley aracelia marcela morales albright.

NICKNAME(S): riles, riri, ridley. 

DATE OF BIRTH: june 6th.

ETHNICITY: caucasian + mexican.

GENDER: demi woman.

PRONOUNS: she/they.

ORIENTATION: homoromantic, homosexual.

RELIGION: atheist, raised catholic.

MARITAL STATUS: single.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: bilingual in english and spanish.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ,

FACE CLAIM: camila mendes.

HAIR COLOUR/STYLE: naturally black.

EYE COLOUR: dark brown eyes. 

HEIGHT: five foot two.

WEIGHT: 120 lbs.

BUILD: slightly athletic.

TATTOOS: her son's initials on her inner left wrist. 

PIERCINGS: lobes double-pierced. 

CLOTHING STYLE: button-ups, jackets and slacks, paired with doc martens or sneakers, minimal jewelry minus a venus symbol necklace she wears everywhere.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: scar on lower torso from when she needed a liver resection after overdosing.

AESTHETICS: piles of books all over the place, printed out posters of horror movies, a laugh in the face of authority, dark greens and black filling your wardrobe, the smell of weed stuck to clothes, lies that sound genuine, found family, over-sized clothing, showing up late to everything with a large coffee, bags under your eyes, a worn out beanie, still using an ipod for music, papers all over their space, a pencil behind their ear, bedhead, research books and journals, greek tragedies, a worn-down leather briefcase, rolled up sleeves, a small yet cozy apartment, roaming empty streets late at night, leather jackets, driving too fast on an empty street, the peak of a high, old jackets, eavesdropping, flickering neon signs, broken glass, rainbow gasoline puddles, long naps, uncertain paths, not recognizing yourself in the mirror, feeling hollow inside, enjoying the rain, leaving before the other wakes up,

HEALTH ,

AILMENTS: none.

MENTAL AILMENTS: generalized anxiety disorder + obsessive compulsive disorder.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: medium.

BODY TEMPERATURE: warm.

ADDICTIONS: oxycontin + heroin. 

DRUG USE: often. 

ALCOHOL USE: socially. 

PERSONALITY ,

LABEL: the lone wolf.

POSITIVE TRAITS: independent, politically-minded, willing to try new things, witty, understanding, innovative, overachiever. 

NEGATIVE TRAITS: dogmatic, restless, tryhard, partial weaboo, very argumentative, has plenty of obsessive tendencies, burnt out, self-control issues.

HOBBIES: art ( drawing + painting + sketching ), debate, soccer.

QUIRKS: half-fluent in spanish at her mother's insistence, doodles wherever she can and always has some sort of pen or pencil on hand, loves reorganizing, draws portraits of random passersby, always sleeps on the right side of her bed, keeps her pills in a sugar skull candy box from her abuela.

LIKES: drugs, her best friends, rabbits, anime and manga, driving around town aimlessly, studio ghibli movies, art, watching old clips of the colbert report, hooking up with ginny, being spaced out, sunsets, visiting her family in mexico.

DISLIKES: attending class, the current political climate, reading obnoxious harper's articles, having to wait for a fix, her anxiety, always needing to be clean, being left on read, people who spit casually, dirt and grime.

FAVOURITE ,

WEATHER: sunny.

COLOUR: navy blue. 

MUSIC: 80s alt rock.

MOVIES: ghost in the shell, whisper of the heart, neon genesis evangelion: the end of evangelion. 

BOOK: slaughterhouse-five by kurt vonnegut.

FLOWER: california poppy.

SPORT: soccer. 

BEVERAGE: black coffee. 

FOOD: meat lover's pizza.

FAMILY ,

FATHER: adam albright (alive.)

MOTHER: marcela morales-albright (alive.)

SIBLING(S): one older sister, manon albright.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none.

CHILDREN: one five year old son, amaru 'rue' albright.

PET(S): holland lop named sylux.

FAMILY’S FINANCIAL STATUS: comfortable.

[dystopiandramaqueen]

vintage mirror: how long have you been working on your most devoted project?

Skater Boi - I started a few weeks ago.

Indulgences? *weary sigh* I started it before the pandemic 😅

velvet pumpkin: what do you like describing the most when it comes to scene dressing? share an excerpt

People. What they’re doing. Why they’re doing it. What they’re thinking. What they look like. What they experience and how it changes them. Little elements that make them who they are. Why they’re cool 🖤

(From Four Alarm Fire🔥🚨🥵)

Half an hour later, a handsome fireman is in June's apartment. The fire is out- and he's explaining that the source wasn't the candles (even though she shouldn't leave them unattended.)

“It was the uh..." He pauses, swallowing thickly.

“Vibrator."

"Yeah." He nods thankfully. "It overheated. Short-circuited. You can tell from the burns on the outlet."

June is mortified. She glances where he's pointing, nodding, returning her eyes to the floor. She dissociates. Today is the worst day ever, and it had to end with more humiliation. Of course. Just my luck.

June's eyes close when a breeze pushes in from her open window, past the fireman, filling the space with his scent. He smells like Axe Bodywash. The tropical one. Jesus fucking christ you smell amazing. Like you just showered. How dare you.

June’s always had a fireman kink. That and paramedics. Strong, brave men. Real honest to God super heroes. She lets her eyes wander up, from his black workboots, over his yellow turnout gear- those incredible fireman pants that transition into suspenders at the waist. Under that, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that clings to the muscular contours of his chest, shoulders, biceps, deltoids- which ripple and flex under the thin cotton as he talks and gestures. June lets herself be brave. Her eyes climb, up the muscular cords of his neck- to the chisled jawline dotted with the perfect amount of scruff. It's clear he shaved this morning before his shift. But he has too much testosterone. He's making a new beard already. She imagines the sandpapery feeling of it against her cheek. If he were to press those gorgeous lips to her skin. She can fucking feel it. And then she makes a terrible mistake. Looking him dead in his gorgeous, deep brown eyes.

His eyes lock on hers, the words falling from his lips. His mouth is slightly open. He lets out a slow breath, as if trying to calm his racing heart.

leather ottoman: how do you structure your wips? do you outline or fly fast and loose?

Fast and loose 🖤

I pick a moment for the scene. Start a little before that. Trying to stay as lean as possible. Bc #noonewantstoreadyourshit

hot chocolate squishmallow: do you include food in your writing? do you have a preferred beverage you gravitate toward while working?

Oh yea. I mean my preferred drink is pink moscato. Or a really heady CabSav. Or a monster energy drink. Mango Loco 🖤 or coffee with too much sugar and vegan creamer. Sugar and caffiene. Plus / minus additional drugs.

star-shaped crystal: have you ever been inspired by a dream? tell us about it

Oh yea. When I’m sober I can go to sleep knowing where I want the story to go, and wake up w a scene in my mind.

gold obsidian egg: what do you treasure the most about your wip?

Skater Boi: I love campy fluffy summer stories. It’s like s’mores. Not the BEST. But fucking delicious.

Indulgences…

😔 is the story of my suffering

😫 it’s supposed to be a redemption arc. Finishing it would be a major victory over the darkness.

van gogh tapestry: do you create from any specific emotion? what drives you?

Angst. Lust. Rage. Fear. Jealousy. Frustration. Hopelessness. Hope. Love. Hope. Beauty. Faith. God (not the Christian God.)

giant bt21 shooky pillow: what’s the most warm and fuzzy scene in your wip? share an excerpt

I don’t do warm and fuzzy. All fluff is served with a twist of angst- shaken, then served over iced over feelings.

From Indulgences:

Beth traces her fingers over Nick's chest absently. His ribs are too prominent, like a starved dog.

Beth props herself up on an elbow to look at Nick. “You can’t starve yourself anymore. Is that clear?”

Nick looks at Beth fondly, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re the first person to care about me in a very long time.”

“Since Clara Rose?”

Nick searches Beth’s eyes.

“You called out to her in your sleep.” Beth says softly. “Who is she?”

Nick blinks heavily, his eyelashes fluttering.

Beth reaches for the ring Nick wears on a chain around his neck. “Does this belong to her?”

Beth gasps when the metal burns her skin like acid. She winces, pulling away quickly. Her eyes grow wide. “Silver?” Beth traces the thick, circular scar where the ring rests against his chest. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Nick’s jaw tightens. He says nothing.

Beth lays her cheek on his chest, snuggling as close as she can. She holds him until he drifts into sleep.

It’s not enough, but it’s all she has to give.

handwritten poems: what do you do when experiencing writer’s block?

Dissociate in a drug haze for 3 months? 😅

Go for a walk or a drive. Listen to my playlist for the story. Dream with another tumblrina. Read fic. Watch a movie. Read a book.

evenstar necklace: if you could give any of your characters a gift, what would it be?

Freedom. Safety. Happily ever after.

All the asks for you as well!

My answers are the same as yours - let me copy the questions! *hold please*

[hinaology]

『••✎••』 hinaology is typing... 『••✎••』

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

kyle broflovski x reader

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

tags: yandere! kyle, toxic behaviour, he’s only soft for you, talk of premeditated murder/violence, branding/violence, blood, cuddles, reader has mild stockholm syndrome, but he seems too loveable,, potential series??, aged up characters!, everyone is 17, some background ships

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

the warmth is intoxicating, he can’t let it go. you’re fast asleep on his chest, body warmth mixing with his. breathing in your shampoo’s scent, kyle let his eyes flutter closed. you were mentally tranquillised, completely passed out, snuggled into him safely. he knew you would only be safe in his proximity, he had to keep you safe. the others didn’t know the extent of the situation, just guessing that kyle was overly protective. they didn’t see the yelling, arguing, the way he had broke you. kyle had managed to convince you that he was the only one who could truly protect you, that it was you and him against the world. now, you two stuck together, through thick and thin and he was so happy.

nowadays, the two of you were seen as the perfect couple, always seen together, always smiling as he walks you to classes he wasn’t in and hides you at the back of the class in the ones you two shared. kyle is always extremely aware of what he’s doing, feeling bad whenever you cry as he brands your skin as his. “kyle.” stan greets, and he opens his eyes. “what’s up?” he asks, tightening his hold on you. “clyde’s ordering food, we were wondering if you two want anything?” the raven haired boy asked, glancing at you when you shuffled. kyle grasps you tightly, asking for anything and watching stan leave.

attention drifting back to you, kyle runs his fingers through your hair. watching you stir makes him smile as you let out a soft noise, nuzzling into his shirt. “darling..” he sings, quietly. you make another small noise, “kyle..?” you mumble, and he gives your forehead a soft kiss. “hey, sleeping beauty. the others are ordering food.” he tells you, and you hum, nuzzling into his jaw sleepily. “tired, darling?” your boyfriend chuckles, raising the thin blanket to check the healing gashes on your thigh. wincing as his fingers rub and press over each sloppy letter, you grasp his shirt tightly for comfort. “don’t worry, it’s healing well.” kyle rubs the cuts, giving your head a loving kiss. you hum, wrapping your arm around his neck as you cuddle into him. “guys, you coming?” stan calls from the hallway. “yeah!” your lover responds, covering up the healing wounds once more. kyle sits up with you, urging you not to fall asleep again as you whine. “c’mon, let’s go.” he smiles, kissing you gently. “but m’tired...” you pout, resting your head on his shoulder. “i know you are, darling.” he gushes, keeping you wrapped up and warm. easily scooping you up, kyle decides to carry you downstairs, and stan doesn’t even question it, just guessing he’s pampering you.

“damn, about time.” cartman scoffs as both stan and kyle tell him to shut up in unison, and your tired form is placed onto the couch where you fall against craig sleepily. “we ordered one of everything on the menu because you guys took a while.” clyde shrugs, and token pipes up, “it was expensive, but don’t worry, i’ll pay.” he smiles, and kyle nods, eyes trained on you. he couldnt hear what craig was saying to you, and it was stressing him out. “kyle, come help me serve drinks.” stan pulls his arm gently, and kyle looks at his friend. “sure.” the redhead follows him through to the kitchen, leaving you behind. as stan gathered cups, kyle prepared alcohol for the others. his mind is racing with jealous thoughts. was craig stealing you from him? would he have to kill him? was he willing to kill for you? he’s hurt people to keep them away from you, but... interrupting his thoughts, a warm body hugs him from behind, clinging onto him. “hey.” you mumble, nuzzling into his back. “hey, you alright?” he asks, putting down the bottle of whiskey.

“mhm, missed you.” you reply, snuggling into his back. stan laughs, “you two can’t be seperate for more than a minute. he was in the other room.” he teases, and you hum, holding on tighter. “it’s alright.” kyle smiles, mainly speaking to you. watching him pour the alcohol, you pepper kisses along his neck, resting your body weight against him. it’s rather comforting to kyle, halting his more unstable thoughts which he’s rather thankful for as he’s known craig for a long time. “i’ll bring these through.” stan announces, taking a tray of alcoholic beverages. “alright dude, don’t drop them this time.” kyle jokes, and stan laughs half-heartedly. “i won’t.” he huffs, leaving the room.

“how’s your leg?” kyle asks, and you hum. “not bad, it stings but... it’s not that bad.” you reply, letting kyle direct you to the counter where he sits you down upon the surface. “i love you.” kyle reminds you, and you smile, pulling him into a hug. “i love you too.” you reply with ease, letting him kiss up your neck. “what was craig talking about?” he decides to ask whilst he had the chance and you freeze for a moment. “he was just joking about how he thinks i’m narcoleptic.” you explain, and your boyfriend hums. “anything else?” he asks, nipping your skin slightly. your breath hitches at his actions. “no.” you say, tightening your grip on his shoulders. “hm.. alright.” he sighs, kissing you sweetly.

your fingers curl into his hair, kissing him back as you cup his head closer. his hands press against the countertop- either side you, as he leans closer, backing you up into the cabinet behind you. you whimper as he bites your bottom lip, forcing them open before slipping his tongue into your mouth. kyle moves his hands to grip your hips instinctively. "dude, really?" stan groans, faking a gag. kyle rolls his eyes, breaking away from you. "right on my fucking kitchen counter." his friend continues, grabbing the drinks. 

kyle pulls you into a hug as you stick you tongue out at stan. "c'mon, i don't want you two fucking in my kitchen." the raven haired boy gestures for you to follow. pulling you off the counter, kyle guides you to the other room. "when's the food coming?" eric complains, and clyde rolls his eyes. "like, thirty minutes dude, calm down." alas, cartman didn't calm down, fussing as he gets up for a 'power snack'. shoving past you, you wince as pain shoots up your thigh to your hip. kyle goes to snap at him, but you grab his arm to stop him.

"you two can sit on the love seat." stan teases, sipping his whiskey and coke. kyle guides you to the two-seater, wrapping you up in a blanket and giving your forehead a soft kiss. "why can't we have that, wendy?" bebe jokes, making wendy look up from her phone. "bitch, we do!" she replies, rolling her eyes sarcastically. kyle coddles you, ignoring the girl's chatter. you rest against him, slotting your body against his easily as the two of you tend to lay on couches often. with your back to the others, kyle carefully checks your leg, rage building as blood beaded on the cuts spelling his name. "i'm gonna kill him." he mumbles to you, and you hold onto him tightly. "please don't... i don't want you to get in trouble." you whisper, clutching his shirt and nuzzling into his neck.

kyle sighs, kissing your neck gently. "i won't get in trouble." he assures you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "nothings gonna happen, right?" you ask, just wanting to make sure. "no, nothing's going to happen." he sighs, giving you a soft kiss. "thank you... i don't want anything happening to you." you say, kissing his jaw. "i know... we'll keep each other safe." he replies, cradling you against his chest. cartman groans as he spots the two of you, flopping down onto a free seat with a snack. "do you two have to do that here?" the other teen complains, munching on his food.

kyle doesn't respond, flipping cartman off. "what's wrong with it?" clyde asks, looking over at you two. "it's gross! no one wants to see them all lovey-dovey." he scoffs, and kyle's anger brews. "then leave, they're not doing anything wrong." kenny shrugs, sipping his drink and slouching back as he tosses an arm carelessly over the back of the couch and over craig's shoulders. eric rolls his eyes, deciding to go to the kitchen once more. "don't eat out stan's cabinets!" wendy calls after him, and eric lets out a sharp "ey!"

kyle chuckles slightly, keeping you snug against him. you were slowly dozing off once more as kyle gently rubs your side, kissing your face. you hum slightly, resting your hand on his cheek, your fingertips rubbing his skin lovingly. kyle's anger is swallowed by love, pure adoration for you swelling in his heart. the tip of your nose gently nudges his, rubbing them together affectionately. kyle smiles, kissing you sweetly as he pulls your leg over his waist, slotting you him even closer against him.

"if my man doesn't hold me like that, i don't want him." bebe jokes, nudging wendy who snorts. "hey!" clyde pouts, crossing his arms tightly. "no hard feelings, clyde." she winks at her ex, pulling wendy closer. stan laughs too, watching the two of you. time passes with everyone trained on the tv, catching or on their phones. you and kyle were still cuddled up, and you had fallen asleep once more. "maybe they are narcoleptic." kenny jokes to craig, who nods. "they sleep anywhere." he shrugs, glancing over at you.

kyle keeps his eyes closed, but listens to them carefully. "they are a cute couple." stan chimes in, and the other two agree, "they're always so close though. like, personal space doesn't exist for them." craig notes, making kyle slightly uneasy. "mhm.. we could get that close." kenny jokes, and craig instantly shuts him down with a: "shut up." stan interrupts them with another note. "to be fair, y/n is getting more quiet... they used to be rather loud and joke around." he points out, and the other two hum. "well, i'm sure it's nothing. relationships can change a person; mellow them out, y'know." kenny replies smoothly. kyle grips you tighter as they continue, anxious that they would split the two of you up if they get close to the truth.

you stir as he squeezes you too tight for your comfort, your hands coming up to rest on his chest to soothe him as he kisses you gently. "what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs. "nothing. just want to hold you closer." he mumbles, and you hum softly, wrapping your arms around his torso to hold him just as tight.

kyle seems happy with your grip, jumping slightly as a sharp knock at the door interrupts the peacefulness. eric dashes through, and clyde and token get up to answer it. the door swings open, and clyde collects the food whilst token pays the poor man having to carry it all. "have a good night!" he waves, closing the door. "that is so much food!" kenny laughs, and you sleepily look over, resting your head on top of kyle's lazily.

"finally!" eric groans, following clyde into the kitchen, and stan gets up to help. you look back to kyle, smiling at his lovestruck face. "hey." you giggle, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. bebe lets out a loud awe, making you look back to her with a laugh. stan comes back through, handing the two girls their food before dipping back into the kitchen. "why did we order so much food..." token sighs, and craig snorts. "because it's clyde, he's always making rash decisions." the raven haired boy replies as kenny get's up to get a refill.

your attention is dragged back to kyle, who pulls you into another kiss. "whatcha thinking about?" you ask him, yet he doesn't respond for a second, giving you another soft kiss. "nothing. just you." he smiles, and you roll your eyes. "of course." you giggle, bumping your nose against his affectionately before kissing him. "really? right in front of my salad?" kenny fakes disgust as he walks back in with two boxes of food and his refill. "fuck your salad." kyle shoots back and the room goes silent, everyone glancing at each other before bursting out laughing.

as the new conversation starter brings up condiments as lube, stan walks back in with a lot of food and a lot of confusion as to why kenny was practically in tears as bebe spoke about how salad cream would be better and 'hurt less' than ranch. "okay, hot take. nando's sauce." craig pipes up, and token sighs. "ew, gross! that would burn!" wendy laughs, and you smile at the comfortable atmosphere between everyone. you wanted that, craved it, but alas you couldn't leave your bubble that kyle had made.

his slender hands grip your hips, pulling you back to him. feeling saddened by the situation, you turn back to kyle, hugging him tightly. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, noting your teary eyes as you hide your face in his neck. "nothing... i just... our situation sucks..." you sniffle, slipping your fingers into his curls to cradle his head closer. kyle seems confused as he hugs you back tightly. "what do you mean..?" he questions, and you hold onto him tightly. "we only have each other... there's no one else." you whisper, and kyle sighs. "it's safer this way, you know that." he replies, kissing your head gently. "i know... i just... it's lonely sometimes." you mumble, resting your head on his shoulder as you sigh. "i know but sometimes we have to-..."

stan interrupts his comfort by throwing a pizza box down onto kyle and handing you your own food. clyde always remembers your favourites. "thanks stan." you smile, and he freezes. "hey, are you okay? you look like you're about to cry." he asks, and kyle grips your waist as you nod. "yeah, i just yawned is all." you smile, and stan nods with an 'ohh.' "that happens to me all the time, and my mom's always so concerned." he laughs. you nod, agreeing on how it was annoying.

stan leaves after a quick laugh, and you snuggle into kyle as you dig into your food. "feel better?" he asks softly, and you nod. "mhm. interaction helps a lot..." you admit, and kyle sighs. "i know.. i just want to keep you safe. you know that." he reminds you, and you nod. "i know, and i appreciate that but-..." kyle grips your jaw to stop you, giving you a gentle kiss. "i don't want to remind you again." he whispers. you nod, silencing yourself and leaning into him.

"who wants to play a horror game?" kenny asks, raising his hands. "sure." craig nods, looking at token who sighs. "fine, but i'm not doing it for you guys because you're too scared to hold the controller." the others eventually, yet reluctantly agree, and you smile as clyde loads up roblox, going to the horror section. "rickey rat... the fuck is that?" he asks, jokingly. "i mean... looks like a shit one, let's play it." wendy laughs.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...

[twilightdruig]

sleeping with the ceo

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

summary: one night stand before the first day of his new job and oops that was his new boss he was sleeping with.

warnings: ceo!reader , assistant!george , muggle!au , mentions of sex , one night stand , awkwardness , fwb

words: 1.8k

a/n: unedited!! i have a love hate relationship with this and i just wanted to say @wandsandwheezes , @chokemepansy , @rcwenaclaw , and @nancybycrs are such huge inspirations to me like their writing is amazing <33

y/n didn’t know how she got here. she remembers going out with her friends, having a few drinks and partying a bit.

now, she was tangled in unfamiliar sheets with an attractive man next to her. she examined him, he was lanky, had ginger hair and freckles littered his body.

she vaguely remembers him buying her a drink. she had this fuzzy memory of his hands roaming her body. she slightly remembered his name starting with a ‘g’.

he started fussing and moving around in his sleep. he slipped his hand back to her waist so she couldn’t try to escape. he let out a groan in her ear and tightened his arms around her.

she didn’t want to wake him up so she subtly tried to nudge his chest. they were both still very naked. none of them bothered to put anything on after last night.

she raked her brain to remember what his name was. was it glen? gabriel? george? george. it sounded familiar. george. george! that was his name. he looked like a george too.

“george” she whispered slowly “george!” she whispered again a little louder. “george” she said one last time with a nudge.

he jumped a little. his eyes were now open but still droopy. he attempted to go back to sleep but awoke once again when he realized there was a beautiful girl in his arms. a beautiful naked girl. that was also when he remembered he had a job interview today.

he shot up and quickly covered himself when he realized he was undressed. she quickly turned the other way as well.

“hey there! uh… y/n right?” he exclaimed frantically, panic evident in his eyes. fred and lee somehow convinced him to come with them and celebrate fred’s job offer. the three always celebrated together. when lee finished his internship, when they graduated, when they bought their first cars, etc.

“yeah, hi!” she greeted. this was the most awkward thing she’s ever experienced. she’s a ceo! she’s fired people, yelled at people and have been in way more embarrassing moments. this is gonna be fine.

“well — uhm, it’s the first day of my job and it’s kind of really important. you can stay if you want to, my brother can take care of it” he offered.

“oh! i also have work to attend to, actually” she declined.

“oh… well then. this,” he gestured in between them, “was great. really! i wish i could spend more time but this is huge”

“no, i totally understand” she smiled.

when he left to the bathroom, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she walked around the spacious bedroom and picked up her scattered clothes. she just had to get picked up and change in the office. she held her shoes by the heals, got dressed up in wrinkly, used clothes and exited the room to leave for work.

she squeaked when she found george (or who she thought it was) standing shirtless, and hair dripping in the kitchen. “hi darling, i’m fred” he winked.

“yes… hi, fred. george didn’t mention a twin, only a brother” she pursed her lips feeling slightly embarrassed.

“explains the frightened and confused look”

“yeah… is it alright if i leave? tell george i had a great time last night,” she said “even if i didn’t remember most of it” she whispered to herself.

“yeah, sure!” he took a sip of his beverage “should i tell the doorman to call a taxi for you?”

“that would be really great. thank you so much”

“it’s certainly no problem” he dialed the doorman and requested a taxi.

she ran out the door, catching a glimpse of fred smirking to himself.

george walked out his room all dressed up for work and very nervous.

“missed her mate”

“oh… well i might see her again who knows” ‘oh you certainly will’ fred thought

“tell me, was she a good shag?” fred teased

“yes, actually” george laughed

“reckon she looked quite familiar?” fred asked. he knew who she was and what george was getting himself into but decided to just leave it until george figured it out by himself.

“no. you know her?”

“not really, no. familiar though”

—

she waited outside for a taxi which brought her straight to her office building.

“y/n! where the hell have you been?!” liv, your stand in assistant whisper-yelled to y/n.

“i was out with friends late last night, okay? no big deal”

“it is a big deal! there are a few workers starting her today! including your assistant because i have another job and kids to also attend to.” she handed her a white folder with the logo on the front “this is the list of all the new employees who will visit your office for first day evaluation”

“… except your assistant who will be here shortly”

“i’m gonna need to get changed.” she muttered. boy was today gonna be busy.

she boarded the elevator which took her to the highest floor; her office.

when she arrived, she ran to her personal space, past her assistant desk and into the small walk-in closet. she looked like a downright mess and it wasn’t appropriate to see new employees looking like a slob.

she tried her best looking professional and clean. she didn’t want her employees to know she was out sleeping with a stranger the night before. she did not know what she was getting herself into.

a few minutes passed, she was seated in her desk going through emails and actual mail, checking her calendar and whatnot when she heard the elevator door open.

she looked up and was met with familiar ginger hair, brown eyes and freckles. “george?” “y/n!?” they yelled at the same time.

they saw each other this morning, naked, and tangled in each other’s arms. george didn’t know why he didn’t recognize her, and y/n didn’t know how this was possible ‘who goes out the night before their first day at their job?’.

“heyy,” y/n greeted awkwardly slow “george.”

she could hear a faint and unclear “i slept with my new boss last night” from george.

“and i slept with my new assistant last night as well” she continued, testing the waters. in the amount of times y/n has hired people, this has never happened.

george gave her a tight-lipped smile. now it made sense what fred said this morning. she was of course familiar. the oh so rich ceo of the company he now works at. y/n l/n, multi-millionaire.

“listen, george. if you don’t want to work as my assistant, i can transfer you to one of my managers” she offered. she took his feelings into account, maybe he regret last night, he might be the office slut or whatever was going through his head.

“no! no, y/n. that’s ridiculous. i would love to work for you”

—

weeks turned into months and the two working together went smoothly. he answered her calls, made reservations and bought coffee. they worked like friends, equals. not like one was working for the other.

george especially appreciated the scented candle y/n got him the very next day after the awkward exchange.

y/n would even call him into her office for a quickie almost a year into him working there. it became a regular thing. either her hands down his trousers or her bent over her own desk.

today was different though. george was jittery and nervous. y/n was the least busy she’s ever been. she’d ask what her schedule was every half hour.

he slipped a little something in her calendar tonight, though. 8pm dinner at italiano’s with george. it was kind of a way of asking her out? he thought it was smart.

“georgie, what else is on my schedule today?” she called from her desk while playing with her pen.

“well, sweetheart,” they called each other nicknames and petnames when no one was around “you have a meeting with alicia by 4:30, selene is stopping by for drinks by 5:15 and you have dinner with me at 8”

she registered the meetings into her mind then along came dinner with her assistant with benefits.

“is this your way of asking me out, georgie?” she teased.

“oh, you see right through me huh”

“of course i do,” she poked his sides “literally an hour before your first day i was tangled in your sheets. i think we’ve got quite the bond”

—

after all her meetings and meet ups, it was finally the time for her to go home, or in today’s case, have dinner with george.

they went to a dainty little italian restaurant who served the best pasta she’s ever had (well that’s what she told george). it was quiet especially for a sunday night.

george was sitting across from her as they waited for the food. he started with a little small talk like the weather and the environment. he then talked about the situations at work and other people who worked with them. this felt natural to them. just two friends (or more) talking comfortably in a romantic italian restaurant.

“we had sex the first time today, a year ago” george interjected.

“you really have a way with words, weasley. but really?” y/n asked with wide, surprised eyes. george nodded. “wow! a year ago. that seems like so long”

“it does”

their food was served and they went back to office talk. they also reminisced on how awkward they were. my, my. how much they’ve grown.

“you know, y/n.” he reached to hold her hand “me and fred had this huge idea” he started.

“you know how i told you about those times in high school and college where me, fred and our best friend lee would prank people and joke around?”

“of course”

“we’re opening a shop! we have enough money for it now!” he exclaimed.

“george!” she arose from her seat and gave him a big hug “i am so extremely proud of you”. she knew he was passionate about that. she knew about his mom not supporting him and his brother snd wanting them to take a political or medical job.

george felt like he was gonna tear up. this woman us amazing. she supports him about everything he’s passionate about, she makes sure he’s comfortable and she makes him happy. y/n was all he could ever ask for.

“y/n.” george uttered in her ear, finally gaining the confidence to tell her “i have another thing to tell you.”

“yeah, go ahead georgie” she held his face with her hands.

“i — i am so completely utterly drop dead in love with you” he whispered with a small smile “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, i just wan-“

she cut him off short by pressing her lips against his, forcefully. it took george a few milliseconds to register what was happening until her kissed her back.

she moved her hands to get tangled with the hair on the nape of his neck while his hands were on her waist. they were smiling in their kiss.

when they pulled back they pushed their heads together. “so… did that mean you love me back or..?”

she kissed him again and again on his cheeks and nose. “yes. it means i love you back. and i don’t care what anyone says.”

george paid for tonight’s dinner for a change and they went back to y/n’s enormous flat and one thing lead to another…