#love how i only come online to answer your asks telling me to go elsewhere

[blackbirdsblackberries]

"I hate the new hero" is such a brilliant fic idea! I absolutely devoured it. 

 

Especially if we throw in some angst into it. *evil laugh*

Like, what if the harassment was too much that it affected the reader’s other life?

What was at first a way for her to hide her superhero identity.. had now made her doubt her vigilante work?

 

I know the BatBoys won’t act as low to actually physically harass who they thought was a civilian student, no matter how much they hate it, but they’ll definitely make their life worse. Online harassment, endless accusations, fake rumours that caused the reader to be hated by the entire school. 

 

Until one day you had enough. As much as reader love Gotham, wanting to protect it. But you were only a student now.. a teenage with a future to strive for, a future Gotham Academy could no longer provide you. 

 

‘Are these people the ones I risk my life every night for..?’

‘What was the point..’

All kinds of self deprecating dark thoughts swirl inside the mind of the teenage girl. 

 

After some thought, you decided. 

 

“I’m leaving Gotham,” Aranea announces, sharp eyes looking down the streets of the city from the high rooftop. 

 

Red Robin almost lost his cool, a cold shudder went through him at the horrifying revelation. It was so sudden, why are you leaving? Leaving Gotham? Leaving them? Leaving him?

 

His brilliant mind moved at an almost inhuman speed, creating hundreds of possibilities for why you would come to that decision.

 

But he just doesn’t understand. “Why?” He finally let out, his voice so low he was worried you didn’t catch it. 

 

But you did. “I have my reasons.” You sigh, your brows furrowing in distress.

 

Oh, how Tim wished he could kiss your worries away. It kills him to see you so troubled.

 

“Why? Is something wrong?” He urged, his tone sounding desperate. “I swear if Red Hood did something—“

 

“No,” You shook your head, “Nothing’s wrong. At least not with you guys.”

 

“Then what is it?” He eyes you, trying to read you. “Is it your day life? Your life behind the mask?”

 

You didn’t answer, avoiding his gaze. You were too quiet, it was such a strange sight. Your eyes held a certain sadness, your smile gone. It’s killing him.  

 

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. “Then tell me, tell me who you are. Let us help you.” He begs; he knows he’ll do anything you ask him to, and he knows his family would do the same. 

 

“You know we can’t do that.” You shook your head. 

 

Damn, this is getting too long. Haha.. I’ll stop. But yeah. It’s a brilliant idea. 

 

Imagine how crazy he’ll react if he knew that he was the cause of your worries. He was the one who hurt you. The angst will be delicious. 

STOP YOU'RE ACTUALLY READING MY MIND!!

Not to spoil too much but in future chapters Reader will start to doubt themselves and cracks will show.

Reader may also look elsewhere for places to save. After all, Gotham already has so many heroes, what's one gone?

But they can't let the optimistic sweetheart of a hero go now, can they? You know what they say, you can take the man out of the city but not the city out the man...

Who said that?! 😮‍💨

And for the third paragraph, I absolutely agree! They wouldn't stoop so low as to actually assault Reader. But that doesn't mean they can't misuse the power they have over Gotham (both in their vigilante life and real life).

Though if I were to say one name that I think would get slightly physical (passive aggressively) I would have to say Dick.

Dick is such an emotionally complex character. Damian has learnt from his past and knows better thanks to Bruce, Bruce wouldn't risk anything and would instead just verbally cause harm, Jason doesn't actually resort to violence a lot - he yells, he punches walls, etc but he has never actually hit someone without proper reason/justification, Tim is above violence while a civilian.

The way Dick would do it would be so casual though - a hug too tight, a handshake that "accidentally" breaks a finger, a hard "pat" on the back that makes you spit out whatever you're eating/drinking, small things that don't seem like much.

I also want to state that the Reader is very complex as well with how I write them. Their true personality is cautious, ambitious, kind, sarcastic, kinda cold and loyal but they either display one part too much or too little - kind, loyal and ambitious during hero work is up to 100 while cautious, sarcastic, cold is hidden at 30. Whereas while a civilian they show caution, coldness, sarcasm at 100 with loyalty, kindness and ambition down to 30-40.

I won't say much more though, again Reader is you guys so their "true" personality is up to you - this is just how they're perceived by people.

[star-suh]

Teaching a Lesson

Park Jisung x Male Reader

cw: dom top jisung, pwp, jisung and reader are fuckbuddies, possessive behavior, mating press, angry sex, overstimulation, degradation, dumbification, breeding, ripping clothes, tummy bulge, feminization but it's only once, hole slapping, marking but with a marker lol.

an: i read the “he whores out online..” phrase somewhere and this idea came out teehee.

also this is short.

—

jisung was angry. he has been horny all day and his fuckbuddy don't answer his calls neither texts, jisung was suspecting that he was ignoring him because he has been posting suggestive photos with other men at a party “he whores out online but ignore my texts hm?” an evil smirk appearing on his face “you're going to have a bad time ynnie” he licked his lips...

“why do you call me?” yn was now standing at jisung's house front door. jisung gently grabbed him by the chin and started to speak in a low tone, “i have been looking for you all day to get rid of my hornyness but you decided to ignore me, instead, you wanted to be passed around by everyone at that party. i imagine how loose that slut's hole must be but guess what, you're my slut, i thought you already understood it?” with each sentence he applied more pressure to the other's jaw, "for fuck's sake jisung, let go of me, it hurts”. “oh that's not the only thing that's going to hurt tonight” he mocked pushing yn to enter the house.

yn was now below jisung, he had his clothes on but his pants were torn, jisung tore them right on his hole revealing that he wasn't wearing underwear "what a slut". then jisung introduced his cock, beginning to thrust mercilessly into the other.

yn was begging and moaning for jisung to be gentler "shh..low down~ pleasee~ i won't do it.. hng…a-again" drool coming out of his mouth forming a small pool of it on the floor. "whores have no right to ask me to go slow and gentle with them. whores should take it as rough as possible… because that is the only way i have to make you stop asking. for. cock. elsewhere.” those last 4 words were accompanied by hard thrusts. yn's hole was already destroyed and gaped. everytime jisung pulls out the ring of muscles clings to his shaft as if he didn't want to let him go “your whore's pussy it's gripping on me” he joked “love when your body is the one telling me that i'm the best cock you've ever had”, jisung takes it out and slapped right into the gaping hole sending a somewhat pleasant pain throughout yn's body.

jisung folded yn and fucked him in a mating press style, in this position it was easier for jisung to give harder thrusts and go much deeper forming a tummy bulge, he loved the sound of the moans and the nonsense that came out of the other's mouth. maybe jisung should fuck him dumb more often to see if he stops being a whore once and for all.

the hours passed and jisung didn't stopped, one of the things that yn always worried about when jisung was upset is that he has a lot of stamina so he could fuck for hours without getting tired. the other's ass cheeks had a red color while a pinkish red hue is around the loose ring of muscles, which was dripping with a mix of sperm and lube.

"how delicious your hole feels inside ynnie, all hot with my churned sperm in there… my pretty cumdump” he whispers on yn's ear and then kissed him, “i hope this taught you a lesson, bitch” as a final touch, jisung grabbed a marker and wrote on the other's ass in capital letters "JISUNG'S CUMDUMP" he laughed as he finished emptying the remaining loads of sperm that remained in his balls..

is the marker erasable or permanent? yn won't know that until the fucking session is over and he goes to take a bath.

[queenmiarys]

A/N: hello everyone, this wasn't my intention to start writing then put things off , plus with this I tried to do my research and I asked a few of the ladies here some advice, a few weeks ago I called my uncle who's a doctor and asked him, so if any advice please just inbox me, I know no one who's even been shot before so here's what I came up with.

A/N please excuse any errors or misspellings, I did very little editing, this has been sitting in Google docs a while waiting on an end to be added. I want to thank anyone who reads and like my story. Any feedback is welcomed trust me I would not be offended, this is a learning experience to me, I wrote somewhat in middle school, I read others work and be like some of you could be professional writers.

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

ENVY

Book: The Royal Romance

Paring: Liam x Mia

Summary: Summary: This takes place 2 years after meeting Riley, Liam meets 24 year old Amelia Ramos and starts a new relationship.

Rated R

Most characters belong to pixelberry

Warning: Gun violence, some profanity, 18+

Chapter 3 Disaster strikes

New York 

"Liam needs me, it's a big night, so Maxwell told me Liam has met someone he spent a lot of time with  while he was here."

"Yeah Drake told me about her, but do you think he's over Riley?"

"The way Max tells it he is, he said has the same look for Mia he used to have for Riley.

"Oh interesting but what about the situation?

"That's not our place, but thank you for being there for her, I love you."

"I love you too Olivia."  He pulled her close and showered her with soft kisses 

"Leo, you'll  make me late." I need to Shower and get dressed."

-------

Cordonia

Liam spent most of his day in meetings. He made it back to his quarters at 3pm, he knew Mia would be up around 7am to get ready for work.

She answered on the second ring. ”Hello beautiful, how is your morning going?"

“It’s okay I just really miss you a lot, "  I was just having coffee and doing a little online grocery shopping before work." Liam hit the FaceTime button

I miss you too, my love. I've closed the deal I was working on, so after this fundraiser, I can come visit for a few days. I know you have work and you planned to come here in 2 weeks." A  knock on his door. "My love someone is at my door, can you hold for a moment."

"Sure."

“My son, we need to talk."

“Okay father give me a minute I was on a call, I’ll be right back."

“My love It’s my father he needs to talk with me, I’ll call you when you get off work.( Kisses)

" Okay lo, I mean kisses talk to you later." Oh boy I almost told him I love him, good save I hope, you know it's too soon for that she said to herself.

"Yes Father?"

"May I come in?"

"Sure father" 

"Son, you know I'm  getting up in age, it's time I stepped down."

"When?"

"At the end of the next social season, William, I need you to find a wife. Madeleine is my first choice,  but I can understand you looking elsewhere, but to reality secure that you choose a good queen,Princess Francine Hassan of Morocco, or Princess  Alana of Norway, either woman would be a wonderful choice for Cordonia for different reasons and I met the princess of Norway she's so beautiful."

 "Father, I will not be in some loveless marriage or marry for Cordonia, I will find my own wife, someone I love and care about."

"All I have ever tried to do is protect you, from getting hurt, from experiencing the pain I was caused when someone took your mother, the only woman I've ever loved away from me, you are all I have left of her. 

He felt bad for his father, but he still wanted love and if he was granted a second chance, he was going to grab it and hold on for life. 

"I understand, but I'm a man you must trust that I'll make the right decisions regarding my love life." He finally said 

"Son, your enemies will  use  the people you love against you and that will hurt you more than anything, remember I love  you son, and only try to protect you." 

" I love you too father, but if you'll excuse me I gotta go, I take it you can  see your way out."

He walked into the hallway,  he took a deep breath to try calm his nerves before he called Drake. 

Hey Li."

"I really need to relax before this Gala, are you guys for a spa day?'

"Sounds good buddy." Max said 

"Yeah count me in." Drake said

They were all relaxing when Max brought up Mia.

Liam smiles at just thinking of her. " I am falling for her, I mean she could be the one, I don't know what about this woman that makes me so happy but I believe that we belong together, I mean she's beautiful, smart, caring and she smells absolutely amazing all the time, guys I so wish she were here tonight."

" Buddy I'm so happy to see you happy again, you deserve it."  Max said 

"And so do you Drake, you'll meet someone, who will make you happy." 

Liam Studied Maxwell for a moment, " My friend, so do you, are you still dating that Mark guy?"

Max,was  looking down avoiding eye contact, Drake turned to look into his eyes  "Okay Beaumont spill it, what are you hiding?" 

"I was on a date with Ava and Mark ruined my date, he caused a scene, both broke up with me.

"Why didn't you talk to us?" Liam asked

"Really, it's no big deal."

"I'm assuming this happened around 2 weeks ago? Drake said" 

"How did you know that?" 

"Well Beaumont you were in an unusually bad mood,"

Drake laughed. "Oh my God Beaumont, I just realized all the women you've dated are red heads."

Maxwell smiled. "So what about it?" 

“So you do have a thing for Liv?"

"I never thought of her that way, sometimes she can be kinda scary and sexy at times." Desire crossed his eyes for a moment 

“I don’t know you all made me think how hot she can be at times, but she probably would never date me

"Never know until you try Max, Liam patted him on the back

“Let face it Max said, she always had a thing for you Rys men.

"What do you mean men? I only knew she was kind of into me."

“Max and Drake laughed, kind of, she's been in love with you forever man."

“ But after she found out your feelings for blossom, I saw her making out with Leo ."

Both Drake and Liam's mouths hang open.

“My brother always gets what he wants but just plays with women's feelings too much, I hope he's not going to hurt my friend."

They all made it back to the  palace and went there separate ways to get ready for the Gala, it was now 7pm, Liam had the chef to prepare him dinner, there would be food but they served dinner really late at this event.

He ate, then showered and got dressed, it was 9pm time for the Gala. Mia was just getting off work, he faced her, she picked up on the first ring, “Hello beautiful how was your day?" 

“It was nice, I just miss you like  crazy, I have been thinking I own my own business and Jennifer is reliable, I want to come to visit you."

 “My love, that sounds wonderful, but I didn’t want to pull you away from anything important, you told me your work was very important."

“It is but in a short time you become important to me too, you told me you had a ball to attend right?".

“Yes a fundraiser to help families living on the streets of Cordonia, we give them a home and see if we can help them get on there feet, we only help them for a year, we support them  either till  they find a job or they opt out of the program, we hate to see that happen, we start this last year we helped 10 families get on their feet, last year we only raised 6 million." 

“I will ask my dad to put in 6 million for me, I’m sure once he sees why I’m asking he’ll have no problem  with it, we've been talking for 30 minutes and you have a ball to attend."

 “I'd rather stay in my suite talking to you all night, a knock on the door, he let out a sigh sorry my love It’s my guard (Kisses) call you once I am done."

————————————————————– 

He mingled  and  worked the room, he knew his smile could get him just about anything he wanted, he had already raised 10 million dollars this year, he thought about Mia 16 if her father gives, an older lady walked up that he had never saw before, she offered 20 million if I spent one night with her, I had to decline, after all she to old and I have a girlfriend.

 I worked the room more, Drake and Maxwell and Rashad, come over laughing, I see you sent Mrs. Ferguson." 

 “Neville actually  slept with her for her 30 mill for his father's charity event." Rashad said laughing.

“So gross I couldn’t imagine being with someone who could be my Nanna, come on I am only 26 and that lady is like 60/70." Liam said as he laughed. 

——————————————————————————-

Mia had hung up and went and showered, she hadn't washed her sheets yet that still smelled of him,  she only slept on his side of the bed, he had left a bottle of his cologne behind and she would spray a little in the air before falling asleep 

 She slept for about an hour before she heard banging on the door, it was almost five, they came in with wine coolers and food, Jen looked around. " Is your man back already?"

“I wish, sit guys I want to talk to you, Jennifer I need you guys help, I want to visit Liam, but I need someone I can trust with my baby, you both know how important my career is, but I got to be honest in a short time I’ve fallen in love with Liam .

“Love is big Mia, you just met him." Jen said.

“I know but  I have never felt this way for anyone before, sure I have loved guys but I was never in love with them." 

Her friend's mouth hung open, the sex must be good if he got you all in love, she didn’t look up at her, so you haven’t had sex?" Oh my God you really are in love."

“ Let's take your mind off this call my brother Amy, let’s play cards, Daniel came over.

 “So Dan, who's your new boy toy this week?

“Are you staying with mom again?" 

"Jen, please I'm fine, and God no I'm not staying with mom."

“I was just checking on you, I wish you would settle down and pick one guy, we all worry about you"

“Jen you start this every time you are drunk stop it, I am fine." 

 She didn’t say anything else, she took her phone out texting her mom.

The announcement caught Mia's attention. "Turn that up.

"This is Craig Shyster reporting from Corodia General hospital, we got a tip that Prince William Rys, was shot in the shoulder doing a Gala fundraiser last night and the person who shot him was shot dead on scene, right now we have no further information about the Prince condition at this time."

It was like someone punched me in the gut , I got dizzy, I was losing my mind, all flights were canceled to or from Cordonia, I got myself together, I called my father.

He could hear my voice trembling, asking what was wrong.

“Father, did you see the news about Prince William Rys?"

“Yes I saw it but what does that have to do with you?

“He’s the guy I was telling you about."

"No flights are going in or out. I need your private jet.

“Mia, that might not be a good idea, the prince just shot you in danger.

“Please father, I don't care, I need to get to the man I love."

“But you haven’t known him long and you believe you love him?"  

“Yes and he may be dying thinking I didn’t care enough to come be at his side, father please I’ll do  you want even let you put me back under your protection, I will follow whatever you want to  get me to Cordonia please."

—-------;--

2 hours earlier

Olivia and Penelope made their way over to Liam smiling, “ we made 4 times the amount as last year,

 Him and Olivia walked across the room. “So I hear you met someone"

“Who told you this? 

“I can’t reveal my secrets, but if this Mia woman is what you want I wish you all the best."

“Can I ask you something  Olivia?

“Sure you can."

 “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Leo?"

“Well we didn’t tell anyone it just happened."

"I assume my father doesn’t know, and how do you feel about Leo?

“I love him, and Con knows they had a big fight about 6 months back, we were at Leo’s in California when your father visited him, but don’t  worry me and Leo will handle it."

A man walked over and handed Liam a note saying his father needs to speak with him, unknown to Liam his father had got a similar note saying Liam needed to speak with him, excuse me lady Olivia

————————————————————–

Drake went along as  security, they entered the room and it was dark, “I guess my father hasn’t arrived yet, they turned on the light and one of the head guards, Damien, had a gun pointed at Constantine's head.

 “Dammit what are you doing Damien?"Drank asked

“ avenging my  parents death, see  along with Olivia parents, my family should be on the throne, my brother may have failed but I won’t."

"Your old man ordered my parents alone with Olivia parents to be assassinated for fighting for what was rightfully theirs, the Rys family should have never been on the throne

"Gentleman let me tell you, your father is not a good man

Drake's eyes went wide,giving an annoyed look. What the hell is he talking about your father.

Damien could see Drake trying to figure out what he was talking about

"Oh my Mr. Walker I assume that King Constantine has never told you he’s your real father?" Am I right?" He laughed."

“What? He’s not my father you fucken psycho and never will be!"

“Drake my boy I have documents that say otherwise,  the birth certificate you have is from America but see you were born here, your father the king arranged it all, for  Jackson to adopt you and legally become your father go on ask him to tell the truth ?'

Tears were running down Drake face, "TELL THIS SONOFABITCH YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER GO ON CON FOR ONCE IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE TELL HIM HE’S WRONG."

“Son I can’t do that, it’s all true your mother was my mistress and she got pregnant, she didn’t know who your father was me or Jackson, but the test come back 99.9 that I was your father, so I paid off American doctor to say you were born in the US, were only a week old." 

Drake fort Back his emotions, he knew he had to sort out whatever feeling he had later, right now he had to stay in professional mood and dispose of the situation at hand

"Who dies first?" they head Damien ask

"I volunteer, please just let my boys go they haven't done anything but be born into the Rys family but they are innocent."

 " I love both of you and only try to do whatever is best for you." 

"How touching."  He pulled the trigger and Liam leaped in front of his father getting shot In his Left shoulder, both Constantine and Liam hit the ground, at this time Drake has managed to get his spare gun and shooting Damien dead.

Drake took off his dress shirt asking Constantine to apply pressure to the wound, until he can get some help

Once the EMT arrived, they were led in and out through a secret tunnel, they got him to hospital quickly.

[blazes-books]

Character Interview: Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Crowley

Narrator: Greetings, viewers! Welcome to a new “series” done by the author(Hi ;3) as a way of getting back into writing. This will be done via a style of questions being posed to the group - randomly chosen, at that, and answered by the characters as if they were being interviewed on tv! This may include lore spoilers, jokes, crack, and dark topics depending on said characters.

Narrator: Today, we are dealing with three of the Lowborn Seven, and one…Crowley?

Crowley: Don’t need to say it like that - just here to keep the Boss happy.

Narrator: If you say so! Let’s get right into the questions, then.

Question One: Parental Bonds Category. “Did their displeasure influence your decision? Did you decide to go ahead in order to show them up? Or did you change your mind because they disliked your choice?”

Pride: Our father obviously approves of my role and choices in like. I’m clever enough to make the right choices, and not falter - for anyone, at that. If someone is displeased with how I do things, that’s their problem to deal with.

Lust: Oh, no. I make my choices based on what I want, mostly. I’m sure our Dad would have…some things to say about my work - but, really, he’s in no position to judge if you ask me. Who leaves their kingdom and kids to go on a one hundred year vacation?

Sloth: …We have a dad?

Crowley: Do I look like I’d give a shite? Even if I did have parents, I live my life for myself and my wants alone.

Question Two: Childhood and Education Category. “How far did you advance in your education?”

Pride: Obviously I went to college. Top of my class, advance courses - every challenge I could undertake, I did and I did so flawlessly. If I didn’t, I simply stopped and focused my energy elsewhere. I won’t bother with failing endeavors, after all - that’s fools work.

Lust: Oh, no no. See, I do my research and studies myself. Nothing better than hands on learning. It might not be the most suggested of paths, but, I find myself more understanding and better at learning that way.

Sloth: Oh, I attend online college. Pride said it would be a good idea, and Wrath helps me with physical education. My grades are a bit rough though, my…memory isn’t the best. Or my sleep schedule, for that matter.

Crowley: No comment.

Narrator: Crowley, sir, this is so people can learn more about your character - who you are! You have to answer.

Crowley: I did. My answer is no comment.

Narrator: *Sighs* Moving on, then…

Question Three: Personal Opinions Category. “What is your idea of a really fun time?”

Pride: Oh, oh! I love a good business meeting. Learning about new products, criticizing others ideas, and coming up with new ways to implement new products. Really, I can’t picture a better way to spend my time. Though, I…do enjoy seeing my siblings. Even if we’re all rather busy most of the time.

Lust: *Glances around* Ah…I don’t know if this is…censor friendly?

Narrator: Don’t worry dear, there’s no judgement here.

Lust: Well, I…I quite enjoy…romance novels. T-They have to have a happy ending though! And no cheating, I hate cheating so much!! Just, curled up in a soft blanket, some chocolate covered popcorn and hazelnuts, it’s the perfect way to spend my down time. True crime is rather nice, too, but only on rainy days.

Narrator: Well…that wasn’t so bad—

Lust: Although a good orgy can be equaling relaxing for me —

Sloth: My turn! I, I really like going to the carnival, or fairs. The food there is the best - don’t tell Geegee I said that - and sometimes, I can even win prizes. I give the really big ones to Lust though, I know she likes plushies more.

Crowley: *Loud sigh* I can’t skip this one too, can I?

Narrator: Please don’t.

Crowley: Fine. Gardening, I like gardening. It’s…helpful, to me. Keeps my mood up and my temper even.

Question Four: Childhood and Education Category. “What was your course of study?”

Pride: Economics of course, for my major. My minor was philosophy.

Lust: Oh, well, I didn’t really - I don’t really have a course of study, but, I guess I’d count as…sociology, perhaps?

Sloth: I’m actually working on mine now. I don’t know what I officially want to do, though.

Crowley: Ass kicking, next question.

Question Five: Fears, Challenges, and Obstacles Category. “How will your life change if you do get this thing or solve this problem?”

Pride: What problem have I not already solved or can solve? I have everything handled, at all times, and I most certainly do not need help. Move on, thank you.

Lust: If…if I solve my problem? *She takes a moment to think about this visibly* I…I would hope I’d be happier. Finally being able to decide who I am, to know who I am and have my family accept every part of me…I know it wouldn’t solve everything, but, I think it would be a great start.

Sloth: By the fires of hell, please let me sleep. I’m literally supposed to be the embodiment of like, extra unneeded sleep, and I have insomnia. I just want some sleep, on a regular basis.

Crowley: Which one? *Deep sigh* Either one, I think, would be nice to have off my list. I’d love for Lady Lust to be happier, to know she’s ok and just…never have to see her fall so far again. I…I also want my boyfriend to know the truth about me, and for us to be able to be together without hiding it. I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon, though.

Question Six: Parental Bonds Category. “Are your parents still living?”

Pride: Yes, our father is very much alive and well, thank you for asking.

Lust: Dad is still kicking, last I heard. Surprised, honestly, you’d think the hunters would’ve gotten to him by now.

Sloth: Again, we have a Dad?!

Crowley: Can’t be, considering I don’t have ‘em. If they were, they’re lyin’.

Question Seven: Occupation Category. “Would you rather be doing something else? If so, what would it be?”

Pride: Oh, no! Not at all, I rather enjoy my work. It’s pleasing, it’s easy, and it’s quite literally what I was born to do. Why would I ever question it?

Lust: I…no, not really. I know I’ve been questioning myself recently, and I think I’d enjoy branching out, but I do enjoy my work and love what I do. Every part of it.

Sloth: Kind of? I’m mostly just upset how it makes me need to sleep, to be the Sin of Sloth, but because I’m a demon, my body doesn’t want the sleep. It sucks, but I…can’t tell anyone that. I know how Pride feels about it, I’ve seen how she reacts to Lust. As for what I’d choose…I, I think I’d like making dolls.

Crowley: No. I’m good at my job, I’m suited for my job, and I like my job. And if you ever tell Lust I said that last bit - I’ll tell ‘er you’re lyin’.

Question Eight: Current Household And Relationships Category. “How do you feel about the place where you are now? Is there something you are particularly attached to, or particularly repelled by, in this place?”

Pride: I feel rather good about where I’m currently living. It’s a lovely place, everything there suits myself and my tastes, and I’ve kept it perfect. I’m rather attached to my balcony, honestly. I enjoy taking a glass of bubbly out there, watching the city in the nighttime. Like stars, gleaming on earth. None of them shine like me, it’s a wonderful reminder.

Lust: …I’m looking to move out, soon. Quickly. Crowley even helped me pack my things back when I was…unable to. Everything expect my bedroom. The sheets, pillows, and blankets specifically. I’m going to be burning those.

Sloth: Oh, my dorm? It’s…ok. I haven’t put much up, honestly. Seems like too much work. I like my plushie pile, though. Sometimes I sleep better there than my actual bed!

Crowley: Eh, it’s a home. Got my plants, my bed, my things. I guess I’m rather attached to my wardrobe but, that’s just because I value my style. Oh, and give this to the Boss won’t ya? *Proceeds to hand over a lighter* I heard she’ll need it.

End of Interview!

Narrator: Well, that wraps things up here! Thank you four for participating, and who knows? Maybe we’ll see you back for a second interview.

This has been a character interview with Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Crowley!

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

can I ask your honest advices on something personal? so I get next to no communication from a now former friend, I had some hunch to ask a reader if said friend dislikes me and the answer came back as yes so I recently googled if ignoring someone or not reaching out to them via texts can count as them being jealous or having some dislike? yet they still send the bday present and xmas card or present as do I but I feel like its a cheap way when I know she practically lives online but I barely here from her so I dont really know what to do? we havent met in years and she makes next to no effort to seem interested in what im doing even if I try to take interest in herself as a friend it feels very one sided even when we used to meet up it would always be about her and never any follow up questions.

I know she has a disablity of some kind however the effort she puts into her other friends is vastly different. if she messages me its once in a blue moon and only to ask if I want to do a quiz, now I stopped checking my online profiles so much because like it seemed she was much more into what she got from others i dont want to feel desperate by constantly trying to fix whatever this "friendship" was supposed to be. do i ask her or do i wonder about it? if she dont tell me how am i gonna know what to do about it because many ppl been like her even when I was in school I was always dealing with ppl who pretended to care when they didnt. I didnt know any better then so it feels like ppl r just only using me if they need me for that certain point otherwise they fuck off and find "better friends" elsewhere like am i that replaceable or weird?

is this petty of me to want to ignore her back or is it mostly her behaviours towards me? the thing is I have dealt with many ppl like her and it doesnt put her in a good light it gives trying to be nice to my face but for all I know she could be chatting shit with someone about me? and shes quite popular online. hence why it feels like im always bottom of her priorities since always having to instigate a conversation felt like conversing with a brick aka it was going nowhere. I know her disability cant prevent her from being a decent person but do I just leave her? yet this whole present giving thing really isnt it for me. its giving oh I will just send her something to make it seem like she cares when she dont message or try to get in touch nor does she want to meet up. all her messages in recent years have been so short almost too blunt

does this sound like jealousy or regular dislike? sorry for rambling again but im so effing tired of these types of ppl who act like they care to have a friendship but then half ass their way out of it, it doesnt help that we moved since long ago so we cant be closer physically as friends. But I feel like my existance bothers her for some unknown reasons. as I told the tarot reader im nothing special heck im not the popular one she is if anything I would guess she was quite popular that she simply didnt need me? You would think if we was real friends she would make a bit more effort cause sometimes theres things I wanna tell her but am like wait she dont care so im not gonna bother cause she want certain replies and comments yaknow?

thanks so so much in advance if you read all of this!!! I love your blog and readings so felt comfortable to ask you for your thoughts hope you dont mind the rant there!

Honestly that’s an awful situation to be in. In my opinion, it’s not necessarily jealousy. She just doesn’t like you, point blank period.

Now, I can admit I’m the type who’s on my phone a lot but can sometimes miss people’s messages, and I’m not good with reaching out first. But that’s not a good behavior. And at least if she liked you she’d be interested when you’re talking, which is something I do. And she’d be there for you. And at least she could come around to responding eventually instead of flat out ignoring you and only contacting you when she needs you.

It seems like to me she’s keeping you around so she can have more people clinging to her and chasing her to fuel her ego. It’s more an ego thing than a genuine like. She does not like you. I’d bet she doesn’t even necessarily tolerate you. But she likes your attention.

She likes the experience of being worshipped and chased. Knowing she doesn’t have to try and you will just chase and follow her to the ends of the earth.

[parcai]

check ur instagram🙄🙄🙄

fine 🙄

[georgiapeach30513]

That’s All I Need

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Posie is doing online school

Pairings: Posie X Kitten, Ransom X Kitten

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings:  mentions of therapy, mentions of forced pregnancy, mentions of depression, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.2K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Papa & Mimi’s Grandbabies

It had been hard for Posie not to go right back to school. And even when she went, it was hard for her to focus. Finding her mind elsewhere, and on her Daisy. Posie spent so much of her time with Daisy. Paranoid when she cried, so she started to rub over her heart, trying to make sure her heartbeats were regular. So sure that her medicine would fail.

Even though Posie trusted her Mimi and Papa with her daughter, when she first started back to school it was only two classes. Between worrying about her daughter, and her brain still at a lag, she struggled in the beginning.

Found her way into her Mimi’s lap more than once crying at the stress, to which she told her no one expected perfection. And then she got more upset when she realized where she was. Begging her grandmother not to say anything to her parents or Jax, “I won’t. But I expect you to talk to Joshua about this. Or someone. Emy. Anybody.”

“You know my sessions with Joshua are more than my brain?”

“Tell me then, sweetheart. What do you talk to Joshie about?” Posie can only shrug. “Oh…S.E.X.”

“Mimi!”

“Oh good grief Posie. Everyone knows you have sex,” she gasps at her grandmother and then giggles. “You have an adorable little girl, she’s proof that you and Jax have sex.”

“I didn’t want everyone to know.”

She looks at her first grandbaby for a moment. She knows how much Posie loves and adores Daisy, but she also remembers how she felt with a forced pregnancy. While Posie’s situation and her own are different. It was still a choice they didn’t get to make.

“You and Jax lived together.”

“But…I have proof. Crying proof. Everyone knows we have sex.”

Kitten blows out a puff of air, and pushes posie’s butt off her lap, still keeping her legs draped over her. “Don’t be such a ninny. There’s nothing wrong with sex. You love Jax?” she gives her a nod and smiles. “That’s what makes yours and his love different. You’re not having sex with anyone else. Because he’s different.”

“This is weird.”

“Fine, jumping on the bed. You talk to Joshie about it.”

“He’s a professional,” Posie giggles. “It’s still awkward. He’s married to Emy. But…he makes me feel safe. Jax likes him to. He helped me feel…comfortable again. Gave us options that wouldn’t, you know move my brain around. But kept us intimate.”

“You talk about more than sex right? Sex, while important, isn’t the most important.”

“Yes, Mimi,” even though Posie rolls her eyes, she leans back to give her grandma a kiss. “Breaks over. I need to go back.”

“Posie, not everything has to be scheduled.”

“I know,” she answers standing up. “It’s who I am. And all these things in my life I can’t control. Getting pregnant, becoming a mom to two kids, my accident, my baby having a heart condition and on medication, my brain depression, my PDD. I can’t control that, but I can control my schedule, and what I want to allot time to and how much.”

“Baby, I get that, but promise me if you’re overwhelmed just come sit in my lap. I’ve been there. Story has been there. You don’t hate your daughter. I promise you I don’t love your mom and Aster any less than the kids I chose to have. Do you think Carter and Story love Otto less?”

“You promise?” Posie asks holding tight to her Mimi. “I’m so scared that if we have another that…it’s like I feel guilty because the next would be planned. And I didn’t want Daisy.”

Kitten leans back to observe her granddaughter. A little girl who was wanted well before her parents knew how to make babies. “Could you imagine life without her?”

“No,” she whispers out in a squeak.

“There ya go. Happy accident. Go back to school. I’m gonna see what Papa and Daisy are up too.”

“Thanks Mimi,” Posie answers before walking into Ransom’s office.

Kitten wanders into the living room where Daisy is crawling all over Chippy and Sprinkles. The two dogs never leaving her side. And Sprinkles would even tap his nose on her chest if she got upset and was crying too much.

As soon as Kitten’s own new puppy catches sight of her, Latte jumps in the floor, walking around her and looking back at the door. “He’s looking for Abel,” at the sound of Latte’s favorite person’s name, his tail wags, and his ears perk up. “See. Get a dog they said. Our dogs don’t love us.”

She plops down on the couch with him, and the little pup jumps to be picked up. “Latte loves me sometimes. He just loves Abie. Look at that beautiful flower,” that chunky little baby giggles at Sprinkles and buries her face in his fluff. “He’s a good dog for her. Almost a natural service dog.”

“He got that heart thing from Posie,” Ransom sighs. With a pat to his leg Latte jumps over to him. Daisy in her constant loop of entertaining herself until she bumps her head. With one sniffle Chippy and Sprinkles both stand up. Chippy paces around while Sprikles nose taps on Daisy’s heart. Leaving the baby to really start crying. Her on hand pressing and holding her chest.

“You’ve got no tears little flower,” Daisy taps her heart again and nods her head when Ransom stands to get her. “You need to stop before you give Chocolate Chippy boy a heart attack. And Sprinkles is gonna nudge you to death.”

Her chubby little fingers make grabby hands towards Ransom and Kitten can’t help but giggle. Her husband always was a big softie. As soon as that baby is in his arms, she immediately stops and both dogs sit down looking up at her.

“You’ve got us all trained don’t you. Papa thinks you may need a nap. Need to sleep? Mimi will cuddle both of us.”

He lays back on the large sectional and looks down at those two good boys. Finding his perfect spot, he lets Daisy get comfortable on his chest, her hand rubbing along his current smooth cheeks. Before Ransom taps on the couch. Both those giant dogs jump up there and crawl over to him. Even trying to squeeze in between him and his wife. “Oh no sir. You come over here and lay with your brother.”

The two dogs settle beside each other. Chippy laying a head on Sprinkles while they both watch their quickly falling asleep baby. “Kitten, nap.”

She leans over on his shoulder. Her own baby doggie in her arms, cradling him like a baby.

That is exactly how Jax found them when he came home early. All curled up on the couch with his baby. With a smirk, he walks into Ransom’s office to see his wife working on something. “Mimi, Papa, Daisy, and the boys are sleeping. What do you say, you break schedule and go get some lunch with your husband.”

“Really?”

“Really, Squeakers. We’re surrounded by people all the time. I wanna make sure we take time for just us. And seeing how they’re good…please?”

“No bike. And you have me for an hour.”

“That’s all I need.”

Masterlist

[dabi-does-cocaine-fight-me]

Hallucinations

Dabi x Shigaraki One-Shot

Warnings: So ooc, bugs, slight gore if you squint really hard, swearing, rOmAnCe, fEeLs, omg cliché

Shigaraki strolled into the League of Villains’ bar, wiping the blood off his hands with a discarded, musty towel. His gaze swept over those present in the room, hidden by the obstructing hand on his face. Toga was sitting at one end of the bar with Spinner, giggling obnoxiously at his dramatic hero imitations. Twice perched on a barstool at the opposite end of the bar, staring sullenly into the distance while puffing leisurely on a cigarette. Meanwhile, Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing glasses in a dutiful, restless manner, while Dabi lounged on an old moth eaten couch. Across from him, Compress made a move on the chessboard the two shared.

All of them eyed Shigaraki as he stepped further into the room, clearing his throat to get their attention. The effect was immediate. Toga and Spinner fell silent, Twice came out of his trance, and Dabi’s posture straightened slightly.

“News, Tomura?” Mr. Compress questioned. Shigaraki’s head turned in his general direction and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Different factions of the yakuza are still at war, competing for control now that they’ve removed Overhaul. One of the factions was delivering me a shipment of illegal drugs…I was expecting to use it to create more of those quirk destroying bullets, but it was intercepted by Ryukyu, Selkie and a few U.A. brats,” he reported in a bitter tone. He clearly wasn’t happy about how events had transpired.

���And all that blood on your hands, you slip and fall into Kool-Aid, boss?” Dabi snickered. Shigaraki turned to him and flexed his fingers, the unspoken threat apparent.

“How would you like to find out?” Tomura intoned quietly. Dabi scoffed, unfazed by the hostility.

“Well, you know, if you weren’t an insufferable dick and gave us straight answers…” he shrugged maladroitly. An unsteady and tense silence had fallen over the room, and everyone present was waiting to spring into action, should the need arise. Kurogiri inched closer, recalling the volatility present in the two’s previous encounters. Shigaraki and Dabi were continuing to stare at each other, Tomura’s demeanor calm and collected, Dabi’s wary yet relaxed. As they eyed each other quietly, Dabi realized Shigaraki was balancing all his weight on one leg and holding-no, more like nursing- his right arm. His gloves were absent. Tomura detected his examination and shot Dabi a nasty glare as their eyes met, daring him to say something. Kurogiri observed this interaction and decided it was time to step in, before things went any further.

“Tomura, where did all the blood come from?” he inquired, making sure to keep his tone level and to keep from sounding interrogating so as not to anger Tomura further. Shigaraki tore his gaze away from Dabi, muttering a response.

“One of the yakuza factions at war with the one I employed recognized me. Overhaul followers…one had a paralyzing quirk,” he seethed. It had hurt his pride immensely to have been surprised so easily, pinned so effortlessly, paralyzing quirk or no, and having that scarred idiot examining him only pissed him off worse. Kurogiri’s mist blew slightly, a draft from the open door causing him to dissipate and then reform as he spoke again.

“I see,” he soothed, “why don’t you go lie down, I’ll prepare you some food.”

Tomura nodded, looking rather beaten. He began to shuffle off to his room, Spinner and Twice both averting their gaze out of respect to their boss. Dabi sat thoughtfully on the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair as he rendered Compress checkmate.

~

A few hours later, Dabi was sauntering to his room in the evening, but as he passed Tomura’s room he heard muffled cursing. He turned around and rapped the door. The sounds quieted, and Tomura muttered gruffly for him to enter. Dabi obeyed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You okay in here?” he interrogated, already knowing the answer. Tomura was in bad shape. His food sat untouched, his laptop shut on the desk, no online gaming visible. He was sprawled on his bed, sweatshirt hood up, panting slightly.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his face obscured by his hair in the dark of the room.

“Cut the bullshit handyman, what’s got you sitting on tacks?” Dabi shot back. Tomura huffed.

“Why the fuck would you care? Get out,” he barked. Dabi scoffed.

“No wonder no one wants to be around you. You’re so kind,” he murmured sarcastically, turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when Tomura spoke again.

“The attack….there were three people. One paralyzed me, another rendering me mute, I’m assuming those were their quirks…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “The third?” he questioned.

“The third…didn’t move until the other two started leaving…as they walked away, he threw something at me….I flinched, so I didn’t see what it was but I felt it hit me…like…worms eating into my brain. I didn’t think anything of it, because there were no unusual effects but now I…”

He trailed off, glancing at his food before quickly turning his gaze elsewhere once more. “When I try to eat the food is all…full of maggots, and mold. When I try to patch up my injuries from the encounter, all I see is…blood. So much blood…gushing, squirting, blood. Bugs. Lots of…”

He shuddered. “In the mirror…my nails turn to beetles and crawl away…my eyebrows, spiders…worms for-for lips. My gloves…they’re rats…”

His voice broke slightly, and he stopped speaking. Dabi sighed, observing him quietly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that Shigaraki was trembling, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was scared. The kind of fear that you know is irrational, but it’s bone-chilling anyway. He knew that fear, he felt it roll through his body, consuming his thoughts every time he heard his father’s footsteps near his bedroom door when he was a small child. Something inside him tugged at his consciousness, telling him to comfort the man in front of him. He gave into it, strolling over to Shigaraki and perching hesitantly next to him on the corner of the bed. He clenched his fist, opening it to reveal a small, flickering blue flame.

“Focus on it,” he suggested quietly, softly nudging Shigaraki with his shoulder. Shigaraki turned his head, hyper fixating on the fire, anxious for his mind to be anywhere but on the events of the day and their effects. After a while, he sighed softly.

“Thank you, Dabi,” he murmured, looking up at the raven-haired male. His shivering had eased, and he felt slightly calmer. Dabi noticed the hand wasn’t on his face, as usual, and was surprised by how red Shigaraki’s eyes were. He’d been crying, for a long while. Dabi nodded.

“Anything for you, boss man,” he replied truthfully. He may act abrasive towards Shigaraki, but there was a fondness for him, somewhere deep inside. Shigaraki had accepted him, however slowly, and had given him a place to stay, a family, somewhere he belonged. Maybe that platonic feeling of respect and devotion had turned into something else…something more serious. Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge, he tucked a small portion of Shigaraki’s hair behind his ear. The smaller male turned to him, a soft vulnerable in his eyes that Dabi had never seen before. It made Shigaraki seem…almost fragile. Dabi slid his thumb over a scar on the man’s cheek, frowning slightly. Two imperfect beings, two scarred, broken creatures, adapted to the circumstances of the cruelty they were subject to…so perfect. Almost poetic, how they were frozen together in anarchy, yet the world kept spinning on its axis around them. And they were safe. Safe from it all, because, all though unspoken, now, they had each other.

He never thought Shigaraki would be so soft, so fragile, so carefully built. He wanted to accept Shigaraki as a part of him, to take him in, take his bones, his flesh, his mind and make the two of them one. To protect him through anything and everything, always. He’d break himself to keep Shigaraki intact, he’d never let the world touch him again. When his thought process broke, he looked up, only to find Shigaraki’s face mere inches from his own. The blue haired male exhaled slightly through his lips and Dabi could feel it on his own. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet them.

“Why are you such an ass to me?” Shigaraki questioned bluntly. The flame in Dabi’s palm flickered once, twice, and blew itself out.

“I’m…afraid of what I feel.” The hand that had been holding the flame came to rest on his upper thigh.

“What do you feel?” Shigaraki asked, a note of gentle yet earnest curiosity in his voice. Dabi licked his lips once more, swallowing heavily. Shigaraki seemed much too close…

“Tell me,” he whispered when Dabi failed to answer. Dabi hesitated, visibly struggling before leaning in to capture Tomura’s lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Shigaraki gasped softly, but didn’t pull away, instead lifting his hand to hold the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, they both thought. Shigaraki’s hand came up to brush the stubble on Dabi’s jaw gently, and they were no longer aware of the passage of time. The stars whirled, the sun rose and set, a million years passed, and it made no difference. Their souls merged, never to be torn apart. They pulled away as one, exhaled as one. Their gazes caught each other, holding each other in a silent embrace, one that said everything…and nothing. They never left that place, that space of eternal bliss, where for once, everything was right.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY- If you like this story, drop a request for part two, and if you like my work so far, send a request in for another story!! Remember to name the characters (or if an x reader story, who you wish to be paired with) and a situation I can build on; i.e hanging out at the mall. I love all of you, regardless of whom you are and I hope you all have a wonderful October!!

[kittae]

Win-win

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Side characters: Min Yoongi

Summary: A drabble series where Taehyung is a successful artistic erotica actor but has to expand his areas of expertise in the rapidly evolving world of adult film. Lost and inexperienced in everything that doesn’t involve classy settings, flattering lighting and romantic scripts, he basically has to start from scratch to make it in the online porn community. As a highly demanded A-lister in that community, you take him under your wings (or better yet, between your legs).

Genre: Smut, fluff, a bit of comedy here and there. Maybe some angst, who knows.

words: 1256

Disclaimer: dialogue-heavy, foul language

A/N: things are being set in motion!

« previous — next »

— CHAPTER INDEX —

“–All I’m saying is that you’re not Paul Walker in Fast and Furious and you only drive like that when you’re really upset about something, so why can’t you just tell me? What happened? You missed that cat by a hair, by the way, you almost killed that poor animal.”

Yoongi sighs as he shuts the door to his apartment behind them, keys rattling when he pulls it out of the lock. “You’ll get it when you see it for yourself.”

“What could be so bad that you were ready to drive us to our deaths–”

“Taehyung, for the love of god, stop being dramatic and sit down. Please.” Yoongi groans, a hand coming up to press against his pounding temple, his mind going a hundred miles an hour.

“I’m being dramatic? Wow, okay then.” Taehyung complies but raises his eyebrows, mildly offended by the hypocrisy. “Aren’t you even gonna ask about the seminar?”

“Later. I need you to see this first.”

Taehyung frowns when he sees the website opened on his manager’s phone. “Hyung, i just came back from a three hour seminar, I think I’ve watched enough porn for–”

“Just watch it!”

“Okay, okay! fine…” Tae takes the phone in his two hands and lets the video play. “Oh, he’s cute! So handsome… woah, look at that body!” He whistles in appreciation.

Yoongi only grits his teeth in response.

Taehyung watches the entire video, adding some commentary and making acknowledging noises from time to time. “Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen this guy before, is he new?”

“Yeah, he’s new alright.” Yoongi answers, a pinch of bitterness lacing his tone.

“Okay... What was so urgent about this, though?” Tae wonders out loud, still clueless.

His manager sighs from deep inside his chest. “Tae… please, think. What could be urgent about a young, hot, talented newcomer in a very competitive industry?”

Taehyung snorts, waving away his friend’s concern. “Hyung, new people get into porn every day. Does that mean we have to panic like this every day?”

“No, you don’t get it. He’s going to be your direct rival.” Yoongi presses. “Remember why we’re trying to expand your horizons so you can take on more versatile scripts and different genres. We’re trying to get you as many jobs as possible to increase your online presence.”

“Before a rookie with a 7 inch dick comes along?” Taehyung cites the lecture he remembers.

“Exactly. This guy, this Jungkook, is that rookie. He doesn’t shy away from any trope or genre and is already well on his way on catching up to your following on OnlyFans when you’ve been in the industry for a longer time. Look at the number of subscriptions on his video platform, too. He’s massively popular at the moment.”

Taehyung swallows hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. His face must be an open book, because Yoongi quickly adds some nuance.

“He’s not better than you, Tae. He’s new, interesting, maybe a little different but not better. You’re at least as talented as him, but we have to step up our game. You just need to level the playing field. We have to make sure you’re not old news by the time this guy hits his peak.”

“But how can we do it fast enough? I’m trying but… I can’t take hard core degradation scripts and BDSM stuff on yet, you saw what happened yesterday!”

Yoongi goes to sit beside his friend, wrapping a slender arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Listen, there’s no need to freak out yet– yes, I know how I reacted and that doesn’t help but I’m just thinking ahead. I need to think about every possible outcome, everything that could happen so we can be prepared. That’s my job. Your job is just being you and doing your best, alright? Got that?”

“What if that’s not enough?” Taehyung murmurs, sadness seeping through his words. “What if I’m not enough anymore, hyung?”

“Stop that. You’re doing great, you’re still in the top 5 of most popular adult actors. You just continue to do what we planned and I’ll take care of the rest. You’re going to be very busy the next couple weeks.”

Tae’s eyebrows crease questioningly. “Why?”

“We need to get our asses in gear. We’re too outdated, too old school. You need to be more active on social media and make a lot more content. People want instant gratification, the ones who want exclusive, luxurious stuff will still pay the right price for it. But we can’t rely on those customers alone anymore.”

Taehyung’s face twists with distaste. “Hyung, please don’t tell me I’ll have to be a camboy…”

“What? No, of course not. I know that’s not romantic enough for you.” Yoongi winks, the younger visibly relaxing. “No, we’re going to do something different. And I know the perfect person to help us with it.”

–––––––––––

“A miniseries? About what?” You squeeze your phone between your ear and your shoulder to prevent it from falling while you pour hot water into your favourite mug. “Yoongi, stop apologising. I can make time. Besides, things are a bit quiet since I’ve finished the Dom & Dommer series with Hoseok, so I could use something small and fun to keep me busy, actually.”

“Well, technically you’re not really asking me for a favour if I’m getting paid while doing it, right? So you can stop feeling bad for asking before you make me feel bad for accepting.” You chuckle, plopping down on your couch next to your cat, whom you absent-mindedly start petting as you listen to your old friend’s voice. You blow on your tea to cool it off while he speaks, Mochi purring happily underneath your fingers.

“No, I swear it’s no trouble at all. It sounds fun, I’m excited!” You shrug, a genuine smile playing on your lips. “Stop it! It’s a win-win situation. Um...what does Taehyung think? No! No, uh, you don’t have to put him through, I was just curious.”

Your cheeks feel hot and you catch yourself biting your nails for a second, an old habit you used to have when you felt nervous. “Okay, that’s good. Good to hear he’s looking forward to it, I’ll be too! Okay. Yeah, just send it to me or my agent when you’re done. Alright. Talk to you later! Bye, Yoongi.”

The call ends and you take a sip of your lavender tea. “Ow, fuck! Ugh…” You curse as the boiling hot water touches your tongue, simmering for a few seconds before the burn subsides. You weren’t paying attention, thoughts elsewhere.

Mochi meows, the sound somewhere between indignant and mocking.

“Watch it,” You warn him, your eyes narrowing to slits, which he only takes as a display of affection, returning the gesture before crawling into your lap.

Murmuring, you scratch Mochi behind his little ear. “A miniseries with Taehyung?”

Unaware of how your breathing becomes more shallow, or your heart beats a little faster than usual, you grab your phone to look him up online. Immediately, you’re met with an influx of images from the man you’ve only just seen yesterday. You don’t know why you’re doing this, but you find yourself browsing through his social media as well. It’s probably just because you haven’t done any new projects with a new co-star in a while.

“I should try to know more about him if we’re going to work together more often, right? I’m just being professional.” You mumble out loud, Mochi perking up questioningly.

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all!              Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[justthehiddleswrites]

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 13 | I gave him a choice, he wanted to wear it

A/N: So this is the last chapter of the main story for Tom and Vivian.  But not the last I am sure we will see of them. Thank you for all the wonderful support for these two!   

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship.  When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian.  Which is the one thing he never knew he needed.  Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship.  But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: With the air cleared, Tom and Vivian continues to move forward in their relationship.  

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open!  Let me know if you want to be added.  Thank you for reading!

1 Year Later

“Does this get any easier?” Vivian leaned to whisper to Sophie as they made their way to their seats in the audience. 

“No. The press junket is the worst.” Sophie squeezed her arm. “But this one is much more bearable with you here.”

“That goes double for me.” Vivian smiled. 

“Tom, is he…” Sophie raised a knowing eyebrow. 

“I gave him a choice, he wanted to wear it.” Vivian shrugged her shoulders. “Ben, still being a brat?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Yes. We can discuss that later. I need punishment ideas.” 

Vivian smirked. Sophie and Ben had been exploring their own relationship dynamics over the last several months. Both of them knew Tom and Ben were trading notes and so they did likewise. “I’ll think about and text you some thoughts. Something Tom wouldn’t have warned him about.” They both giggled. 

The past year had been hectic. The kitchen remodel took twice as long as Vivian hoped, forcing the two of them to eat out more than both wanted to. While the speculation regarding Tom and her relationship status died down significantly after Luke made a statement denying any secret marriage ceremonies, but it never really went away. She grew used to the stares and mutters and closed up her circle of friends and family in response after Ashley spilled that Tom and her met on an online dating site, effectively ending their friendship. Vivian found solace in her new friendship with Sophie, who understood better than anyone her unusual life circumstances. And life with Tom was as exciting as ever, especially with introducing new toys in the bedroom and elsewhere.

The two of them settled into their seats in the front row and waited for the show to start. Vivian beamed as both Tom and Benedict were introduced onto the stage to promote the newest Marvel film. Tom’s hair was longer, and he grew the beard back. He smiled at Vivian as he caught her eye in the audience. She recognized that smirk; he was up to something. And she was certain that something did not include the cage he was sporting under his navy double breasted suit. No one could tell unless they were looking for it. Tom had gotten good at hiding it. 

“Now, Tom,” the interviewer leaned in after he asked several questions about the film to both Tom and Benedict. “your love life has been quite the subject of the papers this past year.”

Tom’s cheeks reddened, and Vivian’s fists clenched. “So it would seem. I try to not pay too much attention, Graham.” 

“Well, I can imagine with such a stunning woman taking up all your attention.” Graham flashed the picture from the day Tom suggested she move in together. “Vivian, right?”

Tom nodded. “Yup.”

“Is it true the two of you met on a dating site?”

Tom blushed at the question. An old one at this point. They both rehearsed an answer for such an occasion. 

“I don’t comment on the specifics of my relationship, Graham.”

“But I do!” Ben interjected. Tom frowned at him. Vivian’s eyes cut to Sophie, whose face was frozen in panic. “And I can say their relationship…” Ben glanced over at the two of you and winked. “… is built on mutual respect and trust.”

Tom sighed in relief and leaned back on the couch.

“Hardly newsworthy, Ben.” Graham groused. 

Tom perked up and leaned in towards the host. “Well she is here in the audience, should we ask her for any juicy details?” 

Graham pumped up the audience, who cheered as Vivian sunk deeper into her chair. Sophie scowled next to her. 

“Darling, can I tell them anything about us?” Tom smiled as he looked over at her.

“No.” she called out. 

Tom’s eyes sparkled again. “Not even our big announcement?” 

Vivian’s brow furrowed in confusion as the audience oohed and cheered. She had no idea what announcement Tom was talking about. Certainly nothing had been cleared with Luke. Or her.

“I think she might need a little convincing, Graham. May I?” Tom gestured towards Vivian. 

Graham nodded. “Why not? It’s not like you are here to talk about a movie or anything.”

Tom chuckled as he stood and moved towards Vivian. He kneeled in front of you. It was only then she noticed his hands shaking. He fiddled with his signet ring. 

“Tom…” she started.

“Darling, this past year has been an adventure. A journey I have gladly taken with you. You have enriched my life in a way I could never imagine. I know that you are it. You are the one. You are mine and I am yours.”

Vivian’s brain swirled, only snapping back to reality when Tom fished a small box out of his jacket pocket and Sophie grabbed her arm. Tom popped open the box to reveal a brilliant cushion cut diamond set in platinum. 

“Will you marry me?” Tom’s voice cracked. 

Vivian sat there silently as a hundred eyes stared at her. But the only ones that mattered were right in front of her. Impossibly blue. And brimming with tears. Pleading, begging and full of love.

“Yes.” Vivian’s voice warbled. She cleared her throat, her own eyes now watering. “Yes, yes!” She repeated.

Tom’s face broke out into the widest, most perfect boyish smile ever as he slipped the ring on Vivian’s finger. She grabbed his face and kissed him, pulling him onto her lap. The audience erupted into wild applause.

“You saw it here first, Tom Hiddleston is now engaged.” Graham announced 

“You are going to pay for this later.” Vivian muttered against Tom’s lips. No one else could hear her.

“I was planning on it.” Tom smirked, kissing her again.

“I was talking about Luke.”

Tom chuckled, kissing her cheek. “I already ran it past him, darling. I have to get back up there.”

“We are talking after.” She pushed him away playfully.

Tom winked at her and headed back onto the stage. Vivian showed off the ring to Sophie. She smiled.

“I know. He asked my opinion about it a month ago.” she confessed. “But he picked it out all by himself.”

Vivian admired the ring. “Am I the last to know about this ring?” 

Sophie giggled. “No, it is probably your mother.” 

“You’re right. She is going to flip.” 

They didn’t get to say much else as the show was coming back from commercial break. 

The rest of the interview went better than perfect. Tom beamed on stage, constantly catching Vivian’s eye. More than once, Ben had to nudge Tom’s knee to bring him back to the interview. Vivian giggled from her seat. Sophie and she slipped backstage to meet Tom and Ben back in the green room. Ben came in first, catching Vivian in a hug.

“Congratulations! Despite my first misgivings, I can’t think of a more perfect match for this ridiculous man.” Ben commented as he kissed Vivian’s cheek.

“Um… thanks… Ben.” She responded. 

“How come I never get a greeting like that?” Sophie groused, smiling the whole time. 

“Sorry, darling.” Ben rushed to dip Sophie and kiss her. 

“And who is the one that gagged when I did the same thing?” Tom commented, sidling next to Vivian, his arm wrapping around her waist. Her hand instantly fell to the small of his back.

“That was before I knew the truth.” Ben commented, righting Sophie, guiding her to the small sofa in the room. 

“You mean I could have had this romantic guy the whole time?” Sophie playfully swatted Ben’s thigh, which he dodged. “You are paying for that.”

“Add it to my list of transgressions.” Ben leaned to kiss Sophie again. 

“Which reminds me,” Vivian piped up. “I will send you ideas first thing in the morning.”

Ben and Tom groaned. Tom called over to his friend. “Stock up on ice and a soothing cream.” He turned to Vivian and kissed her lips softly. “Do you like the ring?”

“I love it. You did so good.” She ruffled his hair. Tom’s cheeks turned a dark pink. 

“Thank you, darling.” He squirmed in place. 

“Would you like a reward tonight?” Vivian’s hand slid down to cup Tom’s ass. 

Tom moved close to whisper in her ear. “What did you have in mind, darling?” 

She whispered right back, sending shocks through Tom’s body. “How about you get to pick which toy I use to peg you with tonight?”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Vivian, the blush deepening to cover his entire face and neck. 

“I… I…” he muttered, his cock straining in his cage. 

“I mean it is not every day you get engaged, and you have been the best boy, sunshine.” Vivian cupped his face and kissed his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Vivian.” Tom wrapped his arms around her. 

[closer-stars]

Heart of Depth (4)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: ~5k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. some history, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence. Mentions of death Note: Surprise lol. I’ve been working on this fic at the same time as gut feeling hence the speedy posting, part 5 to be posted soon.  Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 3

Yeosang’s friend, Hongjoong, arrives at your shop today. He waits for you and Wooyoung patiently by the door. Well, you assume it’s Hongjoong based on his mannerisms. He didn’t seem like the men Wooyoung had to fight the night before. The two of you approach your shop carefully: the grip you have on your keys were tight, Wooyoung’s stance was low enough to not get weird glances but low enough to give him enough force to jump should it not be him. 

The male notices the two of you and greets you politely. “Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong, Kang told me about your need for assistance.” The introduction puts your guards down. You remember Yeosang’s description of the male, around Wooyoung’s height, eyes that seem inquisitive, with wavy hair that seem to frame his face. If none of these events had happened, you would’ve assumed he was a model with how he carried himself. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself and Wooyoung, as you open the shop for the day. Not even a few minutes after, people start pouring into your shop-- some of them with obvious relief on their features. They speak of their worries of the shop having closed down or you and Wooyoung not doing alright. All of which are shut down with reassurances. As the three of you go about with the orders and other needed rituals, you teach Hongjoong the ins and outs of your shop, what to press to make certain types of coffee, how to make foamed milk and so on. “Oh and if you want to create any dishes, feel free to do so. Some of Wooyoung’s creations are on the menu as well.” 

Throughout the day, the three of you try to get to know each other more, even asking Hongjoong for tidbits about who Yeosang and San really are and who he really is. He answers simply about himself, a Dendro holder, whose blood is similar to that of San’s. “So how old are you?” Wooyoung asks. 

“Younger than San, older than you.” It was a simple answer but enough to give the two of you an idea of how long he has walked the earth. It also explains his oddly shaped pupils but perhaps a detailed rundown of his lineage is for another day.

Wooyoung returns to where the two of you are, just in time to get the gist of the conversation as you guide Hongjoong through making an iced macchiato. “Yeah and most of the earnings made from those dishes go to you.” He eggs the other male on with a cheeky grin on his face. Hongjoong, catching onto his antics, releases a light laugh after having made enough milk foam for the order. 

“I’ll consider that.” You let Hongjoong pour the order into a plastic cup for the customer. You don’t miss the lingering gazes from the women as well. Maybe having an attractive barista could help with the sales. 

--------

You were back running business as usual. Only since that incident, you had to start closing a little earlier than usual. You had to write on your small board that you’ll only be able to be open until 5PM every day for the next few weeks due to personal reasons. Wooyoung spends the rest of the day in the studio, though he gets creative with the journey there-- using various train lines, or even walking through different streets just to make sure he doesn’t become predictable from the Abyss. He was more worried for you though. Hongjoong as well, walks with you usually: either walking the two of you to your apartment or elsewhere, just for safety. It was part of the agreement after all. 

For today the shop has to close early, at least he can be reassured that you’ll be safe with Yeosang for tonight. “Damn, you really dressed up for tonight huh?” Wooyoung muses as he leans against the counter. Hongjoong lingers around Wooyoung’s side. For the entire day, Wooyoung gave the older male a rundown of your relationship with Yeosang-- at least the parts you forgot to add, which generally was the romantic aspect. 

To be fair, you did put a little more effort today hoping that Wooyoung wouldn’t notice unless you wanted to be teased. Your blouse, though it can be easily wrinkled, hangs on your body well. It’s also one of your favorites simply for how it feels cool to the touch. You were wearing slacks as well, not your usuals for comfort and practicality but today, knowing Yeosang’s preferences when it comes to dates, it was better to just dress up.  “Shush.” You chide him, wrinkling your nose at his teasings. “I know he’s seen me in just shorts or joggers when I’m working but considering it’s a date…” Until now, whenever you say that you’re going on a date with him, your heart beats a little faster. “I figured I might as well... “ 

The mischievous glint in Wooyoung’s eyes softens just a bit as he snickers at how flustered you look. “Don’t worry about it too much, the two of you have really good dynamics. Guess you could say there’s a spark” He rests against his elbows this time. The pun doesn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong. “Have you even seen how he looks at you? That guy’s really smitten.” There was also a hint of curiosity behind the soft gaze Yeosang carries for you. He wonders what it is, but if there’s anything being an electro user tells him, it’s patience. “Besides, your shop has garnered a bunch of loyal customers now. They don’t mind the early close especially for personal reasons. At least have fun tonight.” 

You look at the clock. It won’t be long until he picks you up from the shop then. “You already know how to lock up this place right?” It won’t be long either until Wooyoung has to head to the studio. 

“Of course. The keys are with me and the extra set of keys are at home.” He rolls his eyes in jest at your concern. “Do you have Regalia with you?” He returns. 

Regalia’s the name of the bracelet you’ve been wearing since day one of living with Wooyoung’s family. One of the last few things you’ve kept from your family that he’s aware of. He doesn’t usually mind you not wearing it during work but with the recent events, you can only assume this is for your peace of mind. “Yup.” You raise your wrist to his view, and he sees the cool toned beads adorn and accentuate the silver charm that rests just above where your pulse is. 

Your vision was peaking under your top, just by your waist, not wanting to bring too much attention to your capabilities but still wanting to stay on the safe side. Underneath the calm facade, lies the same person who’s still wary of everything since then. A figure catches his eye by the door. It’s Yeosang, this time wearing a cream blazer under a simple printed white shirt and dark gray pants and ankle boots. He always manages to make you feel a tad bit underdressed with his fashion sense. You envy Wooyoung’s nonchalance to the fashion differences, then again, Wooyoung’s been confident in his own style. That’s what got him to where he is now. 

Just as you were about to ask Wooyoung a question, he beats you to it. “Yes, you look fine. Now go and have your date.” He shooes you off with a wave of his hand. You shoot him a look of mild annoyance for his ability to see through your facade. So with that done, you grab your things on top of the counter and wave him goodbye. 

“Call me when something comes up okay?” 

He says nothing but shoots you an okay sign, making sure you focus on the man who’s been waiting for you like a lovesick puppy by the door. 

Just as you step out of the shop, you’re greeted by a warm smile from him. It’s interesting how that smile made him look younger when he’s already thousands of years older than you. It just comes with the whole Archon responsibility, you suppose. As you approach him, he hands you a bouquet of various flowers-- peeking above the flowers, you see his cheeks bloom into an endearing pink.

“Yeosang what’s this for?” You ask, the wrapped flowers in your hands has you dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if it was a double peonies but you’ve definitely seen this before somehow. You knew that this was a rarity but how he managed to acquire them at the height of their beauty at this time of the year was a feat for you. “What is this?” A white flower, not yet in full bloom, is surrounded by simple greens and hyacinths. You gaze at them for a moment, before returning your gaze to the man in front of you.

The tips of his ears shine bright pink, a stark contrast to his black-blue hair. “I thought you might appreciate another type of flower to be in your shop.” You can’t turn down this gift. Double peonies have been something you would usually see online. To know that these are real ones and they’re in your hands, it was truly an experience. “Neve Jewel.” He answers your question softly

You look at him for a moment, shocked at how he got this flower for you. “How often should I water them?” You ask as you try to look for a vase or a spare pot that you would plant them in for the time being in your shop. You’d love to bring home a sapling of this down the line. 

“Every three days.” He says after clearing his throat. If he didn’t, he would’ve stuttered through the tip. The look of pure glee in your eyes made him think that getting you the flowers was a good decision, at least it was good enough to make his chest feel warm. As you look through the pots in your shop, you realize there’s no space for them: looks like you’ll have to carry them for the entirety of the date. 

He offers you the crook of his arm, for you to hold onto for the rest of the date. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask as you gently hold onto his arm as he offered. The night was still young and there was so much they could do and for all you know he might pull more surprises. 

  “Well, for starters, you have the freedom to choose what we eat tonight. I figure it’s only fair to let you choose this time as it was my choice last time.” That’s right, you remember the last restaurant being expensive and him being able to pay with ease. A small part of you wonders if he could cover your further studies or help with the studio Wooyoung also works in. 

The power to choose makes you hum in thought. Truthfully the decisions were countless. “How about pizza and pasta? I know a place you might like.” A short pause. “Well, we can look at the menu and see if you like it, if not we go elsewhere.” You offer. 

You hate to admit that ever since knowing Yeosang’s the Archon, you started seeing him in a slightly different light. Maybe it’s your insecurities? Wondering who else did he love before you. Was it your jealousy? Wanting to know what he knows about this world and perhaps beyond-- along with his financial security. It can’t be helped, there have been times where you gave up something you eyed for more important things. Living on your own isn’t easy but at least you work at your own pace. 

“Something on your mind?” Yeosang asks softly. He doesn’t want anyone listening in on them as he starts noticing fleeting glances at either you or him. It didn’t take much for him to know that your thoughts were running again. Your hand felt loose in his arm, and your footsteps felt like they were floating. It was funny to him how you reminded him of them yet still be your own person. 

“Ah?” You hummed, blinking a few times to get back to reality. “Nothing too pressing, just curiosity over how life has been for you since Day 1.” You admit. You know of their existence: of Archons that bestow these visions, of beings that are half human, half something, or even not entirely human that walk with you. To be in their presence though, is another topic entirely. “Along with the chances of meeting the likes of your kind.” 

He flashes a small smile at your honesty. “I see. All of which are understandable thoughts. I suppose I can tell you a few stories over dinner.” He promises. There’s something comforting in how he carries no hint of resentment, but it leads to more curiosity of what he has buried in all these years. “If time still permits today, I’ll show you some places that hold significance to me that people nowadays do not know of.” 

“You say a lot of promises, Yeosang.” You note teasingly. As you do so, you gesture to the restaurant that you had set your eyes (and stomach) on. “Check out their menu first?” 

He looks at the restaurant and chuckles. “My dear, San always pesters me about this place. I don’t eat here as often as he does but trust me, I have no issues with tonight’s choice.” He would come here often for San’s favorite especially after a long night of dealing with awry beings that try to wreck havoc. It’s enough to get him through a few hours until he crashes. 

His words reassure you and thus, the two of you enter the premises, finding comfort in a booth, away from any eyes that could wander. After the orders have been made, you were left alone with him once more. From your place, you could watch people walk past the restaurant on one side, while the cars zoom past on the other. Yeosang lets you look around for a moment before he starts telling you some of his stories. “So which one would you like to know about?” 

He answers your questions to the best of his ability. Yes, even if people try to recreate the food from the past, it’s still not the same, not even with the same ingredients, things just naturally changes over time and he has come to accept that. His current favorite is fried chicken though, even better if it’s the half-half type. He tells you about a plot of raised land on the other side of the river. You weren’t aware of this story: how that was initially something like a mountain only for him to flatten it with the force of water after an immortal being thought they were greater than the heavens that made them. He admits that the immortal was a dear friend of his who had changed as time passed them by. A god of earthquakes, he tells you. “So with that in mind, it’s impossible to fully wipe out any archon or immortal being.” Your inquisitive and sharp mind warms his heart. Humanity’s curiosity is their greatest downfall. Yet, this is what pushes beings like him to protect you and your kind. It’s what has kept your species going. 

“Yes and no. This dear friend of mine, he can’t..” he trails off as he tries to find the right word, tilting his head in thought. “His material body cannot come back but his essence lives on. It explains the tremors we feel occasionally.” Some gods are forgotten as well, buried deep in the oceans he rules in where only the darkest parts of humanity’s consciousness can only remember. Yet from time to time, occurrences happen that tell him that there are people that still remember. Fortunately, before the discussion gets any depressing, the food arrives and he takes this chance to know more about you and anything you’re curious about with these flowers that rest on your lap. 

He asks you about the latest social networking apps, he has the basics of where most people are but the other apps that entertain certain niches intrigue him. Though you didn’t have all the answers, he was sure he’d leave this restaurant knowing more than before. He finds out that your passion for baking and making different types of coffee came after you saw Wooyoung struggle juggling his dance team and studies. The daily expenses of buying coffee eventually build up over time so you take matters into your own hands. Now, you’ve got a shop up and running and the rest is pretty much history. He respects you for that. The Archon also realizes that perhaps San was right with this restaurant. Another restaurant to add to his options in the days to come. 

The rest of the dinner goes well, lasting for two hours before the two of you decide to leave and walk around somewhere quiet. Somewhere that the two of you could get away from the constant bustle of modern life. 

The walk to the quieter side of the city was a fruitful one. The conversation between the two of you never stops as each of you try to understand each other-- especially with you trying to understand his roots along with his riches. “So, you being.. An archon.. Is that how you were able to get that apartment?” You understand that he’s not quite immortal, having the ability to die as well but he does have the ability to live longer than most. You learned that gods can die, but deaths caused by humans have resulted in violent natural happenings.

“Yes and no.” He answers with a slight tilt of his lips. “Some of the objects from the historical collection are mine but I had to pull some legal strings to make the public think it’s from someone else, and for the stockholders to continue funding the museum. Some of them have been bought and sold through me to older gods and Archons who have passed on, some archaic family clans as well and so on.” He hints towards other groups with money that have helped fund his museum and keep them safe, though through less than morally ethical means. Simply put, the museum has helped him amass a big fortune with one part going to his anonymous safety for reasons and the other parts going to other necessities of the community around him.  

Something stirs in you to explain something to him. “I suppose I owe you a story as well.” You admit softly. You start to tell him about your family life, how you grew up in a family that was passionate about their jobs: your father, a historian while your mother was a fairly known ceramist who also had a passion for what your father pursued. It’s through the attempts of recreating the pottery of the past that made their names fairly well known in those days-- also making you have a keen interest and skill in the history and the arts. Your father came across certain writings, unfamiliar to the academe but familiar to those who were interested in the taboo. He and your mother got too close, from what you understood. The pursuit of making connections and knowledge cost them their life. They made sure you were safe from everything, keeping you hidden from the perpetrators. 

Wooyoung’s parents were close to yours, it took forever in a child's mind before they found you, hiding in a closet with the Regalia in your small hands. Once they found you, they made sure you didn’t see the aftermath. Their urns rest in a quiet columbarium out of town. Since then, you grew up with Wooyoung’s family. It’s not the same as having your actual parents grow with you but they did their best to step into their roles for you and for Wooyoung. “It’s been years, and I’ve learned to cope with the absence so please, don’t worry about me.” You reassure him. You’ve been so accustomed, so annoyed with the looks of pity given to you by others who know this story-- which are usually by word of mouth. 

He lets his eyes wander around the scenery in front of him. The way the lights bounce against the water, the quiet hum of people milling about by the water. His eyes catch sight of a small family letting their kids play about by the water. The way you talk about your family makes him wonder how you were like when you were younger. The you he knows now is different from the you Wooyoung has known since he was a child. You don’t step into the same river but water always passes where it came from. Simply put, you are still you. Heavens be damned, because he’s enamored by you.  

As you tell your stories, your eyes catch a glimpse of the same family. There’s something in your chest that twists that you cast your eyes downward. The flowers were still in your arms, you didn’t want to leave it in the stale air of the car. 

He sees you look down at the flowers, your fingers fiddling with the wrapping and some of the petals. “Feel free to ask questions about them, my dear.” 

Giving you that green light to ask immediately had you talking. “Okay, first question, How? I thought this didn’t exist anymore?” You remember the first dinner you had with him, how he bought a painting of the said flower and told you how rare it was. So how did he manage to get an actual one?

He finds a bench, away from people that were there for perhaps the same reasons as the two of you. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down as well to which you oblige. Once you do so, he looks up at the sky, seeing the faint shimmers of the stars above. The waters will continue to move to a near unrecognizable state yet the stars no matter how much they move, they still look the same. The man next to you tries to figure out his words, but eventually he just decides to say it plainly. “I had the same thoughts as you, about its existence. San was the one who notified me of its reemergence. He found it growing in the museum’s garden, in full bloom every night.” 

  You stare at the lone blooming flower in your hands, wondering if there’s more in the garden, but one question suddenly nags at you. “Why did you give it to me when you’re heavily attached to this flower?” You were flattered, you can’t deny that-- a rare flower from someone who has been fluttering your heart? That was a unique way to be courted Yet, the lapse in thought bothers you, a rare flower that he obviously holds dear to him, given to you? What made him think of this? 

“They were someone dear to me as well.” He starts. His voice takes on a more sober tone, making sure you were comfortable leaning on his shoulder. “A dear immortal as well, just like San and I.” It takes a few moments of silence for you to understand the gravity of their relationship. “They were someone well loved by the people, taught them how to handle resources on an economic point of view with other regions, taught them handiwork beyond that of warfare, a lot of things that were out of my field to put it simply..” He has already accepted and forgiven himself of his shortcomings to become someone like them at that time. “Their favorite flower is this, my love.” He says, his fingers fiddle with the edge of its wrapper. “Everyone associated it with them.” Despite the harsh cold that ice gives, it was also a time for trust. When it was too cold, they’d make shelter out of ice and various twigs and fur. If it was too hot, they provided them with cool winds. It’s why the Neve Jewel glows as such, depending on the season. 

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t protect them at their time of death.” His eyes stay still at the river that quietly flows past them. “Their last wish to me was to make sure the people survive the journey. Weird isn’t it? The god of water protecting the followers of Ice.” He rests his temple against yours. “Eventually after their passing, Neve Jewels ceased to exist. Until you came along.”

“Yeosang?”

“Mm?” 

“What if I’m not them?” 

“Yeosang, you know you need to be prepared to accept the fact they might not be your previous lover.” 

It’s a question he’s considered since he met you. He admits, it wasn’t easy to consider accepting that you might not return. He remembers the concern in San’s face when he was still so hopeful. 

“Of course, grief never leaves you. It always stays with you, you eventually learn how to live with it.” He tips his head in thought, acknowledging the weight of the concern.

You didn’t want to cry here: not when the date was going so well. A soft chuckle leaves your lips to loosen up the tight feeling in your chest. “Mhm, I guess so.” It’s a half hearted answer you have to admit but it was better than letting the silence cue the tears. 

“But if you let me, I’ll still love you the same.” 

A deep breath loosens the pulsating pain in your head from the unshed tears. “I guess life does work weirdly.” You add under your breath, leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the wrapping of the gifted flower. 

He readjusts himself to make sure you don’t get uncomfortable. There’s something in your words that tells him, it would be better to shift the topic. “I’m a little disheartened that i never got to tour you around the museum but that’s alright, one of these days, I’ll bring you around, show you my favorite works and tell you some stories behind them.” 

“I’d like that, sounds like you got a lot you’d like to share too.” You muse softly, taking in the scent of nature and him. 

“I catch you lingering by the entrance sometimes.” Even though he has invited you and Wooyoung to stay in the museum’s offices with him for the sake of safety, you’d just linger by the souvenirs. You remember Wooyoung proposing the idea of having a small shop next to the souvenirs, but you shot it down. It’s not because you don’t think it’ll do well but because who else will manage the shop? Hongjoong’s a good candidate but until you’re certain he’ll stay after this mess. 

With how everything is going, you wonder if he finds time to rest. “Please, you’ve got a lot on your plate. I’d rather not add to that, Yeosang.” You say with a breathy laugh of embarrassment. 

“You know that I don’t mind your presence.” He’s been spending his hours with you after work for the past few months. “I wouldn’t have asked you on a date, if I did mind.” He tilts your chin gently to look at him. 

His eyes, holy shit, you could drown in how they look: shades of blue with hints of green and streaks of white. The ocean resides in this man and you’d be damned if you didn’t feel yourself melt in his touch. “If it still isn’t obvious, my dear, I would like to ask you, if you are willing to be my lover?” 

Something flashes at the corner of your eye, and it’s coming straight at you.

[angelic-holland]

Halo Effect ‣ demon!Tom

Y/N just wants to save her little sister. What happens when a handsome stranger promises her so much more? 

“I was too busy noticing all of the intricate ways in which the house at 11 Blackthorne Road seemed to collapse in on itself, that I failed to notice the horns peeking through your messy brown curls.”

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: mentions of cancer, supernatural elements, demons, hints at a possible mental illness/delusions, talk of death, open ending (take that as you will), psychological horror/thriller (I guess), mild smut

Author’s Note: i deleted this because I adapted it into a play but if people from irl find me here... welcome to my sins! 

October 31st, 2019

Your hands shook as you kneeled in the dirt of the road, digging a hole big enough for the small wooden box in your hands. You double check the contents. A polaroid picture of you and your sister, before she got sick, you were pushing her on a swing, her mouth was wide and mid-laugh and you had the brightest smile on your face. A small mason jar full of dirt from the graveyard. A yarrow root. And the bone from a black cat. It took finding the creepiest small ‘remedy’ shop in Salem, but when you told the woman what you were looking for, she was able to sell it to you for a hefty sum. That price didn’t matter. What you would get from this was priceless.

You look around you, the crossroads incredibly obvious, four roads that all met together, all dirt. The city never bothered to pave them, the only thing down one road was a big farmhouse, a run down bar along the other, the road back into the main town of Salem, and then there was your road. Sort of. The dirt road that led to 11 Blackthorne Road. Your house. It was old, built in the 1800s and you swore the entire foundation moved when more than two people were inside the house, but it was yours. You and your sisters. You smile slightly before you bury the wooden box, standing up. You don’t know how long this would take. Almost everything you read about summonings told you that they appeared in an instant. You check your watch, it was a little past three in the morning, the witching hour, the time at which you were most likely to summon one. The moon was high above you and reflects off the glass of your watch. You look around, feeling a slight breeze that sends a shiver down your spine and goosebumps up your arms.

You jump when you see him, his beauty takes your breath away. That definitely should not be the first thing you notice about him. It should be the way that his eyes seem to glow red before quickly disappearing to reveal a light brown. You notice the freckles and a little divot in his chin, the way his nose was just slightly crooked.

“Are you-, you’re-,” you stutter out, eyes roaming the body of the man standing in front of you. He’s wearing dress pants, a matching dark blue suit jacket, a fitted white shirt, shiny black and blue shoes. His hair is nicely done, dark brown curls brushed back out of his face, and his head is tilted to the side. It’s as if he enjoys watching your reaction to him.

“Who else would I be? Who did you summon?” He takes a step towards you.

You take a step back, stumbling over the pile of dirt you created. He catches you before you can fall, one hand on your back, the other holding your hand as he pulls you back up. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as he steps back again.

“You’re the, you’re a crossroads demon?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t look like a crossroads demon. From what you’ve read online and in the books they were terrifying. Glowing red eyes and a hideous demeanor. This man, if you could call someone who looked so young, a man, is almost ethereal.

“The one and only,” he holds his arms out and laughs slightly, shaking his head, “not really the one and only, but the one you summoned.”

“Well how would you- did I choose you? How do you decide who gets to, you know, show up?”

You have so many questions, so many curiosities that you almost forgot the reason you summoned him in the first place.

“So you can grant wishes?” You ask, watching as he chuckles.

“I’m not exactly a genie. But I can give you something you want, it will cost you.”

“How much?”

“Your soul,” he answers with a shrug, this was nonchalant for him, a business deal of sorts.

“My soul?” You take a sharp inhale, logically, you knew that was what it would cost. Everyone said it. Everyone that agreed to their deal lost their soul after a specified amount of time. That was how this worked, to get something you had to give them something in return. But none of what you read really had much proof. They could very well have been ramblings of crazy people, much like so many centuries ago people accused ordinary women of being witches in your very own hometown.

“Your soul, not now, no, you can enjoy your soul for, how about one year?”

“Only one?” you nibble on your bottom lip, thinking about how little time one year seemed to you. That is, until you remember that one year for your sister was a lifetime, it was a shot in the dark, something that seemed impossible. Until now. Until a demon was standing in front of you, agreeing to give you anything you could possibly want for something that seemed incredibly trivial in return. You were never quite sure what a soul was. There were lots of conflicting philosophies regarding souls, consciousness, the afterlife. You felt that a soul was only a small part of what made you who you were. Surely your brain and heart were much more important than something without a physical representation within your body.

“I mean, I could just go,” the man begins to turn and you throw your hands out.

“Wait, no, one year, I’ll take it, please don’t go,” you sound desperate, but that was because you were, there was no hiding that. It was 3 in the morning, and you stood, shivering under the pale moonlight, begging someone that shouldn’t exist to take your soul in exchange for something. And it wasn’t just anything. It wasn’t something selfish like so many deals you read about. People sold their souls for money, for power, for fame. Apparently five of the United States presidents only won because they sold their soul for the pleasure of working at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Saving your sister in exchange for you soul wasn’t selfish, right? You aren’t saving her for you, not completely. You want to give her years and years of a life she never got to live.

He pauses, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, raising an eyebrow before nodding, “Now, I’ve got your soul, in a years time, what is it that you want?”

“My sister, she has Ewing sarcoma, a type of cancer and she’s dying. All the chemotherapy, the radiation, it stopped helping since the cancer spread to her lungs and brain. There’s no-,” you suck in a sharp breath, hope. There’s absolutely no hope, except for him. He was the last ditch option that you thought was a scary story kids told each other. That is, until he showed up and promised to give you something in exchange for your soul.

You don’t notice the way his brain seems to go elsewhere as if he’s looking for something while you ramble. You don’t notice the way his eyebrows turn in and his lips turn down ever so slightly as you continue to talk.

“So we stopped treatment, she relaxes at home now. But she’s in pain, I know she is. She keeps telling me that it’s okay, that she’d rather spend her last few days reading at the little blue cushioned window seat but I know she’d rather have a lifetime of doing that. She deserves a lifetime of that. I want to give her a lifetime of that.”

“So that’s what you want? You want your sister to be healed? No more cancer?” He asks, watching the way you tap your fingers against your thigh, partially hidden by your thick wool sweater sleeves. You are tapping out a tune, a song you would sing to your sister while she was going through chemotherapy years ago.

“Yes, she’s dying. I want you to save her.”

“And what do you need?”

“My sister! I told you! She’s dying. That’s what I need. I need you to save her.”

“You want that. And I will save her. She’s a done deal. But that’s what you want. What do you need?”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe you were dreaming and he was actually an angel, a sign telling you that everything would work itself out. That you didn’t need to sell your soul to a demon to make sure your sister was okay. Maybe a new treatment would come out tomorrow and this deal would be for nothing.

“There has to be something you’ve always needed, maybe you were too busy giving everything to your sister to take anything for yourself.”

“I mean,” you pause, shaking your head, “no, this is stupid, I don’t need that.”

“What is it?” the man implores. You don’t step back when he takes a step towards you.

“Love. I mean, I’ve never gotten the chance to do much since my sister got sick at such a young age. It’s dumb right? To want a boyfriend, or something, while my sister is sick? I’m so fucking selfish,” you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck self-consciously.

“Quite the contrary, you’ve taken care of her for so long, you never got the chance to take care of yourself.”

He smiles but his eyes are sad, deep bags under them, he looks exhausted. You wonder if demons slept.

“I guess so.”

“So that’s what you need?” the man asks.

You nod, glancing back up at him, “what’s your name? How does this contract work?”

You have too many questions. You want to invite the man back to your house for coffee and stay up until morning finding out everything you could about him. It is as if you were on a first date.

“I’m Tom,” the man says, holding a hand out, you stare at it for a moment.

“Is that how you seal the deal?” You ask.

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “no, not at all.”

“Then how do you-,”

“A kiss.”

“A kiss?” You raise an eyebrow as he puts his hand back in his pocket.

“Or I could go,” Tom begins to take a step back. You follow him.

“No! Let’s kiss, and then it’s done? My sister won’t be sick and I’ll-,”

“You’ll find love, that’s correct.”

“Okay,” you’re only an inch away from Tom now. He cups your chin, bringing your lips to his. Your eyes flutter shut before you can see the way his eyes glow red and his other hand rests against your hip. It’s warm above your wool sweater and there’s a pain that sparks up your side, seemingly wrapping around your ribs, gently scraping against them.

“Ah,” you cry out as Tom’s lips leave yours.

“It’s the contract, etched into your ribs, an unbreakable bond,” he holds you as the pain begins to subside in one side before sparking up the other.

And then he kisses you again. It distracts you from the hollow feeling inside each of your newly carved ribs. It distracts you from the fact that you just sold your soul to him. Your hands find the back of his head, one holding his lips against yours, the other running through his curls.

“It’s done,” he breathes out as he pulls away.

“Did you want to meet my sister?”

He nods, his fingers slipping easily into the space between your own, “lead the way.”

“You know, I still don’t think you’re real,” you flush as the sleeve of your sweater brushes against his watch.

“You just kissed me, didn’t you?”

“I’ve kissed people in my dreams before.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

“How can I be sure?” you quicken your pace down the dirt road, passing trees with dark red and orange leaves, they seem to turn in on themselves as you walked past. You can only focus on the way the moonlight reflected off of To’s shoes. You pass your mailbox, running your fingers along the chipped paint, over the wooden curves, over the indented ‘11’ of 11 Blackthorne Road.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll know. Your sister, she’s going to wake up and she won’t feel any pain. She won’t lie about it either, she’ll have the brightest smile on her face.”

“How can I trust you?” you ask, he doesn’t need to know that you already trust him. That he has already given you so much in that one instant with his lips on your own than you could ever give him in return. You forget for a moment that you gave him something priceless as well. You handed over one of the most important parts of yourself without thinking twice about the implications of what you’ve done. A year was a long time. You have 365 days with Lexi that you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

“When you realize your sister is okay, that she can do things you wouldn’t have ever dreamed she would be able to do before, that’s when you know you can trust me.”

You walk up the four steps to your porch, your hand digging into your pocket to grab the key that would unlock your door. You know Lexi is asleep, so you tell Tom to be quiet. You freeze in your spot when you noticed that the doorknob was on the left. It was odd because the door always swung open to the left, the doorknob has always been on the right. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, maybe the man who appeared out of nowhere at the crossroads was a sign that you were dreaming. Why else would the door change like that?

When you open them, the doorknob is on the right, and the door swings open to the left. The foundation doesn’t move when you and Tom walk inside.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

You and Tom sit at your kitchen table, two mismatched seats on opposite ends of this old rickety table that was at the house when you moved in. His chair is a light blue metal one, yours a dark brown wooden one, three of the five back slats missing. You watch as he wraps his hands around the warm mug, he waits for you to speak as your foot taps against the white tile.

Eventually the silence is too much for him. No matter how many centuries he spent in hell, deafening silence as he was tortured, learning how to make deals, drowning out the quiet with his own tormented screams, this is somehow worse.

You have so many thoughts, so many things you want to say, to ask, but you can’t seem to think of a single one at the moment. You can’t form the questions on your lips.

“How long has your sister been sick?”

The question takes you by surprise, the genuine curiosity in the way his voice raised at the end of the statement. You figured demons were all knowing beings. They could grant wishes that otherwise weren’t physically possible. They could perform better miracles than the Catholic church. But Tom sits here and looks genuinely interested in learning more about you.

“She’s had cancer for a little over eight years. At first it was just Ewing Sarcoma, she noticed it one time, we were on the playground, she was 8, I was pushing her on the swingset and asked a mom who was playing with her little boy to take a picture of us. I just told Lexi a joke, I can’t remember what it was now, but she was laughing so hard when the mom took the photo of us. On the bad days, when she’s in so much pain she can hardly get out of bed, I try to imagine her like that. A little kid, happy, laughing, without a care in the world. But after the woman handed me the polaroid camera, Lexi stood up. She felt this horrible, horrible pain shoot up her leg. I took her right to the hospital. Our parents met us there. The next day she was diagnosed. They started her on chemotherapy, radiation, a whole medicine cabinet worth of drugs. She was in and out of the hospital for so long. One day she looked at me, the cancer spread to her lungs, her brain, she said ‘y/n, I don’t want to live out the rest of my life in a hospital bed. Take me home, let me enjoy the little time I have left.’ So I did, and we’ve been here ever since.”

You watch Tom’s eyes wander along the wall behind you, watching as the moon slowly crept along the horribly ugly wallpaper. It illuminates different parts of it, like a never ending tapestry, it appears to tell a story. When it shone on the curve of the darkened yellow, it is a bulging throat, full of unspoken words dying to get out. As the night progresses the moon shines on the part where the dark yellow drew in. The words came easier and easier and the throat is cleared.

As the sun replaces the moon you hear Lexi’s footsteps come padding down the stairs. Her cup of peppermint tea waiting for her in between you and Tom. You count the steps as she comes down. Thirteen.

“Lexi! There’s someone I’d like you to meet!” You call out to her.

She isn’t out of breath as she enters the kitchen like she normally is.

“Good morning,” she smiles brightly, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected guest sitting opposite of you.

“This is Tom, he’s a friend of mine.”

“Well hi Tom, friend of y/n,” Lexi smiles, picking up her mug.

“How do you feel?” You sit up, glancing at Tom excitedly.

“Great actually, I don’t have a headache, my leg doesn’t hurt. I think I’m going to open the window and listen to the robins sing while I read,” she smiles as she walks past you and you ruffle her hair.

She slips out of the kitchen and makes her way to the living room. You turn back to Tom, a wide smile on your face as a tear slips down your cheek.

“She’s really okay?”

He nods, his gaze still caught on the wallpaper an inch above and to the left of your head.

“And so are you,” he responds.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, it bounces off the walls and echoes around his empty mug, he taps his ribcage. You’re reminded that he isn’t a doctor or a miracle worker. He isn’t an angel or a god. He is a demon and you sold him your soul for this. You would’ve gladly done it all over again.

You hear Lexi quietly reading her book, humming along to the song the robins sang.

You tell Tom you have to head into work later, at the Salem witch museum, the job you’ve had since high school.

“Is it alright if I head into town with you? Maybe pick up some clothes?”

“You want to stay?” You ask, face lifting up into a smile as Tom nods.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Sure, there’s this great thrift shop next to my work that has all types of clothes, you’d probably fit in best around here if you wore something other than that fancy outfit.”

“Business deals require business casual,” Tom stands up. And you remember that this was business as usual for him. Maybe he is just going to stay the night, to make sure you didn’t try to turn back on your deal. Maybe he’d be gone before the moonlight could force more words out of the ugly yellow and bloated throats that rise and fall on the wallpaper.

“Right, I uh, I’ll show you where the store is, and Lexi can let you in since you’ll be back before I’m out of work. I’ve only got one key.”

You change and Tom sits on the thirteenth step, feet tapping against the floor until he hears you coming down the stairs.

“Bye Lexi! I’ll be back by dinner time!” You call out to your sister and she calls back, she tells you she loves you and you call out a quick love you before locking the door behind you and Tom.

Your hand slips easily into Tom’s. It was as if your fingers were hand carved and crafted to fit between the space of his own. You point out different parts of town as you walk towards it. Even as the wind and cold bite your skin, he keeps you warm. Just his gentle hand in your own keep a fire burning low in your stomach. When you get to Main Street you point out the thrift shop, Tom squeezes your hand once before slipping inside. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before opening the door to the museum.

“Hi Sally,” you wave at your boss who’s sitting at the information desk. You’re about to walk towards the employee room when she stops you.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect you to be here today. You can take the next few weeks off, I uh, I should’ve called you, I’m sorry. Why don’t you see about coming back on November 15th?”

“I’m here though, I can work, I uh, I’m okay to work.”

“It’s okay honey, really, go home, rest.”

“Okay? I guess I’ll see you on November 15th.”

“And if you need more time that’s okay as well,” Sally rests her hand on your shoulder but it feels cold. You nod, walking backwards out of the door and meet Tom inside the thrift shop.

“I thought you were working?” He asks, a bundle of winter clothes in his arms.

“I forgot I took some vacation time off the next two weeks,” you shrug, “I have such a scatterbrain sometimes when I’m running around trying to take care of Lexi.”

The weeks passed and the other shoe never dropped. Lexi’s left leg no longer ached, her migraines that used to keep her in bed all day were gone. You go back to work on November 15th like you told Sally you would. She greets you with a warm hug and Jeremy, the boy who you went to high school with, smiles when you sit down at the information desk with him.

“How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good, how was your Halloween?” You strike up casual conversation, never quite finding it easy to talk to Jeremy during the dull time in between visitors.

“Pretty good, how was yours? I mean, nevermind,” Jeremy shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself for asking. Before you can ask what he means, a family walks in.

You greet them, they ask you different questions about the Salem Witch Trials. They are visiting from Wisconsin and are really into the haunted history of your town. You walk with them throughout the exhibits, falling into the easy routine of telling the history of the trials, pointing out different artistic depictions of the time period. It felt easy, you’ve been giving the same speeches for over seven years now.

When you get home that night you fix up Lexi’s favorite sandwich, turkey and cheese on wheat bread. You set it down next to her, she hums and thanks you. She hasn’t quite gotten her appetite back. You figure it was only a matter of time before she did though. She’d beg you for apple cider donuts and you’d have to fight the box away from her before she ate them all and made herself sick.

And Tom stays. You didn’t think he would. But he did. He didn’t quite explain himself, but you didn’t mind. You want him to be here. He likes to ask you questions. While Lexi was too busy buried in her book, sitting up against the frosted glass window, Tom talks to you at the kitchen table. He sits in the blue metal chair. You sit in the wooden one. Just the other day it was missing 3 slats. You stand up and looked at the chair, counting the slats and the holes where the slats should have rested.

One.

Two.

Three.

There are only three slats total, two missing. You sit down again, maybe you aren’t looking at it right, you feel one slat against your back so you close your eyes and sit so your back doesn’t touch the wood. Your thigh almost falls off the chair, it has to have been smaller than the last time you sat in it.

“I said have you always lived in Salem?” Tom asks, distracting you from the way you felt like the edges of the table were closer together than they were when you sat down.

“Yeah, I uh, yes, we have,” you nod. Your fingers tap against the wood of the table. It feels hollow.

***

Tom doesn’t sleep. You figure as much when he would keep you up very late asking you all sorts of questions. You’d lay on your side of the bed, the homey indent felt safe. He found a spot next to you, and slowly, as slowly as the frost hardened the grass and snow began to fall from the sky, his side of the bed became indented as well.

The next morning you wake up, your head finds his chest and his hand finds your shoulder. He presses a burning kiss to your forehead, you appreciate the gesture at 11 Blackthorne Road, for it has no heating and as December is drawing to a close, you are getting colder and colder.

“You don’t sleep do you?”

“Hmmm?” Tom asks as you sit up, swinging your feet off the edge of the bed and standing up. You pause as you listen to the fifth floorboard creak underneath you.

“Do you sleep?”

Tom stands up. The floorboard under him doesn’t make a sound.

“No,” he begins to get dressed for the day, you didn’t care for an explanation. It all seems routine now, he would change in the bathroom, you would change in the bedroom. Then you’d knock and join him to brush your teeth. The bathroom is always twelve steps to the left of your bedroom. Today you only took eight. When you see Tom smiling widely at you, toothpaste and all, you convince yourself you just took bigger steps to get to him quicker.

He kisses your cheek, leaving a toothpaste stain which you wipe off with a grimace. You playfully scold him until he wraps his hands around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder.

“You look really pretty when you frown darling,” he kisses your cheek again.

“I feel like I look better when I’m smiling,” you begin to brush your teeth as Tom smiles against the skin of your neck.

“You always look great,” he shrugs. You can’t help but wonder if the mirror in front of you is smaller than when you walked in.

***

You’ve never had a better Christmas than this one. Honestly, the last good Christmas you can recall was when you were 15 years old. It was the last Christmas before Lexi was diagnosed. It was the last Christmas you spent with your mom, your dad, and her in your small apartment above the laundromat on Main Street. Every Christmas since then was spent in a hospital room or here, alone, with Lexi too sick to get out of bed. She is in somewhat of a bad mood, but you convince yourself that with a cup of peppermint tea she will be feeling better.

Tom laughs and pokes your side as you pour a glass of eggnog for you and him, “maybe she’s finally going through the angsty teen rebellion era now that she’s better.”

That shouldn’t make you smile as big as it does, you couldn’t help but break out into laughter as you bring the glasses down the hallway towards the living room. You laugh so loud you almost don’t count the 28 steps it should take you to get there. You freeze at the door, it only took 20 steps.

You shake it off when you hear Lexi’s gentle hum from the windowsill.

“Could I get some more tea?” she asks, sticking out her empty mug.

You look at it, bright yellow bumblebees painted along the old white ceramic.

“Sure let me grab you a new mug and I can wash this one later-,”

“No!” Lexi snaps at you as you take the mug from her hand.

“What is it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at your sister. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs out a sigh.

“I don’t want a different mug.”

“You can use mine, the one with black cats on it, I’ll wash this after we open presents and-,”

Then Lexi does something you’ve never seen her do. She stands up and she gets angry.

She’s been angry plenty of times before. Angry at the world for giving her cancer, angry at a God she didn’t know if she believed in, angry at the snow that fell that one December five years ago, obscuring your parent’s vision on their drive to the hospital and taking them away. But she’s never been angry at you.

“I don’t want another mug! I can’t have another mug!” She screams, eyebrows knitted together as she almost dares you to do anything but decide to walk the 28 steps to the kitchen and wash her mug.

“Why don’t you and Tom relax while I go clean this then? Tell him about the different ornaments on the tree,” your voice shakes as Lexi rolls her eyes but sits down on one side of the tree.

Tom gives you a gentle smile before sitting down next to Lexi. You smile back, watching as he asks her about the witch sitting atop the tree in lieu of an angel.

You count only 17 steps to the kitchen. You walk to the sink as tears blur your vision. You know this is Lexi acting out, acting like the teenager she never previously got the chance to be. It still stung that she is as cold as the winter. It sends an uneasy shiver down your spine, you clean her mug, smiling at the bumblebees, three of them painted in light yellow and a strikingly contrast black.

When you get back to the living room she smiles when you hand her the mug. But then she is upset when you try to give her a present, it’s just a book. An old copy of The Awakening that you found at the thrift store a few days ago.

“I don’t want the Awakening! I like reading Frankenstein! Can’t I just read Frankenstein?”

“Of course! You can read Frankenstein! You can read whatever you want, I was just giving you something you might like.”

“Well I don’t want it.”

“Okay,” you set the book down by your side, she doesn’t even touch it.

You were never one for getting gifts, she doesn’t get you anything. She doesn’t have to. She gives you her time, she gives you warm smiles and humming by the window even though it is all too cold. She gives you a purpose in life. What use would a silly Christmas gift be?

Tom gives you a beautiful satin black nightgown. You almost cry when you take it out of the bag and run your hands across the material.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile through teary eyes. You don’t expect the reaction from Lexi that you get.

“So now all of a sudden you want presents?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

You take a deep breath before looking out the window. You notice that no matter how wide and expansive it once was, it was now no bigger than a normal size window. You see the snow falling on the ground. You wish you and Lexi could make snow angels. A gentle squeeze on your hip from Tom and a snide comment from Lexi brings you back to reality.

“What does he give you that’s so special? Do you love him more than me?” She stands up and you drop the nightgown, standing to chase after her.

“No! Enjoy Christmas with Tom, he clearly means more to you,” Lexi storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. There is only six floorboards where there should be nine.

You don’t drink any eggnog and Lexi’s peppermint tea gets cold.

Tom carries you up the stairs, your head tucked into his neck, the nightgown clutched in your hands.

Because you aren’t walking up the steps, you don’t notice that there are only twelve instead of thirteen stairs.

That night you don’t do anything routine. He doesn’t change in the bathroom, you don’t kiss his cheek with a toothpaste smile.

Instead you cry while he helps you change. And he calls you beautiful even while you have tears running down your cheeks and the moon reflects the redness in your eyes. He feels that they almost glow red like his own. There is something deeply intimate in the gentle touch of his hands on your skin, taking your sweater off, unzipping and pulling down your pants. He is a gentleman, keeping his eyes on your face the entire time, kissing your forehead as he stands back up. He helps you hold your hands up and pull the nightgown on, kissing the palm of your hand to your inner elbow. Every touch sets your skin on fire. It distracts you from the aching in your ribs.

“I’m scared Tom,” you whisper.

“Why darling?” He asks as he pulls the covers over the two of you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and a leg over his own. It isn’t needed, he keeps you so warm there is a fire that burns incredibly deep inside of you, you can’t help but feel terrified that maybe it is filling your lungs with smoke. But even so, you would gladly let him.

You cry into Tom’s shoulder, “I think something’s wrong with Lexi.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, I feel like she’s changed.”

“Changed how?”

“Her personality. Like she’s harsher and she gets very angry easily. I don’t know, she’s different.”

You can’t help but notice the change that blanketed over 11 Blackthorne Road and its occupants. The way that there isn’t the right number of floorboards or the way Lexi snaps at you, the way the mirror is smaller than when you first moved in or the way you allow yourself to cry for the first time in years, and the way the window seems to draw smaller and smaller each day or the way the newest occupant never seems to move the foundation of the house.

“I know you think she’s different, but she’s 16 right?” Tom asks and you nod.

“Darling, like I said earlier, maybe she’s just being a moody teenager, I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Tom presses a burning kiss to your forehead and you fall asleep in his arms in your new nightgown. You almost don’t notice the way that you have to huddle close to Tom because the bed is getting smaller and smaller.

***

As the snow melts and the trees begin to perk up with beautiful green leaves, Lexi seems to be happier. At the very least she is eating. She insists on making her own meals, she always ate at the window before you wake up or when you are at work, but you notice the dishes from her food piled in the sink. She even makes grocery lists for you. You ask her if she wants to go with you one day. It is April, it’s been about two weeks since it last snowed.

You are standing at the sink, making small talk about an upcoming exhibit with Tom. You’re washing the dishes, he is drying them.

“Why?” Lexi crosses her arms over her chest and even though you aren’t looking, you know she is rolling her eyes.

“Just thought it would be nice for you to get out of the house, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Are you feeling okay?” You turn, nervous now. Maybe she is starting to feel sick again. Maybe she would feel another pain in her leg and you’d go to the hospital and the doctors would sit you both down and say ‘I know you thought you were cancer free Lexi, but cancer has a funny way of showing up at the most inconvenient of times’. You glance at Tom wearily, he rests the dish towel on his shoulder and moves a gentle hand to your waist.

“I don’t feel up to it today,” Lexi shrugs.

“Okay, anything else to add to the list?” You dry your hands on the dish towel, setting it back on Tom’s shoulder.

“Could you pick up those apples? Not the green ones, the like almost yellow ones?”

“Of course,” you nod and are taken aback when she hugs you, arms wrapped tight around you. You smile until you feel how cold and skinny she is, you pull back, “Why don’t you put on a sweater and close the window before you go back? You’re freezing.”

You hurry Tom along at the grocery store, afraid if you take too long and if you leave Lexi alone at 11 Blackthorne Road for much longer that she will sink into the blue window seat and never be seen again.

***

It is July and you take Tom to see the fireworks down at Salem Willows. You ask Lexi to come with you, but she shakes her head and says the noise would give her a headache. She blows up on you.

“Can you stop trying to get me to do things?” Lexi crosses her arms over her chest.

“I just miss all the fun things we used to do together Lex, don’t you? If you’re better now, why can’t you come with us?” You feel tears in your eyes.

“Just let me go when I’m ready! It’s not up to you if I feel up to going places! Why don’t you just forget about me and run off with Tom? You hardly pay attention to me anymore anyways.”

Lexi has to know that that wasn’t true. That you spend every single day waiting for the other shoe to drop, that you are terrified of this change that has crept inside of Lexi’s heart and makes her cold.

But you don’t want to argue with her. You will gladly let her yell at you now if it means that at some point in the future she would get the courage to go outside. See the fireworks, walk around town, visit you at work, go apple picking.

Tom guides you out of the house, you only count three stairs down the front porch. He keeps walking too quickly for you to stop and count them again.

Tom holds your hand as you walk through town, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin as you say hello to various people in town.

“It’s so nice to see you y/n,” your old high school English teacher hugs you, pulling back to smile at Tom, “and who might this charming young man be?”

“Name’s Tom miss, I’m y/n’s boyfriend,” he smiles as he slips his hand back into yours.

The word feels amazing coming from his lips, and spread a huge grin on your own as you lay out the blanket. Tom kisses you under the fireworks, his hand rests on your ribcage over your tank top, you cup his face, fingers brushing over his freckles.

You walk back home with your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hands intertwined and swinging between you. You don’t notice as you walk up two steps to the front door instead of four.

***

The leaves are beginning to change colors again, from crisp green to soft reds and oranges. People flock to the town of Salem at this time of year, the museum was always busy with tourists wanting to learn all about the Salem Witch Trials. It keeps you busy. You are starting to enjoy the times you aren’t at 11 Blackthorne Road. When you walk through the exhibits of the museum, telling people all about the history of your town. When Tom and you  walk hand in hand to the grocery store, he likes to kiss you in line at the check out, one hand on your hip, the other gently curled around your side, gliding up your ribs. You look forward to your grocery store trips.

When you walk home later that night, after a particularly long shift, Tom is sitting in the kitchen, you can smell peppermint tea and you shiver as you slip your shoes off by the front door. You pass the living room door, pausing when you notice the window is open. Lexi is probably going to catch a cold if she is sitting at the window the entire day, the cold air isn’t good for her. You tsk, attempting to rub warmth back into your arms as you count the floorboards to the window seat.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

There is supposed to be nine. You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head as you shut and lock the window. You promptly turn and count the floorboards as you walk back to the door.

Nine floorboards. You exhale as you walk to the kitchen. Tom is sitting on the wooden chair, you sit down opposite him in the blue metal one.

“How was work?” Tom asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Not bad, very busy, all these kids wanted to know if the Bloody Mary myth was true, I had to explain to them that it wasn’t. They kept asking me if all of this paranormal stuff was real, ghosts, demons, I had to bite my tongue,” you let out a laugh as Tom reaches his hand across the table and traces a line in your palm.

“Probably not the best idea to tell them that demons are real,” he smiles, biting his lip.

“Yeah, then they’d try to steal you away from me.”

“Never,” Tom trails his fingers up to the crease of your inner elbow and gently taps at the skin.

“Want to get ready for bed?”

“Sure, let’s go darling,” Tom rests a hand on your hip and follows you up the stairs. You don’t realize there are only twelve instead of thirteen steps.

You both brush your teeth in the bathroom, and he places a toothpaste covered kiss on your cheek, which you groan at and wipe off. You return the favor before rinsing your mouth out and making your way back to your bedroom.

You change into your nightgown, the black satin one Tom got you for Christmas almost a year ago. You have a warm smile on your face as Tom opens the door and walks towards the end of the bed, the moonlight casting a shadow across his face. It doesn’t scare you when you can’t see him fully and completely, it only brings a warmth to your belly when he stands right in front of the bed, the moon shining high above his head now.

“You keep saying that I’d find love Tom, but love was right in front of me this entire time,” you watch as he gets closer and closer to you.

You sit back against the headboard. You ignore the way it seems to warp against your body. You ignore the way his shadow on the far left wall is inverted and shorter than it should be. Or maybe it’s the wall that’s shorter? You scan the green wallpaper, the very top corner curling in on itself, shrinking.

“You love me?” He asks, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Your legs are stretched out in front of you, his knees almost touching your toes.

“I mean, I didn’t want to admit it for a long time, but you were the person I found love in. Is that such a bad thing?”

Tom smiles and shakes his head. “No, because I love you too.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No actually, after you said your sister was better, I figured I could leave. I would let you fall in love with that nice boy who works at the museum with you. He’s had a crush on you since high school you know?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you shake your head. You have no idea Jeremy even gives you the light of day. But he doesn’t matter. You love Tom. You love the way the moonlight curled around the side of his face, whispering up his jaw, across his cheek bone, trailing up his hair to rest gently above his head. It stands out against the green wallpaper, Tom’s biceps standing out against his white T-shirt, for a moment you swear the moonlight turns into a ring and sits atop his head like a halo. You gasp as his warm hands gently run up your legs and he settles between them.

“I love you too, I love you because of your selflessness. I love you because you let me into your life, a big scary demon, and you accepted me for that. You didn’t love me because of that. You didn’t love me despite that. You loved me as a completely separate entity from the worst quality I have that I can’t get rid of. You are the first person I’ve met in centuries of deals that has ever made me feel anything at all.”

“Tom,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you sit up. The headboard stays warped and you cup his cheeks in your hand, bringing his lips to your own.

“I love you because I can’t picture spending eternity anywhere but right next to you, on top of these blue sheets, making peppermint tea and eating apple cider donuts,” he admits when he pulls back slightly.

“I love you Tom,” you smile, focusing on his eyes instead of the way the wallpaper continues to curl in on itself, then the wall, slowly the door is closer to the bed than it should be. The moon reflects off the very top of the door instead of the corner of the room. He helps you lie back on the pillow. The headboard is smooth again.

“May I?” He asks, running his hand up your thigh, watching as you shiver beneath him.

“Please,” you nod, his fingers brush against the edge of your black nightgown.

He pushes the satin material up past your waist, kissing across the skin of your thigh, passing your underwear, trailing soothing kisses along the skin of your stomach, his chin lightly pressed against the top of your panties.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles and you whimper as his fingers inch higher and higher, hooking into your underwear, “may I?”

You nod, giving him permission with a breathy moan.

Tom can’t help but notice how bittersweet you taste.

You can only focus on one curl brushing down in front of his eyes, and the way one of his hands tightens on your thighs, leaving fingerprint bruises as you cry out his name. You are gasping for air when he brings you to completion. You are utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers inside of you and the way the moon reflects over the white door to your room.

But that isn’t where the moon should be. You glance over at your clock as Tom kisses up your body. It is 3am. The moon should be right in front of you, staring back at you. You close your eyes as Tom’s lips press against yours. You feel his fingers brush against your ribcage and you whimper as you remember the contract etched into your bones.

“Do you want me to stop?” His lips wet and red against your neck.

“No, please, I need your love Tom,” you feel hot wet tears on your cheeks and then his burning kisses taking them away.

“You have it,” he whispers, kissing you as you run your hands under his shirt, across his stomach to rest against his beating heart.

He sits up, helping you take his shirt off. His skin seems to be on fire, blotches of red patches stain his chest, you stare in awe as he helps you take your nightgown off.

“You’re so beautiful darling,” Tom whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

He takes off his sweatpants and underwear and when you wrap your legs around his waist and he fills you so completely, you swear you feel the edge of the bed creep up against your shoulder. You have to close your eyes as he buries his face in your neck because you’re afraid if you keep them open the bed will be reduced to something so small neither of you will fit. And you don’t want this moment to end because 11 Blackthorne Road decides to grow smaller in the most inconvenient way.

So you keep your eyes squeezed shut. And you don’t notice the hazy red glow of Tom’s eyes. You don’t notice the way the upper corner of the wallpaper curls away from the wall, revealing the old stained wood and insulation. You don’t notice the way the back legs of the bed scrape against the twelfth floorboard instead of the eighth. You don’t notice that the floorboards get thinner and thinner, that even though they seemed to multiply, the room continues to shrink.

You gasp into his mouth as you come, his hand seems to curl against your side, almost past your skin, past the muscle, like his fingers whisper against the bone, tracing the words he put there what seemed like so long ago.

You’re cold after everything. You thought Tom would’ve set your insides on fire like he always does, and he did, from the time his lips attached to your own and his hands ran up your sides. He reached inside of you with red wispy tendrils of fire. You are still cold. His arms are tight around your bare middle, but you are freezing cold.

You both clean up, he lets you wear his grey sweatpants after you pull the covers over both of you and you are still shivering in just your nightgown. Then you take that off and change into a sweater. When you open the closet to grab it, you falter for a moment. Your hand collides with solid wood where the doorknob should be. The doorknob is always on the right. The door swings open to the left. But now the doorknob is on the left. You close your eyes. You think of Tom’s fingers whispering hidden universes into your sides and his lips breathing beautiful smoke into your lungs. You allow the fire to settle in your stomach. You open your eyes and the doorknob is exactly where it should have always been. The door swings open to the left. You pull your sweater on and climb back into the homey indent your body made, curling up next to Tom. You rest a head on his bare chest and he maneuvers an arm around your shoulder.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

****

October 31st, 2020

You wake up with your head resting on Tom’s chest, it is peaceful, the sun shines in through the dull green curtains, illuminating the freckles and bumps and grooves in his skin. He is lying awake, his mind elsewhere until you speak.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re really an angel,” you smile into Tom’s bare chest as he runs a hand up and down your arm.

“Why’s that?”

“You gave me everything I could have ever wanted. You gave my sister the miracle of remission. You gave me love. Besides, I read about it. Demons are only supposed to give someone one thing in their deal. I’ve read about deals between humans and demons they’ve documented. None of them are given more than one thing in their deal. Tangible or otherwise.”

“What makes you think I gave you anything else?”

“What?” You sit up, pushing your back against the headboard and staring down at Tom. He rests his hand under his head and raises an eyebrow at you.

You feel a warp in your headboard that wasn’t there a moment ago. The wood seems to bend to the shape of your body and you pull away from it, standing up and scrambling to grab your bathrobe, pulling it over your suddenly all too cold body.

“What is it?” Tom asks, running his hand along the bedspread, the indent where you were just laying.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, stepping back, the floorboard is supposed to creak here, it always did when you stepped on it. The house is all too eerily quiet. You step forward, not because you want to go back towards Tom, but because you need to hear the tiny squeak that the floorboard always makes. It is the 5th floorboard that makes that noise.

There’s a sharp pain in your ribs as you stumble back, “what’s happening?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Tom’s voice is laced with pain as he sits up and the bed groans.

“Couldn’t tell me what?” Tears sting your eyes as Tom stands up. You glance at his side of the bed. The headboard isn’t warped. There’s no homey indent in the soft blue sheets. He takes a step towards the end of the bed, towards you. The eighth floorboard squeaks. Or is it the seventh? Your eyes wander to the faded green wallpaper, scanning to the baseboard running along the bottom of the wall. You count the floorboards with bated breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Tom is standing on the eighth floorboard.

When you first inherited the house, after your parents died and you and Lexi packed up your things and moved to this old plot of land that belonged to your mom’s family for centuries, you felt like this room was the largest room in the entire house.

It has a huge lovely window opposite the door, dusty green curtains that to this day, no matter how many times you washed them, still collected dust easier than it reasonably should have. You should have known though. Nothing in this house is reasonable. Not even yourself.

Now the window seems to be hardly the size of a piece of paper. You could barely look out of it. You notice how the curtains would make a lovely scarf.

The dark oak floorboards were wide and ran horizontally from the window to the door.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

The floorboards seem to get thinner and thinner. Even as you counted them, a watchful eye inspecting their change down to the millimeter. They are sneaky. But they shrink anyway.

Tom shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The 8th floorboard creaks again.

It doesn’t make sense, it is your side of the bed that has the creaky floorboards. And it isn’t the 8th, it is the 5th, it was always the 5th. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. On the exhale you shift your weight and the floorboard under you creaks

Your eyes dart to the baseboard and you begin to count again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

You look at the floorboards underneath your feet, just as wide as when you dragged this old bed up here years ago. The fifth floorboard creaks underneath you.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Tom’s eyes are nothing but full of concern as he joins you on the fifth floorboard, resting his hands on your shoulders so he could look you in the eyes.

“What couldn’t you tell me Tom?” Your voice raises as your hands shake at your sides.

“The last good day,” he breathes out, as if saying that lifted this incredible weight off his shoulders.

“What do you mean? Come on, don’t talk like that, just say what you mean to say.”

“Your sister, her last good day. October 29th, 2019.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was her last good day. She sat on the window seat, it was still worn down and indented from how often she would sit in it. She drank peppermint tea and read Frankenstien. It was an old copy,  one you found at a bookstore on Main Street when she begged you for new books to read during chemotherapy. She’s had to have read that book hundreds of times. It was one of the only books she read.”

“Stop, Tom, what are you saying?”

Tom just smiles sadly and continues, “You went to give her her pain medication, she just smiled at you and said she didn’t need it. That she wasn’t in pain. She said that maybe later that day the two of you could go apple picking. You laughed, it seemed like a ridiculous request, she hasn’t walked without a walker or stepped foot outside of the house in over a year. She wanted to go apple picking? And then she looked at you and shook her head, she said that ‘today, y/n, I can do anything I want.’ You ruffled her hair, and she scowled but she secretly loved it. You agreed with her, said that you could drink apple cider and eat apple cider donuts, that maybe you couldn’t pick the apples, but the apples could come to you instead. Then you told her you were going to run to the store, you needed to pick up those groceries. She said she loved you, and you said ‘love you too Lex’.”

“Tom, stop,” your lower lip trembles as bits and pieces of that day come flashing through your mind.

You remember a skip in your step as you walked back to the house, a bag of apples in one hand, in the other were a box of apple cider donuts and a half gallon of apple cider. You were going to be sick of apples after that day, but you didn’t mind because Lexi wanted apples. You remember the way the police sirens signaled to you the end of the world. You remember the way the red and blue ambulance lights reflected against the trees lining the dirt road up to your house. You remember dropping the apples, stumbling over them and crushing one underneath your foot. You remember dropping the apple cider and donuts, the cider splashed against your pant leg as you took off in a sprint towards your house.

You remember the noise you made, the high pitched scream as your knees collapsed beneath you and they told you she was gone.

“Lexi,” you gasp, pulling away from Tom’s hold and running out of the room, you run down the hallway, it seems to narrow, the area where the staircase was is now a small pin in the distance. You keep running. You’re out of breath by the time you get to the stairs. You count them as you gasp for air.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

You stumble and fall to the wooden floor, there is supposed to be a thirteenth stair. There has always been a thirteenth stair.

Tom’s footsteps tumble down the stairs behind you as you struggle to stand up.

“Y/N, please, wait!” Tom shouts as you run towards the living room. You run right past the door. It’s supposed to be here, you stop and turn, face to face with the light yellow wallpaper that wraps around the hallway down towards the kitchen.

You take two steps back, why is the door here now? Tom watches your confusion. Is the house getting smaller? Each pass down the hallway the living room door seems to inch closer and closer to the front door.

You throw the door open, eyes landing on the empty blue window seat. The soft indent where Lexi usually sat is no longer worn down, you run to it, almost colliding with it. It should be nine floorboards away from you but it is only six. You fall to the ground as your fingers grasp at the soft material of the seat.

“You only gave me one thing,” you gasp for air, trying to smell the familiar scent that seems to seep into the walls of 11 Blackthorne Road. Peppermint tea. Golden apples.

“I couldn’t have given you what you wanted,” Tom says, kneeling down next to you.

You feel tears drip down your cheeks as you remember.

You signed your sister’s body over to the medical examiner, Lexi always insisted her body be donated for science when she died. You had to give her what she wanted. You almost didn’t sleep that night, you curled up on the blue window seat with her Frankenstein book. That very next morning, you woke up to a gentle nudge on your shoulder.

“That’s my seat,” Lexi smiles at you, snatching the book from your hands.

“I couldn’t give you Lexi’s remission. She was gone when you decided to summon me.”

“You’re lying,” You shake your head, “that was a nightmare, the next morning she was there, she took the book from my hands and sat back down in her seat. She asked me for her pain medications and her peppermint tea. I knew I had to help her, help her more than I ever had. And I did! I found you! You made her better! You took away her pain!”

“Where is she now? If she’s alive where is she now?” Tom asks, he’s pleading with you.

“She’s gone for a walk, she wanted to, she wanted to go apple picking. You know what? She’ll be back soon, I should make her some tea before she gets back,” you brush Tom’s hands off your shoulders and stand up. There’s an indent where Lexi sat. You busy yourself counting the steps towards the kitchen. There should be twenty eight. Exactly. You catch yourself before you can almost walk right out the back door.  You turn and walk back to where the living room door is. Then you walk towards the kitchen again. Sixteen steps to the entrance. You don’t have time to recount, you know what 11 Blackthorne Road is doing by now. You know it is closing in on you. But you don’t have time to fret. Lexi would be back soon. You have to get her tea started.

You turn on the stove, setting the kettle on top of the flame. You step one foot to the left to grab the peppermint tea from its spot in the cabinet, you tilt your head because the cabinet isn’t there anymore and take a half a foot to the right. Was the cabinet always this skinny? It seems to stretch upwards for a mile, you have to reach up on your tiptoes to grab the box. It is empty.

“Tom! I’m going to run to the store to pick up some peppermint tea, turn the stove off when the water finishes boiling!”

You count twenty eight steps to the living room door. You slip off your bathrobe and hang it on the staircase, slipping into your shoes. You tug at your wool sweater, the sleeves hung at the tips of your fingers and as you shut the door to 11 Blackthorne Road behind you you have to wrap your arms tightly around yourself. The autumn breeze nips at your skin as you kick a rock down the old dirt road. You pass the crossroads where you met Tom all that time ago. You continue walking as goosebumps rise on your skin. You buy three boxes of peppermint tea. It’s best to stock up, that way you won’t have to leave Lexi alone too often. The woman ringing you out smiles sadly as you tell her your sister is out apple picking and you are going to make her a nice warm cup of tea for when she comes home. You kick the same rock back down the dirt road. You pay attention to that rather than the billowing smoke rising up from 11 Blackthorne Road. You look up, red embers reflected in your irises.

Tom stands amongst the flames, hand outstretched, beckoning, inviting.

You drop the paper bag from your hand.

You watch as the house gets smaller, the wooden shingles of the roof burn, the wispy green curtains seem to evaporate, the porch steps engulfed in flames, fire whispering up the sides of Tom’s dark blue dress pants.

You run your hand along the wood of the mailbox, fingers tracing the ‘11’ of 11 Blackthorne Road. A jagged piece catches your thumb, tearing the skin. You watch the blood drip onto the dirt in front of you.

You notice there are only two steps up to the porch. You squeeze your eyes shut and think of the flames that Tom’s fingertips always seemed to draw out from your ribs. You think of the way his lips felt on your own. You think of the hazy red glow in his eyes that you ignored. You think of the moonlight shining over his head, etching along the green wallpaper of your bedroom as he showed you how much he loves you. You think of the words that tumbled easily from your mouth and the bulging throats of the yellow wallpaper of your kitchen. You think of how much you love him, the curl of his fingers against your ribs, the gentle brush of his lips against your skin, the soft brown curls that always managed to fall into his eyes so you could brush them away, the toothpaste kiss he would press to your cheek. You open your eyes again. There are four steps leading up to Tom, like there always were.

How easy would it be to slip your fingers into the space between Tom’s. How incredibly easy would it be to let him press a burning kiss to your forehead. How terribly easy would it be to collapse in on yourself as the house at 11 Blackthorne Road collapsed in on you.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

***

Tagging people who liked my post about this: @kickingn-ames​ // @littlekidsteve​ // @parker-holland-osterfield​ // @rebekkah4766​ // @mysmileyspideyboi​ // @beelzebubsgirl666​ // @sexytholland​ // @definitely-not-black-cat​ // @goofycactusbear // @truly-y0urs // @bombing-daisies​ // @hollandcreep​ // @bi-infinity 

[chibinekochan]

I'm curious how the boys would react when they try to flirt with MC kinda like :"There's someone who likes to go on a date with you". But MC reply was :" nah, dating is annoying" (sorry my English is bad)

I get what you mean. My english isn't great either. I'm fluent but grammar is still a big mystery to me.

Asmodeus

After some less than subtle flirting between you two. 

Asmo just says nonchalantly. "Hey, there is someone that would love to go on a date with you." 

It's very obvious to everyone, but you, that he refers to himself. 

You laugh. "No thank you. Dating is annoying."

Asmos's face falters for a moment, slightly disappointed. 

Then he catches himself. "You are right. Let's just skip the date and get right to the action." 

Well, who needs dates anyway? 

Mammon

You are joking around with some friends, including Mammon. 

The topic of dates comes up. 

Mammons ears perk up. 

One of your friends says, while glancing at Mammon:" You know there is someone who wants to date you right?" 

You don't get who they mean and just brush it off. "Dating is so annoying, no thank you."

Mammons' heart shatters, you could probably hear it breaking. 

He has a hard time keeping it together. 

It only would have been worse if you would date someone else. 

Mammon calls it a night very soon after that. 

You are a bit worried, since he did seem a bit down. 

You text him later to figure out what happened. 

You: Hey, did anything happen? 

Mammon: Nope, everything is alright. 

You: Mammon! 

Mammon: Alright...it's just, you know, did you mean that about dating? 

You: Mammon you know that I only would date one guy. 

Mammon: Who is it? I will punch him! *angry emoji*

You: You have to punch yourself then. 

Mammon: Wait you mean ME?! 

You: Of course, or do you think I just go around kissing random guys? Now move your butt over here and I will show you. 

Mammon: Alright, just gimme a sec. 

Mammon is over the moon. 

Leviathan

You play some online games with him. 

You are together in the same guild and currently in a raid with some team members. 

You all use voice chat and then the conversation somehow ends up being about dating. 

Everyone and their cat knows at this point that Levi has a huge crush on you, well even you are a bit suspicious at this point but you don't mean to pressure Levi. 

Your mates, on the other hand, keep teasing the poor guy. 

One of them asks you. "You know there is someone who wants to date you."

You somehow assume they mean themselves. 

"Dates are annoying." You say this just to brush them off. You had no idea that Levi was even listening. 

Levi did hear it and honestly it breaks his heart. 

He had slowly built up his confidence to ask you out on a date. There goes that plan. 

After your game session you meet up with Levi in his room and you have already planned this ahead of time. 

Once you arrive you notice that Levi seems a bit down. 

You won't let him be mopey. 

"Levi did something happen to you?" 

"Not really." Levi is unusual tight-lipped. Very unusual for him. 

"Come on, you know you can tell me everything." You feel very concerned. 

Levi sighs, he can't hide anything from you. "It's not a big deal. I just kinda overheard something earlier and well it kinda bugs me."

"Did someone tease you again? I swear, I'm gonna kick them!" You grow protective over your demon boy. 

Levi is flustered that you would go this far for him. 

"I can deal with that on my own, regardless of how amazing that would be to see. I mean it's well... what you said about dates…"

Now you understand and grin. 

"Ah, I see you heard that. Don't worry Levi, that was just directed at anyone but you." You give him a small wink. 

Levi becomes very red. "You are such a tease, you know that, right?" 

"Only as long as you give me such reactions." You tease some more.

Levi plays with his headphone cable, then he summons all of his strength. 

"So you would go on a date with me?" He is hesitant to ask but this is the perfect chance. 

You give him a huge smile. "Of course. I thought you would never ask." 

Leviathan is very happy to hear this. He is proud that he finally asked, despite your teasing. 

Lucifer

You are with him and the rest of his brothers in the living room. 

Chatting about this and that. Nothing too important. 

Then the topic of dates comes up. 

Of course it does, it always does. 

Honestly, you are sick of it. 

You don't know it, but Lucifer perks up when one of them asks you. 

"Well, you know there is someone that is interested in dating you." 

You don't know who they mean but frankly you are tired of just playing along. 

Lucifer is ready to jump in if you feel uncomfortable. 

You just coldly reply. "No thank you, dating is annoying." You just want to end this whole conversation. 

Lucifer looks at you, of course you would say something unexpected like this. 

He notices that his brothers just keep joking as always. Typical really, but at least they don't bug you. 

Later you leave to return to your room. 

Then you notice Lucifer. 

"So dating is annoying?" Lucifer has a smug expression. 

"Well, not if the one I'm dating is you of course."

You smile back at your boyfriend. 

"They are always like this you know that."

"I know and I don't mind. I know you have my back."

"Of course. I love you after all." Lucifer looks at you, with love in his gaze. 

"I love you too." 

You both kiss and then you go to bed. 

Satan

He happens to overhear a conversation between you and a classmate. 

Satan doesn't want to snoop but he is curious. 

"Is there someone who wants to date you?" Your classmate asks you. 

You roll your eyes. "I have no interest in dating." You just brush your classmate off. 

Your classmate doesn't press any further and soon enough the conversation is elsewhere. 

Not wanting to be caught listening to your conversation Satan goes to his room. 

He feels a bit frustrated after hearing that. 

Satan wonders if he should bring it up to you or not. 

Were you serious or not? This question bothers him. 

Later you come to his room, you had scheduled to study with him tonight. 

Satan seems very distracted by something. 

"Is something bothering you Satan?" You worry about him, you think there must be something that is on his mind. 

"Well not bothering per se. It's more of a nagging feeling."

"That's kinda the same thing isn't it?" 

"I suppose. You know I just been thinking about dates and I wonder if you are up for it?" 

"You mean dating in general or dating you, Satan?" 

"Well that depends on your answer."

You think for a moment and guess what he wants to ask. "I'm not generally interested, unless it's you we are talking about."

"Would you date me?" Satan has no choice but to ask you directly. 

"Yes of course Satan." 

You both smile and are glad that it has finally been asked. 

Beelzebub

You talk about something random with the other brothers. 

The topic of dates comes up. 

It's no big secret that Beelzebub likes you, everyone knows. 

He just hasn't admitted it to himself quite yet. 

One of the brothers decides to ask you anyways. "Hey, you know there is someone who would love to date you."

Obviously thinking it's about them and not Beel you reply. "It's not going to happen. Dating is annoying."

Hearing this just doesn't sit right with Beel. 

It bothers him for some reason. 

It's your turn to cook tonight, naturally Beel helps you out. 

The conversation from earlier is still on his mind. 

You notice that Beelzebub seems a bit off. 

"Is there something that is bothering you?" 

Beelzebub is still trying to figure everything out so he just tells you what is on his mind. "I don't know but I feel a bit off since earlier."

"Are you getting sick? When did you start feeling off?" 

Beelzebub thinks for a moment. "I don't think I'm getting sick, it happened earlier when we all were talking in the living room."

"Hmmm maybe something upset you then?" 

Beelzebub goes over everything that has been said. Nothing seems to stand out at first glance but then he recalls the first moment he started to feel off. 

Then it suddenly hits him. 

"Ah, I get it now. I felt upset because you said you wouldn't want to date. Alright I feel better already. " Beelzebub feels relieved now that he figured it out. 

You almost stop breathing after hearing this. 

"Wait, hold on a second. Why would that upset you?" 

"That's because I want to date you of course, well I guess I won't now." Beelzebub accepts this so matter of fact that it takes you back. 

You are surprised to say the least. You take a breath to calm down. "I only said that to get them off my back. I would date you of course Beel."

"Are you sure about that?" 

"Yeah, of course. I really like you Beel. I mean why else would I draw ketchup hearts on all of your food?" 

Beelzebub nods. "That's a good point. Let's 

date then." 

Beel beams at you and you smile at him. 

Belphegor

You sit together when he brings the topic of dates up. 

"You realize that someone wants to date you right?" 

You know him long enough to figure that he is only teasing you. "So what? Dating is super annoying." You declare with a winning smile. 

Belphie pouts a bit, not getting the reaction he intended. 

"So you aren't interested?" He keeps poking. 

"Nope, not at all."

"Not even if the demon is really handsome and really into you?" Belphie smiles smugly. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh where, is this handsome demon? When can I meet them?" You won't play Belphies games. 

He shakes his head. "You don't know?" 

"I have no idea who you are talking about." You know that he is only playing with you. 

"Really? Are you blind? I mean you must know." Belphie keeps pouting, seemingly annoyed. 

"I won't know unless you tell me."

"You are no fun tonight." Belphie turns his pout up to 11.

"Fine, I will bite. It's you isn't it?" You roll your eyes, knowing that he will just tease you. 

Belphie smiles. "Yes, it's me. You get 5 points and win a date with yours truly."

Somehow you find this kinda cute, in his own way he is trying. 

"You know you can just ask me on a date but fine I will accept my price."

Belphie is satisfied with this outcome.

Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapters 269-270.  The cliff notes meta edition.

This will be a less detailed meta as I’ve just been spread too thin recently and the current events of the manga have been underwhelming to me, making it harder to engage with the content.

Having an online presence has been a double-edged sword for me and as we mark 1 year of pandemic life, it is hard for me to invest as much time in it since I have to do so many more things online for work.  Sitting down to write meta isn’t as fun and relaxing as it once was when you have 7 zoom meetings over the course of several days. Add on the fact that I have not left the county were I live since February 2020 nor I have a seen any of my family or friends . . . yeah writing meta isn’t a much of a priority.  As an aside, I think more people need to be stating that being ‘productive’ and ‘leveling up’ during these times is either unrealistic and even more damaging by creating completely unrealistic expectations of how we should respond to things.

[steps off of soapbox]

Chapter 269, quickly shows us how the chaos that Tsurumi unleashed on the divided Ainu resulted in a tragedy and Wilk is the only one who managed to survive the massacre.

Tsurumi is able to sort out that there were eight Ainu, and that Wilk staged his own death by working quickly to conceal the identity of the dead partially by removing the eyes. 

Kikuta is the first one to find the man who dies soon after discovery and Tsurumi seems to be in awe of Wilk’s escape plan.

KIkuta also shows he’s a more empathetic individual worried about how they contributed to the death of Ariko’s father.  Did Tsurumi push Kikuta away after the war since he knew Kikuta would feel bad about doing the ‘things’ needed to be done for the gold?

It further highlights that Usami and Kikuta were never on the same page.  I do like how the following page shows both Kikuta and Ariko continuing to tie the narrative that Kikuta feels a connection with the younger man.  Shiraishi and Sugimoto spot Ariko, calling him Ariko Ipopte, which is an interesting choice to use a hybrid name for him.  Kikuta uses his full Japanese name, while these men use a mix.

The final panel showing a reflective looking Kikuta walking alone in the rain really emotional connects with the grief surrounding all of this unnecessary death.  Tsurumi sought to be a leader of men by giving them love and being the stand in father for them.  I think that Kikuta is the character who is the natural and honest father figure - we know he has a deep relationship with Ariko and we also know he has some sort of connection to Sugimoto.

Tsurumi continues his ‘discussion’ of events with Asirpa and Sofia.  Tsurumi has such a complicated relationship with Wilk.  He’s both in awe of the man’s determination to survive but at the same time he wanted him destroyed at such a great cost.

Tsurumi really lays on the guilt to Asirpa that Wilk did everything to protect her - under the assumption that she’d be unfairly treated if her father had killed all of those men.  Perhaps that is the case, perhaps not.  It seems contradictory to his own actions where he gave Ogin and the Lighting Bandit’s child to Huci to care for it.  He has this weird approach to the impact of the ‘sins of the parents’ on the child  . . .

Tsurumi doggedly pursues Wilk and they immediately recognize each other and he flees onto the lake with his canoe.  By shooting at Wilk, he forces him to capsize the canoe and items sink down into the lake.  Honestly, I’m not sure what Tsurumi was hoping to achieve by this - make him swim so that he could capture him more easily.  We don’t know how skilled Tsurumi is with a rifle and I’d be more concerned about killing Wilk and loosing the information.  It seems reckless in my opinion since the ultimate outcome was Wilk appealing to Inudou thus achieving protection from the 7th.

I think Tsurumi was fueled and blinded by his emotions which only made things more complicated and drew the hunt for the gold out even longer (to the present time).

The rest of the chapter explains how Kiro felt.  First, the grief at the loss of Wilk, trying to move on my having a family, but ultimately coming back to realize that Wilk was still alive after the war.  Really, Wilk underestimated Kiro’s intelligence since he figured out that Kimuspu was the seventh man, not Wilk.  As a Kiro fan, I of course favor him, but he really showed he’s a good leader and actually willing to take risks.  What is most important is that having a family only lead him to want to fight for them - even more.

Kiro sees the flaw in Wilk’s plan of Hokkaido as an independent unit as a place for various native peoples, while ignoring all of the logistical issues that Kiro already pointed out to him previously.  The Far Eastern Federation has the flaw that it is connected by land to Russia, but would me much harder to lay siege to.  But Hokkaido as an island could easily be cut off - and with not much industry within itself, you still can’t do a whole lot with all of those raw materials if you can get industrial technologies from elsewhere.  If it were blockaded they’d be screwed.  Sure, you wouldn’t starve, but you wouldn’t be able to advance quickly.  All that gold and nowhere to spend it.

Thus, Kiro believed he was acting in regard to their original goals and had no choice but to remove Wilk from the equation.  As Wilk had become the very wolf that he had observed as a child and played with its pelt.  That is some next level foreshadowing by Noda, if I do say so.

In the end, Kiro remained much more committed to their fight as partisans than Wilk did.  You have to give it to him, he stuck to his original plans and he died believing he did the right thing.  Now, looking back at how upset Sofia was when she first saw Kiro, we know why she slapped him in the first place.  I’ll take it to mean that she was upset by Kiro’s actions but at the same time understood what he did.  But then Sofia let it go, as she would soon go on to also speak fondly of Wilk and his desire to be like the wolves.  Therefore, I don’t think Sofia was completely angry with Kiro, instead she knew the decision that was made and perhaps, she too, would have understood that there were divided in their goals once they moved on with their lives.

The next chapter starts off with the bottle mobile boys and Ariko on horseback as they determine what to do next.  Sugimoto is amazingly still not rushing in like a maniac which is out of character for him.  Are you okay Sugimoto?  Or have your encounters with Kikuta and Boutarou begun to have an impact on you without being aware of it?

The settle on letting Ariko go ahead, even though he doesn’t answer their question.  I’d say he doesn’t have a clue what side he is on.  He likely cares about Kikuta.  But he wants to see Asirpa succeed since he feels ashamed by his own approach towards life in Hokkaido as an Ainu.

Off he goes alone to figure out how to rescue Asirpa.  Really, a terrible idea since sure he’s a tough guy, but we don’t know what his fighting skills are like in the first place. . . . At least he isn’t a hothead, so sending him in alone will be less of a disaster than Sugimoto.

The action returns to Tsurumi trying to turn up the heat on Asirpa.  She asks him about Kiro’s fingerprints at the crime scene - a lie that Tsurumi fed to Inkarmat to get her to help him.  He writes it off as him doing a good thing for her - she closed a chapter of her life - then again - he doesn’t know that Koito let Tanigaki and Inkarmat escape.  The next several pages are a slow psychological technique that builds up to Tsurumi reveling that the bullet that killed Fina and Olga had been from Wilk’s pistol.  Dum da duuum!

So, according to Tsurumi it is Wilk’s fault all those Ainu died.  That he should have never left Russia for Japan.  That even his time in Russia resulted in Fina and Olga’s deaths.  Everything is Wilk’s fault!

This page ends with how Tsukishima let go of the woman he had loved and his memory of her - yet Tsurumi kept the bullet and the finger bones of his family!  We can see that Tsukishima is barely holding it together, so upset by this knowledge!

As a master manipulator of people, Tsurumi thanks Sofia for what she has contributed to the story - he can help her feel better by telling her that she did not kill his wife and child. . . .  on no, he only uses it as a way to add even more pressure on Asirpa!

To Tsurumi, Asirpa is no child, she is the direct tie to all of his anger and pain and his twisted soul.  

I mean, he kept Wilk’s skinned face and he’s using it to get her to break! What is more interesting is after the initial shock, Sofia quickly regains her calm while Asirpa - well she’s clearly buying into Tsurumi’s explanation of things.

She is thinking about how her father ‘turned’ Tsurumi into the person he is before her . . . . I’d be willing to say that Wilk influenced Tsurumi - as much as Tsurumi influenced Wilk.  Yet, Tsurumi as a human being is responsible for his decisions and he alone can respond to them in a constructive or destructive way.  It is clear Tsurumi went for the latter.

Sofia’s calm in this pressure situation is clear as she asks him if it was for revenge.  She’s a smart woman and has lived long enough to see these types of things through.

Tsukishima is ready to kill Tsurumi - it would make him a hypocritical leader - having him let go of his own earthly attachments only to serve a man bent on revenge.  Koito is listening closely as well, unsure of how he’s going to respond.

Tsurumi makes it clear he could have killed Asirpa any number of times.  I think this is another case of Tsurumi playing a verbal slight of hand.  He’s asked if he’s doing this out of revenge, and his answer is - I haven’t killed her yet.  Gee, based on how messed up you are Tsurumi, we both know that there is more than one way to take revenge. Killing someone in retribution is one way to take revenge or the worse way - make their life a living hell.  It is clear that Tsurumi is going for the second one to break Asirpa.

There is a dramatic two page spread as he explains that he is doing this for Japan - and the implied increasing militaristic activities of the late Meiji government to expand their domain.

If feels - like a performance to me as a reader.  The pages are remarkably light in tone giving it an optimistic and feeling of purity.  Yet, Tsurumi is a broken and corrupt man . . . cruel in his intentions.  He only says this as a way to combat anyone who were to contradict him . . . .

It is too perfect - too convenient - too good for Koito and Tsukishima to believe in my own opinion. As both of the men seem relived to have heard these very words as a type of closing statement.

Tsukishima looks relived that Tsurumi is continuing on the behalf of all of their fallen comrades and families.  Again, this sounds too perfect like Tsurumi’s speech isn’t for Asirpa nor Sofia, it is for Koito and Tsukishima who are eavesdropping.  Since Tsurumi is a next level planner/manipulator he likely came up with this well rehearsed speech to placate all issues around his inability to move on from his family’s death.  It makes him look mature and that he’d moved on from his more basic human needs.

Koito looks like he’s trying really hard to believe Tsurumi and how Tsurumi’s words would comfort Tsukishima.  But is that how you really feel Koito?  That face looks - so - fake.  Like Koito is overdoing it again and is actually unsure how to react.  So, he he looks elated, Tsukishima will feel better - or something.

What I really want to know is why they are just there hiding and watching Tsurumi?  If they are wanting to think independently and beyond Tsurumi why do it while hiding?  It seems no matter what either man may think, they are still under Tsurumi’s thumb as far as how they react to his behavior and the current events.

And I’m gonna have to hold things here while I find a way to read the  more recent chapters with non-shady software to decompress the files since I’ve been using Mangadex the entire time I’ve been reading GK (in addition to the english versions of previous chapters).

[wistfulcynic]

The Meet-Cute, Part One

In which Ruby decides that what Emma’s love life needs is a good old-fashioned meet-cute, and sets about arranging one for her. Or two, or three, or six...whatever, she’ll set up however many it takes for her friend to meet The One. But it may turn out that Emma doesn’t need any help finding The One after all...

Rating: T Words: 5.2k (first chapter)

On AO3

-

LOOK @optomisticgirl I WROTE THE THING.

Also, @ohmightydevviepuu, @shireness-says, and @distant-rose you are complicit in the writing of the thing.

-

PART ONE:

“What you need, Emma Swan, is a meet-cute.”

Emma swallowed a sigh but couldn’t hold back the accompanying eye-roll. “I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I need.”

“No, hear me out,” Ruby insisted, her eyes alight with excitement. “This is actually perfect for you.”

Emma let the sigh go this time, reminding herself firmly that Ruby was her best friend and had been for years.

“All right,” she said. “Tell me why I need a meet-cute.”

“Yesssss,” said Ruby. “Okay, listen. There’s nobody at work you’re interested in dating, right?”

“My co-worker is literally my brother.”

“Yeah that’s kind of what I meant. Most people meet their future spouses at work—”

“That’s not a real statistic.”

“—but—yes, it is real—but there’s no one at work for you and that’s not likely to change, so you have to look elsewhere. Now, the next most common place to meet someone is where you live—

“Seriously, you’re just making this stuff up.”

“—but there’s no one for you there, either,” Ruby pressed on, ignoring her. “No cute guys across the hall—“

“No straight ones anyway.”

“—and seeing as you are for some strange reason dead-set against online dating—”

“I absolutely am.” Emma shuddered at the hideous thought.

“—which actually does work, by the way.”

“It doesn’t. You and Mulan are just outliers.”

“Look, Emma, don’t knock the matchmaking power of Good Omens Discord chats until you try them.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“Well then,” Ruby declared, in a voice that suggested she thought she’d won the argument. “That leaves you with no option but the meet-cute.”

“Really, that’s my only option?”

“Just think about it, Emma.” Ruby’s eyes grew dreamy. “Adorable mix-ups in coffee shops… picking up the wrong leash at the dog park…”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“…you both reach for the last croissant…”

“Where am I going to find a croissant in Storybrooke?”

“The last bear claw then, the pastry is really beside the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“The point is that you meet someone and it’s fucking cute, okay? And then you fall in love and live happily ever after.”

“Or I could just, you know, go on as I am, not meeting anyone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman,” said Ruby sternly. “Do you want to live the rest of your life alone?”

Emma shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.” Better than being stuck with someone she didn’t love, just for some dumb reason like—

“Do you want Henry to grow up without a father?”  

—like giving her son a decent man in his life.

“Henry has a father,” she reminded Ruby. One he hadn’t seen for the best part of a year, but still.  

“Do you want Henry to grow up without a father figure who isn’t a massive douche?” amended Ruby. Emma sighed again.

“Neal does the best he can,” she insisted.

Ruby snorted. “Sure he does.”

“He does, really. He’s just… not cut out to be a parent.”

“Well, that’s for sure.”

But Emma didn’t blame Neal for being a shit dad, though she knew her friends and family did. It wasn’t his fault it was hers, for stupidly falling for and getting knocked up by a guy whose ‘best’ was showing up once or twice a year to shower Henry with presents and promises before disappearing again without a word a few weeks later. At first it had broken both their hearts—Henry’s from disappointment and Emma’s from anger and guilt over his disappointment—but Henry was twelve now and starting to learn that the parents he adored were human and flawed, and to adjust his expectations accordingly. Emma had to admit that it was a relief not to have to cover Neal’s ass anymore by trying to make excuses for him, however deeply she regretted Henry’s loss of innocence.

And yeah, it would be nice not to have to raise her kid alone. Neal got to be the fun parent, buying Henry all the stuff she couldn’t afford and taking him on trips to exciting places, leaving Emma to enforce bedtimes and check homework and try to make Henry eat the vegetables she herself hated. Having someone else around, a real adult she could rely on to share those responsibilities with her, that would be good. Great, really. Wonderful, in fact. But dating was hard enough without having to start it off by explaining that even though you yourself weren’t yet thirty you came in a two-for-one deal with a near-teenager, and Emma had had far too many first dates end early and awkwardly to hold out much hope that she would ever meet the man of her dreams, be it cute or any other way.

“I appreciate the thought, Rubes, I really do,” she said. “But I’m just not looking for anyone right now.”

“But don’t you see?” Ruby cried. “That’s the best time to meet someone—when you’re not looking.”

Emma threw up her hands. “You are impossible and I’m not talking about this with you anymore. I’ve got to get back to work anyway.”

“All right.” Ruby shrugged and let the subject drop, but the glint that still remained in her eye warned Emma that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

—

Before she returned to work after her lunch with Ruby, Emma stopped by the library. Belle wasn’t at her usual spot behind the desk so Emma ventured into the stacks on her own, in search of some books that would help Henry with his school project on the solar system. She was standing in the astronomy section with her hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans, frowning at the frankly baffling array of options when a voice spoke just to her left.

“Can I help you find something?” it said.

Emma turned with a smile that stalled abruptly as her mouth dropped open. “Um,” she said, blinking in confusion at the blue eyes and dark hair that very definitely did not belong to Belle, and the bright smile that took her breath away. “I actually could use some help, but—sorry, but do you work here?”

The owner of the voice—and the hair and the eyes—laughed. “I do, for the moment at least.”

“Did something happen to Belle?”

“To her grandfather, apparently,” he replied. “I’m not sure of the details but Belle told me she had to go back to Australia for family reasons.”

“Oh. I didn’t hear anything about that.”

The man’s eyebrow twitched in a small frown. “Well, it was quite at the last minute, so she probably didn’t have time to tell everyone. But I’d spoken to her recently and mentioned I was looking for a quiet place to spend a few weeks’ holiday and so when she asked if I could come here and cover for her for a while, I gladly agreed.”

“And why would she call you?” Emma nearly flinched at the harshness in her tone but the man’s smile widened and his eyes twinkled, sucking even more air from her lungs.

“We’re old friends from library school,” he explained, as Emma struggled for breath. “My name’s Killian Jones.”

His smile began to crumble as Emma just stood and stared at him, until she managed to shake herself out of her breathless haze and smile back. “Emma  Swan,” she said. “I’m the town sheriff.”

“Ah.” Killian’s grin brightened again, and Emma thought vaguely that he should really have a licence for that thing. “That explains all the questions.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. We don’t get many new faces in Storybrooke and, well—”

“Aye, of course, you can’t be too careful.”

“Um, right. Exactly.”

“Well, Sheriff Swan,” said Killian, with an absurd little waggle of his eyebrows, “I can assure you that haven’t broken any laws, but then I did only arrive in town last night so there’s still plenty of time.”

Emma laughed. She couldn’t help it, his goofy humour and ridiculous eyebrows were too charming. “But if you broke the law I’d have to lock you up,” she replied, and fucking hell was she flirting with him?

He seemed to think so, if the way his eyes glinted as he leaned in closer was any indication. “I might not mind being locked up, if you promised to stay and guard me,” he murmured.

Emma’s breath caught again at the look in his eyes, the edge of danger behind the flirty charm. “Do you talk like this to all library patrons?” she asked, cursing the raspiness in her voice.

“Definitely not. It’s highly unprofessional, but then there’s not much else I can say when you still haven’t answered my question.”

She swallowed hard. “Wh—what question?”

“Can I help you find anything?”

“Oh.” Duh, Emma. “Um, yeah, actually. My son has to do a project on the solar system, so I’m looking for some books he could use.”

She waited for Killian to freeze up, to awkwardly withdraw from her now that he knew she had a kid. But he simply nodded and asked “How old is your lad?”

“Ah, he’s twelve. Sixth grade.”

“Hmmm, in that case I’d recommend this one.” He reached over her shoulder to take a book from the shelf, giving Emma a whiff of some spicy cologne and a briny scent like he’d been out on the sea. Her knees went weak, and when he held out the book she stared blankly at it, trying to marshal her scrambled thoughts back into some kind of order. “It’s an excellent overview of the solar system with plenty of details on all the planets,” Killian explained, “but the language is accessible for someone your boy’s age.” His eyebrows rose again in an expectant look.

“Um. That looks great, thanks.”

“See how he gets on with it, and if he needs more information I’d be happy to make another recommendation.”  

Emma nodded and followed him to the check-out desk, wordlessly handing him her card and watching as he completed the process of checking out the book. When he finished he tucked a bookmark between the pages and handed it to her with another warm smile.

“Well, Emma Swan, it’s been lovely talking to you,” he said. “I hope it won’t be a one-time thing.”

“I—I’m in here a lot,” she replied. It was only a slight exaggeration. Henry was in the library a lot and she often came to pick him up. “So I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

For the third time in fifteen minutes Killian Jones stole her breath with his smile. “I’m looking forward to it already,” he said.

—

The next morning Emma was at Granny’s waiting in line for coffee when out of nowhere someone gave her a hard shove, knocking her into the man in front of her, who had just accepted his cup from Ruby.

“Oh my God!” she cried. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened!”

“It’s okay,” said the man with a tight smile, shaking droplets of coffee off his hand as Ruby’s eyes grew comically wide.

“Oh, no,” she said. “What a terrible accident. Let me get you another cup, sir.”

“Thanks,” said the man, and Emma’s own eyes nearly rolled clean from her head. Ruby was known for her lack of subtlety but this was ridiculous, even for her. Emma glanced over her shoulder just in time to spot the tip of Mulan’s braid just disappearing through the door.

“So,” the man was saying to Ruby when Emma returned her attention to him, leaning on the counter and giving her a crooked grin. “You come here often?”

“Every day,” said Ruby dryly. “I work here. But maybe you’d like to ask Emma that question.”

The man’s pale blue eyes flitted to Emma, then rapidly away. “I’d rather ask you.”

Ruby gave a frustrated huff. “Here’s your coffee.” She thrust the new cup at the man and turned her back.

“What’s her problem?” the man muttered.

“I don’t know,” snapped Emma, “maybe you should ask her wife.” The man’s eyes widened in alarm at the look on her face and he backed away, slowly edging towards the door.

“Have a great day,” she called after him, then turned to her best friend as the man fled the diner.

“I hope you’re happy,” she hissed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ruby asked, the picture of innocence. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’m guessing this was your attempt at a coffee shop meet-cute? I spill the man’s coffee, apologise profusely, he laughs it off. I offer to buy him another cup, he refuses but asks me to dinner instead? Was that the idea?”

“...maybe.”

“And you see how well it turned out?”

“He was clearly just not The One,” said Ruby stubbornly.

“There is no ‘The One’ Rubes, that is a myth, and I cannot believe you roped Mulan into this nonsense too.”

“I didn’t rope her in, she volunteered! We both want you to be happy, Emma.”

“And you think dumping coffee on the world’s creepiest doctor will make me happy?”

“What? Have you met him before?”

“Yeah. Last year when Henry broke his arm. You’ll be pleased to hear that he tried to hit on me then. Right in front of my kid.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Meet-cutes only work in romcoms and fanfics, Ruby. Here in reality they just piss people off.”

“Well,” said Ruby, handing Emma her coffee, determination clear in the set of her jaw. “We’ll see about that.”

—

Emma: What do you want for dinner?

Henry: What have we got?

Emma: Nothing, that’s why I’m asking. I can stop at the store on the way home.

Henry: I suppose pizza isn’t an option?

Emma: We had that yesterday.

Henry: Not a problem for me. But chicken or something would be okay too.

Emma: One of those rotisserie chickens?

Henry: Yeah, sounds good.

Emma: Okay, kid. See you at home.

Emma was standing in the grocery store, frowning as she compared the rotisserie chickens when a voice spoke just to her left.

“I don’t think there’s much of a difference between them, love.”

Her heart leapt and her skin tingled, and yet when she turned to face Killian Jones—and his damned smile—she was still not prepared.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “I, um, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“No reason why you should, I guess, except that I like all people do need to eat from time to time.”

“Of course.” She felt foolish, but his expression was warm and only slightly teasing.

“How did your son get on with the book?” he asked.

“Really well! He read for like two hours last night. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Any time.”

They stood grinning at each other until someone behind them cleared his throat and they both gave a little start. Killian rubbed the back of his neck as he moved aside to allow Mr Clark to select a chicken.

“So, um,” said Emma after he’d left. “Are you getting stuff for dinner?”

“Aye. I’m staying in the apartment above the library and this morning I discovered that the oven doesn’t work, and the repairman can't come until tomorrow. So I need something that comes pre-cooked. Hence rotisserie chicken.”

“Solid plan,” said Emma, though she felt sad thinking of this lovely man eating dinner alone in that tiny apartment, and that was the only reason that she blurted out “But, ah, why don’t you come over and eat with Henry and me?”

“Oh.” Killian blinked in surprise.

“Since we’re both having the same thing it makes sense not to waste a chicken,” Emma barrelled on. “When Henry and I get one we’ve always got leftovers, so… I mean, you don’t have to if you’d rather not—”

“No, no. I mean, yes! Yes, I’d like that.”

“Oh. Um, good.”

He smiled again, bright as always but with a hint of shyness that caught her off guard. “Is it, ah, just the two of you?” he asked. “Presuming Henry is your son, that is?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “His dad’s, um... not in the picture.”

“I see. Well then I would love to share a meal with you, Emma Swan. And your son. And perhaps you would allow me to bring dessert?”

Emma’s heart was pounding so loudly now she was sure he must be able to hear it. “That’d be great. Um, here’s my cell number, just at the bottom of this.” She took a business card from her pocket and handed it to him. “Text me and I’ll send you directions to our place. Can you come over about six?”

“Six it is.” Killian slipped the card into his own pocket carefully, as though he didn’t wish to harm it. “I’ll see you then.”

—

Emma finished the rest of her shopping in a daze, wandering haphazardly through the aisles and putting random things in her cart without thinking before giving herself a mental slap and a stern admonition to get a fucking grip. She removed the strawberry syrup from her cart (she and Henry both hated fake strawberry flavour) and the tuna (what the hell had she been thinking?) and then remembered that Henry was nearly out of peanut butter. His favourite kind was the most popular one and the store could hardly keep it stocked, so she was pleased to see that there was one jar left as she approached the shelf. Just as she was reaching for it, though, another hand appeared and snatched it from her grip.

“Hey!” she cried indignantly. “That was mine!”

“Sorry,” said the man who’d taken it. He didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Maybe they’ve got more in the back?”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma huffed.

“Nope,” the man replied. “Look, I really am sorry but someone needs this peanut butter. She sent me in here to get it specifically.”

Emma hissed her breath out through her teeth. “She did, did she? And did she say why she couldn’t get the damn peanut butter herself?”

“Ah, no,” said the man, frowning warily at her. “She didn’t. But listen, lady it’s just a jar of peanut butter.”

Emma’s lip curled into a snarl and the man’s eyes widened in alarm. He backed away from her, nearly stumbling in his haste. “So, um, I’m going to, ah, go now,” he stuttered. “Bye.”

He turned and fled towards the checkouts with Emma close on his heels. She followed him to the self-checkout line where he kept shooting nervous looks over his shoulder at her and she amused herself by giving him darker and darker glares each time and keeping her eyes fixed on him when he took the jar of peanut butter and ran out the door.

When she arrived at where she’d left her car Emma was entirely unsurprised to find Ruby there, leaning against the hood and looking slightly sheepish.

“So what was the plan this time?” asked Emma. “That we would both reach for the last jar of peanut butter, our fingers would touch, sparks would fly, and we would exchange cute banter with sexually charged undertones ending in a date?”

Ruby nodded. “Something like that.”

“Ruby, I keep telling you, that is not how real life works!”

“Oh yeah?” Ruby challenged. “Well, what about David and Mary Margaret! They had a meet-cute.”

“He mistook her for a burglar and she hit him in the face!”

“Exactly!”

“How is that a meet-cute?”

“How is it not? They met, it was cute, and now they’ve got an amazing story to tell their kids.”

“I met Neal when I tried to steal the car he’d already stolen,” Emma pointed out. “That’s an amazing story and yet our relationship was a fucking dumpster fire that I’d be happy to forget all about if it weren’t for Henry. Not all cute meetings end in happily ever after, and frankly I don’t think a squabble over peanut butter in a small town grocery store is the best way to jump-start true love.”

“And what would you know about true love?” Ruby snapped, then gasped in horror as her eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Emma, I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her fingers. “I didn’t mean it.”

Emma’s chest felt tight. “It’s okay,” she muttered.  

“No, it really isn’t.” Ruby gripped Emma’s hands in hers. “I love you, Ems, and you’re one of the most loving people I know. That’s why I want so badly to see you happy.”

“I know.” Emma nodded and gave Ruby’s hands a squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean to say it.” However true it might be, she thought bitterly.

“Let me make it up to you—”

“Oh my God, please don’t—”

“—with this free jar of peanut butter!” finished Ruby triumphantly. She reached into her bag and removed the jar, offering it up with a flourish.

Emma smiled as she took it. “Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to telling Henry how someone stole the last jar right out from under me.”

Ruby flashed a grin, then turned solemn. “Are we okay, Emma?” she asked hesitantly. “Truly?”

“Of course we are,” Emma reassured her. “Truly. I do have to get going though I have—uh, Henry will be getting hungry.”

“Of course.” Ruby stepped back to let Emma unlock her car door. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you.”

As Emma drove home she tried not to think about why she hadn’t told Ruby that Killian was coming for dinner. It might stop her friend’s meet-cute-ing attempts if she knew Emma had a—well, not a date exactly but a man coming over to... well, just to eat really, but still. She could have spun it so it seemed like a date and got Ruby off her back, at least for a while. Yet for some reason Emma wanted to keep Killian just for herself. At least for a while.

—

Killian Jones was punctual and he could follow directions, Emma thought when her doorbell rang that evening at six o’clock precisely. That alone put him head and shoulders above Neal... and what the hell was she doing comparing a man she’d literally met yesterday with her son’s useless father, even just in the privacy of her own head?

She smoothed her hair and the front of her blouse and took a deep breath to calm herself before opening the door, and still she was not prepared for that stupid, gorgeous smile.

“Good evening, Swan,” Killian greeted her. “I come bearing brownies.”

And wine, she couldn’t help noticing as she stepped back to let him in. “Great, uh, brownies are my favourite,” she lied. “Um, Killian, I’d like you to meet my son, Henry.”

Henry came forward with smile on his lips and mild confusion in his eyes. “Hi Killian, nice to meet you.”

“And you, lad. I hope you like brownies as well.”

“I love them,” Henry replied. “Though my mom usually prefers—” he broke off when Emma gave him a Look. “Ah, she prefers hers without nuts.”

“Well, she’s in luck because these are nut-free.”

“Sounds perfect!” said Henry brightly, and Emma didn’t think she’d ever loved him more.

“Let me just take those from you,” she said, relieving Killian of the box of brownies and bottle of wine. “Henry, can you show him into the living room? Oh, and Killian what would you like to drink?”

“Whatever’s easiest, love.”

“Water, soda, beer?”

“Beer would be great.”

“Coming right up.”

Emma fled to the kitchen, doing her best not to look like she was fleeing. Once safety through the door she set the brownies and wine on the counter and desperately drew air into her lungs. She wasn’t going to survive spending much more time with Killian if she didn’t learn to breathe around him, she thought wryly, and also why was she even thinking about spending more time with him—this was nothing but a casual, friendly meal and they had only just met.

“Get a fucking grip, Emma,” she reminded herself firmly, and went to pour some beer.

When she entered the living room a few minutes later Killian and Henry were sitting next to each other on the sofa, deep in discussion about the solar system. Henry had his project notes spread out on the coffee table and Killian was rubbing his chin, listening intently as her son spoke, and Emma’s heart absolutely did not melt at the sight of them. It didn’t.

She set a glass of soda in front of Henry and a beer in front of Killian, who looked up at her with a smile.

“Thanks, love.”

Aaaand there went her breath again, thought Emma. Damn it.

“Ah, I’m just going to go finish up dinner, um, if everything’s okay in here?” she said.

“Aye, I think we’ll be all right.”

“Mom, guess what? Killian knows all about astronomy and he’s going to help me make sure my project’s good!” Henry exclaimed.

“All about astronomy, eh?” teased Emma.

To her astonishment Killian’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink. “A slight exaggeration on the lad’s part,” he said, scratching at a spot just below his ear. “But it is an interest of mine and I’ll do my best to be of some use to him.”

“He’s already helped me with Saturn’s moons, and now we’re gonna talk about the rings on Uranus,” said Henry excitedly. “Did you know Uranus has rings, Mom?”

“I did not,” said Emma, biting her lip as amusement glinted in Killian’s eyes.

“Yep,” Henry continued, oblivious to their mirth. “Just skinny ones, though.”

“I suppose bigger ones wouldn’t fit,” said Emma. A muscle danced in Killian’s jaw as he clenched it tight. Henry frowned.

“Uranus is still pretty big,” he said. “Not as big as Jupiter or Saturn but—hey! Are you guys laughing at Uranus?”

“Of course not, lad,” said Killian. “Uranus isn’t funny at all.”

“It’s very serious actually,” said Emma.

“I certainly take it seriously,” Killian agreed.

Henry glared at them. “You guys realise I’m the twelve-year-old boy, right? If anyone should be making Uranus jokes it’s me.”

“Well you have been letting some excellent joke opportunities slip by you, my boy.”

“Yeah, Henry, we’re just picking up your slack.”

“Much like rings on Uranus might.”

“Oh my God,” Henry groaned, as Emma lost control of her laughter and collapsed onto the sofa. Killian was grinning like a maniac, ridiculously pleased with himself, which only made her laugh harder. Henry held out for nearly a full minute before he started giggling too, then all three of them held their stomachs and roared.

—

Their fit of shared hilarity helped Emma relax, and the dinner ended up being one of the best evenings she’d had in a long time. Killian, as it turned out, had spent several years in the navy before he became a librarian. He had hundreds of stories about his adventures in far-off lands and seemingly endless patience for inquisitive twelve-year-olds who wanted to hear every single one.

Emma sat and ate and listened as Killian regaled her son with his tales, and tried not to think too hard about how simply nice this was. Like the sort of pleasant family meal she’d always dreamed of as a child and regretted that she couldn’t give Henry, and she really needed to stop thinking about Killian like he was an actual part of her life when she’d barely known him for a day. She knew better than that. From bitter experience.

And yet. Killian’s kindness to and interest in Henry was genuine, she was sure of it. There was no hint in his words or actions to suggest that he was trying to use her kid to get to her, or that he was only pretending to care about Henry’s project. Her superpower didn’t even twitch. Every instinct Emma had was screaming that the most sinister thing about Killian Jones was how dangerously attractive she found him. He was just a nice man who knew how to talk to children. A nice, insanely hot man with the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen and a smile that stole all the air from her lungs, who not only didn’t run when he found out about her kid but actually liked him.

Fuck, she thought, as Killian caught her eye and gave her a little half-smile that had her gasping for air. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

—

“Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Swan.” Killian’s hand was on the doorknob but he seemed in no great hurry to leave, and she was equally not eager to see him go. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Me too. And thanks for being so nice to Henry.”

“Your boy is a delight, it was no hardship.”

“Still. It meant a lot to him.” She didn’t mention Neal and Killian didn’t ask, but she had the strangest feeling that they both wished they could.

You only just met him, damn it!

“It was my pleasure,” said Killian, and the way his voice went gruff on the word pleasure set her heart racing and heat blooming across her skin, and when his breath caught and his gaze dropped to her lips she had to force herself to remember that this wasn’t a date and she didn’t actually know this man. But she could tell from the rasp in his throat and the flush on his cheeks that he was feeling the same things she was, that he wanted the same things just as badly, and it would be easy, so easy just to lean in and press her lips to his—

Too easy, and far too risky. Emma gulped and stepped back as Killian gave a shaky exhale, closing his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed and Emma shoved her hands hard into her jeans pockets. He opened his eyes and then the door and gave her a brief smile before stepping into the hallway. Emma dug her fingers into her legs and firmly squashed the tiny part of her that wanted to beg him to stay.

“Well, ah, thanks for coming,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Aye.” He took two steps then stopped and turned back. “Er, perhaps next time you might allow me to provide the meal?” he said hesitantly. “Just for you?”

“Um. What?” said Emma, then immediately wanted to kick herself.

Killian’s nervous expression softened. “Well you see, as much as I enjoyed Henry’s company this evening, I’d very much like to take you out, Emma,” he said. “Just the two of us. On a date.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Aye, really. On Friday, perhaps, if you’re free?”

“Ah, yeah, I can be,” she replied, trying not to sound too eager. “I’ll have to see if I can get someone to watch Henry, but… yeah. I’d like that.”

That breath-stealing smile broke across his face as she knew it would, and yet she still wasn’t ready for it. “It’s a date, then,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something warm.”

“Uh.. okay.”

“And love, if you can’t find someone to look after Henry at such short notice I’d still like to spend the evening with you.” Killian’s face was earnest now. “With both of you, I mean. We’ll just postpone our date until a more convenient time.”

A lump rose in Emma’s throat and for a moment she thought she might cry. “I—that’d be good too. I’ll let you know.”

He nodded. “Good night, then, Swan.”

“Good night.”

—

@katie-dub @thisonesatellite @spartanguard @kmomof4 @stahlop @mariakov81 @teamhook in case you’re interested :)