#might be because we thought of the life series back then slightly less as purely RP. so Scott’s teasing was purely OOC and their characters

[the-somwthing]

oh god I reached tag limit. Dear god. Should I make my own post or are my takes in the tags god awful and I should’ve kept them to myself 😭

(also I mistakenly said clethubs instead of cledubs cuz it flows better, ignore me Etho has nothing to do with any of this)

ok now that im watching scotts pov i can finally make the poll i want

[sunnydayroleplay]

Hi! How are you feeling?I know you're taking a break, but I couldn't get this off my mind. And I would kill to have it written. You can ignore this if you need, but I'm gonna put it down regardless. What is your take on Joseph's childhood? Did he runaway? Why did he? How did his parents treat him if he did indeed have parents? Why is he the way he is now? How much of Jack is truly in Joseph? Or better yet, how much of Joseph is left in Jack?

Hi! I'm okay, I'm doing much better! Thank you for asking. I've thought about this idea before, and I was reminded of a few posts I've seen. So this post might be slightly influenced ehe. I'll edit links when I find them!! Until then, let's write it! Contents Inside: Child Neglect, Marital Problems, Abuse, Alcoholism, Drug Use, Murder.

This is all pure speculation and theory! Don't mistake it for true lore :3 ______________________________________________________________

Before we go into what Joseph's childhood was like before he ran away, let's begin to what is was before. Now when it comes to this, I have two ideas. Before it all went downhill, Joseph was a normal child. His parents still madly in love since the day they met and wedded; treating him well, and wonderful. His school-life normal, good grades, a decent amount of peers. He had hobbies, likes and dislikes. It was alright, and "just alright" was perfect for him. Unfortunately, in the worst case scenarios, perfect doesn't last forever. Now, with this, we could go a series of ways. The parents begin to struggle financially. Possibly someone got laid off from work, possible infidelity. There's so much we could go on about. But I'll leave your opinions to you. For now, we'll say that the marriage started getting rocky, jobs gotten and lost. His parents couldn't afford to have a kid anymore. So they started neglecting him. Putting him up for adoption was a no-go. What would their parents think. Or all their peers the next time they got a job and suddenly everything went alright? They'd be right back to where they once were. They began to neglect Joseph once he was at the age where he could talk decently somewhat, express his needs, and know basic life necessities. We're talking 10-12 years old here. Joseph began struggling both mentally and physically, due to the constant fighting going around between his parents. Berating from his own mother every time he walked into the door. His dad reaching for and grabbing anything within his reach to beat Joseph black and blue when he didn't do something in record breaking time. Whenever he walked out of his room, he's walking on thin ice because he doesn't know if it'll be a literal slap on the wrist, or being locked out for days. With the constant shitty home life, his school life was affected enormously. His grades went down, and he just got around with the wrong people. He was like any "out of place" child. All he truly wanted was attention and some sort of leverage to lean against. Someone to just listen because he's used to being ignored. By the time he was in high-school, he got into some worse shit. We can only assume that he got into drugs, underage drinking, and a smoking addiction that followed him into adulthood. Hence the line: “You’ve changed. You’re clean now. You can be whatever you wanna be.” Coming from Jack in the ‘Bad Yogurt’ Ending. I mean, someone doesn’t change their entire identity without a reason. Now, as it was mentioned in the tapes (In the official game itself), in an “interview” with the the *other* Joseph asks “Mr.Haberdae” about his tattoos. He mentions how Haberdae most likely went through a troublesome childhood, wanted to lash out, stand out from everyone else, and Haberdae more or less agrees.

But before we get into his adulthood-death part, lets go back to ‘running away’. I believe he ran away around 15-16. The reason I don’t think he ran way any younger was because of pure fear. Being 10-12, you don’t know any better really. You’re scared to leave because you know you have no where else to go. Because of the environment you grew up in, who would want to take a “dumb, useless child”? No one. He didn’t run away that young, because he was scared that he was going to go through so much worse. But now? Hes a teenager, he knows sure of a lot more, he has more opinions and more knowledge of the outside world. “No one cares, not even your parents.”

The sun is getting ready to set, the sky is just a beautiful orange sunsetty color. The clouds wispy, and the air freshly crisp. In the middle of it all, the sun hiding behind him, Joseph walking down his neighborhood sidewalk thinking to himself. His hands in his pockets, looking around side to side as if he’s just waiting for his parents to rush out the door and chase him down, knowing full well they won’t. His school backpack now filled with clothes instead of stationary. Two water bottles stuck at the sides, with about 5.78 in change. He didn’t have much, but it was enough to catch a bus, maybe hitchhike a ride. Didn’t matter where, but he just had to go. His mind raced with an array of thoughts and emotion, but he had to do it. He wanted to get as far away as possible from this wretched town.

He knows can’t live on 5 dollars for the rest of his (unknowingly short lived) life. He’s gotta do something. And he’s got a few options. Go door to door where asking if someone needs help with anything for some pocket change, try and get a job that’ll take him, pickpocket. And he has tried. Door to door didn’t work well unless it was a widowed old lady, Joseph gave up trying to find a job real quick, but pick pocketing was a surprising success. As soon as Joseph turned 18, finding leverage and begging for forgiveness if he was caught wouldn't be so easy. Joseph would need to find out how to get off of the streets and into his own sheets. Without a way to get a job, at least a good paying one, he had to do something. It's possible he could've traded sexual favors for either some food in his mouth, a bed to sleep in for the rest of the night, and/or once again some quick cash. Anything he could do to get by, right? We don't know when he auditioned for the role of Sunny Day Jack, or how old he was when he was accepted. Let alone when the show was even created. So who knows how long he was passing his body for a couple dollars. I mean, depending on how long, he most likely desensitized to the idea of sex somewhat, mainly because he's the one initiating it for some cash once again. (That's not to say he's not desensitized to being the one asked about having sex. ) But it's still a sensible topic considering he only did it because he needed to get by, not because he wanted to have fun. In the interview, live on air! He's asked an array of questions depicting of his body, and why he chose to be a host of a kids show. He was generally asked question that were probably very uncomfortable because they not only dug through those sensible topics, but because he's supposed to be in character for a kids show! Kids all around the world tuning in to hear their favorite character. But we're getting off track here. The moral of the story is that Joseph was a "bad" person, who just wanted to change for the better. For his own sake. When it comes to the question, "How much of Joseph is in Jack?" I think that it's about 50/50. Or Joseph is still Jack. Jack is a character. He's this wholesome, perfect person in which everyone looks up too. He's the leader of the Sunny Time Crew. Never makes a mistake. He's a helper, he's just perfect in any way. In the game, you think that someone like Jack would think about murdering anyone in his way? Let alone murder? Have sex with you? Of course not! He works with kids for crying out loud! All this NSFW content is not even a thing in the Sunny Time Universe. Joseph is the man who plays the character. He's any normal person, he makes mistakes, he's not the person who you'd think that would never even make it through the door of the studio that produces this show. Joseph could kill if he wanted too, he has had sex, NSFW experiences were definitely a thing for him. The Jack we know is a basic fusion in a way. All the good traits of Jack, his wholesomeness, his ability to never make mistakes, to be perfect. That's all Jack. But the other side, the killing, the ability to hurt, to be physically passionate. That's all Joseph. The Jack we know wouldn't be the same without Joseph. That love we get from him wouldn't be the same. It would be empty in a way. Jack love everybody! But Joseph loves you. Joseph loves specifically you. He chose to give and fill you with all the love he ever could. Without Joseph “ in “ Jack personality wise, the Jack in the game we all love wouldn’t be the same. That love wouldn’t be as personalized.

In the end they’re the same person, but without the other, differences will be made.

[chvoswxtch]

a compromise. (3/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (part 3 to i’m not above begging & shakespeare is metal)

warnings: cursing, jason carver being a shithead once again

word count: 3.4k

a/n: alright my loves, here is part 3 to the little series I still have no name for (oops)! I am once again apologizing for the word count (I had to tell myself to shut up when I reached 3.4k). this part is pure fluff but I do have some angst coming up (i’m a slut for some good angst) and it might even get a little ~spicy~. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

tags: @uraveragequeer @rosaline-black

I thought about faking being sick. Screw perfect attendance. I could easily convince my mom to call the school on my behalf. I had never stayed home sick, not even freshman year when I was running a hundred and two fever. It would be believable. I could even run the hairdryer over my forehead for good measure. I could ask my mom to let the librarian know to pass on the news to Eddie when he showed up for our session.

Coward.

I thought about coming up with a reason to cancel our session. I could leave a note in his locker saying something had come up, and we would have to reschedule. Then I wouldn’t have to look at him, and my heart wouldn’t shatter into a million guilty pieces. 

Would he get the note though? Does Eddie even use his locker? Would he think I just bailed on him?

I pulled my pillow tightly over my face and screamed until my lungs hurt. To my dismay, I didn’t suffocate. Surely that would be a better fate than having to face Eddie with the prying eyes of Jason Carver. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand that read 6:58. It was now or never.

Luckily I had been able to convince Eddie that my less than chipper demeanor was due to a case of insomnia. If he was able to see through my lie, he didn’t mention it, and carried on with our usual routine. I tried my hardest to be present, but every time I looked at him, that nauseous feeling rose in the pit of my stomach again. I kept replaying my conversation with Jason over and over in my mind. I had managed to placate him with my promise, but how long was that going to last? Would he just keep bothering me the more time I spent with Eddie? Would he ever leave it alone? Why the hell did he even feel like he had a say in my life anyway?

A snap of someone’s fingers quickly pulled me out of my trance and I focused my attention back on Eddie who’s large hand was still hovering in front of my face. His eyes were full of concern, head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at me with a timid smile.

“You with me, sweetheart?”

“What? Oh, yeah. S-Sorry.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

Eddie’s timid smile morphed into a playful smirk at the corner of his mouth, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he arched one of his brows in question. Embarrassment and guilt flooded my veins as I rubbed my palms over my cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry, Eddie. I wasn’t trying to tune you out. I’m just..tired. That sleep I didn’t get is really getting to me. What were you saying?”

Eddie simply stared at me with a lopsided grin, shaking his head as he waved his hands in front of me in dismissal.

“It’s alright, angel. I understand. If it helps, you’re still as pretty as you were yesterday, so I don’t think your beauty sleep was affected.”

Pretty. He thinks I’m pretty.

God, I didn’t deserve Eddie Munson. I didn’t deserve his kindness and sweet smile. I definitely didn’t deserve him calling me pretty when I knew for a fact I looked like a hot mess. I’d only had five minutes to get ready after losing the internal battle I waged with myself. 

Get a grip. He’s just being nice because you look like shit and you’re acting weird.

“I was saying you should sit with us today.”

“Sit with you?”

“Yeah, at lunch today. Come hangout with us.”

My eyes widened slightly as my brain registered what Eddie was asking. He wanted me to sit with him and his Hellfire club during lunch today. The same lunch period we shared with Jason Carver and his basketball minions. I typically spent my lunch period in the library, fitting in a few extra sessions with desperate students, or I spent it in the newspaper room with Nancy helping her reach important deadlines. I couldn’t sit with Eddie and his friends. I could already see the pissed off look on Jason’s face, stalking over to no doubt start a fight. I couldn’t subject Eddie to that.

“O-Oh, I uh..I can’t. I have some um..things I need to finish for a class.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart. Take the day off, you work too hard. You need to give that pretty little head of yours a break.”

Pretty. He said it again.

“I-I’m sorry, Eddie. I just..can’t. I’m sorry.”

There was a flash of hurt that swept over his features. He quickly covered it up with a tight lipped smile, but it was too late. I had seen it. And it made me want to die.

“Yeah, sure. No, I uh..I get it. Got a reputation to uphold, can’t have our cult tarnishing it.”

There was a bite to the way he said cult. I dug my fingernails so hard into my palm I thought I was going to break the skin. God, you are such a bitch. Just tell him the truth!

“No no, no Eddie it’s nothing like that. I swear. I just..I just don’t want to cause any trouble. That’s all.”

“Trouble? How are you causing trouble if I’m inviting you?”

“I..it’s..it doesn’t matter right now. Look, can we please get back to work? We only have ten minutes left.”

I forced the most convincing smile I could conjure, picking up my pencil once again and turning to a fresh page in my notebook. We had been working on an outline for Eddie’s essay to keep his ideas on track and organized. I attempted to direct him back to the page of Hamlet we were going over, but Eddie wouldn’t budge. He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read, and clasped his hands together in front of him on the table.

“I want to negotiate the terms of our arrangement.”

“W-What?”

“When you agreed to tutor me, one of your rules was transparency. You said I had to be up front about when I needed a break, if I was going to be late or couldn’t make it and shit like that. Right?”

My brows pulled together in confusion as I stared over at Eddie, trying to gauge where he was going with this conversation. I gave a slight nod of my head to signal him to keep going.

“I want to negotiate that transparency applies to both of us.”

“Eddie..these sessions are for you. To help you. They’re not my personal therapy sessions. If I eat up our time crying about my problems, then I’m not doing my job, and that’s not fair to you.”

Eddie’s lips curved upwards into a small smile, his rings knocking against the wood as he tapped his knuckles on the table with a shake of his head.

“Well, I hate to disagree with you sweetheart, but I simply can’t focus when I know there’s something bothering my favorite girl. It wouldn’t feel right to keep pretending I give a shit about Shakespeare when you’re not your usual ray of sunshine. So, until you accept these new terms, I’m afraid William here is gonna have to wait.”

Eddie’s mouth stretched into a cheshire grin, clearly pleased with himself. Warmth erupted in my belly at his words and I found myself subconsciously pressing my thighs together under the table to relieve the pressure that was beginning to build. 

Oh. 

My lips parted slightly as I racked my brain for a normal response. But it was blank. I couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that Eddie Munson just used the words “my” and “favorite” and “girl” in a sentence about me. 

My favorite girl. Yeah, I could get used to hearing that.

His words ignited a flame in my belly that quickly spread over my body, roaring in between my thighs. I gripped at the edge of my skirt under the table, swallowing thickly as a sinful thought of Eddie whispering those same words in my ear crossed my mind. I couldn’t stop the words that tumbled from my lips.

“I don’t want Jason to bother you.”

Eddie’s entire demeanor instantly changed. The playful smile on his face disappeared, his full lips settling into a hard line. His jaw clenched, accentuating how sharp his features actually were. How had I never noticed how sharp his jawline was before? Have his cheekbones always looked like that? God, why is he so attractive? What is happening to me?

“What does that have to do with you?”

Eddie’s voice came out gruff in a deeper tone than I had ever heard him use before. I wanted to smack my forehead realizing what a mess I had just created in the midst of my distraction.

“It’s..not important. Let’s just keep going.”

“Are you guys dating or something?”

There was a scowl coating his lips and his face twisted in disgust as if he’d just smelt something rancid. My head snapped up instantly to stare at him in surprise, completely taken aback by his comment.

“What? God, no. Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re not giving me much to work with here, sweetheart. The only reason I could think of that asshole not liking you sitting with us is he doesn’t want his girlfriend near the freak.”

“I am not dating Jason Carver. I can’t even believe you think that I would! God, I would rather jump into that volcano in the motor place.”

“Mordor.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean!”

“So, then what is this all about?”

I dropped my pencil on the table and let out a sigh of frustration. What was all this about? Honestly, I had no fucking idea. I still had no inclination on why Jason Carver was suddenly so interested in my safety that he felt was at risk. 

“I..he just..he came up to me yesterday after we left the library and told me he could get you to leave me alone and that I shouldn’t be tutoring you. He thinks I’m like your next virgin sacrifice or something and he wouldn’t quit until I promised to come to him if I felt ‘threatened’.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Promise him.”

“Oh..well, yeah.”

There was that expression again that I couldn’t read. Eddie stared at me silently, and I felt nervous under his gaze. His eyes flickered to the notebook in front of him, a low hum sounding from the back of his throat. That nauseous feeling returned to my stomach with a vengeance. 

“Eddie, I don’t think that about you. I don’t believe any of that stuff. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable. I only made Jason that stupid promise so he would leave me alone. He’s the one that makes me uncomfortable. He..he doesn’t even know my name. I’ve tutored him countless times and he never bothered to remember my name, but now all of a sudden he feels the need to ‘protect me’ because of some bullshit that he believes about you. Look I just..I don’t want to give him another reason to be mean to you or any of your friends. If I sit with you guys, he’s not going to like it, and you know how he is when he doesn’t get his way. I’m not going to be another reason for him to treat you badly.”

A huff left my lips after I finished my long winded rant and my lungs notified me that I hadn’t bothered to stop and take a breath. A considerable weight felt like it had been lifted off my shoulders, and that nauseous feeling was beginning to fade. I just wanted Eddie to understand where I was coming from. I wanted him to know that I didn’t think he was bad or dangerous. I wanted him to know I thought the world of him.

I was nervous to meet his gaze, but when I did my brows furrowed quizzically. His face was a mixture of amusement and disbelief, his big brown eyes appearing slightly larger than usual.

“Did you just swear?”

“Eddie! Seriously? That’s all you got from that?”

A riotous laugh ripped through Eddie’s chest, filling the confinements of the library. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his mouth was split wide open into a huge grin as he held his large hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry! I’m just..shocked to hear such foul language from you, angel. I didn’t know you knew such words.”

“Oh I’ve learned plenty from you in the past three weeks.”

“You’re right. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t speak so crassly in front of a pretty lady. I promise to be better.”

Eddie’s full lips tugged into a smirk as he stared across the table at me. My face instantly felt hot and I found myself clutching at the edge of my skirt under the table once again. Did he even know what he was doing to me? Could he even tell? Does he look at other girls like this and call them pretty?

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“B-Because..I-I thought you would be mad at me.”

I lowered my head in shame, suddenly finding a loose string on my tights very interesting. Guilt flooded over me like a monsoon. I didn’t want to see the disappointment. I couldn’t handle it. I don’t think I could survive Eddie Munson being mad at me.

“What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I..I didn’t correct him.”

“Sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“No, it isn’t! I just..stood there while he said horrible things about you, and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t stand up for you and I-“

“You already did.”

“What?”

Eddie reached over to place one of his large hands over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. His skin was so warm against the stark contrast of the cool metal covering his fingers. My heart started to race and I could hear it pounding in my ears. 

Eddie Munson is holding my hand. 

“That day, in the tutoring center, you stood up for me. You agreed to help me when everyone else shot me down. You stand up for me everyday when you show up. Everyone else would have given up at this point. But you’re still here. You’re always patient with me. You don’t treat me like I’m an idiot when I don’t get something. You put up with me consistently getting off topic and ranting about shit I know you could care less about. You encourage me. You stick up for me everyday whether you realize it or not. I don’t give a shit what Jason Carver thinks of me. All I care about is what you think of me. And if you think that I’m worth sticking up for, that’s enough for me.”

The room suddenly felt too small, and I was certain if Eddie kept looking at me like that I was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. My heart swelled in my chest. There was so much I wanted to say, but I felt like I couldn’t speak. My words were being held hostage by the lump forming in my throat. I glanced down at Eddie’s hand that had completely covered my own. I loved the way his hand felt on mine. It felt so..right. So natural. I never wanted him to stop holding onto my hand. I managed to utter the only words my brain could form.

“I do.”

The shrill ring of the bell pulled us out of our serene little bubble and back into a harsh reality. Eddie slowly retracted his hand and I immediately found myself missing the warmth of his touch. Eddie flashed me a tender smile as he rose to his feet, placing his hands on his hips.

“So, will you please accept these new terms and conditions of transparency? I’d really like to graduate, but I’m committed to my cause.”

I pursed my lips, tapping my finger against my chin as I looked up at Eddie with a playful grin. 

“Okay, fine. After careful consideration, I’ve decided to accept these new terms and conditions.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart.”

Eddie shot me a quick wink on his way out of the library. That damn wink. Eddie Munson will be my demise. I was in the middle of gathering my things when a sharp gasp left my mouth as a sudden realization dawned on me.

I had told Eddie Munson that I was a virgin.

The bang of a tray being dropped on the table caused me to jump, my attention being ripped from the algebra homework I was working on and settling on the source of the commotion.

Eddie.

“Boys, this is Y/N. Y/N/N, this is Hellfire. That’s Jeff and Gareth, and I believe you already know the little hellions: Henderson, Sinclair, and Wheeler.”

I smiled shyly at the older boys, turning my head to look at the trio of freshmen in front of me that were clutching onto their lunch trays and staring at me with huge grins. I had met Mike several times while hanging out with Nancy, and had been introduced to Dustin and Lucas through him.

“Uh..y-yeah. Hi guys.”

Eddie took a seat in the chair beside me, the rest of the boys immediately following suit after their leader. He closed the textbook I had open and shoved it aside, picking up my long-forgotten lunchbox from the floor and setting it in front of me.

“Eat. Drink. Be merry.”

I glanced around the now crowded table, seeing each of the boys eyeing me expectantly with friendly smiles on their faces. 

“Um..Eddie? What..what’s all this?”

“A compromise.”

“A compromise?”

“I’m not letting that dickhead ruin you hanging out with us. If you can’t come to us, we’ll come to you.”

“We don’t mind, really. It’s kinda nice to have a break from those jerks.”

Dustin looked at me with the biggest grin on his face. He was always such a sweet kid, and actually quite hilarious. Nancy always hated the sound of their group’s constant bickering, but it always made me giggle.

“Thank you, Dustin. And thank you guys too..for..coming to hangout with me.”

My cheeks flamed from the attention. I always felt uncomfortable being stared at. But right now I was mainly just nervous. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Eddie and his friends. 

“So..what do you guys normally talk about during lunch?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, mostly. Wanna see this drawing I did for a new character I made?”

“Henderson, pipe down. Don’t freak the girl out. If you blow this, she’ll never hangout with us again, and then I will make it my personal mission to make sure you perish in every campaign from here on out.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as Dustin began to protest. Out of all the boys, I could tell that Eddie was closest to Dustin from the way they interacted. They had a true sibling dynamic.

“No no, show me! Please? Seriously, please don’t feel like you guys have to do anything differently in here. I mean, Eddie you can’t stand on the table and go on a rant, but please..just..be yourselves.” 

“Ha! See? I knew she was cool. In your face, Munson.”

Dustin immediately wedged himself in between mine and Eddie’s chairs, showing me the pages of drawings he had done for his characters and firing off anecdotes about what everything was and what it was for. Eddie eventually shoved him back towards his seat, glaring at the other two younger boys as if warning them to also stay in their respective spots. 

The boys immediately settled into their usual routine of discussion. I didn’t hardly understand anything they were talking about, but I found myself genuinely enjoying their company. I snuck a glance at Eddie to find him already looking at me with a small smile on his lips. I felt my heart swell again at the gesture. He didn’t have to drag his friends to come sit with me. He didn’t have to be here. But he did it for me.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, angel.”

[fuzzy-melonlord]

Okay so im doing a new “series” of different ways to say “I Love You”. It’s more of a challenge for myself because I know I struggle with writing just pure fluff. So we gonna work to get better! Starting off with the character i struggle the most to write as well lol

Pairing: Gavin/Freelancer WC: 927 Genre: Fluff

Before them, Gavin was content to be alone. He had come to terms with it when he decided that he was going to be the person he wanted to be, even if that meant being ridiculed by his fellow Incubi. He never planned on getting this close to someone, much less a human. Someone so fragile and yet so willing to put their own life in harm’s way. Honestly, if he could have a heart attack then he was sure that his beloved Deviant would have given him one on multiple different occasions. Yet because it was them, because it was the first person who truly saw him as just…Gavin, well he was okay with the stress of their recklessness. 

That thought didn’t stop his worrying entirely though. Especially not as he watched them practically passing out at their coffee table. 

It was nearing finals week and they had been up late almost every night, while their days were packed to the brim with classes. Since they apparently didn’t know the concept of pacing when it comes to their work. He’s seen them chastise and advise all of their friends and yet they could never take their own advice. 

Gavin let out a soft, almost silent, sigh as he watched their head slam down onto the book that was laid out in front of them. The impact wakes them up almost instantly, their head snapping back up trying to rub the sleep out of their eyes. Unaware of their boyfriend’s watchful gaze. He was honestly surprised that Caelum hadn’t shown up yet, usually if the Freelancer was forcing theirself awake like this then the young Empathy Daemon was first on the scene. Tonight though, he was surprisingly missing. Gavin wondered if it was because he felt that Gavin had arrived, and knew that he could handle it. He was getting busier with a few of his other charges as well, getting more accustomed to them being unable to see him. Gavin hated thinking about it, but it was only a matter of time before the Chorus revoked Freelancer’s ability to see him. He wasn’t looking forward to that day. 

“You’re overworking yourself, Deviant.” 

The sound of his voice caused the Freelancer to jump slightly, apparently having forgotten that they weren’t alone in their home. They let out a long sigh before turning to face their boyfriend, a half hearted and obviously exhausted grin on their face. 

“I’m fine, Gav. I need to study for my fundamentals of sonal magic class. There are a few things that just aren’t sticking…and the exam is tomorrow.” They try and justify their actions, but know from the look on Gavin’s face that he isn’t going to leave them to study in peace. 

Pacing over, he sits down next to them and reaches out to take one of their hands in his own. His fingers lacing with their own, giving a soft comforting squeeze. 

“You are a brilliant student,” He begins, his eyes staring holes into their textbook, “and I know how important these exams are, but please take a break. You’re going to work yourself sick.” 

The Freelancer lets out a rather dramatic sigh, dropping their head onto his shoulder. He can see out of the corner of his eye that they are in fact pouting now. He had mentioned it to them before, but whenever they pout he gets an almost insatiable urge to kiss them. Though, he could see them doing just about anything and get the same urge. It wasn’t even an addiction to them, he was just…so hopelessly in love. If he wasn’t so happy with them he would probably call himself a sap. 

“I know, but I’ve gotta pass this class-”

“And the best way to ensure that you pass, is to get a good nights sleep before the exam,” He explained, cutting off the rant that he was sure they had lined up, “if you stay awake all night, you’ll be exhausted during your exams. In fact, you might end up so tired you fall asleep and just…don’t finish.”

The thought hadn’t seemed to occur to the Freelancer before Gavin said it, he could tell by the way they tensed that they were processing the very real possibility of this happening. It brought a small chuckle from his lips as he felt them processing this in real time. Their emotions swirling around the air, the conflict, the concern, and just a hint of love. He loved feeling their love for him, having it confirmed even without words. 

“I…I guess you’re right. I should probably go to bed.” They muttered, adjusting theirself so that their body was practically curling into his side, “I can do some last minute studying tomorrow before I head out.” 

Gavin wasn’t going to say it, but he had very little intention of letting that happen. He knew that they would study theirself to death if they could. So he would be the good boyfriend and distract them with sweet kisses and a home-made (magically made) breakfast. He knew them well enough to know that would do the trick. 

“Thank you…for looking out for me. I love you, Gavin.” Their soft words pulled him from his scheming and caused his heart to skip a beat. Despite the joy he felt from being able to feel the love mingling with their emotions. It was a completely different thing to hear the words out loud, the confirmation that his feelings were returned. He would never get enough of it.

“I love you too, Deviant.” 

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

--

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience 

--

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity. 

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence. 

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good. 

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--” 

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.” 

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.” 

I roll my eyes. 

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?” 

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--” 

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.” 

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.” 

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.” 

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.” 

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s. 

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.” 

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--” 

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.” 

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?” 

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.” 

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?” 

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--” 

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.” 

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?” 

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.” 

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me. 

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--” 

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.” 

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--” 

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.” 

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. 

“Then what are you here for?” 

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.” 

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal? 

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens. 

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.” 

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?” 

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.” 

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.” 

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption. 

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.” 

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.” 

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit. 

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.” 

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond. 

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.” 

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.” 

“No, you could have--” 

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.” 

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.” 

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.” 

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer. 

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.” 

--

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it. 

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!” 

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’.  I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest. 

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either. 

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead. 

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look. 

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria. 

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over. 

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance. 

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder. 

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent. 

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.” 

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer. 

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--” 

“I know what you are.” 

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part 6)

Warnings - smut / slight breeding kink maybe?

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers

The morning light woke you gently, alongside a soft hand caressing your waist. It tickled the skin lightly, followed by gentle kisses on the back of your neck making you shudder.

"Morning you..." He whispered.

"Morning... Love waking up next to you.."

"We can do this every morning, there's nothing stopping us now."

"You're really going to talk to Steve?"

"Absolutely. It'll be fine, I promise."

"Should I come too?"

"I don't see why not." You turned round to face him, your legs becoming entangled in his.

"You'd really do this for me? Because you know you don't have to, right? I will happily walk away from Peaky if it makes your life easier?"

"Shut up..." He silenced you with a kiss and smiled. "It's happening. I texted him last night. I'm seeing him in an hour."

"We best get ready then.. god I'm nervous..."

"Shut up..." He laughed and kissed you again. "We talk to Steve, film our last scenes, do this wrap party tonight and fly to Ireland together tomorrow morning. How's that sound?"

"Perfect Mr Murphy."

You sat in Steve's trailer an hour later and glanced at Cillian nervously. Steve emerged with a coffee for each of you and sat opposite you both.

"Must be important if you've called to see me alone Cill on the last day of filming, what's going on?"

"You've heard the rumours?" Cillian asked. Steve nodded.

"Well they're true. We're together. Have been since the start of series 1. And I appreciate you might not find it professional, or appropriate given the 20 year age gap, and the press are going to eat us alive, and the focus might be taken away from the show - " Steve raised his hand to silence him.

"Cillian I'm not daft, nor am I blind. The sly glances at each other? Spending time with each other off set? You're the most reclusive person I know, and you're actually socialising with people.. I knew something was going on. As for how I feel about it.."

You reached for Cillian's hand and Steve smiled.

"It's wonderful. Truly wonderful. You two are perfect together, you know that? On screen, your chemistry is something else - the fans will adore the fact you're a real life couple."

"What about James?" You asked, squeezing Cillian's hand. Cillian then told him what James had been doing, threatening with the press and telling y/n it was going to ruin her career, she wouldn't be in series 2...

"He's an idiot. Only hired him because his dad is my best friend. I'll speak to him y/n. You'll be in series 2, there's no doubt about that. Cillian's executive producer, can't exactly bin his girlfriend off now can I?" He laughed. Cillian smiled at you. You blushed at being called Cillian's girlfriend.

"Told you he'd be fine, didn't I?"

Your final scene was ready to go - Clara's wedding night with Tommy. The two of you were stripped and sat on the bed together, wearing just a robe each to cover yourselves while the director cleared the set of any unnecessary people - privacy was always key in scenes like this. Just Anto and the cameraman remained as you both climbed under the duvet and removed the robes. Cillian now behind you. You sniggered slightly at the thick, padded underwear you were wearing. The bump you wore tightly wrapped and concealed to hide the straps holding it in place. Cillian leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"We need to do this in one take, because I don't think I'll be able to control myself if we have to do it twice..."

"Hmm... That sounds interesting... Be a shame if I messed it up, wouldn't it..."

"Not funny..." He chuckled, just as the director called Action.

His body moved against yours, as you groaned. He stayed silent - typical Tommy mode now. You felt his hands underneath the duvet, where others couldn't see, snaking over your hips and thighs, squeezing lightly. Burying his face in your hair, he whispered into you so no one could hear him.

"You're getting it so fucking hard when we're back at the hotel... You're not gonna be able to walk straight when I'm done with you..."

His words only turned you on more - you had to fight to remain as Clara so as not to arouse suspicion but you could feel your core throbbing with need.

You were desperate for Anto to call cut, and luckily it wasn't long before he did. You put your game face on and redressed into the robe, Cillian doing the same with his. Finishing up a few things with Anto, he winked at you and headed out. You bit your lip in anticipation of what awaited you back in your hotel room.

You unlocked the door to find him sat on the sofa watching TV. He tilted his head to you and smiled as you made your way over to the other side of the room, hanging your dress bag on the wardrobe and makeup bag, straighteners and hairdryer on the dressing table.

"You know you don't need all that, don't you?" He said, eyes all over you as you sat next to him on the sofa. You leaned into him and linked your hand into his.

"So you say.. I need it to make me look less tired!"

"Something keeping you awake all night y/n?"

"More like someone..."

"Who's that then?"

"This hot older guy... Dark hair, piercing blue eyes... he promised me a good time earlier.." you moved your body slowly onto his lap. He brought his hands up your legs, resting them on your hips.

"Did he now... What did he say to you?"

"He said I wouldn't be able to walk after he's done with me..." He lifted you off him and back onto the sofa, lifting your t-shirt over your head and kissing down your neck. You lifted your hips to allow him to pull them, and your underwear, down, throwing them to the side of the room. Placing small kisses on the inside of your thigh, as his hand squeezed the other, approaching your core slowly making you squirm underneath him.

"Fuck... Cillian..." You arched your back, aching for him. You gasped as his tongue found your clit, circling over it slowly, pushing a finger inside you, pumping it gently. You hands in his hair, urging him on.

"You taste fucking incredible, I'm gonna make you come so hard..." His words turning you on further, as he continued his attack on your clit, two fingers pumping into you now, moving around inside you until he felt you flinch. Found it.

Your core was on fire as he pushed that spot inside harder, increasing the pressure and speed of his tongue, making you writhe against him. You couldn't help but ride your hips against his face as your orgasm built up quickly.

"Cill... Cill... Jesus..." Breathy little whimpers of his name were all you could manage, as you came hard, your juices flowing and coating his chin, dropping onto the floor underneath you. He grinned against your mound, arching his finger upwards again making you shudder. He eased out and pressed his lips against your belly, sighing softly.

You pulled him up to kiss you, before he pulled you to your feet and moved you both to the bed.

"I promised you wouldn't be able to walk..." He whispered in your ear as your fingers pulled at the buttons on his jeans.

"Give me what you've got baby..." He pulled his jeans and boxers down, opening your legs, lining his erection against you. You were soaked, and he thrust inside powerfully making you scream and clutch the bedposts behind you. No build up, just pure, primal thrusts.

"Fuck.. seeing you with that bump today did things to me I didn't expect..."

He turned you slightly on your side, legs together. Fingers digging into your hips and thigh, sure to leave bruises but you didn't care - you were crying his name, begging for more.

"One day Cillian... I promise you that..."

He lay you flat again, bringing his body down to yours, kissing you softly, his thrusts pausing for a second.

"Needed a minute, the thought of you being pregnant nearly sent me over the edge for a second there..." You chuckled before clenching your core around him.

His thrusts picked up again, as his lips found your neck. His pace slower now, but you weren't complaining. His thrusts were now slower, more passionate. Your hands wrapped round his shoulders as he moved.

"You feel so good... You're perfect..." Your mouth kissed his neck, leaving little bites and sucks as you felt your orgasm approach.

"Oh god... Cill, I'm gonna..." He lifted his body from yours so he could watch you unravel underneath him, his thrusts speeding up a little to get you there.

"Do it.. come on... Keep looking at me..." Your back arched, calling his name as he came with you, never once taking his eyes from yours. As your breathing came back to normal, he rested his forehead on yours.

"Fuck that was good.." you sighed as he fell next to you on the bed.

"Yeah, I'm well aware you can still walk, I'll make it up to you," he laughed.

"Don't be daft, that was perfect. Now though, we have a party to get ready for. Come on, shower time." You got up and pulled him into the ensuite.

************************************************************

Stepping out of Cork airport, you clutched Cillian's hand as you walked towards the waiting taxi. A few people had recognised him, but no one bothered him thankfully, both of you were still dealing with slight hangovers from the party the night before.

"You okay?" He asked as you got into the taxi.

"I'm nervous Cill, what if they don't like me?"

"What? You're insane, they're gonna love you as much as I do. I'm sorry we need to do the whole 'meet the parents' thing so soon." He kissed the back of your hand. Giving the driver his parents' address, you headed over there. It was his sister's wedding that weekend, you were attending as his plus one.

Arriving at his family home and unloading the taxi of your bags, he squeezed your hand tight before opening the door to the house.

"Cillian!!" A young, dark haired woman ran at him after the door opened and threw her arms round him. He held her tight, lifting her off the floor slightly. Putting her back down, he turned to you.

"Silé.. this is y/n. Thanks for letting me add her to the list."

"So good to meet you!!" She hugged you, a genuine, warm hug that instantly made you relax. "Come on, everyone's in the garden. Drop your bags in the living room for now, we'll sort them later!"

The garden was full of family members, all hugging Cillian and you in turn. Easily the most welcoming family you'd ever met, there was no awkwardness, it was like they'd known you for years.

"The Irish know how to make people feel welcome, y/n." He whispered in your ear before being distracted by a child's voice screaming at him.

"Unc Cill!! Unc Cill!" He turned to see the three year old running full speed at him and just about caught him before he ran into his legs. Lifting him up in the air, he blew raspberries on his belly, making him giggle before bringing him in for a cuddle.

"Missed you little dude. Wanna meet someone special?" The little boy nodded, glancing at you.

"This is y/n. Y/n, meet my nephew Dylan. My brother's youngest."

"Well hello there handsome man, I can see you got the Murphy eyes too!" He suddenly reached for you, taking you by surprise as you took him out of Cillian's arms and he wrapped his round your neck, giving you a huge hug. You could see Cillian beaming, as his brother Padraig brought you both a glass of champagne each, laughing at his son squeezing the life out of you before taking him.

"Wow, you're a strong boy!!" You coughed, taking a sip of the champagne.

"You're a natural, clearly." Cillian winked, clinking his glass against yours and wrapping his arm over your shoulder. You sank into his body, smiling as Cillian's Dad tired to fire up the barbecue.

Looking round at the whole family, who'd welcomed you completely and without question, you couldn't help but smile. You knew your future was here - with him. You didn't care about the press backlash you knew was coming, all that mattered was you were together. Everything else paled in significance.

"Someone help me light this fecking thing will ye?" His dad shouting in his thick Cork accent made everyone laugh, as Cillian and his brother rolled their eyes and made their way over to take over. Cillian's mum led you by the arm to sit with her and Cillian's sisters.

"He's a useless arse when it comes to cooking - needs to leave it to our boys!" She laughed, topping up your glass.

"Oh, Cillian can cook, can he?" You smirked.

"That he can, taught him myself - don't be believing him when he says he can't either!"

"Noted, absolutely noted."

You spent the next few hours with the ladies, them happily telling you stories of Cillian's childhood as Cillian watched from a distance, smiling yet slightly concerned at why the four of you were laughing.

You saw Padraig pull Cillian away later on that evening and you watched them head into the kitchen on their own. Cillian returned around 10 minutes later rubbing his eyes and visibly a touch shaken. You made your way over.

"You okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost?"

"Listen, there's something you need to know, and you're not gonna like it y/n." He pulled you into the kitchen and checked you were alone.

"Liane might be there tomorrow. At the wedding."

"What?"

"She's Silé's fiance, Damien's, sister. Damien had practically disowned her after what she'd done to me. But she knows I'll be there, and she's been threatening to turn up."

You took a deep breath before pulling his hands onto your waist.

"She clearly isn't interested in you any more though, so why would she?"

"Because she is still interested in me. She hasn't stopped trying to contact me since we divorced, trying to get me to go back to her. Mark dropped her ass and went back to his wife. She wants us back together. I should have told you earlier..."

"Wouldn't have stopped me coming Cillian."

"Really?"

"Really. Remember the scene we filmed when Tommy's ex showed up? Clara spent the scene making sure Tommy had eyes only for her?" He nodded.

"Game on Mr Murphy - you're mine now and I'm not allowing a cheating little scrat like her ruin a damn thing."

"You're amazing. You know that?"

"I know. Love you."

"Love you more."

[winchesterxxi]

For the Best (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

PART 2 ⇒

Rating: G (General Audience)

Type: Angst

Summary: Din has put his life at risk one too many times in order to protect Y/N. But how much is too much?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: CHAPTERS 14 & 15 SPOILERS

A/N: this a long one, so strap in. and fun fact, that’s my favorite gif of din, ever. something about the ruffled hair, the worried eyes and the facial hair just hit the spot. (UPDATE: Hi so apparently people want this to be a series??? So part 2 is in the works but because this was intended to be a one shot apologies if it seems rushed)

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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Din would give his life to protect the ones he loved. It wasn’t just a case of honor and duty anymore but rather of pure unfiltered love, which he’d never admit out loud or phantom of letting you know. Most of the times he’d do it so unconsciously that it was as if a primal instinct took over him when it came to protecting either of you. Sure you were a grown woman, with amazing hunter skills but for him, you were something that he had to protect, without making it too knowledgeable to the people around him.

That is why he was quite reluctant to take you along with Mayfield to the hidden Imperial rhydonium refinery on Morak to get Moff Gideon's ship coordinates.

“Din, I’ll be fine.”

“What if-”

“No discussions. I’m going.”

And he just silently nodded his helmet in a yes ma’am manner that made the whole crew on the back of The Slave side eye each other.

Once inside the officer's mess hall, where the terminal Mayfield needed is in, he notices his former commanding officer, Valin Hess, and fears being recognized, refusing to step into the hall.

“This is your part of the job. You go in there and you get the bloody coordinates.” you hiss at him through your own helmet.

“My part of the job? I drove us here while under attack and saved our asses, and you have the nerve to say this is my part of the job? No way I’m going in there.” he looks between you and Din.

“I’ll do it then.” you say decidedly, but before you could take a single step into the hall, Din grabs your upper arm.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He won’t do it and you’ have to take your helmet off which is not happening.”

“Why would I have to take my helmet off?” he questions through his modulated voice.

“All the terminals in this refinery can only be accessed after a facial recognition scan. I noticed it while we were making our way through the halls.” you explain causing Mayfield to throuw an impressed look in your direction.

All three of you fall in silence for a few seconds, considering how you would go about reaching the terminal and before you could say another word, Din steps away from you and Mayfield not even giving you time to process what was happening or try to stop him.

With just a few strides he was standing in front of the target terminal pressing a few buttons and for two times getting an automated voice stating facial scan required. Sensing his distress, you try to walk to him only to have Mayfield’s hand forcefully grabbing you and pulling you back to where you were standing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he whisper-yells, scolding you.

“I’m trying to help.” you answer with the same voice tone, releasing your arm from his grasp.

“He can take care of himself.” you don’t say anything but instead turn your head in Din’s direction, just like Mayfield as you hear the facial recognition being asked for a third time, initiating a countdown.

Din reaches for his helmet and you cut your own breathing. and there’s a slight buzz in your ears. The world stops spinning when your eyes catch the back of his head and the curling of his brown hair strands there resting. You can’t believe what he just did, exposing himself like that and introducing his face to virtually every security control in the galaxy. 

Even though his back was still facing you, there was almost a sense of disrespect in looking at him, almost as if you’d caught him undressing. 

Then, from the corner of your eye you can see Hess approaching him. 

“Trooper!” Hess shouted to him. “Hey, trooper!”

Din turned his head in Hess’s direction and as soon as your eyes caught a glimpse of his skin, you looked away - this didn’t feel right. He didn’t have a say on whether or not he’d want you to look at him and you didn’t want him to be even more uncomfortable than what he already was.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you. What’s your designation?” 

“Transport crew,” he said. No helmet modulator whatsoever and his honey like voice slipped so easily into your ears. 

“What?”

“My designation is Transport Copilot.” his voice said again and you could hear to slight tremble in his statement.

“No, son. What’s your TK number?” Hess insisted

“My TK number... is...” he tried but nothing comes out, and you know that this might be the moment that gets all three of you killed. That is until Mayfield steps in front of you and quickly strides to Din’s side.

“This is my Commanding Officer TK-593, sir,” Mayfield quickly says, and gave Din a look of reassurance before turning in your direction and motioning with his head for you to come closer. Slowly, with the riffle still under your harm you approach the three men all looking at you. “And this is my First Lieutenant TK-234. I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant TK-111, and Sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

You are standing next to Din and you now realize how he was only a few inches taller than you without the beskar armor, his chin just little above your eye line. For a moment you imagine how enjoyable it would be to lay your head against his shoulder or nuzzle against his neck, heights perfectly matching.

“What’s your name, Officer?”

“We just call him Brown Eyes,” said Mayfield with a mocking undertone in his voice “Isn’t that right, Officer?”

Brow eyes you thought. Brown eyes... that suits him.

With your peripheral vision you can see Din slightly nodding with his head. You still din’t dare to look at him.

“C’mon, let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils-” Mayfield started, trying to get done and over with this situation 

 “You’re not dismissed.” you all froze. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes, sir” Din was the last to answer and you could feel the vibrations of his voice next to you.

“Well, you three managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment. Come with me, hmn? Let’s get a drink... Brown Eyes.”

As soon as he turns his back Mayfied follows suit and you can see Din looking at you, once again, through the corner of your eyes, but you look straight ahead and walk behind Mayfield.

What you didn’t see is that you left a hurt man behind, one that wished for you to be the first person to look him in the eyes but that now thought that he was so hideous that you couldn’t even bear the sight of him.

Sitting down on a nearby table, Mayfield took the seat in front of Commander Hess and you to his right, leaving the seat in front of you free for Din to take his place at the table.

“So,” said Hess, “What shall we toast to, boys, and girl? I can blather on, about ‘to health’ or ‘to success’, but... I’d like to do something a little less rote.” he turns to Din “Where you from, Brown Eyes?”

“How ‘bout a toast to Operation Cinder,” Mayfield intervenes.

“Now,” says Hess “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“No,” Mayfield continues. “No, you don’t get it - I lived it. I was in Burnin Konn.”

“Burnin Konn?” “Mm.”

“That was a hard day. I had to make many... unpleasant decisions.”

An exchange between the two men initiates but all you’re focusing on is keeping your eyes looking down at either the table or your drink avoiding Din at all costs. But then, feeling his eyes practically burning a hole in your forehead you realize how much of an asshole you are acting like right now.

This man trusts you with his life. And you with his. You both had made sure to make that known a few weeks ago when you almost got killed by this enormous Ice Spider in Maldo Kreis and he told you to instead of running away from the spider to try and run into and under it.

“Are you crazy?” you cried out

“Do you trust me?” he asked

“With my life.”

“Me too. Then do it.”

And so, your eyes start to trail their way across the table. To his chest plate. To his neck. To the bottom of his face, noticing his light stubble and mustache. To his eyes. And then, just like that, wind knocked out off you. 

Your furrowed and anxious brows soften and your teeth release you lips, that you were biting trying to not think too much. Your whole body softens and as you look at him in adoration.

And he is looking at you. Adoringly. These two people that have known each other for so long, longed for each other for so long are finally meeting each other, actually seeing each other for the first time. For him, it’s the first time he sees the true color of the flush of you skin or how blood tinted your lips are as he doesn’t have the slight darkness of his helmet distorting them.

He wants to kiss you, so bad.

“You see, kids,” Hess says snapping you both from that moment “Everybody thinks they want freedom, but what they really want... is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.”

He lifted his glass, and Mayfield chuckles. Both you and Din look worriedly at him knowing how he is about to go out of his mind

“To the Empire.” He drank and Mayfield fires.

You and Din look shocked at each other before turning to Mayfield.

“What the hell?!” you scold him.

Suddenly, stormtroopers appeared from all sides, and the three of you grabbed your weapons, starting to shoot everyone on sight, Din in front of you. Eventually, they were all down and there were just the three of you standing in the room.

Mayfield jaunts ahead “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Turning back to Din, you meet him looking down at you, his expression soft again. You reach for his helmet, pressing it against his chest.

“You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He looked back at you.

“Y/N...”

“It’s okay. If there is a next time that I can look at you, I want it to be out of want. Not out of need.”

He looks at you, actually thinking about whether or not he’d go back to hiding himself from you but ending up nodding and putting it back on.

“Thank you.” he says voice muffled by the helmet.

“You’d do the same for me.”

Yes he’d do.

You sat in the main chamber of the Slave next to Mayfield as the rest of the crew conversed in the upper room trying to come up with the next part of the rescue plan.

“You’re going to get him killed.” your head turns in his direction. 

“What?” you question not sure of what you heard.

“You’re going to get him killed. Today, that man went to the terminal to prevent you from going. He put himself in front of you, shooting at a whole battalion of stormtroopers. He stayed behind so that you could be the first to climb into this very ship.” 

You look down, remembering today’s events.

“He just did that for you, and Cara told me that yesterday he almost made a roast of himself when he thought you were on the Razor Crest when it got blown up. He was actually going to walk up into a ball of fire because he thought you were there. Don’t you get it? He might be one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy but that man goes completely irrational when it comes to you.”

“What are you trying to say?” you asked confused and trying to mask the hurt in your voice.

“I know this is going to hurt to hear but... maybe you should go away. At least until he gets the kid back so that he can concentrate only on that.”

“Are you saying that I’m a distraction?”

“Your not a distraction to him. You’re his priority. And that has proved itself to be beyond dangerous.”

He stands up without another word and climbs to the room above, letting you to sit with your thoughts, going over the exchange that just happened.

Boba had stationed the ship on some random planet for the night and while everyone was sound asleep, preparing for what they had to face the next day, you spent the past hours pacing in your room, Mayfield’s words still echoing in your head.

That’s why you were now standing next to your bed, a bag with all of your belongings on top of it. This is for the Best. If I stay he’ll probably get killed. You repeat over and over, recalling all the times that Din risked himself for you, the ones that no one but the both of you knew because they weren’t there to witness them.

This is for the Best.

Decidedly, you sling the bag over and across your shoulders, silently opening the door to the outside of your chamber and sliding it close. It’s better this way: to leave without saying goodbye, during the dark of the galactic night. A goodbye will wreck you and a goodbye would make you stay.

This is for the Best.

You repeat one last time, once you step out of the ship into the frosty night air, taking one last look back, before walking away, wishing that the next morning people wouldn’t panic and rather understand your decision; wishing that Din would some day forgive you.

This is for the Best

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[deepperplexity]

Black Clouds

Title: Black Clouds

Request: Hi! I just wanna start off by saying i love you’re writing ❤️ I was wondering if you could write a snape x fem reader where the reader is thinking about committing suicide because she feels like she's not worthy of living and she believes that he could have someone better and Sev notice that something is wrong and uses legilimency to find out the issue because she doesn't want to open up with anyone and he's shocked by what he sees and tries to help her. I'm sorry if that's too specific and if you don't feel like writing it, don't worry ❤️

A/N: First of all, before I say anything about this request, I want to tell EVERYONE who feels suicidal to find and ask for help. YOU ARE NOT UNWORTHY OF LIFE. This request hits home for me and I was deliberating if I should write this or not as it’s such a sensitive subject for me personally. But, that’s actually all the more reason to write it. Suicide is a hush-hush subject in society when it really should not be - this is something we ALL need to talk about and we ALL need to make sure that everyone feels safe enough to ask for help. And, as you all know by now, I am all for writing about sensitive/taboo subjects that need to be addressed more. 

Secondly, if you are suicidal or harm yourself in any way - THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE LESS WORTHY. You are worth all happiness, help, support and care in the world - you have a place in this world and it is ever-changing. What is today may be different tomorrow, what happened yesterday may impact what happens the day after tomorrow. There is always a new dawn to meet and a new sunset to cherish. If you are reading this, you are alive and fighting - go you! Like, seriously, it is fucking hard to be alive in this world but you are doing it! You are fighting, even on bad days, you are fighting and winning! Thank you for being here, thank you for staying with us, thank you for gracing the world with your presence and life! ❤️

As I mentioned this hits home and I will do my best to do this request justice as it is so damn important. I do want to mention this is fiction and I do not personally stand behind all the things that characters do even if I write it. Characters have their own will and sometimes that overrules my will as a writer (also, sometimes it’s just needed to get a good story). To intrude in one’s mind is not something I find to be a good thing - but as my loyal readers already know its a thing I use often because its fun to write and Severus just wants to bloody do it all the time; that man as no sense of privacy boundaries when it comes to others, let me tell you… So just keep this in mind whenever you read fiction - just because someone wrote it does not mean it is something they stand behind or condone. If that were the case the world would be way more bonkers - just think of all the murders and rape and war and devilry stuff authors write about O.O 

+A/N: I was writing with a female reader in mind but as I edited this I noticed nothing actually states that it is a female so the reader is GN - I hope Nonny doesn’t mind.

Pairing: Snape x Reader 

Setting: Post Second War, Spring 2003, Your home at Rosewood Hill 

Word count: 3540

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, Angst, (Age Difference), Fluff, Mental Health, PTSD, Anxiety, Emotional Rollercoaster, Kissing...

Prologue:

You, like many others who had survived the horrible battle at Hogwarts in 1998, suffered from a series of illnesses. Survivors guilt, depression, anxiety, panic attacks and lately the thoughts had begun to overwhelm you. Collectively one could call it severe PTSD but to simply group all the different emotions and disorders like that simplified it a bit too much. Some parts were PTSD, of course, but some things had haunted you long before the battle. Like your struggle with self-worth, your anxiety and the intrusive thoughts that popped up more often than not. The fact that you had been mere 19 years old when you fought for life, justice and all things good probably made the experience even harder to handle. 

Fortunately for you, something good had come from the war. Love. Your previous professor, Severus Snape, had been severely injured - actually, he had been at death's doorstep - but pulled through after several months of care where you as a nurse partook in his recovery daily. He made a full recovery under yours and others care and once he was free to leave the hospital he had asked you out on a date. You had accepted happily and then everything just sort of happened. You fell in love, got married, moved to Rosewood Hill and renovated a rundown house together as money was tight - but it all turned out quite good in the end. Well, except the fact that things weren’t good. Not at all…

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3

You had been unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning. Flashes of memories and the sound of screaming paired with falling bodies kept you company. It had gotten worse since Christmas four months ago. That was when it had snowballed out of control completely. You blinked and sighed before you carefully left the bed, and Severus, behind to get some coffee as you tried to keep the intruding thoughts at bay. 

Lately, despite all the love and happiness in your life, you had been feeling less and less worthy. Of life, of Severus, of everything. You did your best to hide how you felt. You smiled, you laughed, you baked and cleaned, did all of your hobbies and made sure Severus wouldn’t see how you were hurting inside. Made sure he wouldn’t notice how tormented you were by the mere fact you were alive. 

He had enough to deal with, he was so strong that it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He had been through pure hell. Had struggled and fought with all his might year after year while he was hurting, so deeply. You couldn’t fathom how he did it, how he survived and lived on. How he could stand it all. All the thoughts and emotions. Everything. What you felt simply couldn’t be anything to measure with against what he must have felt for so long. It pained you that your thoughts were so selfish, that you had such pain and hurt inside of you when he had a stronger right to claim such emotions. Weakling, worthless, unuseful piece of garbage...

The coffee burned its way down your throat and you winched slightly. “Careful, love,” the gruff voice of your husband echoed out. It startled you as he always slept late and the sun wasn’t even up yet. You smiled at him as you tried to arrange your face into a happy one. He arched a brow at you and you chirped out a ‘good morning, honey’ to him. He grumbled  at you, “no morning is good before nine.” You simply laughed at him as he grabbed a giant mug and poured it full with black coffee. 

“Why are you up so early?” He grumbled after a few sips, you shrugged and cradled your own cup of coffee in your hands. “I just couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get a headstart on the day,” you smiled out and he huffed. “You’re mad,” he grumbled and you shrugged again. “Why are you up?” “You left, the bed felt empty.” You smiled at him but couldn’t help the piercing thought that he would sleep better if you weren’t by his side at all. 

You snuggled up on the couch with a thick book, something to escape into. Something to cradle and lose yourself in for a few hours as Saturday passed by ever so slowly. You didn’t notice that Severus took up a place right beside you before he placed your legs over his own with gentle movements. He made sure the blanket covered your feet and then held a steady grip around your calves. You glanced up at him from the book with a smile etched to your lips. He arched a brow at you. 

“What?” you asked quizzically, his hands squeezed your leg for a moment before you felt his tender fingers stroke back and forth. “That is the question I would like to ask you, love.” You raised your brows ever so slightly before you closed the book. “What do you mean?” “What’s wrong, love?” he asked in a hushed tone and you smiled reassuringly at him. “Nothing’s wrong,” you said, “why would anything be wrong, darling?” 

Severus looked at you for a moment before he let out a small breath through his nose. His eyes left yours as he looked down at his hands placed on your legs. They were rough and pale, they were hands that you loved. “Do not lie to me, (y/n). Something is wrong. You are, not yourself anymore. Tell me,” he said gently yet firmly. You smiled wider before you placed your hand on his forearm. “Darling, nothing is wrong, I promise. I’m fine and happy, I have you.” 

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence and you felt as if your plastered smile might have failed you at any moment when he finally looked at you. “Love, do not lie, it does not suit you. Just, tell me.” You patted his arm as thoughts raced through your mind, wondering how you could reassure him he did not have to deal with your shit when he probably had so much to deal with from his own thoughts already. 

“Darling, come here,” you said and he leaned towards you. You stroked away one side of his black hair and hooked it behind his cute ear before you gently caressed his cheek and kissed his lips tenderly. I will not fail you, was the one thought that spun through your mind over and over as you tasted him. “Everything is great,” you whispered as you broke the kiss, “I’ll go make some tea for us. You seem a bit tense.” He nodded at you but there was sadness in his eyes that you could not ignore even if you stood and walked out to the kitchen.  

Your hands were shaking as you poured water into the kettle. The cups rattled as you placed them on saucers. Your breathing faltered over and over as you tried to calm your heart. Too close, too close, too close, you thought as you placed tea bags in the cups. I need to do better, he can’t see, I can’t worry him. He’s got too much of his own stuff to deal with, I can’t be a burden to him. I don’t want to burden him anymore… 

A small, glinting tear rolled down your cheek as you bit your lip to keep a sob at bay just as the kettle screamed. The water swirled as you poured it, stained by the tea in a gentle pattern before it all gained the same deep colour and you felt as if you yourself had been stained a deeper, darker colour throughout the depths of your heart.  

You had avoided him a tad after the tea. You busied yourself with laundry, cleaning, changing sheets on the bed and dusting. Not until evening came and Severus had set the table with a divinely smelling dinner were you forced to be still and in close proximity to him. Now, some might have thought this was just because you didn’t want him to notice it all, see it all, know it all. But no, no that was not the reason you had avoided him. At least not completely. 

You wanted to tell him, talk to him, get help. Or something along those lines. At the same time, you felt shame, pain and an array of doubt as to how he would react but also regarding your infliction of pain through verbally admitting what you felt to the one you loved so deeply. The storm inside you that was black clouds of endless dust that howled about your insignificant worth made you feel horrible in every way. Yet, the one thing you did not want was to hurt him. Drag him into the storm. Pain him with your selfish thoughts when you knew, knew what he had been through - for years . 

I have no right. No right to feel like this. I should be happy. Should be grateful. I’m alive, I have a home, a man who loves me and the world is safe again. I know I should feel all these things. Should be filled with love and joy. He survived, we found each other. Yet, he is just so damn much and I’m just, not worthy of any of it... 

“(Y/n), talk to me,” he said all of a sudden as he put down his cutlery. You lifted your head, allowed your eyes to meet his and tugged your lips up into a smile. “Darling, I don’t understand what you’re going on about. I’m fine, everything is good. I’m good.” “You are not good!” The sudden change of his tone startled you for a second. His gaze was intense and penetrating. As if he looked through you. You gasped as you felt his intrusion in your mind and you had no chance of blocking him out. 

He saw everything. Every little thing that you had desperately tried to hide from him. The hurt, the doubt, the horrors of your mind that filled your days with anxiety and sorrow. He slithered through your mind with such power and speed you barely had a chance at breathing as your mind raced with thoughts you had wanted to hide. But, it is as they say. If someone says ‘do not think of an elephant’, what do you think of? An elephant. And that elephant was all of your fears combined with all of the pain. 

His eyes watered and you stood with such speed that the chair toppled. “Severus-” you breathed out with a mixture of emotions that were nothing but bad. Your lip quivered as tears rolled down your cheeks before you dashed out of the kitchen and ran towards the bathroom. You closed and locked the door a mere second before he pulled at the handle. “(Y/n). Open the door,” he said with a slight shake to his voice. But you simply curled up in the tub and hugged your legs, your knees against your forehead as tears wet your clothes and skin. 

He banged at the door, twice, and you shivered. He saw it, he saw it, he’ll hate me, he’ll be furious with me. I have no right to feel this, I’m not worthy of, anything… The fear of him feeling such things towards you made you nauseous and afraid. “Please, love, open the door. Let me in,” he said through the wood that separated you. But you didn’t move. Then a click was heard and he had used the unlocking spell to let himself in. You hugged your knees tighter. Buried your head with more force as you tried to stop the sobbing that wanted to crawl its way out of your mouth from the depths of your chest. 

You felt his hand on your back as you heard the ruffling of fabric as he lowered himself beside the tub. “Love, please,” he whispered and pain was evident in his voice. You curled up further, as much as you could. I hurt him. I hurt him just like everyone else has done. You’d be better off without me, I know you would. I’m such a fucking coward, why haven’t I just- just- just ended it?! I’m not worthy of breathing the same air as you. I should have died. I should have died with the others. Someone else should have lived, I should have died in that war. “Love, don’t.” 

It was too late when you felt his presence in your mind as your dark thoughts buried you in such cold depths you barely registered that he lifted you out of the tub. His arms wrapped beneath and around you. His thin lips pressed themselves against your head and you let go of the clawing sob. It escaped through your quivering lips and Severus tensed. 

“Love, you are my everything. My whole world. You, are the very reason that I am living. You are-” “Unworthy of your love,” you breathed out in a hushed whisper. To say the words out loud felt as if someone drove a piping hot branding iron down your throat. “It is I who is unworthy of you ,” he whispered against the top of your head as he sunk to the floor and cradled you, “I should have seen, noticed, I should have been there for you like you have always been for me. I am so sorry, love.” 

Had this been one of those stupid romance novels I would have been all smiles and happy by now. To hear you say that. I would have been cured of these feelings. But apparently, life is not like that… The thoughts and feelings you had had for so long had not lessened in any way. Had not disappeared just because of his adoring words. They were as strong as ever. But now, now there was also the pain of having hurt him and made him feel unworthy or lesser. It was agony and you had no way to deal with it other than to cry. 

Darkness had fallen long before you finally stopped crying. Everything in your body ached and you knew Severus was stiff and sore from the odd position on the hard floor, with you in his lap. “I am so sorry, love,” he whispered for the umpteenth time. “I’m tired,” you whispered back as your mind kept spinning with all the things you had tried to bury. To hide. Things from before the war and after the war. Life, death, loss and gain. “Let’s get you to bed,” he simply said and the thunder in his voice felt subdued. A mere distant rumble and it made you feel strange.  

He rose with you in his arms, carefully cradled as if you would break with any hasty motion. You felt the stiffness in his movements, yet he didn’t say a word about it. He simply carried you through the hallway and placed you on the bed with gentleness. You turned and laid on your side as your mind echoed the words ‘insignificant, worthless, unbearable’ over and over and over as Severus pulled the cover up over you. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered before he kissed your head, “I will help you, in any way I can. Please don’t, don’t leave me...” 

The room was silent after those words and a moment later you heard him take a shuddering breath before he left. You were alone. In that moment, something desperate clawed in you. A fearful thought crossed your mind and pain travelled through your veins as if they were freezing with an ice-cold breath. He’ll leave me now, he’ll see that I’m not worth anything. That, that he is better off without me. Strangely enough, that scared you. Even if it had been the very epicentre of your dark thoughts and agonizing pain lately it was different now. He knew now. Perhaps it was the end and all you had feared was actually true? That you meant nothing, was worth nothing. Nothing at all.  

You shivered, turned to lay on your back and grabbed the cover to take it off but at that moment the door opened. You turned your head only to see a broken man in the doorway. His eyes glinted with unshed tears and his shoulders slumped. He looked nothing like your Severus. Nothing at all like the powerful and strong man you had fallen for.

“I will never leave you. I love you, (y/n).” You looked at him as the words vibrated through you in a low tone. “I would have been dead if it were not for you,” he continued and the words elicited a gasp from you. You could not even fathom the idea of a world without Severus. Such a place couldn’t even exist in your wildest fantasies. He was everything. “A world without you, would be worthless and empty. You are everything to me and I want to keep you forever, here, with me. No matter how selfish that may be, I need you with me. Or I shall perish.” 

Your heart fluttered with a need for his love as his words landed somewhere in the darkest parts of your mind. The parts where screams and falling bodies lingered. The part where dark clouds of dust swirled with sorrow and pain. The part where no dawning light had shined for years. There his words landed, settled. A small crack in the clouds allowed a single ray of sunshine to come through as gentle words of thankfulness for all who had survived could be heard, even if they were muffled by distant memory and buried beneath all the bad things. 

You removed the cover and sat up slowly. As your feet touched the carpet something jolted in you. You ran towards him, slammed your body into his so harshly that he took a staggering step back as his arms wrapped themselves around you with such haste you were nearly surprised. “Please, love, please. Stay and go through this with me. Together,” he breathed out and you nodded as new tears leaked from your eyes. “I will-, will try…” It was the only kind of thing you could say as you clung to that tiny sliver of light in the depths of the darkness. That tiny little ray of warmth that was your beloved and his love for you. 

 Epilogue: 

It had been nearly six months. For six months he had guarded you, tended to you, helped you through the pain and anxiety attacks too many times to count. He had cred, you had cried and several times it felt hopeless. As if nothing would ever change the darkness that clung to you on the inside, in the depths of your mind. 

But he had encouraged you, supported you, helped you in all ways possible. Even on days when you wanted to run away from it all and give up, he made sure you could see light and feel warmth. He had confided in you as well. His fear of losing you, his pain in seeing you turn into someone he did not know, the anguish of not knowing and not being able to help. The horror that had raked through him each time you had shut him out with lies of how great and good everything was. His fear that he was not enough for you, that he was not what you wanted. 

But now, after months of hard work, tears, open communication and desperate attempts at surviving through it all you felt lighter. The dark clouds of dust were nearly gone as light bathed most of your inner self; a warmth spread like the gentle breeze of a summer night. It was thanks to him, to your beloved, and your own hard work. Your own strength and determination to not yield and succumb to the darkness. Even on days when it was most tempting to escape it all swiftly. 

You had fought. Struggled. Won battle after battle. Some battles were lost but the war was being won, one fight at a time. You did that. You fought on and conquered the pain, the sorrow and despair. The abysmal voice that echoed horrendous words of unworthiness and shame had nearly been silenced and replaced with a growling noise of power and love. His voice, his sound, it saved you time and time again as you allowed love to actually unfold and be a part of your life. As you allowed yourself to be alive even if you were not always sure you should be. 

You did not give those thoughts more than a swift glance as they passed by in your mind. They were not worthy of your emotional investment. They were false and wrong. You would not succumb to them no matter what as you had finally found your will to live accompanied by a need to do so happily - despite everything your mind had whispered, you were worthy. You just needed help to break free of the darkness and see yourself for the worthy person that you would always be. No matter what, you would always be worthy of life.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3

A/N: I want to say thank you to the Nonny who sent this request and I want to yet again remind everyone that you are worthy of all good things and being suicidal or harming yourself does not take that away! If you are harming yourself or have suicidal thoughts, find and ask for help! You are worth it, worthy of help and of life! Thank you for being here with us. ❤️

Taglist:  @lizlil​ @snapefiction @darkthought15​ @monstreviolet @flowerdementia​ @marvelschriss​ @simpforsnape​ @once-upon-an-imagine​ @ravennight41​  @morphineisouthoney​ @setsuna-meiou31 @meteoritewolf69​ @bionic-otp​ @elizabeth-baelish​ 

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Feb:2021]

[lene-loki]

Never Too Close

Summary: After the events of Avengers: Endgame, (Y/N) Romanoff is mourning the death of her sister Natasha. She is unexpectedly finding comfort in the presence of someone who shares the pain of losing the people he loved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff!Sister Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Spoiler for Avengers: Endgame, Angst, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 2264 Words

A/N: I hope ya’ll liked this Imagine. Please let me know if you want to get tagged on future Imagines or Series that I want to write. This isn’t proofread and please excuse grammaticaly and verbal mistakes since English isn’t my mother tongue. And now please enjoy!! With Love, Léne xx

(Y/N) = Your Name

The pouring of the rain sounds like a faint whisper in the distance. When I close my eyes and listen precisely to the rustle I can almost hear the voice I long to hear. I open my eyes when the wind starts to blow into my ear, making my whole body shiver. A raindrop lands directly on top of my cheekbone and gets mixed up with a teardrop that escapes my eye. The wet droplet almost feels like a passing kiss. As if she is standing right beside me and kisses my tears away or maybe she cries from heaven herself and her tears end up on my face. I like to think that she watches me from above. Seeing my every move. Despite the rain a familiar warmth is spreading through my heart, making me feel safe and not alone anymore. My eyes blink the tears away, trying to focus on the words that are written on the wooden cross in front of me. The fact that her death is still so recent that she has to wait for a stone to mark her grave, makes me sob. I have looked so many times at that wooden cross that I started to hate it. She deserves a beautiful, carved stone. Not a dirty, broken cross where her name already starts to fade. But she has to wait. Her coffin isn’t set enough to put a heavy stone on top of the earth. I wipe the back of my hand over my tearstained cheeks before I kneel down in front of the grave. Everyday I bring a new kind of flowers by. Making the earth dissapear in a vibrant, little garden. It helps my own mental health to transform the place of grief into a little paradise for her. And I hope this is exactly where she’s at now. In a paradise. My eyes tear away from the flowers before I start counting them again like I always do. Because the number of the flowers is the number of the days since she passed away. My chest hurts, my heart starts to crumble inside when I once again think about the empty coffin under the ground. My sisters body dissapeard when she sacrificed herself to get the Soul Stone. Now all that remained of her is the memory.

Although it’s past midnight when I leave the graveyard I can’t help but to ring Clint out of his sleep - as well as his wife and his children probably. He picks up the phone with a yawn, his voice raspy from his deep sleep. He is the closest I have to family now and he knows. He always cared for me and Natasha and now that she’s gone he’s supporting me more than ever. Giving me a shoulder to cry on no matter how late it is. That is exactly whe he’s never annoyed when I call him at times like this. My loneliness leads the conversation as I tell him that I don’t know where to go. “Where are you right now, (Y/N)?” I shrug my shoulders even though he can’t see. “I think I’m near the Avengers compound.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. My throats stil sore from my hour long crying at Natashas grave. “I can pick you up. You can stay at mines if you want.” He suggests and I can hear him fumbling with the bedsheets in the background. Ever since Natashas passing, I stayed at the Avengers compound in her former room. But sometimes it gets too much being surrounded by her memories and her whole life in just that little space. Everything in her room reminds me of her scent, her smile, her voice, the look in her eyes - especially that tiny twinkle in her iris that always appeared when she felt extremely proud of me. I have to pull myself together to not sob again and alarm Clint even more. As much as I want to escape from the compound for a little while, I don’t want to wear out Clints care for me. I feel like I already asked too much of him. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry that I woke you.” I swallow the lump down in my throat in hopes he doesn’t hear how near I am to losing it all again. He sighs at the other end. “You’re sure?” “Yes.”   “Okay, love. Don’t apologize for calling me.” His voice sounds so soft I could fall asleep immediately on the side of the road. He just has this soothing affect on me. I hang up after telling him that I love him and walk in the dim lights of the streetlamps to the compound.

Inside the building everything is pitch dark. The only light comes from Wandas room. It’s red and spreads in chaotic rays around the space of her own four walls. She surely is training her magic since she still hasn’t full control over her powers what burdened her more than usually the last couple of days. I decide not to disturb the Scarlet Witch and seek refuge in Natashas room. I really try to sleep but since Thanos happened my nights are as restless as my hurting heart. I’m still wide awake physically but dangerously exhausted mentally when I hear voices in the early morning hours in the kitchen. Wandas voice makes me wonder if she’s been awake the whole night as well. I leave the room in my short pyjama shorts and my plain white T-Shirt. I wouldn’t fall asleep anyway so I might as well just get up and start another day of inner misery. I round the corner to the kitchen island where Pepper placed a large bowl of exotic fruits on top. The blonde showed me a sad smile since she’s lost in her own grief. Pepper disappears out of the kitchen - leaving me alone with Wanda and a familiar brunette man which I recognize from Tony’s funeral. I can’t remeber his name but I recall the pained expression on his face and the devastated haze over his pupils. He seems like he always looks like pure misery. “Good morning.” I greet them both shyly since they haven’t notice me yet. Wanda immediately sends a heartful smile in my direction while the stranger’s corners of his mouth just twitch the slightest bit upward - almost to tiny to notice. I also perceive his new hairstyle. The last time I saw him he had messy, long waves. Longer than shoulder length and a full beard. Now he has his hair cut short and looking neat with his jawline covered in dark stubbles instead of the fullgrown beard. “Bucky, this is (Y/N). She is Natashas’ sister.” Wanda explains him in her thick, sokovian accent since he developed the same look of recognition on his face as me. Now the puzzle pieces click together. That is Bucky Barnes. Steves’ best friend and the other Super Soldier. His facial features unravel in realization. “Oh, right. Hello, (Y/N). Nice to meet you again and I’m... Sorry about your loss.” He frowns at the last part. “Thank you, it’s nice to see you again in less sorrowful circumstances.” I try to lighten up the mood a bit because I don’t want to start my day already with a bad encounter that reminds me once again how miserable I am inside. Unsure if we should shake hands, Bucky’s metal arm jerks briefly in my direction but he instantly lets it sink again - wrapping the room in an uncomfortable silence. “Well it was nice to see you again. I got to go now.” I excuse myself from the weird situation and leave without breakfast to go to my Natasha’s room. I still feel uncomfortable calling it my room since it was Natsha’s place to live for so many years. I didn’t completely lie to Bucky and Wanda since it’s a new day and time to pick up new flowers for my sisters grave. I change into comfy short, cotton pants and an old, blue pullover from Natashas wardrobe before I leave the compound.

I take a cab to the same  flower shop I visit everyday. Where even the owner knows me by name already. Today marks exactly thirty days since Natasha died. A whole month without my older sister by my side. I ordered a special type of flower for this occasion. A bouqet of beautiful Royal Azaleas - the most precious flowers of our native country Russia. As beautiful as Natasha and I like how it brings a bit of our home to her - making her little paradise even more exotic. At the graveyard I am so consumed in my own thoughts to where I’m going to place the Royal Azaleas on the ground in front of the wooden cross, that I don’t notice right away the broad figure a few feet away from me. He’s standing upset in his posture  and bent a little forward above a grave. It’s the back of his head - his freshly done hair and the colour of his shirt that gives him away and I realise that it’s Bucky. I decide against it to walk up to him since he’s mourning in his own world as well and obviously needs his space. My eyes tear away from the picture of the broken man in front of me and I finally walk straight up to Natashas grave. I crouch slightly to put my bag on the ground. I brought a little shovel to set the new flowers into the earth directly in front of the cross - making the Azaleas stand out from the rest. It is when I walk over to the well a few feet away from me to pick up the watering can, that Bucky notices he’s not alone. The can is filled to the brink and quite heavy in my hand as I carry it to Natashas grave, losing waterdrops on my way there. I silently water the flowers - careful not to drown them in the lack of strength I have in my hand that is holding the water can. The whole time I can feel his stare on me and I can almost feel his inner battle if he should come up to me or not. A few moments later he starts nervously walking up to me while I clean the little shovel to stow it away in my bag. “Do you still the need the watering can?” He asks hoarsely as he comes to a halt beside my bend over figure - blocking the sun out of my view which throws a few rays on the water droplets. Making them sparkle inbetween the flowers of Natashas floral paradise. “No.” I smile softly at him and stand up again. He returns my friendly grin and takes the water can but doesn’t leave straight away. He hesitates a second unsure of if he should leave me alone again, but somehow I long for company - not wanting to speak with the wind again and hallucinate about Natashas voice. “I lost everyone. Natasha was the only one left of my family. Although Clint supports the weight of my grief to make me feel like I’m not alone I still feel like it. I always felt like I’m alone in this world and deep down I don’t feel like I belong to the Avengers either. It was Natashas community. Not mine.” My eyes start to sting with upcoming tears while I open up to Bucky. I don’t really know why I do this. I guess I never felt so out of place and so lonely like I did in the past days and it scares me. Bucky clears his throat, his glance burning holes into my soul as he watches every slightest movement of my facial expressions. “I went through losing the people I love so many times that I lost count of it.” He blinks the tears away which threatens to fall from his eyes. “After Steve left to live the life with Peggy he always dramed to have, I officially got left alone. Steve was so much more than my friend. He was my brother.” He sniffs. “And now I’m searching for a sign - just something that keeps me in this life.” I let my tears run freely as I identify his words as my own feelings. And I realise that we are two souls hurting from the same experiences building a connection to one another through the desperation of having lost any strength to keep living. “Without wanting to get too close to you, I think you just as broken inside as me.” He speaks up. His eyes are swollen and red, still glossy from fresh tears which haven’t stopped being reproduced and leaking out of the corner of his eyes. I strangely feel comfort in the detail that his blue pullover matches mine. My heart starts to pick up a pace as I cross a vulnerable line between us and say: “I think you can never be too close to someone. I’m sure closeness is what we both need the most now.” I gift him a teary smile which he returns with a faint tint of red across his cheeks. Our encounter feels like a big step for the both of us - coming out of our shells we’ve been hiding in like anxious snails and I could feel it in the beating behind my ripcage that it was towards the right direction.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

queen of hearts // chapter nine

summary : y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

series masterlist + taglist

content warnings : murder, gunshots, death, sexual harassment, angst (lots of it)

a/n : reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homicidal urges, seek professional help immediately.

-

You did it.

Wow.

You got you and your baby out of that shithole and you're on the run. The news and the FBI plastered your face everywhere so of course you changed your appearance as best as you could. Can't really hide a 7 month baby bump though, can you? You make your way to an empty road and stick your thumb out to hitchhike. A woman with strawberry blonde hair stops, letting you into her worn out green truck.

-

"Thank you so much!" you exclaim, getting into the truck. Thump. Your heart could jump right out of your chest. All it takes is one headline, one picture and she'll turn you in.

"Make yourself comfy, sweetie," she gives you a warm smile. "I'm Maggie. Where you headed?"

"I'm Lucy," you lie. "Anywhere but here. As far as you can take me, please."

"What's got you running? If you don't mind me asking."

"Let's just say I got away from a very bad place." you whisper. It's not a lie.

Maggie nods sympathetically and goes to turn on the radio.

"No!" you clearly startle her, filling you with guilt. "I- I'm sorry, I'd just prefer silence right now."

"Don't worry about it, Lucy. I know what it's like to be in a bad situation, I know all too well." She says sadly. "I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable, you just sit tight."

Maggie's words give you a sense of comfort, her kindness sets you slightly at ease. It'd fucking suck to have to kill her, you think. After what seems like few hours, you wake up to see her pumping gas into the truck. She enters the store, telling you she's been craving some licorice and she'll be right back. You're not heartless, you don't want to hurt this sweet woman. So, as anyone would do, you knock out the only other person around with one swift swing of a bat you found in Maggie's truck. Getting into the car, you hotwire it while the man you hit groans on the ground, bleeding. Red stains his shirt and your heart races. It's been a long time since you've done anything like this. Shit, shit, shit. You see Maggie at the cash register, paying. Lucky for you, the talkative woman gives you time by conversing with the cashier. Spark. Got it. Taking one last glance, you see Maggie drop her bag and gasp, whipping her head to look at you. There's a fucking TV in the gas station and guess who's face is on it? You back up the van and wince at the sound of the man's bones cracking paired with his agonized scream. Now or never. Hitting the pedal, you floor it.

-

You stop to breathe for a moment, parking outside of a shitty looking motel. The neon sign is broken so it reads Mot l. You open the trunk of the car you stole to look for anything useful. How lucky, you think. A small, silver handgun is tucked away underneath a plaid knit blanket. Where are the bullets? Must be in the front. Getting into the car and searching the glove compartment, you locate the ammo.

"Goddamn, if that isn't one hell of an ass." A gruff voice behind you whistles. Ignoring him, what he says next makes your heart burst into fear. Thump. "Be careful lovely lady. Heard there's a killer running around. I'll keep you safe though." You feel a hand make its way onto your back slowly and you turn yourself on your back.

"Fuck off." you growl. Click. Gun loaded. Pointing it at the man's now petrified face, you smirk.

"I-I'm sorry!" he spits out.

"No, you aren't honey." Bang. His body hits the ground with a thud and the familiar metallic taste of blood splatters your face. A steady hand wipes away the remains from your eyes and you exit the car, as calmly as you can manage.

"I'd like a room please." The motel owner stares at you, astonished. At the blood or because he recognizes you? Either one isn't good. This wasn't a good decision-- at all. Thump. A shriek from the parking lot distracts you momentarily and the owner takes a laptop and hits you over the head.

"What the fuck?" you grumble. The dumbass didn't even draw blood. With a quick flash, you shoot him too. This whole thing is getting tiring. Fuck, fuck. How the fuck? you wonder, pissed off as you hear sirens. Did the source of the shriek really call the cops that fast? Or were you in such a haze that you can't even think straight, let alone keep track of time. Oh, fuck me. Three black SUVs are with the swarm of police cars. SUVs that you recognize without a doubt as the FBI. Thump. No negotiations this time, no bullshit.

You exit the motel with the gun in your hand. Red and blue lights make you squint and illuminate your figure in the dead of night. Getting a good look at the imagie in front of you, you laugh. Lo and behold, the BAU.

"I'm sorry." you say, just loud enough for everyone to hear before pointing the gun at Spencer Reid.

Bang. Thump. The sharp pain shoots through your chest and you hear a scream. Your head hits the ground and your entire body gives out.

"Y/N!"

You laugh, spitting up raspy strings of red as you do. Suddenly, your head is being cradled and you're being frantically whispered to and yelled about.

-

"Medic! We need a medic!"

-

"N-Nice turnout, isn't it?" You cough violently.

"Shh, don't talk Y/N. Please." He strokes your hair as the EMTs load you into the ambulance.

"S-Spence," you call out, barely able to stay conscious.

"What is it sweetheart?"

"Take care of my b-baby for me," another horrible cough escapes you. "Give her the best life you can, t-tell her..."

"Miss Y/L/N, hurry it up, we need to get you into surgery."

"Tell her that her mother loves her, even if I'm not around."

Spencer's eyes flood with tears, they spill out onto his cheeks as he watches the ambulance drive away. Then it hits him. Her. He's having a baby girl.

-

SPENCER'S POV - E.R.

-

Hours pass with still no update on Y/N's condition. Most of team has gone home, waiting on call. I don't blame them. I'm the only one still here for Y/N. I feel helpless, like my head is underwater and I'm about to drown. Guilty, so guilty that I still love her. Angry. She's the one who was shot yet the anguish I feel is so fucking deep that it's as if knives are stabbing at my lungs.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" I stand up so quickly I think I might fall over.

"Yes I'm her b--" he stops himself. "I'm Doctor Reid with the FBI, h-how is she?"

"No loved ones here for her? I heard she killed some people but damn."

"Is she stable or not?" I snap, regretting it immediately upon seeing her reaction.

And then she speaks.

"The bullets severed 3 major arteries."

No. They saved her. They have to have saved her.

"Y/N didn't make it."

Everything stops. It feels like my limbs and head weigh a ton. Everything's heavy. My breathing becomes less and less effective, disbelieving, tiring. All color in the room fades, leaving me in darkness. I feel weak and detached, chest clenching until I collapse into the chair behind me.

"Doctor Reid?" the surgeon questions softly.

I don't look at her. I stare at the wall across from me, unable to speak, unable to cry even. My mouth is dry and I feel broken.

"Doctor Reid, I need to know who the child of her father is. We were able to save her."

Thump. Thump. Exhale. I meet her eyes.

"Take me to my daughter please." I say low and as steady as I can without breaking down. The surgeon gives me an odd look, processing the information I've given before turning. I stop her.

"Wait..." I gulp heavily. "Can I see Y/N first?"

She nods, hesitantly.

"Right this way."

Y/N's body lays, peacefully. It should be comforting to know she wasn't scared when she died but I want her here with me. I take her cold, lifeless hand in mine and the tears finally leave me. I let out a loud cry and bring my face down to her stomach, resting and shaking on her skin.

"I'm so sorry," I cry to her body, unable to hear me. "I love-- loved you. I swear."

Sniffling painfully, I notice something in her bra. Leave it to Y/N to torture me even from the dead.

-

"Dearest Spencer,

I think the way things played out were fitting. If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Fucking creep, took a letter out of my dead body's bra. Kidding, kidding. Seriously though, give my baby a pretty name, will ya? I hope she gets your kindness, your strength. Everything that makes you you. Raise her to be everything we've ever dreamed of. You make sure she knows I love her, so much. Now quit being a pussy and wipe those tears, darling. We both know I deserved this. I love you, Spence and I forgive you. You got this babe.

Yours truly, Y/N."

-

My heart is ripped out farther and farther with each word read. It gives me a sense of closure but the pain and turmoil doesn't go away. A life where Y/N isn't here with me isn't a life at all.

"Excuse me," I say blankly as if every emotion I'm feeling simply doesn't exist within me. "I'm done."

The woman guides and then leaves me alone with my child. I hold her in my arms and gasp lightly. She's small but perfect and she smiles at me, lighting my heart. She has Y/N's smile. The fire inside me lessens, being slightly soothed by the newborn in my arms. We'd spoken a few times about having children but I'd always thought she'd be here when the day came. I think about it for a second. I won't name her Y/N, that's much too cliche for Y/N's liking. She isn't the type to name a child without meaning.

"Ellie." I whisper.

Ellie. Meaning 'shining light'.

The light I already love.

The light that holds every piece of Y/N's story in her eyes.

The light that'll get me through this utter darkness.

My light.

Goodbye Y/N. I'll never forget you, the light and the love of my mortal life.

-

[mittensmorgul]

do we know why the boys were not allowed to have facial hair on the show? i feel like it was more in character than to assume sam and dean had to time to just always be clean shaven in the middle of apocalypses, being demons or possessed, fighting gods ect. on the flip side, im still confused as to how cas grew facial hair in purgatory when i didnt think that was something that happened to angel vessels?

Hi there! There's actually quite a bit going on in this question (I think this is my way of saying sorry it's taken me a few days to get to it :'D)

I'll start by saying I don't think it was a matter of "not allowed" to have facial hair, but it's actually more complicated than that. Not to mention Dean especially was almost never what I'd call "clean shaven" outside of when they were beginning a hunt and posing as FBI.

There's a video I think on the s1 dvd's called something like "a day in the life of Jared and Jensen". Wait... I found it on the youtube...

It's only about 10 minutes long, and if you haven't seen it, it's worth watching all of it. It was shot during the filming of 1.20 Dead Man's Blood, so they hadn't even been at this a full year yet. About 2 1/2 minutes in, they go through hair and makeup, and talk about shaving.

Back in s1, Sam had to be more clean shaven to look younger, and Dean had to have a bit of scruff just to look a bit older. So at first it was to visually make their ages more obvious. But it's also about continuity on camera. Remember, each episode of supernatural was filmed over eight weekdays (with a couple days for weekends in the middle). Episodes are NOT filmed in scene order. It would make it almost impossible to show normal, chronological beard growth over the span of two weeks of filming, you know?

If they film scene 38 first, then scene 12, then scene 19, then scene 2 over the course of four days, their facial hair has to remain believably consistent, not grow and shrink :'D So having a designated easily duplicatable facial hair style (and hair cut, because head hair can grow noticeably in two weeks, too, especially when it's as short as Jensen's on the sides/back) makes visual continuity actually possible. Especially when they're filming entire EPISODES out of airing order.

Think about Jensen's beard in the AU bunker battle scene in the beginning of 15.04. That was the first episode filmed of s15, and those were the first SHOTS filmed of s15 before Jensen shaved off his hiatus beard for the rest of the season. Those scenes were probably filmed in a single day, two at most, before he had to resume "standard Dean." Also think about Demon Dean's slightly longer hair that went back to normal, or Sam's beard from the first three episodes of s14 before he shaved in 14.04. Those times the longer hair/facial hair was used to show a lack of self-care for various reasons.

I think Cas's Purgatory beard was used to show the same. He was doing "penance" in his own mind, but I do think it was also the seeds of his entire depression arc that would run right through 15.18 and then never get an actual resolution (sorry, I had to at least grumble about that a little bit...). I remember Jensen saying when he asked why Dean was clean-shaven in Purgatory and Cas wasn't, he was told by someone that "Dean has knives," and would actually continue shaving for some reason, while Cas wouldn't even bother using his grace/powers to maintain his appearance there.

I don't believe the show has ever made any sort of statement about angel vessels NOT growing hair/facial hair. Plus by this point in the series, we really do have to consider that Cas's body, not as much his vessel anymore. Jimmy was long gone, and the last at least two times Cas had been resurrected, that body was also remade for him. We're at least two degrees of remove from that being a normal vessel, so even if angel vessels aren't "supposed to" grow hair or change their appearance, Cas would have an exception asterisk attached. :'D

The thing is, we HAVE seen other angels change the appearance of their vessels. I mean... Lucifer, for one, especially in s13. He grew scruff, looked messy, etc. And it was explained to be a result of having been imprisoned and his grace seriously depleted to the point he couldn't even perform small magical tasks for himself.

So why did Cas grow scruff in Purgatory? Because television is a visual storytelling medium. If you had a friend in real life who usually looked like Cas normally does, and then saw him after months and saw the guy Dean found in Purgatory, what would your immediate thoughts be about how that friend had been doing lately? Did similar thoughts about how Cas's last few months in Purgatory alone, running from Leviathans, staying alive primarily to keep the Leviathans focused on HIM instead of on Dean?

I think the phrase "run ragged" applies to Cas's Purgatory look. Sometimes facial scruff combined with smudged on dirt is the fastest visual shorthand for "yikes this guy has had it rough lately." Hence his "get clean" scene in 8.07 restoring him entirely to "normal," including clean-shaven and a decent haircut somehow. I think he'd been entirely able to have given himself that look in Purgatory, but he just never bothered to. For whatever reason, Dean did bother. And that was part of the visual narrative telling us that Dean still cared, and that Cas (outside of his mission of keeping the leviathan away from Dean) didn't.

Like, even when Cas was human in early s9, when he was on the run and homeless, even when he was given opportunity to shave his scruff (at the beginning of the episode while brushing his teeth, and at the end after showering at the bunker and before being kicked out) he still retained the scruff. The next time we saw him in 9.06, when he was settling into his "new human life" as a sales associate, even though we understand he's still technically homeless, he's actually maintaining his appearance, demonstrated by his care for himself and the fact he bothered to shave. For him, it was a visual signifier of his growing to accept himself.

To go way back up to that video above, in the makeup trailer are dozens of photos of different looks for each of them. Yes, some are purely silly, but even as shown in 6.15 The French Mistake (the "I'm a painted whore!" scene) are a few similar continuity photos. Every day of filming, every change to makeup and hair (including FX makeup showing wounds, bruises, etc.) has to be documented for the sake of continuity. Or you'd have an episode with alternating scenes of them having longer/shorter/longer facial hair over the course of what's supposed to be a single day on screen. The easiest way to maintain that continuity is character consistency, only having a drastically different look occasionally, for a specific reason.

So why couldn't they have chosen to go with a beard for an entire season? It's just as easy to maintain beard consistency day to day on set as it is to just have them shave to scruff, right? Crowley did that... he was clean-shaven the first few seasons he was on the show, and then grew the beard, so why not Sam and Dean?

As I said above, the visual language of the show actually means something. These aren't real people who might casually decide to grow facial hair for fashion reasons. They're fictional characters being used to tell a specific story. Their appearance and their clothing choices are visual shorthand to give us information about their current mental state, their internal priorities, etc. It's all part of the story, and in this story, Sam and Dean generally care enough to maintain their chosen physical appearance. They only seem to grow beards when they're either being run ragged or otherwise lack the ability to care for themselves, whether by choice or by circumstance.

I think it's less "they were not allowed to grow beards" and more "this would not be in character in the visual language of the show."

[euphoricsunflowers]

coup d’état — son hyunwoo/shownu

a/n: i might make this a series! depending on if you guys are vibing with it so p l e a s e give me feedback if you’d like more royalty!reader fics.

word count: 1.9k

content: power bottom!fem!reader, service top!shownu, slight degradation, i guess slight edging as well, ✨Neck Kisses✨, we really go from soft to mean like so quickly it’s wack.

summary: him lying atop your silk blankets and propped up on a few pillows with cum covering his tanned stomach is an absolutely euphoric sight. you can leave taking control of the kingdom for the morning if it means gazing at him like this a bit longer.

(GIF by @focusongyeom)

“princess?” he murmurs softly, pulling your attention away from your book. not that you were too focused on it, because that book was boring as hell, but your father demanded you take up reading as a hobby. and nobody could disobey the king, not even his precious daughter.

“yes, hyunwoo? what is it?” you ask. he eyes your slightly messy bedroom, making a mental note to clean it up at some point before he’s reprimanded for not doing his job right. as your personal servant, he really had to do everything for you. not that he minded, because the king paid him quite better than before when he was just another kitchen servant.

“princess, i do apologize for interrupting your personal time, please forgive me,” he bows. you don’t seem to even want his apology, but he gives it anyway, “i am here because your brother’s coronation is tomorrow evening, and your father conveyed me… you plan to not attend?”

“ah, so that is what this is about,” you mumble disappointedly. hyunwoo didn’t want to make you upset, “please, hyunwoo, if you are going to attempt to persuade me, do not waste your time. i will not be attending, and that is final.”

“i… that is what i thought you’d say. i am not going to attempt to convince you to do anything,” he says, fidgeting from the nerves. you being at all upset at him is the last thing he wants, “i am only… curious. what is the reason for your decision?”

“my brother gets everything, hyunwoo,” you mutter sharply, “he becomes king tomorrow night. why? how is he more fit to rule than i am? because he is a boy? i do not wish to sit through a ceremony congratulating my brother on being born with a penis.”

your crude language makes him chuckle. you must be spending more time with the commoners to be left to humor like that, but he doesn’t mind. not that it’d matter if he did, but he didn’t, “do you wish to rule instead? to be queen?”

“i… i do not know. i do know that my brother is not qualified for the job and, though i suppose he’d be an improvement over my father, he’s only going to drag this kingdom down further,” you say before making a face that hyunwoo can’t use to discern what you’re thinking, “my father is not exactly… popular… among commoners such as yourself, correct? do you wish to see my brother take his place?”

“unpopular is an understatement, my princess,” hyunwoo knows that you’re incredibly under informed about what your father has done to the people of the kingdom on purpose, because you were always outspoken and sharp with your words. you would have caused an uprising with the people if you spoke up, being as popular (compared to the rest of your family) as you are. you were so unaware of how easily you could sway public opinion and possible start a coup and take over yourself, “i believe you’d make a fine queen.”

“i will, but just… not one that can do anything,” you mumble, “do you know of prince minhyuk lee?” hyunwoo shakes his head, “he is the second oldest prince of the kingdom north of us. i am supposed to be married to him as soon as possible, and should his older brother die, we would be the next king and queen of his kingdom.”

“is… that the life you want?” hyunwoo asks, motioning for you to come closer, and you do. you stand right in front of him, and breathe out a heavy, heavy sigh.

“no,” leaves your lips, and once it does, the rest just comes rushing out, “prince lee is… fine. i have nothing against him, but i just… this is my kingdom. i will not just be used as an appeasement for the prince and his kingdom.”

“forgive me if this is too informal, but you seem awfully determined,” he laughs awkwardly, trying to calm the tension in the silence, but it doesn’t work, “princess? are you alright?”

you finally meet his eyes, before asking, “will you… it came down to it, would you be on my side or my father’s?”

“your’s. that does not really say much, considering my… extreme negative feelings towards the king...,” he whispers, worried someone else might overhear, but it’s just you two. it’s as if you’re the only two in the whole world right now, “but i live to serve you, my princess. that means trusting you and standing by you through any choices you make. and if… overthrowing the king is really what you want… then make it happen. i will always follow you.”

“could i— could we really do that? just the two of us?” you seem so hopeful, your eyes twinkling with that kind of determination that he can’t help but try to harness.

“my princess, there is a lot you don’t know, especially about your kingdom… and about your father,” hyunwoo mumbles, “and i do believe that the people would support you.”

“would this mean… killing my family?”

“i suppose it is not completely necessary, but that is a feasible outcome,” hyunwoo doesn’t attempt to hide the fact he could not care less for your family, especially your father. sure, your brother was going to officially be king tomorrow, but hyunwoo had no reason to believe that he’d do anything to fix this kingdom, “i will be beside you the whole time, princess. my loyalty is unwavering, and i will do anything you ask of me. if you are serious about seizing the throne, then all i ask is to not abandon the people who help you once you finally get the power.”

“i promise, hyunwoo, i will not be like my father. i want my people to be treated well. they don’t deserve the hell he’s put them through,” you reach out to hold his hand, and he hesitates. he’s always been able to hide his feelings, disguising them as devotion and loyalty to the royal family’s princess, but that’s all a lie. he’s love you for years. you were the only one who was kind to him when he first met you.

he was maybe 16 when he started working in the royal palace, doing some janitorial work probably. he distinctly remembers when you had met him. he was a bit less restrained and polished back then, but you didn’t seem annoyed. you just smiled to at him, offering him your hand to help him up when he fell. he’s known you for so many years, there’s not a single person on earth who wouldn’t fall for you given the circumstances, it just happened to be him.

“then you have me. as long as you live, you will have me,” he whispers, his hand taking hold of yours. you squeeze his hand a bit, closing your eyes.

“could… could you do something for me?” you ask, and he nods instantly, without a second thought.

“of course, my princess, what is it?”

“i know we kind of just… discussed overthrowning the monarchy and all. i know that is so much more important than what i am about to ask of you, but for one night, would you pretend i wasn’t a princess?” you ask, and he recoils slightly.

“what… do you mean?”

“instead of being the princess, i would like, instead, to be something else tonight,” you whisper to him, but he still doesn’t get it, so you resort to your last ditch effort. you lean in to kiss him on the lips. it’s soft, but faint, and god his lips feel perfect, “treat me like your lover tonight. leave the coup d’etat for the morning.”

“princess—?”

“call me y/n. i do not want to hear you call me princess until dawn, my pretty boy, understand?” you ask, and he nods. he doesn’t really understand. he doesn’t understand a lot about what’s going on right now, or why you’re all up on him, or why he assumed you wouldn’t be this… dominant. your lips on his neck was the last thing he expected to come of this moment, and he moans embarrassingly high when you bite down just a bit, “oh fuck, that was hot. i didn’t take you for a sub, hyunwoo.”

“i-i’ll be whatever you want, prin— y/n,” he stutters cutely and blushing endearingly.

“but, you know, the fact that you are not inside me right now is honestly a national tragedy,” and that’s all the motivation he needs. he’s on top of you in seconds, this time the one kissing your neck, but he doesn’t seem to have the same effect on you that you have on him. he felt weak in your hold, melting from just the pure intensity in your kisses, but you only smirk— he can barely see it but he knows you are— and it irks him, “c’mon, hyunwoo, i’m getting bored, hurry up.”

your nightgown is easily ripped off, mostly because he’s incredibly muscular under that suit he has to wear. he undresses rather quickly as well, before getting back on top of you.

“you are breathtaking, my lover,” he smiles cheekily, pressing a kiss to your stomach before bringing two fingers to his lips, coating them in saliva, and getting to work. he presses them into you gently, and the sounds you make have him hypnotized.

“did i not just tell you to hurry up? or are you that dumb?” you groan, but the insult only makes him whine softly, and his whole body reacts, “huh, do you like being degraded? my stupid little servant.”

and, to be honest, hyunwoo was not little or small in the slightest. he was above average height and he was somewhat muscular, if a bit thin, but something about the way you say it makes him crumble to pieces, “your stupid little servant,” he echos.

“i doubt there is a thought in that head of yours,” you smile patronizingly, “you just do as you’re told, hm?”

“y-yes! i’ll do whatever you want me to!”

“then fuck me, hyunwoo, i do not have all night,” you mutter, wrapping a hand around his neck. he pulls his fingers out, spits as much as he can into the palm of his hand, and coats himself in it so there’s at least some lubricant, and then he just goes for it, mindlessly thrusting in and out slowly, before going faster, “c’mon, be useful and make me cum.” you whisper, a bit harshly, but it only makes him go harder, bringing his hand down to massage your clit as well.

once you do cum, he’s already so close. he wants to ask, because he feels like he should, but god he really can’t right now. as you come down, he can feel it almost breaking, but you stop him, and he cries out pathetically. he sounds like an animal that’s been wounded.

“does my dumb little baby want to cum?” you ask, but you know the answer. of course he nods desperately, and you smirk, “then pull out and jerk yourself off. i want to see the cum on your stomach, maybe i’ll even take a picture.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiest @rosethefae @staranonthoughts @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting

[daisies-write]

And he said “nope” - Part 2

Deal with the Devil

Hisoka x weak!reader; soulmate AU

Ok so we decided to go with a light and fun story! I suppose it isn’t what’s expected of a Hisoka x reader but with Ari we had so much fun imagining different scenarios where both are forced to work together, it just started to take life on it’s own! I hope it won’t be disapointing for you and that you’ll like this serie as much as we do! @kuuredere​

-Yasu

Previous chapter / Next chapter

TW: none

Writer: Both of us ! (Ari and Yasu)

Word count: 1965

    This is how your "contract" began with Hisoka, with one simple deal: to continue with your life without being disturbing each other, as if you two never met. You would never work together anyway. You had morals and Hisoka was… Hisoka.

    But strangely, since then your life had seemed to take an ominous decline and you were starting to wonder if the Universe had something to do with it. Too much had happened in too little time: losing your car, having your apartment infested with cockroaches, and finding out that your partner might be having an affair. Well… it couldn't be worse, after all.

    " You are fired. "

Ah. It could, actually.

    You were sitting on a bench somewhere in a park, with a big box full of your things lying at your feet, trying somehow to reach your partner on the phone. After the fifth call, you gave up. They must have been busy ...

    You clapped your hands over your eyes, sighing loudly, twisting in your head everything you could do to find a job that paid as well as your last but there were very few options and the remaining ones didn't appeal to you one bit. You weren't desperate enough to striptease yet, that's for sure, and going back to babysitting was a big no.

    "Maybe they were right in the end," you mumbled in your despair. “I'm not meant to be a Hunter and I'm not made for the big city.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips. “A real little peasant, haha. "

    As if trying to mock you, the sun and the sky were extremely bright that day. Or maybe it was to support you...

    " Well! I got this! I will not be discouraged for so little! "

    You got up on your feet, determined, and then sat down again almost instantly.

    "I have nowhere to sleep."

    You expressed yourself with yet another long sigh. If only you hadn’t met this Hisoka, if only you hadn’t gone to see that damn battle at Heaven Arenas with your friends, if only you had said no, your life surely would have just as chill, like it used to. Seeing in color was fun but not necessary.

    "I don't like pink," you thought as you saw a kid make a big bubble with his chewing gum.

    "My, it looks like my kitten is doing badly ~," said a voice you recognized all too well.

    Slowly turning your head to the side, you could finally confirm your fears: Hisoka was looking at you with a big smile, a hand on his cheek and mocking eyes.

    "Hey, Satan," you answered instinctively.

    He laughs at your words.

    "I’m pretty sure I’m even worse, but thank you nonetheless."

    “Go away. I don’t have time to mess with you. And like, don’t you have a fight today?”

    Hisoka shrugged.

    “The guy isn’t worth my time, that’s all.”

    “So you thought about stalking me?”

    “I thought about watching children play but I found you like you would find a wart,” he said nonchalantly.

    You just started at him, genuinely creeped out.

    “Get out of here, pedo.”

    He laughed again.

    “Make me.”

     “The sexual innuendo of this sentence is way too big so you better stop using it unless if you want to bang me,” you said, unphased. “But there’s a hint: you ugly.”

    “Wow!” Hisoka placed a hand to his heart, a pout on his face. “You didn’t seem quite so aggressive last time. Something bad happened?” His eyes found your box and his smirk came back. “Fired?”

    You said nothing, but the displeased expression gave him confirmation.

    “Your fault.”

    “How’s that? Oh, let me guess,” his finger taping his lips in the most frustrating exagerration of his excessively dramatic self. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me and got distracted from your work, so of course, your boss told you to never come back because of your  uselesness. Tragic love story!” He sighed. “But then again, who could resist me? I feel sympathetic for you. <3″

    Your disgust grew just at the thought of being in love with Hisoka. He annoyed more you at every word he spoke, at every breath he took but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing this. You prefered playing his game and use your sarcasm to counter his and perhaps, distract yourself from your harsh reality.

    “Well, if you’re so sympathetic, you could buy me a house-”

    “Nope, <3″

You tried, at least!

    “My apartment have been infested with cockroaches, so honestly, I really need a house. If you know a place, tell me.”

Hisoka eyed you for a second.

     “Are you really unclean to the point of having cockroaches in your whole apartment?”

    “What ? NO!” you yelled.

He just laughed again, shoting his head back. You bite your lower lips in embarassment as you saw the eyes of everyone else in proximity glaring at you. Your cheeks burned in fluster.You’ve been too loud.

    “I have an idea!” you said to Hisoka after chacking your burning face away. “We could swap houses! That way, you could live with your family!”

His laugh died and he looked at you, pleased that you started playing with him.

   “They said they missed you, you know? That you shouldn’t have run off and left them without saying anything,” you continued.

   “I,” started Hisoka through a shit eating grin, “hate you so much and I urge to kill you but it would be no fun with you.”

    “I think one of your brothers at my house is called Steve. Steve really, really misses you.” You smiled. “I feel like you two were very close.”

    You liked insisting on each and every word of your sentence.

    “Impossible. I’m too sexy to be related to Steve.”

    “You’re sure? I thought you were twins. I could barely tell you apart!” Your voice sounded more and more amused with each syllable leaving your mouth. It felt so natural. “Wow.”

    Honeslty, playful bander with Hisoka was fun. A real game, a match one of you had to win; he was never phased by any of your words so you kept sending sly insults back and forth in this oddly lively and convivial disgust you shared for each other.

    Unfortunatly, everything must come to an end, right? You stopped quick in your teasing when you saw a familiar number appearing on your phone. Your smile vanished in less than a second and the atmosphere wasn’t so light anymore. Your partner was calling you, but in all honesty, you didn’t want to answer now. Or more like you didn’t have the heart to. 

    Hisoka raised one eyebrow.

    “Lover?”

    “I guess.. They’ve been cheating for a while, so no, not really anymore,” you said, trying your best to seem nonchalant about it.

    “And you’re okay with that? You don’t seem like the type who’d have an open relationship.” His voice sounded like he took great joy in your suffering.

    “Well, they found their soulmate. I know them,” you gulped. “I know them more than I know myself. It’s been hard on them and they aren’t ready to talk about it but I’m aware of what they’re doing at night. I saw their messages by accident.” You shrugged. “I’m only waiting for when they feel like it’s time.”

You stared at the number until it disappeared.

    “Liar.”

You looked over to Hisoka again, slightly disoriented.

    “You can dump them since you found your own soulmate.The break-up wouldn’t be so hard on them if they knew this.” He chuckled. “You’re just slowing down the inevitable fate of your couple. You don’t want to be alone and that’s all there is to know.”

    You glared at him, now. Your heart was beating loudly against your chest, in pure anger. How could he read through you so easily? You didn’t like that one bit and you were disappointed in yourself for oversharing. He’s your soulmate, yes, but he’s still Hisoka.

“Please. Not now.”

“Sucks to be you, love.”

    An awkward silence fall upon you both, or at least upon you. While you were frantically texting your best friend to ask for a place to stay, only to be met with a lenghty apology, you searched for other ways to find a place to sleep tonight. The motel rooms prices were way too high and you didn’t know how long you’d need to stay, nor how much it’ll cost to have your appartment clean again. You couldn’t face your partner and you were too ashamed to call your family. Your pride would end you but you prefered sleeping in the streets than having them look at you disapprovingly. Your whole world was falling apart and you blamed it all on Hisoka. And yet...

    Hisoka’s eyes didn’t leave your figure. His mind was racing and it seemed like it was the only thing it did since he met you. He didn’t speak when he saw you frown and sigh and type desesperatly on your phone, swipping through your contacts, hesitating over a room price, checking over and over again if anyone could help you. His mind was still racing when he told you:

    “I guess you can come to my place for a while.”

    You were utterly speechless and goggled at him for a few seconds. It isn’t like Hisoka at all to propose help. He had something in mind, you knew as much, but you couldn’t help but feel floored.

    “Who are you and what the heck did you do to my soulmate-?”

    “Awww, you refer to me as your soulmate, that’s adorable.”

    “ANSWER-” Honestly, you didn’t care about the volume of your voice at this point. You were too shocked. 

    Hisoka just laughed it off and looked at you, openly condescending and still smiling. Does he ever stop doing so ?

    “I will have to take on a mission so I won’t be at Heaven Arenas for a while.” He pointed at you. “You can take my room there while I’m gone.”

You were too confused.

    “But why? You gain nothing by doing this!” You frowned and wrapped your hands protectively against your body. “I won’t have sex with you!”

    “Don’t worry, I’d rather die,” he rolled his eyes. “I let you take my room because whatever happens to you if you sleep on a bench in the parc happens to me as well. And even if I’m pretty sure I can manage, I don’t want to wake up in the morning with a hole in my belly. You got it, darling?” 

    “Wait, what do you mean everything that happens to-’

But he didn’t let you finish your sentence: he took your box and walked away without giving you any other explanation.

    “Hisoka, wait!”

    Well, at least you got a rather interesting piece of informations. You didn’t know everything about soulmates but you sure knew that even if you were linked by fate, Hisoka wouldn’t do this without solid motives. Everything about him screamed to you to never trust him but you needed your box and you needed a roof over your head. You wouldn’t let your guard down for now. You probably couldn’t beat him in a fight but he didn’t seem like he’d kill you so that was already a good point.

    You made a mental note to look more deeply into all of this and untangle the mystery of his help and quickly followed your jerk soulmate. 

    “I said wait, asshole!”

    “What, miss me already? Do you want a goodbye kiss?”

    “Don’t say such repulsive things,” you replied, gagging. “I’ll need the room’s key.”

    “Here,” he tosses it to you before adding “just don’t go looking around my stuff too much~”

This was going to be... interesting.

[oliverwvvd]

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus’ bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

[hockeyboysiguess]

eight maids a-milking -> eight pucks a-slinging | j. debrusk

a/n: a christmas fic at 10 am? sure. there are no rules about time in 2020. rest of the series linked here. 

word count: 3,046

warnings: none. pure christmas fluff

You sighed as you slammed your car door closed with your hip, your movement jostling the box you were carrying, causing the bells inside to ring among the garland. Luckily, the contents of the slightly overfilled box stayed inside. You let out a sigh of relief and headed inside the arena, box in tow. The Bruins were doing some charity thing that involved decorating a tree and Jake forgot his box of decorations at home this morning, so he asked you to bring it by on your way home. It was just one more thing to do in your already incredibly busy day. Jake was always forgetting things, his wallet, his phone, his keys, his coat, everything, constantly. You frequently had to drive to the airport, ten minutes behind him, hot on his heels, with his passport in your passenger seat, so he could actually get into Canada for a game. Picking up Jake’s forgotten things was something you were used to now. It had become a habit, part of your daily activities.

It was something you did for him, because of the thousands of things he did for you. Jake was the one who told you when you were trying to carry too many things, when you were stretching yourself too thin, he always noticed before anyone else and shifted weight to himself to lessen your burden. He never let you push yourself too far, to the point of fully expending yourself to exhaustion, something you did far too often before him and something that was so easy to do this time of year. Work piled up, tasks upon tasks to finish before the end of December to be completed, along with pressing from yours and Jake’s family with activities and travel and gifts to buy, it was all too easy a time to forget to put some things in Jake’s lap to take care of. He might be a tad forgetful, but he never failed to step up to the plate if it made you happy. If there was nothing he could take on, no burden he could share, then he used every ounce of him to try and be a bright spot in your day. Jake was positive in the face of anything, incapable of holding a grudge or letting negativity rest on his mind for more than a fleeting second. He was a forever kid at Christmas, loving each present more than the last, no matter the cost or its contents. His love of it came from love for the person who bought it for him and in the intent of giving it, not in the material item.

That purity of the way he loved, as fresh as snow that has just fallen, was why you didn’t mind coming to the arena after a long day at work with a box of Christmas decorations. Because Jake would do the same for you, with an even bigger smile on his face than the one he gave you when he saw you coming down the hallway with that box in hand. He looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in ages, even though he’d kissed you goodbye hours ago when you left for work. He scooped the box out of your hands while placing a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Thank you, as always,” Jake told you, relief evident in his voice. 

You never felt underappreciated with Jake, even if part of the reason he appreciated you so openly is because you were always the one tying his ties and making sure the back of his dress shirt was tucked in properly. Jake didn’t have much polish about him but you had plenty to spare and didn’t mind sharing. Relationships were a series of compromises. You tucked in shirt tails and Jake made sure you took breaks, used your paid time off from work, and always threw your towels in the dryer in the last ten minutes of your shower so he could wrap you up in a warm one when you were done, even if he forgot until you shouted his name in search of your towel. You missed the warm towels and your far too warm boyfriend when he was away. 

“No problem. Happy to do it.” 

And you were. You were genuinely happy to do it for him. Anyone else, and you couldn’t stand the forgetfulness of the small things, but it was Jake’s biggest fault. If your partner’s biggest fault was forgetting their wallet, you were pretty sure you’d won the lottery. 

“So,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you did, “where is this tree we’re decorating?” 

“We?”

He raised his eyebrows at you in a challenge, but Jake could only hold an expression that wasn’t a smile for so long. It fell apart and gave way to that smile you saw across the table during your first date and realized you wanted to see it for the rest of your life if you could, if he allowed you to. 

You rolled your eyes, which only spurred a small laugh from him, “Yes, DeBrusk. We. I didn’t come this far out of my way during rush hour to not decorate a Christmas tree.” 

Jake smiled at you broadly, then nodded softly, “Okay, okay. We’ll do the tree then. Come on.” He turned away from you, sticking his hand out behind him for you to take, “Follow me to your Christmas tree.” 

You followed Jake through the arena, hand in his leading the way. You waved to a few familiar faces as you passed, who waved back more excitedly than usual. You attributed to a large majority of people’s favorite holiday being right around the corner, and the annual Christmas party tomorrow where the champagne would be flowing tomorrow night. Jake gave your hand a tug when you fell behind trying to wave to one of his teammates and you took a few long steps to catch up to him. 

“You’re eager,” you pointed out as you had to practically jog every few steps to keep up with his ungodly pace. 

“Always eager to do things with you,” Jake replied smoothly, but he ruined any ounce of smooth he might have had with a giggle after. 

You loved that he couldn’t keep up a straight face, or really any sort of false face. What he felt and his intentions were drawn perfectly on his face every single moment of every single day. You never had to question what he was feeling. It was another reason among the many as to why you loved him. 

He pushed open a door with the box on his hip and guided you in, dropping your hand to put his entire self into his best impression of a doorman. You thanked him with a tip of an imaginary hat and that smile you loved more than Christmas morning spread across his face. Jake dropped the box onto a nearby table next to a lit, but undecorated Christmas tree you assumed would be your joint task together. The room was set up for the annual Christmas charity event they did with local kids. There were different game stations set up around the large foyer of the arena, some you recognized from last year and others that were new. The largest addition was on a wall covered in netting and trimmed with red piping designed to look like a hockey net with balloons taped to it in a grid, each balloon red or green or white with a different letter printed on the latex. 

“That one’s new from last year,” you noticed. 

Jake smiled one of the widest you’d seen from him in a while, a smile that seemed to tell you something had just fallen perfectly into place for him. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how Jake’s mind worked, so you let what you thought his smile might have meant pass without comment. You could spend your time and energy trying to figure Jake out, or you could spend your time and energy being with him and enjoying him and the results of his less than linear thoughts. You chose the latter as Jake dumped a crate of pucks out onto the ground. 

“It’s for the kids,” Jake told you as he grabbed a stick leaning against a nearby wall, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if I show you, as long as we fix it after.” 

He separated one puck from the rest, handling it back and forth across the floor effortlessly. He jerked his head, motioning for you to come over and join him. A bright smile came across his face when you moved to comply with his silent request. 

“So the whole point for them,” his hands continued to mindlessly shift the puck back and forth across the floor as he talked, “is to spell words by popping the balloons. There’s glitter and candy and stuff instead for them if they can do it.”

“Ah yes, the herpes of crafts,” you noted in response to the word glitter. 

Jake’s ever familiar laughter rang out through the lobby in response to your statement, bringing you right along with him. No one made you feel brighter and lighter than he did, even on your heaviest, darkest days. 

“God, I love you,” he breathed out as his laughter slowly came to a close. “Anyway, so it’s just like this.”

Effortless, Jake pulled a puck back with his stick on the floor, then sent it sailing forward effortlessly. The puck collided and popped a red balloon with the letter “B” printed on it, causing glitter and candy to rain down onto the previously spotless floor below. Jake didn’t hesitate before repeating his actions, targeting and successfully popping a green balloon with the letter “E” emblazoned on it. Jake paused, leaning onto the stick and gesturing for you to go retrieve your candy. He’d seen the look on your face when one of your holiday favorites had dropped to the floor with the second balloon he popped. You pressed a quick, grazing kiss to his lips before shuffling to retrieve the candy he’d freed for you, happily opening your favorite immediately and sighing with relief when the taste hit your tongue. 

“Hey, get out of the way!” Jake teased you when you didn’t return to him, too focused on your candy to realize you were in his way. 

“Oh, you’re still going?” you asked him as you headed back over to join him, candy in your mouth muffling your words a little. 

He nodded to you as you returned to your place beside him, “And you better be paying attention to what I’m spelling. There’s a quiz at the end.” 

“A quiz? After my long day of work? With your spelling skills?” You were smiling as you teased him, and he was smiling back. You were allowed to tease him whenever you wanted because he knew it came from a place of absolute and complete love. “Seems like cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“It’s not too long, promise,” he informed you. “Also, it’s three words, just to help with your spelling a little bit.” 

“Three whole words?” you gasped, words heavily coated in sarcasm. “However will I manage to keep track?” 

Jake didn’t answer. He just laughed lightly before, just as easily as the first two, slinging a third puck against the wall, popping a balloon with the letter “M” on its surface, showering the floor below it with glitter and candy. He followed it up quickly by popping his first white balloon with a “Y” on it, more candy and glitter joining the rest on the floor. You mentally tallied up the letters so far. B, E, M, and Y. You decided it was most likely as simple as it looked, just “be my.” Jake’s hands slipped on the fifth puck, sending it wide of whatever balloon was his target, leaving a black mark on the wall instead. 

“Whoopsie,” he giggled a little. “Nerves are getting to me I guess.” 

“What are you even nervous about?” You laughed a little as you talked, hands fussing with your second candy wrapper that was putting up a hell of a blockade between you and Jake’s favorite Christmas candy, which had become your second favorite after all this time with him. “It’s just me.” 

“Have you ever seen you?” he joked, glancing back at you so you could see his eyebrows raise. “You’re always going to make me just a little nervous, baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him as your cheeks heated up a little in response to his words. With a wave of your hand, encouraged him to get back to spelling whatever he was so insistent on spelling for you. You figured it was probably, knowing Jake as well as you did, something incredibly cheesy and Christmasy, so sickeningly sweet you’d definitely roll your eyes again when he finally got to the end. You knew his intentions were nothing but pure, just him trying to bring a smile to your face. He didn’t need to go to all this trouble to do it though. His smile did the trick itself. 

Jake separated another few pucks from the pile, setting himself up for his remaining word. He took a deep breath and bounced on his heels, spinning the stick in his hands as he did. He settled down and set himself up for the next shot in one motion, letting the puck fly forward. Another balloon, this time with a “W” detailed on it, burst on the impact from the puck. You suspected it had something to do with winter, a suspicion further upheld with the next green balloon to fall victim to one of his pucks with a spray of its contents to the floor had the letter “I” drawn on it. He took a pause with the next puck, spending a little extra time lining himself up, stick swinging back and forth for a moment in the motion of his shot, but not actually letting it content with the puck. Jake took a deep breath before letting it go. You were expecting an “N” to continue with your winter theory, but the puck made contact with and bursted a red balloon with an “F” on its surface, the now familiar sound of candy hitting the floor rang through the foyer after. Now, all of your theories were thrown out the window. Whatever he was spelling, you were done guessing because you weren’t going to be able to align your thoughts with his. 

Jake hesitated another moment, as if waiting for you to have put the pieces together already, but when you didn’t respond, he lined up another puck. His hands shifted on the stick for a moment, finding the perfect positioning again before pulling his stick back, then letting it snap forward to send the puck toward the wall. You watched as another balloon burst, no candy or glitter raining down this time, no newly familiar pings of candy hitting the floor following it. Instead, all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears and your body forcibly pulling air in and pushing it back out of your lungs. It was an “E”, the final balloon. B, E, M, Y, W, I, F, and E. Be my wife. 

“Jake…” 

He set the stick down before turning to you, dropping to one knee as he did. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth as he opened the box in his hands. He was breathing as hard as you as he watched you take in the ring he had been agonizing over, designing and redesigning, for months. Jake’s hands were shaking, the box shaking a little along with it, and he didn’t even notice because it felt like his entire body was shaking as nerves ravaged him. All you had said was his name.

“It was, um-” He paused to clear his throat because the first two words had come out choked. Jake took a deep, centering breath before trying again, “It was, ‘be my wife,’ in case you missed a letter or something. I don’t know. I didn’t actually get to do a practice run of this or anything. But, baby, I love you. You’re the most patient and incredible person I’ve ever met. I- I feel like sometimes I annoy everyone else on the planet, but I’ve never felt like that with you. You make me feel so loved and appreciated for being me, exactly how I am, and I can only hope I make you feel the same way because how you make me feel is something I wish everyone could feel at some point in their lives because it’s the single most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. I want to spend my life trying to make you feel like you make me feel and you make me feel like I’m your favorite person and I feel like, maybe just me here, but you should probably try and marry your favorite person. You’re mine and I’d really love it if I got to remember Christmas for the rest of my life as the time when my favorite person said she’d be my wife. So, what do you say? Will you marry me?”  

You couldn’t speak with every possible emotion built up in your throat. You had to nod as your answer, and shakily extend your left hand to him. The smile that came across his face was the broadest and best you’d ever seen from him, and it warmed you from the inside out. The cool metal of the ring sliding onto your finger contrasted the warmth you felt inside and the warmth of his hands. It was yours now, the ring Jake agonized over for months, and he was yours now, soon-to-be forever yours. He stood on shaking legs to press a soft kiss to your lips. Forever was an odd concept at a time of year that was inherently limited, but the warmth of Christmas would hang in your heart forever, and on your left hand forever, and in the bed you shared with him forever. Christmas lasting forever, like Jake DeBrusk, was a dream come true.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch41: Drops Of Jupiter Part 2- There’s Still A Life To Live. 

Intro: Pepper finally makes an honest man of Tony, and as the sun sets on, quite possibly, the most horrific year of their lives, the New Year brings a familiar face back into Steve and Katie’s life.

But Tony has some news that puts a smile on his sister’s face. If only her husband was as happy…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Brief mentions of Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: @angrybirdcr​ I LOVE YOU

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 41 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2018

Despite Katie’s protestations to the contrary, Steve refused to believe that Tony and Pepper actually wanted him at their wedding. She had tried in vain to convince him to go but at times like this he was so stubborn and, ironically, the only man on the planet that could rival him for pig-headedness was Tony himself. So now she was doubly pissed at him. He knew that, and if he hadn’t already he would have certainly guessed it by the way she was currently throwing things into her bag after hardly speaking a word to him since the previous night.

FRIDAY informed her that Happy was here to collect her and Katie closed her small carry case. Steve sighed and went to pick it up for her, fully intending on carrying it to the car, but she beat him to it, swatting his hand away.

“I got it, its fine.” she said a little curtly as she did up her jacket. “Baby, c’mon, don’t leave on a bad note.” He pleaded, following her into the living area. “You know I get that you might think Tony doesn’t want you there, but I do.” Katie’s voice was quiet as she levelled him with a look. “And I was kinda hoping that would be enough to make you swallow your pride for once in your God-damned life” His face fell and the expression on it almost made her relent and apologise. 

Almost.

But the Stark stubbornness in her won out and she simply left it at that, slamming the door behind her. 

Steve felt like shit. Absolute shit as he stared at the place his wife had been stood a few moments before, the noise of the door banging shut still echoed round his head. With a sigh he swiped at his face with his hands before he headed into the bedroom, changed and wandered down to the gym to work off some frustration.

****

Katie glanced at her reflection. The bridesmaid dress she was wearing was an Alexander McQueen, as was Pepper’s dress, her favourite designer who hadn’t been dusted. It was a deep, burnt gold, almost brown to look at with a hint of a shimmer, perfect Autumn colours. The dress was plain, with a sweetheart neckline, the bodice drawing in her waist and the skirt was floor length, with a slight flare to it.  Her hair was twisted up and she wore a white gold headband which was studded with diamonds and pearls, her mom’s necklace that Tony had given to her on her wedding day sat flush to her collar bone. But all that aside, what she really loved was her make-up. It was all autumnal colours, eyes lidded under a burnt orange which had a slight golden shimmer to it setting off her green and amber eyes to perfection, and the contouring was amazing. 

Smoothing down her skirt once more, she looked down and stepped into her gold Jimmy Choo heels and stilled as a familiar voice spoke.

“You look beautiful.”

Her head shot up and Steve’s eyes locked onto hers in the mirror before she spun round to face him stood in the doorway.

“I thought you weren’t coming?” She frowned.

“I wasn’t.” He said shyly, stepping into the room “But, after you left yesterday I thought about what you said and you’re right. So I spoke to Pepper and well, here I am.” Katie looked him up and down. He was dressed in his blue suit and underneath it he wore a light green shirt complimented by a tie more or less the same colour as her dress, along with his shiny dark brown oxfords. Exactly the outfit she’d picked for him and left at the front of the closet just in case. With his hair immaculately styled, short stubble impeccably trimmed and a nervous smile on his face, he looked absolutely gorgeous.

“I’m so glad you came.” She smiled, all anger forgotten as she stepped forward and he met her halfway.

“I hate it when we fight.” He muttered, gently kissing her, his strong hands on her back, pulling her to him. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” A familiar voice drawled and the pair of them turned to see Natasha leaning in the doorway, two flutes of champagne in her hand. She looked stunning in a knee length figure hugging bottle green dress.

“You look great Nat.” Steve offered, surprised to see a faint tinge of red flushing up the blonde’s neck and cheeks as she uttered a soft thanks before she looked at Katie.

“Came to let you know that Tony’s here.” 

Steve took a deep breath.

“Right, erm…” Katie tugged on Steve’s hand and took a glass of champagne off Nat. “Come on.” “Where are we going?” Steve frowned. “To see my brother, the pair of you need to get this out of the way before the ceremony.” “Baby, I-” “Don’t argue with me Steven.” she retorted, leading him down the stairs and out into the Autumn sunshine, across the lawn which was sporting a banquet tent and down the small path which had been lined with a gold carpet. Tony was stood at the end, under the arch which led into the tent where the reception would be held, directing people. As the Weather was nice, the actual ceremony was going to take place at the end of the wooden jetty. People were already settling on chairs on the banks of the lake.

Steve felt, and looked, like a deer in headlights when he caught sight of Tony. Katie squeezed his hand and whispered for him to relax as Tony, who had seen them approaching, started striding over to meet them.

“Well, don’t you look handsome?” Katie said to him, taking in his dark grey formal tail suit, ivory patterned waistcoat and ivory ruffled tie.

“Errm, shouldn’t you be with Pepper?” Tony asked, dropping a kiss to his sister’s cheek. “You look beautiful by the way.” “Thanks. Your gorgeous bride is just having her hair finished off and then I’m going to get her in her dress, but I wanted to come and see you first, we both did.”

“It’s a err, beautiful house.” Steve cleared his throat as he spoke and looked around. He’d never been before, and he felt ridiculously uncomfortable right at that moment for being a complete jerk. He should have done this months ago. "Well, it’s a bit like you Cap.” Tony replied, his eyes locking onto his brother-in-law’s. “Ancient, but nothing a little modernisation couldn’t fix.”

Steve let out a chuckle and took a deep breath. “Tony, listen, I want to apologize. For everything.” He swallowed a little before he continued.“What went down in Siberia was, well it was harsh, and I was out of order. I should have told you about your parents. I’m sorry, I really am.”

Katie held her breath, she knew how much that would have taken for Steve to apologise, so heartfelt as well and she knew he wasn’t doing it just for her. As she stood watching, she saw Tony bristle and she stiffened slightly.

“You should be.” Tony sniffed, but just as Katie was about to chastise him she saw his face soften, “But all that’s in the past now. You know, I get that Barnes wasn’t in control of his actions but I still can’t-” he stopped himself and took another deep breath ”Look, it doesn’t matter now, so let’s just say I understand why you did what you did even if I don’t agree with it. And I’m sorry too, Cap.”

Steve took a deep breath and gave a small smile. “I missed you Tony.”

“Yeah, well, that goes without saying because I’m so incredibly missable” Tony shrugged before he smiled “I missed you too, buddy.”

The two men shook hands before Tony gave a small huff and pulled Steve into a slightly awkward embrace, the two men clapping one another on the back.

Steve felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As much as he had tried to deny it, Tony was like a brother to him and he had missed him. Plus, he knew how much it had hurt Katie them both being at odds. And he just wanted his wife to be happy and to move forward, past what had happened. As he looked over Tony’s shoulder he saw Katie watching them both, her eyes shining and she mouthed a thank you to him before she cleared her throat.

“Right, now that’s done can I leave him with you whilst I go do Bridesmaid stuff?” She spoke with a smile on her face that her two best boys were finally over their spat.

“Yeah, go ahead, in fact, I have just the job for you,Spangles.” Tony nodded, and the two men strode off, Tony’s hand in between Steve’s shoulder blades as they walked. Steve looked back at his wife as she strode across the lawns to the house before he turned his attention to Tony as they headed towards the lake.

*****

The wedding was beautiful. And whilst he really should have been thinking this about the bride, Steve seriously thought his wife was the most stunning woman there. As she walked down the aisle first, arm linked through Rhodey’s she caught Steve’s eye from where he was sat in between Banner and Natasha and he smiled at her, a genuine smile which she returned. When it was time for Pepper’s entrance, Steve glanced at Tony and couldn’t recall a time where he’d seen the man so happy, so emotional. 

The small ceremony was conducted, and it was time for Steve to perform the task Tony had given to him-signing the witness register along with Happy. It was a small gesture, but one which meant a great deal to the Captain.

Then, the rest of the afternoon passed in a bustle of photos, drink, food and speeches. Tony’s was slightly self-indulgent, as always, before he gushed about his new wife. Rhodey told plenty of stories about them growing up, and then it was Katie’s turn.

“As all of you here know, Tony brought me up from the age of seven.” Katie cleared her throat, glancing round at the various faces in the room. “Our parents died and suddenly there he is, twenty-one years old with a business to run and a pain in the ass kid sister to look after.” She scratched at her head. “My childhood was happy, I wanted for nothing, and that was all down to you.” She locked eyes with her brother. “Tony, I don’t tell you this enough, but I really am grateful for everything you did and everything you gave to me, least of all the absolute, unconditional love I have always felt from you. I know we have had our differences but you always told me that you could never be prouder of me if you tried, and I want you to know, that the feeling is mutual. I love you, not just as my brother, but as the best substitute father I could have wished for. And it makes me so happy to see you here today, after everything, with the woman that finally made an honest man out of you.” A few more chuckles, but Tony’s eyes were now wet with tears as he glanced up at her.

“Pepper has been a big part of my life for almost twenty years now, and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d be happier with as a sister-in-law. But, you do know what you’ve let yourself in for right?”

Pepper laughed and nodded.

“Good, because he’s your problem now, good luck!”

Katie sat down as the room erupted into laughs and Steve pressed a soft kiss to her lips, gently wiping at her tears before they could ruin her make up.

As the night closed in, the Marquee was strung up with lights and wooden benches giving the place a warm, welcoming ambient feel. Far too soon for Katie’s liking it was time for the first dance. Tony clearly hadn’t told anyone she was performing as many puzzled faces peered up at her as she took the microphone in her hand and cleared her throat with a nod to the keyboard player who struck up the opening notes to Eta James “At Last.”

Tony’s face split into a grin as he offered Pepper his hand and the new Mr and Mrs Stark took to the dance floor, applause and camera flashes filled the tent as Katie sang, watching her brother and his new wife dance closely. In turn, Steve watched his wife, her voice s powerful and sultry, her eyes shining softly as she was watching Tony and Pepper revolve on the dancefloor. And then, as customary, people began to join them and Steve turned to Nat.

“May I have this dance ma’am?”

Natasha studied him for a moment before she smiled and slipped her hand into his, where he took her into a polite hold and steered them around the dancefloor, catching Katie’s eye causing her to smile.

When the song finished everyone turned to her and she flushed a little, giving a shy smile before she cleared her throat. “I’ve got one more.”

Tony frowned as he looked at Pepper who met him with an equally puzzled look, but when the band started to play, Tony’s face slid into a huge smile as Katie winked at him, before she once more began to sing.

“Now that she’s back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey…”

As she continued through the verse, Tony looked up at her, his eyes shining as he tossed his arm over Pepper’s shoulders, everyone in the tent gently swaying along to the song, and when the upbeat part kicked in, everyone hit the dance floor again.

Katie was now completely lost in the song that her and her brother had sung together so many times. She allowed the memories to wash over her as she sang, suddenly back in his convertible mustang cruising over the Golden Gate Bridge, then again dancing round in shorts and a bikini by the pool, then she was back in the kitchen, both of them holding wooden spoons to their mouths as make-believe mics. She sang out note after note and as she launched into the final chorus. Tony, who knew the song was coming to a big crescendo had stopped dancing to start winding the crowd up as she belted out the last bit of the song, eyes closed as she dipped slightly, hand extended by her side.

And now you’re lonely looking for yourself out there

The marquee erupted into a cheer and Katie smiled to herself, handing the mic back to the singer of the band who thanked her, drawing another cheer from the crowd. Steve walked forward and offered his hand to his wife to help her walk down the small steps from the stage.

“You amaze me every single day you know that?” His lips brushed her ear as the band struck up into a soul song and he led her towards the bar for a drink. She beamed at him, cheeks flushing from the singing and the adrenaline that had been pulsing through her veins at the fact she’d been stood on a stage, singing in front of a group of people for the first time since she could remember. He dropped a kiss to her cheek and she moved her head to catch his lips softly.

“Kiddo?”

At that she spun to face Tony, who didn’t say another word, simply pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight, kissing the side of her head. She held him back, happily resting her head against his shoulder until he eventually released her, and then turned to head off over the dance floor to greet someone else.

“I saw you dancing with Nat.” Katie slid her hands up Steve’s chest as he ordered a beer and a gin and tonic, his jacket and tie now discarded on one of the chairs behind him.

“Jealous?” He arched an eyebrow, his hand settling on her hips.

“Not in the slightest.” Her hands connecting round his neck. “I thought it was one of the sweetest things you could have done. She’s been so down lately.” “She seems okay tonight.” Steve turned, watching the woman in question as she stood talking to Bruce. “Maybe she just needed reminding that there’s still life to be lived.” “That’s very philosophical of you, Captain.”

“I have my moments.” He grinned, looking back down at Katie, his hand on her hip pulling her closer. “Are you still staying here tonight or coming home?” “Undecided.” She teased, her hands resting on his chest, muscles broad and tense under her fingers.

“Well if you come back with me I’ll do that thing you like.”  His short beard scratched her cheek as he spoke softly into her ear.

“That’s blackmail.” 

Smirking, he kissed her softly. “I know.”

She did go home with him, and Steve was about as gentle and tender that night as she could ever remember him being. His lips were soft as he made sure to cherish every single part of her body. His hips rolled against hers, keeping them locked together, hands entwined together as he gently pinned them at either side of her head, eyes locked onto hers as he took her apart, piece by piece.

They lay there afterwards, Katie’s head resting in its favourite place on his chest, his hand gently running up and down her spine as she slept. Resting his head against hers, he closed his eyes on what had been a pretty amazing day in all honestly. He and Tony were back on an even keel, and being surrounded by people at the wedding, he couldn’t help but marvel at the love, friendship and happiness that had been present at the event. 

He hadn’t ever thought he’d see it again on that scale after the snap, and it gave him faith that, just like he had said earlier, there was still a good life to be lived.

*******

January 2019.

Steve pulled his jacket collar up against the snow and trudged across the car park towards the store entrance. A soft, white blanket covered the cars that lay abandoned after the snap, something he knew that the Government was going to have to sort at some point. Heading into the shop, he noted that it was reasonably busy compared to how it had been the last time he’d popped in a few weeks ago. He supposed that was a good sign. Grabbing a basket he headed straight for what they needed- milk, eggs, bread, bacon, fabric softener and tampons. Okay, so the last weren’t what they needed, obviously, more what Katie needed. She’d laughed when she had given him the list, remarking that this was the first time she’d ever sent him shopping for shit like this before offering to go instead, but he was a modern man now, they’d been together for almost six years, married for over three, he could deal with buying his wife tampons, right?

Now he was making a mental note, as some woman was slyly eyeing him as he grabbed a box, to remind his wife it’s a fucking good job he loves her as much as he does.

He whizzed around picking up the rest of the stuff and was heading to the till when he heard a loud shout. Spinning round on autopilot he saw one of the security guards chasing someone, a kid dressed in a pair of dirty jeans, a jacket that was far too thin for the weather, and a baseball cap, down the aisle. Steve let out a sigh. Shoplifting and petty crime had rocketed as people struggled to make ends meet following The Decimation. As the kid neared him he gently held out an arm to stop them passing and the child, a girl, gave a loud yell and looked up at him angrily. 

Instantly his heart leapt into his throat. Granted, it was a few years since he had seen her at the last Stark Christmas Party, but he’d recognise those large, deep brown eyes anywhere.

“Gerrroffff me!”

“Emmy?” He frowned, and she paused her struggling to look up at him and he removed his hat. “It’s me. Steve.” “I know you are.” She blinked, and then began to struggle again.

“Stop it.” He instructed, voice full of authority and he turned to the security guard. “What’s the problem here?” 

“Caught her down the aisle back there, shoving packs of chocolate and chips into her backpack.”

“Has she actually committed a crime yet?” Steve asked. “I mean, nothing has left the store. If I pay for it…” “No but she was gonna!” “But she hasn’t actually?” The security guard let out a groan. “Look pal, you’ve no idea what it’s like trying to keep this place straight.” “Oh believe me Sir, I do.” Steve mumbled, before he glanced down at Emmy. She was small, her dark, ebony hair was dirty and knotted, and her olive-skinned cheeks were pinched like she needed a good meal. He looked up at the man. “I’ll pay for the items and then ensure she’s dealt with.” “Dealt with?” The Security guard frowned before he looked at Steve properly and then his eyes widened “Holy shit, you’re Captain-” Steve cut him off, holding his hand up. “I assume that’s an acceptable proposition?”

“Of course Captain Rogers.” He nodded. Steve shook the man’s hand and then turned to Emmy.

“Give me the bag.”

She looked up at him before she sighed, handing it over. Steve tipped it out onto the conveyor belt at the till. A few bars of Hershey, some kettle chips, toothpaste, soap.

“Have you been on your own since, well, since it happened?” He asked and Emmy shrugged.

“Foster parents both dusted. Not that I care like, they were horrible. Better on my own.” Steve stiffened slight as he handed over some cash to the assistant. He studied Emmy as she packed her things into her bag. He couldn’t leave her like this.

“No one’s better on their own.” He shook his head. “Listen, I’ll give you two choices. You either come back to the compound with me for something decent to eat, or I can take you to one of the shelters.” “And if I refuse to do either?”

“Okay, three options.” Steve raised an eyebrow at her sass. “I turn you back over to Mall Cop over there and you can be handed into the police.”

Emmy snorted at his film reference before she looked down and plucked at something on her coat. “Is Katie…” “Yeah, she’s there.”

“Suppose coming to see her wouldn’t be so bad.” The small girl shrugged. Steve smiled, picked up the bag of groceries and gently went to place a hand between her shoulder blades, to steer her towards the car, but he stopped dead when she flinched violently to his touch.

“Hey, its okay.” he said gently. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

She looked at him, with an expression that made her look far older than her years and rolled her eyes whilst giving a snort. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

*****

Lucky alerted Katie to Steve’s return home as he shot off the couch next to her and headed to the door before it even opened. Katie glanced over the back of the sofa and did a double take as Steve headed in with a familiar face in tow.

“Emmy?” She gasped, getting up off the sofa. The girl smiled a little and allowed Katie to pull her into a hug “What are you doing here?” “He kidnapped me.” Emmy glowered at Steve who rolled his eyes as she stood up from where he had crouched down to greet Lucky.

“That’s crap Emmy and you know it.” He said sternly as he turned to Katie. “She was stealing.”

“Don’t look at me like that, it was that or starve.” Emmy shrugged.

“Starve? What? Wait, have you been-” Katie let out a groan as she realised the implications of what the kid was saying. “Oh, honey you should have found someone, got help!” “Better on my own.” Emmy repeated her earlier sentiment, kicking the floor with her dirty trainers. “And you can’t keep me here ya’ know?”

Katie looked down at the girl. She would be ten now, but she looked a lot smaller than she should be for her age. Katie glanced up at Steve who nodded to the kitchen.

“Listen, I was gonna cook dinner so at least stay for some food?” She asked. Emmy shrugged.

“Suppose so, what we having?”

“Pot roast.”

“Got any mash?” The girl’s eyes lit up and for a brief second Katie saw the cheeky little kid she had last seen a few years back.

“I can do mash.”

“Okay I’ll stay.” Emmy agreed before she looked at them both, a little sheepishly “Could I have some hot chocolate, like they used to do at the parties, please?”

“Sure I can manage that.” Katie smiled.

After settling her on the sofa, Lucky jumping up beside her, Katie retreated into the kitchen and gently shut the door before she set about making Emmy the hot chocolate she had requested.

“What happened?” Katie looked at Steve who sighed, crossing his arm.

“The Security guard at the store was chasing her after he caught her stealing.” Steve shook his head “She’s been on her own since the snap, said her foster family all disappeared.” “Shit.” Katie sighed stirring the cocoa powder and a square of chocolate into the hot milk.

“Yeah but,” Steve gently moved to hand Katie the marshmallows out of the cupboard, “she said something odd, about her being better on her own and she practically jumped out of her skin when I touched her. When I told her I wasn’t gonna hurt her, she said ‘that’s what they all say’”

Katie’s hand slipped at little as she contemplated Steve’s words, and she reached for a cloth to wipe up the liquid she had spilt. “You don’t think…” “I don’t know.” Steve sighed “But I couldn’t just leave her.” “No, course not.” Katie shook her head, reaching up to touch his face. “Just one of the many things I love about you, Rogers.”

He gave a soft smile. “I thought maybe we could give her a good meal, get her cleaned up and she could stay here tonight whilst we can figure out what to do.” Steve shrugged. His wife smiled at him, and grabbing the mug, she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss.

“You know,” she said, opening the door to the kitchen, “you might not be Captain America anymore but you’re still a hero.”

The three ate dinner and then Katie convinced Emmy to have a shower and, after digging her out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, settled her down in the spare room, promising her that neither of them were mad at her. Once she was convinced the eleven year old was asleep she dumped Emmy’s disgusting clothes in the washing machine, before she headed into the living room and snuggled down next to Steve who had poured her a glass of wine.

“She okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Out like a light.” Katie sighed “I’m so glad you found her.”

Steve sighed a little. “She looked so lost. I can’t believe she’s been on her own for so long.” “Yeah well not anymore.” Katie scratched at her nose. “This is exactly why we need to sort those homes out. I mean there are hundreds of kids out there like that.” Steve nodded and took a long pull from his beer.

“Just seems so shitty.” Katie carried on “That she’s had two foster homes now and, ok, the last one doesn’t sound like it was so great, but we’re gonna shove her back in a home and…” She trailed off, tears in her eyes. “She deserves so much better, they all do.”

“Well,” Steve turned his head to look at her. “I’m sure you’ll make sure she has a good place for when she has to leave.” Katie stayed silent for a moment, before she took a deep breath and decide to just go for it and voice what was on her mind. “What if she doesn’t?” 

“Doesn’t what?”

“Leave”

“What, you mean, she stays here?”

“Would that be so bad?” Katie asked, “I just, I dunno, Steve, I can’t…” She trailed off, simply looking at him, a hopeful expression on her face that made Steve want to kiss the life out of her. He knew she loved the little girl, she’d always had a soft spot for her. And would fostering a kid for the time being be such a bad idea? It would mean changes, a lot of changes and they would be inheriting an eleven year old, with an attitude to boot. But, they had the room and Natasha was always on hand as well…

Maybe this was just another little way they could give something back.

“Why don’t we ask her tomorrow?” Steve suggested. “If she wants to stay then maybe we can look at it, at least until something else turns up.” “You mean that?” Katie looked up at him and he nodded.

“Yeah.” 

With a teary smile she shifted so she knelt up and reached to gently cup his jawline with her fingers.

“Thank you.” she kissed him softly.

***** Of course Emmy wanted to stay. And, after a fortnight of her being at the compound, Katie and Steve made the enquiry into fostering her on a more official basis, which was easier than it would have been pre-snap, officials keen to rehouse children with people that were willing to take them in. 

The first month was full of teething problems. Emmy had refused to go back to the house she had been living in, screaming blue murder when Steve had suggested they collect her things. So Katie had taken her out shopping for clothes and bits and pieces that she needed. Then she had refused to try anything on in the changing rooms. Ever patient, and recognising the signs of trauma and panic, Katie had calmed her down and told her they would simply take the clothes home to try on there, and that it wasn’t a big deal.

It transpired, after a tearful confession later in her room, Emmy was simply frightened that they would see the marks on her back left by the belt her foster father had hit her with and she had broken down, Katie simply laying with her until she fell asleep. 

The girl also had nightmares, and would often wake up screaming, but wouldn’t let Steve anywhere near her to comfort her. He didn’t take it personally, not after he knew what she had gone through with her foster father, but it did upset him somewhat to think that she could be afraid of him. As time went by she became a lot more comfortable around him, but still wasn’t really happy with any physical contact from anyone bar Katie. Steve simply respected her boundaries, Katie assuring that she would come round eventually.

Emmy found a friend in Natasha, the young girl spending a fair bit of time with the woman, often Steve would find them in the gym, Natasha teaching her some boxing move or other. Steve wasn’t completely sure it was a very good idea, but he left them to it as Emmy would come back to the apartment gushing about what she had learnt, keen to show them both her ‘moves’ as she called them. It was those moments that they both enjoyed, the signs of a cheeky young, innocent girl flashed through and it made Steve’s heart swell to see her coming out of her shell more and more.

Maybe more surprising, however, was how much she took to Tony. Katie said it was because they were the same mental age, which Pepper had vehemently agreed with. But Steve thought it was because Tony simply treat her like he would anyone else with his usual sarcasm and bluntness and she was fascinated by anything the inventor would show her when they visited the lake house. Turns out she had a real knack for technology, and the two of them set about on a project, building a small remote control robot which Lucky wasn’t quite so sure about as the dog would run away, bark, come back, and run away again whilst Emmy cackled away from her vantage point on the stairs where she controlled it.

Alongside this, Katie was still working on setting up homes for other kids through SIDE, and when she came home saying that there was a place for Emmy at the most recent one, the Rogers were both forced to face the reality that, whilst they had meant the fostering to be a temporary arrangement, neither of them wanted Emmy to be placed back into care.

So at the end of April, they made the fostering arrangement permanent.

Which was why Steve now found himself in a hardware store with a ridiculously hyper young girl, picking out a colour to paint her bedroom in.

“I don’t want pink.” Emmy frowned, looking at the colour chart on the wall.

“Well, what do you want?” Steve asked patiently.

“Purple. I think. Maybe a lilac.” “Okay there are some over there.” he nodded and she crossed the aisle to study the colour.

“I think I like this one.” 

Steve nodded. “Good choice,” before he found the tin with the correct shade in and dropped four onto the trolley. “Alright, that’s that done.” He turned to look at her “You wanted a new lamp too?”

“I don’t need one…”

“No, I know, but you wanted one.” 

Emmy’s face lit up and she nodded so they headed over to the light display. Her eyes went wide as she made her way straight over to a tall lamp, the shade of which was decorated with tiny, silver stars.

“I love it.” She said gently. Steve nodded, picked a boxed one up off the shelf and dropped it onto the flat bed trolley.

“That was easy.” He smiled.

“Please can I get some fairy lights for round my bed?” Emmy asked timidly “We told you kid, whatever you want, well, within reason.”  

With another face-splitting smile, Emmy selected some fairy lights. And a rug. And a few new cushions. And a throw. And a new bed for Lucky who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her room when she was in there. Several hours and a couple of hundred bucks later they were on their way home after Steve had been cajoled into taking a detour through the drive-through for a burger.

“Hey!” Katie greeted as they walked through the door, Emmy carrying the cushions, Steve lugging everything else “Wow, you buy the whole store?”

“Is it too much?” Emmy asked, nervously “We can…” “No, I’m teasing, honey!” Katie chuckled, dropping a kiss onto her head. There was a moment and then Emmy burst into tears.

“Okay,” Katie sighed, taking her hand “Come on.”

Steve watched, feeling slightly useless, as he couldn’t help comfort the girl. He followed as Katie led her to the couch and he sat on the arm chair as Katie patiently sat Emmy down and waited until she had stopped sobbing. Lucky jumped up beside her and pushed his face into hers, licking away her tears as she wound her hands into the dog’s sandy coloured fur.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Katie assured her “Do you wanna talk about it?” “I’ve never had nice things.” The little girl wringed her hands together and looked up at Katie from underneath wet eyelashes. “And when I did, then my foster brothers would break them and then he would hit me because I didn’t look after them.” She never used her foster father’s name. It was always he or him. Steve clenched his fists and felt the nerve tick in his jaw as he fought back the urge to go on a rant about the asshole.

“You know we would never hurt you Emmy.”He leaned forward, fighting the urge to reach out and tuck the hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. “And no one else is gonna hurt you whilst you’re here.”

She wiped her eyes and gave a small sniffle. “I know.”

“So, how about we dry those tears and you help me make dinner?” Katie looked at her “Whilst Steve-O puts your things in your room.”

Steve let out a playful groan as Emmy giggled. “I really wish you’d stop calling me that.” Katie stuck out her tongue as he rolled his eyes and stood up, slapping his thighs with his hands. “The pair of you are a monumental pain in my ass.” “Language!” Emmy shot back as she smirked at him and he gave a snort, picking up the items they’d bought and taking them into her room.

Whilst they were in the kitchen, Steve set about fixing up her lamp, the fairy lights, tossed the new throw and cushions they had bought on her bed and set the remote for the flat-screen TV they had had installed on the wall on her nightstand. He called the girls to come and look and Emmy’s face was a picture, her eyes lighting up as she saw her room. She glanced around and looked at Steve, then to Katie, then back again.

“We can start painting over the weekend-” Steve began but was cut off when the girl threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to the top part of his stomach. Steve paused for a moment before his hand gently fell to the back of Emmy’s head as he stooped and gave her a hug back, looking up at Katie who was smiling from her vantage point in the doorway.

“She’ll come round in time…”  

His wife’s voice echoed around his head as he dropped a soft kiss to the top of Emmy’s head and smiled.

That was just another time in a long list of instances his wife had been right.

***** Chapter 42 Part 1

**Original Posting**