#oh man maybe i could put some isaac ones on it.. i have the angel and little greed ones still (dogma went on my water bottle lmao)

[autistic-shaiapouf]

At the bookstore with more money than I initially thought I would have, I am, in danger...

[mygnolia]

three laws of motion, and the three ways i love you | sjy

synopsis -› the only person jake has to thank for you and him getting together is isaac newton, and the stupid apple that fell on his head.

pair -› sim jaeyun/jake x reader | genre -› fluff fluff fluff | trope -› friends to lovers, roommates to lovers

wc -› 4.8k

cw -› god the pining oh the pining oh you are oblivious.. how to lose a guy in 10 days minor spoilers!

a/n -› oopsie!! i fear jake in glasses has me in a trance. HES SOOO simpy

© all rights are reserved to mygnolia 2024. republished, translated, and/or heavily referenced work will be reported and removed immediately.

law one: any object that is put in motion will stay in motion until another force has acted on it. also dubbed as inertia!

jake does not know jealousy until he finds out the upcoming plan to check out the new ice cream shop together is canceled, all because kim sunoo is ‘cute,’ and you want to repay him for helping you in your communications class. he could have done the same thing! maybe he wouldn’t have been alone on the last saturday of this month if he reached out. he’s never been alone on this day. to be fair, you’ve done this only a handful of times, the limit reaching the number of fingers he has on one hand, but still! jake scowls and curses whoever kim sunoo is for stealing you away from him, even if sunoo has the brightest smile and the caring attentiveness jake wishes he himself had.

jake mopes on the couch, rewatching ‘friends’ until you come back, with a small smile gracing your oh-so-pretty face. he immediately springs up, helping you with your coat and asking where you’ve been, even if he knows.

“i was with sunoo.” you respond simply. He drills you with questions, laced with concern but hidden with a curiosity that could only stem from his feelings for you. “we went out to eat something small, and had some ice cream, that’s all. I was fine, don’t even worry- he drove me home and waited until i texted him anyway.” jake feels his role by your side becoming smaller, and he takes a slow breath, hoping that with his exhale goes the negative feelings he has about being competition. 

“we were supposed to watch how to lose a man in ten days.” he complains, and you laugh, his voice sounding dejected. you shove him towards your bedroom, telling him that there’s still time to watch one of your favorite films of all time. 

“but you’re tired.” he takes a step closer, examining the way your eyes lose energy as the day goes on as an eventual sign of your dwindling social battery. 

“doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch with you.” you retort, opening your bedroom door and setting up the movie on your laptop. his eyes shine with worry as he carefully watches how you move. the way your feet drag, how you slowly thumb through a set of pajamas, and the look you give when you need to change.

but if jake is anything, he is weak- and to spend more time with you, his darling girl, is his kryptonite. 

you both slip under the sheets, and it’s something he convinces himself is normal when you first started becoming roommates. when you were first told about how your friend knew someone who’d be a perfect roommate, you weren’t expecting jake, but he assured you that jake has always been an angel, and if anything happens, for you to give him a call or text immediately. it was never necessary, and your friend was right, jake proved to be a perfect roommate as time went on. 

albeit, maybe a little too perfect, because with the way you’re resting on his shoulder and with the gentle way he combs through your hair, you wonder if it’s all in typical roommate fashion. you fall asleep before you can wonder if the way he pulls you closer, shutting off the lights and shutting your laptop is all in the guide to be a good roommate, or if he’s doing these things because he’s reading a different guide;

the guide to making the roommate- the same one you’ve had a crush on- your girlfriend.

you wake up to your laptop shut on your table, and the knot in your neck helps you realize you fell asleep in the wrong position. when you come out of the bathroom, you see jake buttering toast and cutting up the strawberries you begged him to buy at the market a week ago. you both hope that no mold has grown on them. 

“how did you sleep?” he asks, plopping a strawberry in his mouth. you shrug, still trying to stretch out the tight feeling in your muscles. 

“here,” he motions, a piece of toast between his lips as he walks up behind you. you know how attentive jake is to the little things, and the gentle way he presses at the junction of your shoulder blade and neck only proves your beliefs further. you always have appreciated him for the silent way he cares, and now, more than ever. the crunch of his toast as he momentarily pauses makes you laugh, turning around as he also smiles as he eats. you reach up, wiping the crumbs from his lips, and his eyes follow the movement without fail. he’s not sure how you two were so close, and how the white winter sun makes you look so angelic, but he doesn’t move out of place until you’re out of sight, thanking him for the slice of toast as you leave to get ready for the day. 

he thinks that things have been the same for both of you, but suddenly, something changes his course, and his heart thumps in his ears, as if it’s possible that he’s fallen for you more. 

the second time you have to rain check is finals- and he gets it, truly. your psychology class isn’t going to pass itself, and yet, his heart sinks like an anchor at sea when you pout and show him the 89 term quizlet you’re forced to study for the upcoming week. 

“I really wish i could-“ you promise, genuine remorse in your gaze (and yes, jake’s forgiven you immediately). “I tried to study last night at the library to make sure we could finish queen of tears, but god, i feel like i know nothing.” jake understands with a silent nod, and does his best to put your feelings first. “after my final, i’ll be off- plus, you have your calculus final tomorrow morning anyways, right?” internally, jakes eyes turn into hearts, melting at the way you remember. 

“multivariable calculus, yes, at 10.” he sighs, dreading the imminent test but confident in his ability to pass. he sighs, scrolling through his calendar despite there being no assignments due. 

“if i help you out, can we watch after your final?” you swivel from your chair to face him lounging on your bed. he’s in a white t-shirt and jeans, an obvious outside outfit on your sheets. you glare at him, but don’t say anything. 

still, the proposition interests you. “how are you even going to help me out?” 

“i took this class last year, remember?” 

right. “why would you even want to? psych’s like- not your cup of tea at all.” 

jake responds without thinking, “i don’t mind it if it means we can spend time together.” 

you both freeze, and the comfortable conversation stills. you spin back around, picking at the corner of your paper, nervously trying to find a deeper meaning in his words. “okay.” you mumble, and jake doesn’t take your change in disposition to heart, more worries over how you’ll perceive him if he’s too clingy. 

“and,” he adds, standing up from your bed. “i want to see what happens. we need to finish the drama- the episode came out three days ago, and i think if i keep seeing edits, i’m going to say ‘fuck it’ and watch it myself.” 

without turning around, you snort. “yeah, yeah. you would never watch an episode without me there.” 

and you’re right, painfully so. jake closes your door, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

the next day, he keeps his promise, dragging you to his room to find a scraggly pile of handwritten psych assignments you’re confused as to why he even has. when you voice your concerns for his paper hoarding, he shrugs, retorting how it helps you regardless. 

you lean against his blue pillows, crossing your legs as he sits back in his chair and asks you questions. 

he reads off another question, pausing before letting you know it’s incorrect. “mmm, not really.” he tells you, glancing up. he leans over, pointing to the part in the textbook he’s been using as studying material, and you hear the tiredness in his voice with how low he speaks. jake is gentle; the way he looks at you understanding the text is no different, and his heart thuds painfully against his ribcage. he continues, no matter how much he wants to go to sleep, and by the time he’s finished explaining everything you’ve missed (which wasn’t even much) you both cheer to realize you’ve finished slide 89/89. you jump up from his bed, wrinkling his bedsheets as you envelope him in a tight hold. 

“thank you.” you tell him sincerely, arms looped around his neck as jake is quick to hug you back. you feel his head rest on your shoulder, and your heart warms with adoration. 

“of course, ____.”

you pause, thinking about whether or not you should still continue with your plans. “you’re tired.” you state the obvious. “and I don’t want to watch something if you need to go sleep.” 

he rolls his eyes, motioning to you to scoot over so he can join you. “we always do this on a saturday so we can sleep in on sunday.” he comments, getting his laptop. you shake your head.

“it’s different, jake. this time, you’re tired and I don’t want to wake you up to make you brush your teeth or whatever.” he hears the playful lilt in your voice, and scoffs. 

“you just don’t want to watch with me anymore!” he accuses, cracking a smile as he shoves you.

with widened eyes, you shake your head, teasing him about how he jumps to conclusions so quickly. “i would never, jake.” you meet his gaze with sincerity. “i love to spend time with you. always.” 

if things stay in motion like this, without any rain checks or ice cream dates, jake thinks he likes this course of inertia much better- just you and him. 

law two: force = mass x acceleration

to simply put it, jake sleeping in your bed will suffocate you sooner or later. despite being very smart, jake doesn’t realize that muscles means added mass, and the more he works out, the higher the chances of you dying from the incapability to breathe. 

it starts with jake asking if he can sleep beside you, since the heater never reaches his room despite said room being a grand nine feet away from yours. you highly doubt his excuse, but you choose not to find out if it really is the cold abyss your roommate swears it is. he also tells you that he likes your light blue sheets with daisies on it, which is something that seems pretty plausible, and you’re swayed by his earnest compliments. when you asked why, a question spoken into the dark of your room, jake immediately responded by telling you that the holidays are the perfect time to grab a buddy and spread the holiday cheer. with a shove at his shoulder, he defends himself, saying that he wakes up earlier than you, so you wouldn’t have to even worry about seeing him in the morning. 

that last part was true, jake was always extremely efficient with his time, and it meant you were sometimes waking up to a pan dropping in the kitchen during his kitchen ventures. but today? he seemed to be the opposite. 

when the sun shines high in the sky, with your clock reading a time past 10am, you finally wake up. trying to brush the hair out of your face, you really start to pay attention to the way his breath fans your shoulder blade, and how almost half of his body weight was on top of yours. you were both people who enjoyed skinship, and your friendship was solid enough where you knew you weren’t uncomfortable, but it was the surprise of ending up entangled with someone who, last night, refused to get closer out of personal space. 

“jake.” you call, tapping his shoulder. you can barely move, shuffling around as you watch him shuffle around under the sheets, his hands wandering to pull you closer. “jake!” 

you don’t get much time to really admire him like his. his hair, all messy, had been undoubtedly better the more it grows out, and you’ve seen him put it in a ponytail- a new style that maybe you liked more than you’d like to admit. his bangs rest on the planes of his cheekbones, and you suck in a breath at how effortlessly angelic he looks in the morning sun. 

truth be told, it brings you comfort to know how he subconsciously trusts you to scoot closer and eventually cling to you in his sleep. 

jake’s eyes flutter open, and he slowly blinks without registering how close you are. you make eye contact, and your lazy stare flutters to closed eyes as you get comfortable on your pillow. yes, jake makes it a little hard to breathe, but in the end, it’s not that bad. 

“i thought you said you wake up early.” you comment. jake swats at your face lightly, and a giggle escapes as you fight his hand. “it’s the holidays.” he says, a poor excuse as to why he hasn’t gotten up. he looks at you again, taking in your mock annoyance and smiling. “let me hold you, yeah?” he mumbles absentmindedly, still half consumed by the morning lethargy. 

  your heart skips a little, and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you try not to let jake’s sleepy comments get to you. he doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself, but his sleepy words are sober thoughts, and you try not to think about the deeper meaning. jake has the brightest smiles and the kindest of hearts, so much so that it makes his hugs warm and his comfort like a cozy embrace. and you really really try not to think about what he’s saying, because jake cares for all of his friends, so much so that his words are always filled to the brim with love. and despite knowing all of this, despite knowing that jake is one of the best wonderful people you know, you can’t help but think about if it were romantic, if you two barely crossed the boundary to be just a little more. plus, you’re basically there. it’s in the way no boy comes up to you, not because you’re not wanted, but because everyone assumes that the boy with the australian accent and arm around your shoulder is the love of your life; and everyone says you look at him that way. it’s in the way he texts you to come back to the apartment because it’s empty without you, or the way he’s currently falling back asleep on your shoulder, his arm secured around your waist. and you refuse to believe that it’s anything more than friendship. you’re almost positive he feels the same, but still, somewhere inside of your heart yearns for it not to be true. 

your rapidly beating heart accelerates, and if you two weren’t friends, it’d be like you were forced to fall in love with jake. 

before you leave for the holidays, you promise jake one more movie, as a make-up for the few days you two weren’t able to properly finish your movie nights. finally, it’s time to watch ‘how to lose a guy in ten days.’ 

“it’s not even a christmas special.” jake says as you type in the pirated site. you roll your eyes, elbowing the nearest part of him. 

“it doesn’t have to be a christmas movie. you can’t even name a good christmas rom-com!” 

he racks his brain, truly trying to find a movie that lives up to the expectations of one of the best rom-coms to exist. “fine. i guess we can watch this movie then.” and he pulls the blanket up in retaliation. you turn to him with a scowl, but he pretends not to notice. 

when the movie starts playing, you make an effort to snatch his phone away, leaving it on your bedside as his attention diverts to the illuminated screen. “you’re going to love it.” you say offhandedly, watching how kate hudson and matthew mcconaughey immerse themselves in their roles. 

you turn to jake, making sure he’s thoroughly paying attention. 

“what?” he grins, his arm wrapping around you to rest on your waist. “I’m watching, don’t worry.” 

you click the space bar. “tell me what happens, then.” you raise an eyebrow, waiting to hear his perfect retelling of the film so far. 

“well, her fake therapist friend tells them to go meet his family, and everyone loves her off the get go. They play that card game and everyone helps her cheat, but she finds out that he’s never taken a girl home before. thinking about it, they were definitely in love with each other from the start. like, the way he looks at her in that entire movie! trust me, they’re in love.” 

“oh,” you turn, a teasing smile on your features. “and you’re a love expert?” 

jake suddenly losing focus on the movie, looking at the way you wait for his answer. he’s breathless, licking his lips nervously as he sends you a quick nod. “i know what it looks like to be in love.” he responds plainly when he returns his attention to the screen, his hand around your waist suddenly feeling clammy. 

you hum, glancing over to your right again. “and what does that look like?” 

the way I look at you. he thinks. instead, he shrugs. “like they hold the world in their hands.” 

your eyes sparkle, interested in his answer but too invested in the film to press further. 

“cliche.” and you’re awfully aware of the hand that rests against the fabric of your shirt, left to wonder if this is what it means to be in love. 

when the finale finishes and the screen fades to black, you let the end credits roll to tell him about your thoughts. sentences that start with “to be honest” followed with something strongly worded, and sentences praising certain scenes reach his ears as he listens quietly. your gaze never leaves the screen as you collect your thoughts, and your head never leaves his shoulder. when your roommate doesn’t add on, you look up at him, and from the shift, jake turns to make eye contact with you. “what?” he says softly.

“you didn’t say anything.” you almost whisper. the enchanting glow of the laptop screen makes his small chuckle just a little bit more attractive, and for yet another time, you glance at his lips, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“i answered you earlier.” he whines, rubbing his eye. 

“doesn’t count.” he cracks a smile at your bickering, and sighs. 

“i agree with everything you have to say, princess. always have.” your stomach stirs, butterflies rustling around as you make it obvious how much you’ve been staring at his lips. “what’s wrong, angel?” he plays oblivious as he shifts so you two are facing each other. your eyes are drooped, the sleep making you slip into new and equally as dangerous territory. the corner of his lip pulls into a charming smile, and you feel your heartstrings tug so badly with the rapid of your rushing heart. you glance back at him, meeting his warm gaze before shifting a little closer. 

and maybe jake’s hand immediately tightens at your waist, and maybe his eyes flutter shut as his other hand cups your jaw. and maybe, as the cliche song plays over a rolling list of names in the background, you kiss your best friend- the feeling leaving your heart jumping and your ears hot. your hands reach up, your thumb tracing his cheek as he pulls you closer. you pull back, eyes shining with content and so many unspoken feelings, and he looks at you, full of love. and you realize that this is what he means- that andie anderson and ben barry may have just been acting, but the smile he gives you is anything but. 

you giggle, pulling him back to kiss him just once more- or maybe twice, and you’re selfish in the way you hold him, wanting of him all to yourself. 

and maybe, just maybe, jake sim likes you back.

law three: every action has an equal opposite reaction. 

yes, every action has an equal and opposite reaction; so it hangs as an unspoken truth in the sky that jake likes you as much as you do- but you never took physics, and you leave the apartment early the next morning. it’s saturday, yes, and all of your finals were done, but you usually always stay for just a bit longer, relishing in the winter air before detangling yourself with college and finally heading back home. the university holds an ice skating event for free around this time anyways, and in the few years that you two have been roommates, you’ve dragged him along with you. you were nothing like his somewhat skilled friends, but jake still reveled in your smiles and shaky yelps every time you were off balance. 

off-balance. that’s how things were. 

you haven’t responded to his texts, and he’s stuck pacing around the kitchen wondering what he could’ve done wrong. you leave every text unanswered, and a voicemail for every call. 

nonetheless, jake tries again- desperate.

“hi-“ you say, in a breathless fleeting manner. “i’m busy-“

“no ___, you can’t just kiss me-“ the line ends, and you feel your heart beat fast again, like how it does every time you think about that december night. 

on the other line, jake lets out another sigh, his heart twisting with worry. it’s an ugly and unexplainable feeling truly, how he’s worried you’ve toyed with his heart, but how if you kissed him again, it would soothe any wrinkles in his timeline- and that all his feelings would go back to being in love, and he’d be okay with it. jake would rewrite the stars, hanging the moon in the sky and undoing everything if it meant going back to then, with his palm pressed against your skin, his lips on yours, and his heart nestled within your hands, bound to whatever fate you would give him. and you know this about him, you know that jake would run around the world to find love from you, and you couldn’t treat him like that. there was no way you and jake were to work out, and while you’ve convinced yourself of this, jake on the other hand is desperate to read between the lines, finding himself going insane the more he lays there in the early AM thinking about what all of this means. he wishes he could redo it- so he could experience it just once more, and so he could understand where it went wrong. jake refuses to let you go- at least, not yet. 

despite your efforts to avoid him for the week of christmas and new years, you felt your heart break the longer you left his message unopened, and responded with a sincere ‘happy holidays. stay warm, jake.’ he opens up the text, his heart still doing that weird thing where it uncomfortably beats, with excitement and disappointment all in the same vein. 

and it’s like that for winter break- confused or at least until you come back a week early. you had plans on keeping a small tree in your apartment to add to the holiday spirit even after the holidays, and the box for the tree plus the ornaments had already been stowed away in your room. there’s no way he’s here- he lives hours from campus, and without any new year plans, you’re sure you’ll have the place to yourself. 

you don’t check his location, too consumed to make the drive back to even notice his room has minuscule sound coming from it. the door stays shut, and without any gaps to really see any light, you don’t pay any mind in checking if there’s a sudden intruder. 

the christmas tree slowly gets put together, and you sit with yourself as a show plays on the TV, quiet. it’s as if to not disturb the ambience, and you feel the cinnamon and cold settle within your bones when you throw out some of the plastic packaging. 

“you’re here.”

the cold from your quick excursion, added with the sudden confrontation makes your blood run cold, unable to tear your gaze from the blinking LEDs on the fake evergreen tree you’ve put up. 

“yeah, i guess so.” you say, unable to really conjure anything else up. you refuse to look him in the eye, afraid you’ll be faced with indisputable anger, resentment, and the confusion, the same feelings you had when at your own home. you’re afraid that the way you hate yourself for leaving so abruptly, and to ruin such a good thing, is the reason why jake suddenly doesn’t want you back anymore. that- because of your inability to accept that you love someone who’s so out of your league, you’ve let a good thing fizzle out. 

there’s no cold in the apartment- the heater already being set to a cozy temperature, and yet the goosebumps on your skin prove otherwise. it’s biting, chilly almost, the way you both stand there, unsure of what to say. 

it’s uncomfortable, and the silence leaves a hopeless feeling in your chest; one that screams that you two truly weren’t as meant to be as you thought. 

“why?” he breathes.

“why..why what?”

“why’d you leave after all that happened?” 

your eyes widen, scrambling your brain to find a lie to give before you give up, opting to simply tell the truth. you’ve hurt him once by leaving, an action that you truly have no excuse for. it’s winter, you lie to yourself. you rehearse in your head to tell him that you missed your family, and couldn’t wait to go home. it’s all lies, and jake’s no more than a polygraph test in human form. you couldn’t live with yourself if you lost him over a lie.

plus, you couldn’t lie to him- not after all the hurt. 

“jake-“ you say hurriedly. “you’re everything, you’re perfect, you deserve more than me. you deserve more to a girlfriend than a roommate who rushes to pay rent, someone who doesn’t leave curling irons on in the bathroom, a girlfriend who doesn’t phone you at night because she doesn’t have anyone else. you don’t need someone to rely on you the way i just do-“

“maybe loving you is the worst decision anyone could ever make. maybe, yeah, i don’t deserve you walking out, avoiding me for two weeks, missing my messages, calls, or notes. maybe i could do better.” he starts, and you feel your heart sinking, knowing that it’d be for the better if it wasn’t you, but wishing so desperately that it could be. “maybe that’s the case, but i’m never going to be happy if i keep looking for better. I don’t hate you because you almost burned down the building, or if you stressed out about rent, and all of these other things that i can’t even remember we talked about.” jake lets out a dry chuckle, trying to remember anything bad about you, but falling short. “the point is, ____, that you can’t make that decision for me. what’s the point in trying to find more when all i’ve ever wanted is you?” 

his eyes scan your expression, desperate for an answer as the quiet prolongs. the fresh tears that make way to your eyes springs him into action, and he’s quick to use his long sleeve to pat away your tears. “shh, don’t cry, angel. it’s okay, i understand.” his words replace the icy feeling in your body, and replaces it slowly with the hope that things really are as okay as he says they are. you nod, hugging him as apologies and explanations fall from your lips. 

“i still have feelings for you.” he promises, and his words envelop you in comfort and solace. it teeters between like and love, unable to have ever gotten as close as couples do, but also knowing it’s so much more than a small crush on a roommate. there’s nothing temporary about how he rests his head on top of yours, holding you close as you ramble. 

“just don’t do anything of the sort again.” he asks, looking at you with adoration. “please.” 

your heart breaks a little, and you make a promise to never treat him the way you did, feeling foolish and horrible for what you had done. “i promise.” you nod. and give him a tight hug. 

and things are in balance once again. if every reaction had an equal and opposite reaction, it means that you and jake sim have fallen for each other with equal amounts of force, and wouldn’t have it any other way. 

--

WE FINISHEDDDD CHATTTTTTTTTTT YERP YERP YERP WHO CHEERED!! first real enha fic in AGES god save us all.

[its-time-to-write]

this is 100% self indulgent. no one asked for this except me and I have zero excuse for how it turned out. i have no defense, no witty rebuttal, no nothing. i wrote this because i wanted to, and at the very least i hope this inspires someone to write their borderline-self-insert fic and post it publicly.

this fic is set after season 3. enjoy😂

(oh now might also be a good time to mention how much I love Man City. bc it’s a lot.)

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

Calling Lake Como beautiful is like saying space is big. It’s true for sure, but it feels like an understatement. It’s June and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, perfect for the wedding you’re attending. It’s for two good friends of yours, and it’s going to be a party full of football royalty. You’re mostly excited to see friends who are WAGs from other teams who you’ve connected with over the past year and a half.

Oh, and you suppose it will be a nice vacation with Jamie, too.

You’re staying at a beautiful hotel that’s been open since 1910, and you swear you’ll never stay somewhere as beautiful again.

“Getting ideas for the house?” Jamie teases, and it sends a thrill down your spine with the way he refers to his house as your collective home. 

You grin as he spins you around the Suite Greta. Everything is golden, from the drapes to the pillows to the sun catching on his face.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe for a vacation home?”

Jamie laughs as he catches you up in his arms. “I could see us here in the next off-season. Not sure we’d get out much,” he muses and you wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go.

You’re here for a full week but Isaac’s wedding is only one day. You and Jamie have plans to see everyone who’s in town, as well as have some time to yourself.

“Sasha wants to go out for dinner tonight,” you tell Jamie as he unpacks his suitcase.

“Girls only, or will Jack be there?”

“Let’s see,” you hum as you scan the group chat. “Isabel said she and Erling will be there, so looks like it’s a couple’s thing. That’ll be fun, right?” you ask with just a hint of anxiety. Jamie and Jack are friends, they’ve run in the same circles for years, but you’re not sure how he’s going to feel about being outnumbered two to one, City to Richmond, at dinner.

“As long as Rodri ain’t there, I’m fucking chuffed,” he says as he lays out his suit on the bed.

“Chuffed? Is that a thing you say now?” you ask, flat on your back on the bed.

“Yep,” he replies. “I’m posh now, babe. Sorry you Americans can’t do it as well as we Brits.”

“I have it on good authority that we do it very well,” you smirk. “But I don’t think that’s something you’ll get to experience tonight. I haven’t seen Sash or Isa in ages, so we’ll probably talk for a long time and then I’ll be tired when we get back to the room.”

Jamie groans. “You’re sadistic, woman. The shit you put me through.”

You smile and remind him, “You’re the one who picked me, remember?”

—

Jamie is technically the one who picked you. You had just moved from America to London, got a temp job at a Richmond FC, and the rest is history. You don’t work at Richmond anymore, haven’t for a while, as you’ve been able to start your own thing in between attending matches and events and whatever else Jamie’s invited to. Being Jamie’s girlfriend is a full-time job on its own, and he definitely spoils you beyond what you’re used to. He’s the one who bought your dress for the wedding and it freaked you out just a little bit until you called Sasha (an angel, by the way) who laughed and talked you off the ledge. 

“Comes with the territory, babe. They’re just boys with more money than they know what to do with. Jack’d buy me the moon if he could figure out how. Enjoy it. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen Tartt this happy.”

So you do. You had been living together for almost a year now so you’d think that a dress wouldn’t push you over the edge, but there you go. You’re trying to be calmer about it. It’s better ever since you met Sasha and Isabel. 

You had been stuck in a room while Jamie talked to his old manager, and they had noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. You’re right in the middle of the two, age-wise, and from similar enough backgrounds.

“Here’s my number. Come over to my flat tomorrow for brunch. We’ll get you settled, babes,” Sasha had said. You went and it had been amazing to finally make real friends, even if they were technically on the opposing team. 

You’re excited to see them, excited for Isaac to finally get married, and excited to spend a full seven days with Jamie by your side. It’s going to be the best.

—

You enter the venue arm-in-arm with Jamie, practically dancing across the grass. The sun’s shining and there are all sorts of people you know and love. It feels a little surreal to be here. 

Earlier, back in the room, you had slipped into your dress carefully to avoid getting makeup stains on the front. The skirt fell just at your knees and puffed out ever so slightly, with thick straps instead of regular sleeves so you could fully enjoy the warm weather. 

“Do a spin,” he had said, voice full of glee. You’d acquiesced, twirling around to let the blue tile print billow out before he caught you, kissing your shoulder so as not to ruin your makeup. 

Now, you’re holding onto him and trying not to wrinkle his linen suit when you hear someone shout your name. 

“Sasha!” you screech, running toward her as best you can with your shoes on the grass. You squeeze each other into a tight hug, uncaring about about the state of her hot pink dress. 

“Hey man,” Jack says to Jamie, who grins and shakes his hand. “You’d think they haven’t seen each other in fucking ages.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” you say. “And before that it’s been like two months. Anyway, don’t you two have some football to discuss or something? Or headbands? Or-”

“Really short socks,” Sasha helpfully supplies. 

Jamie shakes his head. “Fuck off, Attwood.”

“Fuck you, Tartt,” she replies. 

“Oi, you two wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for me. You could be a little nicer,” Jamie says. 

“Oh is that Hughes?” Jack asks before either Sasha or Jamie can escalate. Their entire friendship is based off sniping one another and neither you nor Jack are particularly in the mood for it today. 

Jamie turns to look. “Oh mint, looks like things are starting. You saved us seats?”

“Yeah, with Haaland and Isabel,” Sasha returns, linking her arm through yours. “C’mon, did you get yourself a parasol?”

—

It’s the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever been to. Stella looks stunning in her gown, Isaac stoically sobs his eyes out while Colin surreptitiously hands him a tissue. Even Roy seems to be having a good time, but then again Keeley once told you that he “really fucking loves weddings.” You hadn’t believed her, but his lips are in a straight line instead of a frown so maybe she was right. 

There’s a group of City and Richmond players together, and it’s a little strange to see how friendly they are off the pitch. Dani is explaining something with lots of hand gestures to Phil while the rest of the group jokes around. 

Sasha sneaked you and Isabel away to get drinks for yourselves and you were about to get away unnoticed when Erling caught Isabel’s arm and asked for a drink too, so now you’re ordering for your boyfriends as well as yourselves. 

You don’t really care, there’s a part of you that’s reveling in the sheer joy of being young and hot. Sue you. 

“Cosmo, please,” you say while the girls order drinks of their own. Sasha raises an eyebrow so you shrug and say, “Jamie likes what he likes.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs “Tartt,” but it’s with the affection of an older sister so you elbow her and ask, “What did Jack want?”

She makes a face. “Heineken. He also likes what he fuckin’ likes.” 

You wheeze out a laugh as Isabel comes to join you. She smiles as she sips from something lavender colored in a martini glass. She cuts an elegant figure in her yellow, billowy dress. You smooth your dress and open your mouth to say something when a voice calls your name. You look to see your ex walking up, hand-in-hand with his wife. You know, the one he left you for. 

“Jake,” you say in surprise. God, you need your brain to form coherent thoughts right now. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, far too wide and goofy to be real. Not like Jamie, you think. 

“Oh, you know, Emma’s loosely related to the bride on her dad’s side. She asked for an invite, so here we are. Who are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“Both, actually,” you reply automatically. Jake’s words are grating, not so much in content as they are in tone. He always had a way of saying things condescendingly, like everyone else was a stupid little kid. 

“Oh,” he says in what you think is supposed to be surprise, “that’s funny. I didn’t know you knew anyone out here. You’ve been living in England all alone, right?”

Emma just hovers by Jake’s shoulder. She’s not contributing anything to this conversation except a snooty little smirk. 

“No,” you say. “I’m not alone. This is Isabel, by the way.” You look around for Sasha, but she’s disappeared. Smart girl. 

Isa doesn’t extend her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Jake takes her at her word. He puffs up his chest a little bit as he asks, “Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

“We’re from Norway,” a voice behind her says. “I’m Erling.”

Sasha has reappeared with Jack, Erling, and Jamie in tow. You mentally congratulate her with a well done, Sash as you feel Jamie’s arm loop around your waist. 

He feels like a solid wall against your back, a glimmer in an otherwise garbage moment. 

Jake takes stock of the three men who are looking at him with less-than friendly stares. You’re not sure what Sasha told them, but you’re absolutely positive Jamie recognizes Jake. You can practically feel the hairs on his arm bristling. 

Jake finishes his assessment and deems it appropriate to talk. “So, how do you all know each other?”

Jamie scoffs and looks away, while Jack stares at Jake like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

You wonder what it is with your affinity for J-names. 

“We’re footballers,” Erling says before anyone can take more offense. 

“Premier League footballers,” Jamie adds, as if it means anything to Jake. 

Jake’s American, like you, and he’s never been much for sports anyway. He wouldn’t even recognize David Beckham if the man were standing under a poster of himself. 

Jake says, “Right. Hey, weren’t you on one of those trashy dating shows?” and Jamie stiffens. 

Sasha mutters, “Fuck’s sake,” under her breath as Erling and Isabel take pointed interest in something in the distance.  

“No,” Jamie replies shortly. “The fuck were you talking to my girl?”

Jake looks to you in surprise. “Oh! You two are together? That’s… well, that’s… I guess I just didn’t expect her to be whoring around like that. But hey, move to another country and all morals go out the window, right?”

That’s the thing about Jake. He never speaks as if he’s actually trying to be offensive. He just says what’s on his mind. And you’re a little concerned that what’s on his mind is going to land Jamie (and quite possible Jack) in jail. Neither of them are especially known for backing down from a squabble. “Cut from the same cloth,” Pep was rumored to say. 

“Fuck off, mate,” Jack interjects. “Just fuck off. Everyone here loves her, and you can’t talk about her like that.”

Your ex reevaluates the situation at hand and decides the best thing to do would be to take Emma’s hand and walk away. 

“Strange that his wife does not speak,” Erling remarks. 

You grimace. “You could’ve stopped at ‘strange.’ No idea what I ever saw in him.”

Jamie has a crushing grip on your waist so you wiggle a bit to get him to loosen up. 

“Prick,” he mutters. “How the fuck did he even get here, anyway? He’s in fucking America.”

“His wife’s loosely related to Stella. They asked for an invite,” Isabel volunteers. 

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Oi, if he tries to talk to you again, I’ll grab Roy and we’ll fucking kill him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause McAdoo’s never been above a little violence at a party,” Jack grins. 

You return his smile and say, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure his mother-in-law would kill you.”

Erling huffs out a laugh. “Never a dull moment in the Premier League, is there?”

Isabel grins and loops her arm through his. “I’m tired of all this,” she says.  “Let’s go dancing. There’s a band and we don’t have to think about anything other than celebrating, yes?”

“God yes,” says Sasha.

Jamie still looks murderous, but you squeeze his hand once and whisper, “I’m fine, babe. It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he lets you pull him along to the dance floor with the group.

— 

There are so many people that you don’t even catch a glimpse of Jake and Emma. You’re not sure what they’re up to, and fairly certain they don’t know anyone else here. You on the other hand, are living your best life as Jamie sings along to “Ain’t No Mountain.” He’s swinging your arms around as he sways in time to the music. You just let him lead you however he wants. The song ends and he presses his lips to your ear so you can hear him over the sheer volume of everyone talking. “D’you want a drink? I can go get you something.”

You nod and mouth my usual, please, so he salutes and begins weaving his way through the crowd. You watch him as long as you can before spinning back around with a smile.

A smile that quickly fades when you realize Emma is right in front of you.

She says, “Cute dress,” and for a moment, you believe she’s being sincere but then she follows it up with, “Did you borrow it from your grandma’s closet? I’ve seen people do that.” 

Right, because grandmas are known for wearing dresses like this. 

“What? No, Jamie got it for me,” you say. 

“Oh cute, is it from Walmart? I think I saw something like it there last week.”

Emma is trying to draw blood. You suppose she’s taking her shot now as opposed to back then because she thinks there’s no one around to call her out. No one who knows her. 

You say, “They don’t have Walmart here,” instead of “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” because the second phrase would make you sound like a prick. There’s a part of you that wants to be a prick, though, wants to channel that part of Jamie that’s ruthless, vicious and cruel, messing with the opposition before he cuts them down. 

The first time you saw it, it was hard to believe the Jamie on the pitch was the same Jamie who played with your hair while you cooked, or put a sticky note on his fridge titled “Babe,” detailing everything you’d ever said you liked. 

Emma sees she’s not getting to you, so she changes tactics. “Must be hard being here without any friends,” she remarks. “All alone. And you’ve never been especially extraverted. Are those people the only ones here you know?”

God, Jamie, where are you?

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by someone with a distinctly midwestern twang say, “I heard one of my favorite countrywomen was here.”

You turn to see Ted Lasso grinning at you in a black suit. It’s the same smile you remember, albeit his eyes are a little sharp. You’d bet anything he knows exactly what’s going on between you and Emma. 

“Ted!” you smile as a rush of relief floods your system. You step into his arms for a hug as he says, “Hey, sweetheart. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” you say. “Kind of great, actually. I wondered if you were going to be here! Have you seen Jamie yet?”

Ted shakes his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. Why don’t we find him together?” He offers you an arm and you take it gratefully, choosing not to spare Emma a glance.

“She seems like a real bucket of laughs,” Ted remarks.

“You have no idea. That’s my ex’s wife.”

Whatever Ted thought you were going to say, he certainly wasn’t prepared for that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a short, “Well I’ll be danged.”

You laugh and stand on tiptoes to try to see Jamie. You don’t see him, but you catch a glimpse of an especially tall, blond head.

“This way,” you tell Ted. You brush past Phil who smiles at you, past Colin and Michael, and past someone you’re pretty sure is a Beckham.

You make your way to Erling and Isabel as they dance to the music in their own corner.

You frown. “Have you seen Jamie?” you shout. 

Isabel shakes her head. “He was looking for you,” she calls back.

“Oh,” you say, “Ted, this is Isabel and-”

“Erling Haaland,” Ted says, hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan of the way you play the game.”

You miss Erling’s response, startled by a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Sam standing behind you.

“Sam!” you exclaim with a grin, “You look so handsome!”

Sam returns your grin and strikes a pose. “I’ve been sent on a very important mission. I am to retrieve you and bring you to Jamie and I am under no circumstances allowed to let a small rat man named Jake speak to you.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Jamie’s words, not mine,” Sam clarifies. “Although I must admit, I have seen this rat man. I do not like him very much.”

“You and me both,” you agree. You wave to Isabel and pat Ted on the arm before following Sam.

He leads you away from the crowd of people to a stone path illuminated by small lights. This can’t be right, you think but Sam points down the path and says, “This is where I leave you.”

He turns to leave then changes his mind and spins back around. “It was lovely seeing you today, albeit for a short amount of time. I hope I will be seeing more of you while we are here. It is not often I meet someone who makes Jamie more tolerable.”

He speaks with a touch of humor and it’s just enough to dispel any apprehensions about what’s waiting for you in the dark. 

You say, “Thanks Sam. Love ya,” which he returns before he disappears back to the main party.

You take a breath and head down the steps.

It’s dark, the light barely shining enough for each step, but as you get farther you see a shadowy figure sitting on a bench under a tree. You smile. You can tell exactly who it is by his silhouette.

Jamie stands as you get closer and pulls you into his arms.

“Thought we’d sneak away to make out a bit,” he says. “And maybe to you wouldn’t yell at me in front of all our friends.”

You groan. “What did you do? Please tell me it has nothing to do with Roy. Or Jack. Oh my god, did you two start convincing people you were separated at birth again? Because it’s really only funny one time.”

“Well…” Jamie hedges.

You pinch his back. It’s the only part of him you can reach at the moment. “Jamie Tartt, you’d better tell me what you did right now or so help me you are going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our lives.”

“Oi, don’t fucking do that!”

He reaches back to grab your hands and holds them flat on his chest. “We- Roy, Grealish, and me, might have gotten your prick ex kicked out.”

“You what?” you gasp.

Jamie starts speaking in a rush before you can say anything else. “Look, y’know how protective Grealish gets, especially because Sasha fucking loves you, and then Roy heard that your prick ex was here (not the twat ex) and he said it’s easier for him to get in and out of fights on account of him being a fucking manager but then Grealish said that it’s pretty much expected that fights happen so might as well and anyway, no one’s gonna fuckin’ snitch on any of us because (hate to break it to you babe), but you’re, like, everyone’s kid sister. They’d fucking kill for you so it’s possible that we channeled that into threatening to break all of his bones if he ever ended up in the same country as you again.”

You’re processing all of the things Jamie said plus the incredible speed at which he said them, so all you can manage is a single “Okay,” before he’s talking again.

“Ehm, it’s also slightly-fucking-possible that someone did break his foot.”

“What?” you all but shout.

“Coordinated effort between Isa and Haaland,” Jamie says. “Lad’s a fucking wall, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Jesus, Jamie,” you groan. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or pinch you again.”

“You can do both,” he suggests.

You sigh. “I’m going to kiss you. Like, a lot. And I’m not going to worry about getting caught and after we’ve snogged like a pair of kids in high school- sorry, secondary school, then we’re going to eat a bunch more food and dance with our friends. And if you want to get sloshed, I promise I will only take funny videos for myself, and I will not send them to your mum this time.”

Jamie says, “Liar,” as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you concede, “I will most definitely send them to your mum. And Simon. We’re on a group chat.”

“Not even gonna fucking ask,” Jamie says as he threads a hand through your hair so he can get at a better angle to kiss you.

—

You wake up the next morning (ahem, afternoon) to Jamie’s foot in your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say.

He hiccups himself awake. “Yeah?” he rumbles. “What fucking time..?”

“Late, I assume,” you say.

He groans and flips himself around so your heads are on the same side of the bed. He wastes no time in tangling your limbs together.

“Oi, koala boy. Some of us have morning breath.”

“No y’don’t babe,” he mumbles.

You scratch his head and a shudder runs through his body. “I know,” you say, “my breath is perfect. I meant you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Cruel woman,” he returns before lapsing into silence. The sun slips through the curtains, and you’re sure it’s going to be another gorgeous day

“Jamie,” you begin then stop.

He says, “Yeah, love?” while looking up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and you take a moment to freeze this image in your head. 

Jamie Tartt, in bed, hair tousled from sleep. Pillowy white duvet, golden freckled skin, warm body pressed to yours.

He kisses your shoulder, rousing you from your thoughts. 

“Jamie,” you say again, “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “You’re not fucking allowed to say thank you for the bare fucking minimum.”

“But it’s not,” you reply, opting to skate over the fact that he apparently can read your mind. “Bare minimum is like, making sure I’m not alone with him, not getting your friends together to scare him off and break his foot.”

Jamie’s been kissing your skin wherever he can reach as you speak, so his words are interspersed with pecks. “Technically, the foot was an accident. Ask any one of our witnesses. And besides, they’re your friends too. You’re the one who got ‘em all to like ya despite the fact we’re mortal enemies on the pitch.”

“You’re the one who goes tanning with Jack,” you remind him.

“Lies told by the press,” Jamie grumbles. “This is my natural sexy glow.”

You say, “Okay little British boy,” as Jamie decides that his current position is not enough and he wants to lay on top of you.

He says something but his face is buried in the crook of your neck, so all you can feel is vibrations.

You ask, “Hm?” so he lifts his head.

“What if it were us next year?”

“Tanning or breaking feet?”

“Getting married.”

Jamie goes back to having his mouth on your neck as if the air weren’t just punched from your lungs.

You’re quiet long enough that he lifts his head again to ask, “Is that good quiet or bad quiet?”

“Good!” you hastily confirm. “Good, but, babe- you haven’t even asked me yet.”

He says, “I’m going to,” as if you should have known already. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “can you give me like a little heads up or something so my nails are done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “At the end of the week. Been planning it. Ring’s in my bag, even asked Stella if she’d be pissed that it’s the same week she took on the most un-sexy last name in history. She said she don’t give a shit as long as it’s not at her actual wedding. So.”

“I love you,” you tell him. “Not just because of yesterday or right now. I just think you’re great.”

“I am great, babe,” he says like it’s obvious. “Picked you, didn’t I?”

You crack a smile. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Do you want to get out of bed or go back to sleep?”

“Sleep,” he replies immediately. 

“Thank God,” you groan, “I didn’t want to move. You’re like a weighted blanket.”

“It’s me sexy muscles,” Jamie says. You wiggle under him to get more comfortable.

“Uh huh,” you agree, but the words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re both back to sleep.

[aellynera]

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is. 

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

The Hoodie Problem

A wardrobe mistake costs you and Henry the privacy of your relationship. 

-

           “No,” you groaned as your heard the dreaded chiming of the Alexa alarm. “No, no, no, turn it off!”

           “You have to say its name, dearie,” a tired Henry grumbled in response. You could feel him pull you tighter, deeper into his warm arms. “Alexa, stop the alarm.” The alarm stopped right after.

           “It’s currently 6:20 AM. The weather in London, England, is currently 6 degrees Celsius and will be sunny for the rest of the day. There are no unread emails for your .edu or gmail.com account. One package, containing 3 makeup brushes and dog treats will be arriving to 102…’

           “Will she shut up?” You groaned in response, turning back into Henry’s warm body. The room was freezing cold, and the dog had already gotten off the bed.

           “I don’t think she’s done yet.” In a single second, the opening riff of Back in Black started playing. “Alright, love, you actually need to go.”

           “No,” you grumbled. “Fuck class, I don’t wanna go to class. I hate it anyway, and I don’t wanna sit there and listen to my history professor talk about an asshole and defend his work when it’s already shit anyway.” Henry chuckled, sending another wave of heat through your body, making you want to stay even more.

           “You won’t get to argue your vulgar point if you’re late.” You sighed and started to sit up, yelling at Alexa to stop playing music. “Go, darling, otherwise I won’t get out of bed either.”

           “You’re such an asshole in the morning,” you responded, wrestling yourself onto the floor. A gigantic ball of fluff followed you, expecting his breakfast. “Can I borrow a hoodie? Left mine in the laundry.”

           “Which you only did so you can borrow one of mine. They should all be clean, just find one that can cover the bruises on your neck.” You sighed, spying a hoodie from a charity Rugby match Henry had done the month before, and after slapping deodorant onto your under-arms you pulled it on over her sports bra. You hoped it would be enough. Quite honestly, you didn’t care who saw the hickies on your neck. Anyone who was going to see was an adult who should act like an adult about it. Your hair would have to do since it wasn’t too greasy, and after deciding just to leave it down, you finished up in Henry’s adjoining bathroom and walked back to the bedroom.

           “Covered?” You asked.

           “Yep. Leave me your keys, take the Merc, and I’ll pick it up from the shop after my workout, I want them to check the paint on the hood, too.” He looked you up and down, sitting up in bed as you walked over to give him a kiss.

           “Thanks, babe.”

           “You look beautiful,” he responded with a smile.

           “I do not.”

           “You do!” Without bothering to look at the back of the sweatshirt, Henry got out of bed and went into the bathroom. You yawned as the massive dog zoomed down the stairs, waiting for breakfast. Kal sniffed around as you set foot on the stair landing, probably wondering why your vanilla perfume was mixed with the scent of Henry’s strong aftershave. Truth be told, you were glad. It was a comforting smell.

           “Be a good boy, Kal, Papa’s gonna feed you in a minute.” The dog panted in excitement and went to go stand by his water bowl, where he would inevitably drool for the rest of the time until Henry came to feed him. You placed your things from the dining room table, your makeshift desk, into your backpack, refilled your water bottle, and took a few seconds to exchange your keys with Henry’s keys. With another glance around the house, making sure you didn’t leave any chargers behind, you walked out the front door and began to adjust Henry’s car to fit your height. You felt like something was off, but you couldn’t describe it. Instead you went to go get your coffee and find a place to park before your frightfully early class.

           “You look knackered,” a voice said behind you as you finally climbed out of the car an hour and a half later. It wasn’t the first time you’d borrowed one of Henry’s cars, but at least it was the humblest of the three he had. The McLaren wasn’t something he even trusted himself to drive sometimes, he’d finally gotten rid of the Clio collecting dust at his parents’ house, and the Aston was his precious baby you didn’t dare go near. But you were endlessly grateful he let you borrow the Merc. You just wished it wasn’t so flashy. It was ten times flashier than the seven-year-old Hyundai you’d inherited from your mother. Especially in the parking spot right in front of the building ten minutes before class where people could see you getting out of it. The voice who’d spoken was Anna, your best friend, and supposed roommate if you ever came home.

           “Trust me when I say that man needs a new coffee machine, because I’m sick of having to leave the house at seven in the morning to go buy some,” you groaned in response, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. It was heavy as hell, but you were carrying most of your things in it because you didn’t have time to go back to your barely lived-in dorm room. Your other hand held your gigantic coffee, the biggest one you could buy because apparently British people preferred caffeine-free tea in the morning. People called you absolutely crazy for getting cold drinks when it was cold outside, too, but you didn’t care.

           “You realize your neck is completely purple, right? I doubt an espresso machine is the reason you’re so tied.” You scoffed at Anna’s statement. In reality it hadn’t been crazy sex keeping you up for the past few nights – you’d been working so late that Henry came up to you the night before and wouldn’t stop biting at your neck until you agreed to come to bed, hoping it would embarrass you into having better sleeping habits. But sex was a much better story.  

           “Is it really bad?” You asked.

           “No. Not from the front.” Anna started walking backwards up the building’s staircase, opening the door for the two of you. Your classroom was the first one on the left, a massive auditorium, because everyone had to take the History of Wagnerian Opera class for some stupid reason. You took your normal places in the bright room, taking your laptops out onto the desks. You fully expected to have to plug it in, but Henry, the ever helpful boyfriend, had plugged it in when he found it half dead the night before.

           “Had a rough night, did you, Yankee?” Another voice asked behind you. It was Isaac, another student you’d been friends with from the moment you stepped on campus.

           “What on Earth gave you that idea?” You asked as you took a sip of coffee. Isaac leaned closer, looking down at the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hood barely covered the top of the lettering on your back. It read Cavill in white letters, and underneath it was the number 01. It was obviously customized, and well-loved judging by the fading English rose that was the logo for Henry’s favorite team. It was about three sizes too large, too, adding to the evidence that the hoodie didn’t belong to you. Isaac and Anna knew you were dating Henry, but most people had no idea. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, because you weren’t. Henry just wanted to protect you from the craziness that came with dating him, including paparazzi and prying eyes that would try to find their way into every little thing you did with or without him. You hadn’t signed an NDA or anything, but Henry was insistent on protecting you for as long as he could. You were fourteen years younger than him and he loved you dearly and nothing could change that.

           “You do realize that the back of your hoodie says HIS name on it, don’t you?” Isaac said quietly, hoping no one else in the auditorium heard.

           “What?” You asked in response. You could feel your face going red.

           “It says Cavill 01.”

           “Oh, shit.” You couldn’t take it off because the only thing you were wearing underneath it was a thin sports bra, and of course Henry’s car was so spotless on the inside that there was no chance of there being an extra shirt in there. Come to think of it, he’d been lounging around in the sweatshirt the night before. Shit, you thought. How could you miss it? How could you screw up that badly? What if this ruined everything?

           “Oh shit is right,” Anna remarked.

           “Does my hair cover it?” Isaac looked down at your hair. The lecture was about to start, but the thought of maybe losing Henry over a hoodie made you want to sit in the corner and cry.    

           “No. Neither does the hood.” You sank lower into the seat.

           “Maybe people won’t care. Cavill’s a common last name here.”

           “No, not really. And I think they will.” You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest.

           “Just don’t mention it to anybody and wear your bag when you can. Problem solved.”

           “I’ll get you something else later,” Anna cut in. In reality everyone already knew something was up. You had mentioned a few times, offhand, that you had almost moved into your boyfriend’s house and was commuting from Kensington. And you mentioned one day that he was an actor, much less that he was one of the most well-known actors in the entire world. Your phone had his name as Hank, and even though the connection wasn’t immediate, it was still enough to make someone think of the name Henry. Damn the British and their overly common name diminutives.

           “I swear to God, I’ll strangle whoever even thinks about it,” you sighed in response, putting your head down until the professor started class. You didn’t need to take notes quite yet, and pulled up the messages between you and Henry. The last night it was just on my way, got the food! And you are an absolute angel. Drive safe. His name wasn’t completely revealed at the conversation.

           We have a problem. Henry started typing immediately.

           You didn’t crash the car, did you????

           No, but that probably would’ve been better…

           Please explain.

           Promise you won’t get mad?

           What’s wrong???

           I picked up your hoodie from last night and it has your name on the back and it hides my neck but it has your name on it and there’s nothing under it so I can’t take it off and I’m freaking out because you don’t want people to know and I’m sorry, I just screwed up so bad. I’m such an idiot.

           It’s okay. Calm down. You’re not an idiot. You’re an absolute moron and I love you anyway

           I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want anyone to know.

           The only reason I didn’t want anyone to know is because I didn’t want anyone to make you upset because I’m stupidly in love with you and people will try to tell you otherwise. It’ll be okay. If they find out they find out. Don’t worry about it. Really.

           I feel like an idiot now.

           I’m sure you look better in it than I do anyway. Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll see you at home and we’ll figure it out.

           Thank you.

           I love you!!!!

           Love you more dimples.

           You smiled a little, sitting back into your chair and starting to type out notes about the dark undertones within Ride of the Valkyrie. For the rest of class, it was fine. But you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous for your next class. Isaac wasn’t there to back you up, and Anna sat on the other side of the room because you always distracted each other. You were on your own, taking in the scent of Henry’s aftershave that was left on the sweatshirt from the night before. It helped you calm down at least a little, even if the name on the back made you nervous. You sat lower in the chair than usual, but it didn’t stop at least one person knowing.

           “You like Henry Cavill too?” Elizabeth, the most annoying person on Earth (and a completely mediocre pianist with no sense of emotion who only got in because her father works for the royal family), said as she strained to read the sweatshirt on the way to her seat.

           “Yep.” You tried to play it off and wipe out the conversation before it even started. Never before had you wanted to listen to your old white professor rant about other old dead white guys. “He’s a good actor.”

           “I’m, like, so in love with him,” Elizabeth responded. Henry rolled his eyes every single time you said a word about Elizabeth, but you’d never tell her that. “Like, he’s just so dreamy.”

           “Oh, yeah,” you responded without even thinking. “He’s gorgeous.” You didn’t even realize what you said until Elizabeth’s eyes danced with a grin that matched her mouth.

           “You know him?” She exclaimed.

           “I mean, um, yeah, my internship…” you tried to cover, but it definitely didn’t work.

           “Shut up, you know him? Or, oh my gosh, is he the guy you’re dating?” You could tell that all of the color drained from your face and the room suddenly felt hot. You weren’t going to lie about it, but she would also be one of the first few people to know. And it wouldn’t be long before she blabbed her mouth to her followers.

           “I heard he likes younger girls anyway,” Ellen, the girl who sat behind Elizabeth, said. That was the cue for you to realize that everyone else was listening, too, and they couldn’t just mind their business. Your hands shifted uncomfortably inside the pocket of Henry’s sweatshirt. The room was definitely getting warmer.

           “Yeah,” you responded quietly. “We’ve been dating a few months and didn’t want to tell anyone yet. But you figured it out, so congrats.” You swallowed a lump in your throat. On the one hand you were glad that it wasn’t going to be a secret anymore. You didn’t want to hide how much you loved the curly-haired idiot who was too large for his own good.

           “Oh my GOD!” Elizabeth said excitedly. She was a little too loud with it. You just turned back around and pulled out your phone, hands shaking from the anxiety of what Henry had said. He said you were good enough, but what happened when the world was able to judge you?

           Well, Elizabeth figured it out. Not long until she spills to her 22 followers. And then their 22 followers.

           At least I can post that picture you took with me on the beach…

           The ugly one where I almost drowned after? Nooooo please!!!

           Oh that’s not what I was thinking about, but now that you mention it, my fingers might just slip…

           This conversation is DONE, fat Cavill! I swear I’ll punch the dimples right out of you.

           You underestimate me, little one.

           Cavill, this class is an hour long and I swear if I get out and you did something I will make you sleep on your own couch for the next year.

           Guess you’ll just have to fight me when you get home…

           With that, the conversation was over. Most people in the room didn’t seem to notice or care, but Elizabeth and Ellie did. Your friends didn’t for the most part, but you would assume some would turn on you. And you could tell that they were going to do whatever they could to make sure everyone knew that they knew before anyone else. It was strange to think that Henry was being so cool with it, that he wanted there to be a before people knew and an after. You shut your mind off and did your best to focus, even though it wasn’t very well.

           You got up at the end of class and packed your things, ready to brave the library until your next class, but you exited the room and there was someone standing at the entry hallway. Henry. And he was holding another coffee in one hand, and draped on his other arm was a shirt. He’d never been in public with you without some stupid disguise on, much less to bring you coffee in between classes.

           “Henry?” You asked, slightly too loudly. Elizabeth and Ellen turned toward you, but you blew past them to see Henry. He was grinning, from ear to ear.

           “So apparently, according to the internet in the past few minutes I’ve been in the car, I’m cradle robbing. Apparently you’re Instagram-model material, which I could’ve told you,” he said. “I brought you another coffee for dealing with bullshit, and I brought you another shirt in case you want to change.”

           “Can I keep this one?” You asked, looking down at Henry’s that you were still wearing. “And you didn’t post the bad picture of me yet?”

           “No, I was waiting for your approval,” he responded. He reached for his phone and handed it to you, and it was opened to a set of pictures he hadn’t posted yet.

           @henrycavill: The real Mission Impossible is getting her to stay still long enough to take a picture with her favorite old man. To be clear, though; she is MINE and I couldn’t be happier. I will sword-fight ANYONE to defend her honor!!

           It was a series of five pictures, all of them the two of you together, some of them cuter than others, and you just grinned. You couldn’t believe he was okay with everything, and you couldn’t believe that he was actually standing there with you, braving the people in your class just to hand you a coffee and offer you a shirt.

           “I love you,” you said quietly. He smiled in response. “Really.”

           “I love you too. I don’t care who knows.” You laughed and hugged him tightly, even though he was still holding your coffee. “But I do want the Merc back, your car is outside.”

           “Whatever you say, cradle-robber.”

A/N: I’m in an opera history class right now and it’s so frustrating that I’m definitely taking it out here. I hope the person who requests this loves it as much as I did because omg I love this 😭

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

King of Nothing

Author’s Note: @firefeatherx reminded me with her message that I haven’t reposted this chapter since I trashed my old blog, so here it is. This is the first chapter of my urban gothic WIP, Wretches and Kings. My masterlist with other posts about this WIP, as well as my other project, can be found here. Word Count: 2k Rating: The project as a whole is R-rated. This chapter is a bit tamer than what follows. Just be warned that there’s some language and a graphic description at the end. Taglist: @firefeatherx @goldenhour-goldenboy @mandoplease @phoenixhalliwell @havenforafrazzledmind @beatriz-silva-00 @pascal-isaac @worldominatorx @givemethatgold @agirllovespancakes @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @veuliee @briskywalker @davairys @aetherwrites @ryns-ramblings @teriwrites @thenewfaustus @marmaladewords @nominalnebula @procratinatingwriter (let me know if you want to be +/-)

“Boy with gunsmoke for breath. Boy with rebellion in your bones. Your city is ignited, your city is screaming your name. Your city is raising its fist. Your city is slamming its body against a police shield and smiling a bloody red smile.”

The very streets whispered his name.

Here comes the Renegade, they seemed to say, the thin scratches weathering his skull mask shining in the pale moonlight. Behold, the Master of Death as he walks among the living.

Truly, he lived according to his titles. Dark and silent as a shadow, he moved as though he existed on a separate plane, only seen because he wanted to be seen. He burned the city every night with his stare, cut it to ribbons with his silver tongue, and by morning, his city quietly rebuilt itself, ripe once more for the harvest.

A mystery behind a mask, the winds whispered through the trees. An enigma even unto himself.

The city sat in wait on its knees for him. Because without him—without their one certainty—this place would lose its collective mind.

After all, sighs the wind. The devil is in the details.

--

To call the Easthold Pulse a night club was—simply put—a gross oversimplification of what services it truly provided. Most nights, parties stretched beyond the club’s walls, an unprecedented multi-block party attended by locals and tourists alike as though it was the epicenter of their life force.

All Hallows’ Eve was one of the Pulse’s busiest nights; all streets within a three-block radius cleared and barricaded as everyone—from ghost-story enthusiasts to common party-goers alike—flocked to central Easthold. To the thumping of basslines and guitar riffs that they considered the very heartbeat of the city. 

For the thousands of denizens of downtown Easthold fled the scene well over forty-eight hours in advance, twice as many swarmed in to take their place, camping out on the streets and on rooftops for what was sure to be the party of the year, every year.

The Renegade was one of many who thrived on such excitement.

But for him, tonight was not for dancing, sharing ghost stories, or getting perpetually smashed. Tonight was one of the few nights of the year the Renegade could meet with his wealthiest contractor without attracting any prying eyes. The only second glances tonight came from those who recognized his identity. Or the one they’d all come to know.

“Nice mask!” Echoes of the compliment followed him as he bobbed and weaved through the dense, writhing crowd. “It looks just like the Renegade’s!”

And when he turned to give them a quick glance, sometimes even a nod of acknowledgement, if they were lucky enough, those who fawned after the Renegade veritably swooned with their fellow partiers. Such interesting creatures, the people of Easthold. Where serial killers amassed cult followings, celebrities in their own right.

Getting within the Pulse’s walls on a night like All Hallows’ Eve without a reservation might have been a death wish for the average layperson. For many, just getting close enough to hear the music coming straight from the source was a victory. Tonight, the Pulse became a temple, and those inside would dance, drink, and debauch in worship to whatever god out there would listen. A temple of pure pleasure.

The Renegade had no intention of entering the club through the front tonight, and rumors of people losing their lives by sneaking in through the back was enough to dissuade most attendees from making an attempt of their own. He elbowed his way through the last few clumps of people and then, as though there was an invisible barrier no one dared to cross, he reached his destination.

The shadows behind the Easthold Pulse were so deep that, were he alone, the Renegade might have removed his mask to improve his vision. He was now, at least, alone enough to breathe easily, save for the homeless dreg of a man lounging near a dumpster and a firmly muscled bouncer standing guard near the rear entrance under the light of an old lamp.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” the bouncer informed him stonily, staring down at the Renegade’s tall frame from his even more impressive physical height.

“The angel queen sleeps on the night of devils,” was all the Renegade said by way of greeting.

A flicker of recognition flashed behind the guard’s brown eyes, but he said. “You’re late. Go back to the front and wait, sir.”

Must have been a long night already, if he felt ballsy enough to give the Renegade a hard time like this.

“They askin’ clients to sweeten the deal with cash now—”

“Get back to the front before I throw you there,” the bouncer menaced. “Self-righteous prick.”

Behind the mask, the Renegade’s smile faded into an amused smirk. The eye sockets of his skull mask seemed to swallow all the light in the already dim alley.

“I’m going to put this as politely as possible,” said the Renegade gingerly.

His hand snapped from where he’d so subtly slipped it into the depths of his jacket. The bouncer, too focused on the permanent grin etched into that wicked mask, hadn’t noticed. The Renegade thrust the end of a suppressed pistol into the soft skin underneath the bouncer’s chin.

“The angel queen sleeps on the night of devils,” the Renegade repeated in a soft whisper that sounded too much like a lover’s. “You know the rest.”

The bouncer stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide and head angling away from the cool end of the weapon digging into his skin. The Renegade’s gloved finger curled slowly around the trigger. His breath came out in short, barely audible whispers as he whispered, “Tomorrow she will seek retribution.”

Slowly, he twisted the handle of the door and pushed against it. The loud throbbing of synthetic dance music flooded the Renegade’s ears. The door opened to reveal a dim hallway with multiple doorways to the right, ending in a curtain of silver beads that flashed with bursts of light from further within the club. He didn’t need to go further than this hallway. He had no need to.

“Thanks,” said the Renegade, putting his pistol back into his jacket, patting the bouncer on the shoulder as he walked past and slid the door shut with the heel of his foot.

Several people lounged in the hallway. Many wore masks, others did not, but all eyes were on him as he strode passed, and all were smart enough to not utter a word as she threw open one of the doors and showed himself in.

“You’re late,” said the man behind the metal desk taking up the center space of the room without bothering to glance up as the Renegade slammed his weight into the only other chair in the room.

“Make yourself more accessible and I’ll improve my punctuality.”

The man behind the desk dismissively returned the papers in his hand to his desk, his dark brown skin accentuated by the office’s dim lighting. “This was your messiest year to date.”

“It was also my most difficult year to date, Adder.” The Renegade casually slung one leg over an arm of the cushioned chair, leaning into the opposite armrest. “Perhaps you should thank me for getting all the jobs done before my deadlines.”

Such a relaxed posture, everything about him open and vulnerable, save for that damned skull mask hiding the Renegade’s face. The man called Adder knew better than to be put off by it. Underneath it all, he was just a man, same as any other.

“You know, it’s customary for my clients to show their faces when they meet with me,” Adder gestured to the mask. “Are you going to cooperate this year?”

The Renegade remained firmly rooted where he was. “Take a guess.”

Adder pointed at the Renegade, his elbow propped up near the edge of his sleek desk. “You know damn well I don’t hire your services out of necessity. And I know damn well you don’t work for me out of the same necessity. There’s nothing holding me back from deciding to not contract you for another year.”

The Renegade showed no visible signs of alarm. His head tilted back, and Adder felt keenly aware of how exposed his neck was, noting the dark stubble darkening the line of his jaw.

“How unfortunate for you,” he said. “Do you know how many people in this city alone request my skillset?”

Adder shifted. “Far too aware, I’m afraid.” He was the one who dealt with all the bullshit paperwork, after all.

“So, consider, that maybe you do hire my services out of necessity. You’re going to have some very angry customers on your hands if you notify our good friends out on the dark web that you, Saxen Adder, no longer contract with the Renegade. Angry customers mean poor reviews, and suddenly coming straight to the source, willing to pay triple…”

Saxen reined in his grimace; he could hear the damned smile in that man’s voice.

“You forget that if I choose to not contract you, the process becomes far more complex and permanent than a simple vow of silence for everything you did while working with me. There won’t be a Renegade for people to go running to to handle their dirty work.”

“Oh,” the Renegade sneered. “Could you imagine the uproar if the people found out that I no longer existed?”

“They’ll find someone else to obsess over. Don’t think you’re so special.”

“But I am.” The Renegade place a hand over his heart. Were it not for the mask, the attire, the very demeanor he carried himself with, the sentiment might have been easier felt. “Not only am I the most skilled contract killer in the city, but I work with the post powerful person in the city, and maintain my own clientele. Don’t you think that would supersede McFarlane and put me in the position of top dog?”

“Careful how you choose your words. If she catches wind of you placing yourself above her, she won’t take kindly to it.”

The wide-stretched grin across the Renegade’s mask was all-seeing. Even in a technical seat of power over him, Saxen Adder felt oddly exposed underneath that hollow stare. This was a man with too much power, and too little to lose.

“McFarlane is losing her relevance.” It could very well have been the first time someone had spoken such ill of Easthold’s queenpin. “It’s only a matter of time before her empire falls with her. And who will be left in the ashes by the phoenix to build it back up?”

“You’re a self-serving bastard, you know that?” Adder hissed.

“It comes with the title,” all traces of humor left the Renegade’s voice. “Make your decision. I don’t have all night.”

He never saw it coming.

Saxen Adder whipped out his sidearm, and painted the wall with the Renegade’s brain.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

I’m too fucking high for this right now. Harry thinks to himself as you explain your coffee chat with Seth. He may have been having a kickback with Sarah, Mitch, Gemma, and some other friends, and they may have started passing a bong around.

“Wait, so a guy you used to hook up with is bisexual and you want to set him up with Isaac?”

“Yes! Isaac’s so cute, and Seth is such a good guy, like, the best. Better than the best.”

“Please, keep tellin’ me how great Seth is, I love to hear it.” He says sarcastically.

“Oh, stop it. No one’s as good as you, that’s a given. Maybe I’ll pop by the studio tomorrow after work to see what Isaac thinks of all of it. If it works out we could all go on double dates and stuff.”

“Mmmmm, no.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Because then it would be like you two were on a date, and I don’t need that.”

“No it wouldn’t. I’ve never even been on a date with Seth.”

“But you dated.”

“No…we didn’t. Why are you getting mad about this?”

“Why are youuuu gettin’ so excited?”

“Are you okay? You’re talking funny.”

“Don’t I always talk funny to you, what with my accent?” Harry starts coughing and then starts to laugh. “Look, I can’t talk much longer, I have friends over.”

“Oh…sorry to bother you…”

“No! You weren’t botherin’ me!”

“Okay…well, bye.”

“Wait, now you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I can’t have friends over?”

“I never said that.”

“I told you I’d be hangnin’ with friends this week.”

“You did.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You hang up the phone and roll your eyes. Harry texts you immediately.

Harry: you’re mad at me :(

You: I’m not

Harry: you are

You groan and toss your phone on the sofa. You take a quick shower and come back to watch some TV with Buster. You have five texts from Harry.

Harry: Y/N?

Harry: where’d ya go?

Harry: love?

Harry: angel?

Harry: baby girl?

“Jesus Christ!”

You: I went to take a shower, get back to your friends

Harry: you didn’t tell me you were taking a shower

You: didn’t realize you needed a play by play

Harry: :(

You sigh and call him.

“Hello?” He says.

“Are you okay?”

“Nevah bettah.” His accent was extremely thick today.

“Harry…I feel like I always need to tell what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with, but you’re always very vague.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Okay, you wanna know what I’m doin’ then?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“I’m with my friends at my flat, and we’re blazed.”

“You’re high?”

“Yep. Makes me a little clingier than usual, m’sorry.”

You don’t say anything. You really didn’t like the idea of him toking up. You weren’t judging, you just didn’t understand the appeal.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are yeh disappointed?”

“No…I just don’t understand why you feel the need to do that.”

“It’s better than drinkin’ til I’m sick.”

“Is it?”

“I miss you. I miss you’re cute little face, and you’re-“

“Harry.” You smile. “Go back to your friends, babe. Go be a good little host, hm?”

“Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You sigh and hang up the phone. You look at Buster who’s looking at you.

“Daddy is bonkers sometimes, Buster, absolutely bonkers.”

//

You were at the bar with your friends, one of the perks of being twenty-one, you could go out drinking and not have to worry about the cops showing up to bust you and your friends. Kate was busy with Kevin, and Sarah was busy with Ben. You rolled your eyes at them.

“Here.” Rachel says handing you a vodka-cranberry.

“Thanks.” You two clink your glasses and look over to the boys who were all playing pool.

“So, you and Seth, huh?”

“It was just one night. We haven’t hooked up since.”

“Why not? Thought you two were gonna do the friends with benefits thing.”

“We are…I think we’re both scared to make the first move again. I’m hoping tonight though. It was so good Rach.”

“Well, let’s go over there then. We can watch them play.”

You and Rachel walk over to Seth and Max, and a couple other guys. Seth smiles at you.

“Aw, you brought me a new drink, you shouldn’t have.” He says to you.

“Not yours.” You smirk.

“Can I get a sip?”

“Sure.” You hand it to him and he takes a sip. You watch as he licks his lips after.

“Thanks.” He hands it back to you. “You look hot tonight.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, you always look hot, but-“

“Seth, can we get back to it? It’s your turn.” One of the guys says.

He rolls his eyes and goes to make his shot. You and Rachel get bored and head to the dance floor. Seth looks for you and sees you dancing with her.

“Fuck this.” He says and goes out to the dance floor. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all, she’s all yours.” Rachel pushes you towards him.

You giggle and back your ass up to his pelvis. His hands go on your hips and you start dancing together. You had danced with Seth plenty of times, but never really like this. He plants soft kisses on your cheek and neck. Your head rolls back to his shoulder.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispers in your ear. You turn around and nod.

“Can we go to your place?”

“Course.”

He grabs your hand and leads you out. You make eye contact with Rachel quick and you nod at each other.

“You cold, want my jacket?” He asks, already taking it off.

“Yeah, thanks.” You put it on and feel warm instantly. His jacket smelt just like him.

He walks with his hands in his pockets on your decent to his off campus apartment.

“Sorry I haven’t really texted…” He finally says.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because…we fucked and you’re my friend and we didn’t really talk after.”

“I didn’t exactly reach out to you either.”

“Awkward, right?”

“Very awkward. Why is it so awkward?”

“I don’t know…I don’t regret anything.”

“Me either.” You smile at him.

“I think it’s just hard to find the balance, you know?”

“Seth, we don’t need to play by anyone’s rules but our own. If you wanna text me after we hook up, great, if not, it’s not a big deal. If you wanna hang out as friends and not fuck we can do that, and if you wanna hang out solely so we can fuck, then that’s cool too.”

“You’re awesome.” He throws an arm around you and it stays that way for the rest of the walk.

//

After work you head to the studio to see Mariah and Isaac. Mariah was outside getting some golden hour shots with a client.

“Hey!” Isaac says brightly to you. He walks around the desk to give you a hug, and gives Buster a treat.

“Hi! So good to see you.”

“How was London?”

“It was amazing. The weather was beautiful, and Harry was a prince as always. He’s a lot of fun to travel with.”

“I got to go with him once when had to travel for Plant Geo, so much fun. I turned twenty-one on the trip, he gave me my first shot.”

“Aww. How old are you anyways?”

“Just turned twenty-three a couple months ago.” You nod. “So, are you like super lonely without your man?”

“I think I would've been, but I have Buster so it’s not so bad. He keeps my head preoccupied.”

“We miss him a lot here. He’s so funny, and way more outgoing now that there aren’t people around to piss him off.”

“That’s great! I love hearing that kind of stuff.” You bite your bottom lip and grin at him.

“What’s that look for?”

“Okay, this may be out of left field for me to say to you, but you’re single right?”

“Y/N, you’re nice and all, and as much as I’d love to see Harry naked, I don’t think a threesome is the way to go.”

“Oh my god!” You start laughing. “No! Oh my god, nope, no, that’s not where I was going at all.”

“Oh!” He starts laughing. “Sorry.” He blushes.

“So you wanna see my boyfriend naked, huh?” You smirk.

“As if you didn’t know.”

“How ‘bout I do you one better?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a friend, a really good friend…we’ve recently reconnected. His name is Seth.”

“Seth?! As in ‘fuckin’ Seth Rowan’.” He says in Harry’s accent. “Didn’t you hook up with him back in the day?”

“How nice of Harry to air my dirty laundry with you.”

“To be fair I was trying to pry out of him why he was walking so funny one day, and he decided to tell me about Seth instead.” Your cheeks burn.

“Uh, right.” You cough nervously. “Anyways, Seth is bi…as he’s recently told me. Don’t be mad, but I showed him a picture of you and he said you were adorable.”

“Adorable? And bi? I don’t know, is he just looking to experiment?”

“No! He said he even dated a guy long enough that he introduced him to his family. I think he’s still trying to figure out in the grand scheme if he wants to be with a man or woman, but he also said he was very fluid, and you’re so sweet Isaac, I just thought-“

“Do you have a picture?”

“Tons! Hold on.” You pull out your phone and go to Seth’s Facebook.

“Oh my god…bitch you have a type.”

“Stop! They’re not that similar. Seth actually has way more tattoos than Harry. And Harry doesn’t have any piercings.”

“So this guy…said I was adorable? He looks too hard to say something like that.”

“Oh my god, Seth is the sweetest guy ever. He just has a slight punk exterior.”

“And you wanna set me up with him? That’s not weird for you?”

“Not at all.” You scoff. “We never dated, we were just friends who hooked up from time to time.”

//

Seth gets you into his room, and once the door is locked his tongue is down your throat. You feel the cool from his piercing against your tongue. His hands were cupping your face and yours were gripping the back of his shirt. You felt like you could kiss him forever.

“So are you gonna let me get a taste tonight, or what?”

“A taste?” You giggle. “of what?” He looks at you, down to your crotch, then back to your eyes.

“Oh! You actually wanna do that?”

“Um…yeah?” He kisses on your neck and you groan. “Don’t you wanna know what this feels like rubbing up against that little clit of yours?” He says into your ear. Goosebumps raise all over your body.

You kiss him against and tug his shirt up overhead. All clothes come flying off and you get on the bed. He kisses down your entire body and pushes your legs apart. The second you feel him against you, you gasp.

“Oh my god.” You say in surprise. “Wow, oh wow.” You tug at his hair. “Seth, holy shit.” You groan.

He looks up at you and smirks.

“I know it feels good, but I do have roommates.”

“Shit! Sorry.” You blush.

“I mean, it only feeds my ego, but I don’t need a pat on the back from them. Plus, poor little Maxy.”

“I’ll be quiet.” You push his head back down and you feel him chuckle against you.

You clasp a hand over your mouth as he continues to lick you up and down. Guys had gone down on your before, but not like this. Who knew a little piercing could feel so good? You tug at his hair harder when you feel your entire body get hot and your legs start to shake. You were panting and sweating and he made your body feel better than it ever had. He kisses your inner thigh as you catch your breath.

“Do you want me to, um…” You point to his throbbing cock.

“Nah, I’d rather just stick it in, that okay?”

“Yeah!”

He smiles and grabs a condom.

“Seth?”

“Yeah?”

“Sit against the headboard.”

He raises an eyebrow, but does as you say. You move to swing your leg over him but you don’t face him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and you kiss as you line him up with you. He groans as you sink down on him. His hands trail up to your breasts.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He nips at your earlobe. “Ready to go for a ride?”

“Mhm.”

//

“And you didn’t have any feelings for him?”

“Not like how you might think. I cared a lot about him, and he cared for me.”

“So you know how big his dick is then.”

“Yes.” You blush. He raises both his eyebrows at you, waiting for a better answer. “It’s huge man, it’s so fucking big.”

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah, like…I couldn’t walk right for like three days after we first hooked up. Thick too.”

“Oh, he got that girth?”

“He got that girth.”

“Shit.” He blushes. “Is it bigger than Harry’s?”

“Isaac!” You squeal.

“Oh come on, just tell me.”

“It’s…Harry’s…Harry’s is the best dick I’ve ever had, dude. Like, he just knows what to do with it. Like, it just hits all the right spots. Every time we do it, it’s like the first time. Like I always need time to adjust, even still. There’s no other dick that I’d want for the rest of my life.”

“Excuse me, I need a very cold glass of water.” He saunters over to the waiting area where there’s a glass water pitcher. You laugh at him.

“So, can I set you up with Seth or not?”

“I’d like that. It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a real date. How old is he?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Oh, well that’ll be nice. And what does he do?”

“He’s in sales.”

“Making that money, okay.” You smile.

“So like do you want me to set up a dinner for the two of you, or-“

“Can we do what you did with Mariah and have a double date?”

“I brought that up to Harry, and he didn’t seem thrilled…”

“Let’s join forces. If he has to look at the two of us while we ask, there’s no way he’d say no.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Thanks for thinking of me for this by the way.”

“No one else I could’ve thought of!” You two hug and decide to grab a quick bite to eat together before going home.

When you get home you take a leap of faith and call Seth.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Hi Sethy!”

“How was your day?”

“Good, how was yours.”

“Way too fucking hot, but it was good.” You laugh and agree with him. “So what’s up?”

“Well, I talked with my friend Isaac today…”

“Oh?”

“He’s interested.”

“I didn’t doubt that he would be.”

“Narcissist.”

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

“Okay!” You both laugh. “Jesus. Anyways, we wanna set up a double sate to take the edge off, but I have to convince Harry of it.”

“Oh, so he’s not into the idea of hanging out more intimately with a guy you used to have insanely hot sex with?” He asks sarcastically.

“Can you stop saying stuff like that?”

“Why, it making you all flustered?”

“No! You wish.” You hear him chuckle.

“I’m kidding, you know that right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, look, I think a double date is a great idea, and I hope you can get him on board with it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to.”

“Just suck his dick, and keep sucking after he comes, you’re good at that.”

“Seth!”

“Oh, does he not know where you learned that?”

“I will murder you, I will come there and end your life. If we all go out and you can’t say things like that.”

“Obviously! I’m not stupid.”

“Jesus, you scare me sometimes, you really do.”

“When’s he come home, by the way? You lonely?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” You sigh. “He’ll be home in three days. And I’m not super lonely, I have Buster.”

“Buster? Oh! Your dog.” He laughs.

“I can’t think about missing him too much or else I get kind of sad.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Think you’ll marry him someday?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s nice. I’ve seen you cry over too many douches, I’m glad you’re with someone that can really take care of you.”

“He takes the best care of me, Seth. We take care of each other.”

You and Seth talk for hours. You tell him so many things about Harry, and he talks about some of his past relationships. You talk for so long you fall asleep with your phone in your hand.

//

There was a party at the boy’s place. You and Seth kept making eyes across the room. You had been hooking up pretty regularly. There was another girl at the party trying to get his attention. He was humoring her, but his eyes kept falling to you. He tells the girl he needs to use the bathroom, but his feet take him to you instead.

“Hey.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Hi.” You smile and bite the rim of your cup.

“You drunk?”

“A little. You?”

“A little.” You both giggle. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, um, I know this is your party and you probably don’t wanna leave.” He starts laughing. “Come on let me do it.” He makes a serious face and you clearn your throat. “You probably don’t want to leave, but I need to get back to my apartment, and I don’t wanna walk alone.” You pout. “Would you be able to walk me home?”

“You know, it would be rude to leave my guests…” He looks you up and down. “But as a gentleman and a scholar, I find it to be my civic duty to make sure a pretty girl such as yourself get home safely.”

“So selfless of you.”

“What can I say? I live to serve.”

He smirks and puts an arm around you. You knew you’d have your room to yourself tonight. It was perfect.

“Do you have everything?”

“Mhm, got my purse right here.”

“Cool.”

He leads you to the front door and you both slip out.

//

“You look exhausted.” Niall says when he picks you up for work.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I was up all night on the phone.”

“Aww, you and Harry just miss each other that much?”

“I…wasn’t on the phone with Harry.” Niall gives you a confused look.

“Who could you possibly be on the phone with then?”

“Seth.”

“Y/N!”

“It’s not what you think! I’m setting him up with Isaac, remember? I spoke with Isaac yesterday and he’s into it. So I called Seth to tell him, and then he asked me all these questions about Harry. I pretty much mouth vomited about Harry. He told me about some of his relationships too. It was totally innocent. We used to talk all the time.”

“You’re a guy-friend girl.” He shakes his head.

“What?!”

“That’s your thing. You have the girls, but you I swear you prefer guy friends.”

“I suppose you’re not wrong. Guys are just so much easier…”

“That’s a load of bull.”

“Is not! Seth and I were friends for years and he was always easy to talk to. He still is. You’re really easy to talk too.” You grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Niall?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m replacing you?”

“No.” He pouts.

“Niall!”

“What?”

“I’m not replacing you!”

“Course not, I’m the one you replaced Seth with.”

“Don’t do this, don’t be like this.”

“I can’t remember the last time we just talked on the phone all night.”

“You wanna call me tonight? Let’s have a phone call tonight.”

“No, now it’s a force.”

“Do…do you and Sarah want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I think that would be nice, yeah.”

All men are babies. You think to yourself.

//

“That’s nice they’re comin’ over for dinner tonight. What are yeh havin’?”

“I’m grilling some veggies.”

“Nice!”

“I miss you.” Your voice cracks.

“Babe…”

“I wish you were home.”

“Two more days.”

“I know.”

“Please don’t cry, if you cry then I’m gonna cry and if I cry again I think my sister will murder me.” You start laughing and so does he.

“I just want you home…I’m sorry.”

“Just think, in like a week we’re gonna be at a nice beach house for like five days with all our friends for your birthday.”

“Yeah, it’ll be so much fun.” You hear your buzzer. “They’re here, I better go. I love you.”

“Love you too babe.”

You let Sarah and Niall in, and the three of you get settled outside.

“Mm, I didn’t even know you could grill veggies.” Sarah says. “This is yummy.”

“Thanks!”

“So…how’s Seth?” She smiles.

“Oh good, Niall told you we were talking.” You glare at him.

“Didn’t realize it was a secret.” He smirks.

“It’s not. And he’s good. I’m setting up with Isaac.”

“He’s gay?!” She nearly spits. “No fucking way, that man loves pu-“

“He’s bi…” You say before she can finish the sentence.

“Oh… well alright then.” She sits back and Niall is glaring at her. “What?”

“Nothin’.” He sips his water.

“He’s pretty excited to meet Isaac. I think they could be good together.”

“Isaac is so sweet, he deserves a little loving.” Sarah says.

“Exactly! The second Seth told me he was into guys I immediately thought of Isaac.”

//

The next couple of days go by agonizingly slow. You were going nuts without Harry. You and Seth text off and on, and Isaac texts you a bit too. Eventually the day comes where you’re supposed to pick Harry up at the airport. You take a half day from work to go get him.

You change into a cute pair of shorts and a short sleeve shirt to go pick him up. You drive up to the pick up area of Logan and see him just walking out. Everything felt like slow motion. He had his sunglasses on, a snapback, shorts and a t-shirt that says Girls Are Smarter on it. Your jaw drops. It was like you were seeing him for the first time ever. You park and immediately get out of the car. He smiles when he sees you. He drops his bag and picks you up as you jump into his arms.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He says as he kisses you.

“I missed you too.” You groan against his lips. He sets you down and you both rush into the car.

He keeps his hand on your thigh as you drive out of the airport, and squeezes it.

“Harry, we just need to make it home.”

“I know.” You were completely flustered.

“How, um, how was your flight?”

“Good.” He smirks.

“And, uh, the rest of your week? It was good?”

“Yup. How wet do you think your knickers are right now?”

“Harry, please. We’re twenty minutes from home, please.”

Buster yips from the backseat.

“Oh shit! I didn’t even see him, hey buddy!” Harry gives Buster his hand and he licks it.

You get up to your apartment, and through the door. Buster runs over to his bowl of water and then settles into his dog bed. You pin Harry up against the wall of the front hall and he raises both eyebrows at you. You grab his face and pulls him down for a kiss. Your tongue is in his mouth in seconds. His hands go to undo your shorts and yours move down to undo his.

You yank his shorts and boxers down, and kneel in front of him.

“Babe, I’ve just been on a plane for six hours, don’t you want me to-oh, okay, ngh, shit.”

He was already down your throat. You didn’t care about anything right now. You wanted him so bad. You look up at him while you swallow around him and his mouth falls open. You smirk at him and hollow your cheeks. You bob up and down on him and grown. His head rolls back to the wall.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doin’ that.” You suck on him faster. He grabs you and pulls you off.

“Wha-“

“Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls you to your feet. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and walks you over to the couch. You each tug your shirts off, and he unhooks your bra. He kisses down your chest and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

“Ah, fuck.” You moan. He reaches a hand between your legs.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

“I want you so bad Harry, please just fuck me. Come on, take me on the couch.”

Harry sits down on the edge of the sofa and pats his legs you. You sit down on him, straddling him, facing him, taking him in.

“You look so tan.”

“Got outside for a bit.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sink your teeth into the crook of his neck and suck on him.

“Yeah.” He breathes.

You line him up with you and and sink down on him.

“Holy shit!” You yell. “Oh my god.” The familiar stretch from him was so satisfying.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He slots his lips over yours and works his way to your neck and his arms press you close to him.

You move your hips in small circles at first, adjusting to him easier. You start to move up and down on him and he moans out. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth and tug at his hair as he thrusts up into you. You’re bouncing up and down on him at a delicious pace. You two continue to kiss each other sloppily.

Wet kisses trail down your neck to your chest as he sucks on your skin, leaving mark after mark. Your nails dig into his back and claw down when he starts to hit your g-spot.

“God, do that again.”

“It’ll leave marks if I do.”

“When have I ever fuckin’ cared about you leaving a mark on me?”

“Good point.”

He gives another sharp thrusts and your nails trail down his back again. He groans again. His hands on your hips move you faster and faster on him.

“Oh my god, Harry, fuck, I’m gonna come, baby, shit!”

You moan loudly and release around him. You rest your head against his shoulder as he continues to thrust up into you. He picks you up off of him and bends you over the side of the couch. You grin and gasp when he reenters you. He smacks you ass a couple of times as he rocks in and out of you. A hand snakes around to rub your sensitive clit.

His other hand is on the base of the back of your neck as he drives into you. Your hands grip the sofa and your knuckles turn white.

“Tell me how good it feels, Harry!”

“Feels so fuckin’ good!”

He rubs your clit faster and your legs start to shake. You come again, but he continues to pound into you.

“Fuck, Harry! I want you to come for me!”

“Yeah, you want me to fill that cunt up?”

“God, yes!”

His thrusts get sloppy, but they’re forceful. His comes shoots into you and you gasp at the feeling. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he pulls out of you. You stand up and turn around. You wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head against his chest. His arms wrap around you and he kisses the top of your head.

“My baby.” You coo. “My doll.” He chuckles and tilts your chin up to look at him.

“Can we go to the bedroom?”

“Mhm.” You smile.

“Do you have enough energy to, um…” You give his bum a little pat.

“Want me to take care of you?”

“Please, I’m desperate for it.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Well, not so much it, more so watching you do it to me.”

“I would love to take you in there, and make you feel so fucking good.” You kiss him. “Let’s go.”

//

You and Harry spent the entire afternoon in bed together, taking turns making each other feel good. You took care of that ass just like he wanted. Instead of going right to the bath though, he had you sit on his face. It wasn’t something you did often, but when you did it felt amazing. It was only a week apart, but it felt way longer.

You spent some time snuggling and giggling and talking. He showed you some pictures he took on his phone and you would steal kisses from him while he was talking. You were ravenous by the time it you would normally eat dinner.

“Wanna go out tonight, or are you exhausted?” You ask him.

“Yeah we could go grab a bite.” He smiles. “I need to shower though.”

“Me too.”

You both rinse off quick and get dressed.

“Where do you feel like goin’?” He asks as he gets a t-shirt on.

“Anywhere’s fine. Did you wanna see what Niall and Sarah are up to?”

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, I just wanna spend time with you.” You kiss him.

“We could go down to that pizza place that has the cauliflower crust.”

“Oh! Great idea.” You both leave the bedroom. “Buster, mummy and daddy are goin’ out. We’ll the TV on for you. We won’t be long.” He pats him on the head.

You both head out and start your walk to the pizza place. It was a beautiful night. Harry kept your hand in his. You feel your phone go off and see that it’s Seth.

“Hey!”

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Good, my doll is home.” You look up at Harry and smile.

“Oh that’s great! He fuck you up when you got home?”

“A little bit yeah.” You chuckle.

“Oh good, I’m glad.” He laughs. “I watched that movie you suggested last night, and it was as funny as you said.”

“Right?! I still can’t believe you had never-“ You look up at Harry. “Hey, w’re about to get dinner…”

“Oh shit, yeah, um, enjoy! Talk later?”

“Sure! I’ll text you.”

“Cool, bye!”

“Bye!”

Harry looks down at you as you put your phone back in your pocket.

“You didn’t have to rush off the phone.”

“I know, I just, wanna be in the moment with you, that’s all. I can talk to him anytime.”

You and Harry get into the pizza place and seat yourselves. A waiter comes over to take your order. You each order a beer for a drink as well.

“So…when did you want this super fun double date to happen?”

“Harry.” You sigh. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just, like, what if this is all some elaborate scheme for him to steal you away from me. I mean, does he call you every day?”

“Not every day…but we’ve been talking more. Harry, he’s not interested in me, not like that. We never wanted a relationship with each other. It was strictly physical.”

“It could still be physical.”

“But I only want you.” You put your hand over his and squeeze it. “I only ever want you.”

“He’s a little similar to me, it freaks me out a bit. It’s like you have a type or somethin’.” You scoff and shake your head.

“Maybe on the outside you two have some things in common, but you’re two very different people, I can assure you.”

“And Isaac’s excited about him?”

“Very excited.” Harry sighs and takes a sip of his beer.

“Okay, after your birthday weekend, we can all go on a double date.”

“Really?” You beam at him.

“He seems important to you, and I’m tryin’ to be less jealous about the people in your life. I mean, my friend Sarah has been in my life for a long time and you didn’t get jealous once.”

“She’s with Mitch.”

“But still. You’re always so…secure.”

“Because I love you more than an anything Harry, you’re my everything.” He smiles at you.

“And you’re mine.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, flynnifox!

For @flynnifox <3

Read On AO3

*****

Have a Cup of Christmas Cheer

Stiles had stopped counting all the times he had heard 'All I want for Christmas' today. It seemed like all the shops and all the streets and even the freaking Sheriff's station when he had gone to say hello to his dad at lunch time, all had the same freaking playlist going on loop and in all honesty Stiles was quite fed up with it. All of it.

He sighed, irritated and annoyed at the sound of some overused Christmas song and just kept standing in line in Reyes' Coffee Shop with a blank expression on his face.

He was dead on the inside. He hoped coming here was going to turn his day around. The barista, Erica, was one of his best friends in high school. It had been a few years, college and all that, but he still considered her a friend even if these days they only saw each other in the professional setting of her coffee shop, him being the client, and her serving him in daily doses of caffeine. She was wonderful enough to usually be able to brighten his day, even the worst of the worst when his boss at work had been a total pain in ass like he had been today.

There was just something about this time of year, Stiles wasn’t really sure Erica was going to have enough Wonder Woman power to make his life not seem bland and unappealing under the plastic mistletoe they had hung up just above the cash register.

She spotted him after a while and smiled one of her bright smiles. Her long curls of blond hair stuck out from under her Santa hat. Yeah because if the songs weren't enough to create the goddamn Christmas atmosphere they also had to add visuals to really be festive. She didn't seem to mind.

Stiles would really like to throw up.

Jackson freaking Whittemore, his actual real life nemesis from high school now turned into the CEO of the number one rival company from Stiles' job, bumped into him on his way out of the coffee shop.

Karma was a bitch like that.

Jackson snorted, “Seriously, Stilinski. I don't care what you do with your miserable life but could you cheer up a little ? You're killing the elves with your Grinch vibes.”

“You're killing the elves with your face.“ Stiles retorted.

It was not his best come back but he was a little out of it these days. He fidgeted and bit his lip out of annoyance.

“Wouldn't be surprised if you made the naughty list this year.” Jackson gave him a deprecating shrug.

Stiles was one hair away from just punching the smirk off his stupidly symmetrical face. He couldn’t do that though, not in Erica’s coffee shop. She didn’t deserve that, and he wasn’t rich enough to pay for any broken furniture, so instead he just said, “Fuck off.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and started whistling along 'Jingle Bells' on his way out.

Could Stiles’ day get any worse ?

It was not that Stiles hated Christmas. He didn't. He sort of liked it, accepted it at least. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Christmas was everywhere.

He could have gone on into details about how Christmas could never be what it used to be when he was little but there was no real use. He missed his mom, sure, but he missed more than that during this time of year. He missed... something he never really had. He missed not feeling so lonely.

He had his dad. He had Scott. Only, it wasn’t the same. Scott was married now, (wow way to make Stiles feel like an old bachelor at twenty five) so there wasn’t any Bro-Christmas anymore. And going to Scott’s house for Christmas was worse than being alone. Seeing the happy couple, the happy baby, the happy everything. Stiles could already feel the anxiety building up in his gut.

He was a great Uncle Stiles, but he didn’t have it in him right now. Not when he wanted it to be him. He had been ready for that, had been wanting that for even longer than Scott had. Stiles had been ready to find the love of his life when he was sixteen when Scott was still going from girlfriend to girlfriend until he finally found the one. Stiles… Well, things didn’t seem to be moving along as easily.

He couldn’t even blame it on his career because he was not that career oriented. He was still just in some stupid entry-level job at his office.

He didn’t care.

What Stiles wanted was to the happy husband with the happy baby in the happy household. Having enough money to make do was enough for him, he didn’t wish to live in a castle or drive a Porsche like his nemesis Whittemore. He wanted to stroll through the decorated streets with the intent of buying presents for people he loved, he wanted to dress up as Santa and eat some cookies and milk at midnight, he wanted the disastrous burned ham and the scrubbing of the ruined dishes before joining the love of his life in bed on Christmas night. He wanted the whole thing.

It was hard to settle for less.

He finally got to the counter and ordered his coffee. Black. No sugar.

“As dark as your soul,” Erica grinned as she wrote his name on a to-go cup.

Stiles grimaced what he hoped looked like a smile, which earned him a small laugh from Erica. She looked like a real Christmas angel when she laughed. Maybe he had been right to come here to cheer himself up a little after all.

His fake smile turned into a real one when Boyd, Erica's boyfriend, came out through the kitchen door. Strong tall dude with a red apron around his waist and sporting a Christmas hat : the perfect figure of manliness.

“Looking good, dude,” Stiles nodded in his direction.

“I know,” Boyd answered as confident as ever. Erica winked. Stiles’ tiny frozen heart melted.

Erica quickly shooed him away. The line had to keep moving. He would have liked to stay just a little longer but it was part of the business side of things to keep things going.

Now all he had left was to go back to his tiny lonely apartment and wait for the next few days to be over.

Stiles went to stand a little way off to the side to wait for his drink. He looked to the side, silently sending a prayer for Boyd to take his time preparing the drinks. He watched the bright garlands, let his eyes wander and follow their paths arching over the doors and on the walls. The red ornaments had been hung there with sticky tape, it wasn’t delicate by any means but it did the job.

He couldn’t  keep the deep sigh from escaping him. His love-hate relationship with Christmas was still going strong.

His eyes then landed on a guy just a few feet away. Stiles hadn't noticed him before. Then again he hadn't noticed much of anything except Jackson being his usual douche-bag self.

Now Stiles was actually looking. The guy seemed to be waiting for his drink too, fidgeting a little as he put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He must have been in the line just in front of him. It really spoke volumes about his current state that Stiles hadn’t noticed a guy that hot. He usually noticed these things. Not that it usually amounted to anything because Stiles really wasn’t a one night stand kind of guy. Stiles was a romantic and most importantly what he craved was intimacy and comfort. He didn’t really care about dick.

Oh but that jawline was definitely cut by the angels. Falalalaa blessed be the lord.

Even with dick out of the question, Stiles’ eyes could only rejoice in the pleasing aesthetics this guy brought to the world.

“Derek ?” Boyd called out, putting a cup down on the counter, before quickly turning to prepare other drinks.

The guy, Stiles’ guy, stepped forward. Okay, Derek. Derek. Stiles almost tasted the name on his tongue. Yeah, he had to agree, Derek seemed to fit that hot guy perfectly.

He didn’t have the time to analyze anything more than that before Boyd came to put another cup on the counter and called, “Stiles !”

Stiles jumped a little at his name. That was fast. He quickly made his way back, ready to talk to Boyd for a couple of more minutes before it was actually absolutely mandatory for him to either leave or find a place to sit. He planned on leaving, he didn’t want to sit all alone in the busy coffee shop. He wasn’t a hipster trying to find a vibe, he just wanted a couple more minutes to hear Boyd tell him one of the stupid things Isaac, their employee, got up to or something. Anything.

Okay so Stiles was a little desperate. Just a little.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind him.

Stiles turned around so fast, he almost heard his neck creak. Derek, the hottest guy Stiles had seen in a long time, was standing there, frowning down at his cup.

Why was he still standing there ? That was definitely not proper coffee shop etiquette. Someone should tell him because no matter how hot a guy was, he was supposed to be moving along when the drink was retrieved. That was how a coffee shop worked. Stiles was supposed to be the only one allowed to loiter, that was his friend privilege.

The guy frowned again, and it seemed directed at Stiles this time. He leaned in a little closer. Stiles swallowed audibly. Now was not the time to get flustered but it had been a while since anyone had come close into his personal space. What was this man doing all of a sudden?

“Excuse me,” Hot Guy Derek said again. “I think you have my drink.”

What ?

It was Stiles’ turn to frown now. (The frowning contest is on, mister!) He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “What?”

Stiles barely had the time to take his cup but he definitely had time to notice Erica's cursive handwriting unmistakably spelling out his name in black sharpie. It was not every name that could be mistaken for ‘Stiles’. What was this dude on about ?

He threw a quick glance in Boyd’s direction only to find him gone. The bro code really wasn’t what it used to be.

“Stiles,” Hot Derek said.

Stiles' brain short-circuited a minute, only able to gape and stare at the wonderful scruff on that man's face. Stiles would very much enjoy hearing his name coming out of that mouth somewhere more private. Somewhere in between some sheets maybe, under a duvet, safe and warm on a Sunday morning.

“Stiles,” He said again.

Stiles shook his head and blinked a little to meet Derek's eyes. Oh wow. Those eyes. Yeah Stiles’ brain wasn’t back online yet. Later he would be able to express in a lot more words how beautiful these green eyes looked under the cozy coffee shop lighting.

Were the twinkles in there only the reflection of the Christmas lights?

The whole street was covered with the red and green lights. Their glow was flickering through the large wall of windows.

The town was floating in the Christmas spirit and if Stiles had to put a face on a feeling, he might want to choose this face right here.

Here was a reason to accept Christmas a little more.

Wait. Hot Derek's eyebrows twitched. They were clearly trying to tell him something. Stiles followed his line of sight down to the cup he was holding. Derek's cup... which also had a name written in that same handwriting in black sharpie, except that instead of Derek's name, it was Stiles' name written there.

It was all there from the capital S to the lower case s, as if it had been copy-pasted from his own cup, except that on this one the i of his name has been dotted with a heart instead.

“Huh ?” Stiles said intelligibly.

“You have my drink.”

“Huh.”

Derek probably thought Stiles was a moron. Maybe it was not too late to act like a foreign exchange student or a tourist. Excusez-moi no hablo English? No, even better, Stiles was almost ready to unearth his fake polish accent even if he hadn’t spoken a word of that language since the last time he went to visit his Babcia with his mom and dad when he was eight.

“You ordered a black coffee.” Derek said simply. To prove his point, he slowly uncapped his cup to show the wonderfully black liquid inside. Dark roast, Stiles’ favorite. “You want me to guess what’s in your cup or is that enough proof?”

“Listen dude!” Stiles started a little too loud.

Stupidly, Stiles was ready to start a fight. He was fed up with everything today : work, stupid Jackson, stupid Christmas, stupid coffee shop messing up orders for no reason. He didn’t need an attractive guy getting in his face now because of some coffee ordeal. He just wanted to go home and wallow in his misery. It was a thing people did ; going home just to be free to be miserable without having the world there to look at them. In this case, Stiles was people.

Stiles just really wanted to be left alone.... or to be hugged or something.

So yes, he had spoken a little too loud, making some heads turn to look at them. He didn’t really want to cause a scene. It was a reflex more than anything. It was such a reflex that he hadn’t come up with the rest of the sentence.

He cleared his throat to find some composure. “I’m sure this is just a mistake.”

Way to state what seemed obvious.

Though… Now that he thought about it, Stiles knew this wasn't a mistake. He quickly glared in Erica’s direction. She was way too careful with her business to make a mistake like that. Plus the little heart on the i was definitely giving her away. She never put hearts on his cup.

His eyes met Boyd’s for a second and the playful glint in his eyes was enough to confirm Stiles’ doubts. Fuckers. Both of them.

Stiles just hadn’t been miserable enough that they had to come and mess with him on this goddawful day.

“Oh god, I hate them. I’m so sorry.” Stiles let his head fall. “They think they’re hilarious. It’s just, yeah, they’re sort of my friends, though clearly they shouldn’t ever have earned that title. I should only have nice friends. I should only have all the nice things. I don’t deserve this? All of today. I don’t deserve that. And they know I don’t like Christmas time! They’re just… ugh.”

He hit his forehead with his fist, wishing so badly he could just transport himself some place else. Stiles hated everything right now. Erica and Boyd had had to go find the hottest guy in town and pull a prank? And they called themselves friends? What a travesty.

“Why would it be funny?” Derek’s eyes weren’t leaving Stiles a second.

It was almost uncomfortable. Hot guys rarely paid attention to him so Stiles lacked the proper defense mechanisms to help him cope with what was happening right now. Without thinking he brought what he believed to be his cup to his lips and gulped down a disgustingly sweet mouthful of what he guessed to be a white chocolate drink. The sugary feeling stuck all the way down his throat. It was so bad, he choked.

Heads turn in their direction again because Stiles was nothing but a discreet guy. God, could he please just disappear instead of making a fool out of himself?

Derek’s hand was on his arm, holding him upright, brushing down to his elbow almost like a caress. Stiles was definitely imagining the look of concern on the other man’s face. There was no way this was happening right now.

“Here!” Stiles all but shoved the burning hot cup of white chocolate in Derek’s chest. “That’s definitely yours.”

Derek let go of his arm, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ as he moved to catch the cup Stiles was handing to him.

Every touch felt like burning, Stiles was that touch-starved. Sure he shook hands with his colleagues at work but that was not the same. Shaking hands with people he barely tolerated definitely didn’t bring out any Jane Austen type of vibes in his heart. Here though, he could very well be named Elizabeth Bennett, he wouldn’t be the wiser.

Derek almost smiled, just a tiny smug curl on the corner of his lips. Stiles’ eyes widened as he realized that he basically had drunk in this stranger’s cup just before giving it back. That was definitely not proper coffee shop etiquette. Germs and all that.

Stiles was a disgusting twenty-something spreading his disgusting saliva all over the place, and by all over the place Stiles meant this thirty-something God of beauty.

There was just a tiny hint of grey, salt and pepper in the scruff. So incredibly endearing for some reason. He never really knew he had a type until today but he might just have had his revelation moment. Or maybe someone like Derek was just so beautiful that he would be anyone’s type. What are the chances that a guy like that would be gay or bi or pan or any of the sexualities that would give Stiles the slightest most tiniest chance? Zero, null, void of any chance that was what it was. Either that or he was married or a Jackson Whittemore type of douche bag.

Though he didn’t feel like a douche bag.

He felt sort of soft. He felt like someone who would accept to be the big spoon.

Stiles was about to reach for the cup again but was stopped short by Derek who pointedly stared at him straight in the eyes as he slowly brought the white chocolate to his mouth, took a sip and let out a small moan of satisfaction before licking his lips. Slowly, oh so slowly.

What the hell was going on here? Stiles frowned at him, mouth half open. It felt like the whole universe was out to get him. This shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Hot Derek looked up at him, smirking. He knew what he was doing. He knew.. He knew he was hella attractive, he knew how to use it. This was terrible. So so terrible. If germs had to be exchanged, why not a full on make-out in the back alley under the twinkling lights? Stiles could be down for that.

But all of this was just a joke, a prank. This wasn’t just a random guy meeting him a random way. This was a prank pulled by people he hadn’t seen outside of this coffee shop for years. He called them his friends but, really, maybe they were just acquaintances. He didn’t even know what Erica and Boyd got up to outside of the small walls of this coffee shop. For all he knew, Derek could be one of their friends, in on the joke, here to make Stiles miserable, really turn him into a Grinch for real.

“Can I get you a, uh, drink?” Derek asked. Stiles hadn’t expected that to be what came out of Derek’s mouth.

“I already have a drink,” Stiles narrowed his eyes and pointed at the hearted-Stiles cup.

“Right. Of course. There you go,” Derek handed him the cup.

Stiles took it, pulled it closer to his chest as, cradling it as if to bring comfort to the cup or to himself. He was not really sure. He didn’t seem to know much of anything right now. The only thing he knew was that Derek was not moving. He was not going away. He only stood there, looking at Stiles for some reason.

“Are you here with someone?” Derek asked now, taking another ostentatious sip of that Stiles-germ-filled drink.

What was Stiles supposed to say, did it look like he was here with someone? Would he be standing there with a hot stranger if he had anywhere else to be?

Yeah probably.

That guy was built like a Greek God, chiseled and beautiful. And he also smelled good, Stiles could tell. He didn’t know what brand of cologne it was or maybe it was just the pheromones in the air, but Stiles was swooning just a little bit. Not drooling, definitely not drooling.

The good question was why Stiles wasn’t leaving. He had his drink in hand, the deal was done. The cups had been exchanged. Stiles should go and save himself. He probably enjoyed being ridiculed. That was the masochistic low-self-esteem acting up again.

More importantly, why did the thought of leaving make him feel so weird inside? It felt like a little Christmas elf was in his chest using his heart as a punching bag.

Derek’s face did another of its twitches. Dude, this guy knew how to use his face to communicate like you wouldn’t believe. It was a little terrifying. Stiles got the message loud and clear that he had been silent a lot longer than politely acceptable.

That was a rare occurrence. Stiles was a talker. Everybody complained about it, he talked talked talked. Not always about the things that mattered though. That was one of his problems, wanting to keep face in all circumstances, not wanting to be a burden. That was why he never told Scott about feeling lonely. So he talked, he talked about Star Wars and he talked about the Mets or anything, talked about Lacrosse if he wanted to have the chance to have a two way conversation instead of just a monologue.

“No, I’m singl- alone ! I’m here alone.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. That sounded bad. So. His anxiety was going to make him think about this for days and he might even wake up in the middle of the night four years from now thinking about how bad this had been. Smooth Stilinski, so smooth.

The soft cling of dishes being deposited on the counter pulled Stiles out of his never ending inner monologue. Derek turned around too,his eyes finally letting go of their hold on Stiles’ soul.

Saved by the bell as one would like to believe, except that when Stiles looked up he found Erica standing there behind the counter with some sort of wolffish grin on her face. It was more terrifying than being faced with an actual predator.

“On the house, boys. Enjoy!” She announced, her tone ringing like wind chimes.

Stiles glared. Her cheerfulness sounded just a little too forced under the circumstances.

He wanted to strangle her. She was only saved by the fact that there was a counter between them and about twenty people there to witness it. All he could do was glare, curse her with his mind, make it very obvious that he was not happy with her right now.

Still, Stiles was about to tell her off when Derek grinned and stepped forward to grab the two small plates of red velvet cheesecake with one hand.

Oh no, now Stiles was thinking about Derek’s hands.

“Thank you,” Derek said softly.

Derek seemed to accept what was happening without any trouble. What was up with that? Stiles still felt like he was living one hallucinatory scene in a movie or maybe one of these hidden camera gags. He was still ready to bolt, to dash out of there and leave them all to never return. This was a betrayal of the highest order. Reyes’ Coffee Shop was supposed to be a safe space. It was supposed to feel like home. Yes a home with stupid Jackson Whittemore as a guest sometimes but a home nonetheless.

“Your friends really are pushing this,” Derek huffed out, sounding amused. “If I had any criticism, I’d say she could have cut the cheesecake in the shape of a heart and given only one piece with two forks. This is really amateur work.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. It came out a little hysterical, a little loud. Again. His nervousness always had the best of him. He was a mess, and now he was obviously blushing. The hot flush moved on his cheeks and ran down his neck. When Derek smiled, Stiles stopped breathing entirely. The smile didn’t feel mocking. Surprisingly.

“Dude, it’s not too late, you can still put that in the suggestion jar!” Stiles said, pointing to a piggy bank next to the cash register.

Derek frowned, “Isn’t that for tips?”

Stiles only shrugged. That would be a sweet revenge. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go sit.” Derek offered, before looking down and adding, “Unless you don’t want to?”

It came out as a question. Shy. Stiles could laugh again because this amazingly beautiful man in front of him was acting insecure as if Stiles had the upper hand here.

Derek’s ears were turning bright red. The color fit perfectly with the theme of the season. And again Stiles thought about Christmas. It would be such a shame if anyone was ever to reject such a heartwarming Christmas spirit.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat or two at the sight of Derek who was now looking up at him.

“It’s my birthday today,” Derek confessed.

“It’s your what?” Stiles exclaimed.

“My birthday.”

“Yeah I heard you the first time, but, man, I don’t understand why you would tell me these things?” Stiles was almost getting angry now. “Because if it’s your birthday… it’s even more terrible! First it means you’re a Christmas baby which means you might hate Christmas even more than I do. Or love it wholeheartedly. I don’t know which is worse. But also if it’s your birthday and you’re here by yourself and my friends decided it would be fun to pull this stupid plan to get you to what? Meet me? Because oh my god, that’s some bad karma. I thought my karma was a bitch but dude , yours might be even worse! Imagine karma doing that to someone on their birthday… Jesus fucking Christ.”

When Stiles finally stopped his grand overly dramatic speech, he found Derek only looking at him, soft crinkles on the corners of his eyes.

“Is that it? Are you done?” Derek asked.

“Yes. You gotta admit I’m right though, but yes, I am done.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” Derek shook his head slowly. “The question is only rhetorical.”

Stiles snorted. He crossed his arms in a way he hoped to be manly. It failed as he had to be mindful of his coffee cup (the one Derek had uncapped but hadn’t bothered putting the lid back on earlier because apparently Hot Derek didn’t care about hot liquid hazard).

“Let’s make this easier on both of us.” Derek huffed out. “You’re single. I am too. It’s Christmas Eve, it’s my birthday, and I spent all day working. You’re cute,” he stopped a second to smile at Stiles’ shocked face. “You’re also ridiculous, but in a good way. Your friends are meddlers-”

“The worst kind of meddling meddlers.” Stiles had to agree.

“Who clearly care about you enough to pull something like this. That has to mean you are at least a decent enough person.”

“I’m a great person!” Stiles felt the need to correct. Look at him finding some sense of self worth when needed!

“Well, I’d like to be the judge of that.” Derek smiled. “If you’d let me.”

“What?” Stiles’ brain might be short circuiting again.

“Say yes, Stiles!” Boys shouted from where he was standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fucking Hell Stiles!” Erica added.

Derek was full on grinning now. The dude thought all of this was wonderful. This whole mess of life Stiles had, it didn’t seem to scare him or push him away.

“Let’s go sit and enjoy some cheesecake.” Derek didn’t wait for Stiles to agree and just led the way to an empty table close to the window.

The lights twinkle again, illuminating the small wooden table as Derek unceremoniously dropped the small plates of cheesecake on the tabletop.

Stiles reached for him before Derek sat down.

“You say that like it’s easy but you say 'cheesecake' and I hear a lot more than that.” Stiles admitted.

He was a little breathless. That mean elf in his chest had taken to squeezing his lungs now, stomping on his heart too.

“If the cheesecake is good, that might mean a date or two.” Derek was acting casual about this.

“Again. You’re doing it again . Because when you say-“

Derek cut him short, leaning in to kiss him, swallowing down soundless words.

“I think you heard me just right.” Derek smiled again. “Tomorrow is Christmas and I’m driving back to my hometown to be with my family. I’m going to assume you’re not up for that yet. My sisters, huh, they’re a lot to handle. But tonight… Tonight, I’m all yours.”

Stiles let out a small surprised breath. His heart was growing so big all at once, all the air was being pushed out. Derek knew what he was doing. Derek fucking knew. There was so much implication in what he was saying and yeah sure Stiles definitely didn’t feel up for an official meeting with the family tomorrow (what the hell?) but who knew? Maybe next year?

“Wait, I just need to-“ Derek said before leaning in once more, raising Stiles’ chin an inch to angle him just right to capture his lips again.

This time Stiles felt more prepared, he didn’t just take it, he kissed back. They were keeping it chaste, it was a first kiss. They were still in the middle of the coffee shop. But Stiles couldn’t help it, he had to taste more. He ran his tongue softly on the underside of Derek’s upper lip. Stiles needed just a little more time and a little less audience to dare slip his tongue inside and -

“Yeah,” Derek breathed out, pulling away. He nodded, seemingly satisfied by the result of what he had 'needed to'.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for. I’m no piece of cake.” Stiles needed to warn him.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Derek said before turning serious. “If this is the fine prints of some imaginary contract we’re signing, I probably have to disclose that I'm not perfect either.”

“I’m loving your business talk so much.” Stiles snorted.

“You say business but I hear a lot more than that.” Derek’s tone was serious but his face absolutely gave away how proud of himself he was.

“Shut up,” Stiles couldn’t help but smile. His grin was so wide it actually hurt his cheeks.

“Do you actually want to eat that cheesecake or should we get out of here?” Derek asked, his wonderfully endearing blush back in full force.

‘All I Want For Christmas’ was coming back on the radio and Stiles could actually laugh now. He still couldn't believe any of it was really happening.

“Race you to the door!” He grinned before starting off like a lunatic.

He could hear Derek follow him quickly but bumping into someone and apologizing before reaching Stiles again, his hand finding Stiles’ lower back as they tried to both squeeze in the entryway.

“Get it Stiles!” Stiles heard Erica shout out as they were about to open the coffee shop front door to head out. “Get it.”

“Bowchickabowwow!” Boyd sing-songed, slapping Erica’s ass with a dish towel.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Stiles sent them the middle finger. They were going to hear him next time he comes in. He was not going to let them live it down. They probably won’t either, especially if their stupid prank actually worked. Stiles was probably not going to survive this.

Erica laughed. She knew she'd won.

“It’s not Valentine’s so I can’t be cupid but who says I’m not up for saving Christmas?! Thank me later!” She called after him.

Stiles wanted to retort, but Derek’s hand just found his, their fingers intertwined.

And yeah, this right here, this was a true Christmas miracle.

[who-ever-said-i-was-nice]

Mtach up thing please! <3

Female, INFJ-T, Sagittarius. 155cm (tiny potato, just dont smash it on my face or I will get insecure)I would never, brown eyes, long light brown hair, pale with freckless. Average-skinny. Wear glasses for study/work which is basically 24/7 same and have some tattoos here and there.

I think Im more of an ambivert but more close to the introvert side. I’m smiley but still people tend to tell me that they thought I was rude (or directly a bitch) highly doubt it they just jealous but found out I’m not that bad, guess that’s on bitch resting face :( nope :) better. Socially awkward but after I get comfortable I fool around a lot, memes and vine references give me life. I tend to do the opposite of what I’ve been told just because I don’t like it when people order me things.pffff can relate Tho I’m shy I will not hesitate to step up if someone is being rude with someone specially if is towards a friend or someone close to me. I try to be very caring and supportive for anything you will need but also empathic, I cry if someone cries kjdfhgk but try to hold it together so I can help and not make feel worse the other person you seem very nice pls be my friend

I’m sensitive, I get stressed and anxious easily and for that I constantly have headaches and stomach ache,noooooo :( I have a whole self-care routine to help me with that or else I will, without a doubt ,get sick. I don’t like places that are too crowded or very loud noises, it makes me nervous. I’m your “will cry if gets too anxious” person. yup you are to innocent and cute to be my friend I’m either “Mama bear” scary or “will murder you in your sleep” scary.....I’m just a marshmallow tho

I like reading welcome to the bookworm club, learning random things. I love art in general, music, painting, dancing, etc. I love animals too! All of them, cats, dogs, birds, frogs, please let them all in(but my weak spot are cats, I cant deny it). I’m vegan, try to make it the most healthy possible (eating well, taking vitamin D and B12 to not die that was funnier than all of my jokes combined i died ). Sugar is my passion and my minimum 4 tsp of sugar per coffee knows it(this is where the I eAt HeAlThYy goes to hell xD damn right lmao, you still healthier then me). When it comes to music I like a bit of everything, I will be listening alternative rock or metal and then jump to kpop, tho I’ve been into chill lofi lately, specially when is mix of a series or movie cause nostalgia hits hard and I’m into that shit kjhjk I also have a playlist of Disney, anime or movie songs/soundtracks because it helps me to study or work more motivated, your girl needs motivation to not stare into space for 1 hour straight,kjkiijjioh same tho Im quite disperse, I always forget where I put things and then blame the goblins for that, but it turns out, it was on my hand all the time lollol

I study art online, I want to be a concept or background artist for animation, I used to study animation on a university but dropped because the pressure was too much and never could get along with the university itself, every week was a fight about something (Im not problematic I swear, I try to be the most chill out-care free possible but I swear the system is horrible here :( )yeah it happens sucks that you had to go through it. I’m also learning complimentary therapies! (I think that’s how it is on english) Reiki, tarot, pendulum, past lifes and such, Im into esoterical/”mystical” things.

For hobbies I do embroidery, sewing, read, stare into space for 1 hour and yoga (this is part of the self care routine to not die).

My favorite season is autumn or early spring, I dont handle too hot weather or the sun well, I like winter and rainy days but then I get so cold that I invernate on bed the whole day.

For relationships I think communication is key, I know is not easy but is the only way to make it work :( and cuddles, please cuddle me and pet my head, I will be on your palms if you scratch my head. I can be very touchy, like holding hands and hugs but I dont like it if someone who is not a very close friend or my partner does it, I just dont know how to react or do kfdhlk I prefer my personal space untouched :(  Im so sorry it was so long!! I wanted to do it very detailed but sHoRt to not make you think so hard with who match up me but maybe tmi is just the opposite for you, if so Im truly sorry! :( I think you are an angel just for trying to match up me with someone <3 ahhh, yes, the matchup (take a shot for everytime i said match up on this paragraph game) for ikevamp please! <3

4 shots huh.Ahahahahhahhhahahhahahhhah...... Don’t worry about the length. The longer the better right. Right? I’m nasty I’ll stop. Also yes I went through it and left little notes within the text. Why, because I’m cool. Hopefully. One day. Anyway!

I matched you with...............

                                        .......................ISAAC!!!!!

My sweet baby angel little boy

Isaac is very,very shy so it took him some time to warm up to you

but that does not mean that he didn’t like you

oh no no no

on the contrary

Isaac died every single time you passed him

he didn’t understand how someone could be so perfect

you took his breath away

him not being the tales man actually liked that you were shorter then him

you see, because men are supposed t be tall and strong and all that crap, plus being around Leo, who scores a 10 in all of those, made him quite insecure about his, well, actually everything

the way he talked, or rather didn’t, his height, that fact that he wasn’t jacked like some of the guys in the mansion, or, you know, at least in his mind

he isn’t exactly the fighter type either

he’s a scientist after all, not a worrier

and this made him feel like he didn’t deserve you, because he couldn’t protect you

 oh my, sweetheart no

you on the other hand, think he is amazing

I mean not all people know all the constellations name and position by heart, nor can they carve amazingly cute wooden toys and decorations, nor are the university professores and just so happen to be an absolute physics geniuses so yeah

both of you being quite reserved, it took you ages to get together

but when you did it was the most amazing thing ever

he confessed to you one night while you where stargazing

it went a little something like this:

You: Thank you for bringing me out. It’s so beautiful!

Isaac: Yes. Like you.

You: *eyes emoji*

Isaac takes your hand, blushes hard, and even though he wanted to look into your eyes he couldn’t bring himself to, in fear of loosing himself in them

“Y/n ever since I first laid eyes on you I knew that I needed you in my life. You make me feel so comfortable by the just being here with me. You are funny, lighthearted and so welcoming and accepting. I love when you sit next to me in the library, I love it when we stargaze, I love how you ask me oh so many questions. How you are so eager to learn everything. Yet you are so quiet and shy. It’s amazing really. and in those moments I fell like I love it even more. The comfortable silence we can both sit in. The look we share, were we somehow always know what the other is thinking without even asking. I love your hair falls and frames your face perfectly. Those adorable freckles are driving me mad you know? Your petite features always astound me. So small yet so pretty. How is it even possible? However I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings. It doesn’t matter how much I adore you, I can’t protect you. I am not what a man is supposed to be. I’m not strong and tough Y/n, I’m just a scientist. However I felt the need to tell you this. To tell you my true feeling. I love you Y/N. I really do.”

Isaac sat there with tears streaming down his face

he couldn’t look at you

he just waited for the rejection to slap him in the face

however it didn’t come

you cupped his wet cheek gently and he looked up to see your tear stained face

you slowly pull him towards you and kiss him

it was so gentle and full of love

you pulled away tears still pouring down your faces

however these weren’t tears of sadness, but of joy

you both laughed as Isaac pulled you into a hug

well.....

i may or may not be crying writing this

yes I definitely am that is totally the case

anywhoo

after this it is smooth sailing

cutest couple ever

And that is it! Sorry if this is lame and it literally took forever. Thank you for the request though.! Have an amazing day and be safe!

[ihavelovednone]

Mayans MC S03E10 - thoughts and predictions

This is an old post that’s been posted from my old blog.     Written after S03E10.

So. The season finale. It wasn’t good. Sorry. It wasn’t. It was so messy I had trouble following along. It had the messiness of season one, if you know what I mean. To many things happened and nothing really got resolved. Accept for maybe the Palo-problem. And Isaac dying. Maybe. God, I’m so confused. I wrote down my thoughts below.

Gaby & EZ (& a bit of Filipe) Eh. Where to start? I’m glad Gaby left ‘cause she’s clearly not accepting of EZ being in that lifestyle and her going against her values would’ve been, I don’t know, contradicting? Shows and movies like these also have a bit of a tendency to go the route of killing the woman associated with the male lead to drive his plot forward, and honestly I’m kinda sick of female characters having to endure violence to move a male characters plot forward. So I’m glad Elgin went another route with Gaby’s and EZ’s storyline. 

Filipe really told her some home truths, which she needed. I liked that. I think she needed to understand the severity of EZ’s inner self. What I am still curious about and have alot of thoughts about is the fact that EZ gave up pretty easily. He could’ve gone to Lodi if he wanted to. He’s an adult, he doesn’t need daddy’s permission. In the end he chose the club over her. Strange. 

I wonder what this will do to EZ’s and Filipe’s relationship? Maybe create some tension, but I have this idea that EZ will accept that he is who he is and forgive his dad. He never stays mad at him for long.

Taza, Laura & Palo Thank God Laura killed Palo (even though he was a great villain). She might actually be the only female character that I really enjoyed this season. And Erin maybe. Laura had great scenes, great character development. She was awesome. I hope she comes back.

Adelita, Linares & Potter I don’t even know what to say. I think Adelita going after Potter is good ‘cause he’s the antichrist and he needs to die. There’s also that twist of, is the baby dead or is it alive that’s really interesting but also really, I don’t know, redundant? Like, just finish this already, you know? 

Adelita was really given some purpose in this episode though, which I’ve felt has been lacking throughout the season. Wondering, why would Linares lie to her about the baby being dead? Unless it’s her having the baby in her custody?

Angel & Nails Honestly, is she so blind that she can’t tell how bored he seems during sex? I’m judging her, I really am, which I shouldn’t because it’s awful. God, this is going to end so bad for her. And Angel, he’s a disgusting man-child. It’s not cute or quirky using women like that, he’s irresponsible and pathetic. Grow up, Angel! Just grow the fuck up!

Emily Oh wow, that was a wild ride (ep. 9 and 10). Now, there are things that Emily’s done that I haven’t been a fan of. The writers really did that character dirty when they did that total personality change in season 2, but this. 

This. 

It was a really good episode for Emily’s character in my opinion. I thought they got some things out in the open, I got to see parts of nice Emily which was really needed, and it also gave an idea of Emily and EZ as high schoolers which really gave them both a bit more background story. I’ll write a post about my interpretation of their scene in a separate post. I can’t fit everything I want to say in here.

Miguel Delusional. Hopelessly in love with his wife. Crazy. Absolutely crazy. Did he really think she was going to go with him after what he did? He’s also really bad at being a criminal, honestly. Probably because he’s never grown up in the cartel but was raised in America and went to Cornell. 

Also, when is the paternity gonna be revealed? When Dita revealed it to Filipe it was like a soap opera episode and I want them to do something with it.

Bishop I can understand his anger, honestly. I don’t think he’s a homophobe. I think Taza’s confession of killing Riz spurred Bishop to the use of homophobic slurs. He killed a brother after all. That gotta stir some anger. But apart from that there’s something about Bishop’s brooding and thirst for power that’s making me not like him as a character anymore. Get over yourself. He was so much better as a character in season 1 and 2.

Gilly, Coco, Hope & Letty I skipped most of this ‘cause it’s so boring. Snooze fest 2.0. The only thing I liked was Gilly’s comment about Isaac. If Hope and Coco get clean it could be good, or toxic and co-dependent. We’ll see how it goes. Letty’s scene was so short, I don’t really have much to say.

Wishes for season 4 Miguel & the Reyes family - paternity reveal - it’s been foreshadowed this entire season, yet nothing’s happened. Do it or don’t, but if you’re not going to reveal who his dad is, stop with the foreshadowing. A new love interest for EZ ‘cause Gaby nor Emily is working for me. I want someone who’s a mix of the two women. More like Laura, I like Laura. 

Gaby I don’t know. Bringing her back and dating EZ again would be like if the writers put all of her values and ideologies and just created a huge dumpster fire. Not totally unlike Emily’s very much disliked personality change of season 2. It would totally defeat the purpose of her persona. And isn’t it why she’s so well liked by many? That she has values, stands up for them and refuses to back down?

She’s not cut out for the criminal lifestyle, because she doesn’t want to be in it. That toxic environment would probably not change her for the better. Unless the writers do a total 360 and make her okay with it? I don’t think the writers should have her go against her own ideals and sacrifice her own well-being for a man, no matter how much she loves him.

I think she should stay in Lodi and get her nursing degree, find a nice wholesome man who hasn’t shanked, strangled, shot or blown anyone up and get married. Maybe have some babies. Maybe they could find another cool chick that’s more accepting of his current lifestyle. Because, let’s face it, the club means alot to him. Emily I don’t know. I want Erin and Emily to stay but Emily’s gotta change though. Go back to OG Emily who was a really great female character. I want to explore more of her childhood and the relationship with her parents more. How she fits in with the show, well, Miguel’s not gonna just divorce her. I bet you she’s sitting with a ton of information about his illegal dealings after she immersed herself into his work after Cristobal got kidnapped. It could be really interesting. 

Potter Maybe he catches on fire, maybe he gets called back to the mothership, maybe his hard drive shuts down. Or his battery could run out. I don’t care, just get rid of him.

Indifferent Coco and Hope. Honestly, they could just disappear into the sunset and I wouldn’t notice. If you’re gonna shed characters so to make the storytelling more compact, Coco and Hope could go. I wouldn’t mind. Also, Bishop. As he is now, I think he could go to.

Angel, Adelita, Nails, Hank + Taza, Laura & Creeper Angel gets an STD because he needs to learn about sexual health and it’s consequences, and when Nails finds out she was his back-up plan she kicks him in the balls. And Hank marries Nails and they raise the baby together. Angel honestly, I don’t really know what your purpose is on the show anymore. Adelita gets her baby back and moves somewhere peaceful and quiet.

I also want more backstory on Hank and Creeper. Also, storylines involving them front and center. Now they’re mostly in the background. Taza doesn’t die and Laura stays, that’s all I want. He’s growing on me and I want to know more about him. 

[ikevamp-annalyne]

The truth behind Gacha Tokens

(¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:* ♡ *.:｡.✿`°¤,¸.•*´¯)

Genre: slice of life, crack

Characters: Leonardo, Comte, Theodorus, me (Annalyne)

Words: 1,476

Summary: This is what truly happens behind the draw of Gacha Tokens...

(¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:* ♡ *.:｡.✿`°¤,¸.•*´¯)

“Again!?”

He smiled as he saw the poor girl feeling depressed -once again- because she was unable to get one of his five-stars card. He could see her sad eyes and he bet she would soon pay for more diamonds to have other chances at getting his cards. He made himself more comfortable on the sofa, spreading his legs and stretching his back like a cat while watching her checking her diamonds left. He found it so funny to tease his dear Annalyne…

“What are you smiling for, Leonardo?”

The dark-haired vampire turned around and spotted his oldest friend, Le Comte de Saint-Germain. As always, he had this classy appearance that would make people fall for him, women and men included. Leonardo stood up lazily and got closer to his friend before smirking.

“Just having fun teasing my Annalyne. You know how she is always trying to have my cards in the Gacha Tokens.”

Le Comte sighed as he passed Leonardo and poured himself a glass of whisky. He sat on his armchair and glared at the taller one:

“Are you not afraid of losing her affection because of this? You keep on teasing her like this: not dropping in her Gacha Tokens, making your stories and bonuses the most difficult to get… You will earn the reputation of a gold digger, my friend.”

“You do not get it at all.” Leonardo smiled while sitting on the floor -yes he did, hobo mode activated. “All of this is meant to keep the passion burning between us. I know she adores me and I give her reasons to do so by being the best husband possible in my stories and in the events. I am just being more desirable when I tease her on Gacha Tokens and event bonuses. Keeps the flame awake between us…” he lit his cigarillo as to punctuate his sentence.

Le Comte sighed a great deal and checked his phone. The sweet Annalyne was buying some Gacha Tokens in the hope of having a Leonardo card.

“Pauvre Chérie… She does not deserve this treatment.” He told himself.

Then an idea came into his mind. He smirked and nonchalantly tapped the buttons on his phone. By doing so, he let Annalyne win three of his cards: two of four stars and one of five stars. Upon seeing this good luck, the girl let a smile spread on her face. Le Comte smiled widely and stood up. Now planted in front of Leonardo, he showed him his phone.

“See? You are on the verge of being replaced, Leonardo.”

The taller one laughed and got up, now facing his long-time friend. He was not the least shocked or scared by what Le Comte was showing. He put a hand on his shoulder and shook his hair locks in disbelief:

“You think so? I am still number one in her heart. Look, her Avatar is full of things about me: mini characters, clothes, accessories, stickers… Everything revolves around me, just like I revolve around her. I just make it more passionate this way. Try all you want, Comte, but she will never be yours. She is mine, and mine alone.”

“You think so?” Leonardo heard a voice saying from behind. “Because to me, it looks like she is tired of this little game of yours and she is now changing her Avatar for me.”

The pureblood turned around and saw Theodorus standing at the door frame; his arms were crossed on his chest and he had a triumphant smile plastered on his devilish face. He walked towards the two men and proudly showed his phone to the two others. On his screen was displayed a Gacha Token result, showing a five stars card of the Van Gogh. Leonardo opened wide eyes and snatched the electric device from his hands. A simple eye contact and he realised it was Annalyne’s draw.

“What have you done…” the Italian whispered.

“Nothing, I just drop some of my cards. In case you do not remember, I am also fond of this knabbeltje. So if you keep doing this, well I may as well try my chance with her.” Theodorus smirked while going back to the living room. “Look at her great smile; she seems happy to have my card.”

The pureblood only looked nonchalantly at him; a grin appeared on his face.

“Theodorus, Annalyne is head over heels for me. In spite of all your efforts, I know for sure she will still choose me in the end.”

“Oh really? Does not look like it, to me… Just take a look at her Avatar right now. I am pretty sure she is fed up with you right now.”

Without adding anything more, the Van Gogh bid goodbye and let Leonardo check his phone. The Italian was a bit perplexed at what Theodorus was implying. He unlocked the device, went straight to the app and saw it.

His smile faded.

Annalyne had a very upset look on her face; she had just changed her Avatar and made it completely dedicated to Theodorus. Goodbye all the Leonardo avatars, outfits, furniture, cards, stickers, mini characters. Anything related to the Renaissance man had been removed. He followed the art dealer outside, going to the living room in the process. Theodorus was totally enjoying the situation, bragging about it to all the residents -who were all miraculously gathered in the same room, something that had never happened. Everyone was either laughing or smiling or fearing Leonardo’s reaction.

Reaction that came pretty soon:

“Theodorus, for how long have you been doing this? I made it clear that Annalyne was mine.”

“You did but seeing you teasing her like this was too much. The poor hondje is always sad or upset because of you. She is trying so hard to get all of the things related to you and you make it too hard for her. So all of us here have decided to comfort her by dropping our prettiest cards.”

The poor Italian genius was dumbfounded. What?

“Wait, all of you?”

“By Jove, you have only realised it now?” Arthur grinned. “Oh boy, Annalyne is such a darling but she only has eyes for you. You keep on playing hard to get so we might as well try our chance with her!”

“Leonardo, you should see the sad look she has on her face when you do not drop your cards…” the soft-spoken angel Vincent said while putting his cup of coffee on the table. “We like her too, so…”

“Leonardo, she is only seeing you but you do not make efforts. So do not complain about us trying to comfort la pauvre chérie.” Le Comte said when sitting on a chair next to Mozart who was quietly pianoing on his phone.

"I cannot believe you guys…" the pureblood sighed.

"Believe it or not, we will continue." Mozart suddenly declared.

He stood up and muttered something about going back to his piano room. Leonardo found it suspicious and checked the app… Only to see the musician had dropped four five-stars cards in Annalyne's Gacha Tokens.

Leonardo was far from being satisfied. He did not like this at all. However, he would never say it out loud. He was a calm, composed, and mature adult… Even though his blood was boiling. He quietly left the living room, under the laughter of nearly all the residents. He went to his bedroom, collapsed on his bed and took out his phone. Checking the app again and again, only seeing the latest Gachas his Annalyne got: Comte, Mozart, Theodorus… Even Isaac and Jean! And this Shakespeare…! He tightened his fist and bit his lips. All of them were trying to get Annalyne to love them! However, she was his. He knew it. Their bond was stronger than anyone else's. Out of thousand of players, he loved her the most. He could not explain why: maybe it was her utter kindness, her silly humour, her intense fangirling, or her chubby features. Everything made him crazy for her; and he was not planning on letting her fall for anyone else.

"Even if it is part of our teasing games, I will not let you leave me. We promised each other to stay together forever."

He smiled while looking at her upset expression, her lips pursed and her cheeks puffed… The depiction of cute.

"Let's see who will give up first, Cara Mia… I will follow you, dropping cards of me that I know you love. This way, you will see I care about you and I am not willing to let you go. But for the other cards, let's see if you are really willing to ignore me, baby..."

A smirk playing on his lips, he closed his eyes while Lumiere jumped on the bed to lay beside him. It was getting interesting...

[hermywolf]

ranking my favorite characters about random shit part 2

ranking my favorite characters (clarke griffin, dean winchester, fox mulder, rose tyler, newt, kaz brekker, samwise gamgee, charles xavier, bill denbrough, lord asriel, steve rogers, scott mccall, anna milton and barry berkman) about random shit. this is entirely self-indulgent

PART 2 : how many allies do they have/how powerful are their allies. basically how screwed they’d be if they had to rely on their allies to survive

1- DEAN WINCHESTER

yeah believe it or not im putting him before charles or steve. listen, listen; dean just. does this thing. in which he’ll get pretty much anyone on his side after like two conversations. ESPECIALLY incredibly powerful supernatural creatures. i mean he’s got sam, aka the second best hunter on earth, and jack, literally GOD, on his side; then obviously the dean winchester simp squad, castiel, a seraph and commander of garrisons who can get heaven to fight for him; benny, a vampire; crowley, a powerful crossroad demon and the king of hell; amara, literally THE DARKNESS HERSELF, god’s SISTER; and then there’s just SO many others who will fight for him for diverse reasons, rowena, eileen, claire, jody, donna, kaia, mary, anna, gabriel, DEATH HIMSELF was his bitch before billie, then ketch charlie kevin, he’s just got so many allies and so many are some of the most powerful creatures in the universe. i mean, jack, amara and gabriel alone are three of the most powerful beings who have ever existed, as well as billie and the other archangels but all of them are dead, and chuck but he’s also dead and even he would be on dean’s side since dean is his favorite and if it’s an actual life-threatening situation chuck would want the show to keep going. so yeah dean winchester’s got the biggest defense squad imaginable and honestly? good for him, he deserves it

2- CHARLES XAVIER

do i even have to say it? outside of his ability to. you know. literally control minds, he’s also a leader who inspires loyalty and trust, and he’s got all the x-men fighting for him, including jean and logan - and even if we’re being honest some of the brotherhood, i mean especially in the first class timeline, erik and raven would absolutely be on his side. he’s got some of the most powerful mutants of all time ready to fight for his life

3- STEVE ROGERS

I mean he’s the leader of the avengers, man. have you seen the avengers assemble scene? they were fighting against thanos there but don’t try to tell me all of them wouldn’t fight for him. he’s got the falcon, black widow and the winter soldier on his side as well as the SCARLET WITCH, CAPTAIN MARVEL, THOR, do i need to keep going. he’s got a huge reputation and everyone knows and trusts him. and as we can also see in all his movies he inspires loyalty and devotion easily so even with people he doesn’t know he can get himself a loyal army in one well-delivered speech à la captain america

4- KAZ BREKKER

while most of the people on this list (steve, scott, charles, dean, bill, newt, anna) are born leaders who inspire trust and loyalty, kaz is just. really good at blackmail and insanely smart and cruel. and he’s got an insanely scary reputation too. he’s got the crows on his side no matter what, so an amazing spy, the best sharpshooter in ketterdam, a grisha who survived parem, an ex-drüskelle, and a demolition expert; as well as now the entirety of the dregs and inej’s crew, probably. plus, he most likely has leverage on the entirety of ketterdam and more. if he got in real trouble he could probably dig out the years and years of blackmail he got stacked away and get himself allyships with anyone he wants. plus his allies are ruthless, diverse and all strategically selected

5- SCOTT MCCALL

he’s got his entire pack ready to jump to help him anytime. and really when you think about it his pack is so big and diverse, there’s all kinds of creatures/skills ready to help him, plus he’s a true alpha, any werewolf would jump to his aid. I mean let’s look at his pack, stiles, allison, lydia, derek, malia, isaac, kira, hayden, mason, corey, and then of course stilinski, deaton, melissa, chris and peter, i mean even theo... he’s got a huge pack who is extremely loyal to him and they’re all kinds of creatures too, he’s fine

6- ROSE TYLER

everyone loves rose SO much. like obviously the doctor will give his life for her without hesitation but we also got jack, mickey, jackie, and even a bunch of people she met for like a couple episodes like donna or sarah jane immediately loved her. so i think she’s ultimately got some pretty solid allies especially with her father’s wealth and torchwood’s support in the alternate reality

7- CLARKE GRIFFIN

im putting her pretty down because on one hand he’s got very powerful/devoted allies on her side, like bellamy, lexa, roan, nyilah, finn, wells, etc (the key of getting your allies to be entirely devoted and loyal to you is to make at least half of them fall in love with you OR to top them so good they’ll literally put their lives down for you because of how good it was and clarke got that down to an art) BUT they’re also like. all dead. like almost all the people i just listed are dead so. yeah she’s kinda on her own in the end but if we look at early seasons clarke before literally all of them got murdered she had skaikru, azgeda and trikru pretty much in her pocket, so three of the biggest/most technically advanced armies on EARTH ready to fight for her.

8- LORD ASRIEL

now he doesn’t have actual allies per say but he can manage to get pretty much anyone on his side through charisma, threats and promises, so he ends up steadily getting massive support from witches, angels and many others in the books. he can pretty easily get himself a bunch of followers at his side ready to die for his cause.

9-SAMWISE GAMGEE

now listen he does have a pretty solid bunch of allies, aka the entire fellowship, who they, themselves, have a bunch of allies, who have a bunch of allies. i mean homeboi’s got ARAGORN and LEGOLAS and GANDALF on his side all ready to jump to save the tiny hobbits anytime so he’ll be fine.

10- BILL DENBROUGH

he’s immediately got the losers on his side, which is a win because they’re stubborn and annoying enough that they defeated an alien demonic clown. plus they’re quite literally assembled by a divinity to destroy a demon, so they’re the perfect team to kick ass and they’ll risk their lives for each other. plus he’s got a fanbase! people read his books and watch his movies. meaning he’s probably got a pretty big part of stan twt ready to help?? idk man i just think he’ll be fine when it comes to allies

11- NEWT

he’s got the entire glade ready to jump to his aid pretty much at any time, i mean let’s be honest if there’s one person all the gladers would agree on defending it would be.. ok it would be chuck bc he’s a CHILD but otherwise it’d be newt. plus he’s alby’s second in command and even gally likes him and respects him more than he likes and respects most people, which isnt much but hey kudos for the effort. anywho yeah the entire glade would defend him i think

12- ANNA MILTON

she would’ve once had the entirety of heaven at her commands ready to smite anyone who comes close to her but now that she fell and rebelled they all want her dead so. i mean i wish i could say cas would help her but after he betrayed her im not so sure? and the winchesters well idk either, maybe, maybe not, depends whether or not the entire trying-to-kill-sam ordeal happened. gabriel might help her? idk where to put her because i don’t KNOW if cas, dean, gabriel or the angels would help her but if any of them did then even one of these is a pretty solid backup so. idk man

13- FOX MULDER

im only on season 4 but as far as i can see he’s got only scully. which is pretty solid backup, she can kick ass, but still. i guess it’s one of the downsides of everyone thinking you’re batshit insane and having the entire government out to get you because they all LOATHE YOUR GUTS SO MUCH

14- BARRY BERKMAN

I mean dude. he pretty much kills all his friends. like he could ask for chris’s help but umm well he killed him, if he’s in a bad situation oh great he’s got a friend at the police except NO he murdered her. what’s that? fuches? no barry’s literally trying to murder him as of now. sally wouldn’t help him at all. cousineau just found out barry murdered his gf. at MOST he can hope that noho hank will help but i mean he’s not much help tbh i love the guy but he’s kinda useless<3

[arsnovacadenza]

Ikevam Jean & Napoleon fanfic- quietly invite me to where you are

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Jean d’Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte, Vincent van Gogh, Yukari (MC)

Pairings: Vincent x MC

Word count: 3881

Warnings: possible OOC due to historical references

shoutout to @weird-profiterole​, @kisara-16​, @hokkaido-the-hellbeast​ @dear-mrs-otome​ , @kasu-gay-ama​

Icy blue and brown eyes peeked innocently into the training room. The rapiers continued to dance as the couple watched the dueling Frenchmen.

To the girl,  Jean and Napoleon’s sessions were always a sight to behold. She could feel the ferocity, the tension as the blades weave through the air and find each other with an echoing clang.

“No matter how many times I see them spar, it’s always so intense. They’re both so masculine.”

The girl admitted she knew little about sword-fighting, but she noticed the beauty with which Napoleon urgently thrust at his opponent.

“…Masculine….” Vincent quietly mumbled.

Jean parried the oncoming blade with ease. If there was even a slight fault in his form, neither couple had noticed it.

The couple continued to stare at the soldiers until a voice called from the kitchen. Immediately, the girl turned at Vincent and pecked his cheek. "I have to go. See you later, Vincent!"

"Oh, right. Have fun at work."

She thanked him and rushed down the hallway. Meanwhile, Vincent's soft gaze was trained on the soldiers' eyes, both burning with rivaling passions.

"Adorable... masculine."

Swords crossed as both combatants' faces were suddenly inches away from each other. Vincent could discern Napoleon's winning smile from where he stood.

With the primal sounds of their duel still ringing in his head, the painter turned and walked away.

.

 "Pay them no heed, Jean,"

Jean immediately backed down in surprise, his cheeks growing hot from the look in Napoleon's eyes.

"And always keep your eyes on me.” Napoleon murmured in a steady voice.

But Jean's breath was ragged, and his eye was unfocused despite staring straight at Napoleon. Even his stance looked unsteady for someone so well-trained. The former army commander let out a sigh.

"Guess you got nothing more in you." Napoleon looked at Jean wryly. "We've had enough anyway. Let's call it a day."

Jean wanted to argue and say he's fine, he's just tired, but Napoleon was already sheathing his sword and making his way to the side. The former emperor sat back against the wall with another sigh. It was at times like this that Jean's reminded of his friend's long, previous life.

 "Come. Sit. You look like you need it." Napoleon called out softly despite his stern gaze.

Jean obeyed. To him, small moments like these were just as cherished as the momentary passion sparked during their routine duels. Besides Mozart's, Napoleon's company was the few threads that kept him hanging to his deplorable days at the mansion.

And it was always his firm and gentle voice that made Jean want to believe that he had been born with no fragility— that he regarded Jean just as everybody else. 

Sometimes Jean felt he was undeserving of that attention, and sometimes he yearned for more. Not that he knew exactly what he sought from the former emperor.

Jean dispelled his thoughts as he sat down by Napoleon's side. He purposefully put some distance between them, but the man, as he won't, nudged closer until their shoulders almost touched.

And then he'd put a hand over Jean's shoulder and speak with his face only several breaths away. Either he was concerned Jean couldn't hear him well enough, or he ignored personal space just because he could.

Napoleon's attempts at fraternizing did come across as overbearing, sometimes. But Jean guessed anyone with his charm could freely worm their way right up to everyone's face if they liked.

“You heard something," Napoleon broke the silence. "You heard something I couldn't."

Despite being worthy opponents to each other, even Jean had to admit that his senses as a lesser vampire surpassed that of Napoleon's. "It's nothing."

Napoleon let out a friendly smile despite his harsh words. "Considering how out of touch you were, I wouldn't say it's nothing."

Jean went rigid at those words but said nothing. 

"And I hate opponents who fight half-assedly." 

It wasn't very Napoleon of him to throw such words without care, especially since it's Jean he's addressing. Even the seemingly unflappable soldier turned at him with an open mouth.

"Got your attention," Napoleon flashed his signature smirk. "Now tell me what bothered you or we can just drop this forever."

Always hitting where it hurt the most. Napoleon always seemed to know which buttons to push if he wanted to peer into whatever thoughts clouded Jean's head at the moment. Not that he did it often.

And Jean always secretly seek company and consolation during times like this. While Mozart had always been his person of choice, getting the time and attention of somebody as....beloved as Napoleon was also gratifying, in its own way.

"Napoleon, do you think I'm masculine?"

The question earned a snrk from the other man. Jean already regretted blurting out the question.

Napoleon tried to stifle down a laugh. "Wh —where's this coming from?"

Jean's eyelashes fluttered as he spoke, "It's Vincent and the girl. They were talking about how masculine we look whenever we're sword fighting."

 “I guess two soldiers engaging in sword-fighting is as masculine as it gets." There's nothing brave nor virtuous about actual killing, though. A voice at the back of Napoleon's head seemed to say. "What of it, then?"

But Jean's deep, amethyst eye was downcast. They both knew where this was going. 

"No matter what people say, they always seem to have a way of making me an epitome of something."

Well, that wasn't what Napoleon was expecting. Jean continued.

"Masculine. Beautiful. People will always look me from afar and immediately put me on a pedestal regardless of what I do." Jean murmured. "I know I should be flattered. That I should take their well-intentioned praises and smile back. But it's the look in their eyes that haunt me.”

Napoleon shifted in his seat. He sensed from Jean's tone that this wasn't something he'd indulge in more than once.

"Mere words shouldn't have this effect on me, Napoleon. But recently, I've begun to feel unease whenever people look at me from a distance and immediately assign me to a place they can't quite reach. Like I'm separate, different." His voice took a breathless turn. "Inhuman."

Napoleon leaned back against the wall in thought.

If this were one of his marshals (which marshal of his would dare falter in his presence?), he'd look at them straight in the eye and tell them to pay those thoughts no mind. Baseless doubts, he thinks, will only drive any soldier away from an assured victory. 

But this was Jean. And although he hated to echo the man's own words, Jean was indeed unlike any soldier or person he had ever met.

In the end, he closed his eyes and urged Jean to go on. "Do continue."

Jean did so without hesitation.

"Sometimes, the look in their eyes when we marched into battle made it seem like I wasn't leading their sons off to die. In the beginning, I was grateful that God gave me the power to move them and get them on their feet. To fight. The people's prayers had been my strength. But then..."

"But?"

"But as time went on, they came knocking on my door, pleading for me to anoint their belongings. Every word, my every gesture... it was no longer the angels that spoke to me they listened," Jean's voice wavered even more. "It's as if I had taken their worship away from God, and unto me."

If there was something about Jean he could never touch upon, it was Jean's complicated relations with God.

Napoleon never aimed to please any God. He chased his dreams with confidence in his stars, crossing lands —and rulers —in his path. If anything, it was His image that helped Napoleon put his plans into motion and swayed the people into placing their faith in his arms.

Just as he had used Jean's image.

At that point, Napoleon realized that despite other residents commenting on his and Jean's closeness, there was nothing both truly shared beyond having the same occupation.

Despite igniting that momentary spark in Jean's spark whenever they dueled, despite his invitation to let Jean taste his and Isaac's cooking and him closing his eyes in satisfaction as he bit into a sandwich—

They were nothing compared to the hurt Jean had been carrying long after his death.

Napoleon, a father to his men and the nation of France, could not understand this peasant teenager who lead the charge ahead of king's seasoned knights. Could not fathom how he braved the winter at La Charité with only the hand of God to drive his heart along.

There were unspoken truths and distant dreams —as well as four hundred years’ worth of history  —separating them both.

Napoleon stared at his hand and closed it around nothing. His resurrection had stripped away all his power and influence into nothing. Even a lifespan of 51 years had become nothing to this era and city that no longer needed him.

But then again, maybe nothing was what he needed to approach the vulnerable man next to him. Throughout his careful interactions with Jean, he had indeed counted on Jean's lack of awareness regarding the true scope of the 'terror' that he inflicted upon Europe.

But a part of Napoleon did wonder how their relationship would change if Jean ever came to know about what the world had written about him. The younger man's illiteracy was both a blessing and a curse.

Napoleon decided to clear his thoughts away and face the matter at hand. Whatever proceeded from then on was tomorrow’s problem.

"Jean," he softly called.

"Jean," Napoleon prepared for the next part. He never thought talking to another man would be this hard. "I don't know what to say since I never know what it's like to be spoken to by angels."

He immediately recognized the letdown in Jean's eye as it shifted to the side. He continued hurriedly.

"But there's nobody else who knows what it's like to undeservingly be called a hero, except me."

Jean turned his face to look at him in the face. It was a small victory to Napoleon, but there was still an uphill climb, nonetheless.

"I said that I didn't die with much regret," Napoleon pressed on with a much higher voice than intended. "And it's true. Everything I did, I'd done for France. If it had been God at your side, I had her. And, despite what other people thought of me, being an emperor wasn’t that depressing.”

He was surprised by his sudden burst of passion in his speech. And so was Jean, judging from his widening eye.

"But," Napoleon's breath hitched. "But as a man, there was nothing more lonely than being alone with my feelings."

"Those feelings accompanied me even as I grew into a self-absorbed, cynical old bastard who’d thrown away every last bit of human decency to wage war against the world," Steely emerald eyes fixed themselves on Jean. "They accompanied me as I walked down the streets alone, as a military student without friends."

"I gave them the confidence of a leader, all the composure expected of an emperor in his divine right. What they didn't see were the emotions closing in on me as I sat alone."

Jean once again closed his eye, seemingly digesting what Napoleon had said.

"What kind of emotions?" Despite Jean's almost accusatory tone, Napoleon's gaze couldn't help but soften. Ah, to be burdened with such tremendous pressure at so young an age.

"Simple emotions, unfortunately." He smiled. "I cried after hearing news of my wife's death. And there wasn't a day I didn't think about my son after they took him away."

Jean watched Napoleon from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, their youthful appearances deceived him into forgetting that Napoleon, Mozart, and even Arthur had wives and children they left behind.

"And, for all my years riding out into battle, the feeling of losing your comrades remain the same," Napoleon continued, turquoise eye interlocking with Jean's. "The previous kings hardly knew of losing comrades who'd been standing behind your back from even before you were emperor."

"How strange" The older man suddenly shut his eyes with ferocity. "How strange that this warmongering monster, this emperor who very nearly thought himself to be beyond God —still has very human emotions that keep him from becoming neither."

Josephine, Lannes, Joseph, even parting from France caused grief more profound than a king losing his crown.

No matter deep the abyss he fell into, it was always France that took him into her forgiving arms, time and time again.

Napoleon had always wondered if the same worked for Jean. Martyr or no, losing your life in battle in devotion to the fatherland was the highest virtue a soldier could ever achieve in their lifetime.

Anger suddenly sparked within Napoleon at the thought of Comte appearing to Jean over the pier, offering him salvation. He respected St. Germain as a man, but it disheartened him as a Frenchman to know that he dared to condemn a celebrated hero into spending his eternity as a monster. But no matter, he can confront the Count in his rooms later. Napoleon would rather speak to him with a clear head, free of misgivings. 

Yet Napoleon couldn't stop himself from imagining the Pureblood emerging suddenly from the crowd around the pyre, extending his hand towards Jean. How did the young warrior see him then, while smoke began spreading throughout his lungs?

Napoleon, in this second life,  had never once let emotions take hold of his heart this strongly. But now, seeing the depth of Jean's anguish, he wondered if he'd drown in it too.

All this time, Napoleon had always used his hand to support Isaac. Now, he's going to use it to reach towards Jean, even if that means following Jean into the most treacherous crevices.

Napoleon was assured that he'd have the strength (and time) to pull Jean back to the shallows. Still, it’s a shot in the dark, ensuring that Jean remained happy for the rest of his life as a vampire. Napoleon would first have to think about guiding Jean out under the clear skies.

Once, the entire nation of France revered him as their sun. To reprise his role would mean chasing the elusive moon.

"Jean," Napoleon softly called, "I was... I had been afraid of turning into a monster. I look at you and sometimes wonder if I can live with the pain.”

The venerated soldier turned to face Napoleon entirely.

Jean, truth be told, had long waited for Napoleon to address his impurity. He had long worn it like an armor after all. Napoleon's lack of inquisition regarding the matter secretly gnawed on him, for lack of a better word. He believed the other French soldier was willingly turning a deaf ear towards him, as other residents did. Mozart, at least, told him point-blank that he didn't need 'to hurt himself further' by saying 'things he didn't truly mean'.

"If that day comes to pass, the day when I finally succumb to this- this monstrosity," Napoleon let himself stumble through his words. " I don't think there's no one better to help me get through the process but you." 

Jean's brow furrowed at Napoleon's firm statement. "Why me?" he demanded. "You know firsthand how well I've been faring through this entire ordeal. If it's guidance that you need, go to that Comte or Leonardo. If you need a poor soul to suffer together with you, there's Isaac, who at least doesn't willingly starve himself. But with me, Napoleon? Why?"

Jean had never strung words so long and full of vitriol before. If it had been any other person, he would've apologized. Not to Napoleon. Not to this man who purposefully sought him out this entire time. If he wanted to see his worst, Jean would show every bit of his hideousness, one by one.

But Napoleon stared back decisively.

"If I had gone to anybody else, where would that leave you then?" Napoleon's hands went to grab both sides of Jean's upper arms. "Go back to that prison of a tower? Will I have to hear from Sebastian that you've stopped consuming rouge completely? Do I have to imagine you passing alone in that lonely room? To look back on today and the days before as something that will never happen again?"

Jean shirked away at the abrupt burst of anger in Napoleon's voice.

"I... I am not that important to you." He directed his eye towards the wall. Frustrated, Napoleon gripped his upper arm tighter.

"Not important." Napoleon whispered harshly, "Once, you had been a shining glimpse of everything I wanted to be. Even as I ended up sabotaging myself with delusions of grandeur, you remained pure. Without you, there'd be no France for me to protect. And what good is a soldier with nothing to protect?" 

Napoleon felt he was back into that mortal body of an emperor as he gritted through the tears.

"I shall never forgive myself if I let such a beloved person die when I could've saved him." His eyes pierced straight through Jean's. "I'm not any less guilty than those people that put you on that pedestal, Jean. But now that I finally see the real you," Napoleon hesitated.

Jean dreaded the words that were about to come.

"That feeling of wanting to get closer to you hasn't diminished in the slightest. If anything, Jean..."

Napoleon sucked in a deep breath. If he fails, if he fails.

If I fail, he will draw away from me, and I'll lose him forever.

If I succeed, we can emerge together victorious. But even this I cannot guarantee.

As if never tiring, emerald eyes locked once more with Jean's, steadfast. All was quiet, both men awaiting the other with bated breath. Even Napoleon's heart, which just now had been erratically beating, had slowed down in time for this gamble.

It's all up to you now, Jean.

Now or never.

"Jean," Napoleon finally breathed out. "I need you."

A lone dark eye blinked, uncomprehending.

"I need you," Napoleon repeated. "Not as a soldier to another, not as a man to a boy. And not as a demi-vampire to a lesser one. I need you as you are if you'll have me."

Great of an actor as he was in his previous life, Napoleon realized there'd been no greater truth in his words. With Isaac, he acted as a loving brother and a steady bulwark. When he was with Sebastian, he reverted to being a father who treated his one of his men with more affection than a master to his servant. Upon facing Leonardo and Comte, he'd effortlessly slide back into the role of a seasoned man, brilliant and amiable. 

But this man.

This man drew him in as a fellow soldier, then as a young lad whom Napoleon felt he needed to care for, and then to a formidable sparring partner. Yet the more Napoleon tried to uncover his layers of secret, he, inevitably, would have to bear his well-kept emotions as well.

As emperor, he had never felt lonely nor regretful. But as strangers to this era, he saw Jean as another stranded, fellow countryman, despite the irony of waking up on their very soil.

The France they found themselves in wasn't the France they knew, but it had been France nonetheless. Can they somehow seek out and explore this strange, paradoxical landscape together?

I need you, Napoleon's eyes wanted to say, I need you, as much as you need me. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Jean audibly sighed. "You'll regret this, sooner or later," he tried to move. "Let go of me."

Napoleon released his grip, and Jean leaned back to sit on the ground properly. On his usually stoic face was an unguarded expression Napoleon rarely saw.

Resignment. And contentment, if Napoleon were to hope.

"So, what about—"

 "You always go on about being stubborn in whatever you do," Jean cut him off, "I never thought you would be this persistent. I can't see how this would benefit you in the end."

Napoleon crossed his legs and hugged them. "I've always wanted to tell you about the France of my time," he smiled warmly, " I'd be eager to hear about yours."

 Not caring whether Jean was convinced, he carried on.

"For the longest time, I've wanted to tell you about the chaotic Paris of my days. Oh, how things were different compared to the beautiful city we have today. I can tell you about the dunes that covered Egypt, a distant land beyond the sea, and its dunes and magnificent statues of kings from a past civilization. And, oh, how I bested England and their treacherous allies at every turn,"

Napoleon didn't lose sight of the interest that flashed briefly through Jean's face. And maybe, he thought somberly, I'll tell you about that winter in Russia. Or the violets I planted on Elba. 

 Just as Napoleon's thoughts were veering towards a darker path, Jean stood up and patted his pants. He offered his hand.

 "Consider it a deal, then." Jean asserted, "I look forward to listening to your stories."

 Napoleon let himself be hoisted on his feet. Confidently, he clasped one of Jean's shoulders, as he usually did to Isaac and some of his marshals. "Much obliged." He smirked. "We start tomorrow."

 Jean regarded his suggestion with a rigid smile. "Tomorrow." He murmured just as stiffly.

 Convinced, Napoleon let go of Jean's shoulder and watched as the man walked away to the halls. But Napoleon refused to let the man go with one final note of goodbye.

 "The turtle-doves and quails, and bonny partridges," he sang softly. "And my pretty stock-dove. Which sings both night and day."

 Jean stopped in his tracks. "Napoleon, what—" 

 "Which sings for all the lassies," Napoleon ignored him and continued. "Who hasn't got a lad,"

 "It scarcely sings for me now, for I've a handsome lad."

 Jean spun around, the pink turning to red and spreading all over his cheeks. Napoleon's calm voice took on a jovial turn 

 "O, in my father's garden, the lilies are in bloom;" Emerald eyes shone merrily as the ditty came to an end "O, in my father's garden, the lilies are in bloom."

 In front of him, there was Jean, completely, absolutely, flustered. "What were you doing?"

Casually, Napoleon sauntered towards the man and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jean had probably been unaware that Napoleon touched him a little too many today.

 “Oh, just a little song from camp I’m going to teach you." He peered closely into Jean's eye. "And if being called beautiful bothers you, maybe you should pay more attention when they call you handsome. Which you are."

With a flourish of his cape, Napoleon left the confounded man on his own. Indeed, there was much to prepare for the days ahead.

 I hope the weather will be lovely. The former emperor mused. Come to think of it, I've never asked Jean out on a ride before. If I guess correctly, he should be enjoying it.

And the flowers at the meadow are in full bloom this time of the year.

[winchest09]

Our Virtual Lockdown - Lowdown

Hey everyone!

Our lockdown livestream was once again one filled with laughter, smiles and support and it warms my heart to see so many of your faces each time we do this. 

6 and a half hours we were talking…SIX AND A HALF and again, I loved every single second. It was so nice to see so many gorgeous faces, and I’m so happy that so many of you joined us! The support from you guys for each other, the love in this fandom; I can’t express how much I adore it. 

Me and @katehuntington​ love holding these events and we are already planning the next live stream (date to be announced) but it will be soon!

This is the lowdown for the fourth lockdown party!

Below you will find:

Everyone who joined - their tags, what’s coming up fic wise and their masterlist.

Q & A with our writers and readers. 

Blogs who want to help with your writing

Can you help us?

Fic & blog recs

Announcements

So without further ado… *cracks fingers*

To everyone that joined…

You are the guys that make it the live stream what it is.  So below is a list of everyone who was on the chat last night accompanied by their masterlist and what they have coming up soon! In no particular order…

@katehuntington​: Kate is currently working on the next instalment of Ride With Me, All I Want and she has JUST posted an adorable little oneshot/drabble called Wedding Bells! 

Her masterlist can be found HERE

@flamencodiva​: This babe is currently working on a multitude of things and we are super excited to see them come out. She wasn’t with us for as long as normal so we didn’t hear what she was working on at the moment but we know its gonna be good! Head over to her page and send her some love! 

Check out her masterlist HERE

@whatareyousearchingfordean​: Alex is currently writing the ending to her Jensen fiction Et Cetera AND she has decided her next fiction!

Firefighter Dean x OFC Marina. From what we’ve already heard...it sounds amazing! I won’t give away any plot points that we were told just yet but it’s one to be put on your watch list! 

Her masterlist can be found HERE

@talesmaniac89​:  This beaut also has a lot that she’s working on at the moment. The next instalments of The Man in Apartment 43. The next chapters of Lost (which is a little darker), she’s also working on a Heist AU and something that we’ve had a sneak peak at! 

She’s created a fake website called HunT and is creating a social media AU set in the universe. The whole story will be told through text messages and emails. It’s NOT one to miss!  

Check her out guys, her masterlist is HERE

@superfanficnatural​:  This babe is currently working on the next chapters of The Bringer of balance as well as the next chapters of The Choice! The fifth chapter of Bringer of Balance came out two days ago. Also working on a Oscar Isaac request as well as a new Smut Series, RPF Series and Benny x Dean smut! 

We’re living for it! 

Go and give him some love, his masterlist can be found HERE

@emoryhemsworth​: This beaut is still fleshing out the series she was writing last time we did the lockdown and she is also working on a sequel to a previous fic called Because Of You. The sequel will be in the hurt/comfort category so she is definitely gonna be stretching those angst muscles!

Check our her masterlist HERE:

@malfoysqueen14​: This lovely lady is new to the Supernatural fandom and is trying her hand at writing fanfiction! Her first fic “White Flag” is Dean x OFC and it’s going in a very interesting direction! Worth a read!

She hasn’t yet got a masterlist but you can check out White Flag HERE

@ellewritesfix05​: Another new writer to the Supernatural scene but guys, she’s a doll and her writing has me smiling! She’s currently working on a fiction called “Midwife Crisis” and it’s so good. 

You can check out her masterlist HERE

Me: I’m currently working on two series, Life for Rent and Man’s Best Friend! I also have a couple of Dean series being worked on in the background as well as a couple of oneshots…one which is gonna be called “Wasted on You” 

Watch this space!

To the new writers…

These guys are all new when it comes to terms of writing and are yet to create masterlists for there work. However, we do know that some of them have W.I.P’s right now and we are SO excited to hear more about them next time we do another stream. 

Fingers crossed, we’ll see some content from them soon! They have some amazing idea’s that I, personally, cannot wait to read!

Remember guys - we’re all here to love and support you! My inbox is always open if you want to talk fics, want me to look over one etc.

Go and follow and give them some love!

@janicho88​ @imjustadrummer​  @impalaprincess​ @waywardbeanie​

and to the readers that joined…

@leissa1287​ and the few nonnies we had! 

We love you, we thank you for reading and we thank you for all the support and love you give us constantly. Thank you for joining the chat and we hope you had an amazing time <3

————————-

Q & A with our writers & our readers! 

During this live stream, we asked everyone to join in and to ask the writers and readers some questions! We had a few so the write up for this is below! I hope you enjoy reading them. 

Q) What comes first? The title then the story or the story then the title? 

Most of us: (in chorus) Stories then title. 

Mert (superfanficnatural): All I will say is, summaries are the devil!

Alex (whatareyousearchingfordean): If i’m honest, I don’t like the title Et Cetera so I’ve decided that I will be changing it once I get to the end of the fiction. 

Me (winchest09): For me it depends, sometimes I can get a story from a song and the title just fits. I had Life for Rent as I started writing it. Other times, when it comes to oneshots, it’s always the story that’s there but I have no idea what to call it and i’m bugging Kate or Sian (@deanwanddamons) for help!

Kate (katehuntington): I think of the story entirely first. I need to know what’s going to happen and I have to plan it all out and once that’s done, I can then think of the title. I like to put the title in the dialogue sometimes too. Ride With Me is gonna be a line in the fic!  

Alex (whatareyousearchingfordean): Yeah, if i can’t think of one (a title), I  generally pull a sentence from the line of the fic. A line that is of some significance or that could be important to the story.

Emory (emoryhemsworth): I love it when fics do that!

Q) What’s the way you write a series? Chapter by Chapter or have it all set out with a start middle and end before you set out to write it?

Mert (superfanficnatural): Chapter chapter but it kinda depends on the fic itself.

Elle (ellewritesfix05): Chapter by chapter!

Alex (whatareyousearchingfordean): Chapter by chapter but it depends on my mood. 

Me (winchest09): I generally have it all planned with my start middle and end. At least bullet pointed before i divide it into my chapters. But it’s all subject to change. Fics take their own life sometimes and you just have to roll with it. But i like to have a direction in mind. 

Kate (katehuntington): I do the outline, but I usually writer chapter for chapter publishing wise. But I definitely know where I'm going before I put down the first words

Q) Do you guys (writers) know how many chapters you’ll have when you start?

Kate (katehuntington): *laughs* No.

Me (winchest09): No, not all! I never expected Life for Rent to be this long and yet I still have chapters to go. I’ve also had to split chapters too with how long they’ve gotten!

Mert (superfanficnatural): Sometimes but not all the time. 

Q) Do readers feel pressured to leave feedback?

Shelli (waywardbeanie): No, not really. 

Emory (emoryhemsworth): In some instances...yes. When blogs point out and make people feel bad for the lack of feedback. I understand it’s important but it does add the pressure to leave a comment. 

Q) What do you do if you get writers block?

Angel (malfoysqueen14): I read comments, or I like to speak to people who are interested in reading my fics. Talk the story over with them, get the buzz going again. 

Emory (emoryhemsworth): I get up, walk away and have a break from it. Take a shower, have something to eat, have just ten minutes for myself then come back to it with fresh eyes. 

Kate (katehuntington): I feel like 70% of the time, I cant get it out. I can’t get the words out. I wish i could push over 1K a day but sometimes it doesn’t happen for me. 

Angel (malfoysqueen14): Another bit of advice would be to just write, even if its terrible or you think it’s terrible. Put it down and get some words out!

Alex (whatareyousearchingfordean): Yeah I agree. For ‘Et Cetera’ I actually wrote part 17 before I wrote anything else because that’s what I had the inspiration for at the time. Then I had to work out how to link it all but I got there. If that doesn’t work, then change projects for a bit and start something fresh. 

Kate (katehuntington): Yeah that’s what I did and why I wrote ‘Wedding Bells’. It definitely helped. 

Q) Do you write it chronological order or not?

Mert (superfanficnatural): Sort of. Like, in my head when i’m writing, I envision the scene, then as i’m typing i can see where the scene could go, like I have many different options to go down. Then i pick one as I get there! 

Kate (katehuntington): Yes, cause i feel like it’d be swiss cheese if not. Full of holes! *laughs*

Me (winchest09): No. I always think I’m a little bit of a strange one for this but I write all over the place. I can write the ending first, then the beginning, then the middle. I’ve got a scene written in my ending but i’m nowhere near that yet! I write what I have the inspiration for at the time then thread it all together. 

Emory (emoryhemsworth): My inspiration always comes out when i’m at work when I cant write. 

Me (winchest09): Oh that happens to me all the time! Especially when I’m driving! 

Angel (malfoysqueen14): I end up writing notes on pieces of receipts *laughs*

Shelli (waywardbeanie): A good idea maybe to record notes on your phone!

Mert (superfanficnatural): Yeah spit out ideas on your phone. That way when you feel like you’ve lost the inspiration, you can always listen to it again and it’ll give you the spark back to write it! 

Me (winchest09): Ok random...and this might make me look crazy but...does anyone else act out their dialogue?

Everyone: Yes! 

Me (winchest09): Thank god! *laughs*

Mert (superfanficnatural): It’s actually a good idea because it can help you channel the emotions. 

Q) For someone who hasn’t written smut before or had any experience to go on, what do you do?

Kate (katehuntington): Watch porn *laughs*

Me (winchest09): Read, read read read. Fanfic, normal books, talk to someone you’re comfortable with about it all, get them to have a look over your stuff if you want them too.

Kate (katehuntington): I have the perfect post to help with synonyms! It’ll be included in the lowdown (Check below in the need help section) 

Mert (superfanficnatural): Definitely ask someone that you speak too to beta it for you if you want them too! 

Alex (whatareyousearchingfordean): What also helps if you don’t have experience with a partner or a partner. Experiment with yourself. You’ll know what feels good and how to describe it. 

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Need Help with a fic?

We’ve got you covered!

Need to has out a plot with someone?

The lovely @malfoysqueen14​ has offered herself up to be a plot buddy to anyone that needs it. Stuck on a plot point, want to talk through a story line with someone? Give her a message! She’s here to help <3

Also want an aesthetic making for your fictions? 

She also wants to help people by putting her photoshopping skills to use! Want an aesthetic being made? Give her a shout! 

Need help writing those all important fight scenes?

Give our babe @imjustadrummer​ a message! They are filled with knowledge and even give us a demonstration on how to punch correctly on the livestream! Definitely one to have on your contacts list! <3

Need help with research for a fiction?

The most wonderful @waywardbeanie​ has offered herself up to be a researcher for anyone who wants help with their fiction. She has been a die hard SPN fan forever and she’s like the Ellen of our live stream.

Need a researching buddy? Give her a message! She’s a doll <3

Need help with some sweet smut writing?

Our girl @katehuntington​ has got you covered! Check out this link HERE

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Can You Help Us?

We are putting out the bat signal for our lovely @imjustadrummer​ who is after a blueprint to The Bunker’s garage! If anyone has one or know any information about layouts...please give her a shout! 

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Fic & blog Recs!

In our live stream, we want to highlight what we’ve been reading and the amazing authors behind the words. So below is a list of all the fics that we recommend for some good ol fic binging!

Fic Recs

Sons of Lawrence by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​

Summary: You ran, ran as far as you could from your previous life, ran so far you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas of all places. You had no intention of getting involved with the most notorious biker gang in Lawrence, a biker gang that trafficked illegal drugs, weapons, and anything that might make them money. But Dean Winchester was impossible to resist. One look into those green eyes and you were gone. 

The Man At The Side Of The Road by @supernatural-jackles​

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life. Dirty Little Secret by @pink1031​

Summary: You are a new character on the show Supernatural, a new hunter named Riley. You are just starting your second season as a regular. Even though you have known Jensen for years and have been close friends, your relationship grows into something more during filming.  You both know that you shouldn’t act on your feelings but you just can’t help it.  What will happen if you do? 

Nicotine by @talesmaniac89​​

Summary: Dean has his vices, but they all pale in comparison to how he craves you. Yet he pushed you away, leaving him gasping for air.

Side by Side by @talesmaniac89​

Summary: You go looking for Dean on the eve of another hunter’s death anniversary. Knowing he’s lost, and needing to comfort him.

You’re Home by @impala-dreamer​

Summary: N.A but this looks like a must read! 

Home Is Where You Are by @muggleishly​

Summary: N/A but this looks adorable! 

The Voices by @fictionalabyss​

Summary: N/A but this looks angsty AF. Go read!

Who Do You Think You Are by @flamencodiva​

Summary: Dean and Y/N have a friends with benefits deal. But what happens along their journey.

Every Time You Leave, I Hit Rock Bottom by @arazialotis​ 

Summary: Scenes from the up and downs of Dean and Y/N’s relationship as they struggle to balance his life as a hunter.

Sky Full Of Stars by @smol-and-grumpy​ 

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Cross My Heart by @smol-and-grumpy​

Summary:  After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

One Good Reason by @sunlightdances​

Summary: Dean never brings women back to the bunker. It figures the one time he breaks his own rule, the state issues a lockdown. Navigating the next month is an exercise in trust, patience and falling in love. 

Protector by @fictionalabyss​

Summary: I couldn’t find a summary but this is a Biker AU and it looks AMAZING. 

Shattered Like A Stone by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary:  The Mark is demanding and the demon in Dean won’t deny it.

Marked by @there-must-be-a-lock

Summary:  This is a story about trust and control. It’s about the Mark of Cain, trauma and recovery, BDSM, vulnerability, honesty, and the marks we leave on people we love.

Playing Pretend by @supernatural-fangirl1967​ 

Summary:  When you confide in a stranger that you need a date for a week with your family, you don’t expect him to show up offering his help. You try and act like a happy couple, but things get complicated when you start to actually fall for this man. Could you pull it all off and get through the week as more than friends, or do secrets from his past show up to ruin it all?

Logged In by @talesmaniac89​

Summary: Sam tells Dean and the reader about a new online community for hunters and they both scoff at him, but secretly use it and end up drawn to each other.

Shackled by @itmighthavebeenintentional​

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Blog Recs

@ne-gans​ , @saxxxologybookshelf​ , @negans-lucille-tblr ,  @samsexualdeancurious​ by @emoryhemsworth​ 

“I really love these blogs and the work they produce! Some stuff is only available on patreon but if you love their work, it’s definitely worth it”

@promptandpros​ by @superfanficnatural​

“This blog writes a lot of male reader fictions! Check them out! “

@impala-dreamer by @katehuntington​

I love her stuff. I love that she can do really angsty fics and then come up with crack fics off the top of her head, fics that have me laughing my ass off. Check her out! 

PHEW! I definitely think we have enough fics on here to last us for a few days if not weeks!…don’t you? ;) Please guys don’t forget to give these writers some love when reading their fics, comments, reblogs, asks. It means the world.

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Interested in roleplaying & DnD?

@imjustadrummer​ has set up a Dungeons and Dragons campaign set in the Supernatural (main) universe!

If you’re into role playing, fancy bringing one of your OFC’s to life or just wanna be badass yourself…why not consider joining?!

All the information you need on this is HERE

Make some new friends, live out your dreams of being a hunter, angel or demon and HAVE FUN!

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ANNOUNCEMENTS!

We some wonderful announcements to make once again!

Firstly...

Mert ( @superfanficnatural​ ) on June 6th, our darling Mert will be in the @spnfanficpond​‘s discord channel as a special guest! He will be there to give advice to anyone who wants it from the male point of view. Go over and say hi! 

Please note that to do this...you will need to be a member of the pond to participate in this but it’s super simple to join, the how to is on the page, and we are all a lovely bunch of coconuts (didleedum). But seriously...we are all lovely and friendly. 

Secondly...

Me and the wonderful @katehuntington​ are excited to announce that we will shortly be launching a podcast series! The name is still pending however we will be talking about all things fanfiction, all things life and everything else in general! We will have special guests, we can take questions or talk about issues that you guys wanna go over! 

Watch this space...

Thirdly....

This is only for you guys in the USA but wanna receive birthday texts from the darling Misha...we have his number for you!

3234059939

Have fun! 

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I think that’s it!

Thank you so much once again to everyone who joined the chat, we had 6 hours of laughs and i cannot wait to do it again. I’d appreciate it if you could share this to spread the love of the fics and authors on here!

Keep an eye out for the next date for our next livestream! It will be in a couple of weeks, date to be announced. If you guys have any idea’s or want something included, let us know. If you want to be tagged when we announce, let us know!

@deanwanddamons - tagging you babe as you asked so you can catch up on what we talked about <3

THANK YOU.

xox

[a-queer-seminarian]

Hagar and Sarah - was reconciliation ever a possibility?

Sarah inflicts horrific abuse on Hagar (see Genesis 16 and 21): enslavement, rape and forced impregnation, beatings, and finally, banishment into the desert. It seems impossible that their story could ever have ended with renewed relationship and solidarity. As Jewish Cuban-American anthropologist Ruth Behar puts it in “Sarah and Hagar: The Heel-prints upon Their Faces,”

“The story of Sarah and Hagar is a story about women wronging women. It is a story so sad, so shameful, so sorrowful, that to own up to it is to admit that feminism has its origins in terrible violence and terrible lack of compassion between women.”

And yet, people across centuries have imagined what reconciliation between these two women could have been like. I’m compiling some of those visions here.

Many of them rely upon Sarah recognizing that she and Hagar share much suffering: Sarah too is used as property by men in their patriarchal world; Sarah too may have experienced rape when Pharaoh takes her from Abram in Egypt (see Wil Gafney’s Womanist Midrash); Sarah and Hagar alike are valued for their fertility and little else. If only Sarah had realized that patriarchy is what sets her above and against her fellow woman! If only she could have seen Hagar as a sister in solidarity, rather than a slave to abuse and cast away!

“Only at the end, When I witnessed my young son screaming under his father's knife, Only then Did I realize our common suffering.”

- Lynn Gottlieb

[image description: a painting of two women with curly brown hair and brown skin embracing; the one being held has a blue shawl with “Sarah and Hagar” written in Hebrew on it, while the one embracing her has a bright blue dress. A dove with an olive branch hovers behind them.]

“Sarah and Hagar” by Jewish artist Hilary Sylvester, who says: “Sarah the mother of the Jewish People and Hagar the mother of the Arab people finally find reconciliation through Mashiach.”

___________

Hagar’s and Sarah’s conflict & the Israel / Palestine conflict

In the article “Reconciling Hagar and Sarah: Feminist Midrash and National Conflict,” Noam Zion explains,

“In Jewish and Muslim interpretation, Hagar and Sarah represent the matriarchs of Abraham’s blessed heirs, the Arabs and the Jews. In classical sources, the break between the two women is never mended, but feminist readers of the Bible, Jewish and Muslim, have used midrash-style poetry to rewrite the ending of their story. Part of this endeavor is the hope of rewriting the contemporary conflict and reconciling between their putative descendants.”

...On a covenantal level, this story has an all’s well that ends well conclusion. God’s promises to Abraham and to each of the matriarchs will be fulfilled, as Isaac and Ishmael will each become great nations. But what about the interpersonal level? Is there ever a happy ending to the familial and, thus, national conflict?”

They continue with examples of reconciliation between various members of the story:

Reconciling Ishmael and Isaac: “The Torah itself implies a reconciliation of sorts between the brothers. First, after Abraham’s death, Ishmael returns “home” to encounter his brother once more at their father’s funeral: ‘His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah’” (Genesis 25:9).

Reconciling Abraham and Hagar: “In the biblical text, Hagar...is never mentioned after the story of the expulsion, leaving his breach with Hagar unresolved. In another example of midrashic rewriting of the narrative, some rabbis identify Keturah, whom Abraham marries after Sarah’s death (Genesis 25:1), with Hagar. (In the biblical text, the two are not identical.) ...Thus Abraham renews his responsibility and his affection for Hagar as soon as Sarah, who could not stand her, is buried.”

Reconciling Hagar and Sarah: “The one character who is never reconciled with either of the offended parties, in either the biblical text or the midrash, is Sarah. ...For these reasons, some contemporary feminist readers and poets have felt an urgent need to add a new episode to the narrative to bring the two women together.

Further, these feminist poets wish to reimagine the relationship between the nations born of these matriarchs in a period of ongoing violent conflict between Muslims and Jews in the Middle East and the fragile beginnings of a new religious and ethnic dialogue between American Muslims and American Jews in North America.”

___________

Common Suffering: Sarah Repents

In the opening to her poem “Achti,” Arabic for “My Sister,” Jewish Renewal rabbi Lynn Gottlieb suggests that Hagar is not a name but a derogatory epithet, and imagines Sarah’s regret:

I am pained I did not call you By the name your mother gave you. I cast you aside, Cursed you with my barrenness and rage, Called you “stranger”/ Ha-ger, As if it were a sin to be from another place.

Noam Zion says of the poem, “For Gottlieb, Sarah’s sin derives in part from her blindness to the patriarchal system that pressures wives to be fertile and generates an inhumane competition between women, breaking down their solidarity. Sarah admits to having tried to steal Hagar’s womb, as if another woman, her womb and her child, could be property.”

They used me to steal your womb, Claim your child, As if I owned your body and your labor

“Having offered an original interpretation of Hagar’s name, Gottlieb does the same with “Sarah.” Etymologically, her name is connected to “ruler” (שַׂר, sar), but Gottlieb’s midrash connects it to “see-far” (שׁוּר, shur). Thus Sarah ought to become, by virtue of her name, the far-seeing woman, the prophetess. ...Yet she realizes to her chagrin that Hagar sees visions of God, while God has stopped communicating with the woman meant to be a prophetess:”

I, whom they call “See Far Woman” / Sarah, Could not witness my own blindness. But you, my sister, You beheld angels, Made miracles in the desert, Received divine blessings from a god, Who stopped talking to me.

”Using the midrash on Sarah’s name, Gottlieb has Sarah contrast her own moral blindness with Hagar’s power of vision in having seen God. By contrast, Sarah never speaks to God or sees him. What she does witness, however, is the near death of her son Isaac:”

Only at the end, When I witnessed my young son screaming under his father's knife, Only then Did I realize our common suffering.

“...Gottlieb says Sarah’s trauma, seeing her son almost slaughtered by her husband, led her to repent. When Sarah is herself shunted aside and her son taken—without consulting her—to be sacrificed by the same Abraham and the same God who drove Ishmael away and exposed him to death, Sarah then discovers herself as an unwitting collaborator of patriarchy who betrayed her sisterly duties to Hagar by actively expelling a helpless woman and child into a life-threatening situation. Now that she has suffered, she develops an empathy with Hagar based on their common motherhood.

...She concludes her poem in the form of a ritual self-accusation, a vidui, the traditional confession characteristic of Yom Kippur, which follows soon after Rosh Hashanah, and is part of the same festival complex:”

Forgive me, Achti For the sin of neglect For the sin of abuse For the sin of arrogance Forgive me, Achti, For the sin of not knowing your name.

“In the spirit of her poem, Gottlieb takes it upon herself, through the character of Sarah “our mother,” to confess what—in her political and moral opinion as a left-wing liberal—are the sins of the Jewish people in their “abuse,” expulsion and depersonalization of Palestinian refugees which Sarah’s command to Abraham to expel Hagar and son Ishmael foreshadows.“

___________

Sarah Seeks Hagar

Eleanor Wilner has a long poem called “Sarah’s Choice.” In it, Sarah tells her son Isaac that she is going to go find Hagar and Ishmael “whom I cast out, drunk on pride,” and invites Isaac to come with her. He asks her how he should great Ishmael:

“As you greet yourself,” she said, “when you bend over the well to draw water and see your image, not knowing it reversed. You must know your brother now, or you will see your own face looking back the day you’re at each other’s throats.

In Reading Genesis: Beginnings, Kissileff writes, “The poem closes with the chilling foresight, emphasized by the pauses in the final line, that brings us back to the Bible as we know it:

“But what will happen if we go?” the boy Isaac asked. “I don’t know,” Sarah said, “But it is written        what will happen            if you stay?”

“What will happen, of course, is that Isaac’s own father will attempt to sacrifice him -- and that the future history of his people will be one of unending conflict with his ‘brother.’ Whenever I read this poem, I catch my breath at the last line. ...”

__________

Hagar writes to Sarah

“Hagar Writes a Cathartic as an Exercise Suggested by her Therapist,” by Syrian American poet, novelist, and professor, Mohja Kahf:

Dear Sarah, life made us enemies But it doesn’t have to be that way. What if we both ditched the old man? He could have visitation rights with the boys alternate weekends and holidays. Yeah, especially the Feast of the Sacrifice— everybody has forgotten anyway that it began with me abandoned in the desert watching my baby dehydrate for days— I dared God to let us die.

Anyway, you and I, we’d set up house, raise the kids, start a catering business, maybe. You have brains. So do I. We could travel. There are places to see besides Ur and this nowheresville desert with its tribes of hooligans

No. Your lips always thin when you disapprove, like the mother I can hardly remember from before I wound up in your house. I was barely more than a girl. You are the one Who brought me there from Egypt. You used to laugh back then. In those days, You could bear to look at me.

Oh, Sarah, you need years of therapy Can’t you admit that what he did to me was cruel? Admit it – for just one second It won’t make you hate him forever just long enough to know the world won’t fall apart. Long enough to pity him, yourself, me Laugh, Sarah, laugh Imagine God, the Possibility. Sincerely Love, Hagar

[sleepymccoy]

Now I'm aware it doesn't fit in at all with their timeline, but i wanted to write this out regardless!

From wikipedia: According to the Hebrew Bible, God commands Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice. After Isaac is bound to an altar, a messenger from God stops Abraham before the sacrifice finishes, saying "now I know you fear God." Abraham looks up and sees a ram and sacrifices it instead of Isaac.

-

"They want me to climb a mountain," Aziraphale bitched.

Crowley frowned, a tune that hadn't been written yet flitted across his mind. "Climb a mountain? Why does that ring a bell?" He hummed a few notes, but Time took it from him before he could land it. 

Aziraphale looked at him oddly. "I've no idea," he said mightily. "Listen, I know it's not anything like what we do, but would you?"

"What?"

Aziraphale pouted beautifully. "Do the mountain miracle for me, please? I'll make it up to you."

"No!"

So Crowley found himself slithering up the mountain. He'd taken his snake form to be unnoticed by the man he was sent to follow. Apparently God had asked the guy to do something and Aziraphale just had to make sure he did it. I'm sure it wouldn't be anything too much, I'm just there as posterity really. Just watch and make sure they don't get eaten by bears or something.

Crowley was pretty sure there were no bears in this country.

The man walked steadily, not taken by the exuberance of his son. Crowley wasn't watching them closely, he was distracted finding the best path up the mountain. His snake body wasn't made for the speed they kept, but he managed to pace well enough. He hoped the mountain wasn't massively tall.

They reached a plateau, a flat rock with a raise in the middle. Crowley hunkered down behind a bush to keep an eye on things. Just gotta make sure they did what was asked. He wished he knew what he was watching for, but Aziraphale hadn't known either. 

The father and son spoke briefly as the father built an altar from the wood he'd carried up the mountain. Then the son asked what they were here to sacrifice and the father began to cry as he lied in his answer. 

Crowkey watched, aghast, as the father bound his son to the altar, working through his tears. The truth became evident as the man stood and pulled a knife from his side.

Crowley shifted into his form, pulling a white robe into being across him. 

"Wheeeyyy, hey hey hey, oh boy what're you doing?" Crowley cried out as he stepped from behind the bush. 

The two froze. The son had not refused his father, but his wracking sobs stilled in surprise. The father turned and looked at Crowley, eyes wide and panicked. "What is this, Lord?" The father asked.

"Oh I'm not Lord, no no, I'm, um, some angel," Crowley dodged. He miracled a halo that was actually just a shiny disc of gold leaf behind his head. "Tra la la," he proved.

Tears ran unbidden down the fathers face as he tightened his grip on his very large knife, how had he hidden that? "I do as I am bid, Lord, do you bid me?" He asked miserably.

"Father-" the boy coughed, the sound utterly wretched.

"Oh, piss," Crowley admitted as he realised he was going exactly against what Aziraphale had asked. Well, blast him. Crowley was here and there would be no murder today. "Um, listen, God has sent me to say, ah, chill out!" He grinned widely, hoping it came across more confident than he was. "All good, bidding done, you've done it!"

He gave them a hopeful double thumbs up.

"I have?" The father repeated weakly. 

"Yep, all a big test and you passed, sir-ee! Great job, really very commendable. You can put the knife down."

"Oh," the father sighed. The knife lowered slowly, then clattered to the ground as it was finally dropped. The father fell to his knees and began to pray. "Thank you, Lord, thank you for this gift."

Crowley flicked his fingers and the binds undid on the boy. "Are you okay?" He asked.

The son knelt by his father and prayed also, but he looked at Crowley as he did. "Thank you, Lord," the son said. Crowley felt a shiver pass through him, he hadn't been prayed to before and he felt it keenly. 

"Alright," Crowley snapped, interrupting both his musings and the ongoing repeated thanks in front of him. They faced him fully, tears finally drying. "Look, I know you fear God and all, but really, killing your kid? C'mon, man."

"I love my Lord," the father insisted.

"You fear your Lord, it's not the same," Crowley condescended. He went to put his hands in his pockets but these robes didn't have them so he just sort of skittered down his thigh for a beat. He did it again to make it look intentional. Time to leave, perhaps. "Protect each other, you're what you have in this land," he said as he turned to go. 

"There must be a sacrifice, it was foretold," the father said, interrupting his attempted departure. 

"Right," Crowley agreed. He turned back to face them. "Um." Crowley thought for a beat, then waved at the bush he'd been standing by. "Here is a sheep, God would like you to kill this sheep," he said, indicating the sheep clearly. "Yep. Please do that, it's very important." The sheep began to walk but got its horns stuck in the bush ridiculously. It made a strangled sheep noise and kicked a leg, stumbling like a fool. Crowley glared at it for a beat before rolling his eyes and waving his arm at it confidently. "It's meant to be doing that."

"The ram?" The father asked.

"Yeah it's a bad, bad ram," Crowley said. "See the horns? That's demon-y, and we angels here hate demons." He checked his gold disc miracle was still up.

Crowley stood awkwardly as the father and son together manhandled the sheep that until a moment ago had been peacefully grazing a few kilometers away into the altar. He wondered how to best leave, he couldn't really snake out in front of them. He couldn't fly as his wings were black and that was beyond miracling. He would probably just stroll off, that seemed the least suspicious. Perhaps he could time it for when they weren't looking, it could come across angelic then. 

Crowley looked away as they slaughtered the beast, it was unpleasant to see that.

"Is my Lord pleased?" The father asked. Crowley looked back and winced at the sheer amount of blood staining the wood and rock.

Crowley sighed. God really had them twisted around Her finger. He felt a swell of pity and kindness. "Yeah sure, God's real chuffed. You both did great, good job," he said generously. "We're all really proud of you upstairs."

The pair began to cry again and knelt to return to their prayer. 

"Um," Crowkey said awkwardly. He felt quite a lot like he was imposing now. "Aah, a blessing on your house and name and all that, yeah," he murmured. The pair ignored him in their prayers.

"Alright, have a good day," Crowley said with as much blasé as he could pack into the words. He turned and left, trotting off down the treacherous slope. He glanced up as he went, peering unimpressed at the skies. "What the fuck?" He asked no one in particular. 

He should maybe give Aziraphale a heads up.