#shes currently forcing herself between me and my laptop so she can curl in my lap

[dykekarkat]

cat neil doing literally Everything he possibly can to get the prime real estate that is andrew's chest. andrew lays down and immediately cat neil is there just 👁️👁️ before andrew nods and is then accosted by a 10 pound feline landing right on his stomach. neil then spends a bare minimum of ten minutes kneading at his pecs before flopping down and nuzzling into him. also neil not really being a vocal cat but whenever he lays on andrew he's purring like a motorboat and anytime anyone even opens their mouth to mention it (looking at u nicky) they're suddenly met with a knife to the face

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Series: Just the assistant..?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Plus sized reader

Summary: [Y/N], Tom's personal assistant knows that she shouldn't have fallen in love with her employer but she just couldn't help herself. When she thinks that her biggest wish is about to come true, a third party arrives and makes her question whether she'd ever have a chance to escape her situation and simply be loved back by the person she loves the most...

Warning(s): adult language

Word count: 2,3k 

Picture(s) found on: Pinterest/Google

CHAPTER TWO: The boundaries have been overstepped

“I’m fine, just make sure that the stylist closes the door behind her once you’re gone” [Y/N] spoke into her phone before letting out a soft cough, her throat sore and itchy. She heard a long sigh from the other end of the line and rolled her eyes.

“Tom, this isn’t the first time I’m sick. So what, I caught a cold a three days ago, it’s not the end of the world” she couldn’t see the actor’s frown increasing on his face as he listened to her weak voice explaining her situation. 

Hours before, the assistant had been tossing and turning in her bed for quite a while, her body not being at peace because it longed to be held again by Tom. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dinner, how intense his stares has been and how he suddenly seemed so interested in her. [Y/N] was staring at the dark ceiling of her room and shook her head in contentment, having a feeling that something special would happen to her very soon.

He felt bad because he technically had been the reason his assistant had gotten sick in the first place; After their celebration dinner, Tom had ended up not being able to fall asleep, so he had called [Y/N] over and they ended up stargazing in his backyard, barely speaking a word with each other. They just sat next to each other, shoulders and arms touching and looked up the beautiful sky with a faint smile ghosting on their lips.

By the time [Y/N] had returned home, she was a coughing and sneezing mess and thus resulted in her having to take a week off because she had caught a nasty cold. She was on her 4th day off and pretty much enjoyed not having to do much physical activity besides feeding herself and taking her medication on time.

“Tom? Are you still there?” the assistant asked, wondering why he was being so silent. The actor cleared his throat and felt his stomach churn in discomfort, the intense need to take care of [Y/N] making it hard for him to focus on anything else. He couldn’t have a good day while knowing that she was in poor health and discomfort, he wished that he could heal her with a simple hug but that was obviously impossible.

Her thoughts had been interrupted by Tom calling her, nervously asking her if his call wasn’t a disturbance because the world was fast asleep. [Y/N] gently told him that she hadn’t been able to sleep either before happily accepting his invitation to stargaze in his backyard as he had one of the best views.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here…Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Anything. I-need you-I mean we need you strong and healthy again” Tom added a quick fake cough at the end as he had realized that he was starting to slip, he had been thinking about his assistant a lot the past few days and had found himself calling and texting her more than usual, she reciprocated to his mood and energy though. So he knew that he wasn’t bothering her at all.

Her stomach was fluttering in delight and she couldn’t help but smile and stare into space. Something is happening, Tom has been very attentive and kinda needy of my presence the last few days…Maybe he’s starting to feel the same way…Or maybe he’s going through something and is gathering the courage to finally share it with me…

“I’ll be fineeeeee, just don’t forget to tell me who your costars will be on the play. Bye” and with that, [Y/N] quickly hung up the phone before releasing the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She had heard the slip up and forced herself to not read too much in between the lines. 

“Anyhow” [Y/N] muttered to herself while getting comfortable under the warm sheets of her bed. She still had three days of peace and quiet and was enjoying them by getting as much sleep as possible and catching up with her reading list. Today she would’ve had a busy day ahead; Tom had 2 talk shows appearances. 

She thankfully already had helped him arrange his wardrobe for the appearances through her phone and laptop, the stylist only had to come by and deliver the suits, which would be in an hour, but [Y/N] already had strictly (but kindly) instructed her to do her job and make sure that everything was alright with the clothes.

Tom had gotten a fresh trim the morning and had decided to let his long curls stay the way they were (because [Y/N] had voiced a nice compliment about the way it looked so the actor silently decided to grow it out a little more).

His driver was also on his way as he preferred to be driven to public events. Tom’s fans were known for blocking entries and streets once they’d know he’d be present somewhere. He loved his fans to death, but he knew that driving himself through a sea of frantic people (with his already bad eyesight) could cause a serious accident. 

Everything that had to be done, was done. So, [Y/N] was able to relax and focus on getting her health back on track.

She took one final glance at her phone before locking the screen and placing it on her nightstand, feeling tired and sore. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, with her special someone lingering in her mind…

“What are you doing here?” [Y/N] wondered in confusion upon seeing Tom welcome himself into her home, his jacket already removed along with the shoes. He then made his way over to the couch where she comfortably seated, her phone in her hand and looking through her mails. She silently was thankfully for the shower she had taken thirty minutes ago because she looked like her normal self and also smelled good.

“I am here to keep you company on your final days off as I know that you have missed my presence oh so much” the actor added a dramatic sigh while sitting next to his assistant and appreciating her beauty from up close. “Of course did I miss you, I can’t stand to be parted from you for so long, oh my dear Thomas” she reciprocated his dramatic and sarcastic tone, although she was being completely honest.

Three days later

“Then we shall enjoy each other’s company before the hectic and busy world seeks our attention again, M’lady” the actor spoke with a chuckle, the bright smile on his face still very much present. He was wearing a simple pair of blue pants and his famous dark blue sweater, he looked as scrumptious as always. 

[Y/N] had to swallow hard as she forced her eyes to not scan him from head to toe, it would make it obvious that she was attracted to him, emotionally and physically. These next few hours certainly would be trick and tempting…

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Tom suggested, placed his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze for no reason at all (Well…we all know the reason, don’t we?). “Sure, you can pick one out!” [Y/N] spoke with excitement, euphoria pumping through her blood as she now knew that she was addicted to his touch. No one had ever made her feel so comfortable. She was a confident woman but to feel this extra layer of security and comfort just soothed her soul on the daily.

“We can watch whatever you want, darling” Tom mumbled, feeling a rush of contentment himself from purely having her this close to him. [Y/N] took the remote in her hand and opened the Netflix app, she looked through her daily suggestions and the top ten of most popular movies that were currently trending. Tom’s soft fingers were playing with the material of her shirt, reaching the hem of her sleeve and then smoothly drawing random patterns on her soft skin.

“How about Spirited Away? It’s been years since I’ve seen that masterpiece!” [Y/N] happily suggested, “Plus the movie also shows how love can be so strong, even when the two people barely acknowledge or talk about it. It’s all about the actions”. Hearing the short description had the actor instantly curious and so he agreed to watch it, despite never having seen it himself.

Both relaxed against the couch (yes, Tom’s arm still around [Y/N]’s shoulder, now having moved even closer so that their bodies were in constant contact), before the movie was playing on the screen. [Y/N] randomly explained certain scenes that had the actor a little bit confused and once he’d understand the reference or meaning behind it, he couldn’t help but lean in and whisper his thanks into her ear. To say that the tension was thick, sizzling yet light and delicate was an understatement.

__

[Y/N] slowly opened her eyes, letting out a tired sigh while slowly acknowledging the conscious world again. “Mhm” she mumbled, realizing that she had fallen asleep sometime during the movie. She was about to sit up straight when a strong, but gentle grip around her thick waist pulled her back.

Fuck.

She turned her head to look behind her and saw Tom sleeping peacefully, having lied down behind her at some point. He grumbled softly in his slumber before pulling her warm body closer to him again. [Y/N] felt like she was about to have a heart attack. But she still slowly repositioned herself in her previous position and stared at the TV screen.

She knew that they had overstepped a heavy boundary of their professional relationship. But did she feel bad? Nope. She felt so at ease, it was like his arms were made just for her. The current moment was one she had often dreamed about and to actually have the privilege to experience it was just indescribable.

“[Y/N]….” Tom whispered in his sleep, his voice low and rich with smoothness. He was literally trying to pull her into his body, his hands gently squeezing one of her stomach rolls. She felt his toned chest against her back along with the body heat he was radiating onto her, his head now nuzzling in the crook of her neck. When his soft breaths tickled her sensitive skin, [Y/N] thought that she was about to burst into flames. The acts were so intimate yet tender, everything she had always assumed about him now being true.

Tom Hiddleston was a clingy sleep cuddler.

“Fuck” she whispered again when he let out a content sigh, already having tears brim her eyes as this all felt like dream. The man she had been loving for three years now was finally reciprocating her love. 

[Y/N] closed her eyes and enjoyed the amazing feeling of pure love and joy, she even reached her arm out and gently ran her hand through Tom’s soft curls and sighed in pure delight herself. She wished that she could stay like this forever, just the two of them. 

__

“[Y/N]?”

Her eyes fluttered open and she (again) took acknowledgment of her surroundings. She still was lying on her couch, But Tom was now sitting next to her, along with two bags of takeout resting on her coffee table.

“Mhm? I’m awake” [Y/N] mumbled once her brain recognized the sound of Tom’s soft voice calling out for her.

“Are you hungry? I ordered Thai as it’s almost six in the evening and you haven’t eaten anything yet” his gaze was soft and kind. The assistant nodded her head and slowly sat up, silently comprehending that Tom had woken up after she had fallen back asleep again. She felt a pang of disappointment churn in her stomach once she also realized that he was pretending like nothing had happened.

“Thanks Tom, I must have fallen asleep. My bad”

But she also understood and accepted why.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I fell asleep myself and actually had a great rest. The past few days had been very stressful, and I had really needed an afternoon of peace and quiet. So thanks again, [Y/N], for letting me enjoy your company”.

Tom’s appreciation speech actually mended the disappointment she felt, she hadn’t known about the few sorrows and stressed he had had because he hadn’t voiced them to her at all, despite having texted and called her plenty of times throughout the day.

Wow…

“You’re welcome, Tom” was all she was able to respond before reaching for the takeout bags and looking at what deliciousness were awaiting her. She ignored his piercing stare, not knowing why she suddenly was the sole focus of his attention. It was hard doing so because she felt like his eyes were burning holes on the side of her face.

“You’re very beautiful, [Y/N].

She turned to him, a bright smile creeping upon her face as her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you Tom, you are handsome yourself”. He chuckled and finally looked down at his lap, a slight crimson shade appearing on his cheeks as he felt flustered and appreciated.

[Y/N] handed him the second bag of food before removing the items in her own bag. 

“That’s amazing! Do you want me to book a table at your usual restaurant?” [Y/N] asked while feeling happy for Tom’s friends, she knew that he’d have a blast with the play and that sole thought left her smiling to herself while the actor continued to share the details of the upcoming play to her, still sitting very close to her and barely being able to keep her eyes off her beautiful face.

“By the way, I have great news”, [Y/N] hummed as in indication that she was listening while continuing to unpack her food. “Charlie and Zawe have been casted as the other two main characters in the play! We’ll be all going to dinner tomorrow!”

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclubub  l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l l @harleycativy  l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez  l @ilovefanfic86  l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace  l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath  l @letsdisneythings l @scorpionchild81 l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu l  @queenoftheworldisdead l @briannab1234l @miyaeadys-blog l @thenamelesscorpse2185 l @hihellogoodbyebruh l @nackrosor l @nerdgurl1985 l @2darkskinbeauty l @bugngiz l @african-melanin-goddess l @barnes-wilson-love l @ktiz90 l @let-the-love-in l @forlornfortitude l @robinredboob l @hopefuloperaangelnerd l @kola95 l @partypoison00 l @alwaysadreamingoptimist l @reniescarlett l @g0thicdream l @mayasopinions l @captaintightpants58 l @leillee​ l @kayleighsimone​ 

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

[bakuhoes-slut234]

Kirishima x reader smut Friends With Benefits Part 1

"Hey Y/N, wanna go to the concert with us? We have an extra ticket" said Denki.

It was currently a Saturday and everyone was relaxing in the dorms.

There was a (fav band) concert but Y/N wasn't able to get a ticket since they were sold out .

"OH MY GOD! REALLY?" she beamed.

"Yeah, get dressed, we're leaving soon" responded Sero

"Who else is coming?" She asked.

"Bakugou, Mina, Sero, myself, you and Kirishima" said the walking charger.

"Awesome. I'll be back in a bit"

Y/N ran up the stairs and changed into a black spaghetti strap vest with a white skull on it, a pair of blue wash denim short shorts and some black studded platform boots.

She curled her hair and put on just some lipstick and mascara.

She ran down the stairs where the Bakusquad was waiting for her.

"Fucking finally" growled Bakugou

"OMG! Y/N, you look hot! Don't you think she looks hot?" Squealed Mina

"Damn Y/N, you look good" said Denki while Sero nodded in agreement.

"Hey Y/N. You look nice" smiled Kiri. He had his hair down.

"Aw, thank Kiri. You look good too. All of you look amazing" she said. "Let's go!" She beamed and walked out the door.

Everyone followed her out.

Y/N bounced up and down with excitement as they made their way to the venue.

"Y/N seems really excited" said Denki.

"Yeah, I wanted to get tickets but they were sold out. This is my favourite band EVER!" she raised her arms to exaggerate her excitement.

"Really? They're my favourite band too" smiled Kiri

"You and I have to get matching band shirts Kiri." She said and Kirishima nodded in agreement.

"Oh, and I have a bunch of their merch, after the concert you can come check it out if you want".

"Sure. I have some merch too. We can show each other" he suggested and Y/N bounced in excitement.

"Calm the fuck down. We're here" snapped Bakugou.

"OH MY GOD! I can't believe I'm really here" squealed Y/N and Mina at the same time. They looked at each other and then broke out into a laughing fit.

They entered the building after showing the bouncer their tickets.

Y/N looked around, shocked to her core.

The band's stuff was set up on the stage, with spotlights pointed at where each band member would stand.

Hundreds of people gathered at the front of the stage, trying to get the best view for when the concerts start.

Y/N and the Bakusquad pushed their way to the front, so that they were standing as close to the stage as possible.

The lights turned off and the suddenly, the was a blast of colour.

Red, orange, yellow green, blue, white and many more colours flashed throughout the building. Then, the crowd roared when the band came on stage.

"I LOVE YOU!" shouted Y/N

~

The music was roaring and the crowd was dancing. The smell of beer and cigarette filled their senses.

"Who wants more!?" Shouted Mina as she held up a jug of beer

"MEEE!" shouted Y/N.

Mina poured her another cup and did the same for the rest of the group.

Y/N started feeling dizzy and unstable about 5 cups ago.

Then, her favourite song started playing.

Y/N screamed and whistled with excitement.

The song started and the crowd danced to the music. Y/N jumped up and down, letting the music control her body.

Little did she know, that someone can't keep their eyes off of her.

Kirishima stood a little away from Y/N.

He watched as she danced and thrashed about with the crowd. Beer spilling out of her cup and onto her shirt. Sweat glistening on her skin under the lights, hair going in all directions and clinging to her forehead.

In his eyes, she looked absolutely stunning. Perfect.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed Y/N make her way over to him.

"DANCE WITH ME EIJI!" she screamed over the music.

Kirishima blushed but agreed.

He placed his hands on her hips and followed her movements. Moving in time with the music.

She took a step closer to him and turned her back to face his front. She pressed her upper back against his chest and her ass against his hips as she swayed her hips in time with the best.

Kirishima gasped as she grinded her ass against him but didn't stop her.

She felt him grow hard and smirked.

"HEY EIJI?"

"YEAH?"

"IS THAT YOUR QUIRK OR ARE YOU JUST EXCITED TO SEE ME?" she laughed.

He gave her an answer that surprised her.

"OF COURSE I'M EXCITED TO SEE YOU. YOU LOOK PERFECT"

She gasped and spun to face him.

"EIJI, I THINK THAT'S JUST THE BEER TALKING"

"NOPE. WELL, KINDA. WHEN I GET DRUNK, I SAY THINGS THAT I'M TOO SCARED TO SAY WHEN I'M SOBER"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush.

Yeah, she thought he was hot but she was never planning on acting. But this time was different.

"LET'S GET OUT OF HERE" she said and grabbed his hand.

"BUT YOU LOVE THIS BAND, AREN'T YOU HAVING FUN?" he asked.

"I AM... I JUST WANT TO HAVE A DIFFERENT KIND OF FUN"

Kirishima blushed at her words but let her drag him away.

Y/N lead him out of the building and into a motel that was close by.

"Y/N, why are we here?" He asked.

"You'll see" she said and walked up to the front desk.

"Excuse me. Can we get a room?" She asked the lady behind the desk.

"One bed or two?" She asked.

"Well have one." She said and 2inked at the lady.

The lady smiled and typed on her laptop.

"50 dollars please"

"Here let me pay-" he was cut off as Y/N's hand covered his mouth.

She handed the lady some cash and grabbed the key on the desk.

"Thank you" she smiled and pulled Kirishima along with her.

She unlocked the door and walked into the room.

The room had a king sized bed with black sheets.

"Y/N, what ar-" he was cut off again as a pair of lips crashed against his.

His eyes widened in shock but them he melted into the kiss.

He placed his hands on her waist as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

To her surprise, his hair was really soft.

He pushed her backwards, onto the bed and lay atop of her.

She pulled away from the kiss, making Kiri whine.

"Kiri, I just wanted to let you know that we aren't going to be more than this"

"What is this?" He asked.

"I'm not sure"

"How about... Friends with benefits?"

"That's fine by me" she laughed and connected their lips once more.

His tongue swiped over her bottom lip, asking for access. She happily granted it and parted for him.

His tongue and hers battled for dominance, which he won. His tongue explored every part of her mouth.

She moaned into the kiss and lifted her hips to meet his.

He shivered and began to kiss down her neck, leaving small purple marks here and there.

She tugged on his shirt, asking for it to go.

He sat up and pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers.

Y/N's eyes scanned over his strong, muscular body. Down his chest, over his abs, and settled on the tent in his boxers.

She pulled off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her bra and panties.

Kirishima smirked at the sight of her.

He leaned down and kissed the valley between her breasts, earning a moan.

He lifted her up slightly and unclasped her bra, and taking it off.

He licked and sucked her left nipple while his fingers teased the other.

"Kirishima~" she moaned.

"Call me Eijiro"

She nodded.

His free hand snaked down, between her legs and rubbed her bud through the material.

Her back arched at the sensation as she let out a shaky moan.

He pulled her panties aside and rubbed her bud.

"So wet already?" He teased.

"Only for you~" she responded.

He dipped his finger into her entrance. A long drawn out moan left her throat.

"Eiji, don't tease me"

He nodded and pulled her panties and his boxers off.

He looked around.

"Looking for this?" She smirked as she held up a fool packet.

"Yes"

He grabbed it and ripped open the foil.

He slid the condom over his length and lined up with her entrance.

"Wait Eijiro." She said.

He stopped and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Th-this is my first time" she stuttered.

"I'll be gentle" he said and grabbed her hands. He lined up with her entrance again then locked eyes with her.

She took a deep breath and he slowly started to push in.

She winced in pain and screw her eyes shut as she felt him stretch her out.

Finally he stilled and she opened her eyes.

"Tell me when I can move" he said through gritted teeth.

After a few moments, she wriggled her hips and moaned.

Kirishima took that as a sign that he must move.

He started slowly at first, earning a few moans from the girl below him.

"F-faster" she moaned out.

He picked up his pace as he set a rhythm.

He coaxed moan after moan out of Y/N as he pounded into her.

"Bite me~" she said.

Kirishima lowered his head to the junction at her neck and bit down onto the sensitive skin.

Y/N moaned and she felt the knot in her stomach grow.

When he pulled away, he saw the perfect purple bite mark that he had left.

He sped up his pace, chasing both his and her release.

"I'm close" she moaned out and he grunted.

His hips snapped against hers at an inhuman speed and force.

"Cumming~" She just about screamed.

Her walls tightened around him as her release hit her, with Kirishima not far behind.

He released into the condom and flipped down onto her.

Y/N laughed tiredly.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Nothing. I just can't believe I lost my virginity to one of the hottest boys in school"

"Oh, so you think I'm hot?" He smiled.

"Yup."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself" he said and pulled out of her.

She winced, catching the attention of a certain shark boy.

"Shit, sorry. Was I too ruff?" He asked as the threw away the condom.

"Nope. Just perfect" she said and covered herself with a blanket.

The bed dipped and then a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

"Goodnight" he whispered

"Night"

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

layers (like onions)

Random idea of the day that wouldn’t leave me alone; this little future fic. And it’s not like we can’t all use some more Harringrove fluff, right? Can also be found over on AO3.

- - -

Sadie is having the absolutely worst first day at work, and the lunch rush isn't even over yet.

It had started with the fancy coffee maker spitting steam at her when she’d tried to show her new co-worker that she understood how to use it, burning the back of her hand and her wrist. Then the trash bag she’d been carrying to the dumpster out back had ripped, spilling all over her feet and the kitchen floor, so she’d spent fifteen minutes cleaning up while apologising profusely.

And to top it all off, her first table hadn’t tipped at all, even though Sadie had pulled out all the stops, been all friendly smiles and polite small-talk despite the total shitshow her morning had turned out to be.  

Things don’t look much better with her current table, either.

So far, they’ve yelled across the restaurant for her when she hadn’t been fast enough with their drinks, demanded three additional baskets of the complimentary bread, one of them won’t stop making gross comments whenever she has to walk by, and by the look on one of the men’s faces right now, they aren’t happy with their food, either.

Forced smile firmly in place, Sadie approaches their table, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when one of them clicks his fingers at her.

Before she can so much as ask what seems to be the problem, the scowling man snaps, “This burger has onions on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie tries, summoning up patience only acquired through years of waitressing, “all our burgers come with tomatoes, pickles, and onions—”

“Well, I don’t like onions,” the man says, slowly, glaring up at Sadie. “I didn’t want any onions.”

“Of course, sir, I’m so sorry,” Sadie apologises, instead of demanding, like she really wants to, “Then why the hell did you order a dish with onions in it?”

(Watch out for the break!)

She pulls her notepad out of her pocket, quickly scribbling down an order for a replacement burger, and underlining the no onions three times. “I’ll put a new order in for you right away, sir. Would you like me to add a side dish as well? Free of charge, of course, as an—”

“No, no,” the man cuts in, and throws the burger he’d been holding down hard enough that it slips off his plate, and falls apart on the table. Which only appears to make him angrier. “Look at this mess. I want you to clean this up, and then I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here.”

The two other men nod, clearly not only used to their friend’s behaviour, but actively encouraging it. “Get to it, sweetheart,” one of them demands, making Sadie bite the inside of her cheek, “before all of our food goes cold.”

“Certainly, sirs,” Sadie scrapes the ruined burger off the table, waving over one of the busboys, “I’ll take care of this right away.”

Despite her words, after putting in the order for the new, onion-free burger, Sadie leans against the wall in the kitchen for a moment, breathing out heavily as she tries to compose herself. The line cook shoots her a sympathetic look, and Sadie smiles back shakily, grateful for the silent support.

Her boss’ office is one floor up, and Sadie isn’t too proud to sneak behind the bar, and make her way to the stairwell where she hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone from her table.

It’s quiet, once the door closes behind her, the voices of the guests and the sounds of the restaurant muffled, and Sadie swallows hard as she starts up the stairs. She’s seen her boss a grand total of thirty seconds so far, when he’d breezed in earlier, with a small child in each arm, a phone clutched between his shoulder and ear, and a frown on his face, while her co-workers had been showing her the ropes.

Mr Hargrove had been supposed to be the one to interview her, last week, but instead, Sadie’d been greeted by his business partner. He’d shaken her hand, smiling brightly, and introduced himself as, “Steven Harrington, but please, call me Steve, everyone does,” before explaining, all sheepishly, that Mr Hargrove was usually the one talking to the new hires, but that he’d unfortunately been called away on short notice.

He’d offered Sadie coffee, and had gotten her a glass of water instead when she’d declined, before dropping down in the swivel chair on the opposite side of the desk, picking up Sadie’s resume with a hum. “I’ll be honest, here, I don’t usually deal with this side of the business,” he’d said, chuckling a little to himself, “but if Billy’s invited you here for an in-person interview, chances are high he’s already decided to hire you. He can be picky.”

It had been said with a sigh, half annoyed and half fond. “So,” Steve had put the resume down again, and shrugged at Sadie, “if you’re still interested, and if the hours and pay you’ve talked about over the phone work for you, I don’t see a reason why you can’t start next Friday.”

Sadie had blinked at him, stunned, and then scrambled to sign the contract. Flexible hours, two free meals per shift, decent insurance, and paying slightly above minimum wage? It had been everything a struggling student like her could hope for, and then some.

Now, faced with the prospect of having to tell her boss that she’s screwing up on her very first shift, Sadie wishes she was anywhere but here. Still, she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and knocks on Mr Hargrove’s office door.

A moment later, a gruff voice calls back, “Come in.”

Mr Hargrove is sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised, and Sadie hesitates, standing awkwardly on the threshold. The kids—definitely Mr Hargrove’s, going by their wild, curly hair—are playing on a blanket in front of the small couch, where Steve is sitting with a laptop open on his lap.

He smiles and waves at Sadie, which gives her the confidence to clear her throat, and say, “One of the guests would like to talk to you, Mr Hargrove.”

When Mr Hargrove only raises his eyebrow further, she adds, “He ordered a burger with onions, but says he doesn’t like onions. I offered him a new burger with a free side dish, but, well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr Hargrove mutters, which earns him a scolding look from Steve, followed by a stern, “Language, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr Hargrove says, with a small roll of his eyes. He gets up from behind his desk, gesturing for Sadie to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s go deal with this shit.”

He’s obviously not happy about the interruption, but Sadie’s glad to notice that his irritation seems to be aimed at the picky guest, not her. The cursing also helps, strangely enough, has her bite back a giggle as they walk back down to the main floor.

Mr Hargrove looks intimidating, at first glance, what with all the tattoos, the denim, and the heavy jewellery. Like those bikers always parked in front of the shady bar a block down from her shitty, shoebox-sized apartment. Only, like, prettier.

Sadie ducks her head a little, blushing faintly. Mr Hargrove has to be in his thirties, is almost old enough to be her dad, and Sadie isn’t even interested in men like that, but she does have eyes. The blond curls, piled into a messy bun on top of his head, the dimples, the striking, bright blue eyes; Mr Hargrove is definitely good-looking.

Frannie would have a field day if she knew Sadie was getting flustered by her old, cranky new boss. Sadie silently vows to never tell her girlfriend a single word about it, ever.

“It’s the booth in the back,” she says, once they reach the main room of the restaurant again, pointing in the general direction, “by the big window—”

Mr Hargrove freezes mid-step when he spots the three men, but only for a second. Then he sneers, teeth bared, “Hell no.”

He stalks over to the booth, fast enough that Sadie has to hurry in order to keep up, and slaps the fork right out of one of the men’s hand with a snarled, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The men at the table—and a few people within earshot—fall silent in shock, all gaping at Mr Hargrove. Then, the now forkless man pushes to his feet, and right into Mr Hargrove’s space. “William—”

Mr Hargrove doesn’t back down, though, and he has several inches on the other man. “Get out. Right now, all of you. You’re not welcome here.”

The other man’s face twists in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like this? You can’t throw us out, we’re paying customers!”

“Oh, trust me,” Mr Hargrove’s smile is, Sadie thinks, pretty damn terrifying, “I can. And I will.”

“On what grounds?” the other man scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s see. For harassing my staff,” Mr Hargrove begins, and holds up his hand, counting on his fingers, “or, maybe, the years of emotional abuse? For regularly beating the shit outta me for close to a decade? Or for just generally being a terrible fucking human being, and an even worse father?”

The restaurant is so quiet, after that, Sadie’s almost afraid to breathe.

“Take your pick,” Mr Hargrove finishes, and takes a step back with a sweeping motion towards the door. “But get the fuck out, Neil. Or we will call the police.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see that,” comes Steve’s voice from by the bar. He’s holding the phone, wiggling the receiver when everyone turns to look at him. “Your choice.”

“You—” Mr Hargrove’s father starts, but is wisely interrupted by one of his friends standing up as well, and putting a hand on his elbow with a disgusted, “Leave it be, Neil. The little faggot’s not worth the trouble.”

There are several gasps from the other customers, but Mr Hargrove seems unfazed. Almost amused, actually. “At least my faggot ass can keep a family together. Ginny was, wait, let me think? Wive number five? How’s the divorce going, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

If Sadie’d thought Mr Hargrove looked scary, it’s nothing compared to an angry Steven Harrington, apparently.

“You’ve got one minute to get your shit, and get the hell out. Everyone else,” and now he’s all charm again, looking around the restaurant at the shamelessly watching customers, “free pie, for having had to witness this little display of homophobic bullshittery.”

Mr Hargrove takes it upon himself to escort the men out of the restaurant, while Steve goes around apologising for what’s happened. Sadie shakes herself out of her stupor, and follows Steve in order to jot down everyone who’s interested in the free pie.

Before she can head back to the kitchen, though, Steve stops her and asks, quiet enough that only she catches it, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“That was,” Sadie breathes out, then trails off with a helpless shake of her head.

“Not a great first impression on our part?” Steve chuckles, wry smile on his lips. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a slice of pie, too? We got it handled out here.”

Sadie accepts the offer gratefully.

And the pie is delicious.

“Billy’s a fuckin’ master with anything even vaguely dessert related, man,” the line cook tells her, when she moans around her first forkfull. At her hum of surprise, he laughs, and adds, “Yeah, he still does most of the bakin’, even though he’s the boss man nowadays. Ask him for his lava cake recipe, it’s fuckin’ sick.”

The rest of the day is, thankfully, much less stressful.

Sadie gets to leave on time, and slips out the back door with a cheerful, “Goodbye!” thrown over her shoulder, only to stumble to a stop when she nearly bumps right into Mr Hargrove. And Steve. Because they’re standing very close, with Steve’s arm around Mr Hargrove’s shoulders, and his chin resting on top of Mr Hargrove’s head.

Mr Hargrove blinks one eye open at her, but doesn’t move out of the hug. “You good? Sorry ‘bout, you know. All that shit earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Sadie stutters, feeling herself blush again, “don’t worry, all good. Thanks.”

“Have a nice night,” Steve says, with another one of those sincere smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

Sadie nods. “Tomorrow. Goodnight!”

She carefully steps around the kids, who are racing each other through the alley, shrieking with excitement. She’s almost by the bike rack when there’s a crash, followed by a warbling cry, and a distinctly toddlery voice going, “Shit!”

“Billy, I swear—”

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s not my fault they—”

Sadie rides off, not bothering to hide her laughter.

(When she comes in the next day, Mr Hargrove is waiting for her. He apologises, again, and introduces himself properly.

“Billy, please,” he insists, grimacing a little. “Mr Hargrove is my father, and, well. You saw that whole shitshow yesterday.”

Then he shows her how to use the coffee machine without getting burned, before Steve calls for him from upstairs. He’s almost through the door when he turns back around, eyes flickering down to the collar of her shirt with a small but genuine smile.

Sadie watches him go, ghosting her fingers over the small rainbow pin Frannie had proudly stuck on her shirt earlier that morning.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to like this job after all.)

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 14: Headway

CW: slavery, multiple whumpees, aftermath of abuse, property destruction, migraine, actually a pretty fluffy chapter all things considered

Tag List: @bleeding-demon-teeth​ @theycomeinthrees​‌  @redwingedwhump​ @whimperwoods​ @inpainandsuffering​ @whole-and-apart-and-between​ @whump-whump-whump-it-up​ @whumpingupastorm​ @newandfiguringitout​ @lonesome--hunter​ @looptheloup​ @icannotweave​�� @deluxewhump​ @whumping-every-day​ @yeet-me-out-a-window​ @what-a-whumpy-world​ @burtlederp​ @swordkallya​ @finder-of-rings​ @fairybean101​ @adventuresofacreesty​ @arlennil​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​ @lumpofwhump​ @thatsthewhump​ @pinkdiamondprince​ @shameless-whumper​  @whump-only​  @kiretto-laorentze​ @eatyourdamnpears​ @whumpzone​ @bluebadgerwhump​  @fanastywhump @jo-castle @muffindaddy @whumpsy-daisies

Please let me know if you were not alerted or if you asked to be added to the tag list and I missed you, tumblr’s been messing up badly lately.

Masterlist

Nyla was… conflicted. 

But it didn’t do her any good to be conflicted, so she put on her smile, fastened her shoes, and got to work. 

Master had been very generous the day before, giving them a truly absurd amount of time to just sit and relax--threat of ghosts notwithstanding. But now it was time for her to resume her routine, as much of it as she still had.

And, since they’d been preoccupied with ghosts, or non-ghosts, or whatever it was Greyson had seen and Master Galo had dealt with, that meant Master Galo’s “crash course on queerness” needed to happen this afternoon. Which, hm, well, it was rather unreasonable to be nervous about it, right? Master was kind, and the last gathering had been a net positive. Maybe it was just because it was something to look forward to, and Nyla was nervous about things to look forward to.

Also there was that dumpster out front and Nyla wasn’t sure what it was for (perhaps another volley with the art pieces?), but she would deal with that when Master ordered her to.

She was passing by the front door when it opened and her heart leapt into her throat. She whirled, stepping back, but a familiarly massive outline stepped in and she relaxed, smile turning a little less forced.

“Welcome home, Master,” she greeted, kneeling as she took his extended hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He was damp with sweat and smelled like cut grass and warm air. “Did you enjoy your volunteer service?”

“Yeah; it’s gorgeous out. Partly cloudy and kinda hot, perfect early summer day.” Master Galo pushed his wet hair away from his face, Nyla watching the way his arms flexed and moved and observing her own lack of fear response.

Don’t think about it.

“I’m starving though; any idea when lunch is?”

“Apologies, Master, but it won’t be ready for another half-hour yet,” Nyla said, knowing Sasha had only just gotten it in the oven. Her smile tugged at the corners of her eyes, face tight.

“Sweet! Enough time for a shower then,” Master Galo said with a bright smile, loosening some of Nyla’s nerves.

Nyla gave a short bow, hands clasped in the folds of her apron skirt, and took a deep breath as she rose back up, watching Master Galo’s back as he climbed the steps two at a time. Alright then. (He really did have a nice back) Alright then.

Do your job, Nyla, focus.

It’d be easier if she had anything to focus on. She almost wished Master Galo would host something, bring over guests or Guests of his own. Something Nyla could be active for, something that would require planning and management and preparation. 

But it wasn’t her place. Master Galo would do as Master Galo pleased and she would facilitate where she could and be good and patient and pleasant and useless if Master wanted her to be because it was fine, it was fine.

“You were right,” Nyla said, voice quiet and weirdly flat for her. Evan looked up at her inquisitively, a winter boot balanced on his good thigh and a polishing rag in hand. “We’re entirely out of things to do.”

Evan snorted. “Told you.” He waved the boot good-naturedly, though smug as a cat,” I mean, c’mon Nyla, it’s barely even summer.”

“I’m bored--I’m, stir-crazy,” she whispered, ridiculously daring but if she didn’t complain to somebody she was probably going to explode. 

“I think Greyson is the only one who isn’t--or, well, I mean, there was that whole thing yesterday…” Evan trailed off, and Nyla chanced a small, barely-audible groan. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she lamented, and Evan carefully scooted himself sideways, making room for her on the boot bench. 

“Come sit and be bored with me. I’m always down to complain about things, and hearing you go at it is pretty new.” He patted next to him, and Nyla glowered at the clean, unassuming wood before plopping down next to him. She huffed, lifting up the hem of her dress and pulling a loose threat taut so she could snap it.

“I just wish he would give us tasks. I wish we’d had the… talk, this morning.”

“Yeah.” Evan handed her the matching boot to his own and she diligently started polishing, feeling instant relief at having something to do with her hands. “Waiting for it… sucks.”

Nyla felt a strange little curl of emotion in her and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, you would know better than I.”

“Hey!” Evan gasped, looking at her in honest shock before laughing, open mouthed and still surprised, and Nyla smiled. “So now little miss perfect is going to scorekeep?”

“Little Miss Perfect, I like the sound of that.”

“We should bore you shitless more often,” Evan said, leaning forward with playful curiosity dancing across his features.

“Don’t get used to this,” Nyla said, turning up her nose and deliberately sitting with pristine posture. “I’m just having a psychotic break real quick and then I’ll be back to normal.”

Evan laughed, and she smiled, a pang of pain shooting behind her eyes as she did but she was having a nice time, so she smothered any wince before she made it. “Well I better take advantage of it while I can, then.”

The sound of the water shutting off had both their heads snapping upwards, despite the fact that neither of them could see through the ceiling, and Nyla’s perfect smile was back in place, tension in her temples. “...It seems you may have to wait,” Nyla stated, setting down the boot and brushing out her apron, gathering herself. She quickly finger combed her hair, smoothed down her apron once again, and Evan caught her around the wrist.

“You okay?” he asked. Ah, she’d fiddled too much.

“Just nervous, I suppose. Nothing that won’t be resolved after lunch.”

Evan nodded slowly, letting her go, and she changed her perfect slave smile to her “don’t worry the family, I’m fine” smile. Like usual, he seemed to buy it, and Nyla slipped her perfect smile back in place with a whirl of skirts and went to serve Master Galo lunch.

He’d demanded that Grey ‘take it easy’ yet again, and Nyla decided, rather selfishly, that that meant she would take his duties as butler from him that day. But then, was it truly selfish, when Sasha would just as likely faint if she was asked to, and Evan couldn’t walk on that leg of his? Lilah was able to do it, sure, but old habits die hard and Nyla couldn’t help but want to keep their littlest as far away from their owner as often as possible. Even though this one was kind.

Then the five of them were crowded together on a couch, Master Galo standing with his laptop hooked up to the TV in front of them. Nyla subtly covered Sasha’s hand with her own, where it gripped her sleeve, and Lilah leaned against Greyson with her legs hooked over Evan’s good one.

“Alright, so, queer shit 101,” Master Galo said with a bright smile to the group, hands propped on his hips. “I am going to attempt to keep things basic while still covering the bases, but please ask questions if you have them. In the great words of someone older than me, I don’t know what you don’t know. And I also don’t know what misconceptions you might have, though given Auntie Bethany, I can make some more or less solid guesses. So, without further ado.” 

Master Galo hit a key on his keyboard and the slide changed, “Queer! Our first term, the word used for the entire community of people who are neither cis nor straight. In recent years people who wish to gatekeep, meaning to exclude people from our community, have voiced backlash against the word ‘queer’ as being ‘too-inclusive’ and have recruited well-intentioned but ultimately inexperienced youths to cycle their rhetoric. That is bullshit. Queer is our word, it is a good word, just because ignorant and hateful people are bigoted against us does not mean it isn’t our word, and it’s an all-inclusive label for anyone and everyone who finds their home among us.”

Lilah tentatively leaned forward, hand extended, and Master Galo pointed to her with arched eyebrows. It wasn’t as threatening as Nyla might have once considered it. “What’s ‘cis,’ sir?”

“That is on my next slide, I promise. For right this current moment, just know that queer is the big main umbrella word for everyone. It covers all the bases, all your base are belong to us.” Lilah nodded as Master Galo chuckled at his own joke. Nyla didn’t get the reference, but she recognized that he’d made one. 

“Cool, so, you will see many squares with lots of stripes throughout this presentation. You don’t have to memorize anything, I just think they spruce up the slides, but for reference this one is the queer flag. You may or may not be familiar with the rainbow flag, that one’s a little different, we’ll get to that.”

Master Galo flipped slides. “Transgender!” he announced happily, a blue, pink, and white flag on the TV behind him. “You have seen this flag on various articles of clothing and buttons I own. And stickers. In general I have this flag around a lot, but! That is because, I am trans. You know this,” he said, making a broad gesture towards their group. 

“The word ‘transgender’ effectively means ‘anyone who isn’t cis,’ and yes I will explain. So! Say there is a little baby, and the midwife or doctor lifts the little newborn body up to examine, and says ‘she’s a girl!’ Now, say, years down the road, that person thinks of herself and says ‘yeah sure I’m a girl.’ That is what’s called ‘cisgender,’ when the gender you were assigned at birth matches up with your own sense of self. Now, say that same baby grows up, but says ‘actually, I’m not a girl.’ That would make that person transgender.

“I am what’s called ‘binary trans;’ I was assigned female at birth, grew up, discovered I was actually a dude, and here we are. Thus, I am called a transman. The same thing happens for transwomen, but in the opposite direction. Transmen are men, transwomen are women, but some people are neither a guy or a girl. They are what is called,” Master Galo switched the slide.

“Nonbinary!” Nyla squinted, tentatively raising her hand, which Evan and Lilah were also doing. “Okay wow, lots of questions, Nyla?”

“I… apologize, sir, but I’m not sure I understand. They’re not a man or a woman?”

“Correct.”

Nyla shared a quick, anxious glance with the rest of her family.

“Okay, don’t worry,” Master Galo said, holding up his hands with a small chuckle, “I will explain. First, Evan and Lilah, was that your question too? Yeah, figured as much, okay. So, I have found the easiest way to visualize nonbinary genders is like this: Say men are blue, and women are red. Or pink, but that’s just a light shade of red, so, anyway, color theory is not today’s presentation. Back on track! If you’re imagining gender like a color wheel, that means some people are gonna be purple, right?”

Nyla nodded slowly. Okay, that made sense. A combination of traits both male and female. 

“But, on that same vein, not all other colors are purple. Sometimes colors are green, or yellow, or orange. Men and women do make up the majority of the human population, but not all of it. There’s lot of ways to have a gender, and none of them are wrong.” Lilah raised her hand again and Master Galo pointed.

“How does that--I mean, if you have a vagina or a penis, shouldn’t that be, I mean, hard? To…”

“Okay, okay, good point. Very good point Lilah, I jumped the gun a little. Backing up a bit!”

Master Galo clapped his hands lightly, no force or noise to the motion, and Nyla had the brief thought that the gesture made him look somewhat teacherly. Which made sense, given… everything happening, but there was something distinctive and pleasant about that thought. Hm.

She wasn’t gonna worry about that. Focus.

“So, biological sex and a person’s gender are two seperate things. Often, they go hand in hand. That’s where cis people come from. However, while biological sex is, y’know, biological, gender is a social construct. Which means, it has more to do with perception and sense of self, and nothing to do with your actual physical body. So, since this is the 100 level course, I could frame it as, gender’s in your head and sex is in your genitals, make sense?”

Another round of slow, wary nods. 

“It’s technically a little more complicated than that, but we’re not gonna get into that today.”

Evan raised his hand again, and Master Galo pointed at him with a smile.

“So… Sir, do you, have a dick?”

Master Galo’s lips instantly folded in and he raised a hand to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking a little, and Nyla felt a spike of anxiety, crown of her head feeling taut. But it was laughter, a wheezing chuckle escaping her master when he said, “Uhm.”

He took a deep breath, “So, no. I do not. I don’t really want or need bottom surgery and am comfortable with my genitals the way they are. Bottom surgery is not a necessary component of transitioning, and some people, like myself, don’t have it done. However,” Master Galo continued with a rush of air, “it is generally considered extremely rude to ask a trans person about their genital structure unless you have the explicit intention of sleeping with them. I am aware you meant nothing by it!” Master Galo rushed, hands held up as Evan began to flounder. “You weren’t intentionally being rude, it’s chill. Just, for future reference, if you ever meet another trans person, that’s on the list of questions you don’t ask.”

Master Galo cleared his throat, looking a little red, but in good humor about it. He turned back to his screen with a, “Now, Lilah, you bring up an interesting point.” Master Galo flipped forward a few slides, to a screen with a yellow square that had a purple circle in the middle of it.

“Intersex! Sex, like gender, is not actually straightforward. There are many ways to be intersex, ranging from genital structure to chromosomes to secondary sex characteristics. But ultimately sex, like gender, is on a spectrum. Just because the majority of people fall easily into little categories of, urg, ‘biologically male’ or ‘biologically female,’ which for the record are not phrases you should… use, but since this is an intro to queer shit I’m making this as understandable as I can. Anyway.” Master Galo seemed to gather his thoughts. “Right! People fall into one category or the other most of the time, but not all of the time! And the ‘not all of the time’ people are intersex. Some intersex people do not feel that their biology automatically makes them queer, and do not percieve themselves to be part of the queer community. Others take comfort and community among us, so it’s always up to the person.

“Anyway, flipping back a few slides, nonbinary! This is the umbrella term for everyone who does not fall completely into ‘100% a man’ or ‘100% a woman.’ There are many ways to be nonbinary, but for the record, many nonbinary people prefer to be referred to with they/them pronouns. Not all! But, like how men use he/him, or women use she/her, many nonbinary people are referred to with a singular ‘they.’ I am aware my aunt may have had grammar-based arguments complaining about nonbinary people and gender neutral language, but I promise the singular ‘they’ predates my aunt by multiple centuries.

“Genderqueer,” Master Galo said with another slide, “This one goes hand in hand with nonbinary. Effectively, it means ‘neither fully masculine nor fully feminine,’ and is, as the word ‘queer’ might suggest, an inclusive, broad term for people who don’t have a particularly hard line definition for their gender.

“Genderfluid, meaning that a person will shift between genders depending on the day. So like, some days this person would wake up and say ‘I’m a girl today,’ and other days ‘I’m a boy,’ and maybe some days they wouldn’t feel like either of those at all. Again, this varies from person to person, but the general idea is that they flow between genders.

“Agender, meaning they have no gender at all.”

Again, Nyla, Lilah, and Evan’s hands rose. Nyla was surprised to see that even Greyson’s hand lifted, if only a little, on that. Master Galo smiled with a huff, but Nyla didn’t feel threatened. “Let’s go with Greyson, yeah?”

“How would someone simply not have a gender, sir?”

“So, if we’re imagining genders as like a color wheel, agender would be like, white, blank. No color. No gender. People ask them ‘are you a guy or a girl’ and their answer is a flat out ‘no.’”

Nyla was struggling with that. Nyla was struggling with that one pretty hard. Her brain felt tight. She got the concept, but…

“Master?”

“Yes Nyla?”

“Would it be alright if we understood in theory but not in practice?”

“Yeah, this can be hard for people to wrap their heads around, mostly I just want to introduce you to the concepts. That’s perfectly reasonable Nyla.”

Nyla dipped her head in thanks, her family nodding as well. Master Galo flipped the slide.

“Neutrois. Hand in hand with agender, if we’re using the color thing then, like. If agender is white, then neutrois would be black. People who are neutrois might describe their gender as ‘null’ or ‘void’ and other descriptors of the like. Again, I just want to introduce you to the concept, you don’t need to be able to conceptualize it perfectly.

“Okay last one under the trans umbrella,” Master Galo said, “Bigender. Someone who is multiple genders simultaneously. So, for simplicity’s sake, you could say someone who is both a man and a woman at the same time.” Master Galo smiled at them. “There are many other genders people have, but again with this being the introductory course, I just wanted to hit the big ones. Any gender questions?”

Nyla tentatively raised her hand. Master Galo smiled at her, and his expression took the edge off her anxiety.

“So, we know you, had surgery on your chest, sir,” Nyla said, hoping she wasn’t being rude by bringing it up, “do nonbinary people also engage in,” she floundered, not sure what the word for it was, but she wasn’t going to ‘um’ or stutter (even if he’d said it was okay, she could do better, and she would). 

“Some do,” Master Galo mercifully cut her off. “Some people are fine looking the way they do, or use cosmetics to accentuate certain features, and some receive surgeries. It all depends on personal comfort. And also sometimes to alter others’ perceptions, I knew someone who had no real issue with their chest but other people would assume they were a girl because of it and surgery was affirming and helpful with other people’s way of viewing them, which in turn lowered their discomfort.”

“And, sir?” Master nodded. “If a person’s name is, very feminine or masculine?”

“Most of us change our names!” he said brightly, “Like how I picked Galo for myself. Many nonbinary people will also change their names to something a little more ‘neutral.’ Again, not all though.”

Evan raised his hand that time. “You picked your own name, sir?”

“Yup! When I started to transition I changed my name. I should show you all the movie it came from sometime; it’s real fun you might enjoy it.”

“Sir?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“What was your name before Galo, sir?” Evan asked. Master Galo made an unidentifiable noise, but Nyla didn’t think that it was good. Her spine lengthened and her hand left Sasha’s on her arm to clench neatly in her lap.

“Sooo, you don’t get to know that,” Master Galo said, ducking his head with a slow gesture of his open palm towards Evan. “The name I had before Galo is what is called a ‘deadname,’ the name a trans person was assigned at birth that has since been put to rest. Again, I know you are being curious and I would definitely like to encourage you to continue asking questions, but, that’s another one of those questions you should not ask anyone who is not me. Asking for someone’s deadname is considered rude, and referring to someone by their deadname is extremely rude and actively malicious.”

“Sir, I wasn’t--”

“Easy, Evan, I know,” Master Galo said with a patient smile. “It’s good that you ask me these questions, and not someone else, because you’re learning, and I know you don’t mean any harm. But, in sum, the name I had before is not relevant, and it is not something to be shared. Any other questions at the moment? We’ve had good ones.”

A brief bout of silence, and Master Galo flipped the screen to the only flag Nyla did recognize.

“Onto sexual orientations! Sexualities, they’re called. You will probably recognize the gay flag, this is another one of those umbrella terms meaning ‘anyone who isn’t straight’ while also having the capacity to mean ‘someone who is exclusively attracted to their own gender.’ It is a term meant for everyone in the community, much the same way queer is. Yes, Evan?”

“Are you gay?”

“No, actually, I’m pretty much straight. I’m aware that men can be attractive but don’t really feel attraction to them.” Master Galo cocked his head. “You worded that kind of intensely there, you alright buddy?”

Evan was already stiff, and Nyla recognized the way his mouth twitched when he was biting down a snarl. “I’m fine.”

The lack of an honorific made the family tense, eyes on Evan because he was, like a moth to flame, doing something stupid again, but Master Galo either ignored it or didn’t notice. 

“Cool. So, along with ‘queer community’ and ‘gay community,’ you may or may not have heard the phrase ‘LGBT.’ This stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender, and is sort of the most widely-in-use acronym for the queer community.

“Lesbians! What would the world do without them,” Master Galo said, flipping to a slide with lots of pinks and oranges. “Nowadays, lesbian is the word for women who are exclusively interested in other women, but historically it was used to describe any queer woman at all, back before bisexual really entered into people’s vocabularies. For the record: nonbinary people can be and often are lesbians. Anyone who has literally any ties to femininity and is attracted, more or less exclusively, to women and people with ties to femininity, counts as a lesbian. 

“Bisexual! People who are attracted to 1. their own gender and 2. other genders. Sometimes it’s phrased as ‘attraction to men and women,’ which, for the record, is a fine way for you to conceptualize it here in the introductory course, but I want to be clear that bisexuality does and always has included nonbinary peeps.” Master Galo smiled. “Bixesual is a perfectly good and normal thing to be; there’s nothing wrong with it,” he said, and if Nyla had to guess she’d say he was deliberately not looking directly at any of them in particular.

“Pansexual! Hand in hand with bisexuality, pansexual people are attracted to others regardless of their gender. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two, but for some people the differences between sexualities are important. For some people, not so much, and they identify as bi and pan simultaneously. Again, we fall back on the ‘it all depends on the person’ idea. I will state that pansexuals are not attracted to everyone, they’re just attracted to every gender. Just because someone is of a certain gender doesn’t mean others won’t still find them ugly.

“Asexual! The umbrella term for people who don’t really feel attraction to other people, no matter the gender. We love respect cherish and support asexual people,” Master Galo said, oddly firm on that one. Lilah raised her hand.

“So, they just, don’t? Anybody? Sir?”

“Yeah, so, like, a straight man would only feel attraction towards women, and no attraction to men. A gay man would feel attraction to men, and no attraction to women. A bisexual man would feel attraction to men and women. And an asexual man would not feel attraction to either.”

Lilah nodded. “Okay, thank you sir.”

“However, ace--asexual--is an umbrella term. There are multiple ways to be asexual.”

Nyla frowned minutely, but then her smile was back in place. She wasn’t really sure how there could be multiple ways to not feel attraction to someone.

“There’s the spectrum of sex-positive, sex-neutral, and sex-repulsed asexuals. Sex-positive asexuals enjoy sex, the action, they just don’t think anybody’s hot. The activity is fun, but no one they look at hits that ‘oh hot I wanna have sex with them’ vibe. Sex-neutral asexuals don’t find anyone attractive, and don’t have any particularly strong feelings towards sex. It’s on par to like, going for a jog or having dinner together. Sort of a bland ‘whatever’ feeling. Sex-repulsed asexuals don’t find anyone attractive and do not, under any circumstances, want to have sex with anyone, ever. All of these are good and well! There’s no ‘wrong’ way to be asexual.”

“Next up we have grey-ace. 99% of the time, they don’t find anyone attractive, but every once in a blue moon they’ll see a person and go ‘oh hot.’ They are still asexual, they just have occassional feelings of attraction to seemingly random people. Or maybe they have a highly specific type! Again, depends on the person.”

“Last up for the ace umbrella, demisexual. Demisexual people are capable of feeling physical attraction, but only after a strong, meaningful, romantic bond has been formed. This is different than waiting in a relationship until you’re close. The person does not feel attraction, at all, until a committed bond has been formed.” Master Galo paused, letting them turn that over in their heads, but when no one asked any questions he flipped the slide once more.

“And wrapping up our crash-course on queer terminology, aromantic. Aromantic is similar to asexuality in all aspects, except that instead of talking about physical attraction, it’s about romance. Some people just do not feel the inclination to form romantic bonds with others. They still might, depending on the person, just like an asexual person still might engage in sexual activity, but the attraction isn’t there. They don’t see people and go ‘I’d like to see if this could work out as a romantic relationship’ they’re just in it for friends. Grey-romantic and demiromantic people are, again, much the same, but with romance, feeling that 99% or only gaining the capacity for a romantic relationship after a strong, meaningful, committed bond of friendship has been formed.”

Master Galo took a big breath. “Any questions?” he asked with a proud smile. 

Nyla honestly felt like she had too much information rattling around in her brain to even begin formulating a question, but Evan raised his hand.

“I don’t mean to be rude, sir,” Evan said, sounding like he was struggling not to grit his teeth.

“I know. Go ahead.”

“So, since you’re a transman, and you’re straight, then you’re only attracted to women..?”

“Yep!”

“And then, if a woman is attracted to you..?” Evan trailed off.

“That would still be considered ‘straight’ attraction, yep. The woman in question might be straight, or bi, or pan, or maybe ace! It’s all up to her. But her attraction to me would be ‘opposite-sex attraction’ yeah.”

“Was that rude sir?”

“No, no, you’re good, bud. And now you know!”

“Thank you sir.”

“Of course! I’m glad you’re asking questions. Anyone else?”

Another beat of silence.

“Alright, cool, good talk team. To wrap it all up, there are all sorts of ways people can experience gender and attraction, and none of them are wrong. Everything I talked about today is good, natural, and worthy of respect. Go ahead and let me know if you ever have questions in the future, I’m perfectly willing to talk about it.”

He took in a deep breath.

“The queer community has long faced oppression on a global scale. However, many cultures saw queerness as natural and didn’t much question it until, ah, interlopers became involved, and rerouted the course of history. But regardless of acceptance or ostricization, all cultures have their own queer histories, their own words and perceptions. 

“In recent years, and I mean really recent, queer people have started making great strides in changing legislation and public opinion of us towards the positive, though we still face a number of obstacles. You have probably noted that I am not fond of police. This is in no small part due to the fact that I am transgender. And then of course people like my aunt and various religious institutions will also condemn myself and my peers, due to malicious misconceptions or just straight up bigotry. 

“So I understand why you all may… struggle, with this information, for a bit. But I assure you, nothing is as bad as my aunt made it out to be, and if you ever want to know more I’m happy to talk with you about it.” Master Galo beamed and propped his hands on his hips. “Which about wraps this up.”

The doorbell rang. Everyone, including Master Galo, tensed.

“I think I’ll answer that,” he said. “Uh, dismissed? No, wait, wait here, we’ve got a group project I wanna work on this afternoon.”

Nyla was not in a habit of thanking god for much of anything, but she thanked god for that. Finally, a task.

Master Galo made a pleased noise and a bit of chatter Nyla could identify as friendly, there was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, then the door swinging closed.

She was on her feet and smiling when he returned, leaning his big arm on the doorway and looking happy. “Sweet, so, the stuff we ordered has started to arrive, which leads me to another thing I wanted to talk about!”

Master Galo rounded back in front of the couch where he’d been, clapping his hands together and smiling. Nyla tentatively sat back down. ‘So! I would first like to establish that I am not suggesting you break up your current sleeping arrangement. However, you’re not gonna be able to fit all the stuff you collectively ordered into that one room without it turning into a nightmare, so I’ve thought about it and it’s my idea that you all should have rooms that are your own space. Not to sleep in, obviously, just rooms that you can use to store your stuff and you can decorate them to your own interests and you’ll have a private area you can go to if you need alone time. Sound good?” Master Galo asked, looking to Nyla, to Lilah, scanning over the group.

“You are quite generous, Master,” Nyla said, but no, no, that wasn’t quite right, for him. “Thank you,” she tried again, simpler, far too rude for Mistress, but for Master…

He smiled at her, pat her on the head far too briefly, and said, “You’re welcome. Let’s go check out what arrived, yeah?”

All of Nyla’s dresses, the skirts and top Sasha had ordered from that company, and a couple of Lilah’s things were in the first two boxes, and Evan’s t-shirts and jeans were in the third. “Sorry Greyson, looks like your stuff isn’t here yet.”

Greyson nodded, outwardly impassive, and given that it had barely been his idea to order anything at all that made sense. Nyla and the others followed Master Galo to the basement, their Master helping Evan down and hastening the process, and showed them the rooms he’d selected for them. Nyla hesitantly stepped into “hers.” 

It felt wrong. She’d cleaned and examined this room countless times before, but now, standing inside it felt incorrect. 

The bed had been folded up into a couch, which was standard for the beds housed in the series of apartments in the basement. The sitting area and kitchenette that existed in the middle of these rooms were indicative that these were for long-term guests, not, not slaves. The closet, filled with more hangars than she remembered, the dresser, the small desk, they were for people, not Nyla. 

Except, apparently, they were for Nyla now. 

“Oh, shoot, that lock is totally broken,” Master Galo’s voice came from elsewhere in the apartments, “Here, go for this room, then, sorry I totally hadn’t noticed that earlier.”

A broken lock? It was something Nyla had failed to notice, too. Her heart rate accelerated and her head felt tight; Mistress would cane her for missing something so obvious, but she deliberately swallowed and took a deep breath. Master Galo was not Mistress. She couldn’t keep expecting him to act like her.

He was so much kinder. Gentle, and careful, with a sweet voice and warm hands that only ever touched her--

Nyla yanked a hangar off the closet’s bar with far too much force, utterly graceless, and it caused all the other hangars to clatter together and make a right ruckus. Her heart picked back up again, because she was clumsy, noisy, a fumbling little blushing nuisance! She unfolded her first dress and willed herself to remember that making noise was okay, it was allowed now, she could make noise and still be perfect, no one was mad at her, no one was going to come hurt her.

And where was her smile!?

She really was falling to pieces, she thought to herself, pulling another hangar off the rod properly and fitting another dress onto it. Smiling. She was smiling, she was grateful for this unexpected and unasked for privilege (weren’t they supposed to ask for things? Why was this happening unprompted?!), she was graceful and perfect and, fine. She was fine. Her temples felt tight, but she was smiling and composed and fine.

It really was satisfying to see her dresses hung up all neatly, though. When her skirts and sweaters and undershirts arrived, she’d be able to finish filling the closet, and it would look so neat and it would be hers and it was selfish, to be so vain and materialistic, but maybe since Master Galo had ordered it, that meant it was okay?

She rubbed at her right eye and stroked her hand down the material of the first dress, admiring the ruffles around the neckline and the neat, black stripes of the sewn-in green vest. She would get to wear that. She would get to wear all of them, with their pretty patterns and their pleated skirts and their ruffles and lace and bows.

It felt far too pretty for the likes of her.

She wished she knew how to properly show her Master gratitude.

She wanted, she--wanted. She didn’t want to be caned or cut or bleed or cry, but she wanted to do something, something physical, something to show just how much she appreciated everything he was doing for them, to make him happy, like he’d made her happy.

But what did a slave have to give, except her body and her service? He’d already made it clear that he didn’t want either of those, aside from her now mind-numbing chores, and that was hardly something to make him happy. More of just an expected base behavior out of her, out of all of them.

She didn’t know his favorite foods; Greyson never reported any particular signs of delight no matter what Sasha tried, at least nothing that stood out from his regular compliments. She didn’t have any way to engage with his hobbies. She couldn’t kneel at his feet and beg him to hurt her with her lips on his shoe. His base state of friendly and cheery made it impossible to tell what he liked best. The only real, solid thing she knew he liked was when they asked him for things, and it was the receiving of things that Nyla wanted to express gratitude for!

It was the weirdest, strangest, most unfamiliar form of frustration she’d ever felt. Maybe--maybe it wouldn’t count as Attending him if she offered a massage? Greyson was better at it than her, and she hadn’t had much practice in the last decade and a half aside from occasionally working a knot out of Sasha’s shoulder or soothing the nerves out of Evan or Lilah. But she’d been trained properly, and she could quickly skim an internet article sometime to refresh herself.

Oh but if Master Galo figured out she was trying to Attend him, even just a little, he might get mad, and she wouldn’t be able to handle that. She would just have to be extra-perfect for him. Sit and not kneel, smile, be unobtrusive but able to fulfil his every whim or need, maybe ask him for things? But what else could she possibly want that he hadn’t already given her?

She brushed down her apron and left “her room,” walking primly to the family bedroom and pulling out all the clothes from her drawer, which were smaller in number now that her other dress had been sliced open. She went ahead and grabbed Evan’s clothes too, and Master Galo was in the sitting area in the middle of “their rooms” when she walked back. She nodded to him, and he smiled at her before tilting his head and gesturing at the clothes in her arms.

“What’s that?”

“My clothes, as well as Evan’s, sir, from the shared dresser.”

“Oh, good memory,” he praised before returning to his phone, and she couldn’t help but flush faintly under his casual approval. She went into “Evan’s room” and found him sitting on the couch, elbow on his good knee and hands pressed together in front of his face. He looked mad.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, so faint ideally their Master would be unable to hear. He looked up at her, dark eyes glinting with what she just knew meant trouble, and hauled himself up onto his crutches. He made as though to walk past her, and Nyla turned in confused alarm, which morphed into full alarm when he closed the door.

“Evan! Master Galo is--”

“Right there, yeah I know,” Evan said, voice mercifully quiet even though he flipped the lock. Nyla could scream if she wasn’t rooted to the spot in shock. Evan took the clothes that were his and gave her a brief “thanks” before he threw them on the floor.

“Evan,” Nyla hissed in bubbling horror, staring at the rumpled fabric. 

“Hey, it’s ‘my’ room, right?” Evan sneered as he sat back down with a heavy thump, wincing when he jostled his wound. “Which means I can make a mess of it if I want, right?!”

“Evan, these rooms are gifts--”

“That we didn’t fucking ask for. We’re supposed to ask, right?”

“He told us, it’s because we don’t have space in the main room for the things we did ask for!” Nyla hissed, “And keep your voice down!” She didn’t mention that she’d been having the same doubts. She was trembling, clutching her clothes to her chest. “I--I need to go. I need to finish putting my things away.”

She stepped away from him, needing to pause at the door to summon her smile, to suppress her wild shivers, to take a deep breath and gather herself, and when she flipped the lock she heard Evan call after her, “I’m sorry.”

She turned back again, carefully crafted smile slipping, and Evan had his face in his hand, the other clutching the edge of the cushion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just--sorry. I’m sorry Nyla.” He ran his fingers back into his hair and gripped, hard, pulling at his roots. “I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders dropped, chest squeezing, and she swaned over to him, dropping to her knees in front of him. He startled, letting go of his hair, and she reached up her free hand to cup his face. He closed his eyes as she leaned up and kissed his cheek, and nuzzled his face against hers as he pet a hand down her hair.

“Just try to work through whatever this is before you leave the room, okay?” she asked softly, trying to be gentle with him, to not get scared and frustrated like she normally felt when he got like this. Master Galo wouldn’t hurt him like Mistress did; she didn’t need to be scared, didn’t need to be frustrated with Evan because he had more time now. “Master Galo’s in the sitting area.”

“Yeah,” Evan answered her, finger combing his bangs to the side. “Yeah. Sorry. I will.”

She kissed his forehead as she stood, and was able to summon her smile much easier this time. She rubbed at her right eye, brushed down her skirt, and went back to “her room” to finish hanging up her clothes and arranging her underthings in the drawers. 

When she finished, she skimmed her fingers over the dustless wood of the dresser. “Her” dresser. Pink with floral designs, old fashioned and expensive, an ‘antique’ that was as good as new. It was… surreal. She left the room, crossed to her Master, and slipped to her knees, then rump, to sit next to his feet. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, and she blinked away the weird feeling in her eye.

“Thank you, Master,” she said again, wishing she could say it better, express it better.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said gently, leaning forward in his seat and petting his fingers through her hair. She allowed herself to tilt her head, eyes slipping closed, and she savored the touch. His knee was right there, it would be all too easy for her to lean in and lay her head against it. But no, no, she was better than that. He hadn’t expressed a desire for her to submit to him in that way and she was going to be perfect for him.

“Master,” she started, reminding herself that he liked questions, that technically all times were good times and she couldn’t pester him with too many, “is there a way you would like to be thanked? I am grateful, and want to show it to you properly.”

“No, Nyla, you don’t need to,” he said gently, and he sounded almost sad. “Just saying ‘thank you’ is enough.”

She tried not to feel disappointed. At the very least, she wouldn’t show it. “As you like, sir.”

The others joined them, Sasha sitting as close to Nyla as she dared, Greyson kneeling at Master Galo’s other side, Lilah sitting on the couch in a way that made them all panic slightly but reaped no consequences. When Evan joined them, a noticeable stretch of time later, Master Galo made no comment on his late appearance, only smiled and put his phone away.

“Great, you’re all here. So, about the project I mentioned. You may have noticed the dumpster out front. I would like everyone to please work together and move all of my aunt’s canes, chains, whips, restraints, muzzles, cages, knives, and the like into the dumpster. Anything she used with the purpose of hurting or humiliating you, I would like to see go. I’ve got a power drill and I’m gonna work on her, uh, dungeon, and rip up those D rings in the den and music room, but just, like. Anything you can think of. Anything used with the purpose of you guys’ pain. Get rid of it, please.”

Someday, Nyla would stop being surprised by all of Master Galo’s many surprises.

Even so, an order was an order, and like many of Master Galo’s commands she found this one easy enough to obey. Nyla rose with all her grace, curtsied, and walked a direct path up two flights of stairs to the fireplace in Mistress’s boudoir.

Mistress had never used the fire pokers on Nyla. Lilah, sure, Evan, occasionally, but Nyla had kept herself perfect, too perfect to burn. But the fear, the ever present knowledge that she could burn, at any moment, at her Mistress’s slightest whim, the moment she stopped being flawlessly, untouchably perfect, had kept her tense as a coiled wire. She stopped by the main floor’s fireplace and grabbed those pokers too, one set in each fist, and all too gleefully hoisted them into the dumpster out front. 

She diligently visited every fireplace in the house, after that, removing everything that could and would have burned her, had she not kept herself perfectly poised on her self-made pedestal. Evan was in Mistress’s room, Lilah the den, Sasha the music room. Greyson, Nyla wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but wasn’t going to get bent out of shape over it. She rubbed her right eye, then temple, and returned to the basement.

Master Galo’s power drill was loud, making her wince and the space behind her eyes sting, but she entered the Punishment Room regardless. He’d collected a small pile near the door: the shackles he’d removed from their anchors in the wall, the thin mats Nyla was pretty sure were intended for yoga that had served as sleeping pallets to the two cells, the oil and wax sconces and dishes that had hung from the walls and ceiling. The wooden horse. All of the tools, the whips and floggers and knives. Nyla gathered up an armful, and Master Galo paused in his drilling to smile at her. 

“Hey, thanks.”

“Of course, Master. Do you require any other assistance?”

“No, I think I’m good. Dismantling my evil aunt’s evil shit is kinda cathartic, really.”

Nyla bowed, and trotted back up the steps with her load of chains and whips and manacles. It was satisfying to hear them clatter down into the dumpster. She felt weird. Good?? Strange.

“Oh, are you hauling stuff for Master Galo?” Evan asked. Nyla nodded with an affirming noise. “Great, so he’ll stay down there. Lilah, hand me that cane, Grey, don’t throw that in yet.”

Nyla looked and saw that Greyson had brought the dog cages up from the utility room. Greyson cocked his head at Evan, but set them down on the drive. Evan, crutch under one arm and heavy, metal cane in his dominant hand, proceeded to beat the shit out of the cages.

The family mostly just stood there, and watched, as he reduced the cages to little more than messy heaps of broken wire. He was panting, hard, by the end of it, and tossed the cane into the dumpster.

“Did you reopen your--” Lilah asked, cut off by Evan’s, “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it just looks like you might’ve ripped a stitch out, from all’a that.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t have done any differently,” Evan said, laughing a little and pulling Lilah in for a hug. “Fuck, that felt really good. You guys should try that.”

“I think th-that’s a y-you thing,” Sasha remarked, and Nyla chuckled. Then giggled. She rubbed at her eye, and headed back inside to grab another armload from the basement. She got the wooden horse up under her arm and shimmy-stepped her way up, the thing large and cumbersome but she couldn’t wait to get it out of the house. Greyson helped her lift it into the dumpster, and Nyla grabbed a third round.

It was on her way back down to grab a fourth armful that the pain struck her, right as her foot came down on the top step. She recognized it instantly for what it was. Ordinary pain was, in a rather hard to describe manner, very different from migraine pain. It was impossible to confuse the two.

A migraine. She was having a migraine. Oh of course, her head had felt tight all day! And her eye, that was her aura, oh, she was so stupid! How could she not have seen this coming?

Oh, god, the pain was settling in fast this time, too. It never set in all at once, but the speed was less gradual than usual, right then. She whimpered. The basement would be no good. Master Galo was using power tools down there, right across the hall from the family bedroom. Her normal migraine spot, under her nice, dark, quiet bed, wouldn’t work this time.

Think, she had a limited amount of time before the pain got bad. Where should she go? The butterfly room? That was nice and dark, no windows, but would it be quiet? She naturally gravitated towards the idea of a bathroom, where the tile would feel cool against her forehead and she could turn off the lights. Upstairs, probably, she went upstairs, hoping to escape the noise of things landing in the dumpster and her family moving and talking around her. Near the back of the house, not the front, not near the driveway. The bathroom off the lilac bedroom? She went straight for it, closing her right eye since she couldn’t really see all that well out of it.

God, it hurt so bad. She closed the door, plunging the bathroom into merciful blackness. It was quiet, just what she needed, her family and Master would be busy for a while yet, they wouldn’t need to come looking for her. She could just stay where she was, curled up against the bathroom floor, in the dark, in the silence.

God, god it hurt.

And she knew it was only going to get worse.

--

Galo had the bars unscrewed and the dungeon stripped down to nothing more than walls, the floor, and an archaic looking chandelier that he did not have the electrical expertise to deal with. He needed someone with, like, training to deal with that.

Nyla hadn’t come back for a while yet.

Which, okay, it was a big house and she probably had plenty of grudges to act out against inanimate objects, but it was weird that Nyla of all people would start helping haul away the stuff he piled up and then stop midway through. It wasn’t like her.

And when Galo’s brain told him to worry, he was starting to come to terms with the fact that it was usually right. Did it count as anxiety when it was true?

He hauled up a load after scanning the basement, and finding no one there. He got rid of the evil library books as he paced through the first floor, as well as the armchair from the den. He found Greyson and Evan, but no Nyla. Hrm. He asked if Greyson would please take care of the D rings in the den and Evan volunteered himself, which, whatever worked. Upstairs he ran into Sasha in the music room, and he pried up the D rings like he said he would since she didn’t exactly seem like the type for power tools, and was glad to hand the task over to Lilah when she gravitated towards him, leaving the drill in her capable hands.

But where was Nyla?

It was ridiculous to think that she’d been kidnapped by Barbra but Galo couldn’t help but jump to that conclusion. He stalked through the second floor, trying not to be visibly distressed lest he upset the other slaves, but running out of places to look. He opened the door of a guest bathroom, if only for the reason that it was closed, and his eyes widened with horror to see his girl lying in the fetal position on the floor.

“Nyla!” he shouted, rushing forward and dropping to his knees. She flinched, worse than he’d ever seen her jump, and curled in tighter, a muted scream passing her lips, and Galo’s panic bubbled over.

“Nyla, Nyla what’s wrong, what happened?!”

“Please!” she begged, sounding so small. “Please, please no, migraine, Master, please stop!”

Oh--oh. Oh, and his yelling would only have made it worse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, guilt consuming him as he bent and caught sight of her silent tears. “What do you need, what helps?”

Galo didn’t know anything about migraines, other than “head hurt.” He knew they were awful, horrible things, and Nyla deserved to never ever have one. But he didn’t know--would medicine help? Was this one of those things that nothing helped, and she’d just have to wait it out? How long did they last? An hour? Should he touch her?

“Painkillers. Dark. Quiet. W--” she choked on a sob, high and pained and Galo’s heart broke into a thousand pieces. “Water, please, cold.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go get painkillers and a glass of ice water? Do you--is the bathroom good? Is this a good place for you to be?”

“My bed,” she whined, hands over her eyes and body trembling faintly.

“Okay,” Galo said, mindful of each word, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “Can--can you walk? Should I carry you? Should I touch you at all?”

“Just, don’t rattle me, please, don’t--hit my head, please, Master--”

“Never,” Galo breathed, and his heart broke all over again, to know that she still feared him so much, that Nyla had so little trust that she thought he would ever hurt her, much less when she was like this. “Never, Nyla, please, please believe that. I will never hit you.”

Nyla’s breath hitched, a little gaspy inhale, and then she slowly reached one hand out, and gripped Galo by the pant leg. Galo froze, standing on the edge of a brand new precipice, and tried to make his brain work, tried to think fast for once in his goddamn life, but his brain continued its sloth impression and he couldn’t process what this meant, though he felt its importance.

“Help me,” she begged, though it felt more like an admission than a plea. 

“Please, I don’t want the others to see me like this; I hate it when they see me like this,” she continued, and that felt closer to normal.

“Okay, okay, I can’t promise we’ll be able to avoid them but I’ll try my best. I’m going to pick you up now, alright?”

“Okay,” she whispered, barely moving her lips, but he understood why she wouldn’t want to nod her head, right then. Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms and stood. She curled in immediately, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, and he felt like he was holding the most breakable, easily-shattered entity in the universe. He felt a surge of protectiveness, a bone-deep need to take care of her, to make it better in any way he could. 

When they passed by the music room, its door open and Lilah inside with the drill, Nyla whimpered and pressed her hands hard against her ears. She wasn’t just pressing her face into his shoulder at that point, it was like she was actively trying to burrow into him, curled up so tight and stiff against him he felt she might shatter. He moved away from there as fast as he could, wanting to spare her everything he was able to. He tried to keep his gait smooth as he walked, slow on the stairs, and he actually did manage to avoid running into any of the others slaves.

He settled her down onto the cool sheets of her bed, wishing the slaves had softer pillows and wondering if he could get them any without them freaking out about it, and settled a palm between her shoulderblades.

“I’m gonna get that glass of water and those painkillers. Do you need anything else?”

“The blinds,” Nyla gasped softly, and Galo shut the blinds of the tiny skylight tightly, angled up so practically no light filtered in at all. He moved quickly, giving Greyson a probably-unconvincing smile as he passed him, but Nyla had asked that the others not know, so Galo wasn’t going to say anything. When he returned, he helped her sit up and handed her the medicine and the cup. The cool water seemed to help. 

Galo knelt by the bedside, elbows and forearms laid out in front of him on the mattress and his chin on the sheets. He stared worriedly at Nyla’s face, and wasn’t even thinking when he reached out and stroked a hand over her hair.

Realizing halfway through what he’d done, he snatched his hand back with a quietly hissed, “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch your head.”

“T--” Nyla swallowed, “Touch is fine, Master. Just, no… patting, or, percussion. Touch feels, good sir.”

“Yeah?” Galo whispered, no more than a breath. “Would you like me to stay with you?” he asked quietly, stroking a gentle palm down from the back of her head to mid-spine. 

“...Yes,” she admitted tremulously. “But--they last a while, Master.”

“Shhh,” Galo hushed, “I’ll stay. The others are busy and they’ll be fine, just focus on you for a little while, shh.”

Galo pet gently at Nyla’s hair, her shoulders, her back, needing to reposition a couple different times as certain parts of his body got tired or sore or lost blood flow. By the end of the first hour, Galo’s anxious concern had burned itself out, and the mild worry that remained was going to bat pretty hard with his boredom. By the end of the second hour, he’d fallen into a light doze and had been there for a while, his hand covering Nyla’s much smaller one, his thumb stroking very, very slowly over the skin on the back of her hand. He was fully asleep by hour three, Nyla’s fingers curled around his tighter than she’d ever dared before, so what a shame that he was asleep for it.

His impromptu nap came to an abrupt end when Nyla shifted, eyes flicking open but otherwise staying exactly where he was. Oh his neck was gonna have a SERIOUS crick in it.

“Nyla?” he asked softly, “Do you need anything?”

She shook her head slowly, and he perked up to see her voluntarily moving it. “It’s mostly gone now, Master.” She sat up very, very slowly, rubbing at her neck, and Galo mirrored her from his spot on the floor. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Galo said, still speaking quietly, “Is it like, a fade-out kind of thing?”

“Yes sir,” she said, slowly stretching out her legs and wincing a little.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore, sir. And hungry, and--exhausted.”

She sounded tired. Galo was pretty sure he’d never heard her sound quite this tired. Carefully, watching her face for any sign of a negative reaction, he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I’ll get you something to eat, yeah?” he offered softly. “You can stay here and rest.”

Nyla shook her head again. 

“I can get up, sir. I don’t want to trouble you and the others will have noticed our absence and I need to walk out the stiffness and eating here would get crumbs in the bed, Master.”

Well, Galo could only really argue with one of those, but doubted Nyla would buy that she wasn’t causing him any trouble anyway. He stood, his own body protesting the movement, and stretched his arms up high above his head.

“Thank you.”

Galo glanced down, letting his arms drop, and smiled kindly when Nyla didn’t continue.

“Of course, Nyla, I’m here for you if you ever need me.” Then, because Galo was allergic to Emotional Moments, “Sooo, are we telling your friends we got abducted by aliens for the last,” he glanced at the time, “three and a half hours, or?”

Nyla giggled weakly, which, ten points to Gryffindor!

“I don’t mind them knowing, sir. It’s just when I have the migraine that I…”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Galo said. Not wanting to be seen while vulnerable.

So what does that mean that she let me? he thought with a flip in his stomach, but pushed the thought from his head.

Sasha seemed anxious when they entered the kitchen, but interestingly enough that anxiety did not seem to spike when she caught sight of Galo. Though that might have been because she simultaneously caught sight of Nyla, who was, as near as Galo could tell, Sasha’s main comfort in life. Best friend? Were they best friends? They might be best friends.

Galo wished he knew more about the lives of the people he Literally Lived With. 

“Migraine,” Nyla said with a tight smile, by way of explanation, “Master Galo helped me.”

That did successfully key Sasha up, and Galo smiled, lips pressed thin. He should leave. His presence was an intrusion and would only make them feel like they couldn’t talk freely. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then?” Galo offered, moving away from Nyla and sliding his hands into his pockets. Open. Nonthreatening. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

“You don’t have to, Master.” Or maybe he didn’t. “I’m sure you’re hungry too, sir.”

Nyla sounded uncharacteristically nervous, but that also made sense. She was vulnerable, at the moment, fresh off a migraine and not at her absolute best.

So why was she asking him to stay, then? He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Yeah?” he asked, searching her face and then Sasha’s, who seemed more shocked than anything. “Okay, cool. We can eat together.”

It was stiff. 

Which, yeah, expected. Nyla apparently got peanut butter cravings post-migraine, which, huh! Who knew people got cravings after demon headaches, not Galo!

Sasha did not like that Galo was there. Galo did not fault her for that one bit. Nyla was coming down off a migraine and Galo was preventing Sasha from fussing over her, and Sasha really only seemed to know what to do about him in the mornings because they’d had their nice routine and Galo really didn’t hang out in the kitchen beyond that. He should, like, dedicate some time to Sasha. Lock himself in the bathroom and let her sniff him through the door, he thought with a private chuckle to himself.

He now understood why Lilah had asked for extra kitchen stools, since there was quite literally only the one. Galo had the closest thing to an argument that he’d had, with Nyla, firmly insisting that she be the one to seat herself, then awkwardly stooped over the counter with all his bulk and height.

“Ahaha,” Galo ‘laughed’ self-consciously with a rub to the back of his head. Maybe he should’a sat after all. “Sorry, don’t mean to loom imposingly. Really, I can just… head out.”

Sasha looked away, lips thin, but Nyla’s eyes remained on him. 

“You, are not all that imposing. Sir.”

Galo blinked, and was peripherally aware that Sasha was now also looking at Nyla like she’d spouted a second head. Nyla was flushed, and staring at Galo’s shoulder rather than his face, but swallowed and continued.

“When you first arrived, the size of you was frightening, sir,” she said, her voice quiet but Galo was far too enraptured to have missed even a single word. “But you kept Barbara from stealing me, and rescued Evan, and yesterday you gave Greyson both comfort and lenience.”

Nyla reached out her hand and placed it, very delicately, on top of Galo’s on the counter, Galo’s eyes tracking the movement in a fashion that might be described as gobsmacked.

“You have always been kind to us, Master. Stay.”

“Oh,” he said, as something important clicked in place.

[winchest09]

Pay Attention

Title: Pay Attention

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x  Student!reader

Word Count: 3299

Summary: Y/N had fantasied about Professor Winchester for as long as she can remember being in his class. When a virus strikes and she is forced to learn from home, Dean Winchester learns the reason of why she’s behind on her coursework. 

Rating: 18 +

Warnings: Smut. Virtual smut. Fingering, male masturbation, female masturbation, swearing, dirty talk (ish), virtual stripping. 

A/N: So! This stemmed from a little chat I had with a few friends today (mainly @anathewierdo​ )and thus, this oneshot was born! Or more like i was told to write it ;) ahaha. I hope you enjoy it my darlings! 

A/N 2: Thank you to my darling beta, my worldie @katehuntington​ for her constant support and for her words. Love you dearly.

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

——————————————

Tapping her pencil against the notebook on her desk, Y/N looked at the time on her phone, and sighed. The day was dragging; as were her lectures and she was counting every passing second until she could close the laptop lid and call it a day. Ever since the virus outbreak and the country had been placed on lockdown, her university had told her to study from home and that they would offer online classes for the remaining of the current semester. While this was fine, being at home and surrounded by your own comforts, it was also highly distracting. Today, Y/N had been bitten by the procrastination bug. The only thing keeping her going, would be the one on one she had scheduled with Professor Winchester in a few minutes time. 

The mere thought of her teacher made Y/N suck in a quick sharp breath. He was the highlight of her degree; seeing him in his crisp white shirt with the arms rolled up above the elbow, the tight trousers that allowed her to see the perfect curvature of his behind and the few day old stubble that adorned his freckled face. He had been the subject of many night time fantasies and he’d also been the reason she’d forgotten to take notes in a few of his classes, leading her to be behind on her coursework. Y/N had scolded herself a few times for acting like a teenager, fantasizing about her teacher while in class. She wasn’t old by any means but she was closer to Professor Winchester’s age than the rest of the pupils she shared lessons with. She would spend the hour listening to his words that sounded like honey when they passed his lips, her mind going into overdrive when she would think at how her name would sound when he moaned it. 

So here she was, alone in her study, waiting for an inevitable call on Zoom from Professor Winchester. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t spent a little longer than normal on her make-up or that she’d not picked out the bra that had pushed her breasts into a wonderful cleavage. She’d done both of those things and more, her top was a shirt that was buttoned down to give an ample yet modest view of her chest and her hair had been curled just slightly to give the illusion of a natural beach wave. 

She reached for her glass on her desk, her throat suddenly becoming dry at the very thought of him being on her screen in a moment’s time. Sipping on her water, the sound of a newly received email nearly made her choke, her stomach flipping as her fingers glided across the laptops track pad and hovered over the “join meeting” link Professor Winchester had just sent her. Here we go. 

Taking a deep breath, she tentatively waited for her laptop to connect and before she could let the air escape her lungs, there he was on her screen. From what Y/N could make out, he was sitting at his desk, a loose shirt adorning his torso with his forearms on show, the top few buttons undone to give her a peak at his chest. She followed his hand as it made its way to his head and that’s when she noticed that his hair was a little longer than usual thanks to the lockdown, but it didn’t look out of place. In fact, she squirmed a little in her seat as he ran his fingers through it, discreetly biting the corner of her lip as she wished so desperately it could be her doing that motion instead. She also noticed that he had stubble, the trademark of his look and the thing she had imagined burning her thighs more than a few times. It was then that he chose to look up at the camera, his lips broadening into a wide smile to show off his dazzling grin as his candy apple eyes beamed towards her. 

“Afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, his tongue pulling in his bottom lip. “How are you?” 

“G-good,” she stammered, clearing her throat quickly to repeat herself before he could question her stammer. “Good, Professor Winchester, thank you.”

“How many times, Y/N, call me Dean,” he reminded her, his voice soft as he twiddled a pen between his fingers. “Professor makes me sound old,” he chuckled, his smile warm as he continued to look her way. 

“Sorry,” she quickly apologised, her cheeks warming; she just hoped they weren’t reddening. “How are you, Dean?” she returned the pleasantry, her own lips forming into a natural smile. 

“Other than missing being in class teaching you, I’m well.” He shuffled his papers on his desk and Y/N had to calm herself; she knew he meant you as a collective term but she couldn’t help but let her imagination run wild with the possibility he meant just her. “Let’s get down to it shall we?” 

“Of course,” she agreed, shuffling slightly in her chair as she straightened her back, her fingers gliding over her notebook in front of her. 

She watched his movements and she couldn’t help but get distracted by the way his shirt was moving over his skin, his shoulders broad against the back of his chair, the material tight around his biceps as he reached for her file. God, he was a dream. He hunched forward slightly, his thumb running slowly over the cap of his pen as he read the document in front of him. Y/N couldn’t help but follow the movements of his hand, her mind thinking of what else he could be holding.  

“I’ve noticed you’ve caught up with some coursework, which I'm happy about considering the circumstances. Most of my students have done less at home given the situation.” His deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she chastised herself once again for not paying attention to the situation. “It makes me ask the question, though, is there anything that I’m doing that’s hindering your learning experience? I’m curious as to why you’re working better at home than you are in my class. Is there anything I could do differently to help you?” 

Be naked? Y/N clenched her eyes closed quickly, clearing her throat and slightly shaking the explicit thought from her head as she tried to focus on Dean’s question. 

“Erm, no. Less distractions I guess,” she answered quickly, letting out a small breath as she tucked some stray hair behind her ear. 

“Distractions?” He questioned, a small crease furrowed in his brown as he leant back against his leather backed chair. “Is there someone affecting you in class?”

In that moment, she had to hold back her reaction, her eyes wanting to go wide as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She’d slipped up, not realising that the words she said would have Dean so concerned. 

“Oh, n-no. I mean--” she stammered, her hand quickly reaching for her glass of water once more. 

Dean interrupted. “-Because you’re one of my best students, Y/N. I’d hate for you to fail on this,” he told her, honestly, placing his pen down on the desk in front of him. 

“I won’t,” she quickly interjected, offering him a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She gauged his reaction, his lips pursing together slightly as he gently nodded.

“Ok.” 

It was then she let out a small sigh of relief, she was grateful that he hadn’t delved deeper into the issue and she listened to him as he began to tell her about the next project that was coming up. Once again, she knew she should be taking notes, she knew she should be nodding along and showing that she was involved with the conversation but instead, her mind couldn’t get past the explicit thoughts that she’d already cooked up earlier that day. 

Y/N leaned her head on her hand and started to imagine him standing up and pulling on his belt, popping the button on his jeans before reaching into his boxer briefs and revealing his hard, large, dick to her. He’d have one palm flat against the desk, the other on himself as he got off to the sight of his student. It took all she had to not let out a whimper so instead, she bit down hard on her thumb to suppress any noises she wanted to make. 

“Y/N?” His gruff voice cut through her thoughts which made her shoot up in her seat. 

“S-sorry,” she stammered, holding her hand to her forehead as she felt her cheeks heat from embarrassment; she’d been caught red handed. 

“Did you hear anything I just said?” he asked her, his eyebrows raised. 

“Yes,” she swallowed, her voice sounding higher than normal. It was then she noticed how he narrowed his eyes slightly, his jaw clenching as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

“Ok, then repeat it back to me,” he asked, matter of factly as he crossed his arms across his broad chest. 

“I-I,” she started, her words stammering as she desperately tried to remember what Dean had been telling her. “You were talking about…” Her words trailed off as she failed to push the elicit thoughts from her mind. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling ashamed and disappointed in herself, embarrassment flooding her being. 

“I see what’s going on here,” he stated, leaning forward as he placed his arms on the desk in front of him. 

“Y-you do?” Fuck, he’d noticed, he’d caught her out. What was she playing at? She didn’t know what to say or how to even explain what was going on or how she could get out of this one. 

“You’re being a very naughty girl, Y/N.” He smirked, his hand rubbing at his stubbled chin, “not paying attention when i’m talking.” Her breath got stuck in her throat, her mind questioning over what she’d heard and if she had heard it correctly or if she was still daydreaming.

“What?” She squeaked. 

“Do I need to teach you a different lesson?” he questioned, his voice harder than usual as he pushed himself back in his chair, “Because I feel like we need to take a different approach on how to keep your attention on me. If you want too of course.” 

“Of course,” she rasped, her thighs pushing together at the tone of his voice. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she noticed that he was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, the material falling to the side of him as he revealed his toned chest. “W-what are you doing?” She couldn’t understand what was happening, her mind unable to comprehend that Dean Winchester was stripping for her on camera. 

“Teaching you a lesson as to why you should pay attention to me,” came his reply, ridding himself of his shirt entirely and dropping it to the floor next to him. 

“Fuck,” she whimpered, her eyes raking in everything he had to offer. He was more tanned than she remembered, noting that he must have been in the backyard at some point during this lockdown. The thought of him, topless and sweating made her roll her lips over her teeth; he’d never wanted a man more.  

“Care to do the same?” His question caught her off guard, but she complied; daydream or not she wanted this to happen. With shaking hands, she brought them up to the buttons on her shirt, one by one she popped them open, slowly revealing her chest to him. Y/N heard him suck in a breath, one eyebrow raised as he watched her. He scooted himself back on his chair, allowing her the full view of him and she couldn’t help but admire the sight. She watched as his hands moved down his bare stomach, his fingers beginning to fumble at his belt.

“You’ve been in my class for a few months now, and fuck, I think about you every single night after I’ve seen you.” Her eyes were glued on his movements, her breathing heavy as he pulled on the leather, unbuckling it before pulling it out through the loopholes. “I would like this lesson to be more hands on but given the circumstances, It’ll have to be a demonstration instead.” With that, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled apart the zip, widening the material to allow him to reach into his briefs.

“Dean…” she whispered, her words coming out like a breathy moan as she continued to watch. 

“Move back from the screen, Y/N, let me see all of you,” he demanded, pulling out his hard length, his voice low and gravelled as he began to pump himself. 

Y/N did as she was told, pushing herself back slowly and allowing the wheels on her chair to distance herself from the desk. She then stood, pulling her shirt from her shoulders and watched Dean for his reaction. Y/N couldn’t help but whimper when she saw how hard he was, at how he was pleasuring himself at the sight of her. It was everything she had ever dreamed and fantasized about. Feeling that sudden surge of confidence, wanting to make the most of this moment, she reached for the zipper on her skirt and pushed it down, allowing the material to pool at her feet. She stood there, in just her underwear, eagerly awaiting his approval. 

“God fucking damn, Y/N,” he growled, the sound of his hand pumping himself bleeding through her speakers. 

It was then she bit her lips once more, reaching around to unclasp her bra. She pulled the straps slowly down her arms, a teasing motion to rile up her professor all the more. She held onto the cups, wanting her breasts to be the last thing she revealed to him and when she did, he audibly sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands came to touch her chest, her fingers pinching at her own nipples as she continued to watch him, wanting to relieve herself of some of the sexual tension Dean had instilled in her. 

“Take those panties off too, sweetheart,” he ordered, a deep moan rumbling through his chest as he watched how Y/N obeyed him. Her slender fingers hooking in the waistband of her lace underwear before she slowly shimmied them down her legs. “Now sit back down, open those legs and show me what I’ve been thinking of.”

Y/N was quick to do as she was told. The power in his voice, the way it affected her; she’d do anything he asked. She sat herself back in her office chair but she was unsure of how to look sexy on an item of furniture that moves. He wanted to see all of her and she was wet just thinking about it. So, she scooted closer to her desk and raised her feet, placing her soles on the edge of the wooden desk before opening her legs as far as she could; giving him the perfect view. 

“Now that’s a sight,” he growled, his pace quickening and Y/N moaned in response, his praise offering her a fresh wave of arousal. “I’d love to be nipping at those thighs, my tongue on your clit.” His words were laced with jagged breaths, his chest heaving as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. 

“Touch yourself, Y/N,” he instructed, her fingers automatically going to her sensitive nub at his words. “Show me what you’d want me to do to you.”

Where would she even begin? Y/N had thought about this moment many times, she’d thought about all the tropes you’d hear when you’ve got feelings for your professor; having to stay behind after class, being called to his office, but this situation had never crossed her mind. She had wanted him since she had laid eyes on him, she wanted him to ruin her in the best possible way and now she has a chance to virtually allow him to do that. 

She ghosted her hand over her mound, imagining that it was Dean’s large, freckled hand instead of hers. Arching her back, she slid between her folds, her fingers stroking her sensitive nub and her body jerked at the sensation. It had been too long since she’d had any kind of release and she was already desperate for more. She allowed her delicate digits to travel lower, dipping inside of her causing her to gasp. 

“That’s it, baby,” Dean moaned, his panting spurring her on to do more. 

Y/N worked herself hard, chasing her delirium as she listened to the sound of Dean’s groans that were echoing around her room from her speakers. She let out a shaky breath as she brought her free hand to touch her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers as she imagined that it was her professor's hand instead. She found it exhilarating the fact that he was near enough eye level with her core and she knew he wouldn’t be long until she found herself on the edge of ecstasy. 

She opened her eyes, peering at her laptop screen where she saw Dean, his hand fisting his length as he pumped to the sight of her, his breathing ragged, his tongue peeking over his delightful pink lips. The mere sight of him like that was enough to spur Y/N’s orgasm on, her toes begging to curl around the desk as that all too familiar feeling built inside of her. She continued her pursuit of pleasure, closing her eyes once more as she threw her head back against the chair. 

“D-Dean,” she moaned, her chest rising and falling as her end came near. 

She was close, her feet pressed hard against the desk causing her chair to move slightly as her fingers worked overtime. Her skin was flushed, her legs were beginning to shake and all she could hear was the sound of Dean’s guttural moans as he watched her. She had never felt more sexy in her life. 

“I’m-i’m,” she stammered, a strong bolt of pleasure silencing her as she came. Her mouth opened in a silent ‘o’ as her legs shook widely. “Oh my god,” she moaned, finding it hard to catch her breath as she dared to look at the screen. 

“Fuck, Y/N!” Dean growled, his dick twitching as he too came all over his hand and stomach. She watched as he pumped his orgasm from himself, transfixed at the sight of his face. His lips were a little more pink, his cheeks were flushed and there was a light sheen of sweat adorning his chest. She just wished she could be there to experience it in person. After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he picked up his shirt from the floor to clean up as he looked up at the screen, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Now that, is what I call a lesson,” he cheekily remarked and Y/N felt heat flare in her cheeks once more. 

“I agree,” she panted, suddenly feeling self conscious as she moved her shaking legs to place her feet flat to the floor, covering her torso with her arms as she bashfully looked at the screen. She caught the look on his face and felt her stomach flutter at the way his eyes glistened at her, his smile warm and adoring. 

“I feel like we need to work on this distraction technique, sweetheart,” he commented, adding a small wink as Y/N smiled wildy.  “Same time tomorrow?” Dean asked her, a hopeful look on his face as he awaited her answer. There wasn’t any question, she’d be wherever he wanted her to be in a heartbeat. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

——————————————

A/N: I hope you’ve enjoyed this little oneshot! Please let me know your thoughts by comment, reblog or just HERE! :) They mean the world!

Also - my tag lists are open. Just let me know if you want to be added!

Thanks for reading! xox

Forever Babes:

@squirrel-moose-winchester​ / @snffbeebee​ / @cappsikle​ / @couldabeenamermaid​ / @spaghettiwoes​ / @lynne1993​ / @maddiepants​ / @alwaysdreamingforthebest​ / @31shadesofbrown​ / @mrswhozeewhatsis​ /  @thefaithfulwriter​ / @spnbaby-67​ / @not-quite-dead​ / @blackcherrywhiskey​ / @helpmeluci​ / @myownsnowflake​ / @hobby27​ / @big-sad-energy​ / @coffee-obsessed-writer​ / @spnhollis​ / @zoerayne2426​/ @ariasnyder​ / @phantom-soilder​ / @amandamdiehl​ / @geeksareunique​ / @keymology​ / @markofdean79​ / @flamencodiva​ / @jesseswartzwelder​ / @stoneyggirl​ / @cpag7​ / @heavensangel45135​ / @dapresidentsshoelaces​ / @donnaintx​ / @deanwinchesterficsx​ / @tranquility-or-chaos​ / @katehuntington​ / @miraclesoflove​ / @s-ravenall​ / @pisces-cutie​ / @chocolateheart​ / @deanwanddamons​ / @jayesdream​ / @idksupernatural​ / @talesmaniac89​ / @superfanficnatural​ / @parinarain​/ @daughterofthenight117​ /  / @emoryhemsworth​ / @waywardbeanie​ / @whatareyousearchingfordean​

Dean Queens:  @x-waywardaf-x​ / @adoptdontshoppets​ / @roonyxx​ / @akshi8278​ / @squirrelnotsam​ / @ellewritesfix05​ / @mellilla-rose / @hardcoresupernatural​

[aro-of-artemis]

Will They Won't They

number two! this one is inspired by Jeremy Shada’s banger by the same name. it can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626231 Julie and Luke have been dancing around each other but will they finally admit their feelings?

AKA 3 times they won't and 1 time they will. ----

(1)

The California-bright sun hangs high in the sky, casting its brilliant rays on the milling group of teenagers below. If one were to look at these teenagers - four in all - they would notice nothing amiss, each one leaving hazy shadows on the boardwalk. Their bodies seem to be moved about by the sea breeze, constantly colliding in joyful embraces with one another as they sing snatches of songs to one another.

Julie drops back from the boys a little bit, watching with a soft, almost painfully fond smile on her face. She closes her eyes a moment, lifting her face to catch the warmth of the sun.

"Hey, Julie." Luke had fallen back too, noticing her pause. The other two continue on, Reggie spinning Alex in a little twirl beneath his raised arm and Alex reciprocating with a broad grin. "You all good?"

When Julie opens her eyes, she is met with a small curling smile.

"Yeah, Luke. I'm good," she says, her smile growing toothy. "Just … appreciating my environment." She wouldn't of course mention that Luke was a key part of that environment that she was appreciating but the slightly mischievous look on Luke's face told her that he had an inkling.

"Good," Luke says, tucking his hands into his pockets and scuffing his shoes on the ground as he begins to slowly walk again. Julie joins him, matching his strides.

They walk together quietly, smiling and laughing at the other boys' antics up ahead. Julie's chest feels so incredibly warm, buoyed by contentment, making her feel as though she is merely floating. As they walk, Julie gently bumps her shoulder into Luke's and he reciprocates, causing his hands to drop from his pockets and start swinging gently by his side. Julie can feel his fingers next to hers, like an electric current. His presence next to her is so warm. Like the hearth of a fire. Comforting and homey but brimming with energy so close to being set loose.

She feels their fingers brush. Once, twice, three times. Until their pinkie fingers hook together. She feels as though the whole world is contained within that one point of contact. The Big Bang and the inevitable heat death of the universe pinned in one spot.

Neither of them look at each other or otherwise acknowledge their linked hands swinging between them but Julie can't help the broad grin forcefully tugging on the corners of her mouth.

After a while - Julie's not sure she could pinpoint the amount of time passed with any kind of accuracy - she tangles the rest of their fingers together, brushing her thumb along the back of his hand. She hears him take a sharp breath in and her own heart stutters in her chest. She can now feel the soft contours of his palm, the hard-won calluses on his fingertips now rubbing gently across her knuckles. She is filled by a sudden wish to study his hands as if they are precious artefacts detailing each moment of his life. However, that line of thinking is promptly cut off.

In their exuberance, Alex and Reggie had gotten quite far ahead. They double back, re-joining Julie and Luke, unknowingly interrupting something that felt indescribably intimate. Julie couldn't be mad at them though.

They had yet to stop singing - currently doing their best rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody possible with two voices. When Alex tugs on her free hand to pull her into some vague, chest-clutching choreography to emphasise his very serious position as just a poor boy, nobody loves me, she sings back in her best operatics, he's just a poor boy from a poor family. Reggie chimes in to add that they should spare him his life from this monstrosity.

They all dissolve into delirious giggles, hanging off one another. But Julie's hand still burns with all the energy of the Big Bang and all the potential contained within.

(2)

Julie's fingers flit along the keys of the music room piano, plucking out the notes to a song. The song, really. The one she had dreamt up in dance class. The one that wouldn't leave her head or her heart. She begins to hum along, adding lyrics as her voice rises in intensity.

By the last chorus, she is belting with the force of all the pent-up emotions pushing their corners into her ribcage. She pulls back, softening for the final lines, ending on a breathy reiteration of the words perfect harmony.

Julie lurches to her feet, whirling around when the ringing quiet is interrupted by a voice. Luke's voice.

"That was beautiful, Julie." He says her name in that way of his, softening the j, tongue curling around the l as if it's a precious thing. He's leaning against the door frame, hands bracketing his own biceps looking at her with an impossibly tender smile. Julie can feel her face heating up, her eyes widening to comic proportions.

"Luke!" she chokes out past the invisible hand that seems to be strangling her. "What are you doing here?"

Luke shrugs his shoulders, dropping his hands to his pockets and meandering towards her.

"Ah, y'know," he glances at her a little sheepishly, "Got a little bored at home." Julie feels her chest warm a couple degrees at him calling her home his home but she pushes that down, raising her eyebrow slightly instead and folding her arms.

"Is that so?" she challenges. "And what kind of entertainment do you think I could provide you?”

Luke shrugs again. He's still shuffling his feet. This boy can never stay still.

A moment of silence stretches long between them until Luke clears his throat, scratching the back of his head.

"So, what was that song you were working on?"

"Oh!" Julie feels her eyes widen again and her face feels like a hot stove, "That? Pfft nothing. It's nothing. Just- ah - just a song. Don't worry about it."

Luke quirks the corner of his mouth and looks up at her through his lashes, seeing through her terrible cover-up. "Can you play it for me again? Maybe we can work on it together."

Julie feels her mouth drop open as she desperately tries to formulate a response that gets her out of baring her soul to her crush and his boy band hair and his pink lips and those expressive fucking eyebrows that she wants to kiss just to see how they would move and she-

"It's okay if you don't wanna," Luke says, looking a little dejected but clearly sees her distress.

"No - well - I - fuck - I -," Julie forces herself to stop. Take a breath.

Luke laughed at her, loud and bright. "Julie Molina! Did you just cuss?"

Julie scowls at him, the slight irritation of being made fun of by Luke allowing her to catch her breath. "Yes," she said tersely. "I cuss!"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, still chuckling, hands up in a mock defensive gesture, "It's just that I've never heard you swear before."

Julie huffs. "I contain multitudes." She sits back down at the piano, straight-backed. But then she softens. Looking back at him, she pats next to herself on the piano stool in tacit invitation. "Do you wanna hear it or not?"

Luke scrambles over to her, settling his incandescent warmth next to her. She can feel energy radiating off his skin, causing her heart to flutter into her windpipe. Julie clears her throat, pushing it back to its rightful position, takes a deep breath and starts playing.

As she plays, she can feel each spot where their bodies touch. (The front of his leg to the back of her calf, his shoulder brushing against hers as she breaths in and out, their hips where they meet on the piano stool). She can feel as Luke leans progressively closer and closer until there's barely any breathing room between them. She feels the vibration of his chest as he begins to join in singing the lyrics. The press of his chest to her shoulder blade. The wild beating of his heart.

When the song draws to an end once more, she only needs to turn her head just slightly to be breathing the same air as him. She looks quickly between his shining eyes and his lips that are hanging open as if he'd forgotten to close them. When she glances back into his eyes, she notices him having a similar struggle. The air feels thick between them, the weight of the unsaid and the sung hanging like a veil over their heads, wrapping them within their own private world.

And then the sharp trill of the period bell rings, jolting them apart, flustered and uncertain.

"I - I've got to get to class."

"I better get back to the boys."

They say these things at the same time, both feeling the disappointment of their broken moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Luke says, eyes still catching on hers like they can't bear to look anywhere else. "I'll, um, see you at home." And with that he poofs out.

(3)

The end of the movie playing on Julie's laptop gives way to the scroll of credits, softly illuminating the pile of tangled limbs on the pull-out couch. Reggie's head lays cushioned on the softness of Alex's stomach, rising and falling with each breath. Julie's legs are tangled with Reggie's, her head on Luke's chest, forming a V between Luke and Alex.

Alex and Reggie are snoring softly as the credit music quietens. Julie can feel the gentle breeze of Luke's breath shifting her curls ever so slightly. She twists slightly to look at him, careful not to disturb Reggie's legs. When she looks up at him, she is startled to find his warm eyes fixed on her face, brimming with something she couldn't put a name to.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" she asks softly.

Luke huffs out a somewhat rueful chuckle, as if sharing a private joke with himself. "Yeah, it was good." (If one were to ask Luke, he’d say he could barely remember the movie. He’d been distracted).

Julie gives him a bemused look but doesn't push. She can feel him playing with the ends of her hair, tugging on the curls and watching with fascination as they spring back. The slight tugging sensation causes a shiver to reach cool fingers down the whole length of her spine. And Luke clearly notices because his (soft, pink) mouth pulls into a mischievous grin. God, she is so gone on this boy.

"You cold?" he asks, clearly knowing the answer but unable to prevent himself from teasing her.

Julie bumps his chest lightly with the flat of her hand, intending to scold him but instead finding she doesn't want to move it from where it landed. She sucks in a sharp breath when she looks up into his eyes, feeling her pounding heartbeat in the tips of her ears, the pads of her fingers, the flesh of her lips.

She still scowls at him slightly, even as her hand traces along the slight dip and rise of his chest, warm through the thin fabric of his irritatingly (amazingly, fantastically) sleeveless shirt. "Shut up," she finally says, unable to come up with an adequate response.

Luke scoffs a little but the curl of his lip is affectionate. He jerks his chin slightly at the other boys. "I guess it's time for bed."

"I guess so," Julie returns, nestling in closer to the softness of his chest instead of getting up and taking herself to her room. She couldn't imagine being anywhere but here, encompassed by an overwhelming feeling of safety and warmth and love for her boys.

"G'night, Julie," Luke says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

"Night, Luke," Julie says, his name delicate and precious in her mouth.

And then. Then. He darts forward (a mere few inches) to place on peck on the end of her nose.

Julie's mouth doesn’t have to go very far to tug into a broad grin, eyebrows pulling together slightly as she looks up at Luke's reddening face. She replaces her head on his chest, right over his heart, feeling how it races against her cheek. She feels his muscles relax slightly as she does so and his hand returns to playing gently with her hair. She falls to sleep with a smile on her face.

(+1)

Luke can't sleep. It's not unusual, exactly. He's often plagued by memories or filled up with ideas, making him feel as though he'll jitter right out of his skin if he doesn't keep moving in one way or another. He prefers the latter, obviously, even if Reggie and Alex make fun of him for practically vibrating when he sings sometimes. He just can't help it.

At the moment, he is filled to the brim with snatches of songs, some his and some not. Carlos had been showing him some of those TikToks the young boy was so fond of. There was one particular song that had gotten stuck in his head, causing him to borrow Carlos' laptop to listen to the full thing.

"Oh, she's a she's a lady and I am just a boy," he mumbles under his breath as he wanders (twirls) around the kitchen looking for a snack (he can do that now, much to his delight). "She's a she's a lady and I am just a line without a - oh baby I am a wreck when I'm without you-"

He cuts himself off abruptly as he catches sight of Julie out of the corner of his eye, mid-twirl between the fridge and the pantry.

She stands in the doorway, amused expression set over folded arms. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she is swamped in a warm-looking jumper that Luke is 95% sure belongs to Alex.

"Julie!" he says, mouth hanging open.

"Luke!" she responds teasingly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you - I'll keep it down."

Julie shakes her head and moves towards him. "No, it's fine. I couldn't sleep. I came down to get a drink but -" she gestures vaguely at the space in which Luke had been dancing.

"Oh," Luke breathes, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah," Julie says and there's a long moment of silence that feels anything but empty as they look at one another.

Julie finally breaks it. "I like that song you were singing. Line Without a Hook, right? It's a good song."

Luke smiles at her, bright eyed. "Yeah? You know it?"

Julie nods and starts singing the chorus. "Oh, baby I am a wreck when I'm without you."

Luke joins in, "I need you here to stay, I broke all of my bones that day I found you."

He grabs her hand and pulls her into a little dance as they sing, moving with the rhythm of the song.

When they reach the bridge, they stop moving, standing chest to chest in the middle of the kitchen. Julie voice halts in her throat as she stares up into Luke's hazel blue eyes.

He sings softly once again, his voice mostly breath, "She's a she's a lady and I am just a boy, She's a she's a lady and I am just a line without a -"

He trails off, sucked into the burbling warmth of her eyes, right hand coming up to trace the gentle curve of her cheekbone, her jaw. His thumb brushes along the tail of her eyebrow, fingers curling behind her ear. He can feel both their chests heaving, not with exertion but with some unnameable something. He feels as though if he were to speak right now, everything building up inside him would come tumbling violently out. He shouldn't, he can't, he won't --

She will. She does. She presses her lips to his, her lips soft and slightly chapped, stealing every bit of breath from his lungs. He presses back, his left hand coming up to cup the other side of her face, impossibly gentle. Her hands rise to bracket the back of his neck, fingers digging into the gentle waves at the nape of his neck.

He feels euphoric. Every part of skin is alive and buzzing, trying to gather as much sensation as physically possible. Julie presses back harder, deepening the kiss for a moment and Luke feels a new thrill shoot through him.

When she pulls back to breathe, she rests her forehead against his, their panting breaths mingling between them. Luke can feel a smile curling at the edges of his mouth and Julie can't bear to look away from it.

"Hi," he says, his voice husky.

"Hi," she says, and it sounds like an entirely new word in her kiss-roughened voice. A word that belongs only to them.

Luke leans down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, still breathing heavily, causing goose bumps to raise on Julie's skin where it skates across.

"You're amazing." His words sound a whole lot like a confession. Julie's hands continue to comb through the short hair at that tickles the back of his neck.

"Luke," she says. He lifts his head to meet her intense gaze. "I --" she drops her eyes for a moment but looks up again, a fire seemingly lit behind them. "I love you."

He can't help the smile that splits his face in two, looking for all the world like the sun had taken residence upon his face.

"Julie," his tongue curling around each syllable, "I love you, too."

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (1)

This was meant to go up Friday but my new laptop turned up late, and from now on the schedule should be a Thursday/Friday.

Warnings: Swearing and brief mentions of violence. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

Prologue.

Full Masterlist.

—————

Aelin couldn’t help but grin from as she watched her family bicker amongst themselves. They were in the house they all used for small gatherings including family dinner and movie night or for when they were waiting for new recruits to arrive, such as now.  She was sat at the edge of the room in her window seat where she could see every exit and could have her eyes on every person in the room. Manon and Dorian were sparring in the middle of the room, neither one of them managing to keep the other down for very long before they were at each other’s throats once more.

Aedion and Lysandra were curled up on the loveseat together, the dark haired girl giggling at whatever her cousin had just whispered in her ear, which in turn made Aelin want to smile and gag at the same time. Elide was cleaning her gun as she sat on the floor between Ren’s legs as he braided the girls hair. And last but not least, Chaol was currently fussing over a pregnant Yrene who would bat his hands away and kept threatening to poison him if he didn’t stop.

The last group of muscle they had hired turned out to be undercovers that Aedion convinced her should be left alive, unfortunately, not to mention that they were absolutely fucking useless considering their backgrounds. This time around, Aelin allowed Elide to do the search because the girl was not only capable of killing a man twice her size in under a minute; she was also the biggest nerd and hacker amongst them. Her second in command had pulled through, and when she came to Aelin a few days ago to show her the files, she was told she could have whatever new knives she wanted for such an amazing find. The smaller girl had grinned that awful grin which even terrified Manon sometimes.

Everyone was on alert in a second at the sound of the doorbell and had moved into place by time it had stopped ringing through the house. Aelin was now seated behind her desk with her feet up and hands folded across her stomach.

Celaena Sardothien was present now.

The others were spread about the room, her cousin to her right and Elide to her left, while Lysandra went to greet the new recruits. It would have been Yrene once upon a time, but Celaena refused to let her when she told everyone about the baby. That was their one rule. You do not harm a child. And the gods fucking help you if you do.

Lys came back into the room and wiggled her brows at Celaena before moving to stand beside Ren at the back as five very tall, tanned and muscled men came through just behind her. The first to enter was the man she knew to be one Rowan Whitehorn, sporting an incredibly bored look, much like his second. Lorcan Salvaterre was right on his heels, followed closely by the rest of this little band of misfits. The twins, Fenrys and Connall, she remembered, were the only one with smiles on their faces. Mischievous was a correct description. Vaughan was quiet and looked quite shy on the outside, but she knew he was calculating and planning as he scanned the room and the people inside of it. The last to enter was Gavriel. She hadn’t noticed before, you can’t ever see things in photos, but as he stood before her now in the flesh, there was a familiarity about him that she couldn’t place exactly.

Celaena smirked, making an obvious show of looking them up and down as she spoke, “Gentlemen, welcome. It’s so lovely to finally meet you all.”

They all gave a short bow of their heads with a muttered “Miss Sardothien”.

Manon snorted at that and was promptly glared at when it didn’t go unnoticed by the men before her. The witch rolled her eyes and went back to looking at her nails as if she was entirely uninterested, yet she was the complete opposite.

“Please boys, ignore the formalities. You may call me Celaena,” each of them were clearly about to nod once more but she continued before they could, “if you can survive one little test.”

oOoOo

Rowan was now regretting this whole assignment. Sardothien was an entitled brat that clearly thought this whole thing was a god damned game. She was nineteen years old and had somehow inherited Rhoe Galathynius' empire. It would have made sense to go to Ashryver, being one of the only living relatives Rhoe had left. The whole thing was absurd if you asked him and he couldn’t wait until he and the Cadre had taken everything apart piece by piece.

He wouldn’t let her know how he felt so through gritted teeth he asked, “A test, Miss Sardothien?”

Celaena stood and walked around to the other side of her desk and leaned back against it, still smiling. Rowan didn’t think that he liked that smile which quite clearly said trouble was brewing.

“Yes Whitehorn, a test. Am I not allowed to test people who wish to work for me as I see fit?”

Fucking hell, if this carried on then the mission would be over faster than they expected because he had killed her. “Of course you are. I apologise if I made it sound otherwise.”

He received nothing other than a raised brow and quick once over.

Bitch.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted, if you pass this little test, you’re all hired. If not, well, you won’t be suited here.”

Holding back an eye roll at something as childish as a test, he conceded, “What test ma’am?”

“See how polite this one is Havilliard, why have you never called me ‘ma’am’?” she called out to one Dorian Havilliard, who Rowan knew to be Celaena’s mercy killer. He had the unfortunate job of killing one of their members if any of their injuries were too severe to treat. No matter what business they may be in, he felt for the man and hoped he’d never have to do such a thing for one of his own. He banished the thought when he heard Dorian scoff before her Royal Highness continued.

“If your second here can last at least five minutes in a sparring match against my own second, we have a deal.”

Lorcan, ever one to prove he was better than most, agreed before Rowan could say anything and that time he did roll his eyes.

“Done.” He sneered as he turned to the right of the woman to face Aedion and beckoned for him to come forward. Within seconds of that display the whole room began laughing and more importantly, Blackbeak full on cackled as she noticed their shocked faces. He realised why when a strong feminine voice full of mockery and laughter said;

“I’m over here sweetheart.”

He turned to see Elide Lochan in all her tiny glory, giving his second a smile that even sent shivers down his own spine. There wasn’t much about her in the file they had, just that she was an excellent techy and had disposed of her own Uncle after he tried to sell her off into some underground prostitution ring over in France. No wonder she was second in command when she was so inconspicuous. He should have guessed.

Rowan had barely any time to process the information before she moved faster than he could blink, landing a powerful left hook to Lorcan’s jaw which resulted in his ass meeting the floor.

oOoOo

Having a woman hand him his ass should not have turned Lorcan on, but by the gods it did.

She was a feisty little fireball and Lorcan hadn’t had such a tiring workout since that day six years ago when Whitehorn had nearly killed him and beat him black and blue. He had been an angry, hateful mess after the accident and no one could out last that icy rage for very long. So he had endured it full force until the silver haired had broken down in his arms.

Sardothien did indeed call time after what were a very long five minutes and the two of them were left panting and sweaty in the middle of the room, gazes locked. Lorcan wished it was a different activity that had left them that way.

Enough Salvaterre, you’re here to take them down. No fucking the enemy.

“I’m impressed. Nobody ever lasts even two against Elide, not even the Wolf over there.” The bitch queen jerked her thumb over her shoulder to where Ashryver was standing, who simply flipped her off. Many would have been killed by their bosses for such behaviour, but apparently everything worked differently here.

This was going to be difficult.

“Ren you shit stain, show them to their rooms. You’ll be on the first floor along with Manon, Dorian, Lys and Aedion. They’re very loud lovers so I hope you brought ear plugs with you.” She said it with a smile and wiggled her fingers in goodbye as they were ushered out of the room by a man with a scar on his face. Just before the door closed, Lorcan saw the swagger facade drop as Celaena fussed over her second, worry written on her face as she turned the dark haired woman’s face this way and that way.

Each individual room was pointed out to them by Ren as they passed, he didn’t look too happy to be given the job though. The twins were in the room closest to the stairs, next to them was Vaughan and Gavriel and then himself on his own followed by Rowan’s own closest to the next flight of stairs up. They stopped outside of Rowan’s room before they were allowed to disperse and were given a few ground rules as if they were dogs.

“Boss says you can use the ground floor as you wish; watch a movie, read a book or whatever. You are not to go up to the second floor with permission from Lochan or the Boss herself. Most of us have our own houses so we won’t all be here twenty for hours. The only permanent ones for now will be the Boss, Lochan, the Westfalls and myself. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads which was apparently deemed acceptable.

“Good. Take the day to get yourselves situated; we’re all having dinner at seven, if you can call it that. Don’t be late.”

He nodded before disappearing back down the stairs and Rowan addressed them now that they were alone.

“Get unpacked and sorted.  I want you mingling to your heart’s content tonight, the faster they trust us, the faster their empire falls. Understood?”

They each murmured a “Yes Sir” before walking back to their own respective rooms and Fenrys and Connall went to the stairs to go get their bags from the car. Just before he could turn the handle to his room, he stopped when Rowan spoke again, all seriousness and a stern look.

“Oh and Lorcan? Keep your fucking dick out of tiny, short tempered ladies please. I will not allow us to fail because your hormones led you astray.”

Vaughan chuckled under his breath while Gavriel just shook his head, the twins already out of hearing distance, thank fuck.

A woman had never messed with his morals before and he certainly wasn’t going to let such a thing happen this time.

Not now and not ever.

—————

I hope you like my baby Badass Elide and Horny Lorcan;) If you want to be added/removed from the tags just give me a shout!!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up

[emma-nation]

Unfinished Business - F! Sam Dalton x MC Fanfiction (Chapter 3)

Summary: When Sam Dalton is caught in a scandal, Anna Schuyler is the only one who can help her. But will her former nanny be able to leave the past behind?

“Samantha Dalton was like one of good dreams you don’t want to wake up from. You close your eyes, you force your brain to remember every minor detail, you begin to imagine what comes next… hoping to be in control. You want to fall asleep again. You want it to continue, but it’s too late now. You’re wide awake.”

Genre: Angst, Romance

Tag List: @save-me-the-last-dance, @nydeiri (If you wish to be tagged for future chapters/fics of this pairing, let me know)

Being back to that motel room brought a turmoil of feelings inside Anna's chest. Deep down, she knew the real reason why she was standing in the same room as Sam Dalton again. Yet, she felt the constant need of reminding it to her brain, and especially her heart.

"I'm doing this for Jack," she repeated mentally. "I must get the money to pay for his treatment."

"I'm glad you accepted my offer, Anna," Sam said. "But it's late now, you should probably get some rest. Tomorrow we can start to work."

"Right, I'll get a room."

She knew what Sam was about to offer, so she anticipated herself and left through the door, giving her no chance to speak. There was absolutely no possibility she'd spend the night in the same room as that woman. By the morning, she could grab Sam's gadgets and work by herself. They didn't have to speak, or even see each other. That was a professional deal and nothing more.

"My apologies, Ms. Schuyler," the receptionist spoke as she typed on her computer. "We're crowded."

"Uhhh... I... I only need a bed for a few hours," Anna handed her some extra cash. "Anything is fine."

Even the janitor's room would be better than sharing the bed with her ex lover. It was almost scientifically proven that any physical contact between them could not end well. Or it could end too well, considering how great she was in bed. Anna shook her head dismissing those thoughts.

"Ms. Schuyler, you don't understand. We don't have any rooms."

"Fine! I'll sleep right here."

She stomped to a small couch in the reception room, trying to curl her body enough to make herself a little bit comfortable. She closed her eyes for a minute, when a voice brought her back from her failed attempt of falling asleep.

"Really, Anna?" Sam sighed. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

"I don't want it, thank you," she quickly closed her eyes again. "I don't want to be so near to you in such a small space."

"You can take my room then. I'll... I'll stay up, walking around. I haven't been able to sleep since it all started anyways."

Anna opened her eyes again. Sam seemed to be exhausted. Her face gave it away. The scandal was truly affecting her. After dedicating her whole life to that company, she was about to lose everything. Including her children if she went to jail. And that was when their eyes met.

"I can't believe I'm here," she rolled her eyes on the bed. She was trying hard to not move, or make any sounds that indicated she was still awake. Sam kept her promise, she was sleeping on the floor, very far away from the bed. "Those damn puppy dog eyes. They make her seem so innocent!"

"Good night, Anna," what was it? Was she reading thoughts now?

"Good night, Sam," she rolled to the side, facing the wall until she fell asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, Sam was already awake. Outside the room she seemed to be busy on the phone with her lawyers. Anna took a shower and changed her clothes before she returned.

"Anna, good morning," Sam met her after some time. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"I didn't want to disturb your phone call," Anna told. "Any important news?"

"They've set the trials to start three weeks from now. We'll need to work fast. But I told them I may have found a manner to prove my innocence, they're optimistic."

"Okay then, let's get to work."

Anna turned on Sam's computer. Password protected. The first step to narrow the suspect's list was to discover how safe Sam's password could be. Anna tried a few guesses.

"What are you doing?" The CEO asked.

"Trying to guess your password," Anna answered. "Through this, we can find out how close to you our suspect can be."

"This is smart. Though I can't think of anyone who would be able to guess it."

"Not even Sofia?"

"No, she wouldn't know."

After lots of combinations, Anna threw her hands in the air. Without an expert cracking method, it was impossible. Sam approached, typing a combination of numbers and letters: 'M9S16N2M00CK7Y'.

"Hmmm it's long and safe," she asked curiously. "What is it by the way?"

"A mix of the boys' names and the date I met their mom," Sam told.

"Your first wife, huh? You never talk much about her, so I guess no one would find out so easily."

Sam's expression suddenly became distant and somber. Her current situation was probably making all those old feelings resurface.

"The truth is I still feel guilty for her death. We had a fight that day, she thought I was spending too much time at work. I realized she was right, I came home with a surprise and... I received the news of her accident."

"I'm sorry. This wasn't your fault, Sam. It was a tragedy."

Not wanting to get involved, Anna turned her attention back to the computer screen. She didn't know where to start searching first. She wasn't sure she wanted to have all the pictures, videos and evidence of the last two happy years Sam spent with Sofia thrown in her face all at once. She wasn't ready for this.

"Okay..." she took a deep breath. "Remember, you're here for the money."

As she started scanning the folders for any suspicious files or activity, she was surprised. Most of the pictures were of Mason and Mickey, a few of Sam's parents and only a couple where she was accompanied by her wife. Her marriage seemed boring and unhappy, different from what the tabloids would often paint.

"So, did you find anything?" Sam asked after a few minutes.

"Not yet. Whoever is doing this to you was smart enough to not leave any tracks or..."

"Or what?"

"They didn't hack you. They had direct access to your computer."

"Are you suggesting..."

"You should trust no one. Not even Sofia, or Robin."

Sam's cell phone was now their only hope to find proof. Anna plugged it on the laptop and using some advanced software, she started analyzing its activity. It didn't take long for her to come across some evidence.

"Crap!" She shouted.

"What's going on?" Sam want to know.

"Not only somebody has hacked your phone, Sam. But they've bugged you too."

"Damn, they listened to all my conversation with the lawyers. They know what I'm trying to do!"

"Well, on a brighter side you need to take this to the police as soon as possible. It'll be more than enough to prove you didn't send that email."

Anna collected her stuff, Sam did the same. Now all she had to do was wait for her paycheck and leave. Easy as that. But before, she was going to grab some breakfast. All the adrenaline of the last few hours had her starving.

"Uh, what are you doing?" She asked, noticing Sam had followed her to the motel's cafeteria. "Aren't you going home?"

"I haven't had breakfast yet and..." And. Followed by the puppy dog eyes. Anna knew there was something else. "I was hoping you could come with me to the police station."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I don't wanna get any more involved, I've already have a ton to deal with right now. "

"I understand. Can you at least take me back to New York? Carter is with the boys in my parents' house."

Anna sighed in frustration. Everytime she thought she'd free herself from any contact with Sam, something new would come up. Again, she needed money and the CEO had more than enough to pay extra for a rid back to New York. She agreed. All for Jack... and a little revenge too. Samantha Dalton would be literally paying for every tear she made her cry.

"What's going on?" As they walked back to the room, Sam attempted to break the awkward silence that was always present between them. "In your life, I mean. You said you're dealing with a lot right now."

"It's... personal," Anna didn't want to give her details about her stepfather's health. "Family issues."

"Is this why you accepted my offer, Anna? Are you having money issues?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, because I still ca-" Sam's sentence was cut short by the surprise of seeing the door was open. "Did I forget to lock it when we left?"

"No, I'm pretty sure you did," Anna said. "I remember seeing you lock it."

As they entered, the room had been completely trashed. All of their clothes and belongings were scattered on the floor.

"No..." Sam rushed inside, knowing exactly what could be missing. She started searching everywhere for her cell phone and laptop. "No... it can't be."

Anna decided to help her. There wasn't any signs of the devices until she opened the bathroom's door and found they had been destroyed in a million pieces. Sam stood by her side, her mouth opened in shock and her eyes full of tears.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Anna placed a hand on her shoulder. "Someone is really determined to destroy you."

"What am I going to do now?" The woman sat on the edge of the bed. It was the second time Anna was actually seeing her cry. The only thing that had affected Samantha so badly in the past was her accident in Italy, days before her wedding with Sofia.

"I don't know..." Anna walked to the window. As she contemplated the world outside, she noticed as a black car was watching them. Its windows were heavily tinted, but she could distinguish the figure of a man behind the wheel. As soon as he noticed her staring, he drove away. "Damn it, we're being followed."

Sam was fast enough to approach in time to see the car leaving.

"We're not safe here, Anna."

"Right, you should go to your parents' house with the boys. I'm coming back to my small hometown, where I know no one will even bother following me there."

"I can't risk putting their lives in danger," Sam said, placing her clothes back into the bags. "I'm coming with you."

"What?!" Anna tried to protest, she tried to think of reasonable excuse to voice and prevent that madness from happening. It was too late, paralyzed with shock, she was already back to her car with Samantha, headed to Rhode Island.

"I hate myself," she thought, glancing discreetly at the passenger's seat. "It can't get any worse than this. Can it?"

As they parked in front of Anna's childhood home, she began to wonder what she'd be telling her parents about Sam. It was a small town. Even if the scandal had made to the national news, no one would ever imagine the CEO would be hiding there. They probably wouldn't even recognize her.

Her phone started ringing. It was Jenny. Now it would be the right time for some friendly advice. She left the car for privacy, standing under a tree.

"Hey Jenny."

"Hey. You promised me daily news, don't you remember?"

"I do, but not even in your wildest dreams you could imagine what happened..."

She told her everything, from Jack's illness to the fact Sam Dalton was inside her car, minutes away from being introduced to her family.

"Anna, you should have dropped her in the middle of the road!" Jenny yelled. "She's not your problem. She's her wife's problem. And it's not like she can't afford the best lawyers in the country, people like her will never go to jail."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I should. Yet, I had no strength to do so. Even after everything she did to me, I couldn't stand seeing her suffer. God, I'm so stupid..."

"No, Anna. You have this great heart that will always help people, no matter who they are. This is part of you, and one of the reasons why I love you so much."

"Thank you, I... I learned it from Jack."

"Then go save him, you're doing the right thing. Even if it's crazy and absolutely stupid."

She turned off her phone and returned to the car. It was time to enter the house and face her parents.

"Ready?" She went back to the car.

"Anna, would you mind borrowing me your phone for a minute?" Sam asked. "I'm gonna call the lawyers to inform the incident."

Anna handed her the phone. But instead of dialing, Sam stared at the screen for minutes. She nervously ran a hand through her hair.

"What's going on? Something wrong?"

"Yes. Helena Hawthorne, the woman I'm being accused to sleep with, she released the pictures to the media. And Sofia is already filing for the divorce."

----------

Notes: (Oh Anna, you have no idea how worse it can get.)

Thank you so much for the feedback. It means a lot to me!

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 4 - Memories

Lillian awoke late into the evening, after everyone collectively agreed to take a nap and process everything Crystal told them. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so she carefully rolled out of bed to avoid disturbing Grey, who'd crawled into her bed for comfort like he always did when he was upset, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.

Since there wasn't going to be any sort of heating bill, they'd left the mysteriously working heater on to combat the unexpectedly cold weather. Lillian stopped by a window to peek outside, and was momentarily startled when she could pick out individual leaves on distant trees.

"Right, our vision got all fancy." Lillian laughed softly at herself, turning her gaze from the trees to the starry sky.

An unfamiliar sky.

Three moons scattered across the horizon, a couple of planets close enough for their rings to be distinct to the naked eye, and a brilliant aurora ribbon streaming across more stars than Lillian ever remembered seeing when she looked up back on Earth.

"There's no North Star," she whispered to herself, her warm breath briefly melting some frost on the window glass. "Different constellations, different horoscopes... I wonder how long a year is here? Or a season? Can we... Even communicate with people to find out?"

An oppressive sense of loneliness settled in her chest. Lillian blinked back a few tears and turned away from the window, resuming her earlier mission of a glass of juice. She slipped downstairs into the kitchen, drank an entire glass, and went to bring her second cup upstairs in case she woke up again, when a soft sound caused her to pause mid-step toward the stairs.

Sobbing. Wretched, mournful sobbing, from the living room which currently had no light on.

Lillian felt her heart clench in sympathy, and changed route.

Rayne sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a blanket around her shoulders and a phone in her hands. She glanced up when Lillian approached, hurriedly dashing her tears with the corner of the blanket. "H-hey, what's up?"

Lillian had the sense to put her juice cup down on an end table before sitting heavily on the couch, encroaching on Rayne's personal space with reckless abandon. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you down here alone in the dark?"

"Oh, I..." Rayne muttered, her gaze flicking back to the phone. Lillian glanced down, and saw a photo of Rayne and her boyfriend trying on mouse hats during their trip to Disneyworld. His expression was exasperated, but his affectionate gaze was fixed on Rayne's laughing face.

Rayne locked her screen and set the phone down, but it was too late and she knew it. She retreated further into the warmth of her blanket, faking a shiver to cover the fact she was trying to hide her face.

Neither Rayne nor Crystal appreciated it when other people saw them cry, but Lillian knew that it was sometimes exactly what someone needed, whether they wanted it or not. So she leaned on Rayne's shoulder, resting a gentle hand on the other woman's knee.

"You know," Lillian said softly, closing her eyes. "There's three moons."

Rayne was quiet for a moment. Then she sniffled, before whispering: "Really?"

"Yeah. And some ringed planets, and an aurora. Wanna see?"

The bundle of blanket shook in a hesitant nod, and both Lillian and Rayne moved to sit on the window seat overlooking the front yard, keeping throw pillows between them and the frozen glass to seal in their bodily warmth.

Silence stretched on between them as they stared together at the foreign night sky. Whenever Rayne gave a soft cry or pained whimper, Lillian reached over to squeeze her hand without turning to look at her, giving the other woman a measure of privacy while still providing comfort until she was ready to talk.

"It's unfair," Rayne whispered finally, reaching out of the blanket to draw a frowning face on the frosty glass.

Lillian nodded. "It ate our bonds so they all forgot us, but we still have to remember them? It's totally unfair."

"Actually..." Rayne looked over, locking gazes with Lillian, her dark brow furrowed. "That's the thing. Lils, do you remember your parents?"

"Of course. Robin and Larry-"

"Their faces, Lils."

Lillian opened her mouth, then immediately shut it. Her curious expression turned to one of realization, then panic suffused with horror. "No, I... What...?"

"I don't remember his face if I'm not looking at the photo," Rayne said, crossing her arms tightly under the blanket. "I don't remember his voice anymore. I did at first, but... Every passing moment, it's harder to remember the times we shared. The bad, the good. Even while looking at the photos! And I just... I felt like I should have a good cry, while I still felt enough lingering emotion for him to do it."

Lillian felt as though her heart was caught in her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then wheezed as she tried to remember how to breathe. Rayne hurriedly wrapped her arms around Lillian's shoulder, squeezing tight in a hug that contained all her comfort and sympathy.

"We'll do everything we can to remember, them, okay?" Rayne whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "Let's go wake Grey and Crystal, then we can all start writing stuff down. Alright?"

Nodding, Lillian clung desperately to Rayne's hand as they both hurried upstairs, rolling their respective siblings out of bed for an emergency meeting. Grey's horror was contrasted starkly by Crystal's numb nodding, as she apologized for not realizing it would happen. They dug into the boxes of personal belongings, finding some notebooks and pens, and sat together in the master bedrooms writing down everything they remembered about Earth and their loved ones until well into the next morning.

"On the one hand it's a mercy," Grey said sleepily, as he doodled another picture of his parents in the margins of his notebook. "So we won't be grieving our loss very long, I guess? But it still feels..."

"Wrong," Lillian mumbled, looking through her phone for a picture of her cat to use as a reference.

"It's not like the time was wasted," Rayne said, adding another bullet point to the list she was writing. "Our experiences shaped who we are whether we remember them or not. It does feel pretty crappy, though..."

"I wonder, will they forget us like this?" Lillian asked, unable to stop the words in her heart from escaping. Her hand paused above the page, the pen in her hand shaking violently. "Will they just... Slowly forget us? Or was it sudden and merciful? Because this... This is cruel."

"Cruelty implies intention," Crystal said softly, her voice shaking almost as much as Lillian's pen. "That... Thing. The Eater. It didn't have any malice, it was just hungry. But I dunno if that makes things better or worse..."

"I dunno man, you ever seen a cat catching prey? Pretty sure eating something alive has some inherent malice in it." Grey grumbled, trying to force his chicken scratch handwriting into something legible.

Crystal, who'd already given up on her own handwriting and embraced the chaotic glyphic nature of her lettering, nodded sagely in agreement. "That's true. I got the impression the Eater wasn't exactly sentient or sapient though. More like a force than a being, if that makes sense? Or maybe I just can't conceive of it, since that thing exists outside our dimensions of understanding."

"You say that so easily, do you even know how wild that whole statement was?"

"Do you even know how wild this whole situation is?"

"Look, we've passed absurdity at this point. Now I'm just down with whatever weirdness comes our way."

"We don't have to pay bills anymore," Rayne said slowly, staring at her paper. Her handwriting was the neatest by far, and she'd finished writing down most important events she could think of, but she kept having a nagging feeling she'd left something out so she kept reading the pages over and over hoping to trigger another memory. "We won't have to buy groceries unless there's things we want specifically that wasn't in our house to begin with. The electricity will never go out, damage to the property will be repaired, and even though we're in a new world with unknown levels of development and technology, we will never have to worry about toilet paper. In exchange for a very comfortable standard of living, we lost our connection to our home and families."

"Personally speaking I think it's fair," Crystal said with a scoff. "But that's because our family sucks so I'll be glad to forget them. All my most important people are here with me! I know Robin and Larry will take good care of all our cats, my exes all sucked, and my other friends will get along just fine without me. I don't have anyone to worry about, just regrets for stuff I never got to do. Like visiting the Grand Canyon, or going on a long cruise."

"I wanted to hike around Europe someday..." Rayne said wistfully.

"I wanted to vacation in the tropics. Or maybe Spain? For like, two years. With some hot guys and infinite fruity alcohols." Grey said, staring off into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I wanted to be famous enough for us to visit the space station," Lillian sighed. Grey snorted, and everyone started laughing in a combination of absurdity and delirium from lack of sleep. They started listing everything they could think of, starting with shopping sprees and game show appearances, and ending with complex bank and casino heists to dismantle capitalism.

When Crystal started dozing off while sitting up, they all agreed to get some sleep for real. The notebooks were stacked lovingly on one of the end tables, which reminded Lillian to run downstairs and chug her long-forgotten cup of juice in the living room before trudging back upstairs into bed.

------

"We can't just stay in the house forever, right?" Grey muttered as he stared out the living room window later that night, curled up on the window seat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"Technically we could," Rayne said, drumming her fingers against the recliner arm as she waited for her laptop to boot. "Infinite food and basic supplies, stuff for our hobbies... We have our instruments, we have our computers and game consoles and several external drives worth of movies and books and music since you and Crystal obsessively insist on collecting or hoarding anything of interest for later use."

"Hey, hey." Grey wagged a finger and feigned an offended scowl. "Look at our situation. How bored would we be if the two of us didn't hoard everything? In fact, maybe our desire to hoard entertainment was preparing for this day!"

"Damn psychics always preparing for everything they couldn't possibly know about," Rayne muttered rebelliously, and Crystal laughed. She'd stretched out on half of the corner couch taking up an entire section of the living room by itself, looking cozy with a pile of blankets and her special edition Switch.

"It's only gonna get worse from here, Ray."

"Open your town, I need to sell my oranges," Lillian interrupted, nudging Crystal's feet from her spot on the other side of the corner couch.

"Alright, lemme finish making this waterfall first."

"Your villagers are never gonna have scurvy again for like, three generations."

"That many oranges? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"If they don't want an entire island nation's agricultural sector's worth of citrus they should learn to adjust their economy for inflation."

"You know the shop is run by literal children, right?"

"It's good to learn early that nepotism leads to ruin. The business world is harsh and so am I."

Rayne chuckled at the sound of Lillian's low, malicious cackling, but her expression swiftly turned serious. "What do you mean it's gonna get worse, Coco?"

"All four of us have abilities for real, right? Being in this world is gonna make them grow exponentially, whether we try to train them or not. New ones will pop up too, or existing ones will change a little as they grow. Okay Lils, gate's open." Crystal spoke nonchalantly, but every word drained a bit more color from Rayne's face. Meanwhile, Grey turned away from the window with an excited glint in his eyes.

"So psychic powers can get real strong in this world?"

"Yeah. The impression I got when we were coming over was... Magic exists here, and it's something anyone can learn to use with practice. But abilities like ours, psychic powers? Those you have to be born with, and it's rare. That's about as much as I know about it though," Crystal sighed and shrugged.

"Can you list everything you know about our situation?" Rayne said, opening a new document on her computer and typing away with her nose inches from the laptop screen. "I wanna write it all down. I got the thing about our bonds and memories, and the house being indestructible-"

"It's not indestructible, just protected." Crystal seemed startled as soon as the words left her mouth, as though the information was somehow new. She furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she carefully examined her thought process. "I see, protected... Like a barrier, almost? It'll always rebuild itself and restock supplies overnight no matter what happens, even if it's all burnt to ash, but the property itself is also shielded unless we draw attention from a big threat."

"A big threat? Like what?"

"I don't know. Big animals like those Nessies on the beach yesterday. Or monsters like the Eater, maybe?"

"Monsters?!" Lillian sat up straight, pulling her feet under her body. "There's monsters!?"

"There's magic, why wouldn't there be monsters too?" Grey pointed out, but his twin just stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's just an assumption," Crystal hurriedly explained. "For my power to work, I'd have to come into contact with stuff related to what I want to know about in order to get more information, I can't just pull stuff out of the ether whenever I have questions!"

"Then how do you know what you know already?"

"Well, we were in contact with the house. The house is made with really powerful magic, so I learned magic exists, and that it was used to make the house echo and ensure our supplies remain the same. I think I also learned about the barrier then, but didn't think about it or really absorb the info cuz I was thinking about other things, so it only just popped up." Crystal shrugged and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"What about the Eater?"

"The Eater was menacing us directly and I looked at it so I was able to get some info on it and the bond-eating shenanigan, but not much else because it's way stronger than me, I think? And my power activated as soon as we started our... Transfer, I guess? Away from Earth. And you all were in the room with me, so I knew you all had powers as well as myself, got the basic gist of how mine work, and that we'd all get much stronger whether we wanted to or not. That's really about it for what I know. I told you it wasn't much."

"Why the house though?" Rayne muttered. "It just wanted to eat our bonds and it did that. So why did it drop us on another planet, and why give us this cushy house echo thing?"

Crystal shrugged again. "I honestly have no idea. I think I could know if I got a lot stronger, but... That won't be any time soon. I can tell there's a reason, though. I just dunno what."

"Maybe it's compensation?" Grey said, his expression hopeful.

"Or bait, like a beacon, so it can find us again..." Lillian whispered with a shiver, and everyone's faces fell. Seeing their reactions, she hurriedly straightened her spine and forced a smile to her face. "But it didn't hurt us, and we're all still together. Imagine if we'd been flung to different planets instead of staying together!"

"That'd really suck," Grey agreed. "So like, Crystal, your power activates if you come into contact with stuff?"

"I think so. I'd have to test it to get the hang of how things work, precisely."

Grey chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His expression made the three women exchange worried glances, especially once he started rubbing his hands together like a two-bit cartoon villain. "Looks like we got ourselves an excuse to head to that town for some reconnaissance!"

"In the snow?" Rayne asked, raising her eyebrows.

"With only summer clothes in our wardrobes," Crystal pointed out.

"We wore hiking boots for the walk up here so that'd be fine, but the warmest clothes we have right now are..." Lillian trailed off, then suddenly doubled over and started giggling.

Realization dawned on the others soon after, and Rayne covered her face with her hands. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Grey hissed, pumping his fist into the air. "That'll make one heck of an entrance, wouldn't it?"

"Our music video costumes? In PUBLIC!?" Rayne wailed while the others laughed.

"That might not be what we want to do though," Crystal said after her moment of laughter had subsided. "We don't know what kind of world this is. If they'll be friendly to strangers, especially ones who can't speak their language - or any language on this world. They won't know English, you know."

"But do we really have a choice?" Lillian asked, putting down her console and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't know anything about this world. About magic, except that it exists. About the people. And hiding here in our safe cozy house will be fine short term, but what about long term? Are we gonna spend our whole lives holed up in here?"

"I, for one, embrace the forest witch hermit lifestyle," Grey said. "And I know Crystal does too."

"Sure do. Cottage life."

Rayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't wanna be caught completely off guard by whatever nonsense comes our way. We know it's winter, but we don't know what the other seasons are like yet. What if they have a raining magma and diamonds from the sky season? We can't apply Earth logic here! Or if we can, we don't know to what extent! There were dinosaurs on the beach!"

"That's a fair point. There were indeed dinosaurs on the beach. Counter points?"

"There were dinosaurs on the beach."

"A fair counter point as well. I do want to see the dinosaurs up close."

"From a safe distance."

"Up close from a safe distance, of course."

"Plus, we don't know what's gonna happen with our powers. You said they'll get stronger, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. More powers will manifest, I think? And the ones we have already will be more potent. But I don't know how potent, or what exactly will happen."

"Exactly! You psychically downloaded only a little info about our situation and it gave you a nasty seizure! Right?"

"Pretty much."

"So what if something worse happens? A big huge infodump? If you can't control your powers, or shut it off when needed or whatever, what if..." Rayne's shoulders sagged.

"What if I have a big seizure every time I use my powers now?" Crystal finished, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too. Honestly, everything about our situation has me so terrified I've circled back around to just feeling numb about it all."

"That's a hell of a mood," Grey sighed, stretching out on the window seat and propping his feet up against the wall. "Everything's happening so much, am I right? It's hard to be freaked out about everything simultaneously. It's easier to just phase out of existence, mentally speaking."

"I... Have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at Lillian, who sat perched on the edge of the couch. She glanced at all their faces, then offered a shy smile.

"Well? What's your idea, sis?" Grey encouraged, when his sister kept fidgeting in place instead of finishing her thought.

"Well, those warmer clothes we have... They're our costumes, right? And Crystal said we dunno how people would react to that sort of outfit, or to strangers in general, but what if... I mean... We have our instruments? What if... We pretended to be minstrels?"

[ambrosiaiswriting]

the trials and tribulations of passing on a sunflower

by ambrosia

In any other situation, Sol would be thrilled to carry around a long-stemmed sunflower with her backpack and iced coffee. She would have taken extra time to pull her dark curls under a silk yellow bandana and put on her favorite white sundress to complete the whole look. Sol revels in the idea of drifting between the biology department and the Union, leaving nothing but intrigued gazes and yellow petals in her wake. 

Instead, the sunflower simply serves as a reminder of her mission for the day ahead, filling her with anxiety. She has a plan, she’ll be fine.

It had started out as a simple task. Lila, her roommate, had brought home a large bouquet of golden sunflowers from the flower shop she worked on the weekends. Sol thought she was going to distribute them into various vases throughout their apartment, but instead, Lila had left a few at every door in their floor of the apartment building. Each bunch was tied with twine and a note that read: A Random Act of Kindness. Pay it forward to someone new to spread the sunshine.

That’s all it was, a random act of kindness. Lila had said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Just pass on the sunflower to someone who is yet to receive one. 

Yet despite its simplicity, the act has been the only thing on her mind from the moment she had decided who to give it to. She has a plan and it was going to work out. It has to.

Now, she sits in her Molecular Biology lecture twenty minutes before class starts, her knee frantically bouncing underneath the table. The annoying flower in question glares at her from the seat beside her, sticking out of her backpack. 

The only other person in the lecture hall is a boy sitting at the end of the front row as he always does, hunched so far into his book that she thinks it will swallow him whole. Some part of her wishes he had questioned her sunflower, just so she could tell him her foolproof plan, but he hadn’t even glanced up when she had walked in. Maybe it’s for the better; she doesn’t want to jinx her plan.

Just as Sol plugs in her headphones, her phone begins to vibrate with an incoming FaceTime call. Sol looks up to see if the boy notices, but he just turns a page, undisturbed. Sol slides low in her seat. “I have class, what do you want?” she says to the caller.

Maya’s smile flashes across the screen for just a moment before she slips away from view. She’s in her room, and Sol can hear the creak of her dresser as she digs through it. Just in frame is her desk with a single sunflower on top. “What, do I need a reason to call my best friend?”

Sol stares down the sunflower as she speaks. “When you know I’m in class? Yeah. I’m busy, Maya, call someone else.”

“Wait!” Maya appears back in front of the phone. “I promise it’s just a second.” She holds two pairs of silver earrings for Sol to see. “Which one goes better with my blue dress?”

Sol drags a hand across her face, but it's mostly to hide her growing smile. Despite how Maya loves to bother her in every waking moment, there is a smidge of pride that she came to Sol for fashion advice. “Did you seriously call me for this? Where are you going? Why aren’t you in class? It’s 10 am. Also, do the star ones, I don’t like either of those.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I can afford to skip one day.” Maya reaches for the star drop earrings that Sol adores. “These?”

“Maya! You can’t just skip class because you can. Do you have a presentation or something?”

There’s a gleam in her eye when Maya winks. “Or something.”

“I swear if you’re going on a date, I will force you to make dinner tonight.” Sol glares at her best friend through the screen, but she’s smiling. By now, students have started trickling in, starting a low murmur of conversation. Sol spots a stranger near the front of the hall carrying a sunflower of their own and she finds herself grinning wider. Lila would be thrilled it's already spreading. Another classmate points silently to the seat currently occupied by Sol’s backpack and she moves it to her lap to give them space. The sunflower tickles her nose.

Maya’s smile grows when she spots it, and she raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been carrying your sunflower around all day? Won’t it need water?”

“It’s only 10 am. Besides, I don’t have time to go back to the apartment, I have class all day!”

Her roommate leans on her elbows to put her face right up near the camera. Her green eyes glimmer with amusement at Sol’s annoyance. “I have class too, remember? But unlike you, I intend on following through with my plans.”

Sol’s jaw almost drops but she slips into a smirk. “Yeah, okay, we’ll see who’s laughing when you miss something important in class today.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I’ll ask my new friend, he always takes good notes. Did I tell you about him? He—”

“I’m hanging up, Maya.” Sol tucks her phone away, and pulls out her laptop. If biology wasn’t going to be the end of her, Maya and her sunflowers would.

--

Sol goes to the library with the sole intention of printing out her lab report. However, just as she turns into the building, she spots the bathrooms and decides to make a detour. It’s only been a few hours since she took the sunflower out of its vase this morning, but late summer heat seems to have taken its toll on the plant. The large flower droops slightly, the thick petals folding in over themselves. 

Carefully, Sol takes a strip of paper towel and lets the water run over it. She squeezes it to let out the excess water, but accidentally lets out too much. Sol clicks her tongue, dissatisfied, and throws it out. Again, she takes another strip, but only pats it instead of squeezing. It seems to do the trick because the damp towel still feels cool on her skin. 

Sol is about to tuck the bottom of the sunflower into the towel when someone clears their throat behind her. “Can you hurry it up? I need to wash my hands.”

Startled, Sol quickly steps to the side, clutching the towel and flower to her chest. “Sorry.” Her heart jumps to her throat and Sol can feel the heat blooming from her neck. She feels her hands betray her, unable to finish wrapping up the sunflower. All she can do is stand, gaze burning into the floor, desperately hoping for the stranger to forget her. The stranger yanks down the paper towel dispenser, each motion pounding into Sol’s forehead as she trained her eyes away.

The stranger raises her eyebrows, eyeing the flower, before letting the door slam shut behind her.

Only when she is certain the bathroom is empty, Sol feels the embarrassment leak out of her limbs into a more manageable frustration. Watching herself in the mirror, she inhales slowly, holds it, then lets it go. The overwhelming wave of panic settles as quickly as it had come.  It’s times like this where she wishes for Maya’s natural charisma. Maybe then she wouldn’t find herself losing all coherence every time something unexpected happened. She doesn’t realize she has been rubbing a golden petal between her fingers until it plucks off the center.

After wrapping the damp towel around the base of the flower, Sol steadies herself and heads out of the bathroom in search of the printers. She has more pressing matters to worry about, after all. She remembers her call with Maya, and curiosity prickles her skin. Why was she getting so dressed up? Sol knows this sunflower act of kindness is just as important to Maya as it is to her, so why was she wasting time elsewhere? Of course, there’s the possibility that Maya has given up on the challenge altogether, but even as the thought enters her mind she brushes it away. The day Maya backs out of a challenge, especially one that she initiated, is the day Sol can learn to breathe instead of panic. 

Just as she has located the printers, mind still racing about Maya, a notification pulls her out of her thoughts.

lila (!! <3): turn around

She does, and the sight of Lila draws the tension from her shoulders at once. Sol’s smile is bright and immediate as she says, “I didn’t know you were close, I would have come found you.”

“I had to drop something off in South Campus so I was just cutting through the library. I see you still have our friend here.” Their friend, the sunflower, says nothing.

Sol slides her card into the printer and watches as it roars to life. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass it along before I come home tonight. It’s going to be perfect.”

“You and your constant need to be the best.” Lila rolls her eyes, but fondly. It twists something in Sol’s sternum.

Sol places a hand on her chest, letting her jaw fall open. “You wound me.”

“It’s supposed to be a simple act of kindness, Sol. You get a sunflower and pass it on to someone who hasn’t had one yet. Spreading positivity, not competition.”

The printer slowly begins to work, the fourteen pages stacking on top of each other in utmost precision. “Maya started it! I had full intentions of passing it on, but she had to make it a thing.” She’s only giving the half-truth and they both know it.

Lila raises her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

“I am truly, truly hurt that you came all the way to the library just to attack me. I’m just standing here, printing out this lab report, and I am being attacked.” She stretches out every word for the greatest effect, and it’s worth it to see Lila’s nose scrunch in amusement.

“You’re being so dramatic, you’re literally proving my point.”

Sol bumps Lila’s shoulder. “I’m serious! Diana will accept my sunflower and the deed will be done. Like I said, it was my idea first!”

When Lila had given Sol the sunflower the night before, after getting overwhelmingly flustered, she had mentioned how she was going to pass the sunflower on to Diana, the TA graduate student in her music theory class. Maya, who was also in the class, had fixed her with a challenging stare and said, “Not if I do it first.” The rest was completely out of her control. So, if anything, this is all Maya’s fault.

“Why do you have to give it to Diana specifically anyways?”

Sol takes her complete lab report and places it in her folder. “Are you kidding me? Lila, do you even know me? Diana is the dream. She was a child star on Broadway, I know all the lyrics in every Broadway show ever. She was a bio major in undergrad, I’m a bio major. She’s now getting her Masters in music theory, I enjoy music theory. I could literally go on forever.” Sol looks at Lila to make sure she understands the sheer gravity of this situation. “I want to be her. This sunflower is the perfect conversation starter!”

“Or you could just go to her office hours like a normal person?” Lila says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s the whole problem! Why would she care about any normal person? If I do this, she’ll remember me! She’ll mentor me and talk about me to all her famous friends, it’ll be perfect.”

Lila nods slowly, and Sol thinks she might actually understand. “And why does Maya want this just as badly?”

Sol zips up her backpack with a flourish. “Because Maya makes everything a challenge and she likes to annoy me in every possible way.”

“She’s your best friend, that’s her job.” Lila takes the sunflower from where it’s sitting beside the printer and hands it to her.

“Unfortunately.” A tingle crawls up her spine as their fingers brush. “It’s fine! It was my idea, so I will get there first. Just make sure we have ice cream at home, Maya will need it when she mourns her failures tonight!”

Lila steps back from her, pointing in the opposite direction of Sol’s next class. She shakes her head, amused. “I gotta go. You’re a crazy person, you know that? Both of you are crazy.”

A laugh draws itself from her throat. “You still love us though.”

Instead of chirping back like Sol expects her to, Lila just looks at her, eyes warm. “I do.”

--

Despite her careful planning, Sol only gets to the music room just in time for her music theory class. After leaving Lila at the library, she’d finished lunch and endured an achingly long chemistry lab, only  now making it to class with five minutes to spare. Sol squeezes between the rows to her usual seat in the front. Diana and Maya are nowhere to be found.

Setting her backpack at her feet, Sol draws in a slow breath. One, two, three. Out again. It’s just a flower, a simple act of kindness. Her getting there before Maya is simply a plus and a warning to never challenge her again. She can already see Lila’s exasperated sigh at them, but it only serves to make her smile.

Carefully, Sol takes the long-stemmed sunflower from her bag and lays it across her lap. She holds it with just the tips of her fingers, afraid she'll snap it if she handles it wrong. 

For once, sitting in the front corner pays off. Her bag fits neatly beside her and she can turn in her seat to get a perfect view of the door. The hall fills with muted late afternoon conversations, most people too dazed to sit up straight. The September heat swells both inside and outside, making every move require all her effort. Sol lazily wonders if Maya really went on a date in the middle of the day. Then, at least she knows dinner is covered. Honestly, after lab, all Sol wants to do is bundle up in bed with her laptop and some ice cream. Now that the moment is finally here, she feels the weight of the day pile onto her chest. Her limbs feel syrupy and she lets her head fall back on the wall, eyes flitting closed.

Diana enters with a flourish, as she always does. Her portable speaker plays the first movement of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons as she makes her way to the front of the hall, her bag in one hand and a swath of speckled tissue paper in the other. The conversations fall out as she walks, her blonde hair swishing down her back. Despite being only a few years older than most of them, she carries more authority than half the professors at this school. Oh my god, Sol wants to be her.

At once, the lethargy seeps out of her bones and she sits up in her seat. She cradles the sunflower in her lap. This is it. This is it.

Setting her things down beside the podium, Diana faces the class, her smile wide. “Good—”

The portable speaker suddenly switches from the chirping of violins to the swell of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s All I Ask of You. Sol’s heart drops to her feet. There is one person who listens to Phantom of the Opera as if it is the very source of her life.

Maya throws open the double doors of the lecture hall, her teeth flashing blindingly white. Her old high school prom dress billows around her legs like water. It’s a sheer blue tulle, layered and flowing, and it drags behind her as she struts down the aisle towards Diana. Her hair is in a ponytail high on her head, allowing the fluorescent lights to glint off her star drop earrings.

In her entrance, Sol almost didn’t see a guy trailing behind her, a single sunflower in his hand. Maya meets Sol’s eyes from across the hall and winks. Sol digs her nails into her palms to keep from screaming. 

“Diana!” Maya’s voice echoes, startling both Sol and their TA. “I have something for you.”

Diana chuckles awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maya?”

Maya finally meets her at the front of the hall, beaming. “Diana.” She takes the sunflower from the guy, holding out in front of her. “I wanted to—”

In one swift motion, Sol whips out her water bottle and inhales as she takes a sip. The water lodges itself in the wrong tube and in a moment she’s overwhelmed with a coughing fit.

The entire lecture hall turns to her, suddenly drawn from Maya’s spectacle. Sol tries to clear her throat but it only makes things worse and she falls out of her seat. She swallows and there’s a beat of silence. “I’m fine!” The last syllable chokes out of her and sends her into another round. 

Diana and Maya both come up beside her, mirroring worry. It’s Diana who speaks first, crouching beside her. “Sol, are you okay? Do you need to step outside?”

She feels her face heat up profusely, painfully aware of the sheer number of people watching her. Worth it. Her breathing finally evens out and it pulls a small laugh from her. “Yeah, sorry. It went down the wrong pipe.”

Diana flashes her an apologetic smile, helping her up. “Be careful, I really don’t wanna call an ambulance on anyone.”

“Actually,” Sol stands, sunflower in hand and heart pounding with anticipation. “I wanted to give you something.”

Maya’s jaw drops from behind Diana. It’s Sol’s turn to wink. Adrenaline courses through her veins.

“Diana!” Maya steps between them, her hands out in front of her. “I asked first, remember? We’ll finish what I’m doing and then ask Sol.”

“Well, considering I almost died, I think we can make an exception for me, right?” She thinks she hears the beginnings of someone chanting fight, fight, fight, and it only serves to rile her up.

“You’re not dying anymore!”

“Maya—”

“Ladies!” The hall falls silent once again. She looks from them to their respective sunflowers, and a half-pitying half-amused grin pulls at her lips. “I’m flattered but,” She steps back towards the podium and pulls out a single sunflower from the folds of tissue paper she had brought with her. “I was already given one.”

Maya and Sol look back at each other, gaping. A beat of silence. Maya starts laughing first, full of life, and it’s contagious. Sol doesn’t really know what’s funnier, the foolish ends they were willing to go to in order to pass on a flower or that Diana already has one, but it has her laughing so hard she clutches her stomach. Maya hugs her once she’s calmed down, sighing. “I think we’re both a little crazy, right?”

Sol flicks her star drop earrings, grinning wide. “Just a little.”

--

After class, and after a generous apology to Diana, Sol finds herself outside the music building clutching her sunflower. The petals droop slightly with the setting sun and she feels like she should ask for the flower’s forgiveness too.

She bounces on her toes as she waits for Maya to come out, watching the last few stragglers on this side of campus trudge towards the dorms or the buses. She still feels a little silly, but there’s a layer of calm surrounding her now. The news must have already spread because when Sol pulls out her phone, there’s a message at the top. 

lila (!! <3): so much for a random act of kindness. i expect a retelling just as dramatic when you two get home tonight! i can’t believe i’m living with two crazy people.

Lila’s going to have a field day with this when they go home. Sol can’t wait to see her reaction in person. It curls her mouth into a smile.

The only person left is a boy she vaguely recognizes, sitting on the front steps of the music hall. He sits in the last rays of sunlight, bent over his book and chewing his lip, deep in thought.

Sol considers asking where she might know him from. She’ll know it the moment he tells her, it’s on the tip of her tongue, but it feels weirdly violating to ask. Instead, she places her sunflower beside him on the step.

He doesn’t notice at first, still wrapped up in his own world, but when he does, he looks around as if it were meant for someone else. Silently, he points to himself.

“Yeah. Pass it on, okay?”

His smile is surprisingly brilliant for someone of no words.

Her heart swells.

--

a/n: if you read this far, thank you! this is what i wrote for my creative writing final and it’s just a bit of fun. we love dramatic college students.

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

15 for the jolex prompts? 💖

Wide awake waitin' on a goodnight kiss

“You okay? You look tired.” Alex’s voice was croaky as it came through the screen, cracking slightly as Jo manoeuvred the laptop around to see him better. He looked tired, he hadn’t shaved since leaving around two weeks ago and his growing facial hair made him look much older than he truly was. 

“Wow thanks, how did I get so lucky to be married to a charmer like you?” Jo laughs forcing a smile on her face, hoping that with 10,000 miles between them and a crappy internet connection he wouldn’t be able to see how worn down she really was. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Alex growls, rolling his eyes, relaxing a little bit as Jo’s smile came through the grainy screen, something was wrong that much he could tell but he was worried to push her any further, he was concerned if he did she’d retreat away from him and he’d be too far away from her to help. He knew it was a bad idea to go, ever since the opportunity came across his lap he’d had an uneasy feeling about it, it was just bad timing, as a resident Alex would’ve jumped at the opportunity to set up a clinic in Zimbabwe for underprivileged kids and while he was still very passionate about the cause he didn’t feel comfortable up and living his life anymore. It was Jo that had convinced him to go, assuring him she’d be fine, that a month was no time, reminding him it was now or never because he certainly wouldn't have another chance to spend a month away from home anytime soon with a baby on the way. Her insistence in him going was exactly why he hadn’t told her, it’s why the leaflets were stuffed inside his nightstand and not on the counter because he knew she was all for championing his dreams, she’d push him to do it even if it cost her. Which clearly it had he thought while staring at her forlorn face through the screen, the guilt of leaving her alone weighing heavy on Alex’s chest. 

Jo however simply shrugged, avoiding his gaze as she looks down at her pyjama pants pulling at a loose thread hoping the dodgy wifi connection in Zimbabwe wouldn’t show her watery eyes, she wasn’t upset it was just these stupid bloody hormones that had her crying every five minutes. “I’m a surgeon, I'm always tired.” She mutters, even through the screen she could feel Alex's intense gaze making her sink lower into the chair. 

“I mean more tired than usual.” Alex clarifies, narrowing his eyes to get a better look at Jo, even in the darkness of the loft he could see the reflection of her tears against the screen light. 

“I didn’t sleep that well.” Jo shrugs, finding more interest in her Pajama pants as the thread finally comes loose revealing a gaping hole in her trousers that she continues to pick at. She hated this, she just wanted to check he was alive, maybe hear about his day, she didn’t want his constant questioning over skype, she already felt shitty enough. 

“You said that yesterday.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.” Alex deadpans, he knows all Jo’s tricks, knows his wife better then she thinks he does and he knows that this cold quiet nature she’s got going on currently is not from a lack of sleep. “Is there something going on Jo? You know you can tell me whatever it is.”

Jo frowns, her eyebrows creasing as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “It’s nothing, Alex...I’m fine.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

Sighing Jo finally meets his eyes, his face is closer to the screen but it’s not close enough for her, she needs him here and she regrets telling him to go, logically she knew this was his last chance do something so amazing and she wanted that for him, she wanted him to have these opportunities, she loved watching him shine, he always supported her and she wanted to do the same for him, she just hadn’t expected it to be this hard. “I don’t like sleeping in the bed without you.” She admits, a loan tear slipping down her cheek as he fingers trace across his face on the screen. 

“What?”

“That’s it, okay? I hate sleeping without you. The bed's too cold, there's too much space and I wake up every time I hear the door creak, which is a lot because I’m pretty sure our neighbour is a drug dealer exclusively operating from 9 pm to 6 am.” Jo rambles off, her face scrunching up as deflates in the chair, her eyes stinging with more tears as she watches Alex grimace. She felt immediately sick, she knew Alex would wanna come home now, at the very least he’d have Meredith or Link over within the hour to check on her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighs, rubbing his eyebrow. 

“Because I didn’t want you to feel bad about working away. I know how excited you are to be out there and I didn’t wanna worry you.” 

“Jo we’ve been through this you have to tell me these things, good or bad, you know that,” Alex mutters, they’d been through this, Jo had been doing so well since her breakdown but one of the main things they’d got out of their joint therapy session was that they’d have to keep being open with her feelings no matter what they were if they wanted their marriage to work, and god never had either one of them wanted something to work more. 

“But I can see that look in your eyes, you feel bad.”

“Because you’re not sleeping.”

“But it’s not your fault.” 

“But it is...I didn’t have to take this job.” Alex growls, he didn’t even want this job, sure it was there was a huge call for his expertise, and there were so many surgeries he’d been able to do in the last two weeks that back home felt like gold dust but it wasn’t worth the price of his wife not sleeping while she was carrying their baby. 

“But you wanted to and I wanted you too. I didn’t know I was gonna react like this.” Jo sighs, resting her head in her hands, she rubs her eyes furiously, it was one month, they were already two weeks in she could last another two weeks, there were children who needed him, who was she to demand his attention. “I should be used to sleeping on my own, I’ve slept in far worse places than our stupidly expensive bed. Alex...are you even listening to me? Alex, what are you doing?” Jo frowns, watching as Alex disappears off-screen, she can hear him shuffling about before he plops down back on the chair, his phone in hand. 

“Looking up the next flight to Seattle,” Alex mutters, not meeting her gaze as he begins to type furiously away, he was coming home, there was no way he could watch his wife cry over facetime for the next two weeks, there was no way he could focus on his patients wondering if Jo was okay or if shes passed out from exhaustion in the middle of the ER. 

“No Alex...Alex I’m fine seriously.” Jo cries, leaning in closer to the screen as if it will make any difference. 

“You’re not sleeping, it's not good for you or the baby and I can’t sit by and accept that…” Alex mumbles looking up he nods towards the growing bump, he can’t really see it but he knows it's there, she’d had a slight curve when he left, a little sign of what he had waiting for him when he came home. 

Jo bites her lip, her hand curling around her tiny bump, the tiny flutters under her fingertips the only reason she’s trying so hard to keep it together. “Alex stop...I’m getting sleep just not a lot and I’m napping in the day anyway.” She’s been forcing herself to sleep, desperate to do what's best for their baby, she was already feeling like she’s a failure as a mother.

“That’s not good enough. You need proper sleep, Jo. You heard Carina after you fainted, you need to take care of yourself properly.” Alex growls, shaking his head.

Jo jerks back, folding her arms over her chest, she glowers down at the screen. “I am Alex do you not think I can take care of my own kid.” She was trying her hardest here, she hated depending on people and even more so she hated admitting that she needed Alex to sleep. 

“I never said that…-”

“I have to go...Love you.” Jo cuts him off, already rising from her chair as she reaches towards the laptop. She’s not angry at him, not really, she’s just angry that he can see right through even from 10,000 miles away. 

“Jo wait…” Alex grumbles, as the screen goes black, it’s just the hormones he knows but somehow they seem far more intense here then they did at home, sighing, he pulls out his phone shooting her quick text before heading back to work.

 I love you more...stay safe

It's a two days letter when Jo returns home after what was one of the most excruciatingly busy shifts she's ever had, she feels like she could drop at any minute. She hadn’t been able to get hold of Alex during her lunch break and the lack of contact didn’t help to settle her anxious heart but she was just hoping she was exhausted enough to sleep. Flopping down on the bed, she cries out when her head smacks against something hard.

Wincing, Jo squeezes her eyes shut, hearing a voice she knows all to good grumbling in pain, slowly she peels one eye open to see Alex, stupid beard and all, tucked under the covers rubbing his forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” Jo mumbles, throwing her arms around him, instantly forgetting the searing pain in her head as Alex's scent washes over her.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Alex grumbles, his face scrunched up as he nestles his face into her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist.

Jo pulls back her eyes, scanning him over making sure he is really here and not just a sleep-deprived hallucination, suddenly it dawns on her that if he’s here, then he’s not in Africa saving the tiny humans he’d promised to save. “But the tiny humans who need life-saving treatment?” 

“There's plenty of doctors out there to help. It’s up and running now. I've trained plenty of idiots, now they can train the next lot of idiots.” Alex grumbles, leaning back against the bed, pulling Jo down with him. He’d got his affairs in order pretty much the minute Jo had ended their call, it had taken him a few hours to sort his replacement but less than 24 hours after she’d hung up he was on a flight home. 

“You shouldn’t have come home.”

“I wanted to be here, My work is important but nothing is more important than you and the baby. I wanna be here, I need to be here.” Alex mutters, nestling closer into her neck, pulling her closer into his arms, his eyes fluttering shut as he guides her down to lay against the pillows. 

“If you’re sure,” Jo mumbles, Alex presence having an immediate effect on her tired state, she couldn’t even bring herself to change clothes, the warmth and safety he provided making her eyes flutter shut 

“I am.” He mumbles sleepily, pressing a row of kisses down Jo’s neck, his beard scratching against her skin, a reminder that he’s here, home in their bed. “My dad missed everything growing up. I don’t wanna be like him.” That was Alex’s biggest fear, becoming his father the main reason he’d said no to setting up the clinic, it was time he could never get back but Jo had been adamant now was the time to go, he’d never be able to take this much time away from home once the baby arrived. 

“You’re nothing like him, Alex.” Jo sighs, one hand running through his messy curls as he hums in content.  “Setting up a medical clinic for underprivileged children abroad is not the same as walking out on your family,” Jo mutters, humming as he snuggles closer, his head resting on her chest. “You are a good man Alex Karev and you’re gonna be a wonderful father,” Jo mumbles pressing a kiss to his head, she feels her body finally relaxing for the first time in two months as Alex’s body warmth envelops her. 

“You’re going to be an amazing mother, and I never meant to insinuate that you weren’t looking out for our baby.” His hand drifts down the edges of Jo’s top in search of the tiny curve that had been there when he left two weeks ago. “The way you look after peo- What the hell is this?” Alex exclaims just as Jo was drifting off, sitting up immediately his eyes scanning across her body, his forehead creased as he pointed towards her torso, pulling at the oversized sweatshirt she had on. 

“Mhmm your sweatshirt?” Jo mumbles meekly giving him a half-smile as she sheepishly tries to twist away from his glance, he never really cared if she wore his clothes if anything he liked it but he had one rule, wear anything but his Iowa wrestling shirt, it was fading fast and he loved it but then again so did Jo. It wasn’t her fault then one thing she couldn’t wear was also her favourite. 

“No, I mean this….what the heck I SAID NO GROWING WITHOUT ME.” Alex grumbles, dipping down to address Jo’s burgeoning bump, rolling up his sweatshirt, his hands trace across her skin, marvelling at how much had changed since he’d been away. 

Jo grins sitting up, so he could see how pronounced her stomach had become, she laughs, reaching out to cup his cheek. “Erm Alex...you know it's a good thing that he or she is growing right...that's what we want a nice healthy baby.” She mumbles, resting one hand on his as she smiles down at the bump, she may have been having a bit of rough time lately but she’d been making sure their baby had the best, she’d even forced herself to drink a few kale smoothies. 

“Yeah but they didn’t have to grow this much...what did you eat? Everything you could find?” Alex exclaims, still talking at the bump when he feels a light smack against the back of his head, leaning up he gives Jo a cheeky smile while she pouts at him. “Ow….I was kidding you look great.” He smiles leaning to give her light peck, savouring the feeling. It was good to be home.

“Mhmm nice save…..oh oh.” Jo smiles against his lips as he begins to pepper tiny kisses all over her face making her squeal. 

“Is that?” Alex's eyes widen as he pulls back, he feels another light tap against his hand that was still pressed against Jo’s stomach.

“Yeah...yeah...here move your hand.” Jo smiles brightly, taking his hand she tracks their little one's movements as more excited kicks spread out across her stomach. “Looks like someone is glad to have you home.”

“Not half as glad as I am.” Alex beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he leans down pressing a light kiss against Jo’s bump. “I love you and I love you” he whispers tenderly as his eyes meet Jo’s again. 

“I love you more.” Jo hums softly, a sparkle in her eyes as she settles back against the pillows.

“Jo…” Alex whispers, moving up so he’s face to face with Jo, his hand trailing across her cheek, moving the hair that’s fallen across her face to behind her ear. A small smile gracing his face as she mumbles something incoherent, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifts off, the exhaustion hitting her full force now she was wrapped in the safety of Alex's arms.  “The truth is I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me either.” 

Whoops, I dropped the ball with how long it took me to post this, I’m so sorry but I do hope you enjoy it. Also if you like my one-shots you can find my prompt lists at the bottom of my master post. 

[scoundrels-in-love]

Did you slip in through open doors and sit down, just to look at me like that (every day) | Chapter 2 - Jaime I

Brienne doesn’t mean to lie to her father. She just wants him to stop trying to set her up with men who aren’t Jaime Lannister, whom she’s secretly in love with. Unfortunately, that’s exactly who eagerly inserts himself in the narrative as her fake boyfriend. And her father is coming to King’s Landing in two weeks.

Truly, what could go wrong?

Also on AO3. Still part of @jbmonthlymadness Mutual Pining March.

He is so, so fucked.

Not quite the same way he thought a week ago, but still very much fucked.

Jaime glances over to where Brienne is watching a game on the couch for what feels like the hundredth time this half hour. While that itself isn’t unusual, everything else is. Tenseness in her shoulders he isn’t sure he will lure out with a stupid joke and then slay with even worse one, the way they’ve barely spoken to each other today and that his heart is being harshly kneaded by some huge, clawed animal. He’d say it’s a lion, but considering his House that feels just a little cliche .

Though, according to Elia, he is a walking cliche and a terribly executed one, at that. He sighs, realizes that the beer bottle really isn’t where he’s blindly grabbing for it, and averts his gaze from his fake girlfriend. There is exactly one word too many in that title and it’s neither girl or friend. If only he could convince Brienne of the same.

Jaime has tried , he really has. Gotten up earlier to make sure he can prepare her coffee and go on a jog with her, kissed her goodbye on the cheek, pestered her into having a lunch during work hours and ordered takeout to arrive just after she got home the days he knew he’d be home even later than her, sent her obscure memes about animals he found on some nature activist group on Raventome that he frankly didn’t get but hoped she would and have a good laugh between work and more.

Granted, he does all these things regularly anyway (except the cheek kisses, but he isn’t sure they’re as much of a highlight of the day for her as they are for him), but now it’s daily. And it’s not a bother, like Brienne tries to convince him to think, and Jaime would gladly do it for the rest of the foreseeable future. Even waking an hour earlier, although he likes to think that if they were properly dating, he’d persuade her to explore other workouts they could do in the time without leaving the house.

Elia suggested it’s because she’s stressed about the convention, but Jaime knows better. (“Of course you do, that’s why you suggested to be her fake boyfriend instead of telling her you’ve been head over heels for her for years now.”) No, Brienne’s work has nothing to do with the skittishness in her eyes, the way she freezes when he presses lips to her delightfully reddening cheek, sometimes daring to brush corner of her mouth or lingering a second too long because her proximity makes him a little dizzy, or stumbles over conversations topics as if they are larger than boulders she can easily best when hiking. She doesn’t even shut down his flirtations anymore - instead she looks away and mumbles something or trips into the next topic.

Their new arrangement is the cause, and the realization has been rolling toward him like a house sized morning star down a gentle slope.

“Jaime? Movie’s starting,” subject of his sweet agony and worry calls out and Jaime realizes he has quite literally spaced out. And that perhaps his inner narrator is going a little overboard. Elia would have another laughing fit if she knew.

He grabs the snacks and another beer and presents them to her with a smile, falls heavily in his spot that earns a little bit of glare from Brienne because, of course, she’s concerned for the springs and one of these days he will tell her he can think of more interesting things to wreck their couch with. ‘One of these days’ feels like an awful stretch and ‘a mountainclimb later’ sort of thing, though. He heaves a sigh.

“Everything alright, Jaime?” she asks and he looks at her, armed with a bright smile and an easy no, when they crumble faced with concern that colors the blue of her eyes deeper, yet gilded shade like the last glimpse of sunset paints the sea. Of course Brienne finds time to worry about him, despite seemingly thinking she’s standing between two cannons labelled ‘work’ and ‘fake boyfriend’, ready to shoot.

He wants to pull her close and press a kiss to her furrowed brow so much he can physically feel an alternate reality, one where he’s braver and does just that, manifest.

Unfortunately, in this one Jaime only laughs and plops his head in her lap, facing the TV. “Of course I am, B. But if you’re so worried, you can always pet my head and tell me it’s going to be alright.” He likes it when she says that, the way she sets her jaw mulishly and seems to simply talk it into existence with sheer willpower and kindness. But never for herself, only others.

Brienne stills for a moment, then, much to his relief, makes indigant noise and pushes at his shoulder slightly but with no real force. “I’m not a cushion, Jaime” she tells him and he shifts just so he can grin up at her.

“C’mon, I’ve been a good boyfriend this week, have I not earned one lap cushion coupon? I must use it before it expires.”

“ Fake boyfriend,” she says seriously and Jaime looks at the screen again so she can’t witness his grin shattering like the window of Casterly Rock’s kitchen when he had been six and too eager while playing ball. He might feel even more chastised than after the lecture Tywin had given him, which had left a stone grinding sharp edge in his gut for a week.

“Fine, but I am not going to pet your head. You are not an overgrown housecat, no matter how much you may act as one,” Brienne relents, but by the end of the movie, she brushes back a strand he has shaken into his eyes and halfway through the second movie, she actually runs her hand through his hair and he barely manages to remain still, instead of following her hand like foam graces a wave’s edge.

All things considered, Jaime feels re-energized for the next week and his little war campaign on Brienne’s heart. He likes to think of it as war, though she is not a thing to conquer despite her truly formidable walls, just to trounce the narrative she has set for herself.

Once, before that fatefully shitty night when a pipe in his first own apartment burst and Brienne had invited him to stay over until it was fixed (and then he never really left), they had talked about who they would be in Targaryen and Stark eras, both revealing their dreams about knighthood.

Already knowing her love for ridiculous, historical(ly inaccurate) romance novels, he had joked if she’d not like ballads written about her instead, but Brienne’s face had shuttered and she had reminded him that no one would go to war for her . “I would rather defend the innocent and fight than stay home a sad and unmarried maid,” she had concluded, before going off about Blue Knight and other warrior women of Tarth. Jaime had already known back then that in any lifetime she’d be worthy of many great songs - of love and otherwise. But the bridge of their friendship was tentative still and he had had no intentions of being the one to lay the siege on her heart.

And when he had wanted to, he had already been so deep in the annoying, best friend role and still so utterly not having his shit together he didn’t feel he had the right to start the march. Someone better would surely come along. Except no one has, three years later still, and Brienne seems to think it’s a sign she only deserves a photoshopped suit-hanger and Jaime would rather be pierced endlessly by her glowering and risk her friendship that he treasures above anything he has ever known, than passively let her continue believing that.

For now, he’s only dying because of work, as they are currently quite swamped. It doesn’t help at all that his brain is a little (or a whole lot, but who’s counting) occupied with various Romance-Brienne-So-Hard-She-Doesn’t-Know-What-Hit-Her strategies. His plans for Friday come to immediate stop when he arrives home and finds Brienne fallen asleep at the kitchen table, her laptop’s screensaver of pixelated Kingslayer and Blue Knight from their favorite cartoon bouncing around the screen. He had installed it the first week of living here and despite her initial grumbling, she has never changed or disabled it.

This would be easier if Brienne’s one quirk when working at home wasn’t changing her workspace every few hours, as if it helps her think. It’s one of her most restless habits and typically, Jaime finds it adorable, but now that he has to haul half-asleep Brienne to her room he… Who is kidding, he also finds it endearing.

“Jaime, I can walk,” she scoffs, but leans on him anyway and when he helps her lay down on the bed, her eyes are soft and a little dazed and he thinks of early spring mornings, when nothing but the birds and clouds are awake yet, against the blueness of the sky.

Brienne curls up and he pulls a blanket over her and she gives him a sleepy smile, so warm that the consistent pull toward her feels anchored to the sun itself. He follows it and leans down and presses lips to her forehead. She exhales softly and when he pulls back, her eyes are closed, but there’s an almost sad turn to her lips.

“I really don’t want this to end, Jaime.” Her voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear - he wouldn’t if he wasn’t so close. His heart does an odd thing in his chest, something that would make it more of a rope dancer than a lion leaping through a ring of fire.

Jaime brushes a strand of her hair back, gently, in an attempt to reassure what odd fear has burrowed into her heart. He shouldn’t be so happy every time Brienne expresses she doesn’t want to lose him, but even her brilliant light can’t erase generations of carefully cultivated selfishness. “It doesn’t have to.”

“But it will.” And then she nuzzles deeper in the pillow and he knows this is a conversation to be finished (or maybe repeated) when she’s actually awake. Quietly, he walks out of the room and when the door has shut gently, bounces toward the living room with a grin that everyone would tell him begs for a punch.

There is hope for him yet.

[s-trawberryv-eins]

Lonely Hearts Club

NOT MY GIF

Summary: In retrospect, she should’ve figured it would end badly. It was fun at first, the flirting. Fruitless and innocent. Never taken too seriously, a line carefully toed. A sort of 'take each day as it comes’ arrangement. But eventually, as anyone could've predicted, she crossed the line and fell. Hard.

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, implications of smut

Please read here before reading

Stark! OC x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 1573

 AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

In retrospect, she should’ve figured it would end badly. It was fun at first, the flirting. Fruitless and innocent. Never taken too seriously, a line carefully toed. A sort of 'take each day as it comes’ arrangement. But eventually, as anyone could've predicted, she crossed the line and fell. Hard. For Bucky Barnes, of all people.

Thor arrived home with tales of outer space, his travels with the Guardians of the Galaxy coming to a brief stop to visit his Midgardian friends. “Revels!” His booming voice all but shook the compound as he announced his need for a party. "We shall engage in revels this coming Friday!” Turning to face her with a happy grin on his face, Caroline took that as her cue to begin the planning.

“I see no reason to deny Thor of a party, so I'll be in my lab spending my inheritance if anybody needs me."

-

And engage in revels they did. It was obvious to anybody who entered the room that this party was that of a Stark. Lavish, few expenses spared. Caroline found it to be a welcome distraction from her current predicament; should she tell Barnes how she felt, or not? She was fairly certain that her feelings were reciprocated, but it wasn't impossible that she had misread him.

Dressed to the nines in a nude top and midi skirt, she raked her fingers through her newly straightened hair and greeted her guests. Thor, Steve, and Bucky stood on the balcony, watching the large crowd forming in the vast open space. Decorated with black and gold balloons, music pumping through the air, and a seemingly never-ending supply of alcohol.

“Hello, gentlemen. Impressed?” Red lips curling up into a smile, she graciously accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters making rounds of the event. Coming to stand between Thor and Mr America himself, she offered her glass up to cheers. The four glasses met with a ‘clink’, and Caroline’s smile grew. Any effort to keep herself from making direct eye contact with the super soldier went out of the window when he spoke up.

“You've out done yourself. It looks wonderful. As do you, Caroline." The light pink dusting that appeared on her cheeks pulled a smirk from Barnes, but it disappeared as Thor placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, also commenting on her work.

“Your father would be proud. And you do look ravishing, Miss Stark.” Pursing her lips slightly to hold back a giggle, she thanked the three avengers and made her way down the stairs.

“You need to make your move, pal. A girl like that's gotta have ‘em all after her.” Steve jabbed his friend with his elbow, as the three pairs of eyes followed the Stark girl down the stairs.

"It’s all a mess in my head. Can’t do it, Steve.” Bucky sighed, pushing himself away from the balcony and heading down to the bar. Neither Barnes nor Stark tried to mask their feelings for one another, and their flirtatious nature was obvious to everybody they lived with. It was hard for them to watch. Steve had noticed days ago the way Caroline’s face dropped when Barnes left her hanging, the way her gazed lingered. The evidence that this ran deeper than flirty banter right in front of him.

-

As the party drew to a close, Caroline took in the sight before her. Balloons and streamers littered the floor, glasses and bottles on every available surface. Having abandoned her heels long ago, the drunk doctor ran off in search of the object of her affection. But he was nowhere to be found.

“He’s left already, Care.” Steve’s voice was soft, sympathy drowning his blue eyes. Disappointment graced her features for a second before deciding she'd go to his room. “Care, don’t. He’s not alone.”

She was a strong girl, being an avenger required physical strength, but no training could have prepared her for the sudden weight that was her heart. It plummeted to her feet, cracking as it hit the concrete beneath her toes.

“Oh,” she tried and failed catastrophically to cover up how she felt. "Can you please tell Natasha and Wanda that I've gone to bed? And inform the staff that they're to expect a tip first thing tomorrow. Goodnight, Steve.” Turning on her heel, she tried towards the door but stumbled as a hand closed around her wrist.

“He’s a fool, Caroline. I’m sorry.“ With teary eyes and half a smile, she excused herself.

-

Tinkering away at her latest creation, Caroline was in a world of her own. Not noticing the presence of a visitor, she kept at it.

“What’s that?" The question startled her, and she jumped away from her project as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“It’s, uh,” composing herself, she gestured to the tech in front of her “it’s from Shuri. She’s been working on a new model for your arm and wanted suggestions.” The blush in her cheeks was evident, and he couldn’t help but stare. The spell was broken, however, when she cleared her throat slightly.

“Do you need something, Sergeant?” Taken aback by the sudden formalities, his brow drew together in confusion.

“I just came for a chat. You know, like usual?" His voice was soft, and his movements became shy and timid.

“I’m tired of usual, Bucky. I know you have feelings for me. I know that I’m not crazy. I can feel it, Buck." The scientist felt brave in the moment, but his reaction hit her right in the gut. He merely rolled his eyes and chuckled drily.

“Come off it, Caroline. You know we’re just messin’ about. I thought you knew that, anyway. Don’t, uh" tearing her eyes away from him, she felt the tears form as he spoke. "Don't read into it.”

“Is that a joke? Am I a joke to you? Why are you pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, Bucky?"

“Listen, Care, I’m kinda seeing someone. I don't know if I gave you the wrong impression or what, but there's nothing between us. There never will be.”

He didn’t stick around for a response.

-

Having spent all night working from her laptop on a new comms system for the team, Caroline had nodded off on the sofa in the common room, laptop still placed firmly by her feet. Hearing quiet whispers and the shutting of a door, she was pulled from her dreamless sleep, and was listening nosily, trying to figure out who disturbed her.

“Sam, cut it. I’m not doing this again."

“Oh, shut up, dude. It’s obvious you have serious feelings for the girl. What is the issue?” Recognising the voices as Bucky and Sam, she froze. Not daring to move from the couch, she closed her eyes and prayed they didn't come any closer. This conversation was not meant for her, despite how much she wanted to hear the rest. The doctor had been hoping to avoid Barnes since their horrible confrontation in the lab.

“Shut up, you’ll wake her up.” Bucky’s voice was tired and irritated, obviously not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “So what if she has feelings for me? I don’t care.” Biting down hard on her bottom lip, Caroline wished to be anywhere else. "And I don’t actually feel anything for the girl. It's never gonna happen." Heavy footsteps indicated his departure, but Sam managed to have the last word.

“Bull. Shit. You’re scared, and you feel guilty because she’s Tony’s kid. Get outta here, man. Deserves better than your lousy ass anyway.” Earning a grunt and a half-slammed door in response, Sam only sighed. Confident that Bucky had left, Caroline made her presence known to Sam. Shock painted his features for a brief second, before sympathy settled on his face.

“I guess that’s that then.”

-

A month had passed since the Stark girl overheard the two boys in the kitchen. Contact had been brief between the scientist and the sergeant, a series off stiff hellos and tight-lipped smiles. Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure what’d happened. If Sam mentioned to Bucky that she was awake through their conversation, she didn’t know. Despite making her feelings towards him blatantly obvious, it seemed he’d never care whilst he held onto the guilt of his relationship with her father.

As if hearing his name in her thoughts, the super soldier waltzed into the common room, a smile on his face. "Everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Caroline assumed it was a lie. She thought he was trying to save face, trying to knock her down when he said he’d been seeing somebody. But as the pretty blonde stepped out from behind him, she felt her heart fall once more.

“This is Izzie. My girlfriend.” Proud beaming smiles on both of their faces, whilst Caroline felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room entirely. The Avengers all jumped up, polite introductions and pleasantries were exchanged. Snapping back into the moment, Caroline forced herself up and out of her seat.

Her voice was sweet. Light and feminine. A brilliant actress, really. The crack in her voice almost impossible to detect. Unless you’re Natasha Romanoff, of course, who was waiting by the door for her friends impending departure.

“I’m Caroline. It’s really wonderful to meet you.”

[dearyams]

wanted to send you a prompt i was gonna do but i am too lazy prompt: mike and will have been dating but havent said i love you, mike is going on some trip for a week where cell phones dont work (obv future fic) and so Byeler is having a phone convo before mike arrives at his destination and they wont be able to talk to each other a week and will says tells mike he loves him but before mike can respond the phone disconnects as Mike arrives at the destinationn

[ crossposted on AO3 ]

“Finished packing yet?”

Mike turns from his suitcase and the clothes piles spread about the floor in his room and grins when he spots Will leaning on the doorframe a few feet away. He’s got two iced coffee cups in hand, indicative of finishing his part-time hours at the local coffee shop a few blocks north from the Byers residence. Mike wonders if Will biked his way over or took a lift with his brother to come visit before the Wheelers make their way on an impromptu trip to upstate New York at a cabin his dad had recently inherited.

The kneeling boy waves his hands at the disorderly state surrounding him and shrugs. “I’m trying and failing at packing the right clothes for this venture, I’ll say that.”

Will chuckles and walks fully into the room. He passes along Mike’s coffee, shoving around haphazardly folded pants to find a seat on the floor beside the other boy. Mike watches him grab a sweater and toss it aside. “It’s summer so you don’t need to pack heavy. Just grab some t-shirts and jeans; that should do. Shorts too if you’d like.”

“Sure,” sighs Mike before sipping from his cup. “I don’t want to make the visit miserable if I’m wearing the wrong clothes. Wrong for the weather and wrong for looking tolerable in the photos I know Mom is gonna force on me.”

Will laughs, a gentle breeze in the summer’s heat. “You’ll look good in whatever you put on.”

“As my boyfriend, you’re kind of obligated to say that.”

“Not really.” the brunette leans in to kiss Mike’s cheek. “I’ll let you know when you look bad if only for the sake of my own eyes.”

“And when you won’t be next to me, how will you judge my outfits properly?”

Will checks his watch and hums. “When’s your departure? If you have time, you can try out some of the outfits and I’ll let you know what works.”

Mike grins as he reaches over Will’s lap and snags a band t-shirt. “Sneaky aren’t you; tryna get me undressed.”

“I’ll cover my eyes.” Will places his unoccupied hand over his eyes but spreads his fingers between his middle and ring fingers to peek through the opening. Mike scoffs, tossing a stray pair of shorts at his face which makes the brunette laugh heartily. Mike already misses Will, the knowledge that they’ll be separated for a week squeezing his heart dry with romantic despair. He wishes Will could come with but the trip was pretty unplanned and though Mike's “job” as a blog writer and editor doesn’t require a remote location, Will’s job doesn’t allow the same ease when taking off work.

(Though Mike thinks he’ll probably still be working offline on an article if his mom doesn’t steal his laptop for “family bonding in the forest” time.)

Mike’s sudden fashion show lasts for about an hour and while Will does offer good input, most of that hour is spent playing around and Mike sneaking in as many kisses as they can get away with whenever Mike peels off a shirt and struggles to get his head through the tight collar of another. Afterwards, Will helps finish packing and when completed, they lounge about on Mike’s bed as Will discusses the customers he met earlier in the day.

Though he knows packing just mere hours before departure isn’t a habit he should develop, especially when the plans for his career require frequent traveling, he spent the night before editing a movie review scheduled for posting during the drive. Mike doesn’t regret his momentary time mismanagement if it means he spends more time with Will before the trip. The article can wait—he’s posting it early anyway—but time spent with his boyfriend is always coveted.

When Mike’s mom knocks on the door, Will pulls away from Mike’s chest where he rested his head as they page through Mike’s hard copy of The Golden Compass which he wanted to review in line with the show’s release. Shaking his head and straightening his hair as best as possible, Mike struts to his door and opens it with raised eyebrows. His mom looks up from checking her phone and offers Mike a tight smile before looking past him to wave at Will.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two,” she starts warmly, “but Mike, we have to get going soon. The traffic through the city is getting dense thanks to an accident on the 70.”

“Got it,” replies Mike as he turns back to Will, who walks to his side with both their empty cups in hand. “I’ll see you in a few days, Byers.”

“‘Course.” Will grins and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Call me when you’re getting close to your destination.”

“Sure, worrywart,” he teases but turns his face to kiss Will’s lips one last time before he has to depart. He watches Will nod bashfully at his mom and give her a short goodbye before making his way downstairs. Mike doesn’t look away until he hears the front door closing and then he casts his gaze on his mom. “Are Dad, Nancy, and Holly waiting outside?”

“Yes,” she nods toward the front of the house. “We’ll all just waiting on you now.”

It doesn’t take long for Mike to join his family at the car, and as his dad pulls out the driveway, Mike turns in the direction of the Byers and smiles when he sees Will on his bike a little ways down the road watching. He sticks his hand out the window, his wave only growing more frantic when Will waves back. Holly giggles and Nancy makes a side comment about love sick teenagers as if she wasn’t one herself during her escapades with Steve, Jonathan, and now Robin. The first hour and a half fills with Holly saying “moo” every time they pass a cow on the way to the interstate and Mike feels like smashing his head against his window when they pass a farm and Holly moos until she nearly passes out. Pulling out his phone, Mike shoots Will a selfie of himself despondently looking out the window and groans when his cell service takes its sweet time sending the message along. Mike gets a reply a reply twenty minutes later: Will laughing at his misery with a short additional, “you’ll be there before you know it,” and a bunch of kiss emojis.

The next hour passes with Mike flipping through his ever growing Will gallery, a digital photo album filled with selfies and candid shots of Will, both solo and with Mike. He’s not one for being in photos himself but Will manages to drag him into a few selfies here and there. He doesn’t mind snapping a selfie either by himself or together—cheeks squished as they both attempt to fit in the frame as Mike holds the phone up and out—because Will always asks him to send the photo along and then makes it his lock screen until the next time he convinces Mike it’s photo time.

After settling on a candid shot Mike snapped when he and Will visited Lovers’ Lake and the sun framed Will like a bright halo of fire, Mike settles on playing a mobile game for about another two hours before staring out the window until the trees blend together and his eyes find themselves sliding shut. He wakes up a few times here and there when the family stops at gas stations and picks up snacks—he definitely remembers his mom arguing with his dad about stopping at a hotel which they ultimately don’t do—but he wakes up for the final time to his phone buzzing in his lap, startling him out of a dream he quickly forgets upon waking. Caller ID tags the number as Will and he immediately answers as he scrambles for his headphones in his pocket.

“Hey,” he begins, shoving the headphone plug into the slot at the bottom of the device, “Is everything okay back home?”

“Everything’s great,” Will’s voice crackles on the line and Mike peaks outside in the darkness to notice the forest surrounding him. They must be close to the cabin destination already. He didn’t think he had slept for that long. “Just checking in since it’s about time you’ve arrived if your dad didn’t take a rest.”

Mike laughs. “You’re cute, you know, checking up on me like this.” He hears Nancy snorting and reaches over Holly to pinch her bare arm. She glares at him and covers Holly’s eyes to flip him off. “Nancy says hello by the way.”

“Hello back to her.” Mike can hear Will’s grin and his heart clenches in sorrow at the current distance between them. “Are you doing okay there?”

“Yeah, peachy.” Mike yawns and covers his mouth. “Is it too cheesy to say I already miss you?”

“Maybe, but I miss you, too, so you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

A sleepy smile curls itself on Mike’s lips. “One week, Byers; one week and then I’m back.”

“Yeah, but don’t spend your time counting down the days, alright? I’ll do that for us both; you just have a great time at the cabin.”

Mike would kiss him if he could. “I’ll try my best but you know how my brain works.”

“Are you telling me it actually does work?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Will laughs heartily. “Why are you laughing; I’m serious this time.”

“Sure, Wheeler.” Mike frowns as the last bit of his name gets caught in static. “Hey, I know this is probably something that should wait until you’re back but this separation made me realize I should tell you either way.”

“This sounds pretty important.”

“Yeah. I, uh, you probably already know this though but,” and Will takes a deep breath and releases it, though Mike hears it in short, split crackles. “Mike, I love you.”

The clarity in those four words stuns Mike into speechlessness and his mouth dries as his heart thumps speedily in his chest. Will is right, Mike already knows Will loves him, but this is the first time Will has ever said the fact out loud. I love you echoes in Mike’s head at the reverb levels of a rock guitarist. It takes far too long for his brain to come back online, but by the time it does, the car speeds past a brush of trees and the call suddenly drops. Mike looks down at his phone screen as the loud call dropped tone passes through his headphones. His home screen—a playfully disgruntled selfie as Will kisses his cheek—stares him back in the face as Will’s voice continues to bounce about in his head.

Mike, I love you.

Mike quickly calls back but his phone spits back the message that he has no service. “Nancy,” he hisses even though the entire car heard his part of his conversation with Will anyway, “do you have any service on your phone? I need to call Will back and my phone is being homophobic.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows but checks phone and shakes her head. “Looks like you’re straight out of luck.”

“Ha; you’re quite the comedian, aren’t you.” Mike reaches forward to tap his mom’s arm. “Mom, can I borrow your phone to finish a call?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’ve lost service, too. I don’t think any of us can use internet on our phones.”

“Does the cabin at least have wifi?”

“Nope,” snorts Mike’s dad as he drives the car down a dirt road further into the forest. “You kids these days need to learn what life is like without cell phones anyway.”

Mike rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Okay, boomer.”

“What was that, young man?”

“Okay, bummer.” Nancy bites on her bottom lip and Mike sends her a grin before settling in his seat.

Their mom reaches a hand back to rest on Mike’s knee. “It’s only 7 days, Michael. I’m sure both you and Will can last that long without contact.”

He told me he loves me, Mom, he wants to explain but Will’s words are too fresh and far too private to blurt out in front of the whole family. He crosses his arms silently and turns to stare out the window, hoping that Will can wait out these next few days and hoping he doesn’t think Mike hung up on him after such an important conversation. I love you, too, he thinks to himself, smiling as he presses his hand against the chilly window and imagines Will on the other side as if the car window is the window in Will’s room and Will’s inside watching Mike with that ever so lovestruck grin filled with appreciation that Mike came over despite the cold night to comfort Will from the nightmares that occasionally plague him to this day.

I love you, Will, he repeats inwardly, wait for me.

[lynnthevirgo]

When You’re Cheated on - Namjoon

WC: 2k

Summary: Namjoon helps talk you through a day of mental breakdowns after a breakup. 

Warnings: mentions of self harm, mental breakdowns, mentions of bodily harm

A/N: I’m still taking my break, just wanted to post and go because writing is the only thing keeping me going at this point. Yes, this is personal to me. Please don’t ask. Unedited!

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

I was lying on my bed, scrolling through my Tumblr feed with Namjoon just a few seats away from me. He was here as emotional support, having messaged him about the current state I was in. His laptop was open, headphones on and his head bobbing to the beat of a song I’m sure he’ll show me weeks from now when he’s out listened it. But should another episode or attack spring on, he’d be right there ready to talk me down.

It’s not like I was unstable….okay, maybe I was. But I was really good at containing it inside myself, but certain memories will crawl back to the surface and snap my hold on reality. It was so exhausting to go through this cycle. I’ve been spending most of my days in bed, not really doing much because doing too much required energy and effort I couldn’t muster.

He knew I had been with her for a long time. How much she meant to me and the parts of me I let her see, that weren’t always pretty, but I felt comfortable sharing. She shared so much of herself with me as well and that’s why I thought, this is it. She’s it. She’s the one that I’ve been waiting for. My twin flame.

Only for me to be hit with the news that she cheated. We had found ourselves in a predicament where I made her feel alone, unknowingly at the time, her mental demons playing with her over my silence. Then I couldn’t give her the things she needed when she was needy. The two made her reach out to someone who helped her, was there for her when I wasn’t. He gave her comfort and fulfilled the needs she wanted.

She felt bad afterwards and wanted to try to fix things. But I pushed her away. Only afterwards, when I thought we should try to fix things did I find out she had already fallen for him. So she no longer needed me, I was just a piece in her game of life. One that she wanted, because I helped complete the game for her, but didn’t necessarily need.

“Namujoon, please..” I croak, my voice already broken. The pit in my stomach swelling in size, the need for air heightening and the tears falling so fast they double. They’ve already left streaks on my face by the time he looks at me. Instantly he’s at his feet and setting the headphones and laptop to the side, before taking his place beside me.

“What happened? Where are you?” He asks, his fingers through my hair and the other hand rubbing small circles on the center of my back.

“Y/N, it‘s okay. You‘re okay. We‘re okay. Everything will be okay.” He says like a mantra beside me. He’s been using this as a way for me accept things, keep me grounded in reality.

“I hate this. I hate her. I hate him. I fucking hate e-everything.” I bite. My anger lashing out now, I swat the empty space between us on the bed. Only to curl into myself further, fetal position being the only thing to provide me comfort anymore.

“Shh, I know. It‘s okay to hate everything. You‘re allowed to hate this.” He offers as comfort. His big hand sliding down my spine slowly from top to bottom. The other hand out of my hair and holding the hands clutching my chest.

“I don‘t hate her. I don‘t even hate him. I just want things to be like they were. I want her, I want this back and to forget anything happened. Why can‘t I have that back? Why can‘t I have her back?” I ask, more to myself than Namjoon. My emotions peaking, my voice breaking and all the thoughts spilling out.

“I know you don‘t. But you also know why you can‘t have her back, why you can‘t have it back. She made her choice, it‘s time for you to heal.” He replies softly, fingers brushing against my own as he tries to find my eyes.

“You need to help fix this heart of yours. It won‘t work right if you don‘t. She chose her journey, now it‘s time for you to find your own again.” He offers, trying to give me a new perspective to consider.

“I‘d love to! But all I keep seeing is him and her and I‘d rather die than keep reliving it! I‘d rather gouge out my eyes than have to remember that she wanted him to do those things to her! Fucking slit my wrists again than know that every time she‘s not talking to me, it‘s because she‘s talking to him!!” I scream, the sobs ebbing through and the last of my dignity leaving with it as I whine into his chest.

“You don‘t mean that. I know you don‘t. It‘s okay. Just let it out, let everything go.” He whispers in my hair. He holds me so tight that I can’t feel the hurt anymore. It slowly numbs inside myself as the mess on my face wipes onto his shirt. His mantra from earlier being repeated and the sound of his voice lulling me into a sleep.

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

“Look who‘s awake.” He says, putting a tray of food in front of me. I scrunch my face at it, the want and need for food nonexistent.

“If you don‘t eat, I‘ll be forced to feed you myself and you know how much you hate that.” I look to the soup stains from this afternoon on my comforter and sigh. Unhappily, I eat small spoonfuls of the porridge he made.

“How are you?” He asks, sitting at the end of my bed. His full attention on me as one of the BTS soundtracks plays in the background.

“That was a pretty bad one earlier.” He defends for his worry. I just stare at him, wanting to find the perfect words to give him but not having the voice or reason to.

“I know this was the last thing you wanted. Especially after all the promises she made and you told her you‘d believe.” He starts, my eyes already brimming with tears.

“But you keep saying you‘re happy so long as she is. So why don‘t you try?” He offers. His hand resting on my ankle, gently massaging up my calf.

“It‘s so hard, Namujoon.” I manage to croak out. After I place the tray to the side of me, I curl my legs into my chest again.

“I am really glad that she found someone who takes care of her needs like she wanted. A part of me knew going into this that it wasn‘t going to last forever. But-” I can’t even finish, another scream trying to come out in it’s place. I’d been doing so much of that the past few days. I’m sure Namjoon is sick of me.

“Hey, let it out. Stop holding in your emotions. You‘re mad, so scream and yell. You‘re upset, so cry, sob and wail all night if you need to. This is how you heal, y/n. So start allowing yourself the chance to.” He advises, his hand in the center of my back just like earlier. He’s found that I calm down faster when he leaves it there. The other hand of his is still enclosed around my ankle, holding me in place.

“You‘re allowed to have feelings and to express them. It‘s just us here. So let it all out. Your health is the most important thing to me right now.” The bed shifts and I feel his body heat behind me. His arm slides under the pillow and my head, while the other wraps around my stomach and pulls me close to him.

My emotions calm, but my voice is still shaky and broken when I speak.

“This is just so hard. How do I go from asking her everyday if she took her meds, if she‘s eaten to not talking at all some days? She was my best friend, my only friend some days and I love her. I‘m still in love with her.” I finally get out, my sobs breaking again. He squeezes me tighter, I can feel his heartbeat against my shoulder blade. His face buries into my neck, keeping me so close that I can’t tell where I start and he ends.

“Everything works out like it‘s supposed to. You needed her to see that it is possible for someone to love you, all of you, as a whole. Someone to love you as deeply as you love them.” He says low with emotion in my neck.

“You needed to see that. Now that you‘ve seen it, you don‘t need her anymore. She left as quick as she entered and now it‘s up to you to pick up your pieces. To look for the person who isn‘t going to go running to another‘s arms when things get rough.” He explains, his voice just above a whisper now. A low hint of emotion showing with the way his jaw clenches.

“You deserve to be happy and to be cared for fully, without fear. Someone to give you their all for once, instead of you always giving yours.” He adds, my hair sticking to my neck in wet patches from his tears.

“You can beat whatever this is. You‘ve been through hell and back, this one bad heartbreak isn‘t going to ruin the rest of your life. Please believe me. You have to.” He finishes, the breath he exhales coming out shaky.

I wipe my tears, fight the urge to cry again and turn myself to face him. His eyes closed, but his cheeks full of the streaks he didn’t want me to see. As I exhale shakily, I wipe his face with the palms of my hands. His hands coming up to grab my wrists and bring them between our chests. I watch his eyes open and see the pain inside them mirroring my own.

“I‘m okay. You‘re okay. We‘re okay. I will be okay.” I say back to him. Reminding him of the mantra he’s implemented in my head.

“Just don‘t leave me alone. I can do this, so long as you don‘t leave me too.” I say with tears already starting to form and my voice faltering.

He pulls me close, his scent overtaking whatever negative thoughts I was having. The fingers he tightens in my hair, a reminder that he’s there.

“Even if you left me, I‘d never ever leave you. I‘ll still be waiting for you to find your way back home. You‘re family to me and always will be.” He says, leaving a kiss on my temple.

Namjoon was right. I had told myself that so long as she was happy, so was I. So that’s what I would have to start doing. I’ll still let myself grieve over what I lost, who I lost. But at the end of the day, someone else was making her happy. I should be happy for her. Not angry because I don’t have her. She’s happy and because I love her, I want her to stay happy. Even if it means it’s not with me.

I deserve someone who doesn’t break their promises that they won’t leave. Who won’t break their promises that they’ll be there for me too, knowing I’ve been used so many times in the past. Someone who’s willing to still fight for what we had, instead of throwing it away for something that seems exciting right now but might not be in the long run. I deserve better.

Namujoon might just be a friend. But so far he hasn’t broken those, in fact, he’s done everything he can to assure me that he’s always going to be here. Which is what I never got from her. So maybe he’s right. I should fix up this broken heart and work on my journey, because I think I know where I need to go.