#shoe holder wooden

[calicoups]

౨ৎ sweater — csc

synopsis when missing seungcheol turns into you wearing his sweater and socks. pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff word count 1.3k hani’s note cheol calls reader baby, sweetheart and doll. this idea literally just came into my brain because of me taking a sweater out of my wardrobe…inspo by this reel btw hehe!

his sweaters smell like him. like fresh laundry but also a strong masculine scent. it’s comforting, as if seungcheol is all around you. whenever seungcheol isn’t around, you wear his clothes — whether that be his silly looking socks with characters on them, his shirts or his sweaters — and in a sense, they’re grounding, warm and not to mention so cosy. which is why you lay in bed with his sweater. but now your feet are cold. so, you get out of bed for the top drawer, bracing yourself for the cold biting at your feet and face. at the sight of a folded pair of shark print crew socks (seungcheol’s favourite), you jump back in bed and pull the socks on.

a cold draft sneaks in from somewhere and into the bedroom where you’re laying. every few minutes, you’re wiggling around in the blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in, trying to gain as much heat as possible. that draft is beginning to provoke agitation in you and you wonder if you even closed all the windows.

there is no way you’re going to get up (again) to check in this cold, though. you had switched the radiators on, surely you’ve closed all windows and you had closed the doors to rooms that weren’t in use. this was all in an attempt to keep the heat in because you were starting to freeze.

the clock reads 10:18 PM, seungcheol isn’t home yet. he had shouted a quick ‘don’t wait up, sweetheart!’ before he had left in the morning and yes, you weren’t going to wait for him at first but god, you miss him so bad right now. you don’t think you could fall asleep without seeing him first.

reaching out of the blanket for the remote, you decide that the best thing to pass the time with is to watch something. so, you switch on the tv and flick through before settling on whatever seems interesting enough to hold your attention until seungcheol arrives home.

multiple yawns had left your mouth by 11:06 PM, seungcheol was still not home. you begin to doze off after a few minutes, eyes fluttering closed every few seconds before you open them wide and squeeze them to stay awake.

a key turns in the lock, it reaches your ears and has you alert. seungcheol’s keys jangle and you know that the jangling sound is the little batgirl keychain colliding with the wall as seungcheol plugs the guitar key into the wall mounted key holder (your keys held a batman keychain — seungcheol had bought these for you both, opting to have each other’s characters).

as seungcheol sets his coat in the closet near the front door and his shoes on the wooden shoe rack, he turns around and almost goes to slump onto the couch when he catches you staring at him through the open bedroom door.

seungcheol tilts his head a little and smiles at you, “i thought i had told you not to wait up, sweetheart.”

“i know but i wanted to wait for you.” you watch as he walks out of eyesight and hear the tap run, a glass filling up with water. seungcheol walks into the room as he takes a sip from the glass and then takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to you, the glass hanging from his fingertips where his forearm rested on his thigh.

“you missed me? oh, my baby,” he coos and lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a quick peck. he gulps down another sip of water and there is half left which he gestures for you to drink the rest, “all this waiting for me and i bet you haven’t even hydrated yourself, silly girl.”

you shake your head as the water runs down your throat, “not true, i am so hydrated!”

“really?” seungcheol’s lips twitch, trying not to smile as he notices your dry lips. his hand holds your jaw and his thumb is on your bottom lip, “why are your lips chapped, then?”

at this, your tongue darts out to lick at your lips, “what do you mean?”

seungcheol shakes his head, he reaches for the vanity table drawer and takes out a lip balm. its cherry flavoured, his favourite. you set down the glass on the bedside table.

his hand tilts your chin and applies the lip balm to your lips and oh, that concentrated look on his beautiful face. lips parted, eyes shining and focused on your lips, trying so hard to not get the balm anywhere other than your lips.

and when he’s done, he asks you to rub your lips to together so that the balm is spread evenly. he watches you intently as you follow his instructions.

seungcheol carefully moves your head around (at this point, you’re just letting him do whatever, it’s endearing to watch him do things like this) to check that the balm hadn’t smudged anywhere else then he lets go, “there, all done! now, make sure you drink a lot of water if you don’t want chapped lips, okay?”

you nod your head slowly as a response and he gets up to put the lip balm away. seungcheol turns around and squints at you, “are you wearing my sweater?”

“huh? yeah, it was getting cold and also, i missed you,” you explain, “wearing your socks too!”

he looks at the end of the bed where you stick out your feet from the blanket, “you can have all of my sweaters and socks if you look that adorable in them, doll.”

the nickname makes your heart skip a beat. doll. it sounds lovely coming from his pretty lips.

seungcheol smiles and you reach for his hands which he gives. you tug with all the strength you have to quickly press your lips to seungcheol’s, pulling back with an audible ‘mwah’ and you make sure that the lip balm he applied had transferred to his lips too.

seungcheol’s dimples form on both cheeks as he laughs with his gummy smile. full cheeks become rosy and seungcheol shrinks a little in his place. every time you pull your little ‘mwah’ trick, seungcheol gets so shy and you love it. you adore his shyness.

“you’re so silly,” seungcheol ruffles your hair, “i’ll go get changed, be right back,” he pinches your cheek and leaves the room.

when seungcheol re-enters the room, you immediately raise a corner of the blanket to invite him over. he climbs onto the bed, except not next to you. seungcheol hovers over you then lowers himself down onto your chest, his legs between yours and his arms going under yours to hug you.

your heart melts at the sight of his head on your chest, being able to feel his chest rising and falling against your own and his hair tickling the base of your neck which you run your hand through, giving him a slight massage. reaching for the blanket you threw to the side, you pull it over both your bodies to stay warm.

“good day at work, cherry?”

seungcheol’s chest vibrates as he hums, “yeah, and jeonghan dragged me to dinner and he paid, can you believe that? i mean, he always ‘forgets’ his wallet at home!”

seungcheol’s after work stories never fail to make you giggle. it’s the way he tells them with big eyes and even acts them out sometimes.

after the laughter stops from both of you, seungcheol speaks up again, “but i’m tired after that. i would have been home earlier to cuddle with you but jeonghan…” he laughs again, “he wouldn’t let me go! now, i just wanna lay like this with you.”

“yeah? i got you, i’m right here,” you rub his back under the blanket and seungcheol moves his head to kiss your collarbone.

a few minutes later, you’re positive that seungcheol has fallen asleep with the way he becomes heavier and heavier the deeper he sleeps — you feel like your hugging an actual bear — so you give him a quick kiss to his forehead and hold him closer to you before dozing off just after him.

[munsonsreputation]

i'm falling in love, again

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [6.7K]

warnings: no use of y/n, friends to lovers, infidelity (reader's ex), characters are in their early 20s, modern!au (they've got cellphones and text messages okay!!!), cursing, some angst w/ fluff ending.

summary: you thought the plane was going down, but somehow, someway, all the fates and all the stars aligned, and now you were lost in labyrinth of Steve Harrington’s mind forever.

“Hey doll,” Steve greeted softly, holding out a bunch of flowers towards your figure that stood slouched against the wooden doorway, sadness filled orbs meeting his.

You pouted deeply, eyes brewing with tears that blurred him out before you blinked and set them loose. He made a sound, sighed and tsking before he finally closed the space and wrapped you up in his arms, letting you fall against him while you wept into the crook of his neck.

“H-hi Steve.” You croaked, fingers sinking into his back, trying to anchor yourself as he rubbed your skin up and down attempting to sooth the biting warmth that swarmed your body.

Pulling away slightly to look down at your tear-stained face, he gave you a tight smile and gripped you a little tighter.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” He suggested.

You nodded, pulling yourself away from him and swiping your cheeks with your fingers, letting him step into your apartment watching as he locked the door shut and toed off his shoes.

It was emptier than usual, missing footwear from the shoe rack and lonely pegs of the key holder that used to hold another’s. Your ex had finally come around to pick up his things that were left behind. Even if it was a month of separation and him overseas preparing you to see him, it sucked the soul out of your body when he knocked and stood on the other side waiting for you to let him in now that the locks were changed and his spare was no use.

“Sorry for the mess,” You sniffled, gesturing pathetically around the disheveled area, still trying to get rid of everything that reminded you of him and the things that he left behind.

He shook his head, setting the flowers down on the kitchen table and walking over to you. You hated crying in front of him mostly because he hated seeing you so sad, but you couldn’t help what you were feeling inside.

“Don’t apologize. I’m never gonna judge you.” He reminded you never wanting you to feel bad for feeling how you did.

His hands fidgeted with your fingers, rubbing comforting circles over your skin, hoping to get the slow trail of tears to stop pouring and your breathing to even out.

“What do you wanna do?” He proposed, speaking so delicately, careful and considerate, “I can help you get rid of whatever you want out or we can sit down and talk, or we don’t have to talk at all. Whatever you want…I’m here.”

The truth is, Steve was always there through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the stunning. He was one of your closest friends who saw you through and through everything and no matter what, he always made it clear that the second you needed him or anybody, he would be there.

He was the first one to officially meet your ex before he even asked you to be his girlfriend. It all happened when you went on your first date that was soon running a little too late into the evening. Steve was sitting by himself in the corner of the pizzeria as per your request just in case your date turned out to be horrible and you needed a convenient way out.

Three taps of your foot against the tiles meant, “please get up and get me out of there,” and so when he saw you do just that, he didn’t hesitate to stand up and “run into you” by coincidence.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” Steve beamed, holding his arms out wide as you smiled and stood up from your seat, embracing him in a hug.

“Hey Steve!” You greeted, pulling away and turning to your date.

“This is my friend, Steve! We actually live in the same apartment complex.” You explained, watching as they both shook hands and Steve nodded towards him.

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at you as if he remembered something. “Don’t forget that maintenance is shutting off the water at 2 in the morning—that leak is still going at it.” He cursed, shaking his head.

You gasped, nudging his shoulder. “You’re so right! I totally forgot about that.”

Passing your date an apologetic look, you picked up your purse and slung it over your arm.

“I’m so sorry, but I think I should head home. I definitely want to shower before the water gets shut off for god knows how long.”

He stood up, nodding her head, and gesturing out the windows, “Sure thing! Did you want me to drop you—”

Steve cut him off, shaking his head and draping his arm over your shoulders.

“I think we could walk together, just makes sense since we live in the same place and it’ll save you some gas.” Steve assured him, as you nodded in agreement and said your goodbyes.

It wasn’t long before your arm hooked over his and you two were walking the busy streets back to your apartment complex only a good ten minutes away. You and Steve often walked together to do groceries, get late night pizza, or just to get out of your apartments for a while. He never let you walk alone though… that was always his rule.

“Did he say something stupid?” Steve suspected, peering over at you.

You shook your head, silently continuing to walk with him.

“Is he not funny?” He tried again.

You laughed this time, pushing against him gently as he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“He wasn’t not funny.” You chided.

He wanted to beg to differ, seeing as though you spent most of the date nodding and smiling, not much laughter going on, but maybe he was just reading too much into it. But he tried to think up what could have made you want to cut the date short and head back home thirty minutes earlier than you were supposed to.

“Do you not find him attractive?” He said once more.

Your lips curled, eyes shooting up to think to yourself as you neither shook your head nor nodded, just simply shrugging.

“He’s great, I had fun… I just don’t know where this is gonna go.” You pointed out, stopping at the crosswalk.

He leaned over you, fist knocking into the button, waiting for the light to turn red.

“Where do you want it to go?” He met your eyes, staring into them deeply, hoping to get a glimpse of the future, yet all he could see was the slight reflection of himself.

You smiled unknowingly, taking a deep breath and letting your shoulder fall.

“We’ll see.” You whispered, tugging him along through the crosswalk.

Two piles were made in the middle of your living room: trash and donate. You and Steve went through boxes of stuff your ex had left behind, clothes, old records, knick knacks — everything that he had left for you to deal with, as if breaking your heart wasn’t enough.

“Why did he always dress like he was in boarding school?” Steve cackled, folding up a pair of slacks that added to the already tall pile of dress clothes that would be going to the Salvation Army.

You giggled, sifting through the rest of the stuff you had set aside, and hid in the back of your closet, hoping to avoid until now.

“He was really going for that stuck up, private school, douchebag look I guess.” You scorned, huffing as you chucked a meaningless valentines card into the trash bag.

You didn’t care for keeping anything from him even just for memory's sake — if anything you wanted to burn him out of your memory and forget that he ever even existed to begin with.

“Well, on the bright side, someone else is gonna be wearing these clothes to their first professional interview, but hopefully whoever it is isn’t such a jackass.” Steve scoffed, moving the pile aside to make space for the rest of the things.

“Yeah, let’s hope.” You breathed, reaching the bottom of the box, plucking out the white envelope that laid by itself.

You froze for a second, throat tightening up and your heart thumping against your chest a little stronger. It had been the thing you found that confirmed your suspicions that your ex wasn’t being as loyal as he was claiming to be. In fact, he had been sharing his devotion to another woman… one that you thought was just a friend from work, though you should have read the signs way before then.

“You okay?” Steve furrowed his brows at the sudden silence, turning to see you go rigid while you stared at the piece of paper.

The front of it was marked with her initials and his in a big red heart, encasing their names like it was some kind of holy matrimony. The other side stained with her red lipstick marks that she had left behind. The contents of the letter: a confession of her love for him — how she couldn’t believe she had gotten so lucky to find someone whom she got to see every day even if it was during boring meetings and long nights at the office.

Your heart felt like it had dropped from its cages right down to your gut, a sort of free falling feeling similar to the rise of an elevator that would come plunging down. You wanted to be in denial, re-reading the letter over and over again hoping that maybe your mind was seeing things that they weren’t supposed to — but that was the joke of it all.

You weren’t supposed to see it, but you did.

You felt the rise, quickly taking you up to the floor that you were supposed to be on, only to be left hugging yourself, not even being given a warning to brace the crash.

“I—It’s the letter.” You let out, swallowing the lump in your throat, eyes staying glued to the floor as you tossed it aside.

Steve was the first to know about it, too. You had called him, practically speechless not knowing how to go about it. He swore the first five minutes of the phone call was him asking you if you were alright and if you were still there — nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to say next.

“I…I think he might be cheating on me.” You whispered, closing your eyes, doing your best to not take it out of proportion.

Steve just jeered, puffing out a ridiculous laugh. “Why do you think that? How could he ever cheat on someone as amazing as you? I think you might be overthin—”

“I found a letter.” You confessed, and he quickly shut up then the line went silent for a few seconds.

“W-what kind of letter? I-I mean, what does it say?” He stammered over his words, still trying to grasp what was happening.

“A love letter.” You cracked, taking a harsh breath, rising up from your place on the floor to get as far away from it as possible to somehow make it feel like it wasn’t real.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve rushed the apology out.

A shuffle sounding over his voice as you let out a sob and paced your apartment panicked and distraught.

“What do I do? I—I never imagined this…never in a million years. I don’t know what to do, Steve… please, tell me, what can I do?”

You were begging, trying to make sense of the situation, even trying to see it through when you both knew there was no going back from here.

Steve wouldn’t let you do that to yourself.

A knock sounded on your door, interrupting your tears as you choked, wiping them off your cheeks, pulling the phone away from your ear slightly. You unlocked it, opening it a bit only to be met with him on the other side. He caught his breath, pushing the door open with a gently hand.

“I don’t know, but right now, I’m here okay? I’ll be here as long as you need.”

Steve stayed over that night, holding you in your arms as he read the letter to himself, trying to understand why that son of a bitch could do something so cruel to you. And when your phone went off with a text message from him, saying he’d be spending the night at the office doing paperwork ahead of the big meeting the next morning — Steve was the one who texted back for you.

You both knew he was lying, spending the night at her place instead.

It took everything in Steve to not blow up, to pounce on the moment to tell him that you had found the letter and figured everything out. That he best not even bother to come home at all because you’d be throwing him out.

But he resisted… and he always did until you were ready.

He resisted the next day when you told him to go home and get some rest after he had spent the night worrying about you and soothing you back to sleep when you would wake with the nightmares of your boyfriend and his mistress.

He resisted when you told him that you’d figure out a way to break up with your him soon, even when he knew you were holding out.

He resisted when he came to check up on you a few days later, only to be met with your boyfriend answering the door, him and his stuff still there.

He resisted when you and your friends went out for dinner, and you had dropped the bombshell on them, and could say nothing when they asked if you had broken it off already.

He never understood why you waited so long to call things off, when deep down you knew how wrong the situation was. He tried to put himself into your shoes, to imagine what you must be feeling inside that made you want to stay and be tolerated instead of celebrated. But he couldn’t feel it. He only wished you could see yourself from his eyes, then maybe you’d see it a little clearer.

That you didn’t need to stay in the footnotes or the bylines of his life, when Steve was right there, so ready and willing to make you his temple, his mural, and his sky.

But he sat and watched you until you were ready to let go — until you pulled the dagger out and lost the weight of the person who was holding you back and taking advantage of your love.

He swiped the letter away, tucking it within the folded clothes to get it out of your sights. He scooted closer to you, a tender hand coming to cradle your head and let you rest it on his shoulder.

“Do you think she knew about me?” You marveled aloud, sniffling as you grazed up at him.

He didn’t answer, just letting his fingers pull your hair behind your ears, tucking them away.

“She had to have known, right?” You stared at him, hoping he would have the answers that you’d been longing to find even after all this time.

But Steve wasn’t an expert on all this. He didn’t want to fill your head with narratives that he didn’t know were exactly true; he knew it would only make you spiral with the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’s, but to quite honest, there was nothing that you could have done to fix it and no answer Steve could have given you to change the past.

“He didn’t deserve you. I know that much.” Steve whispered, lifting your hand in his, keeping his response short with something that he knew was sure.

You squeezed against his digits, threading your fingers through his, letting the both of you stay hand in hand on your living room floor.

“Why wasn’t I enough for him?”

He squeezed your hand three times, taking a deep breath in keeping his eyes on yours, “Because he was an idiot not satisfied with the best he had in front of him.”

Steve knew a lot about boys. After all, he once was one of them — stupid, self-centered, ignorant, and most of all ungrateful. He lived life like everything and everyone was replaceable, a kind of numbness that he had garnered since he was a little boy following the footsteps of his dad and just trying to make him proud by being a reflection of him.

Nancy Wheeler changed that for him, his first love, such a lovely experience that changed his life for the better. But it costed him losing her too. He could never step close to Jonathan Byers, the one who was man enough to love Nancy the way she wanted… the way Steve never could.

It stung for a long time. Lots of hope that maybe one day Nancy would love him again, and more hopelessness knowing that she was irrevocably in love with Jonathan and he would have hated for her to only see him in his eyes knowing her heart always belonged to him.

The heartbreak could have made him envious at the world, wanting to lash out like a wounded animal and get revenge on the entire world like some sort of villain, but it did the exact opposite.

He took it in stride even when some days were harder than the rest. There was a community of love around him, and while it wasn’t romantic, it was enough for him to see it through and know that one day when he met the one, he wouldn’t let himself let her pass by.

You released his hand, smoothing the top of his with yours as you put on a small smile taking your head off of his shoulders.

“I’m gonna make us a drink… and thank you for being here for me.” You spoke gratefully, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

He stayed there for a second, watching you closely, trying to figure out if you were running away from talking about it or if you were just over it by now. He crossed his fingers that it was the second option; he wanted you to be over it, to not be so affected and hurt anymore knowing that you were always the better half, the one who didn’t lose anything because you already had everything you needed inside of your heart.

But he also knew it tended to get like this — thoughts so loud, presence so distant, you were a world away while he was there hoping you’d find your way back home soon.

“Fuck him, he’s a piece of shit who never deserved you!”

The nightclub was so chaotic, bright lights, booming music, even louder friends who were trying to get you to feel a little better about the breakup. Nancy and Robin had arranged the night out for you with the best of intentions, seeing as though you had spent every day since the breakup inside the apartment that you used to share with him.

It didn’t help that you broke things off right before he had to go out of town for a work, all of his things still stayed where they were, not enough time for him to find a new place or ask a friend to stay with them for a while. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been if he was still there physically.

You gulped down the shot, pinching your eyes closed when the liquid went down with a burn before being followed by the sourness of a lime. The girls cheered around you, nudging your shoulders and placing kisses on your head affectionately.

“C’mon! Let’s go dance!” Robin whistled, grabbing your hand and attempting to pull you to the dance floor with her and Nance, but you stayed grounded, just barely glued to the seat.

You flashed her a reassuring smile and waved her off to the dance floor.

“You guys go ahead! I’ll meet you there in a little…I just need some water.” You called out loud enough through the music and they both nodded, shimmying into the disco lights.

Steve tapped his fingers against the tabletop, sipping on his Coke, no alcohol added. He volunteered to be the designated driver for the night and of course, honorary body guard if anyone messed with you guys. You didn’t know if he’d want to spend the night practically babysitting three girls, but you were glad he was there nonetheless.

“You having fun?” Steve leaned over so you could hear him better.

You nodded instantly, though there was a strain in your features. Eyes shining with a glaze over them and your smile felt like it was rehearsed, something you had spent time in the mirror trying to get right so that it was believable past the frown you’d been wearing.

He looked at you unconvinced, reaching under the table to hold your hand in his, “You can tell me the truth, doll.”

“I just…” You looked around, hoping that your friends were looking at you and sure enough they were too busy dancing to the beat of the music having fun like you were supposed to be doing right then. But you definitely didn’t want to dump it on them, seeing as though they did this for you and didn’t mean any harm.

“I, I hate that everybody expects me to bounce back, just like that.” You snapped your fingers with a clack, “I want to forget about it and move on, I really do, but I just can’t do it overnight you know?”

He nodded understandingly, thumbing over your knuckles, “I know what you mean, but it only hurts this much right now because it’s raw and fresh… one day you’re gonna wake up and it won’t hurt as much.”

“I wish that day would come sooner.”

“It will,” He reassured you, squeezing your hand three times, “But what about tonight you just pretend?”

“Pretend?” You looked at him uncertainly.

“Pretend like you’re over it, or just pretend like he never even existed? Go out there and have fun and pretend like you forgot about him, just for tonight.” He told you, gesturing over to the dance floor of people who were probably doing the same.

“You think that’ll work?” You rose your brows, and he snickered, shrugging lightly.

“Won’t know if you don’t try,” Steve whistled.

“Come with me?” You tilted your head before taking the last shot on the platter.

You let it burn, not bothering with a chaser until he pushed his Coke towards you, coaxing you to take at least a sip before nodding his head with a sly smile.

“I’m following your lead, babe.”

Steve was sober, yet with his hands intertwined in yours he felt drunk on love. Laughing so hard, his cheeks hurt as he moved with you, nonstop jumping, screaming, and dancing to the music that resounded through the speakers. Even in the neon lights of the club, nothing shined as bright as you. He would do anything you wanted in order to see you this happy, even if it meant breaking his back to make you break a smile.

He stayed on that dance floor until you were tired and needed to catch a breath. His hand stayed in yours as he drove Nancy and Robin home. He stayed and held your hair back when you threw up in the toilet. And he stayed with you in his arms on your living room couch as you cried at the haunting memories until you fell asleep.

It felt like no one could put you back together, not even yourself, but Steve was the one holding onto you during those times, and he always stayed — even now.

He tossed out the trash bags into the dumpster, placing the donated ones in the trunk of his car to deal with tomorrow. Two vintage VHS tapes sat in the corner of the trunk, something he thought maybe you both could enjoy for the rest of the day.

“I found these.” He wiggled them in the air, locking the front door shut. “I was supposed to return them yesterday, but I’ll just do it when I get back to work on Monday.”

You strided over, swapping the tapes for his drink: Coke with a splash of triple sec. Inspecting the tapes, you moped, looking up at him.

“These are both rom-coms.” You grumbled, taking them towards the living room nonetheless, him following behind you.

Steve muttered out an ‘sorry’ before falling back onto the couch.

“They’re El’s. She gave them to me to return because she didn’t want to bike all the way there. But we don’t have to watch any of them. We can just sit and talk if you want?”

You snorted, setting them down near the player just in case you both decided to watch them later. “About how pathetic I am for still letting him get to me?”

“You’re not pathetic.” He sat the glass down on the coffee table, patting the cushion beside him.

“I feel like I should be over it by now.” You retorted, tossing yourself beside him, slumping into the cushions.

“It’s not that easy especially when you were in love with him.” Steve pointed out, trying to sway you to give yourself more grace.

“I want to believe that he loved me as much as I did him, but I think that would mean I’d be lying to myself.” You admitted, shaking your head at yourself and looking down at your lap while you twiddled with your fingers.

“You don’t think he loved you?” He sought, bringing his hand towards your knee, rubbing comforting circles around it.

You shook your head, scoffing towards yourself, “I don’t even think I know what it feels like to be loved by a man in that sense. I don’t think he saw me or felt that way for me.”

“Why do you think that?”

You shrugged, thinking back to the contents of the letter, the swooping words that had been engrained into your mind like a cursed image you would forever be stuck seeing every time you closed your eyes.

“Because he never showed it, really. That letter… she said that he’d bring her flowers to the office, leave her favorite coffee on her desk with a little note, bring her an extra sandwich when she forgot her lunch…”

You rolled your eyes weakly, cursing in your mind knowing you were the one who made those sandwiches every night and packed them up for him to take, only to give it to the girl he was cheating on you with.

“It’s those little things that I never got. Those small details of the effort he never gave to me.” You pinched your fingers together, half hating that you were revisiting these feelings again and more so loathing that you were dumping it all on Steve.

He gave you a comforting look, nodding for you to go on knowing you had so much to say, and he’d stay here all night until you got it all out of your system. You bit on your lip, shaking your head as you tried to gathering what you’d been feeling.

“The worst part is, I—I feel like I gave him all the best parts of me, and I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again.” You sounded disappointed in yourself, like you had given up on your fairytale happy ending that you always wanted.

Steve’s face twisted, eyebrows pulled together, and a heavy frown playing on his lips.

“Don’t say that.” He scolded tenderly, hating that you amounted yourself to that.

“It’s true,” You laughed so sure of yourself, “I don’t think I have it in me to expect someone to love me the way I really want them to.” You threw your hands into your lap, turning to look out the window.

Steve couldn’t let you live with that thought in your head any longer. He didn’t know when you starting believing that, but he’d be damned if he let you think that your happiness was over just because one guy did you bad. If he could and if you would let him, you would realize that happily ever after was right in front of you the whole time.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

“What if that someone already does?” Steve clutched your hands, pulling himself closer to you, knees knocking into each other.

Your eyes snapped back to his, staring at him puzzled by the sudden sanguine of his voice, “What?”

He squeezed your hand three times, taking a deep breath as he spoke it out loud once again — this time a little clearer in his phrasing, needing to get this right.

“What if there’s someone out there who doesn’t need to be taught how to love you because they already do?”

His voice was sure of himself, accompanied by a bit of nervousness that only you could decipher as him trying not to get tongue tied.

“What are you saying?” You looked between his eyes, searching for an answer yet only seeing a reflection of yourself clouding his irises.

“That I’m in love with you.” He blurted out without a moment's hesitation.

You stared at him motionless, not knowing if he meant it in the way you thought he did. For all you knew, he could have been referring to the friendship aspect of your relationship. You wanted to be in denial once more, knowing this couldn’t be what you thought it was.

“Steve…” you whispered, hand going slack against his, clearly taken aback.

He didn’t let you let him go, covering your intertwined hands with his free one. Your pulse was practically beating in his palms, the blood rushing through your body in a surge and your heart beating with a rapid thumpthumpthump. You could feel his hands shaking, his chest rising quicker with each second that passed with him trying to gather his words.

“I’m not just saying this. I mean it with everything inside of me.” He promised you, letting his hand release yours only to grip your wrist and bring them to his beating heart.

Despite it all — the nerves and everything that should have shut his body down — his heart stayed steady, beating in sync with yours. He gulped thickly, dropping your hands back to your lap as he stood and paced the small space between your coffee table and the couch.

“I—I’ve been in love with since I could remember you walking into Family Video and running into me and helping me pickup the tapes while you apologized profusely. I’ve known that I have loved you since forever, but I…I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you because I was terrified that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

He halted in front of you, catching his breath hoping you were able to at least understand some of the contents of his ramble, not getting lost in it.

Your shoulders rose with a deep breath you took in. “Why didn’t just—”

“I tried! And I was going to!” He exclaimed swiftly, raking a hand through his hair and tugging in frustration towards himself, because he felt as if he could have prevented this — you getting hurt.

He slowly took his seat next to you, elbows resting on his knees as he focused his sights forward not knowing if he could bear to look into your eyes as he spilled the rest of what he had been keeping inside for so long.

“But after your first date with that idiot I wanted you to tell me that there was something wrong…that you didn’t like him at all. I was gonna swoop in and say that maybe I could make it up to you and finally take you out on a date, but I didn’t because turned out you actually liked him.”

Your heart stopped, chest rising and falling so slowly you thought you could faint. But how could you when Steve was still there confessing his undying love for you?

“I didn’t want to get in between the two of you because it wouldn’t be fair, no matter how much I feel inside for you. I didn’t want to rob you of what could’ve been between you and him.” He swallowed, hanging his head low.

You wished he had stolen your heart and never let it be tainted with the hands of someone who was only going to drop it and hurt you. You wished that he didn’t wait and had been so considerate to the other party, when in reality he was holding back because of you… because he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn’t with him.

“Y-you don’t understand how hard it’s been for me to watch you be treated like a second option, while I stand there and in my head you’ve always first. I…I don’t know why I waited so long to tell you. I’m sorry.” He said hoarsely, head lifting to glance at you where you faced him still reeling from it all.

“Don’t apologize, Steve.” You sighed, shaking your head and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

He wiggled under your palm, grunting to himself, “No I have to, because god, maybe I could’ve saved you from that piece of shit and what he did. If I would’ve just spoken up and told you that I’m in love with you sooner, things could have been different.”

Maybe he was right, that if he would have said something after that date, things wouldn’t have gotten this far. But perhaps it was fated, the way that it hurt so much at the time and how he thought he would have to spend his whole life getting over you knowing it was going to be impossible.

Break up, break free, break through, break down.

“Things can be different now.” You murmured, jaw trembling at the notion you just let out.

He sat up calmly, beaming into your eyes. “It can?”

You nodded assuringly, taking his hand, intertwining it with yours and giving it three squeezes knowing this was going to be a long road, but you were willing to take it with him.

“You know my number by heart. You come and water my plants when I’m staying late at work, and if I’m lucky, which most times I am, you leave me dinner in the fridge.” You told him, watching as a small smile spread across his face.

Steve did things that friends didn’t always usually do. He was the one who came over and changed your locks for you to save you the stress of not knowing when your ex would show up eventually and let himself in. He was the one who spent hours watching videos on how to do it himself, going back and forth from the hardware store to get everything he needed. He didn’t even let you help, shooing you off to lie in bed and get the rest you had been missing, all the while he made sure you were going to be okay.

He knew it wasn’t going to stop him from eventually coming back, but it was enough to at least give you a warning, something that you deserved after all of it.

“You know when I’m lying and instead of trying to pry me out of it you get me to talk about how I’m feeling.”

Steve was never accusatory when it came to you. He never wanted to shine the light on something you were trying to keep hidden in order to stop him from worrying about you — he knew you had the best of intentions. But he knew he should’ve been the least of your worries. He would stare at the ceiling with you, not saying too much or reading too deep into things, as he just wanted to help you let it all out — melancholy and all.

You took a deep breath, bringing your joined hands into your lap, shaking it mildly, “Y-you care about me so much so that you pick up every call before the second ring, and you…” pausing, you smiled up at him in awe, giving into the feelings and setting yourself free.

“You love me so much that you almost thought you lost the love of your life.”

Sitting eyes wide opened, Steve only had one thing stuck in his mind — you were the love of his life, the bullet that you never were, the thing that he didn’t dodge and even if you were, he’d let you pierce through his heart knowing at least it was you that got him at the end.

“W-what?” He buzzed, swinging his head, hoping he wasn’t reading you wrong.

“I’m falling in love with you, Steve.” You professed, eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

You pursed your lips, shaking your head at yourself, going on with your words.

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner, but I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life, and when I met him… a piece of me died because I wasn’t with who I was supposed to be with. Like I wasted all my love on him when you were right in front of me all along.”

It made perfect sense that every time you tried to search for something in his eyes you only saw yourself, not just in the reflection sense, but deeper than that. Past the irises and clouds of hazel, you could tell he was always looking at you, even in a room of faces that in his eyes were blurred into nothing when you were before him.

And like you, when Steve looked in your eyes he saw himself. The way that you would always find him in a crowd before anyone else. He was the first sight you wanted in your views and the last, if anything were to happen to you. Every time you met his, it felt like coming home, a sort of familiarity that even your apartment couldn’t sum up.

Steve shook his head at you, bringing his free hand up to your cheek.

“You didn’t waste all of it… I know you’ve got some left in you.”

You laughed lightly, leaning into his touch as you hummed. “For you, I do.”

“You can love again, let me show you that you can,” He promised, his voice never breaking, a vow that he was ready to make and destined to keep.

Like clockwork, his hands squeezed your three times, and you nodded, knowing he was with you on that road and he wasn’t going to leave you stranded. You could trust him… you always could.

His forefingers held your chin, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling his breath fan against your face.

Oh no, I’m falling in love again.

Your faces slotted into each other, leaning in closer and closer until you felt his lips on yours. Plush skin, brushing against your lips, moving gently together and there you were afraid that it wasn’t going to last… that this was too good to be true.

Oh no, I’m falling in love again

You felt the rise of the elevator, the takeoff on the runaway, the anticipation that settled in before you let it take you wherever it wanted. His hands cupped your cheeks, yours wrapping around his neck, the two of you not daring to leave each other just yet.

Oh, I’m falling in love

Your hearts were beating out of your chest’s, the thumps resounding in the air through your eardrums, letting it be the only thing you could hear. There was no crashing, no turbulence coming through to you — no need to brace yourself for an impact that wasn’t coming.

“I love you,” you whispered breathlessly against him, foreheads pressed together as you both opened your eyes and stared into each other.

“I knew you could.” He beamed, pulling you back to him as you giggled into another kiss that would be many of a lifetime.

You thought the plane was going down, but somehow Steve turned it right around — this time the love would last… just like that.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: this somehow turned into a 6k fic when it was supposed to be a small little blurb...oopsies!!! anyways, i hope you guys like this one -- i feel myself slowly coming out of my writers slump and it's been really nice and refreshing to get to write again without the pressure on my shoulders. labyrinth is also becoming one of my favorites off midnights, i just adore it so much and while it's not so lyric heavy, the production ties it all together. let me know what you guys think and isn't stevie a cutie patootie??!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[1-800-local-slut]

House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn. 

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her. 

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways. 

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen. 

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude. 

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes. 

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’ 

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over. 

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin. 

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her. 

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase? 

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was. 

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized. 

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago. 

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting  Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s. 

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels. 

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down. 

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook. 

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.” 

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows. 

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.”  A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar. 

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned. 

“Oh hi! I’m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist. 

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock. 

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away. 

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open. 

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle. 

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now. 

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly. 

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there. 

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice. 

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine? 

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid. 

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling. 

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately.  Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

[grogusmum]

A Dark and Stormy Night (oneshot)

werewolf!FRANKIE MORALES X F!READER

W/C: 3500ish

RATED: E (18+)

WARNINGS: well, monsterfucking, oral sex (f recieving), rough sex, unprotected PiV sex (it's a fantasy y'all you know what to do!!). As always, if you see something, say something. Message me in my DMs, I'm happy to add something I missed.

SUMMARY: You stumble into a lighthouse to get out of a storm, and meet the handsome light-keeper, who has a secret, but is irresistible.

A/N: Oberyn and the Merling was technically my first foray into monsterfucking, but that was like teenagers humping in the back of a car...this is, well, it's as no holds barred as I've ever gotten. I hope it doesn't suck, lol. Anyway wish me luck! 💚

This was posted as a multipart fic, but when I finished the second part it made more sense to be all one piece. I may write more for these two, but as it stands, it is a oneshot.

You follow a boardwalk that becomes a path as the clouds roll in, obscuring the moon. You know you need to find cover before the storm.

Focusing on the shifting sand under your feet, as the rain begins, you speed up. The skies continue to darken; soon, you reach the first rocks of the jetty while the rain comes down in sheets. Looking up, you find yourself at the base of an old lighthouse. The lens swings across the black water as it lights up the dark and stormy night for those lost at sea.

Beach rose thorns tear at your sweater as you race up the slope. Beyond, scrub pines and pin oak trees create a small amount of cover; the wind picks up, but not before you hear the baying of a wolf… no, not a wolf. A coyote, there are no wolves in these parts. But there's something different about the howl; you speed up and bang on the door of the great beacon.

"Hello?" You shout, "please! Is anyone there?"

As if in answer, another howl rings out, making you jump. After a crash of lightning for good measure, you try the latch and push the door open, willing to disregard good manners. Looking for a switch or a lamp, you find only a candle in a heavy brass holder on a small shelf and a black matchbox holder attached to the curved wall. 

Running the wooden match across the strike pad, it sputters to life, and you light the candle. Slipping your finger into the brass ring of the candle holder and carrying it before you, the Gothic horror mood of the whole situation is not lost on you. With a sigh and a shiver, you wind up the spiral stairs.

"Hell-lo? I don't mean to intrude, but��" you call again and then with a chuckle in an undertone, "Our car broke down a few miles up the road. Do you have a phone we might use?"

Shivering in your soaked clothes, you reach the first level, which contains the living quarters. You can't help but rush to the woodstove, which warms the round room.

You hear a creak below as you take off your shoes and socks. Did you forget to latch the door entirely? Biting your lip in worry, you continue to listen; bracing yourself, you pull a poker from the coal scuttle.

You wait and wait. Time spins out—the only measure is your heart’s tattoo, like a rabbit's. As the adrenaline clears your system, you become exhausted. Swaying where you stand, the iron poker clangs on the pine floor, bringing you back. Deciding it must just be “old house sounds,” you move to the bed and sit, and without so much as a yawn of warning, your eyes slip closed.

In the middle of the night, you feel a weight on your chest, soft and warm. Your eyes flutter open, and blocking the light coming from the woodstove is an enormous shape pressing on you; as your eyes focus, it huffs a breath, and you recognize it as a sleeping dog sound. It's huge, with pointed ears. How did you not see or hear it when you came in? Whether a watchdog or not, wouldn’t it have come to investigate? The trunk of the animal is on you, its muzzle at your collarbone, a front leg on either side of you, fully caging you in. Your hand comes up, fingers sinking into its plush fur, like a wolf’s… you shake your head, not a wolf, of course, but those dogs that look like them. Its steady heartbeat and relaxed breathing lull you back to sleep; elk-hound, that's what the one, you think, as you drift under again.

Waking again at full light, you find yourself tucked into a patchwork quilt, your shoes placed under the stove, warm and dry, no dog to be seen. The smell of eggs and bacon draws you up the stairs, halfway up you can hear the food sizzling on the stove. You feel this need to check yourself over, but you seem fine. You fell asleep on the bed of a stranger, who is apparently back- you shake your head at how unbelievably dangerous that was. Then you remember the dangers outside… it's a calculated, if hastily figured, risk.

His back to you, in front of the stove, you presume, is the light-keeper, a cable knit sweater stretched across his broad shoulders. 

"He-hello?"

He turns, soft brown eyes, brown curls standing up as though he’d run his fingers through them just a moment ago, a sharp nose that suits him, with crease of his bottom lip that accentuates his mouth’s natural pout. Not that you had any real expectations on what a lighthouse operator looks like but... maybe like some old-salt sailor type with a beard and pipe. Silly, of course. You remind yourself that you are not a cod fish and close your mouth.

"Morning," came his rich baritone voice.

"I'm so sorry, I- I - the storm-” you stumble as you try to pull yourself together.

"Don't worry about that. I hope you slept alright. "

"I did, thank you, but  I- should get going." You start putting on your shoes, “ I really didn't mean to fall asleep, " ...on your bed.

“'S not problem, really; that was one hell of a storm last night.”

“I should go-”

Well,” he says, bringing breakfast to a simple pine table, “that's the tricky part…” 

“W-why?”

“The roads are impassable and there's more rain on the way.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing to be done about it right now,” he says, “have something to eat.”

You begin to eat, and after a bite or two, you introduce yourself.

“Where are my manners- I’m Frankie. Spending too much time on my own, I guess.”

“Are you kidding, I burst into your house like Goldilocks! Found sleeping in your bed.”

“And was it just right, Goldie?” He smirks.

You fluster a little; he is very handsome after all, and broad and was that flirting… 

“Better to be Goldilocks than Red Riding Hood, I suppose.” He says you get the feeling it wasn’t meant to be out loud. “I guess that depends on who the huntsman turns out to be…” 

He notices your eyes widen and smiles apologetically, brushing his comment aside. “Sorry, like I said, spend a lot of time on my own.”

"S-speaking of Red Riding Hood, where’s your dog? It came and slept with me last night.”

“Hmmm?" Frankie murmurs as he sets the table, "Oh, he’s- around.”

“Well, he kept me very cozy last night. What a cuddle bug; what’s his name?”

“His, um - it’s Cisco. You better dig into those eggs; they're gonna get cold.”

“Right,” you take up a fork of scrambled egg, “I will be able to leave today, though, right?”

“We’ll have to see,” is all he says before digging into his breakfast.

Frankie goes about his light-keeper duties, including hunting for his lost skiff. You aren't sure what to do with your time-

“Is there something I can do to help? I kind of feel weird just sitting around-”

“Well, the weather isn't going to let us do much outside safely, but-”

Frankie pulls off his ball cap, ruffles his hair, and plops it back on his head, thinking, “I mean, you could help clean the lantern glass …”

“Really?” You stand, excited to do a real lighthouse job. 

“Sure, hard to mess up… no offense, and safe.” 

You take no offense; on the contrary, you clap happily to yourself, to which Frankie chuckles.

After showing you the supplies and giving you a quick demonstration, he starts down the stairs to continue with his other duties and then stops and turns-

"Thanks, Goldie," he winks and then descends the stairs.

After a time, you see him out on the rocks despite the wind starting up again from the east. He must be looking for his rowboat. You decide to scout the circumference of the lantern room, looking out the windows to see if you can see the craft. 

To the northwest, you see something red against the rocks. It doesn't look good.

You step out onto the gallery. Luckily, this isn't a particularly tall lighthouse, but it's tall enough, and the iron balcony was small enough that you feel a touch of vertigo looking down. It doesn't help that the wind's really kicking up now, reminding you that this is just a break in the storm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and open them.

"Uh, Frankie!" 

Frankie looks up, hand going to the bill of his cap.

"Is that your skiff?" You point to the red “something” half in the water. 

He hollers his thanks and jogs over to where you are indicating, and you can see his frustrated huff as his hands hitch onto his hips in a disgruntled fashion.

Cleaning all that glass takes time, and your shoulders can feel the real work of it. You stop only when your stomach screams for lunch, and you find a sandwich under plastic wrap for you, but you haven’t seen Frankie, Lighthouse Keeper, the rest of your time working on it, nor Cisco, the Lighthouse Dog. 

He had brought the boat to a shed and disappeared inside it. When and if he came out, you didn't notice. You also realize you haven’t seen any signs of a pet anywhere; no bed or bowls. When you come down the spiral steps, you smell of the concoction used for cleaning the glass and lens; watered-down isopropyl alcohol and Woolight - but mostly the alcohol. 

“You'll want to wash your hands with this,” Frankie hands you a bar of soap at the first landing of the spiral stair. “It'll take care of the rubbing alcohol smell and keep your hands from drying out.” 

Frankie gives a crooked smile of apology at your startled jump. Murmuring your thanks, you take it and smell the bar that looks so small when in his hand. Fresh. Your mind wanders to how this fresh scent might mingle with Frankie's natural one. The bubble of revery is just a millisecond and pops like one the moment your eyes land on Frankie, who looks like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

When you join him in the kitchen, where he is again standing over the stove, the delicious scent of savory soup reminds you of coming home after a long chilly walk from school. The wind is howling now, and you can hear the crash of the waves, as high tide approaches, the pound of them like rumbling thunder. Its only rival is the whip crack of the actual thunder chasing the lighting strikes illuminating the windows. 

“Where’s Cisco?”

“Weather like this he likes to be below,” Frankie says after a beat, back still turned, “I have him set up with his bed down there so he doesn’t get anxious.”

“Oh,” you feel a little more at ease about not seeing neither hide nor hair of the beast of a dog all day.

“It'll be dark early due to the storm, and I’ll have duties up above. I’m going to ask you to stay in the living quarters. I’ll sleep up there, so, um, just - make yourself at home.”  

You do your best, but your mind is on Frankie in a way that makes what you would be doing at home, not at all appropriate, even when told to make yourself at home.  His dark eyes, big hands... him calling you Goldie. How many times your mind has gone back to him asking you if his bed was just right, you dare not admit, even to yourself. You don't know him, you remind yourself.

Suddenly, there's a bang and scuffle. Then you hear a yowl.

“Cisco?” You go to the door, preparing to go down to where you assume he's been set up, but a second sound confirms it's coming from above, not below… where Frankie is.                   

You turn and look up the spiral stairs. “F-Frankie?”

Your foot hesitantly lands on the first step -

“D-did Cisco follow you? 

More shuffling and a loud thunk on the floor bring you up short. Frankie asked you to stay below, but maybe he hurt himself, or Cisco made his way up there and was scared of the storm. Your feet start moving again up the winding steps. 

You pause, your head just above the landing, eyes adjusting to the strange light of the lantern room. Instead of finding a dog, on the floor is a pile of clothes, folded neatly, with Frankie's cap placed atop it. As you look up, you see Frankie from behind, sitting in the one chair the room affords. His skin gleams with a layer of sweat, and he gives a sudden quake.

“Frankie! A-are you alright? I heard-”

His head whips around and then down as you are still only partway up the stairs. 

“I told you to sta—” the lightning flashes, and you see Frankie's eyes have changed. They are no longer warm, sweet brown but glowing amber. 

“Wh- you- you're-” Everything in you screams to run as far away as possible, but when Frankie contorts in a new wave of pain, you scramble up the stairs. He almost wails in despair as you approach the chair. “Frankie, what is happening? How can I - hel -”

“ C-can’t, go G-gold-ie, please!” 

“I don’t understand, Frankie. What’s happening?” 

The light-keeper takes a steadying breath as if fighting every molecule of his changing form, Though he knows it’s too late. Too late to shield you. 

“C-come here,” he breathes.

Lighting flashes again, the boom of thunder right on top of it. When your eyes adjust yet again, you go around the chair to face him. Frankie takes your hand; long claw-like nails have sprouted, and you have cottoned on. Frankie is - 

While he has a firm grip, he causes no pain. Your brows knot as he pushes up your sleeve. 

“I will remember,” he says, as much for himself as for you. Then he presses his nose to your wrist, inhaling deeply, and his eyes flick up to yours. The storm rages, the lens does its steady turn, and Frankie continues to smell you. He stands, eyes never breaking contact, his bare skin glistening in the light.

 You had tried not to look down at his body. But he's so close, and when he stands, your resolve breaks. Frankie is strong and somehow more broad across the shoulders than when in the confines of his fisherman’s sweater but has a trim waist. His Adonis belt is so enticing, as is his soft belly. Below that, his uncut cock has an enticing curve. Your eyes travel back up. You find his waiting for yours; he lifts his head away from your wrist and pulls; you stumble a step closer, and his face burrows into your neck. He breathes in your scent.

“Didn't harm you last night, I won't… I’ll remember, promise. You smell so good, Goldie.”

The warmth you feel low in your pelvis is combined with a shiver as you clench on nothing.

“S-so, you-your…” you stammer as his clawed hands wrap around your waist; he tastes your collarbone, licking a long stripe as he finds his way below your ear. Your knees buckle, but Frankie has a firm grip on you. “Cisco?”

“ ‘m ssorry,” he slurs, his nose nestled where your ear and jaw meet. “You taste as good as you smell, Goldie… I wonder-” 

What Frankie is wondering is interrupted by a long canine whine as he pulls back, face contorted in pain as his teeth elongate into fangs.

The blood has surely left your face, and you're shocked as you become aware that it has rushed to lower regions. You can feel the wetness between your legs, and  Frankie, closing his eyes, breathes in how your scent has changed. 

The sinful look he gives sends more heat between your thighs; you know you're soaked by now. You can still see the handsome light-keep though his eyes glow, his ears are now pointed, and his hair is shaggy. A hungry tongue moves over sharp teeth. Teeth made for tearing your throat out.

The next thunderclap shakes the lighthouse, and it's only then that he breaks his grip on you. He cries out as his body continues to transform. It snaps you out of your trance. You run down the iron stairs, passing the kitchen, down to the living quarters, and you're brought up short by a full wolf bay sounding from above. 

“What am I doing? What am I doing!?” you look up the stairs, and almost against your will, you look through the doorway to the bed—the bed where Frankie had lain atop you as the wolf. Then your eyes drift upward again, biting your thumb in indecision. Or perhaps fear at the decision you're apparently making. You slowly undress, leaving the door open; you spread out on the soft bed and wait to see what happens.

How much time before you hear the click of canine claws on the treads of each step, you aren't sure. You only know the twist of arousal you feel arches your back, and Frankie hasn't even touched you. Are you afraid? Not as much as you think you should be. It's there; this danger lights up your brain and sends adrenaline coursing through you. But he didn't hurt you last night, and he said- he-

The wolf growls around the door; he is not on all fours but hunched, one front paw occasionally touching the floor. 

“F-f-” you stammer as his front paws press heavily on the bed. He is enormous, and he hulks over you. His snout investigates every crease and crevice. You close your eyes as he noses at your mound. “-fuck.”

The wolf's tongue dips between your legs, and you gasp as your legs open like an involuntary response, and Frankie seems to seize the opportunity to open you further, pawing at your thighs, opening them, holding them where he wants them. Claws press on your sensitive skin as he laps at you.

“Frankie!” Your fingers dig into the thick, soft fur as the twist in your womb tightens and you pulse. 

How much of the man is still present, you have no idea. You are, of course, banking on it, and you figure praying to every deity that he is there, keeping the beast from tearing you to shreds, can't hurt. 

You can feel the rumble from deep in Frankie's throat, and when his long tongue breaches your pussy, he is immediately rewarded with a gush as lights pop behind your eyelids and the coil in your belly snaps.

You cry out, and he drinks sloppily at your entrance. He doesn't stop until you start to come down from your high, your chest’s rise and fall finally slowing.

Then the beast towers over you, his cock weeping. In one swift move of inhuman strength, he's suddenly flipped you onto your stomach. His large paws holding your hips, he brings your backside up, and in one fast motion, he's sheathed himself to the hilt. 

As ready as his tongue had made you, you still are stretched beyond anything you've ever experienced. He is deep inside, and his snout nuzzles into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, making you feel utterly consumed by him. His brutal pace lifts your knees off the bed when he begins to move. His rhythm takes your breath away, his length hitting that delicious spot inside you that most find elusive, and it isn't long before the telltale swell of another orgasm begins to crest.

When you clamp down around him, he howls, and you know he has come right along with you. His rhythm stutters and slows. Frankie's tongue lazily drags over your shoulder blade, and he whines as his nose nudges at your hair.  As you both float back into your bodies, opening your eyes, the round room is drenched in moonlight. The storm has passed. 

The beast allows you to roll onto your side before covering you again, as he had the night before. He gives a chaste lick to your cheek, and you huff a laugh, wondering if you will even be able to look him in the eye in the morning. But you're too exhausted and drift to sleep before shame can take its turn to feast on you.

The morning sun blazes as it has a way of doing after a storm; shorebirds herald the day, and again, you wake to the smell of breakfast, sausage, coffee, and eggs. You're again tucked into the worn but well-cared-for quilt. Your eyes rove the room as you try not to overthink, and just as you reach for your clothes (which are neatly laid out at the end of the bed), Frankie, the man, comes in with a tray heaped with food—the smell of his delicious cooking filling the room.

“ ‘Morning, Goldie.” he smiles shyly. His eyes are not quite meeting yours, and he keeps himself busy with the breakfast tray. You return his smile, somehow his sweet bashfulness making you feel less self-conscious- 

“G’morning, Fran- Fran-cisco!”

Brown eyes sparkling as Frankie's smile widens.

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Im so happy your write for Hesh!!! Could I request Hesh and reader who was training to be a ballerina before ODIN and became a nurse because she wanting to help others? I love writing so much!!!!

Dancing With Scalpels

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: It's strange, maybe you'll have to thank Hesh's dog for breaking his ankle - otherwise, you'd have never met him.

WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Broken bone, mentions of death, but mostly fluff

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You hum as you organize your desk, taking up papers in your hands and sliding them under the metal holder of your clipboard with a clack of material. The medical ward was slow today, and while that was a good thing, it left you with little to do besides paperwork and re-cleaning your space. 

Glancing over your own handwriting as you carefully place the clipboard back down on your desk, you sigh and stretch your arms above your head. You listen to your bones crack before dropping them, eyes sliding around until they finally land on the picture, which sits on the tabletop like a silent reminder. 

It’s been about five years since ODIN struck, since the world shifted and broke, but you still find it in yourself to look back on the past with fondness. The images of your troupe, all dressed up in flowy finery and posing in your pointe shoes, were a deep comfort to you. 

Most of them were dead you knew, yet in that image, they still lived and breathed—had the sway of their feet and the grace of their arms to display to an awaiting crowd. Their smiles had never faded. As you stare at that picture, bodies trapped in time, you hear the stomp of booted feet coming in from your open door; ears perking and attention zapped away. 

The soft smile on your lips disappears, a sheen of professionalism coming back like a curtain over a stage. You blink and latch onto the shadow of a man who limps slowly into the view of the opening. He’s about to pass by, a large grimace on his stubbled face, before you call to him.

“Sir?” Your feet take you out from the desk, quickly skirting around the chair before you’re about three feet from the tall individual. “Are you alright?”

The man is in his late twenties, burly and strong with wide shoulders and the tapered waist of an athletic build. He’s wearing recon gear atop a gray jacket, staps and guards interlocked like the fingers of lovers while he struggles to properly place his left foot on the floor. 

Wisps of brown hair stick out from under a black beanie. It looks like he’d stopped at the armory first, coming here after dropping off his weapons. 

The stranger’s green eyes blink at you, the tightness of hidden pain stuck in the lines near his pulled lips. His strong jaw works, pulling a nonchalant smile that looks more like a poorly done wince. 

“Hey,” he clears his throat and has his hands clenched at his side. “Sorry about barging in, there any nurses available right now?” 

“You’re looking at one,” you tilt your head to motion inside of your room, hand coming up to rest on the wooden frame of the door. “Do you need help walking?” 

“Nah,” a wiry chuckle, gloved hand waving in dismissal. “I got here alright, I think a few more steps won't—” 

His limp foot catches on his good one as he turns, and with a panicked widening of his gaze, the brunette stumbles as a sharp noise of alarm echoes. Your eyes widen. Before he can slam his face into the ground and create more problems, you dash forward and loop your arms around his waist, his gear digging into your scrubs. You grunt and take the full weight of him for a moment before the injured man snaps out a hand to the doorframe and quickly struggles back to his feet. 

You stare and watch his cheeks go red, his eyes darting away with an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Ah…sorry about that, Sweetheart.” You huff and cross your arms. 

“Quite the show for ‘I think I’ll be just fine.’” A flash of a smirk goes across his square jaw.

“Well, maybe your beauty just made me lightheaded.” At your unimpressed stare, he shakes his head and questions, “That bad?”

“Very,” you joke, smiling and rolling your eyes. “C’mon, let’s get you looked at before you end up breaking your nose, Soldier.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Ma’am.” You hook an arm around his waist and let him lean on you, his limb resting along the span of your shoulders and his injured leg weakly trying to help you along. Halfway to the examination table, he grunts out, “Name’s Hesh by the way—don’t think we’ve met before.”

You smile and say your name. “Transferred in from Dallas two weeks ago. Was told you needed more nurses here after a Federation attack near the Wall.”

“Then you were told correct, thanks for stepping up.” He’s set down with a huff and a grimace, his eyes swimming with annoyance at his leg. “Damn thing.” 

You turn and wash your hands in the sink, slipping on sterile gloves as Hesh undoes his laces. 

“Sorry for droppin’ in like this, I tried to play it off but I think it’s broken.” You look over your shoulder and tense—the pale skin of his ankle was a deep black and blue, and the foot was somewhat twisted to the side. 

“Well, shit,” you curse and Hesh blinks up at you sheepishly, sending a stiff smile. “It’s good you came by when you did. What happened?”

The man’s hand goes to run over the back of his neck. He seems highly embarrassed about something.

“Ah, well,” he plays off a small twitch of his lips, “Riley, my K-9, he, uh…he managed to dart after a hostile before I could see him. Shoved me right to my ass and down a ravine in the process, actually.” 

You have to put your wrist to your mouth to stifle a giggle, kneeling down to gently grab onto the affected limb. 

Hesh takes in a tiny breath as you gently move the appendage, grumbling through a strained smile. “That funny, Doll?”

“Well,” you easily detail, “all I’ll say is that I’m sure it was something to see firsthand.”

“Tell that to Logan, my brother wouldn’t shut his mouth about it all while draggin’ me back. You try listenin’ to him while you’re half passed out—that was even worse than the pain.” You hum, chuckling.

This Hesh character was quite the casual talker, conversation with him came easily. You touch the skin of his ankle and quietly apologize when he hisses, noticing the swelling of flesh and sighing. Moving it from side to side and asking him if he’d broken his ankle before.

He answered in an affirmative—playing football in high school.

“Sorry to say this, but you’re right, Hesh, definitely broken. I don’t need to see an X-ray to know that.” He groans lowly. “Let’s get this all sorted and get you out of here, hm?” 

There’s a long sigh. 

“...Yes, Ma’am.”

Over the course of hours, you take various X-rays and scans, looking for the point of most contention and finding it in the form of a break in the lower tibia; it was clean, luckily for him. No bone shards or anything of that sort.

“I’m beggin’ to know if I need surgery, Sweetheart.” Green eyes lock with yours as you push him back into your office, the wheelchair squeaking under him. You smile gently at a few other nurses who pass—they nod back with a teasing smile at the man below you. “I’m on the edge of my seat, here.”

“I’m not the doctor, Hesh,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “I legally can’t tell you that.”

“Legally?” His brow raises. “C’mon, the world fell apart—there’s no Risk Management anymore.”

“Are you sure Riley didn’t intentionally push you over the edge of that ravine?” Your eyes narrow, a joke in your eye. 

A slow smile grows on Hesh’s lips. “That hurt, Ma’am.” 

You scoff and shake your head, wheeling him into the previous room and leaving him to go to the paperwork on your desk. Grabbing it, you open your top drawer and deposit it away for another time. Gliding up beside you, Hesh sighs and glances around as you tidy up. 

His eyes find the framed picture on your desk. 

“Whoa,” the brunette utters, locking onto your form in the middle of the group. You blink and look to the side, noticing his staring. Face going hot, you raise a brow in question. “That you?” 

Hesh wheels slightly closer, leaning forward but respectfully not touching any of your things. You restrain a wide smile at his intrigue. 

“Why else would I have a framed picture of ballerinas on my desk, Hesh? Of course, it’s me.” You pick up the frame and tilt it his way, resting your hip on the side of your desk as he takes it gently, delicate with your belongings. “Two years before ODIN—we were in Europe for a competition.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding you an awed glance. “You must be really good.”

“Was,” you laugh, shrugging. Hesh confusingly looks up while you explain the best you can. “It’s been so long, plus I gave it up when everything went down; went to get my qualifications to be a nurse and help out.” Hesh looks a bit sad at that, sneaking a glance back down at your bright smile in the picture. 

“Looked like you loved it,” he commented, handing the frame back after a moment of thought. “I’m sorry.” 

You’re slightly taken aback by the apology, oddly touched by his sudden seriousness about this. After a slow inhale, you hum. “It’s alright, Hesh. That’s just life—it’ll take us places even if we want to go or not. We just have to make the best of it.” 

“You’re happy, though, Sweetheart,” he asks, eyes not faltering, “right?” 

It’s not a feeling of uncertainty that makes you hesitate, it’s the way he asks you so genuinely; honest with his intentions. Rarely have you had people—soldier or civilian—come in here and speak to you like this. You stare with slightly-parted lips.

A bashful smile blooms on your lips. 

“When I’m helping patients like you, Hesh, yes. Yes, I’m happy.” The man stares a moment longer before he clears his throat and glances down, contact broken; a crimson sheen infects his face. 

“Good. That’s good.” Even if he’s not looking at you, a grin still twitches his lips; making your face go heated and warm with something else entirely. Hands stuttering over your frame, you put it down where it was and lick your lips, smiling at the tabletop. 

When the doctor comes in, you let Hesh speak and pipe in with anything you needed to include, the air suddenly tinged with something between you and the soldier that you can’t put words to. It’s so potent even the doctor sends you a raised brow on the walk out. You avert your eyes and itch at your cheek. 

“Least I’ll be able to get back out in the field quicker,” Hesh sighs, taking off his beanie for a moment before itching at the top of his head. “If I’d of had to go under, Logan would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You and your brother sound like you’re constantly nagging at each other,” you huff. 

“Shit, what else are we good for?” The both of you share a laugh, eyes crinkling. There’s a moment of intimate silence before Hesh splays his hands and speaks.

“I’m gettin’ a splint, then?” You internally curse yourself as Hesh’s lids narrow on you, head tilting with a deep smirk. The trance is broken.

“Until the swelling goes down,” your head nods, fingers motioning to his ankle. “Then a cast for twelve to sixteen weeks.” 

“Hm,” Hesh looks away and thins his lips, seriousness slipping back into his expression. 

Staring, you ask carefully, concerned, “Hesh?”

“No,” he shakes his head, the smirk coming back as if it never left, “No, it’s just that’s a long time to not be able to take you out, is all.”

Your face blanks, heart all but stopping in your chest. The man watches you closely, slowly slipping his beanie back on his head with an innocent smile.

“Too forward?”

“N-no,” you stutter, face heating to an alarming degree. “No, I think that one was just right.” 

Shaking your head quickly you brush down your top and listen to Hesh’s bright chuckles as you gather your bearings. It’s after you sigh and look back into those greens that you laugh and utter, “I think I’d be willing to wait.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your face can’t stop smiling at the teasing tilt to his words. “Now, I’d hate to make you sit around that long, Sweetheart.” “Hesh, I’m agreeing to go out on a date with you, take it or leave it,” you huff in exasperation, staring at him with a loose expression. 

His eyes lighten, the stain of happiness leaking through.

“You proud of yourself?” 

Hesh looks smug, but promptly states, “Didn’t think I’d get this far, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your loud laugh.

As promised, fifteen months later, there’s a knock on your office door—you stand and think nothing, opening the barrier only to find a large bouquet of flowers and the man holding them up to you. 

Your face softens and Hesh returns a warm hum of greeting. 

“Hope you’ll forgive me for bein’ late, Doll,” his eyes crinkle. “Was learnin’ how to dance. C’mon, I got some moves to show off—we’ll get you back in those pointe shoes in no time.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[freshbakedbreadstick]

A Game of Confession - Terzo x Reader

Papa Emeritus III “Terzo” x Reader

Summary: Terzo attempts to forgive you of your “sins”.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Reader is described gender neutrally but has a vagina. Mentions of vaginal fingering, lots of catholic imagery, ghost worldbuilding lore, mutual masturbation, edging, blowjobs, unprotected PIV (use protection irl folks!), creampies, slight breeding talk, dirty talk, Terzo talking you through it because his blabber mouth would, lots of yearning, established relationship, roleplaying innocence and confession if that makes sense, messy n wet, slight coercion, forced orgasms, glove kink/play, use of his title of Papa, degradation, name calling, rough play, hair pulling, overstimulation n post orgasm torture, very mild pain play, everything is consensual! Self indulgent PWP basically LOL not sorry ! 

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: For the wonderful anon who wrote to me AGES ago abt writing some stuff for ghost . . .  I GOT U BABY I NEVER FORGOT U ! Anyways my catholic religious trauma absolutely came in clutch for this little work that i randomly got inspired to write ,  regrettably so LOLLLL anyways this is self indulgent as HELL bc terzo was my papa when i became a fan of the band and i miss him SO MUCH anyways enjoy besties ! 

The heels of your shoes clicked and echoed throughout the church as you approached the center aisle of the entrance. It was dark, the sun having since set that evening, leaving the stained glass windows to look as if they were covered in a sheen of ink. 

The only lights that illuminated the enormous church were the thousands of candles carefully lit by the sisters of sin who cared for the church. The outside ivory wax melted, exposing the red wax core and allowing it to bleed down the many candelabras and candle holders spread across the statues and tables within the nave. 

You paused for a second, looking out into the dimly lit darkness, feeling yourself shiver from an invisible chill that spread goosebumps across your skin. The church would feel unnerving if you weren’t as devoted to it.

With a quick sign of the unholy cross, you turned and tugged the black lace of your mantilla veil as you moved down the aisle, looking at the dark tiles of the floor as you moved. You turned sharply, weaving through the pews to glance at the dark wood of the confessional booth, tucked into the farthest side of the church and away from the altar in the center back of the whole building. 

You paused to look at the light within the booth, on the side where your papa sits. You can see the outline of him in the flicking light, a shadow casted on the woven wood of the door as he sat there, waiting. 

With a swallow sigh, you slowly approached the dark side of the booth, where the sinner would sit, carefully turning the brass knob to open it. The wood creaked loudly, making you flinch as it echoed throughout the lonely church. 

Automatically, your feet shifting inside the wooden booth to sit on the velvet covered chair that greeted your vision moments prior. The door slowly shut behind you, clicking quietly.

You wrapped an arm around yourself as you shifted on the seat, looking at the kneeling bench in front of you. The silk of your robe provided you soft comfort as you glanced at the braided wooden screen that separated you from your papa and obscured him from vision.

You didn’t realize you were breathing so raggedly until you heard him chuckle, “Breathe, my sweet, breathe…”

The smoothness of his voice made you jump for a second, the familiarity creating a rush of heat through your body. With wide eyes, your body moved automatically, shifting to turn on the gas of a small lantern attached to the side of the bench, igniting the small flickering flame to allow you to see your side of the booth better. 

You hiked up your robe and shifted to kneel at the bench, the soft velvet caressing your bare skin as you did so. The words came out of you, just as quickly as you were breathing earlier, “Forgive me father, for I have sinned…”

It was quiet as you sat there, chest rising and falling as you stared at the screen for anything, any noise or any reaction to your words. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took in the grains of the black wood, waiting. 

“Is that so?” You heard him whisper, voice rumbling. 

You nodded eagerly, forgetting that he couldn’t see you as you put your hands together in prayer.

“I… I have sinned in so many ways, Papa… please… forgive me…” you whispered, voice quivering.

“Tell me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Tell me your sins, my sweet, and I shall forgive you.”

You could feel your body shaking as you knelt there, making the wood of the bench creak beneath you. Your voice had been caught in your throat, rendering you silent as your mouth opened but nothing came out. 

He could sense your speechlessness, shifting closer to the screen to speak. You did the same, hearing the creaking on his side as a signal for you to come closer, your lips inches away from the divider in front of you. 

He spoke, softly. Soft enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“My sweet… tell me… tell your Papa how you have made him proud…” 

“Papa…” You murmured weakly, “Forgive me for what I have done.”

You felt your lips brush against the wood as you spoke, making you inhale sharply, “I have pleased The Olde One so very much so with my sins… will you ever forgive me Papa?” 

You could hear the grin in his voice, “What is it that you did, my sweet? How is it that you have pleased him?” 

His breath fanned over the braided wood to your side, making you gasp softly as you felt it against your lips. He was close, so close to you at that moment. If that screen wasn’t there, your lips would be inches apart and your eyes would be locked together.

“Papa…” you said weakly, your voice shaking. You were suddenly aware of the silk robe wrapped around your body, the once comfortable fabric becoming too tight, too soft, and too overwhelming in an instant. 

“Tell me…” he whispered, “Tell me how you were a good little sinner for your Papa…” With a shuddered breath, you closed your eyes, knuckles pale as you gripped the bench, “Papa… I… last night I made myself cum with you on my mind…”

You couldn’t see it, but Terzo was on his knees, gripping his side of the bench with white knuckles. His fingernails dug into the wood, pushing dents into it as he eagerly awaited you to continue your words. He was holding his breath, glaring into the screen as if that would make it disappear so he could finally see you.

He could picture the way your bottom lip jutted out as you whispered your confession, eyes wide and trembling as you knelt with your hands together, uttering his title. 

Just like how he liked to see you.

“I couldn’t help it, Papa, I swear! The ache… it came back and it hurt so bad… i needed to do something, it felt like torture to just sit there and read my unholy prayer book!” You cried out, voice getting louder as you continued, “I told myself I would only take a second, it will be quick, but I spent hours teasing myself with my hand, imagining it was you instead…”

With a sob, you slumped against the bench, “My fingers weren’t enough to pretend it was you, but I cried out your name as I came anyways…”

Terzo could feel his body heating up with every one of your words. One of his hands immediately went down to palm himself through his pants, hissing quietly as his hand made contact with his clothed but aching cock. 

But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough for him in the same way that it wasn’t enough for you. 

The ache, the same ache you described, burned him. It made his cock leak into his briefs, leaving a wet stain on them where the tip pressed against the rough fabric. It made him wince as he became hyper aware of how the now scratchy briefs shifted against his sensitive skin, as he took in ragged breaths. 

His eyes shifted down to glance at his hand, unconsciously gripping his shaft, swallowing harshly as he held himself back from bucking into his hand. 

“Tesoro…” he choked out, voice deep and gravely, “Tell me how you pleasured yourself…”

On the other side of the screen, you gasped. 

“But Papa…! That’s… that’s vulgar-”

“Tell me amore, tell me… if you don’t tell me the whole truth, I cannot forgive you…”

You could feel your lips twisting into a smirk, listening to his wavering voice. You couldn’t help but flutter your lashes as your hands quickly moved to push between the opening of the robe, fingertips hitting the skin of your stomach with eagerness. Your thighs were beginning to become uncomfortably sticky with your arousal by then as you dripped, remembering the other night when you stuffed yourself full of your fingers, crying out into the darkness of your candlelit room.

“Tell your papa what you did…”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, the straining he had to do to not break the stupid wooden screen and grab at your right then and there. 

“Oh papa…” you began, shifting to make your voice sickeningly sweet, “I couldn’t take it anymore… I just had to slide my clothes off and bring my fingers down to rub at my aching clit…”

Terzo groans, so loudly that it feels like the whole confessional shook.

You bit down on your bottom lip, holding back a chuckle. Your hand had begin to slide down your stomach, slowly and carefully toward where you needed it the most. 

“Then? Tell me tesoro, tell me please…”

He was begging now. It was just too easy to get him like this. 

“I rubbed in small circles around it, pinching and squeezing. I would tease myself papa… teasing by slipping my fingers down to gather the wetness I made and use it to slide back up and around myself…” you whimpered, glaring at the screen. 

He let out a strangled groan, the sound of clothing rustling makes you perk up, “Papa?”

Your fingers had stilled, just barely grazing over your clit, throbbing between your legs. Your body was on fire, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

The light on his side suddenly was extinguished, leaving you in partial darkness as your own lantern barely illuminated your side. 

“Papa?” 

Rustling and the creaking of wood was all you heard as you knelt there. 

“Papa is everything-” 

The sound of his door scraping open was all you heard, making your voice trail off. He was silent, shifting around and exiting his side of the booth, the door swinging shut with a click.

You slowly got up, knees aching a bit and legs shaking as you turned to look at your own door.

Your eyes were trained on the brass knob, watching it jiggle a bit before it slowly began to turn. You panted softly, staring as it shifted with a calculated slowness. You couldn’t even move as you watched, frozen in place as it turned and finally stopped turning. 

Within seconds, the sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste of your Papa invaded your senses.

He shoved through the door, pushing himself into the already small section of your booth to shove his body against yours. The door had clicked shut, long forgotten by the time his mouth was on your own, making you moan into him. 

One of his hands raced to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that made your heart soar, while the other went down to roughly yank at the knot holding your robe shut. 

“Fuck this game,” he murmured as he pulled back, dual toned eyes locking with yours, “Fuck it all.”

Before you could laugh, he pushed his lips back onto yours in a sloppy kiss and you felt your robe slip like water down your arms and into a forgotten heap on the floor around your ankles. 

You could only close your eyes in bliss, the messy gnashing of teeth and lips echoing in the small booth. Small whimpers escaped you on occasion, but a wide eyed muffled scream came soon after he shoved his hand between your legs, roughly parting them as his gloved hand came into contact with your clit.

You were too sensitive for the fabric, the cotton feeling too coarse against your sensitive clit. It rubbed small tight circles, similar to the ones you described to him, around your swollen bud, making your hips buck into his hand and body arch into his. 

As he pulled away with the taste of your saliva on his tongue, he tutted, “Take it, take it for your Papa…”

“Papa! Too sensitive!” you choked, legs quivering as you braced yourself against the wall, looking at him with half lidded eyes.

But he ignored you, too busy watching the way your hips were grinding against his gloved hand, both enjoying and running from the rough stimulation. His fingers were already becoming drenched with your juices, making him grin.

“You like making a mess of your Papa? You like to tease him?” he growled, bringing his sticky fingers to press against your entrance, rubbing around it to feel it clench around nothing.

You could only howl at his words, head thudding as you jerked it back against the wooden wall. “You beg for forgiveness, but this is how you do it? By teasing your Papa like a little bitch who has all the power?” he spit, eyes now trained on your face as he began to aggressively circle your hole, feeling it drool onto his glove. 

The hand cradling your face shifted toward your neck, large, warm, gloved fingers finding its spot around you and squeezing the sides with light pressure. You gasped out, gaze shifting from the roof back down to him. 

“Terzo!” you cried.

“No, I am not Terzo, amore… I am your Papa.” he barked, cupping your pussing with his hand. The heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit, quickly drenching the fabric there too. You could only choke out a moan as his fingers at your entrance pushed in, stretching you with two of them. 

You were certain that you would’ve collapsed onto the floor if it wasn't for his hand around your neck and his body partially pinning you against the wall. Every muscle in your legs ached, begging to lay down or sit on his lap but you didn’t care anymore, the only thing that filled your senses was your Papa. 

The scent of candles and sex filled the stuffy little booth, grounding you enough to make you the tiniest bit aware of where you stood but not enough to distract you from the overwhelming feel of his wet glove against your cunt and his grip around your neck.

“You tease me, amore, you tease me so with these games you come up with,” he says, voice husky as he speaks lowly to you, eyeing you as if you were cornered pray in the woods, “Leave me throbbing and desperate for you… you like seeing me like this? Seeing your Papa so desperate and needy for you?”

You couldn’t respond, just crying out as his hand thrusted his fingers into you, letting the lewd squelching noise from your pussy reverberate within the room. He pushed them in, reveling in the feeling of your walls squeezing the soaked fabric as it rubbed deliciously against you. 

The dual combination of the rough fabric around the fingers he fucked you and on your sensitive clit made your knees snap together, but he was quick. The second your legs began to close, he shoved his own leg between them to hold them open once more, moving his hand feverishly in and out. 

“Tesoro… I need to feel you cum around my fingers…” he panted, the lantern on the floor casting heavy shadows across his face. 

You could only moan and cry out as you looked at him, eyes glazing over with pleasure as you felt your body succumbing to the pleasure, getting closer and closer to the edge as he curled his fingers to hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you feel like you were going to explode. 

“That’s it, amore, cum for your Papa. Cum around my fucking fingers, drench me.” he demanded, pressing his forehead against yours. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, crying out as you came around him, walls clenching with every wave of pleasure. His glove was soaked, the stickiness sticking onto him and your thighs with every thrust of his fingers. You hadn’t even registered that your hands were now gripping his biceps, fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt with every arch of your back and buck of your hips. 

The pleasure that overwhelmed your senses, rolling up your body like an uncontrollable fire, was all you could perceive. It made your eyes roll to the back of your head and an uncontrollable grin spread across your face. 

You howled and whined as you came down, the slowing movements of his hand making you twitch with overstimulation. You babbled, slurring your words as you spoke, “Papa… s’too much… Terzo please… no more…”

Your vision blurred back just in time for you to watch and feel as Terzo’s hand inside you stilled, letting you ride through those tremble inducing aftershocks. 

His hand slowly unwrapped around your neck too, instead shifting to gently press his fingertips against your skin. His thumb gently ran over your neck, moving to your jaw before gathering the drool from the corners of your mouth to rub it over your bottom lip. He watched with sharp eyes, focused on how your bottom lip shined in the dim light. 

He pulled his hand away from your twitching cunt, making you whine and buck at the overwhelming feeling of the gloved hand shifting from your wet skin.

He chuckled, stepping back a bit to watch as you trembled, still gripping him and leaning against the wall to hold yourself up on your shaky legs. It was humiliating, watching the way he looked at you with a satisfied look on his face while you stood there, wrecked. 

But for him, it was torture. 

Torture to stand there and watch the way you drenched him as you came, calling his name out in the darkness. Torture to feel the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. Torture that his gloves separated him from feeling your soft, gummy walls against his skin. 

It was torture.

His hands moved to grip your waist, the sticky one making you whimper and shift away from it, but Terzo could only shush you as he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

With eyes wide, you realized what he was going to do.

“Terzo, no!” you cried, voice scratchy in your throat, “I’m too sensitive-!”

But it was too late, he already shoved himself between your legs and licked a stripe up your sensitive cunt.

“Papa!”

“Take it for me, amore,” he murmured, looking up at you as his lips attached themselves to your clit, sucking it without a care. 

You shrieked, pushing your chest up as you arched away from the wall. Your hands immediately moved to push his shoulders, to try and get him away. It was all too much, toe curlingly too much. 

You bucked, moaning and whining in the delicious torture as he slobbered over you, licking up your juices as if he discovered the elixir of life and was desperate for a taste. 

He groaned, sucking and licking you up, hands gripping your hips and holding you in place so you couldn't run away from him. 

“Terzo!” you cried, hips jerking for one final time as he pulled away, lips and chin glistening with you as he knelt there, looking up at you. 

He stood up, one hand immediately moving to grip your hair, “Get on your knees to pray, amore.”

With a heaving chest, you were pushed to your knees, nearly collapsing as you did so. You gripped his thighs as you looked up at him, staring as he made you watch him unbuckle his belt, the metal clanking loudly in your ears. 

Body shivering and hands gripping his thighs, he kept his focus on his cock, the way it painfully ached under his clothes. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you right then and there, but seeing as you were so sensitive from cumming so hard moments prior, he thought he could relieve some tension and get you warmed up again all in one go. 

Efficiency is key; it’s what he was taught as he went through his training to become Papa.

So here he was, one hand in your hair and the other tugging his clothes away with a hiss to let his pulsing cock spring free. It bobbed in front of you, making your mouth water at the sight of the creamy tip dribbling with precum. 

His poor cock was all achy, twitching under your gaze. The way the veins bulge around the thick shaft made you widen your eyes, Terzo groaning above you in bliss as the pressure of his clothes was finally off his cock. 

He wrapped his hand around the base, carefully squeezing it to let some more precum dribble out dropping to the floor between your knees. He moved his hand up, rubbing his thumb over the tip to spread his arousal over him, using his soaked glove and his precum lube himself up. 

You couldn’t hide your smirk as you looked up at Terzo, watching him begin to stroke his length, very obviously putting on a show for you. 

He shifted his hand, pulling your hair to jerk your head back and toward him. He gently slapped the tip against your cheek, “Open for me, tesoro.”

With no hesitation whatsoever, you softly parted your lips, just the way you knew he liked it. 

With a satisfied chuckle, he pressed the tip onto your lips, smearing the salty precum there. He gently nudged it into your mouth, pushing your mouth wider and wider as he slid in, the warm wetness of your mouth providing him with long overdue relief.

He sighed, gently rocking his hips into your mouth without a moment’s notice, fucking himself into you. The way your soft tongue ran along the length of his cock with every movement, coating it in your saliva, made him drop his tense shoulders and let his head roll back. 

“Cazzo si….” he moaned lowly, hips bucking a bit faster, making you moan around his cock. The vibrations made him groan, inadvertently bucking roughly down your throat. 

You choked for a brief second, only able to cough and get your breath back when he yanked you by the hair back. 

Before you could look back up at him to take him back into your mouth, his hands hooked themselves under your arms and dragged you to your feet. It was dizzying, the way he moved so quickly. One second your were kneeling on the wooden floor, knees aching and body shivering as the heat of sucking his cock invaded your core, the next you were standing, panting with shiny lips and wide eyes, and finally, you were bent over, elbows on the bench and face pressed against the wooden screen. 

“Terzo… shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the soft tip of his cock pressing against your puffy lips. 

He didn’t say a word, choosing to stay silent instead as he rocked his hips to slide the tip of his cock up and down your soaked cunt, swirling around your drooling entrance before moving down to nudge at your achy clit, spreading your wetness around himself. 

“Can’t wait, need you, amore. Need to feel you clench around my cock, you have teased me for far too long…” he murmured, one hand gripping one of your ass cheeks to spread it, eyeing the way you clenched at his words. 

“Please, Terzo, please!” 

He pressed the tip of his cock, red and creamy, against your entrance, gently pushing it against it before pulling away, teasingly, “You play with your papa so evilly so… and i fucking love it.”

With that, you cried out, feeling him push his cock into you, stretching you out and filling you with pure, unadulterated bliss. You could only gasp and moan into the screen, cheek slowly getting imprinted with the braided design of the wood as you held yourself against it, nails scratching along the frame. 

“You like that, amore? Feel good to be stretched by your papa? Feel good to finally be split open by my cock after weeks of this stupid little game of denial?” Terzo rambled, too lost in the feeling of your bare cunt squeezing him to focus on what he was saying. 

Your knees shook as you bent over the bench, threatened once more to give out on you. Lucky for you, Terzo’s large hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them so hard that his fingertips were sure to leave bruises for you to trace later, keeping you up and in place for him.

“Take it, tesoro, take my cock,” he chuckled, focused on watching your body swallow him in. He shuddered, finally bottoming out. Your hips pressed against his own, making you sigh and whine as you felt the rough fabric and metal of his belt and pants press against your tender skin.

He snarled at your noises, “Don’t fucking whine, this is what you get for being a dirty little sinner and teasing me…”

His eyes traced your body, watching you shiver and twitch as he held you against him. With a smirk, he murmured to you, “Now… say your prayers.” 

His hips snapped back, beginning to thrust out and into you, roughly. The first thrust instantly winded you, making you choke out, having not expected him to fuck into you so quickly and without warning. 

But whatever grievances you had, he didn’t seem to even think about them in that moment. He just fucked himself into you, snapping his hips back before pulling you into him, meeting you halfway as thrusted into you, making you jerk back and forth.

With every thrust, you could only cry out in pain and pleasure, enjoying the way he used you and how your body reacted to everyone of his thrusts. From your fingertips clawing at the wood to your face being shoved into the screen to the metal of his belt slapping your skin with every thrust, you fucking loved it.

And frankly, so did your pussy.

Terzo reveled in the way you clenched with every thrust, pussy gripping his beefy cock like a vice as he used you like a fleshlight, all in the darkness of the confessional. With every drag backward, he could feel you tighten, almost refusing that he pull away. 

“Greedy pussy, so desperate for me to fuck it, hm? You like me fucking you this way, using your tight hole like it’s a toy made for me?” he gasped out, slamming his hips back into you.

Tears rushed down your cheeks as you bit your bottom lip hard enough for a metallic taste to bloom on your tongue. It was all too good, the shocks of pleasure thrumming throughout your body with every animalistic thrust, forcing your pussy to submit to him. 

Your whiny voice pleaded with him, begging him to make you cum as the round head of his cock mashed against your sweet spot. He only responded with slurred promises and unconscious latin chants, drooling as he felt himself get closer and closer too, eyes locked on your beautiful body as you thrived in the pleasure.

“Shhh amore, I will make you cum. Do not worry, my sweet, I will have you gushing on this fat cock in just a moment…”

He was drunk on you. Drunk on the way you would make sweet noises for him, singing for him better than anyone he had heard in the choir. He was drunk on the way your body swayed, covered in a sheen of sweat that made your skin glimmer in the low lighting. Drunk on you and his favorite cunt. 

“Gonna cum!” you screamed, throwing your head back, eyes screwed shut as you were baptized in a pool of mind numbing pleasure. 

Terzo immediately shoved his hand down, pushing his gloved fingers to your clit, rubbing it profusely as he spoke, “Cum for me, tesoro. Show me how you sin. Just like that, my sweet, what a good little sinner for me. Doing so well, taking my cock and cumming so hard, squeezing me so tight and making me feel… so… good…”

With a primal groan, he came, paying no mind to the creamy ring forming around the base of his cock or the loud squelching of you two fucking. Frankly, someone could open the door right then and there and he wouldn’t care, too focused on the way squeezed every last drop out of him. 

As you came down from your high, you could only twitch and moan, feeling the warmth of his cum inside you spread in your lower belly, only exaggerating the feeling of being stuffed full to the brim. It didn't help that with every thrust as he came down, cum dribbled out of you, either dripping down to gather around your clit or onto the floor. 

All you could hear was the sound of your joint panting, with the occasional low moan and whimper as your bodies twitched, spent. The feeling of satisfaction of being fucked silly began to seep into your bones, making you grin to yourself as you held your sore cheek against the screen.

“I will never do that stupid denial thing you made me do again.” Terzo murmured, accent thick through his heavy breaths. 

All you could do was laugh.

[nixoon-again]

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the full moon taking its place in the new night sky as stars twinkled like a blanket of diamonds overhead. The campfire crackles and pops, its flames enough to both cook dinner to fill their bellies before they call it a night and to keep them warm in the slightly chilly air. The calm of the night is accompanied by crickets singing their song in the distance, hiding somewhere among the greens of the forest.

Sonic takes in a deep breath, the scent of the forest's damp moss and decaying leaves bring a sense of tranquillity to him that no city can. He looks into the pot he has skillfully placed over the campfire in a makeshift holder and takes a wooden spoon to stir the chilli cooking inside, its delectable aroma filling the air as it tickles his nostrils and makes his mouth water.

Little feet patter towards him. Sonic doesn't need to look back to know who it is.

A small hand reaches out and gently touches his shoulder.

“Hm?” Is the only acknowledgement Sonic gives to the little fox cub standing behind him, his eyes still on the pot to make sure he gets the chilli perfectly cooked.

“Sonic…?” Tails calls, there's a strange hint of nervousness in his voice that, Sonic thinks, doesn't really go with the peaceful nature of the night. 

Sensing something wrong, the hedgehog looks over his shoulder. Green meets blue but blue doesn't return the gesture. 

Tails is picking the fur on the tip of his namesakes again. He does this a lot, Sonic has learnt. He's no expert himself but the four year old before him has some habits that he thinks no four year olds are supposed to have. Sonic isn't going to dive deep into that yet, some other day maybe but for now he just softly taps the kit's forehead with his knuckles to bring him back to reality.

Tails looks at him. There are tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

He looks scared.

Sonic immediately gets off the log he's been sitting on, the wooden spoon abandoned in the grass as his quills bristle. He grabs Tails by his upper arm and looks over him, wondering if he's hurt.

Tails is quick to shake his head and tell him he's fine. Sonic looks at him dumbfoundedly, his eyes alone asking, “What is it then?”

Tails kicks a stray pebble, scuffs his shoe on the ground.

Sonic has to tap his forehead again to get an answer out of him.

“It's just that… Um, I was wondering, when you…”

Sonic isn't known for his patience, Tails knows that. So before Sonic taps his forehead again, Tails words his worries.

“When will you throw me out?”

The words don't hit him as much as the sincerely behind them does.

Sonic doesn't know what form of shock appears on his face but whatever it is, it makes Tails fumble over his words as he anxiously flaps his hands and tries to explain what he just said, “I-I mean, it's been three months now and you— you've been very nice a-and, I'm— I'm, I've been eating your food and using your supplies a-and no one has kept me for long without—”

Sonic doesn't like the way fat tears roll down his muzzle, he doesn't like the way Tails cuts himself off mid sentence as if he's scared to say more, he doesn't like the way Tails thinks he needs to be abandoned for some reason. Sonic likes Tails; the little guy is smart and keeps up with him without asking him to slow down. Despite not having had a home and being bullied by other kids, he's still more well-mannered than Sonic is. Not to mention, Sonic likes Tails just for the sake of it. No one wants this kit. Sonic does. 

So naturally, Sonic gently wipes away Tails’ tears. He points towards his own chest and then pokes Tails’ with his index finger before signing, “Together.”

Me and you; together.

Then Sonic holds his index finger up with his gloves palm back and draws a few large circles to sign with a promise, “Always.”

They will always be together and Sonic will never leave the little cub before him alone.

Tails will never have to feel alone again. Not when Sonic is here

_____

Sonic is tired.

It's been a long day.

He heaves a sigh when he takes a step closer to Tails’ Mystic Ruins workshop. The lights are on, he's glad to know Tails is here. He found him purely by chance today, he didn't have to run into multiple labs scattered around the world to find him which is good because he's already late. The night has fallen. The moon isn't visible under all the clouds, Sonic can't see a single star.

He thought he'd visit his own.

He ignores the way his hand shakes when he reaches out for the doorknob. It's rather cold tonight. It won't be long before it starts snowing. 

Tails likes playing in the snow.

Maybe they'll make a snowman.

He opens the door and steps inside. His vision gets a little awry for a second as the interior of the live-in workshop spins but that's okay, Sonic closes his eyes and gives himself a minute. It's okay. He's okay. 

He just wants to see Tails.

He steps inside, a little dizzy. He looks around the place in search of familiar golden fur. He doesn't find it right away so he walks in further. Briefly, he wonders if Tails is working late again and if he will have to drag him to his bed and tuck him in again. 

He's not against the idea.

It might be a bit selfish, but for time's sake, he'd like that.

Tails has grown up on him so fast.

He remembers when the little four year old first asked to be tucked in. He was so shy, so unsure, so terrified of asking to be loved.

Sonic loves Tails.

That's his little brother. He raised Tails. He took him in when no one else would — and quite frankly, whoever refused to give the kit a home missed out because Tails is amazing. He's everything and more. His little star, his sunshine. He loves him more than anything in this world.

He frowns.

Sonic doesn't remember the last time he told Tails that.

He doesn't remember the last, “I love you.”

He knows he doesn't say it often. He never felt like it was something that needed to be worded. Not saying it didn't mean Sonic didn't feel it. That's just been the way they go about their lives. There are many unworded things between them, not any less stronger than the ones that have been voiced.

Yet, Sonic feels a strange pang of guilt.

What if Tails doesn't know?

His little brother's self-esteem is always lingering in the negatives. What if he thinks Sonic doesn't love him because Sonic says it like once every two years during his most vulnerable moments? Sonic doesn't like that, Sonic doesn't want Tails to feel unloved because that's just simply not true.

He should've said it more often.

“Sonic?”

The hedgehog smiles at the voice. Tails has found him.

Emerald eyes slowly shift towards him. The fox is wearing a knitted baby blue cardigan, standing on the staircase. His eyes are on Sonic's left hand that rests just above the hedgehog's hip, stained red.

It's really cold, huh?

“H-Hey, bud…” He greets weakly, his smile ever-present.

Tails looks horrified, he gasps, “Sonic.”

Sonic doesn't reply. Not right away. Not when his voice fails him. He didn't come here to worry his little brother, no. He just came here to see him.

He reaches out his free hand towards Tails, takes a step forward but he ends up unable to maintain his balance. 

He sways.

Tails catches him before he falls.

“Sonic!”

The fox bands his arms around the teen’s torso to support him, his breath hitches as he struggles to grasp what he's seeing. A million questions running through his head. How did this happen? Who was Sonic fighting? Why didn't he call him? Why didn't Tails go with him? Why didn't Tails know? Why didn't the hedgehog's communicator record his vitals and ping Tails? Where is Sonic's communicator? What's he doing here? How much blood has he lost? What should Tails do—

Tails feels Sonic's hand cradle the back of his head, the hedgehog removes his bloody hand from his wound to loop it around Tails’ back and pull him in a hug, staining the cardigan before he rests his face on top of Tails’ head, nuzzling in his soft fur.

Tails is so much warmer.

“S-Sonic,” Tails feels the panic slowly bubbling up in his chest, “Sonic, what happened—”

“Shh…” Sonic hushes, “Don't worry about me.”

“Shut up.” Tails lets out a humourless chuckle, “If you don't want me to worry then don't walk in bleeding out like that.”

“Sorry, lil bro.” Sonic mumbles. Then quieter, “Couldn't really control it this time.”

“Sit down, let me check the wou—”

“No…” Sonic slurs. Tails feels his blood run cold when the hedgehog tightens his grip on him, and doesn't let him go, “No. Just… Just let me…”

He didn't come here to be treated. He didn't come all the way here to worry Tails. He knows coming here light-headed from blood loss is going to worry Tails whether or not he wanted to, if he didn't want to worry his little brother then he shouldn't have come.

But he can't help it.

He doesn't want to leave without seeing him one last time.

“Sonic?” Tails calls but the hedgehog remains quiet, still in his hold. So Tails calls again, “Sonic?” 

And he doesn't know why his voice sounds smaller, why he sounds scared. Is he terrified? What of? They get hurt all the time. It comes with their line of work. Sonic has been hurt before, so has Tails and they both recovered. Now isn't any different, is it?

It shouldn't be.

Sonic promised.

Always; he said always. He promised. They're supposed to be together forever. 

Sonic is supposed to be fine, then why is he scared?

The hand on the back of his head slowly slides down, the weight of Sonic's body increases on him.

They tumble to the floor but Sonic wraps his arms around him tightly as soon as they do, not wanting to let go any time soon.

Sonic pulls Tails closer. The kit's chest undoubtedly tainted red by now. Sonic's still glad, at least it's his own blood in the fox and not Tails’. He buries Tails’ face in his chest, he gently pets him and lays a soft kiss on the top of his head. Tails wraps his namesakes around him in return, hugging Sonic like his life depends on it. The younger doesn't like the implications of it all as Sonic starts brushing his fingers through the fur on Tails’ back but Sonic doesn't seem to care.

He's content.

But with only one regret.

“Tails…?”

“Yes, Sonic?”

Sonic wants to say he loves him, more than he can ever imagine. Sonic wants to make up for every time he didn't say it, he wants Tails to know.

His words fail him and he ends up with, “I'm sorry… I promised to go on that trip to Chun-nan with you. I don't think I can anymore.”

“That's okay… We'll go when you're better, won't we? It can wait.”

Sonic just hugs him tighter, “I-I don't think I can, bud.”

His voice cracks and Tails tries to escape his hold to most likely give him a very painful dumbfounded look. 

Tries, because Sonic doesn't let him.

“Why?” Tails asks. The teen feels his tears on his chest, “Why?”

Sonic smiles even though Tails can't see it.

“Hey, now… Don't be sad, okay?”

“No.” Tails shakes his head, “No, stop talking like that you… You promised. You promised.”

He knows that. He has promised Tails so many things. He's afraid he could only fulfil a few.

At least there's one thing he can do before going.

He doesn't say it often so naturally, it takes him longer to find the words, “You know I love you, right?”

“Sonic, please—”

“It's okay. It's gonna be okay.” He hushes him, scratches the back of his ear to calm him down. 

They sit like that for a while. It can't be more than a few minutes but its feels like year pass until Sonic's starts feeling more and more sluggish, until he can't get his fingers to move enough to pet Tails, to brush his soft fur. His hold on his little brother gradually gets weaker. 

With the last of his strength, Sonic separate himself from Tails.

The kit looks up at him, ocean eyes filled with tears.

Sonic looks into those eyes for a minute before pressing his forehead onto Tails’.

And at last, he says,

“I love you.”

(Tails doesn't move, he doesn't know how long he holds onto his brother till Amy visits — and when she does, he finds himself unable to cry anymore.)

[wanderingsimsfinds]

Decorating a house/lot with clutter is probably one of my favorite parts of building. This list has everything from books, to art supplies, to rugs, to clothing, to more practical clutter. 

WanderingSims Fave CC - Clutter

1 - Lulu265 - Classic 1 Tile Sheer Curtain (TSR)

2 - Lulu265 - Classic 2 Tile Sheer Curtain (TSR)

3 - Lulu265  - Classic 3 Tile Sheer Curtain (TSR)

4 - TheNumbersWoman - Ikea Pac Uggdal Bedroom Sheers (TSR)

5 - you-lust - szabolon Papers Wall Clutter

6 - SketchbookPixels - SIMPLY MXIMS Woli House Board

7 - wondymoon - Terbium Key Holder (TSR)

8, 11 - Kale House - 4t3 MXIMS IKEA Kubbis Wall Hook & Ferm Living Frame Pinboard

9 - Mutske - Hallway Leon Umbrella Stand (TSR)

10 - Simstiful - Backpack

12 - Julietsimscc - 4t3 Leosims Keys Rack Smaller

13, 16 - MOONSims3 - Vans Authentic Pro A MXIMS & Vans SK8 HI B MXIMS

14 - Lies-and-Crooked-Sims - Pixicat Converses 01

15 - Simstiful - Decor Dirty Shoes

17 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 heurrs Nielstrup Dresser

18 - cyclonesue - Air Conditioning Unit (TSR)

19, 33 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Desierto Bedroom (Buddha & Books)

20 - ArtVitalex - Yuma Triple Shelf (TSR)

21 - Milla - Acne Pansy Beanie Hat

22 - johziii - Wooden Desk Shelf Empty

23 - SimplyStyling - Jope Living 5 Books

24, 39 - SimplyStyling - Jope Living 4 Side Board & Basket

25 - MarcusSims91 - Kalico Blanket Throw Ladder (TSR)

26 - SimplyStyling - Jope Living 1 Books

27-32 - Taultvec - Slox Hasare Books 1-6 Standing

34 - you-lust - Lisennymphy Buddha

35, 46, 54 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Syboulette Pride Set (Wall Flag, Hat, Bag)

36-38, 47, 49, 53 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Simbishy Cute Stationary Set Part 3 (Felt Pen Wall Array, Highlighter Wall Array, Marker Wall Array, Marker Array, Highlighter Array, Drawer Closed)

40-41 - Simstiful - Sketchbook & Notebook

42-45 - Milla - Luna Books 1-4

48, 50 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Simbishy Cute Stationary Set Part 2 (Felt Pen Array & Highlighter Array)

51, 55 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 pqSim4 Study Space (Organizer & Trolley)

52 - you-lust - BillyJean Brush Holder

56 - Simstiful - Canvas Art

57 - SweetMarie222 - BS Mila Watercolor Milla Version (TSR)

58 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Soloriya Art Studio Acrylic Paint Tubes

59-62, 66, 68, 70 - you-lust - Imadako Set (Watercolour Box Open, Pencil Cup Water Colour Umesara, Crayon Box Open, Watercolour Brush Stand, Watercolour Pencil Box, Watercolour Palette)

63-65, 71 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Soloriya Darina Set (Painting A, Painting B, Fabric with Brushes, Paint Tubes & Pencils)

67, 69 - Milla - Cassandre Pencil Cup 2 No Shininess & Stamp Version

72-74 - Pralinesims - Vintage Rugs 1-3 (TSR)

75 - Pralinesims - Soft Flokati (TSR)

76 - pseudodigs - Moroccan Rugs

77-79 - francythatsims - Neutral Rugs (2x3, 4x3, Runners)

80-83 - johziii - Rugs! Set 2x3 & 3x4 (Boho, Earthy, Monochrome, Vanilla)

84 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Cowbuild Minotti Rug Collection (Swatch A 3x2 & 7x5)

85 - MarcusSims91 - Address Planter

86 - MarcusSims91 - Modern Address Numbers Bellrose

[tubzthelilbeeboy]

I have created what C!Tommy and C!Beeduo's houses look like in my head and I wanna draw it but I have zero art skill to do it. Sad day for Tubz nation. anyway, RANT TIME! Tommy's house def looks like a grandma house. Floral patterns, big plushie sofas that sink too far down when sat on, you know it. that built in ugly ass brown carpet that feels lovely on ur feet. tiles of flowers on the kitchen counter tops and nice dark oak wooden cabinets. small ass tv to remind him of simpler times. round door with a little window and curtain for it and the space around it inside the house is tiled and has a welcome mat and a little shoe holder for Clementine, Shroud, and Chat's shoes. A big plush chair in the living room that he knits on. No coffee table between it and the tv so the kids can roll around on the carpeted floor while watching fucking Bluey or sm. Tea sets on display. A "this house voted for pog 2020" and "love is love" signs on the grass outside with a bird bath. Tommy's room is just posters and old flags on every wall. its small and cozy with a huge bed just for him. A sewing station in the corner to sew the kids and his friends sweaters. a drawer with all his clothes stuffed in and various trinkets on the top with a mirror dangerously close to falling off. shit hanging from the ceiling like fake plants and an old lmanburg flag and a trans flag. Overall comfy vibe, imagine like Juno's room from the movie Juno. Thats what I imagine for it idk m just guy. Shroud, Clem, and Chat all share a room cuz its a small house. All their beds are separated into different corners of the room, toys EVERYWHERE and tons a chargers on Chat's corner of the room to charge themself. Lots of cracks on the ceiling from Shroud and Clem somehow getting up their and banging their heads cuz spider and moth you know? I went too insane, ill do the beeduo mansion at some point I love ranting abt this shit rgrgrggrrgrgr

[simstorian-blog]

Sandtrap Flat

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Bedford Strait

Lot Size:  30 x 20

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

For Rent

Get Famous

Get Together

High School Years

Game Packs

Dream Home Decorator

Parenthood

Strangerville

Kits

Desert Luxe Kit

Build Mode

Felixandre

Soho Pt. 2 (Light Switch Medium, Metal Door Medium)

Harlix

Orjanic Pt.1 (Glass Roof 2)

Harrie

Klean Pt. 2

Klean Pt. 3

Kwatei Pt. 1 (Double Arch Short, Front Door Glass- Medium, Front Door Solid – Short)

Peacemaker

Rustic Siding

Pierisim

Tilable (Plaster)

Woodland Ranch (Wooden Ceiling)

Sundays

Juniper Terrazzo Floor C

Buy Mode

Anniee-sims

Lilah Prints (Mesh Needed)

Anye

Prio (Duvet)

Townhouse (Loopchair)

Awingedllama

Boho Living (Wooden Arch Floor Mirror)

BlueTeas

Curtains

Jasmine Teenage Bedroom (Pendant Lamp)

Allen Seating (Walt Ottoman V2)

CharlyPancakes

Lavish (Clothing Only)

ClutterCat

Baby Boo (Coloring Book, Pouf, Tulip Vase)

BubbleGum (Calendar, Color Candle I Big)

Busy Bee (Glass Jars, Pen Holder, Pencil Case)

Cozy Cocina

Fairylicious (Cushion Pile, Kids Art)

Sunny Sundae Pt. 1 (Candle Small)

Sunny Sundae Pt. 3 (Alarm Clock, Open Book, Vanity Mirror)

CowBuild

Minotti Ottoman I

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 3 (Desktop)

Kyoto Pt. 3 (Bath Tray)

Shop The Look S1 (Magazine Stand, Tassel Rug)

Shop The Look S3

Soho Pt. 1 (Sideboard, Woven Rug)

Soho Pt. 4 (Ficus Planter, Stool)

Harlix

Baysic

Baysic Bathroom

Harluxe (AC Control, Book w Sunglasses, Light Switch, Makeup Tray, Mini Bar)

Jardane (Counter, Grill, Sink – Deep)

Kichen (Bowls, Glasses, Plates)

Livin’ Rum (Bookstand, Coffee Table Book, Frame Tv, Stacking Box)

Orjanic Pt. 2 (Foxglove Vase)

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 1 (Sink, Shelves)

Brutalist Bathroom (Bathtub, Block Vanity – Centre/Curved Left & Right, Frame Mirror – Large, Rectangular Sink, Shower, Tiled Decorative Shelf)

Coastal Pt. 7 (Mirror)

Country (Bed Vase)

Halcyon Kitchen

Shop The Look (Wooden Bowl)

Shop The Look 3 (Coffee Tables, Cushions, End Table)

JoyceIsFox

Simple Live #7 (Cooking Utensils, Double Chopping Board)

KiwiSims4

Blockhouse Dining (Pendants)

Piha Living (Chandeliers)

KKB

Citrus Room (Samsung the Serif Ver1)

Ledger Atelier

Mohan Living Pt. 3 (Sofa)

Nordheim Bathroom Pt. 1 (Bathrobe)

LittleDica

Delicious Kitchen (Paper Towel)

LorySims

2021 Ford Bronco

MyCupofCC

Bathroom Collection (Woven Bath Mat)

Nordica Sims

Art Poster 01

No Style x Woodland

Annika Meabh Sofa

Peacemaker

Creta Kitchen (Bar Fridge, Short Lineal Light Beam)

Ellipse (Ottoman)

Kitayama Bedroom (Half Moon Headboard)

Kassova Sectional

Matilda (Backpack, Jacket, Knit)

Pierisim

David’s Apartment Pt. 1 (Books 3 & 4)

David’s Apartment Pt. 2 (Nightstand, Open Book, Pile of Jumpers 2, Pile of Trousers 1 & 2, Shoes, Wooden Side Table)

MCM Pt. 3 (Metal Sconce 2, Narrow Rug Long, Narrow Rug Short, Wall Mounter Accent Table)

MCM Pt. 5 (Hair Dryer, Hair Straightener, Wigs)

Winter Garden (Olive Tree)

Pilar

Osaka Lamp Oval Large

Plush Pixels

Calm Sofa

Ravasheen

Knit Happens Clutter

Procrafination

RusticSims

Kind of Modular (Books, Deco Jar)

Loft Pt. 1 (Lampara de Pie Petrea)

Sooky88

Justina Blakeney x Loloi Area Rug

Mixed Modern Square Rug

Sundays

Canggu Pt. 3 (Pillows I)

Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow – Solids)

Swell Pt. 1 (Bolster Pillow)

TaurusDesigns

Eliza Walk-in Closet (Clothing Only)

Tuds

CRIB (Pendants – Small/Medium)

Winner9

Yokeda Wall Lamp Triple

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[loserlvrss]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

✇ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

authors note // i lowkey forgot this was sitting in my drafts :/ mb gang i’ll post more (she says)

chapter theme warnings // language, mentions of death & killing, substance abuse

word count // 2.2k

Chapter Two: From Place to Place

𝐓𝐇𝐄 shocking flash of light shined through the open curtains, illuminating it only briefly, and causing a groan to escape my lips. It was followed by the loud crack of thunder. I hadn’t been sleeping anyways, not truly knowing how to process what had happened earlier in the day. Everything was set to go perfectly so how did they seep through the cracks? And, now we had lost the only leverage we had into the location of the eight — the core of the rebellion that was on the rise. 

Despite my fears, it was naive to underestimate — I thought that I could do a better job finding information than he could. People, after all, were the most predictable of creatures. The plan would be simple really, but I never got close enough to propose the idea. I know I could be of help because, who would suspect me? Nonetheless, if I ever got close enough to my father, he would either yell or push me from the room, slamming the door in my face before a thought could even cross my mind. 

I knew that his elites — a few old-men with drooping faces — were gathered in his study, holographically. I knew they were discussing their next move, like always. 

I stayed up at night wondering what mindset the criminal had to have to do the things rumored: Kill remorselessly, and sink ships all over the continental seas. The infamous eight pirates, that the commoners would call the symbol of their hope. Their idols. Their heroes. But, the people of the capital would say wannabes. They would say lazy and incapable — only stealing because they couldn't move up in the hierarchy and coin Sector One as their home, like they’d so luckily been born into.

Reality was, nobody joined Sector One without connections. And, most of the time those connections ranged all the way back to the people who had stayed inside the dome four-hundred years ago. 

Thunder echoed again, sounding closer than it had before and shaking the metal jewelry that hung on its holder. It sat upon my unused dresser (because nobody needed a physical place to store anything anymore), but it was for the symbolism. The wooden furniture had been passed down through generations of my family. And, truthfully, it's all I had left of my mother. 

I sat up, the crisp comforter pooling at my waistline, and ran a hand loosely through my hair. I pushed the sheets aside, getting from the bed and walking over to the window. The stories-high, brightly lit buildings towered through the seeable distance. Billboards of holographically streamed TV previews and the next ground-breaking products splayed across them in light pollution. The Autoflyers whizzed dramatically fast through the rain that reflected off the neons — the in-air highway bustling with the city that never sleeps. 

You couldn’t even imagine seeing the ground from where I stayed. 

Decades ago, the only option for the expansion of the district was to go up; And, that’s what they did, tickling the edge of space with man-made metals. 

Now, only the richest of the rich, the 5% if you will, got to live on the most scenic floors of the skyscrapers that swayed with the lightest gust of wind. 

I threw the latest trend in raincoat over my clean, white-silk dress; I had thousands of them, in every style that people long for, this one having a lace section that framed my chest. I grabbed whatever pair of shoes was closest to the door, and opened it, careful of any creaks.

I exited into the dimly lit hallway, walking down it gently. 

“We’ve got him,” I heard through the walls, my father’s voice, “he won’t get away this time.” The door to his study was only a slit, casting a sliver of light to the corridor that I stepped over quickly, pressing my back to the wall next to it. 

Another voice filled the silenced air, “Has he spoken of the rest?”

“Not yet but, he will soon. Trust, Jeong, we’ve got them right within our reach.” You could hear the sighs of relief, “It’ll be over soon.”

“We’ll have a ball.”

My eyebrows knit, how’d he know this? How could he be so confident? Was I blindly trusting a mad-man? They’d gotten through the Reapers before, who’s to say they can’t do it again? 

There was a sound of screeching wood, someone had moved a chair, probably getting to their feet. I thought of excuse upon excuse at this moment. Maybe, if I pressed my hand to the wood first, swinging it open, I could cause enough of a commotion that he’d overlook the fact that I was, once again, sneaking out. It’s not the first time I’ve been caught, but if it does happen today, it will be the last. My father had always been overprotective ever since my mother died, over a few years ago now. 

But then there was a voice that boomed through the penthouse, “And what if you don't? How much longer are we going to let these fucking pests invade the minds of our citizens? My daughter, for God’s sake, has been talking of this stupid rebellion! Fix this, Jang, otherwise we’ll elect someone who will once you're taken care of.”

The contrast in my father’s voice sent a shiver up my spine, “Is that a threat or a promise, Mr. Kim?”

Arguing broke out, excuses to save face from venomous tongues, that I used as a means to escape.

An eerie feeling crept through me, the lights off, the living room feeling all but lifelike — plastic covered furniture, and sleek countertops to match the windows that splayed from ceiling to floor. 

I knew for sure that it was a house, but not a home.

I made it to the shuttle, the door pinging green as I walked through. There were three other people on it, all staring like they’ve never seen someone of my stature before: a man wearing a white fluffy hat (that almost looked too big for his head), a white shirt and big, gray pants that clashed. Another was a woman and a smaller child, presumably hers, done-up prime and pristine, much resembling myself. Their eyes left me once I took an empty seat.

The shuttle moved from place to place, so quickly it seemed like time hadn’t been passing at all — the doors opening and closing one after another in the span of a couple minutes. It felt like time wasn’t a thing that controlled humanity anymore, but exactly the opposite. 

Another stop came up next, the woman and child getting up off their seats as I did too, the doors shooting open. We filed out orderly, and went separate ways down the asphalt sidewalk that was now stained with running rainwater.

The air smelled of arousal and alcohol, the neon signs blinding as I passed tightly knit buildings. Truth is, Sector One was only picture-perfect on the outside. The further you got to the ground, the dingier the place was. Scrap metals as makeshift storm doors, mismatched fabrics flapping against the rhythm of the winds. There was trash that blew around and ultimately got stuck against the impenetrable outside-surface. There were vendors trying to sell their top-secret products, with no ingredient labels, to the rich and naive. The people who would venture to the slums just to see what it was like to live lowly. People who had made it. But, only made it so far up the ladder to live in the shadows of the skyscrapers.

I ignored their pleas — their re-rehearsed speeches — and kept walking past the chatters, avoiding passing citizens.  

I came upon a nameless bar, hustling with fancy hats and sharp shoes. I cut to the front, bumping into the bouncer, the people waiting to enter getting irritated by my actions. I tried to step through the door frame, but not before an arm shot out and my chest rammed into it. 

"Where are you going, little lady?" The bouncer I had run into asked, gold and rotten teeth wafting a pungent smell into the air around me, "Looking for some fun?" 

“Not at all,” I leaned in, our cheeks barely brushing, “I’m looking for the mole.” He smirked, then hummed a moment, nodding slowly. His fingers came into view and he motioned for me to follow. 

Another bouncer took his place, resuming the irritated line. We went through the doors, the music booming against my eardrums, and the lights insync with the jumpable beat. There were girls, sex-workers disguised with shimmering blush-pink dresses. They were sashaying around the club on the hunt for their next tip; the men and women in awe of their artificial-beauty that the place pays for upon hire. 

I watched as the bouncer grabbed one of the bartenders’ attention, whispering something into his ear, and exchanging glances like they’d just made a deal. 

He came over, swinging a shot-glass back right before attempting a smooth journey through the people. 

“Trying to leave the good ol’ Sector One?” He leaned in far enough to hear him clearly. I nodded, and he began stumbling through neon lights and second-hand smoke. I had no choice but to follow him as he was the only person I knew would help me out; the only person my father didn’t have tied in his basement of bodies. 

He led us through the back, earning a couple curious glances from the other waiters, and out the door designated for smoke-breaks and quickies. We ended up between two buildings: an extravagant sex-shop that sold anything your heart — or body — desired, and a motel. 

“What’s a girl like you trying to leave Sector One for anyways?” 

I crossed my arms, “Just… Help me out.” 

Still, the question rang through my head and echoed off the walls of my brain. Why was I leaving the sanctuary I called home? The place people live their whole lives for, and yet, I had the crushing desire to know more; It weighed heavy on my lungs, palpated my heart. 

He held his palm face-up as a reply, and I hovered mine face-down over it. A green light flashed through our skin, signaling the payment was successful. 

He smiled in satisfaction, “So, so naive, don’t you think? What if I didn’t know? Waste Daddy’s money on a whisper, a bad guy like me? Don’t you think he’ll have his dogs here faster than you can apologize?” His mouth twisted into a smirk, “The princess of Sector One, leaving? Why? Do you have someone on the other side? Oh, how romantic! I won’t tell.” He mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key into the darkness behind his tall frame. 

“Just show me the way out, or I'll tell my father what kind of business you actually run, Yeonju. Then we’ll see who the dogs bite first.” 

“You’re bold for a girl who can’t fight.” He hmphed, “If I was you, I’d watch that pretty mouth of mine before it gets me in real trouble. Do something useful with it instead — I’ll hire you.”

I darted my eyes, nonverbally telling him to lead the way. He smiled contentedly despite his annoyance — though I was unamused — swinging around, and almost skipping away like a child who had just been given allowance money. 

I caught up to his side, avoiding the trash cans (and loose bags) that made the tight alley a maze of enough dirt and grime to stain a powder-white dress. 

Yeonju looked down at me as we began a steady-ish pace, explaining, “I’ll take you to the edge, that’s all. You know, a guy like me,” He then placed a harsh smack against his chest for emphasis, “Doesn’t leave to be amongst the filth. I live in Sector One, for fuck sake! Why would I ever leave?” His gaze dropped again, stopping us both by standing in front of me and leaning to be eye-level, his rough hands on my shoulders. “And you — the princess of it — fucking, Jang Ahin! Why would you ever have the desire to leave? You have anything you could ever want literally at your fingertips! Are you crazy?” 

I scoffed out a laugh, brushing past him though I had no idea where I was headed to. The sheltering my whole life, blinding me from every twist and turn the network had. 

He stayed back a moment, obviously watching to see if his next tangent would get a rise from me — which was said more like it was meant for himself in the first place. 

“Ah, I get it now. It’s not who… It’s rebellion. You’ve finally had enough of your good-for-nothing daddy. What’d he do, cut you off from viewing the executions?” I paused, fronting like what he said didn’t bother me, and he went on another path in retaliation, “Or! Now, this one is the best theory in my humble opinion… You do have a lover, and I bet it’s the pirate! Ooh, I even bet it’s the one that was captured. What is poor-old Ahin going to do? Betray her president — her city — and let him go?” He cooed, romanticizing the air. “Which is it, Ahin? What’s the rumor going to be this time?” 

I swung around, “What the fuck do you want, Yeonju? More fucking money? I can do that if it makes you shut up and walk faster.” 

He laughed, jogging up to me, and spewing out a reply as he passed by, “Honestly? I just wanted to see the prized-princess swear.” 

My middle finger shot into view and I huffed out, “Happy now?”

He tipped his invisible hat, doing a full three-sixty, “Fucking ecstatic!” 

all rights reserved copyright © loserlvrss 2024

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[inactiveuser374]

MIA (chapter four)

pairing; Simon “Ghost” Riley / Winter Soldier!Male!Reader

contains; graphic depictions of injury, flashbacks, fears of abandonment, mentions of abduction, human experimentation & torture, memory loss and regaining, brainwashing and conditioning, male anatomy for reader, sexual themes, lovers to strangers to enemies to lovers??

link to chapter one

"Turn around, slowly." The man pressed the gun just slightly more against the fabric of your the hood covering your face.

"Hands up."

Lifting your only functioning hand, you turned at an agonizingly slow place.

"Other hand as well," he warned, his voice remaining steady. It likely wasn’t a situation he was unfamiliar with.

Pausing, you realized you were at a loss of what you were supposed to do.

“I won’t ask again.” His voice was supposed to be menacing, but it just sounded like an echo of the past.

You hesitated your move for a split second, but upon hearing a door creak open abruptly, your body reacted with the likeness of a snake, your muscles performing before you even instructed them.

The gun was in your right hand and its former holder under your boot. The loud sound of impact as he hit the ground reverberated through the flat leaving an irrevocable change in the atmosphere.

Your entire left half hurt, a lot more than you’d realized before. The metal was pulling on your strained muscles as you held the piece, its barrel staring at the head of the man below.

Ghost could be felt behind you even without speaking. His presence was heavy enough that it almost felt as if he were pushing against your back with his gaze alone.

“Put it down.” His voice rumbled behind you, the admonitory tone alone was enough to make anyone feel uneasy thinking about disobeying. But for you, it was almost reassuring. He knew you wouldn’t let down your defenses until instructed so.

The gun clunked against the hard counter and you lifted your shoe before turning fixedly.

The gun-wielding man nearly tripped trying to get even a smidge further from you, as if your presence alone was enough to turn him to ashes. But as he turned,

His eyes filled with rage as he suddenly went to jump at you with his gaze, only meeting a familiarity just as Ghost had. They seemed to switch from confusion to anger to resentment in a matter of seconds, leaving you wondering how you two were connected.

The moment was whisked away when a sudden noise sounded at the side of the flat where you had first entered. The door was hit with such force that it’s hinges broke off instantly, sending the chunk of wood to the ground after the deafening crack echoed through your ears.

Multiple people, presumably a team of some sorts with helmets and masks flooded through the small opening in the wall.

Their shouts were incomprehensible to your ears as countless lasers pointed at you, creating a deterrent for the other two men to step away.

A shout from one of them met your earshot before an unknown projectile whizzed through the air separating you and hit flesh.

You couldn’t tell where you had been hit, but you felt a buzzing hotness pool from your neck slowly dropping down to your torso and then your legs.

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even tell when your head hit the wooden floor from the absolute lack of any feeling in nearly every inch of your body.

The heat began to subside as you tried to keep your eyes from going dark, believing that you could ward off the small black spots grabbing at your vision.

You thought you’d feel fear, or anger, maybe sadness when your moment finally came. But all you could feel was cold. Cold like when you lay alone for countless nights replaying memories that presented themselves like an unreachable fantasy.

Cold like when your trust was slowly drained away in the cold room where you had left a part of yourself, a memory of someone who was gone.

The darkness took over with the likeness of a wave running over sand, smooth and swift. But waves always go back out.

-

You opened your eyes after what felt like only seconds since you had been awake last, but the memory of whatever had happened to cause you to wake up here was still foggy.

The room was dark. The white ceiling was coloured dark gray from the lack of light. Lazily, you traced the lines above where it met the wall, too tired to move anything other than your eyes. Voices behind the wall to your left let you know that you were probably in an infirmary of some type. The sounds coming from outside were muffled too much to understand as you focused on them.

But soon that too became too exhausting and you drifted off again. You didn’t care where you were, there wasn’t any conscious thoughts in your mind, just the sound of people outside playing like white noise.

Shortly after, the muffled voices in the corridor entered whatever room you had been brought to, changing from a conversation to silent footsteps in an instant.

“Has he talked to anyone?” You wanted to sit up to match the voice to a face, but even through the delirium and exhaustion, you recognized it.

“A few nurses, just ’yes and no’.” The other voice was softer and unknown. “I don’t think he really understood what happened just yet.”

Simon took a seat next to your bed, his silhouette showing in your peripheral. The door shut gently and you could hear the man’s breathing.

“How long’ve you been up?” Your eyes had been shut the entire time, but your breathing and small movements had alerted him to your awareness.

You replied with a groan as your eyes adjusted to seeing the environment around you. The ache behind your eyelids was still present but slowly fading.

Simon's gaze drifted down from your eyes, finding a quick stop at your shoulder before finding you again.

“It's alright, you don’t have to speak.” He scooted closer to you, lifting the chair underneath him before he rested his forearms on the bedside.

Under anyone else’s gaze you would’ve felt unnerved, being vulnerable like this. But the softness of his eyes assured you you were indeed truly safe in the moment.

Simon leaned forward just as you began to push yourself up against the back of the bed, his hand resting gently but firmly on your chest. You sighed as you realized how heavy your body felt, and how numb every nerve below your skin was.

“Don’t,” he watched you sink down again and his eyes moved downwards again. “It took seven hours to take that titanium out.” Simon’s hand still lay on the thin robe covering you.

Your mouth opened like a fish, closing instantaneously when you looked down. Instead of the shining metallic surface you were used to, a white patch was held down by tape. The dressing stretched from just past your collarbone down to your armpit.

He breathed in shakily, and you looked back up before you could think about it. His eyes were glistening even in the dark light and his lips twitched a bit before he took his hand off your chest. The warmth he had brought you suddenly left as he entwined his fingers in his lap.

“Simon,” the name barely interrupted the atmosphere, but he caught onto it like it was a single rain cloud in the middle of a barren field. His eyes traced your face almost endearingly as he waited for your next words. But they never came, he watched as your breathing went back to a slow and steady beat, not daring to say anything or cup your cheek as he had countless times before when you’d fallen asleep in his bed, too exhausted to go back to your own.

But Simon didn’t care if he couldn’t hear your voice or feel your skin against his. The fact that you were safe, in a place he could reach was enough for him to sleep through the entire night for the first time in years.

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[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 3

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

I awoke early in the morning. I didn’t sleep too well, but I didn’t fall out of the tree or anything and no creatures dared to come near.

I launched myself into the air after packing my things away and flew towards the huge mountain. I rounded the area, ignoring Velaris in my peripherals and instead focusing on where I saw people coming out on the flattened plateau area at the top of the mountain.

I glided for a little, observing, before I landed, tucking my wings in tightly before I went to face whoever was near.

I saw Nesta and the two females beside her regard me carefully. One had wings, and one had red hair. There were other females as well, but they seemed to focus their attention elsewhere.

Cassian was near a wall. I met his gaze for only a moment before turning to assess the training grounds.

It was sandy and had many fighting rings, as well as weights and dull training weapons lined against a wooden wall.

I spotted Nesta and her friends coming up to me. The Illyrian I took more attention towards when I saw scars running down her wings. Clipped. My heart ached a bit for her.

“Hello there,” I said when they had come close enough.

Nesta just dipped her head in greeting. The red-headed one spoke, “I’m Gwyn, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” I replied.

The Illyrian female spoke up as well, “Emerie.”

I dipped my head towards her. Despite not knowing her, I knew from the scars on her wings what she had potentially faced in life, so I respected her more than most already.

I saw Azriel land across the area beside Cassian. I just merely regarded his presence with a quick glance before focusing on the females in front of me again.

“I suppose we’ll see how well you can hold those weapons soon,” Nesta said before she walked off. Gwyn waved a bit as she followed. Emerie stared at me just a while longer, her eyes glancing at my wings. I blinked slower, letting a very slight smile onto my face. Emerie did the same back before she followed Nesta. If I wanted to get to know anyone here, it’d most likely be Emerie first, I decided.

Cassian walked up to me next. “I don’t know how skilled you are, nor what you can do, so join in wherever you want. The more skilled train with me for weapons and the newer ones train with Azriel at whatever skill level they’re at.”

I nodded. Cassian walked off toward Nesta and her group. I took a glance at Azriel who was with the other females before I walked to a corner of the training area, setting my bag down along with my sword. I kept most of my daggers on me though. Then I walked over to where Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie and Cassian had already begun stretching.

I joined in. My flexibility wasn’t the best of the best, but it was certainly better than most; I confirmed that when I was able to do all things that Cassian was able to do. I suppose I could use him as the standard for my skills for now, I decided.

“Alright, shoes off ladies,” Cassian ordered. “We’re going to review the basics again. You guys haven’t done it this week.”

“Why is it always the basics,” Nesta groaned.

“It’ll be fast, Nes, you know that,” Cassian said with a smirk. “You’ll get to play with your sharp stabby things in a bit.”

Everyone unlaced or toed off their boots. I set my own boots to the side, stretching my arms one last time before getting ready to do “the basics” or whatever they were. I paid very little attention to what the Illyrians considered the basics, and instead familiarized myself with their flight, formations and signals. Never with their basic sword fighting. Perhaps it’d be similar to what Rainne put me through.

“Balance on your right foot,” Cassian ordered.

We obeyed. I was slightly confused. This was their basics? I’d be perfectly fine then, I chuckled. I kept my foot raised for a long time, only almost falling once before I mastered myself and took a deep breath to focus again.

“Left foot.”

I switched my feet mid air, landing on my bare left foot, heel first to my toe, a silent and very light landing. I’d mastered this sort of balance first with Rainne. I knew my fighting style differed from a normal Illyrian fighting style, but this much? Perhaps they really didn’t like their footwork, I thought, amused.

Cassian brought out a bunch of wooden sticks, handing us each two.

“Stretch out horizontally with your arms out holding the sticks.”

I flipped the wooden poles in my hands as I stretched my leg out behind me, and balanced each pole in my opened palms facing upward. This, at least, was familiar to me. Rainne had loved to torture me using this technique. Palms up to the sky, balancing some sort of pole or dagger or stick while my head remained up, and body balanced.

“Good,” Cassian praised as he did the same with us. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second.

“Switch.”

I completed the order quickly, my thighs and calves flexing as I again balanced myself.

Another technique Rainne loved to use to torture me was making me spread out my wings and hold them up as far as they could go. I didn’t do this now, but these exercises were certainly bringing up a lot of memories.

“Good. Let’s do our squats now,” Cassian ordered after we’d held each position around a total of 10 minutes.

Squats, in my opinion, were terrible, but necessary sins. When we finished, my thighs ached subtly, but at least Cassian hadn’t had to correct my posture or anything like he did for Gwyn and Nesta.

“Great. Let’s do the 8 pointed star next,” Cassian suggested. “Grab a training sword.”

The other three females went immediately to grab a sword. I hesitated. 8 pointed star? What was that? 

Cassian noticed my hesitance. “I don’t know the Raven’s teaching method. The 8 pointed star is just sword maneuvers. You can follow along, or I can show you.”

I met his gaze. “I suppose I’ll learn it. Learn how the Illyrians do it and all that.”

Cassian nodded. I went to pick up a training sword. It was significantly heavier than the sword I carried, and shorter, but I’d manage I suppose.

“Nes, you three do your star,” Cassian ordered as he turned to me, holding an Illyrian blade that he drew from his back.

I met his eyes and he blinked. “Seeing as you already know how to use a sword, this, in theory, should be easy,” Cassian assured, speaking quieter than when he was ordering us into balancing. “Perhaps sometime we should spar, and you use that lithe blade you left in the corner.”

“Perhaps,” I replied. “Compared to the Illyrians I’ve fought, my style is much lighter.”

Cassian nodded. “Interesting,” he merely regarded. “Get into a stance,” he then ordered.

I spread my legs farther, holding the training blade with both of my hands and faced my head forward, my weight settled more onto my haunches as I bent my knees slightly.

“Hm. Good,” Cassian decided. “This will work. I’d rather not mess up whatever you already have memorized internally. Hold the sword out in front of you.”

He copied my position in front of me. I noticed his weight sat more on his feet than mine, but it worked. I held the sword out, elbows bent so that I was looking through the blade at Cassian.

“Copy what I do,” He simply ordered. Then threw out his sword in a powerful arching slash, flipped the blade and blocked an invisible blow, then downward. And he paused there, looking at me.

I copied what he did exactly, easily and without any faltering. An easy maneuver, I noted. But it was a powerful one.

He simply grinned and then did the next set of movements. I copied them without any problem. This continued until we’d completed eight different maneuvers, each easy to complete and slightly familiar to me I noticed. The Illyrians I’d fought tried these on me. And I’d learned how to block them. Not use them.

“Good,” Cassian said as I finished the last movement, a side step into a stab. “Memorize those movements, if you plan to continue coming to training.”

I dipped my head slightly. Sweat was coming off my brow and I wiped my forehead, shaking out my wings to feel a slight cool breeze blow into them.

I copied the 8 pointed star with the other three females. It was only a memory issue, if an issue occurred, and I quickly revised it, completing each set of movements with skill and confidence.

“Good, alright, let’s pause now,” Cassian ordered after a bit of time. We rose to face him. I saw the other females taking deep breaths, eyes closing for a moment before opening them. They looked a lot more focused, I noted as I took deep breaths to let my lungs catch up.

“If I can steal Azriel, we’ll spar, but otherwise, we’ll do some weight training,” Cassian explained, and then walked off with an amused grin as Nesta immediately protested.

Emerie looked at me now. I met her gaze. She was strong-willed, I noted as I saw her back straighten and gaze harden. That told me I was slightly threatening to her. So I took a slight step back, showing I meant no harm. She blew out a breath and just nodded to herself. I could tell she wanted to ask me questions, but hesitated.

I spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “Just ask, I don’t mind,” I promised.

Emerie jerked her head up. Then, after a beat of silence, she asked, “You’re able to fly,” She said, a simple observation that I was not clipped.

“I escaped a long time ago,” I replied. “I was almost not able to.”

Emerie nodded. Understanding flooding her gaze. “Who?”

“The camp lord. It was before Rhysand was High Lord,” I explained.

“Ah,” She murmured.

Nesta gave me a look, as if in warning, but I also saw a bit of sympathy flood her gaze. I tried to ignore it.

Azriel and Cassian were walking over toward us now.

“Alright. Nesta, with Emerie. Gwyn, Azriel. Y/N, you’re with me. You can use whichever blade you choose. But I am quite curious to see how you fight.”

I dipped my head, and decided to return the training blade and retrieve my own sword. I belted on the short leather sheath before walking over to Cassian. Everyone else had begun a spar, blades flashing in the light.

I withdrew my sword from my hip, the thin and long blade shining with the light beating down.

Cassian lowered into a fighting stance, as did I. Then we began. It was slow at first. We each tested each other. I grew more confident with each swing though. These were sword techniques I recognized from other Illyrian males. The thing that kept me at bay was the fact this was a spar, not a murder, and Cassian was told to be the best warrior in Pyrthian. He was confident in his skills, and sometimes that can prove fatal.

We drew apart for only a split moment before rushing each other, gazes hardened. I parried his blow, and attempted to knock the blade from his hand. I failed that maneuver miserably and quickly leaped away, landing on my right leg as I flared my wings slightly. Cassian didn’t let me gain an inch.

We fought for a long time, being the last pair to finish, almost a whole half hour later. Cassian had moved forward when we had our blades pushed together, something I wasn’t expecting, and caused me to lose my balance. He used this to trip me. I had to admit he was very skilled compared to other Illyrians. I noted his movements as I took his offered hand to stand. Strong and confident. If I ever had to face him in a fight to the death; Mother help me, I prayed. I put my blade away in its sheath.

“Fancy footwork,” Cassian complimented before turning to everyone.

Azriel, I noted, was watching me closer than before, but he turned his gaze away after he saw me staring right back. He was walking back to his own charges after a couple moments, shadows swirling around him. I tried not to think too much about it. Maybe he was just weird. His job was being a spymaster. And what did spies do for the courts? Kill people... torture people... be sneaky and mysterious. Honestly, he could just be like that, I considered.

Nesta dipped her head toward me, as if in respect. I dipped my head back in return. Very subtly though. Lest she think I'm going to openly show her respect this early into knowing her. People earned my respect. The less subtle my head dip, the more respect I have for you.

The sun was much higher in the sky, I noted as I glanced up. Close to noon.

“Alright, everyone, water break and cool down, then you can be done for the day,” Cassian spoke.

I followed the crowd over to a water station near an archway. I made sure I’d gotten my fill before wandering back over to the training area for my final stretching. Luckily, the term “cool down” wasn’t foreign to me.

Cassian ordered us into the final stretching for the day (it was a pretty easy day of training to be honest, for me). I stretched out my wings wide as many of the females who trained took a breather and sat down.

I went back to my things, staring off into the sky in front of me. I suppose I could train, but I’d need to find somewhere to stow away my belongings preferably. A tree hole would do, I thought.

Azriel came over towards me. “You’re impressively skilled,” He commented.

I perked up, folding my wings as I turned toward him. “Thank you,” I replied. He didn’t leave, just kind of staring. I quirked a brow. “Is there something you want to ask me?” I asked.

“Why do you keep your shadows hidden?” Azriel asked, his own dark beings floating in the air around him.

I turned away slightly. “It’s not safe,” I replied simply. “And while the whispers I hear are comforting, it is much safer to not have them around me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he just nodded as a form of acknowledgement. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

I hesitated for a second. Should I come back? Is it a good idea to attach myself? Sure, the training was most likely useful, and I might even be able to share some of what I know, but, was it really a good idea to come here, and get used to having people around me again? It’d be nice… but I didn’t trust it. Not completely.

“Maybe,” I said, deciding to not decide yet.

Azriel seemed uncomfortable for some reason. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

“Probably fly and then hunt for rabbits. I saw a warren not too far away when I arrived,” I replied, turning around to gather my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder and right wing. 

“You’re welcome to come to the House of Wind for dinner,” he offered. “Unless you are uncomfortable, but the House can provide a meal for you elsewhere besides the dining room if you’re uncomfortable there. Just ask aloud.”

I dipped my head. “Perhaps,” I decided. It’d be easier than hunting rabbits, but I didn’t know if I was ready to come back here so soon.

“Goodbye,” I said, half spreading my wings in preparation for a flight.

Azriel replied, “I’ll see you later.”

Maybe, my mind helpfully reminded me.

I didn’t waste another beat, eager to get out of the awkward conversation with the weird spy. I glided down to the forest, finding a hole in a tree right at the base of the mountain. I settled my bag into it, and after a second of thought, my sword too. I blocked up the entrance with sticks and then launched myself into the sky.

I glided on the other side of the mountain, over forests and other, smaller mountains around the House. I didn’t fly over Velaris, deciding that wouldn’t be the best of my ideas, even if Cassian and Azriel knew I wasn’t a threat this time.

I opted to glide just above the treetops, enjoying myself plenty enough. I checked up on some aerial maneuvers I knew, and flew high up in the clouds where the air grew thinner before I regarded the sun’s position in the sky. Just high enough to hunt.

Then I thought about Azriel’s offer. I could go back, having a well prepared meal rather than just cooked rabbit over a fire. It’d taste better, and be probably healthier. I pursed my lips before turning my course towards the House. I silently swore to myself it was only for tonight.

I landed on the same balcony as before, walking inside the doors. Nobody was there to greet me. I explored a bit, coming to a small area by a window with a simple stool and table. Books were in one corner, piling up on bookshelves, and the small table beside it. A nice little nook in the entirety of this mansion.

I recalled Azriel’s instructions. Just ask aloud? That seemed weird, I thought. “May I please have a meal?” I asked aloud, quieter so if anyone was near, they wouldn’t hear me.

A plate with food popped up on the table. Magic.

“Thank you, I guess,” I chuckled. “A sentient house. Interesting.”

I ate my food relatively quickly. When I finished, the plate disappeared.

“Alright, I best be going,” I said aloud to myself, and just in case the House was listening. Though it was very weird to be speaking to a literal structure.

I glided down to my things before once again setting up to rest in the branches of a tree. I decided it was most likely safe enough and decided to rest in the tree at the foot of the ridge. I didn’t know when I’d decided I’d go to training again, but something in me just said to go.

So I did.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 23

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,886

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

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May 15th, 2022

Chris craned his neck as he dug in one of the many cardboard moving boxes still scattered around Nat’s apartment, coming up empty on his search. With another sigh, he grabbed the boxcutter and opened the next box, listening to Nat humming in the other room as she searched as well. 

He opened the box, eyes widening as he finally found the box with her workout clothes. It was – of course – unlabeled, a wrinkled and scattered mess inside the box from being driven up the coast, but the sight of the pairs of sneakers and workout clothes, among a few toiletries and sheet pans, was welcomed. 

“Nattie! I found it!” He called over his shoulder as he sat down on the window seat with a sigh, pulling out the clothes and shoes just as Nat hurried in from her bedroom. 

Her hair was falling out of the bun she’d thrown it up in, a disheveled curly mess hanging around her face. Any annoyance he felt at having to spend their morning, after he caught up on some much needed sleep from his long flight the day before, searching every box that still sat unpacked in her apartment for a single outfit disappeared at the sight of that relieved smile as she came closer to him, holding out her hands to take the things from him. “Where was it?” She asked as she held the shoes in one hand and the shorts and tank top in another. 

“In this box with your kitchen shit… and a bunch of shampoo,” he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief as he tried to come up with some explanation for that logic. “Who the hell packed these boxes anyway?” 

“...I was in a hurry, okay? I didn’t have time to label everything and put it all together,” she retorted with a shrug, turning to go back to the bedroom. Chris hopped off the window seat to follow her as she called over her shoulder, “Besides, what does it matter if they’re organized? You just have to unpack it all anyway.” 

He brushed his hand across her lower back as he walked past her and headed to where his suitcase was open on the old wooden floor. “It matters because in moments like this it takes us a half an hour just to find your damn sneakers,” he muttered playfully, grabbing a pair of sweatpants to change into. 

He had slipped into the old ensuite to brush his teeth when he heard Nat tell him, “Well Mark and Jamie helped me pack so blame them.” 

“Oh yeah that sounds like a good plan, three artists packing boxes. No wonder nothing is organized,” Chris drawled sarcastically, a smirk on his lips when he caught Nat’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He leaned down, rinsing the toothbrush off before he put it back next to Nat’s in the small holder that sat on the worn countertop. 

“Chris, we both know you are the organized one anyways, but you weren’t around to keep me straight,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at him as he came out of the bathroom. He rolled his eyes as he changed into his sweatpants and jammed sneakers on, just as Nat quickly changed into her tank top and added, “I’m starting to think you flew all the way from London just to make fun of me,” 

“Nah, that’s just an added bonus,” he smirked, laughing loudly at her unamused expression. He sat down on her bed with a sigh, his muscles still aching from the long twelve-hour flight, and quietly pointed out, “I never even asked if you’d locked yourself in this apartment yet.” 

“For your information smartass, I’ve only locked myself out of this apartment,” she corrected, her laughter echoing the room as he leaned over to smack her ass playfully. 

They quieted down as Nat continued getting ready, fixing her hair before she pulled her pajama pants off. He was silent as she pulled the athletic shorts up around her waist, but his eyes were drawn to the large tattoo he caught a glimpse of, the one that he could still see below the shorts as well. 

“Hey, that’s healing up really well,” he pointed out as he stood up, coming to stand behind Nat in the reflection of the standing mirror, raising a single eyebrow as he nodded his chin towards her leg. 

“That first week it was so itchy but now that it’s been almost two it’s feeling really good,” Nat told him, a smile growing on her lips as he slipped his arm across her stomach. He hooked his chin on her shoulder, unable to break his eyes away from hers. He was struck, not for the first time since arriving in San Francisco late the previous night, that she’d been his for a year now. And if he had any say in it, that fact wouldn’t change for the rest of their lives.  

“It looks even better in person, baby. I love it,” he complimented, turning to press a few kisses to her neck. At her silence, he raised an eyebrow again and met her eyes in the mirror, asking, “Are you still happy with it?” 

Nat nodded, her empty hand moving so she could run a finger over the delicate lines of ink. “I am. I love how it came out and I just keep smiling everytime I see it.” 

“I think it’s really beautiful how much thought you put into designing it,” he murmured. His eyes were drawn to the different representations of her family that he could see – Saturn for her father, a little moon for herself, Mars for Alex, a larger moon for Heather, and a hand holding them all, representing Shelly, her late mother. “I know that there are a lot of feelings surrounding your mom and everything, but I think it’s special that you incorporated something to represent her.” 

“Even though I didn’t know her, she still is a big part of my life,” Nat whispered back. Her gaze avoided his in the reflection of the mirror as she glanced around the room, her hands fidgeting by her sides as she confessed, “Which honestly feels so weird at times that someone who is part of your life, also isn’t part of your life if that makes sense.” 

“No, I can understand that,” Chris assured Nat. He watched as her eyes met his in the mirror, her hands wringing in front of her as a frown settled on her lips. He knew he’d never have any comparable loss to hers – a parent, one she never remembered, having lost them as a young toddler – but he understood it. He was always willing to listen to Nat, to hear the occasional confessions, and would never judge her for any of that. “She was your mother but you didn’t know her so that’s a strange dichotomy.” 

Nat nodded, her eyes filled with some relief as she agreed, “It is, but I’m glad the rest of my family has memories about her so that they could talk about her so I kind of got to know her.” A small smile crossed her lips as her hand reached back to take his own, telling Chris, “Just the other day my dad was telling me how proud of me she’d be for moving here and taking this promotion.” 

He smiled at those words, knowing Eric must’ve been bursting with pride. But at that mention, his heart also clenched, remembering just how completely different his own reaction was. He was proud of Nat, always, but he was too blinded by his own hesitations to see just how important this role was. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t at first,” he whispered to Nat, squeezing her hand as he hooked his chin over her shoulder.

She sighed and shook her head, her voice low and a bit strained as she said, “Chris, that wasn’t meant as a dig at you.” 

“No, I know it wasn’t but I just want you to know I’m sorry for not handling all that better,” he insisted. He paused as she turned in his arms, facing him now. A small grin appeared on his lips as he looked down at Nattie, still struck that they’d been each other’s for a year – and if he was being honest, for far longer than that – already. “I love you Nattie, and that matters more to me than anything in the world.” 

“I love you too, Chris,” she murmured, leaning up to press her lips to his quickly. As she pulled away from him, she smirked and her eyes twinkled when she added, “Which I think I’m proving by going on this stupid hike with you.” 

He rolled his eyes, reminding her, “I thought we agreed no complaining about the hike if you get to pick where to go to dinner.” 

“No you said that, I never agreed. If I’m getting dragged on a hike there’s going to be complaining,” Nat argued, laughing as he frowned and pinched her rear.

They finished getting ready, then left the old apartment and climbed down the many flights of rickety stairs before they were in the sunny San Francisco late morning. The streets weren’t too busy as they made their way over to where Nat’s car was parked, then they quickly made the drive to the trail. It was nearly lunchtime – something else Nat had realized and complained about – by the time they’d begun their hike, but getting to be alone, still technically inside of the busy city, on their anniversary, was one of the best gifts Chris could’ve asked for.

Chris shifted the backpack straps on his shoulders, feeling their water bottles inside the bag move. He squinted his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, the bright sun too strong for the frames, but he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He saw Nat stop walking ahead of him, waiting for him to catch up as she looked around. 

“I still don’t understand why people enjoy doing this,” Nat mumbled, but he knew the words were only teasingly said. She hadn’t been exactly… over the moon when he sent a link to a local hiking trail for them to do during his short visit to San Francisco, but she’d been more than open to the idea after a bit of discussion. But still, Nat was Nat, and she wouldn’t let a moment go by without some chance for banter.

His hand dropped from holding the strap of the bag to instead slap Nat’s ass lightly as he informed her, “Because it’s fun to be out in nature, so shut the fuck up and be happy.” 

“Yeah that really made my mood just brighten up,” Nat laughed, batting his hand away as her laughter echoed off of the large trees.

Chris’ eyes flicked down to Nat’s rear as they made their way up the steep trail side-by-side, watching the way her muscles tensed beneath the running shorts with the action. “With the way your ass looks in those workout shorts, I think I’m going to drag you hiking more often,” he informed her quietly, despite knowing they weren’t near anyone else for at least a solid mile. 

Nat laughed loudly at those words, shaking her head with a smirk as she suggested, “How about I wear them at home while sitting on the couch painting? That seems like a better compromise…” 

“You’re being a brat, I hope you know that,” Chris informed her, smiling to himself as they kept making their way further up the trail. 

“Oh I do, I just don’t care,” Nat giggled, reaching up to bat a fly away from her face. They fell silent for a moment as they kept hiking and listened to the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees above them before she added, “In all seriousness, I’m really glad you’re here Chris. I know how exhausted you must be after just getting done with filming and then flying out here.” 

He frowned a bit as he listened to her words, knowing it wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d been working on his latest film, one for Apple, since mid-February, and they’d wrapped with three days of filming in London the previous week. He’d already sent Dodger home with Josh, his longtime friend and personal assistant, prior to leaving Atlanta for London, and then had flown directly from London to San Francisco, getting in the previous day. He’d wanted to be with Nat for their anniversary, even if it meant an eleven-hour flight and a day of sleeping after he got in. “It’s worth it to be with you,” he told her honestly, his voice soft. 

“I’m just glad we’re okay, now,” she whispered, gently reaching to take his hand in hers as they walked. She was quiet for a moment before she admitted, “My dad didn’t even believe it when I told him we had broken up.” 

He frowned a little, knowing this entire mess was on him for walking out in a fury in the first place. “I’m sure Alex wanted to kill me and probably still does,” he sighed. 

She was silent for a few moments before delicately confessing, “Well… kind of, yeah.” 

“Ma was worried sick about both of us that week. She’d text me every day and ask me how I was,” Chris supplied, wanting to shift the focus off of Nat for a bit. He’d been practically embarrassed when he realized he’d have to tell not only his mother and father, but also his siblings, who Nat had grown so so close to, about their sudden split. It was humiliating to tell them the news, there was no other way to say it. Telling his Ma, when she asked how Nat was and what he and Nat were up to together during their call that night he’d arrived in LA…. it sucked. Then hearing from his sisters as they found out, and Scott… that hurt the most out of his siblings, since Scott and Nat had grown close in LA over the last year as well. He squeezed her hand gently in his own, adding, “She also told me just the other day that she thought about calling you so many times to check on you but didn’t want to overstep.” 

Nat smiled faintly at those words, admitting to him, “Honestly I would have been fine with it, I love her so much.” He laughed at that, knowing it was true. She and Lisa had developed such a close relationship since they’d met back in October, between calling each other often, connecting on social media, and also with Nat’s latest visit to Boston in February. It was a little reminiscent, in Chris’ own mind, of how Nat’s relationship with Shelly might look if things had gone differently. 

“Scott just told me how fuckin’ stupid I was,” Chris informed her with a chuckle, then he shrugged as Nat laughed loudly. “Which was fair.” 

“I think we’ve both agreed that both of us were equally at fault,” Nat amended as she swung their joined hands between them. With her free hand, she pushed her sunglasses further up her nose as she whispered to him, “I’m just glad you showed up outside that elevator.” 

Chris smiled, knowing that his last-ditch effort to fix this turned out to be the best decision of his entire life. “I just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you,” he admitted, reaching his free hand to adjust the strap of the bag again as he and Nat kept hiking. 

They were both quiet for a while as they reached the top of the trail – and if he had to guess, Nat was thinking ‘finally’. As they stood at the top of the trail, overlooking the Bay and feeling the strong breeze, Nat admitted to him, “If it’s any consolation, I was planning on calling you once I got settled in here.” 

He turned, looking down at her in surprise as he asked, “Were you, really?” 

“I really was.” 

Nat adjusted the basket of laundry in her arms as she tried – and failed – to sneak into the bedroom without waking Chris. The creaky door was too loud to be ignored as Chris’ eyes opened suddenly from where he was laying on his side beneath the fluffy duvet, his hair sticking up every which way. 

Although she’d ruined the last of his nap, there was a small smile that crossed his lips once they locked eyes. She gently dropped the laundry basket to the bed, watching as he slowly sat up with a yawn as he woke up more. 

“What time is it?” He asked, his voice gravelly as he ran a hand through his messy hair, attempting to flatten it a bit. 

Nat turned her bedside lamp on, watching the way Chris jerked a bit as his eyes adjusted to the light. “Almost five,” she told him quietly as she reached for her laundry, moving to put it in the dresser behind her. 

He nodded, yawning loudly before he pushed the duvet off of his bare chest. “I better get up, I need to take a shower before dinner,” he mumbled as he turned to get up off of the bed. 

“Baby, we can just stay in. We don’t need to go out to dinner,” she tried to reason, watching him stretch, the muscles in his back rippling. “I’m sure you’re still exhausted from filming.” 

He made his way around the bed, arching a single eyebrow as he passed her. “I’m not missing taking you out on our one year anniversary,” he told her, his voice firm and decisive. 

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her leggings, turning to put them in the drawer as he stepped into the tiny ensuite bathroom. “Well you’re going to be here for like four more days so we have plenty of time to go out,” she called, listening as Chris scoffed.

Through the open door, Nat could see him reach into the shower, turning on the water for the shower. His head popped out of the bathroom one last, a firm look on his face as he replied, “I’m taking my Nattie out tonight,” just before he shut the door behind him to shower. 

Once they were both ready, they walked hand-in-hand to the highly-rated restaurant only a few blocks from Nat’s apartment, slipping into a table tucked in the back corner that had been reserved under Nat’s name. As they settled into the plush chairs in the dim lighting with glasses of wine in their hands, Chris peered at Nat over the menu. “I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask you yet how you feel like everything is going,” he began, pausing before he added, “Like with your job and moving here.” 

Nat took a long sip of the red wine, hesitating. “Well… it’s kind of hard to say right now. I mean, I’ve only been doing it for two weeks,” she slowly said, shrugging her shoulders. It just all still felt so unfamiliar to her, even outside of work, that she never felt as though she could relax fully. 

The sounds of her neighbors walking around, the creak of every door, floorboard, and cabinet in her apartment, to needing to pull up Google Maps so she could find the grocery store…. It was all things she never remembered noticing back when she moved to Los Angeles over a decade ago, and now at this point in her life… she hated the readjustment, especially while alone. 

He arched an eyebrow at her, giving her a suspicious look. “Ten days at work means that’s nine more days than you need to make friends,” he pointed out with an amused smirk. “Didn’t you become friends with Mark on your first day?” 

“Yeah I like everyone, but I haven’t really had a chance to connect with anyone in particular yet,” Nat told him, her voice quiet. She took another sip of wine to buy herself time, her eyes dancing around the dining room over Chris’ shoulder before she explained, “They’re all kind of close and I’m the new one coming in so it’s just different I guess.” 

“I know you’ll settle in,” Chris assured Nat. Her eyes followed his movements as he put the menu down on the table, reaching for a small piece of bread from the basket between them. “Have you gotten to explore San Francisco much?” He asked her with genuine interest, and she felt her shoulders slouch at the question. 

“Not yet,” she murmured, following his lead and taking some bread as she cleared her throat. “It’s been kind of weird being somewhere new again. It’s been almost fifteen years since I moved to LA so it’s just an adjustment.” Having made the decision to take this new role, Nat knew there’d be an adjustment period. But she’d forgotten how it felt to be somewhere new without anyone there with her, welcoming her home each day, exploring the city, visiting local restaurants, and getting acclimated together. Sure, she still had her friends, and she’d see Jamie when he came up every few weeks for meetings, but she was alone. Entirely alone, at the stage in her life where she felt ready to begin thinking about taking the next step. She loved what she did, but was finding it hard to muster the energy to face the next few days sometimes, let alone make it to the final deadline for the projects.  

Chris nodded, his expression sympathetic, but obviously unaware of the true depths of what she was feeling. “I can understand that but I’m sure once you get your apartment all set up and get into your routine, it’ll be better,” he assured her, his voice certain. 

“And my dad is coming to visit next weekend so I’ll maybe get to see around the city when he comes,” she said more to herself than anyone, feeling like having Chris here now and her dad’s visit coming up shortly after was a little lifeline to her while she tried to settle in. 

With a warm smile on his bearded face, Chris replied with, “I’m sure you will, and I can unpack a bunch of your stuff while you’re at work tomorrow.” 

“It’s just hard to adjust. I miss Los Angeles and my friends there and the Disney campus and just the… the life I had there,” Nat’s voice was soft as she stared down at the bit of wax dripping down the lit candle on the table, feeling nothing but disheartened about how things were starting here in San Francisco. 

“I know it’s not easy, especially since it has been so long since you moved but I know you’ll get used to the new place. It’ll be fine, Nattie, just wait and give it time,” he tried to encourage her genuinely. She knew that Chris could see that unsure look on her face, prompting him to go on to point out, “I’m sure when you moved to Los Angeles it wasn’t easy either, but it was worth it because that’s what you wanted to do. Now this is what you want to do so it’ll be worth it too.” 

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter returned to take their order, and Nat quickly ordered her food before Chris took his time, ordering them a couple different things to share as well. 

She mulled over his words as he ordered, letting them sink in. Nat couldn’t help but begin to wonder if this really was what she wanted to do. With all that had happened between this promotion coming out of the blue, her exhaustion from the past few months of working like crazy, being apart from Chris and then ultimately fighting with him over this job while her family and friends were all encouraging her to take it, had taken its toll on her. This promotion had seemed like the perfect opportunity, it seemed to solve a lot of problems with her schedule and ticked that box in her heart telling her that she had made her family proud and worked hard enough to turn her passion into a full fledged career. 

But moving here and taking on this new job for the past two weeks hadn’t been as fulfilling as she’d expected it to be. She hadn’t woken up excited to go to work like she used to. She hadn’t been bubbling with excitement for her lunch break with her friends as she loaded her tray with the soft serve machine. She hadn’t been able to feel like this place was her home yet… in fact she didn’t even feel like she fit in. But then again, it had only been two weeks. Maybe she just was expecting too much or wanting some lightbulb moment that didn’t really exist. 

She tried to remind herself that what Chris said was probably true, that she just needed time to settle in and get adjusted. In the back of her mind though were those other words Chris said weeks earlier when he told her that this job wasn’t her or what she wanted. She remembered him inferring that she was just getting caught up in wanting to succeed, that she had lost sight of what it was that she wanted. That thought seemed to linger in her mind, wondering if Chris had known her better than she’d known herself in that moment and that maybe deep down this wasn’t the right decision. 

At the lingering thoughts in her mind, the stubborn part of her personality seemed to kick in. Nat knew that this was what she should be doing. This job was the normal path to keep succeeding and moving up, not to mention having better hours and more flexibility moving forward. She was determined to make this work and knew that she just had to try harder to adjust to her new life. This evening though, she didn’t want her thoughts to be consumed by her job, and instead wanted to fixate on the fact that the man she was madly in love with and sitting across the table from her now had been in her life for an entire year. 

“I’m just glad you’re here with me,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. She reached out over the small table, holding his hand tightly.

“I am too, baby,” he answered easily, a wide grin on his lips as he squeezed her hand tightly. “I certainly never thought that when I said yes to doing Lightyear that I’d not only be getting my dream job, but my dream girl.” 

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him as she sarcastically replied, “Yeah I’m really glad I could sweep you off your feet by slamming into that glass door for your first impression of me.” 

“I was pretty hooked on you from day one,” Chris added, his bright blue eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the restaurant. He leaned back in his seat as he held her hand still, adding, “And I still am.” 

“If you would have told me when we met during that meeting that I’d be sitting across from you celebrating our anniversary, I would have laughed my head off. I would have said there was absolutely no way,” Nat admitted to him. She could have never predicted having any sort of friendship with Chris back when they first – briefly – met during that daily. But through some pull and some way, they’d grown closer, forming a friendship before it eventually evolved into… this. This absolute greatest love she had known and would ever know. 

“I’m pretty glad things worked out the way they did,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed her hand a few times as he added, “I love you, Nattie.” 

“I love you too, Chris,” she replied easily, knowing she’d never hesitate to tell him that. “And I just keep loving you more.” 

“I hope you know, I’m not planning on this being it. We got a lot more anniversaries to celebrate, for the rest of our lives.”

As Chris spoke those words, Nat knew in her heart that it would be true. Somehow she just knew that they were going to be together because all of this just felt so… right. She knew they were meant for one another and both of them were determined not to let anything get in the way of that again. It felt like so many things were up in the air right now for Nat. She was trying to figure out a new job, settle into a new city, and basically start this new chapter of her life and all of it just seemed so overwhelming. Sometimes she just felt so lost, wondering if this was the right thing to do or how it would play out, but through all of this uncertainty there was one thing in her life that she was completely sure of, and that was Chris.

[twistthescript]

∇ for Penny Lamb pls 😁

Oooh... old age/aging. I gotchu!

Since I have my Dollmaker AU based around Penny Lamb aging, I'll do those headcanons first, and then if I have any extra general ones after, I'll pop those in too!

Dollmaker AU Headcanons (Some of these are bittersweet):

As a woodcarver, Penny has the mentality of "Idle hands are the devils playthings," so she always will be found fiddling with something. When she entered hospice, she began to get in trouble because she wanted to mess with the tubes and IV's.

Bouncing off the previous: her daughter, Savannah, kept smuggling carving tools and small blocks of wood into the room. Every time, the tools were found and confiscated. Eventually the nurses gave up because Penny seemed to have an endless supply of them. (Secretly, she found where the nurses hid them, and on her visit to the nurses station, would collect and smuggle them back under her gown.)

Pre-hospice, Penny had a soft spot for the young couples she'd see around town (ie. Mischa and Talia), and could be seen carving initials or small details (if they had specific scarves/shoes/accessories on) into the sides of the trees behind her residence. (I'd like to think post-Penny-death, Savannah opened it up to the public as a 'memorial garden.')

Jumping to a vastly different age- 20's Penny. Her childhood toy 'Sir Roary' went with her (mostly) everywhere, and sat proudly in a cup holder of her car. Uncle Karnak carved a little wooden sword and shield for it that's attached on the toy's back like a school bag.

After Karnak passed and Penny (& Savannah) moved into his old house/shop, she found a small crystal ball carved into a block of wood (it had started out with the shape of claws, but Penny finished it to look more like her uncle's hand closing around the crystal), and wore it as a pendant around her neck to help keep him close.

General Headcanons:

Post-Cyclone Penny refuses to wear any accessories around her neck. Materials rub against her scar quite painfully. She particularly has issues with the St. Cassian school uniform, where a higher collared/collar-type shirt is required.

She's an absolute mimic, and small nuisances of her personality/accent change with whoever she's speaking to. [I headcanon her with ADHD.]

As part of her past in Elysium, she learned to pickpocket. She was rarely caught... until one time in her 70's when she accidentally dropped the stolen-something-of-value and got noticed. The town law enforcement had quite an issue putting an elder in a jail cell overnight. (On her release, she asked for a copy of the mugshot to hang on her wall.)

Edit: Penny had so many mugshots taken because she didn't stop smiling. Law enforcement gave up, took the picture and tried to hustle her out. She would just grin, "Okay, now lets do a funny one!"