#that's honestly why i don't say anything beyond my tags and warnings

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

I hope we all know fanfiction is fanfiction, right? Like I (and all authors tbh) am not here to be your mother. Obviously don't raw dog with strangers. Don't cheat on people. Don't fuck in public parks. I strongly hope we all recognise that this is all fantasy and fiction lol.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 24

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 2838

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst, Self-deprecating thoughts, Insecurities, Depression, Past Traumas, and Insecurities come to light. (Please, if you suffer from these things, seek someone trustworthy to talk to. You really aren't alone.)

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 24

Dean lay in bed, lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t feeling the amount of emotions he had been the night before, which he figured was because she was sleeping. Again, he glanced over at the clock; after seven. He rested his arm on his forehead, staring at the ceiling.

How the hell am I supposed to even talk to her with as upset as she seems?

That was the main question that kept circling back in his mind. The others concerned things beyond that. He groaned before climbing out of bed, getting dressed, and going into the kitchen for coffee. There, he found Maria, Sam, and Bubbles sitting at the table. The mood of the room didn’t seem tense, but it wasn’t jovial either.

“Mornin’ Sweetheart,” he told her with a soft smile, sitting next to his brother, who was across from her.

“Morning,” she somewhat mumbled, not looking up at him, making his smile fade.

Dean sighed silently and then went into the library. He was beginning to feel like he was the reason for her down mood. So, he did the only thing he could think of: not be around her.

“Why do you get like that around him?” Sam asked curiously after Dean had left.

She shrugged slightly, still looking down at the table, “I’m scared,” she answered so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her.

“What are you scared of?” he asked, keeping that soft, comforting tone. At least she was opening up a little.

Bubbles climbed into her lap, and Maria rested her hand on her back, not looking up at Sam. He took note of how she wouldn’t look at him, had barely drank any of her coffee, and how she looked utterly terrified.

“Okay, let me try that again. I know Rowena probably said a lot of things to you, things to make Dean and me look like bad people who couldn’t be trusted,” he paused, carefully choosing his next set of words. “Dean and I have had to make some hard choices in the past. We lost people, good people, in the process. The two of us have even been killed a few times along the way.”

She looked up at him, “You died before?” she asked, seeming confused.

He chuckled a little, “Yeah. Somehow, Dean and I have always managed to find a way back, though.” He let out another sigh, “When it comes to Rowena, she’ll tell you what she wants so that she gets what she wants. She’ll even pretend to be your friend and care about you.”

She just stared at him for a few minutes, although he could see so many emotions flash in her eyes before she looked back down at the table. “I guess I just don’t know what to think or believe,” she mumbled, making him sigh again.

He noticed how she almost seemed to shy away, “I’m not upset or mad at you. I just don’t know what to say or do to help you believe me. Dean and I just want to keep you safe. That’s our first priority. We’d also like to get to know you, outside of keeping you safe.”

Again, she wouldn’t look up at him. That was when something hit him, and he had an idea, “Okay. When Dean brought up bringing you here that night at the bar, did he just make you go, taking you against your consent, or did he ask you if you’d come here?” 

Sam noticed how she looked to think about his question, “He asked me,” she replied quietly.

He breathed in a breath of relief. At least he’d gotten her thinking, “He left the decision up to you. Now, when Rowena wanted to talk to you, did she do the same?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, watching her carefully.

“No, she didn’t,” she answered, still quietly, but at least it looked like she was thinking about it.

“That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. We’re not going to force anything on you, including staying here. If you’d rather be at your home back in Arizona, we wouldn’t stop you,” he told her gently.

That was when the tears fell, and she looked away from him completely, trying to wipe them from her cheeks as fast as they were falling. Sam didn’t think twice. He got up, sat next to her, and pulled her into a hug. Whether she was going to admit it or not, she needed one. He felt her lean in and bury her face in his chest, gripping his shirt as she cried. Sam gently rubbed her back. Her body shook with her sobs. Bubbles woke up but didn’t move from her lap.

Dean had been watching some of the interactions from the kitchen doorway. At least she was letting someone comfort her, even if it wasn’t him. Sam did notice him. The two of them nodded slightly before Dean returned to the library, feeling somewhat relieved.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam told her gently, “You’re not alone in all this crazy mess. I know it might feel that way and it’s scary to let people get close, especially a couple of strangers as weird as me and Dean are. But, I can promise you that you’re safe here with us.”

She almost seemed to sob harder at his words. He could only speculate on what had gotten her to the point of not trusting people, or perhaps it was just men, but he wasn’t sure and had no clue how to get her to open up.

He let her cry for a bit longer before he spoke again, “I know you’re probably having some trust issues, with Rowena just taking you yesterday. I had wanted to give you that hex bag earlier, but you were sleeping when I finished making them. We had been worried she’d show up and try something. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

Again, she cried harder, and he gently rubbed her back and held her. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she finally started to calm down, but he’d chosen to stop talking. He felt terrible that she seemed to cry more every time he said something.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled but hadn’t pulled away.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. After everything that’s happened to you in the last week, I’m surprised you aren’t worse off,” he told her, still gently rubbing her back.

She sniffled a little and pulled away, mostly to dry her eyes and cheeks, “I’m sorry I questioned you and Dean. I didn’t think about it the way you brought it up,” she told him quietly. “I feel bad.”

He gave her a compassionate smile, “You still don’t have to apologize. We honestly just want you to feel comfortable while you’re here if you want to stay.” Sam thought momentarily before continuing, “Is there anything you want me to tell Dean? I understand you’re scared, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

That made her look up at him, and Sam could see just how sad she was really feeling, “I’m scared because Astaria had told me that I met my soulmate recently. It’s you, Dean, or Crowley. And that… terrifies me,” she whispered.

“I can tell you that it’s not me. And I can prove that if you let me touch your hand. It might help you not be so scared,” he offered, again being gentle and trying to coax her a little.

When she nodded her head, Sam moved his hand from her back to the hand she had on his shirt. She probably hadn’t even realized that she was still holding onto it. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile as he gently squeezed her hand. Both of them missed Bubbles smile.

“See, no reaction. That’s how you find out, letting someone touch your skin,” he explained softly, “There’s no rush, though, if you want to find out about Dean. When you’re ready, okay?”

She nodded a little before she got up, Bubbles flying so that she was next to her, “I think I’m gonna take a nap,” she whispered. 

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” he replied, giving her another soft smile before she and Bubbles headed out of the kitchen.

Dean watched from where he sat in the library. She barely glanced at him as she went down the hallway to her room, and Dean sighed. Sam joined him shortly after and explained what happened in the kitchen.

“She’s just gonna need some time, but at least now she knows how to find out who her soulmate is,” he tried to reassure Dean.

He sighed, “At least she was talking, even if it’s not to me.”

Sam felt for his brother. They hadn’t found much information on soulmates, and it wasn’t like they could just talk to Astaria to get more information on the topic. Neither of them realized that because Dean felt the pull toward her first, he also felt part of what she was going through.

“Dean,” he began sympathetically, “I already told you, she’s terrified that her soulmate is Crowley. At least try to understand that.”

“I do, Sammy. I just wish I could show her she’s wrong,” he said sadly.

A half-hour later, Bubbles came out of her room and joined the two in the library. Sleeping. The word flashed through Dean’s mind, and he nodded his head. Then, she flew a few feet from the table, reached out, and “drew” a line as tall as the brothers. A golden line appeared that also pulsed slightly. Bubbles looked over at the brothers and motioned them to go over to her. 

The two shared a look, and Bubbles rolled her eyes. Astaria. Dean raised an eyebrow before he looked back over at his brother, “Well, you want to talk to Astaria?” he asked.

“Wait? What?” Sam asked, somewhat confused.

“Bubbles apparently wants to take us to see her,” he answered before he got up and took a deep breath. 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what to think, but they hoped it might help, so he, too, got up and followed Bubbles and his brother through the dimensional opening. Both of them looked around in utter awe. The trees and plant life were massive.

“I feel like an ant,” Sam said as he looked around.

Bubbles had already begun flying down the path they were on but stopped and turned to them, “You coming?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

“Dean,” Sam said, smacking his brother on the shoulder, trying to get his attention, “it talked.”

Dean laughed hard, then shook his head in amusement, “At least I don’t have to play middle man,” he replied, still chuckling some. “Come on, Sam.”

He began following Bubbles, and Sam reluctantly followed him. It was a short walk before the path opened up to what looked like a little village. Bubbles kept flying, though, so they kept following. The people there looked at the brothers following the little purple dragon, but that was considered normal to them. The brothers weren’t sure what to think of the friendly smiles and waves they were given, so they just returned the smiles and waves.

Bubbles finally stopped in front of a large tree that looked like it had been turned into a home inside the trunk. She knocked on the door, and a woman opened it. She had long black hair, light blue eyes, a petite figure, and a soft smile.

“You’re back,” she said to Bubbles, who nodded her head and gestured to the brothers. She tilted her head a bit, looking them over. “Well, you aren’t Pari, and neither of you carries the gene. She clearly brought you here for a reason, and it must have something—” she stopped. A look of realization hit her: “OH MY GOD! You’re her soulmate.”

“Finally,” Bubbles said, rolling her eyes before she flew over and landed on the table where Maria and Astaria had sat and talked before. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Can you help us understand soulmates a little more?” Sam asked a little hesitantly.

“Of course,” she replied kindly, gesturing to the table where a third chair appeared.

The brothers sat across from Astaria with Bubbles seated on the table near Dean, “I’m Astaria. I’m going to guess you’re Dean and you’re Sam. Maria has told me about the two of you. It’s nice to put faces to names finally,” she said with a soft smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, finding it much easier to smile and relax now. 

“Did you believe in soulmates before you met her, Maria?” Astaria asked.

“Honestly, it’s come up a couple of times, but neither of us took any stock in it. We’re hunters. Having a normal life and relationship isn’t something we put much stock in given how dangerous our job is,” Dean replied, almost surprised at how easy it was to just talk to her.

“It wasn’t that we believed or didn’t believe. It’s not something that happens often where we’re from,” Sam added, relaxing more.

“Well, that explains why you were able to hear her familiar before she could. You didn’t have any bias on the topic,” she stated.

Astaria then went on to explain soulmates to the two of them. Every Pari has a soulmate; sometimes, it can take lifetimes before they find each other. Soulmates share a connection and if it’s strong and welcomed, they can even go as far as talking telepathically to each other through that connection. They can feel each other’s emotions, physical pains, and sensations, as well as find each other if they are separated. In order for a non-believer to believe, skin-to-skin contact must be made for the connection to begin. Then, the non-believer has to be open to explore the connection further.

The brothers sat and listened to her. Dean wondered how the hell he was even going to be able to get close enough to her to attempt that or if it was even a good idea to initiate the contact.

“Right now, she’s overwhelmed and terrified. I don’t know how much she shared with you about her life. The dimension you all are from doesn’t welcome those that are different. After her accident, when her powers started, she figured no one would ever want her,” Astaria explained, then sighed, “She figured she’d always be alone.”

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek, then Bubbles’ hand on his, which was resting on the table in front of him. He quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. “So, how do I even get close to her?” He was always suave when it came to women, but Maria was different. He wanted more with her than he’d wanted with any woman, and it scared the hell out of him.

Astaria thought momentarily, debating how to answer his question, “Well, just be yourself. That really is my best advice. I did make it clear to her that she’d have to make a choice. It really is up to her, no matter how much being apart from her is hurting you. The dragon will be there for you, let her. It won’t be the same comfort, but the more you let her in, the easier it will be for you.”

That wasn’t the answer he hoped for, but it gave him a starting point. 

“Dean, we should get back, before she wakes up. I told her we’d be there,” Sam told his brother, wanting to ensure he kept his word to her, especially after the Rowena incident.

“Well, it was nice to have met the two of you, and I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Astaria told them with a soft smile. “Dean, just be yourself, honestly. I can see the kind of heart and soul you have. You’re too hard on yourself. You aren’t why she’s sad, so stop thinking that.”

Ouch, Dean thought to himself, but he just gave her a friendly smile, “I’ll remember that.”

“Nice to meet you too, Astaria,” Sam replied.

The brothers followed Bubbles back to the dimensional portal, both lost in their thoughts. Dean even chuckled to himself, having the moment from the Disney movie Aladdin play through his mind, where the genie had told Aladdin to be himself. 

Once back inside the bunker, Bubbles closed the rift and flew to Maria’s room. Dean double-checked the time. They’d been gone a couple of hours, even if it hadn’t felt that long. He just kept reminding himself, to be himself around her. Although now, he needed a drink, so went for the whiskey. He felt like all his nerves were on edge. Give him monsters any day of the week. Ask him to be himself around his soulmate, who doesn’t believe in soulmates, and he turns into a nervous wreck on the inside.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 25

Tag List: @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you

[ed-recovery-reminders]

Just stop. Stop. Step back, walk away from the scales and the mirror and the tags Tumblr tries to warn you not to scroll. You'll never find anything good in them. The mirror gives nothing but grief - does it for you, or only for me? I avoid the mirror. I generally avoid the tags. But just now I scrolled one, just to see if there was anything useful. I read at least twenty or thirty posts, and found one that I was glad I had read. One.

This isn't healthy. Not for me or you or any of us. The scales look tempting, but they're a trap. I beg of you, don't look at them - or any of these things. It's all a trap and by the time you figure out how bad it is maybe it's too late. I am torn up inside; the only reason I'm not crying is that I'm all cried out right now. Please take care of yourself. Forget weight. Be a healthy weight and be the weight you're designed to be. I'm begging you. I'm begging me too; I'm deaf to my own cries, but I wish you wouldn't be; if you need even one person to remain accountable to, to get yourself out of the hole we're all digging for ourselves - please tag or message me. If I can help even one person to be just a little bit stronger and safer and healthier I will be glad. I love you, I love you all and I want the best for you.

I started when I was in year eight. I suppose it's really a byproduct of being genuinely underweight all my life up until then: small for my age, later in development than typically, possibly to do with being born three months early and sick. And one day - I can't remember it, not really, and not the start - I looked at myself in the mirror and decided I was fat.

There was absolutely no self-awareness in me then: one day I looked at myself and decided I was fat, I know not why. I had one meal I could not-eat-as-much in the day, so I got into the habit of skipping it entirely.

And that - I have no real timeline beyond that. I figured out I was wrong in my perceptions. I worked on it. I gained weight. Eventually I became content with my body. I saw myself and at times approved.

I really don't know what happened next, honestly - how I got back here. How I got down to where I am now, lowest ever weight [once fully matured] and struggling to eat anything at all. How I'm weak and have no energy; how I can't do things I used to be able to. How it means I hate myself and want to hurt myself and still I resist that through sheer stubborn force of will (and how someday force of will is not and will not be strong enough, so that I'm clawing for reasons to counteract the urges when they come).

I don't know what happened, but I don't want it to happen - for me, or for anyone reading this. If you can, please get help. Take a break from the internet and everything to do with it. If you can't or won't get professional help, tell somebody in your life (even online friends, if appropriate) about what you're going through. I am hugging you tightly, if you want it, and hoping and praying we all get through this. Never thought I'd say something like this but - eating disorders can aptly be described as hell on earth, in a way.

Please, just, if you need it (and even if you feel you don't) take a break and take care of yourself. I'm rooting for you.

[puppy-kitty-bunny]

Want You to Be Mine

Jimin x Jungkook

Summary: There's no way Jimin is letting the night pass her by without at least getting the hot, buff girl's phone number.

Word Count: 2,715

Warnings / Tags: 18+ ONLY! This fic contains smut!! Please read responsibly. Jikook are ~lesbians~ in this fic because I said so; appearances by/mentions of the rest of bangtan (with girl!Taehyung) and other various kpop peoples; my attempts at humor; sooo much flirting and sexual tension; women kissing/making out; grinding; guided masturbation (ish??); thigh riding; and orgasms obvi. I think that's it, but pls let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Omg ok HI HELLO, this is my first Jikook fic on tumblr so please be kind, I beg. It's not very long, but short and sweet fics are my specialty hehe~ Unbeta'd bc ya girl is a rebel, I guess. Any and all mistakes are my own. I'd love it if you would give feedback—especially if you liked it—because I literally thrive off of that shit. Okay thank you love you bye 🤍

BTS Masterlist || AO3 Link

If there’s one thing Jimin is always sure of, it's that Jung Hoseok knows how to throw a fucking party. Even if this one is technically a house-warming party for him and his boyfriend, Jin, at their brand new and stupidly luxurious flat.

Jimin adores Hoseok, having been friends for years, since their dance school days, so she wouldn't have missed this for the world. She's also grown quite fond of Jin and all of his terribly hilarious jokes and puns. They've been together for almost a year and Jimin is beyond happy for them.

The people attending the party are pretty evenly split between Hoseok’s friends and Jin’s. Most of them Jimin recognizes, but there's a few unfamiliar faces.

Like her.

Jimin’s attention falls on a tall woman who's just walked through the door, giving Jin a friendly side-hug, leaning in to say something to him that has Jin loudly protesting and playfully shoving at her shoulder, making her grin widen and nose scrunch in the cutest way. Jimin is transfixed.

The woman is wearing black on black everything; slightly faded jeans and a matching jacket, the band of her Calvin Klein underwear peeking out above her cinched leather belt, and Jimin is willing to bet she’s got the matching sports bra under her cropped tank top that shows off her toned stomach and small waist. The look is topped off with black stomper boots and silver chains around her neck. Her shaggy wolf cut is doing things for Jimin. Very pleasant things.

Jimin is a woman on a mission now. The mission being, of course, to get her number before the night is through, at the very least.

She looks hot tonight, too, so it shouldn't be difficult. Her favorite white tank top with the cut-outs and low back hugs her torso just the way she likes, and her short, pleated skirt does wonders showing off her toned legs. It's pure luck that she chose her slutty, knee-high boots for tonight, honestly, and she's suddenly thankful her slutty tendencies didn't end there, since she chose to go braless.

Jimin’s got small tits, okay? And she loves them very much. They're cute and perky and don't always require a bra, anyway. Plus, sometimes she likes how her nipples look when they're showing through whatever top she's wearing. Sue her.

It's hard to not stare at her as she makes her way further into the flat, stopping to give Hoseok a hug in greeting. Jimin mentally notes to pull him aside later, specifically to ask why he hasn't introduced her to their incredibly hot friend.

With great strength, Jimin shifts her gaze to look for Taehee, finding her draped across her boyfriend, Yoongi, who's currently engaged in spirited conversation with Nmajoon. Or, spirited for Yoongi. He’s not frowning, so they must be talking about music or something.

Taehee smiles as Jimin approaches, detaching herself from Yoongi, only to replace him with Jimin. She giggles, wrapping her arms around her best friend as Taehee lets her weight be held up with a pleased grin.

“And what brings you over, my moon?” she asks, rubbing her fingers across the top crescent of Jimin’s moon cycle tattoo.

Jimin leans in so she can speak into Taehee’s ear. “The sexiest woman ever just walked through the door and I’m very horny about it.”

Taehee laughs, loud and bright, her eyes now glancing around the room. They finally land on someone and her eyebrows shoot up. “Damn. It's like she walked out of your wettest dreams.”

Jimin looks over her shoulder and sees that the woman has shed her jacket and promptly moans. She must have taken it to the guest room where Jimin’s purse and everyone else’s personal belongings are being held. Big, buff muscles and a sleeve of tattoos have made an appearance, and Jimin is officially on the brink of insanity. God, she loves buff women.

“Tae,” she pouts, dragging out her name dramatically.

Her friend snickers. “You're so easy.” Jimin pinches her hip for that, but Taehee only laughs some more. “Oh, whatever, you know it's true. Just go talk to her, it's not like we’re at a party or anything. You know, like, a place where you can meet new people?”

Jimin huffs. “Yoongi, your girlfriend sucks,” she complains loud enough for him to hear.

“Like a pro,” he retorts without even missing a beat and continues talking to Namjoon like Jimin hadn't even spoken.

Taehee cackles, falling even more into Jimin’s space and making them wobble dangerously for a second before they manage to right themselves.

Jimin pouts harder, even though she's trying not to laugh, too. “You both suck,” she grumbles.

“He hasn't in quite some time, actually,” Taehee states through a cheeky grin. “About as long as I've gone without eating pu—”

“Oh my god,” Jimin groans, disentangling herself from Taehee, who is quick to protest, but Jimin ignores her. “I hate you so much. I'm going to find Taemin. He’ll be nice to me.”

She leaves her friends by maturely sticking her tongue out at them and goes off in search of Taemin. To her delight, Jimin realizes she will have to walk past the object of her lust in order to get to him. This is her time to shine.

She makes sure to cross paths with her just so, so that their gazes can meet, and fuck, it’s perfect. Jimin smiles in the way she knows makes people fluster a little, and in return she gets to see the way the woman’s lips tip up on one side, a single brow raising in curiosity. It's then that Jimin notices the piercings; one in the woman’s eyebrow, two hoops in the corner of her bottom lip, and one on her nose. She just gets hotter and hotter.

But then the moment is gone, Jimin continuing in the direction she’s walking, and her stomach is twisting in baited excitement.

She chats with Taemin for a while, and Soyoon when she wanders over some time later, catching up on their latest gossip and goings-on. She doesn't know how long she’s been poised on top of an arm of the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, when she suddenly has the distinct sensation of eyes on her. Jimin bites her lip, waiting a brief second, then turns her head to look for who she hopes is staring at her.

Luck remains on her side, it seems. Her eyes connect with the woman and then drop to her mouth when she smiles. Jimin releases her lip from her teeth and glances back up. The woman is next to a couple people Jimin recognizes from Hoseok’s dance company, resting against the wall, arms crossed over her chest and making her biceps bulge and Jimin’s mouth water. She nods at Jimin, like she's asking her to come over.

Jimin is quick to excuse herself and confidently strut towards her, all without breaking their gaze.

When she's within hearing distance, the woman speaks.

“I was wondering how much longer it would take for you to come say hi.”

Jimin smiles in mild surprise at the immediate teasing. “Excuse you,” she starts, cocking a sassy hip and copying the way the woman’s got her arms crossed. “You could have done the same thing,” she points out.

The woman concedes with a tilt of her head. “I’m Jungha,” she introduces, holding out her hand for Jimin to shake.

(And Jimin seriously hopes the way she rubs her thighs together at the rough feel of Jungha’s palm against her own smooth one is as subtle as she wants it to be. Those calluses must be from the weight-lifting she surely does. Or maybe boxing? Shit, okay, Jimin has got to stop her mind from running like this.)

“Jimin,” she replies, her voice only a little shaky.

“You have some nice tattoos, by the way,” Jungha says as she (regretfully, Jimin thinks) releases her hand.

“Thank you,” she preens. Boldly, she reaches out to brush her fingers along Jungha’s arm, saying, “Yours are really cool, too.”

Jungha smiles, seeming almost shy as she thanks her in return. They get swept up in talking about their future plans for tattoos, and Jimin learns that Jungha has designed most of her own, which Jimin makes sure to praise her for, because it really is very impressive. That leads to Jungha talking about how she likes to draw and paint in her free time, and Jimin saying she's more of an observer. And then they're talking about their favorite artists, and then their favorite museums, and then the museums they've been to while traveling.

Conversation flows so easily that Jimin swears she's floating on cloud nine, giddy that not only is Jungha a pretty face, but she's funny and smart and not afraid to poke fun at Jimin. It leaves her wanting more and more.

She doesn't even notice that they've wandered from their place against the wall until the low music that's been playing all night dampens even more as they enter the kitchen. And then it hits her that they're alone.

Jungha grabs one of the water bottles that have been set out for the guests, taking a sip from it without looking away from Jimin, and suddenly Jimin is stuttering, her words coming to a halt as she forgets what she was even talking about.

“I should see if there’s any beer left in the fridge,” Jungha announces. “Jin probably needs a refill to be able to stand having this many people in his home.”

Jimin squares her shoulders, pursing her lips as she stops Jungha from opening the refrigerator, grabbing her by the hips and spinning her around to push her against it instead. Jungha already has a little smile on her face, like she expected this. With Jimin’s heels and Jungha’s chunky boots, they're basically the same height. The thought of Jungha being a bit taller than her, though, on top of having all those sculpted muscles, has Jimin’s mind scrambling with all kinds of possibilities.

“You finally get me alone and you’re gonna keep trying to play hard to get?” Jimin questions softly, teasingly, as she invades Jungha’s space.

Jungha shrugs, smirking lightly as she takes in Jimin’s expression. “It doesn’t seem like you mind,” she points out, reaching to trace a finger along Jimin’s jawline and down one side of her throat before trailing it back up under her chin, tipping it up more. Jimin fights the shiver that threatens to trickle down her spine. “But actually, I think I have you right where I want you.”

She doesn’t give Jimin a chance to ask where exactly that might be. Jimin gets as far as opening her mouth, and then she’s letting out a startled gasp. Jungha’s reversed their positions, pinning Jimin against the refrigerator, the shock of cold along her back letting that shiver run free. She’s got a thigh wedged between Jimin’s, forcing one of her legs to hike up a bit, her skirt rising with it. With a satisfied smile at catching Jimin off-guard, Jungha lets her hands fall to Jimin’s waist, giving it a brief squeeze that makes Jimin swallow a squeak, then shifts one of them to the small of Jimin’s back and the other to cup her ass.

“Fuck,” Jimin exhales, flushing as Jungha grins down at her, pleased as punch.

She uses the grip she has on Jimin to tug her forward, which of course means Jimin’s hips glide across the muscled expanse of Jungha’s thigh, and the stimulation it brings along her center has her mouth falling open as her breathing turns shaky. Jimin’s head falls backward, knocking into the fridge door, but it leaves her neck exposed and it seems that’s all the invitation Jungha needed.

When her lips and tongue meet Jimin’s flesh, Jimin lets out a strained moan, torn between embarrassment and not giving a shit, because this is finally happening. After what’s felt like hours of chasing after the sexiest and cutest woman she’s ever seen, she’s finally wrapped around her, just like she’d been hoping.

Jungha’s mouth feels like bliss, her kisses switching between soft and chaste to biting and slick. Jimin digs her nails into Jungha’s ribs as the kisses travel up to her ear. The feeling of that wicked tongue sucking Jimin’s earlobe into her mouth is a confusing combination of ticklish and arousing. Regardless, the sensation goes straight to Jimin’s clit. She decides she needs that mouth on her own, turning her face and cupping Jungha’s, tilting it to land a sloppy, desperate kiss on her lips.

Hearing Jungha groan sends a shock of pride through Jimin, but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure that shoots all the way down to her toes when both of Jungha’s hands fall to Jimin’s ass, squeezing it roughly as she begins guiding Jimin’s hips into a filthy grind. The rough denim feels like sin against Jimin’s pussy through her satin panties, and she whines, high and breathy and needy. She threads her fingers through Jungha’s hair, gripping it tight, swallowing the moan it earns her.

She flicks her tongue over Jungha’s lip piercings then sucks hard on the same lip, biting down a little just to get a reaction out of her. And Jungha delivers, a cut off whimper slipping out of her, her grip on Jimin’s ass turning bruising. It has Jimin rolling her hips harder, chasing the tantalizing tingle that's growing between her legs.

Jungha frees one hand to bring up to play with Jimin’s nipples, pinching and tugging on them, grinning into their kiss when Jimin clamps her thighs around Jungha’s and shudders.

It doesn't take much more for Jimin’s climax to reach her after that. Jungha lets her ride it out, her grinding turning lazy, until she starts getting sensitive and she slows to a stop. She doesn't stop kissing Jungha, though, and she's blindly trying to undo her belt so she can get her hand down Jungha’s pants to get her off, too, when they're interrupted.

“Yah!” Jin exclaims, likely alerting everyone in the apartment that he's stumbled upon something he did not want to see. “In my fancy, new kitchen?!”

Jimin wrenches her mouth away from Jungha’s, knowing her lip gloss is smudged beyond repair, and blinks a few times at a scandalized Jin. She lowers the leg that had been practically wound around Jungha’s hip and sends him a sheepish smile, but it just makes Jin huff and gesture wildly at them.

“Sorry, Jin,” Jungha apologizes for them.

She doesn't sound sorry at all, actually.

“Why can't you two be normal and go fuck in the guest room, or even the bathroom like Yoongi and Taehee?” Jin complains.

“Hey!” Taehee shouts from the other room.

Jimin hides her face in Jungha’s neck and giggles helplessly. Jungha smooths her hands down Jimin’s sides, straightening out her skirt, which, like, chivalry. It's not dead, after all.

Hoseok pokes his head into the kitchen to say, “Please wash your hands before you touch anything.” And then he's disappearing back into the foray of his party.

Jungha sighs heavily in exasperation, but she's smiling when Jimin lifts her head to look at her again. She kinda doesn't want to ever stop now.

“You wanna come back to mine and finish what we started here?” Jungha asks quietly once Jin follows his boyfriend.

Jimin smiles coyly. “But I already finished?” she jokes.

Jungha lets out a surprised laugh. “Oh, so you're a brat.” Jimin giggles, wrapping her arms around Jungha’s shoulders. A smack to her ass has her laughter cutting short with a whimper. “It’s a good thing I can handle it.”

Jimin’s lashes flutter as desire pools in her gut again, praying to every deity out there that Jungha will toss her around a little.

“Can you handle me, though?” Jungha questions, quirking a single brow.

Jimin nods, biting her lip. “I can handle it.”

Jungha grins, then. “We’ll see.”

—

Jimin spends the rest of the weekend in Jungha’s bed. And in her shower. And on the couch. And pretty much anywhere else they see fit.

A few months later, they decide Jimin should just stay there for the foreseeable future.

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

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[liz-allyn]

shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords���”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

[queenofdenest]

Title: tale as old as time Fandom: Hetalia Warnings: no archive warnings apply Relationship: nyo!denest Characters: hws nyo!den, hws nyo!est Tags: ouat fusion au, beauty and the beast elements, flirting AO3: will be updated when i post it

Summary: eha makes a choice and dark one else struggles with believing so.

A/N: Okay, you don't need to know anything really about Once Upon a Time to read this, and honestly I have no clue how to explain it. It was a tv show from abc family in like 2011 and I only really watched about 3 full seasons of it because I started to hate the plot lines and characterization they were doing. Overall though I did adore the Rumb.elle pairing (for like the first 3 seasons -- eh make that 2 1/2) and have really heavily pulled on those early episodes of it for this fic. (The episode Skin Deep in particular).

Anyway I was always planning on making a OUAT Fusion AU for Hetalia but every time I sat down to really plot it out, I hated everything I was doing so immediately scrapped it. This is a small piece of it though spurred on by me A) reading Once fics, B) re-falling in love with it. I don't think I'll ever actually write a full version of it but this fun little bit is good enough for me.

Also, sorry for being for so long, life has literally been kicking my ass far beyond what I could handle. But I really wanted to trying writing some things for both fic + whumptober and so here's the first of what I was able to do. Beta'd by TinyTeddy878, as always, and is for the Fictober 2022 prompt: #1: "I choose you."

“You’re an idiot,” Eha said, with absolutely no fire behind it. The other placed her basket of straw on the long table and moved forwards, the pretty blue cloak that Else had made her fluttering behind her with every step she made.

For a moment, Else’s heart paused – she wasn’t sure what to say to that, even as her curse raged at her to force the other away. She’s a danger! The voices screamed, and they weren’t wrong. It was Else’s growing affection for the former that was threatening all her plans; all her hopes to get back to her family were slowly fading into just being happy with the other woman. 

Still… 

“Shouldn’t you know better than to insult the Dark One?” She laughed lightly, her voice pitching high as she made to stand. 

Eha’s face brightened red, the flush of embarrassment a clashing color to the other’s fair skin and blue colored clothing. “Maybe I wouldn’t insult the Dark One if the Dark One wasn’t being ridiculous,” she replied as she came to a stop in front of her. Her eyes softened, “Maybe if the Dark One would recognize what was in front of her-” 

“A trifling little maid?” Else teased, lips quirking as she made no attempt to dance away as she was normally wont to do. “You do know I see the future, right, dear?” 

“Then why can’t you see that I’m with you forever and open up?” 

It was said with such honesty that the voices quieted for a second and Else swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No one is forever,” she answered after a second, “No one!” 

“Our deal was you save my family and my people from the ogres and I come away with you forever,” Eha said, her hands reached out to grab Else’s softly. “You upheld your part, let me uphold my part.”

“No one stays forever, dear,” she repeated, her voice growing sharper as she did so. The voices of the curse echoed her words around her brain, reminding her of all the times that she had been left behind – reminding her why she had taken the curse on in the first place. The gentle touch burned, and she yanked her hands away, ignoring the way the other flinched slightly. “You’re a fool if you think you’ll stay around me forever – no one stays around monsters forever!” 

“You’re not a monster!” Eha shouted, lips pursing, “Stop calling yourself such rude words, you’re-” 

“Not a human.” Else moved, bowing once far enough away, “Definitely not a soft, pretty little woman like yourself.” She twirled, a dress forming on her body as she did so. Giggling, she attempted a curtsy. The unfamiliar movements were rough, causing her to trip over her own feet and tumble downwards, a laugh on her lips as she made contact with the floor. If she were human, it would’ve hurt, as she wasn’t, the pain was dusted away before she could even process it. 

“Else.” Her name on Eha’s lips was heavenly and for a second, as the other knelt down beside her, the skirt of her dress flaring out exactly as one would expect, she looked every bit the image of a princess. Oh, Else knew that Eha wasn’t one, but the sight of it brought forth an image from one of her visions, one that she quickly batted away. 

“I’m fine dear, worry not for this old crone,” she said, waving her hands in hopes of shooing the other away. It wasn’t that easy though. 

“I choose you,” Eha said softly, her voice barely a whisper in the large hall. Soft blue eyes stared at her, “I really do – I chose to go with you and I choose to stay, nothing you do can get rid of me.” 

Oh, the curse doubted that – murder her darling family in front of her, it whispered seductively, break her spirit – but with the determination in those darling eyes shining so brightly, Else wanted to lean in and choose her too. “You’re a foolish girl,” Else said instead. “Positively foolish.” 

Eha brightened. It truly was a wonderful sight. “All the best stories start with a foolish girl,” she said, as she made to stand and reached out a hand for Else. “They all have a foolish girl, a stubborn love interest, and a quest.” 

“Do you believe you’re in a story?” Else asked as she stood. She knew the other placed a lot of value on books – the two libraries she had all but taken over (been given) spoke of it – but she had never really heard the other talk so fanciful. It was something that had drawn Eha to Else, that clear levelheadedness the other showed when listing to her family why they had needed the Dark One’s help. 

“No.” Eha shook her head, smiling as she moved to get the straw off the table, “But my sister – the one who glared at you when you came to our home – she used to tell me stories before bed when I was a child. They were about doing the brave thing, the right thing, and well-” she paused here, dipping her eyes. After a second, she looked back up, mischief in blue eyes, “How about another deal?” 

“And what do you have to offer me?” Else was intrigued – would she use this to try to gain an upper hand, or would she use this deal for frivolous wishes?  “And what do you want in return?” 

“Nothing big,” Eha replied as she stopped in front of the spinning wheel, the basket slowing dropping to the ground with a decided thump. “I’ll tell you the rest of this story and you – you tell me about the belongings I found earlier this week; the ones I know you sent me away for.” 

The room seemed to freeze with her words. Else stared, unsure of what else to do. She wasn’t wrong, though perhaps Else was hoping that the girl wouldn’t have put two and two together and figured out that those things – her long-lost family’s things, now well hidden so that the girl would never ever find them again – were the cause of her attempted banishment. 

“Ah,” she said after finding her voice. 

“You don’t have to,” Eha said, hesitance in her words. She seemed to pause in her movements before deciding to come closer, laying a hand on Else’s arm. “I’m not going to force you to share something you don’t want to, but I – I just figured… Well, they hurt you, and my father used to tell me that talking about your pain helps.” 

“Wise man, your father.” It was said so softly that she doubted Eha could’ve heard her, but the smile that she got in return told her something else.  Her curse was oddly silent as she debated with herself on if she should take the deal or if she should just wave her hand and deposit the maid elsewhere in the castle, then again, it seemed to always been oddly silent whenever she thought for too long about her family. 

“Else?” Apparently, she was silent for too long. The worry was evident in Eha’s voice. Blue eyes looked up at her in concern.

“Two stories from you, my darling, and we’ll have a deal.”

A/N: There's no real addition information necessary but if you want, likes and reblogs always bring me joy! :)

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[its-me-im-coraline]

A push to the right direction // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1241

warnings // maybe a little cursing, was meant to be a little angsty but I don't think i succeeded in that

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. again, for the millionth time, don't forget that sundays will be for "sleepovers" from now on, so I can have a bit of a break and still give you guys something so yay. also this originally was supposed to be out yesterday but toothace and all I could barely function at all sooooo yeah. I hope you enjoy the little beach vibes and locked in car scenrio 😂

request // yes, it was through messages by @tabi-toast so i'm putting it here

"I’d like to request some friends to lovers with Vic where the boys notice that they like each other and try to push them towards each other? Maybe some angst but mostly lots of fluff hehehe"

summary // Victoria and reader have been friends for a while, both harboring unspoken feelings. While the two are oblivious beyond their minds the boys of the band have figured out all the glances and sublte touches the two share. Well, all they need is a little push to see the truth.

It was simply agonizing. The way the two looked at each other lovingly, staring with adoration every time they were sure they would not get caught, the way they spoke of each other, constantly using the fondest of words… They were both suffering from the unspoken feelings, the constant emotion of (non existent, really) rejection making the bad days harder and the good days bad, taking away from the most important moments they shared. The friends they shared were surely close to taking off, not wanting to see the constant pinning and insecurities that come with it.

The pair tended to be so oblivious to the obvious. Writing off indications of romantic feelings as plain signs of the comfort they had with each other. The hugs, the cuddles, the hair petting, all the pet names, the spontaneous 1 am singing competitions in the car while driving to find some food. They wrote it off as plain and simple platonic affection.

But, after, as the times passed by and the two would not seem to understand the feelings they shared, they would each go to a different member, complaining and even crying about the lack of reciprocation.

“How can you know that, Y/N? You haven’t even told her!”

“Well, I know her! She doesn’t want me Thomas!”

A similar scenarios would apply to Victoria sharing her feelings. They were both so blinded by fear of losing each other that they were blind to the truth. But everyone with eyes was not. Everyone, even people that had never met them before, could see that they were dying to be together, sometimes even assuming that they are… But that only ever resulted in awkward denying and later crying over the non existent rejection.

Currently they were laying on a towel at the beach, cuddled up together while relaxing with the last sun rays of the day and the soft sound of waves. The entire group had decided that a beach day was long overdue, the pool just simply not satisfactory enough. It was not the same to be by the sea, with the waves and the beautiful view, and being by a pool with the superficial lights and all (not that they could really complain).

“So, you mean to tell me that it actually happened?!” Yelled Y/N, laughing at yet another story Victoria shared with them.

“It did! I swear!” Victoria laughed back, caressing Y/N’s back softly as they both laughed.

“Well you need to take me with you next time you visit that place again. Who knows? Maybe another incident like that will happen.”

“I surely will,” she said, leaving a soft kiss on their heads.

“Are you feeling tired, amore?”

“Maybe a little… I had a long day…”

“You can take a nap on me if you need to. I’ll wake you up before Thomas and Damiano go to get us food.”

“I suppose I could,” they responded and settled in for a small nap.

The rest of Måneskin simply stared at the pair while discussing how exactly they were not one. It seemed so obvious to them how they had strong feelings, undeniable ones at that, and they could not stand and watch. Something had to happen.

So they came up with a devious plan. It would piss off Victoria a bit but it would bring the results they needed. Damiano walked to the car they came in, thanking technology with all of his might, in his head, remembering how his car has child-proofing mechanisms at the doors so they can only open from the outside. Thus the plan was in action.

After coming back he simply settled down, going back to doing his own thing - whatever he was doing before and waiting until it was time to move forward with it.

“Agh, I’m starving! When are you guys going for the food?”

“Me too.” Thomas stated before settling back in his chair for a moment.

“Hey, Vic!” He almost yelled, the woman flinching and checking to see if he woke Y/N up.

“What is it Thomas?” her voice was sharp, body quickly moving to walk up to him, making sure to not disturb her crushe’s nap.

“Can you and Y/N go for the food? Honestly I am bored, Damiano said he’s not coming and Ethan is too preoccupied right now.” He pouted and everything, giving the older girl the softest look he could possibly manage, while pointing at Ethan having a phone call.

“Couldn’t you have thought of that before? Seriously, Thomas, right now? They are sleeping.”

“Oh, come on Vic, please! I’ll owe you!”

“Agh, agh, fine, let me wake them,” she paused,”you’re lucky I’m hungry or I would let all of you starve,” she mumbled, annoyed by the boys’ laziness, before going over to the sleeping figure on the towel.

“Hey, amore… come on, sweets, wake up. Hey. Hey,” she repeated softly, a sweet smile on her face as their eyes opened slowly.

“Vic? Oh, are the guys going for the food?”

“Not quite. The guys are being annoying and refuse to go. So, if you want to eat we have to go.”

“Oh, alright then. Give me a moment to wake up,” they said and Victoria smoothed down their sea-salt stained t-shirt.

“Ethan, where are the keys?”

“On the engine, cucciola.”

“Ok, grazie.”

With that the two clueless friends sat in the car, Victoria realizing the keys were missing a little too late.

“Agh, cazzo, Ethan! They are not her- The door isn’t opening. Why is the door not opening?”

“Mine isn’t either.”

“Ethan!” Her voice could be heard crystal clear, even with the windows separating her from the outside.

“What is it, Victoria?” He asked, a smug smile on his face as he stood outside the car window.

“What did you do?”

“Well,” spoke Damiano, “you two clueless, little shits have gotten annoying. So if you are not going to do it, we will.” He stated and Victoria’s eyes almost went out of her head, catching onto what her friend was saying.

“Y/N, Victoria has feelings for you. Victoria, Y/N has feelings for you. Now talk!”

If only glare’s could kill, Ethan would be having a very painful death as Vic kept mumbling how she’ll kill him. Y/N, on the other hand, simply stared at Victoria in adoration.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“Look Y/N, I-”

“Answer my question Victoria! Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking down as if she was ashamed.

“That’s not how I wanted you to find out. I wasn’t really planning on telling you cause I know that Ethan is lying but-”

“Victoria! Take a breath between sentences! What are you talking about? Ethan is not lying, you know?”

“I know, Y/N, you don’t have to sugarco- Wait, what?”

“He isn’t lying, Victoria. I really like you.” “You do?”

“Mhm, I do. Now, will you give me a kiss or are you waiting for Ethan to smash our heads together,” they joked, easing up the tension Victoria was feeling and pushing their lips to hers.

It was not anything special, just a simple, soft, kiss. What made it special was that it was to each other. They shared a kiss together, not someone else, not a stranger, not someone they had no feelings for, but someone they were yearning for, for a very long time now.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever@tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina

[supraveng]

Marvelous Friends part 1

Summary:  You join your best friend at a party, and meet the man of your dreams?

Characters: Reader, Benedict Cumberbatch x Sophie Hunter, RDJ x Susan Downey, Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans

Warnings: cursing, reader in over her head, bad writing...

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Aaron, you are supposed to be preventing these things, not causing them“ you scream into your cell phone so agitated by this whole thing that you aren’t even aware that there are people watching you from the window.

You stepped outside trying to not cause a scene or god forbid have Sophie’s kids hear you and repeat anything you might say.  You finally hang up and throw your phone across the lawn as Benedict comes out the door to check on you. 

“Everything ok dear?” he approaches you with a smirk knowing full well that you are irritated beyond rational conversation.  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.  Turning to face him now that you’ve taken a few deep breaths, 

“I think I need a new manager, got any good ones lying around?” you reply.  

“Holy Shit!  That was your manager!  I just thought your husband  was in the doghouse!  Hi, I’m Robert” he sticks out his hand and you shake it, thankfully you are still too riled up to get star struck and make a fool of yourself.  

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t intend to be that loud, but that man is an absolute jackass!  I’m Y/N” you respond as you blow out some air and try to calm down.   

“Y/N darling, you need a drink, let me make you a martini” 

“No, Benny, I’m your babysitter tonight and you know one martini turns into 5” you smirk as you follow  the two of them back into the house.  

Sophie is coming down the stairs and her smile disappears when she sees your red face and Benedict heading toward the kitchen. “Y/N, what happened?  Are you ok?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.  

“Oh Phie, I’m fine, Aaron is just trying my patience and I couldn’t stay quiet” you smile as she wraps you in a hug, then busts out laughing.  

“Well, that’s a long time coming, I’m not sure how you have worked with him this long without bloodshed” she quips as Benedict hands you a cup of tea.  

“I’m not that bad to work with, I just don’t like my personal life to be used without my permission. Ugh, I just don’t have the energy for him today, I wanted to come and have fun with Kit, Hal & Finn” you whine as you sip your tea “but apparently the drama pays off because this is the best cup of tea Benny has ever made for me, thank you” you reach up and peck his cheek “I’m feeling better already.” 

“Good, because the boys have a list of fun for you tonight and they are extremely excited.” Sophie responds “Oh, and this is Susan, Robert’s wife”  

“It’s nice to meet you, now you all go on and have a lovely dinner and don’t worry about us” you smile to the couples as you head upstairs to check on the kids. 

Three hours later the two couples walk back into the house to find you frantically typing on your laptop at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, with a cold cup of tea next to you.  You jump when you hear someone clear their throat, not realizing they had come in and were all staring at you.  

“What? Why are you all staring at me?” you ask.  

Sophie shakes her head and giggles at you “we asked if you wanted to join us for a drink, apparently you are very focused on your work and didn’t even hear us come in.”   

“Sorry, I was planning my wedding” you reply with a smirk “Kit proposed again, actually, I’m not sure this was a proposal, it was more or less a list of reasons why my previous decline is not being accepted.  Apparently, age is just a number and I can move to England right away, so the wedding is next week” you explain as you follow the others over to the bar.   

Benedict turned around with a guilty look on his face, “what did you do?” his wife asks with a pointed glare.   “I was reassuring our son that if he liked someone and made his intentions known then any girl would be lucky to have him, but in my defense, I thought he was talking about that little girl down the street, Madison.   They were playing yesterday and he seemed smitten, so when he mentioned his love living in the US and not in England…..I was trying to help” he huffed out as he started pouring the drinks.   

You all start laughing and realize that since it’s Benedict’s fault, he will have to break it to Kit that you will not be marrying him next week.  “Why do I have to be the bad guy here?  It was an accident!” Ben protests “and why didn’t you just tell him you have a boyfriend already and can’t marry him?”  

“Because I would never lie to Kit” you respond, sipping your martini.   “I haven't really met anyone since I moved back from Vancouver, a few dates here or there but no one to write home about" you say with a shrug  “Well, in that case, can I give you away at the wedding?”  Robert asks and thankfully lightens the mood.  It was another two hours of drinking and laughing with your oldest and newest friends before you all decide to call it a night.   

“Y/N, Robert and I are having friends over to our place on Sunday, we would love for you to be there” Susan states as they are heading toward the door.  “That’s so sweet, thank you, I’ll just tag along as an extra Cumberbatch” you tell her as you hug her goodbye. 

You wake the next morning and know that you have a ton of work to do and 0 motivation.   Deciding to distract yourself as best you can, you text Sophie about the party at Susan & Robert’s.

So what kind of party is this thing tomorrow?

Phie: They usually have 30 or so people, tons of food, drinks, but very laid back.  I think you will like it 

That’s reassuring, the last thing I need is to make a fool out of myself in front of Ben’s celebrity friends

Phie: Oh, there will definitely be celebs there, but honestly I have no idea who, most likely a bunch of the Marvel crew, those who are in town anyway….but don’t stress, they are all  mostly normal people, lol

Well, I’m going to work on some writing and then maybe try to find something nice to wear to the party, I might make a fool of myself, but I need to look like I have my act together

Phie: Send me pics, I’ll help you decide….btw Ben has been questioning me on your dating habits, I have a funny feeling that he might try to set you up...

Well, that sounds dreadful,  I love your husband but what is his track record for match making?

Phie: I don't think he's actually ever tried to set anyone up before

Fantastic, I'm the guinea pig 🙄

 Ok, what do you think of these, I don’t want to be overdressed or look like I’m homeless

Phie: I love them both, but how about you were the short one & I borrow the blue one?  

That is a great idea!  I’ll be there a bit early so we can get ready together.  Who is staying home with the boys?

Phie: Actually, day time parties with the Downey’s usually includes the kids, so they will be joining us

Time for the party came earlier than you had anticipated as you pulled up to Phie’s house, Kit came running out the door with a big smile on his face.  Crouching down you scooped him into a hug and kissed his cheek.  

“Well aren’t you in a good mood today, handsome?” asking as you set him back down.  He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the house. 

 “Mum told me we can’t get married next week, but I can still love you for the rest of my life, isn’t that great!” he exclaimed as you walked in the front door.  

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all week!  And I get to love you for the rest of my life too” you reply watching the realization hit him and his smile get even bigger and run off to tell everyone the good news.  Before you could do anything, you went back out to your car and grabbed your bags and then headed up to Phie’s bedroom to get ready.  

“There you are, I was beginning to worry” she said as she pecked your cheek and gave you a hug, then handed you a glass.  

“Did you start day drinking without me?” you inquire as you sip on the merlot with a smile on your face.  

“I just opened the bottle for us to enjoy while we get ready.  I spoke with Kit and the wedding is off but he understands and all is well.  Benedict tried and, just made everything messier” she responded while pulling the blue dress from the garment bag.  

“You did a fantastic job, he gave me the biggest hug and seems very happy that we will not be getting married” you giggle as you move around her room figuring out the best place to put your things.  

“I think he’ll be more upset about you taking off next week than anything, that’s why I’m not planning on telling him until after you’ve gone.  He has grown really attached to you” she smirks as she’s slipping the dress on.  

Before you realize it, the wine bottle is empty and Ben is knocking on the door.

“You two look amazing as always, but the car is here, so we need to head out.  Can you bring Kit down with you while I go down and get Hal & Finn seated in the car?” he asks as Kit comes in and gasps looking up at his mom.   

“Mum, you look like a princess” he hugs her legs and looks up at her lovingly. 

 “Thank you love, you look very handsome.  Are you ready to go? Do you have your bag?” she asks while rubbing his back.  

“Oh, I need to get that, and can I give Y/N her present now?”  You look over a bit confused 

“oh Kit, you didn’t have to get me a gift” you tell him as he gives you a hug.   

“But it’s important to show the people you love how special they are, I’ll be right back” he states as he heads back downstairs.  You look at Sophie confused and she just smirks at you as both follow him down to the kitchen.   He holds up a cupcake with a huge grin on his face.  

“This is for you, because you are as sweet as a cupcake.  And that’s a ring you can wear to remind you that you are wonderful when I’m not here to tell you.” 

 You feel like you are about to cry, it was by far the most sincere and thoughtful thing you have ever heard.  “Thank you!  I love it & I love you!” you told him as you kissed his forehead and put the ring on.  

“Alright, let’s get going Kit, dad and your brothers are in the car waiting for us!” Sophie grabbed his hand and laced your arm with hers as she ushered you all out the door. 

Stepping out of the car at the Downey’s house you started walking towards the door when Kit came up and grabbed your hand.  

“Can I be your date tonight?” he asked with a shy grin.  

“Absolutely!  There’s no one else I would want to accompany me tonight.”  

Ben turns to you, holding Hal & Finn “remember Kit, the kids are going to be playing upstairs, but you can join us when you get hungry, alright?”  

“Yes, dad, but Y/N is still my girl” he stated proudly as you walked through the door.  

“That’s right Ben, I’m Kit’s girl!” you lean down and kiss the top of his head just before he heads up the stairs with his dad.  Sophie grabbed your arm and the two of you headed further into the house.  

Robert spotted you almost immediately and came over hugging you both “where is the fiance? Are all the details in place for the ceremony?  I’m still walking you down the aisle right?”  

“Hi Robert, I’m sorry but the ceremony has been cancelled.   Sophie was able to talk some sense into Kit since Benny was useless” you reply.  

“I heard that!” Ben remarks as he’s coming into the room.   “And in my defense, I’m not useless, just not very good at telling my son no.”  

“It’s alright dahling, you tried your best.” Sophie tried to console Benedict who seemed to take your statement to heart.  

“Well, I’m glad you made it, can I get you a drink?” Susan asked as an attempt to move on to a more neutral conversation.   

“Yes, please” you replied happily as you followed her to the bar.  

“Y/N? Y/N L/N?  Holy Shit!”  You heard from the doorway to the next room, where most of the party goers had already gathered.  You turned and was shocked 

“Seb?  Holy Shit!  How are you?” you asked as you moved over to hug him.  “It’s been so long, I’m surprised you recognized me.”  

“I’m good” he responded “and yea, it’s been like...10 years? And you look great, haven’t aged a bit!”  

You laughed at his response “that is an absolute lie, but I will take the compliment anyway.” you giggle at him.  He was always such a nice guy to work with and genuinely considerate to everyone on set.  His charming personality always made you smile. 

“This is so great running into you, I saw your interview on Good Day LA last week.  You are doing so great!” he said with a huge smile.  

“Oh thanks, but I think that may have been the worst interview in the history of television.   I was honestly hoping no one saw it” you cringed rethinking how quickly the questions had gone off the rails.  You are a writer, becoming more well known over the past decade so interviews were becoming more common for you, but that one felt more like a Twilight Zone episode.  

“Well, it was a bit crazy, but you handled a lot better than most people would.  I was impressed” he grinned as he took a sip of his beer.  

“Thanks, I appreciate that, and my whole deer in headlights reaction.” you commented as you took the drink Susan offered.  

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew each other?” you heard Robert say as he came up from behind you “and what happened in the interview?”  

“Yea, I was writing for Gossip Girl, back when Seb was on and he was constantly teasing me for being cold” you reminded him with a smirk.  

“New York in fall is beautiful, not cold! You are crazy!” he responds as he starts laughing at me.  

“And the interview was a shit show that I barely made it out alive” you state with a roll of your eyes.  

“That’s not true, you put that woman in her place and didn’t seem fazed by her ridiculous questions at all” he told me.  

“What the hell happened?” Robert seemed more interested than I thought he would 

“we were talking about my new book and the book tour coming up, then all of a sudden she’s asking me about my ex” I responded as I shrugged my shoulders.  Sebastian looked at me “then, the woman asks if she’s seeing anyone now, and your response was priceless, I might steal it if you don’t mind”  he states as he’s laughing remembering the interview.  

“Y/N, dear, what did you say?” Robert asks with a smirk.  

“I asked her ‘why? Are you shooting your shot?” as you start laughing too, realizing that you probably couldn’t have planned it if you tried.  At this point you realize there are more of the Marvel friends standing around listening to your conversation and you don’t even care.   

Your first drink is kicking in and it’s not like you are ever going to see these people again. “Honestly, I don’t know why she even mentioned my ex, nobody cares who I’m dating, I’m a writer”  

“Yes, but when us writers date high profile celebrities, people want to know” Sophie reminds you as she puts her arm around you.  

“Oh Phie, high profile is a bit of a stretch doncha think? But you are always my voice of reason, this is why I love you!” you say as you kiss her cheek.  Looking around the room you wonder if there’s anyone else here you know, when you see Chris Evans on the other side of the room.  

Benedict immediately follows your line of sight and smirks before taking your empty glass.  “I think you need a refill, here allow me, why don't you and Sophie go find a place to chat.”  

His wife shakes her head and gives you a small sympathetic smile before sending him back for refills.  Sophie drags you further into the room and finds a spot to sit that gives you a better view of Mr. Evans.  

“I didn’t realize you knew Sebastian” she said as she sat.  

“Yea, we worked together when I was living in NY, that was 10 or 12 years ago.  I didn’t know you knew him” you respond.  She looks at you questioningly, then shakes her head.  

“All the Marvel people know each other, you still haven’t watched the movies, have you?”  

“Um, I haven’t seen all of them, there are a lot, but I did watch Doctor Weirdo, and Benny was very good!” you respond quite proud of yourself.  

“Bloody hell!  It’s Doctor Strange, we’ve had this discussion before” Ben states as he hands you your fresh drink.  

“Ok, I’m sorry.  Doctor Strange, although I don’t think that’s much better than Doctor Weirdo.  And in my defense, your facial hair in the movie gave me nightmares'' you say as you sip on your drink. 

“Anyway, did the ex contact you after the interview?  I’m just curious?” Ben asks, rolling his eyes at you.  

You scrunch up your nose at the question “no, why would he? I haven’t spoken to him in the last four years. And honestly I'm sure he deleted my number.  Can we talk about anyone else?"  

"Yes, what's the schedule on the book tour? How long will you be gone?" Sophie acts trying to defuse the irritation in your voice with the mention of your ex.  

You can tell by the way she's glancing at her husband that she's trying to figure out why he brought up your ex knowing full well that if he had contacted you, she would have been the first one to know about it.. 

"Oh I'm flying out next Sunday, heading for NYC, then I'll be in Boston for 2 days, then a day In Philly, a day in Baltimore and I'm not 100% of the cities after that, other than ending up the following week in Miami so I can be with the family for spring break" you mention to them. 

"Did I hear you say you are only going to Boston for 2 days, that's not nearly long enough" you hear a deep voice state as you look up and see Chris Evan's standing next to Seb and walking closer to you.  

Holding out his hand "I'm Chris, I don't think we've met" he states.  

You plaster the most sincere smile you can on your face in hopes of not drooling at the sight of him, shaking his hand "I'm Y/N, and yes, this tour is only 2 days in Boston, but I lived there for 5 years so I’ve seen quite a bit already” you respond.

“Huh?  For someone who’s cold all the time, you seem to wind up in colder climates” Seb laughs at you.  “Shut up! You are the worst!” you respond with a laugh.  

“It’s true though, darling.  And you always call me to complain about it!” Sophie responds with a smirk.  

“OK, in my defense, Boston was a needed escape from my family, whom I love dearly but can be quite suffocating at times.  Then Chicago was my first real job after graduation and I couldn’t pass that up!  And as my best friend, Phie, you are required to listen to all my complaining, regardless of the topic” you state matter of factly.  

“And last year in Vancouver, that was the worst yet, she would send me photos of eyelashes with ice crystals on them” Sophie laughs remembering your first winter in Canada and how miserable you were.  

“That was awful and you and Benny both ridiculed me, I’m still emotionally scared”  

“So, you don’t like the cold but keep torturing yourself?” Chris asks with a smirk.  

“It appears I do, but it’s always for good reason. Chicago was an opportunity I couldn’t resist, if I had taken that job, I probably wouldn't have published my first novel” you explain with fondness.  

“That’s not true, Y/N.  Your first novel was incredible and it would have been published eventually”  Ben states as he takes your empty glass.  

“Benedict has read my book?” you asked Sophie completely shocked.  

“He has read all of your novels, but I think the first 3 was trying to find juicy gossip on how we met or something to try and blackmail you later, I’m not quite sure” she responds with a shrug.   

“Hold on” Seb interjects “your book, Searching for more, is about Sophie?” 

“Yes, and no” you respond “the adventure that Annabell has is loosely based on my summer after high school before moving to Boston.  And her new found friend, Fiona, is Sophie to a T!  And I’m also shocked that you’ve read it” you eyed him suspiciously.  

“Ok, so you really married a French man when you were 18 and brought him back with you?”  Seb asks, completely disregarding that you questioned him about reading the book.  How did your day turn out like this?  This was the most surreal moment you have had in a long time.  

“No, he wasn’t French, he was Belgian!” Benedict responds as he comes back in with refills.  You start laughing when you see the way Chris and Seb are staring at you wide eyed.   

“Oh my gosh!  No, I didn’t get married when I was 18.  And Benny, you weren't there, you don’t know anything” shaking your head.  “Annabelle’s story is loosely based on events that occurred, we didn’t get married…..and he was Swiss, I think.” you snicker when you look over at Sophie for confirmation, she shrugs and takes a drink.    

The five of you continue to chat for another hour or so when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  You turn to see Kit smiling at you with a cup in his hand “I missed you” he states as he climbs up into your lap and hugs you around your neck.  

“I missed you too little man, do anything fun while you were upstairs?” you asked as he made himself more comfortable.  

“I didn’t know you had a kid” Seb says as you are trying to balance the 5 year old in your lap with your drink in your hand.  

Kit looks up at him “she’s not my mum, she’s my girl!  That’s my mum” he states as he points to Sophie.  

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Seb, this is my friend Chris.  What’s your name?”  he asks while Kit plops himself in the middle of the group as though he should have been there all along.  

“I’m Kit” he states as he extends his hand to both Chris and Sebastian.  

“So, she’s your girl, huh?” Chris asks with a smirk “is it serious?”  

“Very!  He gave me a ring today, see.” showing Chris your right hand and the Wonder Woman ring. 

“Wait a minute, the wedding is cancelled, but you still gave her a ring? I’m not sure that’s how it works buddy”  Robert kneels down talking to Kit.  

“it’s ok, I get to love her forever and we can get married when I’m 30!” Kit explains as he rushes off to join the other kids.  

You all turn and look at Sophie “I thought you fixed it Phie!  You’ve just given him a deadline!" you gasp. 

She smiles at you with a guilty look on her face "I think you might need to grab a bite to eat before you have another drink. And honestly, I'm sure he will forget all about this in a few months. Besides, I won't let my 30 year old son marry some 60 something year old hag that's after him for his money!" she states as seriously as possible. 

You deadpan "thanks for that. I need a new best friend" you roll your eyes and head towards the food. 

"Well, I didn't see that coming" Robert chuckles as he watches the two of you walk out of the room. 

"That actually went better than I expected" Ben responds and shakes his head, "those two are worse than siblings." 

A/N: I had an idea of who the ex is, but I may just leave it open for interpretation, he does come into the story later, but can remain faceless

[rogue-durin-16]

STICK TOGETHER

Summary: When Fred finds out Y/n is planning on leaving the Wizarding World, he canalizes his feelings in the worst way possible, which leads to a terrible outcome that seems unfixable.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: swearing

A/N: @meph1stophelian is here putting pressure on me to post this already so I'm apologizing for the poorly written ending lmaoo enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Fred, calm down." George begged me; he walked by my side, trying to talk some sense into me, but it was not the moment. "You gotta understand her— throwing a fit isn't going to help anyone—" I didn't even look in my twin's direction while he spoke. "Bloody hell, Fred—"

"Y/n!" I quickened my pace, leaving George behind after spotting her in one of the corridors, having a chat with a couple of Ravenclaws. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure— Oi!" I hadn't waited for her to reply before grabbing her hand and snatching her away to pull her into the nearest broom closet. "What was that about?"

"Tell me I heard Katie wrong and you're not actually leaving."

"I can't tell you that." She plainly responded, her voice steady.

A single, gobsmacked snide left my throat. "You're joking, right?" My heart ached as if it was being constricted when she shook her head no. "So you're fleeing?"

"What?"

"Things are getting ugly so you're running away."

Her eyes dug into mines as she stayed in a very uncomfortable silence before replying with. "So what if I am?" When I averted my eyes from hers, she called my name. Her eyes were somewhat softer now, with a gleam of plea in them. "For the last two years we had nothing but tragedy. Diggory died, You-Know-Who is back and recruiting, the ministry is full on going against a teenager, this pink colored nasty toad is physically abusing us, and on top of that, I have to put up with my housemates' bullshit for having muggle blood— I'm tired!" Her voice had raised a bit, enough for me to know she was struggling to keep it at bay, but still managed to. "If I can have a life out of this then—"

"You're a coward."

"Fred." there was a warning on her tone, but I couldn't listen.

"You're leaving... people behind," she attempted to reason; I didn't let her. "Dunno why I'm surprised, really. At the end of the day you're a Slytherin for a reason."

Her eyes started to well up, and I couldn't tell if it was with anguish or fury. I knew I was getting under her skin, but that was exactly what I intended to do; if I was going to leave that room scarred, so would she.

"Self-preservation, you call it." I scoffed, feeling my own rage building up faster each passing second. "Pure cowardy."

"Is that what you think?" Her tone wasn't steady anymore; she was holding back the poison of her words, for my sake.

"Yeah." I wasn't capable of doing the same thing for hers. "And I don't want your cheap excuses and emotional manipulation to convince me otherwise." My face was probably red due to the anger, my jaw and fists hurt from clenching them; I was off the rails, and the person who would usually stop me was standing in front of me. "Better leave now so you don't have the chance to sell us out when shit goes down."

Silence fell upon us, our gazes locked, equally watery and with the same amount of fury and sadness within them.

And finally she snapped. "Maybe I'm a coward, but you're a self-absorbed prat who's not able to see beyond your own ego!" The way she said it hurt me more than the sentence itself. "This is not gonna be a DADA class, Fred! I don't want to fucking die because I was too slow casting Protego."

"Good luck, Y/l/n." I curtly wished her before stalking out of the broom closet I have initially dragged her into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We avoided each other for a week. The following Monday, when I entered the Great Hall, I found George and Katie quite depressed.

"What's gotten into you?"

They shared a look before my brother turned to me, deciding to break the news himself.

"Y/n left last night." He gave me an apologetic look. "Thought she'd wait until the graduation—"

"But she's had enough." Katie finished, toying with her breakfast. "Honestly, I wish I had a life in the muggle world too."

My lungs were refusing to take the air inside; I felt as if I would choke if I stayed there, so I stormed out, jogging to reach the countryard.

I needed to breathe.

Even after the wind hit my face, that vital task felt like the most difficult thing in the world to accomplish.

I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her.

A sob escaped my chest, realising the harsh words I had spat at her were probably the last ones she would ever hear from me.

I love her.

A Year And A Half Later

READER'S P. O. V.

I managed to apparate somewhere in the cornfield —the only place around the Burrow I remembered clearly.

I should have landed with a broom, but apparently, Mad-Eye didn't inform Lupin that I would serve as an extra escort for Harry if they were ambushed, so my broom was now smashed somewhere down the muggle road we had flown over.

Mentally cursing the damn moment in which I spoke to Shacklebolt in hopes of being useful in this war, I looked for the entrance of the Weasley home, which took me quite a while.

Funnily enough, it was Lupin who stepped out, wielding his wand and casting yet another hex at me that I somehow managed to block.

With a swift wave of my hand, he was propelled back into the house. "YOU!" A long-haired redhead I recognized as the eldest Weasley helped my old Professor up as I stalked to them with my wand up. "YOU HEXED MY BLOODY BROOM! I'M LUCKY TO BE ALIVE!"

"Y/n, calm down—" Shacklebolt was now besides me with his hands up. "He didn't know you were coming— he was trying to protect George from further harm."

My brain was slow to process his words, but as soon as it did, I started to down my arm. "What happened?"

"Snape hit him with the sectumsempra." My eyes widened at Lupin's heavy words.

"Did everyone else make it?" The three of them remained silent, the ginger shaking his head no.

My breath caught up in my throat, but before I could ask if Fred was alright, another tall ginger flashed the corner of my eye, and my head snapped to the living room's door.

FRED'S P. O. V.

Everyone was scattered around the house. Ginny took Hermione and Fleur to her room; Ron and Harry made its way up too; Tonks went out —she needed a moment alone to mourn Mad-Eye—, and, while my parents and I stayed with George, Lupin, Shacklebolt and Bill went to guard the entrance.

I was still kneeling by George's side, holding his hand while our mother healed his wound the best she could, when we heard a yell followed by a strong blow in the kitchen.

I looked at my mum and dad, my eyes flickering to my twin while I reached for my wand.

As I got up, more yells were heard, this time clearer; the voice was familiar— I knew that voice all too well.

There she stood, at the entrance of my home.

Her eyes met mines as soon as she caught a glimpse of me, and my head started to spin. I knew I had no right to do what I was about to do, but after that night's events, in which the war became very much real, I couldn't help but rush to her and engulf her in a tight hug.

Surprisingly enough, I couldn't take more than two steps forward, since she did what I intended to do first.

"You're alright." She mumbled against my shoulder. My eyes shut, trying to block the tears that threatened to fall. "How's he?" She inquired whilst pulling away with a concerned frown.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded in the living room's direction. A quiet sough escaped my lips as she passed by, her hands lingering on my arms for a brief instant before she entered the room and took careful steps towards the settee.

I barely caught a couple of words from George and Y/n's exchange, my mind still buzzing due to the shock.

"What do you say, Freddie?" I frowned at my twin, regretting not listening to the conversation. "She can take my bed, right? I'm not gonna get far anyway."

"Right." I agreed, struggling for my voice to come out steady. It was Y/n we were talking about; I had known her since our fourth year, I had been friends and more with her, seeing her shouldn't be that nerve-wracking.

A couple of minutes later, we were all heading to our respective rooms, and as I closed my room's door behind me and Y/n, it dawned on me that I had underestimated the anxiety that could cause me being left alone with her.

Get it together, Fred.

"If you want, you can grab a shirt from the drawer." I finally managed to speak, motioning at the chest besides the window. She nodded and turned to it to look for one she could sleep in.

Now that I had the opportunity, I carefully observed her, and soon realized how much she had changed in the time we were apart. Not only when it came to her physical appearance; she stood a bit straighter, talked a little calmer; the joy with which she used to sparkle was dim now, eclipsed by a severe, worried attitude— a sign of us no longer being the kids who messed around at Hogwarts.

"I missed you" I knew right away that wasn't the best start for the conversation.

"It sure didn't seem like it." The bitterness in her tone stung my heart harsher than I expected.

"You're still mad?" The way I was conducting the conversation was making me want to bang my head against the wall.

She sighed, turning around now that she had the shirt on to meet my gaze. "A year and a half, Fred. You didn't contact me for a year and a half. I thought we were friends."

"You left me behind!" I talked back, partly because I panicked, but also because I, to my surprise, was still mad too. "What did you even expect?"

"A letter?" She questioned, throwing herself down on the bed. "I mean— I didn't really expect anything, but a letter would have been a good way to let me know you didn't fucking hate me." My eyes, now fixed on my lap, went wide when Y/n's voice broke at her last three words.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, quite ashamed of having to apologise while also being scared of saying anything that could harm her further. "I'm sorry about not writing and- uh... I'm sorry about what I said to you. I know it's not an excuse but I was really mad and..." I cleared my throat and felt the blush creeping up my neck even before I finished the sentence. "... and hurt 'cause you- I thought that maybe I wasn't important enough to you and- yeah, I'm sorry about what I said." I tried meeting her eyes but they were fixed on the wall before her.

"It's fine." She shrugged, "I guess you were right anyway."

"I wasn't right-"

"You were." She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face there. "Wanna know why I'm back?" She didn't need my response. "They're hunting down my family." My heart stopped beating for a second due to the shockingly deadpanning tone. "A friend gave me a tip-off— they were tracking them down. I got to them just in time." I refrained myself from asking about them —the less I knew, the better. "So yeah, you're right, I was a coward and left people behind."

My body shot up and my legs carried me to George's bed; without me being fully aware of what I was doing or which consequences it could have, I sat down and pulled Y/n into my arms.

Though she was shocked at first, her body soon relaxed into the familiarity of my arms, and she let out a relieved sigh. "You're not alone on this." I whispered, pecking her crown. "I'm here, okay?"

"So you don't hate me?" She murmured against my chest.

Maybe it was the fragility of her voice, or the warmth of her embrace I missed so much; maybe it was this past year and a half of regret, or the night's events, but I couldn't hold back my words.

"I love you."

And even though she went stiff, even if I had just blurted them out almost in accident, I didn't regret saying them, because I, in fact, loved her.

She pulled away to look into my eyes. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." I replied, calmer than I had been in a while. "And I'm really sorry about everything, if I could turn back time—" words and air were cut off by her lips crashing against mines.

We had kissed before, but it was on a bet's behalf or to prank someone; this was different, this was her pouring her 'I love you' into actions, and I embrace it gladly.

"No more running away." I commanded when she pulled back. "From now on, we stick together." She nodded, her forehead resting against mine and her palms on my chest.

[lem-20]

Crashing down

Summary: A rewrite of Bk 1 Ch 13 on-call room chat with Bryce. Casey discusses what's got her stressing out and also her relationship with Ethan.

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Casey Valentine). Ethan doesn't appear in this fic, but the relationship is discussed with Bryce.

Warning: Mild sexual reference

Word Count: 950

A/N: I am currently rewriting and adding scenes from book one. I thought I would add this one in as I thought it was a nice opportunity to discuss the relationship with Ethan with another character. I have also been exploring what may happen if 2 of the LI's were aware of MC's relationship with the other. In my version of events Casey slept with Bryce after she kissed Ethan in Miami. Things happened to make each aware that something was going on with the other. (Read my previous 2 fics here and here)

Disclaimer: Characters and some dialogue owned by pixelberry.

Casey sat on a cot in one of the on-call rooms. Bryce sat alongside her, his arm draped around her shoulders. She had bumped into him a few moments before, as she walked frantically through the corridor, her thoughts threatening to overwhelm her.

"I can't stop thinking about...about everything. Poor Mrs Martinez and the investigation into her death...wondering if I'll still have a career at the end of the week...wondering if I even deserve one. Dr Banerji's diagnosis. Dr Ramsey quitting the hospital, being sabotaged at every turn...and now this sweet, sick kid I can't diagnose. I feel like everything is crashing down around me." She placed her head in her hands and let out a long sigh.

She had hoped that saying everything out loud would make her feel a little better. But hearing herself list everything just made her wonder how she had held it together for as long as she had.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, concern etched across his features.

"Because good doctors can handle whatever's thrown at them. And I really want to be a good doctor."

"You're already a good doctor. Hell, you're the best medical intern in the hospital."

"Don't think I didn't notice you qualified that to just the medical interns."

"To be honest, you are better than most of the surgical interns too."

She leaned her head on Bryce's shoulder.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this. It's all too much. If Ethan Ramsey quit, what chance do I have?"

"Hey, you can do this." He squeezed her shoulder, encouraging her to look at him. His eyes were intense and earnest.

"It's wild to me that you don't realise how great you are." He gazed into her eyes and rubbed her cheek. "Casey, how can I make you feel better?"

The way he looked at her told her that she could ask pretty much anything of him in that moment. Yes, he was promiscuous, but he was also a kind and caring guy. He had a way of making her feel completely at ease around him. She knew from their previous encounters that he could leave her feeling physically satisfied at the very least. But, then she though of Ethan. Her feelings for him seemed to be getting stronger by the day. As much as their predicament left her frustrated, she felt that she was now beyond the point where she could engage in anything casual with someone else. Ethan was who she wanted and until she knew for certain there was no future for them, she was prepared to wait. She was sure of that now.

She pulled Bryce in for a tight hug. "I'm sorry, it was a moment of weakness."

He rubbed her back gently. "Hey, your moments of weakness are a hell of a lot tougher than most folks at their best. So keep your chin up okay."

She smiled as she enjoyed their embrace for a few more moments.

"Can I be honest with you? I've known you a while now. And I know you can handle pressure. I don't think that's what's got you so mixed up." He said as he leaned back to look at her.

"Then what has?"

"This isn't something new, its the same thing you've carried with you all along. Your doubt. I know people think I'm an arrogant jerk. But, I just know how to own my talent. You've never done that, you always justify why you're here. I think you don't feel like you're cut out for this. And you're so wrong." He smiled at her warmly.

"Thank you Bryce." She said, smiling back at him.

"Can I ask you something before we get back to work?"

"Sure." She replied

"Is something going on between you and Dr. Ramsey?" He eyed her cautiously, unsure if he was crossing a line.

Although she definitely didn't want whatever was going on between them to be public knowledge, she had always found it hard to lie if someone asked her a question directly.

She decided to tell him the truth.

"Umm...well, not really. I mean, we've kissed a couple of times. But we're not together or anything."

Even though it was he who brought up the subject, he still looked a little shocked by the revelation.

"Wow. I kinda pictured Ramsey as some sort of syborg who was incapable of human emotions and relationships." He chuckled.

She couldn't help but giggle. "Bryce! Honestly, you'd be surprised. He can be really...different sometimes." Her mood soon returned to being more serious.

"You've really got feelings for him haven't you?"

She nodded.

"And does he feel the same way?" He asked with intrigue.

"I think so, I don't really know. It's complicated." She laughed as she realised she had uttered the words she disliked hearing Ethan say.

"I don't know what's so funny, but it's nice to see you laughing." He looked sincerely happy to see her smiling.

"Do you think I'm stupid even thinking of getting involved with an attending?"

"Casey, the heart wants, what the heart wants. I don't think much can stand in the way if two people really want to be together. I just don't want to see you getting hurt though. Honestly, he'd be lucky to have you."

"You always manage to cheer me up Bryce. I hope you know how much a appreciate having a friend like you."

"Yeah, I am pretty great." He smirked.

She laughed at him. Although some people thought he was arrogant, she had nothing but affection for Bryce Lahela.

"You ready to face the world again?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks to you." She replied, smiling at him. "Let's go."

☆☆

Thank you so much for reading 🥰

☆☆

Tags: @pixie88 @lifeaskim @queencarb @udishaman @lucy-268 @starrystarrytrouble @txemrn @ethanramseyyy @schnitzelbutterfingers @drariellevalentine @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan

@aarisa-frost (I tagged you as there is talk of the relationship with Ethan. I hope that's okay)

♡Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list♡

[resinatingbeauty]

A 'Witch Shop' Owner's Plea Before Casting That Love Spell

I don't personally offer many spell kits, mojo bags, etc. In my shop and avoid selling my 'Craft', as in, I don't advertise or list spell casting among my offerings, though I have had a couple of customers specifically ask if I could perform a spell I offered as a kit on their behalf for whatever reason. This is because I personally believe that the journey is just as important as the destination in witchcraft and many of the spell kits / spells I do offer are designed in such a way to soothe, relax, release, and heal throughout the process. Honestly, in addition, I really don't want the responsibility associated with performing magick on someone else's behalf for many reasons. The strength of my intent is not going to be as strong as yours, for example. Even if I effectively channel your energy, creating that personal connection between the beneficiary and the intent or purpose of the spell work is incredibly difficult at a distance. I'm always wary of other shops advertising this type of service- the sad truth of the matter is our little niche has been permeated by scammers, con artists, and frauds looking to take advantage of anyone looking for a solution to whatever it is that has them at this low point in life. I will tell you, more often than not it's love spells that the customer is after, and they are apt to find many options on Etsy, the platform I primarily do business on, and beyond.

I distinctly think of one potential customer who had contacted me one night obviously very upset. My heart went out to her immediately - I could just tell by what she was saying and how quickly she responded to me that she was in a state of panic and extreme emotional distress. She isn't the only one, but she stands out from the others as her desire to win back her ex lover was so strong it was evident that she would do anything and (potentially) pay anything for a chance to get things back to the way they were in her love life.

I am a human being. I have been given this amazing opportunity to pursue my passion to share my creations and spiritual / metaphysical knowledge with the world through my work. I understood a long time ago that this also meant I had a responsibility to do my best to help those in need and never knowingly harm, much like a doctor commuting to the Hippocratic oath. This may make me a flat out horrible business woman, but I would rather not sell someone on something I don't believe is going to help their situation. In fact, love spells usually make things worse. I'll get to that momentarily.

"Is there a spell to make her see what she has done wrong and to make her love and want me again?"

I allowed this customer to explain to me the situation and took the time to hear her out after telling her that I'm sure that she could find something like that elsewhere and someone else willing to sell her a spell kit or cast that spell, but I urged her to take a deep breath and talk to me before she did something that she would regret.

Thankfully, she spent the next hour or so explaining her situation and elaborating on everything that has happened in her relationship. It was one of those on again / off again things that so many of us get trapped in. Understandable, considering once you establish that strong bond of love, whether one sided or not, it's incredibly hard to cut that cord and move on especially if you're so emotionally invested (and maybe even financially invested) in this other individual who has had your heart for so long you can't imagine giving it to anyone else.

This PSA goes out to the broken hearted of all walks, as this is a universal experience for anyone who has been in love. There may not be someone to stop you from pursuing what you think will fix everything as I did for her, but I'm hoping if you read this, you'll think twice about acquiring and performing love spells or any magick in hopes that it will provide a quick fix to any situation.

•Beware the Opportunistic Con / Scam

Our field is flooded with scammers, con artists, and frauds that exclusively cater to those in this sweet girl's position and anyone who is vulnerable due to emotional distress or panic. Whether you need a love spell like she did to win back her ex or a quick fix to get more money in the bank or what have you, beware those that have used spiritual advisory and witchcraft as a means to peddle you their high priced garbaged. This is a tough one, as you may have a hard time deciphering what is 'legit' and what isn't, but there are some signs and facts you can look for when browsing these shops / websites.

-They promise / guarantee results within a specific or unrealistic time frame

Magick takes time to manifest and the true story is that nobody has a 100% satisfaction guaranteed spell book. More often than not, when spells come to fruition, it often isn't quite the way you would expect it to, either. Anyone promising a quick fix to anything is most likely just trying to take advantage of you when you are vulnerable and you better believe there will be no money back guarantee if said garbage doesn't work for you. OR, they like to do one of these:

-"Oh, your situation is worse than I thought. You're going to need this and this, with a huge $$$$ price tag."

This starts a never ending cycle of you pouring money into this scammer who will make you believe that it is necessary to do so. That maybe if you did throw them an extra $500 for their thingamajig that you will get what you want. This is only the beginning, as when THAT doesn't do it for you the way you would like, they will claim some other interference, maybe you're cursed or under psychic attack, and need something else even more expensive and elaborate to take care of that before you can even get to what you went to them for in the first place. Anytime someone proposes this type of thing, stop while you're ahead and don't provide them with a guaranteed cash flow that you aren't benefitting from at all. Also, be wary of ANY seller who makes outrageous claims- overnight changes, curing cancer, etc. Are unrealistic expectations.

•Understand What You Truly Need

Maybe it's time to consider an alternative path. The customer I spoke about DID ultimately purchase a tarot spread, which I was much more inclined to do for her than some love spell to win back this girl who has repeatedly broken her heart over the past few years and obviously got a kick out of it, the way she told it, as it was ALWAYS her doing the breaking up and blocking, starting all the drama. I told her I would much rather give her a spell to find her twin flame / soul mate than to win this person back who has perpetually been hurting her and taking advantage of her kindness.

Sometimes it's time to cut the cord before more damage is done. I understand it isn't easy to move on from someone you have loved and cultivated a relationship with over a long period of time, regardless of the negative energy that has invaded the relationship, we DO tend to focus on the positives, which leaves us a bit biased and blind to what we could have and deserve to have.

Take a moment if you are in a relationship situation like this, are beginning to question your current relationship, or are considering taking the next step in any relationship. Sit down with a pen and paper. On one side of the paper, write down all the things you love about that person. All the ways you think they have been the light in your life (be honest and give credit where credit is due!). Now on the other side, list the negatives or cons in your relationship. If one list is noticeably longer than the other, depending on which side it is, it may be time to consider breaking it off, giving things another shot, or taking things to the next level. Ask yourself;

-Do they support me in what I do, even if they don't understand or necessarily agree with it? (So long as it is something healthy -obviously if they're supportive of a bad habit or detrimental behavior, this is more like enabling and not a good thing)

-Do they have my best interests at heart more often than not?

-Do they show that they care? Even in the smallest of ways?

-Could I call them my "best friend?" Am I honest with them?

-Are they honest with me?

-Do they lift me up more than they put me down?

-Do you want the same things in life / have similar priorities?

-Is our relationship valuable to them the same way it is to me?

•LOVE SPELLS NEVER WORK THE WAY YOU WANT

This is the cold hard truth about love spells. Forget the warnings in movies and books, as it is hard to believe them or even take them as a legitimate warning when you haven't had the displeasure of experiencing what a love spell can do for yourself. I have, so you don't have to. This is MY story:

Of course love spells are very appealing when you're a young and naive teenager. I had a strong crush on this guy I had low key been stalking since middle school. I don't know why I liked him so much. Part of it I'm sure was the way he looked (hey, I'm being totally honest!) And how he came across to me. We had absolutely no interaction with each other outside of passing each other in the hallway. He had no idea who I was.

I had just borrowed a copy of Silver Ravenwolf's 'Teen Witch' (which is honestly a fantastic book for teens and young adults just starting to delve into Wiccan practices, which she follows exclusively) from a friend of mine and thought I would try the super simple love spell in the book figuring I had nothing to lose. All it consisted of was focusing on the subject, your intentions, writing their name on a piece of paper, folding it up and placing it under your pillow. I would sleep on that paper for months. I was in middle school just about to go into my freshman year of high school when I performed the spell and would forget about it up until the day it worked, a few months into my freshman year of highschool, when my crush was in the graduating class of that year- literally my last chance to make an impression.

I had gone to a local band's concert that was performing at the school's auditorium one day after classes and was just about to leave when my crush randomly approached me and started talking to me. It was like the whole world just stopped right there. I couldn't believe it. The thought of that spell crossed my mind briefly as we exchanged phone numbers.

Over time and getting to know him, he admittedly wasn't exactly my type. He was still someone whose friendship I valued, but not someone I could really put any effort into dating. About the time I realized this, his personality took a complete 180° turn for the worst. He was stalking me. Blowing up my cell phone (which was a prepaid piece of junk at that time I really couldn't talk on for more than a minute without paying a fortune), so much so one evening when I was at Jukido Jujitsu practice that I came home to something like 32 missed calls and 17 voicemails from him, each one showing gradual frustration and anger. This scared me. I knew I had to confront him about it and break this off before it got worse.

I caught him in a populated area of the school the next day before homeroom- more like he came up to me out of nowhere like he knew I would be passing through that part of the school that day- and I confronted him about the calls,attempting to gently explain to him that I wasn't interested in a relationship and I would like to continue being friends. He blew up at me and threw me against the brick wall of the school, trying to kiss and touch me in front of every single person that walked by. I wish I was making this up.

Thankfully a teacher came and pulled him off. Nothing much else was done. I did my best to avoid him and cut him out of my life entirely from that point on.

I don't know if it was the love spell or if this would have occurred anyways. All I knew was that what had been originally a very sweet, big hearted guy that was soft spoken with low self esteem became a monster in a matter of weeks. The take away from this and what I have personally seen with other's experiences with love spells is that they tend to bring out the worst characteristics of the person they are cast on and you have to be really careful what you are actually asking for when thinking about 'desire' and 'passion.' This intent can quickly lead to stalking, obsession, and not in a good way. Another customer of mine who originally came to me for my Forgiveness Spell Kit and had the desired results also, unbeknownst to me, had someone else perform a love and desire spell in addition to it. The guy that she was reverted into an obsessed jerk who decided to spread rumors about her on social media and beyond, blocked her on all platforms, and would get her friends involved in his quest to make her life miserable. Her story reflects and embodies so many I have heard over the years from others who have dabbled in such spells. When they work, it's just never quite what you had in mind.

So if you came to this blog post in search of a love spell for your personal situation or came across it when you have maybe considered one in the past or know someone who has, please take a deep breath, consider your options, and don't do anything that you may regret down the line. Remember that you are deserving of all the love, respect, support, and happiness one could give another. Do not settle on someone who offers you less and expects more, no matter how much you have invested in them, no matter how many years you have spent with them, as they do not appreciate you for the amazing person you are. I can promise you, however, given some time to heal, you WILL find someone who does.

-Samantha

(Owner /Chaos Witch/Designer)

Blursedbaubles.etsy.com

[rebelcap]

We are not just friends —Part 6

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually)

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally.

Series masterlist

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

6. Stay.

Chris's brain was barely functioning as they kissed, slowly. Her lips were soft and gentle against his, she was sucking and licking his lips as Chris caress her neck and slide his hand slowly to her lower back. Sofia grabbed his wrist and pulled his down under, to get a hold of her ass and Chris smiled.

“Damn, Sof—” He whispered as he kissed her neck and pull her close, sliding his leg between hers. She gasped when she felt that sweet friction on her pussy, that only encourage Chris more as he moved his hand under her shirt and lifted it, planting kisses on her belly as he goes up.

He's abruptly interrupted as Sofia pushed him off and she quickly straddles him as she planted a firm kiss on his lips. His hands go to her hips making her feel how hard he already was.

“Fuck,” She mumbles against his lips and Chris took that as a cue and moved her against him again, now she fully set down on his clothed dick rubbing her pussy alongside. Chris sat down pushing her further down as he kissed her again, Sofia began moving her hips as she used his shoulder as leverage to move.

The friction was enough to get her going and Chris was kissing her neck, rubbing his beard and holding her close.

“You're so fucking warm,” Sofía said as he pushed her hands under his shirt, feeling his muscles tense as she moans softly at Chris's ear. Chris was about to take off her shirt as an annoying ringtone started blasting from her forgotten hoddie.

“Shit,” Sofía exclaimed as she reached for the hoodie.

“Do you have to get that?” Chris asked as she tried to fish out her phone, never stooping to plant kisses on her neck.

“It's Ron,” She said triumph as she slides her finger and put the thing on her ear. “Hey boss, ” She answered as she played with Chris's hair, dischaved it more.

Chris felt like he was on a cloud, feeling beyond intoxicated as she touched him so lightly. He kept trying to take her shirt off and she swats him shaking her head.

“But-” Chris tried to argue and she mm-uhm at the phone and leans on to kiss him fully on the lips.

“Yeah, sure. I'll be there. I might take a little bit because I'm not on the hotel-yeah, sure. Alright, I'll take a few samples and meet you there.” She said smiling through her voice as she hung up. Sofia let out a sigh and look down at Chris that had to lay down to the grass. “I have to go.”

“You're kidd-wait!” Sofía was quickly on her feet as he almost couldn't move, his dick was painfully hard. “Sof!” He sat down and saw her sliding inside of her jacket and put her backpack on. She walked back inside and kissed him but on the cheek, which took Chris by surprise.

“See you,” She smiled casually, ruffled his hair, and before Chris could even answer she was out.

“Stay,” Chris Whispered as he laid back to the grass and palmed his dick. “Fuck.”

~~

"What the fuck?!” Sofía muttered angrily at herself as she wiped her cellphone and quickly texted her Jiminy Cricket.

I heavily make out with Chris, thoughts?.

Before she could even pocket her phone it rings to like.

“He—

“Fucking finally!.”

“No, Mandy. I never meant it to do that, he was talking about her ex and fucked up shit people do to him and he said he trusted me and I kissed him!” Sofía stressed herself as she tells what happened. “I almost fuck him if it wasn't that Ron called!”

“Then why did you kiss him?” Mandy asked as she shushed someone, it was probably Luke.

“I don't know!” She shouted as she crossed the street and wave down a taxi. “What I'm supposed to do now?,” Sofía asked as she gets in and quickly told the driver the address of the hotel.

“What if I ruined a perfect friendship?, because you know I adore that idiot.”

“Sofía, you need to talk about it then.”

“No fucking way.”

“Are you going to avoid Chris?”

“Fuck yes, until I can look him on the face again. Oh my God!, why I'm such a hoe?, Why I'm like this?” Sofía covers her face as the driver cleared his throat.

“Sof, don't avoid him. Chris is your friend, not some guy…” Amanda told her making her curse under her breath.

“Yes, I know that—I'll a with it later.”

Later, much much later. The meeting went more than amazing, Ron had managed to seal a deal with a bar that was a household of LA, this was a big step in the right direction.

“You did well today, kid. I'm proud of you.” Ron grabbed her shoulder and give it a warm squeeze making Sofía smile.

“Thanks, Ron, it means a lot.”

Ron smiled back at her and keep on chatting with the bar people, the place was packed but she had managed to be on a place that was kind of quiet and her beer kept getting warmer by the second.

“You need a refill?” The barmaid asked her and she nods a few times giving her back the glass. “You okay?” She asked putting back the full pint in front of her.

“I guess,” Sofia sigh and put both elbows on the counter bar. “I kissed one of my closest friends and he kissed me back and now I'm confused as fuck.”

She laughs but understood. “You like him?”

“Yes, besides that he's freaking captain America—” She laughed. “He's great, awesome and we had so much fun together. I've known him for a year now our best friends date each other.”

“So, there's been pressure?”

“You've got no idea, we mostly laugh and joke about it—he was with someone until a couple of months but he slept with her recently and he's avoiding her and I'd kiss him and he kissed me back and if it wasn't that I'd have to come here we were going to sleep together.”

“Alright, you two obviously like each other of any of that wouldn't have happened.”

“Guess so.”

“That doesn't leave much room for thinking, girl.” She wiped the counter and Sofía just hummed.

Her phone started ringing and it was Mandy calling her.

“Hey babe, what's up?”

“Hello, gorg, where you at?”

“I'm still on the bar—”

“I know but where?”

“On the last stall of the bar—why you want to know?” Sofía asked sipping her beer and heard mumble over the phone.

“Just asking for a friend—”

“Mandy no.”

“Mandy yes, you'll thank me later I know, I love yoooooou.” She sings over the phone and Sofía hung up and grunted and started to drink her beer.

“Shit.” Sofía gulped and drank the rest of her beer on one go and asked the barmaid for something stronger—she was going to need it.

“Yeah, I see her. thanks, bro, yeah yeah.” Chris spoke making his way through the crowd of the bar, it wasn't many people. He could easily see her on the back of the bar, chugging down the rest of the beer.

“Sofi,” He spoke sitting on the stall beside her. Sofía gives him a quick look and bites her bottom lip. “You run on me,” Chris said with a smile, seeing her acting this shy was… endearing.

“Yes, I know.” She hummed and nod a few times, still looking forward and made a face. “Sorry, I didn't mean that to happen—I mean, you know. Dude—I don't want you to think that—Chris, fuck. I'm sorry, I don't want to fuck up what we have.” Sofía stumbles over her words, not really knowing what to say because she didn't even know what to think about it. One thing she was sure was that she absolutely didn't want to lose Chris over anything.

“You don't fuck up nothing, sweetheart.” Chris quickly assure her. “Trust me, it's everything alright but we do have to talk about it—

“Chris—

“No, we'll talk about it.” He interrupted, sternly. Sofia sigh and nod a few times as she kept an eye on her boss.

“We can't, my boss is there and there are people and I'm trying to prolong this not talking. So, maybe back at the hotel?”

Chris laughed and Sofia covered her face with her hands, half embarrassed and half smiling. Couldn't help to feel relief that Chris wasn't giving her shit about it, it makes sense what she was saying.

“Alright,” He bows his head to then look back at her, smiling like a freaking ray of sun. “Don't panic, Sof—

“I'm not, It's just—I like you, I really like you, dude. I don't want to fuck this shit up.”

“Baby—it's not,” Chris quickly interrupted shaking his head. “I like you, in all honestly I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you at the bar.”

“Chris… really?”

“Yeah, you kidding me?” He laughed hiding his face under his hat, he was blushing. Sofía laughed and pull his cap down.

“Idiot.” She mutters biting her lip and looked around, at least no one seems to notice him. “I should go to see if Ron needs any help, you wanna stay or…

“I honestly prefer to be alone with you, I can't kiss you here.” He shrugged and Sofía rolled her eyes.

“Christopher.” He laughed again.

“Alright, alright—” He raised his hands and rub his beard. “I'll go to the hotel, okay?”

Sofía nods a few times and he laughs, making her laugh.

“What are we doing!?” She exclaimed putting both hands on her face, embarrassed. Chris couldn't help but hug her, placing a kiss on top of her head.

“We'll figure it out.”

~~

Well shit, finally.

Thanks everyone, your support means so much!

Tag list

@letsdothemonstermash

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

@lovepeacefood (doesn't let me tag u)

@thegirlwithpaperheart

[angels-heap]

All your freehoun fics are aaaaaaaaaaa perfection!! tbh tho I wish you didn't post ns//fw on main bc there are minors in this fandom and we don't want to see all that

Soooooooo... I put off responding to all the asks I received last night because I needed some time to process this one, and I think I’m finally ready to try to articulate my thoughts. Anon, please understand that I mean all of this respectfully, but I am going to have to decline your request.

Before I say anything else, I do want to thank you for your kind words! Seriously, I’m glad you enjoyed my writing and I really appreciate you taking the time to send me an ask to help lift me out of my funk.

As for the second part of your ask... y’know, it’s funny, actually, that I was just talking about this with another fandom friend yesterday. I have made a very conscious decision not to separate my ns/fw fics from my other content, for a variety of reasons. Although I don’t necessarily owe you an explanation, I’m going to provide one anyway:

All of the Half Life games are rated M and the active fanbase was almost entirely comprised of older teens and adults until very, very recently.

I’m not ashamed of my ns/fw content. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that some of it has not aged terribly well, but I’m not ashamed of the general fact that I occasionally write smut.

I have been told that I have a very distinctive writing style, which means posting fics on an alt account wouldn’t really grant me any anonymity. 

Posting my ns/fw fics to an alt account wouldn’t prevent minors from knowing that they exist, seeing as they’d still be posted on AO3 with the same tags.

All of my ns/fw fics are appropriately rated M or E and have been marked with 1-3 additional tags clearly indicating this is smut; do not read if you’re not here for smut. The descriptions are completely sfw and I have chosen not to tag specific sex acts, because I personally think scrolling through AO3 and encountering a huge list of sex words is off-putting (and potentially triggering). So, the worst thing anyone will encounter when browsing my works list on AO3 is the word “porn,” unless they click through to read more.

I honestly can’t be bothered to create a throwaway email address and another AO3 account. (And I like having all my emails and stats and comments in one place.)

Obviously, I want minors to be safe on the internet. We’re in agreement on that. And that’s why I do everything a content creator could reasonably be expected to do to make sure nobody accidentally encounters adult content in my fics that they weren’t prepared to see.

Beyond that, though, everyone (minors and adults alike) is ultimately responsible for their own internet/fandom experience. I am an adult who writes fanfiction about a game rated for adults, for an audience that is still mostly comprised of adults, and I am well within my rights to do that. Smut is always going to exist, and as long as it’s tagged properly on sites that allow it, it’s not really anyone’s place to try to change that. (Not to mention, I write the most ridiculously vanilla smut ever. Seriously. Even by fandom purity culture standards, I think I’m fine.)

If you don’t feel comfortable even knowing that ns/fw fics are out there, that’s cool. Bookmark an AO3 search with M and E ratings filtered out. Subscribe to individual works instead of subscribing to me as an author. Ask authors or friends about the content of sketchily-tagged fics that you’re not sure you feel safe reading. You have options; use them. 

And finally, all that said, I want to address one last teensy, tiny little thing that might have been a typo on your part, but just in case it wasn’t, it’s worth making a point here: You complimented my freehoun fics. Plural. Except... I have only ever written one (1) entirely sfw freehoun fic. The other two are rated E and M, respectively; granted, the M-rated one hasn’t gotten terribly spicy yet, but it will once the freaking fandom discourse dies down, and it’s been tagged accordingly since I initially posted it.

If you have read one or both of those fics, that is a choice that you made to ignore the ratings and warnings and consume content that might have been upsetting or inappropriate for you. I hope you’re okay, but I’m not going to apologize for that. That’s on you. 

Take care, and as always, I’m open to follow-up questions about this. 

[iamwhelmed]

hey whelmed! i was wondering if you could write a pnat story with this prompt, for isaac in high school? "While sitting in class during a boring lecture you suddenly hear someone whispering in your ear. You turn around nervously and see that no one was there and none of the other students heard. But your teacher drops her notes and stares at you in shock." even if you don't, thank you anyway!

Interesting prompt, anon! I’ve actually never been sure what to do with it– but I will absolutely try ;D Blood warning!

It’d been weeks, maybe months, since he’d dealt with anything of the paranatural sort. In a way, Isaac was enjoying his time off. In another way, he was hating every second of it. Why did he think the club would go out of their way to contact him? Yeah, like that would have made any sense. His grip tightened around his pencil, and he consciously had to lessen the hold so that he wouldn’t snap it in half– again.

He was lonelier than ever, honestly. The world around him was quiet without their teasing or the need to raise his voice. The silence of normal every day life reminded him why he’d been so excited to be a spectral when he first started, as downhill as that might have gone. Isaac seethed and grinded his teeth together, trying to focus on the Geometry his teacher was scribbling across the board. Ridiculous. He was being… ridiculous.

It was at that moment that something soft brushed his ear, like lips caressing his lobe, warm air falling to his skin as smooth as velvet. There was a voice, but he couldn’t make it out– not a person, not a sound. But he could still hear each word as clear as they would have been had someone truly been so close to him, skin hot against his ear.

“He has no clue…”

Isaac sharply twisted his head to get a look at whatever spirit it probably was. If something tried to fight him in the middle of class, there was no telling what he’d have to do to-!

Nothing. There was nothing there, nothing but a few horrified looking peers, watching him with so much fear he couldn’t place a time he’d felt something like that– and he’d been scared often. Some watched him with caution, and others had furrowed their worried brows. Isaac frowned.

Something clattered against the ground, and Isaac shifted in his seat to find his teacher standing still as though frozen in a block of ice, face turning pale upon the sight of him. He blinked and glanced down to the textbook she’d dropped.

“Isaac,” she mumbled, fingers twitching, raising to her glasses. She pulled them from their perch and began to wipe at them furiously, in a panic he hadn’t imagined a woman like her would ever fall into. “Do you… need to go to the nurse’s office?”

He blinked. “Um, why?”

“Your head, dude.” The guy sitting next to him reached a trembling pointed finger out to his temple. “Your head is… is…”

“My head?” Isaac reached up to touch the spot. What was everyone so worried about? He swore, even though he’d lived in Mayview his whole life, some things just seemed out of the ordinary, too odd for even a Mayview-born kid to explain. Why would he need to go to the nurse’s office? Nobody was making any sense!

Then he felt it.

Wet, hot, sticky, sliding down the length of his face. He felt one drop slide down to his jawline, and then another on the opposite side of his head, then it felt like the liquid was gushing from nowhere, raining down the side of his face. Isaac pulled his hand to look at the tips of his fingers.

Blood.

His heart stopped, and he wasn’t sure it picked back up. It was falling from him in buckets, hitting his desk one drop, then two, then eight and twenty and hundreds. He coughed and reached a hand up to his throat, feeling the odd sensation of being choked.

“Isaac!”

He tried to look up from the desk, but something hard grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his head to the– the ground? How was he on the ground? Dirt was piling in his mouth, scraping against his bared teeth.

“Let him go!”

The voices sounded more familiar than the mysterious one had earlier.

“He’s turning blue! We’re losing him, what do we do?”

“Don’t panic! Just get that spirit away from him!”

The choking sensation didn’t stop, but his body still lifted from the ground, blood drying around his eyes, so crusted he couldn’t see what was happening. It was like he was a ragdoll, flying everywhere, around and around, hitting– trees? Walls? Where was he? Where’d the classroom gone?

“Unhand him!”

“He’s my snack!” The voice taunted, the one that left shivers down his spine. “He’s always dreaming, you know! I crave that imagination of his…”

“It’s not yours to take!”

“Oh, but he surrendered so easily to the nightmare! I’d say that’s consent enough!”

“To be eaten? Alive? You are once sick m-!”

“Max, language!”

“I’m not going to apologize for that! It’s true!”

Suddenly the grip around his throat lessened, and he could hear the voice in his head screaming, screeching, feel its claws scratching at his throat. His body went flying again, and Isaac shut his eyes, preparing to feel another wall.

Instead he felt hands– lots and lots of hands, grabbing him from midair and pulling him down into what felt like grass. He didn’t dare open his eyes again.

“He’s still sleeping! Can that thing keep him in dreamland from beyond the grave or something?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” A smooth hand reached down and wiped the hair out of his eyes. “Isaac, everything’s all right. You can open your eyes now.”

He winced, and scrunched his nose, but the hands all over his chest and throat and legs were anything but rough– they were sweet, and gentle, almost cautious with him. He squinted one eye open, only to see shadows through the blur. He closed his eyes again and opened them slowly, blinking away the confusion.

The Activity Club sat above him, watching him with… relief? He blinked again.

“Guys?”

“See?” Max frowned and pinched Isaac’s nose. He yelped. “This is why we team up, dude. Because stuff like this happens now that the barrier’s down!”

“…What?” He brushed Max’s hand away from his nose, but it remained hovering above his own hand. “What happened?”

“What do ya think?” Isabel pulled away from his legs, crossing her arms. “It was a spirit with the power to… I don’t know, I guess put you in a deep sleep before it… ate you?”

Ed leaned forward, head hitting Isabel’s out of the way. She squeaked and hissed his name. “What did you dream about?”

“I’d imagine nothing good,” Spender mumbled. “It said it put you in a nightmare.”

“Well, I was bleeding buckets out of nowhere in the middle of class, which is probably a little worse than coming to school naked. I’d say it was a nightmare, yeah.”

“Have we learned our lesson, then?”

Isaac blinked again and sat up, reaching one hand to his head, unconsciously relived to find it completely dry, if not thick with dirt. “Huh?”

Spender frowned and raised one scolding finger. “Don’t go looking for trouble on your own, anymore. We’re a team for a reason, Isaac.”

He frowned and glanced around at all of them, finding Spender’s chiding expression mirrored on each face. “But… I’m not even in middle school anymore? You guys still want me tagging along?”

“Uh,” Max gestured to the whole of him. “If it means you live another day, then yeah! Kinda!”

“What kind of question is that, Isaac? Honestly!”

“I think I have corn stuck in my teeth from earlier.” Isabel reached over and put a hand over Ed’s mouth as he tried to stick a nail between his teeth.

The dread that’d been spiraling in his chest before died down, leaving only the butterflies circulating through his lifted heart. Isaac smiled and glanced down to his lap. Of course they still wanted him around. He wasn’t thirteen anymore– he knew better. They’d been through too much together, too many fights– with spirits and each other, too many movie nights, too many trips to go kayaking, too much for them to still want him to walk away, if they ever did. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep that in mind. I promise, I’ll call you guys next time I feel inclined to traipse through the woods.”