#the best part is that in the book apparently he just dies of old age and his identity is found out afterwards

[branmer]

was anyone going to tell me that in the world without end tv series that edward ii survives and escapes captivity and runs off to be a monk in kingsbridge where he falls in love with another monk and survives the black death and then takes part in a peasant revolt where he faces off against his own son, edward iii, while snow is falling no less, and they have a very dramatic and emotional sword fight before he surrenders and lets his son behead him so that he can be unquestioned king or was i just gonna have to binge watch the series until 4am last night to find out

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment Prologue

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 5.2K (sorry)

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

“Y/N L/N!” Your heart dropped and your blood ran with ice. No, no. You were 18 fucking years old for god’s sake. You were so close to being out. Six years of reapings and even more slips with your name, because you had to take out tesserae, had finally caught up with you.

You realized the girls around you were backing up, leaving you to stand in the middle with nowhere to hide. You had always felt bad for the kids being singled out like this but now you realized just how isolating it already was. You looked up to the stage, your face already projected onto the screen. Just below that, your district escort, Salvia Vala, was beckoning for you to come up on the stage. You were already so close you could see the flaws in her caked on makeup and artificial… everything.

Realizing that just standing there would neither give you a better chance nor keep you from going into the games, you made your way to the stairs. As you were pulled towards the center of the stage, you tried desperately not to look at the people of your district. You were a bit of a loner in 12 so you weren’t avoiding the gazes of those who cared about you, you were avoiding the pity in the eyes of the people who never bothered to help you.

Next was the boys’ reaping. “Alder Oakly,” Salvia called out. You didn’t look at the boy until he was facing you on the stage, trying to give him the slightest bit of dignity. You shook his hand when prompted, observing him. He was clean, unlike the people you knew in the Seam. He probably came from the wealthier part of 12 but he was still pale like a lot of 12. His dark hair had the slightest bit of coal dust, also very common in 12 despite his wealthier status. His clothing was pristine in contrast to your best dress which was covered in coal dust and faded with age.

You were quickly ushered into the district capital building, into a nicely decorated room. One of the few buildings the Capitol had actually built in the districts so when they had to grace the poorest district with their presence, they wouldn’t immediately go running for the hills.

You sat quietly. This was supposed to be the room people said their goodbyes to you in. But there was no one to wish you luck or mourn you when you died. So you sat with your thoughts. Your head was simultaneously empty and racing with thoughts. Across the hall, you could hear sobs of presumably Alder’s mother. Maybe his girlfriend. You had no idea. You were kind of relieved no one came to see you. At least you knew you wouldn’t cause any pain to anyone when you were gone.

You were then jolted from your thoughts by the door opening. You recognized Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the 50th Hunger Games. Apparently, he was supposed to attend the reapings but, after being so drunk one time, he fell off the stage and they had stopped requiring him to be there. You had seen him a few times at the Hobb buying alcohol but other than that, the only things you knew about him were rumors. That he had won the “wrong” way and the Capitol had killed his family for it.

He made his way into the room, only stumbling slightly until he slumped on the chair. As he sat he took a moment to observe her. Rather than a tear-stained face or eyes wide with fear, she just stared at him quizzically. Clearly taken off guard by his presence. Her eyes were filled with curiosity, giving her a look of innocence he knew the Capitol would love.

You were unsure what to say as he took a deep swig from his flask. “Okay,” he slurred out, his tone as if he were correcting you, “I don’t normally do this but I’ve seen you around the Hobb, and that Al kid has more than enough support.” You still didn’t know what was going on, given that he was the only living Victor in 12 you thought he was supposed to prepare you together. “My advice? Start drinking now. You wanna start?” he asked, holding out the flask to you.

You took it hesitantly, still unsure how to react to the situation. You took a whiff first, your nose burning. But seeing as you had nothing better to do, you pressed it to your lips, tipping it back tentatively. There was a surprising amount in there based on how inebriated he already was so you got a full swig. You immediately began coughing, hating the burn that seemed to course through your body as you swallowed.

Haymitch chuckled a little. “What? You never have whisky?” You only shook your head. “Seriously?” he stopped laughing. “I thought they said you were 18. I’d understand if you were 12 or even 14 but 18 years and you never got drunk?” He looked shocked. Despite alcohol being technically illegal it was probably the most popular thing sold on the black market.

“It was either buy food or liquor,” you explained. “And when it came to stealing, it was either risk getting caught stealing food or liquor.” Haymitch hummed before pulling a roll wrapped in a napkin out of his jacket pocket, holding it out to you. You shook your head no, “Can’t even think about eating.” For the first time in god knows how long you didn’t feel the lingering hunger.

“My real advice? Eat. You’ll need it to keep you going in the games.”

At that you laughed. “You think I can win? The starving girl, from 12, with no prospects, winning the fucking hunger games? I don’t know, maybe someone like that hunter girl could win but I have no skills.”

“Can you hold a knife? Can you point it at someone? You’ve got skills,” Haymitch shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s about survival, sponsors, fighting skills, the ability to actually take a life.”

“Don’t assume what I know. I actually went to the games. I know what it’s like. You don’t.”

“Yet,” you added. “Maybe I‘ll never know. They have bombs in the arena, right? If you step off the platform early? Instant death has to be better than getting hacked apart by a career,” you mused.

Haymitch was horrified by the calm she exuded while talking about how she was planning to kill herself.

Haymitch shook his head. “If you jump off that platform you just give them what they want. Submission. Fight to survive. Be the first female victor from 12 in 57 years.”

“Why do you even care?” you asked, sick of being told what to do. “I know you’ve never exactly been mentor of the year. Why are you going out of your way to talk to me? Convincing me to try?”

Haymitch opened and closed his mouth a few times at a loss for words. He then just sighed, downing another swig of whiskey before standing up. “I’ll see you on the train.”

~

You sat on the train, staring down at your empty plate. The train car was full of food you never dreamed you’d get the opportunity to eat. But you still couldn’t bear the idea of actually eating. Then, the door opened and Alder came in. He sat down and immediately began serving himself, digging in. “You can eat?” you asked. “I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of eating since…”

“I wasn’t able to either, at first, until dinner last night. I forced myself to take a bite and ever since then I’ve had an appetite,” he explained. You turned your attention back to the food, contemplating his words. Reaching for a muffin, you pulled a little off, popping it in your mouth. “Have you met our mentor yet? He came to dinner and asked about you. When he realized we weren’t both here he just grabbed some food and left.”

“Uh, no,” you lied, taking another bite of the muffin. It was nothing like you had ever had before. It was sweet and filling but also light and airy. “He’s a drunk. Only here because he had to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” a voice cut in from the door. You didn’t even turn around, just waited for him to walk into your eyeline. “I’m here for the desserts,” he picked up a pastry as he sat down, “and refreshments,” he held up a glass of brown liquor.

“So what do we do? How do we survive?” Alder asked.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “All you wealthier kids are all the same. ‘How do I survive? How do I win?’ You know who wins? The kids who have struggled. Who’ve provided for themselves and their families,” he ranted, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

You watched Alder visibly deflate. Clearly he wasn’t ready to die. “You’ve had kids from all over 12, right? Where are they now?” you asked. You knew it was wrong but you were already sick of this drunk’s disparity in attitudes.

Haymitch just pursed his lips, getting up and taking his drink and plate with him.

“Why’d you say that?” Alder asked angrily. “He’s our best shot at getting out of that arena.”

“I said it because he was being a dick. Besides, he’s lost every tribute in the past 17 years. That’s 34 kids he’s had the opportunity to save but he was probably too busy drinking.”

“I mean… it’s not entirely his fault. There are factors out of his control.”

You just rolled your eyes. “Get off his dick, he’s not gonna give you anything more just because you’re kissing his ass.” Standing up, you left Alder alone, heading towards your room on the train. Maybe you could get at least some more sleep. But as you made your way there, Haymitch appeared in the hall, looking stern.

“You have something you wanna say?” he asked, expecting an apology.

“Not really,” you dismissed, trying to walk past him. But he reached out, grabbing your bicep in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so drunk all the time.

“What is your problem?”

“You’re the one with the fucking problem!” you practically yelled. “Why’d you have to scare someone who actually wants to fight? Why are you so insistent on wasting your time with me?”

Haymitch once again opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. He finally clenched his jaw before shaking his head, changing the topic. “You need sponsors if ‘the starving girl from 12’ is gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “I’m not playing their fucking game. I’m not going to win.”

Now Haymitch rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Don’t you get it? By winning you defy them. They are trying their hardest to kill you. Win,” he was now practically pleading. “If you’re so eager to kill yourself now, why didn’t you just give up a long time ago? I’ve seen you around 12, I know you’re resilient and if you really wanted to die, you would’ve frozen or starved to death by now.”

You were so taken aback by his words all you could do was tug yourself away from his grasp but he held firm. “Let go of me,” you demanded.

“Promise me you’ll try to get sponsors and actually try to win.”

You stared at him, finding sincerity in his eyes. “Fine,” you agreed.

He nodded, satisfied, before letting you go.

~

The first thing the Capitol did to you was wax and scrub your entire body. This was probably the cleanest you had ever been but the lingering sting all over your body was not worth it. You had overheard a few stylists whispering about being short on time. Apparently your train had arrived late. So you only got a few brief minutes to revel in being clean because soon you were dressed in a black, tarp skirt that barely covered you, and a sheer bandeau top before being powdered with black dust, clearly meant to be coal dust.

You coughed repeatedly as they dumped a bucket of it over your head. They had told you repeatedly to stop moving but you couldn’t help it.

“Ah, isn’t this the most beautiful outfit you’ve ever worn in your life?” a cheery voice came from the doorway. “It’s a fashionable take on the drab coveralls you people in 12 wear.” You opened your eyes, hoping more dust wouldn’t fall into them. You finally caught a glimpse of who you presumed your stylist was. She had a big mess of green curls and everything else about her was as outrageous as her hair. “I’m Vodka, I’ll be your personal stylist while you’re here,” she smiled brightly.

You tried to force a smile but another powder of dust over your face stopped you. “Hold still,” the woman reprimanded you.

When they finally deemed you “covered” enough you were sent out to the chariots. You walked in hesitantly, not finding Alder there yet. Heading over to the very last chariot you could feel the gazes on you but you just kept walking, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You weren’t the only one subject to the leering gaze of teenage boys, the girl from 4 was only wearing a net.

Soon enough Alder joined you and you were off, being pulled down the chariot line. Alder and all the other tributes were smiling and waving but you just stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge anyone even when Alder tried to make you smile and wave.

Once you were finally back inside, out of public view, you spotted Haymitch. He clapped for you and Alder as he approached. You noticed the way he kept his gaze firmly locked on your face. When he did look away from your face it was firmly above your chest line. “Al, good job. See that Y/N? He’s gonna get sponsors while you starve out in the arena because he’s likeable.”

“I’m not a huge fan of smiling at the people ogling at me but I’ll keep that in mind,” you answered sarcastically. You headed for the elevator, arms covering yourself, avoiding the gazes of the smirking boys as you passed. Upon reaching the elevator, the District 10 tributes and mentors joined you along with Haymitch and Alder finally catching up. Once the metal doors opened, you stepped inside, trying to ignore all of their presences. You held yourself tighter noticing the gazes of the District 10 people. Haymitch must have noticed it too because he stepped away from the wall of the elevator, placing a gentle hand on your hip to push you back so he could step in front of you. You just stared at Haymitch quizzically, touched by his simple reaction, even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

Eventually, District 10 got off the elevator and you were able to leave the tense elevator too. Alder immediately headed to his room, you following behind. But while he continued on, you stopped before disappearing into the hallway. Turning, you found Haymitch already at the bar cart. “Uh thanks,” you said weakly. “For um…”

He just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” He then turned his attention to his glass, “Didn’t like the way they were looking at you anyways,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, unable to make out his words from across the room.

“Nothing,” Haymitch brushed off again. “It was nothing. Get some sleep. You start training tomorrow.” Unconvinced but knowing you wouldn’t get what you were asking for you just nodded, turning to head to bed.

~

The next morning you stood lined up with all the other tributes. You noticed everyone was sending each other glares and eager smiles. Well… the careers were. That was sort of the nice thing about being a career. They have built in friends for the days they spend in existential dread and isolation in the Capitol. Until they all turn their backs on one another and go on a murder spree, slaughtering their fellow children.

You noticed they spared the occasional glance at Alder along with some of the other tributes. Whether they were determining their fellow allies or their first victims, you weren’t sure but you were just glad they weren’t looking at you now that you had all your clothes on.

“In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead,” the head instructor announced, catching everyone’s attention. “One of you will be alive. Who that is will depend on how well you pay attention for the next four days. Particularly to what I’m about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes. You’ll have plenty of time for that in the arena. My advice is, don’t ignore the survival skills. Everyone wants to grab a sword but most of you will die from natural causes. About three of you will die from infection, and about five from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife. You’ll begin with combat training, then survival. After today, you’ll be free to practice whatever skills for the remaining three days before your individual evaluations.”

Being the girl from 12, you were the last to practice everything. You learned quickly that while the careers may laugh at those who failed whatever the exercise was, they dismissed them. You could faintly hear their mumbles as a non-career tribute excelled in any particular skill. Deciding to take a little public humiliation over a target on your back, you purposely failed at every skill. You barely struggled your way up a net, let your arms shake as you picked up the axes, failed miserably at starting a fire, and repeatedly chose poisonous plants to eat.

You weren’t alone in your struggles. The question was, is everyone else faking too?

~

After your first day of training, you went back up to the District 12 floor, straight to your room. You were exhausted as you stepped into the shower, reveling in the luxury of warm water.

After probably far too long you finally got out, wrapping a towel around yourself. Heading out to the main room you didn’t spot your mentor until you were fully out of the bathroom. “Holy shit,” you exclaimed in surprise, seeing him seated on your bed. You immediately pulled the towel tighter around yourself, not missing the way his gaze lingered on your legs for a second.

“Uh, sorry,” he quickly tried to disguise where his attention was. “I- uh… just…” he looked to be seriously trying to figure out what he had initially been here to say before breaking out into a chuckle. “Sorry, I completely forgot what I was gonna say.” He then snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “I know what I was gonna say. You fucking suck. I was watching you. You somehow managed to fail every possible skill. You’ve survived god knows how long without your parents. I find it hard to believe you don’t have any survival skills. Your score is impacted by this training time too. Sponsors don’t send money to tributes who don’t score well.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For whatever reason I can survive in the Seam but it’s not exactly the same as the fucking wilderness where I’m actively being hunted. Besides, before I came here I don’t think I had ever had a full meal so I can’t exactly help that everyone else is stronger than me.”

Haymitch sighed, standing up. “Look, I get it, a lifetime of malnourishment can’t be fixed by a few days in the Capitol so that’s why you learn how to survive. I’m begging you, figure out your survival skills so the cold or dehydration or even hunger don’t kill you.”

“Why do you care so much?” you asked again. “You don’t treat Alder like this. As far as I know, you haven’t given a damn about any of your tributes.”

Haymitch just sighed, shaking his head. “Get some sleep,” he dismissed, stepping towards the door.

Sick of not knowing what was going on and being treated like a doll, you blocked his path. “No, you’re gonna tell me what’s going on. You’ve been weird like this ever since we met.”

“You don’t know me, you don’t know what’s weird for me. Maybe I'm just looking out for the kid who was raised in the Seam just like me,” Haymitch bullshitted a response. He was desperately hoping she’d accept that because he wasn’t about to tell her he’d been keeping an eye on her the past few months.

He could see it in your eyes, you didn’t fully believe his lies but you let him go anyway. Stepping aside, still in only a towel, water dripping from your hair down your neck and chest, you let him pass, feeling his arm brush against your shoulder.

~

“What do I say to him?” you asked Haymitch frantically as the stylist did your hair.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he tried to assure you. “He'll just ask you a couple questions so the audience gets to know you.”

Over the past few days, you and Haymitch became closer. He wasn’t nearly as perpetually drunk as he was when you first met him. He was actually helping you rather than just yelling at you to be better. And because of that, you were more open to talking to him instead of just giving him sarcastic remarks.

“Up,” the stylist told you. You complied, not questioning it until he began undoing your robe.

“Woah,” Haymitch reacted to it even before you did, gaze averted up to the ceiling.

“Hey-” you protested, holding the robe to your body.

“Vodka wants you dressed,” he explained.

“I know but you’re just doing it in front of him?”

The man gave you a look that said ‘seriously?’ “Your tits were just broadcast on national television a few days ago,” he dismissed, taking off your robe. “Besides, this outfit isn’t much more conservative,” he smiled. Completely unsure what to say you just allowed him to help you into it.

Upon getting the outfit on you knew it was absurdly impractical. It was a black dress, the skirt was long but any modesty was thwarted by a part on your left leg, exposed by the fact that the skirt was only actually on one side, the rest of the fabric was cut short at the hip. This left the bodysuit connected to the corset top exposed. As for the top, the only thing not sheer about it was the boning which did actually provide you a little modesty.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” the stylist asked Haymitch with a smile. He finally looked away from the mirror, jaw genuinely slacked upon seeing the dress. You were gorgeous, anyone would say the same. But he cringed as you were clearly uncomfortable being on display so much.

“You look great,” Haymitch smiled awkwardly. He noticed a slight blush coat your cheeks despite the caked on makeup covering your skin.

Then the door opened and the human equivalent of a tropical bird entered. Vodka literally squealed upon seeing you. “Ah, isn’t the dress just stunning? All the men in the audience are just gonna eat you up,” she gushed. “Come, come,” she ushered, “you have to start lining up for your interview.” You looked back at Haymitch, silently pleading for help as you were practically dragged away.

~

Taking his spot with the other mentors, Haymitch turned his attention to the screen as his tribute walked up on stage. He admired the grace you walked with despite the impossibly tall shoes. Caesar also noticed your outfit as he stood, reaching out a polite hand to you. “My, my, my, Y/N, don’t you look like Capitol royalty,” he complimented. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?” he turned to the audience. They erupted into cheers, a shocking amount of engagement for a District 12 tribute.

The pair sat down and the interview truly began. “It’s hard to believe such a pretty face comes from the coal mining district. Tell me, have you ever been inside or worked in the mines?” Caesar asked.

You nodded, looking down at your lap, fiddling with your hands. “I did work there. I was younger than most but I needed a way to provide for myself.”

“How come?”

You looked like this was the last thing you wanted to talk about but answered anyway. “My mom died giving birth. Mine explosion killed my dad a few years later.”

The crowd made noises of sympathy. At least that was something. But Haymitch already knew your story.

He had been buying booze at the Hobb when he noticed you.

“Come on, I come here every damn week and the first time I’m a few cents short you won’t give me a break?” you had asked the Hobb baker. “You gotta help me out,” you pleaded, “I’ve got nothing else this week. With the northeastern mine collapse no one’s getting paid until they figure it out.”

‘This girl is already working in the mines?’ he has thought to himself. Looking at Lou, who had just sold him alcohol. “Who is she?” he asked, nodding over towards where the girl stood, arguing with the vendor.

Lou took one look at you. “Y/N L/N, she’s been coming since she was about ten after her dad died. Never talked to or sold to her but the others say she’s sweet. Too bad such a young thing is already working. Has been since she was 16.”

Haymitch fished a few coins out of his pocket. “Make up the difference for me, will ya? And don’t mention me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Caesar sympathized. “Well, in contrast to the dreary District 12, how are you finding the Capitol so far?”

“The, uh, food is really good,” you offered with a weak smile.

“That seems to be a popular answer among tributes,” the interviewer smiled. “Any boys back home?” Haymitch didn’t know why he held his breath at that.

“No,” you answered with a gentle shake of your head. “Too busy trying to survive to think about boys.”

“Well I think everyone in the Capitol is in love with you right now,” Caesar laughed, gesturing to the dress again. “And if you win, you’ll have any pick of Capitol men.” You smiled as Caesar took your hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N L/N,” he reintroduced you before you walked off stage.

~

Out of public view, you stumbled off the stage, headed back where all the other tributes and mentors were watching the remaining interviews on the screen. You made your way over to Haymitch, standing next to him as you turned your attention to the screen where Alder was being introduced.

“Nice job not puking,” Haymitch ‘complimented.’

“Thanks,” you smiled briefly. “He got really personal,” you tried to laugh off the dredging up of all your personal trauma.

Haymitch hummed, trying not to let on that he knew your story already. He sensed that you were somewhat private with your life given your lack of interaction with anyone in 12. “He made you look sympathetic. Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”

You hummed in agreement. “Or pointless. I don’t have anyone to go home to. No one to fight for.”

“Hey,” he immediately reprimanded, “remember what I said, win out of spite. They want to kill you.”

“‘S that why you won?” you murmured.

“Sort of,” Haymitch relented. “I had a family to go home to but I was so angry I wanted to win just because everyone says District 12 can’t win. I was also the second name drawn and…”

“And if it weren’t for the quarter quell you wouldn’t have gone in,” you finished for him.

Haymitch nodded. “My family would still be here and I wouldn’t be such a…”

“I’m sorry,” you sympathized, placing a comforting hand on his arm. As you remembered where you were, you drew back your hand, returning your attention to Alder who was being dismissed from the stage.

“Go on ahead to the elevator, Alder and I will be right up,” Haymitch suggested. You nodded, walking over towards the elevator.

You got on it with a few other tributes and mentors, groaning internally as you stopped on nearly every floor. But upon reaching the penthouse you went straight to bed. Not because you were tired but because you were drained by your anxiety about tomorrow.

Requesting sleeping pills you took double the dose before laying down in the first comfortable clothes you could find. But after a few hours of tossing and turning, you gave up. You headed to the kitchen that you were sure had never been used as Avoxes brought your meals up to the penthouse. Probably from a bigger kitchen somewhere in the building.

As you were getting a glass of water you noticed someone’s presence. Looking over, you found Alder glaring at you, giving you a start. “Alder!” you said in surprise. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“What’d he tell you?” he asked.

Completely and utterly confused you just stared at him. “What? Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know Haymitch has been training you without me. I know that technically we should have two mentors but just because I'm not fucking him doesn’t mean I don’t deserve help.”

“Woah!” you cut him off. “I’m not- Haymitch and I aren’t-”

“Don’t play stupid. I see the way he looks at you. God, you don’t even have a family. You have no one worth living for so why is he helping you?” He paused as if waiting for an explanation but you couldn’t exactly give him one. “If you’re going into the arena with more knowledge then I think it’s only fair we level the playing field,” he said menacingly. Seeing as you were backed against the wall and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back without sustaining any injuries yourself, you screamed.

“Shut up!” he screamed, knocking you into the wall.

Hardly a second later, Haymitch’s voice pierced the air. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, ripping Alder away from you. The boy tried to stammer out an explanation but Haymitch was too angry to listen. “I don’t wanna hear it. You have plenty of time to fight in the morning. Go to bed.” Alder looked angry but walked off anyway. Haymitch then turned to you, his expression softening with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself off the ground. “I’ll be taking a lot more than just a shove tomorrow.”

Haymitch looked like he wanted to say more but he just bid you goodnight before heading back to bed, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

Masterlist | Prologue (II)

[eruden-writes]

Where the Dark Stands Still by A.B. Poranek

This is the book that had me sobbing in bed a few nights ago. I found this book in the bin store, caught by the absolutely gorgeous cover art.

I didn't realize it was a young adult novel until I started reading, but I should've known. Young adult novels seem to have the most appealing cover art to me.

Where the Dark Stands Still is heavily inspired by Polish folklore while also having the feel of Howl's Moving Castle and Beauty and the Beast. It's really quite splendid.

The story follows Liska Radost - apparently a 17-year-old, but it was vague throughout the book - who is a girl with magic who happens to live in a Polish village entangled in Christian ideology. Meaning magic is seen as a sin. Liska does her best to hide her powers, but her magic does trigger and cause problems, at times.

In an effort to get rid of her magic, Liska takes to the nearby spirit woods, the Driada, during Kupala night. There, she hopes to find a legendary flower that will grant her a wish. Instead, she finds the Lesky, a powerful "demon" that offers her a bargain.

She is to stay and manage his manor for one year. At the end of that time, he will relieve her of her magic.

Throughout her stay, it's hard to trust the Lesky. He's enigmatic and sometimes refuses to answer Liska's questions, mostly pertaining to his past. It made Liska and Lesky's relationship a tense one, where the reader gets the vibe that he is using her for something sinister.

Over her stay at the manor, Liska also encounters different spirits and demons. Some of which become beloved friends or aid her in finding answers to her questions. Others of which try to kill her.

The romance with the Lesky definitely builds, which I appreciate. It's almost always fraught with a "what if" sensation, since Liska knows the Lesky could be using her. I don't appreciate that it builds over the course of four months, however. I wish it had been a longer timeline.

Interestingly, the book is written in present tense, which doesn't detract from the enjoyment. It was a unique facet I wanted to mention. The descriptions are very lovely and are not overly drawn out.

What others might care about:

Arrogant and distant male lead. There's reasons why he acts this way, but it's definitely a trope in YA. But he's bi, since we learn about one of his prior lovers, so marginally more palatable.

Big ole age gap. Yep, the Lesky is 700+ years old, although he doesn't look (nor act, in my opinion) much older than Liska. I'm willing to overlook this, since the Lesky is bound to/cursed by an ancient god.

Explicit violence and gore. The whole book is beautifully written and I honestly appreciated the detailed descriptions of violence and wounds. It really fit the vibe of the story.

Animal death. The Lesky's former lover had a dog that died terribly. His spirit is still wandering, depicting the dog in its mangled state.

Vague sex scenes befitting a young adult novel. I won't begrudge a young adult novel for having vague intimacy. However, coupled with the big ole age gap, other readers may not like this.

Overall, this is a solid 5 out of 5 for me. Some parts aren't to my taste, but not enough to detract from the story. Everything works phenomenally well together.

[SPOILER BELOW, DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILED]

In an effort to disengage himself with the old god who wants to take over his body and cause havoc, the Lesky ends up killing himself. Just before he dies, he ends up transferring his powers and guardianship of the Driada to Liska without her consent. This scene was so very heartbreaking and the following scenes, when Liska wakes up and processes what happened, is also heartbreaking.

I was a sobbing mess. I'm a little misty-eyed just typing this up.

While this was extremely well done, I'm also conflicted. The long-lived male lead finally finding love having to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, while leaving their lover reeling in emotional agony, losing something so special that they fought so hard for? I feel like this is an oddly specific trope that's prevalent in stories like this.

Thankfully, because the Driada is a spirit wood, there's a dangling ending that may be sweeter for Liska and the Leszy.

[echantedtoon]

Demon Bride Ch57 Demon's Are Strange P3

(WARNINGS!!: Douma IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos. Mentioning of him being poisoned. Mentions of Douma's backstory and what he went through as a result. Mentioning of murder and self-murder of Douma's parents. Douma gets a really bad fever and nearly gets worse from it.

To answer a few questions about the Tokito twins relationship with Kokushibo, in this particular au/timeline, most of the Twins backstory IS cannon but a few details are moved around. Their mother still passed away from her illness but instead of getting sick when they were 10, she got sick and passed away by the time the twins were both 5 yrs old. Their father still cannonically died as he did in cannon, by attempting to get his wife the herbs she needed.

In this timeline, Kokushibo kept track of his and Yorichii's family tree. However as Yorichii's child died unmarried and without any children, he mainly kept tabs on his own bloodline which ended (for now) with both twins. Kokushibo found out through a few humans about the death of the twins' parents but as they weren't in Muzan's Territories he needed special permission to interact with them.  By the age of 6 both twins were essentially adopted by Great Something Grandpa Kokushibo as he saw potential in them, and by age seven he started training them in the ways of sword fighting as he had done with Kaigaku before them in between his other duties to Muzan. When both Twins were 9 Kokushibo thought it was best for him to retrieve the twins and bring them both back to live with him instead of going back and forth constantly.

That's when he met Y/n on his way to retrieve the twins, two years before the events of chapter one. Kokushibo only just recently brought them to live in the Dwell to be looked after along with the other Kizuki's family. Kokushibo absolutely remembers his past interactions with Y/n and part of his intentions of bringing the twins is to have them imprint of Y/n and vise versa for the sole purpose of giving the twins some sense of a family unit.)

"I'm so happy that you agreed to spend time with me again! "

"As long as you don't start calling me your wife again. How are you feeling? It's been a few days since you were..."

"Poisoned? It's alright. You can say it. Won't change anything. But it's nice you asked! My body is already feeling better! My coughing fits have already stopped sometime last night."

You sat across from Douma and nodded at him. You had visited him again and brought him a few new books to replace the few you'd given him to read. Apparently he was a very fast reader when left alone with nothing to do and you weren't there to be his entertainment. Surprisingly he chattered a lot though. 

"That's good." You nodded at him. "Have you been eating and drinking enough water? Getting enough sleep?"

He nodded to everything you said. "Yes! I've eaten everything you've given me. You're a very good friend!"

This is how 'courting' with Douma has been. Not only were you playing sitter with him whenever the boys weren't around  but Akaza would often be heard either just outside the doorway or hovering down the hallway which often lead to Douma calling out to him which would then lead into an argument until you put your foot down and FIRMLY told Akaza he couldn't be bothering you or him while you helped or was court by Douma. Akaza seemed hurt but you would make it up by promising he could court you right after you were finished with Douma. Which was usually just you both lazing about in between you helping Douma or after he brought the children home. Which usually included small gifts of flowers or kind gestures of hugs or holding your hands....After he asked permission to hold said hands. It was complicated going back and forth between two constantly courting demons,  taking care of Douma, now THREE children, and keeping Akaza and Douma from fighting.

The children were  a whole different deal all together. There was obviously the fact that Muichiro seemed to be thrilled at the idea of you being a potential mother, Yuichiro didn't say much honestly and seemed more annoyed by everything than anything else, and Rui was going back and forth between excitement that Akaza was finally spending so much time with him and the prospect of having the two twins as brothers. Sharing his toys and constantly trying to get Yuichiro to take what toys he shoved into his stubborn hands to play with. Which led to a few small fights either you or Akaza had to stop. Children. Sigh. You even stumbled into the twins huddled around Rui who...had your courting gifts??

"What are you boys doing with those?" All three looked at you. "Those were given to me by my courters. You can't just take them without permission.''

"Oh it's ok, Mother," Rui said waving a hand at you. "We're helping you choose which ones will be our dads!"

You blanked staring at the three. ".... Excuse me?"

Rui pointed at the three groups of objects on the ground, the objects that your 'fiances' had gifted you to start courting you. "This is the pile of dads we want." Rui pointed at a small group of Akaza's anklet, Kokushibo's white sash belt, and Gyutaro's cloth. "Scary Dad can get us lots of stuff by just yelling. AND HE COMES WITH AUNT DAKI THAT SPOILS US! And of course Father and Father 2 are here. Father is the best Father and Father two is powerful and gives me brothers."

"What about Mr. Douma?," Muichiro said curiously holding up a Golden fan. "He always seems really nice."

"Are you mad?" Yuichiro frowned at him and harshly yanked the fan from his twins' hand. "He's a no good womanizer! And he gives me a bad feeling every time I see him! He's going in the definite no pile!" He then threw the fan in a second pile that had an empty bottle of medicine Enmu left you, Karaku's fan, and Urogi's feather. "I'll never have him as a father!"

You just stared as the three discussed father's before pointing out a third pile in the middle made up of two objects. Sekido's golden hoop and Aizetsu's blue rope. "And...that pile?"

"That's the 'maybe' pile!," Rui explained as he pointed at them. "They're both annoying and I still hate them for attacking me...But one gave me a puppy and blue eyed one is tolerable. If you marry one of them then we would also get a grandfather and uncle. We just haven't decided yet." You then watched as Rui picked up two items. Kyogai's drum and Kaigaku's necklace. He placed them in the 'definitely' pile. "The drum man is a good father too, and Kaigaku has proven to be a good provider and protector. So I'll allow them to also join as my fathers."

"You mean Kaigaku?" Yuichiro scoffed again and crossed his arms. "His egos almost as big as his fat head! His attitude is spoiled and stubborn too!!....But Kyogai is fine. He always likes to tell stories."

"I like Mr. Kyogai too! Don't think of Kaigaku like that. He can just teach us how to be samurai when Sensai Kokushibo isn't around!"

"....Boys. Just...Put those back on the shelf. Now."

But enough about that. Now in the present you were just sitting there with Douma and just watching as he babbled senselessly and hold up a book. 

"Oh how sweet art thine eyes compared iddly to the morning summer morning dew drops as they traverse across the softest of green grasses only to drip and kiss the earth with thy gently drizzle droplets.~" he sighed and pressed a hand onto his chest. "Such poetry is made to be shared with the most beautiful of company.~" He then gave you a wolfish grin eyes half lidded and winked. 

You rolled your eyes. "Psh. What a cheap flirt. It'll take more than that to get me to fall for you. Although I'm glad we're talking normally. It's a nice change of pace."

"Oh? Well then I'll be sure to keep that in mind when we meet again for lunch tomorrow."

"Can't." He hummed and tilted his head. "I'm spending time with Akaza tomorrow. We're taking the boys and Zohakuten to spend a day outside. It'll be good for them to get outside and get some fresh air."

"Oh...Fresh air will be good for me too! Nakime can just teleport me outside and back in!"

"No. That wouldn't be fair to Akaza. He needs some of his own space to court me away from you. Don't worry about it. I already arranged something with Kokushibo so you're taken cared of while I'm gone." With one hand you reached out to pat his cheek... before pausing gazing at his face...before pressing your palm fully against his cheek.

"Oh darling.~" He cooed before reaching a hand up and grabbing your hand. "You do not have to pretend to be so formal-"

"I'm not being affectionate." You pulled your hand away before plopping it back onto his forehead and furrowing your brows. "You're warm...Are you running a fever?"

"Oh I'm fiiiiinne. It's sweet you care though." 

You frowned looking at him.. before sighing and removing your hand away from him. "Well I thought we agreed to not lie to each other again. You have bags under your eyes,so you might be telling the truth about eating and sleeping enough but you haven't been sleeping well. Have you been staying up reading these books?"

"Reading yes! Books? No." He held up a hand. "I've been doing my duties from here and answering my fateful worshippers letters!"

You blinked looking at him. "What?" 

"Of course! I've sent word to my compound to send me any worries to me by letter. I will guide them to paradise by writing and in spirit if I cannot in person."

You just stared at him. ".... Exactly how many letter do you get?!"

He hummed in thought. "...I cannot remember the exact amount. They're usually delivered very late in the day when you leave because it takes so long for them to get here. I make sure to answer them swiftly to deliver the best results."

You slowly nodded. "Yes...I can understand that. Tell me more about that poetry you were reading."

You made it a point that night to speak to Akaza and convince him to stop anymore mail from being handed over to Douma and be held from him until he recovered. You would deal with Douma's whiny aftermath when you get back from spending time with Akaza and the children. Finally have a peaceful, normal day-

"I don't see how you were able to think of such a disgraceful idea!" 

You gave Zohakuten a deadpanned look as Akaza just packed up a giant basket of food to take along. It was his idea to turn the entire trip into a picnic for the children, but he turned around and gave the moody teenager a frown as he kept complaining.

"I got your father's permission to have a picnic there. As long as we don't destroy any of the cherry blossoms and clean up after ourselves there's no problem. And you all need a chance to get some real sunlight and a break from studying and training. You children need a time to play as children. I've already told Kokushibo I'm taking all of you whether he likes it or not."

Zohakuten looked at you wide eyed. "...You are really pushing your luck with him. I'm surprised that he hasn't loped your head off for disobedience yet. And that grove is a sacred place to my family!"

"Well tough. And if Kokushibo wants me to take care of them then I'll do it the same way I care for Rui. If he has a problem with it then he should speak up."

Zohakuten only still stared in disbelief as Akaza chuckled and picked up the basket. "Well I for one agree. If he has any complaints then he'll make it known to her later, and the reason we're going to that place in particular is because we know it's safe. Right now SAFETY is the number one priority not technicalities." Akaza then pointed at him. "If I were you, I'd be a little more grateful to her considering she stuck her neck out to give you another chance to be a Kizuki. So start shaping up that attitude like Kokushibo said or else you'll lose it again." Zohakuten looked at him for a moment before looking away quickly. "An apology would be a good start, Young man."

"Apologies are weak. Vulnerability leads to weakness and weakness leads to your power being taken from you."

"There's strength in feelings. Whether they be rage or something more gentle. I've learnt that thanks to a very special person. Now apologize before I force it out of you."

Zohakuten snapped to Akaza..and quickly remembered his place when Upper Moon Three turned the same look he's given Sekido and Karaku he attacked them at him...and he quickly turned his head back to you. "Apologies. I'll....control my tongue better around my company.'' He said through gritted fangs and looking like he'd love to punch Akaza in the face. 

"It's alright. Just try to do better from now on. Are you doing better in your studies?"

"I have to. Father is making me study whenever I'm not elsewhere."

"Well that's all Kokushibo wants. He wants you to improve yourself and do better. That's why he gave your brothers a second chance." You patted him on the shoulder with a smile that made him blink at you. "Study hard, work on yourself a little more, and you'll be alright. Just remember to take a break for yourself too every while."

He continued to stare until he turned his head away with a huff. "Fine. I suppose I should honor your brave act but don't think I'll be soft."

"I don't expect you to."

"Now that's all settled, let's go get going. That sun isn't going to stay out all day and I'd rather go and get back before sundown."

Akaza outstretched his arm to you before picking up said basket and of course you obliged. What a gentleman. You accepted his arm much to his happiness and soon three little children toddled up instantly to you both and the grumpy teenager. Akaza had already arranged things with Nakime so you were already expecting it when a blue tipped hand reached out, grabbed the door, and pulled it open. Three little pairs of eyes widened as the sunlight filtered in and a gentle breeze blew a flurry of pink petals over their body. The sight of cherry blossoms and a beautiful small creek filled their eyes before they looked at one another....

"Last one to the stream has to eat their vegetables!!" Rui was first to run out making the twins blink.

"HEY!!" "That's not fair! We weren't ready!"

Both twins raced after Rui and Zohakuten grumbled stomping out after them. "YOU BETTER NOT HARM ANYTHING HERE YOU HEAR ME?!" 

Akaza sighed and you patted his arm as if to say 'welcome to parenthood' and together you both crossed the threshold. Breathing in fresh air and the sweet aromas of the flowers, and feeling real sunlight on your skin. This would be a long overdue experience for everyone here. 

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

"What's going on here?!"

It had been a whole day since you last saw Douma. One whole day and night. Twenty four hours. And yet when you woke up it was to Rui complaining about so many people coming inside the Dwell and the background noise of people talking. You just opened the door and found a MASSIVE line of demons standing there starting from Douma's room and disappearing around the corner, and these people weren't servants. You also found Akaza standing there also looking very puzzled at the sight and had looked at you when you spoke up.

"I have no idea. I've never seen these people before."

You looked at him before at the many pairs of eyes staring at you. "Alright. Then I'll go to the source." You frowned before pushing past Akaza and the people closest to the door and grabbed the door leading inside Douma's room. Throwing it open and looking inside. ".....What the HELL are you doing?!"

You had walked in on Douma sitting there in the same comfy set up, only there was a demon couple there sitting on their knees in front of him but all of them had looked up when you just threw the door open. 

"Oh hello, Darling!" Douma smiled and waved at you. "You just walked in on my daily visits. This young couple was just telling me about their wishes for a son! I suppose after seven daughters you'd want one of those.''

You... slowly blinked. "That still doesn't explain what the hell you're doing!!"

"Oh. Daily sermons from myself to the gods! I told you people come to me constantly seeking my guidance. For some reason my letters stopped so I agreed to in person visits. It does get rather lonely by myself."

".....ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU'RE HAVING CULT VISITS AT FOUR IM THE MORNKNG!? I JUST...UGH!!!" You threw up your arms before you pointed at the two demons. "You two! Out! Now!" You then pointed at the door.

"What?! But what about our son-"

"O U T!!," a loud snarl escaped your mouth with a snap of fangs that Akaza would've been proud of.  eventually the  two left with you stomping your feet close behind them as the woman pulled her husband out by the arm. "OOOOOUUUUUTTT!!! OUT OUT OUT!! GET OUT!! AND STAY OUT!!" You poked your head out the doorway and glared at everyone muttering and staring at you. "FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS THERE'S NOT GOING TO BE ANYMORE VISITS!! AKAZA GET ALL THESE PEOPLE OUT OF HERE!! AND THAT'S FINAL!!"

SLAM!! 

There was a murdering uproar from the annoyed group outside but you just slammed the door in their faces and stayed there for a moment hearing Akaza yell out above the crowd and telling them all to get going. You have a long sigh just standing there and mumbling curses.

"That wasn't very nice. I still had to help them you know."

"Are you kidding me?" You turned tired eyes on Douma as he sat there. "It's four a.m. in the morning, people are sleeping, and you decided to have a side business inviting people in here!" You fully turned to him as the sounds of the crowd started to shift down the hall muffled by the walls. "What were you thinking?!"

"Oh. Well I wanted to continue my duties-"

"NOT WHEN YOU'RE SICK!!" You threw your arms at him looking him over. "Look at you! You look worse than you did when I last sat you! You're not getting sleep, you're pale with eye bags the size of apples, and you keep making stupid decisions like this! Are you trying to make my life difficult at this point?!"

"Oh no. I'm trying to help IMPROVE everyone's lives in fact! If you want I can also improve yours!"

You ended up dragging your hands down your face ... before just stomping towards him. Douma blinked as two hands firmly grabbed his shoulders. "YOU!!" You harshly shoved him back down in the pile of comfy pillows. "Go to bed! NOW!! I'm going back to sleep, and in the morning I'm having a healer come look at you." A hand poked his chest as he rose his brows in amusement. "And absolutely, positively NO more working! No more visitors! No more mail! No nothing! You need rest! And sleep!  Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?!"

"Clearly!" He nodded happily. "But I do have one question?"

"What?"

"Do I get a good night kiss?~"

"Ugh!" You pulled away from him and sat down on the floor rubbing your temples. "Why do you always do that?"

"I've done it since I was a young child." You looked at Douma deadpanned. He's always been this annoying as a child? Doubtful. But then again this WAS Douma you were talking about. "I've heard people's problems and troubling thoughts, and helped them out as best as I could."

You rolled your eyes at first...but the longer what he said lingered the more it really sunk in what he just actually said to you. Making you slowly look back at him. "Wait...What did you just say?"

"I've always helped people in need since I was a young boy. You see I've always had such a talent for it. My parents noticed it the moment I was born with such divine features. I was born to be a leader." He pressed a hand to his chest and smiled widely at you. "Oh yes. Many a human and demon alike gathered around to ask for the gods blessings through me, even if I don't personally believe such things I make it my duty to guide others."

You stared at him for a long, long moment. "...And..your parents don't see a problem with you just doing that? What do they say when you disregard your health like this just to tend to other people's useless desires?! That man wanted a son out of you, but you couldn't possibly make his wife bare a son!"

"I have no idea what they were saying now." He shrugged. "Unfortunately my father wasn't a very  moral man, quite the many affairs he had. Perhaps that's what drove my mother to take both of their lives." You continued to stare numbly as he hummed again at the memory. "The mess they left behind was so terrible. It took my poor servants hours to clean everything up and air out the room. I cried for them as I should've."

"You.... didn't..." You continued to stare at him. His expression even as he looked at you and smiled did not change. Not when he spoke of death. Not when he spoke of hope. Emptiness glossed over my clever masks and pretty faces.

"I didn't what, Dear?"

You didn't feel.

You didn't answer. Standing up abruptly to leave as a new spike of fear came over you. Reminded of that fact as those empty orbs followed you with a tilt of his head. Douma was a dangerous man. You should keep that in mind going forward. But at the same time...He never really put you in any outright danger. Just the opposite. He went out of his way to try and get you out of harm's way by messing with your letter to Sakura and personally visiting her, even almost killing her at one point. You saw the clear shifts in his body language when speaking to her. 

But was he doing that for you or for Daki whom it seemed he almost had some kind of fatherly or brotherly bond with?

You noticed that whenever you got him to speak of either siblings he would actually spark a tiny bit of interest in his eyes but it wasn't happiness. It was more of a fondness like how someone would have a fondness for a book or a song. But that was it. There wasn't really much else despite how much of how we'll be pretended on the outside.

"Nothing. I just don't have enough sleep. Go to sleep now. No more visitors and no more mail until you get better. I'm going back to bed."

He blinked as you silently left but smiled and waved anyways. "Alright then. Good night, Darling."

You did sleep well for the rest of that night. And as a result you were grumpy all day yesterday as you sent for a healer to come to check over Douma. By now it had been two weeks since he last gotten poisoned and he was a bit better. The purple veins on his body had already shrunk in size and he was able to feel again in his legs and even move them, but the other symptoms like the lightheadedness and feeling weak were still very much present. You couldn't get a healer to come see Douma until three days after you sent for one. I'm the meantime you made sure he ate and drank enough but he was still having trouble sleeping. You couldn't understand why other than he said he felt hot, but every time you felt his forehead he didn't feel very warm. You needed that healer and finally you got one. It wasn't Enmu, but an older man decked out in gloves and a mask. Thank the gods. Douma made no objections to the doctor's examination and the results should've relieved you.

"He has a normal temperature and other than his lack of sleep, you have nothing to worry about. I would recommend he tries to sleep in a different position and keep up his regular eating habits until the wysteria fully leaves his system."

Like said, that should've relieved you but it didn't. Douma seemed to be getting worse and worse by the day despite his body getting better and better. He stopped waking you up by yelling out. He seemed more groggy and his mind seemed to have a hard time focusing. You tried talking to Akaza about it whenever you two had some time together but of course the link haired demon shrugged it off.

"Douma acts up when he wants attention. If the healer says he's fine then he's fine. He's probably just bored out of his empty head and faking it to make everyone fawn over him as usual. Don't worry about him. Let's focus on having a peaceful time between us for once."

You wanted to believe both of them but...then there was a too big of a bad feeling in the back of your mind. And your worries were confirmed when you opened the door one day to Douma's room. The tray of food fell from your hands. Food and water spilt all over the floor at your feet. Douma peered up weakly at you from his Shaking sitting up position holding his wheezing chest as he forced a smile.

"L-Little Lotus.."

"SOMEONE GET A HEALER!! SOMEONE GET A HEALER RIGHT NOW!!"

It was almost a blur as you found yourself clinging to Douma as he struggled to breath which what it certainly sounded like. He had a coughing fit so massive it wracked his body and shook him to the core. You hadn't seen a cough this bad since Rui had that fever on the train. Eventually Douma was able to stabilize himself and you managed to push him back into the pillows as he heaved but seemed to breath easier now.

"Easy! EASY!" You grabbed his cheeks as he continued to breath out of sinc and patted his cheeks making his eyes open at you. "Breath slowly. Steady your breath. In through your nose, and out of your mouth. Like this. Do what I do. Ok " You weren't sure why he chose too, but you were glad when he actually listened to you and copied your movements. "There you go. Relax. You're doing good." You gave him an approving pat to his cheek as he huffed a chuckle.

Where was that stupid healer?! Not surprisingly the same healer as the one from before was the one who came back and reexamined Douma... before just getting up and leaving without another word. It stunned you enough to follow him out and catch the man just as he was exiting the Dwell. 

"Hey, hey, hey!!" You ran out the door and grabbed him by the arm, forcibly turning him to face you. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why didn't you say anything?!"

He sighed annoyed. "Because clearly there's nothing to say. He's clearly fine."

"Fine?! Uh...No he's not! He's not sleeping well and he just had a massive coughing fit. It's getting hard for him to function!"

"Your paranoia is getting to him obviously."

"Excuse me?!"

He sighed as you glared in anger and reached a hand up to rub his head. "Lady Y/n. There's absolutely nothing wrong with him other than his lack of sleep. I can recommend a sedative for him to take before bed but otherwise he's fine. He's diets perfect. His body is getting better. And he's not running any fevers. He's the same temperature as you or me or any other average man his age. There's literally nothing else wrong with him but a case of common insomnia."

Your body froze, eyes widening, and slowly you looked back to him. "...Say that again."

"Hm? I said that it's a good idea to get him some fresh air-"

"NO!! What you said before that!" The healer flinched as you grabbed him by the shoulders and snarled giving him a shake. "What did you say!?"

"I-I said he wasn't running a fever!," he quickly sputtered out holding up his hands, "He's as warm as the next healthy man!!"

You paused breathing heavily and looked off at nothing in thought.. before a moment of horror passed over. ".....Yes he is."

The healer blinked. 'W-What?" Your voice was so small barely over a whisper that he didn't hear you.

"That's it." The horror sunk in as you looked up slowly. "He is running a fever...A very, very high fever."

"Wha- Madam Y/n." His arms reached over to pat yours. "I assure you as a doctor that he is in fact is not running a fever. His temperature isn't even high."

"Yes. It is. For him it is." Your face pale and panicked looked at the doctor. "Douma's going to die."

The healer yelped as hands threw him to the side and a form quickly ran across the docks back towards the Dwell. Footsteps hard and quick flew across the wood and carried the worried form away. Heart pounding away in your chest and panic spiking down your back as a terrible realization of reality hit you harder than if Akaza punched you.

Douma WAS running a fever!!

Every other time you touched his skin, he was always as cold as death. But now he was as warm as an average man. He was running a fever all along and no one even suspected it! How could you be so stupid to not notice!? Douma was sick and nothing was done about it!! He could die if nothing was done. It could already be too late!! Servants left and right all scrambled out of your way as you went running down the hallways at an insane speed. Heart pounding, body pumping in adrenaline and body twisting in ways that you couldn't have done back when you were human. Hallway. Hallway. Room after room. One door in particular being targeted out and one door found.

SLAM!!

"Douma?" You found him there half leaning to the side and lightly sweating. Sweat dropped off his head and down his face as he forced a smile your way. "DOUMA?!" You feet moved before your brain could react. Running up to him and grabbing his face. "it's ok! You- you're gonna be ok!'

Your brain panicked as you looked around. Cold. Cold. Douma had to get colder fast! There wasn't any snow or anything that you could use to get his temperature down. There had to be something!! Purple eyes landed on the open entrance to Douma's bathroom and the giant tub, and the solution was clear. 

"C'mon! We need to get you to the tub!" Without thinking about anything else, you threw one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapped your arms around his torso pulling him up into a sitting position. Gods he was heavy and this was barely half his body.

He breathlessly Chuckled. "N-Now you want to b-bathe with me?"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD OR ILL KILL YOU MYSELF!!" You continued to pull up on him and in the direction of the tub. "C'mon Douma! Move please!"

A shaking hand did move, reaching down to pull away the thick layered blankets to expose his lower half, legs, and tail. Before he hummed. "I'm ..... not very certain if I can be able to walk. My body is still very weak."

"Then we'll make do by crawling and dragging you over there." It felt like trying to move a giant boulder. "Douma please! Do it for Daki and Gyutaro!"

Douma moved. You almost tripped over as he did. Raising shakily up to his knees and the arm around your shoulders clutched onto you. "Very well! I know they would be devastated if I were to die. We can try walking me on my knees."

You blinked at his dumb smile...but ignored it in favor of tugging him along. Whatever made him move. The tub was only a few feet away and while this was annoying it would work. Slowly but surely you half dragged half walked half crawled Douma's shaking from all the way painfully slowly into the connecting bathroom and eased him to the edge of the tub before briefly setting him down to start the cold water. Pulling the lever for cold and stopping up the drainage pipe quickly before turning and yelping as Douma dangerously leaned to the right and went crashing down into the quickly filling tub of water with a giant splash sending water spraying everywhere.

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!!" 

it was a huge tub as big as the one you hid from him in. He could drown. So without thinking you dove right in the water rippling. A moment later you both emerged you now completely soaked again and your hair clinging to you as you dragged Douma up by his shirt towards a small flight of stairs leading up out of the pool and dragging him up enough to sit down on some of the emerged steps and pull Douma's head to lay on your legs. The idiot had the gull to smile at you from his new position as he laid on your lap.

"Well...N-Now what exactly I had in mind for us two, but I'll take what I can get."

You shivered from the cold water already as you scowled at him. "You're lucky I don't want you to die. You idiot."

He cooed eyes half lidded as he smirked at you. Your hand reached into a side pocket on your kimono and pulled out a bottle. "What are those?"

"Rui's fever medicine. I had Enmu give me more when he was here." You shook the bottle of small pills. "They work amazingly and get rid of his fevers so well it's like he's never been sick. I want you to take one." You then opened the bottle.

"Is that right?" ...His eyes shifted and he smirked wider. "Well..If I can have this kind of view then I wouldn't mind being sick MO- ERK!!"

You shut him up by shoving one of the pills into his open mouth. "SHUT UP OR I'LL DROWN YOU MYSELF!!"

[soleminisanction]

An earlier ask reminded me that there’s still one sequence of Batgirl (2009) that I’ve always wanted to break down because my frustration with it is palpable so…why not. This is as good a time as ever. Let’s talk about Issue 24 and extended fantasy sequence that makes up the very end of this series.

See, apparently—and I have not been able to find a first-hand record of the interview that confirms this, so take it with a grain of salt—Brian Q. Miller decided that, since the universe was getting reset in the wake of Flashpoint, his Batgirl was getting canceled and Stephanie was getting retconned out of existence for the New52, he would use a fantasy sequence in the final issue show off all the wonderful ideas he never got to do because of editorial meddling or whatever. Which is… fine. Y’know? I get it, it’s utterly self-indulgent but not an invalid way to deal with your book getting canceled before you can finish all you set out to do.

The thing is though, sequences like this don’t just exist in the vacuum of their Doylist explanation. The entire narrative point of fantasy sequences like this, whether they’re fear gas, or lotus eater machines, or especially the Black Mercy, isn’t just to have a cool spectacle for the audience to look at, it’s to take a part of the character’s inner life and put it on display for everyone to see.

So the question I’m asking here is: what does a Watsonian reading of finale sequence say about Our Heroine, Stephanie Brown?

Quick primer for those of you who may be unfamiliar: the Black Mercy is an Alan Moore creation, originally introduced in the story he wrote with Dave Gibbons for 1985’s Superman Annual #11 – “For the Man Who has Everything.”

If you’re my age, you may be more familiar with this story as a fantastic episode of Justice League Unlimited, which has the notable distinction of being the only Alan Moore adaptation that the old warlock actually likes. The basic story of both is the same: Batman and Wonder Woman (and, in the comic, the Jason Todd Robin) arrive at the Fortress of Solitude for Superman’s birthday, only to find that Mongul has trapped Supes under the influence of the Black Mercy, a magical alien parasite that digs its vines into its victim’s chest while trapping their minds in an illusion of their ideal perfect life.

“For the Man Who has Everything” is regarded as one of the best Superman stories ever written so it’s honestly kind of a surprise that the Black Mercy has only shown up a handful of times since then. But I’m not complaining, because it means the concept hasn’t been diluted much… with this appearance in Batgirl being a notable exception, in weird ways that make me really wonder what was intentional and what wasn’t.

See, this whole thing starts when Steph confronts her father, Arthur Brown, alias the Cluemaster, in his prison cell. And Arthur—a second-rate Riddler knock-off whose only experience outside of Gotham was an extremely brief Suicide Squad adventure to Iceland where everybody died—just, has a Black Mercy, an incredibly rare and dangerous magical alien super plant, sitting in his prison cell. As you do.

Arthur then puts Steph under the Mercy’s influence to cover his escape from the cell, but he doesn’t subject her to the Black Mercy for real, he crushes one of the blossoms and blows it in her face, which his dialogue implies is something he regularly does to himself as a recreational experience.

Which means that, despite the following pages making a big freaking deal about “spores in her system” and Barbara gushing about how special Stephanie is for being able to, quote, “fight the Mercy and win,” it’s all a load of shit. Arthur didn’t need to be rushed to the hospital every time he took this drug, so it would follow the Stephanie doesn’t either.  

That would actually make a lot of sense for Arthur as a character—for all his faults, he’s usually written as caring for his family and not wanting Stephanie permanently hurt (a sentiment she generally doesn't return). Hell, his last appearance before this one was trying to get revenge for her death. If that was intentional, it would mean that in the above panel, Stephanie knows that Barbara’s conclusion about her “fighting the Mercy” is full of shit and just, isn’t telling her.

I have no confidence that it was intentional—given the rest of the series I think it’s far more likely that Miller & Co. just didn’t want the icky flower vines to mess up Steph’s boobies and thus came up with a convoluted alternative that they immediately forgot the rules for—but I wish it was because it would actually be an interesting character turn. Black Mercy stories usually hinge on the emotional climax of the enraptured hero choosing to give up the beautiful illusion of a life they can never have in order to return to the hard world where they have real friends and heroic responsibilities waiting for them. Just ask anyone who still cries over this scene:

Stephanie not getting that moment and only escaping because it’s a temporary drug would imply that she’s still very susceptible to her own desires. It’s a way that she’s fallen short compared to others who’ve been subjected to the full Black Mercy experience. And who knows, maybe she could’ve pulled herself out of it if the illusion had lasted longer… but maybe she wouldn’t have. She can’t know. And that doubt could sit with her.

It doesn't. But it could, in a better story.

And then there’s the illusion itself. Keep in mind as we go through this, this montage, in-universe, represents Stephanie’s idea of her ideally perfect life. Just for comparison, in “For the Man Who has Everything,” Superman’s ideal life has him living on Krypton as a normal man, married with children, happy and content in his normal life. Batman saw his parents’ murder foiled and the life that could have unfolded without that tragedy to define it. Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), in another story, saw a world where his parents never died, his family is happy together, and his mentor Sinestro never turned evil.

Stephanie? Stephanie sees herself as Batgirl, posing dramatically and beating up random street thugs in a metaphorical continuation of her current status quo. Then there’s a sequence where she’s fighting the Queen of Fables alongside the four female heroes, all of whom except for Supergirl literally appeared out of nowhere in the last issue with no explanation because we need to pretend that Stephanie is very popular and well-liked and not a stuck-up loner who rarely leaves Gotham City and almost never talks to anybody but her boyfriend when she does.

But y’know, this scene makes sense right? Steph dreams of being a successful superhero and fantasizes about going on grand superhero adventures with other superheroes, fine. That’s all well and good.

Then comes the Blackest Night page which is just... ugh.

I am so glad DC vetoed this idea because it’s genuinely embarrassing. I get (finally! it several painful re-reads) that what Miller has been trying to do with Stephanie this entire book is pretend that she can be Captain America or Superman: a character who doesn’t so much develop or change as they do lead by example and inspire others to have hope for the future just by being themselves. So of course when he hears that Blue Lanterns are powered by hope he neeeeeeds that for his precious Batgirl—an idea that he apparently carried over to the Smallville Season 11 comics, but we’ll come back to that in a moment.

The problem of course being that Stephanie had never been that kind of character before Brian Miller decided she should be, and he did absolutely nothing to work his way up to earning her that status. So shit like this comes across as, frankly, blatant attempts to turn her into a Mary Sue, especially with how badly he refused to deal with her actual history and established character.

But again, remember: in-universe, this illusion isn’t being imposed on Stephanie, it’s being created by her, by her mind. This is part of her greatest desire. So where other heroes long to be safe and happy, surrounded by their families, Stephanie, apparently, wants nothing less than to be a literal Messiah figure. And I’m not exaggerating there—Blue Lanterns are supposed to be the holiest beings in the universe.

Just… the ego that implies. Yeesh.

After that comes a black-and-white photograph implying a time travel adventure where the three Batgirls (presumably from different eras in their own timelines) go back to 1944 to fly with the (male) Blackhawks. I’m not going to post it because there’s not really anything to say about it and this is already a long post but Stephanie’s stupid utility garter belt is drawn so HUGE it takes up her ENTIRE THIGH almost up to the crotch and it’s super distracting.

Then comes this scene.

Which mostly just drives home how much Steph hates her boring average school life given that she’s fantasizing about being attacked by supervillains at her graduation so her secret identity can be exposed to her entire graduating class. Thing is though, you’d think this should be a nightmare. Her identity has been exposed! She’s being attacked out in the open by supervillains and she doesn’t have her gear or weapons! Her classmates and—explicitly up in the audience—her mother are in danger, because Stephanie is Batgirl!

But because this is a Black Mercy illusion, we know it’s not a nightmare. This is, explicitly, something that Stephanie wants to happen. It’s part of her fantasy life, her greatest desire. And yeah, if we’re being generous, she probably isn’t thinking that people are going to get hurt. In her fantasy, she probably just gets to show off and save the day and be venerated as Gotham University’s Great Hero, like Buffy getting crowned the Sunnyville Class Protector. But even that, the most generous of readings, implies that she has never internalized the lesson that she should have learned back in War Games re: the great power of being a superhero coming with great responsibility. It absolutely flies in the face of anybody’s attempts to insist that no really, she’s only doing this whole superhero thing because she cares about other people SO MUCH.

Following that is page of what’s clearly Neo-Gotham, flashing forward many years into the future, where Steph is wrangling some kid into bed (while wearing her wedding ring on the second knuckle because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see it and that might imply she’s a single mom) with the Batsignal shining out the window.

Which leads us, at last, to the page I have the most to say about, and the one that is my biggest inspiration for make this post:

I. Hate. This page.

I hate it because it gets regularly reposted without context on Tumblr and Reddit so the Steph simps can gush over how much they wish it was real and how Stephanie should get to be every single member of the Batfamily because she’s just so awesome and not one of them ever stops to think about what any of it would or should actually mean in-universe or out.

This page exists because Brian Q. Miller was originally a writer on Smallville. He joined the team around Season 5, served as showrunner for Season 10, and used the connections he made there to get some comic book jobs, including Batgirl and the spin-off comic Smallville Season 11. In “Season 11,” they finally showed the Smallville version of Gotham City and Batman, who is accompanied by only a single sidekick: not Robin, but Barbara Gordon as an (adult) female Nightwing who eventually becomes a Blue Lantern (hence the Blackest Night page earlier).

Now again, I cannot find the original source for this so I’m going off fandom rumor and wiki trivia, but supposedly, Brian’s original pitch was that the Smallville character would also be Stephanie, making her the only Batfamily member to ever exist in that universe. DC’s editors supposedly made him switch to Barbara instead, which was smart of them, because it’s way more likely that the people picking up the Smallville comic would be excited to see her, one of the most famous pop-culture characters ever invented, and not a satellite character like Stephanie who’s only familiar to a niche market. (This for the record is the same reason Babs is the Batgirl in Gotham Knights.)

So that’s the out-of-universe explanation for why Brian would stick this idea here, but stop and think about this for half a second: why the fuck would Stephanie want to be Nightwing?

Nightwing is not like Batman, Batgirl, or even Robin, it’s not a larger symbol with a legacy behind it. If you say the word Nightwing in the DC Universe, you’re referring to only one of two things: either you’re Kryptonian and you’re referencing a legendary figure from your lost planet’s mythology (either a god or a culture hero depending on the continuity), or you’re talking about Dick Grayson. Every other character who has ever taken on the name in a non-Kryptonian context has done so because of their relationship to Dick: either to piss him off (Jason), because they were inspired by him (Cheyenne Freemont, the Nightwings, Nite-Wing in a negative capacity), or in memoriam/penance after his death (Damian in the first Injustice game).

But Stephanie doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Dick. At this point in her career, they’d barely spoken, and all of their meaningful interactions had been with him as Batman. Nightwing means nothing to her. She has no emotional connection to identity, not even the desire to be “part of the legend” that drove her to chase Robin and Batgirl. So then, why? Why is this part of her fantasy?

Well… because if Batgirl isn’t the second-most popular superhero in the franchise after the Big Bat himself, then Nightwing is. And all Stephanie has apparently ever wanted is to be everybody’s favorite superhero, loved and adored and told how she’s so very special and wonderful, forever.

---

In Conclusion – As you might’ve noticed back in the panels where Steph was getting dosed, Brian Miller actually calls out his own bookending, having started the story with a climax where Steph got exposed to a fear-gas-based-anger drug and ended it with one where she encounters the Black Mercy. Like I’ve said before, the narrative purpose of hallucination sequences like this are to lay the characters’ psyches bare and show us who they really are on the inside. 

In issue 3, Stephanie’s anger/fear gas exposure (and the resulting philosophically frustrating speech) presents Stephanie as someone whose primary motivation is her own self-interest, the sense of control and personal triumph she gets from being a superhero. All through the series, the way she handles her rare rescues (and, even more tellingly, the few people who don’t immediately recognize her greatness) only backs that up.

And now, the Black Mercy sequence, the very last thing to happen in the entire series, just solidifies it: after 24 issues, she hasn’t changed. Her only desire, the only thing she cares about, is that she gets to be a badass superhero who goes on adventure after adventure without worry or care for anyone around her, even after multiple people have literally died over the course of just this book. Who cares? They’re not Stephanie, so they don’t matter. It’s all about her. 

I will never understand what anyone saw in this series.

[belonareyna]

Enola Holmes Netflix adaptation

Unpopular (or not) opinion about Nancy’s book adaptations into the Netflix films. 

I don’t like them. Like at all. 

Obviously I’m talking about adaptation, I believe the films as somethig independant are cool (like the Percy Jackson’s ones).

First of all, I get that maybe Enola being 14 can crush our minds because “scape” home as such a young age and living by yourself for a year it’s kind of odd in this century. But let’s remember we are talking abouth 19th certury. They considered 60 to be the highest hope for live.

OK, it bothers me a little, but I can understand why they aged up Enola. But Tewksbury? Why?

Oh, to be the love interest...

Why? Why was that necessary?

Literally Tewksbury only appears in the last chapters of the book. He’s twelve, and as any aristocrat brat at that age, he’s insufferable.

Enola is pictured as a naive little girl even though they age her up, she ends up in a nasty apartment with an horrible landlady, in the books Mrs. Tupper is a lovely old lady, and maybe is not the best house to stay at, but she stays there because she knows their brothers most likely wouldn’t track them there.

I can’t, I just can't.

Anyways, then we have the boarding school. And they picture it as a snobbish, uptight school of hell…

In the books Enola is never caught, and in the very briefs moments she is nearly caught, she scapes like a pro. She’s not only scaping from her “place in society”, but also from the boarding school, that was a synonym of being abused and tortured. By corsets (Which literally deformed your body up till the point you could die), by physical punishments (as c4n1ng), by demolishing the personality and the fierce of the women so they could be a mere decoration in the men’s house.

Don’t get me wrong the boarding school in the film is ridiculous and stupid, but not quite the torture Enola was running from “She’s running for her life”*

*Florence Nightingale to Sherlock Holmes in “The Case Of The Cryptic Crinoline” 

AND WE ARE JUST BEGINNING MY DEAREST FOLKS

Just to finish with the “little” details before getting into the main course, I would say that I also don’t like when Enola disguises herself as a boy. In the book she doesn’t do this for two reasons:

-First one and most important one: She knows her brothers first instinct will be to look for a BOY, because is “the easiest option” and both of his brothers think that Enola’s brain (as the brain of any other women) is obviously atrofiated.

-Second one because of pride.  

NOW TO THE MAIN COURSE

THE PLOT

Remember when I mentioned Percy Jackson at the start? Well isn’t it lovely that the comparition between these two adaptations doesn’t end there?

WELL, IT DOESN’T YEIIII

-The Tewksbury part of the plot: What the actual fuck? 

And this part really hurts me, I know it’s not important and even if they had really adapted the book and not just take the names and make a different story It’s not important enough and they could have cut it, but is when Enola rescues Tewksbury (and herself) from the two kidnappers and they go to the police station, Sherlock is there talking with Lestrade, Tewksbury starts talking with them, and Enola disappears, give some poor guard fake instructions and gets through the window. The window. Of a police station. Nobody stops her. Hilarious.

It reminds me of that scene from Alice Across The Mirror.

-The mother’s plot: Double What the actuall fuck? Triple even.

Where to start? 

Let’s start from the begining.

In the books:

-Eudoria had Enola when she was very old. I don’t know why but apparently having a daughter at certain age was a “disgrace”. 

-Her father died when she was very little

-Her brothers never come to visit

-Her mother didn’t love her.

Eudoria didn’t love her like a mother is suppose to love a daughter. But she give her what most of the women at the time didn’t have: freedom.

Eudoria educated Enola, and she repeated to her “you will be fine alone”. Eudoria knew that when the time came, she will abandon her daughter, but she needed to be sure that at least, Enola won’t fall for the be a fucking vase and decorate the house of your beloved husband.

She wasn’t a great mother. But she cared for Enola.

She leaves her enough money for her to live freely.

SPOILERS:

She has a tumor, and she knows her days are counted. So she runs away with the gypsies. She communicates with Enola with the lenguage of flowers, through messages from the papers.

Enola never sees her again after her 14th birthday.

In the movies, she’s a lovely mother who cares deeply for Enola and with that change of personality, it makes sense she ends up visiting her daughter. 

Personally I don’t like this change of personality, and there is a deeper meaning for my aversion than just the fact that Eudoria is a loving mother in the books.

Which leads us to:

-The suffragist movement: This really is not a what the actual fuck. This just angers me.

Instead of showing the oppressed society women lived in, being mere complements for men, just being the mother of, the sister of, the wife of, LITERALLY MR’S wich was what Enola is running from in the books, they decided that Eudoria, the suffragist, “scaped” home to plant ✨b0mbs✨. 

How cool huh?. 

Insted of explaining that the suffragist movement was not free of racism, and maybe showing us how back women coped with this, they decided hey, no, It’s better if we pretend that withe woman never tried to leave out black women and let’s put a black women in charge.

That’s part of why I think I hate so much Eudoria 's change of character, she was a suffragist, yes. But she run away with the gypsies because they were “free spirits”, she wanted to feel free on her last days, or months, and it make sense that she never sees Enola again, due to the fact that gypsies were nomads.

-Mycroft and Holmes: This is just meh

The Holme’s brothers are misogynist. Both of them. Which wasn’t weird back in the 19th century. They often refire to women as the weaker sex, “Maybe reflexive and imaginative, but not foreign to the weaknesses and irrationality that their sex entails.” (This was Sherlok and not Mycroft, in the first book).

In the movies, it’s just Mycroft who’s the bad guy.

During the book series, we see more encounters between Sherlock and Enola, and eventhough we can see a lightly change in Sherlock’s view of her sister (he even stops trying to catch her with lies in the newspaper, pretending to be their mother, and even stopping Mycroft doing so) is not until the last two books that he finally comprehends why Enola is so scared of him and Mycroft.

Mycroft, on the other hand, doesn’t cross paths with Enola so much, and when he does, she’s running from him, so he can’t actually have the progressive education on her sister. But in the last book, he is quick to catch his brother.

All the time, in the books, they are trying to “help” Enola to follow the rules of the society to be a respectable member of it.

In the movies, Mycroft does not care about her at all, and he’s only preoccupied with “what people will think”, he handed Sherlock her guardianship in less than three days.

I’m probably leaving a lot of things out, but…

And of course this is just a comparation between book 1-film 1

If I thought the first one was horrible, I wasn’t prepared for what the second one was going to be.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Two, Part 5

"Yeah, he got here, like, an hour ago?" That was Amber's only flaw. The word like. Yeah, I get she was young and that seems to be one of those things with every generation, but it always drove me nuts then. It drives me nuts now. Anybody else does that, I'm liable to just walk away. And then people think I'm rude, not knowing walking away is better than letting out my inner asshole. I don't like letting that out. I like it too much. And that scares me.

"Oh cool. This been it since you've been in?" I motioned around the room.

"Pretty much. And they were done eating when I got in. So about a half hour of making whiskey cokes." Amber liked her job. When she got to be what she thought a bartender was. She should've been working at seem theme bar, where the bartenders have stupid games and stupid little dances. Not making the same five drinks for the same five type of people that came here.

The five types? First dates; we're affordable for the type of food we put out. Be fancy without actually being fancy. Show off without destroying any chance to do anything for the rest of your night.

Celebration tables: some kid just aced his dissertation, so the friends and family wanted to celebrate. At least once every couple of weeks we have a table of at least ten people. And a lot of those times, these people don't understand how to make a reservation.

Quick business meetings: even on the edges of Riverwest and the Eastside, there sat the people who wore three-piece suits to work and made deals with five digits at the least. They ate fast, efficient and never left a mess. Or a good tip.

The tourist; this person has no idea how they got here. They wandered in somehow, and just said fuck it. They'll stick with the flow. They'll love the place for the night, and usually their waitress got a pretty bad ass tip from them. Tourists, are honestly the best to work for. I love them. No matter what, they will love the food. They care about nothing but the experience.

And finally, the middle-aged date night; these are depressing to watch. Two people who at one point loved each other and got married. Now they've gotten old, and busy, and life isn't this bright and full of opportunities. The spark died, and they don't want to admit it. So they try every trick in the book. And one of those, and it never worked, was weekly date nights. And every so often, they would show up here.

Those were the main five types. I mean there were other sorts that came in. But those were the five. The table right now, drinking? Business meeting that apparently went very well.

We clacked our shot glasses together and downed them. Amber made a gross face. She never was a fan of whiskey, and I was not a fan of vodka, which was usually her choice. I, on the other hand, enjoyed the smooth shot. Good whiskey is good whiskey.

I hopped off the stool. "I'll talk to you later. I should go see what Skeletor is doing." I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the building.

"See you later," Amber said, going back to marrying bottles and wiping a spotless bar down even more than she needed.

"Skeletor!" I shouted as I came into the kitchen. I was officially and fully in the work part of my personality. The loudness, the living. The things you have to be to be a good manager.

"'Sup!" He shouted back from the line. He was there, a black t-shirt and blue jeans covered with a black apron. An apron that stopped above his knees. We only had one apron that fit him and it had gotten covered by a spilt pot of tomato sauce. Our laundry was done on Thursday nights, so he'd always have it on the weekend. Maybe you don't think of how your kitchen looks, but we do, and we do have the uniform. Burns and cuts lining the forearms. Pen or pencil in the ear. A sauce covered apron covering our clothes,

"How we standing?" I asked, walking into the back office, where the three desks stood. One was mine, the most covered in paper and it looked very messy to the untrained eye. But I knew where everything actually was so don't fucking touch it. Angela's desk was spot less and clean. Not a paper clip out of place. Just like her. We didn't get along all that well. And then Amber's desk. It was covered in little nick-nacks that she'd brought in. Even her laptop had a dorky sticker on it. I threw my jacket on the desk, grabbed an apron and headed back to where Justin was chopping up an onion.

[camaro-and-smokes]

Little Bird Starts Nesting

Chapter 1: Little Bird

3rd and final work in The Way It Should've Been -series

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove & Original Character(s), Steve Harrington & Original Character(s) Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Harringrove, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Family Issues, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Unplanned Pregnancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Billy and Steve find out that their eldest daughter Emma, at the age of eighteen, was coming of age in a way they never expected. They do their best to help her make a big decision about her future.

Notes: It took me ages, but here's finally the third and final part to this series! I'll be updating probably only once or twice a month because I'm working on so many different fics right now. Best to subscribe to this on AO3 if you want to know when a new chapter is up :) I'll be adding tags whenever chapters require it. FYI: You need to be up to date on the previous works in this series to get the best of it, so, off you go if you haven't read them yet

Read the whole series on AO3 >>

::::::::::

“Dada?” Billy raised his gaze from the book he’d been reading. He saw Emma, the almost nineteen-year-old long-haired beauty who’s dada Billy was proud to call himself, standing at the bedroom doorway. “Yeah?” Emma was fidgeting with her hands, her chin quivering. Billy took off his reading glasses and put them away with the book altogether. “What is it, birdie?” he asked, concerned. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Billy knew from experience that when your kid asks you to not be mad, it’s usually something you sure as hell might get mad for. A broken window in the neighbor’s minivan (courtesy of a new baseball bat and ball and 10-year-old boy who ‘just wanted to practice’). Or a defrosted freezer in the summer, thanks to a teenager left home alone for a few days (because apparently it was a good idea to pull the plug from the freezer ‘just for a few hours’ to video chat with a friend in the kitchen uninterrupted). Or bite marks in the arm of a kindergarten teacher (yeah, 5-year-old Annie reminded Billy then, once again, that she indeed was his flesh and blood. In her defense, even though Billy didn’t fully approve Annie’s approach, he thought that 'the teacher was stupid' too).

He sat up and patted the mattress next to him. “Ok, come here. What’s up?” Emma sat next to Billy, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her sideways. “You know you can always talk to me. No matter what.” Emma grimaced. “I messed up,” she sniffled. “Okay. But that’s kinda broad, birdie. You’re gonna have to fill me in a bit more.” “Please, don’t tell dad. He’ll kill me.”

It had turned out that Steve was the more strict parent of them too. All three of their kids had wrapped Billy around their fingers and he could hardly deny anything from them. So, having Emma come to him first when in trouble instead of Steve was no surprise.

“Hey, no one is going to kill anyone. But I hope it’s nothing I should keep from him, you know.” Emma looked down at her hands, and then at Billy with pained eyes. “I missed my period,” she whispered.

Billy had heard those words in the ancient past once or twice from a girl. The kind who were trying to get a leverage on him after it had turned out that his interest in them was more of a facade than anything else. Hearing the words from his own daughter, though, made an icy coldness grow inside him. “How many days?” “Three weeks.” Billy was speechless - or rather, chose not to say what came to his mind.

‘What the fuck’, ‘How in the hell’, ‘You knew what could happen if you weren’t careful’ and ‘I’m going to kill that son of a bitch’ all visited the tip of his tongue, ready to fly out of his mouth.

But he also knew that none of those would make the situation any better, so he reeled each one back in and down his throat. “Three weeks? Why didn’t you talk to me earlier?” “I didn’t know if I was just late or late. And I still don’t! I’m sorry, dada!” Emma cried. Billy hugged her tighter when she started sobbing. “Emma. So, you don’t know if you actually are just late or...the other thing?” She shook her head. “But I was really sick in the morning yesterday and today.” Billy took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Does Ryan know?” Emma shook her head.

“Ok, birdie, this is what’s going to happen. First, we’re going to get you a test and see what it says. Then we’re going to think this further. Okay?” Emma nodded. “Are you mad at me?” she asked between hiccups. “No, I’m not. But I would’ve appreciated if you’d come to me sooner.” He paused. “Uh, do you have any idea when...you know, when the accident might’ve happened?” Emma looked away. “Emma? Was there a time when the condom maybe broke?” She still said nothing and wouldn’t look at Billy. Billy had to take a few deep breaths to steady his temper. He still couldn’t keep all the edge out of his tone. “So you’re on the pill and it didn’t work, or you forgot to take it?”

When she still said nothing, Billy had to get up and walk by the window to keep himself from shouting at the girl. “Fuck. I knew we should’ve gotten it for you earlier,” he mumbled to himself. He turned to look back at her. “So, you had unprotected sex with Ryan, just like that? No protection at all? Not even a condom?” “He said he didn’t like using one and then we used this calculation method and...” Billy’s eyes grew large. “Birdie, that’s not a method a young girl like you should use!” he growled. “You’ve known him only for a few months. Who knows where he has put his dick in before...”

The moment the last words fell out of his mouth, Billy knew he’d gone too far.

Emma wailed as she ran out of the room, slamming the door of her own room closed behind her. Billy grimaced and took a deep breath. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the window. “Well, fuck.”

As Billy was trying to process the news, a boy’s voice sounded from the door: “Are you mad, dada?” Billy turned to look at the 10-year-old dark-haired boy, Junior, who’s big brown eyes always melted his heart, just like his dad’s eyes. Because he was Steve’s son. “No, Jr, I’m not. I just don’t know what to think.” The boy walked into the room and sat on the bed, tapping the mattress just like Billy had done. “We should talk about it.” Despite the severity of the matter at hand, Billy couldn’t help smiling. The kid was exactly like his dad. He walked back to the bed and sat down next to Jr., wrapping his arm around the boy. “Why did you shout at Emma?” the boy asked. “Well, Emma did something that I wasn’t happy about and I lost my temper.” Jr. looked at Billy, his eyes wide. “What happened?” “It’s an adult thing. But you don’t have to worry about it. I will talk with you and Annie about it when we’ve sorted it out a bit more with Emma and dad. Alright?” Jr. nodded. “Can you help me with my homework?” he asked, already moving on from the issue, trusting that his dads would keep him on the loop if necessary. Billy hugged the boy. “I have to stop by the mini-mart. But I’ll help you when I come back, okay? Just do the ones you can yourself and let’s look at the tough ones together.” “Okay.”

Billy changed his sweats into jeans and walked to Emma’s door. He knocked on it. “Hey, birdie?” No reply. “I’m going to the mini-mart to get the test. I won’t be gone for long and dad’s coming home soon, but could you please look after Annie and Jr. while I’m gone?” No answer. “Hey, Emma?” When there still was no reply, Billy leaned his head on the door frame. “I’m sorry that I shouted at you. I’m not angry, just really, really worried. Please, look after our siblings just for fifteen minutes. I’ll be right back.” “Okay,” Emma replied quietly. Billy sighed, relieved. “Thank you, birdie.”

He walked out and sat in his Camaro, turning the key in the ignition. The car barked to life. He placed his hands on top of the wheel and stared at the glorious view of the sea that was turning dark earlier than it had just a few weeks ago, thanks to autumn.

He bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood. His little girl, the one he’d held in his arms less than a day old in the incubator, was possibly having a baby of her own. The prospect horrified him. It was 2015, and it wasn’t like teenagers didn’t get pregnant all the time. And he was fully aware how they got Emma in the first place - but if it was Emma... He didn’t want that for her. To have a baby just when she was supposed to have the world open in front of her. To halt school and postpone going into college... She shouldn’t have to settle down with a family first thing... Not yet, at least.

And the worst was that he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help his baby and he felt so useless that before he even noticed he was already hyperventilating with a full-on panic attack. He scrambled for one of the paper bags he had stacked in the glove box just in case. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a very long time, thanks to his medication, but the news was so overwhelming that probably no amount of medication would’ve been enough to keep him from having one.

When the attack finally passed and his breathing settled, he made it to the mini-mart.

He walked through the aisles towards the personal hygiene section, fidgeting with the nicotine spray he had in his pocket. As he passed other customers, he felt like every one of them was staring at him, judging him for not doing a better job as a father.

The last time he’d felt this nervous while approaching the hygiene section was when he’d had to buy first period pads for Emma. Then, too, he hadn’t known what he was supposed to be doing, and he’d just bought a pack of everything the mart had. Emma hadn’t needed new ones for months. Jesus. That was just a few years ago, he thought to himself. And he knew that at any moment now he’d have to buy pads for Annie too.

What the hell happened to the time suddenly? Everything used to feel like it lasted for forever. Summer nights at the quarry, stolen moments with Steve in the janitor’s closet, school year...

And now time was just running past them and he and Steve were just trying desperately to keep up.

Bill stood in front of the shelf that held the tests. Three different brands. He was a father of three, but not once had he been in this situation. He’d been in the ultrasound examination to find out if Sharon, the surrogate mother who they had Annie and Jr. with, was pregnant. But having to do a pregnancy test at his house... He let out a deep sigh and took one of each brand. Might as well go overboard than not be sure.

When he returned home, Steve’s BMW was in the driveway. “Shit,” he groaned. He put the tests into one of the paper bags he still had out on the passenger seat.

“Hey, firecracker,” Steve said from the couch when Billy walked in. Billy smiled a forced smile. “Hey, babe.”

The years had begun to show on Steve’s face and in the beard he’d began sporting a few years back, making him a snackable silver fox. But his dark eyes were just as they’d always been: deep dark ponds Billy could drown himself in. Billy shook the paper bag in his hand and went straight to the stairs. “Had to get something for Emma. I’ll come down soon.”

Billy sat on Emma’s bed with her and took the tests from the bag. “There were three brands, so I took one of each. Two ones are normal and then this one,” he took one of the boxes in his hand, “is digital. It’s supposed to be the most accurate. They all work with the same idea: you just pee on the strip on the other end.” Emma took one in her trembling hand. Billy set his hand on hers and brushed the hand gently with his thumb, soothing her. Just like Steve did whenever he wanted to soothe him. “Hey, Emma. It’s okay. We’re sorting this out. Let’s read the manuals and then you go to the bathroom.” “Don’t tell dad,” the girl begged again, looking up at Billy. He hugged her. “My little bird,” he said, and let out a deep breath. “We’ll tell him together if there’s something to tell.”

When Emma left for the bathroom, Billy went back downstairs and sat next to Steve on the couch. “Kids.” Steve pecked his cheek and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him into a hug. “Missed you.” Billy would’ve loved to be happy about Steve being home, but he was too worried about Emma. “Missed you, too,” he replied shortly. ”What’s up?” Steve asked. ”Something.” Steve looked at Billy. “Something serious?” ”You could say that.” ”Okay, now I’m worried too.” ”I’ll tell you when I know more. Okay? I promised her.” ”Emma?” Billy grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He closed his eyes and nodded. ”Hey,” Steve said and rubbed Billy’s arm with his hand. “You’re sorting it out with her?” Billy opened his eyes and looked at Steve. “Yeah.” “Okay. Tell me when you know more,” Steve said, and hugged Billy tighter.

They cuddled on the couch for a while until Emma called Billy from the stairs. “Yeah, coming,” Billy said, getting up. Emma was sitting on her bed when Billy walked in and closed the door behind him. “So?” he asked. Emma’s face was all white and big, fat tears fell on her cheeks as she looked at Billy. Billy’s stomach dropped. “Show me.”

Emma handed the tests to Billy. The normal ones showed two red stripes, a sign of pregnancy, and the digital one said 'you’re positive'. Billy knew it meant exactly that, that the test was positive, but right now he really didn’t feel too positive himself. He sat next to Emma and buried his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “What am I going to do, dada?” Emma asked, sniffling. “Birdie, I wish I knew.” Billy took a deep breath and looked at her. When she started crying, Billy took her in a tight bear hug. “We’re going to figure it out, Emma. Don’t worry,” he assured her, even though he sure as hell didn’t feel confident at all.

[tyetknot]

King of the Witches - A Review | Chapter 1 - The Young Initiate

King of the Witches Chapter One – The Young Initiate

Introduction | 1 - The Young Initiate | 2 - A Magic Childhood | 3 - The Haunted Hill | 4 - Call Down The Spirits | 5 - Bewitched

This chapter of the book has Sanders’ story of how he entered the world of witchcraft. As I said in my notes on the Introduction, King of the Witches was published in 1969, which places it well within the time period in which people would routinely make outrageous claims about being members of some secret hereditary tradition of witchcraft which just happened to bear shocking similarities to what Gerald Gardner was doing. So we will have to take an awful lot of what Sanders says here with a grain of salt.

No, bigger than that.

Bigger.

OK, that might be enough.

Alright, so. One major problem with this book is that dates of birth are almost never given and we are rarely told what year events happen in. I will do my best to note this when I feel it’s important but please be aware that errors may have crept in.

We are given a little history of Alex’ family and their circumstances – his father was a musician and an alcoholic who worked as a day labourer and his mother was a cleaner. Research on my part, as these details are not given in the book, tells us that he was born in 1926 under the name Orrell Alexander Carter and was apparently unaware that Carter was his legal name until later in his life (he used the name Alexander O. Sanders for his first marriage at the age of 22). The events in this book apparently happened when Sanders was seven years old, which places it at some time in 1933. From the description given they come across as fairly poor. Not much is told of their family life, although Sanders’ mother

“regaled them with stories of their paternal great-grandfather who had been captain of a tea clipper. (She never mentioned that he had been captured by Chinese pirates and buried alive.)”

This comes across as an example of inventing a colourful past and there will be more of this to come, I assure you. Giving names is the sort of thing that would be helpful here, you know? Ancestry research cited below suggests that this would be John Carter (1839 – 1909) who was listed as a ‘seafaring man’ and died in Liverpool. I suppose someone could have rescued him after the Chinese pirates buried him.

His maternal grandmother was Mary Bibby (nee Roberts) who was, according to the book, 66 when Alex was 7. If this were correct then she would have been born in 1867, and the book implies that she died at the age of 74 in 1941. We are told that she was born in Bethesda, north Wales, but the ancestry report tells us she was born in Bangor which was fairly close by. We are further told that “as a girl she had been in service with Lord Penrhyn”, who based on the dates would have been Edward Gordon Douglas-Pennant, 1st Baron Penrhyn (held title 1866 – 1886) or his son, George Sholto Gordon Douglas-Pennant, 2nd Baron Penrhyn (held title 1886 – 1907) – Penrhyn Castle is located in Bangor.

Recent (2018) genealogical research suggests that the dates Sanders gives are spurious, and tells us that Mary Bibby (1875 – 1907) passed away before she could raise her own children (Sanders’ mother Hannah Jane Bibby was born in 1903 and died in 1970), let alone instruct Sanders in witchcraft in 1933. Now, Alex Sanders was not alone in having a conveniently dead grandmother who was secretly a witch, but his story is definitely weirder than most of the others, which we will now proceed to.

Most of you will already know this, but for those of you who don’t: Sanders, at the age of seven, had been sent to his grandmother’s for dinner, as his mother was working. He walked in the back door (without knocking, which is something I had hitherto only found to be acceptable among rural Newfoundlanders) and was greeted by a strange sight:

“The sight that met his eyes in the kitchen dumbfounded him. An old, old woman, with wrinkled belly and match-stick thighs, stood in the centre of the room surrounded by a cloth circle on which curious objects had been placed.”

According to his account, he had interrupted her during a magical ritual of some variety. Sanders claimed that she had forced him to strip his clothes and swore him to secrecy, then nicked him on the scrotum with a sickle-shaped knife (her bolline?), telling him that he was “one of us now”, making him a witch. She tells him that she will teach him magic, and as they dress and put the ritual items away she tells him the history of the cult, which happens to neatly match the spurious history given in the Introduction.

There are two things that stick out to me here: one is the fact that this initiation ritual contains an element that is attested to nowhere else, the drawing of blood from the genitals. Now, this chapter closes with the statement that this ritual was “a pale replica of those once carried out in Sparta when males were emasculated so as to become priests of the Moon Goddess.” This is very clearly a reference to Gardner’s earlier form of the Charge of the Goddess which says that “At mine Altars the youth of Lacedaemon in Sparta made due sacrifice.” Doreen Valiente removed this line from her more well-known re-working of it, because it contradicted the later statement “nor do I demand aught in sacrifice” and because it is actually backwards: Sparta was in Lacedemon. The reference here is presumably to the cult of Cybele whose priesthood would sometimes castrate themselves, although Cybele isn’t really a lunar deity.

The other interesting point is the cloth circle with ritual tools laid upon it. Generally speaking in Wiccan ritual practice the ritual tools are laid upon the altar, be that a raised table or a cleared spot on the ground, but they are not customarily spread about the ritual space. The only time we see this, or the cloth circle, is in publicity photos of Sanders doing rituals with his initiates. The circle in the photos is taken from The Art of Drawing Spirits Into Crystals from Barrett’s The Magus. Jimahl diFiosa writes about this in more detail in A Coin For The Ferryman (pub. 2010, rev 2022). I am pleased to see someone else draw this connection.

His grandmother tells him that she was taught magic by her grandmother. Unfortunately the ancestry report available does not go back far enough to provide her name – we know that Mary Bibby’s mother was Emma Roberts (c.1849 – 1909). Someone may investigate further at some point. He says that her grandfather was a stagecoach driver who left her some furniture, but again, no name is given.

Sanders is told that he will get his own athame when get gets older and expresses an interest in his grandmother’s crystal ball but is told that mishandling it will make it cloudy. The chapter closes with a foreshadowing statement that misuse of witchcraft will backfire and cause harm, a statement that he was the most recent in a line of witches dating to the 1400s, and finally, that he was under the impression that “he and his grandmother were the last two witches left unburnt.”

Would you believe that my initial notes on this chapter took up only one page of a small notebook? There’s a lot to unpack here, and it’s only 1933, with lots of Sanders’ life left to go.

I will say that a genealogy report commissioned by Maya Sanders was invaluable for my analysis of this chapter. A link to it may be found here.

[ic3qu33n]

Its funny how the mind works. I woke up today thinking about a whole life I never lived. I had memories and specific details in my dream that I personally have never witnessed…

Let me explain better. When I was 15 (1999) I wrote a chapter book. It was on an Dell desktop computer that my older brother Daniel had built from spare computer parts.(These parts were coming from computers that at the time were 1-2 years old. Apparently when ever some students had “ruined” the computers at the high school the district would send them a whole new one. And since my brother worked in tech support they told him to recycle them. He did. But not before taking them apart to save working parts)

Anyway, back to my original thought.

This story I had wrote was about a girl named Jo and her 3 brothers who moved from a big city with their mother to the Pacific Northwest after their father died suddenly. The story follows this girl whos life was rocked and trying to find balance and peace when there is so much changing around her. Like having to be the adult because of her mothers crippling grief. Jo meets new friends who become her best support system and teach her how to “feel normal”.

I dont have this book saved anywhere and it doesn’t exist anymore. That computer is long gone. I remember it took me two months that Summer to write it. It was 2-3 hours after summer school every night. I would put on headphones, blasting “Smells like Children” album, (This was my “Alt phase” life) and just typed. I tuned out the world. I know, now, that I was disassociating a lot during this time in my life.

During this time in my life my dad was in jail again. That left my pregnant mom, and us 4 kids to kinda fend for ourselves. We were all living in a 1 bedroom roach infest trailer. (Like we couldn’t have pantry stuff cause the roaches would just get in it) Mom and Vicky slept in the bedroom, Daniel and Michael slept on a bunkbed in the area that should be where you put a kitchen table, and I slept on the couch in the living room. This trailer was so small that it had 1 entrance and that was a sliding glass door in the living room. For this reason I can never live in a manufactured home or trailer. This life experience definitely traumatized me. So when me and Chris were younger (early years of marriage and had two kids under the age of 3) I resented him for putting us in a 1 bedroom trailer. We argued daily, I drank heavily. I had no faith in him being able to care for me and our children. I was hurt and blamed him for my unhappiness for a long time. Anyway I getting sidetracked again.

My mom was working full time at an elementary school. My older brother was working at the high school. I started my job at my uncles Mexican restaurant. (I had to take the city bus and transfer twice to get there) we were doing everything in our power to get a better home without my dads help.

Anyway, I believe I wrote this story as an escape from the overwhelming responsibility that suddenly fell on me. This time in my life changed how I viewed the world. It was the time in my life when I stopped showing my feelings… I stopped smiling, I became cold and I no longer trusted anyone. I had a short fuse and started picking fights with anyone who felt froggy. I was not okay. I also started self harming at this age (it was a pain I could control and understand why I was hurting) I was very angry. I would take walks to the ditch behind our trailer court to break bottles and smoke weed…

My dreams brought me back to this world. I don’t know why after all these years did this specific story come back. I still remember this fictional characters life. Like I said in the beginning of this post, it feels like memories. Its weird because I can visualize this whole world of people that doesn’t exist. It gives me a weird feeling in my chest of almost a longing to go to this place and I can’t. It’s almost the same feeling of missing a relative who has passed and there’s no way you could ever see them again. No new memories. Just people frozen in time.

It’s just weird how your mind works.

[finsterhund]

Watching this 90s animated movie called The Princess and the Goblin, apparently an adaptation of a novel with the same name. I'm shocked by how good it is for a movie not made by one of the big animation studios at the time. It's got Tiny dog Hungarian animated movie quality of animation, so not the best of all time, but like I said I'm shocked by its level of competence.

The way the goblins are designed is really close to the way I want to simplify Underbed monster head and face anatomy for my more cartoony artistic abilities. You can really tell that the goblins and other creatures are what the animators really loved working on as that's when the animation really shines. They're way more expressive than the humans. I was unable to find a torrent and the YouTube upload I watched of it is in pretty low quality but I want to get a better view of how creature designs work in this at some point.

The story is basic but also pretty fucking good for random little 90s 2D animated movie.

Not familiar with the book though at all. So no telling how it works as an adaptation.

The one boy, named like Gurdie or something (lol) keeps getting up to cinematic platformer style escapades.

The movie also doesn't shy away from death and kill like some kids movies started doing in this decade. Like there's a scene where one of the goblins fucking whales on this kid. Hitting and kicking him and I'm like "wow they are really just showing a little boy getting beaten up huh?"

Interesting is there's some role reversal of cliches going on. The boy is held captive and has magical singing waiting to be rescued while the princess has the power to do shit. Which is neat.

The song the kid keeps singing is decent as well.

I can't tell how old the goblin prince is supposed to be but another bit of a trope reversal he's the one being forced into an advantageous marriage for the sake of politics by his parents. He has no actual interest in getting with the human princess. I'm assuming they're both around the same age because ultimately his mother is still calling all the shots. Interestingly is that the goblin prince wants to keep the boy who's being held captive. The mom then goes "no, wait until you marry the princess and then you can have as many humans as you want" so part of me is like "wait is the goblin prince gay coded?????" Near the end he jumps out and goes "I've come for my princess" but he immediately just manhandles Curdy instead. Like?????

I was hoping he'd have like a redemption or something. But no he fucking dies. He fucking falls to his death and that's it.

There's this plot where the goblin queen has more human-like feet and hides them and I'm wondering if she's a hybrid or something. These children sneak right into their bedroom and pretty much immediately the boy takes off her shoes lol. It's fucking wild. The nerve of this kid. Other than goblins being vulnerable on their feet this doesn't amount to anything.

I don't get why the boy is so skeptical about invisible magic grandma though. Like you're in a realm. There's goblins and you're like some sort of wizard bard. But the deal breaker is ghosts.

At the climax of the movie the princess' lady in waiting gets fucking piss drunk for whatever reason as this never really seemed to be her type of personality until now and of course that's when the goblins invade.

Also this boy finds himself in the armory and only grabs a sword, okay makes some sense. Armor is probably too heavy for him, but in the end the goblins are invulnerable except for their feet so the sword is completely useless and he's just wildly swinging it around which I find funny. It's like he was all "I have the opportunity to steal this sword" and just took it.

This movie also has "big fucking flood" just like Tiny dog movie and pretty much all the tropes that entails. Big fucking flood low budget 90s animated movie my beloved. Really like how the water is animated.

The goblin demon cat seemingly gets a redemption but not their child(?) prince.

I really liked this though. If I had grown up with it maybe I would have been autistic about it honestly.

The end credits have animations of the kitten character in pretty much the exact fucking way that the Vicious Servant shows up in the Heart of Darkness credits. Which made me lose my fucking mind

And then, while watching the credits

I see it

Pannonia film company.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

It is LITERALLY the same people who DID make Tiny dog movie????????????? The fucking screech that escaped my mouth.

So yeah my autism went insane from this. It's like if Tiny dog got an actual proper English dub. And the Mormons had nothing to do with it because there's a scene where good guys get drunk.

So yeah I do want to use some of the animation and character design of this as reference. I'm freaking out that it's the same animation studio as my beloved blorbo Tiny dog.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 156: Rhythm

When they came back for their 8th year at Hogwarts, the 8th year students were all assigned to one house, regardless of the house they'd formerly been a part of.

It honestly wasn't as bad as Harry might have imagined, mostly because everyone was simply too tired of fighting. They had all had a hard year and it seemed, for the most part, that everyone just wanted to keep to themselves.

The common room was nice enough; lots of space, comfy couches, a big fire place, bookshelves, and even a little area to store snacks.

And there was an upright piano that sat in the corner of the room. It was very rarely, if ever, used aside from the occasional plunk as a student walked past, but Harry was strangely attracted to it.

There was something about the idea of letting your fingers drift over the keys, about the act of creating something where there had been nothing only a moment prior, that Harry found immensely appealing.

So one night, when all of the other students were in bed, apparently not suffering from nightmares the way he did, Harry sat down at the piano.

It was slow going, but whenever Harry woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall back asleep, he'd wander down to the common room and cast a spell at the door to trap the noise in the room with him, and he'd play. Gradually he got better and by a few months in, he was playing things that sounded like music at the very least.

Then, on a very chilly December evening, when Harry was playing through something he'd made up in his head, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice said, "You haven't got the best sense of rhythm, Potter."

He spun around to see that Draco Malfoy had just entered the common room, looking a bit haggard, his face drawn and pale. And the snarky response he'd been about to fire back died on his lips. "Do you play piano?" he asked instead.

"When I was young," Malfoy replied as he headed toward the snack supply and pulled out a cauldron cake.

(Read more below the cut)

"Show me?" he asked.

Malfoy blinked at him, "It's been ages, Potter. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Come on," he urged, scooching over on the bench to make room. "I promise not to judge you."

The other boy hesitated for just a moment before making his way over and gingerly sitting down next to Harry. His fingers traced over the keys for a moment, lighting on them without making a sound the way a butterfly touches a flower.

After a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity to Harry, Malfoy started to play, and it was lovely. Harry watched as his fingers drifted over the keys, moving in difference directions, crossing over each other, as they made the most enchanting music.

When he finished, Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, "Wow," he breathed.

He looked over a Malfoy to see a delicate flush spreading across his cheeks and neck. "It's nothing," he said softly.

"Would you teach me?" Harry asked, the curl of desire to learn sparking in the back of his brain.

"Are you serious?" Malfoy asked, looking over at him and meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry said earnestly. "I want to play like that."

Malfoy looked at him long and hard for a moment, "Alright," he agreed.

"Really?"

He nodded, "I'll ask my mother to send me some of the old books I had from when I was learning. For now, let's learn note names," he said.

And without further ado, they dug into learning.

-----------

It became a habit for them, sitting together at night and playing the piano when the nightmares were a bit too close.

At first, they didn't really talk much, Draco just instructed him and helped to develop proper technique.

But at some point, playing piano turned into playing piano together for a while, then sitting on the sofa and playing chess.

Which turned into playing the piano and then just sitting on the sofa and talking.

And by the time Harry realized what was happening, he was already in love with Draco Malfoy.

One night, in late March, when all of the feelings that he kept bound up were banging against his chest to get free, Harry asked, "If you could have one thing, what would it be?"

"Define thing," Draco said as he tucked his cold feet under Harry's thigh and Harry let him because he would accept intimacy in any form with Draco.

"Like if you could have one wish granted," he said, "What would you wish for."

Draco hummed, "For someone to love me," he said after a moment. "I just want someone who wants to walk through life with me," he added. "I'm not an easy person to love and my past has made it harder-"

"I think you're an easy person to love," he blurted.

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes. "Because you've been like programmed to love people. All of that trauma and emotional manipulation-"

"Right," Harry interrupted because the words stung and he didn't really want to hear more about all of the ways that he was broken inside.

"Harry-"

"No, it's fine," he said, shaking his head and warding off whatever words of pity might be coming next. "It's fine. You're right."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't-"

"It's fine, Draco," he repeated. "Just," he shook his head, "Forget I said anything."

He was quiet for a moment, picking at his cuticles the way he did when his anxiety got to be too much. "What would you say?" he asked. "What's the wish you'd want granted?"

He shrugged, "The same thing."

"But-"

Harry stood up, "I'm tired," he said, "It's making me weird," he raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm just going to go to bed-"

"Harry," Draco said, reaching out for him and clasping his hand.

And something broke inside of him, "Don't," he said, snatching his hand away.

The other boy held up his hands in surrender, "What is the matter with you tonight?"

"Nothing!" he said, turning away again and heading toward the door that led to the boys dorm room.

"Why do you always do this?" Draco asked, the bitterness and hurt in his voice made Harry's heart trip painfully in his chest.

He spun around, "Do what?"

"Dangle friendship over my head and snatch it away!" he shouted. "It's like you realize that you're getting too close so you back out. And it's exhausting."

He shook his head, "Probably all of that trauma," he spat. "I'm just too messed up and broken."

"I didn't say that," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah you did," he said, turning around and heading toward the stairs.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked. "You're supposed to be the brave one aren't you? You could walk straight to your death but you walk away from a simple conversation."

He turned around, "What happened to me?" he asked incredulously. "I fucking died. That's what happened to me."

Draco froze as though he wasn't expecting that answer.

"So, yeah, I feel like I'm entitled to being a little fucked up about that. I feel like I'm entitled to walk away from things that make me wish I'd just stayed dead!"

Draco cracked. He saw the moment when he broke the other boy to pieces and it broke him too.

"Not you," he said quickly, trying to clarify, trying to fix the mess he'd made. "Draco, I didn't mean you."

But it was too late, and Harry wasn't sure what he could say that would fix it. Draco swiped at the tear on his cheek and circled his arm around his waist, looking anywhere but at Harry. "You should go."

"I didn't-"

"Please," he whispered, voice raw, lower lip trembling. "Just go."

He didn't know what else to do, and the thought of staying and trying to fix everything was so overwhelming that he just turned and fled back up the stairs to the room. Harry crawled into bed, cast a muffliato, and he let himself cry until he fell asleep.

---------------

He didn't see Draco at all the next day in their classes or at meal times, and then he sat and waited at the piano bench for two hours before letting himself believe what he knew to be true, Draco wasn't coming.

So he did the only thing that he could do, he snuck into the dorm room and pulled out the Marauder's Map and searched for Draco. He shouldn't have been surprised when he found his name in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, but he really wished he was somewhere else.

Harry slipped on his cloak, even though he knew he wasn't going to get into trouble if someone caught him out past hours, and made his way to Myrtle's bathroom. Before the door had even closed, before he'd said a word or even managed to take his cloak off after entering, he heard Draco sigh.

"You shouldn't have come, Potter."

He took off the cloak and stared at Draco where he was sitting against the sink. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize but all that came out was, "I love you." Like it was the only thing he knew. And at this point, maybe it was.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, his face that careful blank canvas that it was when he was thinking and feeling too many things at once.

And again, Harry opened his mouth to reply but, "I love you," came out again. Simple. Honest. And somehow, Harry didn't panic; he didn't feel like the world was about to end. On the contrary, he actually felt like everything that had been whipping around in his mind and in his heart just stopped.

"Explain."

He laughed, a soft huff of a chuckle as he sat down on the floor in front of Draco. "I can't," he confessed. "I just love you. I love your wit and your dark sense of humor. I love the way that strand of hair," he said, pointing at the one he was talking about, "falls into your eyes. I love your long, delicate fingers. I love watching you play the piano. I love talking to you. I love that you challenge me and push me. I love that you don't see me as the savior of the world, that I'm just a person. I love your cleverness. I love that you're always cold and that you're such a tactile person. I-"

But what he was about to say was interrupted as Draco lunged forward and kissed him, his cold fingers grasping Harry's neck.

"I hate you," Draco said, when they broke the kiss to gasp in a few deep breaths. "It shouldn't be possible for one person to make me feel such a wide range of emotions in such a short span of time."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, pressing his forehead to Draco's. "I shouldn't have said that yesterday," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, too," Draco murmured. "I shouldn't have kept pushing you. And I shouldn't have taken out my fear of being alone on you."

"Forgiven," he whispered, catching the hem of Draco's shirt in his fist and holding on. "Can you forgive me?"

The other boy nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "No more running, okay?"

He nodded in agreement, "No more running. Not from you," he promised.

And it was a promise he kept until the day he died.

--------------

Day 155: Bubbles | Day 157: Sectumsempra

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | Chapter Four

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, discussion of previous sexual relationships with older men (big age gaps), kink talks, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), fingering, 69ing... its really dirty i hope i got it all

word count: 3.8k

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and Saturdays

Chapter Four | Masterlist

Waking up beside Spencer is an absolute blessing, he is the most tender and loving man in the whole world and she’s never going to get enough of him. He snuggles so tight, he holds her just right and he’s just big enough that she fits against him like she’s always supposed to have been there.

Her alarm goes off at 10:30 and he doesn’t even budge, she struggles to get out of his grasp to turn it off before he just pulls her right back in.

“I could get used to this,” she coo’s as she relaxes back into his embrace.

He kisses the back of her neck and one of his hands cups her breast. He runs his nose along her skin as he takes it all in, “I can come back every night.”

“Okay,” she smiles at the thought. “Are you coming with me to Brookfield today?”

He hums, “I have something to pick up first but I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“Do you want to meet Craig?” She asks nervously, knowing he knows.

“I’m not sure,” he’s honest. “It’s weird thinking he’s slept with you and he has a thing for my mother.”

“As weird as it was, I don’t regret it, he was really lonely after Patsy died and hadn’t slept with anyone in years,” she explains it again to him, it’s easier than the first time.

“I’m not judging you,” he whispers before kissing her again.

“I know,” she rolls over while still in his grip, pressing her chest against his and kissing him quickly before remembering her own rule, “pretend it’s still dark out.”

He laughs, “was he at least good to you?”

“Are you really asking me if the old man I fucked was good in bed?” She rolls her eyes with a laugh, “it was fine, I was used to just laying there and taking it back then.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for her past experiences knowing he can change them and that she's content with them, “can I make it up to you?”

“It's not my birthday,” she teases him once more.

“Then why are you in your birthday suit?” He kisses her neck as her back arches, giving him the access to do whatever he pleased.

This was her favourite part of sleeping with him, he was handsy and he kissed everywhere. He was so tentative, he was gentile and sensual and she loved him. The way he kissed her body, his hands on her back as she arched, grinding against him as his leg slipped between hers.

“Daddy?” She’s already breathless as she anticipates whatever he’s going to do to her.

He hums, “what baby?”

“Can we try something?” She looks at him with puppy dog eyes, wanting more of him and knowing exactly how to get it.

“What?” He looks from her eyes to her lips and back.

She smirks, “lay back?”

He does as she asks and she makes a quick move to straddle him, reverse cowgirl, and it makes him gasp. He hooks his arms under her legs and pulls her hips towards his face as she grips his cock at the base.

She’s never done this before, excited to finally experience her two favourite things at once, with her favourite person. Taking him in one go down her throat as far as she can, he moans against her thigh as he works his way towards her dripping core.

He pulls her in closer, burying his tongue inside of her as she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock, stroking what doesn’t fit in her mouth. She moans around him as he sucks her clit into his mouth. When he slides a finger into her, she gasps as she runs her tongue along the shaft, “more please, daddy?”

He adds a second finger and curls it with each thrust, she strokes him in time with his fingers rubbing her tongue on the slit, pushing him closer and closer and closer until he’s moaning into her cunt as he finger fucks her relentlessly.

She cums on his face with a quake, her whole body shaking as she sucks one of his balls into her mouth and keeps jerking him. He cums over her hand then, finally releasing her clit from his mouth, they both sigh as they come down from their highs.

She rolls off him, feet on her pillow and hand cupping her own breast as she tries to catch her breath, “yeah, I can get used to waking up next to you.”

—

“Bullshit!”

Y/N reaches for the apparent 3 4’s that Craig dropped in the pile, filling them to see he was indeed truthful and handing them to Diana. “You’re slacking today.”

“I do so much better when I don’t know who he is,” Diana smirks as she takes the cards.

“Speaking of,” she smiles to herself as she looks through her own cards, “your son, Spencer, is coming to see you today.”

“How do you know that?”

“I might be dating Spencer,” she scrunches her face in anticipation of her reaction.

“Really?”

She nods, a smile building on her face as she starts to feel a bit flustered, “yeah, I met him last year and we’ve been friends for a while but it’s getting serious, so I thought I’d tell you.”

She’s quiet as she thinks about it and Y/N’s anxiety goes to full blast, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Diana asks.

“For not telling you and pretending I don’t know him,” she's quick with her response. “He knows we know each other from your notes but we didn’t talk about it until last night, I feel so bad keeping that from you but I've known him the whole time.”

“I was going to introduce you to each other in the hopes you would take care of him, you’re wonderful and he needs someone who he doesn’t have to look after. I’ve thought you would be good for him for quite a while actually,” Diana compliments her with a smile. “Try calling bullshit on that.”

It makes her laugh, leaning over into Diana’s space as she wrapped her arms around Y/N, “well as good as I am to him, he’s even better to me.”

Holding Diana was nice, she missed her moms so much that it was a good substitute until she saw her own again.

“How did you meet?”

Y/N pulls back with a stutter, “uh, well we met online actually and he took me to dinner and we got to talking and we’ve been really good friends for a while, he uh, he’s the reason I’m getting my book published.”

“Really?” She blinks a few times the way Spencer does when he tries to absorb information.

She wasn’t dumb, she knew her son had money and he was a lot older than her and that meeting on the internet isn’t as innocent as it sounds.

“He’s my best friend.”

She smiles again, “that’s the key to a successful relationship.”

Craig was quiet the whole time, staring at his cards and drinking his water while they talked. “For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I think he’s lucky to have you, you’re a good woman.”

Y/N’s so busy looking at Craig with a smile that she doesn’t notice Spencer walk-in or the way Diana gleams at him. He walks up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder, “Hey, pretty woman.”

She jumps slightly before laughing, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek quickly, “hey mom,” he makes his way from Y/N to Diana.

Hugging her quickly before coming to sit beside Y/N again, he notices Craig too and waves, “nice to meet you as well, sir.”

She analyzes his face as he looks at Craig, worried that he’s going to go full alpha male and start a fight or something crazy like her old boyfriends would. But he smiles and he’s calm, he holds her hand and they play another few rounds of cards and it's like they’ve all been friends for years.

Visiting hours are about to come to an end when Spencer finally brings it up, “how would you feel if I moved to LA for a little while?”

She’s really confused, “are you getting a transfer at work?”

“No, Y/N has a job offer and I’d like to go with her,” he’s honest with his mom, it’s easier than with anyone else. “I’ll travel here whenever you need me, and once a week just to say hello.”

“Or I can finally go back to Vegas,” she says it like she’s been thinking about it for a while. “I miss my friends and my sister, Spencer.”

“And I’m thinking about moving there as well so my pneumonia isn’t as bad this winter,” Craig adds, sitting closer to Diana than before and taking her hand.

Spencer looks very uncomfortable and Y/N can feel it radiating off him, “my moms are also in Vegas, it would be nice for all of you to be close.”

“I think that would be nice,” Spencer agrees, “and then we can just take a short trip to Vegas once a week to visit with you.”

“That would be lovely,” Diana smiles, “even on my bad days I don’t forget who Craig is to me, I know he’s my best friend in here and I’m really glad you’re comfortable with this.”

Spencer smiles, it’s awkward for him to know everything that he knows, and by the way Craig looks at him, he knows Spencer knows.

“Please, just take care of her,” is all Spencer has to say to him. “I’ve already been to prison once.”

“Spencer,” Diana scolds him while trying not to laugh at the absurdity.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“It’s only taken us 30 years,” she reaches out a hand for Spencers, “but we did it.”

It’s a beautiful moment that Y/N gets to witness, she holds a hand to her heart as Spencer wraps his arms around his mom. She was doing amazing, she was happy and even happier that Spencer was happy.

“We did it,” Spencer agrees, holding her close, always a mama’s boy at heart.

—

They stop at his apartment on the way home, he needed some things for the next 2 days and his suitcase for this weekend. His apartment was always so dark and cold, the green was beautiful but it was far too sad. It didn’t feel like Spencer, it didn’t have his energy or personality, it was just a few walls and a bunch of books.

She sits on his couch and touches her necklace, remembering when he gave it to her and how she thanked him. He was rummaging around in his room without her, leaving her with time to just think about sucking him off on this couch, being between his legs, the feeling of him in her mouth, knowing she already had him this morning but she still wants him again.

She gets up from her seat and walks into his bedroom, pushing him up against the wall, he’s a little startled but he smirks, “what?”

“Is there a word for ravenous for dick?” She teases.

“Horny,” he responds with a giggle, “ovulating? Frustrated, deprived, desperate... slut.”

“I like the last 2 together.”

“What else do you like?” He whispers as she leans in to brush their noses together, “we’ve never discussed your needs, you’ve always just asked about mine, but this isn’t all about me.”

“It was when you were paying me,” she rationalizes, “I’m pretty basic, I’ll try anything once.”

“But what do you like the most?”

“You,” she’s honest. “How big you are for one, the fact you can just throw me around like a rag doll if you wanted… I like your hands, and your mouth and I like how you talk, I like how sweet you are, I like how we could do the dirtiest fucking things in the whole world with each other. I like that we could do the roughest, kinkiest and most intense scenes and yet I’m completely safe with you.”

He swallows and his Adam's apple bobs right in her view, she can’t help herself from kissing his neck, licking along the pulse point before sucking a deep purple mark into his skin, “what do you like besides me?”

“Praise,” she whispers.

“Good girl.”

“Mild degradation,” she kisses his neck again and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Spanking, raw missionary and messy kisses,” every new thing comes with a kiss as her hands reach down to palm him through his slacks, “pleasing my partner, knowing you get off to me, watching, being watched, belonging to you.”

He takes her chin in his hands and makes her look up at him, “in what sense?”

“Mark me, claim me, breed me,” she whispers and his eyes darken, she swears there is a growl that leaves his throat.

“I want everyone to know I’m yours, show everyone who I belong to, let everyone know only you can please me and show them that no one is better for me than my daddy.”

“You’re evil saying all this knowing I'm not going to fuck you yet,” his voice has never been this low, his eyes are black and the grip he has on her is so tight it makes her gasp.

“You asked,” she smirks, “and if you expect me to be an obedient little submissive, you’re very wrong. "

He gulps and the mood changes very quickly.

"I’m a brat and I’m a switch, and I have more control here than you do.” She tightens her grip around his cock and he whimpers, “that’s what I thought.”

She undoes his button and takes him out, licking her palm while making eye contact with him, she then wraps her hand around him and pumps up and down his shaft. Gathering his precum that’s collected from simply listening to her, his hand on her chin had made its way into her hair and his other grips her hip tighter than ever before.

“I want to fuck all day long,” she whispers, leaning in more and brushing her bottom lip against his, “I want you to come and find me when you’re bored and just bend me over and take me, I want to just sit on your lap while to read and ride you, I want to fall asleep with you deep inside me and wake up full of your cum.”

He tosses his head back against the wall, groaning as she slows her movements. She drags her hand up, squeezing at the head as he thrusts back into her hand, all she can think about is how good it’s going to be when he’s pushing inside of her, not just in her fist.

“Does it feel good, daddy?” She teases him again, “are you thinking about my tight little pussy? Hmm?”

“Gonna cum,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that's how you ask.”

His hips sputter as he fucks her hand, “please, mommy?”

It’s so unexpectedly hot she clenches around nothing, aching for him with how horny she is, she drops to the floor, wrapping her mouth around the head, he cums within seconds. She pumps every last drop onto her tongue before standing and connecting their mouths once more, swapping his cum back into his own mouth, but he doesn’t swallow.

He simply picks her up and tosses her onto the bed, pulling her jeans and panties down and off one leg to expose her dripping pussy. He lifts her hips and spreads her open, running a finger over her clit before spitting his own cum into her.

It’s such a sight, she gasps at the feeling. It’s so hot and wet and then he’s pushing it in with two fingers and fucking them into her. Rubbing her clit at the same time, she cums by surprise, it’s so intense all she can do is grip her breasts and wrap her legs around him for support. She trembles, moaning and whining as he keeps going, curling his fingers just right to rub her g-spot and keep the sensation roaring as long as she lets him.

She lives in the feeling as long as possible before it starts to get to be too much, “okay,” she’s breathless and exhausted, lying there with her eyes closed when he pulls his fingers out of her, falling asleep from how relaxed her whole body is.

—

Spencer was in her bathroom brushing his teeth for the night while she slipped into her PJs.

She felt giddy, like a kid on Christmas Eve, thinking about how exciting tomorrow would be that the prospect of sleeping seemed almost impossible. She couldn’t wait to hold him and snuggle him and feel the way he kisses her shoulder when he rolls over. She loves him so much that sleeping beside him is almost more important to her than anything else they do together.

Because when he sleeps, his guard is down. When he sleeps beside someone, it’s because he’s truly and fully safe with them. He’s told her about all the people he’s slept with, how many of them didn’t stay the night and how many he’s walked out on. She knows he’s not a fan of sleepovers from his childhood and he’s never been in a long-term relationship to even consider sharing a bed with someone before her.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to sleep beside her because he knew he’d catch feelings, she understood and so they bought a pull-out couch for her apartment. He would sleep in her living room and she would lay awake in her bed thinking about how much better it would be if she could cuddle with him until she drifted off to sleep.

She crawls into her bed and watches the bathroom door as she rubs hand lotion into her skin, hoping he actually comes back to her like he promised and doesn’t retreat to the living room. She smiles at him when the door opens and his sight goes right to her wrists as she smoothes the lotion over her skin.

“I forgot to give you your present today,” he gasps and rushes to his suit jacket in the closet.

He comes back to bed with another box, “how much jewellery are you going to buy me?”

“Two more of the gifts are jewellery,” he smiles as he opens the box for her.

It’s a silver bracelet with diamonds and Rubys in a heart shape, like the necklace in pretty woman turned into a bracelet. It’s so pretty she doesn’t know how to react, “you’re crazy, you know that?”

He nods with a smile, “crazy for you.”

“Don’t,” she raises her brows with her pointer finger raised, shushing him. “You know what being all lovey-dovey does to me, and I'm tired.”

It makes him laugh, “I’m just going to leave this on the dresser.”

She takes it from him and stops him from getting up, “no, I’ll just leave it on here, just get into bed, please?” She moves it to her night table and pulls the sheets back so he can get into bed with her. She turns off the lamp on her night table and watches him lay back on his side of the bed.

She snuggles into his chest and places her face in the crook of his neck. Holding him as close as humanly possible, he smells like home and safety.

“I love you so much, Spencer,” she whispers it, feeling very needy and emotional and she has no idea why.

He simply kisses the top of her head while soothing his hand over her back, “I love you just as much, Y/N.”

It was rare for them to use each other's real names, so much of their time together was spent in silence but when it wasn’t, they referred to each other with a long list of different pet names. It made it less personal, it kept their real lives separate and created a world where they just existed with each other.

A world where he wasn’t Spencer Reid with 3 PH.D.s, a drug problem and a sick mother. When he was with her he was just a guy who liked to explore. He was her buddy who took her to museums and concerts, he was her daddy who held her hand when they walked to the park together to play chess, he was her sweetheart on nights when he cried and needed some love.

Tonight he’s just Spencer.

He’s everything he’s been before and nothing like his old self all at the same time. He’s constantly having a breakthrough, he’s broken through ceilings of grief and trauma, grown past the names he’s been called and adjusted to the fact this is how his life is and he's not as evil as he thinks he is.

He’s happy and content. He’s so much different now than how he was when she met him and while he likes to thank her for that, he always had the power to get here. It was a long road to recovery, he just happened upon her on the path and brought her along for the journey and now she’s never going to leave him.

“Are you crying?” He asks, bringing her back to reality to notice that yes, she is indeed crying.

She nods and sniffles, wiping her tears with his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Hey,” he pets her hair and waits for her to look up at him. “What do you say when I apologize for crying?”

“Don’t apologize, your feelings are important to feel so you can move past them,” she whispers the mantra her parents raised her on, something that really helped him.

“I'm not crying because I’m hurting,” she whispers. “I’m crying because you’re not anymore.”

“What?”

She realizes it comes out weird, “I’m proud of you, and I’m happy that I get to love you now.”

“How long have you loved me?” There’s a small sadness in his voice like he wishes he could have moved faster for her.

“Since you told me you’d help me get my book published just for going to museums with you,” she whispers, “because you saw me as talented and worthy of greatness and you wanted to help me succeed instead of wanting to pay me to suck your dick in a more legal way.”

“I was in it for a friend,” he’s said it before, “it was easier to pay someone to hang out with me than stumble across someone who would understand me this well.”

“I can’t imagine you just going to a park and striking up conversations with someone,” she laughs, “I think it was just meant to happen like this.”

He sighs, “I’d do it again.”

“What?” She’s too tired and sad to follow his train of thought.

“I’d go through all the pain and trauma again, exactly the same way if it brings me right back here. Right to you.”

She pulls back from his neck and connects her lips to his faster than ever before, kissing him deeply as she cries again.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips between kisses, he whispers it right back.

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Sugar daddy fic

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@ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword @bingereid

some just wont tag no matter what I do, idk why tho

[angelsdevils]

Porco x Reader

Title: Something Like This Fluff *slight spoiler* [For the contents of the story, the characters are slightly aged up, Marcel is like 21 when he died, and Porco will be 19 at the death of his brother.]

It was no secret that Porco had the world's biggest crush on you. You were the only Marleyan that didn’t look down upon any of the Eldians. You showed the same respect to them as you did to any other person. No one ever confronted you about it, and it always confused him why you got away with it. He wanted to ask but he could never get you alone to ask you why.

He always got slightly jealous because you were always around Marcel. He knew his brother had slight feelings for you and he could see the way you looked at Marcel. So it hurt since he wouldn’t have a chance with you. He never told anyone about his feelings. Despite him hiding his feelings though, Porco was still an open book to Marcel. Marcel felt bad since he could tell Porco was hiding his feelings for Marcel’s sake.

You both were at Marcel’s memorial, and he just glanced at you. You looked beautiful in an (f/c) dress, but he didn’t say anything. It felt wrong to still try and pursue you after his brother’s death. Once you paid your respects, you turned to Porco who quickly looked away. You made your way to him, before standing in front of him.

“Porco?”

“Yes?”

“I am sorry for your loss. I am here if you ever need someone to lean on,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him, and Porco felt a small blush cover his cheeks. He wanted to hug you back but he knew this was wrong and something bad could happen to you both. So he gently pushed you away.

“You shouldn’t hug me, I am Eldian and you know it’s against the rules. Thank you though.” He mumbled and turned around to leave. You blinked and tilted your head to the side confused. Suddenly, a hand was placed on top of your head. You looked up to Zeke, and he flashed you a smile. You smiled back, before swapping at his hands when he ruffled your hair.

“Stop, it took me forever to do my hair.”

“Don’t be that way, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Tsk… old man.”

“Ouch,” Zeke said and you laughed slightly.

“What’s wrong with Porco, what did he mean it's against the rules.”

“He doesn't realize you are the only exception to the rule. If he does, he may fear something bad will happen to him and his family.”

“That makes sense I guess. He doesn’t know that I am not Marleyan, though?”

“Nope… apparently not.”

“Interesting, I didn’t hide it,” you said. You shrugged your shoulders before looking for his parents.

“Well. I will talk to you later Zekey!” You said, and he shook his head. You went to his parents once you spotted them, and they looked at you.

“Ah (Y/N)... what are you doing here?” Mrs. Galliard asked and you leaned on your heels with a smile.

“I and Marcel were best friends, of course, I would come,” your voice was down.

“I just came over to say I am sorry for your loss. If you ever need anything Mrs. and Mr. Galliard, just let me know!” You said, the two parents were surprised and looked at each other before you.

“We will, thank you so much for your kindness.”

“No need, it’s only human decency to be nice to everyone,” you shrugged your shoulders. You checked the time before waving.

“I gotta go, again. I am sorry for your loss.”

Before they could reply, you were already gone. You walked through the city with your hands behind your back. Once you were out of sight, a frown appeared on your face. You always hated showing sadness and anger around people just because you were raised to smile even during the hard times.

“It’s their fault he died. What the hell are their problems? The so-called Island Devils aren’t even bad people,” you whispered to yourself. You took a deep breath before turning the corner. Suddenly, you were surrounded by a bunch of guys.

“Oo. Look, we have such a cute girl. Has anyone told you not to walk through this part by yourself? It’s dangerous for a young lady like yourself.”

“I am capable of handling myself. Thank you…” You said, ignoring them. You tried to continue to walk but one of them grabbed your arm.

“Don’t walk away from us, stuck up Marleyans. You are nothing special.” One guy said, and you shot him a glare. Suddenly, there was a crowd and people watched as you tried to rip your arm from there.

“What did you say?” You said shooting them a glare.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Zeke asked and you turned your head to see Porco staring. Porco looked like he was about to fight them.

“I am fine, just a bunch of idiots. Let me go.”

“Tsk, stupid bitch. Just come with us and no one will get hu~” He was cut off when you jumped up and kicked him in his face, sending him flying into a building.

“Someone needs to teach you manners, not to touch a lady. Whether they are Eldian or Marleyan. For the record, I am not Marleyan, and I am not Eldian. That being said, don’t mistake my size and my lack of fighting for me as being weak.” You said, but another guy went to grab you from behind but you grabbed his arm and flipped him over your shoulder. You twisted until his shoulder popped out of place.

“Whoa, she is strong.” You heard a small girl say looking up at you. You gave her a gentle smile.

“(Y/N) watch out,” Porco said but you elbowed the guy behind you in the stomach, before grabbing him by his face and slamming him into the ground, putting a slight dent in it. You looked at the remaining guys.

“Listen, and listen well. I may not be part of the Marleyan army as a warrior, and I am not a titan shifter. But that’s because I don’t need a titan body to cause damage. The amount of damage a titan can cause, I can cause 10 times worse. Don’t anger me, or you will regret it. I don’t lack physical strength, like the majority of the Marleyans and Eldians do. Have you ever wondered why your rules don’t apply to me?” You walked towards the two remaining guys.

“It’s because I am not afraid to stand up to people like you. Or them, they know better than to do anything to us.” You said, and suddenly three other girls showed up beside you. The four of you lifted your shirt/dress sleeves to show the emblems that you rocked that were shown as dragons with halos.

“We are the Angelic Dragons, some of the strongest and meanest women you will ever meet,” you finished.

“Damn (Y/N), you were supposed to be the sweet one.”

“Shut up, Jessi, they started it by attacking me.” You blew the hair out of your face and they snickered.

“Anyway, consider this a warning. If we find out that you guys are harassing any women or children again, we will kill you,” your other close friend, Ari said.

“Grab your friends, before we change our minds,” Shyanna said, the other friend who had a softer voice said.

They grabbed their fallen friends and quickly left, and you huffed.

“This is why I hate men,” Jessi said and you nodded.

“I just hate men like them.” You said as Porco rushed to you. But a bunch of girls ran up to you faster causing Porco to almost fall.

“Looks like (Y/N) has a small fan club,” Zeke said and Porco nodded.

“Yeah, is she not Marleyan?”

“She is not. But I can see why you were confused since so many Marleyans and Eldians love her.”

“You are so strong,” a little girl said.

“Thank you,” you said, kneeling in front of them.

“I wanna be like you.” Another said, and you blinked before looking at your friends. They shook their heads since this was nothing new for them.

“Well just work to be strong, kind, and fearless.”

“I wanna kick butt like you…”

“Being strong doesn’t mean kicking butt all the time,” Ari said, and they turned to look at her.

“Agreed, it’s also knowing when to give up and knowing your strength,” Shyanna said.

“And compassionate and caring for everyone. No matter who they are, like (Y/N) here…” Jessi said. You blinked and rubbed your neck.

“I don’t want to be nice to everyone, especially Island-”

“I wouldn’t say that if you wanna be like (Y/N)...” Ari said and the girl stopped talking and looked up at you.

“That’s right, I never heard you say anything bad about the Eldians.”

“No need to.” You said with a smile and patted their heads.

“How do we become strong like you?” Another girl asked.

“Training.” The four of you said.

“Can you train us?”

“Maybe when you are a little older.” You said with a bright smile, a lot of people couldn’t help but blush at your cuteness.

“I bet they eat their vegetables too.” One of the parents said in the background. The little girls flinched and looked at their parents before at you.

“It’s true…”

“Even Brussels Sprouts?” One girl asked.

“And carrots.” You made a face causing them to laugh.

“We have to go eat our vegetables.” They ran to their parents and you shook your head with a laugh. Porco offered you his hand, and you looked up and took it. You flatten your dress after standing up.

“Thank you, Porco.”

“Mhmm, are you okay?” He asked and you nodded.

“I am fine, they were nothing. I hate that I had an audience though.” You mumbled, and Shyanna poked your shoulder.

“You ruined the street and a house.” Your head quickly turned to access the damage.

“Ouch, I need to pay for that.” You hung your head low, and Porco looked away.

“Wait, when did you guys arrive at Marley?” You asked your friends, and they looked at their watch.

“Well, we got off the boat right there, and saw you with those guys.”

“Oh, well guys this is Porco and Zekey.”

“Zeke, not Zekey.”

“We figured, she has a horrible way of nicknaming people,” Jessi said and you huffed.

“Not true!” You pouted and Porco wrapped his arms around you tightly suddenly. You let a small gasp out and he tightened his hold.

“Porco?”

“I am glad you are okay.” He mumbled and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly.

“Uhm, yeah. I am fine…” You said and he let you go.

“Well, got anything to tell us (Y/N)?” Ari asked and you blinked.

“No?”

“Mhmm,” all the girls looked at you expectantly.

“Anyway, I thought you were against hugging me.” You said to Porco, and he looked down.

“I thought you were Marleyan, so I was being cautious. Plus, I don’t think I can handle losing you and my brother back to back.” Zeke and the girls backed up. Porco was looking off to the side with a blush, and you blinked before tilting your head.

“I’m not going anywhere though.”

“I know that I just- never mind. Zeke let’s go, didn’t we have..uh.. a meeting?” Porco asked before walking.

“A meeting? No. Okay, I am coming. Nice meeting you ladies” Zeke left with Porco and you stood there confused until Jessi hit you in the back of your head.

“You do realize he was confessing to you right?” Jessi asked.

“What?”

“Come on, (Y/N). You can’t be that dense.” Ari said facepalming.

“Confessing?”

“I think he likes you,” Shyanna spoke up next. You blinked before tilting your head.

“(Y/N)!” You were tackled by Gabi and looked down at her blinking.

“Hey Gabi, Falco… What are you two doing here?”

“We are Porco talking to you and hugging you. Did he do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know, confess…. He loves you.”

“See!” All the girls yelled and Gabi jumped along with Falco confused.

“Uh, I guess? In his own right, wait how do you guys know he was confessing?” You asked and everyone stared at you, and you shrugged.

“So… I should go talk to him?”

“YES!” Gabi said, pushing you in the direction they went. You stumbled but looked and they motioned you to go.

“Good luck (Y/N)...” Falco said and you nodded. You made your way in the direction of Porco, and when you finally found him. He was by himself, looking at what you assumed was a photograph. You sat beside him and he looked up.

“(Y/N)...”

“Hey…”

“What are you doing here?” He asked and you looked off to the side this time. "Gabi and the others said you were attempting to confess to me just now. And sent me to you to talk with you."

“W-What!?” Porco groaned and looked at the sky.

“Were you?”

“Well, yeah… but it doesn’t matter. I know you had feelings for my brother…and my brother had feelings for you…” Porco said softly.

“I only saw Marcel as a best friend.”

“What?” He looked at you and you were looking at the sky as well.

“I knew he had feelings for me, but I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. So I rejected his feelings. He was okay with that.”

“I see, I guess in a way you feel that way about me right? Only friends?” You finally looked at him before having a small blush on your cheeks.

“Honestly, I never thought about it. We hardly ever talked, it’s like you avoided me whenever I was near. So I assumed you didn’t like me or something.” You admitted, Porco fell quiet looking down. He slowly moved his hand on top of yours and squeezed it slightly.

“It was the opposite, I just thought you liked my brother more. So, I didn’t want to get in the way.”

You looked up at him, and he was already looking at you, before glancing at both of your hands. He laced his fingers with yours before taking a deep breath and leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen, at the sudden action. You slowly began to kiss back, and you could feel his smile through the kiss.

Porco used his free hand and pushed you closer to him by wrapping his arm around you. His heart was beating faster, and he couldn’t help but want to be closer to you. The kiss lasted a few minutes before he finally parted and he looked at you with a grin.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But I don’t regret it.” He mumbled before peppering your face with kisses. You couldn’t help but laugh before gently pushing away from him. He stopped and looked at you with a smile. It was the sweetest smile you had ever seen, completely different than the smirk or an angry look he normally wore. You leaned in and pecked his lips once more.

“I guess, maybe we can give this dating thing a try… if you want to.” You said and he nodded his head before cupping your cheeks.

“Of course, I always wanted something like this. I always wanted you,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have avoided me, you jerk.” You nudged him with his shoulder and he laughed softly.

“Won’t ever happen again.” He kissed your cheek and you smiled, laying your head on his shoulder. You managed to get a glimpse of the photo, and what you assumed was an image of his brother was you and Marcel.

“Where did you get that?” You asked and he looked at the photo.

“... Marcel’s wallet.” He whispered.

“He was looking for that, thinking he lost it. He was freaking out about it.”

“Yeah, I stole it. I wanted an image of him and you. Without being weird about it.” You laughed softly.

“Well, now we need one of us.”

“Agreed. I want a picture of something like this.” He said and took a camera. You held a peace sign up as he went to take the photo. You suddenly kissed his cheek causing his eyes to widen in the photo. You giggled softly before taking it.

“We need to make a copy of it.” You said and he nodded.

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted etc. I do not own the character, but I own the plots to these stories.

[bukojuiice]

the way of the househusband — levi ackerman

ೃ pairing: (husband! levi ackerman x  ceo wifey! reader)

ೃ  There is the “ideal” nuclear family. The one composed of a working husband with a well-paying 9 to 5 job, loving housewife who cooks and cleans, and adoring children who do well in school. However, that idealization is looong gone. What about you and your family? You are the CEO of a Tech Start-up Company who ain’t no trophy wife, Your husband hails from the last line of Ackermans and who temporarily resigns from being a vice executive of your company (just because he doesn’t want to work with young, feeling philanthropist, and genius GenZers) to become a hands-on househusband, and then there’s your little daughter who has the most inquisitive mind and adventurous heart who idolizes her doting father in every shape, way, and form. A month’s absence in your home (due to a business trip) could lead to many many things. But, your husband randomly publishing a self-help book on parenting and being a househusband is not one of those things. 

ೃ genre and warnings: modern au, domestic fluff, baby au, husband au, 

ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist

ೃ 4k words

ೃ Will be referring to hanji as “aunkling” (a cute nickname that some kiddos use to refer to their non-binary relatives <3) because there are no official non-binary terms for aunt and uncle! + your daughter with levi is named amelia and she is just the most precious cinnamon roll

It’s done. 

The Business Trip is finally over.

A long and painful month of no hugs and playdates with your little princess, Amelia and no time to be pampered with love and affection from your husband, Levi was finally over!

Sometimes, you wonder how you were even able to survive these long-ass trips and conferences. Sure, these month-long trips only happened once a year, but the thought of Amelia getting older and having to miss a day of seeing her grow up and discover the world, really hurt you as all mothers would. Video Calls were enough to satisfy you and give you happy hormones even for just a short while, but still- the longer you’re not with them, the more the yearning lengthens until you’re just riddled with endless thoughts of wanting to get home as soon as possible.

First, let’s set things straight: You are the CEO of a Tech Start-up company who was born into a middle-class family and rose her way up to success. It’s as cliche as it gets but hey! Living a life as if you were in a romantic comedy was the best compliment you’ve ever gotten. 

Along with that, as far as rich families in rom-coms and coming of age movies go, are they all dysfunctional in reality? Not really. Or at least you and Levi promised each other not to end up like that. The Rich Girl meets Poor Boy (with a tragic backstory) cliche however? Yea, that’s a pretty accurate way to describe your love story. Meeting the love of your life in a Coffee Shop is actually pretty common and happens to a lot of people apparently. When Erwin Smith, Levi’s best friend (who is too smart and self-aware to fit the role of a rom-com sidekick by the way) approaches your table to ask if he and Levi could sit with you. (Because of all the days the cafe would be packed, it would be that day.) You said yes of course, and Erwin began oversharing details about the raven-haired man and you were all too invested in learning more about him anyway. Levi grew up in the orphanage after his mother had died and his father was the biggest asshole on the planet for never showing his face, he had to fend for himself after he outgrew the foster system. Starting out as an espionage in an illegal underground gambling empire to a bookkeeper at the Smiths’ bookshop. (Although this is a story for another day)  

Internally swooning over his pretty eyes and resting bitch face...it didn’t take long until the two of you fell in love and... the rest was history!

You come home to your lavish yet homey apartment in 21 West End Avenue Manhattan to be surprised by your father-daughter duo absolutely knocked out on the couch. Amelia was snuggled up to her father, her feet on his lap and a sleeping position you could not possibly comprehend, a Disney movie playing in the background, and both of them were wearing matching Minion onesies whilst yours was folded neatly on the coffee table just waiting to be worn by you when you got home. 

It was a rare sight to see and you can’t help but just stare lovingly at the wonderful scene before you. Not only was it rare to see Amelia asleep before seeing you (or in the case of your business trips, during your daily video calls with them) but it was also rare to see your husband sleeping so soundly and his insomnia not kicking in. 

Amelia hears your footsteps, her eyes are still shut as she tries to predict what you will do next. She finally assesses when she will make her move and surprise you when you place another fleece blanket on top of them and plant a kiss on both of their temples. your daughter’s eyes suddenly flutter open. Her eyes beaming and glowing off the same light that twinkled in her father’s as she jumps off the couch, making sure not to wake up Levi.

“MOMMY!” She screams in the most quiet volume her cute voice could muster. She runs up to you and envelops you in a tight hug, jumping up and down as she does so. “I missed you Mommy! I missed you soooo much! How was sandbox in K-korea!? Was there a lot of sand!? Did you have a lot of pwaymates there!?”

You giggle at your daughter’s enthusiasm, combing your fingers through her hair. “Lili, Sandbox is like the Silicon Valley of Korea. It isn’t necessarily a sandbox like in a playground, baby.”

“OOOH! JUST LIKE SIWICON VAWWEY!” She chirps, tightening her hug and reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “AH WAIT!” She gently pushes you away and makes a beeline to her room. “ME AND DADDY HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU! BUT CLOSE YOUR EYES FIRST OWKAAY?!” She calls out from her room and you shout back a “yes!” to her in between your giggles, unable to contain the sudden rush of serotonin your daughter had given you from her simple yet adorable antics.

Another trope that you can debunk is that rich moms can be a hands-on parent too! After your maternity leave ended and when Amelia had finally reached her toddler years, you absolutely made sure that you were going to take care of her every second, minute, hour and day of your life. As soon as she turned two, she became the inquisitive, smart and ever so curious little girl you and Levi had always hoped for. She had your (h/c) hair and Levi’s icy yet warm and loving milky grey eyes. If the color of Levi’s reminded you of dark and stormy clouds, Amelia’s was gleaming. Like that of the clouds after a terrible storm. She was an absolute blessing and although you weren’t a perfect mother, (spoiling her more than you should) Levi was an amazing father. Growing up without parents was tough for him and he was going to make sure that Amelia is going to have an amazing childhood and be surrounded by the love of two parents that he never had and never got to experience. 

You always and will forever have trust in Levi. There has never been a day where you doubted him. Despite the impressions and assumptions that people have of him. How he was cold, scary, and even calculating. But, you are always quick to shut down those rumors. They don’t know the Levi Ackerman behind the cold and mighty front he shows. He is a man who has gone through so much and yet has so much love and care to give. How he notices and remembers the littlest details, how he never takes anything for granted and how he loves and cherishes everything so wholeheartedly.

When Amelia turned six, you sadly had to go back to work formally. Right timing too because your genius (with very himbo tendencies) younger cousin, Eren, was about to be part of your start-up company and he had a lot of amazing plans that had to come into fruition. Even bringing in a group of his own friends (who all graduated in MIT by the way!) who are willing to contribute so many amazing ideas and hackathons that were just waiting to happen.

The entrance of these youthful and hopeful genius entrepreneurs also brought about the temporary exit of your very own husband from your very own company. Apparently, working with newly graduated Gen Zers (as a millennial) was too much for him. They were nice and they were going to be a very integral part of the company. But, the boomer inside Levi can’t just can’t keep up with this sudden surge of energy and youthfulness within the higher-ups. It was also a great opportunity for him to take care of Amelia even more. So, you didn’t stop him from doing so! 

It’s been a year since he temporarily resigned and became an official-unofficial househusband. Or as your best friend Hanji likes to put it, You are the Girl Boss and he is the Male Wife. Amelia is now 7 years old and she’s currently taking Ballet classes (Levi picks her up during the weekdays, and the both of you pick her up on the weekends) and has developed a hyperfixation over Sanrio Characters and the Disney movie, Frozen. She was growing up to be a wonderful girl and you just can’t wait to hear what she and Levi had done during your absence.

She skips her way back to you, a book tightly clutched in her hands. “SURPRISE!” Amelia gingerly places a book on your hand. You open your eyes and tilt your head in question at the piece of literature she had just given you as you read the title aloud.  “The Way of the House Husband… written by Levi Ackerman.” Your eyes shift to a little circle on the lower side of the cover,  “The husband of (Y/N) Ackerman, the CEO of Survey Corp Tech…!?” 

“Daddy and I made a book while you were away!” She claps her hands together and grabs the book back from you, turning it to the first page. “See there’s even a dedication! To (Y/N) and Amelia! The two brightest stars in my galaxy!”

“Oh that’s too cheesy. No way would your dad write something like this out of the blue, Lili.” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. Your daughter looks at you with downcast eyes while you were still trying to process that your husband literally just wrote a whole-ass book while you were away. “Who helped publish this so quickly, Amelia?”

“Uncle Erwin of course!” She’s frowning for one second and now she’s beaming at you again. “Please please read it mommy! Me and daddy worked really really hard on it!” She taps the hardbound cover of the book in rhythms. “This is the Amelia Edition! Daddy said he cut out some stuff so that it would be okay for me to read and for me to give to you once you get home! It’s my come back home gift for you mommy!” She moves the book to your lap and hops up next to you on the loveseat that you were sitting on. Before you know it, Amelia is resting her head on your shoulder and coaxing you to start reading to her like it was a bedtime story. 

You clear your throat and hold her by the waist so that she can feel more secure in her seat. “Okay… okay… let’s begin shall we? In a kingdom far far away…”

“That’s not how the book is like mommy! Read it properly like the way daddy did!”

“I was just joking, honey. Let’s get started. Rule #1 of the House Husband is…”

Rule #1: Fathers, be good to your children. You are the weight of their world.

“One thing I learned as soon as I was at home practically 24/7 is that your child will be more cautious and weary of you. They will observe you because they look up to you. They will watch your every move, follow you around, and will imitate whatever you say and whatever they hear from you. Talk to them, teach them things they need to know, support them in their hobbies, interests, and even if you have to be the extra princess in her tea party, do it.  The thing is, you will leave an eternal mark on the hearts of your children.”

Amelia got even more closer to Levi when he was finally stationed at home. Always grinning from ear to ear and boasting to her classmates how cool her dad was whenever he would pick her up from school. She was proud to tell them Levi’s heritage even if Amelia never got to meet her Grandma Ackerman and Grandpa Ackerman. When Levi would take her out for errands, may they be groceries, cleaning the house, baking, cooking, laundry, or just going on his morning jog, Amelia would be there to accompany him. In fact, she’s gone shopping with Levi so many times that she has memorized the brand names of cleaning detergent and bleach before she could even memorize the multiplication table.

 She’s even caught up with her father’s cynical sense of humor. And because of that, Levi had to tone down on his sardonic jokes around the little girl. Levi wasn’t necessarily physically affectionate but he does soften around Amelia as the little girl never fails to supply him with endless hugs and kisses on the cheek. She may be both a Mommy’s and Daddy’s girl, but the way she looks up to Levi is the kind of father-daughter bond that you hardly see in real life. She aspires to be like him. Even if there were times where she would be scolded by you both, (most especially Levi) she never took that against you.  She sees all the good and positive sides of your husband that others outside of your circle fail to see.

Rule #2: Let your children know that they have other “guardian angels” who they can rely on aside from their parents.

“My daughter has both my wife and I’s best friends to learn from or to look up to. Her kooky aunkling and her blunt uncle have become one of the most precious people in her life. Even the young ins working at Survey Corp Tech have become older siblings to her and get along with her so well. Remember that there will always be close relatives or friends who can and will help them when they lose their way. Let them spread sunshine and love to others.”

Whether it’s a regular trip to Coney Island or your monthly trips to Disneyland, Hanji or Erwin would totally tag along. Amelia absolutely loves and vibes with Hanji’s quirkiness so well. They would wear matching Mickey Mouse ears, ride the kiddie roller coaster that Amelia wanted to ride on a million times per visit, buy her all the ice cream and treats she wants (despite Levi’s warnings and the reprimanding that Hanji has to suffer from the both of you right after.) They just want Amelia to experience all the fun, the joy, and innocence of living in the moment. As a kid, it’s better if she sees how precious life is, how she should cherish it and that she doesn’t have to grow up so fast just yet. 

Erwin on the other hand, brought out Amelia’s intellectual side more. As soon as a new and critically acclaimed children’s book hit the shelves, you bet Amelia has a copy right away. Whenever Levi would take her to Erwin’s bookstore, she wanders around like it’s this huge mysterious archive that can only be accessed by her. The Adults section is forbidden, so were the cheap romance novels in the back, and the books written by youtubers. God forbid she read those. When her Uncle Erwin got her into reading Roald Dahl’s children’s books, you had to watch Amelia run around the penthouse with a little red ribbon tied on top of her hair, wanting to be referred to as Matilda, along with you and Levi having to pretend that she had telekinetic powers for 6 months straight. It was her cutest phase yet and you just know there were many more to come. 

There were also Eren and his friends who loved Amelia dearly whenever she came over to visit. Your little cousin refused to be called Uncle Eren and instead wanted to be called big bro, and in which Amelia happily complied. Whenever it was Amelia’s weekly “Visit Mommy at Work” day, she had her own room in your office where Eren and your other young associates would babysit her. In fact, they would actually take turns in babysitting at your condo whenever you and Levi went out for date night. Amelia was introduced to playing video games like Animal Crossing and Pokemon solely because of them (more specifically because of big bro Jean, big sis Sasha, and big bro connie.) They even ended up influencing her to watch anime when her big brother “Minmin” and big sis “Mimi” accidentally left the TV on and Amelia literally binge-watched half of the existing Studio Ghibli movies to this date. 

Rule #3: Your children will think that you are Superman or Iron Man. Make sure to act like them and never let them down by ruining their innocence and imagination.”

(A little note was attached to this page: Please don’t let Amelia read this. Read her a fairy tale instead while skimming through this.)

“It all started when my daughter found an entire encyclopedia on ancient and legendary family clans around the world. The Ackerman clan was on the very first page after the intro and she read through all 50 pages of it. The look of awe on her face when she read that her dad’s ancestors exhibit physical abilities much higher than the average human. In a 7 year old’s mind and vocabulary, that automatically translates to a superhero akin to that of Superman. 

Ever since then, My daughter has forced me to become more creative with doing very mundane tasks and chores. I pretend to have superpowers. Such as teleporting around the house whilst cleaning. I tell her to close her eyes or else my teleportation powers won’t work. Then when I cook in the kitchen and she watches me intently, I tell her that the salt and pepper have magical properties that only I can touch and hold because to her, at that moment, I was “Doctor Stwange.”

and one time, when I picked her up from school, she was babbling on about how she told her friends and playmates that she had two superhero parents she was very proud of. Then one of the other kids asked if I was a strong soldier who killed huge humanoid monsters using sharp blades. To which I replied that could have possibly happened in a different universe. Her hearty laughs and giggles whenever she sees me using my superpowers makes me anxious over the fact I have to tell her someday that my powers never existed.”

Whilst you were on your monthly trip, you and Levi would have private video calls whenever Amelia was finally put to bed. There, he told you about what happened in Amelia’s ballet classes that week and how the single mothers were more persistent than usual.

They could clearly see that Levi was not interested but apparently the fact that your husband waving his ring finger every single time someone approached him wasn’t obvious enough, apparently the fact that he was married made the risk even more worth it to these prying moms who had nothing better to do. It wasn’t until Amelia had enough and respectfully called them out by saying that his dad was married and he was never going to be interested in Karens (a slang word that she learned from Eren and friends) Since then, the invasion of parent to parent boundaries had finally stopped. Levi was very relieved and at ease whilst telling you the story yet you were laughing your heart out at the ingenious remarks of your very own daughter on top of the irresistible charm and looks of your own husband that made single mothers be damned. 

Rule #4: The most important rule of all: Love your spouse as you want your children to be loved in the future.

“Since my wife is on a business trip right now as I type this and she may or may not know that I had written this book for her to read when she comes home, my daughter came up to me a few days ago and told me how she missed her mom so much. The video calls we had every night were not enough to satisfy her for the remaining days her mother would be gone. She then proceeds to tell me that she loves the way I love (Y/N). My daughter loved how patient I was and how I supported her through every endeavor that her mother had ever thought up with that brilliant mind of hers. She mentioned how I was there for her through every success and failure, through hardships, difficulties and misunderstandings. My daughter was happy because I stuck with her mother through everything. All the pain, suffering, conflicts that we both experienced individually and as husband and wife. Little ears and little eyes are watching and observing the actions and sweet gestures of their parents. Make sure to remember that.”

“What is gravy (grief) if not love persevewing?” (persevering) My daughter had even recounted a quote from the Disney Marvel show, WandaVision just to prove a point to me. That was when I realized something and decided to list down a few things: 

1. The best lovers are the best of friends.

Levi’s relationship with you was rocky at first simply because the two of you didn’t have a lot in common. Your personalities clashed and the two of you could barely make things work in the beginning. He was always well-dressed, on time, and was very prim and proper. However, Levi was cold, strict, and unapproachable. You on the other-hand were quite the opposite. You used to arrive late, didn’t care too much about your style as long as you wore the appropriate outfit, but you were carefree, laidback and friendly. Having to set aside your differences was a process that required sacrifice, time, and effort. It took long and a lot of petty arguments before the two of you fully understood each other, accepted each other's faults and quirks, and became even closer. Both as friends and lovers. You and Levi treat each other not as just the “person I love and I’m married to for the rest of my life”, but also as a best friend for life. Soulmates

2. Their dreams are just as important as yours.

Levi’s dream was to open up a tea shop and start a family with you. That was all he ever wanted. The blissful simplicity of his in comparison to your techy and out of this world ambitions, goes to show how much they weigh as aspirations and wants in life. You have to value your significant other’s dreams and ambitions just as much as you highly value yours. No matter how hard or how simple they are, the both of you can achieve it with the help of each other. The only thing left in your agenda was to open up his long-awaited Tea Shop. You were about to surprise him with the plans of opening one up on the day of his birthday, and you just can’t wait for that day to finally come.

3. You have to let them be free.

Levi absolutely knew what he was getting into when he met you. It was love at first sight when he met you, He drunkenly admitted that one time when he’s had too much champagne on your friday date night. He knew that you were an adventurer. A wandering soul who had a goal and a purpose set in stone. He always knew you were going to reach greater heights and he knew that you would never leave him behind and would always have him go on a ride. He’s always known about your capabilities and your potential and he didn’t want you to stray away from that. And, if the time were to come that you had to leave him behind to soar greater heights, he’d understand that. He’d always let you be free and make sure you don’t fly too close to the sun. That was just how selfless Levi is. The thing is, he knows you would do the same for him. It was a perfect balance. 

4. It is an honor to love and to be loved by them.

To be wrapped in the arms of someone who feels like home or has become the definition of home, To be stargazing with on a chilly summer night in where you talk about your future and your plans, To be sharing a cup of coffee or tea with in the morning and begrudgingly dancing with you against his will, To be watching your child playing in her room and do nothing but look adoringly at the most precious soul to have ever been produced by your encompassing love, and to be spending the rest of your life with someone who has done nothing but be with you through every pivotal moment in your life was such an honor. 

It is an honor to be loved by Levi, as he is honored to be loved by you. 

“...The end.” You close the book with a deep but contented sigh. Tears were welling up in your eyes and you’re trying your best not to break down in front of Amelia. 

“Mommy… are you crying?” She tilts her head in inquiry. “Is it because you’re tired from work?”

“No. baby. These are happy tears, Lili. Don’t worry.”

Before you could speak up once more, you notice Levi had slowly sprung up from the couch, and began to stretch his arms. His eyes widen when he sees you from the opposite couch. “(Y/N)... you were supposed to arrive at 6 AM right? Amelia and I were supposed to pick you-”

Amelia opens her mouth to speak as she jumps down from the couch and crawls up to sit next to Levi. “Daddy! I showed Mommy the book you wrote! She loved it! Right, Mommy?”

“You did?” Your husband perks up from his seat, clearing his throat. “T-that’s not the entire book yet by the way. We had to give back the original copies to Erwin for reprinting. The self-help book is currently rising up the charts to be a New York Times Best Seller.” 

Before Levi could properly react, you move to the free space on the couch next to him. Holding his hand and gazing into his forlorn yet loving eyes, you muttered. “Love, that’s amazing. I’m really really proud of you. Next time though, please do tell me that you’ve written a self-help book and dethroned all those mommy authors from the bestselling charts.” 

Levi stifles a laugh, stroking your thumb and bringing you and Amelia closer to him for warmth. “I will. I will.” 

Amelia looks up at the two of you, squeezing out of the sandwich, so that you and Levi can have your quality time with each other. “Goodnight Mom! Goodnight Dad!” She approaches the two of you so that she can be given her nightly kiss on the cheek as she retreats to her room. 

“What if I write a novel too?” You joke, snuggling up to Levi, your husband wrapping his arm around you. “The title could be… The way of the Wife boss?” 

“That could be a good sequel. A shared book universe. Then, Amelia could continue the collection when we’re old and sour as hell.” Levi mused.

“Pfft. I guess only time will tell. I love you Levi.”

“I love you too (Y/N).”

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Undercover- Mob! Steve Rogers Part 2

Okay here is the highly requested part two to my Mob! Steve post! I had some technical difficulties posting it but hopefully you guys see it in the tags now :)

Warnings: swearing and smut

Word count: 2.8k

“When I said go undercover, I didn’t mean under his covers, Agent.” Director Fury slammed his hand down on his desk. It had now officially been twenty-four hours since your encounter with the mob boss and you had been waiting anxiously all day to talk with Nick Fury. The rumor around the office all day was that he wasn’t too pleased with how things went down.

“I did what I had to do, sir.” You stated boldly.

Fury scoffed but didn’t respond.

He was quiet for a moment, his eye scanning over the piece of paper in his hand. You fidgeted uncomfortably as your legs were still sore from your romp last night and you tried to hold it together as Fury gave you a weird look.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You muttered a thank you as you took a seat.

“Listen, this is all good and fine but I want more. This,” He waved the note in his hand. “Is just a drug felony. I want this bastard put away for life.”

“But what about Stark?”

“A slippery politician, nothing more. I want insight on just more than this. I want it all.”

You sat back in the chair. You understood where he was coming from, but he was also acting like you hadn’t just uncovered a huge piece of information.

“Sir-”

“Which is why you’re going to continue...seeing Rogers. Your undercover assignment has just been extended until further notice.”

“But, sir!” You stood up in protest.

“But nothing, Agent. You’ve made your bed and you’ve already lied in it. Now do it again.” He snapped.

“Are you pimping me out, sir?”

“You did that yourself, Y/N.” Fury snarked. “Anyway, as we speak I have other agents creating an entire new identity for you on the internet so when Roger’s does eventually look you up he’ll find everything we want him to find.”

You felt yourself sinking back down into the chair. He was being completely serious. You suddenly felt very hot as you processed all the information coming at you.

“And what exactly is it going to say?”

“That you are Y/N Monroe. You are the same age as you are now and a barista at the coffee shop just below your apartment. You went to the University of Minnesota and graduated with a business degree, but currently can’t find any jobs. Pity. Your parents died when you were young and you have no siblings-no need to wrap anyone else up in this. We’ve made an Instagram account since that seems to be the most popular app among adults your age. I pushed for no socials but apparently it’s weirder if you don’t have one.”

“Okay...but I don’t have a coffee shop below my apartment.”

“You do now. Your stuff is being moved into a safe house apartment on the other side of town. That’s where you’ll be staying for now. Don’t worry, I have Parker holed up in the apartment two doors down.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try to calm down. There was nothing else you could do. Fury was right, you had made your bed. You reached over and grabbed the file that Fury had pushed towards the front of the desk. Your new life all put together in a Manila folder.

Damn you, Ma and your slutty advice.

“You can go now.” Fury waved you away, now totally focused on whatever file he had in front of him. You hesitated, wanting to say something but nothing came so you left.

“Y/N!” Peter ran up beside you as you stormed down the hallway. “Heard we’re gonna be neighbors.”

You smiled at how excited he was. “It’s only temporary, Parker. Don’t wet your pants.”

Peter blushed and gently shoved you to the side as you both continued walking. “I know that. But doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. We could have movie nights or something.”

“I suppose we could find some time.” You nudged him back.

“Oh here, before I forget.” Peter shoved a brand new iPhone into your hand. “Fury had me add some tweaks to the geo location so it’s more precise than what Apple has. My burner number is already programmed in there too.”

You studied the burner phone, impressed that they didn’t just give you another shitty tracfone like you were used to.

“Thanks, kid.”

“I’m not that much younger than you.” Peter grumbled as the two of you finally made it to the parking structure.

You smirked over your shoulder as you walked up to your Jeep Wrangler. “Young enough. ‘Night, kid!”

Peter flipped you off but was smiling the whole time as you drove off.

You punched in your new address in the GPS and followed along as it brought you to the older part of town. You had always loved this part of the city but never thought to move out here. Even though it wasn’t the new upcoming neighborhood, the rent prices had been driven up by the young kids moving in who just “adored the old time aesthetic” and the lofted buildings.

Your building was one of those you noted as you parked your car outside of your new address. The old brick building was tall, maybe six stories and had fire escapes littered across the front of it. The front door was a rusted green that you had to yank to budge to get open.

Extra security, I suppose. You laughed to yourself.

Your apartment was on the third floor and right off the freight elevator. You weren’t expecting much when you opened the door but you made a noise of pleasant surprise when you did.

The inside was warm and inviting. A plush gray sofa that resembled a cloud was center in your living room that you saw right away from the small entry hallway. As you stepped in further you saw a decent size tv mounted against the wall and two bookshelves on either side of it, filled with books and records that went along with the record player that was right underneath the television. To the left the living room was the kitchen. Nothing big, which you didn’t mind-you weren’t the best cook in the world. There was a small bar-like counter that had two barstools perched underneath. Down the small hallway you found your bedroom. A king sized bed covered in an off white comforter set with matching sheets. Small potted plants hung from the corner near the window and an array of makeup and perfumes littered the top of the wooden dresser.

Tentatively you opened the dressers to find a whole new wardrobe waiting for you. There were basics: such as t-shirts, jeans, bras and panties but there was also a whole drawer dedicated to skimpy lingerie that you knew was expensive. The walk-in closet was filled with dresses, some formal and some you wouldn’t let your grandmother even see hanging off the rack.

“Well done, Fury.” You mumbled to yourself as your fingers ran down the silk fabric of a long evening gown.

You were settling on to your couch, sweats on and a glass of wine in your hand when you heard a knock on the door. Slowly you got up, grabbing your gun from the plant next to the door. You looked through the peephole and let out a curse when you saw none other than Steve Rogers standing outside your apartment.

You shoved the gun back into the plant and ran your fingers through your hair before opening the door, but leaving the chain attached.

“Mr. Rogers, how can I help you?” Your eyes twinkled as the man in front of you rested his arm on the top of the door frame and leaned close to the opening you had created.

“You said I would see you soon, princess. Looks like soon is now.” The nickname again caused your stomach to flutter.

“I was just getting ready for bed. You’ll have to come by another time.” You feigned a yawn. Steve’s eyes blared as he stood up straight.

“It’s rude to keep your guests waiting, Miss Monroe.” Your heart jumped at the use of your alias. Thank god your team worked fast.

“And it’s rude to show up to people’s apartments unannounced, Mr. Rogers.”

“Open the door, sweetheart.” He hissed, but his eyes held anything but anger. He was intrigued. He never found a woman before who wasn’t afraid to dish back his sass. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“Say please.” You teased through the opening.

“Please.” He said through gritted teeth.

Chuckling you closed the door gently and undid the chain. Before you could reopen it though, Steve pushed his way through scooping you up in his arms as he did. You naturally wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms held tight around him as you squealed against his neck.

He walked you back into the living room and plopped down on the couch, holding you so you were still straddling him.

You pulled away but kept your arms hanging loosely around him. He smirked up at you as his fingers toyed with the hem of the tank top you had on. His eyes fell to the wine that was only half drank on your coffee table.

“Heading off to bed soon, huh?”

“My bedtime snack.”

There was a part of your brain that recognized him for who he was: evil. But another part of your brain saw him as the man who made your body feel things that it had never felt before and that had your heart racing like a schoolgirl with a crush. The part that recognized that he was so easy to talk and joke with. The great sex wasn’t a bummer either.

His smirk was replaced by a genuine smile as he pulled you down and gave you a kiss that had your toes curling. He moaned into your mouth as you slowly ground your hips against his, your fingers tugging at the hair by his neck. His tongue massaged yours, letting you know exactly who was in charge at this moment. His hands ran underneath your tank top, fingers tracing up your spine before reaching the front and giving your nipples a slight twist.

He moved his mouth from yours and peppered kisses along the side of your neck as he lifted the tank top over your head. He threw it to the side as his mouth attached to your protruding bud while his fingers pinched and toyed with the other one. Skillfully, and with his mouth still attached to you, Steve flipped you over so your back was on the couch and he was on top of you. He lifted his head, his blue eyes clouded with lust as he started kissing down from the center of your chest, down your stomach and down your legs as he pulled your sweats along with him.

He hummed as he spread your bottom lips apart with his fingers, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. You wiggled your hips against his face but he responded with a smack against your core.

“Honey, you gotta learn who’s in charge here and who’s-“ he kissed your clit ever so slightly, teasing you. “Just a little cock slut.”

His tongue circled over your bundle of nerves while fingers toyed with your slick. Gently he pushed two fingers into your pussy. Your eyes fluttered closed as his steady rhythm and flick of his tongue brought your orgasm to the forefront.

“Shit, Steve…” you whimpered, gripping his hair and pulling him close. “Oh fuck, I’m close!”

“Let me taste you, princess.” Steve growled. You nearly lost it at the sigh of your juices dripping from his chin. “Give it to me like the good girl you are.”

“Oh god!” You called out as he hit that spongy spot that caused your thighs to tighten around his head. Your body spasmed as it rode out your orgasm. Your chest heaving and your legs shaking as he slowly pulled his fingers from you. A moan was caught in your throat as you watched him put his soaked fingers between his lips, a look of pure satisfaction covering his perfect face.

Steve leaned his body over yours but careful not to let his full weight fall on you. He ran his nose up the side of your neck, along your cheek before letting it rub against your own. You grabbed his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. There was something so erotic about tasting yourself when your tongues met.

“Show me your bedroom?” Steve pulled away. You gave a weak nod. Steve stood up and hoisted you up, your legs weak beneath you.

“Poor baby.” He cooed in your ear. “Only one orgasm down and already can’t walk. I can’t imagine how you’ll be when I’m done with you.”

With that he lifted you and walked down your short hallway to the bedroom. In your hazy, post orgasm mind you hoped the mattress was comfy. You hadn’t even tested out beforehand.

Steve threw you on the bed and you sighed as you fell into the cloud. You leaned back on your elbows and watched as Steve unbuttoned the new shirt and trousers he had on. You stifled your laughter thinking about the wine stained ones back at his house.

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards the end of the bed. He lifted your foot up, setting it over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of your calf.

“No, sir.” You teased.

“You’re a bad liar.” He nipped at your knee.

Not as bad as you might think.

Steve made you come at least four more times that night. Your body completely spent when he finally rolled over and laid next to you, yours and his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You rolled over and threw your leg and arm over his body, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. Steve’s fingers toyed with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Spend the night?” You asked into the darkness. It was nearly three in the morning and your eyes were slowly closing no matter how much you willed them to stay open.

“I have some business things that I have to take care of early in the morning.” He answered, his fingers running up and down your arm.

“Oh, okay.” You said sadly. Steve’s chest rumbled with light laughter as he brought your hand that was in his up to his lips and gave it a kiss. You were soon realizing that he was actually a very affectionate person.

“But I want you to come back to the house tomorrow. I’ll send one of my guys for you in the afternoon.”

“Really?” You sat up. Steve blindly reached for your nightstand and turned on the lamp that was on it. His hair was tousled from the numerous times you had run your fingers through it and his lips were red and swollen. He looked like the epitome of sex and it was fucking hot.

“Yes, really.” He chuckled. He grabbed your phone that was on the nightstand and held it out for you to unlock. You did quickly and he took it back and started typing. “I don’t give out my personal number to a lot of people.”

“So I’m special.” You wiggled in your spot, a grin covering your face.

“Yes. You are.” Steve looked back at you and you were taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. He handed your phone back to you and you laughed at the name he had for his contact: Steve Rogers and an eggplant emoji.

“You’re a child.” You giggled.

Steve rolled his eyes and got out of bed and you took the time to appreciate his bum as he walked over to get his pants.

You gathered the soft sheets in your hand and brought them up to your chest. Although you weren’t sure what you were trying to hide, he had seen it all.

Once he was dressed and you slipped on a robe that you found hanging behind the door, you walked him out. He stood in your doorframe, his large figure making the space seem very small. He smiled as he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your head and leaned down and gave you a kiss.

“Make sure to lock all the doors behind me. And text me when you wake up tomorrow.” He demanded softly.

“Mmmkay, I will.” You said hazily.

“Go get some sleep, princess.” He laughed as he pushed away from the door and walked to the elevator. You watched as he got in and gave you a quick wave before whipping out his phone to make a call.

Once he was out of sight you closed the door softly, making sure to bolt everything before heading back to your bed. You were too tired to even clean up before you passed out.