#there is literally no reason to hate or not trust him beside “he's a devil”

[red-dead-sakharine]

Loopholes

I saw the tags in @changeling-fae 's reblog, so...

"I swear" does not necessarily mean he put it in the contract. He might have, but we don't know. He gives us his word, not a magically bound contract for this. Though I personally think he will not break his word, considering that Korilla says he's always fair and honest, it still is something to be aware of.

"never use the crown..." doesn't mean he can't use his innate powers against mortals. Or his army. Or send other lackeys, like Korilla or Yurgir, against mortals. Or use ordinary weapons against mortals. It only refers to the crown's power specifically. And against puny mortals he hardly even needs the crown to snap them out of existence.

"to dominate a mortal" doesn't mean he can't use the crown to kill, maim, torture, teleport, displace, tickle, explode, humiliate, and-so-on a mortal, or conquer the material plane. Dominate is a very narrow, singular action to exclude.

In short, he literally only gives us his word, that he won't use one of his weapons to do one specific thing with mortals. He can still use the rest of his arsenal, to do whatever else he wishes.

It's such an obviously flimsy promise full of loopholes, I was very disappointed, that Tav wasn't able to point it out to him at least with an insight check.

And considering that he states during his post-credit scene, that he'll "come knocking at your door", I'd say he was very deliberate with his wording here, and doesn't intend to spare the material plane. But we'll probably never know for sure. He could just mean to take us out for dinner, after all. Right? RIGHT?

[darklinaforever]

I love the way you justify any sick shit just because you like it. Ships with violence against women (Darklina, Reylo) - yes, ships with pedophilia (SebaCiel) - yes, just because you like these particular characters, you are ready to look for "depth" and "complexity" there, but only because YOU PERSONALLY do not like Aegon or Aemond or anyone else, they cannot be complicated and interesting characters in someone's perception. Hypocrisy and stupidity. You accuse people of justifying violence and consider your opinion the only true one, even though you do exactly the same thing yourself, instead of admitting, "yes, I think these characters are hot, so I'll turn a blind eye to what they do."

Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo = Canonical gray and complex characters. (Oh and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo is a real victim of grooming)

Aegon II and Aemond = Canonical villains (besides being rapists).

“The groom was fifteen years of age ; a lazy and somewhat sulky boy, Septon Eustace tells us, but possessed of more than healthy appetites, a glutton at table, given to swilling ale and strongwine and pinching and fondling any serving girl who strayed within his reach.” - About Aegon II.

“Thus did the flower of House Strong, an ancient line of noble warriors boasting descent from the First Men, come to an ignoble end in the ward at Harrenhal. No trueborn Strong was spared, nor any bastard save... oddly... Alys Rivers. Though the wet nurse was twice his age (thrice, if we put our trust in Mushroom), Prince Aemond had taken her into his bed as a prize of war soon after taking Harrenhal, seemingly preferring her to all the other women of the castle, including many pretty maids of his own years.”

What doesn't click for you here in terms of simple differences ? These characters literally have nothing to do with each other. Not my fault if you are not able to understand this simple fact of how they were written. It's not me who ready to look depth or complexity in them. They are literally written like that, but not really the Greens by GRRM.

In addition, what you say is false, because I always said that I liked the original Aemond, as a pure villain within the dance obviously, due to the context of his writing, namely that Aemond is Daemon's foil (the real gray and complex character), a dark reflection of this latter, and that's quite fascinating, complex, and cool for me to analyze (and that is the reason why I don't like Aemond in the HOTD version, because he actually loses that essential narrative feature that basically makes him who he is in Fire and Blood).

But sorry to say, nothing about Aemond's original characterization as a person is deep or complex, much less the rest of his later actions. Literally he is presented as a little devil from childhood and stay like that until the end.

It's Aegon II, indeed, who I don't find interesting at all, even as a villain. He's just pathetic and disgusting, and anyway it seems to me that these are canonical traits of him...

But some people like this type of villain and good for them, it's just not my personal cup of tea.

I prefer Aemond, and more particularly Alicent, in the group of villains among the Greens, especially because as I said, they are more interesting for me to analyze.

I still remind you that Alicent, from Fire and Blood, is one of my favorite villains in all categories. She's that type of villain that you never get tired of loving to hate. She's a rotten woman with rotten motivations, but she's interesting to watch / reading because she's still the one running the whole Rhaenyra usurpation operation, not Otto. Alicent, in canon, is an intelligent villain who will do anything to achieve her selfish ends at the head of operations. And it's always satisfying to have this kind of villain to face the protagonist.

But I have no problem with people liking Aemond and Aegon II for what they are ; which is again villains.

My problem is those who try to turn them into gray characters, or worse justify them, things that happen far too often among stans / fans of these characters what are Aegon II and Aemond.

Because yes, there are fans who actually justify the violence and bad actions of these characters by finding tons of excuses supposed to make them complex for their fans while the original text does not do so. They indeed exist (even though not everyone is like that and I never said they were all like that).

I've already talked about it a thousand times. But you, their fans, seemed incapable of getting these simple facts into your skulls.

Plus it's cheeky to accuse me of "yes, I think these characters are hot, so I'll turn a blind eye to what they do." when all my posts about the Darkling and Kylo are analyzes due to their complexity / actions, and it doesn't even seem to me that I've already addressed their physical. While once again, there is a great sexualization of the characters of Aegon II and Aemond by certains of their fans.

Seriously, how many posts have I seen saying that "Oh my god, they couldn't resist Aegon II because he's so hot !!!" and we're still talking here about a disgusting alcoholic rapist (and pedophile on top of that according to Fire and Blood) who likes to watch children fight in an arena... while then saying first degree next to what they think that "Aegon II needs hugs to better manage his emotions, and that the rape of Dyana is not really a rape because after all we did not see her with our eyes, if that turns out there was not of penetration !" The complete wtf of that...

So don't come and give me this type of speech, with the number of individuals like I have just described who exist in the community of fans of these two characters that are Aegon II and Aemond.

Afterwards, I am not saying, there are surely people who do not understand the characters of the Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, seeing them as pure villains and therefore only see their romantic relationships with Alina and Rey as negative, but who, following the fact of finding the actors / characters attractive, one says"yes, I think these characters are hot, so I'll turn a blind eye to what they do." After all, many do it for the Greens, surely others do it for the Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, due to a poor understanding of these last two characters. So obviously what you describe probably exists.

But that's not what I do.

Sorry. I don't ignore the horrible actions of the villains I love, or the gray characters I love. I just don't receive them / don't treat them / don't see them in the same way, because their actions as villains and gray characters don't have the same scope. It's just a fact.

Also, I imagine that what you hear complex about Aegon II from Fire and Blood is that he"didn't want the throne in the first place, because he only did it to protect his family, because he been forced" ?

Bullshit reported by Eustace, a pro greens, who obviously will manage to embellish the people he propagandizes, what surprising !

Especially since this stupid speech from Aegon II never wanted the throne... is quickly revealed be bullshit when we see how much he enjoyed sitting there, ready to reign alone and refusing to be controlled by Otto, all while refusing to abdicate in favor of Rhaenyra, who had nevertheless proposed that his brothers and sisters would be safe, and that he insults her of whore in the process for free, it seems to me. Which... oh yes seems so much like the mark of a deep and complex character / person who don't want be king !

And then it's still really cheeky to tell myself that I like "sick shit with violence against women", when you literally like / found deep interesting, complex and complicated, you know... RAPISTS ?! (But who mostly deny being rapists in the Aemond and Aegon II fans / stans community OF COURSE !) Probably the worst form of violence against women ?! Hospital ? charity ? in your speech ?

Although it's again not really a problem that you love them, as long as the problematic aspect is recognized by you fan. (Even if, objectively, I find that there is nothing interesting about Aegon II as a villain, both as a person and in his character construction and his role, but anyone is free to think otherwise)

As I said, I like Aemond, who is a rapist, as a villain for his narrative role, which I find interesting to analyze. But I also like Kilgrave, another rapist, because I find him interesting, in his way of acting in relation to his power, and the way he can be obsessed with something. We are clearly dealing with a particular psychiatric case. Without forgetting the charisma of the actor and the terrifying aura that he manages to exude from the character. Moreover, these two characters have the particularity of dying because of the women who were the victims of their mistreatment, and that is very very enjoyable.

Or the Dracula of 1992, who also rapes Lucy, Mina's best friend, but who remains presented by the story as a figure similar to Lucifer having fallen and who in his love for Mina allows him to find redemption in death when 'she kills him at his request, all without that stopping him from being the villain of the story in the movie.

But is it because I love these villains that I support their evil actions ? Absolutely no. Of course not. They are monsters / villains that I enjoy watching (while hating them for their disgusting actions) at work generally against the protagonists, but I like even more the moment where they are destroyed. It's exactly the same as the Disney villains of our childhood. We love them for different reasons, but we recognize who they are, that what they do is bad, with no real explanation for the most part, and we mostly love seeing them be defeated in the end.

Besides, it's not because I like gray and complex characters that I'm going to defend / justify / agree with their dark actions either, under the pretext that they have a part of light. On the other hand, we can explain their actions, reflect on their complexity. These characters may have good reasons for doing what they actually do, perhaps originally noble causes, like the Darkling, with wanting the protection of Grisha from normal people and the countries Fjerda and Shu Han, because of centuries of mistreatment and discrimination ? Or the fact that they've been groomed since they were fetuses in their mother's womb, manipulated through unbearable voices in their heads to influence them to do bad things, like Kylo Ren / Ben Solo ?

Or those being described as being made of equal parts light and darkness, but who will only direct their dark side against the people they hates / are they enemies and who... let's be realistic, mostly look very little or not sympathetic in our eyes as readers, even if the actions against these ennemies themselves are not very synonymous of kindness on the part of these gray characters either, like Daemon Targaryen in Fire and Blood.

One thing his introduction in Fire and Blood proves :

And that GRRM himself confirms through his words :

It's not as if the author says something about the character and the text doesn't follow. On the contrary, the text of Fire and Blood completely validates the author's words about Daemon.

But hey, if Green stans prefer say that Daemon is a pure villain and monster and therefore to appear illiterate in order to justify liking / preferring Aegon II, that's their problem. People who know how to read and analyze will know what it's all about.

Anyway, all these characters are only gray and complex who in their respective stories have people worse than them, the real villains, whom they generally face with the protagonist.

No, the true problem here for you, is not that you like the villains Aegon II and Aemond, but is that you bother to send me an anonymous message implying the defense of the honor of these horrible villains fictional character by comparing to other characters (who are gray characters, not villains) who have nothing in common, in order to make you appear more morally just under the pretext that you will put them all on an equal footing, even if they are once again not written the same at all...

But again, the difference between these characters is simple. Like I said :

Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo = Canonical gray and complex characters. (Oh and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo is a real victim of grooming)

Aegon II and Aemond = Canonical villains (besides being rapists).

So there is no comparison to be made between these characters, or even that any equality of treatment is applied between them. Period.

And what the hell do you care if I imagine a scenario where an adult Ciel gets fucked by Sebastian after they surprisingly fall in love ?

It's literally an imaginary scenario of a purely fanon ship, therefore which has nothing canon, which in fact does not really fit into the framework of pedophilia, since I imagine an adult Ciel in this scenario, like I already said it to an anti in another post !

It's just as stupid to say that Sareth and Sessrin are pedophile ships, because the characters knew the young lady when she was a child, when literally nothing happens or is even suggested in this sense when they are children, while one is a story about the sexual awakening of an adolescent girl through her fantasies and the other, nothing happens until she is an adult (i.e. the guy develops feelings for the girl), for the norms of the society in which she lives !

I repeat, canonically, Sebaciel does not exist.

Sebastian does not have pedophilic sexual urges for Ciel, and Ciel does not fall under Sebastian's manipulation to do things with him. This scenario simply does not exist (nor do I imagine this kind of scenario when I personnaly imagine scenarios for this ship).

Canonically, it is simply a complex and deep relationship between a human and a demon, which therefore exceeds human norms, due to their pact which binds them.

But there is certainly a homoerotic subtext by the author, which can be fun (or not, it depends on how people feel) to see and understand. It's a particulary choice to make, but that doesn't mean that the author supports a real pedophilia and sexual relationship between a child and an adult since anyway... well that never happens in his work canonically speaking. Demons are often linked to lust / perverse things, and are anyway... inhuman. So obviously they will not have normal / moral thoughts or actions. But once again, in reality, there is nothing happening between the characters canonically, and for my part, I not imagine any pedophile or ephebophile scenario.

Love scenarios are common between human and demon, it's one of the many known tropes that many people love. Much like being an immortal falling in love with someone he actually knew as a child (and this without entering into the domain of pedophilia or grooming as many antis people like to automatically and stupidly think).

It's nothing new.

But if you automatically think that this kind of twisted pedophile scenario come in my head when I think to Sebaciel, well... maybe you're the real problem.

To conclude... I would say that there are two possibilities for the person you are.

Either you see Aemond and Aegon II as pure villains but don't know the difference between villains and gray characters, or simply refuse to see it so as not to feel guilty for liking villains (or other obscure reasons), which is... ridiculous because we should not be ashamed of loving villains. Since the dawn of time we have loved them when they are well written.

Or, you refuse to see Aemond and Aegon II as the villains they are and try to put them on the same level as any type of grayer character who would do negative actions to make them also appear as complex characters, or you try to insinuate that these other characters are actually maybe worse than the characters you prefer and love, trying to forget the fact that you like real bad guys (which again, is not something something that someone should shame or hide).

These two possibilities can be linked to the fact that you wish in all cases to appear morally acceptable.

One because you will put all the characters on the same level under the pretext that they have all done morally questionable actions, although these characters in fact have drastic differences and are not treated the same way in their respective stories. All to give you the impression of being morally good, because you will not try to differentiate any of the bad actions committed by these characters, when once again you have to make the difference. Because we cannot put a villain and an anti-hero / gray character on the same level. Thus avoiding you taking the risk of really defending or showing your love and preference for a character who has done bad actions in particular to a certain audience. You appreciate and enjoy watching these characters, but still make no difference between these famous characters who have committed bad actions and you put them all on the same level of atrocity. You don't differentiate between them, just saying that they are all bad and therefore on the same level. What could be more morally correct than that on the surface ?

And the other, because you're trying to pretend that you're the person supporting the gray characters in the story against the real bad guys (even though it's actually the complete opposite that the story is telling). And isn't it also a way of appearing morally superior to pretend that you don't like the villains of the story, but gray characters with a real share of light ?

Or that you try to pretend that the characters you like, the villains, are in fact misunderstood gray characters, in the same way that their adversaries in the story are the real gray characters, therefore trying to make people believe that they is no real villain in the story you are consuming, bringing us back to the concept of putting everyone on the same level, but in a less drastic way than saying that everyone is bad.

That, or you're simply a person who doesn't know how to properly analyze the media you consume.

And whatever the truth, I have to say that none of them seem very positive.

Anyway, once again, I actually have no problem liking villains, without trying to justify them so I can feel entitled to like them.

Again, I particularly like Alicent and Kilgrave, villains who are not gray characters.

But I also have no shame in recognizing gray characters and not putting / treating them on the same level as villains, especially such as the Greens. Quite simply because it is the logical order of things when we analyze these types of characters.

The Darkling and Kylo Ren / Ben Solo have nothing to do with Aemond and Aegon II. And that's a simple truth that must bother you a lot for you to take the trouble to send me an anonymous message.

I'm not stopping anyone from liking the characters of Aemond and Aegon II from finding them interesting villains, because most people like villains that are well written, and GRRM wrote the Greens well. I've always said that. I just don't like those who try to make it seem like these are gray and complex characters (or complicated, as you like to say, because what the hell is complicated about the Greens ? I'm not saying that complicated and complex villains don't exist, on the contrary, there are, but we can't really say that the Greens objectively belong to this type of villain, whether Alicent loved her children, and whether Aegon II tried to build statutes for his brothers or not. Because yes, caricature villains still capable of love, that exists. And however that doesn't make them gray, complex and complicated. Just watch the movie “The Frighteners” and many other fictional programs to understand that). Because they simply aren't. This is the reality of their writing by GRRM.

Best wishes.

[thegrandlinesimp]

HELLO!! May i please request Eustsass Kid playing naked hide and seek with his partner (any gender)? 🥺🥺 That's so beautiful to even think about 😂

As I discussed with kizaru over pm this - of course - turned into smut... I ask not for forgiveness from god but praise from the devil 😁

So I wrote this with a femboy s/o in mind cause my bf is one and he's been driving me insane with his short skirts and tight stockings and my frustration ended up bleeding into here 😂

Also I feel Kid would be all about a femboy s/o.

Note: I just remembered this is the first time I’ve ever actually posted smut 😂 been writing/studying how to write it for 10 years but never has any of it seen the light of day till now!

Warning: swearing, manhandling, hair-puling, face-fucking, rough sex

Kid x fem!boy S/O: A Game of Cat and Mouse

2k+ words

(god he's so fucking pretty, I'm like, literally mesmerised by this gif!)

Kid growled, clenching his teeth, “Hundred’s way too long, twenty, tops.”

His boyfriend scoffs, twirling a tube of lube around his fingers, “Barely enough time to hide and start prepping myself. Less you want to hurt me like that?”

The red-head pouted, squinting at his partner, “Not my fault I got a big dick.”

Name smirked, “And not my fault I’ve got a ‘cute, fuckable little ass’ as you so eloquently put it.”

At this point Kid felt himself starting to get impatient, “Fine, fine, a hundred! But,” he jabbed a finger at the petit man, “this better be worth it.”

Name gave that little giggle, the one that never failed to make Kid’s cock twitch at the sultry promise the laughter held, “Oh, it will be~”

***

“Eighty-seven, eighty-eight,” Kid muttered out loud, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin the image of Name darting about the ship stark naked no longer amusing him enough to stave off boredom, “eighty-nine, ninety.”

It was then that an odd feeling began to bubble in his gut as he neared the final countdown, his legs tingled, itching to move as his heartrate picked up.

“Ninety-six, ninety-seven,” the young captain grinned, hauling himself off the bed, shucking off his coat – the last of his clothing – as he strode to the cabin door, “ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” he reached for the door handle, the coil in his gut growing tighter, heart racing faster, “a hundred.”

He didn’t know what to expect when he flung the door to the deck open, which was the main reason he’d managed to convince Name to let him keep his boxers on. While the smaller man would be hiding, Kid would be walking about the empty ship looking for him and the last thing he wanted was for one of the crew to come back from the tavern to find him walking about the ship completely naked, dick shrivelled up from the cold night air.

As if losing his arm wasn’t enough.

Oh yeah, that’s right.

He took a quick step back inside the cabin, disconnecting the prosthetic and dumping it beside the doorway. He kicked the door shut as he stepped out onto the deck, brain ticking away as he tried to figure out where to look first. It was then Kid realised with a sinking feeling that nearly anywhere could be a hiding place for Name; not only was the man small – with the faintest hints of muscle showing under his usually tight clothes, but he was impossibly flexible to boot.

Then again, that was one of the many things Kid loved about him, and damn if it didn’t make for some fun times.

Kid gave a quick scan of the deck, wondering if he should trust his boyfriend’s rule about not hiding where anyone on the docks could see them going at it. It wasn’t that Name was no exhibitionist, it was more he didn’t want anyone else seeing Kid butt naked, dude had more of a jealous streak than the red-head ever could.

He smirked as he went below deck, deciding to first check the storerooms, then the kitchen and lastly the bathroom. He knew he didn’t need to check the crew quarters; Name hated the smell of the other men overpowering Kid’s.

“Such a possessive little shit,” Kid chuckled to himself as he began his search.

***

Nowhere!

Motherfucker was nowhere to be found!

He’d even checked the crew quarters!

And the kitchen, twice!

…Okay the second time his main goal was to grab a drink, but still, he checked! The liquor! Cabinet!

Kid knew he just needed to shout their safeword and Name would come out, but that would mean giving up the hunt! And Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid was no fucking quitter!

There was one more place Name could be, Kid’s workshop, but he’d need the key to get in and the guy had left their cabin completely naked, holding just the lube.

Still, it didn’t hurt to check.

And what do you know! The fucking door to his workshop was unlocked!

Kid slowly opened the heavy door, glaring down the dozen or so stairs leading into the heart of the ship. He took two down before turning and bolting the door shut behind himself; Name wasn’t overly strong by any means, but damn if he could run. The red-head reached the bottom of the stairs and glanced around, frowning. There were even less places to hide here than anywhere else! Under the table – well he could see under there from where he was so that was a no go, behind his unfinished works or the couch. That was it!

The couch was an exciting prospect, he could just grab Name by the arm and haul him over the back onto the cushions, pressing his face into the seat as Kid went go straight to town on him!

This whole no clothes thing was actually kinda hot, he was starting to see why Name had suggested it.

He grinned, feeling a familiar bubble of arousal begin to surface in his gut as he stalked towards the couch. Ever so slowly he placed his hand on the back – being careful to not let his fingers hook over so Name could see them – as he brought one knee up onto the seat.

“Gotcha!” Kid roared as he lunged, nearly toppling over the back of the couch as his hand grabbed…

Nothing!

“Fuck!”

He glared at the empty space behind the couch, now he was sporting a semi with no way to get off other than his own hand!

Kid whipped around to look at his unfinished projects, the much larger ones covered by-

“Sheets,” Kid hissed, grin turning manic.

Last he checked, he had six unfinished projects covered by sheets, so as not to get dust in the delicate mechanisms.

Then why did he now count seven?

He didn’t dare to move, hatching a plan of attack. Okay, so he knew those two were weapons, that one was some weird bird statue that came to him in a dream and those two were too big to be Name.

Shit, so it was the one on the far left or the far right!

“Clever boy,” Kid muttered, eyes darting between the two as he tried to deduce which sheet had his boyfriend under it, then he had one of his bright ideas, “Oi, Name, c’mon on out. Got a nice, juicy, fat cock here for you to suck on.”

There! The left one twitched, he was certain!

In less than a second, he’d torn off the sheet to find-

Not Name! Name was making a break for the door from under the far-right sheet!

The red-head bolted after him, Name shrieked and laughed as he dashed up the stairs. Kid had never been happier about his rare moments of foresight than when his boyfriend reached the door and fumbled with the bolt.

“Finally,” he shouted as his one arm wrapped around Name’s waist and the smaller man was hauled over his shoulder with a shriek, “oh you’re gonna get it!”

Name cackled, making feeble attempts to wriggle out of the captain’s grasp, “I knew you’d get into it!”

Kid huffed, tossing the other onto the couch and shoving his boxers down. He couldn’t help but leer down at his boyfriend who was kneeling on the couch, salivating at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, yet bowed under its own hefty weight.

He grabbed Name’s hair and tugged, causing the smaller man to grunt as he was forced to look up at the red-head, “Open.”

Name didn’t miss a beat, opening his mouth and poking out his tongue, eyes half lidded as he panted up at his lover. The grin of Kid’s face was feral as he realised that the other man had probably been fingering himself the whole time he was hiding, continuously edging himself, bringing himself to a point beyond desperate for Kid’s cock.

“That’s a good boy,” Kid smirked, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock brushed against Name’s tongue, “keep it up and you’ll get a reward.”

Name’s needy whimper was cut off as the red-head shoved his cock into his mouth, he didn’t even have time to gag as the thick length slid down his throat, causing tears to well up in the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, your mouth was made for my dick,” Kid growled, watching Name as he struggled to bob his head with Kid’s fingers still tightly gripping his hair, “you want it, you little slut, want your captain to fuck that pretty little mouth?”

Name gave a loud moan, the muffled vibration feeling heavenly to the red-head as he looked down at those pleading eyes. Kid grinned, clenching his teeth as he began to rut against his boyfriend’s face, being sure to pull back every now and then just long enough for him to get some air. During one of those few seconds, Name’s tongue darted out to swirl around the cockhead still in his mouth. Kid groaned, rhythm stuttering for a moment as his grip on the other man’s hair tightened.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling out and letting the other man go, “turn around and spread your ass for me.”

The smaller man had already begun to turn before Kid had even finished speaking, resting his forehead on the back cushions of the couch and reaching back with both hands to spread his ass cheeks.

Kid couldn’t stop the groan he let out at the lewd sight before him, the way his lover’s hole clenched around nothing as light streaks excess lube trickled out and down his thighs was a sight he’d never grow tired of. He stroked himself a few times and licked his lips, committing the image to memory.

Name’s hips gave an enticing sway as he whined, “K-Kid, c’mon.”

Oh, he was already in a begging mood, was he?

Perfect.

The red-head chuckled, moving to press the tip of his cock against the other’s entrance, grinning at the sensation of the muscles pressed against him immediately relaxing. Keeping a firm grip on himself he rolled his hips forward just slightly, relishing in the sinful cry Name gave as his cockhead slipped in, then he placed his hand on the other man’s hip.

And Kid didn’t move past that, remaining still as a statue.

He felt light headed at the way Name’s breath began to pick up, he tried to push himself back onto Kid’s cock, but the grip on his hip tightened.

“Need something, babe?” Kid chuckled.

“Fuck, Kid, please!” Name whined, hands moving to grab the back of the couch for extra leverage to try and push back.

But Kid didn’t let him move.

“C’mon, Name,” he laughed, “we both know you can do better than that.”

With that he pulled out, tip resting against the other’s hole.

“No!” Name wailed, whipping his head around to look at Kid, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open as he panted like a bitch in heat, “Oh, Captain, fuck! Please, Captain, fuck my slutty, tight asshole with your massive cock!”

The red-head felt the familiar swell of perverted joy in his chest as he grinned, “That’s better.”

Kid slammed his hips forward with a snarl, thighs quaking at the feeling of his length being engulfed by the tight, wet heat of his boyfriend’s ass. Name cried out, tongue lolling out and eyes rolling as Kid set a brutal pace, hips slapping against the curve of his ass. All his lover could do was hold on to the couch for dear life as his captain fucked him further into submission. The hand on his hip pulling and pushing him to the red-head’s rhythm, whines and choked moans falling from his lips every time Kid’s length rubbed against his prostate.

“C’mon!” Kid roared, grabbing Name’s hair again, “Sing for me, slut!”

He pulled Name by his hair till their torsos were pressed together, Name’s hands having to leave the back of the couch to comply with the position. Kid laughed as the other man scrambled for purchase, managing to grab the red-head’s hip with one hand and tug at red locks with the other. The new angle had Kid’s cock rubbing perfectly against Name’s prostate, pressure harsh and unrelenting.

“You gonna be a good little slut and come for me, Name?” Kid grunted, feeling the coil in his gut beginning to tighten.

The only reply he got was a garbled moan and a frantic nod.

Kid let go of his hair and Name let go of him, he fell forward to bury his face in the couch cushions as rhythmic slapping of skin on skin began to falter.

“That’s it babe,” the red-head snarled, head spinning as he hurtled towered his finish, “be a good boy and come for me, gonna fill you up so much you’ll feel it inside you for days!”

“Kid~!” Name shuddered beneath him, bucking back as he moaned and clenched around his cock, coming all over the couch.

“Fuck, yes, fuck!” Kid bellowed, slamming his hips forwards one last time as he came deep inside his lover, groaning as his thighs trembled, hips rocking to prolong the sensation.

Eventually his heartbeat stopped pounding in his ears and Kid slowly pulled out, grinning as he watched strings of cum run down the other man’s thighs. He leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Name’s waist, who groaned in protest.

Kid chuckled, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to the back of his boyfriend’s neck and smirking, “Next time, I’m hiding with the lube.”

[nevereverlandboys]

Different Pulses 

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: After Pan gets defeated, Y/N and Felix live together in Storybrooke with the "heroes". They both don't get along and seem to avoid each other, until the "heroes" need to leave them alone to save Henry from another threat. Will Y/N get along with the cold, distant boy?

Part: (1/?)

@madd-devil

This story is heavily inspired by "When it's cold" by:

@the-original-weirdo-83

@peter-pan-on-neverland

Y/N's eyes wandered through the small room, from the small bed to the huge window, stopping at the small drawer underneath it, before finally stepping further in. The walls were dyed light blue and besides a big clock and a flat screen they were empty. There was nothing unusual with this room, nothing really striking and yet it still felt a little strange. She walked forwards and ripped the dark curtains away, opening the window to welcome the golden sunlight into the room, warming her skin. The air smelled different and even the birds chirped in another tune. It seemed as if this world was quieter than the other, less dangerous and more welcoming. For a moment Y/N was soaked into the moment and drifted off into her thoughts, as suddenly some cursing in the next room ripped the girl out of her thoughts. With an annoyed snarl, she rolled her eyes and let herself drop onto the small bed, trying to ignore the sounds that probably came from the grumpy former second in command. After all, he still did not like being taken from Neverland, as he found himself with Y/N in a new home in Storybrooke. He still did not fit in and fought with everything he had to integrate. The second in command was stubborn and feisty, hot-tempered and constantly in a bad mood. Felix had barely granted Y/N a smile since they came off the Island and after he was brought into Mary Margaret's and David Charmings flat, everything went worse. The lost boy usually locked himself up inside his room, stayed there until after dinner to grab himself the leftovers, before vanishing back behind the wooden door. He never seemed to understand the technology around him, not even trying to understand it, but getting angry instead if it did not work out like he had imagined it to.  Y/N on the other hand, found herself in a healthy relationship with her hosts real quick. They took it as their own responsibility to take both of them in, after Pan was defeated. Felix, because he was the most stubborn boy that would never find his peace in an orphanage and Y/N, because she was the only girl next to Wendy that lived with the lost boys. After all this time on the island, she found herself being close to Henry as well. The small, young boy was like a little brother to her, making the girl laugh and joining her whenever Mary Margaret would allow them to go out. She was a careful woman and even though she trusted Y/N, there was no reason for her not to be cautious. Also Y/N suspected Mary  not to act like granting the girl a privilege while Felix was still being guarded. 

Another loud yell from behind those walls disturbed the girls' peaceful daydreams once more, so she grabbed the pillow and pressed it over her head to muffle all the sound, trying her best to ignore everything around. It was a day too pretty for this and Y/N only wanted to relax, but not a few minutes of delightful silence later, she heard a knock on the wooden door. Moving her body properly under the sheets, she faced the door and mumbled just loud enough,"Come in."

The door swung open and revealed the former second in command's worried face, his sweaty hair hung down his face and he breathed so loud that the girl could literally feel anger flooding in the room. The atmosphere turned immediately tense and the room seemed to shrink around her with each second passing. Y/N held her breath and raised one eyebrow in confusion, trying her best to hide her insecurities behind a questioning look, as the lanky, blonde boy's eyes pierced her urgently. 

"Where is the little rat?" Felix spoke in a hoarse tone. 

"The ra-" She started confused. "Oh."

Henry.

"He took my cloak." Felix raged. "Where is the bastard, so I can smite him!"

"It's in the laundry." Y/N interrupted him before Felix would even try to hurt Henry and give him the fault for her doings. She found it in the bathroom and washed it along with the other laundry. The girl's voice was almost inaudible, well knowing the boy's temper from all the countless encounters with the other lost boys. Felix's eyes twitched and he gritted his teeth as he slowly came closer, one step after another, to close the distance that kept her away from him, the only distance that gave the girl at least a little bit of comfort. Henry could be glad to have to spend the time with the grumpy lost boy on weekends only. How much she envied him.

"What?" He snarled with his face just a few centimeters away from hers and for a moment her mind went blank, the only impulse she felt was to storm out of the room. As she crashed to the door, Y/N did not even bother to look back and swiftly grabbed her shoes and keys before leaving the apartment.  The door swung shut with a loud crash that echoed through every room as Felix swayed back in his own room, every cell inside him questioning why his heart felt so heavy. Y/N was not even sure if the lanky boy bothered to chase after her and if her actions seemed a little exaggerated, but when Felix built himself up in front of her, the girl's heart sank into the bottom of her body and fear overtook her mind. The former lost boy had been cruel to other boys for less than that.

She did not stay out for long, simply walked around the block to get some fresh air and to get some space from the tall boy. Also, because she knew that Mary would be mad if she was not home when the woman returned. The first week did not start well and Y/N let out a frustrated sight as she thought of the future. Mary and David left her alone with him half of the day, having the boy locked up in his room was not consoling though, the fact alone that he was present was enough to make her feel nervous. When she returned to the apartment, Felix was nowhere in sight, so she quickly snuck back into her room, hoping that he would leave her alone for the rest of the day. On the other hand, she had to make sure that he would not hurt Henry, the poor boy did nothing wrong. For a moment Y/N hesitated until she decided to get Felix's cloak from the washing line on the balcony. Not a surprise that the asshole did not know it was there, when he never left his room. Still, the girl felt a little curious when she thought of what he might do all day by himself- especially with no understanding of technology. Was he not bored? There was no convincing answer that she could think of and Y/N wondered if she would find out as she strutted with the big cloak in her hands towards Felix's room. She  knocked at the door and immediately regretted it after the previous events. Nevertheless she tried to be brave and push her fear aside, telling herself that the former second in command was not threatening at all.

She knocked again when nothing happened and suddenly some angry footsteps stomped into her direction-, firm and loud, before the tall boy ripped the door wide open, revealing his furious face.

"What the fuck do you want?" Felix growled, the veins of his neck throbbing and his hands pressed so tightly into fists that his knuckles turned white. 

"I-...eh." Y/N stammered nervously and tightened her grip onto the cloak. Her eyes widened as she thought, He would not hurt me, would he? "I have your-"

"Keep that!" Felix interrupted her, his words were like poison.

Felix slammed the door shut before  the girl could say another  word, leaving her in the dark hallway with an unsettling feeling inside her guts that something was wrong. But how could she even tell what? Felix never spoke to her that much and it was pretty obvious that he would not do more in the future. All Y/N knew was that the grumpy boy missed the island and that he missed Pan, even though the girl never understood his obedience to the green devil. Peter Pan was manipulative and evil and she was glad he never left Neverland alive. Felix couldn't give her the fault for his loss, she had never helped the heroes and even refused as the only one next to him to say a word. Well, Y/N opened up quicker and befriended the "heroes" after everything they did. It was a saint if she could speak freely about it. The cloak must mean a lot to Felix, or else he would never be this angry, even for a boy who had a tendency to violence-, he never hurt Y/N before. She really hoped he would take it back and overcome his rage. The idea that Felix might only looked for a reason to hate Henry more occured her a few minutes later, but it was an unspoken thought that seemed to be way too assumptious.

"I am sorry about Peter." She moved her forehead onto the wooden door, resting it there for a bit and after a while she watched a single tear drop down onto the ground. Peter was not completely evil, not to Y/N at least and deep inside he was a loss to her as well. There was a short time where Felix seemed to be nice too, back on Neverland just weeks before Peter got defeated. He had shown the girl a flower field and tickled her until some boy's would crossy their way and disturb that lovely moment. It was the first and only time he had ever been close in a comforting way. Since then, Y/N had always hoped to see the boy underneath this rusty shell, but it was all gone since the second he stepped off the boat.

The door stayed closed and she stared at Felix's cloak, wondering what to do with it. When Y/N returned to her own room and snuck underneath the covers, the cloak was still under her arm. It did not smell like Felix anymore. The ticking of the clock was the only sound filling the room, capturing the girl's eyes to check the time- six pm. It was late, almost time for Mary Margaret to come back from work and cook some dinner, and when it was time for Y/N to sleep, David would come home too and Emma would come tomorrow, to bring Henry over for the weekend. Y/N barely saw David. He was always busy with his work in the police station and would get home late in the night. He left Felix and her up to Mary and Emma, which was definitely a hard task thinking of the rebellious boy next to Y/N's room. The man could not stand the former lost boy, the girl had seen it in his eyes when Emma brought her onto the ship, back then,  from escaping Neverland. Felix's emotions seemed mutual and everyone around could sense it. That both of them were separated most of the time, was not so bad after all. Mary Margarett even tried to take it as an opportunity to get to know more about the former lost boy, but all her attempts failed. The boy kept shut, would not reveal his past and barely replied to any of the woman’s actions. It was tiring to watch, quite a show though. It seemed like a boring game of charade, in which Mary kept asking him countless questions and then tried to interpret his annoyed growls as he ate some cereal. Breakfast was a strict rule for him to join and dinner to avoid. 

Y/N rolled over and grabbed her phone, turning some music on to change her thoughts and kill the silence. Even though it was so early, she felt how her eyelids were getting heavy, how she slowly drifted off into sleep, using the cloak as a pillow. Throwing it away was not an option for her, there could always come a time where the former lost boy would demand it back. 

It felt like a whole night when the girl woke up from a strange feeling of someone pulling on something underneath her. Out of reflex, she tightened the grip on the cloak in her arms. The pulling got stronger and when she realised that this was not a dream, she slowly opened her tired eyes.

"I changed my mind." Felix scoffed. "I want it back."

With a mind still dizzy and drunk from sleep, Y/N's sight was still so blurry, that it was hard to catch up and she needed a moment to follow the lost boy's words. He obviously meant the cloak, but why did he make such a fuss about it when he did not want it in the first place? 

"Y/N?" He pronounced her name so carefully when he realised her eyes were closing again. She did not respond. 

The sound of Felix's knees hitting the floor startled the girl out of sleep, finding herself sitting bolt upright in bed, pressing the cloak with widened eyes tightly against her chest. He let out an amused chuckle, grinning from ear to ear. Being fully awake now, Y/N realised why the tall boy was here and she slowly reached her hand forward, handing the boy his cloak over. What the hell did he do in the middle of the night inside her room? Why could this not wait? Her eyes wandered to her phone on the small nightstand-, it was eight pm and winter. It caused the girl to genuinely laugh to herself.

"Sorry for washing it." She whispered meek, avoiding Felix's gaze and dropped her head back onto the pillow before turning  away from him to close her eyes. 

"It's all right." With that Felix quickly made his way back to his own room, the door closing so quick as if he had run.

The next day he kept quiet, did not say a word at breakfast, not even a snarky comment towards Henry who was constantly talking about one of his favourite movies and its heroes. The word 'hero' usually was enough to make the former lost boy explode. Not this time. His steel like eyes were glued onto his bowl as he ate in silence. Later he would sit in the living room, watching some TV that Henry forgot to turn off and would not even complain when Y/N joined and switched the channel. For a moment she felt his eyes burning on her skin. When she met his gaze, the former lost boy rose to his feet and walked away, slamming his door to confirm he was in his room now. Felix was strange and not the friendliest boy for sure. Still, Y/N had the feeling that there was more behind his behaviour that he would let her on and that he exaggerated an act. Mary would give her some tasks over the time like getting the groceries, which she would really appreciate doing, since it was a great way to get out. Y/N and Felix were no prisoners of course and the cold of the thick snow creeping in from the outside would keep her under her covers anyway. There never has been snow on Neverland. It was entirely strange and yet so familiar, waking a nostalgic feeling inside the girl. When Y/N found her way to the grocery store, there was no one to harm her and she had all the time she needed to wander through the different Isles and shove anything she liked into the shopping cart. There were no lost boys with spears and torches, that would hunt the girl down until her feet would bleed. No Pan that played his dangerous, manipulative games, that only entertained him in a twisted, sadistic way,  satisfying him, that it could already be a kink. 

It was freedom. 

The good snacks from the store disappeared immediately inside the drawer, keeping it safe from Henry or Felix. Both had the tendency to steal Y/N's food. She would often cook for herself, learning new skills since there was nothing else to do anyways. As soon as Mary returned, the girl hoped she would bring some more groceries, but she got disappointed. The snow held her off too long, the mood to go into the supermarket was simply gone and Y/N could understand that.

"You can go with Henry." She smiled and grabbed herself something to drink from the fridge. 

"When will he be here?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow as she waited for an answer. The short haired woman slowly turned around, her face seemed to be frozen in an unbelieving, perplexed and slightly fearing frown.

"Isn't he here alr-" She stopped and both of their heads shot into the same direction when a key was put inside the front lock, turning and unlocking the door. The girl expected the young boy to get home, instead, Emma stormed into the apartment, shortly followed by David and the girl already saw on their faces that something was wrong. Mary let go of what she was doing and closed the distance between them with quite some concern on her face.

"They took Henry!" Emma bursted out, her eyes searching the room as if her son could just hide somewhere and would just magically appear any moment. She looked full of hope. David gently rubbed her back and told Mary to get her things. They always seemed to find trouble and now Y/N finally understood what Felix meant, when he once claimed that their hero being was only a facade and they were the true danger. Were they? Henry was gone and that was because he was so important to these women.

"Who took him?" Y/N asked worriedly.

"Stay out of this, you are not a part of this." Emma ignored the question and  gently shoved the former lost girl out of her way to get her keys. She ripped the door wide open and jumped down the hallway without bothering to close it, expecting the others to follow quickly. 

"We will get Henry back." Mary turned to Y/N, trying to comfort her by holding her hands. "You don't have to worry."

It was not the young boy she worried about and the short haired woman knew that. With a quick glance back to Felix's closed door, Y/N gulped and immediately shook her head.

"I can come with you!" She protested at the thought of being all alone with the former second in command.

"No," Mary said and sighted. "I need you here."

Her gaze wandered off to Felix's door again and her look grew frustrated. Y/N followed with her eyes and nodded before facing the short haired woman again. She turned to the counter and grabbed her purse to pull out her wallet.  Then she collected all the money she had and put it in a sugar box inside the shelf. 

"I trust you enough." Her words meant a lot. "Besides, once in a while Regina will check up on you two."

With that, Mary Margaret turned around and gave David a final nod, before both of them left the apartment to join their daughter in the car. As soon as Y/N closed the door behind them, everything went into an uncomfortable silence. There was no single sound instead of the unbearable striking of the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. 

"Great." Y/N moaned quietly. At least they could have told her who took Henry and for what possible reason. The adults would always seem to know better and in this case they decided it would be better to keep Felix and her out of this. Did they really want to leave her out of it, or was Y/N just not to be trusted? Felix would easily try to convince her about that. The former lost boy probably would not  care  at all. It was smart of Mary Margaret to hide some money for Y/N. The fridge was almost empty and she wondered how long they would be away and when she would need food. There was nothing good inside it, nothing appealing, so  Y/N closed the door and strutted back to her room. Dropping into the sheets, she grabbed the remote next to her pillow and turned on the TV. Henry had shown her how to use it real quick as he often joined the girl to play video games. All those years living here and using all these things caused him to always be smarter and it was the first thing Y/N noticed that Felix disliked about him. At the end, there were countless things the scarred up boy hated, but Henry was always the center of his anger. 

With the time passing by, the rumbling in the girl's stomach got louder until her tummy literally screamed for something to eat. Back in the kitchen, there was still nothing  appealing and with a quick glance to Felix's wooden door, she wondered if the former lost boy would like to eat something too. Each step further towards his room felt more heavy and Y/N's stomach turned inside out. The moment her knuckles knocked against the cool wood, she questioned why she even tried to be nice and get along with him. The floor was cold, maybe she should have put on some socks or turned on the heater. There was no sound on the other side of the wood and Y/N started to wonder if Felix was even home, when suddenly some heavy footsteps slowly strutted closer. Felix swayed the door wide open and rubbed his tired eyes, then rested his heavy head on the doorframe. He only wore some grey sweatpants, revealing his scars on his pale chest. The air around the girl thickened and her body heated up at the sight of his messy, sweaty morning hair. 

"Sorry." She mumbled and avoided looking at him. His presence alone caused shivers to run down her spine. "Did I wake you?"

"M-hm." Felix grumbled tiredly, fighting to keep his eyes open. Y/N's eyes wandered back to the open kitchen and its clock. It was four o'clock.

"Are you hungry?"

The tall boy remained silent for a moment, his dull eyes staring at the girl as if he did not understand the question, turned to look at his bed, then slightly nodded with his head as if it was the hardest thing to do.

"I could eat." He spoke with a deep, raspy voice, laying his focus back onto Y/N. Fuck, he sounded so hot, it caught her off guard and left her unable to speak for a glimpse moment. 

"I am ordering food." She said after a small moment. "What would you like?"

Felix pressed his brows together, then lifted one in confusion. "How does that work?" He asked and Y/N chuckled in amusement, feeling how her stiffened limbs relaxed. 

"You choose a restaurant and then decide what you want to eat." She explained and showed the blonde boy her phone. "They deliver it and you pay."' 

"Ah."

Y/N were not sure if Felix was not understanding it, or simply did not like it. He brought his hands up to his arms and rubbed the scarred skin, feeling how cold it was and finally bothered to put on a T-shirt. If Y/N were honest with herself, she liked Felix's exposed back. Muscles danced under tender flesh, as arms stretched upon the ceiling, forward and crooked together, pulling the cotton over his chest. Back on Neverland, Felix always seemed to be violent and rough, harsh to others and never in a good mood. There has not changed much, yet the dangerous, threatening touch was missing since he came to Storybrooke with Y/N. He was bent to new rules now. 

"Pizza." Felix said and stepped closer, closing the distance and bent down to take a glimpse of the menu. "Do they have some?"

Y/N's skin started to prickle when she felt his breath against her cheek and immediately froze in place. Why was he so close? 

"You know Pizza?" She asked unsure, still a little curious. Felix smirked and let out a husky chuckle. "Sure I do."

He walked past her into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, gulped it down, filled another one, gulped it down, but when he repeated that for a third time, the second in command could not finish it and disposed of the remains in the sink.  He turned around to check the time and widened his eyes as he realised how late it already was.

"The days are dark during winter." The boy mentioned with a side-along gaze, as if he knew that she might have criticised him for sleeping that long. Y/N did not know how to respond, but was confident enough to join the tall boy in the kitchen, pulling the chair back and taking a seat at the table. Both of them did not say a word and with each second passing in silence, she regretted sitting there with him even more. 

"Why did you run from me earlier?" The question caught her off guard, she needed a moment to think for the right answer. The girl tilted her head in Felix's direction, his eyebrows were lifted up in a questioning look and he leaned at the counter, waiting for the girl to open her mouth and speak.  He was just curious, not too gruff nor angry. 

"You scare me sometimes." Y/N admitted. "It's like being back in Neverland."

The former lost boy nodded disappointed and shifted his gaze out of the window to hide half of his features as if she would ever be able to read them.

"You really did not like the Island." The boy stated, receiving a light nod as an answer. "Was it so bad?"

"There were no toilets."

Felix could not help but chuckle, a warm genuine smile spread over his face and he nodded his head in agreement when he faced her again. 

"Toilets sure are great." He laughed. "Or warm running water."

Felix pushed himself away from the counter and slendered over to the girl, taking a seat on the chair in front of her. "It took me three days to find out how that works, by the way." He added after a small pause. Y/N could only shake her head in response and give him a brief smile. "Must have been cold."

The tall boy agreed in silence and crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for the food to arrive. He would disappear for a while to go to the bathroom, giving her some space to clear her mind. All she could think about was how beautiful the former second in command looked when he smiled, making her nervous the longer he stayed with her. For a moment, it seemed like he was another person when she was all alone with him. 

"Where are the others?" Felix asked when he returned from the bathroom, pulling the chair around to straddle it. 

"Someone took Henry." Y/N admitted low, not even wanting him to know that, well aware that he would only mock this situation, probably having expected such a thing sooner or later. 

"Hm.’' Felix let out an amused chuckle and gave her a winning smirk, one that said,"Told you so!"

"We're on our own for a while." The girl said, checking her phone for a message from the delivery guy. Not long. Almost here. How the time had passed by.

"I am  fucking happy they are gone." Felix snorted and rolled his eyes."They were such a pain in the ass."

At least they gave him a home and clothes, food and no worries about his current life. That was something and even though Y/N knew how beautiful the Island could be, the former lost boy had not been safe there. None of them were. How could he still be so blinded after all? Y/N wanted to respond but decided to keep her mouth shut. Right at that moment the doorbell rang. Shifting from her seat, Y/N strutted over to the door and opened it, waiting a few moments for the delivery guy to get up the stairs and hand her the Pizza. She pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket and handed it over to the man before closing the door. The boxes felt hot on her cool hands and the smell of fat, cheese and pepperoni filled the room, making the girl realise how hungry she actually was. Felix's stomach started to rumble when she started to cut her Pizza, so she assumed he did not have any breakfast either. For a moment the girl really enjoyed the boy's company and hoped he would stay longer, but she was also sure that he would take his food and vanish as quickly as he used to do. Yet, Felix never ceased to amaze her. He waited in silence until she was done cutting, then he took the knife and in that moment her fingers touched his, she felt  a quick, electric sensation followed by butterflies rumbling in her stomach. Taking the Pizza, she quickly strutted into the direction of your room to hide her sudden joy, just to be stopped by Felix calling her name.

"Where are you going?"

"Into my room?" Y/N gave confused back ,wondering why he would want her to accompany him all of the sudden.

"Oh- I thought…" Felix sounded disappointed.

"Oh…" Her eyes widened and maybe she sounded a bit too harsh. "I thought you wouldn't want-"

"Nevermind." Felix barked harshly and swiftly vanished behind his own door, not even giving the girl a chance to say another word. Damn, this boy was so sensitive, his mood was constantly switching and Y/N wished to find out why he was always  so pessimistic about everything. Not now, she thought, not now. First she would eat, then she would take care of that matter. 

The boy let out an annoyed sight when he opened his door after Y/N knocked not long after she finished eating. Felix was eating the last slice of his pizza and held the empty box in his other hand.

"Why are you always coming to me?" He snarled.

"I just care about you! For god’s sake! You act so fucking mean since we came here and I wonder why." She raised her voice and knitted her eyebrows together in a serious manner

"Please don't do this." Felix moaned theoretically. "Please don't act as if you cared!"

Felix swiftly turned around and threw the empty box of Pizza aside. His fast movements caused her to flinch a little, but still she managed to remain calm.

"You don't care!" He snarled. "Nobody cares. Just leave me alone."

The tall boy did not need to turn around and give her a final glare, he made it clear that she was not wanted and no matter how much he needed her help, she respected his wishes. Y/N had really no thought to waste about him when she went straight into the bathroom to take a bath that might cool her nerves. That fucking audacity and this childish behaviour, as if Felix really meant what he was saying. They both knew he was not serious and that he was simply lying to himself about his emotions. There was no place for love in his heart after being manipulated by Pan for so long, nor  for friendship. Y/N did not care what the former second in command told himself about their friendship, it all has been a lie and a game for Pan, something to entertain him. It was worthless. His loss meant nothing, still Y/N cared how Felix felt about the betrayal of every former boy.

While she stripped off her clothes, the girl waited for the bathtub to be filled with hot water and bubbles, a metaphorical way to clean her thoughts when diving in. She should rather think about helping someone out and earn some money, so she could afford buying her own things. She splashed the water with her fingers and slowly sank deeper into the bathtub to enjoy the silence. The hot steam filled the room and when her thoughts drove off to something pleasantly, she almost forgot the time. Back in Neverland there was nothing to worry about time, the days were almost all the same and no one was there to rush someone. Things have barely changed in Storybrooke, since there was nothing to do for Y/N and the lanky lost boy, so they needed to find something to kill the time. 

It had been an eternity since the girl had taken a proper bath and maybe it was time to get out, but the hot water remained too tempting for her to step out. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and leaned back, as suddenly a door slammed shut, immediately telling her that Felix was leaving his room again. His slow footsteps definitely made their way towards the bathroom and Y/N realised that she did not lock the door. She did not really forget to lock the door, right? The girl could not recall it and to get out of the water, to check was too late, as she watched agonised how the door handle went down and the door swung wide open, causing her heart to skip a beat. The tall lost boy did not seem to notice her at first, but as soon as he entered the steamy room, Felix froze in place. His eyes widened and his face turned blank. For a long moment, they both stared at each other and Y/N felt relieved that she was at least covered by a thick foam of bubbles. 

"Fuck, sorry...I-" Felix stuttered through half open lips, as if the little sight of a girl's skin was enough to steal his voice. It gave Y/N her confidence back.

"I didn't mean to-" the boy still couldn't open his mouth while his gaze burned holes through her. It took him a moment, but suddenly Felix shook his head to ban whatever he was thinking about and shifted his eyes away, then turned on his heels to swiftly leave the bathroom. 

At least he could have closed the door, Y/N thought as she sunk deeper into the water in embarrassment. Fuck, how in the hell could she forget to close the door? At least he did not see anything, or did he? The whole situation left her frozen in place, unable to think clearly. Y/N did not even dare to step out of the water to close the door, so she just sat there, trying her best to calm down. After a while, the skin of her fingertips were already wrinkled up, leaving a rough touch on her softened skin and she finally thought about getting out of the bathtub. A long time  had passed, since Felix stepped into the bath and now the water was starting to get cold. The girl's eyes searched the room for a towel until she realised that she had washed them and now they hung in the living room. Fuck this shit.

"Felix!" She called him as loud as she could, but there was no answer. The boy did not respond until she called him again.

"What do you want?" His voice echoed through the hallway. She sounded unsure and intrigued. 

"I have a problem."

"Well now you have two." Felix yelled back.

Y/N frowned in confusion and lifted her head.

"How's that?"

"I ain't interested in your first problem."

She let out an annoyed sight and rolled with her eyes and brought her fingers to her forehead, running over her skin in a steady, relaxing movement. Why was he like that? Was it really necessary to always find a way for drama? 

"I don’t have a towel." She whined, hoping for him to bring her one. The grumpy boy did not respond again, an unbearable silence filling the apartment. Felix was there, the girl knew that he was. He had not shut his door yet, so he must be in the living room or kitchen where he would perfectly understand you.

"Felix…" She called him, already giving up that he would come and breaking her mind by finding a way to get past him. "Please."

A few seconds later she heard his footsteps come back again, the wood creaking under his weight and announcing the boy’s arrival. He did not even enter the room, instead Felix threw the towel through the open crack.

"I need to take a piss, so please hurry up!" He said rather cowardly before the footsteps led him away, then shutting the door shut. Y/N did not hesitate and got out of the water as quickly as she could, barely drying her skin before she sprinted into her own room before the former lost boy would cross her way again. 

Why did such things always happen to her? Could it not have been someone else to walk in like Emma or Mary? Of course not, destiny always found a way to punish the girl,- first Pan, now Felix. Nevertheless, the cold boy stayed inside her mind all the time. She dressed herself and got ready to snuck under the blankets. For a while she allowed herself to dream of him cuddling against her back, how his big body would feel like pressed against hers, or maybe even… on top  of her?

NO.

Fuck no, she was not having dirty daydreams of mister cold facade. There was nothing special about Felix, right? Eventually that long scar that ran over his jagged jawline and those blue, stabbing eyes fascinated her. Those  piercing eyes, that were sharp as daggers and intimidating as the gaze of a shark. There was definitely something mysterious about the former second in command, still, Y/N had told herself that she was done with adventures and risky decisions- Felix was definitely one of those,- that she could tell. He was hot, but also the biggest asshole she ever met. The former lost boy kept wandering through the apartment and distracting the girl's dreaming thoughts with each passing second. He would not leave her mind until she fell asleep.

(Next Chapter ->)

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Faust [Sakusa Kiyoomi]

Part of the Deal with the Devil collab hosted by the wonderful @seijorhi​ I highly recommend literally any of her works they’re all amazing.  My apologies for being a few days late but for some reason this piece was giving me so much trouble and I had to rewrite it a few times.  Still not satisfied with it but I’ve let it go too far past the deadline.

tw: dubcon, yandere sakusa, obsessive thoughts

Even by demonic standards, Sakusa Kiyoomi is cold and unemotional.  In fact, it's one of the things he prides himself on: his ability to cautiously and objectively judge any situation.  Which is why he hates you.  Well more accurately he hates what you've done to him.  Sakusa Kiyoomi can't go two fucking seconds without picturing your cute little smile, or the arch of you body.  You're messing with his head and you don't even know it.  He hates the lengths he's gone to have you in his grasp.  He hates that he's willing to do just about anything to have you.  Was it too much to give all your closest friends life threatening diseases?  Probably.  But was it worth it to have you begging, on your knees, to make a deal with him?  Definitely.  

You're at your wits end, with all your close friends dying and acquaintances mostly dead.  You've probably shed more tears this past week than you have your entire life.  Visiting the hospital is emotionally exhausting.  But what's even worse is watching the life slowly drain from the people you love.  To watch idly as they waste away, with sunken cheeks and pallid skin.  All your sick days, vacation days, any sort of break days have been used up.  Your boss was understanding the first two times, but lately you're pretty sure your boss doesn't believe you anymore.  If you were in their position you wouldn't believe yourself either.  What are the odds that a person has three acquaintances die unrelated deaths within weeks of each other?  And what's more, what are the odds of the rest of your friends being incapacitated in some way, trying to recover in the hospital?  It seems like excuses made in poor taste to your boss, and you can't blame them for being suspicious.  Also, you’re kinda surprised your boss hasn’t died of unforeseen circumstances yet.  You can’t find it in your heart to be upset with anyone anymore, especially when everyone you talk to seems to drop dead like flies soon after.  

But no matter how many days you take off it's not enough.  Honestly you don't think you're ever going to be the same.  After the second death you started seeing a therapist.  Only for the therapist to get diagnosed with cancer.  You really must be cursed somehow.  

So when you dream of a handsome man, offering to help you, you take it without hesitation.  At this point you're so mentally worn down that you'd do anything to just see your friends be happy and healthy again.  Placing your trust in someone else, even for a brief moment in a dream, makes you feel just a bit better.  He promised he could cure everyone, but each person had a different price.  The closer they were, the steeper the price.  You looked in his dark eyes, asked him to fix everyone, and shook his hand, agreeing to pay up for every single life.

When you wake up that day, everything feels normal.  That is, until you see the man you were dreaming about standing beside your bed.

“Time to collect the first of many payments.”

“What the hell?”  Sleepy, bleary eyes close as you turn to the other side and try to go back to sleep, believing him to just be a figment of your imagination.

A cold, gloved hand cracks through the air like a whip, landing a stinging slap to your cheek.  “You made a deal.  It’s time to pay up.” 

Before you can get a word in, he tugs his gloves off and snaps his fingers, the sharp sound puncturing the silence.  A flash of heat warms your body, heat combatting the chill in the air.  

He clambers over you, tangling his legs with yours while pinning your arms down and tucking his head in the crook of your neck, taking in a deep inhale.  

God, he loves how you smell.  So perfect.  And you have no idea just what you’ve gotten yourself into.  You let out a small whimper, fully aware of what’s going on.  There’s a wetness between your thighs that certainly wasn’t there a few minutes ago.  A deep, aching need consumes you, and you buck up against him for something, any sort of stimulation.  

He gets off of you, and just stares at you with those dark eyes of his.  

“Please... help me... I-I need you to fill me up”

He just gives you a ‘tsk’ in response, content for now to just watch you lose yourself to lust, to watch your mind turn itself inside out.

[falsegoodnight]

a new header??? it matches better <3 these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with a star (*). 

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 28th only

—

main list ~

✰ Don’t Wait Up by reliablyimperfect | NR | 1k

Without Harry’s warmth next to him, he felt the chill of the air creep over his skin. He tugged the blanket down from where Harry kept one draped over the back of the couch for him, grateful. With the blanket, he instantly felt warmer, but it backfired when his eyes began to droop again. Trying to keep his eyes open was impossible, and he was consciously aware of how long his blinks were becoming. They stay closed longer and longer until, eventually, they didn’t open again.

so soft and sweet and lovely! made my heart feel so warm <3 will return to this for some quick comfort in the future!

✰ my ugly mouth kept running by @hadestyles | E | 4k

Sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

rori’s lush writing + abo + exes to lovers = absolute perfection. my fic cameo gives it a bonus too :’) definitely one of my rori favs 

✰ i’ve loved you three summers now honey, i want them all by @softloubabie | M | 4k

The restaurant was small and bright, soft colors filled the walls and tables and fairy lights hung from everywhere. From what Harry had read, the food wasn’t overly expensive but it was still comparable to what you would get at one of the more expensive places. If Harry could he would take Louis to the biggest most expensive and extravagant restaurants to do what he planned to tonight, but this would do.

After being led to their table Harry nervously tapped his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the small box still there. Tonight was the night. He couldn’t wait till it was time to surprise Louis with all the gifts he got for him. Then finally the big surprise.

so cute and sweet! their kids were so adorable and the proposal so lovely!! they love each other so much <3

✰ love me in between the future and the past by navigator & quitter | E | 11k

Harry's scared of history repeating itself.

this honestly hurt to read but in such a raw and emotional way?? was mad at harry and then sad for him :( this writer duo’s fics never fail to amaze me!

✰ sunshine on my mind by @raspberryoatss | E | 13k

Louis visits Harry in Portland

this was so sweet and lovely! the perfect addition to this wonderful universe! pip’s characterizations and fluff never fails to make my heart feel warm <3

✰ rapture in the dark by @stylinsonsupporter | T | 13k

Harry Styles is a breakout musician who has shed his boyband label in favor of embracing his inner brooding rockstar. His PR team think that his rebrand is the perfect time for Harry to come out of the closet and have devised the perfect plan for doing so. Enter Louis Tomlinson, up and coming (and very openly homosexual) model whose public image as America's Sweetheart is the perfect foil for Harry's new edge. From a PR standpoint, it's a dream come true - a power couple that can slowly coax the public into accepting Harry's altered image. The only problem? They hate each other.

always love a good fake dating au and this is no exception! and model louis >> really enjoyed this!

✰ Maybe, Baby* by thoughtsickles | M | 16k | mpreg

It all feels too easy, too good to be true. It all feels like a scene from Louis' daydreams, the kind of life he'd always imagined he'd have when he was younger and bored at his momma's work, sneaking around the hallways of the maternity ward until the nurses let him in to hold the babies. He'd felt so important being allowed to touch them. He'd told them stories of the lives they were going to have, houses with nice wallpaper that wasn't peeling, yards filled with sunshine and flowers and grass that never went yellow. A hammock to nap in, cuddled up with his husband.

You can't stay here, he tells himself, but Baby doesn't want to listen.

have reread this one quite a bit of times now and it still makes me so happy <3 this Louis and Harry deserve the world <333

✰ Let Me Inside by reliablyimperfect | E | 18k

Louis is Harry’s boss, but Harry is the boss of Louis. 

loved this one! really enjoyed the balance between h&l and how they maintained their dynamic in subtle ways outside of the bedroom while also keeping it separate. very much enjoyed the jealousy as well <3

✰ a scintilla of predilection by @dehydratedpoolfics | T | 20k

There, in the far back of the room, next to the only available seat left, is none other than Harry Styles. Harry, who grew up next door to him, who knew all his secrets as a child and played FIFA with him on Saturday mornings after he would spend the night Friday evenings every week, whose curly hair would tickle his nose as they held each other during bitter cold nights that made his room glow a haunting blue.

love ex-childhood friends with misunderstandings!! louis was so cute and i loved his poetry <3 harry too was so stupid but so smitten and lovely :’) really enjoyed this!

✰ Keeping The Flame Alive by @crazyupsetter​ | E | 20k

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

✰ like it’s a game* by @soldouthaz | E | 32k

There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare.

And Louis.

queen of enemies to lovers! it’s been a while since i’ve reread this but too absolutely no surprise, it’s just as amazing as always <3 sarah never misses!

✰ Too Young To Know by @2tiedships2 | M | 35k

Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

really enjoyed this as per usual! exes to lovers is my jam and the added angst of Louis dating someone else at the beginning... love <3

✰ Some Things Take Root* by  navigator & quitter | E | 50k

Louis' ex doesn't get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

stumbled upon this randomly and decided to reread on a whim... ended up staying up to read it in one sitting! so good!

✰ Safe and Sound (You’ll Always Be) by @all-these-larrythings | E | 58k

When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

i don’t know how i’ve never read this before??? it was absolutely amazing though! perfect blend of humor and fluff and tension and angst <3

✰ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) by @youreyesonlarry | E | 74k

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. 

the slow burn in this fic killed me - which is to say, it was perfect! loved how they progressed from working together to being friends to something more and how much they genuinely cared for each other! the hockey was so fun too!

✰ Call Out My Name by frenchkiss | E | 102k

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

ellen truly knocked it out of the park with this one!! had everything i could ever want: abo, famous/non-famous, fluff, humor, angst, drama, and more! i loved it from beginning to end!

wips ~

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 64k | 7/11

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

am thoroughly enjoying each chapter!! it’s been a wild ride so far and although things are currently calm, i am still on edge!! but i trust mar with my life <3

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 83k | 8/16 

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

caught up last night! still really enjoying every chapter and can’t wait to see what happens next!! things are *happening* with h&l and answers are being given!! (love the jealousy too!)

non-1d ~

✰ Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by @princelouisau | E | 23k

Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love and in doing so, had broken the one rule he knew he couldn’t come back from. As quickly as he realised, he decided that he must never dare speak it. He resigned himself to loving Draco in silence.

first foray into reading drarry... and, to no one’s surprise, i loved it! beautiful writing as always and beautiful atmosphere! it’s really not a shock that i fell for these characters and their story when danielle is behind it <3 it had me entranced from beginning to end!!

finally, i myself actually posted a fic this month:

my fics ~

✰ yesterday came suddenly by me | E | 49k | mpreg 

Harry the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[just-day-dreami-ng]

So uh,,, wanna here me info dump abt my cuphead ocs?? No?? Well too bad im doing it anyway!

So I have an oc named Azazel that's devil's sister and basically rules over a distant, smaller area of hell, and she has two kids, sunny(left) and tempest(right). I don't have there whole story figured out, but basically they get sent to live with their uncle because too many demons in their homeland want them dead for a variety of reasons so it's like not safe for them any more? Idk I'm still figuring stuff out.

Anywho, here's a lil info about the kids:

Sunny:

The younger sibling (11)

Female

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 157 lbs

A total sweetheart

Always happy

Like literally one on the nicest ppl- er, eldritch creatures you'd ever meet

Has heterochromia

Right leg is slightly malformed, but it doesn't slow her down much and she doesn't let it get in her way.

Fathered by a mortal, making her half-mortal

More fragile than a pure blood demon, so Azazel was always super protective of her

Is kind of a baby about small wounds or cuts, because her mother would always freak out about any little scrape

Very clingy

No concept of personal space

Talks alot

Loves everybody

Tries to be friends with everybody, thinks everybody is her friend

Naive and easy-trusting

Loves to eat

Loves and admires her big bro. Looks up to him in every sense but literal

Def a momma's gurl

Never met her father, he's not in the picture

Mating with a mortal is considered an atrociouty in the demon world, and all the other demons were, uh, not very happy when Sunny was born. An overwhelming amount hate Sunny just for existing, though she has some die-hard stans who act like she's their literal god and savior, there's almost no in-between

Devil was pretty pissed when he found out his sister was pregnant with a mortal's spawn, but he still offered support. He and King Dice suggested Azazel get an abortion, it seemed like it would be the most painless option, but they still supported her when she decided to have the baby. They actually genuinely care about Sunny, now that they know her. Devil's actually really glad she exists now, even if the circumstances weren't great

Sunny acts kinda helpless in a lot of ways, it's just something Azazel grained into her. Her mother never really wanted Sunny to have to look out for herself or do anything alone(over-protective mama tryin to keep her mortal baby safe.) Azazel figured Tempest would take the throne after her since she's her oldest living child(kinda unrelated but she had a daughter she'd adopted that would be her oldest but she kinda died years ago as a young teenager trying to protect Sunny), and Sunny could live her whole life protected, looked after, and shut out from the dangerous outside world.

Her mom isn't the best at comforting her when she feels lonely or left out, so when Sunny ever felt down about not being able to play outside much or do most of what the other kids do, she'd just shower her with gifts. They'd distract Sunny in the moment, but never really filled the void

Sunny never really got to play with or really see other kids around her age (besides tempest) until they went to live with their uncle, was lonely for most of her childhood

Devil gets that Sunny's more fragile than pure-blood demons, and is reasonably protective over her and Tempest, but not nearly as much as Azazel. He feels like they should be living and experiencing things like normal kids do, it's important for their growth, he's basically like, 'for the love of hell children, go outside and play in the dirt or something, you've clearly been deprived of actually living'

Sunny like immediately incorporated cuphead, mugman, and chalice into her found family

Tempest

The older sibling(13)

Male

Height: 4'7"

Weight: 95 lbs

Just an edgy lil man

Very angsty rn

Cautious and contemplative, unlike Sunny.

Protective older brother™ to Sunny and the cup siblings

His father was an imp Azazel was close friends with but kinda had a one-night stand with a few times. Azazel didn't stay in a relationship with the imp(i wanna call him Obsidian I think), but they remained very close friends, and Obsidian was a very involved father while he was alive. He even acted like a father to Sunny and Azazel's other daughter, even tho they weren't biologically his. Actually died protecting Sunny.

A lot of the higher ranking demons were extremely ridiculing toward Azazel due to her son's father(most consider imps lower beings, being caught in a relationship with one is considered a huge scandal, even worse Azazel had a kid by him).

Many demons question if Tempest is really a legitimate heir to the throne due to his parantege. Azazel tells them to stfu.

Back home he was allowed to do a lot of things sunny generally can't, like going outside(with an escort ofc) and hang around other kids his age, since even tho he's a lot smaller than his sis, he's a full-blood demon and therefore less breakable. Although Azazel is very protective of her son, for this reason she's not as worried about him as she is sunny.

Loves his mom, but their relationship is a little strained atm

The reason tempest is much less bejeweled than his sister isn't about favoritism or whatever, he just doesn't like to wear a lot of jewelry, and Azazel respects that. He prefers to get books and stuff like that for gifts.

Sunny only remembers glimpses of their older sister, but Tempest was old enough to have some coherent memories of her. He thinks a lot about her, and wonders what she'd be like now if she'd survived.

Loves his sis but can sometimes get very annoyed with her

Gets frustrated/angry easily

Tempest really does love his friends and family, he just isn't always good at expressing it, and is definitely not as straightforward with his affection as Sunny is.

He's upset Azazel sent them away, but is genuinely looking forward to spending more time with his uncles and having more freedom.

[hannie-dul-set]

sins of lust [yoon jeonghan]

“lust /ləst/ — the mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the spirit is life and peace - romans 8:6″

LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST

PAIRING | yoon jeonghan x female! reader GENRE | college! au, borderline smut, angst WARNINGS | nsfw themes obviously lmao but no actual doing the dirty because i can’t write smut for shit, swearing, jeonghan is the literal devil WORD COUNT | 4.5k

a/n: I’M SO VERY SORRY THATTHIS IS SUPER LATE ; - ; but anyways!! this is my last piece for our luck 7′s collab with @haokyeom​ :D this was,, very out of my comfort zone but i still do hope that you enjoy :’>

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

“They’re like foxes,” your mother had once said as the both of you gazed through the window of your small cabin beside the thick walls of trees in the woods. Her hands rested gently over your small shoulders, and you two eyes the coat of orange fur speeding through the outside, a familiar stuffed animal hanging limply by its mouth. You had accidentally left it outside while you were playing.

You frowned upon seeing the animal disappear into the trees, and even at your young age, you knew that it was lost forever.

“They take what they can without a hint of remorse. You wouldn’t even know until you see them running away,” you looked up at your mother who stared into the distance with eyes stained in sadness. You turned around, hugging her waist and burying your face into her stomach, and she released a laugh as she patted your head. “My Y/N’s a smart girl, right? Never forget mommy’s words, okay?”

And you did. For eighteen years, you had lived with only the company of your mother, your homeschool teachers, and your precious cat, Salem. There were times when your grandparents would visit, usually during the holidays, but you weren’t exactly close with them (they didn’t seem to like you, either). It was only when you had finally entered college when you were given the chance to actually mingle with other people, especially people that were your age, and it was the first time that you had left to live on your own outside of your homey cottage beside the woods.

Initially, your mother was against the idea of you living in your campus’ dorms, especially the fact that you had to live with another person that you knew nothing of. You weren’t keen on the thought either, but it was far more reasonable than commuting every single day to the city all the way from the middle of nowhere.

At least your roommate was never around.

‘Staying over at Johnny’s xx,’ you sighed upon seeing the text message, and you stepped forward in the light when the person before you did as well. It was only the third week of the semester and you were already wishing for things to go back as they were.

A part of it was your fault for being socially inept, generally avoiding people and not even talking to anybody unless talked to. Your mother’s words rang into your head every single time, and naturally you had built up a wall. This wall was what made you feel comfortable, made you feel safe— you don’t trust anyone here, and it would be better to finish your studies without getting personally tangled with other people.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

Though, there were indeed times where you wished that you were at the very least not so awkward.

“A regular americano,” it took you so much strength to squeeze that out of our esophagus, relieving the tightened airway with a breath of relief when the barista nodded at your order and jotted it down. Hurriedly, you went to sit at an empty table, your racing heart making you move quicker than necessary. God, you wondered how many more trips to campus cafe would it take until you finally got the courage to order without feeling you were being held at gunpoint.

You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut. At least you didn’t stutter today, so that’s improvement.

Stop deluding yourself, Y/N. You’re still—

“Whoa. Careful, now.”

A thud. The feeling of warmth fluttering over your shoulders. An unfamiliar sweet voice seeping into your ears. And you looked up.

“Are you okay?”

His steady grip had left your shoulders but the traces of his warmth were still buzzing over your clothed skin like mini fireworks erupting when he made contact, and when you met his concerned eyes, it felt like you were about to reach the climax of the light show. He didn’t say anything, only waiting for the confirmation to fall from your lips with a worried look on his face. Your heart was still racing, but it was in a completely different rhythm. 

You had once felt your heart threatening to bounce off of your chest out of fear, and at times due to excitement. Your pulse rising due to nervousness was already like an unwanted friend to you.

But this.

What is this?

“Miss?”

“I, uh—” the man shot you a smile that was devoid of any malice despite you being a stuttering and mess that was frozen in place. Heat rushed to your cheeks while you were trapped underneath his gaze. You wanted to move but it felt like your mind was completely detached from your body, soaring above your head because you can't seem to grab a hold of it. But with enough willpower, you managed to squeak out a small “sorry’ before shuffling away to the farthest seat possible with your head down.

When you sat yourself on the seat, the first thing you did was look up to the direction of the male, only to see an empty space. You bit down your lip, hastily taking out your laptop from your bag and just move on from what happened, but the racing of your heartbeat refused to let it go. Was this… normal? You let out a choked groan, removing your hands from the keyboard to bury your heated face into your palms. There were times where you hated that you were so sheltered, and this was one of them.

If only your mother wasn’t so protective of you, if only she let you live a normal life, if only—

Your phone started buzzing.

Slowly, you sat up and took out your phone from your jean pocket, and the pace of your heart was slowed down by a surge of guilt.

‘How were classes today, honey? I hope you drank enough water today. Even when I’m around, you always seem to forget. The weekend is just around the corner. Are you coming home?’

You smiled. Of course, your mother had only wanted what’s best for you. Finally relaxing your muscles, you adjusted your position on the chair and silently tapped on our phone.

‘Classes were fine, mom. And that was before! I’ve been drinking a loooot of water, you know? Do you want me to…’

The next day had come. You quietly entered the near barren classroom, the early morning rays leaking through the open glass windows on the wall. You liked this class mainly because not a  lot of people are enrolled in it— even if it meant sacrificing a few more hours of your sleep. The less people to deal with the better.

I’ll just take a nap later after lunch. You thought to yourself as you let out yawn, your palm hovering over your mouth as you did. You arrived a little earlier than usual, so there was still an ample amount of time to review for a test for a different class before your professor arrived. You recalled your conversation with your mother yesterday, and you were slightly disheartened when you told her that you couldn’t come home for the weekend because you had a lot of things to finish that required you to be on campus. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t risk lagging behind your work.

A few more people entered your peripheral as you were scanning your notes, and you took this as a signal to put it away. You pulled your bag over your lap and tucked in your notes neatly before pulling out your laptop. More people started flooding and you noticed that the seat beside you was now occupied.

“You seem fine today.”

You jolted, the familiar voice entering your ears causing the veins underneath your skin to start buzzing. The moment you turned your head to your side, you were met by a small smile from the man that you bumped into yesterday. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine.”

Has he always been in this class? You’ve never seen him here until now. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention to the faces around you. The gap between your chairs seemed a little too close for your sanity, so you scooted a bit farther to the left.

“Are you feeling alright now?” his voice caused you to abruptly freeze as you tried to discreetly move your chair without being exposed, and you bit down your tongue. As if he noticed the sudden distance between you two, he thoughtlessly moved his chair closer. “You didn’t look too well yesterday considering how dazed you were.”

Why was he talking to you? A lot of people did try to befriend you during the first few days, but it gradually stopped upon them seeing how dismissive you were. “O-oh, I’m fine, uh— sorry for bumping into you,” he had his elbow propped on the table, his cheek resting on his palm as faced you, a seemingly permanent smile on his face that you’ve been desperately trying (and failing) to avoid. Maybe isolating yourself from the rest of the world dulled down your ability to perceive normal human emotions like the stuttering of your heart was trying to tell you.

Jesus, you thought that you were going crazy.

“That’s good to hear,” he hummed, turning his attention to the laptop screen before him. “My name’s Jeonghan, by the way.”

Jeonghan. You repeated in your head. Why did finding out his damned name feel like 200 pounds of gratification? Maybe you were really going insane. He cocked his head to your direction, the curve of his lips that never disappeared aiming directly at you, but they did not part to say anything. Jeonghan looked like he was waiting for you, which caused you to intermittently panic because why in the world was he just staring at you like that?

“It’s not fair that I gave you my name but I don’t know yours.”

Oh.

“Y/N,” your cheeks flared as you spoke, diverting your eyes from him out of embarrassment. “It’s Y/N.”

He released a light laugh before nodding in affirmation, and you swore your heart was trying to run away from you in condonation. It felt like hours had passed it between the seconds of your small exchanges, causing you to wonder when your professor was going to enter and distract you from the fervent blows on your ribcage.

It didn’t seem like your professor was arriving any time soon— the guy was always late so you weren’t even remotely surprised but for the love of god, he could’ve made an exemption today. Your eyes flickered over to Jeonghan’s space on the long table, and you saw him scribbling indecipherable doodles on what was once a blank sheet. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating with yourself over and over again until one side of your mind finally overtook your senses and sensibilities.

You jumped into the ocean when you’ve never even stepped into a lake.

“I—I never noticed that you were in this class until today.”

It took a lot from you to say that one simple sentence, the words barely squeezing past your throat, and you realized just how pathetic you were. Luckily for you, Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind the lapses in your voice, the diversion of your eyes, or the way your fingers nervously thrummed over the white coated desk. Even if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, only sending that angelic smile on your way.

“Really? I’ve noticed you since the first day,” he started. “To be frank, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but you always looked like you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“You— you wanted to talk to me? Why?” 

He shrugged. “You seemed cute,” there was a slight pause before he continued. “And I was right.”

You blinked, gawking at him. Jeonghan was saying such— such unprovoked things without a hint of shame while your face was flaring like it just made contact with the sun. In the middle of you trying to recover, your professor had finally decided to walk in, capturing the attention of Jeonghan and everyone else inside the class. You released a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding and lightly tapped both of your cheeks in attempts to lower your ever rising temperature. You caught the male beside you laughing a little, and when you slightly turned your head to face him, you were struck defenseless with a playful wink.

It was quiet for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t focus. Not when your mind was making a lot of noise, not when your heart was about to explode inside your chest.

And definitely not when the pretty boy beside you kept on shooting you glances in between. 

“Do you like movies?”

Jeonghan asked the moment he sat down beside you, and your brows raised at his sudden question. It had been a week since your first encounter with him, and within those few days, you’ve been seeing more and more of him. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or if he’d been deliberately trying to squeeze himself into your life.

But what did you know? Nothing. That’s why you let him.

“I do,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. You remembered the times when you and your mother would watch countless movies in just a single day when you were feeling sad. You couldn’t leave the house easily, and when you did it was nothing but forest, forest, and more forest. Sometimes you were lucky to come across a wild hare, or sometimes even a small deer. Which reminds you— it’s been a while since you’ve gone home. You took a mental note to schedule some time for you to go back there.

Your curious eyes flickered over to Jeonghan. “Why?”

“There’s a film festival this weekend,” he leaned back against his chair, legs crossed and arms swinging lazily at his sides until he raised one hand to your face, a finger poking your cheek. “And I’m taking this pretty girl with me.”

“What?”

You gaped, dumbstruck. His lips were pressed into a brazen smile as his eyes were gleaming at you while you were still frozen in shock. He didn’t even ask you— did he think that you were just going to go with whatever he’s saying that easily?

“I—I haven’t agreed to anything!” you rebuked with a quick stammer, which caused a frown to replace the previous smile on Jeonghan’s face.

“But I thought you said you liked movies,” he sat down straight, the legs of his chair making a noise upon meeting the floor. The unabashed pout on his face, accompanied by the confused furrowing of his eyebrows, soon dissipated from his features when he let out a sudden gasp. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to go with me?”

“I-it’s not that! I’m just—”

You couldn’t come up with any words to follow, distracted by the pained expression that Jeonghan wore. Was he just overreacting to mess with you? Was it fake? Or was he really hurt? Your ineptitude to social cues made you want to rip your hair out of your scalp. Once more, you quickly looked at him before snapping your head away, harshly biting down your lip before taking in a sharp inhale.

“Okay, fine!” Jeonghan’s face lit up, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “I—I’ll go with you.”

You refused to look at him with how much your face was heating up, but you heard him let out a satisfied hum. It was quiet for a moment, giving u the opportunity to relax your shoulders and release your breath. Looks like the professor is late again. You dug into your bag to take out your notes, relaying yourself before class actually starts, but your actions were halted when you felt a thin, cold object pressing lightly against your arm. You looked over to see a phone, and the phone was attached to a hand, and a hand which belonged to a Yoon Jeonghan who was twinkling at you with an expectant gaze.

“Your number.”

Any moment now you swore that you were going to melt.

Within seconds, you snatched the device from his hands, rapidly smashing down the few digits, and you shoved it back to him at the speed of light. How you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, right now. A quick buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal meltdown, and you took your own phone out, expecting a text from your mother, but instead—

‘See you on saturday, pretty girl :) hehe <3’

You shot up to meet the smug smile on Jeonghan’s face, and you bashfully looked back down at the message on your phone, feeling a smile of your own blossoming on your face.

It was late at night when you two finished.

Jeonghan insisted on bringing you home, protesting when you said that you said you could make it your way back at the movies, protesting when you said that you can walk through the campus to your dorm building alone, protesting when you said that you can head upstairs by yourself, and now when you had finally reached your floor, he stopped protesting— but he didn’t seem to how any signs of leaving just yet.

“Did you have fun?” he asked in a quiet tone. It was near midnight, and neither of you expected that the festival would go on for this long. You nodded, laughing a little, back pressed against the door leading to your room. Perhaps you were feeling a little loopy and tired from all the movies you watched, some of the scenes that stood out to you still replaying in your head.

He smiled, a few tufts of his hair shadowing over his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“I took note of a few of the films that I really liked! I’ll probably rewatch them with my mom when I get home,” you beamed, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “What about you?”

You almost regretted that you asked. Jeonghan was silent for a moment, a pondering look on his face as his eyes stared at the side before quickly flickering back to you. His lips were curved into a playful grin as he ever so slowly closed in on you, causing you to melt yourself into the wooden surface of your door as your heart violently thundered.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked in a teasing tone. His face was barely hovering over yours, and you felt your nerves screaming at you to rest your racing pulse. He didn’t do anything, though, seemingly waiting for you to respond to his question, but all you could manage was a small nod. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the movies.”

Your breath hitched and your mind was a whir. What was he doing? The waves of your senses were pulsating in an uneven rhythm, causing you to stumble over your own presence of mind as it was gradually slipping away, replaced by a haze of an uncharted storm of emotions overtaking you.

Heat was rising and you didn’t know what to do.

“I would have paid attention if it wasn’t for this pretty girl distracting me the entire time.”

“Jeonghan!”

You exclaimed, your voice being louder than expected. “I-it’s getting late. Isn’t—isn’t it time for you to go?”

There was a nervous smile on your lips as you stared up at him, eyes quivering when you tried to meet his clouded gaze. You waited for him to go, to step away from his closeness so that you’d finally have enough room to breathe, but dropped an unexpected question.

“Do you want me to go?”

The silence was deafening.

Jeonghan waited for you to say something, but the answer was something you yourself did not know. He waited until he derived the answer from your lack of response, sending you a nod and a smile before turning away. Your eyes were shaky, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in your moment of an unprecedented assault of hesitation, head filled with white noise because you couldn't think— therefore you listened to the fever stirring your restlessness.

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat at the last moment.

There was a glint in his eyes when he turned around, a knowing look on his face as if he had been expecting it. Swift steps and an even swifter heartbeat chased after you and once again Jeonghan was mere centimeters away from you, his warm breath igniting fire against your skin. “You could’ve just said so, pretty girl.”

He didn’t even give you the chance to breathe when he captured your unguarded mouth with his.

The air brushing against your fevered skin felt different, especially when Jeonghan was all up against you, ravishing your parted lips until you felt your senses slipping away. God, you’ve never done anything like this before and your conscience belatedly rang in your ears the moment you felt his hot tongue claiming yours as his own. You let out a faint whimper, the voice at the back of your head yelling at you that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. This was wrong.

You barely knew him— ten days wasn’t enough for you to know him. But you were too drunk over this foreign heat of emotion unfurling in your core to listen to your better judgement. You shouldn’t have stopped him from leaving, you shouldn’t have let him graze his teeth over your skin, let his hands roam all over your your body, let the feeling him pressed roughly against you being the only thing your dizzied mind could think of

But fuck, it felt so good.

You blindly reached for the door knob as you let Jeonghan trail wet kisses on your neck, and with a clicking of the lock, the both of you disappeared into the darkness of your room.

You said that the first was going to be the last— your mother’s words like playing a mantra in your head to bring you to the edge of guilt. But a week had passed yet that “last” never seemed to surface.

“H-hi, mom. Yeah, I—I’m fine, don;t worry. My classes just ended and—ah!”

You bit down your tongue after releasing the uninhibited noise, gulping down when you realized that Jeonghan had no intentions of stopping his ceaseless attacks from your jaw all the way down to your chest. There was fear trickling in your veins as your mother was still at the end of the line, possibly hearing the indecent sounds coming from her own daughter. You tried your best to remain quiet, but it started to become impossible when you felt Jeonghan’s teasing fingers brushing over your clit. You stared at him with wide eyes, suppressing the violent waves crashing over you, but all he did was smile at you and kiss you cheek before pressing his fingers down.

A loud gasp fell from your quivering lips.

“Mm? Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, baby?” he mumbled into your jaw before pressing a down kiss, and you let out a shaky breath. The hand that you were using to hold your phone returned to your ear, and you were welcomed by the worried voice of your mother.

“O-oh, it was just Salem! The little guy suddenly jumped— jumped on my lap,” you trailed off with a hint of nervous laughter, and you met the mischievous glint shining in Jeonghan’s eyes. He removed himself from you, causing you to close your eyes in relief and let out a sigh. “Home? Ah, I—I don’t think I can go there soon, but I’ll make sure to— oh my god.”

You were too focused on your conversation on the phone to notice that Jeonghan was now buried between your legs, nipping at your inner thighs. You slapped your hand over your lips, suppressing your moans from his bites, kisses and licks. He shot you a look of warning, and your heart stopped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your core. Quickly, you fumbled out a farewell into your phone.

"S-sorry, mom, I—I have to go—"

Another week had passed and you started to feel the consequences of your decisions crashing over you like falling debris. Jeonghan and you still met frequently, but "good morning" and "good night" texts slowly fizzled into conversations consisting only of "can I come over?" and "are you free?". It left a heavy feeling in your gut when coffee dates and movie theatres were forgotten, replaced with nights in his or your room, and suffocating scenes in his car. You couldn't help but think that maybe you should have thought things through.

But you were weak.

Today was no different.

You were buried in your bed, thick blankets covering your figure as you watched Jeonghan swiftly pull a shirt over his head. He had an evening class after this and you couldn't blame him that he was in such a hurry. Even when knowing this, you still wanted to take your chances.

"Jeonghan."

You called out to him in a quiet voice, small and fragile and lacking in firmness. He stood in the middle of the room, ready to leave but he turned around to look back at you— even if it was stupid, it bubbled the faintest shimmer of hope. You pulled the covers closer to yourself, looking down at the crumpled white sheets as you pressed your lips together before saying.

"I like you."

He didn't say it back.

Instead he smiled at you, feet padding against your wooden floors as he walked up to you in bed, pressing a small kiss on your forehead before ruffling your already messed up hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

But you didn't see him tomorrow.

You didn't see him at all after that.

The seat beside you in class was now occupied by an abhorrent emptiness that made you want to drag your nails against your skin. You tried searching for him in the crowded walls of the large classroom, but he was either not there or hidden by the enormous mass of bodies. He left you with a heavy heart and the only one you could find yourself to blame was yourself. Your mother's words never stopped ringing inside your head since then.

It was like fate was laughing at you when you saw him again at the campus cafe— just like the first time you met him. You were in a hurry to leave when you accidentally bumped into him, your coffee nearly spilling from your hands. You parted ways without anything exchanged.

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

Maybe you should have listened to her words.

[yellowocaballero]

Human Relations Snippet: Jon and Sasha versus Bad Telenovelas

This is a birthday request from @hihereami who wanted something very Latin American and an excuse to show me her favorite shows. This takes place in early Season 3, before Jude Perry but with Sasha working at the office. Jon fudged some stuff. It features incredibly stupid office dynamics, bad relationships, and a shared history that produced two very different people. Happy birthday, Ami!

CW as usual for Human Relations: explicitly discussed transphobia, references to 19th century racism, and a depiction of a platonic abusive relationship. 

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means Jon needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing Jon for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

Sasha liked to be the smartest person in the room.

The problem with people like Sasha was that, very frequently, they were the smartest person in the room. For seventeen years of her life Sasha had been remarkably and thoroughly assured that she would go places, she was really going to make all of us proud, she’s going to take care of us in our old age, Mrs. Pérez’s son just wastes every day with his girlfriend but here you are, studying all day with your complete lack of friends! 

Once she skipped town - well, town, country, Americas, oceans - all of that had been replaced with shiny grades and the bragging rights of Oxford and the implicit looming pressure of her scholarship. Sasha had always been the smartest person in the room. She couldn’t afford anything else - not if she wanted someone to care, not if she wanted to get anywhere in life. 

Every adult was somewhat of a child inside: happily ignoring a toy until it was taken away, at which point they would scream and scream. And when Sasha didn’t feel like the smartest person in the room - or, worse, others didn’t see her as the smartest person in the room - there was nothing tolerable about it. 

Upon retrospect, workplace and academic discrimination, in addition to some healthy insecurity, bothered her so much that she sold her soul to the devil about it, but apparently this was an semi-common occurrence. Abuela had been right. Teach Sasha to doubt her again. 

Mrs. Pérez’s son probably hadn’t accidentally sold his soul to the devil. He and his girlfriend were probably happy with their hard working but low-paying jobs, their cute little smattering of babies, and their mass every week. They’d have long, happy lives, and the amount of life-or-death situations they were put in were probably no more than usual. 

Well. Sasha would literally rather die than do that, and that resolve had been tested very thoroughly. She stood by it. Sasha had never regretted a decision she made in her life, besides the ones that sold her soul to the devil, and also maybe some things about Tim. But most of her decisions were good. And even if they weren’t good, she stubbornly stood by them.  

That’s why this was difficult. For all of Sasha’s insecurity reasons that, to be fair, had mostly drifted into the background of her life while she had been on the run for murder. And because it was Martin. 

“Sasha, I’m not sure what help I can give you.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Please?” Sasha slid into the seat across from Martin, giving him her best big cow eyes. “Don’t hog the emotional manipulation. You’re the expert in making Jon do what you want, just...work your magic!”

Martin looked up from the statement he was organizing shot Sasha an extremely flat look. Martin was extremely good at looking extremely unimpressed. “Because I’m the one who can magically make people do what I want.” 

Sasha winced. “At least you didn’t sell your soul to a demon about it?”

“I know you tell yourself a lot of people do that to make yourself feel better about doing it, but literally nobody does that.” At Sasha’s double wince, Martin sighed. “Don’t listen to Jonah. You didn’t do anything a normal, non-satanic person wouldn’t do. If I could…” Martin trailed off slightly, staring a little in the distance, before shaking back to himself. “I’m not helping you manipulate Jon. That’s my place in this ecosystem.”

“Then we should team up,” Sasha wheedled. She reached into her briefcase - which nowadays contained little more than alcohol and Statements, she wasn’t sure that Georgie had been a good influence on her - and yanked out the print-outs before slapping it on the table. “See, I did research!”

Martin slid the papers closer to him, leafing through them quickly. Sasha waited for him to look very impressed and appreciative of how socially competent yet intellectual she was, but he didn’t look very impressed at all. “ “Help someone in an Abusive or Controlling relationship”, ‘3 ways to support someone stuck in a controlling relationship’, ‘How can I help someone in a toxic relationship’...”

“You aren’t going to deny it, are you?” Sasha asked heatedly. “Because Tim just does not get what I mean no matter how many leaflets I show him because he ‘framed me for murder’ or whatever -”

“Do not pretend as if you’re forgiven him for the murder thing.”

“I fucking hate his guts over it. I will never, ever forgive either of them.” Sasha’s heart spiked in her chest, and she forced herself to take a few calming breaths. “This is a problem. Jon and Jonah are a problem. I don’t think we’re in a position to take on Jonah right now - even if I am working on it. But Jon is a weak link here. We know he’s impossible to kill -” At Martin’s extremely alarmed look, Sasha quickly elaborated, “ - and I wouldn’t want to, although he would really technically deserve it with all of his human rights violations. It would be far easier, and a better use of our resources, if we got Jon to our side. Then hopefully those two could...blow each other up, or something.”

Martin stared at her, expression implacable. Sasha became abruptly aware that she had just threatened to blow up this guy’s semi-boyfriend, and resisted the urge to apologize. She wasn’t apologetic. This was what she had to do, and Sasha always did what had to be done. It didn’t matter if she hated Jon so much that she wanted him dead, when he would be more useful to her alive. It doesn’t matter if she knew that, deep down, Jon was an exceptionally kind and caring person who loved very deeply, and that who he was now was a product of a great deal of influences mostly out of his control. If he was who Sasha was going to turn into, given enough time. 

She would stick to the plan. Sasha was going to get herself and her Assistants - including Melanie now, for some reason, who still refused to believe them about the psychic vampire thing despite how many times Jon confessed to it - out of this. 

Finally, Martin said, “I’m not going to deny it, Sasha. I’ve printed out all those guides, I’ve read all of the books, I’ve done everything. I’ve been working on this since - I think since I decided that I loved Jon more than I hated him. I’ve got Jon’s trust. And, way more importantly, Jonah is convinced that I’m harmless. He doesn’t pay any attention to me. I think he, like, secretly hates it whenever Jon has someone - whatever. But he is obsessed with everything you do.” At Sasha’s disturbed look, Martin shrugged. “He micromanages. Jon complains about it. I don’t think Jon gets that he really spills the cards on all of Jonah’s plans when he gets drunk and bitches about him.”

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means he needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing him for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

*******

Sasha was now willing to admit that Martin was smarter than she was.

It was always kind of a crapshoot when looking for Jon. He was only around the Institute half the time, probably less, and he refused to buy a cell phone so anybody could stay in contact with him. Tim had also flatly refused, because Jon would inevitably go to him for help with figuring it out, and apparently that could take hours. Sasha had volunteered to help Jon with accessing some online archives, and apparently she had explained it so confusingly that Jon was left refusing to touch a computer for a month. 

The farthest they could go was convincing him to take a Jitterbug for emergencies. Tim had taken great pains to explain the LifeAlert function, to Jon’s increasing lack of amusement. When Sasha had explained the adventure to Georgie, a known social media sensation over wine at their weekly girls night, she had found it hilarious and was very impressed. 

“Jon must be really attached to you guys,” Georgie had said, carefully nibbling at her luxury chocolate. Girl’s nights with Georgie were decadent. “I mean, not that he doesn’t talk about all of you nonstop, but he can spend ten years incorporating the Beholding into every piece of technology in the country while willfully refusing to learn how to work a computer.”

Sasha hadn’t missed Georgie’s word choice - deliberately refusing instead of an incapability to learn - but something else in the sentence was stranger to her. “I thought he was all about all kinds of knowledge.”

“I hear that the future can be terrifying for a lot of people,” Georgie had said wisely. “No matter how much of it they experience.”

“Is it terrifying for you?”

“Goodness, no.” Georgie had flashed her a bright grin - not so much a showing of teeth as it was a peek at a bone-white skeleton. “I always know what the future holds.”

 As it stood, Sasha got lucky today. She wasn’t forced to make Jon use his dreaded phone, and as a result she wasn’t forced to understand what the fuck Jon did all day. He was in the Magnus Institute, and when Jon was in the Institute there were three places he could be. 

The Archives, which Sasha had just come from. The Institute Library, occasionally terrifying the graduate students and more frequently helping them write their papers. Sasha had heard that they had communally begun sacrificing one grad student to his hunger per week in exchange for study sessions. Which...she should discourage...whatever, it was probably ethical. Or, at the very least, voluntary. 

The only other location Jon visited was Magnus’ office, where he could spend hours relaxing on the evil little bastard’s couch and annoying him. That was a last resort scenario, and was usually saved for complete and total emergencies.

Thankfully, today, Sasha found Jon in the ‘D’s. He was lying on his back, legs propped up on the bookshelf across from him, reading what looked like a very fascinating philosophy text regarding humanity’s search for aliens that Sasha silently resolved to borrow from him later. He didn’t look up when Sasha approached, so she carefully tipped a book off the shelf above him to fall on his head.

He yelped, dropping his book and sitting upright. He rubbed at his head, scowling, and Sasha saw that he had restyled his hair since the last time she had seen him. It had been growing long, but instead of cutting it and returning to his short twists styled into a loose curtain over his forehead he had pulled it back into a puffy bun. It was...somewhat more fashion forward than Sasha had ever seen from him. He had swapped his greatcoat for a primmer and shorter pea coat. Even his glasses were now thin-rimmed, circular, and kind of stylish. 

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, “has Martin started dressing you?”

“Martin can barely even dress himself,” Jon said automatically. “It was Georgie. She said I have to ‘clean up nice’ if I ever ‘want a man’. What does any of that mean?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird that your wife is setting you up with someone?”

“The concept of monogamy becomes ridiculous after the first eighty years,” Jon said, also automatically. Then Sasha’s words sunk into his brain, and he flushed. “Georgie and I aren’t together right now! And she’s not setting me up with - how can you even consider - what makes you think I’m a homosexual -”

Sasha stared at him flatly. Jon gave up. 

“Just let me know if I need to explain gay shit to you,” Sasha said. “It’ll cost a hundred pounds for me to explain queerness and three hundred if you want to learn about trans issues. Recompense for my emotional labor.”

“Young people think they invented these things. It’s ridiculous.” Jon stored the book back on the bookshelf behind him without looking, before carefully dropping his feet and rolling up. Sasha’s back ached in sympathy. Some people got all of the demon deal luck. “What does Martin say? ‘People are gay, Steven’? Historical figures are gay and trans, Sasha.”

“...are you a historical figure that’s -”

“I apologize for being a cisgender man that’s ruined your life, yes.” Jon arched an eyebrow at her as Sasha spent a second in confused agony over whether or not she was getting through to this guy. “I assume there’s no emergency, considering this conversation, so why are you here?”

There was no way to make this offer sound genuine. Jon would look for the catch - because there was one - or what she was trying to pull. There was something she was trying to pull, but she wasn’t about to admit it. 

In the end, Sasha settled for a fragment of honesty in her heart. Jon always had a way of drawing that out of people. 

“I haven’t watched my telenovelas in years. And I don’t know anybody else who speaks Spanish, and so much of it doesn’t translate that I refuse to watch it subbed with someone else, and they’re something I used to watch every night but now I haven’t seen them in years. And you speak Spanish. So.”

Jon stared at her, blinking owlishly, before his mouth twitched into a small smile. It flowered, moving from a hesitant movement of the lips into a real, close-lipped smile that sent his usually severe and sharp expression into something resembling excitement. Understated enthusiasm over novelty. 

How weird, Sasha thought. That you could be 200 years old and still find excitement over something novel. Over something new. Or, maybe, over someone choosing to trust you with a part of their lives. 

Or maybe it wasn’t that weird. How could someone keep living for that long if something as simple as this didn’t bring you joy? Sasha was only thirty four and she already felt so tired of life, all the time. Either tired or overwhelmed. She wondered if Jon still felt overwhelmed. 

“Sounds like fun,” Jon said. “Can I bring my notebook?”

“...yeah, sure.” Sasha paused, almost uncertain. “Hey. When you get to, like, two hundred -”

“Technically two hundred and twenty.”

“When you get to two hundred and twenty, do you finally feel like an adult?”

Jon stared at her, faintly surprised, before his expression settled into something a little wry. “Anybody who says that they ever feel like an adult is a liar. That’s how you know that Jonah’s full of shit.”

Somehow, it was almost a little reassuring.

First time she had ever said that about Jon. 

********

Their adventures, of course, were quickly throttled by practicalities. 

Sasha suggested just watching it on a laptop, but Jon’s expression had wrinkled in distaste. Jon suggested just watching it at her place, but Sasha liked to pretend that he didn’t know where she lived. Far too much intimacy, and somewhat hilariously Jon seemed very awkward about being alone with a woman in her flat. Also they were still working, technically. 

Martin, overhearing their argument in the Archives as Sasha collected her laptop, suggested Jon’s place, since it was pretty nice and cozy and close to the Archives. This forbidden knowledge, the shining proof that sometimes a little knowledge could be a terrible and traumatizing thing, the sheer mental image that imprinted itself behind her eyelids, shook Sasha to her core.

“For christ’s sake,” Martin said, “we are not fucking.”

“Sounds like someone who’s fucking our boss would say!” Tim called, from his position asleep on the break room couch. Sasha had spent roughly five hours yesterday convincing him that her plan to manipulate Jon’s psychological weaknesses was the most effective defense against evil fear powers that they had, and since he had lost the argument he was now resentfully napping on the couch. “If I walk in on you doing it in the office over a desk I’m going to fucking kill both of you and then myself!”

“Does this place have an HR?” Melanie asked, from where she was sitting at her desk actually trying to work. “Can I report all of you to HR? Please?”

“Jon can hardly fire himself,” Sasha told her sympathetically. “This shit will all make sense if you accept the fact that -”

“God, I get it, enough with the workplace hazing!” Melanie threw up her hands, as Jon unsubtly whispered something in Martin’s ear that made him blush. “You can all drop it now, it was never funny!”

“If Sasha just let me prove it to you,” Jon said, exasperated, “then you can see -”

Simultaneously, all three of them snapped, “Do not!”, cowing Jon immensely. 

Tim was no help in problem-solving, since he was resentful that Sasha was doing this at all. He had been spending almost all of his time lately throwing himself into research into the rituals, into anything that explained the strange and obscure rigor of this universe. Jon only explained as much to them as Jonah let him, and the most he ever did was mysteriously drop off boxes that held a lot of information about clowns and sawdust.

He always seemed a little surly as he did it. Sometimes he looked very guilty. Sasha noticed, every time. She couldn’t afford not to. 

All Sasha could try to do for Tim was help him. Their relationship had already been fractured by the way they kept secrets from each other, and although they both wanted to repair it they were forced to confront the fact that now they had to tell each other things. Accept help. Sasha hated acknowledging that she couldn’t do everything by herself, and Tim hated putting Sasha in the danger he relentlessly and suicidally threw himself into, but neither of them would let the other continue on their self-destructive path. 

It wasn’t sweet. But it was the most solid and tangible proof Sasha had that they loved each other. Maybe it was the most solid proof anybody could have: that, in life or death, they’d choose wherever you were. 

If Sasha followed Tim into whatever dangerous shit he was getting himself into, then he would be more careful. Tim wouldn’t survive it if he lost her, and she knew it. 

Between her and Tim, and Jon and Martin...why did all of their relationships feel like mutually assured destruction?

Eventually, Jon’s solution was, as usual, the worst one. Jon’s solution to every problem always worked, but it was always the one thing that nobody wanted to do and that everyone hated. But anything else was either vetoed or improbable, and Sasha refused to back out once she committed to something, so that was how Sasha stuffed a laptop and an HDMI cable into her bag to trail behind Jon as they rode the elevator up to the third floor. 

The number three rule of the Archives was not relevant right now (let Sasha have two cups of coffee before bothering her about how terrible their lives were). But the number two rule of the Archives was this: don’t fuck with Rosie. They both gave her their brightest grins as they passed, impeccably polite without actually asking if Jonah was inside. Rosie smiled munificently at them and complemented Sasha on her heels. They were in. They were now breaking the number one rules of the Archives. 

The number one rule of the Archives was, of course, this: never talk to Jonah Magnus unnecessarily. 

On the bright side, from this perspective Sasha could see how Jon worked his magic - that is, how he always entered Jonah’s office through kicking the door open and infuriating the other man tremendously. He actually took the time to open the door a crack first, completely silently and almost imperceptibly, before crashing it open in as annoying a way as physically possible. 

“I need your fucking office!” Jon called. 

When Sasha poked her head in behind him, she was treated to the sight of a terrified employee cowering in the hard plastic chair in front of Jonah’s desk. Sasha was well aware how that chair could feel like an electric chair. Across from him, Jonah looked distinctly unamused, already kneading his brow. 

“I’m in a meeting, Jon.”

“Good for you.” Jon pointed at the door, and the employee silently scurried out. “Not anymore. Now fuck off, I need your office.”

Impossibly, Jonah looked even more unamused. “Fucking your Archivist on my desk in the middle of the day is a bit beyond the pale even for you, Jon.”

Sasha was immediately so fucking disgusted that she switched into Spanish and called him a great deal of incredibly rude things for an incredibly long period of time. 

Talking over her, Jon said, “Take out your resentment over 1899 on someone else. We want your television, we’re watching Sasha’s programmes.”

“Right. Like how you and that boy Martin are always watching programmes -”

“Me cago en tu puta madre--”

“Honestly, Jonah, just because you had all of those men over for revision of your manuscripts doesn’t mean everyone’s as euphemistic as you are. And Sasha, that’s remarkably vulgar.”

For the first time, Jonah looked alarmed. “What is she saying?”

“Sólo porque tienes un rabo chiquito -”

“Go learn Spanish.”

“Ms. James, this is a professional office, and -”

“Melanie’s fucking right, we need a fucking HR.” Now this was a matter of pride. Sasha flounced into the office, collapsing onto one of the dumb uncomfortable leather couches facing one of those screens that rich people had in their offices to show their powerpoint slides or whatever. “I’m going to Stare you to death if you don’t leave us alone to watch telly.”

Hilariously, Jonah looked at Jon, alarmed. “Can she do that?”

Jon opened his mouth, before Sasha shot him a look. “She’s progressing amazingly rapidly. At this point, not even I know what she’s capable of.”

What a wingman. Jonah looked faintly uncomfortable, but he went back to his computer anyway instead of doing the rational thing and getting out. “This grant is due in three days, Jon, and I have no time for your little fancies. Do what you will, but leave me out of it.”

Sasha was not thrilled at the prospect of Jonah fucking Magnus hanging out in the background while Sasha and Jon watched telenovelas. She’d be outnumbered by the evil fear demons, for one. But Sasha had a sneaking suspicion, and maybe if she couldn’t genuinely stop this guy’s evil plans she could annoy him to death.

At the very least, it would make her feel better. Sasha was beginning to recognize the value of anything that just made you fucking feel better. Maybe Tim was onto something with constantly being a giant bitch all the time. 

“Ignore that cunt,” Sasha said in Spanish, catching Jon’s attention as she stood up to plug in the HDMI cable and turn on the television. “I got crisps and chocolate in my bag, I’m putting on Marimar.”

“Is she insulting me again?” Jonah asked. “Jon, what’s she saying?”

“I’m afraid I only consume trauma,” Jon said, also switching to Spanish. His accent was fucking bizarre. He sounded like her great uncle, or an even worse version of Sucedió en La Habana. At her boggled look, he elaborated, “The Witness gifted me with understanding of all languages very early in my development, but it bestowed verbal fluency in...1910? Perhaps? I’m afraid that without a little practice and frequent use I’m a little bit stuck there. I was able to beat my Chinese and Russian into sounding modern, but I’m afraid that people now tell me my Chinese is somewhat 1960s and my Russian is fairly 1980s.” He scowled. “Why does modernity change so much?”

“I think telenovelas can fix this for you,” Sasha decided. She paused a beat as Jon sat down beside her, a careful distance away. “The Witness? Is that a weird translation thing? You called it the Beholding last time.”

Jon shifted, a little guiltily. In English, he said, “The term Beholding’s better...it’s more academic, and more people use it…”

“What are you two -”

“Is ‘The Witness’ your word?” Sasha asked, and to her horror she found her tone almost gentle. It was almost easier, in her own words.

This time Jon truly looked uncomfortable, and he shifted back into Spanish - perhaps, Sasha thought, because Jonah could not understand it. “Smirke contributed all of the nomenclature for this, and he never...well, none of Jonah’s little circle liked me very much.”

“Wow, wonder why.”

“Exoticism only gets you so far, I suppose,” Jon joked weakly, before sharply swerving the subject. “I always felt as if it gave me its own name. When I began to understand, really understand what it was and how we could feed each other...I felt as if it told me. And that’s what it told me. So it’s always been my name.”

Hm. Sasha wondered what it was like, to have your religion be - so tangible, so grounded. Sasha believed, and she had faith with all of her heart, but - well, you wouldn’t need faith if you had incontestable proof. Faith was about believing because you knew something in your heart. But Jon...when he had nothing else, maybe, he had this.

“I just put down ‘James’ because I thought it would make that small-dicked asshole more likely to hire me,” Sasha finally offered, her only equivalent for something like this. “Tell you what. Call me James Martinez, and I’ll curse the name of the Witness, okay? If you’d like me to.”

Jon brightened, and for a second Sasha saw her own faith in his brilliant green eyes. “My gift is shared with you, Sasha. Of course you can.”

It was not a gift. It was a terrible and disgusting curse, and it was one that Jon had inflicted upon her. But Sasha was playing nice...and this was knowledge, understanding Jon was knowledge that could save her life one day...and there was something strange about Jon’s hesitant and multi-barbed trust. 

It had to be the trust of somebody who had it betrayed a hundred, thousand times. But he gave it so easily, and he reached out incessantly. Sasha knew lots of people who cared too much, although she had never been one of them - Tim and Martin, for one - but she could already see how it was making them a little bitter and jaded. 

Jon wasn’t. Sasha didn’t know why. 

So Sasha kicked off her heels, tucking her legs underneath her as she pulled up her favorite episode of Marimar on her laptop. It was a comfort show, having context wouldn’t help, she had rights. 

“Okay,” Sasha began, a little aggressively, “we’re starting a lot of the way in, so I have to catch you up. Like a lot of telenovela protagonists, Marimar is a wholesome young girl who lives in a little sad hut shack on the beach and she can’t read. She’s raised by her grandparents and her dog talks. This is the essential premise of the show.”

“Wow,” Jon whispered, “just like me.”

“I - okay, you are not obligated to give me your backstory, but what?”

“Martin keeps calling me a ‘sad little Victorian orphan’,” Jon said defensively. “And dogs talk to me too!”

“...what do they say?”

“If you’d believe it, nothing interesting.” He paused a beat. “But Georgie’s cat is kind of a psychopath, if that helps.”

“That’s a stereotype against cats,” Sasha accused. “Just because humans don’t understand cat body language -”

“Oh, no, cats are lovely, my favorite animal. But the Admiral’s kind of a freak.”

“If you two are going to sit here and trash talk me in my own office,” Jonah said, aggravated, “then please at least take it outside.”

Actually, this was a great idea.

Sasha ran through the plot of Marimar, down to the love interest with the terrible chest hair (Jon and Sasha then got into an argument over chest hair that was so heated that Sasha suspected Martin had chest hair), the evil step-mother (they both agreed that women in soaps tended to fall within the madonna/whore complex), and the weird amounts of humiliation. Sasha loved to hate Mr. Douchey McChesthair in this one - he wooed Marimar and promised to raise her up from poverty, but he ended up ditching her when she wasn’t refined enough for him. She wins him back at the end with her nice dresses and inherited money, and they settle down with a baby and a big house. Sasha always hated the ending. Marimar should have become a career woman. 

“It’s massively cheesy,” Sasha warned, finally playing the episode and letting the cheery theme song play, “so don’t sit here and point out the logical inconsistencies. We know. It’s part of the experience.”

But Jon just arched an eyebrow, unbuttoning his own pea cot to throw over the back of the sofa and lounge in his seat. “Watching telenovelas, in the office of the Director of the facility where you work, with his boss, in London, is the experience? And we’re all - how do you put it - evil fear demons?”

“You haven’t met my auntie,” Sasha said darkly. But she ended up shaking her head too, picking at her stockings a little. “The experience is...eleven pm, and the whole house is dark. The kitchen light is on, this flickering yellow thing that pops and buzzes. There’s cicadas outside, and somewhere you can hear someone playing music too loudly. Dad’s in his ripped up armchair, snoring. Mom’s on the couch, reading a magazine. They’re only half-paying attention, but it’s late, and you feel like you never get enough time with them. So you sit on the couch next to Mom, and because neither of them say anything you watch the show with all of your attention, just happy to be near them...it’s family bonding, you think. It feels like it.”

Jon was silent, staring at her. Not fixedly, or intensely - just looking, as if he was waiting patiently to see if she would say anything else. But Sasha trailed off, picking at her stockings, until she forced herself to stop. She didn’t want to say anything else. She was worried that he would know what she wasn’t saying. He always did.

“My grandmother couldn’t read,” Jon said finally, and Sasha fought the surprise. Jon never talked about this, not in any specific words. “But she would darn clothing by the fire at night. She did it for the neighborhood and earned some extra money.”

“What about you?” Sasha asked, hoping it was a safe topic. “What did you do?”

Jon grinned at her, sharp and amused. “I got into trouble.”

They both turned their attention back to the television, and Sasha silently mouthed the words along with the screen as Jon paid rapt attention. 

It was later in the show, when Marimar was showing up all of the people who did her dirty when she was poor. She had a fine dress, lingering on the arm of her rich and kind of creepy father, and she walked around with her head held up high. Her old husband who treated her terribly saw her at the opera and he was stunned by how hot and cool she was now. 

“Good for her!” Jon said abruptly. “Go find someone better, Marimar!”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “She ends up with him!”

“What!”

Quicker than Sasha would ever have expected, Jon got wrapped up in the episode. He gasped with her at the right parts, cheered at the screen whenever Marimar said something particularly sassy, and they booed whenever Douchey McChesthair showed up. 

When Sasha glanced behind her - not that she did - she saw Jonah fixedly ignoring them. He was gritting his teeth a little. Every so often he would glance at the screen, obviously look terribly confused, then go back to his computer. 

When the credits rolled Jon declared this second-hand trauma, which terrified Sasha deeply but raised interesting questions about her own future diet. 

“It’s about the humiliation, fear, and voyeurism,” Jon told her. “Supernatural trauma and devastation tastes rather similar to these telenovelas.”

“...what do they taste like?”

Jon thought hard. “Taste, but if it was a feeling.”

“...what’s the -”

“What’s the feeling you have?”

Sasha was forced to concede the point, and put on another episode. 

In this one, Marimar’s new dad tied tragically, and she very cunningly has him sign all of his money over to her. Sasha cheered her on very enthusiastically, and Jon agreed that Marimar was the definition of girlboss, but he found it kind of a dick move. 

“I thought you hated pretentious, old money rich white Britons,” Sasha accused. She knew that Martin had been working on him and trying to convert him to socialism,, but it was slow going. 

“I do hate entitled, old money people,” Jon said shortly. “But it’s hardly illegal to work your way up the social ladder and improve your station in life. Marimar isn’t putting the work in, she’s just inheriting all of this blood money. If she doesn’t make something of her life then what’s the point in all of that suffering?”

“You do know how social mobility is a lie fed to the lower class by the upper class to keep them complacently participating in the system, right?” 

“I’m not saying many people do it,” Jon said, ignoring Marimar’s grotesquely fake sobbing, “but it’s possible. I’ve met plenty of people who worked hard and became successful.”

“Yeah, and those people were lucky. Most of us just sit around in poverty and suffer.” Sasha rolled her eyes, unwrapping her chocolate bar. “Not all of us can be Dr. Faust.”

“You didn’t sit around,” Jon said, turning to face her. Sasha didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her chocolate instead. “You were smart, you worked your way up, you got your scholarship, and now you’re part of something far greater than yourself. You took what happened to you and you used to make you stronger, just like I did. Anybody can do it if they work hard enough.”

Sasha’s teeth clamped down on the chocolate.

Abruptly, stupidly, she got angry. 

“I’m not better than the thousands of other trans women who got kicked out, Jon,” Sasha snapped, but Jon didn’t flinch. “I’m just luckier! I know I worked hard, but I’m not more - more worthy of what I have than the brave women back home who have nothing. And I’m not going to stomp on them to make myself feel better like you do!”

“I do not -” Jon started, outraged, but Sasha cut him off. 

“You tell yourself that you worked hard for the security, money, education that you never got as a child! But you deserved all of that! That’s shit that anybody who lives deserves. But because you think of it as some kind of stupid reward, then it’s something that can be taken away. And when what you have can be taken away at any moment, then you have nothing!”

She cut herself off abruptly, unwilling and incapable of saying anything more. There were lines you couldn’t cross with Jon, and lines that she didn’t deserve to cross no matter how callous he was. She couldn’t accuse him of forgetting where he came from, or of betraying his people. Sasha knew well that Jon had never forgotten, not for a second. 

He had just - twisted everything around. He had to justify to himself what he’d done, so he’d taken the truth and molded it to fit his own desires and call it holy. 

It had killed her. It had killed her, how Jon told her that they were the same, but he did all of this shit to her anyway. But maybe that was no surprise: Jon hadn’t done anything to her that he hadn’t done to everybody else, and he hadn’t made any justifications to himself about his behavior towards her that he hadn’t made about everybody else. 

You couldn’t live like he did with emotional honesty. Good people could do bad things - Sasha knew that better than anyone - but it required a truly disgusting level of willful blindness and cowardice that Sasha had never tolerated. 

“Nobody gave me being a woman,” Sasha whispered, too full of - something, to even look at Jon. “I didn’t take it from anyone. I didn’t steal it. It was something that I always deserved, and that I always was. And because of that, nobody will ever take it away from me.” She exhaled heavily, forcing herself to stop shaking. “Nobody can make me something I’m not. Not even you.”

Jon stared at her, toxic green eyes wide and something foreign in his expression. It looked almost as if he believed her. Ha. “Sasha, I -”

“I swear, it’s like you two are making an effort to be as intrusive as possible. Jon, can’t you control your own Archivist?”

Jon almost jumped, as if he had forgotten that Jonah was in the room at all. Something in his chest seized closer, and a year ago Sasha would have just called it a twitch. 

It wasn’t. It was an aborted, concealed cringe, seen only once before. But there was only one other person in this world who cared about that. 

“Jonah!” Jon said, switching back to English immediately. “Sorry, we were just - having a really heated discussion about - uh, about -”

“Brujeria and how it changed when adopted by members of the Catholic church,” Sasha said smoothly. “I think his weird compulsion thing is just advanced witchcraft.”

“Yes! Yes, of course - you remember, I took inspiration from p - pagan rituals, you know, for our early work. I think you called it -”

“Bizarre?” Jonah asked, arching an eyebrow. “Jon, there were bones involved.” Jon silently pointed at the human skull taking up proud residence in Jonah’s cabinet of curiosities. “That’s different, a friend gave me that.”

“ ‘Have you seen Barnabas lately, Jonah’, I said. ‘He hasn’t seemed to have written lately’, I said. ‘Have you grown distant?’, I said. And you said -”

“Yes, he was very distant,” Jonah said dryly. “You hardly complained. You hated the man.”

“I hated all of your friends,” Jon said. He was smiling, once again relaxed with his arm spread over the back of the couch. Sasha furiously bit into a chip. “Didn’t mean you let them die.”

“Yes, but he was your least favorite, so I figured there was no harm done there.”

Improbably, Jon brightened. He smiled again, a curved slash of the mouth that had always been reserved for Jonah. It always spoke of secrets, a private joke. “You do care.”

“I’ll care more if you stop chattering when I’m trying to get us funded for another cycle.”

“Whatever.” Jon turned to face the screen again, letting the smile fall into a curiously blank expression. “Next episode, Sasha?”

“Sure,” Sasha said slowly. “But it only gets worse from here.”

 It would never stop being weird how - well, maybe that was no wonder. How could Sasha begin to understand a relationship as strange and esoteric as theirs? Two hundred years in the making, forged by cruelty and passion? Two lives, intertwined so closely they fed in a parasitic loop, starving the other to feed themselves? 

“Oh, I don’t mind a little tragedy,” Jon said. He spoke in English, vowels carefully rounded, posh accent meticulously stretching his words. “It’s the most entertaining.”

Sasha thought about print-outs. She thought about a many-eyed, malicious tumor of fear and pain consuming humanity alive. She thought about the face of God, and the tired and resigned face of Martin. When Sasha spoke, she stayed in Spanish.

“Even though she gets married to Mr. Douchey McChestHair at the end?”

“I’m sure he’s not all bad,” Jon said, and wouldn’t say anything more. 

[traincat]

if you dont mind i would love to hear your thoughts on how and why peter seems to be more fulfilled by lower paying jobs (i.e photography, teaching) rather than by high paying jobs in STEM

(Sorry for the wait, anon! I did get this first ask, as you can see, it’s just that sometimes I tend to hoard asks that I want to give long in-depth answers to and then they get buried.)

So I think to best answer this the first thing we have to do is look at Peter’s 616 employment history -- what jobs he’s had when and for approximately how long. So here we have a more or less definitive list -- I may have skipped over a few minor jobs that aren’t important in the long run of the character history, but for the most part this is accurate. For the sake of brevity I am not going to count things he’s done as Spider-Man that have earned him money, like a brief bodyguard stint or his occasional time with the Avengers, because this is really more about his identity as Peter Parker and how his civilian employment plays into his life as Spider-Man than about his life as Spider-Man.

Works for the Daily Bugle on and off, through a variety of positions from part time to salaried, from the age of 15 onwards. Primarily a photographer. How good of a photographer Peter actually is varies from writer to writer, but he remains unmatched in his ability to get certain shots ranging from ones of Spider-Man (duh) to particularly high risk environments (different duh). He also briefly worked for rival newspaper the Daily Globe, the Bugle’s main competitor. His position as a full time newspaper photographer is his most well known (and most consistent) job.

A TA in grad school at Empire State University. At this point in time he labeled himself as having “the wrong temperament” for teaching -- and I would personally say I think his stints teaching college are much less engaging than high school.

Published author. His book, Webs, a collection of his Spider-Man photography, was a major bestseller that sent him on a book tour around the country. I hesitated sticking this on here because it’s very tied into his work with the Bugle -- and he was still working for the Bugle when the book was published -- but I figured it was worth including for the novelty of the fact that Peter’s technically a best selling author/artist.

Peter worked as a scientist at Galannan Alternative Research for Immunization Development (GARID) in Portland after his clone Ben Reilly took over the identity of Spider-Man. Although often overlooked in discussions of Peter’s job history, I think his stint at GARID is important in part because it illustrates how much of Peter’s time being Spider-Man took up and how a job with flexible hours was necessary for that balancing act. When he was working at GARID, Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, so it wasn’t difficult for him to keep a position at a laboratory. 

I mean granted the GARID job didn’t last long and there was sort of a whole big mutated monster case going on with it but you know. Anyway he pretty quickly moved back to New York and started working for the Bugle again.

Peter’s next major job at a lab comes in another period where he’s supposed to have quit being Spider-Man. (Which he did, very temporarily, and then he very much didn’t. Anyway, you’re seeing the pattern here.) He briefly worked at Tricorp, a private brain trust. This is a really short-lived position, even as Peter’s science gigs go, because -- Spider-Man.

At this point things get dicey employment-wise as Peter heads into a weird period of canon where Mary Jane was presumed dead. She wasn’t! But everyone thought she was. It was weird. When MJ came back (and promptly left for LA, not that I blame her), Peter exited this period of limbo by becoming a science teacher at his old school, Midtown High. This is the main career, beside news photography, that I think he really shines in.

Civil War/One More Day/Brand New Day hit and completely tank the direction of Spider-Man history. Peter’s marriage is erased by the devil and also he’s not a high school teacher anymore, for some reason, even though nobody remembers he’s Spider-Man anymore which is the reason he initially lost the Midtown High job. Make it make sense. Anyway, in Marvel’s desperate scramble to take Spider-Man back to the unmarried basics, as if they even got new readers that way, Peter returned to photography. When Dexter Bennett bought the Bugle out from under JJJ while JJJ was sick, Peter began working for the newly minted “DB” as a tabloid photographer. It wasn’t great.

He also briefly at some point in here worked at a comic book store for like five minutes. Mostly he complained about people who read comic books and made jokes about how he doesn’t get along with the X-Men. 

Under Slott’s run, Peter began working at Horizon Labs. Slott had a pretty major problem with Peter’s genius not being “recognized enough” and constantly had him inventing new things, showing off, etc. 

Horizon Lab became Parker Industries under Otto Octavius when he bodyjacked Peter during Superior Spider-Man and made himself CEO. When Peter got his body back, he was still CEO. It was bad but Peter did tank the company on purpose so that Otto and also nazis couldn’t get their hands on it, which was sort of fun. 

Peter went back to work for the Bugle, but as their science editor, because Slott was still in charge and there was some weird commentary about photography not being an adult job. Which I think is pretty weird in a medium that’s very dependent on visual art. But okay.

Then Peter got fired because he was busted for plagiarism of Otto Octavius’ work... that Otto did himself... while he was in Peter’s body... and Peter couldn’t reveal this because then he’d have to explain... and maybe I hate comics. 

In MC2 he becomes a forensic scientist! I really like this for him actually. I think it combines his interests and experiences in a very thoughtful way. But I do want to note it’s after a Spider-Man career ending injury, so again there’s not a real conflict there between his work as Spider-Man and a career.

Peter I think is an especially interesting case in how his character ties into his employment history because one of the first things he does in his story is figure out how to make money, and he does this because the Parkers don’t have any. If Ben and May were comfortable -- even comfortable enough that their teenaged nephew was unaware of financial pressures -- Spider-Man’s story would be completely different. But Peter immediately feels he pressure to use his new powers to earn money, at first with brute strength. And what he says he’s going to do with his earnings is that he’s going to take care of Ben and May:

(Amazing Fantasy #15) So the concept of Peter as someone who is very aware of financial pressure and who is pretty explicitly linking money to support is present from the absolute beginning. But at the same time, there’s a kind of selfishness presented in him here -- he’s only going to take care of Ben and May. They’re the only ones he cares about here, because as he’s stated they’re the only ones who have ever “been kind” to him. Peter at the beginning of his story is very rooted in his anger and his bitterness, and it takes him losing Uncle Ben -- because it wasn’t Peter’s “job” to stop the burglar -- to get him to the point where he starts to be able to see beyond that.

Ben’s death also heightens the Parker’s financial pressures -- Ben is the primary earner in the household. (Aunt May in the original context of the early 1960s was most likely a homemaker, and as an older woman especially she wouldn’t be expected to have a job. But even moving the timescale up to a point where she would be expected as a woman to hold down a job, it’s important to note that early in Spider-Man canon Aunt May is depicted as being in very poor physical health.) While it’s not clear in the initial Spider-Man stories what Ben did, it’s clear that with his death whatever income the Parkers had coming in abruptly stops:

(ASM #1) This sets in concrete one of the central conflicts Peter and May have -- both of them lie to protect the other. Peter feigns being an ordinary boy in order to protect May from the stress of his secret life as Spider-Man, worried that she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the danger he regularly puts himself in. But this is a learned behavior, and here we see that he most likely learned it from May: she doesn’t want him to worry about the very deep financial troubles they’re obviously in, so she pawns her jewelry, and she stresses to him the importance of his education. Again I have to note that there are some pretty significant social differences between the 1960s and today in regards to this story -- Betty Brant, for example, notes that she had to drop out of school and become a secretary because of her own family’s financial problems, something she’s ashamed of. So early Spider-Man is very rooted in money, class, education, and how those things intersect. I think it should be noted that the only early Spider-Man characters who are financially well-off are Liz, Gwen, and Harry. (We don’t know anything about Flash’s financial situation in early Spider-Man comics but retroactively we know his family situation is not well-off.) In high school, Liz’s father is a bigshot who owns a dining club, but later on the Allans experience financial hardship with Liz quite literally being on the streets when Peter reunites with her when he’s in college. Harry’s father is a rich businessman, but from the beginning he’s depicted as emotionally negligent, caring more about money than spending time with his son:

(ASM #40) “After all... I had a business to care of! Money was the most important thing of all! I had to get rich! I needed wealth... for that was the key to power!” So right away you have this link between wealth, corruption, and negligence. Norman’s pursuit of wealth is his given reason for his neglect of Harry. Later on we’d learn that Norman’s father was also abusive and that that abuse formed Norman’s ideas about power and wealth. (Spider-Man! It’s about cycles of abuse!) There’s a very contrast between Norman’s attitudes here and the Parkers loving (but poor) household. Gwen is the only exception here -- she and her father are depicted as comfortable, most likely edging into wealthy, although on nowhere the level the Osborns have been elevated to. But compared to Peter, Flash, and Mary Jane especially -- all from poor households, with MJ and Flash’s fathers both being abusive -- Gwen’s home situation is the picture of stability, both in terms of economic status and in terms of her loving and very present father.

My goal in outlining all of this isn’t to say that Spider-Man’s message is definitively “money is bad” because I don’t think it is. I think as a series Spider-Man is very aware of the comfort that money can provide. But I think there is a frequent message about excess in Spider-Man -- excess power, excess wealth. As Norman says above, in his eyes, money is the key to power. With great power, comes great responsibility. In Norman hoarding and abusing his wealth, he abuses his power. If he provides for Harry, it is solely through money -- there is no love or devotion in Norman’s money-focused world. And I think that’s important when you look at where Peter starts in his story, before Uncle Ben’s death. He’s going to use his powers to make a lot of money and he’s going to provide for Ben and May but he’s not going to care about the world outside of that. I think one of the interesting things about Peter -- and this is where Slott’s run especially fails the character -- is that he’s not interesting in getting rich. He’d like to be comfortable, for sure -- he’d like to have enough money to not have worry about it, to not have the need to hustle impede what he can do as Spider-Man, to be able to take care of his family. (And there’s some machismo stuff linked in here for him too -- in the early days of their marriage the fact that Mary Jane earns much more than him is something he struggles with.) But he doesn’t care about being rich. He doesn’t care about the money; he cares about the support that the money would bring. 

That feels like a simple statement but I think it’s actually a really big distinction, especially when you’re analyzing a character. And I think it’s because Peter understands that value that it makes him so empathetic to others who have financial struggles. One of my favorite short self-contained Spider-Man stories is called Windfall, from Marvel Fanfare #42, where a mixup with a check embroils Peter in the personal affairs of a bank teller, a young single mother who is fired from her job ultimately because she refused the advances of her boss. Peter gets her her job back -- through blackmailing the boss for his other sexual affairs, which some people might think is immoral of him, but I think really speaks to Peter’s understanding of how the greater world works, and what he’s prepared to do to get bigger justice. But more importantly he uses his own money to pay the young woman’s rent, and he does it in a way where she never even knows it’s him. Because he understands her situation, the way someone who had grown up comfortable never could. And that understanding I think puts him a place where it’s more important for him to both keep that understanding and maintain that ability to act relatively freely, in the way that bigger, more prestigious positions in scientific fields might restrict him. There’s a reason he keeps getting fired from these scientific positions and it’s not that he can’t get them, because we can see from his employment history very clearly that he can. It’s because the freedom to act as Spider-Man and what he can do as Spider-Man is ultimately more important to him.

And while high school teacher is my number one favorite profession Peter has ever had, I think that his position as a newspaper photographer is also very important to the character’s history, in part because the Bugle is such a big part of his life and the connections he’s made but also because the Daily Bugle itself is important. I think it’s interesting to note that two of the biggest superheroes of all time from both of the big companies -- Spider-Man from Marvel and Superman from DC -- have had long running journalism jobs, Peter as a photographer and Clark as a reporter. I don’t think I really have to go into a whole thing about how good journalists are so important and why it matters that we have these incredibly famous mythic figures that are positioned in the roll of journalists specifically. But I do think it is important to Peter that he’s put in that position as someone who cares about uncovering the truth. So ultimately I think what I mean when I say Peter is more fulfilled by his jobs as a photojournalist and as a high school teacher than by his comparatively more high paying stints working as a scientist in a lab is that Peter gets the most fulfillment out of careers where he can actively see, day by day, that what he’s doing is helping people, and that it’s a very direct line from him to the people he’s helping. His efforts can’t be twisted, they can’t be used for other purposes the way they can within a larger organization. He has a line of control in what he can do to help other people. It’s like how Spider-Man functions best as a street level hero: what he does best is saving and helping individual people, on a case by case basis. And you can turn around and demonstrate that in his civilian life best in jobs where he gets to directly interact with people. And ultimately to Peter making that difference is more important than a better salary.

(Marvel Knights Spider-Man #9)

[hanideyumeron]

Kou with a blushy and easily flustered s/o

anonymous asked “Can you do some oneshots of kou with a shy and blushy s/o? Also love ur writing! 💕✨,”

i was wondering what reason i could use for why kou’s s/o is blushy and easily flustered, so i added that they’re touched starved, so i hope that’s fine!

When Kou had asked to go out with you, honestly, he was surprised you said yes. 

You were notorious for being cold and distant, not really engaging with people in class due to not having a lot of people who shared the same interests with you. You preferred to observe from the side-lines instead of being in the spotlight and to do that you had to stay quiet. But how could you say no to Kou who was a literal sweetheart and genuine guy? You might be slightly cold and mean but weren’t the devil. So you said yes, on a whim, but along the way, you had slowly fallen for him too. 

Because of your reserved and shy nature, Kou had been cautious with whatever contact he gave you, knowing you liked your space and alone time. But really, he was being a bit too cautious with you, and you were getting a bit tired of it. You appreciated the fact that Kou was being considerate of your apparent dislike of public affection, however, it wasn’t that you hated public affection, it was that you weren’t used to it. 

Silently huffing, you stared at Kou’s hand that was hanging freely beside you, swinging to and fro as he talked about his weekend before. White noise filled your ears as the overwhelming need to just grab his hand filled you until Kou raised his voice a little when he noticed you staring down at his hand “[Y/n]? Are you okay?” he asked, blinking down at his hand when he followed your gaze. He knew better than anyone that you weren’t actually too quiet. You gave small noises of confirmation that you were listening, small hums and nods so that Kou knew that even though you didn’t talk a lot, you were still listening. And for the past ten minutes, he was hearing less and less of them, which made him slightly concerned.

“Oh...uh,” it was the first time you were talking that day, so your voice was a bit gruff. That made you feel a bit embarrassed and you felt your face heat up so you turned it away from Kou’s view. You could feel his concerned eyes stare at you owlishly as you cleared your throat. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,”

Kou blinked confusedly and frowned, wanting to know what was wrong. His brilliant blue eyes darted back to his hand and something clicked and his face as well started to heat up. “Do you maybe…,” he gulped “...want to hold hands?” 

The question had to take some time to process in your brain, and when it did, you had no idea how to respond. Do you tell the truth and say yes, finally putting your guard down fully for Kou? Or would you lie and say no despite the fact you were craving the affection? You knew Kou was trustworthy enough for affection, but the overwhelming fear of just...letting your walls down was horrifying. You then decided that actions were better than words and slowly turned your face back to Kou who was looking at the floor as the two of you walked slowly to school. As you turned around, so did Kou, and he was finally able to see your rosy red face.

It was certainly different than the usual you. Your stone-hard face was complimented now by a scarlet hue, hardened eyes now showing vulnerability. You looked down and grasped his hand, squeezing as if to say “yes” before you looked down to try and hide your blushing face. 

Kou’s emotions went from shock to happiness as he realised what he was witnessing. You were trusting him more by letting down your walls and to him, that meant so much. His smile grew and he squeezed your hand back, soothing it as he rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. Who knew his stone-faced partner was actually very blushy and cute.

[t-lostinworlds]

Monthlies (Tom Holland)

A/N: Hi, it’s me, with a fic. Wrote this on a whim so bare with me asdfghjkl. I’m trying to be all mysterious with the summary but I think the title gives it away aha. Anyways, here’s some sweet boyfriend Tom for your enjoyment! Hope you like it <3

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: You tend to disappear for a week every month and Tom goes to find out why.

Warnings: None but my usual typos

Word Count: 3.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

Your relationship was fairly new, four months in to be exact, and Tom can't help but be curious of a certain thing you do every month.

Right after you've made it official, you've asked Tom about giving you some space during a certain week of each month. Not thinking much of it, he obliged, unable to find any harm on you wanting some time alone.

However, as months moved pass, he can't help but ask as to why exactly you needed to be away.

He just wants you to be open with him is all, want you to know that whatever it is, maybe he can help you with it, regardless of how you prefer his help. But each time he brings it up, you just shrugged it off and tell him it wasn't worrisome, that there wasn't any harm done during the duration of the disappearance.

Tom trusts you with every fiber of his being, so he didn't find the need to press you further, knowing that you'll tell him whenever you're ready.

Although the thing with curiosity, it grows no matter how hard you try for it not to, and Tom wasn't any different.

He can't deny that there was something odd about it, particularly when you don't speak to him during said week until the last two days.

It was planting an unsettling feeling in him for sure, his brain creating scenarios as to why exactly you shut him out constantly, same duration each time.

Does it have to do something with him? Is being with him putting you under too much stress and pressure that you needed to get out of it and give yourself room to breathe monthly? Or is there something going on with you and that you're hiding something deeper than you make it seem?

"I don't know man, I trust her so much, and she hasn't given me any reason not to whenever we're together, but when she does these monthly disappearances I can't help but think otherwise you know?" Tom sighed, a bottle of beer cold against his fingertips as he sat beside Harrison on their living room couch. The television was playing some random show that Tom couldn't even pay any attention to as his mind was somewhere else, on someone to be exact.

"You tried talking to her about it?" His best mate pointed out the obvious, brows furrowed as he gave Tom a curious glance.

"Yeah, but she doesn't give me any specific answer. She keeps saying it's not a big deal but you only say that if it is, don't you?" Tom's whole face was covered in nothing but worry, frown all evident as his thoughts run wild as to what could be this hidden secret you're so keen on keeping.

"Maybe it's time you just find out by yourself. You do know we're she lives right?" Harrison stated, seemingly unamused because Tom could've just done it months ago if it bothered him that much.

But Tom wasn't bothered by it really, not that much anyway. He was mainly just curious, concerned. What if you're going through something and he wasn't there to help you with it? What kind of a boyfriend is he then?

Sure he could've found out for himself all those months ago, but you asked him it as a favor, and he gave you his word, why would he break that and then cause unwanted problems between you two?

With a light scoff, Tom crossed his arms over his chest. "Of course I know where she lives, she's my girlfriend."

"And when does this month's MIA week start?"

At Harrison's question, Tom checks the date on his phone, a deep sigh coming out of him when he realized when it will be. "I think it starts tomorrow?"

"Then pay her a visit tomorrow."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Tom says reluctantly but couldn't help but entertain the idea of it anyway.

If he does it, this could really go wrong either way. It's either you'd be hurt because it would look like Tom doesn't truly trust you or, he'd find something that he would've been better off without. 

"Come on mate, how bad can it be?"

***

Tom was consumed by nerves the moment he stood in front of your door the next day. His hands were turning clammy as he shifts the key you've given him from one finger to the other.

He wasn't one to show up without texting first, completely uninvited especially at the time of month you specifically asked him to leave you be.

But it was eating him up from the inside out, his patience growing thin to the point that he was close to being desperate for answers.

Two sides of himself were at war, but Harrison's words won't seem to stop echoing inside his head.

How bad can it be?

Taking in a deep breath, Tom pushed the key in and unlocked the door, that one click bouncing off the walls a little too loudly for his liking. Slowly, cautiously, he lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him as his heart beats rapidly against his chest.

"Y/N? Are you home?" Tom was met by silence, your place seeming untouched but it was warm nonetheless. Plus, it was early in the morning; you couldn't have gone out yet. Tom knows what time you usually wake up, and judging by the clock just by the doorway, you're most likely to still be asleep. You definitely were here somewhere.

Moving further down your space, Tom heard a silent whimper, his ears perking up at the sound that was coming from your bedroom. His brain was straight to jump into conclusions and he hates himself for it.

You're a sweet and kind girl, heart so pure that you couldn't possibly do anything that would purposely hurt him. But when you're an over-thinker, any rational thought seems to get pushed back, replaced by this nagging whisper, like a tiny devil on his shoulder.

Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead as he threaded down the hall, heartbeat ringing in his ears until he reached your bedroom door, all opened wide for him to easily see what's inside.

All he saw was a form on the bed hidden under thick covers, hair — to which he assumed was yours — going astray over the pillows. Tom felt his heart calm down a little, silently scolding himself for thinking the worst when you were literally lying still and alone in bed.

A louder groan, one laced with pure pain followed by a soft yet broken sob bounced on your bedroom walls, the sheer sound of discomfort making Tom rush to your side immediately.

Dread covered his face once he took in your state, agony written all over your features as you hugged your knees to your chest, whole body curled up into a ball.

"Love what's going on? Are you okay?" Panic coated Tom's voice as he sat himself on the edge of the bed beside you, hand coming up to push a stray hair away from your face.

You willed your eyes to open at the sound of a familiar voice, pure surprise crossing you features at the feeling of his touch before it was quick to be replaced by worry and embarrassment.

"T—Tom? Why are you here? I don't want you to see me like this. I'm aah—" You winced loudly, Tom's concern only growing because the look on your face showed nothing but absolute torture, eyes squeezed shut as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sight was crushing his heart, just seeing you in so much pain, it was unbearable.

"Angel, please tell me what's going on? I can't help if you don't tell me." Tom was close to begging, fingers brushing your hair softly, comfortingly as the other hand gave your arm a gentle squeeze, too afraid to move you even in the slightest in fear that he might hurt you more.

He wants nothing more than to take your pain away, whatever the cause may be, but that's just it, he doesn't know why your hurt so he has no clue what to do.

Turning your head a little to meet his eyes, you frowned at him, and Tom can see than you were hesitating, doubting if you should tell him or not. But when another sharp pang coursed through your body, an excruciating stab just below your abdomen, you finally spoke, voice frail and small as you tried to suppress sob.

"Cramps."

It took three seconds, no, four when everything finally clicked. Tom could feel his cheek heat up as realization dawned on him, piece by piece falling into place, the situation at hand finally looking clear as day in his head.

"Oh."

A week every month... monthly periods.

That makes the absolute sense. Tom felt so stupid not having figured it out sooner, the facts already laid out for him but then again, how could he possibly narrow it down to that?

This was something new to him, past girlfriends not turning this serious, or simply just not finding it important at all for them to talk about periods and such.

Although, Tom can't help but question as to why exactly are you hiding away from him during his time of the month? Why were you so keen on being away from him whenever you get your period?

He didn't get the chance to ask you yet though; another heartrending groan from you was enough for him to stay focused at the task at hand: help get rid of your pain to the best of his abilities and well, the best of his knowledge too. "Okay, uhm, what do you need love?"

All you could manage to do was point weakly at your bedside table, Tom's eyes landing on an empty glass of water and some painkillers.

Tom turned back to you, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips before leaning down to give you a soft peck on the forehead. With voice soft and sweet, he hums against your skin. "I'll get you some water darling, I'll be right back."

Rushing out of you room, Tom quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, aimlessly walking towards the kitchen as he clicks on the name on his screen. He definitely needs some help with all this.

"Hey mum, uh, are you busy?" Tom sighs in relief the moment she answered. He was refilling your cup of water with a small frown, driven by nothing else but his pure concern about you.

"Not really no, I'm on my way to do some grocery shopping. Why hun? Is there a problem?"

Perfect timing.

"No, no, I just need a little favor? Uhm I was going to ask Harrison to do it but I'm pretty sure he's as clueless as I am with this stuff but uh, Y/N is on her period and she's got cramps and I'm too worried to leave her alone and—" Tom was cut off by his mother's joyful laugh, his cheeks turning a shade of red as she gushed about how adorable he is.

"You want me to buy some stuff for her?"

"Basically, yeah, and some food too." Tom chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub his shoulder. He was thinking about doing it himself but he was sure he'd end up lost and confused down the aisle, then it would just take too long. This new experience was slightly stressing him out, just a little bit, because when it's you looking to be in so much pain, his worry just comes in tenfold.

"Of course honey. Just text me her address and any other thing that you might need."

Tom blushed as his brain, by default, goes straight to a certain thing, shaking his head quickly to rid of the thought. Never in a million years would he ask his mum to buy condoms. Plus, there are more pressing matters at hand.

"Okay mum. Oh, and one last thing, does tea help with the cramps? Should I make her some tea?"

"You go ahead and do that Tom. Hot compress helps too."

"Okay, thank you so much mum, you're a life saver. Yeah, bye, I love you."

Placing the phone back in his pocket, Tom went back to your room with the glass full, not wasting any second to be by your side, ready to tend to his princess.

Once the glass was safely placed on the nightstand, he wrapped an arm over your shoulder to help you sit up, a soft sorry coming out his lips once you whimpered ever so quietly.

"How many of these?" He asks, pointing at the medication. You held two fingers up at him, Tom handing you the painkillers and then offering you the water. "Thank you." You smiled at him shyly once he took the glass from you.

Tom smiled, hand cupping your face gently as he leaned down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. "No worries darling. Now, get some rest."

***

After sorting out the bag of goodies and necessities that his mother kindly bought — chuckling at his own stupidity once he saw that you've already stocked up beforehand on female products and he just didn't check but hey, the more the merrier right? — Tom went back to check up on you.

You've been fast asleep for almost an hour now, Tom leaving you be for the time being, not having the courage to disturb you when you looked all peaceful and serene in your sleep.

But once he reached your room, you were already sat up in bed, facing the door with a deep frown. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of him, evidently shock to see him still around. "I thought you already left."

There was something about your tone that made Tom even more curious about this whole ordeal, a small frown adoring his own lips as he went over and sat across you. "My girlfriend needs me, why would I leave?"

You looked away at that, Tom feeling his heart drop a little because you're making it seem that you don't want his company.

"Y/N, tell me honestly, why don't you want me around during this time of month?"

You sighed worriedly, still unable to meet his gaze, knowing that there was nowhere to hide anymore. "It's not that I don't want you around. I just, I don't want to drive you away."

Tom furrowed his brows at your words, everything still a jumbled mess in his head. "Why would you being on you period drive me away?"

There was a pregnant pause after that. Your eyes darting about as you tried to piece your words inside your head. Tom was patiently waiting for you to speak again, but when your fingers started to fidget nervously, he moved closer, taking your hands in his to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Love, you know you can tell me anything right?"

You nodded, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip before lifting your head up to look at those chocolate orbs you've grown to adore, to trust.

"It's because I'm at my worse during this time. I cry over nothing and I'm always emotional. I have mood swings, I'm bloated and I look like utter shot. I'm in too much pain the first few days to the point that I couldn't get out of bed easily, couldn't even move as you've seen. I'm just... a completely mess Tom." Your voice trailed off at the end of your sentence, eyes dropping to see nothing else but your's and Tom's intertwined fingers.

The young man titled his head to side to try and catch your eyes. But when you tried your best to avoid them, he took it upon himself to let go of your hand to place a finger under your chin, gently pushing your head back up to meet his gaze.

"You really think I'd care about that darling?" Tom said, tone sweet and reassuring.

With a shrugged of your shoulders, you willed yourself not to get teary. A task nonetheless because during this time of month, you truly don't have any control of your emotions whatsoever.

"Well the past guy did, he told me I'm a handful and that I always get so pissy. He said I was too much with the mood swings and constant whining and he doesn't want to be around me when it's that time of the month. And he was right; I am too much on my period. I just don't want to put you through it too. You don't deserve it because you've been so good to me. I don't want push you away because of it. I just don't want you to leave me because of it." Tom felt his heart break at the utter sound of hurt in your voice, followed by anger and annoyance at the guy who made you think this way.

Tom scooted closer over to you, taking your arms and slinging it over his shoulder while his own took home on your waist, running his thumb lovingly on the swell of your belly. As if that simple gesture wasn't sweet enough, he moved even closer, just to nudge the tip of his nose on yours, a proud smile erupting on Tom's face at the sound of your soft giggle.

He pulled away slightly just to see your eyes, and for you to see in his the sincerity of what he was about to say.

"Sweetheart, I'm not him. I don't care if you're bloated, you still look gorgeous to me darling. If you feel like crying then so be it, let it all out, whatever you're feeling is valid no matter the reason. I'll put up with your mood swings and your attitude, because I want to be with you despite it. I want to be with you through your downs, your worst moments. I want to see all your flaws because those things make you even more beautiful to me. I'll be here with you through it all. And those moments, your imperfections, those won't change how I feel for you. Because I really, really feel so strongly for you Y/N, and it will always be above anything else."

Tom was itching to just say it, just being filled of it from head to toe, the L word that hasn't been spoken beforehand unless used as a term of endearment, but he was worried he might scare you away or it not being the right time, especially with so many emotions already swimming inside you, by the simple looks of it in your eyes. You gorgeous, beautiful eyes all glossed up with a trembling bottom lip to match.

"But I don't want to be a burden." You croaked out, a single tear escaping free, down the skin of your cheek.

"Darling, you are not a burden. It's natural what you're going through, and that fucking guy who shamed you for experiencing something you have no control over is a fucking dickhead, a complete asshole and God if I could get my hands on him I'd let him fucking have it." Tom's voice turned into a low growl at the end of his sentence, all fired up at just the thought of some stupid twat hurting such an amazing woman like you. He just can't comprehend how much of an idiot could a person be to shame a woman for being on her period. God, it just makes his blood boil just thinking about it.

"I want to be here for you, I want to be with you, all of you, always. You understand?" You nodded with a tiny sniffle, your heart growing, filling with warmth, with pure gratitude at Tom's words, with nothing but absolute...

"I love you." You whispered, Tom's heart stopping and then beating again but twice the pace as a wide and bright grin grew on his face, the words sounding oh so enchanting coming out of your lips.

Those gorgeous lips that he didn't hesitate to capture in his own, a pure sigh of content coming out of his as he whispered against the kiss,

"And I love you darling, oh so much."

Pulling away to catch some air, Tom was staring at you with so much joy, so much love, wide grin hard to wipe off as he quirked one messy brow at you.

"No more monthly disappearances?"

You nodded with a sweet laugh. "No more."

Turns out, paying you a visit was the right call. Things didn't turn out as bad as he thought it would, but Tom's not telling Harrison that.

-:-:-:-:-

Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! <3

[writingtoforgetreality]

Happy Birthday - The Devil´s Daughter Chapter One (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil´s Daughter-Masterlist]

Next Chapter 

Summary: Being the Devil´s daughter was not particularly fun but it was something you could not change, unfortunately. What would you do on your birthday when you finally had the chance to leave heaven? Leave everything behind and start over on Earth?

Words: 1,702

Warnings: Lucifer Season 5 Part 1 spoilers, nothing too crazy yet (pretty much introducing everything), Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, God, (Y/A) = your age, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Heaven. Everyone has their own imagination of this place. Of how beautiful it is. Some people believe while others don´t. You, though, you did believe in heaven. How could you not? You had been there your entire life. Why, you ask? Well, you were an angel and angels were supposed to be up there. You were not an ordinary angel, though. What made you special was your father. The Devil. Yes, you heard that right. The daughter of the rebel, someone who was “disliked” by pretty much every single existing angel. We don´t need to talk about his reputation. Even though you had never met your father, you had been excluded from all angelic doings. Therefore, what other people saw as paradise, you saw as hell. Ironic, wasn´t it?

In all your years of existing, you had met a total of three other angels and, the one and only, God himself. Apparently, nobody else wanted to be close to you. You were the devil´s daughter, you did not have the best reputation either but you had never hurt anyone and never would. As you can imagine, being pretty much alone most of the time was rather boring. Once a day, Micheal came by to keep you company for a while. The two of you were close, he always made sure you felt comfortable and never judged you by your origin. It was not something you could change anyway. On lucky days, all three angels, archangels to be precise, were at your chambers. Mostly you guys chatted but sometimes you even had game nights, your absolute favorite. To say you were thankful for Michael, Gabriel and Raphael would be understatement. Without them, you would have gone insane ages ago. To you, heaven felt like a prison. You were not allowed anywhere but your chambers. “(Y/N), it´s for your own good, trust me.” God had told you this sentence way too many times and you were starting to grow tired of it.

While you were alone, the one thing you loved doing was watching Earth and humanity. How they lived so freely without any restrictions. It was no secret that you wanted to leave heaven as soon as you would turn (Y/A). By then, you would be allowed to go anywhere you liked, without God telling you what to do. Especially Michael listened to your complaints and wishes closely. You were sure you had his support since he had told you many times before. One person you did not tell. God. Maybe because you knew his answer. Maybe because he would try everything to keep you up here, even if you had not felt happy in years. Humans did not know you were the Devil´s daughter, your reputation down there would be just fine. At least that was what you had told yourself. It did not matter anyway, your mind was set. Your birthday was in one day. One day and you would finally be free. Away from the negative energy heaven and its angels were giving you. You knew you were about to make the right decision even if it meant that you disappointed God. But this was different from what your father did, right? Rebelling meant something completely different. You simply wanted to feel free and you knew you could never achieve that if you stayed in heaven. Would God hate you forever, like Lucifer?

“You know there´s literally no need for you to knock. We´ve talked about that, Mike.” you chuckled. Mike. That was the nickname you gave Michael a while ago. He seemed to like it so you kept calling him so.

“Yeah but what if you´re changing.” he entered, wearing his smirk. His appearance made you smile. Only a few more hours until you would be gone. Looking at him made you realize that, maybe, you would miss one thing. One angel. Him. He always had your back, told you stories about your father. Because of him, you knew you were nothing like Lucifer. Everything he had done? You used to be disgusted by sharing one bloodline. Michael, though, he helped you through all of your dark phases, telling you that you were so much better. Could do so much better. He knew you were no Devil. So did Gabriel and Raphael but Michael was another story. As mentioned, he meant a big deal to you, kind of being the father you always wished you had.

“What are you doing here? I thought you said you were busy today?” confusion was shown all over your face.

“Can´t miss my favorite´s birthday now, can I?” Micheal answered, stepping closer to your bed were you were currently sitting.

“Yeah...the big (Y/A), huh?” your eyes were focused on your hands in your lap. All of a sudden, you felt a wave of guilt hitting you. Micheal was far older than you yet had never left heaven. And you, you saw the first chance and were about to leave right away.

“You´re leaving, aren´t you?” you could feel his eyes on you but you did not dare to look at him. You would break down, something you definitely did not want to do.

“I never made a secret out of it.”

“Except for Dad.” Michael interjected.

“Except for him.” a door opening made the both of you look up.

“Father, we just talked about you.”

“Mike!” you glared at him.

“(Y/N), do you really think I don´t know what you´re planning?” God gave you a look of what you read as sympathy.

“But I never-”

“(Y/N). I´m God, did you forget that? I knew you were up to this for as long as you, trust me.” he made his way over to Michael and you, stopping right in front of you.

“You are mad.” again, your eyes drifted to your lap. You felt exposed in front of him.

“I`m not. I just want you to know that you will never feel this type of safety on Earth. Humans are...well, humans. You don´t belong there, (Y/N). You belong in heaven, like me, like Michael.” God tried reasoning. You were right, he wanted to change your mind.

“I might not be as safe but at least I would have freedom. Space to move. Not just one single chamber for eternity.” by now, tears of frustration were forming at the corner of your (Y/E/C) eyes. How could he be so convinced of himself? He had no idea of how you felt being locked up.

“(Y/N), sweetie, he just wants to keep you safe.” Michael said, putting one of his arms around your shoulders, something he did to calm you down.

“Are you serious, Mike? I thought you supported my plan? Have you been lying to me?” you shook his arm off of you, looking at him with a hurtful expression.

“No, never. I would never lie to you. (Y/N), just think this through.” Michael changed sides right in front of your eyes.

“Mike, you know I want that. You should, too.” by the last part you made sure to look straight at God.

“(Y/N), you´re special. Nobody will-”

“MAYBE I DON´T WANNA BE SPECIAL!” you screamed. This was the first time you ever raised your voice but you were so frustrated, so angry, that you did not know what else to do. Both, God and Michael were taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“All my life, you told me I was special. Well, for instance,  I wouldn´t say being Satan´s daughter is special when I have never met him! I´m an angel with wings like everyone else and I happen to be Lucifer´s offspring BUT that doesn´t make me special, okay? What´s special about being in my chambers all day long, doing literally nothing but daydreaming? I´m leaving and you won´t be able to change my mind. I´ll be gone soon then you don´t have to worry about me anymore.” by the time you finished, you were facing the wall away from Michael and God.

“If you are leaving, don´t think about coming back. I gave you everything. Kept you and your not so special wings safe and that´s what I get in return? I´ll see you when you´re begging on your knees in front of heaven´s doors. Happy Birthday, (Y/N).” and with that, God left.

“Sure, special wings. Just because they´re not black like the others.” you mumbled under your breath. When you turned around, you still saw Michael sitting on your bed, looking at you expectantly. He did not leave with God and you were not quite sure why he was still with you after everything he just said.

“What?” you questioned after the staring became too uncomfortable for you.

“Just know that I still support you. Go to Earth, have adventures. If you ever need anything...I´m only one prayer away. Happy Birthday, sweetie. See you soon.” he was about to turn towards your door when you ran into his arms, hugging him with tears in your eyes.

“Mike? Thank you for everything you´ve ever done for me. You were the only one who accepted me from the first moment on. My wings didn´t matter to you, my origin didn´t matter to you. I mattered and I am forever grateful for that. I´d be happy if you visited me once, Mike. You´ll always be welcome to stay with me. Besides, you´ve never been to Earth either. It could be fun.” your eyes shined when you looked at his face, releasing the hug.

“It could be, yeah. Bye, (Y/N), take care of yourself.” before you had the chance to say anything back, you found yourself alone in your chambers. This was it. The moment you had waited (Y/A) years for. A few more minutes and your life could finally begin. Really begin. Without anyone judging you by your wings, by your father. Just (Y/N). You were ready for it. What city would you visit first? Paris? London? No. There had always been a city you were drawn to. Ironically, it was called the City of Angels aka Los Angeles. LA. Name it as you want. That would be your first stop. What would be waiting for you there? You were eager to find it out.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (08/24/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @comicbucky-s, @dad-ee-drea (let me know if you want to be tagged <3)

[andorerso]

let the cat out of the bag

Modern AU. M-rated, no smut but lot of references to sex. Super silly!

It starts after the first time they sleep together.

They aren’t dating, they aren’t even friends – but he’s the hot classmate she always had a thing for, and when they’re paired up for a project that leads her to invite him up to her apartment to prepare, she can’t hold herself back anymore.

It’s clearly mutual; she hasn’t picked up on it before, but it’s hard to ignore it then. Cassian is giving her signals, flirting even, and she doesn’t think too much of it before she kisses him. His response is pretty enthusiastic, and it isn’t long before their clothes disappear.

Studying blissfully forgotten – for the time – Jyn has the pleasure of enjoying the best sex of her life. And that’s all it’s supposed to be. They both agree that neither of them has time for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy the hot sex between them every once in a while, and hot sex, it is. A quick discussion in bed to make sure they’re on the same page, and they move right onto round two. Then three and four.

Truthfully, they don’t get any studying done that night.

Then between rounds three and four, Cassian gets up to get a quick snack for themselves from her fridge while she goes to use the bathroom. She finds him scratching her cat’s ears when she emerges, totally unaware of the incredulous stare she’s giving him.

“Hey, cute cat,” he says, his lips quirking up into a smile when Mimi arches her body towards him, butting his palm with her head. She’s purring, and Jyn feels like she’s in a different dimension. “What’s her name?”

“Uhm.” Shaking her head free of confusion, she says, “Mimi. She usually doesn’t take to strangers like this.”

That’s an understatement. Mimi looks like a harmless floof, and it usually lures unsuspecting victims into underestimating her, which is a big mistake to make. She has a vicious streak; many a guest and even friends have ended up with nasty scratch marks for daring to try and touch her. Bodhi is terrified of her to this day and jokingly calls her Jyn’s “doppelganger.”

“She’s you in cat form,” he told her affectionately. Jyn rolled her eyes but he wasn’t too far off.

Mimi doesn’t like strangers and she doesn’t trust them. She isn’t a particularly affectionate cat to begin with, not even with Jyn – who is undoubtedly the only person she seems to tolerate.

So it’s a shock, to say at least, to see Cassian rubbing Mimi behind her ears and his hand not being bitten off. In fact, Mimi’s eyes are closed in contentment, a low purring sound reverberating through her tiny body. Jyn almost feels a little jealous – but of who, she isn’t sure.

Cassian looks up at her with a quirk of his lips, eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Guess I’m special then.”

Then it goes on.

Jyn brings Cassian home one night, pushing him to the sofa and crawling into his lap without much preamble, attaching her mouth back to his. She grabs his cock, not in the mood for foreplay, and hears Cassian hiss in response. But just as she’s about to take off her shirt, Mimi jumps up on the couch and meows loudly.

Jyn breaks away in surprise. It isn’t like her cat to be so needy – but as she blinks at Mimi in confusion, she realizes she isn’t groveling for her attention.

Of course.

Cassian laughs in amusement, like this is all funny, and reaches out to give Mimi an affectionate pat on the head.

“Hey, Mimi. Missed me, did you?”

What the fuck is going on.

Jyn stares at them both incredulously. She’s just trying to get some good dick, goddammit, and here is her own cat, usually a grouch, being a cockblock because she decided she’s just as putty in Cassian Andor’s hands as any other girl.

He really has a certain effect on the female population but this is ridiculous.

Jyn clears her through loudly, drawing Cassian’s attention back to her.

“Sorry, do you wanna keep playing with that pussy or mine?”

“Jesus, Jyn.”

Surprise etched on his face, she feels a momentary thrill of satisfaction at having scandalized him.

“Too much?”

“No, that’s… that’s fine, just – not in front of your cat.”

“Come on, she can’t understand you.”

“It’s weird.”

As they’re talking, Mimi puts her little paw on Cassian’s shoulder as though she is begging for his attention, like the desperate little whore she is. Jyn gives her a glare. Traitor.

“You just like her because she likes you.”

“Yeah, so? I must be doing something right here.”

“I’ll show you something right,” she murmurs somewhat menacingly, then kisses him again, pushing his chest until he’s lying fully on his back. Perfect.

Maybe she’ll suck his dick now. She would bet he won’t be thinking about her cat then.

Satisfied with that plan, she reaches for his jeans and promptly undoes his zipper. He gives her a weird look and glances sideways at Mimi who’s now sitting on the armrest, watching them curiously. Jesus.

“Uhm, Jyn? Can we move this to your bedroom? I don’t want your cat to see my dick.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up, landing him a hand. “Why not? I walk around her naked all the time.”

“And I’m sure she’s very traumatized from that,” he jokes, earning himself a punch to the chest. As she turns around, his echoing laughter follows her all the way inside her bedroom.

Jyn complains about it to Bodhi a few weeks later, grumbling about how her own cat likes her fuck buddy more than she likes her. It’s some sort of karmic joke for sure.

“I swear he’s the cat whisperer or something,” she groans.

Bodhi hums noncommittally. His expression is too neutral which is… worrying.

“Maybe Mimi is onto something.”

She blinks at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she literally hates everybody but you.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Jyn protests feebly. “She’s just not a fan of people.”

“But somehow, she likes this guy,” Bodhi goes on, ignoring her intervention. “Think maybe she’s picking up on your feelings?”

“You’re reaching,” Jyn tells him firmly, ignoring the way her heartbeat speeds up for some reason. “I don’t even know him.”

“You know him plenty well from what I understand.”

Jyn rolls her eyes again.

“It’s not gonna happen, Bodhi.”

“Sure, okay,” he agrees like the good sport he is. She can tell he doesn’t agree but he isn’t the type to push. “But I’ll tell you this – your cat is smarter than you.”

And Jyn punches his shoulder.

She’s literally riding Cassian when there’s a distinct high-pitched meow from the other side of the door. Jyn stops bouncing on his dick, turning her incredulous stare to the closed door of her bedroom. Cassian laughs.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding with me.”

“Ignore it,” he tells her, grabbing her chin and tilting her face back to his.

“But –” she begins but can’t finish as Cassian gives her a searing kiss and rolls his hips up to hers. Fuck it. Ignore it, she will.

In the end, the noises they make are louder than Mimi’s anyway.

When Cassian is leaving that night, Mimi runs quickly to his feet, a ball of white fluff as she circles his legs, purring. And wailing. Wailing, it seems, to stop him from leaving.

Jyn buries her face in her hand, embarrassed beyond belief, but Cassian is, of course, incredibly amused by all this. She almost wonders if he actually likes Mimi more than her.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks as he crouches down and gives Mimi another good rub under her chin. Jyn’s heart gives a strange beat at the sight. “Wanna come with me? I don’t think Jyn would like that very much.”

“Take her,” she deadpans, dedicated to ignoring the weird fluttering in her stomach. “She clearly likes you more.”

He stands up, smirking at her. “We have a connection. Don’t be jealous.”

“Of who?” she retorts, her tone sarcastic… though, it could have been a serious question.

Cassian doesn’t answer but his smile widens. Almost like he sees right through her act. She can’t tell if it thrills or makes her uncomfortable.

“Goodnight, Jyn.”

He leans in to kiss her cheek, her eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected gesture. She keeps them firmly closed even as she hears him bend down to give Mimi one more affectionate rub before grabbing his coat.

At the sound of her closing door, Jyn’s eyes open, her breath leaving her chest in a whoosh. She stares at Mimi with unconcealed resentment as the cat blinks up at her in innocence.

“This is all your fault.”

So.

Maybe she’s catching feelings. Whatever. It’s fine.

It’s just her stupid cat’s fault – seeing them together, seeing him so in tune with her, it’s messing with her head. Mimi is a pain in the ass but she’s Jyn’s baby, and she’s never met anyone who actually liked her and wasn’t mildly scared of her.

That’s all. If she doesn’t see them together anymore, she’ll be fine.

The next time Cassian comes over, Jyn has locked Mimi in the kitchen with fresh water and plenty of food to last her the night. The little devil has nothing to complain about. But as soon as Cassian arrives and they start taking their clothes off, scattered along the hallway, Mimi begins to scratch at the door, wailing tragically. Jyn pretends she doesn’t hear but Cassian does not.

“Hey, isn’t that Mimi?” he gasps, out of breath as Jyn is kissing down his bare chest.

She glances up at him with a pointed look. “Are you here to see her or me?”

Then she swirls her tongue around his nipple which renders him speechless for a moment.

But he doesn’t give up. “Doesn’t she want to come out?”

Jyn pulls away now, straightening to look at him. “She’ll be fine. But if you don’t have your fingers in me in the next five minutes, I won’t be.”

With that, she pulls him towards her bathroom, and Cassian doesn’t resist any longer.

It doesn’t last though.

She manages to stop them from meeting a few times when Cassian comes over, always getting straight to business, then throwing him out the door the minute they’re done. She feels a little bad about it, honestly – but they agreed on no strings attached from the start so she doesn’t owe him anything. Besides, she makes sure to treat him really well while he’s still here so he has nothing to complain about. She’s a thorough lover.

Still, Mimi gives her the stink eye every time she lets her out of the kitchen, and Jyn realizes she can’t keep this up forever. Not if she wants to continue seeing Cassian – and well, why wouldn’t she? It’s been a few months since they started sleeping together but the sex hasn’t gotten boring yet. She’s prepared to hold out until it does, or until one of them finds an actual relationship. (Which is more likely to be him than her but alas. That’s fine too.)

Yet, the ever-rising threat of catching feelings for Cassian almost makes her reconsider. Maybe it’s better to cut her losses now. She can’t – wouldn’t – get rid of Mimi. If one of them has to go, it would have to be Cassian.

That’s what Jyn is thinking about when Cassian comes over that night and Mimi runs to the door to greet him. She had hidden under the couch the whole afternoon, refusing to move no matter how much Jyn tried. No treats, no food, no toy got her to come out. She waited until the knock on the door came and sprinted straight to Cassian’s legs.

His face lights up in a smile like he’s actually missed the stupid cat too. Jyn can only watch in horror as he crouches down to greet her like an old friend.

“Hey there, buddy. How are you today?”

It’s not like she’s gonna answer you, stupid, Jyn thinks, but she’s aware that she’s being a bit nasty. It usually tends to happen when feelings are involved.

“There you go,” he murmurs, rubbing Mimi’s chin. “Good girl.”

Jyn’s face flushes at that, remembering other times she’s heard him say those words.

“Don’t call her that,” she chokes out, voice a little strained. Cassian looks up at her, his gaze darkening with lust as their eyes meet, but he doesn’t answer. He stands abruptly, walking over to her without a word, and kisses her.

It’s a hard kiss, not something to ease them into it, just getting straight to business. Jyn doesn’t mind but her head reels from the sharp turn as he breaks away to bite her earlobe, his hands groping for her breasts. Her breath and legs are getting a little shaky. With a quick maneuver, he lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he carries her into the bedroom.

He goes down on her without even taking off all of her clothes, and right then, Mimi is the farthest thing from her mind.

For the first time since they started having sex, they fall asleep together.

Usually, Cassian takes a shower, gets dressed, goes on about his business. Jyn doesn’t mind, it’s the arrangement they have.

But something about tonight has been… intense and exhausting – in a good way. She could barely feel her limbs by the time they finished, and when Cassian collapsed next to her, breathing heavily, she didn’t say anything. Let him catch his breath, she figured. But the warmth radiating from him was so reassuring and comfortable that her eyes quickly fluttered closed, and she must have fallen asleep after that. When she wakes, it’s after midnight, and though she distinctly remembers resting her head against Cassian’s shoulder, he’s now gone.

Bitter disappointment unfurling in her stomach, she sits up slowly. It’s for the best. She doesn’t need any more confusing feelings. But god, her sheets still smell like him, and she admits to herself that maybe she has a little crush and it isn’t just because of her cat.

It’s a thought she regrets as soon as she walks out of her bedroom. Because there, in all his glory, stands Cassian – petting her cat.

And seeing him half-naked, hair a mess, smile soft and mellow, stroking a purring Mimi is an image that she knows she won’t be able to get rid of. She can’t take back her confession now. The longing she feels as she stares at them is undeniable.

“What are you doing?” she whispers to make her presence known, her voice still sleepy.

Cassian looks at her but his hands never leave Mimi’s head.

“I’m petting your cat.”

“I can tell. You’re supposed to be petting me,” she says, but it’s quiet and lacking the exasperation she usually feels in these moments.

“I already have,” he points out, matching her tone. The smile on his face is gentle rather than smug, in contrast with his words.

“Cassian,” she begins, taking a deep breath before biting the bullet. “You can’t do this.”

“What?” he asks, and he seems genuinely confused.

Jyn gestures around with her hands. “Be nice to my cat.”

His eyebrows rise high, looking more confused than before.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just – it’s not helping me a lot.”

“With what?”

“With my crush on you,” Jyn groans, giving up on fighting it. What the hell, she might as well see what he thinks. Maybe he feels the same.

And if not – well, she’s only losing the best sex of her life. She can deal with that, probably.

Stunned silence follows. Then he lets out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“I’m sorry, am I so irresistible petting your cat that you’re literally asking me to stop being nice to her?”

Jyn grumbles. When he put it like that…

“I’m not asking you to kick her in the head. Just stop petting her, maybe?”

“Okay.” He nods a few times, stepping away from Mimi who meows once in outrage. Without taking his eyes off her, Cassian moves closer. “Then I have a better proposal for you. How about you let me take you out on a date and I keep being nice to your cat?”

“I…” Jyn pauses. Oh. She was hoping for this but she didn’t let herself believe in it. A slow smile unfurls on her lips. “I think Mimi would like that.”

Cassian, now close enough to touch, winds his arms around her neck, her hands going around his waist.

“And you? Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” She smiles up at him shyly. “I think I would like it too.”

And when she looks at Mimi, Jyn swears she looks a little smug

[sprstories]

could I possibly get some platonic scriptliss/tess ,,,, maybe an au where tess is able to be saved ? or at least is able to control 1x1x1x1 a bit better

but it's up to you what you want to write !! :D

For Tess, bringing (or rather summoning) a demon into his home was definitely a new way of life, considering that now he would have to take care of the permanently guest. Because yes, apparently the demon ironically did not know how to return to hell.

Ok, you can't blame Scriptliss for being summoned at a young age and considering that the chances of someone summoning a young demon were low, no one bothered to teach him the basics, at least not now.

Now, it wasn't like Scriptliss was a child either, he was a teenager, yes, but he was still a minor, maybe he's a year younger than Tess?

Anyway, never mind, he was going to take care of Scriptliss now, it was his responsibility now that he had permanently separated him from his family (if he had any).

The first days were not very comfortable, before he could calm the demon and not let him cry all day, but it was still uncomfortable, and more uncomfortable was the moment when he found him in the fireplace... sitting on the fire.

Demons cannot be burned with normal fire, and he deduced that the reason he sat there was because he got used to warmer places.

Many times he tried to get the boy out of there, all attempts with the same results, being scratched (and almost burned) by the demon with a tendency to be a cat.

And if Tess tried to speak with him, the ribbon-tail demon ignored him, how rude, but understandable, have a nice warmer day Script!

But he was getting tired of that, Scriptliss knew how to throw all his sanity and work to the trash, little by little he began to get tired of his stoic and indifferent attitude, he felt hated, and he did not like to be hated.

On the part of Scriptliss, he couldn't do anything, he was trapped, he had nowhere to go, nor would the robloxian with violet hair let him go anywhere, he felt... kidnapped.

He didn't even sleep at night, he was afraid of being attacked from behind. Every day he was more tired, and that meant more irritability and aggressiveness against the "human".

He also felt fear running down his back, fear of dying, many rumors said that demons died faster on the surface than in hell, no demon could confirm it, perhaps it is why those who tried to confirm it died in the attempt?

He wanted to cry, never thought of dying at a young age.

then a day, in that dysfunctional environment, the, presumably older, finally faced his guest from hell.

— We need to talk. — The demon growled, turning his back on him. Tess might well have prevented that if it weren't for Scriptliss being engulfed in layers of fire that could severely burn him. More tired than everything, he began to speak. — Do you hate me, right? i.. i will not hurt you, i swear. — He waited for response, but nothing came from the demon's mouth. — Listen, i know i probably.. made a huge mistake summoning you, you can't go back to hell, that's sad yeah, but... you can give this world a little chance? —.

— I don't want you to be here, with me. Go away. —.

His voice felt... hurt, with a little fear, it was actually the first time in days that the bookmark one spoke. But that didn't really matter to Tess, honestly, he just wanted to figure things out and if possible, have a new friend so he wouldn't feel so alone.

It sounds selfish, but who knows, maybe and Tess is the first social interaction Scriptliss had in his life, he was convinced that he could show him the world and see the beauties in the surface.

— In case you haven't noticed, this is my house, and you can't kick me out of the room just because you want to be alone. — Tess was getting more and more angry.

— I want to be alone because you intimidate me and scare me, and I don't want to see you, and you're ugly and i hate you... and.. and.. — Apparently he had no other words to express his displeasure. — and i can't leave this fireplace, i need to be warmer. —.

— I see, and if I turned off this fireplace ... would you talk to me? —.

Then Scriptliss turned more scared than ever, seeing the alchemist with one hand on a lever, firmly stroking the handle of the lever, threatening to put out his fire.

— WAIT NO, NO, DON'T TURN OFF THE FIRE. FINE, I WILL TALK TO YOU. —.

And that scared look he gave... made the alchemist wish he had swallowed those words.

Now all that Tess anger turned to slight sadness and shame, he regretted having to threaten Scriptliss to get his words.

— Ok, i'm sorry for that. — Tess spoke, ashamed. — but, tell me now, "Script". Why do you find me scary? —.

Scriptliss looked at the ground, helpless, and half astonished that the purple haired boy remembers his name (because Scriptliss honestly did not remember his partner's name).

— To begin with, you kidnapped me, or so I feel, I feel locked up and it's your fault, to be honest. — Script made a serious grin. — second, I don't trust you much, I don't know if you could stab me in the back or something like that. And third, I literally don't know you, I don't remember your name, and it's awkward now to adjust to living with a stranger. —.

And there it was, the bitter truth, the ugly thought about his person, and the worst thing was that it was true.

Tess waited to hear simple words, they weren't ready to savor THAT truth. The Robloxian's hand scratched lightly against his own hair, nervous.

— Yes, I see how it is, actually... i didn't expect to leave you with me until I realized that you couldn't go back to hell, I figured that if I let you go, you'd get in troubleand the mental fault would be mine. — Scriptliss looked at him seriously, recording those words that would stay like fire in his mind. — I'm sorry that you felt so locked up, I never really had a guest at my house and I didn't know where to leave you, plus you... always stayed there... in the fire .. looking at me as if you were a cat, a very aggressive one.

Tess let out a small laugh, which inevitably rubbed off on Scriptliss by imagining himself as a cat.

— Look, the point is, I understand that you distrust me and do not feel free... if you want you can go now. The door is here, unlocked. —.

The crimson widened his eyes, apparently now he was free, and might feel good, if not for a little problem.

Where would he go now?

He wanted freedom, but at the same time he was afraid to go to the outside world, he felt locked up, but somehow safe.

And the alchemist was right, if he showed himself to the world as a demon, he could possibly cause many disasters.

Had a great mental dilemma, to leave or not to leave? it was something so simple and complex to assimilate.

He looked at his surroundings, now that he noticed it, never noticed that staying there was the best idea, he always thought about leaving, but leaving meant revealing himself against the world.

And inside... at least he had a fireplace and a strange alchemist who swore to protect him. Besides, that guy already explained WHY he didn't want to let him go.

— Don't you want to leave? I am not saying that you stay here, if it is more comfortable for you to get away from this place, I accept it. —.

Scriptliss looked at him with pity, now he felt a little bad for having treated him horrible, Tess only wanted to help him, how ungrateful he was!

— I... i... I will stay here. — Then he received a surprised look, it seemed that Tess's soul went out for such an answer, but in a few seconds, that look turned into a big and bright smile, that only confirmed that... Tess was actually a good boy. — Don't look at me like that, i'm staying here just because i need the fireplace. —.

Tess nodded, extending his hand to his new supposed friend. But then he came to his senses and pulled his hand away before gets burned, he really had to get him out of there without scaring Script.

— Look, don't be scared, but I need to put out the fireplace. —Scriptliss pouted. — Don't look at me like that, you're not going to stay there forever, besides, if you want to get used to this new life, you'll have to take the first step.

But scriptliss could no longer repent, he had signed his sentence, his new life, he would have to get used to the surface temperature, and depend on that alchemist.

— ... Fine. —.

Before Tess could put out the fire, the demon jumped out of the fireplace causing his temperature to drop and the fire to rise.

And now that he saw him well and standing on his two legs, he noticed that... they did not have much difference in height, perhaps and even Script passed him by an inch or two.

It was inevitable that the demon would start to shiver from the sudden temperature change, he felt frozen. And it was noticed by the Robloxian.

— Uh, look, you can lie on that sofa, that one, the one in front of you, I'll bring you some blankets and a hot tea, okay? —.

Scriptliss nodded, leaning back and inevitably starting to feel drowsy, the effects of insomnia hitting him hard after three days without sleep.(Or just sleeping an hour each day).

As for Tess, he had several dilemmas in his head, now he would (officially) take charge of the demon until he gets used to it, that meant having to adapt him to the "real world" in a subtle way, but that wouldbe taken care of later, now his duty It was making the devil comfortable, he deserved it, you see.

He had to hide it from the world until he got over his fears from the outside, he was confident in bringing his "new friend" forward, he was not a normal robloxian, but he was a living being that was simply traumatized by ridiculous stories from hell.

Tess returned to the living room, and was not surprised to find Scriptliss asleep on his sofa, it was to be expected, for something he did not make the tea first.

He rolled the crimson gently over the fabrics and let the heat of the fire embrace him. That would definitely calm him down.

He stared at it for a while, many thoughts invaded his mind, to tell the truth, he was somewhat excited and nervous about the unexpected turn that his life took, who knows, maybe and in the future they will get along and have at leastone friendship or tolerance for each other.

A robloxian and a demon... friendship not very common to see, especially around here, but never impossible.

But, he really did see a bright future for both of them, and they would have it, didn't they?

...Tess, you should stop thinking about the future and focus on the present.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Extra info: Scriptliss got sick. (Thanks Tess very cool).

[pagingevilspawn]

Hi could u please write a fic where alex is diagnosed with a serious illness and jo is there with him for support ?

doctors make the worst family members

anon, i’m gonna start by saying that this is most certainly NOT what you asked for, but it's what you're getting. One; I can't write angst for shit so it would just be a major disappointment, and two; I truly just don’t have the heart to write my favorite character with a serious illness, lol. 

Also, welcome to the series I'm starting. It's called, “payton uses evan peters characters from ahs for jolex baby names because she loves him and every character he plays”. (“payton loves evan peters too much” for short) it’ll be a ride 😎 

anyways... hope you enjoy, nevertheless! 

____

Jo Karev stood in her husband’s room, pacing around one the hospital’s floors so much she would make a hole in them if she continued any longer. She anxiously bit her nails with one hand, the other rubbing circles on her seventeen week baby bump. 

She stops her movements suddenly, making her way to the uncomfortable hospital chair that sat in the corner of the room, flopping down into it, more than happy to be off her feet. They were beginning to feel like she had just through the grand canyon, not to mention, were the size of cantaloupes. 

“You good now?” Alex asks her from his bed, a teasing smirk on his lips. His arms were crossed in front of his hospital gown, an item he (very) reluctantly put on. Jo had given him a glare and he knew he couldn’t refuse. Never get in a fight with Josephine Karev, he learned that one a while ago, but it was especially important that he never got into a fight with a pregnant Josephine Karev. She went full on criminal defense attorney, and he wasn’t going to lie, it was pretty scary.  

Jo throws him a sharp glare. Due to her pregnancy, her mood swings had been hitting harder than ever. One second she wanted to pummel her husband, and the next she wanted him to hold her in his arms forever. Although, she supposed that wasn’t too out of the normal though, since Alex was always finding some way to piss her off and then say something sickenly sweet to make it up to her. A more accurate description would be how she went from joyful in the morning to blubbering tears and incoherent words when she figured out her favorite pair of jeans didn’t fit. (It was a scary sight, Alex had to console her for a good twenty minutes before she was able to fully calm down. Pregnancy hormones were wack.) 

“Shut up.” she glowers, sinking lower in her seat, tracing circles on her belly in an effort to calm the kicking in her stomach. Baby decided now would be a good time to jab a kick straight to her rib, so she hunches over in her chair, letting out a small hiss of pain before adjusting herself, not missing the way Alex’s eyes look at her warily. 

“You okay?” he questions, making Jo bob her head up and down. 

“Fine. Your daughter just likes you more than me, which you know, I'm totally okay with. I mean, it’s not like I'm growing her inside me for nine months or anything.” she stares at him pointedly, causing the worry etched on his face to fade away and form a crooked smirk. 

Alex chuckles, leaning back into the multiple hospital authorized pillows behind him as he runs a hand through his hair. He had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but decided to hold it in. Jo was stressed, and the last thing he needed was to cause her any more.

It didn’t take long for Jo to begin her pacing again. She traveled the length of the room. The door, to the blue chair. Door to the blue chair. Back and forth, back and forth. Alex was starting to get dizzy just by looking at her. Her brown locks flew behind her as she moved, at times picking up her pace, making it across the room even quicker. It was at then that she would fiddle with the rings on her left hand, twisting them and untwisting them, tracing her fingers over the large diamond from her engagement ring and the smaller ones from her wedding ring. When she was little she always thought it was the other way around. She thought the big, fancy diamond was for the wedding, while the more modest piece of jewelry was the one that was ever so delicately placed in the velvet box. 

She stares at the ring fondly, a small smile subconsciously gracing her lips. God, it was so beautiful. A 2.5 carat princess cut with a platinum band. Jo knew the name of the shape of the diamond wasn’t by accident, it had most definitely been the main reason why he had chosen that exact one. (She found out it was a princess cut when Kepner had taken her finger and examined the ring, sprouting out facts about the new piece of jewelry she was wearing. Also known as the only reason she knew any details about the rock that only left her finger when she had to be surgery, a rare now since she had transferred to OB) 

When he pulled out that ring the first time, she was shocked to say the least, one; because, well he was proposing to her, and two; it was so freaking gorgeous. 

Jo was never the type of woman to gush over rings and weddings and frilly dresses with frumpy looking bridesmaids gowns and too many different forks to choose from at dinner. But when she saw that ring? It didn’t matter that they were arguing, it didn’t matter that she felt like he wasn’t in her corner, she just wanted that ring. She never felt like that with Paul (for obvious reasons), the want to stick that ring on her finger and never take it off. Besides that fact that it was beautiful, she knew the real reason she wanted it so badly was because it came from him, from Alex, the man she loved more than life itself. She hated when she had to tell him to put the beautiful ring away, because she wanted nothing more than to wear it herself. 

“Jo, I’m gonna be fine.” the man says, watching as his wife stops her movements, turning around to glare at him so sharply he wanted to pull the words back into his mouth and zip them up. 

“You don’t know that!” she explodes at him, moving her arms around aimlessly, angry tears beginning to glaze over her eyes. Damn pregnancy hormones.

She lets out a huff, her breath coming out shakily as she tries to fan out the water in eyes. 

Alex flashes her a small smile, “Jo, it's an appy. A freakin’ appy. Bailey’s doing it! Nothing’s gonna go wrong if Bailey is doing my appy.” he remarked. 

“So many things could go wrong!” she exclaims, pacing around the room once more as words come flying out of her mouth with absolutely no filter at all. “There’s bleeding, infection, inflammation, your appendix could burst-”

She’s cut off by Alex, who’s shaking his head. “Jo.” he looks up at her, her brown eyes boring into his, “I’ll be fine.” he reassures her, watching as she tries to swallow the lump growing in her throat. He pats the bed beside her, signaling for her to come sit next to him. 

Jo waddles to him, curling up to his side and placing her head on his chest as he runs fingers through her hair. “You can’t die on me, alright?” she mumbles into him, letting a single tear come down her cheek and land on his hospital gown. 

“I won't. Promise.” he places a peck on top of her head. 

Jo lets out a little chuckle, “I was never this emotional with Walker.” she teases. 

Alex laughs, pulling her closer into him. “Trust me, I know.” he says, earning him a slap on the chest. “Speak of the devil…” he trails off, seeing Meredith walk into the room with a little boy glued to her hip. 

“Momma! Daddy!” the three year old exclaims once he sees his parents, a wide smile painting his face as he tries to wiggle out of his auntie’s arms and onto the ground. It felt like he hadn’t seen them in forever, even if it was just six hours before he was being dropped off at daycare. 

“Hi bubs!” Jo exclaims, taking Walker from Meredith’s extended hold and setting him down on her lap, his big, hazel eyes staring up at his parents in adoration while the blonde goes to sit in the chair Jo previously occupied. 

Walker adjusts his position, making sure not to sit on his mommy’s bump. “Hi baby sissy.” he says to her stomach. Jo takes his hand and puts it on her abdomen, watching his face light up as he feels a sharp kick come straight to his tiny palm. 

“Sissy says hi back.” Alex grins, ruffling the little boys spiky hair, which had somehow stayed intact throughout his adventurous day at the hospital’s daycare. He had his wife to thank for that. Jo had somehow managed to find a way to keep their son’s hair in place after long hours, thanks to copious amounts of gel she had mastered the use of. He used to say that a shaggy haircut was fine and perfectly normal, but she said that she ‘didn’t want her son looking like Will Byers’. All haircut debates officially ended after that. 

The parents listen as their little boy rattles on about his day, from seeing his best friend Peter to knocking down the block towers he built over and over again. Their three year old was a little bundle of joy, their complete surprise baby. Jo always joked that he was created the night of her faux pregnancy announcement, since the dates lined up. Walker was something else. He inherited Jo’s hazel eyes nose, but everything else about the little boy screamed Karev, from the big head he had when he was born to the crooked smirk that permanently stayed plastered on his lips, always ready to get into some trouble. 

Some days he acted like an angel, but majority of the time he was the literal spawn of Evil Spawn. Cristina’s custom made onesies and t-shirts were frequently worn by little Walker, which proudly stated, “My Daddy is an Evil Spawn!”, “Spawn of Evil Spawn”, “Product of an Evil Spawn and Hairball” just to name a few. 

Walker and Meredith found them hilarious, Jo and Alex… not so much.  

A few minutes later a nurse walks in, asking Alex if he needed anything while simultaneously checking his vitals when the little boy speaks up. 

“Hi!” he chirps excitedly, a crooked grin on his face. He loved meeting new people, one of the few differences he shared from his parents, but they knew that was a good thing. Walker had always been sociable and practically made friends everywhere he went. The cashier at the grocery store, the workers at the receptionist’s desk, random people he passed on the street… little Karev was quite a people person.

“Hi there sweetie,” the woman in her mid-twenties coos, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she bends down slightly to meet the little boy’s height. “I’m Andrea, what’s your name?” she asks. 

“Walker!” the tiny brunette exclaims. 

Andrea laughs, shaking her head a little bit at the adorable little boy, looking up to meet Alex’s eyes. “Your vitals are good Doctor Karev. Dr Bailey should be in soon to go have you sign your consent forms, but otherwise just sit here until then.” 

Alex says his thanks as the nurse walks out the door, his son watching as the young girl leaves. Walker leans up unexpectedly, whispering loudly enough for the three adults in the room to hear. 

“She had big boobies.” he giggles, clutching a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his large grin. 

Jo’s face could only be described as scandalized, while Alex and Meredith burst into loud laughter, their sound filling up the room with the little boy’s giggles. 

“Walker Alexander Karev!” oh you are so your father’s son.