#there's not nearly enough julia

[fictionadventurer]

History Channel guys: So glad to have you onboard for our docudrama. Here's the script telling you everything you need to know to play Ulysses S. Grant.

Actor: This just says, "Stare off into the distance and take a long drag on a cigar."

History Channel guys: Yeah, we're pretty sure he ended 75% of his conversations that way, so this show is going to reflect that.

Actor: Okay, then. Throat cancer, here I come!

[dizzybizz]

some magma doods bc i have spent so much time on there this past week or so

i love drawin w friends 😚

[crushpunky]

actress!reader attends the golden globes (with a special accessory)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off of this ask + tom/zendaya’s engagement :)

With a final deep breath, y/n stepped out onto the red carpet of the Golden Globes. Bulbs flashed and fans screamed as she walked out, grinning and waving to onlookers, her golden gown popping against the floral backdrop. It wasn’t her first time attending, however, it was her first time attending an event with a certain accessory donning her finger… her ring finger.

Y/n posed, flaunting her perfectly practiced smile along with a toss of her hair before resting her hands on the front of her gown. Her fingers splayed out, flashing the glittering diamond Drew had given her nearly a month ago. Initially she’d been hesitant to wear it on the carpet, unsure if she should come out so soon with it or without Drew, who was unable to attend due to prior scheduling obligations. As she floated along the red carpet, she could hear litters of whispers and pointing from fans, which caused a mischievous smirk to spread across her perfectly lined lips.

“Y/n, looking stunning today!” An interviewer waved her over, an excited grin on their face. 

“Thank you so much! You’re looking beautiful as well.” Y/n smiled.

“So, would you mind giving us some more info about your outfit? It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The interviewer said, gesturing to her dress and array of diamond accessories.

“Thank you, thank you.” Y/n chuckled, smoothing down the front of her satin gown. “Well, it is the Golden Globes, so why not gold, right? But in all seriousness, my stylists did an amazing job and I cannot thank them enough for all their help.”

“Of course, nothing but love for all the stylists tonight.” The interviewer laughed. “Y/n, I do have to ask you a question because everyone has been talking about it since you stepped out here on the carpet today.”

“Oh no, now I’m scared.” Y/n bit her bottom lip, already having an idea of what the question might be.

“Your ring… is this an announcement?” The interviewer asked with a quirk of her brow. Y/n laughed, subtly looking down at the large ring on her finger.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Y/n shrugged, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Are you and Drew engaged?” The interviewer asked, gesturing to y/n’s ring.

“That’s a good question.” Y/n said simply, a wide smile remaining on her face as she stood in silence for a moment, the interviewer waiting for an answer before the two of them started to laugh.

“Oh, I think my publicist is calling me!” Y/n said, pointing back towards the entrance to the venue, her publicist nowhere to be seen. “It was great to chat, have a good night!”

The show went on smoothly, y/n watching each of the segments from her seat, mindful of the various phones she saw focused in her direction each commercial break. Her table was filled with fellow actors, including Drew’s nominated “Queer” castmates she’d gotten quite familiar with during her multiple visits to the set.

“Y/n, oh my goodness!” A voice greeted her as they cut for commercial. Y/n turned to see Ayo Edebiri waving excitedly, her usual wide smile on her face. The two of them had met at multiple Loewe events in the past, usually spending the entire event laughing and chatting.

“Oh my goodness, hello!” Y/n smiled, the two of them hugging briefly before pulling away to admire each other's outfits. Ayo wore an oversized, gray Loewe suit paired with a golden tie, an homage to Julia Roberts iconic look.

“It’s so good to see you, you look so good, girl.” Ayo said, gesturing to y/n’s gown before her eyes caught onto y/n’s glittering ring. Ayo quickly grabbed her hand, examining y/n’s finger with a quirk of her brow. Y/n said nothing, giggling at Ayo’s expression.

“Y/n…” Ayo sang quietly, an excited smile spreading across her face as y/n nodded in silent confirmation. With a squeal, Ayo pulled her into a tight hug, the two of them laughing.

“Oh my goodness, congrats!” Ayo whispered before pulling away, the lights flashing to signal the end of the commercial break.

“Thank you, it was so good to see you!” Y/n said, waving to her before finding her way back to her seat, the show continuing. Little did she know, her and Ayo’s interaction, including their admiration of her ring and their excited squeals, was caught on camera by an especially observant attendee. Like a wildfire, the video spread across the internet, only further fanning the flames of the engagement rumors.

It wasn’t until she got home to Drew, the two of them giggling as they scrolled through the internet’s reaction, did they finally decide to respond to the rumors…

tag: @anothertimegirl

[lemoncrushh]

MASTERLIST

>> Learn a little about me and my writing here <<

Everything is in order from oldest to newest. Unfortunately, all of my 2015 blurbs and one-shots got deleted from Wattpad, and I didn't have them saved anywhere else, so we begin with 2016.

The 2016 Blurbs

Taboo You and Harry have a little fun in the bathroom during a party.

Victoria's Secret Harry meets Victoria, a beautiful plus-size woman, at a party and is quite smitten with her.

The One Where Harry Tries to Win You Back When Harry cancels your date again, you decide to go out alone.

Drunk Me Is Like Regular Me You and Harry have a cute and silly evening together. AKA, Harry can’t help being cute, even when he’s drunk.

Happy Place While staying at a cabin with friends, Harry comforts you when you’re feeling down.

You're Never This Quiet Harry has been quiet all evening and you wonder why.

You Said You'd Never Leave You worry that you can no longer handle being Harry’s girlfriend.

Show Me Your Texts, or It's Over Harry finds out you've been in contact with your ex and gives you an ultimatum.

Just for the Record After returning home from a concert with Harry, you share a smoke and a bed.

Scars You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

I Miss You You’ve grown frustrated and lonely because Harry is always busy.

Best Friends You and Harry are best friends, but he would love for it be more.

Rooms On Fire (The Morning After) You meet Harry Styles at a party and have an amazing night.

Slave 4 U 2 Harry is ready to take you home for a little role play.

The Opera You and Harry can’t keep your hands off each other at the opera.

My Home You and Harry visit his family, but you have to stay in Gemma’s room.

A Night Out with Harry You take care of Harry after a drunken night out.

Back For You Harry is in town, and you go visit him at the hotel.

Melt A sexy evening with Harry.

Heartstrings You become One Direction’s new guitarist and you and your best friend Harry realize you have feelings for each other.

What's It Like You can’t sleep and decide to pay Harry a visit in the next room.

The Lucky One Harry is not too pleased when you run into your old high school crush at a restaurant.

Too Long It’s been too long since you and Harry have had sex.

Anniversary Pancakes Harry and his daughter make breakfast for his wife on their anniversary

We're Gonna Have a Baby Telling Harry he’s gonna be a dad.

Lyrics and Melodies: AM A very smitten Harry takes Julia back to his place for drinks and more music.

Claiming His Territory Harry gets jealous when he thinks another guy fancies you, and he decides to claim his territory.

This Is Me You're Talking To You and Harry are divorced, but you both still have feelings for each other.

Meeting Harry Styles After actress Mia Tangelo meets Harry Styles at a One Direction concert, he surprises her by showing up at her film premiere.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? Harry invites Rebecca to his Christmas party, but she overthinks too much, misinterpreting his intentions and nearly missing out on her chance to be with him on New Year’s Eve.

Kiss Me Kiss Me Samantha and Harry’s story of young romance and a first kiss.

Sweat Some post-workout sex.

Saturday Night Harry needs comforting after his performance on SNL.

Live From New York Harry’s on SNL and he gets a little jealous when he thinks you’re not there for him.

Leather and Lace The night Harry sang with Stevie at the Troubadour.

I Wish That It Could Be Like That An affair with Harry has taken its toll and is no longer enough.

Faithfully Harry shares the story of how you two met and fell in love.

Running On Empty An unfortunate incident at the gym.

Sometimes It Be That Way Soon after a breakup, Lilliana met Harry…but their relationship may have been doomed from the start.

Stones T-Shirt Commenting on Harry’s Rolling Stones shirt at a party leads to going to a concert with him.

Carrot Cake Harry has something he’s been wanting to ask Y/N, but the timing is never right.

Kinda Perfect It’s a girls’ night out and Harry shows up, but you decide not to let your new friend Tiffany know that Harry is your boyfriend.

What Happens In Vegas... Your Vegas trip to celebrate your friend’s birthday turns into a night you hadn’t expected when you meet Harry Styles in the casino.

Easy Like Sunday Morning It's your last day with Harry before he leaves.

Connect Not wanting to lose their connection, Lily takes a surprise trip to see Harry.

Comfort Food Jessica, a self-proclaimed foodie, helps her classmate Harry study for their Biology test.

Her Album Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it. [in Harry's POV]

Ruin the Friendship It’s Ella’s birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

You and I Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Rain Rain Lexie is on her way to visit her sister, and she’s taking Harry on the road trip with her, planning to drop him off at his friend’s house for a wedding. But the weather has other plans.

That Sunday, That Summer Kelly’s roommate Bianca talks her into participating in a celebrity charity scavenger hunt that Harry Styles surprisingly attends.

Friends Don't Harry and Gabriella have been good friends for a few years. But neither of them knows the feelings the other has.

Mistletoe & Holly Harry finally reveals to his friend Holly how he feels about her on her birthday…which just happens to be Christmas.

Dressing For Revenge // Part 2 Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him.

Kiss Me Deadly The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?

Through the Wall Harry is your handsome neighbour, and you keep hearing him through the wall.

bad idea harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored part 2 of bad idea - after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

Touch You’ve been having a hard time getting yourself off, so your roommate Harry offers a hand.

Filthy Cute You and Harry are in a secret relationship, and you get a little jealous when you think he’s flirting with your friend.

Out of Bounds After a few years of being a housewife, Tisa Jordan decided to go back to school. Hoping to find inspiration and a new direction in life, she didn’t expect to meet Harry Styles, a handsome British twenty-year-old. [39 chapters]

Cubicle  I’m Harry. I have a mundane job where I sit in a cubicle all day. But things just got better because the hottest babe just started working here. And I’m determined to make her mine, even if just for one night. I’m Roni. I just started this new job, but all I can think about is the hottie in the corner cubicle. I think he likes me too. [22 chapters]

Fratboy Harry Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything. [10 parts]

The Entertainer Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar. [10 parts]

Too Far From Texas Stacey Barnett is a writer and a single mother. Her hands full with two daughters (one with special needs), a newly published novel, an extroverted best friend and a controlling ex-husband, the last thing she expects is to meet an international pop star. [33 chapters]

Seven Six Five They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again. (Real Harry x Plus Size OC, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

Tattooed Heart You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion. (Tattoo artist!harry x waitress y/n, enemies to lovers) [6 parts]

The Entertainer II * Updates will be sporadic * What if it wasn’t the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky’s story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Wild Horses * Updates will be sporadic * Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

Ko-fi (if you're feeling generous and would like to support me)

Inbox (for requests, feedback or general chat)

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[skywalkerslvt]

Hi gigi! Just wanted to say I love the way you write sub anakin anddddd I wanted to request something about a very needy sub!peter parker �� like maybe he bursts into your room in the middle of the night (through your window ofc) just DESPERATE for youuu

a/n: hi julia!! tysm for your message, i love this request. hope u like this lil fic that i wrote <3

CW: sexting, dirty talk, sub!peter parker, peter is a desperate whore, sexual content, 1.3k words, NOT PROOFREAD

Peter swung between buildings, trying to focus on the city below, but his phone kept buzzing in his suit pocket, vibrating with each new message from you. He was doing his best to ignore it, but it was impossible to resist the distraction when he knew it was you on the other end.

The first message was innocently playful:

"You out there saving the city, Spidey? Or just swinging around, thinking about me?"

Peter bit his lip, quickly ducking into an alleyway to pull out his phone. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing back:

"Trying to focus on patrol, but you're making it hard."

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing, only for it to buzz again a few moments later.

"Oh really? Hard like what, Pete?"

His breath caught in his throat, cheeks flushing hot. He didn't dare respond, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He tried to get back to swinging, but your next message hit him like a freight train:

"Wish you were here... I'm so bored. All alone. Guess I'll have to entertain myself..."

He groaned, nearly missing his web line as the image of you sprawled out on your bed filled his mind. His cock twitched in his suit, and he clenched his jaw, trying to will the arousal away. Stay focused, Parker, he told himself. But when the next message came through, it shattered any remaining self-control:

"I keep thinking about your mouth on me. Bet you'd be so good at it, wouldn't you?"

Peter's knees almost gave out. He darted into another dark alley, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.

"Please... you can't send me stuff like that right now. I'm trying to focus."

But his desperation only encouraged you further. The next message was a photo-nothing too explicit, but just enough to show the delicate lace of your bra peeking out from under your silk nighty, your fingers pulling it down ever so slightly. The caption read:

"If only you were here to take this off me."

Peter's breath hitched. He could feel himself getting hard, his suit growing uncomfortably tight around his aching cock. He typed back a shaky response:

"You're killing me... I'm already so hard. Please stop, I can't handle it."

But he didn't want you to stop. And you knew it. The texts kept coming, each one more suggestive than the last:

"I can almost feel your hands on me, Peter. God, I bet you're such a mess right now."

"Imagine me, on my knees, looking up at you... Bet you'd lose your mind, wouldn't you, baby?"

Each message had him squirming, hips shifting involuntarily in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure in his suit. But the final text was the one that broke him:

It was a picture of you lying on your bed, wearing nothing but black lace lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The fabric was sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, and you had one leg bent just enough to reveal how little you were wearing beneath it. The caption was the final nail in the coffin:

"Waiting for you, Peter. Come home and play with your toy."

-

You hit "send" on the last photo, biting your lip as you stared at the screen. The picture of you sprawled out on your bed, wearing that barely-there lingerie, left little to the imagination. The caption you'd added was maybe a bit too bold, but you were already too deep in your teasing game to back down now.

For a moment, you held your breath, waiting for the familiar buzz of his reply. Instead, you just saw the little "read" notification pop up under your message... and then nothing. Your stomach flipped nervously.

Maybe I pushed him too far, you thought, chewing on your bottom lip as the seconds dragged on. Was it too much? Had you crossed some kind of line? You knew Peter could be shy, especially when it came to anything intimate. Hell, you'd been carefully toeing the line between playful and dirty all night, knowing how easily he got flustered.

But now, sitting there with no response, doubt started creeping in. Had you gone too far, teased him into a corner where he couldn't handle it anymore?

You sighed, dropping your phone on the bed and trying to push away the disappointment. Maybe he's just too focused on patrol. I shouldn't have distracted him like that. You turned on some music, trying to distract yourself from overthinking, but you couldn't help glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping for that telltale buzz. Nothing came.

A good twenty minutes passed, and you were just about to call it a night when you heard the soft thud of something landing on your fire escape. Your heart skipped a beat. You barely had time to process the sound before you saw a shadow move behind your curtains.

Peter practically stumbled through your window, his eyes wild and breathless, his cheeks flushed a deep red. He looked like he'd run a marathon to get here, his hair sticking up in all directions and his suit clinging to his sweat-dampened skin.

"Oh," you said with a sly grin, leaning back on your bed as he stood there, panting and wide-eyed. "Looks like Spidey decided to finally show up."

Peter's gaze raked over you, lingering on the lace that hugged your curves, the same set you'd sent him in the picture. He swallowed hard, his breath hitching when your eyes locked on his.

"Y-you... I couldn't... I tried to focus," he stuttered, his voice coming out broken and needy. "But I-I couldn't stop thinking about you."

You tilted your head, pretending to consider his words as you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, closing the distance between you. "Oh, really?

So, all that ignoring my messages was just you trying to be a good little hero?"

Peter's knees nearly buckled at the teasing tone in your voice, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with his hands.

"Well, you're here now," you purred, tugging him closer by the waistband of his suit. "So, let's see if you're ready to be good for me... or if I need to make you beg a little more."

Peter's breath was ragged, eyes glazed with a mix of desperation and something raw that sent a thrill down your spine. He took a shaky step closer, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he was afraid to touch you without permission. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking. "l... I need you so bad. I couldn't focus, I-"

You placed a finger against his lips, silencing him, and watched as his eyes fluttered shut at even that slightest touch. The way he was trembling under your gaze was intoxicating, his resolve completely shattered.

"Aw, poor thing," you cooed, trailing your fingers down his jawline, feeling the way his breath hitched under your touch. "All that patrol work, and you still couldn't stop thinking about me? You just couldn't stay away, huh?"

"N-no, I couldn't," he confessed, his hips shifting forward as if he was subconsciously trying to find some kind of friction. The way his cock strained against his suit was almost pitiful. "I-I tried... but I just-God, I need you to touch me."

"Oh, baby," you teased, letting your thumb brush over his bottom lip. "You're already this worked up? I barely did anything."

Peter's eyes were practically begging now, his fingers twitching as if holding himself back from grabbing you and falling apart right then and there.

"Please," he choked out again, a desperate, broken sound that made your smirk widen.

You leaned in close, your breath ghosting over his ear. "I'm gonna make you wait, just like you made me wait," you whispered, and the whimper that tore from his throat was so needy, so wrecked, that you couldn't help but grin.

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt IV

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

WC - 5.6k

Summary - A snow day prompts Steve and Abbey to spend a little one on one time together.

AN - sorry this one took a little longer! being creative is hard when the U.S keeps sucking me of all my joy. thanks for the patience, love y’all! ~ emma

Three weeks ago, your daughter’s kindergarten teacher gave you his phone number in a chilly, deserted diner parking lot, and every weekday since that night, Abbey has had to all but drag you from his classroom when you go to pick her up in the afternoons. One topic leads to another and another, and before you realize it, you and Steve have been chatting in his mostly empty classroom for over an hour. But this morning, you’re dialing those digits he gave you on your landlines keypad for the first time with shaky fingers. You’d spent the past hour exhausting all your other options. Your mother? Working. Your sister? Out of town. Your usual babysitter? sick.

Steve was the only person you knew for a fact wouldn’t be working today.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to that you hadn’t called yet. Every waking hour since that night, you had been wrestling with yourself about what an appropriate reason would be. Was he flirting with you? Did he genuinely just want you to have access to him in case of an emergency? Both? Your inner dialogue was deafening– like a squawking bird in the back of your brain.

The intrusive volume of your thoughts seemed to quiet now as your leg bounced impatiently– anxiety over the prospect of having to call into work outweighing your trepidation– waiting for him to pick up the call on the other line. 

He finally answered halfway through the fourth ring, “Hello?” Despite the early hour, Steve sounded wide awake. Probably rousing at the same time you did, not expecting to be temporarily blinded by three feet of bright, white snow piled on top of his car. On the kitchen radio, you can hear the newscaster announcing a closure of the local schools.

“Steve, it’s Y/N,” your voice cuts through the static.

He pauses briefly, yours probably being the last voice he expected to hear when he picked up his phone, “Hey, morning–” he clears his throat, “everything alright?”

“Yes– well– I don’t know.” You rub the tips of your fingers restlessly over your closed eyelids, “I don’t have anyone to watch Abbey with the school being closed, I've tried everyone and I really hate to ask but–”

“Of course, I can be there in thirty. Can you give me your address?”

“Are you sure, Steve? I can just call out if–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just give me your address,” his incredulity and lack of hesitation sends the wings fluttering about in your stomach again, while cementing the reassurance of his words. You gain the courage to repeat your home address for him to write down.

You can hear the sound of pen hastily scratching paper, then after a few beats of silence he speaks again, “It’ll take me a little bit to clear off my car, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t mention it,” you can hear the grin in his voice, can picture the flash of perfect white squares, “see you soon,” you breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the click of the receiver being placed back in its cradle. Abbey is bundled up on the couch watching Rugrats, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Normally, you wouldn’t let her eat in the living room, but you needed respite from her usual game of 20 Questions to make some phone calls.

“Hey, Ab,” you say as you approach her, thoroughly engrossed in her cartoons, “Is it okay if Mr. H comes over and watches you today while mommy goes to work?”

The question is more than enough to pull her focus from the television screen. Her face lights up like the Fourth of July as she nearly spills her cereal with the force of her straightening on the sofa, “Really?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, grandma is working and Julia is sick. Is that okay?” As excited as you know she is, you want her verbal confirmation. Mostly because you’d never put your child in a situation she’s uncomfortable in; but a smaller, more selfish part of you wants to be absolved of the guilt you feel for having to leave her all day.

Your wish is granted almost instantly as she squeals and hops off the couch where she’d been lounging, placing her bowl on the coffee table. Halfway to her room, she calls, “Mommy! Where are my coloring books?”

“They’re on top of your bookshelf,” you call, “don’t make a huge mess, please!”

“I won’t!” She replies, muffled through the drywall separating you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You hadn’t had time to tidy the house or make yourself look even remotely presentable before Steve arrived. If it weren’t for the relief that floods your body upon seeing his car pull in the driveway, you might even be a little embarrassed. Booted footsteps shuffle up the porch as you’re shoveling things into your bag at the last minute, followed by three light knocks on the door.

“Coming!” You shout from where you stand in the dining room.

Before you even have the chance to reach the foyer, Abbey is darting from her bedroom in plastic play shoes and throwing the door open with immeasurable enthusiasm.

“Hey–” Steve starts, expecting it to be you before he realizes who’s greeting him, “Oh, hi Ab,” he waves to the little face staring up at him, “Where’s your mom?”

“Mommy!” Abbey calls, “Mr. H is here!”

Steve spots you holding two pieces of notebook paper clad with chicken scratch scribblings. You look frazzled– hair thrown up hastily and scrubs wrinkly. He scours the place where he would normally find an emotion akin to pity for your distressed state, but in its absence, he only feels endearment laced with a little concern.

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re shoving the papers in his hands and spouting off information that he’s praying is already on the sheets you’ve given him.

“I should be home by five, if anything happens, this–” you point to a barely legible number, “--is my work phone. This is her doctor’s phone number and she’s allergic to peanuts. There aren’t any peanuts in the house but–” you sigh, exasperated with yourself, “just in case.”

The rest of the pages are filled with ramblings about which channels Abbey likes to watch and how to work the television. How, in case she needs a bath, you have to pull and then twist the knob for the hot water to run. That she is not, under any circumstances, allowed to put nail polish on by herself and where you keep her Epi Pens.

Steve’s surprised at how many of these sentiments he already has catalogued. He’s required to know Abbey’s emergency contacts and that she has a nut allergy for his job, but he knows that channel thirty-seven has the best cartoons because Abbey once told him that Power Puff Girls was her favorite– and you’d already relayed to him the hilariously tragic tale of what happened the last time Abbey attempted to paint her own nails.

Despite this revelation, he doesn’t dare interrupt you. He indulges your ranting, a grin creeping involuntarily along his face.

“-- sorry, I’m rambling– I’ve just never left her with someone who wasn’t my mom or her sitter before,” you’re a little breathless after two straight minutes of talking.

“Hey, hey– you’re okay,” he wastes no time reassuring you, “you know I’d never let anything happen to her.” You nod your understanding, “Besides,” now he’s speaking to Abbey, “we’re gonna have a super fun time right?”

She shouts, “Yes!”

He looks at you with his brows raised, amused, “See?”

“Okay, alright,” you kneel down, chuckling, “do I get a hug? Or am I chopped liver?”

Giggling, Abbey wraps you in a suffocating embrace, like always. Her excitement for Steve has never quelled her affection for you, and you can tell that she’s still hesitant to see you go. You smack a kiss on her cheek, grabbing your bag from the floor as you rise again.

“Swear you’ll call me if anything happens?” You ask him one more time, already knowing the answer.

“Cross my heart.” He smiles fondly, stoking the flames burning bright around the cage that your heart inhabits.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your home is cozy, much cozier than anything Steve had growing up. He’s warmed at the idea that Abbey has the privilege of growing up in a house that feels so lived in– stains on the carpet, soft edges and yellow lighting. There’s clutter on the kitchen counter by the microwave and colorful alphabet magnets securing several bright pieces of artwork to the fridge.

“Are these the pictures you drew in art class last week?” He asks Abbey, who has been trailing behind him all through the house, pointing things out to him as they go.

“Uh-huh, Mrs. Morse helped me with that one,” she points to what Steve thinks is probably supposed to be a zebra.

“Well, you’re very talented, I love them,”

“Can we go play outside?” She asks, drawing out the last syllable and completely ignoring Steve’s compliment.

“Sure we can,” he chuckles, “where do you keep your snowsuit?”.

Abbey takes Steve by the wrist and leads him to the coat closet by the front door. Similar to the rest of your house, it’s stuffed to the brim– full of puffy nylon and heavy winter boots. He catches a glimpse of a familiar brown and green jacket– his jacket. You’d promised to wash it and return it to him, but it must’ve slipped your mind. He grins to himself at the reminiscence as he fetches Abbey’s snow gear and shuts the door.

Steve hadn’t dressed appropriately for a morning rolling around in the cold. He had slipped on a pair of your mittens, probably meant more for fashion than practicality, because his fingers were already completely numb. But he can’t seem to deny her when Abbey pleads with him to make snow angels. They’d just spent the past half an hour building two snowmen– one short like Abbey and one tall like Steve, she insisted, as she wrapped her scarf around the snowman that resembled her.

“Please, Mr. H?” She begs when she notices his hesitancy.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “but then we’re gonna go inside and have lunch. Deal?”

That appears to be a good enough covenant for her, “Okay!” Abbey exclaims, falling fairly harshly to the cushioned ground. Steve braces himself for tears, but Abbey only keeps laughing in that contagious way as she begins spreading her arms and legs out beside her in a repetitive motion.

“Are you gonna make one?” She questions from her place on the ground.

He grunts as he reluctantly lowers himself down next to her, anticipating the icy wetness waiting underneath him. The snow seeps uncomfortably through his jeans, but the sound of Abbey’s unbridled joy nearly makes up for his soiled clothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What’d you want to eat, Ab?” Steve calls from the pantry while Abbey changes out of her wet clothes in her bedroom.

“Not hungry!” She calls back.

He sighs, expecting her stubbornness– she was nearly as mulish as you.

“Remember the deal we made earlier?” He asks, “That if I made a snow angel with you, that you’d have to eat something for lunch, right?”

She emerges from her room, pout prominent on her strikingly adorable features, “But I wanna keep playing,” she whines, giving her foot a little stomp on the linoleum for emphasis.

“We can keep playing after, I promise,” he knows he’s not winning this battle without a compromise, “does your mom let you eat in the living room?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that makes him sound conspiratorial.

“Sometimes…”

“How about…” he pauses as if thinking, “I make us some food and we watch a movie while we eat?”

He can tell he’s got her after that– hook, line and sinker. She still pretends to mull over his proposition for a moment before agreeing, “Hmm…I think that sounds good,” she settles, trying and failing to mask her elation.

That’s how Steve ended up, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in hand, dodging barbies and miscellaneous stuffed animals on his way to the living room a few minutes later.

“Have you found a movie yet?” He asks Abbey as he sets the plates down atop the coffee table.

“Yes but–” she jumps on her tiptoes, “I can’t reach it,”

Steve walks over to the towering shelf of VHS tapes in front of her, “Which one are you trying to reach?”

Abbey points at the tape in question, “Home Alone,”

“Alrighty,” Steve says as he grabs it with ease, “Your foods on the table, go sit while I put it in,”

Abbey, for once, does as he asks– bounding over to the coffee table with the excitement typical of a five-year-old who has an adult's permission to break a house rule.

While Steve eyes your VCR, he catches a glimpse of a photo out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause. It’s you, no older than twenty, holding a swaddled baby in a sterile hospital room. He doesn’t recognize the picture as one he’s seen before.

Of course you’ve never seen it before, he thinks, you barely know her. Get a grip.

You’re filled with such youthful brilliance in the shot, despite the underlying weariness of having just given birth; your hair tied messily into a bun at the nape of your neck, sweat beading on your brow bone. It’s just you and Abbey, Steve thinks her father must’ve been the photographer.

He can’t help but think of himself at that age and all the stupid shit he was doing. How, if you had handed him a baby then, he wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do with it– but here you had raised such a bright, healthy daughter and largely alone. He was struck by such a sudden and overwhelming admiration for you that he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mr. H?” Abbey asked, mouth full, “When are we gonna start the movie?”

Her question sends him hurling back to reality. A reality where he’s your daughter’s kindergarten teacher, and the two of you are friendly with each other at best.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

At some point during the movie, once their lunch was reduced to crumbs on empty plates, Abbey had hauled out her box of coloring books and crayons that she had been looking for this morning.

Steve, the less creative of the two, was coloring in a cartoon illustration of a fairy while Abbey was making her own drawing on a piece of white construction paper. The lack of constant chatter is a welcome reprieve, but he knows that Abbey only becomes quiet when she’s particularly concentrated, so he chances a peek to his right at what she’s working on.

She got a death grip on a brown crayon– shaved almost down to the tip– with her tongue sticking ever so slightly between her lips as she focuses intently on her art.

The picture is of three stick figures– two tall and one significantly smaller in between them. It’s set at what looks to be a playground, a bright yellow sun in the sky and blue scribblings around white clouds. Swings, slides and even a little blue dog adorn the rest of the background.

Pleasantly surprised at her artistry, Steve says, “That looks amazing, Ab!”

She’s snapped out of her stupor, her face split with a wide toothless grin. She doesn’t thank him, only lets out a few bashful giggles at his praise and says, “I like yours too,”

“Is that you?” He points at the littlest figure.

“Mhm, see? I made her hair curly like mine!”

“It looks just like you,” he agrees, then draws her attention to the other figures, “Is this your mom and your dad next to you?”

“This is mommy,” she points, “I put her in the blue clothes she wears at work,” he knows she’s referring to your scrubs, but the phrasing makes him chuckle.

“And this is you!” She circles the figure she’s drawn with the tip of her finger. She’s included his voluminous chestnut hair and his silver wire-framed glasses, even one of the stupid striped polos he wears at school. Looking at it now, it’s obvious who it was supposed to be– but it’s so unexpected that he feels his face heat up at the realization.

“Oh, wow, Ab– That’s–” he grapples to find the words to express the juxtaposition he’s found himself in. He’s honored, truly, to be included in this portrait Abbey’s made of herself and her mother– her family– but there’s a gnawing guilt he can’t seem to shake. The fear that, in some way, he’s replacing her father.

“I love it, Ab, thank you,” he smiles fondly at her work, the proud grin she wears slowly melting the flash freeze of trepidation that encased his conscience.

“Can we hang it on the fridge for mommy to see when she gets home?” She asks after a moment.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Around four o’clock, Abbey begins asking what they’re having for dinner. Steve wonders briefly if you always have to deal with her being so ravenous.

“How about we start cooking now? That way it’ll be ready for your mom when she gets home,”

“Okay,” Abbey concurs. Steve wouldn’t consider himself a Michelin star chef by any means, but he can make a mean chicken parmesan.

A trip to the grocery store was needed to grab some ingredients. After scribbling down the required items on a crumpled receipt, and struggling for ten minutes to get Abbey’s carseat in the back of his BMW, they’re on their way.

He meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“Christmas music?” She asks hopefully.

Steve isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas music– Christmas in general, really– but he obliges her request and turns the dial to their local channel, soft bells and a choir of voices begin to flood through the interior of the car. She really is so harmlessly manipulative with her saucer eyes and round button nose, he can’t seem to refuse her anything.

Steve drives more cautiously than he thinks he ever has, even more so than when he was sixteen and learning how to drive with his family’s Pontiac as his father stared harshly at him from the passenger seat. He comes to a full halt at every stop sign, and he never takes his eyes off the road.

After fighting some early rush hour traffic, they make it. Without a second thought, Abbey grasps Steve’s hand while walking through the parking lot. He tries not to look startled at the sudden contact, recalling how she always seems to have a firm grip on your hand in public spaces too. Steve’s just glad she feels comfortable with him.

“Can I help?” Abbey asks as Steve grabs a cart from the corral.

“Course’,” he smiles, “do you wanna grab the ingredients and put them in the cart for me?”

She bounces excitedly, “Sure!”

Wandering through the aisles, Abbey never strayed from Steve’s side. Every time he read off an item, she would dutifully fetch it and throw it into the cart with a little more force than necessary, but Steve didn’t mind.

“Do you live by yourself?” She asks out of the blue as they peruse the store.

“I do,”

“Then how come you know how to cook?”

He laughs at her inquisitive nature, “Well I have to eat don’t I?”

“Yeah…” she ponders, “I guess so,”

“Alright, the last thing we need is breadcrumbs,” he informs her, scanning the shelves.

Like earlier, Abbey attempts to stand on her tiptoes to try and reach the can in question, “I’m getting it,” she mumbles in determination, very much not getting it.

“Here,” Steve says as he lifts her up by her waist like it was second nature to him.

“Got it!” She exclaims, tossing it in with the rest of the groceries. “Can I ride in the cart now?” She yawns with a polite hand over her mouth. He supposes grocery shopping takes a lot out of you when all the shelves are at least five feet taller than your head.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles as he slots her little legs through the designated holes.

Despite the ride home only being about ten minutes long, Abbey manages to doze off– lulled to sleep by the subtle hum of the car's engine. Steve veered as gently as possible into the driveway, careful not to disturb her even though he was about to wake her up anyway.

“Abbey,” he shakes her softly, “we’re home,”

Abbey rouses, but only slightly. She yawns again and stretches with her arms over her head before extending them out, silently motioning with her eyes still closed for Steve to carry her inside.

“Okay, c’mon lazy bones,” he grunts at the angle but lifts her from her car seat nonetheless. After unlocking the door one-handed, he sets her carefully on the couch and covers her with a plush throw blanket before heading back outside for the rest of the groceries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing you notice when you approach your front door is the savory smell of something cooking. Inside, the TV is off and your daughter is sleeping soundly on the couch. Quiet clattering noises flood from the kitchen.

The sleeves of Steve’s burgundy sweater are rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen smells of roasting chicken and mahogany as he stirs a simmering pot of homemade pasta sauce. He’s humming some tune softly under his breath– Bob Segar, you think.

“Hey,” you greet with a grin as you set your bag down on the dining table. Steve turns around to meet you as you ask, “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking?” He replies.

“No, really?” You deadpan back, eliciting an amused chuckle from the man standing at your stove.

“Abbey was asking about dinner,” he pauses, “we were gonna do this whole thing– we were gonna make it for you together, have it ready by the time you got home, but,” he gestures with his arm to the living room where Abbey is napping. Steve Harrington is nothing if not expressive– talking with his hands, eyebrows always either furrowed in concentration or raised in amusement. It’s one of the most charming things about him, you think.

“Well, thank you,” you say, “you didn’t have to do that,” you feel a blush heat your cheeks at how domestic this feels– like you come home to Steve cooking dinner for you and your daughter every night. You can picture it as easily as if it were your actual reality and it leaves you feeling briefly vertiginous. You’re not sure Jeremy ever cooked even one meal for you in the entirety of your relationship.

“The chickens almost done and then I'll get out of your hair,” he assumes a teasing lilt to his voice to disguise the fact that he feels like he’s overstepping– overstaying his welcome or crossing some invisible line.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta at least stick around long enough to see how it came out,”

“You don’t mind?” He asks hesitantly.

“Steve, of course I don’t mind,” honestly, you think you’d start a fire and burn your house to the ground if it meant getting him to stay just a little longer to help you put it out, “plus, I’m sure Abbey’ll be stoked.”

“Alright, well,” he smiles warmly, “it’s ready if you wanna go wake the gremlin up,”

At the table, Abbey insists on sitting next to Steve in the chair across from you.

“This is delicious, Steve,” you compliment.

“Best you ever had?” He teases, but his phrasing makes you choke a little on your pasta.

Abbey makes a twisted face, “The sauce tastes funny.” Saved by the bell.

“Abbey!” you scold playfully, poorly concealing a laugh behind the back of your hand, “Sorry– I think she’s just used to eating Prego,”

“That’s okay– I think she’s right, actually,” he assures you, twisting his expression into something sour and causing Abbey to giggle. His eyes are the color of rich soil as he sends you an oh, so familiar look across the table, communicating another silent thought to you. One that says, I don’t mind how blunt she is, I think it’s endearing.

When dinner is finished, Steve insists on doing the dishes for you too. “You cooked, Steve, let me–” you try to barter.

“--You do enough as it is,” he counters simultaneously.

“You watched my child all day!” You laugh at his stubbornness.

“I do that everyday anyway!” He argues, beginning to fill up the porcelain farmhouse sink with hot, sudsy water.

“At least let me help,” you give him that wide eyed look you always seem to be giving him lately. God, you’re no better than Abbey. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Fine,” he tries to frown but his smirk betrays him in his act of faux annoyance.

After a few minutes of stuffy silence, you ask, “She wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass today, was she?”

“Not any more than usual,” he jokes and a plate slips through his fingers, causing a small splash of water to coat your face in dishwater. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh– Sorry!--” he tries to apologize, but you take your dishwater soaked fingers and flick them in the direction of his own face– small soapy bubbles clinging to his lashes and eyebrows.

“I cannot believe you right now,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There, now we’re even,” you smirk.

“I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“Mommy!” Abbey rushes into the kitchen, “Can Mr. H stay to watch a cartoon before bed?”

“I don’t know, baby, it’s getting late,” you can just barely see the flash of heartbreak in her gaze before Steve interjects, “It’s okay, I don’t mind staying for a little longer,”

You send him a skeptical glance over your shoulder, but he just nods and asks Abbey what she’d like to watch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The end credits for an episode of The Rugrats flashes across the screen, illuminating Abbey’s sleeping face in muted shades of blue and orange. She snores, slumped against Steve’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso. You sit propped against the other arm of the couch watching them intently– trying to memorize the sight before you. You’ve never seen Abbey cradled like this before by anyone else except you. It wasn’t something you felt you craved until recently.

Steve turns, catching you staring but not calling attention to it. He can count on several hands the amount of times he’s done the same to you– Steve Harrington is many things, but he is not a hypocrite.

“Did you know the guy from Devo wrote the theme song for this?” He gestures towards the television.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he replies, “I can’t remember who told me that,”

After a few beats of hushed silence, you say, “Should probably put that one to bed– unless you wanna be here all night,” you try to joke but your voice shakes.

He would if you were sincerely asking. He’d stay right here on this uncomfortably worn sofa, with your daughter whom he has such an affinity for, sleeping against his chest for the next millenia. He’d fossilize here if he could– your presence beside him calm and grounding like an anchor in a storm.

He voices none of this. Instead he says, “Do you want to take her?”

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, “I’ll just come with you.” The three of you slowly make your way to Abbey’s bedroom, Steve carrying her bridal style against his torso and the door creaks on its hinges when Steve pushes it open with his hip. She stirs only a little when he sets her down, but is soothed quickly with a firm palm stroking her back a few times.

The door clicks behind you as Steve leads you both back to the living room.

“I should probably–”

“Do you want–”

You begin to speak at the same time, awkward chuckles leaving both of your nervous lips.

“You first,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was– just gonna ask if you wanted some wine, but I know it’s late–”

“Wine sounds great.” His lips form a line across his face as he grins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Half a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and your hands were tingling from the effort it was taking not to reach out and card your fingers through the hair of the man sitting across from you.

“How come you never called?” He asks suddenly, but not unkindly.

“Hm?”

“You never called– well, not til’ this morning at least,”

“Didn’t know what counted as an emergency, I guess,” you shrug, the alcohol shaking your nerves loose.

He must’ve been feeling in a similar way to you– speaking freely in a way he wouldn’t have before, “Just wanted to talk to you,” he smiles fondly.

“Oh,” you whisper, and when you don’t say anything else, Steve changes the subject.

“I like that photo of you on top of the entertainment center,” he says contemplatively, “you looked really…peaceful,”

“Well, raising a miniature version of yourself tends to age you a bit, I suppose,”

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Always”

“Where was Jeremy in the picture?”

“We always talk about me,” you roll your eyes spiritedly and release a contented sigh, “Tell me why you really came to Maine,”

“Don’t deflect,” he teases.

“C’monnnn,” you draw out the last syllable, “answer,”

“I asked you first,” Steve chuckles.

“Jeremy wasn’t at Abbey’s birth,” you admit, it's immediately like an aching weight removed from the length of your spine– one that's been there consistently for years. “He didn’t even want me to have her,” you scoff humorlessly.

You had told almost no one this before. For the sake of keeping appearances, even after he passed, only your mother and sister knew that Jeremy had pushed for you to terminate your pregnancy when he’d found out; and that only once your daughter was actually born did he want to be involved in her life. The burden felt shockingly easy to lay at Steve’s feet, like someone might confess to a priest. This tender man sitting across from you– whether it was the wine or simply his presence, you aren’t sure– but it felt so effortless to be vulnerable right now. Your soft, white underbelly on display for him to do as he pleases, trusting him to have a gentle touch.

“That fucking sucks,” he knows you well enough by now to understand you’ve never cared for empty platitudes, so he doesn’t bother schooling his bitter, empathetic expression, “M’ sorry,”

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, you say, “Your turn,”

“My old man was an abusive, drunk asshole,” he says frankly, “I don’t know if I ever saw him sober,” he huffs a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “I needed to get out– to see what else there was, you know?” He asks, and you nod, “He died in my sophomore year of college. Didn’t even go to the wake.”

“Well, I’m really glad you ended up in this shithole,” he laughs at that, “I think you’re pretty neat, Harrington,”

“Thanks,” he deadpans, “Juries still out on you,” he pokes your side and you giggle like you’re a damn teenager again.

You swat him lightly on his bicep in retaliation, and before you know it, you’ve both succumbed to a fit of contagious laughter. When it begins to die down, you’re closer to him than you’d been before. It steals the breath from your lungs and your heart thrashes inside your ribcage like a wild animal.

You’re gazing at each other now, heads light from the alcohol and dizzy with proximity. His heavy lidded gaze lands on your lips for a second too long, and then he’s pulling your face flush to his own by the sharp edge of your jaw.

It’s a soft kiss, but it’s maddening nonetheless. His lips are plush and smooth– malleable against yours. You huff a surprised breath of air, but don’t pull away. One of his calloused hands is resting firmly on your waist while the other one snakes up tenderly to hold the back of your head. You feel that familiar itch to bury your fingers in his brown tresses, so finally, you do. What realistically only lasts a moment, feels like hours before he’s pulling away, nearly frightened.

When he looks at you, his doe eyes are wide with fear, glassy with the impending fallout of what he’d just done. He stammers, “I’m sorry–that was–” he runs his hands down the length of his guilt twisted face.

“No– Steve, It’s okay, I–”

“I should go–” he says quickly as he slips his shoes and coat on, not even bothering to tie the laces, he grabs his keys, “I’m sorry I’ll– I’ll see you on Monday,”

He’s closing the door behind him before your mind gets the chance to catch up with your mouth. You wished to tell him that it was okay, that you liked it– that you wanted him to stay and never leave again.

But it’s too late. You’re left alone in the stifling air of your living room, half a bottle of wine on the coffee table and your heart on the floor.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383

divider cred - @cafekitsune

[hl-obsessed]

✨💎 a yuzu grows in brooklyn by @stylinsoncity

(M, 67k) harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

✨ You Took My Heart By Surprise by @loveislarryislove

(T, 39k) There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

~*~*~

Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”

“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

✨ Put It On Me by @stylinsoncity

(M, 15k) Harry's bachelor party doesn't go as planned.

✨ so many birthdays (that I missed) by @tofiveohfive

(NR, 11k) Louis doesn’t know nearly enough about science and the cosmos to explain how every atom in his being stands to attention; how his body immediately knows who he’s bumped into.

It’s somewhat underwhelming when the first word he hears out of Harry’s mouth after twelve months is, “Oh.”

AU inspired by Julia Michaels’ Into You

✨ No Place I'd Rather Be by @iamasphodelknox

(E, 39k) Harry's had a crush on his stepfather's friend for six years. A small crush. A tiny crush.

Honestly, if you don't look at Harry's dozens of poems about Louis Tomlinson, the crush is practically infinitesimal. They haven't even had a conversation.

But then a car wreck prompts them to finally have a conversation.

Christmas works its magic, Harry pines, Louis fonds, and they just might make it.

✨ The Places I Share With You by @iamasphodelknox

(M, 7k) Five times Louis comes home to Harry and one time he's ready to welcome Harry home.

The process of Louis and Harry finding home in each other.

Sequel/Coda/Epilogue to No Place I'd Rather Be.

Primal and Divine by WordsInBloom28

(E, 33k) Embarking on a mission to save his pack, Louis is pushed to the brink after his friend is killed in a dangerous forest. Awaiting the graces of death, Louis is saved by a peculiar healer who lives alone in the woods.

Throughout his healing process, Louis forms an unlikely bond with the healer and, with it, a life of serenity. His body grows stronger and his heart grows fonder, allowing love to take root.

In order to protect his new found peace, Louis and his companion work together to fight against the evil that threatens to take it all away.

It was always you by @defences-down

(T, 1,3k) It's their first Christmas living together, and Harry has been trying to figure out how to talk to Louis about his feelings for weeks.

He could never have expected what would happen next.

Ideal: An Advent Fic by @iamasphodelknox

(M, 40k) All Louis wanted was some god-damned time to write his novel. He didn’t expect to move his and Liam’s entire production of a Christmas variety show to a small inn in Vermont just before the holidays. He didn’t expect to save Niall’s inn. He didn’t expect Liam to fall in love. He definitely didn’t expect to fall in love himself. And he certainly didn’t expect it all to feel so much like a Christmas movie.

Oh hell. There’s a lot of things Louis didn’t expect.

A White Christmas au, complete with drama, fluff, choreographed dance numbers, and idiotic boys falling in love. Just your typical Christmas fun.

Frankincense-ational by @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k) Harry Styles works at the Hillsyde Library with his friend Zayn and best mate Niall. It’s December, which means Christmas, which should be the happiest month of the year…

Except Niall just broke up with his boyfriend, Zayn needs to let up on the rules a little, and the library is getting their fire alarm system replaced, which means that for the next few weeks there are going to be firemen patrolling the library ‘looking for fires’ while the system is down.

Harry almost hits one of them with his car right off the bat - and of course he’s the hot one.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

Is that a candy cane in your pocket? by @kingsofeverything

(E, 4,8k) Louis accuses Harry of shoplifting. Harry was definitely not shoplifting.

They work it out.

Close To You by yourgorgeouscolors

(E, 5,7k) “You’re lovely,” Louis rasps out. He feels so close to Harry in a way that's different from the other intimate sex positions they’ve tried. He can see Harry, feel him all over. Feel the way he’s clenching down on his cock as he adjusts. He can feel Harry’s hot breath prickling his skin, and can feel his body everywhere. Each point of contact feels like a zap of electricity.'

Or, Harry and Louis try a new sex position.

Listen To Your Heart by @chloehl10

(E, 35k) Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

***

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

(do you think it's easy) being of the jealous kind by @the-larry-way

(T, 0,8k) Harry is mad and Louis isn't exactly sure why.

(or Louis comes home smelling of another omega and Harry is near heat and jealous)

Make a Dime Go One Hundred by screwstyles

(E, 18k) “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.

“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”

-

Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.

✨ Chestnuts Roasting... And All That by @elsi-bee

(M, 47k) Louis is apparently the only person at his new job who is single as can be. It’s not a big deal to just tell his new colleagues that he has a boyfriend, right? Until he has to make this imaginary boyfriend magically appear at the office holiday party. Cue fake relationship antics with a certain someone who is more than willing to play along.

Linger by @yourpricelessadvice

(E, 136k) Louis has a truckload of painful memories and a custody arrangement where a family could’ve been. The last thing he’s looking for is a new relationship.

Harry has accepted that he’s not made for relationships and isn’t interested in getting burnt again.

It’s a good job they’ve both got meddling friends.

° ✨ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ✨ °

more recs | recs masterpost

° ✨ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ✨ °

[stardustedknuckles]

My roommate's girlfriend (buzzed) and my roommate (blitzed) woke up to cats yowling in the alley last night right around the time I got home, and in a convincing display of her assertion that it's not CERTAIN we're getting a new cat soon (we are) my roommate asked if I wanted to go outside (it was midnight) and help them catch the one that seemed like maybe it was new to being outside. So I grabbed the carrier I've kept by the door in case our last project (Pete the tuxedo) came back (chewed a hole in the window screen and ran) and followed my roommate outside where her gf was lying on the ground with a tin of wet food trying to coax the cat from under the dumpster (nowhere near garbage day) and meowing (comfortingly?).

We ended up walk-chasing the cat down the street and Carolyn (roommate) actually got hands on her at one point, but the cat escaped (she didn't remember to zip the top of the carrier after she put the cat in) (this was when I realized she was drunk af and not just sleepy) so we spent another 20 minutes crawling around with phone flashlights on (still midnight) and eventually had to give up.

As we were walking back to the apartment (half a block away) I rolled a high enough perception check (permanent disadvantage due to adhd) to see that there was a man sitting nearly motionless in his SUV with all the lights off, lit only by the blue glow of his dash controls.

I said (quietly) "there's a whole-ass man who's been sitting in his car right here this entire time."

The other two (limbs a drunk and sweaty pretzel) processed this for a moment and giggled together. "oh well," said Julia (the toothpick keeping this thing together). "this is Chicago. He's seen weirder."

"oh for sure," I said, picking off leaf litter stuck to my elbow (humid). "I mean I feel like three lesbians chasing pussy at midnight is pretty normal around here anyway."

A (drunk) pause, then laughter so loud that something streaked from the bushes (cat) bolted across the road, and disappeared under a fence (welp).

[fiirecracker]

oh, he's one of those medics.

she respects it, really. julia is not the type to sit around and look after people, as much as she may want to. as much as she cares. there is always something must be doing; always something that needs defending, or protecting. she was not made to heal, though she greatly respects those who can. who do.

"no, no! no need for regrets. you were here, und that is what matters!" pushing herself into a seated position, julia offers the other solar risen a smile. light pulses beneath her skin, shimmering. "a lot of people are not here, so you are doing far better than them."

she tucks her elbows onto her knees. her eyes squint with warmth, "i am good! you have done me a big favor, und i appreciate it! i'm julia, by the way. jules, if you're feelin' particularly friendly."

atticus nods in response as soon as she regains full awareness. others would perhaps laugh it off, but atticus is not others. he remains deadpan.

" no thanks are necessary, i was only doing what any in my position would. " which is partially true. he knows how many are out there who would simply ignore another guardian's plight. he's been on the receiving end more times than he would care.

but there are those like him as well — willing to help any way they can.

" i would imagine it hurt. my only regret is not being here sooner otherwise you would have gotten assistance instead of shot. " just because they're immortal that doesn't mean pain is less real. if not mitigated it can certainly lead to clouded judgments and mistakes.

" do you require any more aid? "

[sammy-deserves-better]

Hey people who definitely didn’t follow me for my AUs here’s another AU I thought up on the spot!!!

Fantasy/Royalty AU bam lets get into it

Julia and Bowie are the princess and prince of the kingdom, as you do, it’s gay and lesbian hostility in that castle every day

Axel, Wayne, Raj and Emma are knights with Axel being the head of the knights, Emma is also secretly a florist because why not

Priya is the head of the guards while Caleb is the personal guard/advisor to the king

Chase is a travelling bard who loves to talk about his ‘amazing’ adventures of ‘helping’ people

Nichelle is still a famous actress but instead of movies she’s like, famous from plays and all that jazz

Ripper’s a barbarian that’s pretty good at his job, unfortunately he is not taken very seriously

Millie is a famous writer but she’s so damn difficult to find at times and only a few people know where she actually lives

Damien is a wizard’s apprentice, he’s still learning but he’s got some real talent within him

Zee is the court jester, he didn’t even like try out for the role he just started talking one time and the king thought he was hilarious

Scary Girl is a famous necromancer because she is, funnily enough, scarily good at her job

And MK, silly ol’ MK, is a master thief who is wanted all over the world, but can never be located, always managing to escape at the last moment

Alright here’s some more details yippee

Raj and Bowie are like, in love, obviously, knight x prince romance! Forbidden love that isn’t really forbidden but like it’s super cute and Raj is so smitten and Bowie just loves this handsome knight that would do anything for him

Wayne and Emma are friends here because I also think they’re silly, Wayne’s the only one who knows Emma’s secret florist job because she trusts him enough and also he accidentally found out but it’s fine!! But he also nearly gives away Emma’s secret so many damn times because he’s just a little bit stupid

‘Man I wish I could get Bowie a nice bouquet…’

‘Oh well Emma is actually a fl-‘

And then Wayne gets elbowed so hard he can’t breath for 2 minutes

Emma also definitely has a thing for the cute court jester but she has no idea on how to actually approach Zee so she just sends him flowers anonymously and sighs while looking at him lovingly

Julia and MK meet because MK climbs up the damn castle walls at 2am and sneaks into Julia’s room just to rob her, gets absolutely slammed by the princess, wakes up and is tied to a damn chair with Julia right up in her face about to rip her to shreds and all MK can say is ‘you are REALLY attractive oh my gods’

This throws Julia off, they start talking, Julia realises that despite the fact she is holding one of the most wanted criminals hostage in her room, she wants to keep seeing MK because she’s entertaining and mean and just slightly pathetic, so she lets MK go on the promise that the thief will come back every night and so she does and yadda yadda lesbians toxic yuri wins

Millie’s stories actually come to life because shocker she’s actually a wizard in disguise and she needs to be really careful about what she writes so that’s why she hides herself away and is so hard to track down because if the wrong people knew about her magic capabilities oh no that’s a lot of blood and injury and angst and 10k words every chapter

Millie’s parents also had this ability to create anything from mere writing, they shared this ability with the kingdom, and so if an important figure asked them to say…make a protector of the kingdom, they would do so, and they did, and that’s where our villain/antagonist comes in but that’s a story for another day

The older gens are also involved in this one way or another as well, most are just backgrounders but some hold important to the story

Damien is the wizard apprentice to Leonard and Tammy, two great and powerful sages who spend their time helping the world

DJ is the one who taught Emma how to be a florist, he’s kind and understanding and always helps Emma choose the right flowers to give to Zee

Eva trains Ripper under her watchful eye, she’s proud of how far he’s come, but feels he can do just a bit more

Aleheather are the king and queen of the kingdom, Bowie and Julia are their adopted children

And that’s all I got for now uhhhh add whatever you want to this it’s just a silly time

[ausetkmt]

Her name was Julia Chinn, and her role in Richard Mentor Johnson’s life caused a furor when the Kentucky Democrat was chosen as Martin Van Buren’s running mate in 1836.

She was born enslaved and remained that way her entire life, even after she became Richard Mentor Johnson’s “bride.”

Johnson, a Kentucky congressman who eventually became the nation’s ninth vice president in 1837, couldn’t legally marry Julia Chinn. Instead the couple exchanged vows at a local church with a wedding celebration organized by the enslaved people at his family’s plantation in Great Crossing, according to Miriam Biskin, who wrote about Chinn decades ago.

Chinn died nearly four years before Johnson took office. But because of controversy over her, Johnson is the only vice president in American history who failed to receive enough electoral votes to be elected. The Senate voted him into office.

The couple’s story is complicated and fraught, historians say. As an enslaved woman, Chinn could not consent to a relationship, and there’s no record of how she regarded him. Though she wrote to Johnson during his lengthy absences from Kentucky, the letters didn’t survive.

Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, who is working on a book about Chinn, wrote about the hurdles in a blog post for the Association of Black Women Historians.

“While doing my research, I was struck by how Julia had been erased from the history books,” wrote Myers, a history professor at Indiana University. “Nobody knew who she was. The truth is that Julia (and Richard) are both victims of legacies of enslavement, interracial sex, and silence around black women’s histories.”

Johnson’s life is far better documented.

He was elected as a Democrat to the state legislature in 1802 and to Congress in 1806. The folksy, handsome Kentuckian gained a reputation as a champion of the common man.

Back home in Great Crossing, he fathered a child with a local seamstress, but didn’t marry her when his parents objected, according to the biography “The Life and Times of Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.” Then, in about 1811, Johnson, 31, turned to Chinn, 21, who had been enslaved at Blue Spring Plantation since childhood.

Johnson called Chinn “my bride.” His “great pleasure was to sit by the fireplace and listen to Julia as she played on the pianoforte,” Biskin wrote in her account.

The couple soon had two daughters, Imogene and Adaline. Johnson gave his daughters his last name and openly raised them as his children.

Johnson became a national hero during the War of 1812. At the Battle of the Thames in Canada, he led a horseback attack on the British and their Native American allies. He was shot five times but kept fighting. During the battle, the Shawnee chief Tecumseh was killed.

In 1819, “Colonel Dick” was elected to the U.S. Senate. When he was away in Washington for long periods, he left Chinn in charge of the 2,000-acre plantation and told his White employees that they should “act with the same propriety as if I were home.”

Chinn’s status was unique.

While enslaved women wore simple cotton dresses, Chinn’s wardrobe “included fancy dresses that turned heads when Richard hosted parties,” Christina Snyder wrote in her book “Great Crossings: Indians, Settlers & Slaves in the Age of Jackson.”

In 1825, Chinn and Johnson hosted the Marquis de Lafayette during his return to America.

In the mid-1820s, Johnson opened on his plantation the Choctaw Academy, a federally funded boarding school for Native Americans. He hired a local Baptist minister as director. Chinn ran the academy’s medical ward.

“Julia is as good as one half the physicians, where the complaint is not dangerous,” Johnson wrote in a letter. He paid the academy’s director extra to educate their daughters “for a future as free women.”

Johnson tried to advance his daughters in local society, and both would later marry White men. But when he spoke at a local July Fourth celebration, the Lexington Observer reported, prominent White citizens wouldn’t let Adaline sit with them in the pavilion. Johnson sent his daughter to his carriage, rushed through his speech and then angrily drove away.

When Johnson’s father died, he willed ownership of Chinn to his son. He never freed his common-law wife.

“Whatever power Chinn had was dependent on the will and the whims of a White man who legally owned her,” Snyder wrote.

Then, in 1833, Chinn died of cholera. It’s unclear where she is buried.

Johnson went on to even greater national prominence.

In 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed Vice President Martin Van Buren as his successor. At Jackson’s urging, Van Buren — a fancy dresser who had never fought in war — picked war hero Johnson as his running mate. Nobody knew how the Shawnees’ chief was slain in the War of 1812, but Johnson’s campaign slogan was, “Rumpsey, Dumpsey. Johnson Killed Tecumseh.”

Johnson’s relationship with Chinn became a campaign issue. Southern newspapers denounced him as “the great Amalgamationist.” A mocking cartoon showed a distraught Johnson with a hand over his face bewailing “the scurrilous attacks on the Mother of my Children.”

This political cartoon was a racist attack on Johnson because of his relationship with Julia Chinn. (Library of Congress)

Van Buren won the election, but Johnson’s 147 electoral votes were one short of what he needed to be elected. Virginia’s electors refused to vote for him. It was the only time Congress chose a vice president.

When Van Buren ran for reelection in 1840, Democrats declined to nominate Johnson at their Baltimore convention. It is the only time a party didn’t pick any vice-presidential candidate. The spelling-challenged Jackson warned that Johnson would be a “dead wait” on the ticket.

“Old Dick” still ended up being the leading choice and campaigned around the country wearing his trademark red vest. But Van Buren lost to Johnson’s former commanding officer, Gen. William Henry Harrison.

Johnson never remarried, but he reportedly had sexual relationships with other enslaved women who couldn’t consent to them.

The former vice president won a final election to the Kentucky legislature in 1850, but died a short time later at the age of 70.

His brothers laid claim to his estate at the expense of his surviving daughter, Imogene, who was married to a White man named Daniel Pence.

“At some point in the early twentieth century,” Myers wrote, “perhaps because of heightened fears of racism during the Jim Crow era, members of Imogene Johnson Pence’s line, already living as white people, chose to stop telling their children that they were descended from Richard Mentor Johnson … and his black wife. It wasn’t until the late 20th century that younger Pences, by then already in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, began discovering the truth of their heritage.”

[zenkindoflove]

do you have any eris centric fic recommendations 👀

Hi anon! Thanks for reaching out.

Since you didn't mention any pairings, I interpreted this ask to mean you were either agnostic to pairings or wanting Gen Eris fic recs. So I decided to do a list of Gen Eris fics and also call out the other writers in this fandom who have written Eris x Male OC as a central storyline in their fics. I assume if you're asking me, it means you're familiar with my Erixius fics, and I'm gonna guess you'd be into reading other Eris x Male OC fics too! These fics are amazing and don't get nearly enough attention that they deserve.

Eris x Male OC

Fini by tessabeth (sorry not sure if on tumblr) This one-shot is about a young Eris who enters training as a gentleman and courtier, and falls for his instructor Olivier. Eris is so naive and hopeful in this fic. And Olivier is lovely and beautiful. It played like a movie in my head.

His Father's Song by @the-darkestminds By one of my really great friends, this one-shot also explores young love for a young Eris, who meets another Autumn Court boy by the name of Liam. They become best friends and slowly fall in love. Julia is known for her angst so make sure you get lots of tissue for this one. It punched me in the throat.

A Court of Burns and Truths by @summerbummin This multichapter fic was one of the first other Eris x Male OC centric fics I found. Rapheal is rambunctious and caring, and a healer Peregryn from Dawn Court. This fic also features a lot of other characters and fun pairings too!

A Court of Embers and Starlight by @olenvasynyt This is technically Lucien-centric, but this multi-chapter fic features several Autumn Court characters including Eris-focused chapters as well as Eris with a Male OC love interest. He's only just been introduced, but I'm so excited where Dana goes with him and Ensel. So far it sounds like they had an angsty/forbidden style relationship.

Gen Eris

A Blood That Burns by @fourteentrout This is a lovely one-shot that explores the relationship between Eris and his mother. It's nuanced, poetic, and doesn't flatten their mother/son relationship. I still think about this fic often because it had such a big impact on me!

This ain't no love that's guiding me by @lovely-vanserra-sunshine This two-parter explores a younger Eris, and the dynamics of his early days when he enters the courtship scene as the heir to Autumn. I love the vunerability of young Eris in this fic. @lovely-vanserra-sunshine also has a multichapter Eris-centric fic called Fanning Flames which I still need to read, but I've heard many many wonderful things and after reading this fic I'm sure it will also be what you're looking for.

[aleisters]

i feel like it's been a year of fits and starts for house of black, as trios, as tags, as singles wrestlers, even. julia's been out with injury. we've had some feuds start and stop with the house. we had, briefly, the starts of some feuds that never materialised - didn't the righteous want to fight them? that didn't happen, did it?

then we had nearly a month solid of house of black on television - primarily malakai and buddy - and now we've had brody on tv every week with the continential classic. now we've had julia doing vingettes and promos and an appearance and we have a return set for her. it's pretty good. but man, it doesn't feel like enough.

the only thing i want in 2025 out of wrestling, more than anything else, is for the house of black to be a consistent threat, to be involved on a high level because they - all four - are so, so talented. they've developed themselves around to being incredibly interesting almost-faces, and the crowd is always behind them, so for christmas can i get aew doing something about it?

[enoughyi]

#12: Among the Blooms

Ship: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting (x f!MC (Julia Wright))

Summary: The hills, the Sun, and Imelda's shy eyes whenever Poppy steals a kiss from her.

Prompt Number: 66. Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 447. Rating: G-T.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

THIS and THIS.

Tags: @phinik and @myokk because you are responsible for my deth. @infernalrusalka @celestial--sapphic @espressoristretto-patronum

Read on AO3:

Rocky hills of Wales turned a bloom came spring and sprung air with sweet odours of newly grown swards, quickly an ever-presence to the nose still used to scentless crisp of the winter's cold. Scotland could never compare to Wales albeit its strong breath of the soil was a miss.

Neither could gift a weather stasis of Room of Requirement's mellow, homely retreats. But in none of them were winds, or weak gust of sea breeze, or changed angle of its bright yet lifeless sun. Asking Julia or her house elf companion, Deek, wasn't an option; not when the ever-lasting summer of the forest biome became Imelda's favourite haven to escape from rigorous training routines and last year of school, and to kiss her, to kiss them, to have them both to herself without a single interruption minus curiosity from Hazel, the unicorn inhabitant. That cosy addendum to life was a miss, certainly, too.

Life had changed. For the better, not for worse, but the sense of long in the air, stuck in it as the sun grew warmer, reeled up the memories in Imelda's head, Poppy had noticed few years ago.

It wasn't a tough observation.

Each spring, there would be a hill; critters buzzing joyfully at its slope. Imelda will never chose any in particular, but it would be in the open; and years after Poppy could recall wherever Imelda decidedly asked for a tongue snog --and proceeded with it-- with a pinpoint accuracy.

The only ask of Poppy was, "Don't lay me down on a fairy's trail."

A simple ask not to disturb little people always challenged Imelda but not enough to refuse the idea altogether and as decidedly move it to the bedroom. It just meant wherever would be a free patch of land, there will be sun at an angle so peculiar pink on Imelda's cheeks, -- usually unseen but nearly heartfelt by how warm her face would turn, -- would come to sight. Would prompt Poppy to kiss it away from her like many years ago, it playing cheerful red on her lips keeping Imelda wondering if she… if she should and when.

She became less hesitant over the years.

But was it the sun, too, to make her lip captivatingly glimmer?

Was it the smile? the adorable gesture, few fingers covering lips?

The giddy giggle?

What was anything stuck on the lips so fascinating to Imelda she couldn't look away?

She never told, but her eyes were full of shy, back then years ago and right here and there years after. Liked kissing pretty girls under the afternoon sun a tad too much and couldn't acknowledge the silliness to herself, Poppy supposed.

[qrowsofafeather]

F, Lamb-bae

I had the pleasure of writing for @julia-loves-cupcakes in the @obeymeholidayexchange this year. Best of wishes for 2025~ Also on my AO3!

Luke doesn’t believe weird anime foods actually exist in MC’s world so Barbatos decides their next baking collaboration will be one such dish.

After the fifth “Last photo, no seriously!” they managed to extricate themself with the promise to take and upload photos to their Devilgram the entire time. Not caring if anyone was watching, they carefully tucked the knot of their bundled apron between their teeth and bounded down the hallway on all four hooves.

At first, they had been worried the brothers would judge them for the strange habit, but then they’d seen Belphie charge into furniture like a bull, Satan running up the stairs like a cat, and even Beel clinging to the ceiling to nonchalantly eat in peace.

The doors of the House Of Lamentation swung open without so much as a whisper, seemingly aware - and fond - of the little sheep. They were running so fast, they nearly bowled over the guest waiting at the base of the front steps.

“MC!” the short angel cried, bouncing happily in place, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Luke grabbed the sheep’s forehoof and took off running. MC stumbled after him, laughing.

They’d long-since gotten used to the Devildom, to RAD and its students - something they never would have believed in a million years had someone suggested it just a few years ago. They’d also believed the little angel, who wore his passionate heart on his sleeve, when he constantly professed his disdain and outright contempt for demons - but here he was, a big grin on his face as the two rushed to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

They were greeted by Barbatos at the door, giving them the slight bow he insisted they deserved as honored guests of the Devildom and treasured friends of its Lord. “Welcome MC, Luke. Please, follow me to the kitchen.”

.

.

.

They looked at the assembled ingredients - thrice-drowned-rice flour, albinic hell ostrich egg, a wide variety of frozen dairy products, and, oddly enough, a box of almonds from the Human World - trying to guess what dessert they would be making today.

Barbatos smiled faintly, “I happened to overhear Levi complaining that you said his anime was full of nonsense of a scene involving the use of a flamethrower in the kitchen.”

“But that’s silly!” Luke protested, “Burning food means you cooked it for too long.”

“I thought it best to demonstrate with ice cream, a dessert from the Human World. It’s called ‘Baked Alaska’, have you perhaps heard of it, MC?”

They were already drooling. “Ice cream…” The sheep had clearly spent too long in the company of Beel. Blotting the corner of their mouth with their apron, MC undid the bundle’s strings and tied their cute custom-ordered apron around their midsection with deft hoof motions. “Can’t wait to try it out!”

Luke’s face was red with a defiant pout as if expecting to be teased for it, reaching into a side cupboard and pulling out his own apron - apparently such a frequent visitor to the Castle’s kitchen to warrant keeping spares there - which was decorated with three small puppies.

Barbatos’ apron had been a gag gift from MC, just as a joke, one that made Diavolo laugh until the towering demon nearly cried, but it had definitely been used and laundered with special care. “The recipe I settled upon calls for multiple layers, and I felt we should each choose a flavor to represent this unity amongst the Realms.”

MC hopped up on the stool reserved specifically for them and drifted their hoof across the labels; they weren’t picky, but what did they feel best represented the Human Realm? Finally, they settled on a pale rainbow swirl - not bubblegum-flavored, sadly.

“I pick… this one!” They turned to see Luke hefting a large tub of tan cake-themed ice cream above his head.

“Then I shall finish with this.” Barbatos held out his own container. “Green tea, for a mild undercurrent.”

Ooh, that did sound good, actually.

“Would you please store them in the fridge for now, while I return the others? Our choices must be soft enough to spread, but not melted entirely.”

The young angel excitedly carried the three containers as directed, too enthusiastic for his usual ‘we should not associate with demons!’ protestations. Food truly could surpass cultural differences, even across gaps as large as those between the Three Realms.

“MC, I will trust you with crushing the almonds and chocolate. Luke, will you handle the meringue, please? The dry ingredients have yet to be measured and your attention to detail will make it extra soft and fluffy.”

The MC had a big grin on their face as they poured the blanched almonds into the blender and hit the start button. Grinding it by hoof in a mortal and pestle would’ve been more fun, but there was still the hellishly dark cacao to break up. Wielding the large knife with a gleeful flourish, they attacked the chunks in their bowl.

Barbatos hid an amused smile as he observed his proteges at work; Luke was so intent on whipping the egg whites that his tongue was poking out of his mouth in concentration. Once the right amount of chocolate had been chopped, he poured it into a pot of melting butter.

Luke handed over most of his mixture after folding in the sugar for Barbatos to finish the cake batter. There was a brief squabble between the younger pair over what order the ice cream layers should be, but it was quickly and amicably resolved.

.

.

.

“Are you ready?” the butler asked, holding a bottle of cooking Demonus over the assembled dessert, ready to pour into the half-shell nestled atop a colossal mound of eggy goodness.

MC looked at the blowtorch in Luke’s eager hand with some alarm and quickly hopped down from their stool. “I’ll start putting things away, don’t worry!” What if their wool caught on fire and they had to run in panicked circles around the room until someone could put it out!? As they hustled out of flamesreach, a loosened apron string caught under one hoof and they fell over with a startled bleat, sending a mixed cloud of superfine sugar and flours into the air.

At that exact moment fire shot out to ignite the alcoholic spirits dripping down the dish’s sides, suddenly jumping to the ultra-combustible particulates that filled the room.

There was a loud silence, followed by a single “Oh, dear,” from Barbatos, who really should have seen that coming.

Luke scrambled over to a very singed-looking sheep, who made a pathetic sooty cough. “Oh no, are you alright?”

MC nodded, being lifted to their hooves and giving a full-body shake with several sneezes, revealing that their pretty pastel wool was mostly unburnt. “Sorry,” they apologized, wrinkling their snout as Barbatos delicately wiped first Luke’s and then MC’s face clean with a handkerchief he pulled out of seemingly nowhere; a good butler was prepared for everything.

“Is the Baked Alaska okay?”

“MC, is that really the most imp-”

“I’m certain it will be fine,” Barbatos reassured the sheep, knowing how much they detested conflict. They also didn’t like other people worrying over them, so he had to redirect Luke’s concern before his dearest MC grew upset. “Mistakes happen all the time, and many delicious discoveries are the result of either accidents or simple curiosity.”

Nobody said a word, but they were in complete agreement that Solomon’s dishes had never been - nor would they ever be - a part of that esteemed group.

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. xxii.ii)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic (in progress)

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: discussion of drug use, discussion of sa, general angst

a/n: it's going to get worse before it gets better 💔

pt. xxii.ii, jack-go-to-bed-at-noon

“I don't want to hurt you. But I can’t lose you, Julia, I can’t.”

I did not sleep. Why would I with a feral beast in the house?

I had no idea if John would wake again. Whether he would be stronger and more demonic than before. So I remained posted up outside the primary bedroom, almost unblinking.

That is until it was time for the girls to rouse for school. It was a miracle none of them questioned the thunderous snore of Peter Grant in the guest bedroom and even more remarkable they believed my fib that the strange car parked out front belonged to the new gardener. However, Tamara barely looked at me. At first I wondered if I had hurt her feelings by being short with her in the night, but then I overheard her whispering to Jacinda while they stood by the car waiting for me to come around.

“The ghost is back.”

It was urgent enough to cut right through the still air.

I wished I could believe in the ghost too. That the bumps in the night were angered spirits rather than their father, fecund with liquor and pills, a man they would not have recognized should they have met him.  

I should not have been driving in my sleepless state. I almost jumped the curb and nearly clipped a mailbox.

I barely remembered the drive. Just realized I left Warren House only to end up there again. It wasn’t enough that my body sagged with the hours of sleep lost. There was a hundred some pounds of weight on me too. Pinned to my hips. Gripping my thighs.

I sat in the car far longer than I would have on a normal day. Trying to keep my stomach from flipping at the memory of the night. Mere hours before.

With a final breath, a final push, I forced myself out of the car. And upstairs. To the master bedroom. To see if the monster had returned to man again.

The door was cracked when I got there. Just an inch. Caused by one of those ghostly drafts.

I ticked the door open a few inches more and peered inside.

John had made it to the bed, curled into a lump under the bountiful bedclothes. Red and cream floral. I hadn’t noticed it the night before. His hair was draped over his face, obscuring the evidence of my defense.

I watched him breathing for far too long and wished to feel what I had in the past. To fawn over him, adore him as I once had. Instead, I just felt sad, watching the covers rise and fall with his deep breaths.

I wished to crawl in with him, forget it all, laugh when he woke to gritty dried blood spattered across his face.

But I couldn’t. It might have killed me.

I pulled myself away from the door, closed it as far as I could without the latch clicking shut, and continued down the hallway. The doors to the guest rooms were now opened. And when I peeked inside, the beds were mussed. I sighed, knowing Annie would give me guff for it. Add it onto the pile. I could hack it after the night I had had.

I checked myself in the mirror once more (fatigued, but resplendently so) before heading downstairs to meet my “guests”.

“They wanted fresh air,” Annie grumbled when I entered the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee. “They requested breakfast on the terrace.” She dropped a plate of toast points onto a tray.

I whisked the tray away from her before she could pick it up. “You needn’t bother with them.”

“You needn’t either,” she said, though she made no effort to stop me.

We exchanged a resigned smile. I had given her the barest of details before the girls had come down for breakfast. That the men had shown up in the middle of the night, an emergency. Warned her John was not himself. That was all. Nothing about his outburst, the confusion, the belligerence.

I stowed the bite mark away too. There wasn’t anything gleeful about this mark as opposed to the ones Jimmy gave me. Nothing giddily perverse about it.

With the tray and my coffee, I headed out onto the terrace.

Peter spotted me first through a cloud of cigarette smoke. He looked surprisingly well-rested for a man wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before. “Julia! Morning, love.”

“Morning, gentlemen.” I placed the tray on the table beside the tea service, glimpsing Richard and BP who were both a little worse for wear, no doubt having been forced to bunk up together.

“Oh, thank you. It’s a perfect day for a meal on the terrace, don’t you think? Fresh air and all that…” Peter went on jovially.

I hesitated to agree when the cigarette negated the fresh air.

Luckily, he didn’t bother for my answer. “Sleep well?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

I snagged my coffee off the tray before saying dryly, “Like a baby.”

“Aren’t you lucky, then?” Richard grumbled.

Peter leered at Richard briefly. “We’re…uh, what he means is, thanks for handling him.”

“Handling him,” I repeated. So that’s what I had been doing.

“He just needed a feminine touch, you know? A reminder,” Peter said, snagging a piece of toast off the tray and dipping a corner straight into a glob of jam. “Of what is rather than…”

I stared hard at him, causing him to lose his train of thought.

“Sit, Julia,” Richard said. “You’re making me nervous.”

“No, I’ve duties to get to, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of –”

“No, Julia, sit, please let’s chat,” Peter said, waving his fingers toward me.

The truth was, if I sat, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay awake. However, a chat with Peter Grant never seemed negotiable. I took the free chair, pulling it out a foot from the table so as not to be too close to them. “I’d hate to make you feel antsy,” I echoed without affectation, though my blood was boiling.

BP stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, keeping his mouth pressed tight together.

“I know I’ve thanked you before Julia, but really, really our boy was in a bad way before you showed up. You keep him in good spirits.”

My stomach turned. I keep him in good spirits. I couldn’t have been more foolish. Thinking any of it was love. I was something to do. A hobby. A woman’s body has been currency since the beginning of time. It was an exchange from the start. “I do what I can,” I said softly.

“And more, apparently,” Richard muttered.

I didn’t have the energy to glare. My humanity was seeping out.

“We’re hoping this will be a one time thing,” Peter went on. “We’ll keep an eye on him and what he’s…consuming. And when he’s back home, you know, you just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I ought to be on the Zeppelin payroll at this point,” I said, watching the steam from my coffee.

“That could be arranged.”

That caught my attention. My eyes zipped to Peter.

He grinned wolfishly. “A joke, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied, unconvinced. I suddenly wondered if they kept a roster of vessels.

Peter jammed his inch of a cigarette into the ashtray and reached for another. “Between the two of us, I know we can make sure he’s in good shape for tour in January.”

The words rolled over me like storm clouds closing in. Slowly and then all at once. “Tour in January.”

“Yes, it’s not much time, but we can keep him on the straight and narrow.”

I did not have the energy to convey what I felt. Hell, I didn’t even know what I felt. Surprise. Dismay. Fury. Ache. A collision of all sorts of a terrible feelings. I glanced at BP who seemed to be the only one who could tell I didn’t know of a tour starting in January. He dipped his chin lower and looked away.

Hadn’t they just started recording the album? Surely it wasn’t enough time for them to set out in tour in a handful of months.

“Of course, we’ll have to make sure his spirits are up until then so he doesn’t get cold feet, but you do an excellent job of keeping him warm, Ms. Morgan.”

 I opened my mouth, unsure what vitriol would emerge, only to be cut off by a low and gravelly, “The hell is going on?”

John was awake and he was standing barefoot on the terrace. The lower part of his face was streaked with dried blood and there was a splotch of a stain on the collar of his nightshirt. I couldn’t look directly at him more than a moment.

“Christ what happened to your face?” Richard asked with his lips contorted in bemusement.

“What are you talking about?” John trailed off, words mushy.

Peter glanced at me, then back at John. “You’ve got blood all over your face, mate.”

John smothered his face with his hand, his coordination massively strained by his hangover. “The hell…”

BP and Richard looked at me for explanation. I shook my head. “He wasn’t like that when I left him.”

A pitiful lie.

Peter reached for his napkin and dipped it in his water glass. “C’mere, I’ll take care of it,” Peter said, almost like a mother.

My knuckles whitened as I gripped my cup of coffee.

“How did I get here?” John asked in a small voice, stepping closer to us.

Every nerve in my body stood on end, my body sensing danger. The weight returned to my middle.

Now that he was within swiping distance, Peter got up, grabbed John by the arm, and swung him down into his own chair. “Just relax and I’ll explain.”

John, still dazed, looked at me, his eyes calling for some sort of help I couldn’t give him. Peter smeared his cloth napkin across John’s face to clear off the blood. John bristled, raising his hands to bat Peter away. “I can do it.”

“You got into a state last night. A really bad one,” Peter explained. I was shocked by his softness with John. I’d seen him threatening and I’d seen him trying to charm, but I’d never seen him quite like this. Cleaning up the messes.

“It’s sore, why’s it sore?” John complained softly.

“Had to bring you home so that you’d settle down,” Peter went on. Then, satisfied with his cleaning, gave John a pat on the back. “Felt better when you saw Julia, didn’t ya? Perked right up when you saw her.”

John’s blue eyes rolled toward me again and, this time, they caught.

And I remembered

Tour in January.

As if the chasm between us wasn’t already wide enough. It made sense why he would want the girls to know about us then. He could go away for tour, leaving behind his girls with not a nanny but…something more. I wondered how long he knew, how long he had been wondering how to tell me, how long he would have waited it Peter hadn’t sloughed the information on me.

It was too much for a Tuesday morning.

Though John’s forehead was pinched still with confusion, he managed a small smile. My stomach turned at the sight of it. I looked away before I could try and determine what memories lay behind that expression. Which pieces he still had to give him a picture of the night before.

“She took right good care of you,” Peter went on, unknowingly stabbing more daggers into my chest. “Didn’t she?”

“Other than whatever scrap you got into,” Richard said, his lip turned up in disgust.

Peter shot him a glare, as per usual. “Yes, you’re feeling better now. And looking better too. Right boys?”

“Much better,” BP offered quickly.

Richard sighed and shuffled a hand through his wispish hair. “I mean, it’s a start.” 

I pressed myself up from my seat. “Peter, please sit. I ought to get on with things and you all can…talk.”

I didn’t wait for any replies. I needed to get inside, finish my coffee, and try and make myself serviceable for the day.

Though several voices called out after me, John’s stood apart. “Julia? Julia, wait –”

How dare he say my name like that? The lilting emphasis I’d come to love. Whether amidst bantering or the needy twirls between the sheets, it was his call to me.

And I would not let it soften me.

I stalked back into the house, into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind me. Annie was gone, off to another one of her tasks for today, which was less than ideal for me. Being alone meant the rip cord could be pulled on my emotions.

I grabbed the counter to steady myself and prepared to let out a sob.

But the kitchen door opened behind me, the sound of bare feet on the floor. Damn it all, I knew it was him just from the way he walked now. The softness of his breaths. That’s what Annie told me would happen all those months ago. I would learn the sounds of the house. It would become a part of me.

He would become a part of me.

“Julia, please, let me talk to you.”

I tipped my head back, resisting a curse as I steady the tears that so desperately wanted to escape. “What is it?” I said, placing my fist on my hip and pressing my fingernails into my palm to take my mind off the need to weep.

John didn’t respond.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. Being alone together put me on edge immediately. I ran my hand around my neck, the phantom feeling of my collar tightening suffocating me. “What is it, John?”

“You’re upset with me,” he said plainly.

I pressed my hand to my chest and shook my head. “I’m not.”

I watched him take a step forward. My stomach dipped with nausea. “You don’t have to lie.”

Under the fabric of my dress, I could feel the wound his teeth made in my skin. At least that was easier to hide than the tears in my eyes. “You were in a bad way. That’s all.”

John’s skin was like paste. He needed a shower. And he needed a meal. Some more sleep probably. His jaw was prickling with stubble that needed to be shaved. His hair was more like a nest or a mop than the silky tresses I knew he cared for so well.

I didn’t look much better.

He took another step forward, pinching his fingers together at his sternum. “What happened, Julia?”

I moved back, hoping he didn’t notice. “Peter told you, it was just –”

“They’re appealing to my ego, they won’t tell me the truth.”

It saddened me that his want for the truth surprised me. The vision I had of John had slowly been replaced. From confident to cocksure, from humble to petulant.

The good parts were still there, weren’t they? My vision was simply clouded. Perhaps.

John strode forward quickly, quicker than I knew what to do with. His hand landed against my elbow, “Darling, please –”

Without thinking, I ripped myself away from him. My heart lodged itself in my throat and my whole body screamed for me to run from him. Danger. Destruciton. Ruination.

John’s hand lifted into the air, wide palmed and open. A surrender, though his eyes betrayed his confusion.

Every return of his was marked by the need to touch. More touching. More, more, more. Again, again, again. To him, the denial sent him down a different path at the forking of the road. Little did he know I was already miles ahead of him. Running. Away, so far away.

“Sorry,” I apologized meekly. “I don’t know why I did that.”

I did. Of course I did.

John moved the open hand to his nightshirt, fisting the fabric anxiously. “Tell me what happened,” he insisted, his voice low and clipped.

“It’s not –”

“Julia. Tell me.”

I glimpsed a flake of dried blood under his nose. I ran my hand back and forth along the benchtop nervously. “You had something. I have no idea what. But they brought you here in the middle of the night so I could help calm you down.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said more to himself than to me.

“Well, they all seem very aware of what’s been going on between the two of us. I suppose they thought you needed a woman’s touch.” I added the last bit through gritted teeth.  

John sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a few moments of contemplation. “I don’t speak about it outright, but I suppose the phone calls aren’t necessarily…secretive.”

I clamped my hand around the bicep of my opposite arm. I was shrinking as we spoke, bit by bit. An open secret. Like mistresses and whores. “You wanted her,” I said softly. When John canted his head, I clarified, “Maureen. You were…distraught.”

His mouth fell open. “I wanted her?”

“You got it in your head she was…” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I only saw the tail end. Because when you realized it was me you were coming home to, you came back to your senses.”

John’s brow furrowed and his mouth grew very small as he considered the facts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

His quiet apology reinvigorated his pull on me. The inexplicable connection between us had not ceased to exist, but it was fraying, dangerously close to a single thread. “Do you remember talking to me on the phone last night?”

“I…don’t.”

Another thread snapped. “So you don’t remember what you said to me?”

“Did I say something hurtful? If I did, I’m so –“

I shook my head. “No, no. It’s not important.” I looked out the window at the expansive yard. It was turning gray out. Rain was imminent. Then, I smiled. Trying to smooth everything over. Except the tears I’d been holding back decided to betray me and fall. I swiped at them. “Fuck me.”

John clicked his tongue. “Julia, please, don’t be upset, I didn’t know I –”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this. It was too soon, too rash,” I say hurriedly.

“Please don’t say that.”

“You still think of her. It isn’t fair to any of us.” Any of us. Because whether he remembers or not he had implicated his children.

John’s forehead pinched. “I’ll always think of her.”

I winced. Stupid thing to say.

“That’s not something that will ever go away, Julia.”

“That’s not what I meant, I…” I swallowed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for any of this.”  

I turned away from him to try and cry with some kind of privacy. Because it was true. I wasn’t strong enough to be everything for him, always anticipating each and every feeling or worry he might have, trying to be good, oh so good because that’s what he needed.

And if I failed?

It was not just a human thing for me to fail.

I was paid to be here. Where did my job end and I begin?

I don’t see you being able to resist that kind of trouble. And we know how that turned out the first time, Nick’s voice played loudly in my head.

Oh, if he could see me now, he’d be laughing. I just knew it.

Again, a hand. This time to my shoulder. My body bristled even harder this time, an angry scrawl gurgling from the back of my throat. “Nnndon’t touch me,” I snapped, clutching at the place he touched me as if it burnt

I was a cornered animal. Teeth bared, tears streaming down my face. And this time instead of confusion, something else appeared on John’s face. An amalgam of disgust and fear. Good. That would make everything easier. “What happened?” he asked, his voice harsh.

“John –”

He stepped closer. “What happened last night?”

“I don’t want to do this, I don’t.” I gulped at every word, trying to steady myself.

“You won’t even look at me and I can’t –”

“I can’t.”

“I can’t even touch you without –”

“Fine! You want to know?” If I let him close in any further, I would suffocate. I grabbed the collar of my dress and pulled down, revealing the wound he’d made with his teeth the night before. “Here.”

John’s eyes landed on the purple impressions of his teeth on my chest. He had the gall to look confused.

“You bit me,” I said through clenched teeth. “You bit me and then you tried to fuck me.”

The words landed in his face, his expression flinching. The universe must have been laughing at the recurrence of these marks on me. Once from pleasure, once from pain. The pain inflicted by the wrong man.

“And I told you no and you wouldn’t stop.” My voice broke at the end because up until the night before, on the phone I loved him. And now here, in the kitchen I…still did.

But I knew I couldn’t.

John pinched his lips together. “Is that why…” He gestured toward his face. “The blood?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, but if I didn’t –“I stopped. Why couldn’t I just say the words? Say them aloud. He deserved to hear them. If I hadn’t hurt him, he would have hurt me. Raped me. And this conversation would be much different. Or would it? Is it any different if the intention was there? If he wasn’t in his right mind? “You wouldn’t stop,” I said once more, ashamed how meek I sounded.

John put both his hands over his face for a moment, then scrubbed them back through his hair, pulling his chin up with them. “Fuck.” Then he laughed, raw and humorless. It was a harrowing kind of laugh. One you acquire as an adult when you realize how richly awful the world can be. “Fuck,” he repeated. Quieter. More bruised. “I don’t remember doing that.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know why I –“

“I know.”

“I would never, ever –”

I blinked, releasing one more tear. “I know, John, I know.” But he nearly had.

His fingers of one hand ticked nervously and his breath was heavier than usual. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I didn’t have to say the truth aloud for us both to hear it.

Too late.

“But I can’t lose you, Julia, I can’t.”

I found myself smiling despite myself, wicking away more tears. In the haze of love I had for him, I would cling to the meekest admission so I didn’t have to let him go.

“Give me a chance to…make it up to you. If I can.”

“I boxed you in the nose, perhaps we’re even,” I said in an effort to lighten the moment, looking at the tears glistening on my fingers.

The corner of his lips tipped up out of necessity and nothing more.

I dried my hands on the bodice of my dress. “I suppose you’ll be going back, then.”

John scratched the back of his head, eyes falling to the ground. “I’d rather not seeing as how we’re –”

I interrupted swiftly. “No, it’s good, I need to get used to it. What with your tour coming up.”

His reaction was delayed, but once it registered, his pallid cheeks lit up with embarrassment.

“Peter told me,” I said with a limp smile.

John sighed. “I was going to tell you when I came home.”

“Right, of course, I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

“Everything’s being rushed, once we’re done. We had stuff in the catalog anyway that we never –” he stopped short. “None of that matters really. You know. In the scheme…of things.”

I had no more fight in me. No more willingness to open my heart up and show the hurt. The want. If I was going to continue to love him, I’d have to lock it tightly away until the timing was more appropriate. A silly thought when it comes to such a quivering, untenable feeling.

Before either of us could say anything, I heard noise from the hall, the terrace door opening and heavy footsteps.

“Enough,” I said softly. “No more of this.”

John started to step forward and then remembered that his advancements were now threats. He glanced down at his hands as the door to the kitchen opened.

“Hate to interrupt –“ It was Peter. “But we really ought to get back to it.”

“Just a minute,” John said, barely tilting his head over his shoulder toward Peter.

Peter’s eyes found mine and where there had been a semblance of softness earlier, there was now edge.

Until I was notified further or until I changed the circumstances myself, I was under an obligation to make everyone’s lives easier. Every single life but my own.

Under Peter’s watchfulness, I did what last night I thought I’d never do again. I stepped closer to John. His eyes lit up, but kept himself at bay. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I took John’s hand. At first it burned and then my body seemed to remember every other moment before last night at once. I inhaled sharply and lifted my gaze into his. Blue I had been dreaming about for far longer than we had known each other’s mouths and bodies.

“You won’t lose me,” I whispered. A promise to him and to myself. Time apart would be good. For me to weight out all the good, remember him the way I had fallen in love with him, not the feral monster from the night before.

John left me with a touch to my cheek. Nothing more.

When I finally was able to sleep after almost forty hours of waking, he came to me in a nightmare.

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