#this is the song if I’m left homeless

[beautifult999]

This is the song if I’m left homeless

[myosotisa]

something good - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖  summary: Eddie is drifting through town when he starts offering guitar lessons at night after work to make some extra cash. You are one of the first people to call, saying you want to learn how to play.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort, cheating/infidelity, domestic violence (not described, but visible bruising is discussed), strangers to lovers, fluffy and cute. no y/n. no pronouns, but reader is referred to as a woman and a bride. based on the song I Wanna Learn a Love Song by Harry Chapin (yeah like the 3 other fics i have that mention this song shut uP). happy ending.

‖  word count: 4.1k ‖  read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

When you get here, come around to the garden door, through the fence on the left side of the house. Please don’t knock on the front door.

With a battered six string slung over his shoulder, in ripped jeans and a band tee, Eddie was absolutely positive that it looked like he was trying to break into this house. That, from an outside perspective, he was a dirty, homeless guy – nervously looking around before pushing into a stranger’s backyard.

A pretty little blue house in a cul de sac with a fancy car out front and the lawn manicured just so. He walked under a trellis with woven vines and white flowers, little stones marking a path in the lawn, and toward the baby blue screen door.

His second day clothes and the pinch in his neck from sleeping in the van had never felt more apparent than they did right now.

After several minutes of contemplating if this was really something he had to do, he hit his knuckles on the aluminum frame of the door and waited. Heard the loud bellowing laugh of a man, and then another, followed by the click of a heavy door shutting, muffling the noise.

The screen door opened with a creak and there was you – with a smile that made him think maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“You’re Eddie, right?” You asked, leaning on the door as you looked him over. And he expected judgment, maybe disapproval. But you just kept smiling, like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Yup, that’s me,” he replied as he rocked back on his heels awkwardly, dipping his head in a greeting. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he realized that he hadn’t even tried to remember your name from when you called him earlier this week. “And you are…?”

If you were offended by it, you didn’t show it. Just gave him your first name and invited him onto the porch. Offered him a drink and asked him if he found the place okay. Pleasantries. Politeness.

Autopilot.

He took a seat at the white metal table on the screened-in porch, standing out starkly in his black and denim, and nervously tapped his hands against his knees. You sat down on the chair beside him, dressed in a comfortable sweater and a pair of pants that looked more expensive than his guitar. Casual but put together.

The porch was spotless and there was a hint of jasmine on the breeze. Eddie could not shake the feeling that he did not belong here.

“I guess I want to start off by saying this would be a very temporary arrangement, if you decide you want to keep getting lessons after this one,” he said, wanting to get that settled immediately. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.”

Surprised and intrigued, you learned a bit closer toward him. “Oh! That’s alright. Are you not from around here?”

“No, not really,” he muttered, setting the guitar on the table in front of you. Not particularly interested in getting to know you better, he started off with the easy stuff. “So do you know how to play at all?”

You shook your head with a bashful smile, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “Not a chord.”

He shrugged, like that wasn’t a big deal. “That’s fine. Are you hoping to learn all the chords and stuff?”

“Oh, no. I’d really just like to learn a couple songs. Is that okay?” You asked it like you were afraid of inconveniencing him. You were paying him for a lesson – who the hell was he to tell you no.

“Sure, that works. Do you have your own guitar? Or are we sharing mine?”

Your smile dropped a bit then, like he’d touched a nerve. “No, not yet. My husband wants to make sure this isn’t just another ‘passing fancy’ before he lets me buy one.” And you laughed it off, shaking your head with a good natured shrug.

“Huh. Okay, no problem. We can take turns – I’ll show you and then you can try.” You nodded eagerly, shifting further up in your seat. “Any songs in particular you were thinking of?”

“Oh, well… I’d really like to learn a love song. Something happy. Something people would want to sing along to.”

The look he gave you in response was strange, almost like disbelief. Being a pessimist by experience, you seemed like everything he loathed. But there was something else, something good. Something that made the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smile against his will.

“A love song, huh? I think we can manage one or two.”

Every week at the same time, Eddie would pass through your garden and knock on the blue screen door. Every week, you closed the door separating your husband’s poker game from the porch and greeted him with the warmest smile he had seen since the last time.

He’d teach you a couple of chords, how to strum along the strings. Tried to be as respectful as possible and keep his distance. You were a married woman after all, he could see the shine from the multi-karat diamond on your finger when you shifted into the positions on the neck.

Little by little, you coaxed more info out of Eddie. He worked as a mechanic during the day and did these guitar lessons at night. He was saving up money to get out of town and would only be giving lessons until he felt like he had enough. He didn’t like staying in one place for too long. You were around the same age, only a couple years off. He had always wanted to be a musician – but it had never worked out for him.

After an hour or two, you’d announce that it was about time for him to go and slide him some cash. Double and triple checking that he’d be back next week; that he wasn’t leaving yet.

And every week, he promised he’d be back.

“A musician, huh? I guess that makes sense.” You replied, eyes trained on the way his fingers manipulated the strings on the acoustic. To learn, of course, no other reason. “Just guitar?”

“I sing a little too, but was always better at playing.”

You sat up a bit too straight, leaned a bit too far forward, looked a little too excited. “Will you sing something for me? I’d love to hear it.”

And, lately, he was having a lot of trouble saying no to you. “Are you sure? Seems like a waste of your lesson time.”

“I don’t think it will be. Play and sing something for me. Please?”

And so he did. Because he couldn’t quite find it in himself to say no.

And it happened again. And again.

Half the time, he wasn’t even teaching you to play anymore. The two of you would talk, and he would play, and you both would sing quietly on your porch as the sun set and night fell. Until it was time for him to leave again.

Neither of you talked about it. But it was the best part of both your weeks. Something to look forward to.

You reappeared 10 minutes later, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. The door hadn’t fully shut behind you as you stepped out, your hands wringing in front of you. “I think you better go. I forgot to take care of something and Henry…” You trailed off, shaking your head as you offered him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry to cut the lesson short.”

One week, you were interrupted by a loud call of your name. Eddie watched all the color drain from your face and how your posture went rigid before you flashed him another smile. “Sorry, just… Just a minute.” You said apologetically, pushing the guitar into his hands and hurrying inside.

Confused, he couldn’t help but look you over before letting his gaze skip over to the darkness through the open door. To the space inside that he’d never seen. “Oh. Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He reassured you, his eyebrows drawing together in a worry he couldn’t identify.

“Thanks again Eddie,” you said, corralling like you were trying to rush him out as you pressed the cash into his hand. “I’ll see you next week?”

And you looked at him hopefully, pleadingly. Every week. Like you were terrified this would be the time he finally said no.

Every week, he said, “I’ll see you then.”

When he looked back, he saw you, giving him that same warm smile as you offered a little wave goodbye. And over your shoulder, in the dark of the house, Henry was standing there. Watching him go.

The next few weeks were back to normal. He’d come around the back, you’d let him in, and you’d both laugh and smile for the first time all week.

He’d only managed to teach you half a song, but that was fine with you. You’d rather listen to him play and sing than anything else. Begged for it every week. Sang along when you felt like it too. It was easy, happy, and good.

Eddie was only a few feet from the fence gate when he heard you call his name. Backing up, you were standing in the open doorway of the front, waving him over with that same bright smile. “Hey! It’s good to see you.”

Hesitantly, he approached the door, hands in his pockets and the guitar slung over his shoulder. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to use the front door,” he teased, slowly marching the couple of steps to meet you.

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed his forearm and tugged him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Henry is out of town, so I thought we could have our lesson inside this week. Maybe listen to something on the stereo too.”

Distracted by studying the interior of your home, he nodded and muttered an agreement. You fussed over him taking his boots off at the door and then padded across the living room in your socks and into the kitchen to get him a drink.

He walked the room like an art gallery, looking over the art on the walls and the photos. Stopped short on a picture of you and Henry on your wedding day. You, all done up, and beaming up at him like he was a hero as he smiled toward the camera.

You were a beautiful bride.

“Come, sit,” you coaxed from the couch, dragging his attention back to reality. You’d produced a bowl of pretzels and two glasses of lemonade, laid out on the coffee table in nice, expensive glassware. You were sitting on the edge of the cushion, looking up at him with that same warm smile. Like an old friend coming home.

You seemed much more at ease than ever before: smiled easier, laughed louder. Offered him some whiskey and asked him to sing you something while you mixed some drinks.

So the two of you sang and played and drank and laughed and talked for an hour or two, and then longer. The time that you would normally ask him to leave came and went – and you kept singing and talking as the sun went down and night settled over the cul de sac.

The light in the living room was low and warm, casting a glow over both of you. Eddie sang until he felt like he couldn’t anymore, and then you stepped over to turn on the stereo. He couldn’t help but notice you were even closer when you sat back down again.

Eventually, the talking fizzled out, and the two of you sat and listened to the soft melody coming from the stereo in comfortable silence. You’d turned slightly toward him, your legs tucked up on the couch as you leaned an elbow on the back. He had turned toward you too, one knee propped on the cushions.

You both just looked at each other – exchanging small smiles in the growing silence.

And maybe Eddie drank too much of your fancy whiskey, because he leaned in just a little bit closer, looked down at your mouth for just a little too long.

His hand settled on your jaw, thumb to cheek, and felt the heat of your flushed cheeks. He dipped even closer, his eyes lowering, as your breath caught in your chest.

Your eyes nearly doubled in size as your chest rose and fell with stronger breaths, but you didn’t move away. If anything you gravitated closer subconsciously, just a tiny bit of your lower lip tucked between your teeth.

He could swear he heard both of your hearts pounding – but maybe it was just the beat of the stereo he’d tuned out.

“Please, sweetheart,” he found himself begging, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to go.”

You’re married. I’m leaving. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged in return, your eyebrows pinching together on your forehead in pain. “Please don’t stop.”

And he kissed you like he meant it. Like this was right, even though it was wrong. Like this was supposed to happen, even though it wasn’t.

And you kept kissing him back like you meant it. Like it was easy. Like it was good.

For the next week, Eddie felt like he was walking on air. Like he was living some kind of dream.

You’d kissed him. You’d held him. You’d touched him like no one ever had before. Like he was something, like he was good.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like he was something good.

Couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, felt like it was worth sticking around for.

And he was whistling a happy tune when he pushed through the gate fence like usual, walking along the stepping stones under the trellis, and to the baby blue screen door. He tapped three times, already smiling just at the idea of seeing you.

But he didn’t hear your husband and his buddies inside. Didn’t hear the loud click of the door shutting. Just saw the vague outline of you approaching the screen door.

You only opened it a few inches, hiding half of your face. Your smile was weak, sad. Forced.

“Sorry, I meant to call you,” you said, fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway.

His heart dropped, his expression falling too. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” you assured him, and he decided to ignore how choked it sounded. “I just have to cancel our lesson this week. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He looked you over in concern, his mind racing. Was this because of last week? Did you regret it? Do you regret me? “That’s fine, but are you sure everythin–”

Your hand pressed some cash into his, interrupting him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, before shutting the screen door and turning away.

He stood there until the door clicked shut behind you. And then a little longer.

You didn’t ask if he would be back next week. And he thought to himself…

Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t.

He didn’t get the chance to decide if he would show up the next week, because he saw you again 5 days later.

Through the window to the lobby, he saw you talking to the receptionist with a smile. It almost felt like seeing you for the first time – not on your porch or in your house. Out in the world, the same one he lived in.

Careful not to hit his head, he pushed upright from the engine he had been working on, wiping the grease from his hands on the rag hanging from the pocket of his coveralls. He stretched his arms up and back – his shoulders protesting and throbbing in pain as he did so.

Shaking out his limbs after spending a bit too long in the same position, he swung his head this way and that and then did a double take.

He didn’t realize he was walking toward the lobby, toward you, until he was pushing through the glass door inside.

You and the receptionist both looked over at the sound, your jaw dropping as the receptionist gave a nod and told you that she would be right back, leaving the two of you alone. “Eddie…” You said, quiet like a whisper. Quiet like singing on the porch while your husband was inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he responded with a conflicted smile, taking a few steps closer. Becoming even more conscious of the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead and that he probably smelled not so great, and wondered if you could smell it too.

Your smile twisted into something sad as you faced him fully, your hands still settled on the receptionist's counter. Both of your eyes had dark shadows beneath them, but on one of them the skin was almost puffy – and the dark coloring extended down into your cheekbone.

Eddie’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he took three steps closer, fingertips coming to your chin to tilt your head so he could get a better look. Your eyes closed in defeat, allowing him to study the bruising around your eye that was poorly covered by makeup, and another bruise just peeking out of the collar of your turtleneck.

It was like ice water down his spine. Goosebumps breaking out across his skin as his muscles tightened in quick succession, anger and adrenaline kicking up. “Who? Who did this to you?”

Your eyes opened again as you faced him head on, tears pooling in your lower lash line as you shook your head. “Please, sweetheart. Did Henry…?” Your expression fell as you looked away from him, your mouth setting into a firm line.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to say, tried to push him away, tried to close off.

“It’s not nothing,” he hissed, his anger getting the better of him before you flinched – breaking his heart in two. He reeled himself back, one hand dipping to cup your elbow over your sweater sleeve. “He gave you a black eye, and that bruise on your neck, and I bet those aren’t the only–”

“Eddie, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, the muscles in your jaw tight and hurting. “It was an accident– I shouldn’t have tried to– I swear, he’s a good man…” You skipped from thought to thought as your tone wavered, your eyes trained on the door the receptionist disappeared into as if willing her to come back, to save you from this interaction.

“I don’t know much,” he said sadly, getting your attention again. “But I do know that he is not a good man. And I think you know it too.”

Your mouth opened and closed, once, twice. Blinking at him as a single tear fell down your cheek.

The receptionist stepped back in and you rushed to wipe the tear away, subtly taking a step away from him. You greeted her with a polite smile as she handed you a stack of papers and a set of car keys. Eddie took that as his cue to leave – turning his back to you and heading back for the garage.

“Eddie?”

He turned back slightly, looking at you as you hesitated by the door to the lobby. Your shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath before you spoke again. “I’ll see you next week?” You asked, thinly veiled hope in your voice.

Your smile wavered, your eyes getting slightly misty again, as you gave him a slight nod. “Okay.”

And it was so, so hard to say no to you.

“Why don’t you give me a call when you’ve figured things out?” He offered vaguely, well aware of the receptionist still in the room and how she was probably eavesdropping. “And we’ll see if I’m still around then.”

Then you pushed back out into the sun and away from him.

Two months later, at the usual time on the usual day, Eddie’s phone rings.

Just like every time his phone rang before this, every time since the last time he talked to you those weeks ago, he tries not to get his hopes up when he picks it up. “Hello?”

Just so he can be sure it’s really you.

“Hey Eddie,” you reply through the hum of the landline. You sound exhausted but happy. Or maybe he's reading too much into it already.

He’s tempted to ask you to repeat yourself, like he hadn’t heard you, just so he can hear it again.

“Hey,” he offers instead, attempting to keep his cool despite the sweat that immediately broke out across his palms.

There’s a few moments of silence, and he’s worried maybe you hung up. Maybe you decided this wasn’t a good idea. He’s about to ask if you’re still there when you ask, “Are you free tonight for a lesson?”

His brain stutters, confused as he narrows his eyes at the wall. “For a lesson?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, the air huffing noisily across the line. “You can bring your guitar and we… We can play in the living room.”

Hope tugs at his heart like a fishing line being reeled in towards shore. “In the living room?” He repeats again, for reassurance.

There’s a few moments of silence that weigh heavily on his shoulders before you reply. “If that’s okay?”

“I can be there in an hour.”

He ended up on your doorstep a little bit earlier than that.

The fancy car was gone from the driveway and the lawn looked like it hadn’t been touched in a little bit too long.

Nervous like a kid going on his first date, he hiked up the concrete steps and knocked on your front door. Held his breath – like he was waiting for you to open it and yell at him for coming to the front, for coming at all.

You opened the door and gave him that smile again. Like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.

“Eddie,” you said, half as a relieved sigh. “It’s good to see you.”

And you looked good. Tired and a bit like you had been having trouble taking care of yourself, but lighter. More at ease.

“It’s good to see you too.”

You invited him in, fussed about him taking his boots off at the door, and then rushed to grab him a drink – more nervous than you were before. Nervous?

He noticed the missing photos on the walls before he sat down on the couch and set his guitar beside him. You came back over with a snack and two drinks, setting them on the coffee table with slightly trembling hands. When you sat down on the couch, a friendly distance away, you stopped to take a deep breath. Like you’d noticed how visibly anxious you were.

He took the moment to ask the question burning in his chest. “How are you?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head. But the smile was still there as you shifted to look more fully at him. “I’m… I’m tired. But better.” You confirmed, telling him in not so many words you were glad for what happened. He smiled too – which only seemed to make yours grow wider. 

“I was scared you might’ve left town already,” you admitted quietly.

And honestly, he had thought about it. He had the money he’d originally planned to save and more. But everytime he thought about leaving, he felt this sink in his gut. Like he would regret it if he did. And maybe it was silly to wait but, it led him back here.

“I think I decided to stick around for a while,” he offered vaguely. Shrugging a shoulder like it was a small thing. Like he hadn’t admitted to you that staying places for too long made him feel antsy and uncomfortable.

Your face was hopeful, almost pleading. “You did?”

And when he nodded to reassure you, the smile that broke out across your face made him feel like maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.

“So… A lesson?” He asked, grabbing the neck of his guitar and pulling it into his lap before looking to you.

You pulled your legs up to tuck on the couch beside you, turned toward him with your elbow resting on the back cushions. “Actually, I think I just want to hear you play.”

“Oh yeah?” He teased, trying to ignore how it made a flush push up his neck from his chest in embarrassment. “What do you want to hear?”

“Something happy,” you responded quietly, like singing on the porch at night. “Something good.”

“Something happy…” He murmured, absently strumming along the beat up six string in his lap. 

Looking up and meeting your eyes again, seeing your smile again, he thought of just the song. “I think we can manage that.”

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thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

[metalandmagi]

A list of underrated Christmas movies for everyone who is getting tired of watching the same things every year:

This year, I wanted to make a list of a few Christmas movies that I feel are a bit underrated and under-appreciated, because I’m tired of seeing the same things all the time. If anyone has any suggestions for their own lesser known holiday movies, please feel free to include them!

Arthur Christmas: An animated movie that should be a classic, but it was unfortunately lost to time because it had a horrible marketing campaign that made it look like complete shit. Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s not complete shit. It’s actually fucking amazing.

Arthur, the clumsy son of the current Santa Claus is known for being a lovable idiot who tends to ruin everything he touches, but when a little girl’s present is accidentally left behind one Christmas, Arthur, an elf named Bryony, and his grandfather (a previous Santa…so grandsanta) embark on a chaotic mission around the world to deliver the missing present. Every character in this movie is so fucking funny and empathetic at the same time. Arthur embodies the true meaning of Christmas in everything he does. Bryony is just…on another level entirely. Arthur’s brother Steve (a strategic genius who wants to use his new technology to ensure his place as the next Santa) is a perfect antagonist that the audience still feels sympathy for. They all just have such a fun dynamic, and it’s a crime that more people haven’t seen this.

Spirited: A fairly new addition to the Christmas movie ranks, since it came out in 2022 (but it was on AppleTV+ so no one watched it). Spirited is a modern, musical version of A Christmas Carol like you’ve never seen before (starring Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds, who are an amazing combination in anything). If you’re tired of seeing endless retellings of Dickens' story, just watch this. It’s hilarious, heartfelt, and it brings a whole new perspective to the story in a way that I’m not going to spoil. And the songs go so hard it’s insane.

Happiest Season: A rom-com in which a woman named Abby desperately wants to propose to her girlfriend Harper over the holidays during Harper’s family Christmas party…only to realize that Harper’s extremely rich and conservative family doesn’t know she’s gay. Fun rom-com shenanigans ensue. Did I mention Abby is played by Kristen Stewart, and Harper is played by Mackenzie Davis? Also Aubrey Plaza, Alison Brie, and that guy from Schitt’s Creek everyone loves are in it.

This could easily have been a completely different movie if the cast wasn't so funny and didn’t have such good chemistry. It starts out as a standard holiday rom-com, but I was tearing up by the end of this the first time I watched it. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been hiding your true self from your family or if you’ve felt like you’ve never been good enough for them, I think you’ll see a lot to relate to in this. 

Violent Night: Another new addition to the ever-expanding list of Christmas movies, this aptly named action thriller also came out in 2022, and I feel like no one has spoken about it since, which is a crime because IT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

When a grizzled, down on the world Santa (played by David Harbour) gets stuck in a rich family’s house while it’s being overrun by mercenaries, he has to Die Hard his way out and save the hostages (or at least the ones who are worth saving) before it’s too late. This was such a fun surprise, because violent action thrillers are so hit and miss for me personally. David Harbour is great. It’s just under 2 hours of watching shitty people get their comeuppance in unique ways. I’m so offended that it only has a 6.7/10 on IMDB, because this is a great movie to watch with a group of friends and some age appropriate beverages. Yeah, it’s not a masterpiece, and maybe my standards are low, but I had a great time with this.

Tokyo Godfathers: An anime Christmas classic directed by Satoshi Kon in which 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. This was the movie that tricked me into thinking Satoshi Kon’s other works would be just as comedic and wholesome as this one. It’s got humor. It’s got heart. It’s got twists and turns that will keep you guessing in the classic Satoshi Kon fashion. And the English dub is just as good as the sub, so you can’t go wrong either way.

Neo Yokio- Pink Christmas: Speaking of anime…I’ve talked about this one before, but I have to mention it again because it’s a staple for me every year. Pink Christmas is the Christmas special for the…anime (and I use that word in the loosest way possible) Neo Yokio…aka the one starring (and possibly made by?) Jaden Smith.

For anyone who’s never heard of it, Neo Yokio is a series on Netflix that is the closest thing to a professionally made Abridged Series we’ll ever have. The “plot” of the series revolves around Kaz, a pink haired guy who fights demons and does increasingly absurd rich people things with his robot mecha butler named Charles. The Christmas special involves Charles telling Kaz a Christmas story about the city’s Secret Santa competition for all the ultra rich people.

Look, there’s no good way to describe this one, but trust me when I say you don’t have to watch Neo Yokio to understand it, since even people who do watch Neo Yokio don’t understand it. In fact, I think it will be even funnier if you don’t watch Neo Yokio at all before watching Pink Christmas (but I encourage everyone to watch the series too, just because it’s more of the same insanity.)

Every line in it is pure comedic gold, not because it’s truly funny, but because it’s absurd and ridiculous in a way only Jaden Smith can be. I quote it incessantly while eating a Toblerone every year. 

Cabin Pressure at Christmas: Molokai: Okay, it’s not a movie or even a TV special, but I love Cabin Pressure so much that I had to include this too. Cabin Pressure is a comedy radio show (not a podcast, an actual radio show) that aired on BBC Radio 4 in the early 2000s about an airline crew for the world’s shittiest airplane. 

For anyone who watched season 2 of Good Omens, you might recognize the name John Finnemore as one of the writers. Well, Cabin Pressure is made by (and stars) the same person. The Christmas episode is one of my favorites of the series, and you 100% don’t need to listen to the entire series to enjoy it. It captures the humor and despair of being stuck with your co-workers on Christmas eve, but it keeps up the spirit regardless. This is another one I quote incessantly, and the whole show has become hardwired into my personality. PLEASE FIND A WAY TO LISTEN TO CABIN PRESSURE! I’m pretty sure the whole series is available on iTunes as an audiobook.

As honorable mentions, I want to include Rise of the Guardians and Klaus, because even though they have a fair amount of popularity, I still feel like people could appreciate them more. And sure, Rise of the Guardians might be more of an Easter movie, but it still includes Santa as a character, and he’s amazing. 

That's all for now. Sorry these are all specifically Christmas themed, but if anyone has movie suggestions for other winter holidays, please throw them in!

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown; Chapter 3 - Fake Smile

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: It's the weekend after, and it's back to reality for Doll and Dieter. Of course, the public is loving their sudden nuptials, but what about the important people in Doll's inner circle? Will they believe her through her lies? Meanwhile, Dieter will stop at nothing to prove that what they have between the two of them is real...

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut lite, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dieter and his fucking paintbrush, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, we introduce a few more characters, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, Someone gets a name reveal, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 7.3K (it seems like I can just go on and on and on...)

Song Inspo: ‘Fake Smile’ - Ariana Grande

The first time you found yourself in hot water with the media, it was all because of a little misunderstanding.

A stupid one, yes, but in Hollywood, things like simple misunderstandings were paydirt in the world of the paparazzi. What was even more fucked up was the more stupid the situation, the more they ate it up, and the more money they could make from you making a complete ass of yourself. 

TMZ News Flash: Up and-coming starlet arrested for assault of a homeless woman, maintains that it was a misunderstanding-

It was a few months into your career, and you found yourself recovering from a harsh casting call that left you feeling defeated. With your cap pulled low and sunglasses shielding your eyes, you dodged the paparazzi lurking outside the building where the audition was being held. Being labeled Hollywood's newest darling had thrust you into the spotlight faster than you could prepare for, and it felt like everyone was just waiting for you to slip up. It was only a matter of time...

“Look, Alex,” you whisper into your phone, pulling your sweater tight around you, and looking at your surroundings nervously. “I’m not going to land every role I audition for, it was just a bad case of nerves… anyway, give Mum and Dad my love, I’m about to head into the next audition-“ you tell your sister, checking your watch as you hurriedly make your way towards your destination a few buildings down. “… I love you, too. Speak soon, alright? Tell Zoe I love her.” 

Lost in your thoughts and the frustration of the day, you hurried along the sidewalk, oblivious to the world around you, when, suddenly, you are accosted by a homeless woman, her cup outstretched, her plea for spare change hanging in the air.

"Some change?" she asks, her cup dangerously close to your face. "I'm cold and hungry-"

You reach into your purse, fumbling for some coins. "Here you go," you offer, dropping them into her cup without a second thought.  

Instead of the dull thud of the change hitting the bottom of the cup, you're met with the tell-tell sound of a tiny splash, the homeless woman's eyes widening in shock and tiny horror.

"What the fuck, lady?" she screams, looking at her ruined cup of coffee. "Just because I'm out here begging for money doesn't mean you can be an asshole about it!"

"Oh shit, I am so sorry... wait, let me just run to Starbucks and get you a new one-" you stammer, your eyes scanning for the nearest coffee shop. You pull your sunglasses down slightly, squinting as you spot a café on the corner.

The woman tsks at you, her expression shifting as she suddenly recognizes you. "Hey, aren't you that actress from that movie-"

Your heart sinks as you freeze, the knot in your throat tightening. "Uh, yeah, that's me," you admit, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. "I really didn't mean to, I thought the cup was empty-"

"No way!" she exclaims, her voice drawing attention as she gestures wildly. "You're one of those celebs with the paparazzi on your tail, aren't you? Hey, you there!" She points to a man hiding nearby with a camera, catching his attention. "She just dumped her change in my coffee cup!"

"No, please," you whisper urgently to the woman, ducking as the man approaches, camera poised. "I just lost them, please, I can't deal with-"

"Doll! Doll!" he shouts, snapping pictures rapidly as you try to shield yourself. "How'd the audition go? What movie was it for?"

"No comment," you respond curtly, raising your arms to block the shots, the homeless woman's protests growing louder in the background.

"She just tossed her coins in my cup, what a clueless bimbo!" she shouts, gripping your hand and pulling you closer. "Hey, where do you think you're going? You still owe me a coffee!"

"Please, I don't want to make a scene-" You struggle to break free, but in the chaos, your purse swings out, accidentally smacking the woman across the face as you tumble to the ground.

"You bitch!" she screams, clutching her cheek. "Did you see that? She attacked me-"

"No, it was an accident, I swear!" you plead, but your voice is drowned out by the relentless clicks of the cameras.

Later, at the police station on La Cienega.  

"Doll," your publicist murmurs as he guides you out the back entrance of the police station, shielding your face from the frenzy of paparazzi. With a protective arm around you, he ushers you into the waiting car, pushing aside the relentless onslaught of cameras.

Once safely inside the Lincoln Continental, you both exhale in relief as Nathan orders the driver to go, the sound of the engine drowning out the chaos outside.

"I warned you about this," Nathan sighs, glancing at his buzzing phone. "I told you things would get crazy after 'Little Star' hit theaters. You can't afford to be careless now. What were you thinking, getting yourself into a situation like that?"

"I don't know, Nate," you sigh, "... maybe I wasn't thinking," you admit, frustration evident in your voice. "How was I supposed to know that trying to do a good deed was going to backfire like this? It's not like I approached her, she took me by surprise!"

"But did you need to assault the poor woman?" he exclaims, his brow raised in disbelief.  

You give him a look, crossing your arms across your chest as you gaze outside the car window. 'I apologized, alright? It's not like she's the one suffering from all of this, I missed the audition, only because I thought I was doing her a favor! Fuck!"

Nathan shakes his head, his expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. "Look. I get it, but you're not just anyone anymore, Doll. Every move you make is under a microscope. We need damage control, fast... and maybe some media training while we're at it. It's like trying to tame a fucking feral cat or something-"

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out. But for now, let's just get out of here."

As the car pulls away from the chaos outside, you sink back into your seat, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones. This was just the beginning of a long battle against public scrutiny, and you knew it was going to be a tough fight.

The next time you found yourself in the headlines for a scandal, it was when the tiny part of your mind decided that it was a good idea to get eloped with a man you barely even know.

Present Day. 8a - Meeting with your Publicist (Nathan 'The Shark' Smith)

WhatsApp Message from Dieter:  Are you there yet? Doll: Just parked. Sitting in my car outside of the studio. What are you doing up so early? I swear, you sleep like the dead. Dieter: Woke up to a cold bed. Maybe fuck the meeting with the Shark and come home. My cock misses you. I miss you.  Dieter: (Sends a picture of said cock, fully erect and the mushroom tip bright red and angry, with Dieter's face in a frown). Doll: I can't keep avoiding him, D. Plus, I have my screen test today. Your cock is just going to have to wait, sorry baby. Dieter: Could you just send me a photo of your tits at least?  

"What the fuck were you thinking, Doll?"

You roll your eyes as you flop onto your publicist's couch, crossing your arms around your chest. "Spare me the theatrics, Nathan. What's done is done, there's no point in dwelling in the past-"

"Do you have any idea just how much your little stunt is going to cost you? We were so close to landing Disney, and now I don't know how I'm going to convince them that you haven't lost your goddamn mind!" Nathan's voice reverberates through the room as he rips his glasses off his face.

"You pay me to protect you, to guide you down the right path, and you go and hook up with the first guy who winks at you? At a goddamn In-N-Out?! And let's not even talk about this sham of a marriage-"

"I was drunk, Nathan! I did what a normal person would have done if they drank as much as I did! And marrying Dieter isn't the end of the world! Maybe you need to loosen up a bit!"

"You don't even know him, Doll! This is as close to career suicide as it gets, and I'm not sure I want to try to salvage this mess!"

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. The damage is done! we just have to deal with it," you say defiantly, pulling out your phone.

"Maybe he roofied you or something," he mutters to himself, pacing back and forth. "If you want, we could take a drug test, maybe prove that somehow... he manipulated you into marrying him. Maybe, we could get the police involved, and you won't have to go through with this shit show! "

"There was no manipulation!" you retort, "these things happen all the damn time! how do you think these 24-hour drive-thru wedding chapels survive? I don't see the problem of two consenting adults agreeing to marry each other!"

"Have you seen what the news outlets have been saying about you? Half of them are already calling it a sham, while the other half thinks that you're knocked up!" he throws a stack of newspaper off his desk, the pages fluttering in the air as they land near where you sit. 

You reach for the top gossip magazine in the towering stack, and your heart sinks as you're greeted by a blown-up photo of you and Dieter in Marcus's convertible. Both of you have flushed faces, yet there's an undeniable spark of happiness in your eyes.  

Hollywood Sweetheart marries Hollywood Lothario Dieter Bravo at a Las Vegas Wedding Chapel after being caught having public sex at popular fast food spot In N Out...

You shake your head at that, tossing it back onto the table, not wanting to think of the implications and emotions behind the photo.  

"I don't give a damn about the news outlets!" you snap back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Let them speculate all they want. I'm not going to let some gossip rags dictate my life."

Nathan sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Doll, you're playing with fire here. You're on the verge of ruining your career, and for what? A drunken mistake?"

"It's not just about that," you argue, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. "There's more to it than you realize."

"Then enlighten me," Nathan challenges, his tone softer now, a hint of concern seeping through his frustration. "Help me understand why you're willing to risk everything for someone you barely know."

"It's like he sees through all the bullshit," you murmur to Nathan, a pang of melancholy coloring your words. "While everyone else is busy painting me as this flawless figure, Dieter's the one who looks beyond the facade. He's not afraid to acknowledge the messy, imperfect parts of me, the ones I try to keep hidden."

With a sigh, you retrieve a cigarette from your purse and light it, the smoke swirling around you in the dimly lit room. "He's seen and experienced things most people shy away from, yet he's still unapologetically himself. There's a raw honesty to him that I find... refreshing."

 He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe it's best to give it a few months, let people think it wasn't a mistake, and just..." His voice trails off, the unspoken suggestion hanging in the air.

"Why do you think I'm in this industry? I am good at what I do, and besides... I don't think it would be that hard, pretending to be with him. He's... different, like a completely different person when he's with me. He has this way of making me feel-"

"Objectified? Like a good little slut for daddy?"

"Understood, Nathan," you reply sharply, stubbing the cigarette in the ashtray. "He makes me feel seen," you add with a sigh, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your tone. "Do you think we could wrap this up? I've got a screen test to prepare for."

"You sound like you're smitten with something," he snarks, typing away at his computer. "I don't know what to tell you, Doll," Nathan says, his tone laden with concern. "I just can't see this ending well. Dieter's like a disease, spreading toxicity wherever he goes. It's only a matter of time before he poisons you too."

9a. Trailer. 

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, Mrs. Dieter Bravo, in the flesh!"

You put on the best fake smile you could muster, pulling your shades off as you enter your trailer, your 'glam squad' already waiting to help you prep for your screen test. "Good morning to you too, ladies," you reply, taking a sip of your coffee. "Shall we get started?"

"That's it, Doll? you're not gonna give us the scoop?" Your hairstylist teases, "You're just going to pretend like you didn't do something so fucking insane like getting hitched in Vegas? To Dieter Bravo of all people? Are we nothing to you?!" she exclaims, taking you by the shoulders as she playfully shoves you onto her chair.  

"I don't know what else I could tell you besides that yes, I got married over the weekend, I mean, it was all over TMZ for everyone to see-"

"I have to ask," Sofia chimes in, giving you a sly smile as she looks at you through the mirror, combing your hair back into a low ponytail. "Is he as big as they say he is?"

"You know, a normal person would say congratulations to someone who just got married."

"I mean, why waste time with congratulations when we can get down to the nitty-gritty? The people don't give a shit about the pleasantries, we wanna know about the good stuff. So, Spill: is he packing or not?"

"Sorry, Sof, a lady doesn't fuck and tell," you say with a saccharine smile, rolling your eyes.

"I'm shocked, honestly," your PA slash childhood best friend Daisy muses, typing away on her phone as she settles on the chair next to yours. "I had no idea you were seeing Dieter before this past weekend," she says with a hint of what someone could perceive as suspicion. "I'm glued to your side 24-7. Surely, I would have noticed that you were fucking him. Dieter Bravo isn't known for being subtle."

"Just because I live under a microscope doesn't mean I don't know how to keep things on the down low, Daisy. I can have a relationship and keep it secret from the world, celebrities do it all the time."

"What I don't understand is if you were so hell-bent on keeping your relationship with Dieter under wraps in the first place, why have such a shitshow of a wedding?" Daisy challenges, throwing her phone on the workspace in front of you as she turns to look at you, an unimpressed look on her face. "Something doesn't add up."

"What are you trying to say, Dais?" 

"I'm saying, you were seen sucking face with Adam Patterson at Sundance not even two weeks ago, so I think I'm trying to say that you're full of shit," she retorts, her eyes narrowed as she stares you down.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, Doll. I know everything about your life, I'm your best friend, for fucks sake! If you were with Dieter Bravo, I would've known. I live right next door to you!"

"Well, maybe I just wanted something that was mine, Daisy. Don't I deserve that?"

She scoffs incredulously. "Does Alex know?"

"Of course Alex knows, she's my sister!" you counter, hoping she doesn't catch the slight waver in your voice, your tell when you're not telling the whole truth.

"BUT I'M YOUR BEST FRIEND! I COME FIRST!"

You're taken aback by Daisy's sudden outburst, Sofia and Poppy exchanging uncomfortable glances as the tension escalates. 

"So that's what this is about, then? You're just pissed because you found out like everyone else on TMZ? I'm entitled to privacy, Daisy! I have secrets. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but a relationship involves two people, and we both agreed to keep it quiet-"

"Oh spare me with that self-righteous bullshit, Doll!" she spits, rising from her seat. "This isn't you! It's like I'm talking to a fucking stranger right now!" She pushes past you as she makes her way out of the trailer. "You can have your secrets, but just remember, I know the ones that COUNT, remember that."

"Dais, come on, I said I'm sorry!" you call out after her, feeling a pang of guilt as she flicks you off and slams the trailer door shut.

"That went well," Sofia observes dryly as she starts working on your hair again. You wince a little as she smooths out the strands, already dreading what might come next.

"Hey Sof, instead of the braid, do you think we could leave my hair down? Maybe add some curls and give it that messy-but-sexy vibe?" you suggest, hoping for a change from the usual routine.

"I mean, yeah, that could look really hot, but Nate told me we were going for a more virginal look-" Sofia begins, her hesitation evident.

"Seriously? My character's supposed to be around my age, not some naive teenager," you argue, feeling exasperated. "Surely she wouldn't still be a virgin."

"You know what? You're right," Sofia concedes, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Sometimes us girlies just have a tough time finding love, right? That doesn't mean we can't look hot in the process! Wow Doll, look at you, spicing it up a bit! Finally! Should I send my gratitude to your new beau?"

You recall the way Dieter looked at you during the gala, his fingers gently brushing your hair back as he smiled warmly. "I love it when you wear your hair like this," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "It's so sexy, it's more you, you know?"

"Yeah, maybe," you breathe, smiling. "He likes it when my hair is down, but I think I like it, too." 

Sofia nods in agreement, smiling at you through the mirror. "I think I like it, too. Look at you," she teases. "Little miss sweetheart, growing up."

Later, after the screen test.

"Are you out of your mind?" Nathan's screams reverberate through the confines of your car, causing you to wince as you pull out of the parking lot. "I specifically told you we were going for a girl-next-door vibe, and you show up looking like a slut?! I swear, the next time I see Dieter Bravo, I'm wringing his neck!"

"I don't see how this is his fault, though. I told Sofie and Poppy about the edits, and they seemed to be on board," you retort defensively. "I have a mind of my own, Nate, no one is influencing me in my decisions, how many times do I have to tell you that?! I'm not some fucking doll you can play with!"

"Well, the Doll I knew before wouldn't be acting like this! It's like you were body snatched or something!"

"I'll have you know, Favreau loved the change, and thought it made sense for the character!"

"I don't give a damn what Favreau thinks!" Nathan snaps, his voice rising in frustration. "You're letting Dieter run your life, and it's ruining your career, Doll. I won't stand by and watch you throw everything away for some fling!"

"I'm hanging up now, Nathan," you declare firmly, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I don't need this right now."

Without waiting for a response, you end the call and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The weight of Nathan's words lingers, but you push them aside, focusing on the road ahead as you navigate through the winding streets back to Dieter's house.

As you navigate the winding roads back to the Hollywood Hills, the argument with Nathan still ringing in your ears, you can feel your frustration mounting. The car ride is tense, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Nathan's accusations replay in your mind, his anger leaving you feeling both defensive and conflicted. You glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror, taking in your appearance. Your outfit, chosen in haste, suddenly feels like a glaring mistake.

The sight of Dieter's house coming into view offers a small sense of relief. You pull into the driveway, noticing the moving boxes scattered across the lawn. The realization hits you that this is now your home, too.

Stepping out of the car, you're greeted by the chaos of movers bustling about, carrying boxes and furniture into the house. Dieter appears in the doorway, concern etched on his face as he approaches you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, reaching out to touch your arm gently. "You look upset."

"Nathan," you sigh, shaking your head. "He's convinced that everything is your fault."

Dieter's expression darkens, his jaw tightening. "I'll have a word with him," he mutters, his tone laced with frustration.

You offer him a weak smile, appreciating his support. As you follow him into the house, the weight of the day's events begins to lift. You walk into the massive living room, a far cry from your own modest LA flat in Silver Lake. Your eyes widen as you take in your knickknacks amongst Dieter’s gothic decor, your collection of Sonny Angels and their smiling faces alongside Dieter’s collection of what you think are first editions of every Edgar Allen Poe book imaginable, in pristine condition, you might add. You chuckle at the juxtaposition, two very different personalities coming together that shouldn’t work in theory, but look harmonious together anyway. You can't help but smile at the sight, touched by Dieter's thoughtful gesture. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you turn to him, feeling a rush of gratitude and emotion that you can't quite place. "Dieter..."

"Do you like it?" He asks eagerly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You find yourself sinking into the embrace, comforted by his warmth as he pulls you onto the sofa beside him. "I thought you might need a little sanctuary after your meeting with The Shark," he continues, shooting you a playful look. "Marcus did most of the unpacking, but I pitched in! It's like you've always been here, doesn't it feel like home?" His words touch you deeply, and you can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to the idea that you belong here with him, despite the unconventional circumstances of your marriage.

You sink into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. "I love it," you confess softly, snuggling closer to him as he strokes your hair. "It's cozy, it's... us." You pause, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice. "But what if someone sees through our little charade? What if they start asking questions again?"

"I'm glad you love it," he murmurs, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. "And trust me, with this setup, no one will doubt us for a second. It's like our little secret hideaway," he adds with a chuckle. "But hey, if anyone tries to interrogate you again, just send them my way. I'll handle them." He flashes you a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth.

"Hopefully it doesn't get to that point, but Nate surely thinks I'm close to killing my career," you say, a touch of worry creeping into your voice.

"So I'm guessing your meeting with Nathan didn't go too well then?"

"Oh, he accused you of drugging me at the gala and threatened to go to the police-" you tease, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm pretty sure he thinks that I've been body snatched or lobotomized-"

"No, you've made a pact with the devil, and now... it seems he's come to collect," he breathes into your ear, his fingers tracing a tantalizing path down to the waistband of your jeans, sending shivers down your spine as they caress your skin. You gasp as he unbuckles your jeans, sliding your zipper down slowly as his hands make their way to your center.

He hums in appreciation as his fingers graze the edge of your panties, a smirk playing on his lips as he feels how wet you are. "What do you say, Mrs. Bravo? Are you gonna let your husband take care of you?"

"... and just how are you planning to take care of me, D?" you moan as his fingers push your panties aside, squirming as they slowly start to part your folds.

"I can think of a few ways, but there's something specific I had in mind," Dieter says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What's that?" you ask, intrigued by his sudden excitement.

"I want to show you something," he announces, springing off the couch and grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet.

Dieter leads you through the spacious home, his steps purposeful and eager. As you approach what seems to be a nondescript door, he turns to you with a smile that hints at anticipation. With a theatrical flourish, he swings the door open, revealing a room bathed in natural light, filled with the scent of paint and creativity.

"This is my sanctuary," he says softly, his eyes gleaming with pride as he gestures for you to enter.

Your heart flutters with excitement and curiosity as you step into the room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you—a massive canvas dominating one wall, covered in vibrant colors and intricate brushstrokes.

"It's breathtaking," you murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from the masterpiece before you.

Dieter steps beside you, his presence comforting yet electrifying. "I painted it for you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

You're speechless, your heart pounding with a mixture of awe and gratitude. As you take in the details of the painting—a stunning array of orchids in hues of crimson, violet, and gold—you feel a warmth spreading through you.

"It's... it's incredible," you finally manage to say, your voice filled with emotion.

Dieter's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense yet tender. "I wanted to capture the essence of your beauty, the depth of your spirit," he explains softly. "Every stroke, every color—it's all for you."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you reach out to touch the canvas, feeling the texture of the paint beneath your fingertips. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of his creation, you realize just how deeply he sees you, how much he understands.

"I don't know what to say," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

"You don't have to say anything," Dieter replies, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Just know that this painting is a reflection of my budding love for you, a testament to the beauty I see in you every day."

"When did you have the time to even paint this? This must have taken months-"

Dieter chuckles softly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches your reaction to the painting.

"I've poured my heart and soul into this piece," he admits, his voice tinged with pride. "But it's not quite finished yet."

"What more could you possibly add? It looks perfect to me," you reply, admiring the intricate details of the painting.

"Have you heard of the artist Georgia O'Keeffe?" Dieter asks, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She had a way of painting flowers up close and personal, in a style that some found suggestive."

"You mean the whole 'vagina flower' controversy?" you chuckle, recalling the scandal. "People always read too much into things. Sometimes a flower is just a flower."

"Yes, but you're more than just a beautiful flower to me," Dieter murmurs as he approaches you from behind, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt one by one.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine as you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck. You lean back into him, feeling his presence enveloping you like a comforting embrace. As your shirt falls to the ground, forgotten, you turn to face him, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

"Beautiful," he rasps, his hand blindly grabbing a clean paintbrush from his workstation. "What a fucking masterpiece you are, my darling girl."

He rests the paintbrush at the hollow of your neck, his gaze tracing a path down your body as he delicately sweeps it along your clavicle, then down to your sternum. The pressure is just right, sending a shiver down your spine and raising goosebumps across your skin.  

"I've painted many things in my life, but never on a canvas as perfect as you," he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips as he trails the brush along the curve of your breasts, flicking it teasingly against your nipple.

You let out a soft moan, your head tilting back as his mouth hovers over the sensitive tip. "Dieter," you plead, your eyes locking with his in desperation. "Please, paint me with your tongue."

Meanwhile, at the LAX baggage claim...

"Eddie! Focus!" Alex screams into her phone as she grabs her luggage at the carousel at LAX. "Do you think she would still be at her flat?"

"I would assume that since she's married the bloke, she would be living with him, surely, as her sister you would know this?" he croons, groaning.  

"Well, I thought she told me everything, but my obvious shock of her being bloody married should tell you why I'm even in LA in the first place! What if she's gotten into those drugs that this Bravo character is into? Did you hear about that rumor with the ferret?"

"Okay, point taken," Eddie replies, clearing his throat. "Tell me why you felt like it was necessary to book the first flight out of Heathrow for this again? Doesn't Daisy live next door to her flat? Why are you asking me when you could just ask her?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started on that twat," Alex moans, rolling her luggage, walking in circles anxiously. "I seriously think she's a lost cause, just mooching off of my poor sister who is too sweet to know better. Do you know that she pays for her flat? Doll already pays her a good salary, I don't see how she has to also pay for her rent-"

Eddie chuckles. "Is that bitterness I sense, my pearl? She is her best friend, it's not completely out of the ordinary. Besides, it's not like your sister didn't set us up with these sweet digs in the city, London isn't exactly cheap, baby. Don't be an ungrateful cunt, honey. Your ugliness is show-"

"Eddie! For fucks sake, focus!" Your sister cuts her boyfriend off, almost bumping into a family as she tries to navigate her way out of the LAX terminal. She winces as a group of tired eyes glare back at her, shrugging her shoulders and mouthing an apology as she walks past. "How in the hell am I going to find out where this Dieter lives? It's not like I could ask the first person I see if they know where Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo lives-"

"Actually," Eddie chuckles through the phone, "That's not a bad idea, Alex. Maybe you should head downtown and grab one of those 'Maps of the Stars' things and catch a ride on a tour bus. Don't they use those double-decker buses? It'll be like you're back in merry ol' London!"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" he deadpans, the sounds of the latest football match blaring on the TV. "You could always give Daisy a ring, I'm sure she would love to chauffeur the princess' sister around Los Angeles like the entitled queen she thinks she is-"

"Oh, Piss off Eddie. I'll talk to you later. Say goodnight to Zoe for me, alright? and don't forget to take the trash out in the morning!" 

"I'm not going to tell your fucking dog goodnight, Alex. Just go find your stupid sister, give her a piece of your mind, have her give you some "sorry" money, and then come back home, you know how cranky I get when the laundry piles up-"

"GoodBYE, Eddie." Alex rolls her eyes as she hangs up on her boyfriend of seven years, muttering fucking asshole under her breath as she rifles through her purse for her ciggies. She takes a long drag as she looks out into the sunny sky of Los Angeles, a welcome change to the dreariness of London. She checks her phone once more, a photo of two smiling teenage girls smiling back at her.  

She smiles at the memory of the day when the photo was taken, the day of your adoption into her family after what happened before your abrupt removal from your family home.  "We're officially sisters, Baby Doll! You're finally free!" Alex exclaims, her arms around your shoulders as you laugh in glee "I'm so grateful for everything, Alex! For you and your family… taking me in after what happened at the chur-" She shakes out of the memory, checking the time. Taking another drag, she presses on your contact and takes a deep breath, the line trilling in her ear.  

The person you're trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone-

"Fucking hell, Doll," she groans, shoving her sunglasses onto her face as she turns to the man that is looking at his phone next to her. 

"Excuse me, Sir-"

"Those things will kill you, you know," the man replies, not bothering to look up from his screen. 

"Haha, yeah, listen- would it be easier to catch a cab, or is there some sort of rail system I could take into the city from here?" she asks, adjusting her tote bag on her shoulder.

"I could tell you, but I honestly don't care to," the man retorts, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. He pockets his phone into his pocket and walks away, shaking his head in annoyance. "Fucking tourists-"

"Oi! Go fuck yourself!" Alex screams back at the man, giving him the bird as he jumps into an Uber. Her eyes widen at the sight of a cherry red double-decker bus, 'Tour of the Stars!' emblazoned off the side of it.  

"Holy fuck, Eddie- you're a fucking genius!" she exclaims to herself, hurriedly pulling her luggage to the back of the line of excited tourists. "Who would have thought that bastard could think of something so brilliant?!"

"Do you think we'll get a glimpse of Doll now that she married Dieter Bravo?" a man asks his friend as they wait in line. "Did you see that video of the two of them at the In n Out? her tits looked so massive in his hands!"

"What a lucky bastard, right? I bet she's such a dirty girl under that sweet fucking exterior of hers, what I would do to be able to tap that!" his friend replies, chuckling at himself, smiling like he's said something so fucking profound. "Bravo must live in that sweet pussy of hers, she must taste so fucking sweet, maybe we should go up to his front door and ask to see if he was interested in a gang bang, it's not like he hasn't been caught in one before-"

"Oi!" Alex exclaims, her face red with frustration as she points at the group of men. "Watch your fucking mouth! That's my fucking sister you're talking about!"

"Yeah, and I'm the President of the United States," the man replies, sneering at her. "Doesn't your mommy teach you it's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" he scoffs, high-fiving his friend. "If she was your sister, why are you in line for 'Tour of the Stars'? I know girls can be crazy, but you're living in la-la-land, lady!"

"Yeah? Well, I wanted to surprise her," Alex retorts, her demeanor growing flustered under the scrutiny of the group of men.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but I don't quite see the resemblance, sweetheart. Maybe if you got some plastic surgery, and I squint my eyes just right, maybe it could happen for you."

As they board the bus, Marty, the tour guide, announces enthusiastically, "Alright folks, buckle up! We're about to embark on a star-studded adventure, touring the homes of Hollywood's elite!"

The men who had been teasing Alex hoot and holler in excitement, egging Marty on with raucous cheers.

"We'll be swinging by Dieter Bravo's estate up in the Hills," Marty continues, adjusting his microphone. "It's one of the hottest properties in town, folks! Who knows, maybe we'll catch a glimpse of the man himself or even his famous wife! They just got married in Las Vegas over the weekend, how exciting, right?"

Alex rolls her eyes at the mention of Doll, already dreading the attention her sister's marriage attracts. But she stays silent, focusing on keeping her composure amid the rowdy crowd.

As the bus winds its way through the glamorous streets of Hollywood, Marty regales the passengers with tales of celebrity scandals and triumphs. An hour into the tour, they finally stop in front of a lavish mansion nestled among the hills.

"This is it, folks! The home of the one and only Dieter Bravo!" Marty announces, his voice filled with excitement.

Alex's heart skips a beat as she recognizes your BMW X4 behind the gates and manicured hedges. With a surge of adrenaline, she jumps to her feet, shouting over the din of the other passengers, "Stop the bus!"

"No can do, lady. Don't want to risk another lawsuit," Marty replies with a chuckle.

"But she's my sister! Please, just for a moment, I need to see her."

But Marty remains firm, his tone unwavering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't make any exceptions. And even if she were your sister, why would you be on this tour bus?"

He glances at Alex skeptically, a furrow forming on his brow. "Seems like we're attracting all sorts of characters today," he muttered under his breath. "Crazier by the minute."

Feeling frustrated and desperate, Alex makes a split-second decision. "Oh, fuck this-" She lunges for the door handle and, without hesitation, jumps out of the bus.

"Hey!" Marty screams, the bus grinding to a halt. "Get back in here!" he yells as she slams onto the hot asphalt.  

"No, can't, shant!" she screams back at the bus, "I won't tell it was you if you just drive away, no harm no foul?"

"... good enough for me!" Marty yells back, motioning to the tour bus driver. "onto the next one!" 

The group of men who had teased her earlier chuckled. "Good luck finding your 'sister,'" one of them jeered sarcastically as the bus pulled away.

"Fuck, why do I keep putting myself through this?" Alex groans, wincing as she tries to steady herself, her scraped knees and wrists a testament to her rough landing. With determination in her stride, she approaches the gates, her heart pounding in her chest. Surprisingly, she finds them slightly ajar, allowing her to slip through the heavy iron. Wheeling her luggage along, she heads toward what she hopes is the front door and tentatively knocks. "Hello?"

Growing impatient, Alex begins to pound on the door. "Hey, I know you're in there! Open the damn door!" she screams, frustration evident in her voice. As the door suddenly swings open, she's met with the sight of a handsome man, his annoyance matching her own.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Can I help you?"

"Oh—" Alex gasped, clearly flustered and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sir," She glanced back at the map, her eyes darting around her surroundings. "I thought this was the residence of Dieter Bravo. I must be mistaken—"

"Listen, lady, are you in need of medical assistance? Do you need me to call the rehab center that you clearly looked like you escaped from?"

"I beg your pardon?" Alex snaps, her frustration evident in her clenched fists as she strides back up to the man in front of her, her patience wearing thin. She takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to deal with this arrogant jerk. It's such a shame such a beautiful man like him is such a tool, she thinks to herself through her annoyance.

"Look, I've just had a grueling flight from Heathrow after a massive row with my boyfriend. He can't fathom why I needed to fly thousands of miles to LA to see my sister, who's apparently decided to get married by some Elvis impersonator on a whim. Clearly, she's lost her mind, and I've come all the way here to figure out just what the hell has gotten into her! So, if you're not Doll—"

"You're Doll's sister?" Marcus asks incredulously, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I'm Doll's sister. What does it look like?"

Marcus scoffs, his eyes disbelieving as they roam over her figure, his smirk growing wider. "Sure, if you're her sister, then I'm the queen of England."

"What is that supposed to mean, you prick?"

"Listen, don't get me wrong, you are a gorgeous woman, but I don't see the family resemblance."

"She's my adoptive sister, you moron!"

"That's what they all say, sweetheart."

"OH!" Your voice pierces the silence of the mansion, both Alex and Marcus startled by the sudden outburst. "Fuck Dieter, just like THAT!"

"Oh bugger this!" Alex exclaims, pushing Marcus aside as she storms through the mansion. "For fucks sake! Christabella!" she shouts, opening up every door she comes across. "BELLA! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" She shouts, making her way towards Dieter's studio. "BELLA! I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE!"

"Hey!" Marcus shouts back at Alex, his composure barely hanging on by a thread. "You can't just enter someone's private property, I could have you arrested!"

"Yeah, well just call my lawyer, then. He is on my sister's payroll, after all!" she sing-songs, making her way up to the door leading to Dieter's studio. "BELLA!" she shouts as she opens the door, gasping at the sudden sight of the both of you stark naked on the floor, with Dieter railing you from behind. You scream at the sudden intrusion, scrambling to cover yourself.

"Dieter," Marcus huffs, "I am so sorry, she just came storming in, saying that shes-"

"Alex!" you squeak, "What are you doing here?"

Dieter looks back at the angry face of your sister, his own expression shifting to confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

"Christa-fuck-abella Martin," Alex seethes, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"... and who the hell is Christabella?" Dieter asks out loud, rolling himself on the floor in exhaustion.

You grimace as your sister rolls her eyes, throwing Dieter's discarded robe at the both of you. "Please don't tell me you married my sister in that hell hole and you don't even know her real name, mate."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte

@drewharrisonwriter@missladym1981@amyispxnk@thespookywookies@stevie75

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings@daydream-believer19@survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @gobaaby-blog-blog

[thatfanficstuff]

Breakeven - Jonas Taylor (The Meg)

Pairing: Jonas Taylor x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: Inspired by the song Breakeven by The Script. I was having trouble finding a Jonas Taylor fic that fit what I was looking for so I wrote one. The story of my life. Enjoy.

Jonas Taylor’s gaze swept around the flurry of activity surrounding him. He’d just left the infirmary after making certain his sister would recover from the injury she’d received when her sub had been attacked. He needed a shower and a change of clothes but he was too busy searching the halls of Mana One for your familiar silhouette. He hadn’t seen you since the two of you divorced and now that he was so close to you, he felt the need to find you. To assure himself that you were still whole and alive.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of you as you conferred with Suyin, both your heads bent over a tablet as she showed you something. He sucked in a breath as his chest tightened, an odd mix of longing and bitterness churning inside him. He shoved down the rush of emotions threatening to surface, schooling his features into his normal flat expression. He had to appear unaffected. He couldn’t let you know how affected he was by your presence, how the pain clawed at his insides.

“I thought you were going to clean up,” Mac’s voice interrupted. His friend followed his line of sight to see you. “Oh.” He dropped a hand on Jonas’ shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Jonas shrugged him off and gave him a tight smile. “Got sidetracked is all.”

“I see that,” Mac agreed as he put his hands in his pockets and followed Jonas as he walked away from you. They walked in silence for a bit, steps echoing in the quiet hall.

Jonas licked his lips. “Seems like she’s doing okay after everything.” Bitterness colored his words though he’d tried to hide it. He hated that he was torn in pieces, aimless without you and you didn’t seem bothered in the least. It was bullshit.

Mac studied him for a moment. “She’s keeping her head up.” He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him into a room. “Let’s have a drink. You look like you could use one.”

Jonas nodded and took a seat in what was clearly Mac’s private room. He sipped at his drink as he watched Mac contemplate something. Jonas knew the look well and waited for his friend to come to a decision.

“You’ve got it all wrong you know,” Mac finally said with a furrowed brow.

“What have I got wrong?”

“It killed her to file those papers.”

Jonas snorted. “I find that unlikely. No, she thought I was crazy just like everyone else and left rather than stand by me like she should have.”

Mac shook his head. “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, but I’m tired of holding her while she cries over you. I love her like a sister, but she needs you.”

“Then why the hell did she leave?” Jonas tried and failed to mask the desperation in his words.

“Because,” Mac hesitated, swirling his drink as if searching for courage in its depths. “Because the old bastard gave her an ultimatum.” Jonas knew instantly he must be talking about your father. None of you liked him but he was too wealthy and powerful to just write off. Mac sighed, regret contorting his features. “He threatened dire consequences, Jonas. Said you’d suffer if she didn’t cut ties.”

A heavy weight settled in his stomach. If your father wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him for threatening you. For making you too scared to come to him. “Threatened? What did he do, Mac?” His grip tightened on his glass, knuckles whitening.

“He didn’t want your presence staining his good name as he put it. Said he’d use all of his resources to make sure you were broke and homeless with no where to turn. He told her there wasn’t a corner of the Earth where you would be safe from him. Then he told her if she tried to run with you, he’d make certain she’d never see you alive again.” Mac’s voice was little more than a whisper by the end, heavy with the burden of the knowledge he’d been carrying.

A cold shock washed over Jonas, followed by a surge of anger that left him breathless. Your father hadn’t threatened you. He’d threatened Jonas. You’d shattered your entire world to protect him. His breath came heavy and he placed his glass on the table in front of him, afraid he’d drop it otherwise. He ran a hand over his head. “Damn it.” How hadn’t he seen this? Why hadn’t he demanded more answers from you? Why had he just assumed you were abandoning him like everyone else? “I can’t believe she never—”

“Hey,” Mac interrupted gently, placing a hand on Jonas’s back. “You didn’t know because she didn’t want you to. She walked away to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” Jonas echoed, the word bitter on his tongue. The truth of your motivations stripped him of his resentment, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its wake.

“Jonas,” Mac’s voice softened, “she loved you enough to let you go but she was far from okay with it. It tore her up. Still does.”

He clenched his jaw as he processed everything he’d just been told. If you loved him that much, maybe there was still hope for the two of you.

You’d taken to hiding in your room since Jonas arrived, leaving only when you were made to. You hadn’t even been to see Lori in the infirmary afraid you’d run into him there. Mac had been trying to get you to tell Jonas the truth since your father died, but you just couldn’t. He’d hate you for breaking his heart, regardless of the circumstances. It was better to just let him move on without you. For him to find his happiness even if you never did.

A knock at your door reverberated through the room. You opened it without checking who was on the other side. An action you regrated instantly when you found yourself face to face with the love of your life. “Jonas,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word.

He greeted you in return before pushing gently past you and stepping into the room. You shut the door behind him, your hand trembling against the cold steel. “I didn’t expect—”

“Neither did I,” he said cutting you off. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave me?”

The words hung between you as your eyes searched his, wondering why he suddenly wanted to have this conversation when he’d never asked at the time. “Jonas, I…” you trailed off not certain what you could say to get him to possibly forgive you.

“Please,” he pleaded as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “I heard things about your father, about threats. I need to hear it from you. The truth.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your gaze faltered, drifting away before finding its way back to him. “I…you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” he said, stepping closer.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart raced, pounding against your ribs. “My father threatened everything. I never wanted to leave you but if I stayed, if I fought for you…He might have been bluffing, but I couldn’t risk it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

A laugh escaped you then, a cold, bitter sound of disbelief. “How could I, Jonas? Threats from my father aside, you’d been pushing me away since the day everything went to shit. I tried to help you, tried to back you and you didn’t want it. When my father gave me the ultimatum, I figured it wouldn’t matter much to you anyway. It didn’t matter if I was broken, as long as you were okay.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him as hot tears trailed down your cheeks. Strong hands gripped yours and you sucked in a breath in surprise. “Listen to me,” Jonas ordered. “I always knew you deserved better than me and I didn’t want to drag you down with me, but nothing, absolutely nothing would ever make me quit loving you.”

When you said nothing he squeezed your hands. “Say you believe me,” he whispered. “Believe that in a million moments, in a million lifetimes, I would always choose you.”

Your eyes found his, wanting to believe his words. Gods you wanted to. And as he gazed at you full of hope and love and desperation, you found that you did. Could the two of you really have another chance? With your father and his threats gone from your lives, what was stopping you?

Jonas leaned forward suddenly and you barely had time to catch your breath before his lips met yours in a kiss that was both an apology and a plea. His hands moved to cup your face tenderly as if you could vanish in an instant.

Pulling back just enough to meet your stunned gaze, Jonas ran his eyes over your face as if memorizing your features. Whatever he found must have made him happy as a wide grin curled his lips. “Marry me,” he breathed. “Be mine again. Forever this time.”

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. Fresh tears trailed the paths of the previous ones but this time they were happy, full of love and hope. You brushed your lips against his as you whispered his name.

He kissed you again, needy and wanting, before resting his forehead against yours. “Is that a yes?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, baby, that’s a yes.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into the curve of your neck and inhaled your still familiar scent. For the first time since you walked out the door all those years ago, he felt whole.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered against his skin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. As long as you never leave my side again everything will be fine.” As he pressed a kiss to your temple, there was a knock on your door.

“Go away,” he called, making you laugh.

There was a stretch of silence before you heard Mac say your name in question which only made you laugh harder. You pulled away to answer your door, Jonas moving with you. Mac looked between the two of you, before grinning like an idiot. “I’m sorry to interrupt this, like you have no idea how sorry, but we’ve got a meeting to talk about the meg.”

You nodded and moved to follow him before Jonas grabbed your arm and pulled you back. “We’ll be there in a minute,” his rough voice said as he shut the door in Mac’s face.

When he turned you and pressed you against the door as he kissed you deeply, all your protests disappeared. This is where you belonged. Right here with your husband as if the last five years had never happened. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back and wondered if they really needed you to tell them to kill the giant shark before it ate everyone. Surely they could figure that out on their own.

[crippleprophet]

Is it okay for people with agoraphobia to look and take some of the advice you have for housebound people on here? I'm not really great at picking up nuance so I'm worried that it'd be crossing some boundary or that it's not the intention of the tag

that’s completely okay, i appreciate your desire to be respectful even though i’m sorry you were concerned! i absolutely consider folks with agoraphobia my comrades + community members and i’d be super honored if anything i’ve shared is helpful (+ am always interested in hearing what that was if you’re comfortable!) the rest of this is not anything you need to answer your question, just thoughts i’ve been having on the subject

i haven’t had the opportunity to talk to enough homebound [due to chronic illness / “physical” reasons] people to know if this is a common experience but for me i’ve noticed that similar to chronic illness often carrying depression with it, since becoming homebound i’ve become terrified of leaving the house.

this is definitely influenced by the fact that it’s untenably painful, my photosensitivity (in the UV sense not the epilepsy sense), the ongoing pandemic, the fact that i only left the house to go to the doctor for over a year & i’m afraid of the doctors appointment itself due to medical trauma, etc etc but like. there’s also the very strong pull of habit – i’m an incredibly obsessive & ritualistic person – and what Goffman refers to as “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people sheltering from a hostile society, a phrase i read in undergrad 5 1/2 years ago that’s stuck with me ever since for how profoundly it resonates.

i’m not trying to say these are necessarily your or any other person with agoraphobia’s feelings & experiences, more to illustrate how the liberation of all homebound people & shut-ins & hermits is bound up together; any sanist strategy for oppressing agoraphobes can easily be leveraged against me, not least because as a severely underdiagnosed person, the medical establishment does not think there is any “legitimate” “physical” reason for me to be homebound. to respond to this oppression by arguing it’s inapplicable because i’m not crazy would be untrue + a cruel act of lateral violence.

i’ve been reading a lot of butch/femme history recently (i post about that on my main @campgender; followers age 18+ only please) & have found myself entirely reconfiguring my understanding of the queer art of isolation, the incredible ability of our ancestors to hunker down & survive under circumstances unimaginable to the average person. i absolutely don’t want to deny the deep pain – not only the aspects i experience but also the heightened isolation of people without or before internet access + the ways these circumstances / forms of oppression can foster abuse –

but my god, so many 50s butches didn’t leave their homes during daylight hours for years in order to not be hate crimed for their gender presentation, & that’s the folks who were making it to the bars. so many others – “discreet” couples who didn’t want to risk being outed by engaging in queer community; people assigned female who “passed” as men & their partners; butch sex workers & other people with identities perceived as contradictory or unacceptable – existed marginalized by both queer & normative communities.

every time i think substantially about homeboundedness i always get tracy chapman’s “subcity” stuck in my head. obviously my access to housing period is a huge position of privilege, & i’m in the most economically secure position of my adult life so far; the abjection i experience is nowhere near the scale of people in the position of the speaker of the song, who’s implied to be street homeless. but the line “people say it doesn’t exist ‘cause no one would like to admit that there is a city underground” is such a succinct & accurate depiction of living the kind of life society tries to convince itself is impossible. but there truly is a rich genealogy of homeboundedness especially in queer history.

again i hope some of my posts & such are helpful / resonant! wishing you all the best 💓💓

[luna-writes-stuff]

Home Sweet Home, Lucifer

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Reunion, platonic/romantic (depends on interpretation), S13 E07!

Word count: 1963

Tw: I had absolutely no motivation when I wrote this, so I’m sorry it if sucks. Use of swear words, SPN series centred. Obvious spoilers for S13. That’s all? Can be read as platonic. (NOT PROOFREAD)

Summary: When Lucifer finally escapes out of Apocalypse world, he is left on the streets without powers. It would seem as if you were meant to come across him, and save him from the people mistaking him for a homeless person.

Requested by @blueangel-love . I’m sorry if it isn’t what you had hoped! Inspiration was very low for this one but I did my best. I made another Lucifer reunion fic this month! It’s a better version! You can find it right here <33

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more!

“You know I'm a dreamer

But my heart's of gold.

I had to run away high,

So I wouldn't come home low.”

Not two seconds ago, he had stood in a different world, fighting to get out of it, and now, his face was met with the hard concrete of the sidewalk. Bright sunlight immediately blinded him, the sight very different than what he had been used to in those past short weeks. Confusion seeped into him as he roughly got up, looking at all the people walking around him.

“What is this?” He muttered to himself. “Cincinnati?” He was deliberately ignored by bypassers, only gaining dirty looks, or eyes directly glued to the ground. “Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?” He wondered to a woman, but she ran from him before he had the chance to resume. “Just a moment of your time, sir? ‘Cause I don’t know…” But the man had already left before he could finish his sentence.

This was stupid. He was Lucifer of all people. He wasn’t to be ignored by simple humans. He could curse himself for even trying to be polite.

“Oh my god, when are they ever gonna get those people off the street?” A woman scoffed as she and her friend pushed past him, ignoring his incredulous looks. “Excuse me? Those people?” He repeated, following them in slight offence. “No eye contact, Beverly.” The same woman mumbled. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, lady.” Lucifer threatened, though it didn’t come off as terrifying as it usually did. He knew it.

“Just when things went right,

It doesn't mean they were always wrong.

Just take this song,

And you'll never feel left all alone.”

The woman sighed, reaching into her pocket as she handed the blonde a dollar bill. “Here. And don’t go spending it on drugs now.” Scoffing at the little paper, Lucifer balled it up, throwing it over his shoulder. He chuckled at her, shaking his head in disbelief: “I’m Lucifer.” But as he snapped his fingers, nothing happened to her. Instead of a bloodcurdling scream or a plea for mercy, a joyful laugh came out. “Honey, you’re not Lucifer. My ex-husband’s Lucifer.”

You didn’t know how it even happened. You watched him forced into an otherworldly portal not a month ago, and suddenly, the devil himself had been standing on the sidewalk of a random town. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he was there. He must have been looking for something.

Dread settled in as you watched him threaten the ladies, though they didn’t seem scared by his appearance. “Oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, shoving your fake ID back into your pocket before running up to the three, placing your hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Hey, there you are!”

Immediately, the fallen angel spun around, his eyes widening as he came face to face with you. “Y/N?” He voiced, his voice flooded with relief, which you had trouble understanding. “Oh, am I happy to see you!”

“Take me to your heart.

Feel me in your bones.

Just one more night.

And I'm coming off this long and winding road.”

You and Lucifer hadn’t been the best of friends in all honesty. Out of everything you had to deal with and he had to deal with, you simply seemed to be bothered about each other the least. In fact, you had actually helped him a handful of times - if that didn’t include him trying to murder everyone and take over this world. Be that as it may, it still took you by a huge surprise when he wrapped his arms around you to force you into a hug.

You didn’t quite know what to do. If his intention was to smother you to death, he was failing miserably. You awkwardly patted his back before he let go of you. “I am so sorry for the inconvenience!” You faked towards the two women. “Forgot to take his meds this morning.” “What?” He interrupted, waving his hands in dismissal: “No, I’m fine.” “Thank you for looking out for him!”

You quickly grabbed the angel’s arm, setting a fast pace as you tried to pace your way through the crowds. He simply followed you as if it was the most natural thing ever. When the biggest crowds of people had departed, you stopped, turning to him with a scowl. “What the hell were you thinking?” You scolded. “And how the hell did you get back here?”

He refused to answer. He just looked at you as if you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. “Lucifer?” “I’m just so glad you’re here.” He breathed, pulling you into another hug. You frowned at the notion, now hugging back, though nowhere near cosy yet.

“I'm on my way, I'm on my way.

Home sweet home.”

“Are you okay?” You asked him, pulling from his embrace for a second time. “Yeah, yeah, just fine.” He shrugged. “I gotta figure this out because this…” He snapped his fingers, pointing towards a man across the street who was caught up in his phone. “Isn’t working.”

You breathed an ‘ah’ of understanding, shaking your head at him. “Your test drive for your grace is to intend on killing people then see if they explode?” “Yeah!” He laughed, as if it was the most obvious thing. You merely nodded at him in uncertainty. “Right. Yeah, sometimes I understand why the Winchesters hate you.” “Wow,”

You ignored his sarcastic scoff. “What are you doing here?” Two people walked past you, causing you to grip his shirt, pulling him to the side of the street. Lucifer seemed completely unfazed by it, easily answering your question as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: “Oh, Kevin opened a rift and I jumped in.” “Kevin?” You voiced in surprise. “Other world Kevin,” he clarified, nodding his head from side to side. “Met my other world brother; total douchebag.”

“Tonight, tonight

I'm on my way, I'm on my way.

Home sweet home.”

You didn’t respond to that, still unsure of what to make of the entire situation. Lucifer smiled at you, widening his arms in glee. “But you’re here!” “Yeah,” you nodded. “We should get you some clean clothes.” “Don’t worry about it,” he shook off. “I gotta get to Heaven, though. Get some extra juice.”

You could have cursed him for immediately running off to heaven again. Regaining your grip on his shirt, you forced him into a back alley, making sure you weren’t seen by anyone. Pushing him against the wall, you gave him an accusing look. “Lucifer,” “Hello.” He smiled, that ever-evident cheeky expression on his face. You did your best to keep your face neutral. “You can’t just come here out of nowhere without any grace whatsoever, then expect to waltz into Heaven and expect them to hand some extra to you.” “Well,” he sighed, stepping out of your hold, shrugging as if it was nothing.

“I can.” All you gave him was an unimpressed look. He frowned at it. “I’m not weak.” “I could take you in a fight right now.” You remarked. Once more, that stupid cheeky expression returned: “Oh, are you sure?” “That wasn’t a challenge.” You sighed.

“Too bad. Was looking forward to it.”

“You know that I've seen

Too many romantic dreams.

Up in lights, falling off the silver screen.”

Asshole or not, he knew when to stop. Sometimes. But now, he could see the conflict in your eyes. He knew you got along well with the Winchesters and their angel. “Listen,” he mumbled. “I appreciate the concern, but I am an excellent bluff,”

You couldn’t suppress your chuckle at his words. “Right,” “Not to you apparently.” He continued. “I spot tells.” “Which is why I like you.”

You weren’t an idiot. You knew what had happened with Heaven and everything - Castiel had told you many times. And though there was nothing you could do to halt Lucifer’s ultimate demand of the sanctuary again, you never failed to remember the disappointed looks on the faces of your closest friends. You couldn’t even completely explain why you and Lucifer got along so well. You simply seemed to.

“My heart's like an open book

For the whole world to read.

Sometime nothing keeps me together at the seams.”

“Come on,” the angel almost whined. “I really gotta get amped up. Right now, I’m just… useless.” “Ouch,” you commented, knowing his celestial powers weren’t there now, which practically made him human. “So, will you help me?” He finished.

You observed him for a short second. Considering everything he had done in the past, he looked truly miserable now. And that wasn’t necessarily due to his appearances. Something had changed within him and you could easily see it. And if you could, so could others.

“If I said no, you couldn’t explode me.” “No,” he answered. “But you’re gonna say yes.” His confidence was what took you aback. “Why is that?” “Because I like you,” he spoke plainly. “And you like me. It makes sense.”

“I'm on my way, I'm on my way.

Home sweet home.

Tonight, tonight

I'm on my way, just set me free.

Home sweet home.”

He was so full of himself at some times. It made you all the more cautious of his actual plan. “And your plan after regaining your grace? Back to ruling Heaven?” “Haha, you’re so funny.” He spoke sarcastically, his laugh dramatically fake. Then, he shook his head, shrugging to his next words as if it was nothing: “I’m going to meet my son.”

Something in your face shifted upon his words. He saw it immediately, taking a step back at your reaction: “You met him?” Even if you would lie, he’d know. “Yeah.” “So, you can lead me to him?” He encouraged, his voice filled with eagerness. You had trouble rejecting it.

“Lucifer, listen. There are bigger issues going on right now.” “Such as?” He deadpanned. “Bills? Food? Other mortal things?” “Asmodeus.” He stopped ranting as soon as you spoke those words, disgust evident in his features. He didn’t even try to hide it in his words: “Ugh, he was such a pain in the ass.”

“Yes, and now he’s our pain in the ass.”

“I'm on my way, I'm on my way.

Home sweet home.

Yeah, I'm on my way, just set me free.”

His eyes fell on his surroundings for reasons you could not place. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about dismissing your offer and disappearing. But you were a welcomed sight after the apocalypse world, and he couldn’t just disappear now. You were his safest bet without his grace.

“Okay,” he relented. “We’re going to Heaven, regain a bit of my grace, I’ll help you handle that asshole Asmodeus and you arrange a little meeting - father-son, you know?” You blinked rapidly at him, still not sure how you managed to convince without as much as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. He couldn’t stand your hesitance.

“Come on, whaddya say?” The Winchesters would hate you for this.

You’d recover.

“Get rid of Asmodeus first,” you offered. “Then, we’ll see how it goes.” “I knew there was another reason I liked you!” Lucifer exclaimed as he clasped your shoulder, unable to withstand the smile on his face.

This was probably going to turn out to be a horrible idea, but you’ve done worse things in your long line of work. And there seemed to be something about him now that made him much easier to read. If he was going to betray you, he would hurt himself doing it. He’s too vain to let that happen.

And besides, being close with the devil had its perks.

“Home sweet home.”

[marvelmaniac715]

If I was in various Hatchetfield stories:

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals:

Hive: Do you wanna save the planet?

Me: …No, and I haven’t drank nearly enough water to sing along so stop making me jealous!

————————————————————————

Emma: Take out the head and the whole thing-

Me: I’m on it, I’ll either call you when I’m done or die a hero, either way this is my main character moment, so MOVE. What are you doing with that needle, Professor?

————————————————————————

Me after listening to some of the Working Boys pitch: So which one were you dating? Was it all of them?

————————————————————————

Me in my last conscious moments before being part of the hive: Okay but forcibly controlling women isn’t very slay girl boss of you…

Black Friday:

Me: No, I actually don’t have the money to buy a Wiggly and I don’t leave the house if I can help it so I’m not going to the mall on Black Friday, text me all about it though.

————————————————————————

Wiley: I just need you to do what you do best-

Me: Read fanfiction?

Wiley: Be a mother.

Me: Dude I have no children except for my dog and I think he sees me as some sort of alien… kiss me and I’ll think about it.

————————————————————————

Me after seeing Wiggly (don’t ask why I’m in the Black and White): Why am I looking at yassified Cthulhu? And why are you British? Did eldritch dimensions get invaded by the British too? Wow, the sun really DOESN’T set on that empire…

The Hatchetfield Ape Man:

Me after seeing Konk: …I was wrong, this is nothing like Tarzan, get this man some clothes. Lucy, I know you were never the brightest in your class but someone REALLY needs to tell you what an APE looks like, delulu is not the solulu baby girl.

Watcher World:

Me: I don’t like roller coasters and it’s far too hot, I think I’ll just stay home, sorry Bill.

Time Bastard:

Me watching Ted from a distance: Wow, he really isn’t doing okay…

————————————————————————

Me staring at the Homeless Man: How is nobody realising that this is clearly Ted Spankoffski?

Honey Queen:

Me: What’s my talent? Oh, I can recite the lyrics to every single song from twelve different musicals, even the classics, that ought to win a few judges over… Linda why are you uncoiling that rope?

————————————————————————

Me staring up at Nibbly (I won the title of Honey Queen by sheer force of will) and holding out an unwrapped Snickers bar like it’s a cross: You’re not you when you’re hungry.

Killer Track:

Me: I’m trying to find this song that was sang at the Honey Festival last night but I can’t for the life of me remember any lyrics or what the singer was called…

Nerdy Prudes Must Die:

Me: Hey Ruth, can I sit in rehearsals with you? I could help you with tech and keep you company - after what happened to Richie I don’t think that any vulnerable students should be left alone, I’m surprised the adults haven’t thought this, maybe we should invite Pete too?

[trensu]

Here is the second chapter of the newest installment in the Hawkins Halfway House series, which I've named Tradition on ao3. (I haven't posted this chapter on ao3 but it'll be up before end of day today, I promise) It's still gonna have the Hawkins Halfway House for Homeless Horrors tag here just to keep the tracking easier for you guys.

ETA: this has now been posted on ao3!

--

It was hard to meet people as a queer man in rural Indiana. Harder still when the ‘man’ part of that description was…malleable. As if that wasn’t enough of a challenge, it was far more difficult when the queer man in question wasn’t particularly interested in sex.

Sirens used what people would consider ‘sex appeal’ to attract humans but that was only because sailors, having spent months at sea surrounded by the same faces, tended to desire newer, prettier faces that could be convinced to warm their beds. A siren’s song created an illusion of something a human could not resist. Sirens themselves, as far as Eddie had learned, had no real sex drive and not only couldn't copulate with humans, but also didn’t procreate in a way humans would recognize.

Eddie, however, was a freak of magical happenstance so he really couldn’t tell if his own minimal sex drive was due to his siren heritage or if it was a trait uniquely Eddie. He didn’t mind kissing and petting his partners. He actually quite enjoyed it, but things got awkward when his chosen partner would start fumbling at the fastenings of his pants. He’d have to redirect their hands and attention elsewhere before they encountered something unusual.

In the end it didn’t really matter how Eddie came about his lack of sexual appetite. It always resulted with a lonely Eddie after his partners finally had enough of his reluctance and left him. So when a charming man with gorgeous eyes and kissable lips seemed perfectly happy with Eddie’s boundaries, Eddie was over the moon.

He had been such an idiot.

“I could do other things,” Eddie told the man shyly the first time they met, after taking the man’s hands from where they’d wandered to the fly of his pants and placing them back on his waist.

“I’m sure you could, baby,” the man said in a way that made Eddie shiver pleasantly. “But we don’t have to do anything at all if you’re not feeling it right now.”

Eddie scoffed.

“This is the whole reason people come to these clubs,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes. He was lonely. He wanted company and some physical closeness. “Besides, I’m very good with my mouth.”

“With lips like those, I believe you, but I’d love to get to know someone as beautiful as you in other ways, too.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, surprised and stupidly susceptible to flattery.

“Mmhm. I’m Billy. Why don’t I give you my number and we can get together for coffee tomorrow instead?” Billy smiled, all gleaming white teeth and fluttery lashes.

How could Eddie say no to that?

So, because Eddie was lonely and dumb, he said yes. They went for coffee, during which Eddie was the center of Billy’s undivided attention. When Billy asked him out to dinner, Eddie said yes. Their pretty waitress spent the whole time flirting with Billy, but all of Billy’s sweet words were given to Eddie. When Billy invited Eddie to his place for a movie night, Eddie said yes.

Halfway through the movie, when Eddie was in Billy’s lap, kissed breathless and squirming, Eddie decided he would say yes when Billy’s hands wandered. Instead, Eddie’s muscles locked when Billy tried for the button of Eddie’s jeans. Billy pulled back to look at him and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut.

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie said.

He could weave a subtle little song so Billy wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Sure, he hadn’t sung since he was a teenager, but it must be instinctual to him as a siren, right? He could make it work.

He could make sure Billy enjoyed himself. Then Billy would continue to hold him and shower him with honeyed words. They could keep having dinner dates and movie nights and things would be fine. Good. Maybe even better.

“Go ahead,” Eddie insisted.

“Baby, do you want to?” Billy asked, voice soft and coaxing. Eddie wanted to say yes. He’d done sexual stuff before and enjoyed it well enough. He could figure this out, too, and enjoy it. Probably. If he had to.

“It’ll be fun,” Eddie said. For you, it’ll be fun for you was better left unsaid. Billy didn’t move. Eddie tried to dip into another kiss to break the sudden awkward atmosphere. Billy’s hands cupped his face, halting him midway.

“Eddie, look at me,” Billy said.

Hesitantly, Eddie did as he was told. He liked to believe that Billy’s beautiful blue eyes reflected the color of the ocean Billy grew up alongside. Not that Eddie would know; he’d never been near any oceans. Eddie loved having Billy’s ocean eyes on him, normally. Now he was afraid to see them dim in disappointment.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Billy said. He sounded so sincere, Eddie cringed. Billy said that now, but would he say it again in three days? In two weeks? Months later? Better to break his own heart now, Eddie thought.

“What if I never want to?” Eddie asked through a lump in his throat.

“Then we never will and I get to keep you as my boyfriend,” Billy said with his charming smile.

“Boyfriend?” Eddie asked, stunned. Billy’s smile grew wider.

“Yeah. That alright with you?”

And foolish, needy Eddie laughed out a yes and pulled beautiful Billy into a kiss.

After that, Eddie began slipping vague details about himself into their conversations where before he had been reticent. He told Billy how he worked at a community center that helped the disenfranchised.

“Where’s the community center? Would I know it?”

“Nah, it’s a tiny nonprofit out of town.”

Eddie told him about his annual fishing trips with his uncle.

“I used to go fishing with my dad. Where did you go for it? Maybe we’ve bumped into each other before.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t have seen me. We switch it up every year to keep things interesting,” Eddie lied through his teeth.

They always went to Lake Michigan, but it was a special time with his uncle. As smitten as he was, he didn’t want to have to share those moments with Billy. At least not yet, Eddie had thought to himself, maybe a couple years down the line. Instead, he distracted Billy by telling him about Jeff, his best friend since childhood.

“That must be nice. I never had one of those. When did you guys meet? Was it here?”

“Man, I don’t even remember. It was so long ago! We must’ve met through family friends or something since I was homeschooled for a while,” Eddie half-lied.

He had been homeschooled when he hadn’t yet learned how to wear a more human guise, but he remembered perfectly the circumstances under which he and Jeff met. Jeff had been the first person to ever say Eddie’s name right. It had taken him a few tries, but he’d nailed it in the end. That wasn’t something Eddie would ever forget.

Eddie was so pleased by how eager Billy was to learn more about him. He asked questions about every tidbit of information Eddie slipped him. Eddie believed Billy was genuinely interested in him. He was too charmed to ever take note of the kinds of questions Billy would specifically ask.

Two months after their first encounter, Billy showed up to their dinner date wearing something new. It was a cheap ball chain necklace. From it hung what looked to Eddie like the end of a cat’s teaser toy. The feathers, however, looked nothing like the brightly colored plastic ones found on those toys. They looked like real wing feathers, with strong, black shafts and well-groomed vanes and barbs. The feathers were a very dark red.

“My little sister made it for me,” Billy said when he caught Eddie looking.

“You have a sister? You’ve never mentioned her,” Eddie said, surprised that it hadn't come up before. Billy nodded easily.

“She’s a lot younger than me. I get overprotective,” Billy said with a laugh. “Half the time, people assume she’s my kid. She hates it.”

“Will I get to meet her?” Eddie asked hopefully. “I’m great with kids.”

“I don’t know,” Billy said teasingly. “Will I get to meet your family, too?”

Eddie, senseless in his infatuation, said yes.

He was met with resistance from the start. He figured Uncle Wayne would be reluctant because he was a solitary man; he was never really comfortable around new people. He didn’t expect Jeff, his oldest friend, to flatly refuse.

“Why not?” Eddie balked, stung by the rejection. Jeff shook his head.

“I don’t like him,” he said.

“You haven’t even met him yet,” Eddie pouted.

“No, but that shirt you wore the other day was his, wasn’t it?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Eddie asked, exasperated.

“It had a stink on it,” Jeff said.

“What, you don’t like his detergent?” Eddie asked, purposely obtuse.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Jeff said irritably.

“Then be more specific! Was he born under an unlucky star? Is he possessed by a malevolent spirit? What did you get from the goddamn shirt, Jeff?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what it was but it wasn’t good, and I don’t like it,” Jeff raised his voice. Jeff never raised his voice.

“For all you know, he could’ve just bumped into someone that got themselves cursed. You know that shit clings,” Eddie said. Jeff was one of the most amiable people Eddie knew. He didn’t understand where this was coming from, and it hurt. “C’mon, Jeff. Just this one time? He’s important to me and he wants to meet you because he knows you’re my best friend.”

“No, Eddy,” Jeff said, almost sadly, but not relenting even an inch. It pissed Eddie off.

“Fine,” Eddie spat. “Fine! Then you can be on babysitting duty while he’s visiting instead.”

“You’re bringing him here?” Jeff asked, appalled.

“Yes! Just because you don’t want to meet him doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get to meet Chrissy and Uncle Wayne.”

“Dustin and El live here. They still can’t keep their human shapes consistently! You’re going to let some random human–”

“He’s not a random human! He’s my boyfriend,” Eddie interrupted. “But I’m not an idiot, Jeff, of course I’m not going to let him see Dustin and El. They’ll be upstairs while he’s here. House can hide the upper level from him easily. And since you’ll be watching them, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jeff had conceded with a scowl. He made sure to tell Eddie he was doing it for the kids. Eddie had sneered at him. The two didn’t speak for the days leading up to the planned dinner. It was the longest fight they’d ever had.

When Billy visited for dinner, House looked like a small, cozy one-story home. Billy was his usual charming self. He wore the necklace his sister had given him that popped nicely against the light button-down he’d worn for the occasion. He’d brought Eddie flowers and some cupcakes from the local bakery as a dessert to share as well.

Uncle Wayne didn’t speak much, but that wasn’t unusual for him. Between Eddie and Chrissy, they were able to keep conversation flowing throughout dinner. After Billy left for the night, Eddie had eagerly asked two of his most favorite people what they thought of him.

“He smiles an awful lot,” Wayne said.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed like a sap. He didn’t notice the suspicious, unhappy slant to Wayne’s mouth. Chrissy’s smile, when he asked her, was wobbly but he hadn’t noticed that either.

“Does he make you happy, Eddy?” she asked him. Eddie nodded, tugging a lock of hair over his face to hide his lovestruck smile.

“He does, Chris,” Eddie confessed. “He really, really does.”

That time he did see how her expression wobbled. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. They stood there for a minute, swaying in the quiet.

“I don’t know about him, Eddy,” Chrissy said, tightening her grip when he tried to pull back. “I love you so much. I want you to be happy. I don’t know about him, but I trust you.”

At the time, the brief sting of Chrissy’s doubt was easily assuaged by her faith in him. He felt relieved and hopeful. Much later, he got sick with shame whenever he remembered that conversation.

[gwaedhannen]

WIP (very much no longer) Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @melestasflight! Not tagging anyone else because it's very much no longer Wednesday (my dudes).

Here's some bits from A Million Dead and I?, wherein Finarfin sits in a garden for a few thousand years.

High King Arafinwë of the Noldor returned in triumph to Valinor, with his enemy humbled and cast into nonexistence, with scattered handfuls of the haggard and homeless elves of Beleriand-that-was looking for new homes in the West, with none of the family he thought to save. For many days he mourned with High Admiral Eärwen his wife, together remembering the sunken lands their sons had died for. At last he arose, and went to his councilors, and together finalized the plans he had proposed half a century prior, upon the eve of the long-awaited War. And when all the pronouncements had been published and the criers left their squares, Arafinwë laid the sceptre of his father upon the High Council’s table, placed the crowned helm Celebrimbor had forged for him upon his father’s throne, and departed from Tirion alone.

Arafinwë learns several things in the first few decades of vigil outside the Doors of Mandos. First: one cannot properly cry as a houseless spirit. “Oh Pianyellë, Pianyellë! I’m so sorry, I was so tired, I thought I could just lie down for a moment…” Second: robes which dry quickly are a necessity. “They never came back from a hunt, and I…I just didn’t see a reason to keep walking without them.” Third: the Grinding Ice was not only worse than he imagined, it was worse than he can imagine. “It…there were no Powers. There was no light. No judgement. He was dead, we’d already handed out his furs. I thought, I thought. He wasn’t using the rest anymore either, was he?” Fourth: his would not always be a welcome face. “You LEFT us, uncle. Left us to die, left us to ruin! It should’ve been you, down there, f-forced to watch as we fell. It sh–it shou…I should’ve been there! Atya, atya! If–if I was there, would…?”

I died at Alqualondë. Was trying to herd some Teler children away from the docks, get them somewhere safe. A sailor saw us, thought I was trying to kidnap them, ran me through. Can’t really blame him. I never had the chance to slay anyone, but…I knew I was going back to the docks as soon as the kids were out of the way. It…it took me a long while to grapple with that. I met the sailor, you know, back in there. Cleared the air between us. We looked for the kids, in the Halls and the tapestries. None of ‘em were there; they all lived! That…that felt pretty good, you know? I still did something, still had my little phrase in the Song.

I tried taking on a bear larger than I should have, and that was that. But the other hunters finished it off, and my furs weren’t too rent to still be useful. Sure, my once-betrothed’s been married to another man for two centuries now, but with the way we separated, he probably wouldn’t’ve had me back anyways. So no, I don’t regret it.

[judas-n-mella]

Yo, yo, yo! Nice to meet ya’ll! Our names are Judas and Mella

We’re indie music producers who want to make it big, and spread our tunes to every nook and cranny of the realm!

Here, we’ll post little moments of our life in Knighton, whether that be WIPs of new song lyrics or any random shenanigans that we might get ourselves into

Here’s a little something about us—

Judas🤎☕️- They/She/He: I Grew Up in a small village outside of Knighton. My parents almost always argued about what they wanted me to be, and their ideas always clashed against each other, and I was stuck in the middle, never even getting the chance to speak my mind and chose what I wanted to be. It also didn’t help that I was born intersex, and my parents choosing where or when I would be a boy or a girl. So, as soon as I became eighteen, I moved out and into the capital of Knighton, Knightonia! I started writing little poems and lyrics to vent out my frustrations, and eventually started writing full length songs and stories! I’m now proud of who I am and I want to show the rest of the kingdom of Knighton that they can be whatever they want to be, and to not let anyone tell them otherwise~

Mella ToneInn🩷🍓- She/They: Hello, hello! I’m a squirebot who was made to tend to the students at the Knights academy, specifically the more restless ones. After a rather unpleasant incident that left my main core mechanism, two tiny spray dispensers that would spray a soothing melatonin-like substance, practically useless, I was no longer of use at the academy and reluctantly let go. I was no longer able to do what I was built for(which is extremely frustrating, especially if you’re a robot). However, after a while of being homeless, I was lucky enough to be found by Judas, who gladly took me in. They taught nme the I don’t need to be restricted by my original code and that I can do whatever I put my mind to… and I want to help anyone, whether they be made of metal or flesh, recognize that!

We’re so happy to be here and we hope you enjoy your stay~

[OOC— Roleplay/ask Blog for my Nexo Knights ocs! I’ll mostly post silly story and art stuff related to them here. Hope you enjoy! Main blog is @xzbat-loverzx ]

[foxgangfoxgang]

Adore you 3 (Yandere! Sugardaddy! Mingi x Yandere! Yunho x Black! Reader)

warning: Stalking, Verbal abuse, Manipulation, Choking

It’s been about a week since the gala incident, you stayed locked in your room the memories haunting you. You felt disgusted every time a memory came back, you laid in your bed sobbing. Mingi didn’t know what to do, he felt guilty leaving you to be groped by that creep. Mingi racked his brain to compensate for his incompetence, he tried to coax you out of your room with fine dining, unlimited shopping spree, even a unplanned trip to wherever you want . Mingi was going crazy his own self, he wanted to get the bastard back for what he did, that beating from that night wasn’t enough, Mingi wanted him dead. 

Over the past few days Mingi recruited Yunho to help him plant false stories, photos, scandals, anything to smear the creep’s name and reputation. Yunho happily accepted helping him, Yunho hired random women to take sexual photos and send them to the perpetrator’s phone, he dug around and found some damning tax evasions, he even got some employees to make up lies about mistreatment. Yunho smiled gleefully hoping that all these factors made Mingi happy. He would do anything to make his friend happy.

Mingi sat in the living the news on full blast about the creep’s scandals, yunho was on the phone with him as the two gleefully watch the creeps downfall albeit for different reasons. You walked out of your room to grab some tea and saw the news, you stood there as you felt mixed emotions, you didn’t feel sorry for the bastard hell no. You felt sorry for the employees who must have suffered similar fates such as yours, you felt happy to see karma at it’s strongest. You walk up behind mingi noticing he was on the phone with the Yunho guy you met the night of the gala.

Mingi turned around sensing someone behind him, he smiled at you and held his hand out offering you to sit. You sat down next to him and watched the news unfold. “I’ll call you back” Mingi said before hanging up on Yunho, “Understand this...I won’t ever let anyone hurt you, no matter their status, no matter how powerful they may seem, I will take them down” Mingi purred caressing your cheek. You smile softly leaning into his hand.

Mingi would leave for work later that day needing to take care of business. You felt better just a tad bit as you made a warm cup of tea, the front door could be heard opening, you assumed it was Mingi returning to retrieve something he left, the sound a shoes clicking against the marble floor was ignored until someone cleared their voice, you turn around to see a woman no older than you staring at you with disgust, “Um...hello” you greet the woman, she scoffs at you “Who are you?” she asks. You’re taken aback by the attitude “I’m Y/N...I live here...who are you” You asked the woman. 

She rolled her eyes “Of course he wouldn’t mention me...I’m Song Sara, Mingi’s ex-wife” you nearly drop the tea cup you were holding. “Oh...Mr. Song never mentioned that he was married before” you say the shock still swirling in you. “Well yeah I’m his ex-wife, now how do you know Mingi...wait don’t tell me you’re a new worker here...” you were starting to get annoyed “No...I’m a friend of Mr. Song” you say. You didn’t want to say sugar baby as you felt it wouldn’t help your situation. “Friend? What kind of friend calls the other Mr. or Mrs.” Sara said walking towards you. “Well our relationship is different from everyone else’s” you defend.

“Be honest...” Sara stopped to where she was face to face with you “You’re just some prostitute Mingi found on the street, and is using as a sex toy” you had enough “Mr. Song never slept with me, we never had any type of sexual interaction, you’re assuming something that isn’t even here” you say. Sara scowled at you “If you’re referring to a sex toy you must be talking about yourself” you snap. Sara gripped your spaghetti strap tank top yanking you closer. “Do you not know who I am? I can have your ass homeless in minutes” not like you haven’t been before “Do it” you challenge.

Before Sara could do anything a large hand grabbed her yanking her off you. Yunho towered over Sara scowling at the woman. Sara who was once all big and cocky was not cowering at the taller male. “I thought I told you to never come back here” Yunho spoke lowly. Sara whimpered not able to speak, “Get the fuck out now...” Yunho growled as he practically shoved Sara out. You sigh in relief as you walk to Yunho at the front door, he slams the door closed “Thank you for hel-” Yunho spins around and grabs you by your throat and pins you to the wall. 

You grip the large hand as Yunho glares at you “I’m trying so hard not to kill you right now...I swear if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re Mingi’s new obsession I would break your neck right now” Yunho hissed. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as Yunho squeezed your neck. “I came here for you...I didn’t expect to see Sara here so my mood went from bad to worse, so I’ll make this nice and clear for you...the moment Mingi sees no use for you, or is no longer attracted to you, I will be taking you out of the picture for good, Mingi belongs to me and me alone...I’ve gotten rid of his past lovers, what’s one more?” Yunho smiled insanely. “W-Why are you doing this?” you wheeze out “Because I care for Mingi, his happiness, is my happiness...and unfortunately you’re currently the source of his happiness...so take this as a cute little thought in the back of your head, the moment he’s done with you, I’m coming for you” Yunho said, finally releasing you, causing you to cough and gasp gripping your throat. Yunho fixed himself and looked down at you innocently smiling at you. “Nice talking to you” he said walking out.

You curl yourself into a ball against the wall whimpering, why was fate such a cruel thing to you, what did you do to deserve any of this? Yeah you’re off the street but at what cost? You slowly crawl yourself into your room and into your bed crying silently.

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

Mingi sighs in frustration escaping yet another meeting of his, the young investor wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment and be with you. He wanted to spend the whole day celebrating him (with the help of yunho) destroying the bastard who touched what belonged to Mingi. Mingi scrolled through his phone mindlessly when his office doors busted opened, Sara storming in. Mingi groaned internally as Sara stopped at his desk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sara asked. “Explain” Mingi sighed wanting this to be over with. “Who is that...whore in my apartment” Mingi rolled his eyes “That whore...is my girlfriend...and it’s MY apartment not yours, you lost it in the divorce” Mingi corrected Sara. 

The woman scoffed “Please everything YOU buy belongs to me...” Sara said, “No it doesn’t...you decided to leave me, that means you left the money as well” Mingi said standing up. “If you’re here to argue about my money, then leave” Mingi said. “I’m here to talk about us getting back together” Sara said. Mingi felt a headache coming in “No...” he said grabbing his coat, “Mingi...darling we were such a good couple, sure we made a rash decision, but we’re young and learning” Sara cooed trying to coax Mingi, “YOU made a rash decision, I didn’t...now get out” Mingi said, Sara frowned “Fine...I’ll leave for now, by the way Mingi, keep your guard dog in check” Sara hissed “guard dog?” Mingi asked “Yunho you idiot” Mingi clenched his jaw “What was he doing at my apartment?” Mingi asked.

“Hell if I know” Sara scoffed before leaving, Mingi sighed and called Yunho. “Hey man what’s up?” Yunho answered happily “What were you doing at my apartment?” Mingi asked, it was silent for a moment. “I went by to check on your girl…” Yunho answered, “Y/N…her name is Y/N…” Mingi corrected “Right… Right Y/N” yunho hissed your name. “Anyway it’s been a while since the incident and I wanted to make sure she was feeling better” Mingi couldn’t help but smile. “She’s doing a bit better, thanks for checking up on her” Yunho only hummed.

“Hey…did you see Sara there as well?” Mingi asked “…yeah I did, I told you to change the locks” Yunho scolded. “I forget…” Mingi defended himself laughing. Yunho was glad Mingi couldn’t see the scowl on his face “well so it, she looked like she was threatening your g-…I mean…y/n” yunho said, “I will I promise, hey how about you come and have dinner with us, we can a meal together like we used to” Yunho smiled at the thought “I’d love that…it’s been very stressful with work and bringing that creep down” yunho smiled. “Great see you at…7:00?” Mingi asked “7 is perfect” Yunho giggled. “Great see you then” Mingi hung up smiling at the thought of his best friend and sugar baby being together with him.

[kujo1597]

Oh geeze. I didn’t mean for it to take this long to do another one of these. I’ve actually been dealing with persistent vertigo for... over three weeks. Kind of made me not really want to spend too much time at the computer. (But for some reason it did make me finally get around to playing Cyber Shadow.) Don’t worry about the vertigo thing by the way, it’s likely due to lack of sleep.

Well anyway. Let’s pick up from where we left off.

Oh yeah, everything is on fire.

Everybody manages to evacuate the burning building but we see Ashley run off towards the inferno. After doing a quick head count Jerrica notices that Ashley was missing and then sees the girl running out the house while holding the Honor Jar.

Naturally Jerrica tells Ashley that she is worth more than all the money in the world.

The fire crew arrives and they put out the fire. Although there really wasn’t much house left to save.

Sooooo....

This bird is dead.

Poor thing.

We see everybody wrapped up in blankets sitting on their lawn before Rio shows up. After a hug he assures Jerrica that everything will be okay. So, I will say this here. In the early episodes of the show Rio is actually a very solid guy. I don’t really have a problem with him at this point. I’ll talk more about Rio and his evolution into my least favourite Jem character over the course of this series.

Let’s put the Rio ramble to the side for now.

The Misfits arrive at the scene shortly after him, I wonder if the fire was on the news, and Pizzazz and Roxy gawk at the fire, Stormer stares too but she really seems like she feels bad for the people who just lost their home. Pizzazz on the other hand says, “Couldn’t have happened to a better person” in a very uncaring way. Class act.

Deirdre being twelve and homeless asks Jerrica a very good question. Where are they going to live now?

Jerrica’s answer, Howard Sands’ mansion he’s put up as the winnings for the battle of the bands competition. She asks the girls if they want to help Jem and The Holograms put on a concert. And then Jerrica and her sisters load up in the Starlight Express and drive off to meet Synergy. Rio takes the children to Howard’s house in his van.

We get an exciting chase scene where the Misfits follow Jerrica and The Holograms and using Synergy to transform the car into a garbage bin they lose their rivals. But only temporarily as Stormer notices Rio’s van and they start to follow him.

Yep, totally inconspicuous. Good job Synergy. Well, to be fair, this is a drive-in theatre. But it’s also one that’s been shut down for years. Soooo... yeah.

After a quick change of clothes our titular band heads on over to Howard’s house that he lives in to wake him up with a concert.

To be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of this song. Can’t really put my finger on it. I think it goes on for too long. The songs in these first five episodes are a minute thirty long and get kind of repetitive. But later on when the songs are better written I'd love it if they were longer than a minute.

Anyway, Howard gets woken up by the impromptu concert and rushes out of his home to see why there are twelve kids on his lawn, seventeen if we’re considering Jerrica an older teen at this point in the series.

The Misfits climb out of their van and starting booing Jem and Pizzazz announces that they’re going to make trouble. Rio warns Jem who sneaks off to change into Jerrica. But Stormer is sent by Pizzazz to follow Jem around. Jem hides behind a bush and summons a hologram of Jem who just fucking, sprints towards the mansion. I wish I could make GIFs because she’s so fast! It’s awesome.

Meanwhile Kimber tells Howard that her sister will explain the situation.

Jerrica gets away from Stormer and joins up with everybody else who are arguing about the fact that one of the bands in the competition has just crashed Howard’s living quarters. Jerrica tells him about Starlight House burning down.

And we get another moment showing that Stormer might not be that bad of a person. She tears up while listening to the story. Roxy elbows her in the gut though putting a stop to it.

Naturally the Misfits oppose to the idea of Jerrica living in the winnings with all her children and Howard’s like, “I still own the mansion. I’m giving Jerrica the keys.” because he probably doesn’t want to leave sixteen or eighteen people without a place to live. I know I keep putting an emphasis on how many people lived in Starlight House but it’s an awful lot. It was a pretty big house though.

Anyway, Pizzazz hates this decision and pushes Howard into a pool, then Roxy steals a bulldozer and starts running things over. Then Jerrica tries pulling Howard out of the pool and ends up

flying like, ten feet through the air and into the path of a runaway bulldozer. I had to post the GIF because it’s just *chef’s kiss* So good.

Cut to commercial before we see Jerrica get plowed over.

Rio does save her though and they do a pretty good job of showing how in love they are. Like I said! Rio was perfectly fine in these episodes! They’re actually kind of sweet together.

Aja manages to leap into the bulldozer and turns it off before anything else could happen.

Then the Misfits speed off in their van and judging by the animation give Rio’s van a nice scrape.

Howard being understandably mad at them says that he’ll do what he can to help Jem and The Holograms. But if the Misfits do win the contest they do still get to keep the mansion.

Now we cut to Starlight Music where the Misfits are complaining to Eric and he tells them that he’s doing everything he can to keep them from getting sued by Howard.

They take this well and trash the office before going to the mansion. Meanwhile Eric phones Zipper and tells him he has another job to do.

Here’s our first look at the mansion Howard put up as a prize. It has a pool which takes away the sting of losing everything. I adore how Kimber is just as excited as the younger girls to look around their new home.

Rio buzzes in and tells Jerrica that he’s here with a camera crew for their magazine shoot for an article on up and coming rock groups. The crew comes into the courtyard and Zipper manages to sneak in before the gates close.

We see a scene inside the mansion where Ashley says to Lela and Becky that she shouldn’t still be held accountable for the money she stole from the Honor Jar because they’re now living in a home that isn’t falling apart. But she’s told that she still owes them money. And Ashley makes the point that she saved the Honor Jar from burning in the fire. But Lela tells her that doesn’t make up for stealing it. And honestly Lela, I think saving the couple hundred bucks in the jar does make up for stealing thirty. Ashley is understandably frustrated. She heads outside and sees an opportunity to make some money.

The Misfits are complaining about not being able to stay in the mansions and Pizzazz is saying how badly she wants through the gate. So Ashley tells them that she’ll let them in if they give her thirty bucks. Stormer ends up having to pay because she’s a bit of a pushover.

After Ashley runs off to open the gate we see Zipper sneak into a room.

Now we get a very fun music video. Click Clash which is performed by both of this season’s bands. I really like whenever they do this. The mix of musical styles is so interesting.

After the music video we see Zipper hide a bomb in the couch.

He’s very good at his job.

Eric arrives on the scene and warns Pizzazz and Roxy about the bomb. Not Stormer though, I guess she’s too nice for his liking.

Then the bomb goes off.

JESUS! I forgot about that! Let’s add this to our “Kimber almost dies horribly count.” Yeah it’s a recurring thing for my favourite character. Hm. Maybe that’s why I hit her with a car.

The police and press shortly arrive on the scene. They ask Eric how he knew about the bomb and he claims he got an anonymous phone call from a fan of Jem and The Holograms saying that they’re going to blow up the Misfits. Jem apologizes to Howard and he tells her that he doesn’t believe Eric’s story for even a minute.

As thanks Jem offers to help clean up the mess. And Rio runs up to the group asking where Jerrica is. One quick hologram of Jerrica waving from the top floor later and Rio is satisfied.

Then suddenly a blonde woman appears, she is Howard’s friend Countess Danielle Du Voisin, he introduces her to his new favourite band and she invites them over to a party on he yacht. Then after her invitation is enthusiastically accepted she bumps into the Misfits who are less than charming. And the countess tells them that they’re not invited. I wouldn’t be surprised if Howard told her about the mess they caused earlier in the morning.

Jem gets rid of the Misfits in a fun way by asking them to help clean up the rubble.

And then we cut to the yacht.

Everybody climbs onboard and frankly, Kimber is severely under dressed. I love the outfit but it’s not really one for a back tie party. Oh, and Rio says that he wishes Jerrica could have come along, Jem tells him that Jerrica asked her to show him a good time.

And now we see the party on the yacht. It’s full of movers and shakers in the entertainment industry. Including Lindsey Pierce who I’m quite fond of.

By the way, the music that’s playing makes me wonder about the production. I recognize it as a song from episode 9. So it must have been added in after they stitched together the shorts. I suppose it’s also possible that it was included with one of the Jem fashion dolls or a playset but I don’t recall “We Can Make a Difference” being included with anything. But I also haven’t looked up the entire list of cassettes. I wonder what was playing in the Super Sunday airing during this shot, if anything.

Back to the show. Lindsey introduces Jem to a cinematographer, Anthony Julian who Shana is very attracted to. So Jem played wingman and told Anthony that he should really be talking to Shana about the music video.

Then we cut to the Misfits sitting in a speedboat looking at the yacht and plotting to crash the party. As you do.

So, something interesting about Roxy here is that she has a heart tattoo near her armpit. That tattoo is the result of the person making the model sheet misreading the artwork Roxy’s outfit is based off of. There was a shape used to indicate shading but because the sketch was in black and white this shape was misinterpreted as a heart. So Roxy ended up with a tattoo. I honestly do kind of wish she got to keep it. Oh well.

Now we see some romance, Anthony’s talking to Shana and is shocked that her group doesn’t have any backing from a record company. And then we cut to Jem and Rio. I don’t know what exactly went through Jerrica’s mind here, but as Jem she asked Rio if he likes her. And Rio says that he hardly even knows her. Jem says that maybe she should tell Rio who she is and then leans in for a kiss.

And then cue The Misfits cackling and spraying seltzer on the upcoming love triangle involving two people.

They tear up the party and even cause a guy to get pied so hard he’s sent to the Shadow Realm.

The countess complains about their presence and the Misfits run off and enter the ship’s control room where they mess with some dials and send the yacht onto a crash course with a gigantic ship.

Well, this was episode 2 of Jem. Things really got crazy in this one. Somehow more crazy than a lantern causing a fire that engulfed fairly big house.

I actually don’t have too many final thoughts on the episode. It was just really fun. Jem’s a very fun show.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Do Me Damage (Part 1)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of drugs. 

A/N: So, I wrote this a long ass time ago (before I disappeared) and came across it in my docs. There’s four parts to it and I’ll admit, its not quite finished or wrapped up fully, but I figured I’d give you guys something to read while I’m working on another Billy story. If people like this one, I’d be open to really finishing it off. I got really paranoid that I’d already posted this because it felt so familiar when reading it (of course it did, I fucking wrote it lmao) but I can’t find it on my blog so I’m gonna take a guess that I never posted it.

Name of this fic is from the song of the same name by Digital Daggers.

We made a cut without precision

And we stitched it up the best two children could

But we were ruled by indecision

And we pushed and pulled more than two people should

When you want me I am here

When you change your mind again and disappear

When it's settled and all is clear

Oh, you change your mind again and want me near

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the ones who see the other side

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the only lovers left alive

We made a pact and said forever

Then we blurred the lines so much, we lost our way

We were broken and stuck together (stuck together)

Then we tried to find the reasons we should stay

When you want me I am here

Then you change your mind again and disappear

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the ones who see the other side

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the only lovers left alive

When it's settled and all is clear

When you want me I am near

When you say that you're mine I come running everytime

—--------------------

You stepped out of your car, the moonlight casting an eerie glow on the streets of New York as you looked around. The money in your pocket seemed to be burning a hole right through you and you ignored it as you made your way down the street. Paranoia was something you lived with now. It was as normal to you as breathing. You'd learned to deal with it but it never went away. That's why you had parked your car a few blocks from where you needed to be. There was a bitter chill in the air and you wrapped your scarf tighter around you as your feet picked up their pace. As you turned a corner, you saw some kind of event going on outside of the Wythe Hotel. There were people in fancy clothes and others pulling up in cars as the valet helped them. You outwardly rolled your eyes as you kept walking. You despised these kinds of people. Living their high life and throwing their cash around. The world was your oyster if you had enough money. You'd admit to feeling jealous but it was mostly bitterness at how different your life had been. You felt like you'd been shit on since you came out of your mom's womb. These people were in there having the time of their life as they bragged about all of their shit and they were the same people that would walk past a homeless person while looking down on them or tell them to get a job. You wished the place would go up in flames. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, your boots thumped softly against the pavement as you got ready to cross the street so you didn't have to walk through the sea of stupidly rich assholes. Your feet stopped in their tracks though as someone got out of a car. Your face paled, eyes wide and confused, looking like you'd seen a ghost. You felt like you had. It was Billy. But it couldn't be Billy because you'd been sure for the past ten years that Billy was dead. Yet standing in the middle of the sidewalk, you were more than sure it was him. He looked different, his hair short at the sides, longer and slicked back on the top. He was wearing a tailored dark grey suit with a black pea coat on top. Your feet refused to move as you stared on, feeling bewildered and you watched him help a pretty blonde in a red dress out of the car. The shock wore off as the realisation set in. Billy was alive. That meant he'd willingly left you behind without a word for all of these years. The betrayal you felt was scathing. 

Your body was coiled and tense with anger, your fists clenched tight with your nails digging into your palms. You watched as he laughed and smiled with the girl on his arm as he made his way inside. It seemed like he finally got the life he always wanted. You just weren't included in it. Your top lip curled in a snarl before you crossed the street. You still had money to deliver and Tony wasn't known for being a patient guy. With each step, your body felt heavier as the hurt got more intense. All this time you'd presumed he'd died overseas and here he was, living it up as one of the rich assholes you both used to take the piss out of. You couldn't believe it, yet you knew what you'd seen. What you couldn't understand was why. It didn't make sense to you and you couldn't figure it out. Like you had a puzzle but none of the pieces fit together. 

You finally got to the apartment building and jogged up the stairs before knocking on the miserable brown door. You could hear music coming from inside and a few seconds later the door swung open. Tony was an older man, his greying brown hair chin length and dishevelled as it always was. 

"Y/N! You got the cash?" He asked jovially. You could see by the glazed-over look in his brown eyes that he was high. It wasn't exactly unusual.

"Yep," you stated simply before grabbing the large wad of cash out of your leather jacket. You handed it over to him and he chuckled as he took it. He didn't bother to count it, you'd been working for him for years now. It took a while but he trusted you. 

"You wanna come in? I got some spare H," he asked with raised brows. Your face was unimpressed as it always was when he asked that question.

"Nah, I'm good," you smirked sardonically. He always asked and you always turned him down. You'd never used the stuff and you had no desire to. 

"Alright, no need to be such a Debbie downer, jeez," he huffed. He disappeared inside his apartment before he appeared once more, handing you some clear bags with powder in them. You took them and stuffed them in your pocket. Once upon a time, you felt dirty for doing what you did, but now you'd become immune to the feeling. You didn't have many other opportunities in life and by this point, it was just easier to continue what you were doing than find something else. You didn't like it though. You thought frequently of getting out of the business and trying to do something legit. Something that didn't make you feel guilty or wrong. What was the point though? No qualifications, no experience, no anything. You'd end up with a shitty-paying job like you did when you got out of the group home. Barely make enough to live. It was just easier this way. Getting out and doing something worthwhile was just a pipedream for now. 

When you were 18 and left the group home, Billy was serving his first term in the Marines. Alone, you'd gotten a job at a diner and got a small crappy apartment for the both of you. That was the plan, he'd have a home to come back to. But after struggling at the job and Billy not coming back and you thinking he was dead, you found yourself turning to this way of life instead. Tony had been a regular at the diner and you'd struck up an odd sort of friendship or camaraderie with him. After hearing you complain about how little you got paid and how much you were struggling, he offered you a job. You’d been conflicted but after being kicked out for not being able to pay the rent on the shitty apartment and then losing your job due to cutbacks, you didn't feel like you had much choice. And the money was much better. You'd been able to get yourself a nicer apartment, even if it was still small and not in the best part of town. You'd also been able to save up some money in case you needed it. You wondered if one day you'd have enough that you could get out of the game and pursue something different. You already had an idea of what you might want to do. 

After saying goodbye to Tony, you left to go home. You couldn't help but think back to Billy. It was hard enough these past ten years thinking he'd died overseas and never seeing him again. But the harsh realisation that he'd chosen to walk away with no goodbye or explanation hurt way more. You'd been best friends. He'd been family. He just never came back and it was a painful and raw pill to swallow for you. You weren't sure you'd ever be able to understand it. You wanted to text Leanna and tell her what had happened. You'd met her at the job at the diner, both working together and becoming best friends. After also being laid off, she also turned to working for Tony. She only quit last year after becoming pregnant but you were still best friends. You'd told her how you'd been thinking of getting out of the game too and she'd introduced you to a friend of hers that worked in journalism, knowing you were interested in it. She knew about Billy and everything that happened but you weren't sure you were ready to tell her Billy wasn't dead after all. That he'd just walked away and left you behind to go and live his life. 

It hurt immensely and you were confused as all hell about it. But you had no choice but to accept it and move on. He clearly thought you weren't good enough to include in his life. Part of you wondered if he'd ever really cared. There was no point dwelling on it now. Billy didn't want you in his life and was doing just fine without you. He could go fuck himself and choke on all of his money. You didn't need him anyway.

----

One month later 

Billy stepped out of the bar into the crisp cold autumn air, feeling relaxed after a good night. He'd brought a group of his guys from Anvil after a job well done the day before as a treat. He hadn't actually been to The Moonlight Bar before but one of the guys swore it was a great place so he thought he'd try it out. He was pleasantly surprised by how upscale it was. He'd asked Frank if he wanted to come but of course, he was too busy with Karen to say yes. Billy would be disappointed with his best friend if he didn't like Karen so much and if he wasn't so happy for them. Billy and the guys had been drinking and just having a good time, but it was getting late now and he had an early morning so he decided to head home. He hadn't brought his car since he knew he'd be drinking so he planned on getting a cab home. He was standing outside of the bar, getting his cell out of his pocket to call a cab when he glanced over to the side. There was a man standing there talking in hushed tones to what he presumed was a woman but she was facing the other way. He looked on in disdain as the man gave her money and she gave him a plastic baggie of something in response. The man walked away hurriedly and his dark orbs stayed on the girl as she counted the money then she turned around. He almost choked on the air he was breathing as he saw you. It felt like someone poured ice-cold water over him, his entire body going rigid as he watched you stuff the money into your pocket. He felt like he was watching some kind of train wreck, unable to move or say anything as he just stared at you, a pain in his chest getting worse by the second.

It was you. Sure it had been years, many goddamn years, but it was you. A barrage of memories hit him like a freight train but they were accompanied by guilt and pain after seeing what you were doing with your life. It was only once you started to make your way over to a beat-up car parked on the sidewalk that his shocked stupor ended and before he knew what he was doing, his legs were taking long strides towards you.

"Y/N!" He called out, making your head whip around. If he had any doubts it was you before, they were gone now. You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights and he was sure he was sporting the same look as he just blinked at you in shock. 

"Billy?" You asked, bewildered. Your voice trembled a little as you gaped at him.

"You… you're a drug dealer now?" He hadn't meant to say those words, let alone sound so hostile. But the anger had built up from watching you sell drugs, knowing your past and his own. This was the last thing he expected you to be doing. His little Bunny wasn't supposed to be selling drugs. She wasn't supposed to be living a life of crime. This wasn't the life he'd ever wanted for her. For you. 

The shock on your face got worse and he winced when you looked like he'd physically hit you with his words.

"Y/N…" he started sheepishly.

"Fuck you, Billy! I haven't seen you in what? Ten years? And this is what I get?" You asked angrily. He didn't miss how your eyes seemed to glisten and his chest constricted painfully at not only the thought of upsetting you but also your words. He'd missed you more than he could verbalise but he also knew he hadn't really left things well.

"I didn't… I'm sorry, alright? It was just a shock," he muttered lamely. You scoffed as you glared at him and all he could do was take you in. Despite your womanly curves now and the fact you'd aged, you were still the same girl he used to know. Sporting the same look you used to wear when he'd playfully steal your stupid stuffed bunny rabbit. The one that was in his closet and had been with him overseas on every goddamn tour he did over there. 

"It's nice to know you're alive by the way. I mean it's not like I spent almost ten years thinking you'd died in the Marines or anything," you said coldly. He winced again. Cutting you off the way he did had been harsh, he knew that. He had his reasons and he didn't think you'd want to hear them. But he honestly hadn't expected you to think he might have been dead. But then again he wasn't sure what he expected. The last time he saw you, he was leaving for the Marines and he'd never contacted you again. He'd been 18 and you'd been 17. You still had a year left in the group home and you'd been devastated when he told you he was joining the Marines. But once he'd convinced you, you'd been nothing but supportive. You talked about how you'd have your own place by the time he got back from his first tour and that he could live with you. That had been the plan until it wasn't. 

"I… I'm…" he couldn't get his damn mouth to work now he was here facing you. All the bravado and cockiness he'd come to personify had completely abandoned him.

"You're what? Sorry? I doubt that very much. Why are you even here, Billy?" You asked harshly. He swallowed thickly, his shoulder rolling as he glanced to the entrance and then back to you.

"I came here with a few of my guys. I didn't expect to see you," he admitted, knowing it might make matters even worse. 

"Right. Anvil, Mr Big CEO," you said snidely, face like thunder as you crossed your arms over your chest. After his perplexed look, you chuckled mirthlessly. 

"I spent years thinking you'd died over there. Not a single word from you, not even a fucking letter back. You never came back for me like you promised. And then a month ago… a month ago I see you. Getting out your fancy Rolls Royce with a tall blonde on your arm. I didn't think it was you at first, I mean how could it be, you were dead? Yet it was," you muttered bitterly. 

He frowned, his dark eyes sad and guilty as he stared at you.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked softly. 

"That's a joke, right?" You scoffed incredulously. 

"Why the fuck would I? You never came back, Billy! You just… you just left me. Just like everyone else. You left me and got the life you always wanted except I wasn't part of it anymore. But I guess that was your plan after all," you glared. 

"That was never the plan," he said vehemently, taking a step closer to you. When you took a step back he felt like someone punched a hole right through his chest. But he knew this was all his fault. He'd abandoned you just like your parents and the foster parents at the group home. He was just another person to let you down and now here you were, selling the poison that ruined your life to start with, just to get by. He felt sick.

"You know what? I don't care. I spent far too long hurting over you. Over thinking you'd died and then hurting when I realised you'd left me by choice. I'm not interested. Go back to your high and mighty life, Mr Russo," you sneered before you forcefully yanked your car door open. He was too hurt and shocked to do anything about it and all he could do was watch with a pain in his chest as you drove away. He knew you'd never care about his feeble excuses for why he did what he did and after seeing you, he couldn't believe he'd ever made that choice to begin with. He'd buried you and all the memories of you deep in his mind and that's how he'd been able to get by. But every night he'd think of you, where you'd ended up. Now all he could see was you dealing and the betrayal in your eyes. He didn't know how to fix it. He didn't think he could. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

[unholy-screeching9]

NSFW CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

A request from a few friends of mine! For those who’ve left me a request in my asks/messages, I’ll get to them as soon as possible. But they may take a little while.

Enjoy for now! 💋

King Dice x Reader ‘Homeless’ Headcanons

You and your husband are devastated.

King Dice had never had a loss on his game show. Not one. Single. Loss. Every contestant had won his game, even some of the dumbest souls alive.

The show was simple. If someone were to mess up on a song name or question, Dice would give them a helpline, or hint them towards the correct answer.

For fuck’s sake, all contestants had to do was roll any number on the giant dice machine. Any. Goddamn. Number. Losing was impossible at this stage.

Key word: was.

The mess started with a cup. A kid. A stupid fool who couldn’t even name ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.

Somehow, the child did the impossible. Not only did he lose the game, he lost at the easiest stage. He rolled the dice too hard, and the machine malfunctioned.

You had never seen your husband so panicked in front of an audience before. He threw every excuse under the book.

“That’s actually a good thing!” “When the dice shatters, you go directly to the prize room!”

The audience didn’t buy it. Dice’s facade failed. He failed. No. He didn’t fail, his contestant failed. He’s only reaping the consequences of his contestant’s stupidity. And it crushes him.

Not many people would understand why Dice tried so hard to get that kid to win, but no one knew what happened behind the scenes. No one knows what goes on in those discussions with his boss.

Not even you.

But when your boss is as pretentious as Dice’s, it’s pretty important to do everything right. Every. Single. Thing. There is no room for error. And even though you disagree completely, according to the higher ups, Dice made a terrible mistake in letting that cup get away.

A mistake that is unredeemable.

You wait anxiously outside Dice’s dressing room for the telltale elevator signaling his return. Your heart pounds in your chest. Your skin starts to sweat.

What if he gets into an argument? What if he gets in trouble? Of course he would.

…What if he gets fired?

Oh God, you hope not. If Dice is fired, you both will lose everything. Dice will have wasted years of his time all for nothing. You’d hate that for him.

Your head snaps up when you hear a loud ‘ding!’ as the familiar elevator shoots up from the ground. You hold your breath as your husband steps out, approaching you.

Before you can ask what happened, his arms are wrapped tightly around you. He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you. You hug him back, ignoring the slight shakes in his breathing for his sake.

The ride home is dead silent. The walk up to the suite is silent. No words are spoken until you both finally step into the bedroom, Dice sitting on the edge of the bed and lighting up a cigar.

You open your mouth to ask what was going on. Nothing comes out. You can only stare, mouth slightly ajar as Dice takes a long breath of his cigar, exhaling tiredly.

His glassy eyes lock into yours, and he takes your hands. He squeezes them. You squeeze back, hopeful for the best.

He tells you the worst.

“Doll, I’m so so sorry… I lost the show.”

That was months ago. You both kept the large home for as long as possible with the money Dice had put away, but eventually, that ran out.

You both sold all the furniture you had. Gave up electricity. Gas. Heat. Anything to pay the rent. Eventually, you were both out of luck.

Now, you both live on an abandoned mattress in the alley back behind Dice’s old show building. Cold. Hungry. So hungry.

It’s wet. Musty. The mattress is old, creaky, and full of broken springs. But it’s the best you have.

You both wear the same clothes you had on when you walked out of your former suite. You haven’t changed since.

Your only friends anymore are the rats that sneak behind the alley, looking for their next meal. Finally, something to relate to. You both end up scavenging through the garbage just to get by. It’s disgusting. Sickening. But it’s the best you have.

Your hair is matted. Your face is covered in dust and grime. Your clothes are tattered and torn. You feel gross. But your husband sticks by you, and loves you anyway. You can’t thank him enough.

But honestly, he’s in a similar condition. His once pristine and perfectly primed suit is now wrinkled and covered in various stains. Parts of his clothes are torn off. He only has one shoe, having lost his other one somehow.

His mustache is unkempt, and a thick layer of stubble laces the lower half of his face from lack of grooming. The edges of his head are slightly cracked and chipped away.

You both are absolutely miserable, but at least you have each other. That’s the most important thing to you. You wouldn’t want to go on with this without him, and he certainly wouldn’t without you either. You need each other.

Yet, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re hungry. Starving. You’re cold. That mattress is so uncomfortable, you think Dice is starting to get back issues from that thing.

For fuck’s sake, you both are using newspaper as blankets. When you used to eat caviar for the fun of it, your best meal now is leftovers trashed from a nearby brewery. $8000 wine you both drank on the daily is replaced by questionable water and half drank beer bottles.

From riches to rags. In mere months. It’s torture.

The stress of it all takes a huge toll on your husband, and you honestly can’t blame him. You can’t even imagine the guilt he feels for putting you in this position, even though it really wasn’t his fault. But he blames himself.

And he hates himself for it. Why couldn’t he capture a single kid when he had manipulated thousands of adults? Why couldn’t his boss be satisfied with the many souls he collected, instead of firing him over one loss?

Dice scoffs to himself and shakes his head, sitting up on the mattress and leaning back against the brick wall of his old theater.

You slowly open your eyes and glance over at him as he flicks his lighter, pulling out a spare cigar and lighting it up before taking a long, exhausted hit. He looks so tired. He is tired. And irritated. Angry.

Man, if he had the chance, he’d love to give his boss a piece of his mind.

You sit up as well, slowly resting against him as he smokes. Your nose is greeted by the familiar smell of cigar smoke, which is ironically the best scent in the alley. God, you both need a shower.

He sighs, glowering down at you. He loathes seeing you like this. It makes him angry. If there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve this, it’s you.

“You shouldn’t be here, doll.” He states for the hundredth time since you both lost everything. “You don’t have to stay. You deserve better than losing your life over my troubles.”

You sigh softly, your arm resting over his back as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“No, baby.” You reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not only do I have nowhere to start, but I’m not leaving you behind. You’re my husband. Until death do us part, remember?” You offer a gentle smile, your other hand resting on his chest.

Dice grimaces slightly at the memory of your vows. He knows damn well it’s true, and if the tables were turned there’s no way he’d leave your side either.

He just… he can’t bear to watch you eat from a garbage can. He hates watching you force dirty water down your throat just to survive.

He wishes he could change things.

“I… I’m sorry, sugar. I’m so sorry things turned out this way. I never wanted this life for you.” Dice takes another hit from his cigar, exhaling heavily as he breaks away from your graze.

“Honey, it’s not your fault.” You murmur, your hand massaging his shoulder blades. He groans softly and leans into your touch.

“You’re not to blame for this disaster. It’s your boss who’s the jerk, throwing you out at your prime. The world fucked you over. And that’s not your fault, at all…”

Your hand on his chest traces down to his thighs, and you run your fingers along the tight fabric of his slacks. They slowly make their way towards his hardening groin as you continue.

“I could never hold any resentment towards you for this. I love you, King. So much. You deserve so much better than what you’ve been given…”

Dice moves to reply, but he yelps slightly as your hand grabs his crotch. He’s rendered speechless as you gently squeeze and massage his cock through the fabric, dropping his cigar entirely.

You smile slightly as you start to nip at his exposed collarbone, snuggling him as you pamper him. He groans softly and rests his aching head against yours, starting to move his hips into your hand.

“Shit, dear.. now? What if someone sees us? Oh fuck, right there baby… please…”

You giggle softly and shake your head, kissing his cheek, admiring the way his stubble feels on your lips.

“We’re in a dark alley at night time, and there’s no one around. I think we can have a little fun…”

“Ohhh… a-alright, if you insist. It has been a little while.”

You grin at his approval and immediately pull down his slacks, exposing his cock. Hungry and excited, your hand reaches for it and immediately starts pumping.

You relish in your husband’s desperate whines as you fuck him with your hand, cooing gently to him as he grits his teeth.

“You deserve to be treated like a King, even when you’re not at your best. Please, let me help you out~”

“Ohh, sweetness…” Dice moans out, panting heavily. “Please, please don’t stop. I need this. I need you~”

And boy, does he have you. You crash your lips onto his, pumping his cock faster and harder as he grinds his hips into your hand. He groans loudly into your mouth as he quickly reaches his peak, releasing his load into your hand.

He has a lot more in him than usual, you can feel it. You smile as you lick the juices off your fingers, gently running your thumb over Dice’s slit as you look at him fondly.

“You poor dear, it seems like you have a lot more load in you than usual… let’s fix that~”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your husband pulls you into his lap, lowering you right onto his throbbing dick. You let out a loud moan as he completely fills you up with his length, gripping onto his shoulders as you adjust.

Dice growls slightly and leans forward, ripping open your top. He hungrily starts to nibble and suck on the exposed skin, moaning as he makes his way down to your nipple. You shriek in excitement as he sucks on it, rubbing his thumb over the other.

His mouth is doing wonders on your chest. His hands are working magic on your skin. The way his beard tickles you drives you crazy. You love him so much, no matter how rough around the edges he is. He’s perfect.

Dice’s hands travel to your sides as he starts to thrust into you, ripping moans and whines from your throat left and right. He feels a lot thicker than you’re used to. Very full. You can’t imagine the amount of load he’s been holding onto.

Soon, you’ll be holding it inside of you.

Excited by the thought, you begin to bounce on and off of him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. In retaliation, Dice reaches up and yanks on your hair, removing his mouth from your nipple and instead crashing his lips onto yours.

Every single groan he makes turns you on even more. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to release, but you hold it in. You want your husband to release first. You need to feel just how much seed he has in him. You need him to fill you to the brim.

No. You need him to stuff you beyond your limits. You need to be overloaded.

It’s been too long since you last fucked each other like this. The last time was in the comfort of your old home, in the silky sheets. On a much nicer, more comfortable mattress. In a much better smelling environment.

But at some point, you get too desperate to care about your surroundings. At some point, you don’t care about how broke you are. How hungry, how cold, how wet you are. How musty it is. How much it smells. None of it matters.

It’s been months since you both have satisfied each other. Months. Dignity be damned. If anyone saw you both, you’d worry later.

Right now, it’s just you, him, and the shitty mattress. And you love it.

You love the feeling of his thick, throbbing cock slamming into your hole. The sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your husband’s husky voice as he moans into your mouth. How hot your insides feel.

And man, does your husband look hot, wrestling his tongue with you as he pounds into you. You don’t mind the sweaty smell, or the ripped clothes. You don’t mind the scratchiness of his stubble. In fact, you actually quite like it.

You like him. You love him. And by god, does he love you.

You squeeze your hands on the sides of his head, rubbing over his pips to try and get him to go harder. In response, he growls loudly and bites on your lip, quickening his pace. Good heavens, you can feel how much he has inside of him.

He’s going to explode into you until he’s milked dry. You’re gonna be full for the next week.

He releases his mouth from yours, groaning loudly as he rams into you.

“Doll-! I’m close! Fuck! FuckfuckfUCK-!”

You brace yourself, but it’s not enough to prepare you for the sheer power of Dice’s release.

His cock practically bursts inside of you. His juices shoot out from him, and god, it keeps on coming. He’s been holding onto this for months. There is so much. You wonder if you’ll be able to hold all of it.

You whimper and whine in pleasure as you reach your own climax, your hands squeezing his shoulders as your own fluids burst out of you, dripping onto your clothes and Dice’s.

Oh well. Your clothes are already stained and beaten, what’s one more?

Holy shit, Dice is still filling you up. He’s grinding against you as he rides out his high, and you feel his seed start to overflow inside of you.

So much so, that your stomach extends slightly.

He whimpers slightly, head resting on your chest. He nibbles down on your skin, slowly reaching his limit. You’re milking him completely dry, and he loves that feeling of satisfaction as he finally releases every last drop of load he has.

You take it all.

Once you both start to come down from ecstasy, you breathe heavily and just hold onto each other. Neither of you dare to move.

Dice’s cock is still inside of you, twitching occasionally. You say nothing about it. In fact, it’s probably for the best that he keeps it there. If he pulls out now, you’ll surely spill some of his juices.

Dice holds you close, rubbing your back and finally chuckling slightly as you keep him warm.

“Sorry pumpkin, I might’ve overfilled you just a tad… please do your best to keep it all inside though. I’m sure it’ll keep you full for a while~”

You moan softly and nod to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

You both stay still for a few minutes, basking in each other’s presence. You take comfort in his heavy breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and the feeling of his dick still inside of you, keeping warm.

Eventually, Dice gently lifts you off of him, laughing softly as his juices immediately start running down your legs. He realllly stuffed you good.

You pant heavily as you collapse beside him, leaning against him. You’re still leaking. You watch as the white liquid oozes out of you, and begin to close your legs when Dice stops you, removing his glove.

“Not to worry, baby. Here, let me.”

You open your mouth to question, but you can’t even get a word out before Dice’s fingers gently enter your hole, one by one. Eventually, three fingers are inside, effectively closing you off and stopping the leak.

For fun, your lover cheekily starts to pump his digits in and out of you, earning a stream of pleasured whimpers and cries from you. He’s driving you crazy.

Fuck, it feels so good.

You let him continue, gripping onto him and squeezing your eyes shut. He feels amazing. Every single part of him. From his face, to his dick, to his fucking fingers. He’s perfect. Even in this state.

Eventually he stops, but keeps his fingers inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him. Your faces are inches apart, your breaths mingling together.

He smiles tiredly at you, and you smile back. You kiss, and rest peacefully against each other.

Even when homeless, with no money, no food, nothing but the clothes on your back and other people’s trash, you both still suppose things could be worse.

As long as you have each other, you’re never truly at rock bottom.

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

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

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

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

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

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

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.