#when my little brother died we were sharing a bed. there was no way to incase that. i crawled under the same covers we shared that night

[tadpal]

there's a lot of media about the tomb a child's bedroom becomes if that child dies young but honestly there needs to be more about how horrific it is if there's no way to preserve it

[nochedie]

with you | dean winchester 💡

pairing: dean winchester x reader, pre series

genre: a bit of angst then some fluff

wordcount: 2.4k

summary: you’ve been hunting with john and dean for a long time now, and you finally snap after john berates dean one too many times

a/n: fuck john winchester! 🫶🏼

you walked through the dimly lit concrete pathway outside the motel you, dean, and john were holed up in tonight, rounding the corner and seeing the light on in the room you were all sharing. you could see the outline of the father and son arguing and you couldn’t hold back your eyeroll.

every night was the same, ever since you started hunting with them. you could see from dean’s face everytime his dad was giving him an earful, he really believed it. he believed everything. sometimes it would get so heated, that john would tell dean it was his fault sam left. that he was supposed to protect him, and anything that he was exposed to that made him feel any different was because of dean. of course that wasn’t true. but it didn’t stop dean from believing it anyway.

ever since he was small, the responsibility of raising his brother was all up to him. he was only four years old when his mother died, when their entire life changed. nothing would ever be normal again. he lost his mother, sure, but he lost his dad too. he had to make sure sam was safe, when he needed someone to make sure he was safe. he was only a child.

throughout your travels, you had grown to resent john as fervently as you loved dean. you longed never to see john’s face again, but that would mean that you wouldn’t get to see dean’s.

you knew john disliked you just as much as you disliked him, and there was a simple reason for it: he saw how dean looked at you. he saw you as a distraction, putting dean at risk. only reason he was acting like this was to protect his son but he had a funny way of showing it. you could hear him berating dean through the door, talking about how he was irresponsible and stupid for being distracted on the hunt today. reality is he wasn’t distracted. he just happened to help you up from the floor before “checking himself for wounds” as john shouted at the two of you earlier in the day. maybe if any of his arguments actually made sense you might have a sliver of respect left for him.

you opened the door quickly, causing the two men to stop talking immediately. dean was sat on the bed, and john was towering over him. he had the ability to make dean feel small and you hated that. every little thing dean did was to impress his father and none of it was good enough.

you waved the bag of treats you had gotten from the store up in the air, bypassing john entirely and taking a seat on the bed next to dean.

“i got us some beers and some snacks.” you looked up just in time to see john walking out the motel room door. you weren’t sure where he was going and frankly you didn’t care.

“that’s my girl.” dean tried his best to mask any kind of expression on his face that showed just how he was feeling about the interaction with his dad, but you could see right through it. he was hurt, angry, mainly just sad. you knew that letting him know you knew how he felt would actually make him feel worse, so you chose, as you always do, just to be there for him. try and take his mind off things.

you crossed your legs on the bed, facing him and cracking open the beers with the bottle opener dean had gifted to you. you clinked glasses, and took a couple of swigs.

“so, what’s next? any new cases lined up?”

“yeah, my dad found something weird in the paper this mornin’… looks just like spirit behaviour, so it should be an easy one.”

“hm, okay. can we reprise our characters when we’re doing research?” you smiled when you caught dean’s cheeks flush. for this last case, you two had been pretending to be a husband and wife reporter duo, writing a story for the local gazette.

“sure thing, mrs brooks.”

“i think we should create a jingle for mr and mrs brooks: amateur reporters.”

“definitely not.”

“what are you gonna do, stop me?”

“yes. mr brooks is quite comfortable locked away up here.” he points to his head, taking another swig of his beer.

“dean.” you nudge his arm right when he was taking a drink, causing it to spill.

“y/n, come on!” he couldn’t help but smile as you mouthed an apology, before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up, closing the door behind him.

as soon as the bathroom door closed, the motel door opened and in came john. your smile dropped as soon as you saw him, eyes casting down to the bed.

“can we talk, john? outside.”

“and why would we do that?”

“just come outside.” john let out a heavy sigh and followed you outside, slamming the motel door behind him.

“so, what is it?” john crossed his arms across his chest, looking inconvenienced to even be there.

“i heard what you said to dean earlier. you know, you can talk to him without yelling. you can protect him without telling him everything he does is wrong.”

“and what does it have to do with you?”

“clearly something since you were mentioning my name an awful lot!”

“i don’t think you’re good for him is all. actually i think after this hunt, you should just leave us alone, okay?”

“you can let your emotions get in the way all you want but i’m a valuable asset and you know it. how many times have i had to save your ass?”

“dean cannot concentrate with you around.”

“oh, all of a sudden you care about dean? how about telling him that once in a while?” your blood was boiling, your voice raising. the entire motel could probably hear. dean had heard the commotion outside and was listening from inside the room.

“i care about dean.”

“enough to tell him everything is his fault? enough to rob him of his childhood?”

“what right do you have to tell me how to parent my goddamn children?”

“apart from the fact that they never got to be children, what the hell have you done for them as a parent? sam doesn’t want anything to do with you and dean spends every waking moment trying to please you! you are not a parent. i get that you were trying to protect them, but this wasn’t the way. you didn’t have to do what you did. you chose to do that. dean was just a kid!”

silence. he didn’t have anything else to say.

“tell dean i went to the bar or something.” you turned on your heel and walked away, up the street away from the motel and towards the nearest town.

john took a few minutes outside, half for some fresh air, half because he knew dean would ask where you were the second he got inside, and he wanted you out of sight before then. he stepped through the door, and dean was sitting on the bed, looking up expectantly for you to walk in after john. “where’s y/n?”

“nearest bar.” dean was up and out of there before the last syllable left john’s mouth.

he had tried your phone more times than he could count, and each ring caused the pit in his stomach to grow deeper.

he hated not having you in his sight for even a second. after a while his walking turned into running, calling your name into the darkness. in his hurry to leave he hadn’t even grabbed the keys to the impala and it was too late for him to turn around now.

despite not being good with directions, somehow you had found the nearest bar, but what you hadn’t realised was what time it was. it was early hours of the morning and the bar was just about closed, unfortunately leaving some.. unsavoury types lingering outside. sometimes you forgot, even if you got rid of a paranormal threat, sometimes the human beings were worse.

you pulled out your phone to call dean, but it was dead. “shit…”

you wandered through the empty streets of town, constantly looking over your shoulder. you could see a payphone up ahead, and you knew dean’s number by heart.

you quickened your pace to the payphone, punching in dean’s number as quickly as you could once you reached it. the line was busy. you hoped he wasn’t trying to call you too. you waited a while and put another quarter in, punching in dean’s number again. this time it rung.

“y/n?”

“how’d you know?”

“where the hell are you? are you safe? i’ve been losing my mind over here trying to look for you, i-“ he paused, not wanting to make you feel like he was mad at you. “just tell me where you are.”

“i’m in town… i don’t even remember how i got here but i don’t know my way back to the motel from here.”

“is there anything around you?”

“yeah, there’s a hardware store. it’s called dave’s hardware.”

“alright, just.. hang on, okay? stay there. i’ll find you.”

the phone beeped to alert the call was about to drop.

“alright. dean i-“ the call dropped. “-m sorry.” you put the phone back and stepped out of the phone box, sitting down on the curb. you thought back to the argument with john, and there’s no way dean didn’t hear you. you were just so angry, you had seen dean upset one too many times. all your frustration came out in one. you thought dean might be mad. he had a complicated relationship with his dad, but maybe he would still be mad that you yelled at him. sitting with your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the sound of dean’s footsteps.

“hey…” he touched your shoulder, causing you to jump before you realised it was him. you stood up, and he immediately wrapped you up in a tight embrace. truthfully, physical contact like this, so intimate, it was a first for the two of you. sure you made eyes at each other and there was the subconscious flirting and deep conversations but you hadn’t made it past this barrier yet. not until now. he squeezed you like he hadn’t seen you in months, and you did the same for him. “please don’t do that again. you scared the hell out of me. i thought somethin’ happened to you…”

“i’m sorry i yelled at your dad. i was just so angry, you know?” a hint of sadness was clear on his face as he realised just how many of the arguments between him and his dad you had heard. he always suspected you knew, your eyes couldn’t hide your sadness when you looked at him for hours after.

“don’t apologise for that.” you pulled away from him slightly, his arms were still around you but you wanted to see his face. he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your face as he moved down to cup your chin. your eyes were glued to one anothers, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. it was sweet, and full of an emotion you couldn’t yet place.

when you finally separated, dean kept his eyes closed another few moments. like he was having a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“y/n… lord knows i’m not good at all this… but i really do care about you. i wasn’t sure at first, but.. today really sealed the deal for me, y’know? got a taste of how it might feel if i lost you, and… i never want to feel that again… i don’t even know what this feeling is.”

he hadn’t been in love before, and neither had you. but what else could this be?

“my hero. rescuing me from dave’s hardware.”

“shut up.” dean poked light-heartedly, letting out a short laugh.

“i feel the same, dean.” his eyes lit up.

“you don’t have to say that just so i look less like a loser professing my love outside da-“ he stopped talking the second he realised he said it. the l word. “let’s go.” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along and hoping you would forget.

“i love you, too. and i’m not just saying that.” he squeezed your hand, pulling you in close again.

“you do?”

“yes, obviously. you couldn’t tell?” sometimes he thought he could. then he would talk himself out of it. he didn’t think he could get, let alone deserve, anybody who came even close to you. you started walking while talking, and you held his hand tight. “wait a sec, did you walk here?”

“more like ran, but yeah.”

“why wouldn’t you take the impala?”

“i forgot the keys, and then.. i don’t know, i thought if i turned back after i realised, you would be long gone, i wouldn’t see where you went, and i would never find you.”

“dramatic.”

“yeah, well i couldn’t take the risk. not with you. never with you.” you walked back to the motel in a comfortable silence, your hand not leaving his for even a second. john was still up when you got back to the motel. you acknowledged each other when you walked through the door, and dean let go of your hand only to go and take a shower.

you sat on the edge of the bed, taking off your shoes. you shifted awkwardly when john sat down in front of you on the chair in front of the motel desk.

“y/n, about today. you were right. and don’t think i don’t think about that every waking moment.” you kept your eyes glued down, not wanting or caring to make eye contact. “i know you care about dean. you can keep on hunting with us, you’re valuable, but the second i see him acting out of line for you.. i can’t ignore that.” he stood up from the chair, making his way towards the door and leaving again.

once dean was out of the shower and you had had one yourself, you crawled into dean’s bed with him. it was the middle of the night and the only thing playing was re-runs of dallas, but. you didn’t care. dean slipped his arm around you, and your head lay to rest on his chest. he gestured to the tv when jr was on the screen, wearing a white cowboy hat. “think i would look good in one of those?” dean questioned, positioning himself to look down at you.

“most definitely.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Bear meet Fox

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Out of everyone in the vast city of Chicago, Carmen was glad it was you who stumbled into his rundown restaurant.

a/n: I'm too in love with this man to not write about him, so I'm contributing to our shared obsession with my silly little ficcc.

Also reader is Latina in this and yes it's partially self indulgence.

You couldn't believe you were about to do it.

Not due to  excitement but mostly dread, and a bit of self loathing, that the lowest point in your life had brought you here of all places in the city. Might as well call it point Nemo because there was no way you could get any further away.

Pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you kept your eyes still on the rundown building across the deserted street, afraid it would dissipate and take with it your only chance of employment in a 200 mile radius. The phone screen lit up with the last message from your brother a few days ago and you wanted to punch him square in the face at the way he worded his stupid attempt at “helping” you find a job.

‘So you stop moping around the house cuz its getting pathetic’

Read the text under a picture of a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign, poorly taped to the inside of a surprisingly clean window, stark contrast to the grimy brick that surrounded it. A second text had also been left on read, with a maps link to the location where you stood, balancing on your feet out of nerves. You contemplated your options, as if you had any; turn around, head home and lay in bed until you withered and died of misery. God, your brother was right, you were getting pathetic.

You took a very deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then blew it out into the cold surroundings. ‘You can do it. It’s just another interview, you've done those before. More in the past month than your whole life sure, but who cares? This is the good one.’ You tried psyching yourself up. It could always be worse, you remembered, though lately it seemed more true everyday.

You forced your feet to move from their petrified state and walked towards the building, made sure that the sign was the same one your brother sent, then stood with an outstretched hand about to pull the door open when a voice coming from the left side of the building called your attention.

“Yo, sweetheart! We open at noon!” A man wearing gray joggers and an over washed shirt stood with his head peeking against the corner of the building. If it weren’t for the apron tied around his waist, you’d assume he’s some stranger sticking his nose in other people’s business, but with the bags under his eyes and the cigarette hanging from his mouth, you recognized the trademark of a tired restaurant worker.

“I’m here for the help wanted ad?” You said more like a question, raising a manila folder and shaking it so he could see that you weren’t there for sandwiches, or whatever it was they sold.

“Why?” He asked skeptically, scanning you from head to toe and taking a drag from his cigarette without using his hands. Show off.

You couldn’t come up with an answer on the spot, out of nervousness and intimidation, so you chose to shrug. You could have said you needed the job or literally anything else, but that answer seemed to be enough for him. The guy took another drag then gestured with his head for you to follow him around the corner. With a doubtful turn to the glass door, you moved to the left and followed the man into the parking spot between buildings where, you hoped, another entrance to the restaurant would be waiting for you.

You moved slowly over the gravel, making your way deeper into the empty space. A breath you didn’t know you were holding left your lips at the sight of a long metal door opened ajar, with the man finishing his cig keeping it from closing. He made a circular impatient motion with his hand while staring at you and that was enough for you to quicken your pace towards him.

“Hurry up babe, we ain’t got all day” He said with a loud voice despite being less than three feet away. “C’mon, I’ll see if I can find my asshole cousin. He’s the one who put that stupid sign up anyway.”

You fully entered the building and were immediately welcomed by the familiar scent of roasted meats and sauteed vegetables, the buzz of old vent pipes and the scraping of metal pans against the burners slightly numbed the anxiety growing in your stomach. This was familiar, this you knew. Down to the Bachata beat playing somewhere inside from an overworked radio and the blinding white lights reflecting off the even whiter tiled walls.

The man seemed to have disappeared somewhere past the kitchen, leaving you stranded in the middle of the Steward station with nothing but a half assed ‘wait here’. You clutched your folder containing your resumé near your chest and tried to make yourself as small as it was possible in the already tiny space, so as to not interfere with anyone who were to pass by in a hurry. It felt like minutes had passed and the guy had not returned. You tried to keep yourself entertained by counting the stained steel pots hanging from the hooks above the sinks, then moved to count the beat up escoffier containers that rested on the rack in front of you. When that was done, you checked your surroundings in search of someone else to help you, as the asshole had been gone for some time and it didn’t seem like he’d be back soon.

About to give up hope and ready to push the exit door, you hear a loud ‘Corner!’ headed your way and turned just in time to see a mountain of pots and pans being carried to the sinks by a faceless body. His head was turned to the other side, probably doing his best to keep an eye on the path ahead. You tried to say something but the words were stuck in your throat, so instead you stepped back out of his way and waited until he dropped the cookware. The faceless person dropped everything inside with a loud bang, then rested his arms against the metal edge, sighed and let his head hang low. From your position, scooted by the door in silence, you waited expectantly for him to turn around so you could say something; maybe explaining why you’re there would be a good way to start. But it took him some time to move. All you saw is the flexing of strained muscle on his arms as he gripped the sink like a lifeline. The movement of his tensed back as he breathed under the thin white shirt he wore brought a warmth to your cheeks and you knew you’re starting to be creepy so you forced yourself to talk.

“Hi-” Is all you get to say before he jumped back startled, wide blue eyes with a wild expression and a hand clutching over his blue apron where his heart was.

“Jesus fuck! Don’t fuckin’ do that!” He shouted at you with a hand raking through his hair. 

“Sorry!” You yelled back. Your heartbeat pounded in your throat and ears and the warmth from a few seconds ago had turned scorching hot over all your skin.

He leaned forward and rested his hands over his knees trying to calm his pulse, then chuckled lightly and regained his composure. “No no you’re good, I-uh I didn’t mean to yell like that but you scared the shit outta me.”

He passed his hand over his face then left it over his mouth, contemplating you for a solid minute. He looked over at you unsure of what to say as you stood holding your folder to your chest and balancing on your feet. 

“Right… so'' He leaned against the sink. “Who are you?”

“Yeah sorry, I saw you were asking for help up front and wanted to see if it was still available.” You said pointing to where you assumed was front of house. In the small space, you couldn’t really make out the layout of the place. “Some asshole guy let me in but then left me here.”

“Fuckin’ Richie” He says under his breath. “Yeah, yeah it still is. You got any papers on you?”

You hand him the folder you had been clutching to your chest. He looked at you one last time then opened it to find your wrinkled resume inside. While he analyzed the information you peeked another look at him. Ashy blond hair framed a strong jaw and nose. He had a broad back and strong arms, likely from all the physical effort it took to work in a kitchen, and even though he took up some space, it seemed like he tried to shrink into himself. The  pale skin on his arms was littered with designs that you couldn’t make out from the distance, but you could see the hyper pigmentation of a few scars.

“Oven?” You ask, pointing to a small angry red mark across his forearm.

“What? Oh fuuuck.” He said as he turned his arm. “That’s the first time I see it, honestly.” 

You laughed lightly under your breath, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“C’mon.” He guided you out the Steward section and you assumed he’d take you to whoever was in charge of the place.

Your nerves had settled due to the familiar ambiance, as he conducted you through the different sections where a few cooks turned curiously, then settled by the expo  that stood tall facing the small window opening into the dining area.

“Mind if we check it here? The office is a shit hole right now.” He looked down at you with expectant eyes.

You swallowed dryly, you weren’t expecting him to be the one in charge. Does that mean you were checking out your future boss? Fuck. You nodded, afraid to trust your own voice. He nodded back then looked at the worn out paper.

“You have a pretty cool resume.” He started. “You’ve been all over the place. Hostess, service, line cook. Private chef for two years, where was that?”

“Uhm, some rich folks up in Lincoln Park. Just dinner and meal prep.” You said as nonchalant as possible.

“Well listen, I don’t think I can pay you as well as they did.” He joked. “We’re not that big of a place and in all honesty, business’ a little tight right now.” 

And there it was, the last rejection you were expecting. You looked down at your hands and did your best to calm the bile climbing up your throat.

“But we could really use the help, so maybe I can offer you to help out up front and once we’re back on our feet, you can move back here. The pay’s not the best and the hours are crazy long but it’s just in the meantime.” He stayed quiet waiting for an answer.

Your head snapped up to look at him after the first half, still surprised it wasn’t a rejection. You didn’t notice you had been quietly staring until he raised his brows expectantly.

“Wait, so that means I’m hired?” You questioned, still cautious.

“Yeah, you think you can start today?”

“Yes, yes thank you so much!” You cleared your throat to hide the too obvious excitement. “Yeah, I’ll just need a place to drop off my things.”

“Great, well we gave Sydney our last empty locker, but you can keep your bag in the office. It’s pretty safe.” He pointed to a closet sized door to the left and asked you to follow him while he explained that family was served before opening and that he’d introduce everyone then.

After dropping your bag inside the dimly lit room, that was indeed a shit hole, he guided you back to the kitchen, then through a white door that pushed into the front of house. You saw the asshole leaning against the long counter separated from the tables, telling a very engaging story to a shorter man in a backwards cap who appeared to just want to finish fixing a broken tap. When the door slammed behind you, they both turned towards you and the chef, who you had yet to know the name of. The taller of the two’s eyes grew in realization and his hand flew to his mouth in a fist to try and hide his laugh.

“Shiiit, my bad doll. I swear I went lookin’ for ‘em but fuckin’ Fak here couldn’t keep his pipe shut and started talking!” He said, using the back of his other hand to slap at the chest of the other man who turned offended to him.

“I didn’t say shit!  You came running to me talkin’ about the pretty girl you had in the bac-” 

“Both of you shut the fuck up and listen” The man behind you interrupted impatient, he placed his hand lightly on your lower back and pushed you further into the room. The placement of his hand did nothing to subside the growing shade of pink in your cheeks from the comment. “This is… shit sorry, I never asked your name.” He turned to you, hand still on your back.

A quiet ‘it’s okay’ left your lips and you introduced yourself to the group of men. The chef repeated your name to himself as a way of memorizing it, then spoke back to the group.

“Richie, she’ll be helping you up front.” 

“Fuck you, I’m not babysitting!” He turns to you. “No offense sweetheart, but this,” He said signaling the bar, “is a one man symphony, okay? I can’t have you screwing with my system.”

You did your best not to roll your eyes at him, because of course you expected him to be defensive about it. Enough experience in the service industry had shown you that older people tended to be quite resistant towards change, especially if the change came in the form of barely 5’3 and female. Sure you were young, you had barely graduated culinary school two years ago during the pandemic, but you had been working since your third year so you were more than familiar with the business.

“Well you have a shitty system.” Said Fak under his breath as he finished unscrewing something.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Richie said, offended. 

“I’m just saying man, you could use the help. I saw you jump at a customer the other day cause he was asking for ketchup.”

“Cause only idiots ask for ketchup with a sandwich!” He threw his hands in the air and turned his back to Fak.

“He was ten!” He shouted back.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue! Richie, you imbecile, take the help cause you need it and stop jumping on people before you catch a case, all right?!” He turned to you, rubbed your back with his hand still there and smiled slightly. “You’ll do great.” He says finally before turning to Richie and pointing up at him while walking back. “Don’t fuckin’ scare her off.”

And he was gone out the door. Richie made a gesture with both his hands pushing from under his chin to where the chef had disappeared then turned to you. He stayed silent, one hand on the bar and another on his hips as he stared at you in intimidation. You held his gaze, not cowarring now that you knew he wasn’t going to murder you. An ‘Aha!’ from Fak brought him back and he slapped his hand on the bar.

“Alright c'mon. I’m gonna need you to organize back here while I sweep around the tables. We open at 12 so we got enough time. Got it? ” He finished.

You salute with your right hand, rolled up your sleeves and walked behind the bar to start working on the task. “Yes, chef.” You mumbled out of habit.

“Nah, don’t fuckin’ start with that ‘chef’ thing with me, I’m already up to my balls with Carmy sayin’ it all the time.” He replied exasperated.

“Fine. Yes, asshole. Whatever.” You respond, rolling your eyes and starting to take things out from the fridge at the bottom of the counter.

You heard a snicker from Fak a few feet away, followed by a smacking sound and an ‘Ow! Fuck you!’ before Richie’s sneakers squeaked away into the other room. What you didn’t see was the small smirk on his face as he started walking away. You had balls, he’d give you that.

You powered through the absolute rat’s nest the bottom of the counter was. An empty jar of pickles, two moldy sausages and a single slab of cheese without the wrapper were only a couple of things you found while trying to clean the mess. You took anything useless and dumped it into a black trash bag Fak was nice enough to get you, before showing you where they kept all the cleaning supplies so you weren’t in the dark. It took you two trips to the supply shelf, a sponge, a rag and half a bottle of dish soap to ultimately get rid of the stale grease that gave the impression to have been there since the opening of the place. Once you were satisfied with the way you organized the station, you moved to scrub the top of all the counters and even give a little swipe with the rag on all the stools.

You had baby hairs sticking to your forehead and cheeks by the time you were done, even your jacket had been discarded and thrown under the now clean bar, but a satisfied smile rested on your face despite all that. God, you really missed working. You finally took some time to admire all the framed pictures littering the surrounding walls. Most were of sports players you weren’t familiar with; one, because you really weren’t a fan of any sport, and two, because the pictures looked so old that most of the specific features had been erased from too much exposure to the sun. There were also football jerseys hanging by a corner near the unlit menu and a big ‘Beef Deli’ sign on the wall behind you. You saw a couple cooks moving around behind the window under the sign and a little knot formed in your stomach at the thought of having to introduce yourself in a while.

You checked your wristwatch on your left hand while you wiped the sweat from your forehead with your right, hoping you still had some time to kill. But before you could look down, a voice by the door called your name. You looked up to see the chef, Carmy you had learned his name was, looking at you with a small smile.

“Front of house looks good, chef.” He complemented, clear blue eyes scanning the counters as he leaned against the door, hands playing with a spoon.

You took a deep breath and smiled back, holding onto your wrists behind your back, “Thanks, chef. I-uhm hope you don’t mind that I took some Fabuloso to wipe down the counter by the window. It smelled like shit.” You finish, pointing at the purple liquid in the spray bottle beside you.

“Yeah, no that’s fine.” He answers, a small laugh stuck in his throat. “But that was actually Tina’s so don’t let her see you used it.”

Your mouth opened slightly as your eyes grew, and you were afraid to ask how bad it would be if she found out. He straightened up with a smirk and tapped his spoon twice on the metal counter before signaling for you to follow him with his head.

“C’mon, family’s up.”

You turned on your heel to follow him into the other room, but jogged back, jumped over the counter high enough to slap the spray bottle with sufficient force for it to fall and roll under the counter. You did not know Tina, but you were sure as hell you also didn’t want to get your shit rocked on your first day on the job. 

You tried tidying up your hair back into a less messy ponytail and combed all the stray baby hairs before entering the adjacent room where the other workers were getting ready for family. Some faces stared from their seats, questioning the presence of the stranger invading their space. A few you had met on the rush while taking the garbage bags out or crossing the kitchen to the supply shelf. Marcus, the pastry chef, waved with a simple smile and pointed to an empty space beside him. The simple action brought a wave of relief over your shoulders as you advanced towards him, hands interlocked in nerves. You mumbled a ‘Thanks.’ and served yourself a glass of water from the pitcher in front of you.

Once everyone was sitting with a container of food in front, the chef introduced you to the table and let everyone know you’d be helping out up front with the service and that if they had any questions, they could ask you directly. The first one to jump at the opportunity was an older man with dark skin, asking you in a thick accent if you were related to Tina. There was a burst of laughter around the table, but he seemed to be serious about his question.

“Ebra, not all latinos are related you racist fucker.” Responded a small woman sitting beside him with a slap to his arm. Okay, so that’s Tina, you thought. “That’s like me saying you and Marcus are related cause you’re both black.” She finished pointing at the tall man sitting beside you.

“We are related.” Ebra responded with a teasing smile, staring at Marcus and you immediately knew where this was going. “I am his grandfather- his mom called me daddy last night!”

Another roar of laughter shattered along the table and you had to stick a spoonful of rice in your mouth to hide your smile. You heard a ‘C’mon man, that’s not right.’ from Marcus as he shook his head, but the creeping grin let you know that it was all in fun. The conversation flowed between comments on the food and stories they all recounted, glad to have a fresh pair of ears to hear them.

One of Richie’s was from a few weeks ago, when they had set up a video game tournament at the restaurant to make some extra cash and the nerds in line had gone so bat shit crazy, that one punched Carmy on the jaw and he had to go out and ‘beat their asses into shape’. You slowly swallowed the bite you had taken and stared at Richie sitting at the end by Carmy.

“Was he dressed like a giant carrot… By any chance?” You ask mortified. 

“No shit! You know the fucker?!” He yelled, slamming his hands on the table. Everyone turned to you like you were holding a new piece to a worthy puzzle.

You covered your face with your hands then crossed them in front of your chin. “Yeah… I think that fucker’s my 19 year old brother.” You affirmed scrunching your face in disgust. Fuckin’ Joshua.

The table went wild with jokes about how Carmy had almost gotten knocked out by a teen and through the hysterics you could still make out Richie’s voice saying “Oh my god, sweetheart. Thank you, really. You just made my WEEK!”  All you could do was pick around your container as heat crept up your neck.

You peered up through your lashes at Carmen sitting with a mortifying look and mouthed a heartfelt ‘Sorry’ for what felt like the tenth time that day. He was leaning back with his arms crossed, smiled with an ‘it’s okay’ and let everyone take a jab with their jokes. You looked back down to your food and did your best to drown out the teasing noises from everyone, but were unaware of how the chef raised his brows and swallowed dryly with his gaze still on you.

After minutes of teasing, everyone picked up their empty dishes and separated into their areas. You stayed in the dining room wiping down the tables that were left to clean before opening service and a couple of ideas came to mind on how you could decorate them to reduce the depressing feeling. At least for now, napkins and holders would do, the rest would have to wait. You power walked to the front where you remembered seeing a packet that looked to be from napkins, but once you reached inside all you found were a bunch of wrinkled brown pieces of paper.

“Richie!” You yelled from your crouched position.

“Yo!” He yelled back, head popping above you over the counter.

“I can’t seem to find any napkins.” You spoke while still searching hopefully in the space.

“You’re holdin’ em.” He stated, matter-of-factly. 

You stand fully and shake the supposed napkins in front of you. “Richie, these are stained and say Starbucks on em!” 

His grin grew wide on his face as he walked back with extended arms. “Welcome to The Beef, kid!” He laughed, then leaned down to unlock the glass door where you could already see some people forming a line.

You quickly dropped the napkins, grabbed the blue half apron you had been given and tied it around your waist as fast as possible. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A fuckin’ heads up would’ve been nice, you thought as you plastered on a soft smile for the clients.

“Alright, fuckos! We’re open!” He shouted into the restaurant and wiggled his brows towards you. “Goodluck.”

Fuck.

*****

He was worried for you for the first fifteen minutes after opening. Afraid you’d see the mess you had stumbled upon or that his idiot cousin would say something that would have you grabbing your bag and leaving without as much as a goodbye. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, he would’ve even done the same if his name wasn’t in the lease  now instead of his brother’s.

He stopped worrying however, when he saw the way you managed yourself around the floor and customers. Empty plates were picked up with ease and replaced with warm ones that spent less than five minutes on the counter, the orders were taken within minutes and served with a kind smile. He was even surprised when you walked away from the other side of the expo with three plated sandwiches balancing in one hand and a forth plate in the other.

“Can you manage, chef?” He even asked when he saw you trying to find the perfect space between your fingers that could balance the plate, your lip caught in concentration.

You looked at him with your head still bowed and a breathy smile. “Yeah, thanks.” Then turned your back to deliver the dishes. 

It wasn’t his intention for his gaze to linger longer than it did as your hips swayed naturally with every step, or when despite the hectic sound of the kitchen he could still hear you laugh politely at a joke from one of their regulars. But it was only until Syd elbowed him in the side that he noticed he was being a bit creepy. Jesus, it’s like your 14 again, he thought.

“You’re worried Richie’s gonna scare her off but you’re the one giving me the creeps with all the staring.” She said after reading the printed ticket for another order.

“Heard, chef.” Was all he said, cleared his throat and went back to work, doing his best not to look up every time you walked to receive a new order.

It was only when the lunch rush died down and he was in desperate need of a cigarette, that he saw you sitting down with your head resting against the cold bricks of the adjacent building and eyes closed peacefully. He didn’t want to bother you, but he also didn’t want to waste the opportunity of telling you how well you had done in the first half of the day. Besides, the heavy door behind him slammed closed and startled you slightly, so there was no going back now.

“Hey.” You smiled softly, stretching your arms above your head and your legs straight forward, then relaxed altogether. 

“You smoke?” Carmy asked, offering you a cig as he sat on the empty crate a few feet away from you, elbows resting on his knees.

You shook your head no, but thanked him anyway. “I quit a few months ago.” You said just as he flicked his lighter on and the tip grew bright orange.

“Shit, sorry. If it bothers you I can turn it off.” He offered. He wanted to say ‘I can go somewhere else’ but he didn’t want to give you the idea that he didn’t wanna be there.

You shook your head no again still smiling and pulled one of your legs to your chest, turning to him. “So…” You asked curious. “How’d I do for my first half?”

Carmy chuckled lightly as he exhaled smoke into the air. He turned to you from his crouched position and for the fifth time that day, he took a good look at your face. Jesus fuck, how could someone as beautiful as you end up in his dump of all places? Despite your overworked expression and a few small bags beneath your eyes, he was sure he had never seen anyone’s face glow with such brightness as yours did now. His eyes danced around your face, taking in every single freckle he could before he tore them away after what to him felt like an eternity of staring- no- admiring your features.

“You did way better than I expected. Truly, chef. Thank you.” He whispered and, despite the noisy Chicago surroundings, you heard every word.

Your smile beamed brighter for what felt like the first time in months and the fist that had been constricting your heart for a while now seemed to give you some much needed space to breathe. 

Carmy finished his cigarette in comfortable silence, now laying back against the cold brick wall that helped ease the rising temperature in his body, while you played with the aquamarine ring on your pointer finger that reminded you too much of the chef’s specific shade of blue eyes.

“What’s Carmy short for?” You asked all of a sudden, pulling him out of his internal thoughts.

It took him a couple of seconds to process the question, then smiled down to the gravel under his feet. “Uhm- it’s short for Carmen. It’s a family name. " He responded.

“Oh.” Was all you said, nodding your head. “It's nice. I have a cousin named Carmen.” You continue with a smile on your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning down towards you, only to see you stand up and  clean off the dust from the back of your black jeans and readjust the apron around your waist.

You stood with your hands on your hips and stared down at him for another second before smiling and making your way to the tall door. “Yeah, but she’s a girl.” You reply without turning back and push your way into the restaurant, leaving the chef with a snickering grin and a lightheaded feeling he wished wasn’t just from the nicotine.

Chapter 2.

[strawhatmay]

Just a little drabble I managed to write, but it IS my first ever piece of Zosan fanfiction 😭 (althought it is not about them lol) As always, constructive critiscism is more than welcomed.

A friend in the house

[Zoro runs into someone on the way to the bathroom in the Vinsmoke house]

It was late, very late, but Zoro really had to go take a piss, so he got up, grabbed Sanji’s robe and got out of the bedroom as quietly as possible.

 

This big ass house and no private bathroom, just the logic of Judge Vinsmoke, "let's make a gigantic one, practically a mansion, oh toilets? I don't give a fuck, put them wherever." Zoro never met him really, he died when Sanji was 6, good fucking riddance.

Even after the Vinsmoke siblings all turned 21, they still share a house. Sora insisted, she wanted them all in one place as long as they were happy here, and well, none of them had the heart to say no to their mom.

 

So that's why Zoro has to go through a maze to find a bathroom in the middle of the night, instead of just finding one a few steps away from the bed in a hypothetical apartment they would own. Or, Sanji would own, he means. Zoro would love to move in with him, but Sanji might like to have his own place for a bit before that.

 

 

Ah, Sanji. He needs to hurry up so he can go back to bed. They had a little argument a week ago and now they were back, he was back in his arms. It was silly, so silly, they just needed to talk it out, and last night Sanji called him saying he missed him, so Zoro was throwing tiny rocks at his window 5 minutes later.

 

"Yeah that's definitely the bathroom," Zoro thinks when he recognizes the door. Just when he's aproaching it, another figure in a bright pink robe appears in the dark and goes to the door as well. Both in robes so clearly from their respective partners, they stop and stare at each other.

 

 

"Roronoa" she aknowledges, a bit irritated.

 

"Tash" says Zoro, trying to sound friendly.

 

…awkward.

 

"Made up with Blondie?" Tashigi asks with a teasing smile.

 

"Back together with Pinkie?" Zoro answers.

 

She smiles. "Why else would I be here?"

 

"I don't know, maybe you were seeing one of her brothers."

 

"Ew."

 

"Or maybe you sneaked in," Zoro shrugs.

 

"Yeah right, cause I'M the one who climed through Sanji's balcony like three hours ago." Look at that, now she was teasing in a friendly way. Zoro can never tell if Tashigi is a friend or an enemy.

 

"How do you even know about that?" Zoro asks, suddendly worried the rest of the house heard him too.

 

"Sanji's room is right on top of the library, we literally saw you the whole time. You know you can just use the door, right?" she asks him like he's dumb.

 

"It's more fun this way" he says, trying to look nonchalant.

 

She pauses and then asks: "You’re scared of Zeff?"

Caught.

 

"...maybe, so what? He's intimidating" Zoro admits, because really, would anyone blame him?

 

"He's an old chef with one leg," she says, leaning on the wall and crossing her arms. "Besides, he likes you more than he likes me and I'm allowed to use the door."

 

"Yeah well, I've never broken up with *my* Vinsmoke," Zoro says, but then he feels that maybe it was a bit cold, so he adds "no offense."

 

"It's fine, it is what it is" Tashigi says, now seeming a little sad.

 

Zoro knows why Tashigi broke up with Reiju a couple times in the past. Reiju and Sanji are pretty close, and naturally, Sanji tells him everything. He doesn't wanna get too involved in other people's bussiness, but at least he can offer some advice.

 

"Hey, so...I don't know much about your relationship but...I often think I don't deserve him either, you know?"

 

Zoro tells her, carefully.

 

Tashigi looks at him, she seems to be paying real attention now.

 

He continues "and that's ok, it's ok to feel unworthy sometimes, but just...try to trust that she thinks you actually are, that you do deserve her and trust her judgement. It's her decision to be with you, to choose you, you know?"

 

A few seconds pass, Zoro starts fidgeting with the fabric of his yellow robe.

 

"Huh...and here I thought Blondie chose you only because of your boobs" Tashigi says, now fully on her feet, with her hands on her hips. She smiles. Zoro mirrors the smile.

 

"Thank you, Zoro" she says and bumps his shoulder softly with her fist.

 

"You're welcome" he says and does the same to her.

 

Just when they finish talking, the door to the bathroom opens.

A VERY tall guy with purple hair comes out wearing a red robe. He stands in the middle of Zoro and Tashigi, looks between them and says “all yours” as he walks away.

The other two stare at each other surprised.

“…was that Charlotte Katakuri?” Tashigi whispers as she looks at the red robe dissappear in the hallway.

“I can’t believe it” Zoro says, finally closing his mouth. “Did he not completely hate Ichiji?” he adds, whispering as well.

“Right, cause two people can’t hate each other but also want to fuck” says Tashigi and gives Zoro a pointed look.

“…ok, I get it” he answers and looks around a bit embarrassed.

“They are way more controversial than you two though, both captains of rival teams” she half whispers as she gets a bit closer.

“The Charlottes are gonna hate us even more” says Zoro.

“Us?”

“Well, yeah, we’re part of the Vinsmoke clan, aren’t we?” Zoro asks with a frown.

“I guess, yeah, I never thought about it before”

A moment passes.

“Hey, look at us gossiping” Zoro laughs. “Guess now I have a friend in this house” he adds as he opens the bathroom door.

“Hey ‘friend’, why do YOU get to go-“ but the door is closed to her face.

The end.

[natalievoncatte]

Something, some instinct, told Lena that she wasn’t alone. She wanted to blame it on the whisky, but it was better to check. She grabbed the gun from its hiding place beneath a pillow, where she kept it in case of an intruder.

She wasn’t sure why she did that now; she was, in theory, safe from her greatest enemy. After all, Lena had murdered him in cold blood. She’d killed her own brother for a monstrous lie, and while there was little to mourn -the man he was died years ago by his own hand- it hurt. It hurt so much that the pain squeezed out of every pore, until she awoke in the depths of the night thinking the hot stains on her cheeks might have been from crying blood.

The one person she had truly trusted, respected, revered-

(desired)

-was a lie, an illusion. At least Lex had, at one point, been real.

Lena scouted her apartment. It didn’t occur her to check the balcony until she was about to go to bed. She was on the thirty-sixth floor. No one could get up here.

Kara was outside.

She hasn’t landed; she was hanging in the air with her cape lazily swirling against her legs as she hung in the nighttime breeze. She was far enough away that Lena couldn’t get a read on her.

“What do you want?”

She drifted closer, in that unnerving way she had.

“Hi.”

Lena sighed, and waved a dismissive hand.

“Go away, Supergirl. I’m not in the mood for another speech.”

Lena turned back inside, but stopped when she felt the soft gust of wind. Kara was a few feet away from the balcony now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She hated how things had changed when Kara told her. She no longer saw Supergirl, just Kara in a costume. It was impossible not to see her, and yet for three long years she’d done just that. Blinded herself. Refused to see the bitter truth. All she’d ever wanted was a real friend

(lover)

who respected and admired

(and loved and cherished)

her and with whom she could share those feelings, and she’d really thought Kara was it. She was the best friend

(the one)

that Andrea and Jack could never have been. She believed that so deeply.

(she doesn’t want me the way I want her)

“I’m not here to give you a speech.”

Lena looked up sharply.

“Then what? Here to stop me? Foil my evil plans? I’m a villain now, remember.”

Kara’s face turned hard. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lena barked out a bitter laugh, feeling that need rise inside her, that anger. She had lost everything. The love of her mother, the protection of her brother. No matter how wealthy she was, she could never have those back. There was no price for what Lena wanted.

“How dare you say those words to me,” Lena hissed. “You’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie.’

“That’s not true.”

“You told me you’d always protect me. Who’ll protect me from you?”

Kara looked away, shuddering as she breathed, or silently sobbing. Lena smiled a thin smile, glad to twist the knife.

(stop it stop it stop it stop hurting her)

“Something happened to me tonight.”

“I don’t care.”

“A fifth-dimensional being came to me and offered to let me change the past. I could change whatever I wanted.”

“I don’t see any changes,” said Lena.

Kara shook her head. “His gifts were all poison. Every time I tried to fix what happened, it turned out wrong. I tried and tried and tried until I realized what was happening.”

“Which is?”

“I was supposed to learn that I can’t just push past my mistakes. I have to own them and accept the consequences. There’s no magic wand that can fix us.”

“There is no us, Kara. We weren’t meant to be.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara drifted closer, sank down so they were face to face with the balcony railing between them.

“How can you say that?”

“It’s obvious. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant to be. We’re just too different.”

Kara shook her head.

“When I think of all the things that had to happen in order for me to be here right now, it boggles my mind,” said Kara. “Two species from two different galaxies evolved so close together. Just the chances of that happening are incredibly small, and…

“And then my people had to find this world, and Kal-El’s parents had to choose it for their son. This world, this world specifically, and then I had to get stuck in the phantom zone on my way here. All of those things and a billion others all had to happen in perfect, crystalline order just for me to walk into that office and see you.”

Lena has gone still, listening. Kara looked at her so intently, so reverently, that Lena felt something strain inside her, stretch against itself to the point of breaking. It took all her many years of carefully honed composure to keep herself still.

“Every moment I had with you was a gift. Every single one. There are times when… there are times when I think that if I could somehow have saved Krypton, I don’t know if I could, because it would mean losing you. I don’t know if that’s a choice I could make and I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s lovely,” Lena said, trying and brutally failing to keep her voice from cracking, “but it doesn’t change anything.”

Kara let out a soft, choked sound.

“I know that. I know I ruined everything and I can’t fix it. I just needed to say this because it needed to be said. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. I’m here to ask you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, please.”

“I can’t stop you.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“I can’t stop you. I can’t fight you. I know that now. It doesn’t matter what you do, I won’t ever hurt you again. I don’t want to confront what that means.”

“That’s rich, considering that the last time we had one of these chats, your sister pointed an orbital fusion canon at my head.”

“If she’d fired that thing,” said Kara, “there would be no more satellite, and no more DEO. I would shatter the foundations and pull down the walls. I would rain destruction on whoever hurt you. I’ve seen what happens to me when something happens to you. I never want to see it again.”

Lena leaned on the railing. “Go away.”

“What you have planned, you need to stop. I can’t stop you, and if I can’t, no one can. Please, Lena. I’m begging you, don’t do this. Don’t become someone you’ll hate just to hurt me. I’m not worth it.”

“Not everything is about you, Supergirl.”

“Please. Don’t take away everyone’s choice. I know what that’s like.”

“Oh?”

Kara nodded, and in the moonlight, her tears sparkled on her skin. “On Krypton, we were assigned to guilds as children. We had arranged marriages. Everything about our lives was planned from birth. Here, people have so much choice. Yes, they make mistakes, but people choose life and art and love. You can’t take that away over me.”

“It’s too late,” Lena said, her voice cracking, finally. “I’m doing it and if you won’t stand in my way, it’ll be done.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“Okay. I guess I should go.”

Lena rocked back.

“What? No. I’m going through with the plan.”

“I know. I won’t fight you.”

Kara turned, about to rocket off into the sky.

“You can’t just leave!” Lena screamed, her voice ragged from liquor and tears.

Kara stopped.

“You’re supposed to fight me. You’re supposed to yell at me and tell me the truth, that you knew I was a monster all along, that you were just staying close to me to watch me, to get to Lex. You’re supposed to fight me! You’re supposed to fight me!”

“No.”

Lena let out an incoherent scream and balled her hands into fists, meaning to slam them on the balcony, but they struck the implacable flesh of Kara’s chest. Powerful arms gathered around Lena, sheltering her from the nighttime chill and the voiceless judgment of distant stars.

“I won’t ever hurt you again,” Kara murmured. “I promise. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you for what I’ve done.”

“Why?” Lena whimpered. “Why won’t you just fight back?”

“Because you’re just like me. We’ve both lost so much. We both don’t want to see anyone else die.”

Lena should have shoved her away, demanded to be set free, screamed, protested, shoved. Instead her arms wound around Kara, drawn as if by gravity, and Kara’s gentle fingers began to stroke through her hair, her warm breath on the crown of Lena’s head.

“Come back to our life, Lena. To our friends. Come home.”

“I killed my big brother.”

“I know. I failed you both. I’m Supergirl. I’m supposed to find another way, a perfect solution.”

“I had to. He’d never have let you live if he knew how I f…”

Lena caught herself as the last moment.

It was Kara who sobbed now, her entire body shuddering. So much power with so much tenderness, her vast crushing strength kept at bay as she held Lena like one of the most precious of treasures.

“In one of the timelines that Mxy showed me, you… you told me how you felt as you were dying. I saw you die so many times, I can’t do it again.”

Lena tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

“I didn’t get to tell you before you died. I was scared. I never thought you’d want me like I want you.”

Lena went stock still, feeling Kara’s shuddering breath against her as she held her own. She couldn’t look up, afraid that if she did, this would be a cruel nightmare and she’d jolt awake in an empty bed and a penthouse full of bitter memories.

“Kara,” Lena began, finally. “Kara, what are you saying? What do you mean?”

“It’s so hard to say,” Kara sighed, and then, almost to herself, “even if I don’t have much left to lose.”

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

Lena’s heart soared, and a harsh sob exploded out of her. She’d dreamed of those words, longed for them, needed to hear them. So many times, Lena had almost let herself believe it.

“I want this to be real,” said Lena. “I just don’t know if I can forgive you, Kara. It hurt so much.”

“Can we try?” said Kara. “Can we give it a chance? Can you give me a chance?”

Lena finally looked up, and when she saw those tear-stained blue eyes filled in equal measure with terror and hope, she knew.

“Yes,” she said, simply.

Lena looked behind her, and was suddenly full of revulsion and regret. She hated this place.

“Can you take me back to your loft?”

Kara lifted her easily into a bridal carry and into the sky.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Brekkie

Summary -> Damon makes breakfasts for you with your daughter after he comforts her from a bad dream (1k)

Warnings -> fluff, mentions of Damon’s past and death, child abandonment

damon salvatore works other tvd works masterlist

Life as a vampire deprived those turned of many thugs, the greatest punishment for Damon being unable to have children. He had always thought when he was much younger that when he met a nice woman he would have the ability to settle down, and give her the greatest gift of all in the form of a child.

But when he met you, the blessing of a child had already fallen upon you prior to meeting Damon. It hurt him knowing that he could never be a father of his own, but without Tiff having a male parent in the picture, it gave Damon the opportunity to step up. He awoke from his heavenly slumber from being shaken restlessly on his bare shoulder by a small hand that was no doubt pining for his attention.

As his eyes peeled open, as expected he was met with the sight of Tiff. Her wide blue eyes were staring up at him, and if he had no recollection of his past, from a few attributes of her appearance he would have been convinced that she was his long lost daughter. "Tiffy, why are you up so early sweetie?"

In her presence, he felt like a whole new man. He forgot all the terrible things he had done as his sole focus was on her. "I couldn't sleep Damon..." Her voice was small and it trailed off into a silence that scared the man before her. It pained him to hear her minuscule heart having a rave in her chest, yet simultaneously he was comforted that she found solace in her sleepless state in him.

You remained comatised in the depths of your dreams as Dam0n helped Tiff up onto the bed, she laid between the both of you, hugging on of the pillows on the bed. "I get bad dreams sometimes too."" He confided in her, reaching to hold her hand with his own. She gripped it tightly, fearful as though Damon would disappear from beside her.

"What are they about? Your bad dreams I mean..." Tiff was a very inquisitive child, and was well educated in her speech for her age. He would never answer her question truthfully, there were far too many sins he had partaken in. There was guilt wrapped around the remainder of his soul like a parasite, and most things he had done were too violent to share. The little girl before him deserved to keep her innocence, she was a the purest light in his life, and he refused to corrupt her.

"Well Tiffy, when I was younger, so a really long time ago, me and my brother would play around the garden with a football. Neither him or my dad if he dared dirty his clothes never let me win. And I miss my mom, she wasn't in my life then, she left us... me." To know Lily hadn't died but in fact abandoned him and. Stefan only pained him furthermore, it had been her choice to leave him in the custody of his neglectful father.

"Oh. Mine was you left mommy and me, like my real daddy did." His heart ached from hearing her words. "You're kinda like my dad, aren't you? You're here protecting us, and you make the bad dreams go away. Do you think mommy's having a good or bad dream?" To think she saw him as a parent figure made Damon feel proud about his journey, he'd come such a long way and finally, he had everything that he had ever wanted.

In reply to her enquiry his eyes trailed past Tiff and rested on his beloved. Your face was rested peacefully atop of the pillow beneath your head, strands of hair laying softly on your cheek. It was a rare occasion that you weren’t unconsciously kicking him, but he guessed that your maternal instincts sensed that your daughter was between the two of you.

“A good dream.” He answered her, thinking about how perfect his life was in the moment. “But it’d be even better if we woke her up with some brekkie.” He insisted as he laid a kiss on Tiff’s hairline, helping her clamber off from the mattress gently, as to not awaken you prematurely. They trailed through the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen, Damon picking Tiff up and sitting her on the countertop. “What do you think we should make, kid?”

“Pancakes!” The child exclaimed, and Damon had to remind her to be soft with her voice as you were still sleeping upstairs. Or so they thought… your bare feet had followed the route they had taken some moments later, and as they made use out of the frying pan, you watched the two of them from the doorway. A small part of you had wished they’d woken you up so that you could join them and teach them some culinary skills that would deplete the mess they had made around them, however the sight you had was everything.

The three of you were one big happy family. “And the two of you are making what exactly?” Halloween costumes would have been your first guess for when they spun around, the flour that they had used as an ingredient illuminated the high points of their faces. Tiff gave you a toothy smile as Damon blew you a kiss before returning to the pan that was hissing for his attention.

“We’re making pancakes, right daddy?” You froze, and Damon ignored that the cooking breakfast required a flip to its other side when the title escaped her mouth. She had never called Damon that before, but it justified Damon’s appearance of flour on his face and a towel slung over his shoulder. “Is that okay baby?” Damon asked you with uncertainty tied around his tongue.

You stood there, remembering all of the milestones and moments that Tiffany’s biological father had missed but Damon had been there for. She loved drives in his Camaro, he’d take her out for ice cream after he collected her from kindergarten thinking you didn’t know but you did. It was difficult to be against Damon being her ‘daddy’, because in all aspects he was. “It’s more than okay. But I don’t think the breakf- sorry, brekkie is; smells like it’s burning.”

[tupznum]

They were "brothers"

Arthur Morgan X male read

《••••••••••••••••••♥��•••••••••••••••》

Warnings: angst, suicide, Hurt No comfort, rushed, dyslexic author lol

"They were brothers in a past life" is what they would say about us and we agreed with them.

Me, m/n l/n and everyone's favorite Arthur Morgan joined the Van der Linde gang around the same time, him a month earlier.

We were around the same age, him fourteen, me just turning fifteen so naturally we became bast friends. Throughout the years we did everything together we never drifted apart even after Dutch start to visibly fever Arthur over me, I didn't really care.

In our teen years we were inseparable, whether Arthur went I went, whatever I did he did.

because we were so Inseparable Dutch had to deal with the constant nagging and bribing from us as we did everything in our power to stay together.

the older members of the gang had a kick out of this.

In our young adult years we were still inseparable with exceptions. We gave up on the nagging and bribery and we accepted that we will be separated at times. But if we were in the same area where one was the other was only a foot away.

During these years we start to get very comfortable with each other in a way that some considered too comfortable for friends, we didn't care if we saw each other's naked bodies, we bathed together regularly and changed in front of each other.

During these times we shared every thought that came to mind with each other from the hottest woman we saw that day to the more unsavory thoughts that came with our life choices.

Looking back I think this when I start to develop feelings that were unnatural....

into our prime years our relationship was smooth and strong as ever but my unnatural feelings start to take a toll on our relationship.

I would get moody or upset when a fine woman would put her hands on Arthur in an intimate way, I never knew why but now I know it was jealousy, Stone Cold jealousy the kind that ruins people.

One Day Dutch sent me on a solo mission to collect payments from a poor son of a bitch who owed him money in a town two days over, this gave me time to let off some steam and reflect on my seemingly unnatural feelings.

but I learned nothing. instead I decide to push those feelings deep down and pretend they never existed..

When I made it back to Camp two and a half days later I found Arthur head new company her name was Mary Linton

She was a fine young woman and was very clearly Sweeting on Arthur. the feeling of jealousy claude at my stomach whenever she got a little too close or was a little too flirtatious but I ignored it as best as I could.

it was not my business.

Not long after Mary showed up I distance myself from Arthur as the jealousy was killing me inside. That jealousy was soon replaced with longing and want. the closer the two got the stronger my feelings.

One night as I was getting ready for bed Arthur came into the tent with the biggest smile I ever saw on his face and he announce that he and Mary we're engaged . A big chunk of my heart died that night but after years of being an outlaw I learned to hide my feelings so instead of showing sadness I showed happiness and support.

After he left I cried myself to sleep that night.

It was the night before Mary's and Arthur's wedding and Arthur approached me at the fire and asked to have a drink with him and I agreed.

just like when we were teens We snuck into Pearson tent and stole a few bottles of moonshine from his stash and snuck out to the woods.

We found a big fallen tree and laid against it.

We talked and drink.

he questioned why I was so distant, and I decided to tell him the partial truth I said I was dealing with my own things at the moment and that I needed some time to myself to resolve them.

I was one and a half bottles in and Arthur two and a half I was exceptionally drunk. same could be said about Arthur.

I picked over at Arthur to see him looking at the stars and I couldn't help but let my emotions flow.

it was quite pathetic really a grown man with a half a bottle of moonshine crying his eyes out for seemingly no reason.

Once Arthur realize what was going on he tried his best to comfort me in a drunken Haze, he asked me what was wrong and he said that I could tell him anything but I couldn't find the words. instead I did something that even to this day I'm quite ashamed of doing...

I brought my hands up and grabbed Arthur's face and told them I was so sorry and proceed to kiss his lips. Part of me expected to be slapped punched even shot for what I did but surprisingly the kiss lasted. we only pulled away for air. Despite being drunk out of my mind I knew what I did was wrong and that what i just did will come with dire consequences. So I got the fuck out of there so fast Arthur didn't even have the time to react.

The last thing I heard that night is Arthur's raspy drunk voice calling out my name. I haven't seen him since then as I was too ashamed to show my face to him or the Gang.

I've had close calls with them a few times but I managed to invade them. I knew they were looking for me but I was hard to find. After a year or so they stopped looking as I would assume they either thought I died to the natives or was hung by the law.

I will never know if he remembered that night but it doesn't matter now as everything is coming to a end now.

This was the story that m/n wanted to share with whoever found his body hanging deep in the woods....

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Turgon/Maglor marriage of convenience

Fingolfin looked at his second son, full of hopes and dreams for a new kingdom. Petitioning him for his very literal leave as king. “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t just vanish with half our people into the wilderness!”

“Lord Ulmo told me it would be perfectly safe.”

“For you perhaps, but what of the rest of us, with so many fewer soldiers?”

“Fingon just achieved a very glorious victory, Morgoth will hide and lick his wounds for a while.”

“Perhaps, but what of when he recovers? You plan no means for me to call on you for aid.”

“Any messengers could be intercepted and reveal the location. As could trained pigeons, not that they’d even live long enough.”

“If you stay close by, I could likely reach out to you with my mind.”

“I’m not going to tell you how far I’m going. That would defeat the point of keeping it secret.”

“Neither you or I are gifted enough in Osanwe to reach across hundreds of miles.”

“Artanis is, but she’s not spending time with either of us.”

“Then my son, I’m sorry but I cannot give this plan my blessing.”

“You are spitting in the advice of the Valar.”

“As we have been since we left Tirion. If you can think of a way to exchange messages if we need aid, I will consider it.”

___

Turgon came in the next week. “I want you to know that I am taking you seriously, but I will not stop my plans. I had an idea, but there were no volunteers.”

“What was your idea, my son?”

“Marriage bonds allow sharing of minds further than normal Osanwe. You were able to hear Mother halfway across the Ice, though I couldn’t.”

Fingolfin is not happy about this line of thought, but it’s important. “I was.”

“I announced to people that you wouldn’t approve of our departure unless you had a way to speak with us. I asked for volunteers of married couples for one to stay and fight, while the other goes into safety. Not surprisingly, I had no takers. Everyone who was willing to be separated from their spouse for safety stayed in Tirion. A few couples did both volunteer to stay in Ethel Sirion though.”

Fingolfin is kind of insulted that Turgon is saying Anaire loved him less than any of Turgon’s subjects love their spouses. “Is there anyone who’d be willing to wed and then immediately separate?”

“I didn’t ask, but I doubt it. You’re losing your chance to ever marry again for all the Ages of the world.”

“True, unless one of them is willing to promise to die and stay dead once we defeat Morgoth.”

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

___

“I’m marrying Maglor. He and his brothers are Doomed to the Void after they die, he won’t get in the way of Elenwe returning. And at the rate his part of the family has been dying, I doubt he’ll survive the next few centuries.”

“Is Maglor aware of this idea?”

“Yes. He says it’s worth some awkwardness to create one safe place the Noldor can thrive for a time, and he’s willing to be message-carrier if you need rescue.”

___

“So, do you want to go to the bed or do this right here?”

“Excuse me?” 

Maglor shrugged where he was sitting in front of the fireplace. “What, we both know that you’re only in my rooms so we can ‘wed’. So, in front of the fire or on the bed?”

“Would it kill you to be a little more romantic?”

“If your proposal hadn’t mentioned my likely death as a selling point, perhaps I’d be inclined to. I could serenade you with tales of love in unlikely places, or of passionate encounters that last only a night but are remembered forever. But you rather brought down the tenor of the whole endeavor.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right it was a poor beginning. Perhaps we can make it better?”

“Nope. One fuck and then you abandon us all to build your fairy tale kingdom where no one ever dies. I’m not getting emotions into this that I’ll have no way to fulfill for decades.”

“Fine, have it your way. Let’s go to the bed.” Turgon pulled his tunic off over his head and set it on a chair. 

Maglor followed, stroking himself at the sight of Turgon’s muscles. He let his own clothes fall to the floor.

Turgon was only half way hard, and well, Maglor did want to achieve this. “Do you want me to suck you off before I fuck you?”

“If you’re offering, yes.”

“I am. Now lay back.”

___

Maglor and Turgon exchanged mostly perfunctory communications for centuries. Maglor shared family news, such as when Finrod moved south, or when Orodreth married. Turgon kept to a strict schedule, mediating every second new moon and opening his mind to his husband. He would assure Maglor that Gondolin was still safe, and every decade would give a census that Maglor dutifully passed along to Fingolfin.

It wasn’t purely due to lack of affection that Turgon contacted Maglor so rarely; it was also practical. Though Turgon was a king, he dealt with no matters where a split second lapse of attention would men the difference between life and death. He could simply ask the petitioner to repeat themselves, or have his face clouded for a moment at a banquet. Few knew of his marriage to Maglor, but his council did know that King Turgon was still in contact with King Fingolfin. A moment of distraction would be easily explained, or politely ignored.

Maglor by contrast was often in combat, and even more often riding over difficult terrain. His mare would keep her footing just fine, but Maglor could fall if startled, and far worse could happen if Turgon reached out when Maglor needed to dodge a blade. Maglor camped early on the night of planned communications, and set extra guards. 

So Gondolin was not completely cut off, and news passed slowly but reliably.

Until one day when Turgon reached out in the middle of the afternoon, only five weeks since their last discussion. “Maglor! I must speak with you.”

Maglor was sitting on a log tuning his harp outside his tent, and nearly dropped it. He was tempted to ignore Turgon; being king had made his husband incredibly bossy, and Maglor owed him no allegiance. But in truth Maglor wasn’t busy, merely waiting for scouts to rejoin the rest of the cavalry. Better to get this out of the way now, rather than be distracted from their report later.

Maglor sent back, “Just a minute.” He put one of his archers on watch who had been about to take a break; she had only ridden four hours and was fresh enough. Maglor certainly couldn’t both pay enough attention to threats and carry on a conversation in his mind with someone dozens or hundreds of miles away. 

“Okay Turgon, I’m ready. What couldn’t wait three weeks?”

“I need you to check that Aredhel is alright.”

“What? She went to Gondolin with you, have you just been assuming she’d with us for these past centuries?!”

“Of course not! She left the city to visit my father, and now her guards have returned alone. They say she detoured to Himlad, of all places, and I’d be comforted to know she arrived.”

“I can ask, next time I ride out that way.”

“I need to know sooner.”

“Unlike some people, I don’t have a whole city waiting on my beck and call.”

“No, you just have the entire Noldorin cavalry.”

“I will send out a rider once I can do so safely, and will see if I can reach Celegorm by mind tonight. He may not answer though; we’re generally skeptical of unplanned calls asking for military secrets.”

“I suppose that will have to work.”

“Given that Aredhel’s guards abandoned her, I don’t think I’m the one you should be angry at.”

“They aren’t cowards! But the Ungoliant-spawn attacked them, and drew them away one by one.”

Maglor knew well how long it took to ride to anywhere in Beleriand. He had never pressed Turgon for details of Gondolin’s location, but this couldn’t be ignored. “Turgon, how long have the guards been travelling?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“Knowing when Aredhel disappeared is very relevant to finding her.”

“Not if she’s drinking wine with your little brothers.”

“Turgon, the Spider Forest is two weeks ride from Himlad, and just as far from Ethel Sirion. How long has Aredhel been missing? And was her trip planned last time we talked?”

“It’s been less than a month since her guards last saw her. And I don’t see how her trip would have been any of your business, had it gone well.”

“It’s your father’s business, at minimum.”

“He would learn of her visit when she arrived, and Ethel Sirion is big enough by far to host four guests.”

“Four - that is far too small a party to travel alone!”

“They weren’t going to raid orc dens or anything, and wanted to travel fast.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to defend themselves against an attack. And apparently couldn’t outrun spiders, which don’t plan or devise clever traps.”

Maglor is offended and insulted that Turgon didn’t trust him enough to tell him about Ardehel’s rip in advance, but he tries not to bring it up. After a bit more arguing, they agree to check in nightly until they learn more. Maglor won’t know much tomorrow, but he might in a few days.

Celegorm does listen to Maglor, at least enough to finish up his hunting trip quickly, and return to Himlad. He was hunting with only bow and arrow though, not bringing a horse that needed a wider path. By the time he reaches Himlad, Aredhel is gone. 

___

At the Bragollach, the Gap burns first. Fingolfin can see that even from Ethel Sirion. He assumes Maglor is dead and Turgon unreachable. Fingolfin rides out to his doom

Maglor reaches out during the Bragollach as “look what shit you left us to deal with.”

Turgon does reach back a few weeks later to say Fingolfin is dead, his body brought by Eagles to be buried. Turgon acknowledges Fingon as king.

__

At the Niraneth

Turgon has not said anything about how many soldiers he’ll bring, or for what front of the battle field, or whether he’ll come at all.

He and Maglor still have their check ins, but he gives even less information than normal. 

Fingon is fine™ with this

His only living sibling is barely exchanging proof of life communications

He is trying to save the world and might die doing so, but Turgon won’t help.

Won’t even agree to send a messenger with letters, or come out himself, so the brothers could talk without Maglor having to repeat both halves of the conversation.

Fingon’s kingdom burned, and he had werewolves a few leagues from his capital.

He is king in the midst of a great crisis, and would appreciate advice on how to rule from someone with centuries of experience.

But he’s not going to pressure Turgon.

Everyone grieves differently. Fingon is focused on vengeance, but Turgon is keeping those safe that he can.

Fingon doesn’t hate Turgon, because he doesn’t have enough family left to cut any off for grudges and anger.

(If Fingon tells himself that enough, perhaps he might believe it.)

Anyway, no one is expecting Turgon to show up.

Maglor told Turgon the date and place as a challenge, and the broad plan because all Turgon would do with it is sit on the secret anyway.

Maglor is not expecting to hear from Turgon for a few more weeks

But after Uldor’s betrayal, Maglor feels a knock at the door of his mind. From far closer than he’s used to, not since Turgon left Ethel Sirion after their wedding.

Maglor signals to his soldiers to cover him while he’s distracted.

Turgon opens with “Where are you? You’re late.”

Maglor is not in a good mood. He replies. “Delayed and betrayed. Did you actually decide to care for once?”

Maglor is kind of disgusted when Turgon retreats to his city forever after one (1) battle goes poorly, but relays it to Maedhros.

Maglor doesn’t deliberately share attacking Doriath, but Turgon has been at least doing a heartbeat check in annually, and noticed Maglor was tense last time. Maglor says that three of his brothers are dead, no new action by Morgoth. Turgon is disgusted.

Turgon reaches out in a panic when his city is being sacked by someone with inside knowledge. There’s nothing Maglor can do in time even if he wanted to. He feels the tower collapse on Turgon as if it fell on himself.

__

Maglor accepted Galadriel’s hand off the ship. He wasn’t as seasick as he had been last time he crossed the Sea, but the dock still felt like it rolled for a moment. And he hoped he would be more welcome in Alqualonde holding the hand of their princess - at least no one would shoot for fear of hitting her.

Maglor was feeling rather smug about this when someone punched him in the belly. He looked over and was surprised to see a family member. “Idril?”

“You deserve that.”

“Probably, but what for specifically?”

“For surviving! All the rest of your family died, why couldn’t you?”

“Congratulations, you found the one thing I have no inclination to make amends for. Besides, Galadriel is right here, and she didn’t die either!”

“Nice to see you again Cousin Galadriel,” Idril said. “I have no grudge against you because you haven’t been keeping my parents trapped for the last six thousand years.”

“What - I haven’t even seen Turgon since before you went to Gondolin! How am I meant to be harming a dead man?”

“Exactly. Not since your wedding. And then my father died, and has not been permitted out of the halls of Mandos.”

“Have you tried petitioning Lord Namo to find out why?”

“I did, and he said that the Statute of Finwe and Miriel still stands; no one may have two living spouses. My mother could return if she was willing to confine my father to the halls for all time. Or my father could return, and until the breaking of the world I wouldn’t meet my mother as an adult.”

“Ah, that does sound difficult.”

“That’s an understatement. Neither of them will leave the other trapped, and so I am bereft of both my parents. I was hoping you’d choke on a fishbone or something, and fulfill your bargain.”

“I didn’t promise my own death. I am truly sorry to hear that Turgon is still dead though, he doesn’t deserve that.”

“How could you believe him alive? You two are married, despite the poor wisdom of it.”

“I felt silence from the bond, but that happened often even when we were alive and on the same continent. I assumed he simply had nothing to say to me, after Sirion.”

“And you never once tried to reach back?”

“Oh, I did once or twice, but I wouldn’t have expected him to hear even if he were alive. After all, not even the echoes of my lamentations shall reach Valinor.”

“My father had no hand in your Doom.”

“No, but I am under it just the say. I cannot say that I would have killed myself if I knew Turgon was still dead, especially without assurance that I was the one keeping him so. But I did not know, and so would ask that this crime, at least, be counted only from today.”

_____

Two possible scenarios with Elrond

All Maglor ever told Elrond about his spouse was that it was a marriage of convenience, but they had died before Elrond was born. All Maglor told Elrond about Turgon is what’s in the history books, and a few anecdotes from Valinor about the grandfather Elrond never met. 

Elrond didn’t actually find Maglor and bring him to Imladris. Cirdan knew roughly where Maglor was and made him sail so that Cirdan could finally get to go to Valinor soon, as the last elf to sail.

Elrond finds out when his grandmother who he’s never met punches Maglor.

2.

Maglor telling the twins that he just took from Sirion that he’s their grandpa. Okay, technically, step-great-grandpa, but that’s rather long it? So let’s just go with Grandpa Maglor, and he’ll take good care of them. He admittedly didn’t get to spend much time with their father or grandmother, but he’s sure he’ll be a wonderful grandfather anyway! He’ll keep them safe, and tell them all about Grandpa Turgon, both in Valinor and in Gondolin.

Elros and Elrond don’t really believe Maglor was married to Turgon, but that is not in the top twenty things to object to about being kidnapped by the ones who took them from their home. 

Elrond mentions “Maglor’s funny story” to Galadriel in the second age, after all the bright and strange warriors from Valinor have left, and hopefully she won’t be insulted by him impugning Turgon’s honor in a joke. He’s very surprised when she confirms it. (Turgon had told Finrod before leaving, and Finrod told Galadriel.)

[ghostfacd]

EVEN AT THEIR WORST, THEY KNOW THEY’LL STILL BE OKAY — LUKE HUGHES

— “HE HATES IT WHEN SHE’S CRYING, HE HATES WHEN SHE’S AWAY.”

pairing; slytherin!luke x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary; in which you’re the only one that can see right through luke’s exterior

genre; angst, fluff, hurt to comfort, blackcat!bf luke, golden retriever!gf reader, hogwarts!au

warnings; cursing, mentions of sex (hooking up), rude comments made towards luke and yn, underage drinking

PART 1 | ✸ SLYTHERIN!LUKE MASTERLIST

listen to this for a better reading experience!

To say you were a mess after the breakup was an understatement. Your friends felt like they were walking on eggshells, every little thing they say would somehow remind you of Luke, making you cry even harder as your face is buried into a tear stained pillow.

“You have to get up you know,” Kielle says as she throws Luke’s robe towards him, “cmon Luke, you’re one of my best friends, I can’t let you keep missing classes.”

Kielle Waterstone—or who Luke refers to as Kie and Ell. She was in the same year as you and Luke, and had been one of Luke’s closest friends besides Mark and his brother, Quinn. They were like brother and sister, always teasing each other out of love.

“Kie, please leave me alone,” Luke groans into his pillow.

“Hey, no!” Kielle takes one of Luke’s other pillows, hitting the boy repeatedly. “Get up now! I did not walk all the way to the boys dorm to have you quit on me again,”

Luke finally pops his head up from his pillow. His eyes were bloodshot, and his curls were sticking out all over the place.

“Oh Luke,” Kielle pulls the boy into her arms, making him let out a small cry. She was the only person he could be emotional with other than you. “I know it was a hard decision for you, I know it’s taking a toll on you, but you can’t keep missing classes. Your grades are gonna go down, and we have exams soon.”

“You’re right,” Luke sniffles, “I shouldn’t even be mopping, I made this decision. I chose this for myself.”

“It’s alright to make the right decisions and feel shit about making them,” Kielle pulls apart from the hug to cup Luke’s face into her hands, “hey, no more of the crying okay Hughes? You’re gonna be okay, you have me, Mark, and Quinn by your side. Slytherins have to stick with Slytherins, you know?”

“But was it the right decision?”

Luke frowns, thinking about your heartbroken face the night of the Yule Ball, the night where he had officially ended things. It had been two weeks, though it felt like years for him. He had been locked away in his dorm, wondering if you were suffering just as much as he was.

“Only time will tell Lu.” Kielle helps pull the boy up, fixing his bed. “Go brush your teeth and take a shower. I’ll tidy up your room for you.”

Luke nods, silently thanking Kielle for being there for him. She had helped him through the roughest of times during these 2 weeks, and he couldn’t be more grateful for her support. In some ways, Luke thinks they’re platonic soulmates.

Luke walks out of the bathroom after blow drying his hair. He finally feels alive after the cold shower, he swore he had died the night you two broke up.

“Great, now get dressed.” Kielle throws his green robe at him, “I’ll be in the dining hall getting breakfast, me and Mark will save you a seat.”

Luke nods, putting on his robe and fixing his tie.

“Oh, by the way,” Kielle gives him a small box, one that he recognizes far too quickly. “Uhm, YN wanted me to return this to you. I’m sorry Luke.”

It was the same box that he had given you for your 1 month anniversary. Inside was your promise ring, shiny with Luke + YN engraved into it.

He didn’t want to go back to class, especially Potions since you two shared that period. But he has to eventually, he knows. He can’t just stop prioritizing his grades because of some breakup. Even though the breakup quite literally felt like his world ended right in front of him.

He feels like he’s gonna throw up when he enters Potion. You’re there with Annie, your partner, as always. Your eyes look tired, dark eye bags had already formed under them.

He wanted to go hug you, tell you that everything is alright, but he can’t do any of those things. You weren’t his anymore, and he wasn’t yours.

“Mr. Hughes, it’s great to finally have you back in class.”

Luke nods, taking a seat next to Teddy Wellings, who shyly waves at him. Teddy doesn’t want to do anything to set off the boy, so he keeps silent throughout the entire class.

During his time in Potions, he had heard whispers across the room.

“Did you hear? Luke hasn’t been attending class because him and YN broke up,”

“Really? Huh, no wonder. I knew they weren’t gonna to last anyway,”

“I know right! I mean cmon, Slytherin and Hufflepuff? That relationship was doomed from the start,”

“Hey,” Mark says sternly at the people who were whispering about his best friend, “you better watch your mouths. None of you know what really happened so shut the fuck up,”

“Fine, geez.”

“Professor?” Luke raises his hands, making the entire class eye him, including you.

“Yes Mr. Hughes?”

“May I use the restroom?”

“Go ahead.”

Luke makes his way out of class quickly, finding the nearest boys bathroom. When he finds an empty stall, he finally loses it.

He throws up, eyes shutting in pain. He had never felt so gross up until now.

- -

“Luke,” Jack approaches him after all of their classes were done. “I know something that will cheer you up, there’s a party tonight in Ravenclaw.”

Luke’s eyes are blank as usual, not really taking in his older brother’s words. All he heard was party, tonight, and Ravenclaw.

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe a party was just what Luke needed to get over you. So as stupid as it sounds, he goes.

“Luke?” Mark takes a seat next to the boy, who was currently drinking out of his red solo cup. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I gotta move on somehow, right?” He jokes, clearly drunk. “Where’s Kielle and Quinn?”

“Quinn’s in one of the dorms doing karaoke with some random Ravenclaws. He’s a weird drunk.”

That makes Luke let out a snort. Of course one of his brothers would be doing something stupid.

“And Kielle—oh! Hey Kielle!” Mark waves the girl excitedly over. “Hey Kiels.”

“Hi Marky,” Kielle makes herself comfortable between the two boys. “Hi Luke. Surprised to see you here.”

“That’s what I said!”

“But we’re happy you are,” Kielle smiles, “it’s good to see you not sad and gloomy you know? I’m glad you’re doing better now.”

“Yeah,” Luke lets out a small grin. He felt the alcohol in his system take over.

“Hey Kie?” He says before he can think.

“Yes Luke?”

She turns around to give him her full attention, and Luke can’t help but lean in, closing the gap between their lips.

“Holy shit!” Mark gasps. “My two best buddies getting at it?”

Luke doesn’t know that you were currently at the party, after your friends had practically begged you to let loose after the breakup.

You stop dead in your tracks when you see Luke and Kielle kissing, your heart automatically breaks more than it already had.

“What’s wrong YN?” Your friend asks as she tries to look where you’re staring. When she finally sets her eyes on the scene, her mouth drops. “Cmon YN, he isn’t worth it,”

She takes you in her arms, far away from Luke. Suddenly, all your emotions feel like they’re going to burst, and you cry right at the spot.

“I’m sorry,” your friend mumbles guiltily, “I didn’t know he would be here.”

“It’s fine,” you sob, “it’s fine.”

It wasn’t, clearly.

Luke finally pulls away from the kiss, his cheeks flushed deep red.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, wiping his lips. “Sorry Kie, I don’t know what has gotten into me,”

“No worries,” she laughs, “just to be clear, this isn’t going to change our dynamic right?”

“No—of course not.” Luke sighs, “it was just the alcohol. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Luke,” Kielle pats him on the back comfortingly, “don’t worry about it. I know you still have feelings for YN.”

He does. And he hates that he does.

- -

“Hey man, you’re gonna go to Quidditch practice today right?” Quinn asks the next day after school, placing his broom next to his side.

“Yeah,” Luke mumbles, “coach must be mad at me huh?”

“Sorta? We told him you came down with a flu. But he’ll be happy you’re back. Slytherin needs their star player after all.”

Luke finally smiles for the first time since the breakup. If the party wasn’t going to get his mind off you, maybe playing Quidditch will.

“Hope you’re not hungover, we have a game tonight so you need to practice as much as you can,” Mark says, showing up to Luke’s other side. “You ready Lukey?”

“Don’t call me that,” Luke rolls his eyes, “but yeah. Feels good to be back.. I guess.”

That night, Slytherin went against Gryffindor. Luke gulped nervously. He had always been so confident in Quidditch, never once flattering. But tonight was different; tonight, you wouldn’t be in the crowd, cheering him on as you always did. Tonight, Luke would feel the loss of your presence even more than he had before.

He still didn’t know you saw the kiss between him and Kielle. He had brushed off the kiss as absolutely nothing but alcohol in his system. He didn’t see Kielle like that, not romantically. He saw her as his best friend and sister. And Kielle saw him as her brother. They both had agreed to never speak of the kiss again.

“Alright guys, good luck!” Quinn says as the Slytherin teams huddle together, “Go Slytherin!”

“Go Slytherin!” All the teammates said, tapping their brooms together.

As soon as Luke was up in the air, his eyes focused on the snitch. It was quick, moving far away from his sight. He rushed after it, the Ravenclaw seeker right at his back.

“Hey, heard you broke up with your girl and then got with Kielle right after,” the Ravenclaw shouts from behind him. “Were they both good fucks, Luke?”

Luke’s jaw clenches. That asshole had some nerve to talk about you and his best friend that way.

“You don’t know shit,” Luke yells back, broom flying down to where the snitch was heading.

“Oh yeah? You gave us quite a show yesterday at the party. Did you see YN walk out crying? Think that was all your fault, mate.”

The Ravenclaw quickly catches up to Luke, now being side to side in the cold air. He suddenly slams his side into Luke’s, making the Slytherin lose his balance.

For the first time since his first year, Luke falls off from the broom, hitting the ground with a harsh thump!

“And Luke Hughes from Slytherin is down!” The announcer yells.

Luke groans as he tries to lift himself off the ground. He looks up to see the Ravenclaw seeker smirk at him, before flying past to follow the snitch.

“That cheating bitch,” Luke mumbles under his breath, getting up and wiping the sand away from his uniform.

You were in the crowd and had seen the entire thing play out. Even though you were upset with Luke for breaking up with you and then kissing another girl just weeks after; you still cared deeply for him. You were beyond worried seeing him fall to the ground mid game.

“Don’t do it,” your friend warns you after the game, knowing you were going straight to Luke. “YN, he kissed another girl at a party like you were nothing.”

“But he’s hurt,” you say, “I’m sorry Mary, but I have to go to him.”

She doesn’t stop you, understanding your point of view. She knew you loved him deeply, she had spent many nights holding you as you cried your heart out, asking her what you did wrong in the relationship for Luke to leave like that.

“Luke.” Your voice calls out to him as he makes his way to the locker room. He was angry at himself, angry that he let some stupid Ravenclaw stop him from playing further and that Slytherin had lost.

When you approach him, he feels deja vu. But he knows he can’t walk away, that wouldn’t be fair to you.

“Luke, are you alright? I saw everything,”

“I’m fine,” he says, looking straight into your eyes.

“Oh okay,” you mumble quietly. You look down, eyes filling with tears again. It felt so strange talking to him like this—like you weren’t just in love with each other a few weeks ago.

Luke takes notice of your body language, realizing straight away that you were tearing up. He hated seeing you cry, and he hated being the cause of it even more.

“I guess I’ll go then,” you say, wiping your eyes as you retreat your bag from the ground.

“Wait..” Luke says. He pulls you back by your arm, slightly cringing. He never thought in his life that he would be doing something like this.

“I’m sorry,” he looks anywhere but at you, “I miss you YN, a lot. I hope you’re doing okay, and I’m really sorry we ended the way we did.”

Your tears that had stopped before suddenly began to stream down your face again. “I miss you too Luke.”

He pulls you in for a hug, one that is so tight because the both of you are scared to let go again.

“Luke, please get back together with me. I can’t handle us being apart, especially because of stupid comments made by people.”

Luke places his chin on your head, rubbing your back comfortingly. You were probably wetting his uniform with your mascara and tears, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like shit lovie,” Luke mumbles, “I’m so fucking sorry. I never wanted to break up with you, I thought I would be saving us both the heartbreak. I thought that I could never be enough for you. I was idiotic to let you go like that.”

You pull away from the hug to look at Luke. His eyes were glossy, and his eyes were filled with sadness.

“I want us back,” you say, “I don’t care about anyone but you, Luke. I don’t give a shit about what they say, as long as you’re mine again,”

Luke leans in to give you a kiss, one that is so passionate and genuine. It isn’t filled with lust, instead, filled with longing and love.

“YN L/N, will you be my girlfriend again?” Luke says while he’s crying.

You laugh, crying just as much as he is. “Yes Luke, I’ll always say yes.”

He pulls you back into a hug again, right hand on your head as his left is wrapped around your waist.

“You know that Ravenclaw was talking about you during the game? I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he mumbles into your hair.

You giggle. “Alright Lukey, you go do that.”

God, he’s so relieved to have you back in his arms again.

[dyeher]

includes| miya osamu x fem! reader x miya atsumu— smut (840 words)

content| Cream Pie, Praising, Degradation, Double Penetration, Their dicks do be touching (i,e do not read this if you are not comfortable with themes that may reflect hard incest).

notes| welcome back old ass content.

you’re spread open on the dining table of your apartment, left leg over osamu’s shoulder, right leg held open by atsumu. you want to say this situation started out purely by accident but, you’d be lying. getting fucked by the miya twins has been a fantasy of yours since you first met them. of course, you were never brave enough to actually say anything about it but, atsumu has never been very good at hiding his attraction to you and well from the way osamu usually glared at his brother’s forwardness you’d assumed he was equally attracted to you.

it never helped that they’d sometimes team up to tease you whenever they could. this turned out to be your downfall, and it was during a teasing session that they’d learned of your desire to be fucked by them both. you didn’t even say anything out loud, but it was your silence after osamu had jokingly pointed it out that you never complained about their tag team teasing, that it was almost like you wanted it.

it’s how you ended up here. the thick vein along the side of osamu’s cock dragging against your gummy walls whenever he was inside you, and the mushroomed head of atsumu’s cock bumping into the entrance of your cervix. it was…everything you’d imagined and more. you figured they’d be competitive at least but, they weren’t, they worked like a well-oiled machine to make you into a crying mess before they even begun to fuck you.

by the time you realized they were taking turns fucking into your slicked-up cunt, you were three orgasms in.

“she’s so fuckin’ tight,” atsumu hisses, “the tightest little slut, fuck.”

“she’s such a good girl,” osamu coos, “god, look how well her pussy’s taking my cock.”

the mixture of atsumu’s degrading words and osamu’s praise let you dizzy, had your cunt clenching around air when osamu pulled out in time for atsumu to guide his cock in. the process repeats itself until you’re full-on crying, sobbing for one of them to stay put, to fuck you properly.

“we’re both getting in there, princess,” osamu assures you, the meaning behind his words don’t register until atsumu chuckles.

“bet her pussy can do it,” he pushes against your legs until your knee is pressed against your side ono the bed and osamu mirror’s his actions. you realize a little too late what that means but your cunt clenches at the thought of them sharing you like that, filling you like that. osamu slaps his cock against your pussy before lining himself up.

“if ya can’t take it, just tell us to stop,” he says, “and we will.” you nod and he eases himself back into you, fucking your walls slowly, teasingly, coaxing your slick out, drawing breathless thank yous from your parted lips. he leans down to kiss you, it’s slow and gentle, but firm, grounding, he tastes like spicy shrimp and mayo, the kind he makes at Onigiri Miya, it’s delicious, per usual.

he pulls back and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch atsumu squeeze the head of his cock next to osamu. the sensation is new, and your body reacts immediately, squeezing and sucking at them.

“ah shit, “atsumu curses, he leans his head against his brother’s shoulder when he bottoms out.

osamu stares at your face, your eyes are rolled back, and your breath are coming rapidly, “ya okay pretty girl? want us to continue?” he doesn’t try to hide the strained quality of his voice.

you can feel them, atsumu’s deeper than osamu but the stretch, oh God, the stretch was maddening. you barely nod before they begin to move, atsumu pulling out and osamu grinding against your walls.

“fuck, ya feel s’good,” osamu moans, “so fuckin’ tight.”

“yer cunts fucking stretched,” atsumu smacks at one of your breasts, and chuckles when all you can do is moan. “this really the first time ya did this?” atsumu knows you can’t answer, as they both speed up.

osamu wipes at the tears that begin to trickle down your cheeks and coos about how pretty you are, while atsumu grunts about how much of a slut you are for being able to fit both of them in you. it takes them less time than you expected to have you creaming around them, especially with atsumu’s fingers shoved into your mouth and osamu’s fingers toying at your clit.

they cum soon after, filling your cunt together, pulling out with an embarrassing pop. astumu prods at your entrance experimentally and they make identical sounds of surprise when he easily fits four of his fingers inside of you.

they step back to watch the way your hole gapes at them, leaking their cum down between your ass cheeks and onto the dining table. it dawns on you in the recess of your mind that, they’ve probably done this before. you chuckle at the realization that despite their short-comings and teasing nature with each other, the miya twins like to share.

[jaslan4f1]

Can You maybe continue the dirty secret part of lando nsfw list. With his secret wish to get reader pregnant. Can be smut or not if you don’t feel like it

Let’s make a baby L.N 🧡

Notes: English is not my native language so this may contain consistency errors, i would really appreciate the corrections but please, be kind. feedback is also appreciated ♡

 Warnings: fluff

Masterlist Part 2

“Her favorite toys are in the bag, her clothes are in this bag and…” Savannah said, holding Mila in her arms while Oliver put Milas bags in Landos apartment. “Sav, you don’t need to worry. Uncle Lando and aunt Y/n will take good care of Mila,” he said in a baby voice while taking Mila from Savs arms. “Well technically she isn’t aunt YET” Oliver interrupted and made sure to underline the yet.

“Bro when are you going to pop the question?” Oliver said, a grin forming as he slung an arm around his younger brother. Lando let out a nervous chuckle. “I will…soon” was all he could say.

Lando didn’t missed that not only his family but everybody around him made clear that marriage would be the next step in his relationship with you. Being together for 5 years and living together for 3,5 years gave him not only the best partner who he could have asked for but also many happy memories that he shared during this relationship. In fact, Lando thought about proposing to you far more often than you did. Of course, you guys talked about marriage, but both decided that you wanna take it slow due to Landos and your carrer.

“What will be soon?” was what you said when you walked inside the hallway to greet Landos brother and his family. “My due date will be soon” was quickly said from Sav. Lando gave her a thankful look. You just nodded and switched your attention to the little girl in Landos arms.

You absoulutly adored Landos niece. She was the most perfect little human that you ever met. Mila liked you too due to the many times where you played with her in the garden of Landos parents or the times where you and Lando took care of her when Sav and Oli went out on a date. “Aont Y/n” Mila tried to say and signaled with her hand that she would rather be in your arms than in her uncle's. Everybody chuckled when Lando gave Mila to you. “Hey, I missed my best friend” you said and poked her little nose.

Lando watched you closely, adoring not only his niece but especially you. He loved that you were good with his family but watching you with his niece made him feel a certain way. Did he want to start a family with you? Was he ready for it? And another question was, are you ready to start a family with him?

A loud cough interupped Landos daydreaming. “We have to go now but if you need anything you can call me” Sav said before they said goodbye to Mila and headed to the Spa resort in saint tropez where they would be staying for the weekend.

 

After a lot of playing, you both cooked Mila her dinner, took her to bed and read her a story. You both said down on the couch in the living room enjoyed the silence, both exhausted from baby sitting Mila today. Lando switched his attention towards you. “You looked good toady” he said. You laughed, you looked horrible in fact you had paint on your cheek, your shirt was red from Milas tomato soup, and your hair was a mess. “If you think I look good like this then I must look fantastic on every other day” you laughed with him. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I meant you looked good today with Mila. You looked like…like a mother” he said after a short pause.

Your eyes softened after Lando said his last word. You didn’t dare to respond to his comment knowing that he would continue with another sentence in a few seconds. “You know I could really imagine you being a mother to our children. Us taking care of them and bring them to bed. I know Mila is an angel and not every kid is like her…but I think we could handle one. And I know we are still young and have plenty of time but…” the last part of his sentence died on his lips as you pressed your lips on his. Lando instinctively wrapped his arms around you and sat you on his lap.

After a while you broke the kiss. “I am ready for everything that our future holds” was all you said before crashing your lips on his for the second time. “Let’s make a baby. I heard this is by far the most exciting part,” he said a devilish grin forming on his lips. “You’re such a dork…I love it” was all you said befor you stood up, took his hand, and walked to your shared bedroom ready to start a family with him.

 

a/n; Hi guys, I hope you like this post. Tell me if I should write a smut part?

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (18)

18. The Calm before the Storm

MASTERLIST

Summary: When everything is this calm under such horrific circumstances, you know a storm is coming

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, war! and all that comes with it, death of a character, talk about war and battles, the dance is coming folks!. might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: things are heating up!!

“My brother died alone”, whined Jacaerys, at least by now, three days later, he had stopped crying, he raised from his chambers to eat and drink, and now he was drunk on arbour wine, but at least he was processing it

“He died on top of his dragon”, you said, caressing his arm, “like a true Targaryen”, you had to hide your own sadness and fears.

Aemond had killed him.

The man that had said that he was going to come for you when his brother is King.

His brother was King

“I should have been there, it should’ve been me”, he said

“No”, you said

“You don’t understand!”, he said, “that day he was so nervous, I told him to “man up””, he whined, “he didn’t want to go, he wasn’t ready, he told my mother so, and we made him go anyways” 

“You could have never predicted this”, said Sara, touching his other arm, you looked over the table at Cregan, and it was kind of comical how he was sitting there alone and you and Sara were comforting Jace

“I know… but…”, you only shushed him gently as you kept comforting him. You were snowed in Winterfell, and you and Cregan had to restrain him and prevent him from taking to the skies to return to Dragonstone, a few yards into the sky and he was sure to freeze to death.

Bitter tears fell down his cheeks

“My baby brother”, he whined, “he was only sixteen”, you laid your head on his shoulder

“They will pay for everything”, you said, determined, “they will”

But you weren’t certain, the last thing you wanted to do was make the North march on the South, to battle, were thousands could die, it was certainly not the best idea, but you had to do something, Cregan was sworn to Rhaenyra, if she said to march, they will have to.

Getting Jace into bed was tricky, he was drunk on wine and he stumbled down the corridors, Cregan grabbed his arm to pass it over his shoulders to help him to his chambers, you and Sara shared concerned looks

“We need to make reinforcements on Winterfell’s walls”, she said decisively

“You think he will come all the way here?”, you asked, fearful, she only looked at you worried

“He just might”, she whispered, in her eyes there was sadness, but you probably just imagined it 

You met Cregan again in your chambers, the nannies had taken Rickon, but they were soon going to bring him back to you. Cregan was so tense and silent, not with you, but you could feel it in the air.

“You are worrying”, he said

“You too”, you accused, he sighed 

“I am”, you shared looks, “we have barely survived winter and a war is coming”

“I know”, you whispered, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if you had nothing to do with it, it was your family that was going to fight each other, “you don’t have to go”, you assured him, “we don’t have to fight this war”

“I’m sworn to Rhaenyra”, he said, “the Hightowers.. they betrayed her, they usurped the throne, they need to be brought to justice”, he said, and you realized this has somehow struck a nerve inside of your husband

“You don’t have to be the executioner of that justice”, you said softly

“I will support my Queen”, he said, “with us, as will others, we will be a great army, half the continent at the least, they will not stand a chance”

“They have dragons”

“The blacks also has dragons”, he said, “more by our counts”

“Still”, you whispered

“War comes at a great price, but in the end…”, he said walking until he held you in his arms, “we will prevail”, he said, you looked into his eyes and saw nothing but certainty 

“But Cregan…”, you tried to fight but he shushed you gently”

“My love”, he called back, his eyes had this immense power over you.

“But what if we do not prevail?”, you asked with tears in your eyes and a trembling voice 

“I’ll tell you why”, he said, he made you sit on the edge of the bed and he seated right next to you, “I will tell you a part of a speech my father gave me when I turned fifteen, in his eyes I was a man, and he believed I needed to hear this words”, you looked at him wide eyed, “I believe we will prevail because you need to believe certain things…”

“What things?”, you asked

“That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love... true love never dies”, he cradled your face between his hands, “You remember that, my love. You remember that. Doesn't matter if it's true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things, because those are the things worth believing in”, you close your eyes and just cherish the moment. You closed your eyes and he kissed your lips softly

“I love you”, you whispered, love-drunk and in a Cregan-haze

“I love you, my true love, my silver dragon, my summer princess”, he praised, and you buried your face in his chest as he held you. 

“Aemond what have you done?”, Alicent snapped, “you killed Lucerys!”, Aemond but all ignored his mother, serving himself a cup of wine

“He was intended to rally allies against my brother”, he said, “what would you have me do?”, he asked then, looking at her

“Not killing him, we have given then a reason to throw the Kingdoms into war!”, she all but yelled, looking at him with teary eyes

“I think we gave them a reason to when we imprisoned them and usurped her throne”, he mocked

“You don’t seem upset that you killed your nephew”, she whispered, scared of what she saw in her son, her favorite and most favored son

“I did not command my dragon to swallow his”, he said simply, “Vhagar decided on her own to eliminate that threat”

“I don’t believe you, no one will��, she said with a trembling voice

“It happened what it needed to happen”, he said, “the war was going to start one way or another”

“Aemond…”

“I need to speak to my brother”, he said bitterly, and left the room 

To the surprise of no one, he found his brother - The King- in his chambers, laughing, already drunk and the sun had barely set on the horizon.

As soon as he saw him, Aegon began to clap and laugh hysterically

“If it isn’t the Kinslayer”, he laughed, Aemond flinched at the sour nickname, “don’t make that face brother”, he said, “I’m actually congratulating you”, hes aid bitterly, “our cunt of a sister will take months to weep and cry, you have given us the perfect opportunity to attack that wretched island and kill everyone on it”

“We have yet to prepare the army”, he said, “the Lannister fleet in on the other side of the country, an attack on that scale is going to take months to prepare…”, but Aegon moves his hand, dismissing his brother’s words

“The little shit is dead…”

“yes”, he whispered, Aegon looked into his brother’s eyes and laughed even harder

“You are here for her, aren’t you?”, he mocked, “Gods, brother, you are so predictable”

“She is in the North”, he said

“And she will remain there, until that freaking snow melts”, he said, it was funny, Aegon’s mouth moved but the words that came of it were his grandfather’s 

A marvelous thing

Aemond didn’t liked the answer, but it made sense

“We are assuming the Starks will side with the bitch, but they will nor march now, we have months…”

“And then?”, he asked

“When the Starks and the North show their true colors I will give you what you asked of me brother”, he said with a teasing smile, “I will strip those dogs of everything they have, and as they are marching we will burn them, they will never get past The Neck”

This didn’t pleased Aemond

He considered himself a patient man, but with you? he couldn’t wait no longer, but he had to

“And then?”

“You can go and get her yourself”, he said with that wicked smile of his, “but leave the pup to the northerners”

And with that Aemond left the room.

The armies were gathering, the dragons were restless, Westeros was going to burn.

And he couldn’t wait

As the Baratheon prepared his army, Aemond was preparing the Royal army, and together they were going to march North and burn everything and everyone that sided with Rhaenyra.

But it could take months

You had not commented on it, but Jacaerys spent a lot of time gazing at your son, you only smiled and encouraged it, in his eyes was longing, and dreams of a future, a shy smile on his lips as he let Ricked grab his index finger in his small hand. 

Sara would often join him with a soft smile and kind words, they were spending an awful lot together, and Cregan grew worried, very worried.

But how could we deny him?

Cregan was growing distant, not with you personally, but you could tell he was preparing for something, he was getting in a tough mental state to be in.

He was preparing for war, for battle, for the hunt and for the kill of his enemies 

It wasn’t easy

You were growing restless as well, a storm could be seen on the horizon. you wanted the snow to melt, so you could go with Jace, fly back to Dragonstone and get your dragon, you will feel so much better once she is here, near you. Vhaelar was one of the biggest dragons in the family, well, nothing could compare to Vhagar, but… she was similar in size with Melyes, and just as formidable.

She was the hatchling of one of the Conquerors, after all, the same one she was expected to fight. 

But you were getting ahead of yourself.

As you looked at Rickon, sleeping soundly, unaware of the dangers and the cruelties of the world, you wanted to convince yourself that Aemond was not going to come for you, he wasn’t. Why would he want you to know? you had a child, you belonged to another man, surely he was now after a marriage pact with the Baratheons or the Tullys, or the Tyrells, the Lannisters even, why would he want you for? after all this time?

He had probably already forgotten you. 

You were interrupted by Cregan

“Autumn finally came back”, he said, “she was hunting but… she is here”

“Great”, you said with a wide smile

“I think it’s time”, he said, looking a you wide eyed, expectantly, and you sighed, but nodded

“Very well”

You stood by the entrance to the Godswood as Cregan took Rickon in his arms. He has told you he wanted to do this, you weren’t quite sure but you couldn’t deny him, you wanted to do the same when Vhaelar was here.

Between the trees appeared the dark fur of your husband’s direwolf, her golden eyes looked at his bonded human, but she approached slowly, lowering her head when she sniffed at the air and realized Cregan wasn’t alone, but in fact, she looked over him at you, and then back at Cregan.

You were amazed at how intelligent she was, she reminded you of Vhaelar in some capacity. 

“Autumn”, called Cregan, “this is Rickon”, he introduced them, still with your baby glued to his chest, he showed the little face of your son to the Wolf. And took a step forwards so he was at Autumn’s reach, that made you uneasy, but he was safe, safer than ever. 

Autumn came so close to him you gasped, but remained calm, because you trusted your husband completely 

The Shewolf sniffed at Rickon, and she drew a delightful, soft whine, identifying the boy as a part of Cregan, you guessed, and then she leaned in and lapped at his little face. Cregan laughed wholeheartedly 

“Good girl, this is your boy now”, he presented and you smiled widely, Rickon sneezed and Autumn drew back but then she leaned forwards again. 

She rested the tip of her snout on Rickon’s chest, and then, she took some steps back, to turn around and disappear back again into the woods. Cregan turned back to you with the brightest smile he had drawn since your son was born, and you, as well, were terribly happy.

That night Cregan has convinced you to leave Rickon to the nannies, you reluctantly agreed, so you could have a proper dinner, seated with your family, Sara, Jace, and the Lord and Ladies that had managed to come to Cregan’s calling. You were also celebrating the soon end of the winter season. The days were getting long back again, the sun was shining in the sky.

Even though a war was coming, you felt the need to celebrate, and deep down you were scared that what you truly wanted to do was enjoying what you had as long as you had it.

But you shake your head as you nibble on your lamb chop, certainly a delicacy that you could enjoy now the snow was melting. 

You looked over at Jace, that, omitting tradition, was not seated by your side but he asked to be placed next to Sara, at the other side of Cregan, and they were chatting amicably. 

You didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

To your knowledge, Jace was betrothed, promised to Baela Targaryen, daughter of Daemon, and Sara, well, Sara was too nice, kind and beautiful to have her hopes up by someone who was promised to another girl.

You needed to have a chat with them later, as you take Cregan’s hand in your and squeezed reassuringly , he looked back at you and smiled warmly, and then you both turned to look at Lady Bolton, to keep chatting with her about the Dreafort’s defenses and how she could assure you that the maester she had in her disposition had been in Dorne and he was certain he could replicate scorpions to take down the Green’s Dragons.

And how that was going to make a difference

If it was up to you would have made hundreds of them to palace them in the Winterfell’s battlements, but Cregan wasn’t particularly interested in the tale.

Even though you were already fully healed, mostly, your lack of sleep made you tired, so you excused yourself from the table and stood up to go back to your chambers. Cregan promised he was going to follow soon after, but you will not hold him up to that. 

The guards smiled at you as you walked by and you smiled back, but as you reached the last floor, your chamber’s floor, you came face to face witht he nannies, that had pale expressions in their faces

“What is going on?”, you asked

“My lady, we can’t go into the room”, squealed one

“Why not?”, but you did not care for the answer you ran down the corridor and over to your rooms and one of the nannies, the youngest and fastest, ran to fetch Cregan. The door was open so you couldn’t understand why… and then

“Autumn” you called, standing so still, she could easily jump you and maul you to shreds, the she-wolf looked back at you, and you gasped when you saw what she had on her jaws.

A puppy

And then you heard it, the moans and whimpers of puppies.

She leaned over the crib and placed the pup besides Rickon, and alongside her whole litter of six pups, all of them cuddling and sharing the crib of your son

You didn’t know if you were going to cry, or shout, or faint, or laugh or die with the cuteness.

She had placed her pups in your son's crib and you couldn’t believe it.

Cregan found you still on the doorway, smiling, and as he followed your eyes…

“It appears that she wasn’t hunting”, you told Cregan, and he only laughed loudly, “she was having pups of her own”, you said with a smile. Autumn laid down at the foot of the crib, and towards the door, protecting her cubs, all of them. 

“What a great thing”

Taglist! ❤️ @severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul

More notes: that “speech” is from my favorite movie, “Secondhand Lions”, my comfort movie, and those words are what I sometimes have to remember myself hehe

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

A Sister’s Son

I have a lot of feelings about the relationship between Théodred and Elfhelm stemming from 1) the canonical fact that Elfhelm was with Théodred when he died and 2) my head-canonical fact that he was there when Théodred was born and Elfhild, Elfhelm’s sister, died.* So Théodred’s entire 41-year life was bookended by these two tragic experiences for his uncle. *Given what we know of Rohirric naming conventions, the idea that Elfhelm is the brother of Elfhild is thoroughly reasonable!

Some of you may recall that I posted an Elfhelm story last week that included the notion that he struggles with memories of his past tragedies. I had written much more extensive memory sequences for that story and ended up cutting it way back, but I guess why let them go to waste? So I paired them together — the birth and death of Théodred through the eyes of Elfhelm, the one person who was there both at the beginning and the end. It’s not graphic, but content warnings for canonical maternal death and some moments of generalized concern for baby Théodred’s welfare in the first half plus some violence and blood (and, obviously, Théodred’s actual death) in the second half. On AO3 here or below:

Edoras, T.A. 2978

The only voice that mattered had gone silent.

There were others still to be heard — barked commands, stunned oaths, murmured appeals to Béma — but the cries and groans of Elfhild were no longer among them. In the chord of dissonant turmoil on the far side of the bedchamber door, her high, ringing note disappeared without warning and did not return.

The sudden absence of his sister’s voice was deafening in Elfhelm’s ears. Kept just outside the midwife’s domain, he had only the muffled sounds that leaked through gaps in the door frame to tell him how things stood, and he had strained for hours to track his sister’s welfare above the noisy fury of an early spring storm that sent waves of rain beating against the thatch overhead and great rumbles of thunder rolling like an éored in full gallop across the plains outside.

To hear the sounds of her suffering distressed him, but their disappearance was more terrifying still. At least where there was pain, there was life, and in those first moments of absence, he cast about miserably for some other, better explanation. Sister, tell me. What has become of you? But he already knew. Deep within his heart that pumped the blood they shared, he could feel that her life had come to an end, and a little part of his went with it.

The door to the bedchamber heaved open abruptly, and the sharp, eye-watering scent of smelling salts and medicinal herbs rushed out on the heels of a grim-faced midwife in search of more supplies. Candles and torches flickered in the draft, but there was light enough to see a glimpse of Théoden through the doorway, hollow eyed and open mouthed, clinging to the edge of a bed where a still figure lay shrouded in linen, bright red stains smeared into the fine green fabric. Théodwyn pulled at her brother’s arm, and Hyhtgife pulled at Théodwyn’s, a chain of people trying to turn one another away from an unthinkable loss, a queen-to-be caught in the struggle between birth and death and claimed as a prize by the side of grief.

Elfhelm, alight with the sting of razor sharp heartache, surged forward toward the shrouded figure, but restraining hands appeared on his arms and shoulders. All he managed was a single urgent question — the baby, too? — before the door swung closed again, and he was left outside to wait and wonder and mourn and hope.

Minutes ticked by, or hours, or perhaps it was only seconds. People scurried past him in the antechamber, going about necessary tasks as though the world had not just changed forever and for the worse. Attendants arrived with tea and food for those who needed it, and advisors discussed in hushed tones how and when to make the official notifications. Servants stoked the glowing embers in the hearth, trying to coax heat back into a room that had been slowly leached of it over the course of a long, moonless night. He wanted to seize each person by the shoulders, shake them, rebuke them. My sister has just died, he wanted to scream. Her son may be next. What do your petty tasks matter at a time such as this? But his indignant anguish couldn’t stop the business of life from proceeding as it must, and only the recalcitrant fire seemed to share his outrage, refusing to return the bright cheer of a steady flame to a room where it no longer belonged.

Candles flickered again as the door to the chamber opened a second time, and a new voice came forth, a frail whimper from a bundle in the hands of a healer. It was a voice that couldn’t speak words, but it called to Elfhelm all the same, stopping him in his tracks as he paced and igniting his heart with the instinct to love without question, without hesitation, without purpose or reason. He was back at the door in three long strides, ready to lay down his life for that bundle, the last work of his sister. If there was any part of her that could yet be saved, he would do anything, try anything, or give anything to save it.

Let me help, he begged. Please. What does he need?

He had never really held an infant before, something so small and so fragile and yet possessing the power to bring him to his knees just by its precious existence. The healer kept a hand underneath the baby and another on his own arm until she was certain that he would withstand the moment, able to master himself despite the tears that poured freely down his cheeks and the swallowed sobs that wracked his shoulders.

Keep him warm. It was said with authority and insistence, more commanding than any battlefield order of a captain or marshal of the Mark. Then the healer was gone, disappeared back into the bedchamber where the sound of building hysteria attested to the grief of others, and Elfhelm was left with his own and the one delicate fragment of joy to be rescued from the shattered wreckage of a day where all else had gone horribly wrong.

Unprepared to be in the world so soon, baby Théodred was nearly weightless and almost spectrally pale, as though his body was still finding its solid form. His eyes were closed, his features still, but his tiny chest fluttered up and down and his little hand was outstretched, the fingers splayed in search of the touch of someone who loved him. Someone who could give him warmth and comfort.

Elfhelm swaddled the little bundle in the bulk of his arms, pressing the baby to his chest and his flushed cheek to Théodred’s little head, where his tears traced dark, wet paths through the fine sprinkle of wispy, light hair.

Your uncle is here now, he whispered. I’ll be with you as long as you need.

Fords of Isen, T.A. 3019

The mighty voice at the top of the knoll had been silenced.

Three times Théodred’s call had rung out, clear and strong like the sounding of a horn above the clatterous fury of the battle, but the third had been abruptly cut short and there would be no fourth. Though Elfhelm was still clawing his way toward the knoll’s crest, struggling to hear above the roar of the coursing river and the growls of thunder that echoed the beating of axes against broad wooden shields, he knew in his heart what had happened on the rise above him. Somehow, amidst all the chanting and screaming and clashing of weapons, he heard the distant gasp of impact, the small sigh of a lungful of breath released slowly through bloodied lips, and the sound nearly brought him to his knees.

It took precious, panicked minutes to fight his way to that sound, past men face down in the viscous mud or still crawling forward through it, crying out for friends or captains who had disappeared behind the curtains of heavy rain or into the rushing depths of the Isen. When he finally gained the peak, Grimbold was there, wild eyed and missing his helmet, furiously scrabbling to hold onto Théodred, who lay crumpled at his feet.

A soldier of Isengard had Théodred by the ankle, dragging him across the trampled grass with a dark red smear left in his wake, and more ran up to help, a chain of hands to accomplish the unthinkable and claim the prince of Rohan as a prize of war. The sight stirred an immediate, instinctive rage in Elfhelm, a deep and visceral possessiveness without thought or plan or strategy. He is not yours to take. He surged forward, unrestrained, and hacked or stabbed at any strange limb that dared to touch his sister’s son until there were none left, the last remaining enemies either dead or retreating back to their comrades, who promptly vanished into the dark on the far side of the river.

The clamorous sounds of battle faded quickly with the disappearance of the Isengarders, replaced instead by the urgent hum of the Rohirrim taking stock of themselves, their horses, their éoreds. Already some captains were at work restoring order to the ranks, arraying men and arms where they would be needed should the retreat of the enemy be only temporary, but Elfhelm had no mind for those tasks, knelt down in the freezing rain at Théodred’s side. Have pity on us, Béma, he pleaded, equal parts desperate and outraged. You cannot take him either.

Théodred stirred just enough to murmur a few hoarse words, his wish to hold the Fords even in death, and though there was fatalism in the thought, its selflessness kindled a momentary hope in Elfhelm. He is still himself, thinking first of others. If his spirit is intact, he can yet be saved. But the hope proved foolish, too small and too frail to be pitted against the blunt work of a rusted battle axe on skin, muscles and ribs. No bandage or pressure could stanch Théodred’s wounds, which flowed as freely as the river below them, and the chilled rain puddle that lapped at Elfhelm’s knees grew steadily warmer as it became more blood than water. Théodred went quiet again, only flinching as they worked frantically on his battered chest, and a hazy distance clouded his eyes, as though he was looking at something far off that no one else could perceive.

What does he need? Grimbold’s raspy voice was unnaturally high, his usual asthmatic wheeze intensified by fear, but Elfhelm had no answer to give. A paralyzing helplessness crept in from the edges of his mind, the dawning recognition that their efforts were futile and that continuing to push and prod at hurts that couldn’t possibly be healed would only add more pain to the inevitable. He stifled a sob, forcing it back down his throat to burn his lungs instead, and tried to steel himself for what would follow. On a day when all else had already gone horribly awry, he would have to watch as his nephew’s life came to an end, and a little part of his own would go with it.

Théodred’s eyes were closed now, his face ghostly pale in the moonless dark, but his chest still labored up and down and he held out a hand for comfort, weakly returning Elfhelm’s grasp when he found it. Minutes ticked by, or hours, or perhaps it was only seconds, and Elfhelm’s mind cast about in misery, searching for any action, anything he might give or try, that could bring some relief or ease the passing. Sister, tell me. What would you have me do for your boy? And in the midst of this anguished confusion, an old command suddenly surfaced, firm and insistent, from his carefully buried memories.

Keep him warm.

Forty one years vanished in an instant, and he pulled Théodred up to lay against his chest, wrapping his cloak around them both like cupped hands protecting a guttering flame in the wind. Resting a cheek to the top of Théodred’s head, where his tears disappeared into waves of blonde hair already darkened by the river and the rain, he clung tightly to the beloved son of his sister and whispered the only thing he could think to say.

Your uncle is here now. I’ll be with you as long as you need.

It’s definitely not my practice to have two different stories ready so close to each other, but since these started out initially as part of the same project it just kind of worked out that way. But now I’ll be going back into my writing hole for some undetermined but lengthy period of time!

@sotwk

Thanks as always to @quillofspirit for the beautiful dividers!

[lains-reality]

neville goddard's bi-location experience & the body.

source

Now let me share with you what I know, that “I AM the way”. I don’t say Neville is. Listen to me carefully, I don’t say Neville is the way; I said, “I AM the way.” 

The year is 1946. There are no flights out of New York to Barbados, only boats, and it would take a week to get there. I learned that my sister’s son, her oldest son Billy, was riddled with cancer, age seventeen, and this was the end…alright, just the end. I wanted to show my sister that he doesn’t really die, that nothing dies, that “I am all Imagination” and I must be wherever I am in Imagination. And I can be so vividly real at that point in space, that I must be seen by those who are at that point in space. 

I had no way of communicating with her. There were no telephones between New York and Barbados in 1946. Today we have it, by Bell. No airplane service. And so I went to my bedroom, and I got on my bed, and I simply assumed. No one told me a way, for any other way other than “I AM the way” would be spurious. No other way — I AM the way. Well, what is the way? I can’t get a plane, can’t get a boat. Well, I AM the way. 

So I assumed I am in my family’s home, the home where we were all raised, that I am on a bed. It is the bed where my sister had her son, Billy, and I am so real in that bed she can’t see Billy, she can only see me. That would encourage her to believe in immortality. 

Everything is real in this world. If he must make his exit, alright, his exit; but I want her to know I am not the body, I am not this little garment. Let it die. I am immortal. I am only wearing a garment. And so here, I assume that I am on the bed. I assume that my sister came in and she saw me, and then she was startled. She came forward and she looked and she looked and she saw her brother, Neville. She knew that Neville was 2,000 miles away in New York City. I allowed her to see only me and she couldn’t see her son. I assumed I was right on his body. I took the place of Billy. I actually felt myself right into Billy, and showed her the immortal being that cannot die. That’s all that I did. 

Then I came out, and a lady, a very dear friend of ours, came for cocktails. It was about five New York time. When I came out, she said, “Why, Neville, you seem so heavy of Spirit. You usually are so gay, and now you seem…what’s wrong?” I said, “Not a thing is wrong.” I just told her what I had done, that I had just come from a very serious presentation of the immortal self that cannot die. I’ve just shown my sister that I cannot die, therefore Billy cannot die…nothing dies. And so then we had cocktails.

One week later, I received a letter from my sister. She went out and she wrote, she said, “Neville, I just went in”—and she gave the time and the hour, allowing the difference of one hour between New York and Barbados, she wrote it as of then. She said, “Neville, I don’t understand it, please explain it if you can. I was looking in on Billy all day, because he is going. I went into the room, and I was startled. When I looked at the bed it wasn’t Billy, it was you. I saw only you. I went over to the bed and no matter how I looked — I closed my eyes, I opened my eyes, I closed my eyes, I opened my eyes — and I looked and it’s only you. I couldn’t see my son Billy; I only could see you. Will you please explain what this really means?” 

Billy was still alive in this world wearing this garment that was decaying and she hoped that it would mean, alright, his recovery or some peculiar thing. Here was but a presentation of the immortal being that cannot die. If she could only see — let the little garment go — he cannot die. Nothing dies. I am all Imagination and I must be wherever I am in Imagination. And if there is one sensitive enough to see me when I am there, then if I am there, then he should see me. And so, Daphne saw me. 

So I tell you “I AM the way.” I didn’t take a plane, I didn’t take a boat. If anyone had suggested that way, it would have been a false way.

to the anon that wanted to know what imagination is - its implied to be not the body or the mind. its what you might hear others call awareness, or consciousness. i call it Self. its just a bunch of names for the same thing: the timeless, formless being that you are. even with no body, you are still being. see how he says "I don’t say Neville is the way; I said, “I AM the way.”" the body is not your way, the mind is not your way, he says it as the 'inner man' in imagination, the All, pure awareness.

something else i noticed: he's literally being a public menace 😭another time he came out of his body again in a totally different place, it seems like he shifted this time since it was so real (but he didn't catch this), and he went up to 2 ladies to say 'this is a dream you know' and they got scared and backed up. scaring his sister and 2 strangers lol

[pablitogavii]

Best friend's little sister Pt. 2

Here comes part 2 for y'all..thank you so much for all the likes and shares!! You guys are awesome! Hope you enjoy this mini series and comment what you think will happen next, thanks! <3

Here is Pt. 1

Your POV

I was avoiding Gavi..on purpose..because I couldn't stop myself from wanting to kiss those plum lips whenever I saw them. Why the hell did that cabrón have to kiss me and make me hooked like that!?

"Earth to Y/n! We going out tonight??" my best friend Rebecca whispered making sure professor doesn't catch it while reading his paperwork and I nodded promising to find a way to sneak out when everyone goes to bed.

"We'll make you forget about that chico amiga!" she said and you rolled your eyes saying that you already did which was the biggest lie that could come out of your mouth but whatever.

You had to carry your heels in your hand as to not wake anybody while walking down the stairs like you were an intruded trying not to get detected. Suddenly someone coughed and you jumped almost yelling on top of your lungs but you slapped a hand onto your hand.

"Joder Pedri! I almost died cabrón!" you curse him walking all the way down suddenly realizing that your brother just caught you sneaking out pass midnight.

"And where are you going??" he said and you had to think quick on your toes saying the first thing that came to your mind.

"Date! Um..please don't blow my cover Pepi??" you used his nickname and he rolled his eyes sighing and promising not to tell your parents as long as you don't come back too late and you promised.

"Let's go!" you jumped into your friend's jeep and she pulled the rood down speeding down the road while wind blew though your hair while you vibe to the loud music.

Pablo's POV

She was avoiding me! Whenever I would come over, Pedri would say she just had to leave to study or meet friends. I knew she left the moment he said I was coming over!

I was laying in bed opening her private story which I was apart of somehow shocked to see her filming while dancing in the club with some cabrón behind her and my jaw started clenching.

It was three in the morning and she was out there all alone! I couldn't handle the thought of this so I texted her immediately. No response. Damn it bombon!

pablo: you're sister home hermano??

pedri: nahh went on a date or something why?

pablo: nothing.

I knew exactly which bar she was at and I got dressed driving there quickly before entering being asked if I would like our usual VIP area but I said that I was fine.

I came to the bar ordering a drink but before I could have a sip, I scanned the room for her finally seeing her trying to pull away from an older guy who wasn't letting her go that easily. I felt my fists tight as I walked towards them angrily.

"Vamos bailar chiquita.." he was drunk off his ass trying to grab her hips but she pulled back shaking her head looking around for anybody to help her..my poor bomboncita.

"No..gracias." she said but he kept trying to touch her as I finally pushed past the crowd grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind me. She was shocked about to pull away but when she saw it was me ,she calmed down doing as I asked.

Your POV

He was here..Pablo was really here now. I felt so uncomfortable since this older guy kept asking to dance and all my friends were suddenly nowhere to be seen. I was so glad he was here..to keep me safe.

"Que pasa!? Who are you!?" guy said to Pablo angrily and I got worried that his short fuse will result in a fight he certainly doesn't need on his record right now.

"She's with me.." was all Pablo said and I was glad he was trying to keep calm and avoid conflict.

"Nahh she was grinding on my carajo all night..so back off and let me show her a good time" he was trying to reach for me but I shook my head snaking my arms around Pablo's waist hiding my face into his back.

"The only one showing her a good time is me cabrón so back off before I make you do it!" Pablo growled shielding me and placing his large hand over my small ones in reassurance. Then it hit me..what did he just say?? My thighs closed in sudden anticipation.

"Whatever, take your puta!" guy said and that was the last straw as Pablo tried to rush towards him but my arms wouldn't let him go as I begged him to take me home.

"Por favor Pablito..for me" I said and he calmed down nodding his hand taking my hand and walking out of the club quickly. He was angry..I could tell so you stayed quiet following him towards his car. He opened a door for me buckling me up before coming to the front seat. I was way too drunk for this...

Pablo's POV

I was freaking pissed off! How could she be so fucking reckless!?

What if I wasn't there to protect her tonight!? What if that filthy hijo de puta did something to her!? I suddenly felt her hand on top mine rested on the steering wheel while I drove home.

"I'm sorry Pablito.." she said pouting knowing that always gives her an advantage but tonight I wasn't going to let this go easily. Was she really fucking grinding on some guys dick!?

"No bombon. You made me worried about you tonight!" I said without thinking and she smiled moving closer being pulled back by the buckle until she undid it so she can rest her head on my shoulder.

"Mmm you were worried about me??" she asked playfully but I was not in the mood to joke around. This was serious and I needed to finally have a real talk with her.

"You should buckle up bombon.." I said stealing a glance being in love with the way she looked precious while laying her head on my shoulder like this...why the hell was she so precious!?

"But I wanna be close to you.." she pouted not moving an inch and I just stayed quiet for the rest of the ride until we arrived to my apartment building.

"Alright, let's go.." I said getting out and opening her door but she just gave me grabby hands saying she was too drunk and dizzy to walk. I sighed grabbing her body like she weighted nothing (which she did) and tossing her over my shoulder before closing and locking the car.

"You're way too possessive.." she giggled drunkly and I was done with her brattiness spanking her ass while walking and that took her by surprise for sure.

"Did you just..um spank me?" she said and I chuckled at her sudden shyness all the confidence vanishing suddenly..I really liked that ;)

"I already told you that you are running your mouth too much bombon!" I said sternly waiting for her response which came fairly quickly.

"Um..I'm..s..sorry..papi" and with that my bulge was poking through my shorts as I took a couple of deep breath while walking into my apartment and setting her down onto the bed. Fuck bombon!

Your POV

The way he spanked me when I misbehaved..and handled me was such a massive turn on..not to mention being drunk off my ass right now. I was so fucking horny!

"Arms up!" he ordered and I wouldn't dare misbehave again doing as he asked as he took off my dress leaving me in my matching red set that he certainly checked out but quickly took his old Barça shirt and put it over my body. The shirt smelled so strongly of him..that it made me even more drunk.

"Drink some water" he brought the cut of cold water to my lips and I opened my mouth obediently drinking some which sobered me up quite a lot.

"Bueno, now let's go to bed.." he opened the covers before taking off his own pants and shirt joining you. You quickly found your way close to him as he held you.

"Are you still mad at me??" I said looking up at him while he nodded making me pout and start kissing his neck in order to soften him up a little bit.

"Please don't be mad at me..papi.." I praised continuing to kiss up to his jaw and he relaxed under the touch his ego stroked that no matter what happened, I was only in his bed tonight...I was only his.

"Joder bombon! That's my..weak spot" he groaned and I continued to suck on it leaving a prominent mark while his strong arms wrapped around my body pulling me close.

"Why did you leave me alone for so long ..?" you spoke softly and sadly and he kissed your forehead pulling you on top of him so you can lay against his body as close as possible.

"You avoided me bombon.." he answered and I felt sad looking into his eyes and finally catching a glimpse of those plum lips I dreamed about for days..they looked so perfect and kissable.

"Because I wanted to kiss you again..so badly" I admit meeting his eyes as a smirk appears on his handsome face. Those words were music to his ears.

"So do it bomboncita.."he said cockily and my cheeks blushed as I didn't know weather I heard him correctly..since last time I thought he would never want to do it again.

"What?" you said and he chuckles at you innocence pulling you even closer so that your lips were only inches away from each other.

"Let me taste those lips again princesa.." his voice was stern but yarning and you could no longer hold back deciding to give into you desire.

"Mm yes papi.." you answered making him smirk before your lips were finally on his as they mended together so perfectly like they were meant for each other.

Pablo's POV

We've been making out for the next fifteen minutes, hungrily, like we couldn't stay away from each other..it was true, I couldn't stay away from her anymore.

When she got on top of clumsily giggling, it hit me that I needed to have a talk with Pedri..one thing I dreaded the most.

"Nena..wait..you're drunk and should get some sleep" I said also thinking that it was better if we wait a little longer at least until I talk to Pedri..I needed to be the one to tell him.

"Do you want me Pablito?" she asked now sitting on top of me and the moment her ass got in contact with my still hard bulge I couldn't stop my hands from gripping her hips while nodding my head.

She smiled leaning in and starting to kiss my neck..fuck! If she doesn't stop this, I won't be able to control myself.

"Don' be bad bomboncita.." I groaned and she giggled nuzzling her head into my neck while laying on top of me slightly rubbing herself on my bulge.

"What if I want to be bad??" she said a yawn following shortly after which made me chuckle at how adorable she was right now.

"Then I'm going to tame you bombon.." I said and she smiled nodding her head adorably while slowly dozing off to sleep placing her hand onto my heart like she wanted to feel it beat.

"I'm yours Pablito.." those words made my heart stop being for a moment and I found myself smiling wide like an idiot..that's all I wanted. 0

When I woke up, she was already up texting someone and I asked who she was talking to sighting when I heard it was Pedri.

"He's going to hate me.." I said out loud and she put her phone away getting on top of me again and leaning down to kiss my lips..damn, those lips were my kryptonite!

"We'll find the right moment to tell him, Pablito..I promise" she said reassuringly laying her head down and my chest and I held her close feeling afraid of losing her.

What if he forbids me form ever seeing her again? I wouldn't be able to do it..in such a short time my feelings fro her transformed form intense annoyance to unimaginable passion...I was so screwed!

Thoughts? COMMENT :)

[hathorneheiress]

A very Hawthorne Thanksgiving.

Avery's POV

It had been almost two years since I had joined the Hawthorne household, and in those two years, we had celebrated Thanksgiving. At least not the proper way.

Before my mom had died, we tried to do something special on that day. Since we didn't have much money, a homemade lasagna and garlic bread was usually what our Thanksgiving consisted of. I never complained and one year Libby was able to join us. Instead of pie, we feasted on tons of chocolate cupcakes.

It was the best Thanksgiving I remembered.

When I had told the boys about it, they all agreed that we needed to do a large Thanksgiving. Hawthorne style.

I apricated that they didn't want to rerun the good memory I had shared with my mom. But I was ready for new ones. With people that I had grown to love. That had become a family to me. A family I had never had.

To be honest, I was excited. And maybe a little nervous. From what I knew of the Hawthornes, nothing was done small.

Weeks of preparation and planning went in before the big day. I watched in awe as the house transformed into fall pardise.

Leave garland gracefully adorned every stair railing and wild flowers in massive vases prouded every table top.

A few days before the big day, I could start to smell the sweet fragrance of many pies and turkeys.

All the boys were very excited for Thanksgiving. It had been since their grandfather had died, that they had had a Hawthorne Thanksgiving.

Surprisingly, everyone pitched in. It wasn't just the servants.

Xander and Jameson helped make the pies and stuffing. Nash surprised us by coming home with a fat turkey slung over his shoulders. Shot and plunked it himself.

I was impressed.

Libby was in her own little world with baking tons of Thanksgiving themed cupcakes.

And Grayson and I over seed everything.

Even though I was master of the house, Grayson knew what needed to be done. And I was slightly shocked at how excited he seemed to be as well.

I heard from Jameson he was int he kitchen every two hours checking up on things. Jameson laughed as he retold the story of how Mrs. Laughlin threatened to kick and lock Grayson out of the kitchen if he didn't stop annoying her.

"What did Grayson say?" I asked after a chuckle.

"Oh, he just stood there and calmly reminded her that he can picks locks just fine!" Jameson light green eyes twinkled in merriment.

I laughed . "Sounds about right."

The day before Thanksgiving the massive dining room table was decked out in all it's glory.

Elegant white lace tablecloths and crystal glasses. Delicate china and linen napkins. The silverware was polished and shined. Jameson and Grayson went down into the wine cellar and brought up the best wine we had.

20 pies sat in a massive refrigerator ready to be devoured the next day. Four turkeys, with Nash's as well, was all cooked. Stuffed with the best stuffing around. All the side dishes were completed and many other drinks were waiting to be drank as well.

I was told that there was going to be a surprise for me, but I couldn't guess what it was.

As I lay in bed that night, with Jameson beside me, I thought of everything I was thankful for.

My mom and everything she had taught me. Libby with her sweet spirit and taking me in when my mom died. For inheriting all that money. But not for selfish reasons. If I hadn't inherited, I would have never met all the wonderful people I now knew.

Oren. Alisa, the Laughlin. Thea, Rebecca, Zara, Nan, and most importantly, the boys.

Xander, with his joyfully personality and my forever BHFF. (Best Hawthorne Friend Forever) Nash; for being an older brother figure to me, and being the best person Libby could ever have. Grayson; Sworn enemies when I first arrived, we are now the closest comrades and he has been my right hand man in everything. And Jameson; the boy I met drunk when I first arrived, and somehow fell in love with. He makes me laugh and I couldn't imagine my life without him.

All the people I had mentioned would be there for tomorrow, plus a few more. Zara's husband would be there. Max was already here from collage. Jameson's uncle had been invited and we were delighted to hear he was coming. Xander's dad would be there and even Grayson's half sisters were coming.

It was going to be a very big, but hopefully, a wonderful Thanksgiving.

I awoke to sunlight streaming in and Jameson staring down at me.

"Happy Thanksgiving Heiress." he murmured softly, giving me a kiss on the lips.

I savored it. "Happy Thanksgiving too."

The festivities started around 11 with apple cider and appetizers.

I dressed for the occasion in a brown pleated skirt, flowered blouse, heels, and a 5 thousand dollar pearl necklace.

At one we made it to the massive dining room. Taking our seats, we sat down.

Nash did the honors of giving thanks and then cutting open his prized bird.

Plates were piled high and we all enjoyed a massive feast.

I listened to the laughter that echoed throughout the room. Everyone I loved was here. Everyone was happy and smiling.

It was perfect.

"Xander, you want to get Heiress our surprise." Jameson said.

Xander scurred to the other room. I had totally forgotten about it.

He came back with a steaming casserole dish of Lasanya. Max followed with the garlic bread.

I watched in shock as they placed it beside me.

"I know your mom isn't here, but we wanted to make it extra special for you." Jameson said.

I could feel the unwanted tears forming in my eyes. It was the gesture more then anything, that mattered. The fact that they had taken the time to make something my mom and I had done together, made me feel appicaited.

"Thank you so much." I chocked out. "I love it. Though fare warning, I have eaten so much I don't think I'll be able to eat this till tomorrow."

Ripples of laughter filled the air and we continued with our meal.

We finished the day with pie that could have been made from Heaven and singing some hymns.

As people began to disappear for the night, I leaned my head against Jameson's body.

"Did you have a good Thanksgiving?" He asked.

"I looked up into his gorgeous face. "It was the best I have ever had."

He smiled. "Good."

We kissed like there was no tomorrow and then retired to bed.

I fell asleep quickly. Before I went into nothing land, I gave another Thanks to God for everyone and everything in my life.

I couldn't have been happier.