#wouldn’t wear the same ones if I didn’t. that wasn’t an exaggeration

[rubysparx]

I should b playing dress up but I’m not I wear the same damn jeans everyday this is fucked uppp

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After Sam insisted you accompany her to the club, you finally agreed, hoping it would help you move past everything that happened with Axel. However, a peculiar interaction with Kwon set off a series of unforeseen events that caught you entirely off guard.

Warnings ; Alcohol usage

Pt. 3

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

‘Come onnnn, Y/n, don’t be boring,’ Sam whined, her voice dripping with exaggerated desperation as she gave me a firm shake. I was curled up tightly in my blanket, fully immersed in the comfort of my couch and a random movie that I wasn’t even paying much attention to. Her relentless persistence was beginning to chip away at my patience.

‘No,’ I replied flatly, shaking my head with finality. Sam was on a mission to drag me to the club tonight, but the idea of stepping into that crowded, chaotic environment was unappealing—especially because I’d seen Zara’s story earlier. She was there with her team, and of course, Axel was with her. The thought of seeing him so soon made my stomach churn. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Tomorrow would already be challenging enough, and I needed time to steel myself mentally for what was inevitably going to be an awkward encounter.

‘Please, Y/n!!!’ Sam’s tone shifted to a dramatic plea as she sank to her knees, hands clasped together like she was begging for her life. Her exaggerated antics might have been amusing under different circumstances, but right now, they only added to my irritation. I barely glanced in her direction, still shaking my head in defiance.

Despite her theatrics, I remained unmoved. The mere thought of Axel lingering in the same room as me tonight was enough to make my resolve unshakable. Yet, as persistent as Sam was, I knew she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Sam groaned dramatically, throwing herself onto the couch beside me, her arm draped across her face like the world had just come crashing down.

‘You’re such a buzzkill,’ she huffed, peeking at me from under her arm. ‘It’s one night, Y/n. Just one. You don’t even have to stay long, I swear. And let’s be real, you’re going to look amazing in that dress you bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It’s way too stunning to be wasted.’

I looked up from my cocoon of blankets, unimpressed. ‘The dress is still in the bag, Sam. And I’m wearing sweatpants.’

‘And that’s fixable,’ she shot back without missing a beat. ‘Ten minutes, max. I’ll help you get ready, you’ll look incredible, we’ll dance a little, and—’

I cut her off with a flat tone, ‘And I’ll have to deal with Axel.’

Her teasing expression faltered for a moment, the dramatic air she carried around her suddenly softening. Her voice was gentler now, almost careful. ‘Y/n, you don’t have to talk to him. You don’t even have to look at him. Zara’s going to be busy with her team, and Axel… well, let’s just say he’d be a fool to let anything ruin your night. He’s not worth it.’

I hugged my blanket tighter, staring at the muted movie playing on the screen. I wanted to go—part of me really did—but the idea of seeing Axel tonight made my stomach churn. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to handle him; I just wasn’t ready. Not yet. Tomorrow, I’d have no choice but to face him, and that was already weighing on me. How could I mentally prepare for that if I had to deal with him tonight, too?

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air between us. Then, she shifted, sitting upright and leaning toward me with a small, knowing smile.

Sam’s knowing smile widened as she leaned closer, her energy impossible to resist. ‘Listen,’ she said, her voice soft and encouraging. ‘We’ll keep it simple. Just get up, put on that stunning dress, and I’ll help you with everything else. Trust me, you’re going to feel amazing. We’ll have fun, and you’ll completely forget about… well, you-know-who.’

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the chair where the shopping bag from earlier this week sat. Inside was the dress I’d bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It was from a cozy little boutique we’d stumbled across while wandering the streets—full of warm lighting, vintage mirrors, and racks of carefully curated pieces. The moment I’d seen the dress, I knew it was something special. It wasn’t flashy, but the soft white fabric and simple elegance had caught my attention. Sam had encouraged me to try it on, and though I’d hesitated, I couldn’t stop smiling once I saw myself in it.

‘I don’t know…’ I started, fiddling with the edge of my blanket.

‘Y/n,’ Sam said firmly, her tone kind but insistent. ‘You loved that dress. Don’t let it sit there when you could be out feeling as amazing as you look in it.’

Her words were enough to push me into motion. I sighed, tossing off the blanket and rising from the couch. ‘Okay, fine. But if this night turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you.’

Sam grinned triumphantly, clapping her hands together. ‘Fair enough! Now, let’s get to work.’

While she rummaged through her bag, pulling out makeup brushes and curling irons like a magician revealing her tricks, I grabbed the dress and headed to the bathroom. The silky white fabric felt cool against my skin as I slipped it on, the fit just as perfect as I remembered. When I stepped out, Sam froze mid-motion, her mouth falling open in mock astonishment.

‘Y/n,’ she said, drawing out my name dramatically, ‘you look like you just stepped out of a movie. That dress was made for you.’

I rolled my eyes with a small smile but couldn’t deny the hint of confidence her words gave me. ‘Alright, what’s next?’

‘Sit down,’ she instructed, waving me toward the chair in front of the vanity. ‘Hair and makeup, obviously. You’re in good hands.’

As Sam worked, her chatter filled the room, light and easy. She styled my hair into soft waves, adding just enough volume to make it feel glamorous but not overdone. For makeup, she went for a natural glow with a touch of shimmer on my eyelids and a classic swipe of mascara.

‘You know,’ she said as she blended the final touch of blush, ‘tonight’s not about anyone else. It’s about you having a good time. So, don’t overthink it. Just enjoy yourself—you deserve it.’

I met her eyes in the mirror, her sincerity catching me off guard. ‘Thanks, Sam,’ I said quietly.

‘Anytime,’ she replied with a grin, stepping back to admire her work. ‘Now, look at you! Ready to turn heads.’

I stood up, glancing at my reflection. The confidence I’d been missing started to creep back as I smoothed the fabric of the dress. ‘Alright,’ I said, grabbing my clutch with a newfound determination. ‘Let’s do this.’

Sam beamed, linking her arm with mine. ‘That’s the spirit. Now, let’s show Barcelona what you’re made of.’

We stepped out the door together, and for the first time that night, I felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

Sitting by the bar, sipping on an espresso martini, I found myself engaged in polite small talk with a few familiar faces from the opposing team. The atmosphere was loud and lively, filled with the thumping bass of the music and the hum of conversations around us. Sam and I had been chatting casually, laughing at something ridiculous she’d said, when she suddenly announced, ‘I need to call Miguel.’

I raised a brow at her. ‘Right now?’

‘Yes, right now,’ she said, grinning and waving her phone. ‘It’s important.’

The music was far too loud for her to have any hope of hearing him, so we decided to step outside. The crisp night air hit me the second we walked out, the stark contrast to the heat of the club sending a shiver down my spine.

Sam wandered a little further down the alley, pressing her phone to her ear and trying to find a quieter spot. I stayed back, leaning against a random wall as I waited for her. That’s when I felt it—the cold. It wasn’t just chilly; it was sharp, the kind of wind that made you regret not bringing a jacket.

Rubbing my hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm, I realized how much the alcohol had gotten to me. The espresso martinis I’d been nursing all night suddenly made my head feel heavy, and my thoughts a little sluggish. Drunk and cold was not the ideal combination, and I couldn’t help but shiver as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm.

The street around me was quiet, apart from the muffled music spilling out from the club doors behind me. I glanced over at Sam, who was pacing slightly as she talked animatedly into her phone. It was strange being out here, away from the chaos inside, but a part of me welcomed the break, even if it came with the chill.

I sighed, rubbing my arms as the cold wind sliced through me, making me shiver uncontrollably. The night felt even colder now that the alcohol in my system was wearing off, leaving me feeling a little disoriented. A yawn escaped my lips as I glanced toward Sam, who was still pacing further down the alley, her phone pressed to her ear.

The sudden sound of the club door opening made me turn my head, and there he was. Kwon.

He stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind him, his sharp eyes scanning the area before landing squarely on me. He was wearing a black jacket with a bold Cobra Kai logo stitched on the chest, the emblem catching the dim light. His presence was unmistakable, commanding as always, though his expression was hard to read—part surprise, part amusement.

‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked, his tone blunt as he walked closer, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

I straightened up instinctively, the cold biting at my skin even harder under his gaze. ‘Just waiting for Sam,’ I said, motioning toward her as casually as I could. ‘She’s making a call.’

Kwon stopped a few feet away from me, tilting his head slightly as he looked me up and down. ‘You look like you’re about to freeze to death,’ he said flatly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

I laughed nervously, rubbing my arms to try and warm up. ‘Yeah, it’s colder than I expected.’

‘Clearly,’ he said, arching a brow. ‘Did you even think about bringing a jacket, or are you just bad at planning ahead?’

I frowned, his tone making my stomach twist uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t think I’d be standing out here for so long,’ I muttered, looking away.

‘Right,’ he said with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out toward me. ‘Here. Take it before you turn into an icicle.’

I hesitated, glancing between him and the jacket. ‘I’m fine. You don’t have to—’

‘Don’t make this more complicated than it is,’ he cut me off, his voice sharp. ‘Just take it. It’s not like I’m doing this for you—I just don’t want to hear about how someone froze to death outside the club.’

His words stung a little, but the cold won out. Reluctantly, I took the jacket, slipping it on. It was warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of him—clean and woodsy, though I tried not to think about it too much.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, though his tone didn’t carry much warmth. After a pause, he added, ‘Next time, maybe think ahead. You don’t seem like the type who handles cold well.’

I bit back a retort, pulling the jacket tighter around me. Kwon always had a way of getting under my skin, but at least now, I wasn’t shivering.

‘I’ll be leaving,’ Kwon announced, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night as he saw Sam making her way back toward us.

I glanced at him, still not entirely used to his bluntness, but before I could respond, he patted my shoulder arrogantly, the motion deliberate and a little too forceful. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I could feel the slight warmth of his hand through the fabric of his jacket.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and started heading back toward the club. He didn’t look back, his strides purposeful and confident, as if he hadn’t just done me a small favor moments ago.

I opened my mouth, about to thank him for the jacket, but the words died on my lips as he disappeared into the club without a second glance.

I stood there for a moment, the jacket still draped over my shoulders, feeling the cold night air around me once more. I wasn’t sure why his arrogance stung, but it did. Sam was just reaching my side as I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Sam raised an eyebrow as she approached me, noticing the slight shift in my mood. ‘What’s up? You look like you’ve been hit with a wave of confusion.’

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. ‘Nothing, just… Kwon being Kwon.’

Sam tilted her head, a smirk forming on her lips. ‘Oh? Kwon being Kwon? What does that even mean?’

I sighed, glancing down at the jacket draped over my shoulders. The familiar Cobra Kai logo on the sleeve caught her attention instantly, and her eyes widened in surprise.

‘Wait a second,’ she said, her voice rising with shock. ‘You’re wearing his jacket?’

I felt a flush creep up my neck, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Yeah, he gave it to me,’ I muttered, feeling oddly defensive. ‘I was freezing, and he—’

‘Gave you his jacket?’ Sam interrupted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘Hmm, that’s… not something I would expect from him. What did he want from you?’

I blinked at her, momentarily thrown off by her question. ‘What do you mean, what did he want?’

She gave me a pointed look, clearly not buying my nonchalant tone. ‘Come on, Y/n. Kwon doesn’t just hand over his jacket for no reason. There has to be more to it than that.’

I hesitated, unsure how to explain it. He hadn’t really wanted anything, at least not directly. He had been his usual distant self, sarcastic and borderline mean, but there was something in the way he’d offered me his jacket that made me question his intentions. Maybe I was overthinking it.

‘I don’t know,’ I said slowly, feeling a bit uneasy. ‘He just noticed I was cold and… I guess he didn’t want me freezing out here.’

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘Really? That’s it?’

I sighed, crossing my arms and glancing back toward the club. ‘Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal.’

Sam didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go for now. She looked me over one more time, her eyes lingering on the jacket as if trying to piece together some unspoken motive. ‘Well, I’m not complaining. It’s a good look for you, anyway,’ she said with a wink, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. ‘Thanks, I guess.’

I could tell Sam wasn’t a big fan of Kwon, and I had a feeling her compliment about me looking good in his jacket wasn’t exactly genuine. She was just trying to distract me, to get my mind off Axel. It was clear in the way she’d casually brushed it off, as if the whole thing with Kwon was no big deal. But the truth was, it wasn’t that simple.

I tugged the jacket a little tighter around myself, feeling its warmth but also the odd weight of it, like it carried more meaning than just the fabric against my skin. The whole encounter with Kwon had been strange. There was something in the way he’d acted—his arrogance, his nonchalance—that made it feel less like a simple act of kindness and more like a gesture wrapped in layers of unspoken tension.

As we walked back toward the club, Sam chattered on about the night, about how great it was that I’d decided to come out and how much fun we were going to have. But I couldn’t focus on her words. My mind kept drifting back to Kwon’s indifferent attitude and the way he’d just left without a second thought, and then there was the nagging thought about Axel.

Axel.

The thought of seeing him again tomorrow had already been enough to set my nerves on edge, but now, with Kwon’s jacket wrapped around me, it felt like there was something pulling me in two different directions. I didn’t know what to make of any of it.

Sam nudged me playfully, clearly unaware of the storm brewing in my head. ‘Come on, don’t let that jackass mess with your vibe. We’re here to have fun, remember?’

I smiled faintly, trying to force myself back into the present, but the weight of the jacket, of Kwon’s words, and the unspoken tension between me and Axel stayed with me. It wasn’t that easy to forget.

We stepped back into the club, and the contrast hit me immediately—a hot, suffocating wave of air, thick with the mix of bodies, music, and lights. It was a sharp reminder of how loud and alive everything was in here compared to the quiet, chilly night outside.

Feeling the heat creep up on me, I slipped off Kwon’s jacket, draping it over my arm. The faint scent of it still lingered, grounding me in a way I didn’t fully understand. I opened Instagram on my phone, typing out a quick message to him: Hey, is there a chance we could meet later? I have your jacket. I hit send but noticed it stayed unread. Typical Kwon.

Before I could dwell on it too long, something else grabbed my attention. Sam was weaving her way back toward me through the crowd, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. In each hand, she held a shot glass, the liquid inside glinting under the strobe lights.

‘Look what I got!’ she said, her voice cutting through the music as she handed me one. ‘Cheers to us, Y/n!’

I hesitated, eyeing the glass suspiciously. I knew my limits, especially after everything I’d already had tonight. ‘I don’t know, Sam,’ I started, shaking my head. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’

But Sam, ever persistent, rolled her eyes before knocking back her own shot effortlessly. ‘Come on,’ she coaxed, her tone playful and teasing. ‘It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. I swear.’

She stuck her tongue out dramatically, proving her point, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little. She was clearly in her element, and her energy was infectious. Relenting, I finally raised the glass. ‘Fine. Just this one.’

‘That’s my girl!’ Sam cheered, pulling me into a quick side hug as I downed the shot. True to her word, it didn’t have the harsh kick I’d been expecting, just a subtle sweetness that lingered.

I smiled faintly, raising the now-empty glass in a half-hearted cheer. ‘To us, I guess.’

Sam clinked her empty glass against mine, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her. I, on the other hand, found my focus slipping as I clutched Kwon’s jacket in one hand and tried to lose myself in the moment. But my thoughts kept circling back to Axel.

What was he doing right now? Was he here somewhere in this chaotic crowd, or was he still out with Zara and the others? No matter how much I tried to shake it off, the thought of him loomed in the back of my mind, pulling me in a direction I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

‘Soooo… another shot?’ Sam asked, her tone mischievous as she swayed a little, clearly enjoying herself.

I shrugged, feeling the buzz of the night taking over. ‘Sure!’ I replied, grinning and forgetting entirely that I was supposed to be keeping track of my limits.

Sam disappeared for a moment and came back with a different color this time—a vivid blue shot that glowed under the club lights. I took it in my hand, ready to drink, when Zara suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

She was as drunk as we were, her excitement bubbling over as she hugged me tightly. Her words were slurred, tumbling out in a chaotic, happy mess.

‘Whoa… re-repeat what you just said!’ I laughed, holding the shot in one hand as I tried to make sense of her rambling.

I was about to drink it when a firm hand stopped me. Turning, I saw Kwon standing there, his expression sharp and unamused.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ he said curtly, snatching the shot glass from my hand before I could even protest. He placed it on a nearby table with a deliberate motion, clearly unwilling to argue.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam grabbing the abandoned drink without hesitation and knocking it back, oblivious to Kwon’s disapproval.

‘Oh! Kwon!’ I said, suddenly remembering the jacket. I grabbed it and shoved it into his hands with a bright smile. ‘Thank you for warming me up earlier.’

He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and something unreadable, but I didn’t give him time to respond. Turning to Sam, I grabbed her wrist. ‘Sam, let’s go outside. I don’t feel well,’ I said, pressing a hand to my temple.

The club felt overwhelming—the heat, the pounding music, the blur of lights and voices. My head was spinning, and the sensation was too much.

I managed a weak smile at Zara and Kwon before guiding Sam toward the exit. Once outside, I collapsed against the same wall I had been leaning on earlier. The freezing night air hit my skin like a splash of cold water, helping to clear my mind, if only slightly.

I sat there, eyes closed, focusing on my breathing as Sam lingered nearby. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps, and when I looked up, Kwon and Tory were walking toward me. Kwon carried a bottle of water, his usual sharp demeanor still intact, while Tory’s expression was softer, filled with concern.

Tory knelt beside me, gently grabbing my hand as she offered the water. ‘Drink some water,’ she said firmly.

I barely registered the sound of more people spilling out of the club, their footsteps crunching against the pavement as they approached. My eyes stayed closed, my body too heavy, the cold air lulling me toward sleep against the wall. That is, until a familiar scent drifted past my pink-tinted nose—a warm, intoxicating mix of something unmistakably Axel.

My eyes snapped open, and there he was, kneeling beside me. His hand rested gently on my knee, its warmth cutting through the chill in the air. Axel’s expression was calm but serious, his gaze flicking to Tory as he murmured something about getting me, Sam, and Zara home safely.

Tory nodded, giving me one last reassuring smile as she rose to her feet. Kwon followed her without a word, his jacket slung over his shoulder, and they both disappeared back into the club.

I blinked sluggishly, trying to piece together what was happening, but before I could form a coherent thought, Axel scooped me up effortlessly. My head lolled against his shoulder as the steady rhythm of his footsteps replaced the chaotic noise of the night.

The crisp night air carried his scent, a mix of cologne and something inherently him. I found myself leaning into it, breathing it in as my eyelids fluttered. My thoughts grew hazy, and the world around me blurred into a comforting haze.

The next thing I knew, we were in the quiet sanctuary of my hotel room. Axel carefully laid me down on the bed, his movements gentle and precise, as if afraid I might shatter. The softness of the mattress beneath me felt like a cloud, pulling me further into the depths of sleep.

Zara appeared out of nowhere, rushing to my side and enveloping me in a drunken hug. Her voice was a jumble of words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of her embrace was familiar and comforting.

Axel gently but firmly pulled her away, his touch protective yet restrained. As Zara stumbled back, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

I blinked up at him, catching the subtle shift in his eyes. They weren’t cold or indifferent like they usually were—they held something different, something warmer, something… admiring. He didn’t smile, but the look was enough to stir something in my chest.

I muttered something under my breath, barely audible even to myself. Maybe it was, ‘Sleep tight.’ Maybe it was nothing at all.

As I rolled over, hugging the small teddy bear I always kept on my bed, the faint sound of Axel’s footsteps retreating faded into the quiet of the room. My last thought before sleep took over completely was the lingering feel of his presence and the way his eyes had looked at me—like I wasn’t just another fleeting part of the night.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(I adore fics where Johnny’s family loves Ghost from day one, but, you know…angst)

Soap and Ghost had been together for almost two years. They never name the relationship, really, but it's serious and they both know it.

Thing is, Johnny's seen Ghost's face a total of four times, counting Las Almas.

Well, he sees parts of it regularly, more than others. Ghost will either roll the balaclava up when they're reading together in bed or when they're eating. Sometimes, when Soap wants to go out and Ghost indulges him, he goes in public in just either a face mask or a gaiter and Soap can see his short wavy blonde hair sticking all over the place and 

The four times he had seen Simon’s face in it’s whole — obviously, Las Almas; one time when he was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound and Johnny had to check; one time when they took a shower together, Simon stayed with his back toward him through most of it, but when they finished, he let Johnny dry off his hair; one time, when Johnny asked him to see him for his birthday presents, a few minutes after midnight.

Johnny wasn’t sure why exactly Simon didn’t want to show him his face. It wasn’t a trust thing — he trusted Johnny with more than his own life — and it wasn’t like he was ugly — he was downright sinful. He never drilled the topic because he didn’t care, if SImon wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready, but if he had to guess, it was all to do with identity and being seen. No one knew his face — people could know his name, Simon “Ghost” Riley, but they wouldn’t know the man behind the mask. Wouldn’t know the people behind Simon “Ghost” Riley.

(Johnny wasn’t completely off on the assumption — Simon didn’t want anyone to know his face because faceless people weren’t missed. Faceless graves — like his own — didn’t have people to leave behind, and faceless soldiers didn’t have loved ones to find and he was both. No one could get hurt if he remained faceless. Or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself.)

And Johnny is okay with that — if Simon never showe him his face again, he’d still love him all the same. Johnny’s family? Not so much.

They’re supposed to be in Glasgow for five days total, leaving after Boxing Day. Johnny gives them all a warning, that Ghost is a bit shy and doesn’t like showing his face, he’ll most likely stay covered the whole time, he might be wearing a balaclava, or a mask, he probably won't eat at the table.

When they arrive at his parents house, it almost seems like everyone forgot. Like everyone thought it'd be more mild or that Johnny was exaggerating.

There are looks. There is silence. People can't stop staring.

His mam takes one look at Simon’s balaclava once they enter the living room and looks funny at them. “Ah thooght Ah tauld ye boays tae strip doon.”

“Mam, lea him alane,” he tries but he can tell that Simon is getting tense and his mam is getting tense.

His mam, who is usually the sweetest person ever, is uncharacteristically quiet and curt whenever Simon is around. Simon doesn't really know how to make it better — Johnny's never seen him so silent outside of stealth missions, he just stands there like a sore thumb, not making anything less awkward. He didn't expect him to — Simon's social skills are lacking and he loves him that way — but he expected his own family to not make such a big deal out of that mask.

His da is stern and silent, which is as disapproving as he gets. His sisters are a bit weirded out, but mostly focused on teasing Johnny, even making fun of the mask. With a stupid grin, his older sister asks, “Does he keep it oan in bed?”

Johnny doesn't say anything to that, even though his face feels red. His sisters stop laughing.

“He does?” When Johnny tries to step out of the room and avoid the conversation, his sister’s tone changes. “Hae ye e’en seen his face?”

“O’ coorse Ah hae,” he spits out. He doesn’t specify it was only four times — he doesn’t think it’d help. “And ‘s a bonnie ane, alricht.”

It doesn’t save the situation and his sisters are also weirded out and wary from then on.

 The kids do not care — they ask maybe two questions, tilts their head as Simon explains and that’s it — and Johnny breathes a little easier as soon as his nieces push Simon outside to help them build a snowman.

The judgment doesn’t stop. Johnny’s blood boils any time it shows and even though Simon says it’s all fine, he can’t stop feeling angry about this. They just can’t get past the mask.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are difficult to Simon and Johnny knows it. He’s given him the option to omit the family dinner on both those days if he’s not feeling alright enough to spend those days in crowdy house filled with a flock of loud and cheery people of all ages.

Simon knows this. He also knows that if he says he wants to stay at Johnny’s flat for the time being, Johnny is going to insist he doesn’t have to go either, that he’d prefer to stay in with him and not go for the Christmas dinner. Which he also knows is bullshit — Johnny loves Christmas, loves spenidng time with his family, that was basically why he kept on insisting Simon couldn’t stay alone at the base for Christmas another year in a row. It was the main reason why he agreed to go with Johnny in the first place, he was pretty sure if he didn’t go with him, Johnny would insist he stays, too. 

So Simon stays in for Christmas Eve — or rather goes to a pub while Soap spends the day with his parents — but insists they go to Christmas dinner. 

His family is disappointed to see him there, to the point the usual manuevering around politeness and disapproving go onto a backburner.

“John said yer nae a fan o’ Christmas,” Johnny’s mum says to him pointedly.

“That’s right.”

“And yet ye’r ’ere,” she notes.

Johnny is far away from the earshot and he doesn’t want to lie to her so he admits, “If I didn’t come, Johnny would insist on keepin’ me company.”

“How come ye dinnae try to hae a bit mair cheer fur th' holidays then? Put a bit mair effort in for ma baby.” 

Johnny notices and soon enough, he’s next to him, their arms brushing, Johnny’s hand on the small of his back. “Lea him alane, mam.”

“It’s fine,” he says even though it’s not fine. They deserve an explanation, even just to know what they son is getting himself into. “My family was murdered on Christmas Eve. I’m—I’m trying.”

The silence falls over the room — Johnny’s mum, dad, his sister, all present, not looking at them. Simon closes his eyes, tries to breathe.

Johnny rubs his back. “Let’s gae home.”

“I’m not ruining Christmas for you, Johnny,” he says. Before Johnny can deny it — and he knows he’d try — he tries to placate, “Let’s just have ourselves a minute to calm down.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice is perfectly levelled or the way his hand trembles as he squeezes Johnny’s, but he lets him leave the room.

He steps outside — to the backyard. Sits down on the step to the garden and lets the snow soak through his jeans and the top o his balaclava.

The kids come outside, tripping over Simon’s legs. They were all oblivious to the trails and errors of Simon’s integration into the family, so they approach him as always

“Whit's wrang?”

There’s just something so innocent in having a six-year-old girl covered from head to toe in pink and glitter worry about you. Simon would never admit it in front of Johnny, but he finds the accent cute.

Simon takes off the mask.

The kids all look at him and look at him, a bit unsure maybe a bit fearful — it can be a scary sight, he admits, the elongated, jagged smile that sticks to him no matter the mood, makes him more crazy than he already is — but only one of Johnny’s niece keeps her eyes on Simon’s face. 

Shily, she asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replies. When she smiles, he smiles back.

Not anymore.

This is Johnny’s family. Simon can deny it all he wants, but Johnny’s seen him as family, as someone he’d leave behind, and it hadn’t been unrequited. He can’t hide behind a mask forever and maybe this was the kick he needed.

He steps back inside when his hands turn numb. He doesn’t put the mask back on.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Simon?”

Simon just—smiles. He can feel the scars pulling on the corners of his mouth, the stiffer skin, but he’s not faceless. He’s not been faceless for a while.

Edit (29/03/24): This is now a WIP for a minimum 15k fic, titled don't shoot me, santa, that will have 4 chapters and will be posted (hopefully) later in the year

[misspelledwordswizard]

Can I request a Time content?

The Chaín except Time asking Reader his type or things she likes of a man. She mention some qualities but she specify "Older Man".

Time all blushing because he is in love with reader and Reader likes him too.

Time Content, yeay! I loved writing this asdfkqaj I hope you like it! <3

I like older men

— Oh, come on, you have to have a type! – Warriors exclaimed, referring to me. He’s been pestering me for a few minutes to tell me what type of man I’m attracted to. 

— I don’t think I have an exact type. – I kept giving the same answer. My taste can be quite flexible, I’d say. 

We were all around the campfire, talking, sharing stories, after the meal. The conversation was going smoothly until they got to the subject of relationships, which Sky dominated, by the way. The Captain has some experience in short-term relationships, so to speak, some of the others seem to have traumas, while the rest simply have never had anything with anyone until now, totally fair.

But, apparently, my romantic life became the central point of the entire conversation after I said I was single, and had never been seriously involved with anyone before. From what I understand, this information is somewhat shocking to them. 

— But not even some things you find attractive in men? – Wild suggested, he wasn’t helping me either. 

Unconsciously, my thoughts took me to the leader of the group, who was the only one who wasn’t bothering me with the subject. I can’t tell if it was because he was not interested in the subject or simply out of respect for my dignity. 

He didn’t even seem to be paying attention, to tell the truth. Leaning so calmly against a tree, with both eyes closed, I couldn’t even tell if he was awake. Avoiding looking at him and ending up generating comments among the heroes, I sighed and accepted my fate. Okay, I just need to wind them up. 

— Hm, let me think. – I said, raising expectations in the boys around me. – I guess we can say I like tall men. – Out of the corner of my eye, I had the impression of seeing Four wilt in his place, did he feel offended? – And strong ones too, something more natural... – I could feel my cheeks blushing. I wouldn’t mind talking about it at a sleepover with my friends, but with the men I’ve been living with for the past few months? What a nightmare. 

They remained silent, indicating that they expected more. Damn, damn gossips. 

— Well, I find light eyes attractive, I would say. And tattoos... Oh, and men who wear black, especially those tight, high-necked shirts. – Okay, I think I’m going too far. My cheeks looked like bell peppers. Oh, right, there’s one last very important one. – And, mainly, older men. 

I concluded, unable to bear all this pressure of stares while I talk about something so personal. I closed my eyes, expecting their provocative comments or something like that, but I was surprised to notice the silence that followed. Was that really that shocking? 

I opened my eyes to see their reactions, and, to my surprise, they weren’t looking at me. All eight boys looked with shock, surprise or curiosity in Time’s direction. Confused, I turned to look at him too, and, after some time processing the information, I understood the reason for their exaggerated reactions, feeling my face even hotter than before.  Time kept his eyes closed. His face, so relaxed before, was now tense, his lips pressed together in a line and his good eye closed a little tighter. What was surprising, in fact, was how rosy his cheeks were. 

In all my life, or rather, since I met him, I never thought I would see the hero of time blush. Because of me. Damn, am I not going crazy?  Well, I am definitely to blame for this, without realizing it, I ended up almost describing him in this silly joke. 

Oh man, I want to bury my face in a hole, I couldn’t have made it more obvious! Great, now I will have to deal with the provocations of this bunch of idiots. I looked away, no longer having the courage to look at him, and just accepted my cruel fate. 

— Look... – Warriors began, and I was already mentally preparing myself for the humiliation that was to come. – ... it seems that we have finally discovered the Old Man’s type as well. 

I turned my head abruptly to look at him, in time to see his eye widen and his mouth open in surprise and indignation, but nothing came out of his mouth. With his face even redder, he sighed and stood up, leaving the group in search of a moment of peace. 

These brats are still going to kill Time with these provocations, and in addition, they are going to kill me too. 

[tatsumessy]

Drunk pleads - {Nagi Seishiro}

wife edition/ you and Nagi got into an argument and you two hadn’t spoken for a while, not until he goes drinking with his teammates

it was rare for you and Nagi to fight. actually you two had only fought maybe twice in your relationship which now that you think about it, is bad. fighting is good and if you don’t have those tough conversations with your partner then it could blow up like it did last week.

you had been staying with your friend for the time being because you couldn’t speak to him nor could you stand being in the same house with him. you laid on the guest bed reading the book that had been accompanying you these past few days. being so engrossed in the book that the three pings from your phone nearly started you.

reo: Y/n I know you and Nagi are fighting…

reo: but he’s drunk and asking for you

reo: attachment 1 video

opening the video it starts with Nagi having his head sprawled along the table. “Nagi it’s time to go.” Isagi says from behind the camera, the cameras pans to the side showing Reo, Bachira and Rin sitting there trying to hold their laughing back. it then pans back to Nagi who changed his position to where he was laying on his arms looking off to the side.

he was visibly drunk and already fussy. “I am not leaving until y/n comes. I want my wife here now! she’s not answering my calls….or text….I miss her.” you let out an exaggerated sigh at his behavior as the video ends. you’ve never been around Nagi when he’s drunk so this is new and second hand embarrassment for you.

pressing the call button on reo’s contact you put the phone on speaker and started putting on some sweatpants with a crop top sweater to wear not paying attention to the weather. “y/n?” he answered sounding intoxicated himself, “send me the address, I’m on my way.” he agreed and hung up the phone sending his location. this place was almost an hour away so the bar was going to be closed by the time you got there maybe that’s why he sent his location just encase they move.

by the time you arrived the bar was closed and the five drunk men were sitting on the curb leaning against each other besides Rin who sat there like a statue. he was already sober due to the impending cold air blowing against him. you got out the truck and walked over holding your arms close to your body stopping infront of Nagi who was dazed leaning into his legs.

“Rin, get Bachira and Isagi into the back back.” he listened and helped them into the car, you bent down pushing the hair out of Nagi’s face. the moment his eyes locked onto yours you stood up holding your hand out for him but he attacked you with a hug instead. “y/n!! your here! I missed you so much.” he said hiccuping at the end of his sentence, “Nagi let go, I need to drive all of you home.” “No.” he sounded so serious and you looked back at Rin and reo for help.

“I’ll drive.” Rin added and you thanked him pulling Nagi into the back seat. He leaned against you, your back against the door and your legs sprawled all over his legs. Reo sat in the passenger seat leaving you and Nagi in the backseat by yourselves. “Rin drive us to our house, I don’t know where everyone lives so this is the safest option.” He agreed with your statement still feeling a little tipsy himself but thankfully he wasn’t a lightweight so he was perfectly fine.

“y/n I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt y-you.” Nagi whispered into your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso and the feeling of his cold fingers brushing against your skin made a light blush creep onto your cheeks. “It’s fine Nagi.” you responded turning your head to the side and looking out the window. “It’s not okay, I hurt you and I promised you I wouldn’t do that. I know what you experienced with your ex and I never want you to go through that again. I-I’m sorry.” the whole time he spoke he kept his voice low so only you could hear him.

tears weld in your eyes at his plead. “Nagi, it’s okay. I’m sorry too, you weren’t the only one in the wrong. We both were.” He snuggled closer to you trying to mold his body with yours. he placed languid kisses on your neck while slowly grinding himself against your thigh.

“I love you baby.” he whispered into your neck moving his body to where he was on top of you, he lips attacked yours forcing you to kiss him back. his hands roamed your body finding their way underneath your sweater kneading at your skin. you moaned quietly into his mouth using yours hands to pull him away, he whined flushed from the lack of contact.

“Rin please tell me we’re almost there.” you asked pushing his head to the side, “yes, please refrain from having sex back there.” reo laughed at Rin’s comment and you let out and awkward sigh trying to not moan from Nagi’s constant sucking and kissing on your neck and collarbone.

finally arriving at your house Nagi gripped your thighs while getting out the car and he hurriedly unlocked the door quickly walking up the stairs and locking the two of you in your shared bedroom.

the two of you didn’t leave the room for a whole day, switching between having sex or being asleep or wanting to get up but Nagi didn’t want to let you go fear of losing you again.

[khyys]

“As dense as a Rock”

wrd count: 2457

contents: MAJOR TW MAJOR TW farleigh x fem!reader,, everyone depicted in this fic is over the age of 18, heavy swearing, saltburn spoilers, bullying, slutshaming question mark, 1st & 2nd divider creds : @/elryisia. 3rd line divider creds: @/targaryen-dynasty

a/n: this account has been through so many changes, but it feels good to finally get something out. I loved saltburn and farleigh’s character (archie madekwe). if this gets some love, I’ll write some more!

You’d walked around the estate so many times, you were starting to memorize the layout. You even began to whisper ‘Hi, Mrs. Catton’ every time you walked by her supposed spirit. You really made yourself at home in Saltburn, ever since Felix invited you. You couldn’t really recall what he said when you asked why, but you didn’t care. This summer was supposed to be unlike any other for you. You were far from home, and you needed the getaway. This was just that.

You roamed the halls, examining each historic object. You often had to look around and ensure Duncan wouldn’t sneak up on you. He was known for that, but you couldn’t stand it. It made you feel uneasy, despite the family having been so kind to you upon your arrival. Felix’s mother had taken a liking, you oftentimes helped out his father, and you and Venetia had become attached at the hip it seemed. It was incomparable to your American household. Your life wasn’t horrible, but it was nothing compared to Saltburn. Wearing a dress and heels to play tennis and drink booze was not something you did back home, but you loved the thrill.

You walked about for a few more moments, before noticing the time on the clock. It was near time for dinner and you really wanted to look your best. You recalled receiving a dress from Elspeth. She’d said you looked ravishing in it, but you were most likely zoned out. All you recall is Elspeth having the maids press and tailor it perfectly so that it accentuates your figure.

You traversed the corridors, whistling softly. That was until you felt a rough grab on your arm. You wanted to scream, but only a gasp escaped. An angered hiss accompanied with a hand rushing to cradle your elbow that was impacted by the door frame. At first, you imagined it would’ve been Felix, but it couldn’t have been. Not with eyes like those ones.

He didn’t pay that much attention to you, or so you thought. He towered over you, with a large grin. His hair was slightly covering his eyes, and only for a moment did all the anger leave your body. But only for a moment.

“Look what I caught~”, Farleigh taunted, hooking a finger beneath your chin. You immediately turned your head, maintaining your look of displeasure for his actions. It was difficult, but you managed something of a pissed off expression.

You glanced down at your elbow, and sighed before meeting his gaze again.

“Fucking hell, Farleigh.. What’s your deal?!”, you scowled. Your brows furrowed, but he seemed amused by it. He always did like the little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he’d piss you off. It was something he seemed to look forward to. Something he enjoyed all too much.

You couldn’t be mad for long, not with that smile. His smile was too cute for you to hate.

“Aww, I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”, and then he looked down at your elbow. He gave an exaggerated pout, and tilted his head. Not to mention that stupid, poked-out lip. Seriously, how stupid and cute could he look at the same time? “Do you want me to kiss your boo boo and make it all better?

The way he spoke reminded you of how your family would talk down to you, or the boys back home would constantly drink a hot cup of condescending bullshit every morning, just to piss you off. Luckily, your tolerance for any of it was little to none.

“How’s about you kiss my ass?”, you snapped quickly. You hadn’t realized just how close he had been until you took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh scent of Egyptian Musk. You didn’t want to be bothered with his shenanigans. Especially not this close to dinner time. “Hell do you want, Farleigh..? I need to get ready for dinner.”

“Don’t be so harsh, Y/N, I just wanted to talk to you. Come. Sit.”, he strides from you to his bed, and gestured for you to sit beside him.

You knew better than to sit anywhere with Farleigh. It seemed like every girl that was simply within 5 steps of Farleigh had either slept with him, made out with him, lined up with him, or all three. You wish you had done two out of the three.

“I’ll stand.”, you spoke while rubbing your elbow. The tingling began to start and you only took a step or two away from the door, leaning on a nearby dresser.

Farleigh stared at you from the bed and glanced out the nearby window, dragging out a sigh. He was silent for a moment, and for that moment, he looked like a guy. A handsome one with even skin, gorgeous hair, a wonderful smile. His voice made your heart skip one too many beats at a time, but it’s his words that always seemed to ruin everything.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”, he asked in a low tone. He turned his attention back to you, with a sort of expectant look, like he was waiting for you to say something specific.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? What did he mean, why were you here? Because Felix invited you, that’s why! But that’s not his business. Even if he was the reason, what’s it to him? Nevertheless, you glared at him from where you stood.

“That’s not your business.”

“Isn’t it? You befriend my distant cousin and his family, who already see you as a second daughter. You and Ven, painting your nails and walking around the front lawn with your matching see-through nightgowns. And don’t get me started on you helping with Uncle’s work? You are such a suck up, Y/N… I could read you like a bad magazine.”

What a creep.. How hard was he watching you? He must’ve been watching long because you only helped Mr. Catton every other Sunday, and you and Venetia simply related on a deeper level. You were never a smoker, but you started a social habit. Was Farleigh bothered by the fact that you were warming up to his distant family? Was he feeling left out or something?

“So you’re a stalker? What’s next? You wanna drink my fucking bath water, you freak?”

Farleigh was always entertained by getting a reaction out of people, especially you. Your temper was short and easy to tick sometimes, which only made the show better for him. He laughed and crossed his legs, leaning back slightly. His head tilted back and his curled bounced beneath the rays of the lowering sun.

He was seriously laughing about this? Laughing about watching you so attentively that he could notice the material of your nightgowns or realize where you disappeared for like five hours of every other Sunday. You couldn’t deny that you did enjoy the attention. Venetia was right, those dresses did exactly as intended. Venetia saw how you would glance at Farleigh or look for him like a lost puppy in your free time, she was the only person who knew. You made her promise not to tell a soul, but she promised to make sure he noticed you more by the end of the summer. And by the ghost of Felix’s grandmother, he was practically a certified professional. He knew everything.

You hid your smile, and masked it with a look of displeasure. You planned to squeal about it to Venetia that night whilst you and her walked about the front lawn on your matching nightgowns… right below Farleigh’s window.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N… Be real for once! You know exactly what I mean! You’re a fucking suck up and the only reason you’re doing it, is to get to Felix! You’re like every other bitch at Oxford! You want to fuck him, be his new favorite toy, and then try your best to stay with him… Really, you’re pathetic!”

You closed your eyes, trying to process the words he said to you. Suck up. Every other bitch. Fuck Felix… Pathetic?! Either he was high off of his ass or truly needed a rise out of you.

“Did you just call me a slut, you prick?”

“If the shoe fits, honey..”

“Fuck you.”, were the last words you muttered to him before you turned away and left Farleigh’s bedroom, slamming the door behind yourself and quickly going further down the hall, to your bedroom.

You closed the door behind yourself, and sighed. You pressed your forehead against the wooden engravings of the door, and locked it. That was.. tense. Unnecessarily tense, at that. He could always be crass, but out right calling you a slut didn’t seem like his forte. At least, it didn’t seem to be, but what did you know? You just wanted to fuck Felix, right? Farleigh was many things but he wasn’t stupid, there was no way he could’ve been that oblivious to what you’ve been doing…

“Ahem.”, a familiar voice said from your bed. You wondered why it smelled like roses, perfume, and smoke.

“Ah.. Ven, hey. I- uh.. Wha-… Fuck. What are you doing here?”, you asked and pulled your cardigan off, being only left in a bra.

You walked over and sat beside her, whilst she turned and rested her legs atop your lap. You rested your arms over them, and glanced over to which she handed you the lit cigarette in between her sloppily painted nails.

“Well… I was going to ask if you knew what you were gonna wear tonight ‘cuz I wanted to match, but you weren’t here so I thought I’d just wait. What took you?”

You gulped slightly, and sighed whilst allowing the smoke to seep out of your nostrils. You maneuvered the white stick in your hands, while trying to figure out how to word it. He called you a slut? He called you pathetic?

“I.. was in Farleigh’s…”

You blew the smoke from your lips and nose, before handing the cigarette back to her. To which, she laughed and wrapped an arm around you.

“What?! Oh em fuck, tell me everything! Did you guys kiss, make out, make plans for later~?”

You laughed at Venetia’s response, but it had you thinking. You wish that was the case, but it wasn’t. He had everything totally out of line. He believed that you wanted Felix, and you still didn’t have the right mind to just come out and tell him that it was him you wanted… You made a slight face of disappointment and shook your head to which Venetia cooked and held your face comfortingly.

A few seconds later, you hear a small knock at the door.

“Excuse me! Y/N, are you in there? I’ve got your dress pressed out for you!”, a meek voice called out.

It was one of the handmaids. You weren’t really supposed to see her, but you were able to catch her once. When you did, you asked her to be more.. friendly with you. To appear more, and whilst she was hesitant, she did it nonetheless.

“Come in!”, you called back.

She opened the door, to reveal a dark red dress concealed by a plastic dress bag. The small woman opened your closet door and hung it upon a hook that was screwed into the door.

“It’s perfect! Thank yo-“, you started, but before you could finish your sentence, she had scrambled off, and out the door, making you and Venetia giggle.

“What happened then?”

You sighed, before taking and handing back the cigarette.

”He caught me off guard, and pulled me into his room. He said he wanted to talk, but then he asked why I was here! Fuck, Venetia! He said I wanted to fuck Felix! Are you fucking kidding me?! All this just for him to think it was fucking Felix, of all people!”

Venetia snickered and wrapped her arm around you, whilst she hummed, blowing out more of the smoke. The small white paper was stained with her red lip stain.

“Farleigh’s not that aware of… uhhh… cues? He’s dumb, like super socially stupid! I literally do not get what you see in someone who’s that fucking moronic.” Venetia chuckled to which you let out a soft sigh, filled with disappointment.

Venetia got up and planted a small peck on your nose and got up from her place, patting your thigh. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!! Gotta get ready!” She smiled and winked, before leaving your bedroom and closing the door behind her.

You waved and sighed as you sat on the bed, pondering about your conversation with him. You weren’t even really processing anything. You kept going back to his hair, his eyes, his scent, and that stupid playful personality that made you want to kick him, but then pull him right back in for a kiss. You’d have to fangirl later though, dinner was in an hour and a half.

It never took you long to get dressed. You wore light makeup, did your hair, and chose a few golden accessories. Something that would really please Elspeth. Damn, were you actually sucking up to her? You loved gold. You admired the way the shining bracelets adorned your wrist, and smiled. You felt so pretty. But you were starting to prove Farleigh’s point. It was a stupid point, but valid, nonetheless.

You stood in the mirror, adjusting your dress to perfection and ensuring you look just as Elspeth said you would. Ravishing. You touched up your make-up and teased your hair, until it was just as you liked.

“Y/N? Have you dressed? Mr. And Mrs. Catton are awaiting you and young Farleigh.”, a monotone voice of seriousness shot through your doors.

“Yes, Duncan. I’m ready. I’ll be out in just a minute!”

“Very well…”, was said before you hear the sound of sharp steps being made away from your door.

You truly didn’t have much to do before you finally considered yourself ready for dinner. The rule was dress up, which included a small bag for you. So you stuffed lipstick, a powder pallet, a highlighter, and lip gloss into the bag.

A final check was made before you finally went your bedroom door, and you were met with a fine surprise.

“Oh? Was someone happy to see me?”

Your eyes went wide while Farleigh stood there with his fist up, assuming he didn’t even get a chance to knock.

“Shut up, Farleigh. Why aren’t you at dinner? You’ll be late, waiting on me.”, you scowled once more, that little wrinkle he enjoyed seeing becoming prominent.

“Actually, I wanted to walk with you again. After dinner.”

THE END.

[apomaro-mellow]

Mafia AU 6 / AO3 Link

Part 5

Eddie didn’t get a call for a couple of days after their little sparring session. When he did, he was only told to meet him at a tailor’s in town. While getting ready, Eddie checked himself over in the mirror and considered going to Steve with his hair down for once. He was aware that those in high society didn’t appreciate his sense of style. But Steve had mentioned something about having a trademark. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be his hair though.

In the end, he kept it up in a ponytail as he usually did. Maybe once the weather cooled, he’d have an excuse to let it down. For now though, he’d leave it as is.

Eddie had never been inside a tailor shop. Never had a need or even the means for bespoke clothing. But Steve was already sitting in a chair, deep in discussion with a man who clearly worked there.

“I see what you mean. Yes, it is quite urgent.”

“Thank you for taking it on such short notice”, Steve said.

Eddie found himself being approached with measuring tape and he took a step back, holding his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, what’s the big idea here?”

“Just let Enrico do his magic”, Steve said, still sitting. “There’s an event happening soon, and I can’t let you show up in the same suit you’ve been wearing.”

Enrico made Eddie hold his arms out to the side and Eddie kept them up, understanding about only half of what was going on. Steve was getting him a new suit? For what? A party?

“You’re getting me a new suit?”

“Three. At least. It’ll have to do for now.”

Enrico tutted under his breath as he got Eddie’s measurements. “You were right about him.”

“Right about who? About what?”, Eddie asked, trying to follow Enrico as he moved around his body but also getting the feeling he should stand absolutely still. That was what people did at these fitting things, right?

Steve stood and sauntered over. Gently, he pushed Eddie’s arms back down. “I told him that you looked a little rough but underneath it all something special was waiting to shine through.”

Enrico chose that moment to measure up Eddie’s inseam and he all but jumped right into Steve’s arms. Steve grinned, keeping him upright and Eddie felt like this was all some kind of game that he didn’t know the rules of. Steve moved back and started perusing material around the store.

“Do I really need three?”, Eddie asked, grasping at something to say.

“While being sponsored, you represent me. And if you pass, it’ll be even more so. If you look ragged, I look weak. And like I don’t take care of my own.”

Eddie tried not think of how much this bill could run. “So I guess you’ll take these suits out of my first paycheck”, he teased, but was also seriously asking.

Enrico had finished and was now writing something on a notepad. Steve turned away from a selection of ties to look him up and down.

“It’s not like that. Think of it as an investment in you. I’ve never sponsored anyone. I’m hoping I get it right the first time around.”

“What happens if you get it wrong?”, Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged. “Usually the guy gets offed. Knows too much about us, you know? Can’t let him go on. I did hear that one time they let a guy go free but only after cutting his tongue. But I heard that story from this guy at a party and they like to exaggerate.”

Eddie swallowed. He knew he absolutely HAD to make it through this. But he hadn’t thought long enough about what would happen if he didn’t. If he pissed Steve off or if he didn’t do right by him. He liked having a tongue. And a life too.

“Speaking of parties, what’s this little soiree you’ve got planned?”

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

Eddie should’ve known that if Steve was putting up the money for new clothes, it wouldn’t be little. It was still being held at the Marini home (or was it the Harrington home now?) but there were more people this time. And some of them looked…normal. Every other time Eddie had seen people gathered here, it had just been the men, on the premises to discuss business.

But now he was seeing wives and children, all dressed to the nines. Steve had told him it was all in celebration of his grandfather’s birthday. It made sense that they went above and beyond to honor the previous boss. Eddie had put on one of the new suits Steve had bought for him and could feel the difference in quality immediately.

When he looked in the mirror, he could see how much better it fit him too. He didn’t look like some ruffian from the street right now. He looked like he could go and collect on behalf of his boss on his own. Like he had real credibility. Still, Eddie didn’t think it wise to try and stand out tonight.

There were plenty of bigwigs and like Steve said, he was repping his sponsor. So he stayed close to Steve’s side for the evening. Which also meant being close to Steve’s friend, who was named Robin. She’d given Eddie an odd side glance, but then ignored him for the most part. Not for the first time, Eddie wondered what her role was. She’d been hidden in that room when Steve had tried seducing him, and she’d been around in the maze that one time, but never on any of their outings.

Was she just a friend? Or was there something more going on here?

It should be said that while she didn’t talk directly to Eddie, it didn’t mean she was silent. Every time she spoke up though, it was in Italian, and Steve responded back, keeping the conversation between them. Eddie didn’t know if that meant he was the topic of the discussion or if it was actually secret family business. Either way, it was beginning to irk him.

“I’m going to go and talk to my grandfather. You two stay here. And play nice”, Steve said.

“...Was he saying that to you or to me?”, Eddie asked, breaking the ice.

Robin crossed her arms. “Either one, I guess.”

“Ah, she does speak the common tongue.”

“I speak four languages, jackass. And if you’ve got any hope for your future, you’d do well to follow along.”

“I’ve picked up a few phrases”, Eddie said. “Mostly naughty words, which are, you know, the best ones. But I guess my superiors wouldn’t want to be told ‘suca’, huh?”

“God, not with that pronunciation”, Robin laughed, cracking a smile for the first time that evening. 

“Care to give me some pointers on proper Italian, then?”

“You’re gonna need it if you’re serious about all this”, Robin gestured to the room where mobsters were mingling.

“I don’t do anything half-assed. I’m in it to the end.”

“And to what end, exactly is that?”, Robin asked. “Why are you here?”

It was such a bold question, Eddie was caught off guard. No one had ever asked him why. Or even if he wanted to. A couple goons offered him money for a job and he took it and kept taking it. Then the sponsorship had been dropped in his lap without any real input from him.

“I want a better life for me and my uncle. And if being loyal to this family gets me there, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“Loyal to the Marinis? Or to the Harringtons?”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s the difference?”, Eddie questioned.

“How much do you know about Steve’s family history?”, Robin asked.

Eddie thought about the bits and pieces he’d heard and gleaned. “Mom married an outsider, now he’s the boss.”

Robin hummed and nodded, confirming that part. “Sounds like you could use a crash course though.”

“I wouldn’t mind one”, Eddie said.

Robin led them over to a more secluded part of the room where they could sip and talk. “You got the summary right. Steve’s mom was a mafia princess. She was probably supposed to get with someone her dad, Steve’s grandfather over there set her up with. But she fell for this guy who had worked with the family but he wasn’t family , get it?”

Eddie nodded. Someone who wasn’t directly connected to them. Someone like him or Wayne. Well, Wayne was in now, so it was just Eddie. But he could change that.

“So anyway, it makes waves ‘cause she’s going against the grain. But her father approves it, lets them get married and all that. Steve’s grandpa retires and his son-in-law, Harrington inherits the title. Not long after that, Steve’s mom died.”

Eddie took a moment to look at Steve, who was no longer just with his grandfather, but with his dad and a couple of other men too. Eddie had a feeling about the missing mom, but he’d never confirmed it with anyone.

“Steve took his dad’s last name, which was a huge thing because in this world, the Harrington name means nothing. There’s this…divide I guess. The ones who support his dad and the ones who think he’s not right for the role of boss. And because they don’t like his dad, that means they don’t like Steve.”

“Why? Has he done anything?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s part of his problem. He can’t really do much since he presented as an omega.” Robin swirled her drink around. “It’s on him to get with a proper alpha and fix the Marini family.”

Eddie could guess what proper meant. Someone from a good family, for one. And they’d probably prefer someone Italian. Someone with similar roots to the Marinis. Someone who wasn’t an outsider. All of those guys who had seemed interested in Steve, Tommy included, all would have been accepted without much fuss, he was sure. Eddie was so out of his league, they were playing different sports.

Wai-why was he still trying to think of himself that way? He’d told Steve to his face there’d be no funny business. And then Steve had basically told him he would always fly solo. Eddie didn’t need to think about Steve’s marriage prospects because it had nothing to do with him right now.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but think of Steve, raised up and under the tutelage of a mob boss only to be told his job was to marry someone every else thought was good enough for him, have that guy’s baby, and live out the rest of his days as an afterthought while that guy ran his family business. 

Steve found them from afar and waved them over to him.

“Is he waving to you or to me?”, Eddie asked.

Robin’s response was to lock arms with him. “Looks like we’re being summoned.”

Part 7

[yueisyum]

Can i ask for a short smut for jeno’s bday special🫣

Yes you can 🤗

“Baby? I’m home!” Jeno calls from the front door, flicking his shoes off as fast as possible. The whole way home he was cursing his company for having him work on his birthday. Even if he did have fun filming a “birthday special,” he wanted to spend his day with his favorite person- his girlfriend, the love of his life, you. However, he starts doubting that possibility when he doesn’t hear your sweet voice call back to him.

He doesn’t bother hanging his bag up, instead carelessly dropping it next to his shoes on the floor. “Baby? Y/n?” his voice almost echos in the apartment. Poking his head into the kitchen, it’s almost the same as when he left it. A far part in his mind began believing you’ve forgotten that this his “special day” but when he heard a door swing open, the shower running, and the sound of your wet feet hitting the ground as you speed down the hallway, he allowed his mind to relax.

It all happened so fast, when his eyes finically land on you, he sees you’re wearing one if his shirts, it’s soaking wet, along with your hair- and the rest if your body. Soap sliding down your let’s as you almost wattle up to him. You must’ve struggled out of the shower once you heard him calling for you, and he can’t help but find that absolutely adorable. He takes a note to scold you about running with wet feet later.

“Sorry, I was in the shower” he can’t even begin to explain how he’s feeling right now. His shirt is big on you, (of course) covering your body down to your thighs, except the shirt is soaking and sticking to your body. So he can happily see all of your beautiful curves. He chuckles before responding “Yeah I can see that love, you didn’t have to get out of the shower-“

“-I didn’t see you this morning, so I never got to wish you a happy birthday. And god would kill me if I just sent you a text” you explain, your hands holding yourself due to the cold. Before he has a chance to urge you back into the bathroom, you cut him off. “Happy birthday! I would give you a hug baby, but I’m soaking, you wanna kiss instead ?” You ask, puckering your lips for him. Jeno can only laugh, leaning in to place a peck on the corner of your mouth. “I hope you still had a good day, I bought a cake and everything just in case you had to work all da-”

“Thank you baby, I had a good day, I got to blow out candles and everything” he exaggerates, widening his eyes with a smile. “Wow really? More than one candle? You must of had a blast huh?” You play along, not bothering to hide the smile on your face. “Can I join you in the shower?” He asks.

You take a moment to ponder, making sure to be as dramatic as possible at such a request from your boyfriend. “Like… me and you both in the shower?” You point to yourself then back to him.

He nods, already catching on to your little bit. But he doesn’t mind, actually, he finds it cute. “Yeah..”

“As in like.. both of us.. naked” you continue, this time earning a chuckle from him as he admires you. “Yup, barebacked” he closes his eyes, and nods to emphasize his statement.

Your smirk drops and you deadpan at him. “It was going so well… why did you have to say it like that?” Almost whining, you stomp your wet feet on the wood causing drops of water to fall from your body, Jeno can only giggle in response. His hands find your wet waist. Pulling you into his body, not bothering about his own clothes. The two of you share a moment of silence, admiring his face and his stupid smile while his hands pull you impossibly close. “Is the water hot yet?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten in if it wasn’t.” You give him another smile before your thoughts interrupt the moment. “So… does this count as a birthday gift?” Your hands find his chest, resting them on his bicep. “Depends. You gonna wash me?”

“What are you a baby?”

“Im your baby.”

You give a lighthearted scoff. When he leans in for another kiss you don’t stop him, instead you embrace him, his lips are warm and comforting, and his arms aren’t any different. They unsurprisingly begin to roam your body, his big hands grabbing a hold of any skin he can. And his lips find your jaw.

“So pretty” he mumbles into your neck, exhaling and inhaling your sent. “Jeno?” You call him, but you’ve already lost him, his hands pushing the arch of your back into him. When he teases at your sweet spot, you decide that this isn’t all bad, and your hands find his hair. “So tiny” he groans in responds to the light pull of his hair.

“Jeno?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t we going to shower?”

“Forget the shower love, let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?”

He finally pulls away from your neck, getting a good look at the mark he knows will become more evident later. “I’m soaking wet jeno” you laugh at his ridiculous suggestion while he licks at his lips, this actions making you squeeze your thighs together.

“I bet you are” before you can even slap him for that stupid joke, his hands slide down below your ass, lifting you up despite the slipperiness of your skin. “The sheets will get soaked, and we’ll have to wash them” you try to argue and he makes his way to the bedroom. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll wash them” he reply’s simply, as if nothing will get in the way of what he wants right now.

You

“The shower is still running, the water bill-“

“-I’ll go turn it off.” You are dropped into the bed, your body bouncing a couple times before you find your balance. Once you have, jeno has already returned from turning off the water, closing the door to the room behind him.

“-a-are you serious?!” You can’t help but giggle, his eagerness is only making you more horny, you’ll admit it. His hands find the hem of his shirt and he pull the fabric over he head and tossing it to the ground. “What? Im the birthday boy”

Nerd

As jeno climbs onto the bed, he doesn’t fail to find the hem of his your own shirt, while keeping eye contact with you. “Lay back.” You do as he says (of course) leaning back as the shirt is discarded from your skin, leaving you naked under him “Yes sir” you joke, biting your lip. He throws the shirt so it lays along the floor with his own.

“Baby, if you leave that wet for to long it will start to smell, so make sure-“

“-i know, I know love, relax” Jeno’s hands caress your face, placing another kiss on your temple. “I’ll take care of it.” You don’t stop the smile from taking over your features. Jeno leans back, unbuckling his jeans, as he does, you admire his body. His abs, his arms, his hands, and the way he’s looking at you. When he gets his jeans off, he climbs back over you. For some reason, you feel a lot more nervous then you usually would be.

His gaze on you seemed ten times more intimate then usual. “Where do you wanna start?” He questions, absentmindedly squeezing at your thighs, making it harder for you to focus. “It’s your birthday, where do you want to start?”

Jeno takes in your shaky response, the way your chest is rising and fall a bit too quickly and despite just getting out the water, your skin is hot to the touch. There’s no panic in your eyes, but jeno can tell your feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Relax baby, I’m serious” his tone lowers, soft and caring, And you wonder how on earth you’re supposed to relax when he talks to you like that. “I’m relaxed” you defend, finally allowing your hands to wrap around his head.

Another moment of silence takes over you two, he waits until your breathes are even before leaning in to kiss you again. Slower and softer then before. His hand gently cups your breast, playing with skin in his hand, And you wonder how many times he has to go easy on you because you’re so sensitive-

His fingers have already found your folds, his middle and ring finger lightly play with them, slowly until he’s found your clit. Your breath hitches for just a moment at the feeling of his hands exactly where you need them. “So fucking perfect” he repeats his earlier actions of travelling down your jaw to your neck. Not leaving one area of skin untouched. When he reaches your tits, he takes your nipple into his mouth, causing you to lightly moan. leaning your head back for him. he allows his finger to slip into you, causing a another breathless moan to leave your lips. Jeno’s tongue flicks over your nipple a couple times before he adds another finger. “Are you okay?” He asks lifting his head from your chest. Realizing you’ve been quiet the entire time, you give him a nod. “Of course”

The warm smile you give him is contagious, his body relaxes at the response, sending you the same smile to calm the both of you. “I’m gonna finger you baby, okay? So lift your legs”

You hate that he has to say it so bluntly, but lift your knees nonetheless, spreading your legs for him to adjust between them. “Good girl”

His voice is low, and his gaze finds yours once again- He knows what he’s doing- asshole

But you can’t complain because you know he can see your smile, and his stupid smirk grows in satisfaction. “You like that hm? Me calling you a good girl?”

“Shut up”

His face recoils playfully, “Oo how can I call you a good girl when you’re being so bad?” he begins laughing before he even finishes the sentence, and you only role your eyes while holding back your own laughter. Another kiss settles the mood back into place, and his fingers pick up in speed. They’re long and thicker than your own, reaching places you couldn’t. He continues, hitting just the right spots that make your toes curl, But he stops, just when it starts getting good. This happens about two more times before you whine, lightly slapping at his chest and closing your legs around his arm.

“Baby! Please”

“I know, I just got to prep you-“

“I’m prepped! Promise” you whine.

“So needy” he cocks his head to the side, pocking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. But he’s not really complaining- how could he? His girlfriend is almost begging him to fuck her-

Anyway, jeno pulls away his hand, sucking on both fingers while readjusting himself between you. The sight has you pooling.

Sexy motherfucker

“Alright love, open” he taps you thighs and you open your legs as he situates himself, pulling himself from his boxers. Angry red and twitching, you wonder why he’s been so persistent on taking our time when he’s that hard- His hands warps around his length, giving it a few long strokes. He’s thick, even for his own hands, tapping at your entrance, he allows your hole to swallow him in.

“God- I’ve been thinking about you all day” he shamelessly admits. jeno doesn’t waste a moment, falling to hover over you and continuing to push himself into your hole. Stretching and stuffing you full of his cock.

The feeling was filling and a bit painful, but so satisfying nonetheless. “Wanna know what I wished for when I blew out the candles?”

You adjust yourself to him before responding, shifting your body down and holding into his arms for dear life. “The wish won’t come true if you tell me baby”

He chuckles, causing movement inside of you, and pleasure climbing up your spine. “It already has” his forehead rests on yours with the same stupid smile of his face, it’s only making you more and more giddy. “So cheesy” you breathlessly laugh.

Jeno begins to slowly roll his hips into you, you can feel every vein and curve of him as he does. “I don’t know, I thought that was pretty clever”

“It was cliché”

“So your not flattered?”

“I’m honoured”

His thrusts pick up, setting an easy rhythm. You hum every time you feel a stretch, and he’s right along with you. His right hand finds a strand of hair on your face and gently guide it away from your eyes. “Is this good?”

You can’t help but fall apart around him. “Mhm” you respond, biting at your lip.

“Yeah? It’s good baby?” He coos, allowing a small whine to escape his lips.

“It’s good” you moan, resting your arms on his shoulders. His pace begins to quicken and his hands rests at your hip. His hand occasionally squeezes at the skin, probably earning a couple small love bruises. Every now and then he’ll slow down, making use not to cum too quickly.

Your sweating, panting as you whole body jerks with his movements. Small nothings leave his lips every now and then when he hits the right angle. But once he’s found a place l, he begins to pound into you. Leaning you lost in pleasure, you limbs going limp as he holds you.

“You aren’t close already are you princess?” he teases with a smile, when your body slightly jerks into him.

“No”

Yes you were, only god knows how- but you were. Feeling as if a fire was ignited in your abdomen, you try to stretch you legs out to adjust, only causing his to hit deeper.

“Oh god-“ you whimper, arching off the bed and into him. “It’s okay baby, I got you.” Jeno reassures, lifting your thighs until the touch your stomach. “There we go, this Better?”

“Yes” your try to respond, but it only comes out as a broken whisper. You are fluttering around him, making it harder for him to keep a controlled pace. He’s desperately pumping into you now, once again connecting his lips with yours. “You feel so good” he mumbles before biting at your lip, too much is happening so you take it upon yourself to close your eyes and brace for impact.

“Wanna cum inside you baby, I want to feel you suck me in”

Usually you’d be upset with how lewd he’s talking but his words only guide you closer to you climax. “You gonna let me baby? Since it’s my birthday?”

Even if it wasn’t your probably would’ve said yes, how couldn’t you. But for the plot of course- “I thought I already made your candle wish come true?” He laughs, but it quickly turns into a moan as his hips stutter. “I wished you be good for me all night”

“Is that so?”

“It is”

Your body shudders and he jerks into you. “So tight- please baby” your gut tightens and he’s pulsing.

“Shit, cum inside me jeno”

And with that, his head falls into the crock of your neck, and he releases inside of you. The back of your neck burns as your own climax hits, clawing at his back with his name on your lips.

Both still yourselfs to calm your breathes. You legs fall to your sides and he kisses your temple. “Aren’t you supposed to say happy birthday after sex?” He breaks the silence, pulling away just enough to see your pretty, decked face.

You pretend to think for a moment. “Only in movies…” you begin, lifting your head to give him a kiss, “..but if you say please-“

“Please?”

You giggle again, bitting your lip as he touches your nose to his. “Happy birthday baby”

Another long loving kiss is shared before he pulls out. “Round two in ten minutes?”

The snort you let out was almost comical, “you need a whole ten minutes!? What are you getting too old for multiple rounds?“ you whines when he playfully punches your thigh. “You were the one shaking”

“You were shaking too-“

Note: did not spell check! Also sorry if it seems rushed, I tried to take my time on it!!

Next couple weeks will be the last of my “absent-ness”? - basically I’ll be back on here like normal soon

[sarcastic-positivity]

     It was the middle of July and despite Tim’s aspirations as a kid, he did not, in fact, have a job that gave him summers off. As such, it was a miserable affair, getting to and from work. Usually Tim would be in an airy t-shirt and shorts but Jon had caught sight of his Hawaiian themed top last week and it had been a close thing to avoid being forced to go home and change. It would be a few weeks before he could get away with such a ‘blatant display of disrespect for work procedures’, as Jon put it, so here he was: sweating his ass off on the tube and praying to whatever god would listen that they’d fixed the AC at the Institute.

     God never did like Tim.

     “Christ above, does Elias want us dead or something?” Tim cried to the room at large as he dropped heavily onto his spinny chair. It was stifling. “What did we ever do to him, huh?? Did someone submit a statement about Bigfoot again?” He immediately started popping buttons on his ‘work appropriate’ shirt.

     Sasha popped her head up from her cubicle and grinned at him. Her waist-length braids had been piled sloppily on top of her head and she looked about ready to topple over from the imbalance. She’d already shed her top layer down to a simple purple tank top but she still had a sheen of sweat on her brow that had her large round glasses slipping down her nose.

     “Pretty sure it’s cause Gerry called him an old codger and compared him to the statement giver from the McGregor case last week. He’s out for revenge now.”

     Tim wrinkled his nose. “What, the stuffy one with the cane who wouldn’t shut up about how the Tories are implementing a surveillance state?”

     “The very same,” Sash confirmed, pushing her glasses back up with a hand. “Though I personally think Elias would be very pro Big Brother. Did I tell you he asked after my aunt the other week?”

     “You told Elias about Matilda’s lung cancer?”

     “That’s just it! The only person I told about that was you, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t run off to tattle to Elias.” She leaned forward in her chair conspiratorial and Tim couldn’t help but do the same. Sash was magnetic when she was like this. It had led to more than one rendezvous in their first year at the Institute. “I think he has cameras down here.”

     It wasn’t the most insane theory she’d come up with, somehow. Just two months ago she’d followed Jon home because she didn’t believe he actually had a home; she’d thought he’d been sleeping in the Institute of all places. Besides, there was that feeling of being watched that pervaded this place. Still, Tim couldn’t help but laugh.

     “I think we’d know if he had cameras, Sash. Did I tell you what he-”

     “What fresh hell is this?” The voice from the doorway was flat and scathing and Tim immediately spun in his chair to grin at the intruder.

     “Gerry!” He called happily. “I didn’t know you were coming in today!” He was wearing his signature black trenchcoat and a scowl that did things to Tim. Luckily for both of them, Tim was well guarded against Gerry’s scary-sexy goth vibe by virtue of sharing a flat with him. There were only so many times you could get a chub from simply looking at your roommate before your prick just gave up on the enterprise entirely.

     “There’s a statement I need but this is fucking ridiculous.” His voice was as deep and rough as it always was but the angry edge to it managed to send a little zing down Tim’s spine. The days that Gerry showed up at work are always so interesting. “It’s at least 10 degrees hotter in here than it is outside. The fuck is Elias thinking?”

     “Gonna rough him up for us, Ger?” Tim asked with a grin and Sasha laughed. “Stomp on him a little with those boots of yours? 10 quid says he’s into it.” Gerard shot him a look but there was a smile playing around his lips, pulling slightly at the snakebite piercings there. His makeup that day was the same as it usually was, eyeliner and three exaggerated lower lashes that made his gaze all the more intense. Thank god for the aforementioned Roommate Protection. Especially when Gerry’s eyes swept over Tim before meeting his eyes again and giving a mocking little smile. His eyes were slate grey and impossible to look away from.

     “Projecting much, Stoker?” He asked in a low tone. It was teasing and Sasha cackled but Tim’s brain stuttered and properly died. What did one say when a hot goth implied that you maybe wanted him to stomp on you with his giant sexy boots? Especially when it was true.

     “What, you wanna find out, Keay?” Tim shot back. That was good. Keep it light, let it plausibly pass for playful workplace banter – a little bit of light flirting to keep thoughts of the heat at bay. Gerry arched a brow at him, face betraying nothing but that same cool amusement. Sasha snorted and shook her head, turning back to her computer.

     “You two are ridiculous,” she told them. Tim shrugged, eyes still on Gerry, and then Jon’s office door creaked open.

     “Oh good, you’re here, Gerard.” Gerry’s eyes flicked away. “You said you needed the Anderson file?” 

     “Yeah, that’s the one,” Gerry said. He passed by Tim’s desk to take the file from Jon. Tim turned back to his desk. “By the way, your workplace is a HSE violation waiting to happen.”

     “Yes, I am quite aware,” Jon said drily. “Make sure to get that one back to me by the end of the day. And not stinking of smoke this time, Gerard. I have more notes I plan to add to it.”

     “No promises.”

・・・

     Inevitably, it was Tim who had to go hunt Gerry down at a quarter to five to get the file back. Luckily the fire exit to the left of the stairs to the archives was conspicuously propped open by an unopened carton of cigarettes and Tim pushed outside into the slightly cooler summer air.

     Gerard was lounged on the steps leading to the back alley, facing away from the door with the file open at his feet and a lit cigarette in hand. He’d tied his hair up sloppily, much like Sasha had hers, but it was so long that black sheets of it still cascaded down his bare shoulders. His trenchcoat had been completely abandoned, laid out on the step beside him, and he was left only in a crop top Tim had never seen before. It was made of a sheer grey material that matched his eyes and had no sleeves to speak of. Even worse, Gerry had a hand tucked under his shirt, shucking the top halfway up his chest. His alabaster skin shone in the dim light of the setting sun and Tim nearly took a tumble down the steps when Gerry tilted his head back to look back at him. 

     “What?” Gerry asked in a gravelly voice when he caught Tim staring. Tim opened his mouth to respond but he suddenly found himself incapable of speech. Gerry rolled his eyes and turned his head languidly back forward, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “AC’s broken inside but it’s barely any cooler out here. Don’t be a prude.”

     That surprised a laugh out of Tim. “A- A prude?!” He choked out. Never in his life had he been accused of such a thing. And this, this was so far on the opposite side of the scale he wanted to laugh. Or cry. Gerry just blew a smoke ring.

     “If you’re here for the file, it’s there.” He kicked at the manila folder at his feet and Tim could hear the wounded noise Jon would make if he were there. Right, Tim had actually come for a reason that wasn’t to ogle Gerry. Supposedly.

     “Right.” Tim cleared his throat and picked his way down the steps so as to not step on Gerry. God, did his legs have to be so long? “This thing has gotta reek by now,” he said as he bent down for the file. “Pretty sure the boss man won’t be too happy with you about that one.” He turned back and around and Gerry quickly lifted his eyes. His eyes were a warm hazy grey, much like the smoke drifting around his head.

     “Afraid of Sims then, are you?” He drawled. His piercings glinted as he grinned at Tim.

     Tim rolled his eyes and made his way back up the steps. He very pointedly kept his gaze on the ground as he did so, enticingly bare torso be damned. “Everything’s a question with you,” he said. “‘Projecting much? Afraid of Sims?’ Just call me a bottom and get on with it.”

     Gerry rasped out a chuckle right as Tim reached the top step. Tim hesitated but couldn’t help but glance back down behind him. Gerry’s head was tilted back, hair messy and top askew, and his eyes half lidded against the dying light behind Tim’s head.

     “Now where’s the fun in that?”

     He was sight to see, all stretched out and half clothed on the steps to the alley. Tim shook his head and turned back inside without another word. Gerry’s rapsing laugh followed him all the way into the archives.

     Damn tease.

SPEECHLESS. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED AND MORE THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE HOLY SHIT IM LOSING MY MIND

[trulybetty]

october | 20 x sweater weather

pairing: frankie x f!reader word count: 813 warnings: none, playing fast & loose with the prompt, as always un-beta'd. summary: The Standard Oil cap origin story. ao3: linked

{ x. series masterlist }

author note: prompts are not in chronological order, the story is told throughout the life span of the relationship. once all are posted, I'll post a list of the prompts in chronological order.

20 x Sweater Weather

It was one of those crisp, fall days in Washington state, the kind where the air had a bite to it but wasn’t quite cold enough for a heavy coat. Just enough to make you pull out your sweaters from the back of the closet and wish for a hot drink in hand. You were sat on the sofa staring out at the towering pines that framed the majority of the houses on the base. You heard the shower upstairs turn off and the soft thud of Frankie’s feet.

The newness of your relationship had soon morphed into something more comfortable, but there was still that undercurrent of excitement—of learning new things about one another, of feeling your lives slowly intertwine. Especially having moved in together not that long ago. You had been at work today, signing paperwork as you’d recently gotten a promotion, one you’d worked tirelessly for, and on top of that attending night classes to give yourself an edge. And now, with the ability to work remotely, the future felt a little less daunting. Because you knew it wasn’t a matter of if but when Frankie would be stationed somewhere else, and for now at least, you wouldn’t be stuck behind.

Frankie stepped into the living room, fresh from the shower, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. His eyes immediately found you and a warm smile spread across his face. He crossed the room, dropping down next to you, wordlessly patting his knees for you to lay your feet across them.

“Hey,” you greeted, turning to offer him a playful smile, “Got something for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie’s eyebrows raised, intrigued as he dug his thumb into the ball of your feet. He was always a sucker for surprises, even the small ones.

You reached down beside you and pulled up a small canvas tote bag, one side emblazoned with the Standard Heating Oil logo in it. “Swag from work. Don’t get too excited, it’s just the usual stuff—keychains, maybe a pen or two.”

He took the bag from you with a grin, digging through it with exaggerated enthusiasm as he rummaged through the canvas tote. He let out a low whistle, “What do we have here,” he teased, pulling out a navy blue baseball cap with your company’s logo neatly embroidered on the front.

To your surprise, Frankie held up the cap with genuine interest. “This is solid,” he said turning it over in his hands, squeezing the brim to break it in, before slipping it on his head. It fit him perfectly, he adjusted it, checking the fit, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he looked.

“You’re really going to wear that?” you asked, half-joking.

Frankie glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eye, “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

“No, no,” you laughed shaking your head, “I just didn’t think you’d actually want to wear it.”

He shrugged, grinning that boyish smile of his that made your heart flip. “It’s from you,” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes affectionately, still chuckling at the thought of him, of all people, wearing your work swag. But as the weeks passed, the cap soon became a staple of his wardrobe, added to his small rotation. He’d throw it on whenever you two went out, wear it around the house, even took it on base with him, fast becoming his go-to for all occasions as if the cap had taken on a much more significant meaning than just some work swag.

One evening, as the two of you sat on the same couch, your legs tangled beneath a shared blanket, you caught him absently adjusting the brim of the cap. 

“I still don’t get it,” you teased him lightly, “Out of all the hats you own and could be wearing, why this one?”

Frankie turned to you, his dark eyes soft, “Because,” he said, his voice low and sincere as he pulled off the hat, turning it over in his hands, “it reminds me of you. Of how hard you’ve worked. And…I’m proud of my girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You’d learned early on that he wasn’t one to get overly sentimental, but when he did, it hit you deep.

It wasn’t just about the hat itself, but what it symbolized—the quiet pride he had in your success, in the life you were building together despite the long distances and uncertain future. He’d seen you hustle through night courses, and sacrifice sleep and weekends to get to where you were now. Frankie wasn’t just proud of the job you’d done—he was proud of you, the person who’d fought tooth and nail for every inch of progress. The one who had also fought for him, for the both of you.

“Plus,” he added with a playful grin, “it looks good on me.”

[faireprina]

A Love Like no Other ❤️ Pt 2

a/n : Part 2 is uppp!! Woohooo!!!! I’m working on more content.

Pairings: Aged Up! Killua Zoldyck x OC/Reader

Warnings: mentions of death

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

What the actual hell…

All Mei could do was sit here and look dumb.  Or cute? Dumb cute? cute dumb? Or how about just dumb and cute! The room on the other hand wasn’t cute at all. Dragons on the walls, engraved in the chairs, statues of dragons! Good God this family loves their dragons! I don’t want any part of it. 

Mei has never felt so uncomfortable in her life! The dragons on top of the cold atmosphere were unsettling. First off was this even a room? It felt more like a cellar to Mei. What’s up with the chains and all these dragon heads?

Although, she doesn’t think the 4 individuals sitting across from her would think the same thing. A woman who is wearing very expensive looking Victorian style clothes with a visor on. Looks like she came out of some sci-fi historic movie. A man with black short hair, glasses and in a suit. A child with a kimono on and the white haired boy from before. 

Mei was pretty surprised when she walked though the door and seen him with this group of people. He just stared at her and glared. Understandable sir, Imll just crawl under my bed and won’t come out til next year! Or better yet, I’LL JUST FIND MY WAY BACK TO MY WOLRD!! 

Mei wanted to cry, but now isn’t the time for crying she can worry about that later down the line. Crying < Surviving. 

“Your name is…,” Mei couldn’t tell where the woman was looking at due to the visor.

“Mei! My name is Mei Delaney!” 

“And you don’t have any documentation on you whatsoever, why is that?” The woman’s asked in a suspicious tone.

Mei did not have any an actual answer for this question. She didn’t do any preparing at all for it. So just like her daddy said, FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT! “I’m actually an orphan.”

“An orphan?”

“Yes, an orphan,” It’s not like I’m telling a lie, “I’m sorry is the paper work required?” Will I not be getting a job today?

“No it is not and it is very much preferred!” Her pen scratched in the paper as she wrote some words down. Ew, why is the pen dragon shaped?!?! “Have you had any prior experiences as a butler?”

“Nope!” Unless you count being a slave to your grandparents as one! “Never been one before but I’ve cleaned.”

“Cleaning isn’t all that you will be doing,” It isn’t? What else do butlers do in this world?!?, “What would you say your current level of strength is?”

Mei wouldn’t know how to classify herself. This world’s average could be her worlds above average. Just to be safe,”I would say below average!” 

The man and the white haired boy squinted at her. It was like they were evaluating her to see if she was as weak as she let on. 

“Hmmm,” the woman chewed her ugly dragon headed pen, “Not the best but you are still trainable. I’ll put you in as a cook. Your job will to prepare our meals while also help around the kitchen. You are not a butler just yet you but you can call yourself a butler’s apprentice. Gotiah send her off to the facility!”

Facility?? Wait don’t I get to ask questions?

Before Mei could say a word she is already being escorted out the room.

———————————————————————

It’s her. So far all the applicants were below average, the Zoldyck trainers had their work cut out for them. Killua didn’t think any were going to make it past the first trial, especially her! 

15 days…

She doesn’t know what it really means to be a Zoldyck butler. Hell, she wouldn’t even know what it means to be a Zoldyck! Her and her sunny disposition doesn’t belong here in this world of death and darkness. She looked so gentle and sweet, he wanted to see the light die in her.

———————————————————————

At least I’m not in the ugly ass room anymore. The walk to the facility felt like a hike up the Appalachian trails and Mei was not exaggerating. She suspected that they were prolonging the walk by taking unnecessary paths and picking the toughest ground to walk on. Mai wasn’t sure how much she could take of this especially with this oversized bag on her back. She knew she should’ve packed less. The 2 men she was walking with didn’t even seem to be phased!!

Luckily for Mei she could see the building coming into view and sure enough it was as big as the cellar building. I wonder how big the mansion is, if this is what this building looks like…

Mel could see the other applicants who passed before her. They were all waiting with their belongings. Mei threw her bag down, thanking whatever diety this world worshipped.

 “Yₒᵤ’ᵣₑ Wₑₗcₒₘₑ,” A voice whispered in Mei’s head!

“WHAT?!” That was way louder than what Mei intended it to be as everyone looked at her giving her a confusing look. “Sorry…” Mei was embarrassed now, but WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT VOICE! She hopes transporting to this world hasn’t made her crazy. Dealing with a genetic mutation would make things a lot worse for her.

“You will leave your stuff here and someone will be back with yours shortly.” The 2 butlers she traveled with walked away and disappeared. 

Uh woah?

————————————————————

The sun was beginning to set after some time has passed and others have joined them sitting outside. Mei would say there is about 250 of the 400 that showed up at the moment.

“I heard some people were losing as applicants but were actually hunters looking to capture a Zoldyck or get on their property.” 

“I seen the dead bodies! When I did my interview there were a few piled up on each other. This family is serious!”

Ew gross! Mei was made uncomfortable by the conversations around her about death, and how a single picture of a family member was worth $300 million Jenny (She assumes Jenny is the equivalent to dollars in this world).

SSSCCCHREEEECHHHHH

The huge door opened up and out walked a tall lady with her hair in pigtails. She was pretty buff and looked like she could kill Mei even at her old age.

“Looks like everyone is here that’s has made it through! Let’s get started!”

Oh no…

[anima-nostrae]

Ups, I forgot about my WIP

A curse as old as time, isn't it? A fanfic, an essay, a story, a piece of art...

The beautiful thing is that there is no deadline for passion projects. They can lay dormant for a day, a month, or a decade, but they come to life just as fervently as loyal old dogs that greet their owners when they come back from a boring but life-giving job.

That is to say, I am proud to announce Days of Reckoning have been picked up again, if there is anyone here that cares for them. I would hazard a guess that Chapter 3 will be live by the end of the month. In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peak (this is an unedited version, therefore might differ slightly from the "published version"):

If the temperature inside the cottage could be classified as breezy the previous evening, then the morning was assuredly cutting. The second Bloom opened her eyes, with one being covered by a duvet she had to throw over her face sometime in the night, she wanted to curl up even tighter into herself, suddenly missing her grandmother’s favourite hobby, knitting, and particularly discovering the art of weaving herself into a tight woollen ball. The very next thought was that she had to be smelling burnt toast, since that particular charring process is, at least to the nose, unmistakeable. The third thought was that she was in the goddamn cottage, and not alone but with…

With a groan that was just a tiny bit exaggerated she rolled over onto her back and sat up straight, still wearing the protective cocoon all around her trembling body. Her eyes were lacking their usual sharpness, hence why Bloom couldn’t be convinced that she saw Valtor cooking in front of her. 

He didn’t mind her much, focused tightly on his fried eggs and probably very much less than fresh toasts with butter, all of which the stars themselves only knew where he got from.

“Erghm,” she cleared her throat. He turned around like a startled fawn, a reflex probably polished by hundreds of battles and assassination attempts. All he found was a half-naked woman, freezing on the bed they made love in the night before. The same woman he fought for many months, the same woman he’s wanted for more than that.

“Morning,” he said, in the most curated monotone.

“I didn’t know you…” she started, but hesitated, “cook.” Nevermind the first thing that came to her mind was eat.

He returned her a slight smile. “I don’t like to, usually. I simply refuse to be dependent on someone because of my lack of skill.”

Bloom took a moment to appraise him - having her enemy before her the morning after they had each other in turn was not something that would happen any other day. His hair wasn’t a complete mess like she would expect, but it wasn’t the shiny wave it was normally. He was shirtless - with his jacket on, but shirtless nonetheless. Bent over the stove like a—

He was shirtless because she was still wearing his shirt.

Something in her brain that hadn't acknowledged Bloom was already awake decided it was a fair thing to return him his property - it was his shirt, his silk against her skin - so her palms made their way to the collar as she was making rounds with her neck to warm up the stiff muscles. The silk was already past her elbows when the cold hit her directly and Bloom understood she was very much awake. Just like him.

As she was working her way up she realised how pitiful she must’ve looked. Cold, so probably red - nevermind blushed - with morning hair, actively performing a striptease before Valtor, who very mindfully and pointedly was admiring the view outside, but his sly smirk betrayed how much of the show he’s actually witnessed. 

“I thought you’d sneak a peek,” Bloom tried to seem unaffected, but more importantly - not embarrassed - which granted her a rare, and before the previous night unknown, pearly laugh. The kind that makes you show all your teeth and shudder your shoulders.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Bloom, I am a powerful wizard, and a man, but before that - a gentleman. And,” Somehow, his eyes gained an intensity otherwise improper between a pair of lovers during their first shared morning, “There is nothing you can show me now that I haven’t committed to memory already.”

Bloom broke the stare first, trying to concentrate on the fire instead of this man. He was right, he already got everything.

“That is to say,” he continued, clearly sensing her unease, “Don’t think that I would ever dare to forget even a centimetre of you. A second of you. Now, please dress yourself and come to the fire. The eggs are getting cold, and so I think are you.”

Now that was a convincing argument, Bloom thought, as his previous train of thought remained uncontinued by both of them, seemingly in agreement. But those goose feather bedding seemed much cosier than the proximity of the fire.

“Can’t I have breakfast in bed?”“If you want to sleep in stains for how long we’re staying here, yes. Otherwise - come here.”

Some sweet little fluff huh? Do we like it? There's not much of it coming up, so savour it while it lasts.

[catapparently]

A Particular Type of Happily Ever After

AO3 LINK • MASTERLIST

In which Evangeline thinks that Jacks killed a fox to make his fur coat, which leads him to gifting her one.

PART 1: Evangeline Fox

                Evangeline Fox had always had a particular penchant for little foxes. Perhaps she had a special connection to them because of her last name, or perhaps she simply wasn’t cruel enough to not be head over heels for the adorable fluffy creatures. How could one possibly see a fox all snug and sleepy in its little den and NOT want to cuddle it close and bring it home with them?

On an unusually stormy evening, Evangeline heard the distinct creak of the front door opening. The familiar aroma of sweet apples and newly healed heartbreaks instantly wafted through the air, overwhelming her senses. Jacks. Had she not loved the man so dearly, she would have long since boiled him into a bottle of the perfect perfume for her to use.

She quickly sprang up from her comfortable, sprawled out position on the new soft rug they’d gotten and rushed down to see the not-quite-human boy. He’d been gone all day doing who knows what shenanigans with Castor. Castor, who Jacks still refused to let anywhere near his “precious Little Fox”.

Evangeline came to an abrupt halt the moment she laid her eyes on Jacks. He had gotten, through unknown means (and frankly, she didn’t want to know how), a brand new winter coat. The coat was a pretty shade of blue, an uncommon color for him to wear. He was ever so insistent on wearing red, white, and gold. Then again, his preference around her was rather to wear nothing at all.

It wasn’t the color that surprised her, no. It was the fur lining on the collar. It didn’t look like it came with the coat, rather that it was stitched on separately. The cut of the lining wasn’t quite the same as the collar underneath them. The fine strands of the said fur lining were of a beautiful beige-orange color. Too beautiful, actually. No synthetic fur could be dyed to imitate such a unique and extravagant coloring. In fact, the fur on Jacks’s collar looked exactly like that of a fox. Suspiciously so.

“Jacks… what did you do to that poor fox?!”

He twirled the apple in his hand, sparing a glance back and forth between it and Evangeline’s lips, and finally set it down on a nearby tabletop with an exaggerated flourish. He stepped towards her, a certain freely expressed fondness that Evangeline had yet to get used to gracing the usual playful smile on his flawless face. Despite him becoming somewhat human, he still had an ethereal glow on his skin. Not quite human.

“What, don’t you find it pretty? I thought you’d finally stop berating me for not wearing enough layers in the winter.”

Evangeline touched his collar, inspecting it from every angle, desperately hoping that it wasn’t what she thought it was. Sure, she loved Jacks more than everything, but she knew first-hand how cruel he could be sometimes.

Her heart sank to the lowest pit in her stomach. This had to be real fox fur. There was no other way.

“Jacks, how could you? How could you do that to the poor fox?!” Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, tempted to shake him back and forth like a plum tree until some sense was finally knocked into his thick skull.

Jacks cupped her face with his hands, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “Relax, love, it’s not real fox fur.”

“I don’t believe you.” “It’s fake fur.” “I really don’t believe you.” “I swear on the Hollow that it’s not real.”

She paused, looking at him. “Then what is it?” she demanded. If it was indeed fox fur as she’d thought, she wouldn’t talk to him ever again unless he figured out a way to bring the heartlessly slaughtered fox back to life.

Jacks’s chest heaved with a heavy sigh as he lazily ran a hand through his messy blond hair. It had grown longer ever since he’d finally given up on the blue dye, but Evangeline didn’t let him cut it. No way in hell. It was just the perfect length for her to play with when he was fast asleep with his head resting on her chest, curled up into her like a clingy cat. Sometimes he’d wake up with little braids and ribbons in his hair.

“When we were kids, Aurora taught me and Castor how to change anything’s appearance with certain combinations of her weird ingredients, so I tried to alter some fake fur I conveniently found on an old coat. Then I had LaLa stitch it on for me.”

She exhaled in relief. She’d already been planning the many ways to make Jacks deeply regret his existence had he actually killed an innocent fox. Her favorite that she’d come up with had been to lock him inside the Hollow with a bunch of foxes she’d lure in so that he could see what cuteness he’d dared slaughter.

 “You promise?” she tilted her head up to look at him right in the eye. “Promise. Besides, I like having a constant reminder of you or your hands around my neck, Little Fox.”

Her cheeks turned bright red, matching the shiny crystal heart on her ring, identical to the one on Jacks’s ring finger.

Delighted at the adorable reaction, Jacks wrapped his arms around his chosen true love, burying his face in her soft hair. He was always making sure that it was really her, alive and in his arms.

“You really like foxes, don’t you, Little Fox?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Jacks could not argue against that.

PART 2: Jacks of the Hollow

            Jacks of the Hollow found himself in a rather peculiar situation. He was in the middle of a very foggy forest, hiding behind a tree. He’d placed a fresh piece of raw meat a few feet away, near a tree. It had been carefully and strategically placed near a poorly concealed hole in the ground that he hoped was indeed a fox hole. He’d roamed around the Cursed Forest for days, looking for foxes like an Archer and his Fox. Now that he’d finally found the spot, he was determined to stay there as long as he had to. Nothing in the world –except maybe his own Fox- could distract him from his mission.

As he waited patiently, he started preparing the cardboard box he had brought with him. Jacks neatly smoothed and rearranged the small pile of his clothes that he’d placed in it to create some sort of animal bed.

 He looked back at the piece of meat. Was the lure not working? He’d made sure that it was the juiciest, tastiest, and most expensive meat that he’d found. What a picky, pretentious little fox this was. Jacks had chosen to catch this exact one because it was still a small kit, and it had no family, so it would be starving and lonely. Then why was it not coming to the meat?

 It was getting late, and Jacks was growing restless. Finally, as the sun was setting, he spotted a tiny pair of ears peeking out from behind a snow-covered bush. Jacks held his breath as the cutest baby fox in the North came out and began nibbling on a corner of the red meat. Poor little guy must be freezing; its stubby little legs were shaking.

Before the cute creature could react, Jacks stepped over to it and swiftly picked it up, his large hands carefully wrapping around its shivering body and holding it close to his chest. The fox squirmed and trashed a bit, but quickly calmed down, too weak to protest. It curled up in Jacks’s arms and dozed off, content with the warmth emanating from the boy.

Jacks’s heart melted. He didn’t even want to put it down in the comfy box he’d so carefully prepared, so he left it there. He didn’t like those clothes anyway.

He pressed a soft kiss between the loveable animal’s ears. “Eva is absolutely going to love you,” he whispered to it. Jacks walked home, making sure to protect his newest family member from the harsh, icy winds. As he stepped inside their room in the Hollow, he was greeted with silence. Hmm. Evangeline must still be out with LaLa.

 While waiting for her to come home, he set the now-awake fox on his shoulder, rummaging through the cupboards to feed it some bread.

 As if on cue, he heard the front door open, and, soon after, a certain pink-haired girl bounced over into the kitchen to him, stopping short when she saw what was on his shoulder.

“Jacks… Is that what I think it is?” she exclaimed, the pitch of her voice reaching new heights.

Jacks finally turned and held out the little fox, now warm and fed to her. “Meet your wedding gift. A little fox for my Little Fox.”

She took the creature from him, looking at it with adoration in her eyes as it licked her cheeks.

“He’s so so so cute! Where did you find it?” she smiled, petting its soft fur and rubbing its ears.

Jacks sighed dramatically, collapsing on top of the couch in mock-exhaustion. “I stood day and night in the freezing cold, shivering and slowly dying, waiting for the little guy to one day decide to come out of his hiding place.”

 “Well it’s your fault for not having a coat,” she retorted as she sat beside him, the fox curling up on her lap. “What are we going to name it?”

“Red.”

“No.”

“Orange.”

“We’re not naming him a color, Jacks.”

“Foxy.” 

Evangeline stared down at the still nameless kit, petting it lovingly as it made a catlike purring noise in her lap. She tried to think of a fitting name since Jacks clearly wouldn’t be of any help.

“Let’s name it… uh, Maximilian? Maximilian of the Hollow. Max for short.”

Jacks stared at her blankly. Maximilian? It worked, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. Why Maximilian?

He must have accidentally talked in her mind, because she soon answered.

“Maximilian was my father’s name. Maximillian Fox.”

“…Oh.”

Part 3: Maximilian of the Hollow

            Maximilian of the Hollow was a particularly happy little fox. Once upon a time, he’d been cold and weak and starving, until, one day, a strange not-quite-human boy smelling of apples and healed, forgotten heartbreak came along, saving him and bringing him home.

Max was now healthy, warm, and well-fed. He was rather spoiled by the pretty once princess with the golden-pink hair. He was the happiest of foxes, snugly tucked into his soft bed near his owners, who were all tangled up and asleep in their own bed.

Max had yet to understand who the strange little dragon creature who snuck in when nobody was looking was and why it was here, though.

[piratefishmama]

Live to Serve (You)

Edward Munson, the young lord of Forest Hills, a beautiful little cluster of homesteads built within a man-made clearing in the woods, home to a small but tight knit community of folks, wished he could say the skies were dark when he last saw his little village amidst the woods. He wished he could claim the sun had hidden away, that the clouds had cried tears for his departure when he was taken by the Kings’ men.

But they weren’t crying.

The sun shone as it ever did in those warm summer days, the winds a mere gentle caress on his soft cheeks still full of youthful plump, the skies held no tears for him as his father, the Lord of Munson Manor, sold him away to pay his debts. Which debts, Edward didn’t know, he was still just a boy of seven, the maids often claimed him barely out of leading strings, although he knew that was exaggerating things. He could walk, he could talk, sure his attention sometimes drifted to places it wasn’t supposed to go but he could read, he could write, his tutors claimed him to be a gifted storyteller, fantastical in his depictions of possible faraway lands, of dragons and fae, his big beautiful brown eyes would alight in wonder whenever merchant’s brought their pretty wares -mostly beaded jewellery but sometimes silvers, and golds, books, and dyed cloth- through the village along the Kings Road toward the Great City of Hawkins where the Royal Family resided.

Now he was the wares.

Taken by soldiers bearing the royal crest in beautiful decorative golden filigree across their chest plates. Taken during the day, where the people who’d known him, the ladies who’d cooed over his youthful plump cheeks and braided his pretty brown curls with flowers for him to keep it out of his face whenever he escaped the Manors maids to play with the local children along the treeline, shed tears in place of the clouds for him, they’d always been so quick to snag him to take the flowers out before he returned home.

He always looked so pretty in flowers but his father simply wouldn’t have approved of such decorations.

He figured he wouldn’t be wearing flowers again as the carriage took him away. At least someone was crying for him. He was still young, while his mother was no more, passed during childbirth, his father had proclaimed himself virile enough to make another as he was taken away.

Another heir, someone else who’d live his life, in his home, his room, as if he’d never existed.

He didn’t want to say he was scared, boys weren’t supposed to be scared of anything his father would say, and while the soldiers weren’t unkind in how they handled him, guiding him with gentle gloved hands into the carriage, he was scared.

The city was half a day’s ride. The fear didn’t lessen as they neared it. His in-carriage escort was a broad man, not wearing the same armours as the other soldiers but his clothes were embellished with the royal crest, not just simple leathers, a uniform, but not armour. He had a higher rank than the normal soldiers. “You’re to be serving in the palace” his escort explained as they neared the gated entrance to the city, manned by soldiers at all times.

What did one say to that? Serving. He’d never served before. He was a Lord! He was the one who was usually served. Not that he was spoiled or anything but... how did one serve? Maybe he should have paid more attention to the people who worked at the Manor instead of trying to escape them all the time.

“...What if I get it wrong?”

“I’d suggest you learn quickly, so that needn’t be a concern.” Oh. He fell silent again, hands in his lap, digits fiddling with digits. He didn’t have his clothes, his jewellery, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and they weren’t exactly his fineries, he looked… common. From somewhere high to a fresh start at the bottom of the classes.

He missed his rings. He used to fiddle with them when he was nervous. He missed them now. His father had refused to let him take them. He wasn’t even to use his family name anymore.

Edward. Not Edward Munson, just… Edward. A no-one. Maybe he shouldn’t even be Edward… who could he be then?

“...What if I run?”

“You’d be punished if caught, most of the servants are paid by the crown, employed and can leave at any time, but as you’re to be paying off your fathers debts with your service...” a prisoner in other words “I’d suggest you don’t run.”  

“Ok.” If caught. The maids never caught him. He was small, lithe, he could climb and get through small gaps that the bigger boys could never fit through.

“Best not to even entertain the idea of trying, kid, a boy like you would barely last a day in the wilds, and you can’t go home.” A boy like him? Pfft they didn’t know him at all, he had an uncle who lived a modest life a few villages over, he could make it there on his own easy. Maybe.

“I won’t try.” Not at first. He wasn’t stupid, they’d be watching now. Expecting it. He’d plan, he’d map out where he’d be serving in his head, and he’d get out. Maybe it’d take him a week, or a month, but he’d be out.

“Good.” The carriage pulled to a stop shortly after the conversation died off, Edward staring down at his hands, hands that’d never worked a day in their lives, soft digits, soft limbs, soft… the man sat beside him stepped out of the carriage on the other side, then moments after, the door on his side opened, forcing the young Lo—no he wasn’t a Lord anymore was he? Forcing Edward to squint in discomfort as the sudden sunlight assaulted his eyes. “Out you get, kid.”

The carriage curtains had been closed on the way there, couldn’t even watch the scenery go by. He climbed out willingly, less he be dragged out by force.

Wordlessly his guide led him through the gates, soldiers taking one look at him and no more as they passed by, at least his guide wasn’t rushing, not even a brisk walk, he moved leisurely, so Edward didn’t have to hurry to keep up with his short legs. He figured his guide must have been someone high up in the soldier ranks though as nobody stopped them on the walk through the palace toward the gardens, a few soldiers on patrol nodded their heads to the man but nobody spoke a word against their advancement through the halls, nobody stopped them from entering the gardens. Nobody stopped them from approaching a very tall woman wearing a very fancy dress, her blonde hair curled beautifully and topped by a crown. Edward hid behind the man’s leg.

The Queen. They’d just casually approached the Queen.

Even his father wouldn’t have had the audacity to just walk up to the Queen. “Your Highness” his guide spoke aloud, catching the attention of the woman, who turned to them, surprise flitting across her features, yet she still looked radiant, as though she’d practiced being surprised so that she’d look beautiful no matter the situation. Edward briefly wondered if she’d practiced any other expressions, but surely not. Right? That’d be silly.

“Hopper! Welcome back to the palace, Captain, I trust that your journey to Forest Hills was a lucrative one?”

“One debt paid with servitude, ma’am.” ‘Hopper’ didn’t hesitate to reach back around and insist that he move out into view to be appraised; and appraised he was. “He’s a little small.” The Queen looked down on him with an assessing eye, a single brow raised in curiosity as she took in his tiny self. “Wouldn’t be good for much heavy lifting.”

“No, no he wouldn’t, would he? Doesn’t take after his father then I see.” No. Edward had never taken after his father, his father was a heavy-set man, his body meaty, and large, already balding, Edward had always been slender of physique, lithe, his hair full of voluminous curls and waves, the maids claimed he looked like his mother. Edward didn’t know, his father had rid the Manor of the pictures of her that once decorated the halls. “What of his education? Does he speak? Write? Read?”

“Kid, sound off.” Hopper instructed, gently nudging his back.

“I-If it… if it pleases you, Your Majesty… I read at a level twice my age, I write well, and I do speak, the maids of the Manor often claimed it more of a task to quieten me down than to get me to speak.” Perhaps that was a joke, the queen’s painted lips seemed to quirk a little at the corner as he said it. “I was learning how to play the lute, my tutor claimed me to be… gifted in music, and I can also ride an adult steed.”

“Quite the accomplished little Lord then, hm?” He tried really hard not to preen, he liked attention, he liked praise, he never got it from his father no matter how hard he tried to earn it. “What a waste of an accomplished young heir to sell you away so flippantly, that old goat should be flogged. The Captain of the Kings' Guard is however correct, you’re not very… big, are you?”

“I’m sorry, your majesty, the maids said I take after my mother.” Small and beautiful, a pretty little thing, like a flower so easily crushed.

“Mhm, may she rest in peace. I had the pleasure of meeting her once, a wonderful woman, your maids were correct.” He did take after her, in every way that mattered. “Very well. You will attend to my son, Prince Steven.” The Prince? Thee Prince? The future King? He was to serve that Prince, directly? He’d never met the Prince, never heard anything about him other than his name, and that he was born a year before Edward in the summer months. The bells had tolled for hours in celebration not that Edward remembered it. “Steven!” She turned her head over her shoulder, her torso gracefully twisting with it, one hand raised daintily “Steven, come here!”

And suddenly, all thought of escape drifted away atop the warm summer breeze when his eyes fell upon the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in his life.

“Oh.” Was the only word he uttered, and he didn’t even realise he’d done that. Nothing else existed in the world, his hearing sounded muddied, sight focused solely on him, he could smell the fragrant brush of conifer on the prince’s clothes, people were talking, and he was staring. Wide eyed and blatant in his gaze, disrespectful but he couldn’t tear his eyes away and why should he? Surely beauty of such magnitude deserved to be looked upon in reverence, right?

“Hey, uh… you can call me Steve.” The Queen scoffed but said nothing, Edward was her son’s personal servant. “…Hello?”

“E-Ed…Edd—ehh—hah uhm…” Oh dear god, words. Words had never failed him before, of all the things to betray him in that moment, why wor—

“Eddie? Haha, okay,” Steve’s laughter like magic and music weaving together in a symphony fit solely for the gods to hear, not for mere mortal boys like him. “Nice to meet you Eddie! Guess we’re stuck together for the long haul then, eh?”

“The long haul… s-sounds… that sounds good.” The long haul sounded perfect.

Part 2

[deityoftherain]

accidental sleepover - Fwhornoth Empires Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Other

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 3,512

Summary: Xornoth and Fwhip met frequently during the events of all is fair in love and war, working tirelessly to stop the {revelers} and bring a sense of peace back to their respective empires. As a byproduct of working tirelessly, their meetings often ran late, leaving them sleep deprived, exhausted, loose-lipped, and maybe a tad flirty.

Click here to read the whole au, but feel free to read standalone

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @welcome-back-to-hoimycraf !!!!

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Note: They are speaking elvish when the words are in {brackets} and common when they are not. Xornoth is an elf and Fwhip is an elfling (half elf, half human)

“It’s getting late,” Xornoth murmured, rubbing at his tired eyes. In his defense, it was the middle of the night. If he were to glance out the window, he would be met with nothing but dark skies and distant stars.

Xornoth was sitting at a meeting table within Grimland’s castle, elbows on the smooth surface and long purple hair falling into his face. His wings were spread out, laying limply on the armrests beside him because Grimland didn’t have many backless chairs. The Magenta bloodline had too much human in it to make wings not a significant genetic probability, meaning the Grimland castle didn’t tend to cater towards those with wings.

Normally, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so informal during a meeting with another empire, but he and Fwhip had literally been there all day, and he wished he was exaggerating that fact. They were trying to figure out their mutual problem plaguing Rivendell and Grimland, and it was taking far much more effort than it should. Why couldn’t the citizens causing problems protest peacefully instead of taking such a violent and destructive route?

“When has it being late ever stopped us?” Fwhip remarked, leaning back in his chair with two chair legs in the air and his notebook resting on his freckled face. Xornoth wasn’t sure how he could keep his neck bent back like that without it hurting, much less be comfortable. Part of Xornoth hoped that Fwhip would prop himself and the chair back too far, causing him to fall backwards. It would be funny, at the very least. Hilarious, even. Xornoth could use a good laugh.

Fwhip’s ginger hair was messy and unkempt, moreso now than before because his goggles had been discarded on the table’s surface. They often acted like a headband when he wasn’t using them in the forge, but he removed them over an hour ago because they were starting to irritate his head. He had been wearing them since he got dressed the morning before, after all.

Xornoth had expected Fwhip to remove his signature red scarf as well, assuming that would be even more irritating, but it stayed wrapped around his neck. It wasn’t as tightly bound as it usually was, though. One would only have to tug at the end with little force and it would pull off of him. With the scarf as it was, Xornoth could count freckles usually hidden, and he did in hopes of keeping his mind awake. 

“Unfortunately true,” Xornoth sighed, stretching out his arms and wings at the same time. A few joints in his shoulders popped and the muscles around his wing roots ached something fierce. Xornoth winced from the cracking, muttering elven curses underneath his breath. He needed to see a healer or something again to see if they could ease the pain. All of this excess flying back and forth that he’d been engaging in lately was causing far too many problems. “I should head back though. I can only look at your face so much before I start going insane.”

“Xornoth.” Fwhip sat up to stare at him, deadpan as the notebook fell to his lap and the chair dropped so all four legs were on the ground. They’ve ditched formal titles long ago, not bothering calling each other “King” or “Count”. “Are you really thinking of flying back to Rivendell in the middle of the night? I can guarantee that most people are asleep right now!” Xornoth simply sucked in his lips and scrunched his nose, nonverbally communicating to Fwhip that that was exactly what his plan was. Fwhip pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated groan. “Xornoth, I know how long it takes to fly to your castle— it’s a long ass time, I’ve done it myself too many times to count— and you don’t even have one of my speedy rocket fueled elytras to help speed it up! Plus, your back is clearly bothering you— you’re not subtle— and it’s way too dark to see.”

Xornoth flattened his mouth into a thin line, summoning some fire onto his fingertips for a moment before extinguishing the flames. “What do you suppose I do then? It’s far too late to bother your servants to prepare a room, if they really are asleep as you say everyone is...” “You’ll stay in my room, duh,” Fwhip rolled his eyes, talking as if it's the most obvious thing ever. “My bed is huge! I am Count, after all. And, if cuddling with the homies is too gay for you, I can go spend the night in Gem’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind; we’ve done it before.” Xornoth eyed the elfling suspiciously. “Why would you give up your room for me? Or be willing to sleep beside me?” “You elves are too skeptical,” Fwhip started to speak. “You’re half elf,” Xornoth interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Po-tay-toe, po-tot-toe,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Look, Xornoth, I know we’ve had some arguments and some little tiffs in the past, but I don't hate you. I never have and, frankly, you annoy me a lot less than some of the other emperors. I’d much rather share a bed with you  than, say, Sausage. That guy has some problems, let me tell you, and he’s pretty handsy when he’s sleep deprived.” Ignoring the bit about the ruler of Mythland, that was high praise coming from Fwhip, especially from Fwhip to Xornoth. Rivendell and Grimland, in general, had never been too close to each other despite being next door neighbors in terms of empire location. That relationship only soured after an incident between their respective siblings, Scott and Gem, but that was over eight years ago. 

“‘Sides, you are queerplatonic partners with Pearl,” Fwhip shrugged, continuing his sleep deprived ramble, “and she’s more or less like a— I wouldn’t say sister for we’re not that close— but she’s like a cousin to me. Eh, maybe not a cousin either, but you know what I mean. We’re close. If she likes you that much, there must be something there. Plus, I’ve spent far too much time looking at your face to not start to like what I see. If I didn’t, I may have gone fuckin’ insane. And, and we can just be in a mutual agreement that we don’t talk about this after tomorrow morning. Simple as that.”

Xornoth ran his tongue against the back of his teeth, keeping himself collected despite the fact Fwhip had basically said he found him attractive, that knowledge doing Aeor knows what to him. While he may be aromantic, that didn’t mean he didn’t experience other forms of attraction. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t felt something towards Fwhip as well, but he had simply pushed those thoughts away. Xornoth never thought it may be reciprocated, and he was with Pearl, though they both have discussed the topic of potential polyamory in the past…

Still, Xornoth didn’t acknowledge it, tucking that information away to not be addressed later. Instead, he let a teasing smirk grow on his face as he raised an eyebrow. “Are you claiming you aren’t already ‘fuckin’ insane’?” Fwhip snorted at his comment and flipped him off, causing Xornoth to snicker in response. Fwhip’s face contorted as he tried to muffle a yawn. “Ugh, I’m beat. You can sleep here or sleep with me, but I’m going to get ready for bed. Make your choice; I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince you anymore.” Xornoth had spent plenty of nights fast asleep, slumped forward onto his desk, and it wasn’t something he wanted to willingly repeat. His back hated whenever he did that, making sure to express its discontent with sharp pains and stiff muscles the next day.

That being said, he made his choice and followed Fwhip toward the royal wing. The aesthetics of the halls were similar to the rest of the castle, dimly lit, with lots of sculptures, and red and black theming. There were plenty of redstone elements scattered around as well, but Xornoth wasn’t sure if they had always been there or if they were something Fwhip had added sometime during his rule. He didn’t ask.

Moving only made Xornoth more aware of his sore limbs, exhaustion pulling at him with every step. Xornoth tried to pretend it wasn’t hurting him, but he must not have been doing a very good enough job at it. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was because he’d spent enough time around the other emperor that Fwhip was starting to pick up on his mannerisms. Either way, Xornoth recognized that Fwhip noticed he was struggling, but that knowledge stayed unspoken between them… at least for now.

“I don’t think I have any clothes that can fit you,” Fwhip commented as they entered the room. “I could maybe find some pants, but I don’t have anything that would accommodate your wings.”

“I’ll just take off a few layers and sleep in what I have.” Rivendell was in a much colder place than Grimland, so Rivendellians tended to wear a lot more layers no matter what time of year it was.

Fwhip nodded in acknowledgement before grabbing some garments to change into and going behind the privacy screen. Since Xornoth wasn’t fully stripping, he stayed where he was to “change”, putting all the extra clothing and jewelry in a neat pile. Luckily, his base trousers were made from fine wool, making them not the worst thing to sleep in, and his base shirt was a backless halter top, giving his wings plenty of space to move around

“Uh, Xornoth?” Fwhip had been part way into changing when he spoke up, clearly hesitant.

“Yes?” Xornoth paused what he was doing. He had sat down on one side of his bed, idly straightening out some of his feathers.

“You know I… bind, right?” Xornoth hated the way Fwhip’s voice went small. “To make my… pecs… flatter?”

“So does Pearl, occasionally.” Xornoth knew first hand that gender was a strange concept. Personally, he didn’t really understand having a strong association to a gender as a gender apathetic agender person, but he knew many other people had such a thing. While strange, it was also, at its core principles, a simple concept. Fwhip said he was a boy and introduced himself as a boy, so he was a boy. It was as easy as that! It didn’t matter whatever he chose to do to present how he wanted to. “I’m not going to judge, nor do I care what’s under your shirt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not sure why you care about my opinion, though.”

Fwhip scoffed, though Xornoth didn’t detect any scorn with it. “Well, I’m not binding to bed, not wanting to fuck up my ribs and all that, so if I catch you staring, we’re going to have to have a chat.” “If I stare, it’ll be respectfully,” Xornoth decided to tease, feeling comfortable enough (and maybe a tad delirious) to jest with Fwhip. He seemed open to it based on his comment and tone, at the very least. Plus, teasing each other on and off was part of what their working relationship was built on.

Thankfully, Fwhip was receptive to it, proven by a loud, sputtering yet amused laugh. Xornoth grinned at that, pleased that he managed to put Fwhip’s concerns to rest. Shy and hesitant weren’t good looks on such a typically confident and unapologetically brash man. “Can I come out?” “Is you being queer not already common knowledge?” Xornoth asked rhetorically before he fully thought it through. 

“Coming out” was a term used for when people became public with whatever terms they used, though it was more often used when it came to gender than sexuality. There was no “default sexuality”, but some areas subscribed heavily to gender roles, making the term needed in order to describe an experience many face. Xornoth understood it only partly because, being gender apathetic but agender, he tended to use masculine terms for himself simply because it was easier than “correcting” everyone.

“I’m flipping you off from behind the privacy divider,” Fwhip informed him with a cackle. “I just wanted to know if you were dressed, dumbass. I don’t know about you, but I would like to get to my bed.”

“Yeah, I only took off a few layers. You can come out,” Xornoth couldn’t resist continuing the bit. He knew his public image could be intimidating and put together, and he very much was like that at times, but, when in the company of those he was comfortable around, he liked being more… silly? Who knows, it was probably all those years he spent around Pearl rubbing off on him.

“You’re impossible.” Xornoth could almost hear Fwhip’s eye roll as he walked around the privacy wall and into view.

Neither of them spoke as they took in each other’s appearance, both in a state of dress (or, perhaps, undress?) they weren’t used to seeing the other in. Fwhip’s heterochromatic eyes wandered from Xornoth’s exposed collarbone all the way down his bare arms to his hands. Xornoth found himself enjoying the attention.

Fwhip, for better or for worse, was wearing an oversized baggy shirt, but he was wearing shorts. Xornoth didn’t think he’s ever seen Fwhip in shorts, even during the summer months. Was it just something he did to sleep? Either way, Xornoth was pleased to notice that he also had freckles sprinkled on his toned legs. Speaking of his legs, Xornoth had never realized just how much strength Fwhip carried in them. He knew that Fwhip’s arms got worked out a lot while he messed around in the royal forge, but his legs must have received similar treatment over the years.

Fwhip cleared his throat and they both tore their gazes away from one another, neither acknowledging that they had been checking the other emperor out. It’s not like they did anything wrong! Xornoth has admired plenty of people’s beauty before. It was only natural, especially since elves were known to be inhumanly beautiful. 

At least they were according to some ancient human folklore from sometime long before the empires were as they were today. Based on experience, Xornoth would like to confirm, but he’s also spotted plenty of beautiful fae, humans, and oceanfolk in the past. There were also gnomes, but they were far too short for him so he barely glanced in their direction unless it was for something political or business related.

“Before we go to bed, I have some muscle soreness cream if you want me to rub that in,” Fwhip offered, as he opened a drawer and pulled out a small tin. “Gem concocted it for me to help when I overdo it in the forge. It works really well and it is fast acting, lasting for about twelve hours before the effects start to wear off.” “Uh,” Xornoth hesitated dumbly, not used to people other than Scott and Pearl touching his back, especially not so close to his wing roots. He fluffed out his wings subconsciously before biting down hard on his tongue as a wave of agony shot throughout his back and wings in all directions. It’ll be fine. It wasn’t like Fwhip was going to preen his wings! “If you want to, sure.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing, {wings,}” Fwhip tutted, sharply outlining a circle in the air as a direction. “Now turn around.” “{Wings?}” Xornoth repeated the nickname, highly amused. Still, he obeyed, turning his exposed back to Fwhip. From there, he slipped into using elven instead of common, like they had been using the entire time before. “{Did you really use ‘wings’ as a nickname?}”

“{Yeah, so?}” Fwhip, stubborn as always, stuck by the choice of name usage he made with his sleepy brain. He removed the top to the tin and scooped some of the ointment onto his fingers. “{What, would you prefer ‘back muscles'? Or ‘angel’?}”

“{‘Angel’? Ha, alright! I didn’t think you thought that high of me, rose boy.}” Xornoth took the opportunity to throw in his own nickname for Fwhip since the opportunity presented itself to him. They were terms they would likely only use in private to avoid the other emperors’ unnecessary comments and input, but Xornoth quite liked the idea of Fwhip calling him “{wings}” or “{angel}”, more than he probably should.

“{My view of you is actually on the floor, if you couldn’t tell by how I’m letting you share my bed tonight,}” Fwhip quipped back sarcastically as he lathered the ointment generously around the wing roots. Xornoth could feel with great sensitivity whenever Fwhip used broad movements and when he ran his fingers against the natural curves of his defined back muscles from a near lifetime of flying. “{‘Fallen Angel’ would probably be more accurate, but I can’t be bothered. It’s too long.}”

“{Mhm, okay, sure, rose boy. Whatever makes you sleep better at night,}” Xornoth dismissed with a “I know the truth” inflection to his voice. If Fwhip’s hands weren’t currently occupied, Xornoth would expect him to flip him off again.

They didn’t speak beyond that, falling into a peaceful silence as Fwhip rubbed the ointment into his back. Xornoth could feel it working its magic, literally, and it helped him relax, so much so that he struggled to stay upright. His eyes fluttered close, focusing on nothing but the pleasant sensations of Fwhip’s touch and the ointment’s effects. Eventually, Fwhip pulled his hands away, followed by the soft sound of the lid being snapped to its tin. Xornoth couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at that.

“We should sleep,” Fwhip murmured, his exhaustion seeping through his partly slurred words. “My headache is only gettin’ worse.”

“M’kay,” Xornoth murmured back, already half asleep. He staggered to his feet so he could actually get under the blankets instead of simply sitting on top of them. He climbed into bed, facing toward Fwhip so his wings could stretch out off the bed. Xornoth didn’t want to accidentally smack Fwhip with his wings in his sleep. “G’night, Fwhip.”

Fwhip didn’t answer at first, and Xornoth didn’t open his eyes to see if Fwhip was still awake. Instead, he let himself start drifting off, and that was when he heard an airy reply, so low that Xornoth wasn’t sure if Fwhip thought he would hear it, “{Goodnight, angel.}”

No more words were exchanged between them that night, both emperors falling fast asleep. Now, if they stayed on their own sides of the large bed or not is for anyone to speculate. If they happened to become tangled up with each other, unconsciously cuddling each other in their sleep, that was for them to know and to not acknowledge the next day…

[jmoloney1]

The Lies Jess-Malarkey Tells

Here @jess-moloney-malarkey claims that the “rumors” that Jess controls Jamie’s social media stemmed from “other blog”. When that blog actually proved that wasn’t true. [Link]

Here’s where the actual rumor started and it was way before Jess-Moloney started her blog: [Link] So maybe she wants to explain why she lied about that, since she claims she reads everything on the blog she should have seen this post.

Here @jess-moloney-malarkey says (and I quote) [Link]

My problem is with how certain people behave and interact with others in their dislike of Jess. My problem is with how certain people treat others, citing only your highly speculative thoughts as reasoning. There's no respect for a difference of opinion.

But then she posts something like this in response to an ask [Link] not toxic when she does it though only when someone else does.

Here @jess-moloney-malarkey proves she can’t read where she says:

What I do care about is the speculation and accusations that are spoken about as if they're fact, the refusal to listen to any other point of view

Here is Jess-Moloney’s actual thoughts on this which @jess-moloney-malarkey entirely misconstrues in just about every post she makes:

[Link one]

[Link two]

Doesn’t sound like she’s trying to say anything is fact. It sounds like she’s saying she doesn’t actually know the answer and she’s just going by what she can see. @jess-moloney-malarkey has not actually posted any proof that this other blog has stated it as fact. Just that they have a theory. So either she can’t read or she’s gaslighting people. Take your pick. Considering how she fingered herself with joy over the hiatus notice you’d think she could have read what was said here but instead she continues to push the narrative that this other blog is “confirming” a breakup when no such thing has ever actually been said on that blog.

Here’s where @jess-moloney-malarkey says that the other blog has become a “Jamie hate blog” when they also can’t back up any proof with this when that blog said anything about hating Jamie or that Jamie should be hated. There was a discussion about the shirt he was wearing where the other blog said numerous times that she didn’t think Jamie should be cancelled over wearing a shirt. But that doesn’t fit the narrative Malarkey wants so she’s just gonna lie about it.

Quote: I do like Jamie and I don’t believe him wearing the shirt makes him a bad person. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t question why he’s wearing it or point out why it’s problematic, which it is [Link one]

Quote: I don’t think Jamie wearing the shirt means he’s a bad person (as I said before) but people need to stop acting like it’s not a problem either. [Link two]

Quote:  I personally haven’t seen or heard him say or do something that I think is close to being “cancel” worthy but unlike some of the larger fanatics, I use logic. I don’t jump to conclusions and I don’t presume to know why he was wearing that shirt.  [Link Three]

Does this come close to sounding like a “Jamie hate blog” apparently it does to Malarkey even though all it was, really, was opinions, discussion, and saying how and why the shirt was problematic. At no point was there a single word said about hating Jamie or telling people to hate him.

Here’s a post where Malarkey says that Jamie and Jess have been together for “Several Years” [link]

They’ve only actually been confirmed together for about 2 years. Yet let’s exaggerate that number because it makes her feel better or something? [Source] June 2022 so that would mean June 2024 would only be 2 years right? I guess almost three. It’s not a long term relationship by any means and has lasted just about the same amount as any other GF he has but Jess is special so guess we should lie about that to keep the stans happy.

Malarkey confuses answering asks with making actual posts. If people didn’t send in asks they wouldn’t be posted. So she grately exaggerates how many posts are actually being made. [Link]

Another post accusing the “other blog” of “confirming” a breakup when they can’t find any post that backs this with proof. the Jess-Moloney blog has only ever theorized that a split is happening or may have happened or things are on the decline. Yet Malarkey somehow doesn’t understand these words or only reads what she wants to read and then misinterprets it on her blog. The original Jess blog was never “proven worng” because she also never confirmed anything she just pointed out a decline in the relationship. Malarkey seems to be *obsessed* with saying that this happened (for some reason) when it’s never happened. [Link]

Malarkey repeatedly claims: Social media isn’t real life and doesn’t matter but she’ll also use social media as an example of Jamie and Jess being in a healthy relationship when it suits her:

Malarkey Says it doesn’t matter here: [Link]

But suddenly here it does matter: [Link]

Which one is it Malarkey? Or do you only know the answer when it backs up whatever the fuck story you’re going with that minute?

So what have we learned today? Malarkey lies, manupulates, gaslights, bullies, harasses, and twists things entirely out of context all the time to suit her narrative. She 100% does not read this blog she complains about she just makes shit up when it suits her. She uses points she claims she’s against when they help her but is against them when someone else uses them to prove her wrong. She claims she’s not obsessed with Jamie and Jess’s relationship but she runs an entire blog about it then writes fan fiction about Jess and Jamie being in bed together every night complementing each other on their lives so they don’t need to post on social media but when they do it means their relationship is healthy.

Oh and then she lied about Jess “still engaging with the posts” because she actually stopped engaging two days before the video premiered. Yeah but she’s right about everything, never lies, and should be a trusted source of information shouldn’t she? More accurately she’s a pathological lying bully obsessed with Jess and pretending not to be. Odd how Jess has all these stans that can’t admit they stan her and instead hide behind some narrative that they have to bully other people to protect the real Jess stans from “harmful information” like she’s the authority. Well going by all these contradictory posts I’d say she’s as nutty as a sack of cats.

Let’s see what kind of response she has for this it’ll most surely be stupid.