#yes he is my hundred doorknobs

[cakechako]

knobs has so many biblical connotations made around him. the director even uses dramatic orchestral music as his main themes. but i also like to think that knives is a heavy metal, thrasher kinda guy given how strong his emotions are and how extreme his actions can be like my dude your name is LITERALLY millions knives that’s a pretty cool band name if you ask me

[zorrasucia]

this mess was yours (now your mess is mine) - Part 1

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (6.4k)

Tags: Smut, Set two(ish) years before the present aka the New York years, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), Mutual Masturbation, P in V Sex, Thigh Riding, Handjob, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Friends with Benefits, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary: Carmy is your front door neighbor. You fall head first into a friends with benefits situationship. What could possibly go wrong?

"You know, I had never met someone so committed to ghosting. Leaving the city... That's a whole other level," you said, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Not as bitter as the sight of Carmy, though. He looked beautiful still, eyes wide with surprise and face red with embarrassment. You were in the alley behind the restaurant, where he had dragged you away from the staff mumbling something about "an old friend from New York."

"I've been uh-" his hands were fiddling with a spoon somewhat manically.

"I know," you interrupted. "I read your spread in Food and Wine. I was at the dentist and they had the magazine. Imagine my surprise when I saw that my neighbor, sorry, ex neighbor and ex friend with benefits, was the main story of a culinary magazine."

You were being melodramatic, you knew. But you had earned it. It had been months, fucking months, and not a word - he could be dead for all you knew.

"I told you I was a chef," he said sheepishly.

"Fuck you, Carmy."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fair," he admitted with a deep sigh. "Do you, uh, wanna talk?"

"Yes."

2 years earlier

The elevator of your shitty, overpriced building was out of order for the third time this year. Fuck. As you climbed up the stairs you started hearing someone on the phone, his voice gruff.

"Sugar called. She is worried about the restaurant, she's worried about you..."

As you got closer you started to make out the voice on the other side of the phone, rougher, defensive, and very loud.

"My baby brother is worried about me? Well, fuck me. I must be a real goddamn mess, huh?"

"Don't be like that, Mikey. If you need me to come back, just fucking say it."

It was your front door neighbor, you realized. He was leaning on the wall by his door, rummaging through his backpack, his face scrunched up and red.

"Don't bother coming over, hot shot, everything's under control," the voice on the phone said, a little condescending.

"That your stupid little brother? Tell him to go fuck himself, will you, Mike?" a second voice chimed in, followed by the defeaning sound of a hundred knives and forks falling to the ground. "Fuck me!"

And the line went silent. You stood awkwardly, hand on your doorknob, waiting. You glanced at your neighbor and found his gaze vacant as he stood in front of his apartment door, keys in hand, standing still. He honestly looked on the edge of a meltdown and your heart ached for him.  

"It's Carmy, right?"

Your voice woke him up from his daydream - probably more like day-nightmare.

"Yeah. Hi," he managed, absent. He was still fiddling with his keys.

"No offense but you look like shit," you said and it made him huff half a laugh - he looked pretty when he smiled. "Wanna come in for a drink?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Carmy replied and followed you inside the apartment.

"So what do you want?" you asked, head inside the fridge. "I have beer-"

"Actually, uh, I don't drink," Carmy said like he had just remembered.

"Oh, so coffee? It's a little late but I think I have decaf somewhere..." you offered gently, moving towards the pantry.

'It's- never mind," he said, looking conflicted, walking backwards, to the door. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight," he winced and your heart skipped a beat. "That sounded awful. Sorry, I- uh- I'll leave."

"It's okay," you said, a shy smile curving your lips. "I've been trying to hit on you for months so it's more than okay."

"Oh!" Carmy froze, eyebrows arched, stunned.

"Yeah," you looked down at the floor, face flushed. "Gave up for a minute there. Thought you had a girlfriend or boyfriend so I-"

"No, there's nobody," he rushed to say. "I'm just busy."

"Workaholic?" you guessed.

"Yeah," he admitted.

You moved towards him, slow, Carmy's blue eyes following the movement of your hips. You stood right in front of him, one hand raising to touch his arm, up his shoulder and then holding his face.

He blurted: "You're pretty."

"You're cute too," you replied, smiling.

You leaned forward and kissed him. Carmy returned the kiss, gentle, soft, your hands tangling in his hair. You parted for a second, eyes searching his, finding him flushed. It was only a second of hesitation before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close, kissing hungrily, his tongue touching yours, holding you tight like you were a lifeline - like he needed this as much as you did.

"Bedroom?" you asked breathily the moment he started kissing your neck.

He nodded and pushed you gently past the kitchen. It was a good thing he had a vague idea where it was.

You hit the edge of the mattress and leaned backwards, dragging him into bed with you, opening your legs to let him settle there. He kept kissing your jaw and collarbone, tickling your skin with his curls, humming while you raked your nails through his scalp. Suddenly, his hands moved from holding your waist to squeezing your ass; you tugged at his hair in surprise and Carmy let out a sound between a yelp and a moan. It made you melt and giggle, bringing him closer still.

Your hands moved down, tickling as they reached the hem of his shirt; Carmy sat up and removed it, desperate.

"Fuck," you muttered, your fingers tracing the lines and planes of his torso for a moment. He was gorgeous.

It had gotten way too hot inside the room and his touch was making you dizzy, so you got rid of your shirt too, a plain beige bra underneath. His fingers traced the edges of the cups, leaving goosebumps on your skin, making you sigh with pleasure. It wasn't enough, though.

"Wait," you gasped and he froze immediately.

"You alright?" he asked, looking up, like he was scared he had done something wrong.

You cupped his face gently. "I'm just taking it off," you giggled, letting go of his face to open the clasp and tug it down. "This isn't even a nice one," you lamented, thinking of a dark lace ensemble, used only once and with someone less enthusiastic about you than Carmy. Still, his eyes became impossibly wide once your bra was off.

"Shit," Carmy whispered, burying his face in the valley between your breasts, eager, leaving kisses everywhere, carefully sucking on your nipples. You arched your back and held him tighter, urging him to get closer - you wished he was a little rougher but the tender way that he was going about things was nice. You felt cared for.

Your hands went down his stomach, fingers hooking in his belt loops, tugging with need. He stopped for a moment, looking straight into your eyes.

"Do you want me to-?" he hesitated.

"We can just keep making out but I'd like you to fuck me," you said plainly. "If you want."

He nodded, dazed. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

You tugged at his trousers, fighting with the belt buckle for a moment in your haste.

"Hold on. Let me," he said, getting rid of his slacks while you took both your jeans and underwear off at once. He gave you a wide eyed stare as he finally threw his boxer briefs carelessly to the floor.

The atmosphere was charged as you laid down facing each other.

Almost as if to break the tension, one of your hands reached out for his cock, caressing it, making him groan.

"So soft," you mumbled.

He rushed to touch you too, cupping your pussy. His fingers were shaking a little, which gave you pause. You touched his wrist, rubbing your thumb on his tattooed skin. He looked at you.

"Sorry, I'm uh-"

"Nervous?" you prompted and he nodded. "Yeah, same. I've had a dry spell of... Almost eight months. You?"

"Years," he said, clearing his throat.

"Fuck. That's tough," you said with a sympathetic smile, your hand letting go of his cock to caress his shoulder blade instead, reassuring. "How are you at following directions?"

"Honestly, pretty fucking great," he said with a nervous chuckle.

"We can work with that."

You grabbed his right hand, and took his middle finger in your mouth, sucking on it thoroughly, a shiver running down Carmy's spine. You guided his hand back between your folds, dragging it up the length of your cunt until the tip of his finger was right on your clit. You closed your eyes in pleasure, his long, calloused fingers feeling delicious on you.

"There," you said breathily.

"How?" Carmy asked.

"Circles."

Your eyes fluttered once he started moving, slow and feathery. Your hand caressed the head of his cock and the sudden touch made Carmy's hand stutter and then stop completely.

"You first," he mumbled, taking your hand and placing it on his chest instead.

"A gentleman," you joked breathily, tracing one of his tattoos with the tip of your nail. You were getting flustered again now that his finger was moving faster. "A little to your right... Fuck, that feels good, Carmy."

He offered you a wicked smile in return.

"Faster?" he asked.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.

"Keep doing it just like that. Don't change a fucking thing," you pleaded, moving closer, your leg over his hip to give him more access, holding tight to his shoulders. "Fuck, your hands! So good, so good, so good," you mumbled nonsensically into his ear and Carmy smiled wide. You started kissing him frantically, getting closer and closer. "Oh!"

You stiffened in his hold, legs shaking a little, and a long moan leaving your lips. His finger was still moving, helping you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"You okay?" he asked after a minute.

"Yeah," you sighed, and leaned to kiss him, all tongue, lust drunk. "Thank you."

Your hand reached for his cock, finding it achingly hard, Carmy's eyes rolled back at the touch. He moaned. There was a lot of precum on his tip. Was all that from just hearing and seeing you?

"I'll probably fucking embarrass myself but I really wanna be inside you," Carmy managed breathily.

You smiled and grabbed a condom from your bedside table.

"Do you want me to put it on?" you asked when you saw him hesitate to take it out.

"Go ahead," he watched your hands roll the condom on, eyes wide as you held him. "Fuck."

He grabbed your leg and hoisted it back over his hip. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you sighed, guiding his cock inside you with one hand and holding his arm with the other. "I know it's been a while so don't worry if you don't last," you said.

Did you want Carmy to fuck you hard and long? Yes. But you were reasonable.

He nodded sheepishly, moving gently until he was completely buried inside you.

"Fuck, you're so warm," Carmy said, eyes closed in concentration. "So tight."

You chuckled against the side of his face, flushed and hot.

"You feel amazing too," you said, the stretch of your pussy delicious and satisfying. You kissed his temple and his cheek, already a little sweaty and salty. "You can move now."

He didn't need to be told twice. The slam of his hips was frantic from the beginning, feral sounds coming from his chest, it was exactly what you needed. You realized Carmy was probably working his shit out while fucking you but it didn't feel like he was using you at all. He was completely present: his eyes on your face, his mouth on your skin, and his hands caressing you.

"Are you good?" he asked.

"So fucking good," you replied, your recent orgasm leaving you sensitive and electrified. "You're already lasting longer than I thought you would," you said with a giggle.

"Fuck off," he said lightly.

Suddenly, you went back to the third or fourth time you had seen Carmy, crossing paths in the staircase, the primal part of your brain fantasizing about what it would be like to have sex with him, you on top, his strong hands holding your hips possessively. If this was a one time thing, you should make the most of it, right?

"Can I-? Fuck. Will you let me ride you, Carmy?" you said.

His pupils dilated with desire. "Yes. Fuck," he blurted out, rolling over almost immediately.

You settled on his hips, the angle doing wonders for you - his tip brushed your G spot and your clit touched the hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuck."

You took his hands and placed them over your hips, while you pressed your palms to his sculpted chest.

"You're so fucking hot. It's ridiculous," you said, wild with need. It made him blush down to his collarbones.

You kept your eyes on his as you lifted your hips, then sat back down on him.

"Holy shit," he gasped.

"Yeah?" you checked in.

"Yeah. Keep going," he pleaded.

And you did. You started building an undulating rhythm, Carmy's mouth was open and his brows were furrowed. His blue eyes took you in completely: the bounce of your breasts, the curve of your stomach, the way your torso arched with every stroke. His hands moved upwards, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples, unconsciously making you go faster and squeeze your cunt around his cock.

"Please," Carmy keened.

You felt him struggle, he was close.

"Hold on just a little bit," you whispered. "I'll make it good for you, Carmy."

He nodded, red in the face.

You began riding him hard and fast, the bed squeaking underneath you.

"Oh, fuck!" he moaned. "Fuck, shit, Jesus Christ..."

You went faster and faster until the string of curses leaving his lips became completely unintelligible and his body tensed underneath you.

"Come on," you leaned forward, your hair caressing his chest and your lips grazing his cheek. "Let go."

He came with a series of guttural groans, holding you tight as your hips kept moving, rutting into his, chasing the last remnants of pleasure you both could get.

He let out a long exhale and you dismounted, your thighs shaking at the effort.

"You okay?" he asked. He looked slightly embarrassed as he took off the condom and tied it up.

"Just a little sore," you reassured him, settling next to him on the mattress.

His hand caressed your thigh, trying to soothe the ache in some small way - the gesture made you melt inside a little. You ran your fingers through his hair, his face was sweaty and beautiful.

"What do you do for a living?" you asked.

"I'm a chef," Carmy replied simply.

"Huh. I would have guessed tattoo artist," you said honestly, a finger tracing the ink on his forearm.

"I get that," he gave you a soft smile. "You?"

"I work at a bookstore."

"Makes sense," he hummed, eyeing the packed bookshelves in your room and the small piles of books on your bedside table. You stayed in silence for a while, just caressing each other, his fingers tracing pictures on your thighs. "That was amazing," he said.

"Yeah," you agreed, giddy. Your orgasm must have given you courage because you heard yourself saying: "Wanna do it again sometime?"

Carmy turned to look at you, slightly alarmed, like everything that had happened was a dream and he was suddenly awake. For a second, you were scared that he would bolt out of your bed and your apartment.

"I'm not good with relationships," he said in the end.

"Oh! No, I meant the sex bit," you smiled. "I'm not looking for a relationship either."

You weren't. Your life was enough of a fucking mess without some guy that could upend it by cheating on you or knocking you up.

"Hey, no need to say yes. I'm a big girl, I can take no for an answer," you reassured him.

He rolled over and kissed you hard.

"Yes, I want to do this again."

~

Carmy had left without waking you the morning after you fucked, scribbling a note on a napkin: "Early morning at the restaurant. See you soon? C."

You didn't see him for a few days though, not even a glimpse as you crossed each other in the hallway, but you hadn't stopped thinking about him - his hands, his eyes, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you... You thought about him while you touched yourself late that following night, gasping his name as you came.

It was a relief then to see him about to knock on your door two nights later, takeaway container in hand, as you climbed up the stairs.

"Carmy," you said fondly.

"Oh!" He turned with wide eyes. "I just wanted to- Would you like to come over for some food?"

You beamed. "Did you make it?"

"Sort of," he shrugged. "It's- uh- leftovers from the restaurant. They're good though."

"Well, how can I say no to leftovers?" you teased and followed him inside his apartment.

It was the same floor plan as yours, only mirrored, and with less stuff - a lot less.

"You sure you live here?" you asked, eyeing the empty, stark rooms.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I don't spend much time in it, though."

Carmy warmed up the food and placed it carefully on two plates, it looked like he was making an effort to be casual about it.

"What kind of restaurant do you work in?" you asked as he handed you a plate. "It smells delicious, by the way."

"Uh, fine dining," he said absently, guiding you to the couch. "You like risotto? Didn't think to ask, sorry."

"It's okay," you shrugged, taking a forkful and almost immediately moaning in delight. "Shut the fuck up! You made this?"

Carmy blushed and looked down. "We never do portions this big but I figured you'd be hungry," he said.

"You thought correctly," you said, swaying a little from how good the food was. It made him give you an endeared look. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," he insisted.

You kept eating in comfortable silence.

"Truly one of the best meals I've had," you said earnestly once you were finished.

Carmy took your clean plate and his half finished one to the kitchen, coming back to sit beside you.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine," you said, half turning in your seat to take a good look at him. "Sales wise it was shit, according to my manager, but one little girl told me I was cool, so..."

He smiled wide. "Did she get anything?"

"Well, she wanted a book on planets and space. Her parents wanted to buy her an encyclopedia of some sort. It was for kids but still..." you scrunched your nose. "It took some convincing but her parents finally caved in."

"I think she was right," he said softly.

"Mmm?"

"I think you're pretty cool," he said, leaning over to kiss you.

It was gentle, measured, lovely.

"And you?" you asked when you parted. "How was your day?"

Something dark clouded over Carmy's face. "Let's not talk about my day," he rasped and then kissed you hard.

It was wild, hungry, needy.

You scooted closer to Carmy, running your fingers through his hair, humming in pleasure as his tongue touched yours. The angle was weird, and so you climbed over the couch, aiming to straddle his hips but settling on his thigh by accident. He bit on your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

"Fuck, Carmy," you blurted out.

His lips started kissing the length of your neck, down your collarbone, over your shirt. You took the hint and took your shirt off, proud that your bra was a little nicer than last time.

"Shit," he mumbled, kissing your breasts, up the cup, and through the lace.

You started grinding on his clothed thigh to relieve the ache between your legs, moaning every few thrusts.

"Is that good?" he asked breathily.

"Yeah," you sighed.

You could feel every seam of your jeans against his muscled thigh. If you weren't so horny, maybe you would feel a little embarrassed about dry humping your neighbor like a fucking teenager but Carmy didn't seem to mind - if anything, he seemed to like it. He held tight to your hips and angled his leg upward so that it would rub against your crotch easier, his eyes marveling at the way your body moved.

"You look so fucking hot," he mumbled into your skin. "Been thinking about you for days... About fucking you again... Making you feel good..."

You had always been a sucker for praise and there was something about Carmy saying nice things on that dirty tone that made you melt.

"Yeah?" you held his face, tilting it so he could look at you. "I've been touching myself thinking of you. Been making myself come thinking of your fingers on my clit and your cock inside me."

"Fuck," he uttered, mouth agape. After a moment of just staring at you, he surged forward and kissed you, mouth open, passionate. The crotch of your jeans was soaked with your arousal, wetting Carmy's slacks too. His hands on your hips urged you to go faster, to get your release.

"Close?" he asked.

You moaned needily into his mouth as a response.

Carmy slid the straps of your bra downwards,

not bothering to open it, and he took one of your nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers.

"Shit! Fuck!" you cursed, the tightness in your belly snapping while you kept grinding on Carmy's thigh. He left soft kisses on the skin of your chest and caressed your waist while you came down from your high.

"So hot," he mumbled. "So fucking hot."

You giggled, and caressed his face not knowing what to say. You moved to straddle him properly, eager to feel his hardness against your core. He groaned.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" you asked flirtatiously, your palm touching right over his erection.

Carmy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I do," he panted. "Fuck."

You leaned downward, kissing the side of his neck and face. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

He froze.

"Shit."

You sat back, an incredulous look on your face.

"Carmy, really?"

He was flushed with embarrassment. "Even if I had one, it would be expired."

"I'll go get one from my apartment," you said. When you tried to get up, his strong hands kept your hips in place.

"Stay," he pleaded.

"Carmy, you're cute as fuck but no," you declared, rearranging the straps of your bra. "It's just across the hall."

"Wait, wait. I didn't mean we should do it without-" he searched for your gaze. "I meant I don't want you to leave, that's all. We don't have to do anything tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he exhaled, arching his neck to kiss you sweetly.

You giggled. "Next time I come over there better condoms."

"Definitely," he agreed.

You kept making out for a while, his calloused hands tracing pictures on your back, and his tongue touching yours gently. You moved forward a little and pressed on his erection accidentally. He let out a loud groan.

"Sorry," you apologized. "There's something we can do," you said softly, undoing his belt and the buttons of his slacks. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes."

You took his cock in your hand, spreading his precum down the length of it. Your other hand went inside your jeans, gathering arousal to use as lube. Carmy shivered underneath you.

"What do you like?" you asked, pumping his cock slowly, watching Carmy's chest move quicker as you did.

"The tip, with your thumb," he managed. You did as he asked, swiping over his slit, once. He nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah, when I'm close I do that. And just fast. I like it fast."

"Would you let me start slow, though?"

He smiled, running a hand through his messed up hair. "Yeah."

You tortured him a little, to be honest.

You caressed every ridge and vein on his cock, lovingly, slowly, and you kissed his lips through it, swallowing his moans.

"Fuck, it never feels this way," he praised. "So good."

"I'm going to go faster now, the way you like it, okay?"

He nodded desperately. "Please."

You pumped him as fast as you could, watching him become a mess under you, rolling his eyes and shaking.

"Fuck, I'm close," he keened.

You kept on that frantic rhythm with one hand and caressed his head with the other, like he told you. In seconds he was coming all over your hand and forearm, some droplets falling on your belly and chest. You were a goddamn mess but so was Carmy - his eyes unfocused and an absent smile on his face.

"Good?" you asked proudly.

"Tremendous," he chuckled and moved to kiss you holding you tight to his body.

"Careful, I've got- uh-" you giggled, gesturing at the stripes of cum all over your right side.

"Fuck, didn't think about that, wait."

He took his shirt off and wiped you clean with it, kissing you deeply once he was done. He dragged you to lie on the couch with him.

"Sorry about the mess," he apologized.

"Sex is messy," you shrugged.

"Guess I don't have much experience on the subject," Carmy said absently.

"I find it hard to believe with the way you look," you flirted, caressing the muscles of his arm.

"What if- uh- what if I told you you are my first?" he said.

"As in the first person you had sex with?" you confirmed.

He nodded.

"I'd find it even harder to believe," you said, tracing the contours of his face with your finger, the arch of his nose. "But I'd thank you for telling me."

Carmy smiled with relief and kissed you again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said softly.

"Sure."

"When you came thinking of me, what were you doing?"

You blushed and covered your face, the reality of what you had said hitting just now.

"Uh," you hesitated, "well, I was fucking my fingers."

"Would you show me?"

You turned to look at him, his eyes were dark and dead serious.

"Fuck, Carmy," you exhaled. "I thought you were wiped out and this was your idea of pillow talk."

"Oh, I'm wiped the fuck out," he agreed. "It just seems like you aren't," he added with a smile.

You smirked. "Alright."

With your eyes on his, you unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down your legs along with your underwear, both still wet with your arousal. You opened your legs, one dangling over the edge of the couch and the other pressed against Carmy's body. His hand hooked under the bend of your knee, holding you, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. You shivered.

Carmy's eyes followed your hand as it rested on your mound, your middle and ring fingers going easily inside your cunt with how wet you were.

"Fuck," he said, entranced, watching your fingers go in, knuckle by knuckle.

You arched your back and moaned. Every feeling was heightened by having Carmy watch you. You started curling your fingers inside you, brushing your G spot, gasping. Then, you began thrusting your fingers in and out, your hips chasing the feeling too. Before you could get too carried away, Carmy touched your arm, his fingers closing on the wrist that was giving you pleasure.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Yes," you panted, your cunt clenching at the thought of his calloused hands.

You took your fingers out with a wince. His middle finger traced the contour of your clit, making you shiver and giggle nervously.

"Tell me if I'm fucking up," he said shyly.

"Yes." You kissed the side of his face, encouraging him as his index poked at your entrance. "Little lower. Yes."

He had no trouble fitting in one finger with how wet you were. The second one was a tighter fit.

"Slow, slow," you instructed him, humming with pleasure at the stretch, grabbing at his bicep once every knuckle was inside you. "Fuck..."

He curled his fingers inside you, caressing your walls gently. You let out a loud moan when he touched your G spot.

"Oh! Is that-?" he asked. "It feels different."

"Yeah," you whined because he stopped. "Keep going, Carmy, please."

"Right, right, sorry," he chuckled and continued, his long fingers reaching the depths of you, growing more confident and bolder in their movements.

One of your hands was leaving crescent moon imprints on his bicep - your nails digging in his flesh as your pleasure grew.

"My clit, touch my clit, please," you begged and he rushed to press his thumb on it, circling it, your body responding immediately, arching and clenching.

When you opened your eyes, something proud was coloring Carmy's features.

"Keep going, you're doing so good, making me feel so fucking good, Carmy," you mumbled, burying your face in his neck, panting. Your words made him go faster and a little rougher. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come."

Your voice was so whiny you didn't recognize it but you couldn't concentrate on that, not when Carmy was three knuckles deep inside you, hitting your G spot with every stroke, breathing hard against your skin.

"Are you gonna think about this the next time you touch yourself?" he rasped and you unraveled, seeing stars while you rutted against his hand, drowning your moans on his shoulder, grabbing the cushions of his couch like they were the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You okay?" Carmy asked after what felt like a long time, though probably it only was a couple of minutes. Your cunt was still throbbing deliciously around his fingers.

"I'm perfect," you sighed, grabbing his face for a messy kiss.

"Wiped out?" he asked.

"Not sure I'll be able to walk back to my apartment actually," you giggled, eyes half lidded. "You are truly incredible at following instructions," you teased.

"Told you," he played along, kissing your shoulder gently as he took out his fingers. "You can sleep over if you want," he offered.

"Nah, I need to take a shower," you sighed, a little sad that you had to get rid of the smell of Carmy and sex. You grabbed your shirt and underwear from the floor. "I'll sleep here next time," you promised.

"Next time?" Carmy asked, watching you get up and get dressed.

"Yeah, next time," you insisted flirtatiously. "When you buy condoms."

He laughed.

You leaned downward to kiss him sweetly.

"Thank you. It was good, so good," you said earnestly.

"Fuck. You were amazing too," he replied.

You walked to the door. "Good night, Carmy."

"Good night."

~

You were brushing your hair in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh out of the shower, warm and relieved after a long day. An insistent knock on your door made you roll your eyes in irritation.

"Who is it?"

"Carmy!"

Your heart raced a little and you smiled. You opened the door and sure enough, there he was, disheveled and beautiful, wrapped up in his wool coat.

"Hello," you said with a shy smile.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Carmy said, gesturing vaguely at your wet hair and bathrobe. You rearranged it and he blushed a little - which was terribly endearing considering he had seen your pussy up close not even a week ago.

"You're not interrupting anything," you replied. Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached out and touched his cheek, red from the cold. "You're freezing. Want to come in? I can make us some tea."

"Yeah, that would be nice," he walked in behind you, toed off his shoes, left his coat on the couch, and followed you inside the kitchen.

"Chamomile?"

"Sure."

You went through the preparations in silence, there was a sigh of relief once he grabbed the mug you were offering and held it between his hands.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of your tea. "Bad day?"

"Always," Carmy replied and some part of you knew he wasn't joking.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Is it really that bad inside a kitchen?"

"Whatever you're imagining, it's ten times worse," he rasped. "Twenty if you have an asshole for a boss."

"And do you?"

"Oh, yeah. The worst," he took a big gulp of tea - you were almost certain he had burnt his tongue with it.

"Then why do you do it?" you tilted your head, searching for his eyes.

"It's- It's- " he hesitated. "It's everything. It's a way of communicating, it's taking care of other people, it's beautiful and complex..."

"And you love it," you concluded.

"I do. Yeah," Carmy ended with a heavy sigh.

"Wait here," you said, handing him your mug, padding to your bedroom and coming back with a coffee table book. "Here," you exchanged your mug for the hardcover and sat on the counter.

Carmy took it and looked at it carefully. It was a book on fine dining - pages and pages of beautifully plated dishes from different restaurants in Europe.

"This is so cool," he flipped through the pages. "I worked here," he said, beaming.

"Did you learn how to make that dish?" you asked.

"Yeah, must have the recipe somewhere... Thanks for showing me this," he said after a while, taking the book and handing it back to you.

You shook your head. "That's yours."

"I can't take it," Carmy refused.

"Yes, you can," you insisted. "A friend gave it to me as a house warming present and I never even opened it. You would be doing me a favor," when you saw Carmy was about to argue some more you doubled down. "Do I look like I need more books in here?"

He chuckled and shook his head, placing the book on the table, giving in.

He walked towards you. "Thanks. I mean it."

"You're very welcome," you said earnestly when he leaned in to kiss you.

Carmy nuzzled the side of your face, then down your neck.

"You smell amazing," he said softly. "Coconut."

"That's my conditioner," you smiled and held him closer.

"Lavender, rosemary," he mumbled into your collarbone.

"My body wash."

He already had you gasping for breath as he kept kissing you, standing between your legs, pulling you closer by the bend of the knee. He ran his tattooed hands up and down your thighs, his finger tips still a little cold.

"Can I taste you?"

"Yes. Please."

Carmy knelt before you, something dark and hungry coming to life in your belly as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. He opened up your robe and found you bare. Then, he started peppering kisses up and down the insides of your thighs, kneading your ass in his hands, getting you flustered without even touching your cunt.

"Let me know when it's good, alright? Like last time," Carmy said against the skin of your thigh, you could feel his face warming up.

"Yeah. Though you're already doing better than my last two boyfriends, Carm," you said lightly, caressing his hair.

He chuckled against your skin and the whisper of air between your legs made you shiver.

The tip of his tongue caressed your folds, gently, teasing. You hummed softly, closing your eyes. Then, he flattened his tongue, going up your cunt several times, faster and faster, lapping at your entrance, getting a taste of your arousal and humming in response.

"Shit," you managed.

"Mhmm?" he checked in, not letting go of you.

"Yes," you moaned louder. "It's good."

He kissed his way up your clit, rubbing his nose on it before he started licking at it diligently.

"Suck on it, please. Oh, fuck. Fuck," you arched your back. "Can you- Shit, Carmy- Can you put your fingers inside me?" you pleaded.

He let go for a moment, his mouth and your arousal making a lewd sound as he parted. His middle finger traced around your cunt, gathering wetness before going inside you in one swift thrust.

"Yes. Perfect."

"Another?" you looked into Carmy's eyes, he was flushed and giddy.

You nodded and his index finger joined the middle, a smirk curving his wet lips when he made you moan with a simple curl of his fingers.

"You're a menace," you teased and he laughed.

"Keep looking at me," he said, going back between your legs, eyes on you as he continued sucking your clit.

"Fuck, that feels good," you were breathing hard, fingers tugging on Carmy's curls, your bathrobe completely undone. He moaned hard when your pussy clenched on his fingers, the vibration making you shiver with pleasure.

"You're making me feel so good, Carmy," you praised breathlessly, one of your hands squeezing your breast unconsciously. "I'm close." He arched an eyebrow, questioning. "A little faster. Fuck me with your fingers."

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you, fast, while his lips sucked on your clit frantically, wet noises turning you on even more.

"Just like that, just like that," you moaned. "Keep going, please, please, please..."

You kept looking at him, seeing his eyes shut in pleasure when you fluttered around his knuckles. Your orgasm hit you hard and had you screaming and thrusting against his face before you could stop - his strong arms kept you in place.

"Oh, my God," you keened as he kept going, prolonging your orgasm until it was almost too much to bear, senseless praise flowing freely from your lips. "You're so fucking good, Carm. Make me feel so good."

Everything was warm, white and fuzzy.

Carmy stopped his movements abruptly. You felt him groan needily against your cunt, turning his face to bite on the flesh of your thigh. Looking down, you realized he was palming his cock over his slacks. He had come to the sound and the taste of you.

You tugged on his hair to get him up on his feet and kiss him. His lips were red and swollen, and his tongue tasted like you. When you parted, you saw a satisfied and sedated look on his face.

"Never had a guy do that."

"Eat you out?" he asked, disoriented. His hair was a fucking mess.

You ran your hands through his curls lovingly. "No. Make me cum that hard. Enjoy eating me out that much."

"It was hard not to," Carmy replied. "The fucking sounds you make..."

You hid your face in his shoulder, cheeks burning red.

"I'll try to be quiet next time."

"Please don't," he rasped, tilting your head to kiss you hard.

~

[Part 2]

[luvnami]

𝐬𝐮𝐧.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - written for gn!reader/tav, and for myself, who needs the comfort. this was written in one seating and not proofread, so please forgive any mistakes or irregularities lol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 660

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・

“sweetheart?”

astarion’s voice and a knock at the door makes you freeze.

“are you alright?”

tears trickle down your cheeks. damp spots darken the inn’s worn bedlinen, and you struggle to find your voice amidst a congested nose and tight throat. your knuckles curl around the blanket that you’ve thrown over your head. grey clouds creep across the horizon, foreboding a downpour at any second. 

“i- ah-”

in an attempt to clear your nostrils, you sniffle and snort back thick mucus. it hits the back of your throat and you go into a coughing fit. astarion shifts his weight uneasily behind the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. 

“can i come in?” 

he speaks softly; warily. 

“yes. please.”

your words come out like a plead. the door squeaks on its hinges as astarion pushes it open to your room. you see nothing but bleak rays of candlelight that creep through the threadbare blanket, yet you know the vampire approaches you judging from the quiet shuffle of his feet across the wooden floorboards. 

“whatever is the matter?” 

the edge of your bed sinks down under his weight. your teeth dig into your lower lip, heart beating against your chest. somehow, you’re embarrassed to show astarion your face (and more than that, perhaps. all of the reasons that had caused your poor heart to shatter into pieces leave your mind in an instant and you feel silly – a fool, for crying over an assortment of nonsensical reasons). astarion’s hand rests on your shoulder, even as you lay curled up with your back to him. 

maybe he would take you for a child. immature: one who knows nothing of the world but flowers that bend to a spring wind’s will and gentle, foamy waves that kiss sandy shores. you imagine astarion might even be upset. perhaps you should have told him something was wrong earlier, or he would get frustrated that you were crying in your crib like a newborn babe. 

your mind swims with a hundred tales to excuse your tears, but before you can utter a single word, you feel astarion’s warmth press against your back and his arms wrap around you. 

“you don’t have to say anything, my dear. cry all you need.”

fresh tears rise to your eyes and you instinctively clam a hand over your mouth, stifling the sobs that make your shoulders tremble. 

“i will be here – with you, for you.”

the coil in your chest relaxes. astarion holds you close as you shatter apart once again.

.

at some point, you turn over in bed and peel back the covers. your eyes meet. yet, astarion’s gaze does not change from one of love to that of disgust, of frustration. his thumb gently wipes away a last tear that clings to the inner corner of your eye. your eyelid flickers shut in response, and you sniffle once more. 

“i’m sorry,” you choke out. 

“for what?” he replies, almost incredulously. 

astarion seems puzzled. your bottom lip quivers as you rest your head on his chest, still encased in your blanket cocoon from the shoulders down. 

“i got snot on your shirt.”

he pauses. then astarion lets out a soft huff of amusement, hand finally coming to rest on your lower back. 

“why would you ever apologise for that?”

he leans forward and presses a kiss between your brow. before you can reply with a halfhearted ‘i don’t know’, astarion rests his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder. his curls tickle your cheek, but you stop him. 

“i have all of eternity. so please take your time, my love. all of mine is yours.”

astarion’s warmth feels like that of the sun meeting the earth, glowing rays spilling across the cusp of the land. you stand barefooted in the plains of faerûn. as grass blades tickle your ankles and birds leave their nest to cry the morning forth, the astarion offers you his hand. 

you take it.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: K Summary: T.K. is eager to return to the firehouse for his first shift post-icy pond coma. He's feeling great, excited, and ready for anything. What he doesn't expect is a surprise visit from a lonely Carlos in the middle of the night. A/N: This one has been sitting for a while and I figured I should probably release it before we FINALLY get some new material to work with this week!!

Read on AO3

“Did you pack extra socks?”

“Yes.”

“Your vitamins? Your hoodie?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“I put an extra blanket for you in a bag by the door, make sure you grab it on your way out.”

“Okay, this is starting to feel more like my first day of Kindergarten than my first day back at work,” T.K. chuckles. 

Carlos shifts uncomfortably and huffs. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”

T.K. puts a hand on his chest, steadying him. “I’m going to the firehouse. Not the moon. If I need something you can bring it to me. It’s twelve hours Carlos. One overnight shift. I’ll be okay.”

“I still think maybe you should have waited until there was a day shift available,” Carlos insists. “You need your sleep.”

“Babe, I want to go back. I need to go back. If I sit around here for much longer I’m going to go crazy,” T.K. says gently. “The doctors cleared me, my dad cleared me, Tommy cleared me. I’m good to go.”

“Nobody asked me if I cleared you,” Carlos grumbles low, almost as if he doesn’t mean for T.K. to hear it. 

T.K.’s mouth twists into a half smile that he tries to suppress. Carlos has been extremely attentive and serious about T.K.’s recovery care since coming home from the hospital. There have been schedules and spreadsheets and alarm reminders about medications and appointments. T.K. has been plied with so much of Andrea’s soup that it feels like his eyeballs could float.

He still tires a little quicker than normal, especially toward the end of the day, and he hasn’t quite shaken off the permanent chill that ate its way into his bones in that frozen pond, but he feels almost back to one hundred percent. And he’s definitely well enough to get through one shift. 

“I will be okay,” T.K. promises him. “If anything feels off I’ll tell Tommy and come right home.”

Carlos eyes him, still not convinced. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

His phone buzzes and he checks it. “Nancy’s here. I’ll see you in a few hours. You’ll barely even know I’m gone.”

“Be safe,” Carlos says. 

It was their standard standard farewell before. Before the fire and the breakup and the ice.

“I will,” T.K. responds. The words have an odd weight in his chest. The last time he went to work they were broken up. He couldn’t promise Carlos that he would be safe, and he wasn’t. He fell through a frozen pond and died and woke up to a second chance with the love of his life.

It feels good to be able to make that promise again.

“Love you,” he says, pecking Carlos on the lips as he shoulders his work bag.

“Love you too,” Carlos says. “Ah! Blanket!” he calls as T.K. reaches for the doorknob.

T.K. accepts the bag from him. “Thanks Mom.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond, slightly embarrassed smile on his lips. “Shut up.”

T.K. takes the elevator down to the ground floor and exits out the front doors to where Nancy is parked and waiting. “Aw yeah!!” she yells out the car window. “Get in loser! We’re going to work!”

T.K. throws his bag giddily into the back seat and buckles his seatbelt. “Freedoooom!!” he crows happily as she puts it into gear.

“Oh, yeah, like it’s been so hard for you recovering with Carlos catering to your every whim,” Nancy teases. 

She’s not wrong; he has no complaints. Carlos has been with him as much as possible for the last few weeks, rebuilding the fractured splinters of their relationship into something that finally feels solid again. T.K.’s heart is nearly as recovered as his body. There have been painful moments, lots of tears, anger, and some difficult confessions, but already T.K. feels stronger for it. The break up was awful, and part of him still hates himself for his role in it, but it almost feels worth it to be where they are now. 

“So catch me up on the gossip,” T.K. says as they drive. “What’s the firehouse tea?”

“Mm! Yes! God, I missed you,” Nancy says fervently. “Okay. Someone froze Paul’s boxers last week and he’s still so mad about it. He thinks it was Mateo.”

“And was it?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ and smiles wickedly. “It was me and Marj.”

“Nice.” T.K. sinks into the seat, already feeling like he’s settling back into normal. “What else?”

“Torbin’s girlfriend left him. Again,” she says. “And your dad found the decoy candy stash, but the real one is still safe.”

“Third cabinet from the left behind the spare hoses?”

“You know it.”

“Are there Sour Patch Kids?”

She takes her eyes off the road for a second to smile at him. “I restocked them for you as a welcome back gift.”

“Aw, thanks Nance,” he says, heart warming at her kindness. 

The entire 126 has stepped in a major way over the last few weeks. The fridge in the loft hasn’t been empty of food once, everyone has stopped by to check on him, and the group text thread has been full of encouraging and silly texts. It had hurt to watch them all get back to work once the station opened; he’d been able to attend the ceremony but hadn’t been cleared for duty yet. But tonight they will finally be all together again.

When they arrive the house is quiet. There’s no flurry of activity in the bays; everything is oddly silent and dark. 

“What’s going on?” T.K. asks as they get out of Nancy’s car, nerves fluttering. Have they been shut down again for some reason? They literally just reopened a couple weeks ago, if they’ve been taken out of service already….

The lights flick on and there’s a cacophonous shout of “SURPRISE!” as the whole team pops out from behind the engine and the ambulance. There’s a giant banner with “Welcome Back T.K.” on the front of the rig, along with balloons and streamers, and Paul is holding a massive cake.

The grin that splits T.K.’s face is so wide it hurts and he feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes. It’s Marjan who comes to him first, holding out her arms as she runs over for a hug. “Welcome back,” she says warmly and he squeezes her tightly before letting go to catch the next person in line.

Judd claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Good to have you home brother.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says. “And please tell Grace thank you again for all the meals. It’s made our lives so much easier these last couple weeks.”

Even with a newborn in the house, somehow Grace had managed to send over meals to make sure Carlos and T.K. didn’t starve during his convalescence. 

“Yeah between you and Paul she’s been basically running a catering company out of our kitchen,” Judd says. “Gotta make sure everybody’s taken care of. But you’re cut off now,” he announces loudly. “Time for y’all to do your own cookin’ again.”

“Bro, I can’t believe you didn’t even lose any toes or anything,” Mateo says when it’s his turn. His hug is accompanied by a back slap that chokes the breath out of T.K. for a second. “I mean it’s good, but like, that would have been pretty gnarly.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I kept all my appendages,” T.K. says. “I find them pretty essential.”

“Still, would have been a cool story,” Mateo says a little wistfully.

“Mateo his story is already plenty cool,” Paul says. “In fact, it’s so cool, it’s almost frozen solid. And that is why we got you this cake.”

He holds it up for T.K.’s inspection and T.K. bursts into laughter. It’s got Frozen characters all over it and reads “The Cold Never Bothered T.K. Anyway.” 

“It’s an ice cream cake,” Paul says proudly, like this is the greatest collective idea they’ve ever had.

“I love it,” T.K. says. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay, okay, let the adults have a turn,” Tommy says, breaking through the crowd and pulling T.K. into a warm, soft hug. “Welcome back T.K. It’s so good to see you well.”

T.K. hugs her back, a little extra tight. He’s very aware that he’s not the only one who lived through several days of trauma because of that pond. This woman’s hands saved his life, kept his heart beating long enough for help to arrive. Even when the question of whether he’d live had been answered, there was still uncertainty about how functional he would be. That he’s back at work like nothing ever happened is astonishing. It’s a triumph for both of them.

“Cap I don’t—“ The words stick in his throat because how do you thank someone for doing what she did?

She pulls back and squeezes his shoulders. “I know baby,” she says softly, eyes looking a little moist. “It’s okay. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Tommy looks past him and T.K. turns to find his dad. “C’mere kiddo,” he says warmly and T.K. ducks his head, slightly embarrassed by this display of fatherly affection in front of his team. “Love you,” his dad murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his hair before patting him sharply on the back. “All right team! Let’s celebrate the 126 being finally, officially back together!”

T.K. takes a photo with the cake to send to Carlos before they cut into it. Paul makes sure T.K. gets the piece with Elsa’s face on it and they all talk and joke and laugh like no time has passed at all.

When the bells go off he feels a thrill go down his spine, excitement tinged with a little bit of nerves. “You ready?” Nancy asks as they climb into the rig.

“You know it,” he says with a grin. “Cap?”

Tommy buckles in. “Let’s roll.”

“Yeah!!! TNT is back in action!” Nancy honks the horn as they roll out of the garage and peal off toward an elderly slip and fall.

It’s a relatively easy call, a good, low stress reintroduction to the job. They drop the woman off at the hospital with a possible concussion and sprained ankle and are on their way back to the station when another call comes in for a fire in a single family home.

They meet up with the rest of the crew at the address, where they find a relatively small, but smoky kitchen fire. They’re not needed beyond basic first aid and are sent to a call for a choking at a restaurant next. 

T.K. is practically buzzing with energy by the time they finally get back to the station an hour later. Some of it is probably sugar from the large piece of cake he downed before they started, but he’s also flying high on the joy of saving people. He’d known he missed the job, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d snapped on his gloves and started taking vitals again. 

He bounces out of the ambulance into the bay, already knowing that he’s not going to sleep at all tonight. Maybe he can persuade Mateo to pull a Mario Kart all nighter with him.

It’s past ten but the rest of the crew is still up, most of them in the showers still trying to get the stench of the kitchen fire off. T.K. is on his way to grab a second piece of cake when he hears Judd call his name from the doorway to the locker room.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Found something that belongs to you,” Judd says, an odd smirk on his face.

“Something that belongs to me?” T.K. wrinkles his nose. He’s barely been back five hours, what could he possibly be missing already? 

As realization dawns he rolls his eyes. “Is this a welcome back prank? What’d you do? Put my keys in jello? Hide a fish in my locker?”

“Nope,” Judd says. “You’d better go check your bunk though. It’s waitin’ for ya.”

His bunk? What the hell? Giving Judd a final suspicious look he heads for the bunk room.  

He enters with caution, aware that this is likely a trap. When his eyes adjust to the darkened lighting he finds Judd was right; there is a familiar lump that most definitely belongs to him curled up in the middle of his bed. T.K.’s heart stutters and he crosses the room in only a few strides, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress.

His hand automatically goes to Carlos’ forehead, fear that his boyfriend has somehow become ill or injured in the hours since he left home at the forefront of his mind. “Babe,” he says worriedly, brushing his fingers across Carlos’ face and down his neck.

Carlos’ eyelids flutter and he blinks up soft, brown, confused eyes at T.K. before quickly pushing up to a sitting position. “Hey,” he says, a little breathless as he tries to recover from his late night nap. 

“Baby, are you okay?” T.K. asks, his fingers still worriedly searching for signs of fever or injury.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine,” Carlos says, clearing his throat and scooting back so there’s some space between them. 

Relief extinguishes the spike of adrenaline in T.K.’s veins and he relaxes a little as curiosity takes over. “What are you doing here then? Did something happen at home?”

Carlos’ face takes on a slightly evasive look. “No, everything’s fine at the loft.” 

“Then why are you asleep in my bunk?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just waiting for you.” The words are quick, almost defensive.

“Waiting for me?” T.K. frowns. “Did you come all the way over here just to make sure I haven’t passed out or something? Seriously Carlos, we talked about this. I promised I would be careful.”

“No, that’s not—I wasn’t—“ Carlos huffs in frustration and T.K. tries to read the look on his face without success.

“Baby, what is it?”

Carlos looks down at his hands and mumbles something that T.K. doesn’t catch. “What?” he asks, confusion and concern clouding his happy back-to-work buzz.

Carlos sighs and meets his gaze, embarrassment all over his face. “I said, I missed you.”

T.K. softens at these words. “You came all the way over here because you missed me?”

“It’s stupid,” Carlos says, his discomfort at this vulnerable admission written into every line of his body.

“No,” T.K. says, scooching a little closer to him. “No, baby, no. It’s not stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Carlos says. “I’m a grown man. I should be able to spend one night without my boyfriend.”

“It’s okay,” T.K. says with a chuckle. “We’ve spent a lot of time together lately. It’s cute that you got lonely without me.”

“This was dumb, I’m gonna go.” Carlos starts to get up, but T.K. catches his hand. 

“No, stay for a little bit.”

Carlos sinks back down reluctantly. “Isn’t everyone coming up soon? It’s late.”

“They’re still cleaning up downstairs. And Judd knows we’re up here. He’ll probably make them give us a few minutes.”

He grabs Carlos’ arm and pulls it around his waist, scooting backward toward the center of the small mattress and pushing against Carlos’ body.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks in confusion.

“Come on, snuggle me. You drove all the way over here, might as well get some cuddles to remember me by in our bed tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, come on.” T.K. wiggles his butt invitingly until Carlos slides down and spoons him the way he wants. “See? Better already, right?”

Carlos huffs a laugh against the back of T.K.’s neck. It’s a tight fit, both of them on this twin size firehouse mattress, but they squirm around and manage to find a position that’s comfortable enough.  

T.K. waits, feeling Carlos relax against him as the minutes pass uninterrupted. His own eyes feel a little heavy; it would be so easy to fall asleep like this. Sleeping on the couch at his dad’s for months had been devastatingly lonely. At the time he’d tried to pretend it wasn’t; that he was glad there was no room for Carlos when he laid his head down at night. 

But in the months since, he’s recognized how horribly isolating it was. He’d taken a lot of extra shifts because it was easier to sleep in beds that Carlos had never touched. 

These memories stir a thought. “You haven’t been alone at the loft since I came home from the hospital,” T.K. says softly.

He feels Carlos stiffen a little behind him. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

“It must have been hard before, all those nights when I wasn’t there,” T.K. says, focusing on every tiny movement and breath happening behind him. In all their many conversations the last few weeks, they’ve mostly talked about what broke them up in the first place and how to keep it from happening again. Carlos has avoided saying much about the actual time they spent apart. T.K. is pushing at a tender spot, one that Carlos has been loathe to talk about in lieu of “moving on” instead. But his boyfriend is here seeking comfort for a reason and T.K. can’t let him go home without uncovering what it is. 

When Carlos doesn’t speak T.K. pushes a little harder. “I had my dad and Mateo, but you were there all by yourself.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

There’s tension in Carlos’ voice and T.K. awkwardly rolls over until they’re facing each other, refusing to back down. “Did you talk to anyone? All those months apart? Have you told anyone how that felt?”

The lines of Carlos’ brow are tight, like he’s struggling to keep his feelings tucked down deep inside of him. “It’s in the past T.K.”

“If it’s in the past, then why are you here?” he asks, keeping his voice gentle.

Carlos swallows, his eyes closing like he’s in pain. There’s a long moment of quiet and T.K. wonders if he’s going to have to let it drop for tonight. But then, “You were gone. There was no one to tell,” Carlos finally says.

That’s what he’d been afraid of. Carlos hadn’t told his family, T.K. already knew that. And he’s far too polite a person to air his grievances to any of their friends, especially since most of them are also T.K.’s colleagues. T.K. is his person. The one he feels safe with. When T.K. walked out of that loft he hadn’t just left Carlos, he’d taken his entire support system with him.

“I’m here. Tell me now,” he says. “Please?”

Carlos’ eyes drop to the third or fourth button down on T.K.’s uniform shirt, the words too difficult to say to his face. “Those nights were awful,” he tells the button. “I would lie in bed, hating myself for pushing you away, furious at you for leaving me. I was—god—I was so lonely, T.K. I wanted you back so damn much it hurt.

He finally lifts his eyes a little and they look haunted, like mentally he’s reliving those awful, dark hours. “I know this isn’t the same. I know you’re just here at work, but sitting there in the quiet tonight, all by myself…”

“It felt like I’d left you all over again,” T.K. finishes for him.

“Yeah, kind of.” His mouth twists and he shifts uncomfortably. “I know this isn’t the same thing. I kept telling myself I’d see you in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t stop thinking and I just…I wanted to see you.”

“You can always come see me. If you need that reassurance, I will give it to you.”

T.K. takes Carlos’ hand and kisses it before pressing it over his heart, pounding forcefully with grief over mistakes and lost time beneath his ribs. His other hand he secures on Carlos’ hip, his thumb moving back and forth soothingly. “I am here,” he says firmly. “I am coming home to you. Every day. And every night. From now on. You’re not alone in that loft anymore, Carlos. I might not be there all the time, but I will always want to be. It’s our home. I don’t want it to feel like anything else ever again.”

Carlos gives him a lopsided smile. “Me neither.

“Come here.”

He pulls Carlos into his arms, holding him tightly. The tones go off and Carlos tries to let him go but T.K. tucks him in tighter. “It’s just fire, not us,” he says, feeling slightly guilty that he’s glad his teammates are running back to work because it means no one is going to bother them for awhile. 

They stay curled up together for so long, that T.K. wonders if Carlos is going to go back to sleep. But finally he pulls back, his body relaxed and loose. “Better?” T.K. asks.

Carlos nods. “Yes. Thank you.” His gaze turns more serious, assessing. “How are you? Are you feeling all right? How’s the shift been?”

T.K. chuckles. “I’m not the one who fell asleep in my boyfriend’s work bunk. Yes, I’m fine. The shift has been amazing. I missed this so much.”

“You haven’t gotten lightheaded or dizzy? You’re not too tired?”

“No. Not even a little.”

“Good,” Carlos says, relief smoothing out the last of the lines that crease his brow. “I know I’m being selfish, wanting to keep you home with me, but I really am glad you’re back. That all of you are back. It was nice to walk in and see the whole crew together again.”

“Yeah,” T.K. agrees, a warm bloom in his chest.

“I should get going,” Carlos says. “You need to get at least a little sleep tonight.”

“Come on. Since my dad is gone we can raid the secret candy stash before you go. I’ll even let you have some of my Sour Patch Kids.”

Carlos wrinkles his nose as T.K. pulls him to his feet. “I don’t know how you can stand those things.”

“They’re delicious! First they’re sour, then they’re sweet!”

“It’s almost midnight. Didn’t you have cake earlier too? Please tell me you ate a vegetable at dinner.”

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Case

Summary: it was your last class you had to get credit for before you were able to become a wizarding world public defender. Six years after you left Hogwarts. Now all that stood between you and your future was one professor and an open case you were tasked with closing.

A/N: *emerges from the void* who's ready for another Draco series? I don't know how long this will be and there's barely a plan but I'm too excited to not write this and share it with you guys. I've missed yall. How are you?

Dr. Dresden was one of the hardest professors standing between me and my new career as a public defender. I had heard rumors about the students that had dropped the entire career path after one meeting with him. Fatefully avoiding him until now there was nothing that I could do. He was the last credited course I needed: the professor who gave out real unsettled cases for us to work through. All of the names were changed for anonymity but we were still expected to close the case. 

Walking to the ornately carved door I took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Come in,” I heard his gravelly voice. 

I opened the door, a polite smile on my face. Dr. Dresden could have been sixty eight or three hundred and four and there would be no telling. His wispy white hair was coiffed carefully and his ancient blue eyes hid behind thick bifocals. His face was permanently pinched in a pensive expression, as if the years of untangling court cases altered the way he had aged. His tweed suit was immaculately clean and like the rest of his office was probably never changing. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” He greeted. 

“Professor,” 

“Come, sit.” He chose his words so carefully, as if the world wasn’t worth the extra effort to form complete sentences. 

I sat without saying a word. What did you say to someone like him? He knew he held my future in his hands and all I had to do was survive. It was one court case. I had done thousands up until now. 

We were at an impasse. 

Still saying nothing, he pulled out a thick envelope out of one of his desk drawers and set it on his desk in front of me. 

“Four o’clock Tuesday.” He said. “I expect to see progress.” 

“Yes sir,” I took the envelope in my hands. 

“That’s all.” 

Nodding I stood, inhaling deeply. The weight of the bulky folder in my hands held the weight of my future and somehow I thought it would be heavier. 

“And Miss Y/l/n?” He called before I left his office, my hand on the doorknob. 

I turned. 

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m very interested to see what becomes of you,” There was almost a smile on his face and I didn’t know whether to take his words as a compliment or a looming threat. 

“Yes Professor,” I nodded a goodbye and left his office. 

Drawing my wand I apperated back home, walking up the steps of my building, unlocking it, feeling the safety behind the closed door. 

My apartment in Epsom was just far enough away from the city that I didn’t feel suffocated. It was quiet, quaint, with locals who knew me from working my way through law school at a local restaurant. A wizard community had been here since the 1200s and they never really left. Of course they were all skeptical when I moved in at the end of my undergrad, but now it was like I had lived here all my life. 

Setting the folder on my four seater little dining table, I switched a couple of lights on. 

Tuesday was my first deadline. It was in two days. What had he expected me to accomplish in two days? I could have the case memorized and thousands of books filled with ancient wizard laws that applied but without names or locations, I couldn’t make progress. 

A sigh left my lips. 

I was getting ahead of myself. 

The folder taunted me on the table as I made dinner and poured a drink. It was time to get to work. 

Pulling out fresh parchment, quill and ink, I opened the folder. 

It was a War case. They were common. Those who may or may not have been associated with Voldemort and his followers; all looking to be acquitted. I scanned the cover page. The wizard or witch’s name was changed to a number. 

They were the child of a death eater and had taken the mark themselves during this war. They were charged with the murder of a very important wizard: whose name I also didn’t have. The wizard confessed to the crime, but the case was still open despite the confession. 

That was odd. 

My dinner was forgotten as I ruffled through the pages trying to figure out why this case was still open despite having the confession on record. Then there were the ballistics from the Aurors of the wizard’s wand. A killing curse was never cast. 

“Oh,” I sat back. “Okay,” This was interesting. Really interesting. 

How could a wizard under veritaserum confess to a crime his wand didn’t commit? 

The wizard killed was killed by the Unforgivable curse. 

I started reading through the witness statements versus the wizard’s own personal statements. The wizard claimed that everyone there who had witnessed the crime had died in the war. The witness statements I did have were character testaments—all claiming they believed the wizard was possible of such an act. 

At the very bottom of the folder was one last witness statement. 

Words I would never forget. 

Words that I gave an Auror six years ago. 

I knew this case. 

I knew this wizard. 

And after a few minutes, I had every witness named.

This was the case of Draco Malfoy.

.

the defendant

.

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[the-kr8tor]

Can we have a Hobie x reader where the reader doesn’t want to kiss him because they have sharp teeth and doesn’t want to cut him or anything

Thank you for requesting, hun! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x shy! gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x shy! gn! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Synopsis: 3 times you didn't kiss him properly and the one time you did.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, blood mention, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You've been dating Hobie for quite some time now, went on numerous dates, but there's one thing you haven't done yet, and it's probably the most important part of cementing your relationship, and it's kissing him, for real, not like a quick peck.

It's not like you don't want to, (you really want to) it's just you're too afraid of accidentally cutting him with your sharp canines, you were born with them, the only thing for you to blame is your genetics.

Sure it looks cool, but when it comes to finally showing your affection to someone, you avoid kissing deeply, opting for a quick peck on the cheek or a tight-lipped kiss.

You're grateful for Hobie, he's been oh so patient with you, you haven't told him about your predicament, afraid of his reaction. Maybe you should tell him, as he's dropping you off on your doorstep, fingers looped through your necklace, casually flirting with you.

"The movie was great and all, but it's still a giant advertisement" he caresses the chain, eyes glued to your lips. Your face heats up at the closeness.

"Y-yeah, but I liked the ending, it subverted my expectation" you try to act nonchalantly, but the lilt in your voice betrays you, your knuckles shake as you're clutching on to your bag a little too harshly.

"Mm-hm" Agreeing with you, Hobie notices you take a peek at his lips, your eyes quickly darting back to his forehead, clearly avoiding eye contact. He figures you're too shy to lean in, but you want to, so instead he initiates, slowly leaning towards you, just in case you want to stop him.

You beat him to it, darting your face quickly towards the side of his face, you peck him on the cheek, careful not to graze him with your sharp teeth.

"Goodnight! I'll call you,okay?" You say it too fast, opening your apartment door, stepping through it "only if you want to?" You turn back to him.

Hobie doesn't look too disappointed, he looks at you with endearment, eyes softening at your shyness.

" 'Course" He smirks, raising your bashfulness level up to a hundred "I still owe you that museum date you wanted" Hobie remembers your conversation a few days ago.

Your legs turn to jelly, holding on to the wall for support, "okay" you can only manage a meek reply, oh you're a goner.

"Later, sweets" Hobie winks at you, walking backwards, eyes glued to your form.

"Okay" you softly say, god, how is he this cool? You thought, gripping on to the doorknob for support, you wave goodbye, watching his smirk get bigger.

—

"Did you see that?!" Hobie jumps down from the stage, post show sweat clings to him. He runs towards you, hugging you, your feet lifting a few inches off the ground. "Love, did you see that?!"

"Yes! You were amazing!" For a second it's just you and Hobie, no crowd screaming for an encore, no nosy stares from strangers. You hug his neck tighter, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

Hobie puts you back down, cupping your jaw, it's now or never, he leans towards your lips, your eyes widening, but you really want to kiss him, he looks so good like this, happy and passionate, it wouldn't hurt to brush your lips against his, right?

You position your lips, closing them tightly so your teeth wouldn't accidentally poke him. Hobie crashes his lips to yours, but he feels you're not as eager as him, so he settles for a quick one.

He clearly doesn't care though, Hobie feels giddy, finally able to kiss you, he thinks you deserve a proper one, maybe when you're as eager as him. He bounces on the balls of his feet, unable to stay still.

You hold on to his waist, feeling dizzy with affection, you just wanna grab his face and kiss him deeply, but alas your insecurity wins this round.

You wipe at the bead of sweat on his forehead, careful of his piercings "you were truly amazing" your eyes are practically shapes like hearts as you look at his proud grin.

—

You're cooking in your modest kitchen, the savory smell wafting through Hobie's nose, he's been helping with setting up the table, since he insisted on coming in early.

"Where's the bowls at?" he searches your bottom cabinets.

"Here" you point at the top cabinet, conveniently placed just on top of the stove, and above your head.

"Excuse me, lovey" Hobie shields your head with his hand, his big hands covering the top of your head, so that the swinging cabinet doors wouldn't hit you.

"Oh thanks–" you pause, finding his face really close to yours. Oh shit

Warmth clings to your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat. He has no idea the effects he has on you (he definitely does though)

His eyes land on your lips, you squeak out, fumbling with an excuse "ah, gotta turn this over before it burns" quickly turning your head back towards the stove.

Hobie's left confused standing at your side, holding on to your bowls. Do you not want to kiss him or something? This wasn't the first time you turned away from him, do you not fancy him anymore? So what is it?

Instead of asking you these questions, he turns away, feeling dejected.

"Right" he clears his throat. You feel the shift in the air, you read his slumped posture, how his face is hiding (and failing) to hide his true emotion.

You breathe out, you can't continue to tiptoe around him, you need to tell him, especially when you see yourself loving him (in the very near future) call yourself crazy, but you see him loving you too.

You shut off the stove, reaching out towards the sleeve of his jumper. "Hobie, wait"

He turns towards you, questions swimming in his eyes.

You bite the bullet, (hopefully not his lips too) you cup his face gently, staring directly into his eyes, you wait for him to say yes. Hobie doesn't hesitate, he pulls you towards him by your waist, closing the small gap.

You brush your lips against his tentatively, he answers back by placing his lips against yours, unmoving, waiting for your next move. You close your eyes, finally deepening the kiss.

He chuckles softly at your eagerness, your lips move with his, Hobie feels your exposed skin on your hips where your shirt has ridden up, he stops his thumb right on the small of your back making small circles over the soft skin.

You completely lose yourself, Hobie gasps out when a sharp sting hits his lip. You quickly pull away "shit" you watch in horror as he touches his lips, leaving a drop of blood on his finger.

You push yourself off him, "oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to"

"That was fuckin' hot" Hobie grabs your waist, pulling you back in.

"But–" you manage to gasp out before he collides his lips to yours. He holds the back of your head, you hold on to his jumper with a grip.

He kisses you most fervently, but you hold back, afraid to hurt him again.

Hobie reluctantly stops, "don't hold back" he whispers against your lips.

"But my teeth, I don't want to hurt you again"

"I can handle a little blood, is that why you avoided kissing me?"

"Yeah" you confess, eyes darting everywhere but his face.

"You're fucking adorable, did you know that?" He holds your chin, getting your attention "can I kiss you again?"

"You're really okay with it?"

"I'm more than okay with it," Hobie chuckles deeply.

You smile, a heavy weight lifting off your shoulders, "kiss?" You sigh out, great, he's given you a taste and now you're addicted. Good thing the cure's right in front of you, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

"Can't say no to that" he leans in, twin smiles on both of your lips.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[seichira]

[ 12:35 ] — 20th midnight of october.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ your boyfriend comes home extremely late, after you specifically (and nicely) asked him earlier this morning not to be.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ some fluffy short scenario for rindou’s birthday!

with freezing hands caused by the intense cold winds outside, rindou haitani turns the doorknob to your shared apartment to finally get some heat in his system and cuddle up to his beautiful partner after a long day of tedious work.

the door swings open, and before he even gets to call your name like he usually does out of instinct, a huge pillow comes dashing towards him and although it completely takes him by surprise, his reflexes help him dodge the huge pillow.

“shit! what the hell?” he grumbles right before his eyes land on you, standing all alert in the middle of the living room, shooting daggers at him through your fiery eyes. not to mention one remaining pillow in your grasp that seems to be ready to be thrown at your boyfriend who should have been home before exactly thirty-five minutes ago.

he squints his eyes as if he is seeing wrong. “baby? what’s all this? why are you—” he takes a step to get to you but an especially loud yell stops him.

“don’t you dare come near me until at least one of my pillows hit you!” you fake throwing the pillow at him so he dodges again, so you say, “and don’t you even try dodging it or i swear to god, rindou haitani.”

you see, you are talking to a man who has evaded death hundreds of times. this man before you has been threatened, intimidated, and been held at gunpoint before. but he swears he has never been scared of anyone else but you.

before you came, nothing can make him stand there and just take a freaking bullet. he will do whatever it takes to save his life. but right now, as he is in front of the person he has only ever loved and the person who has got him wrapped around a finger, he closes his eyes and stands still while waiting for the hit of the throw pillow to come. and man, it did come.

he wants to laugh, though. because your threats and angry demeanor seem so bold but the throw you just aimed towards him had no bite. still, to satisfy his beloved partner, he acts pained.

“where the hell have you been?! and you have the guts to ask me what the hell, when i have been waiting for you since forever!”

still acting as if the pillow really hurt him, he slowly approaches you with a small smile on his lips that he uses when he wants to appease you.

“i’m sorry, baby. it slipped my mind and got too preoccupied in an investigation. i hurried home as soon as i remembered, though. hm?” he smirks and finally takes you in his arms.

you land a punch on his back but you do not dare break off the hug. “and you think that’s gonna make it all better, haitani? i see i have been too complacent with you, you think you can woo me easily!”

oh, he absolutely can. you talk so much but really, you love him just as much as he loves you. yes, he may give in to all of your whims, but you also cannot resist him to save your life.

“i’m sorry, my love,” he whispers and kisses your temple. “i’m here now, am i not? you really miss me that much? wanted me to come home early?”

you separate from him for a bit to face him eye-to-eye. “it’s because i didn’t want anyone to beat me to it. i wanted to greet you first but i guess ran already did, huh—”

rindou stops you with an, “oh.”

“oh,” you say right after. “you forgot?”

he nods like a clueless child, “totally had no idea it was even coming up, baby. ran is overseas so he hasn’t got the chance to bother me with it.”

all his life, he only ever celebrated his birthdays with ran. and he can’t even call it a celebration. his brother would just greet him casually and dap him up, then he will wake up to a cupcake with a candle on it. he doesn’t think he will ever get used to being loved by anybody else apart from his brother.

but here you are, looking up at him, giggling.

“does this mean i get to greet you first?”

he nods, “the privilege is all yours.”

you tiptoe and his arms are quick to wrap around your waist to help you up to place a kiss on his lips, a deep and loving one that officially demotes ran’s birthday cupcakes into second place. your kiss takes the throne of the best birthday present ever.

“happy birthday, rin. i love you.”

just when rindou haitani thinks he could not love you any more than he already does, you prove him wrong.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Deadly Proposal: Part Five

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, drug use (cocaine), heartbreak

Summary: Amber takes it a step too far when she throws a party at Dean's house. She crosses a line completely when she reverts back to her old self, and you are done breaking your back for her.

Deadly Proposal Masterlist

Square Filled: force feeding for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The fight with your sister and Dean made it so you couldn’t sleep well last night. You slide out of bed, throw on something to wear that’s semi-appropriate, and head down to the kitchen. You’re not expecting to see anyone but Sonja, so you’re surprised when Amber is sitting at the kitchen island. She gives you a side glance but doesn’t say anything to you.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I know you want me gone but my boyfriend didn't show.”

“I never said I wanted you gone,” you sigh. “I was frustrated yesterday, and I said something I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she shrugs. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

You sit at the kitchen counter and turn to her.

“Why don’t you and I go into town today and look for jobs? You said you were going to try.”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that later.”

“You need to do it sooner rather than later. Dean only gave you a week here.”

“What are you, my mom?” she scoffs.

She leaves her untouched food on the counter and storms to her room. Your shoulders sag in defeat but you don’t dwell for long. Sonja takes her food away and sets a plate in front of you with a kind smile on her face.

“Thanks, Sonja.”

As you eat, you think about Dean and your fight. Was it a fight? You know you’re not supposed to feel anything for him since you’re just a blood bag for him but the more he drinks from you, the more you crave him. Not just him, but his time and attention as well. You want to know so much about him but he doesn’t give you much to work with. He’s so mysterious and it’s driving you insane.

The thing with Amara isn’t sitting well with you either. You hated how jealous you got when she came over. She’s so beautiful, and may or may not have been involved with Dean. You subconsciously touch the wounds on your neck that have mostly healed. What did she mean when she said your blood was special? She said that she’d never smell anything like it, but doesn’t she smell blood all the time? No, that was carnal behavior. Dean talked to her but you’re not sure what he said to her. Does he even care?

No, screw this. You’re not going to sit here and continue to wonder. You’re going to get answers now. After you’re done eating, you walk upstairs to where Dean’s office is. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as doubt begins to creep inside your mind. Would he give you the time of day? Would he send you to your room like a petulant child?

“I can hear you breathing, you know,” Dean says from inside.

It’s now or never. You open the door and walk inside. Dean is sitting at his desk typing quickly on his laptop.

“What are you doing?”

“Nosy much?” he smirks.

“I can’t help it.” You shrug. “I’m bored and you’re not paying attention to me.”

Dean chuckles and leans back in his chair to give you his undivided attention.

“If you must know, I’m working.”

“You have a job?” you gasp in a teasing tone.

Dean shakes his head with a smile he can’t resist. “Yes.”

“What is it you do?”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

You walk over to his desk, sit across from him, and cross your legs.

“Do you realize you’re always brooding or does it come naturally to you?” Dean rolls his eyes and continues typing. “So, where’s your brother? I’m assuming you have one, right?”

“Are we doing this right now?”

“Fine.” You pause. “Do you have any parents?” He doesn’t reply. “I’m going to keep asking you questions until you answer.”

“Fine.” Dean groans and pushes his laptop away to pay attention to you. “You have five minutes. Go.”

“How old are you?”

“Over half a millennium. Seven hundred and sixty-two years if you want to get specific.”

“How did you become a vampire?”

“I was working a hunt when I was human. Vampires. They got to me before I could get to them. I’ll spare you the bloody details.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I help women escape their abusers.”

You’re taken aback. You did not expect that to come from him. You want to know more but then you’d use up your five minutes and you need to more about him.

“You made it sound like you had a family. Any siblings?”

“Dead.”

“Parents?”

“Dead.”

“Are all your friends dead, too?” Dean cracks a smile and looks away to try and hide it. Your smile fades slowly. “Are you going to kill me when you’re done with me?”

“No.”

“Why me? Why take me out of everyone you could have taken?”

“I already told you.”

“Yeah, my ‘special blood’,” you scoff. “What does that mean? Amara said I had special blood, too. What makes me special?”

“You remind me of someone I used to know. She had the same blood you did. In fact, you two are more similar than I’d care to admit. Maybe I don’t want to be alone anymore. Maybe she was the best thing to have happened to me in a long time, and I want to have that again.” Your mouth goes agape as you try and process his words. He clears his throat and pulls his laptop closer to him. “Times up. Now get out and let me work.”

That’s more than you thought you’d get so you won’t complain. You get up as he continues typing, and you walk to the door slowly. You look back at him but he doesn’t spare you another glance. Since you don’t want to see Amber and Dean doesn’t want to hang with you, you decide to hang out in your room for the next few hours either reading, playing video games, or browsing Amazon for new stuff for your room.

It’s nearing dinner time so you get out of bed to see what Sonja has made. When you open the door, you hear music blasting from downstairs and commotion that sounds like chatter coming from a huge crowd. You take the stairs down two at a time to see people filing into Dean’s house. Strangers who are already inside hold red cups filled with God only knows what. This is a party. Dean would never throw a party and you didn’t, and there is only one person here that would.

You push past everyone to get to the living room where Amber is sitting on the couch with two nasty-looking men. Unkempt hair, dirty clothes, and yellow nails.

“Amber! What the hell are you doing?!”

“It’s a party!” she grins. “I was bored of staying in this house with nothing to do.”

“Fuck, Amber! This isn’t your house.”

“It’s not yours either. Plus, Dean is almost always gone. He won’t mind, I’m sure.”

How did you ever think you could change her? How did you ever think she would be willing to change? You’re about to respond to her when you feel a hand wrap around your arm. Dean pulls you away from Amber and to an empty room nearby. He shoves you inside the room and slams the door behind him with a deadly glare on his face.

“Dean, I am so sorry. I didn't know she was doing this. All these people just showed up,” you stutter. “God, she always does shit like this. I shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean glares. “Get rid of them.”

“Yeah, you got it.”

“I mean it, Y/N. I am a vampire and this party is filled with blood bags. Get rid of them before I do.”

Your eyes widen when you realize the threat behind his words. You leave the room and push through the sea of people that seemed to get bigger from ten minutes ago. You grab a few cups from people but they pass you by without another thought.

“Party’s over! You need to leave!” you shout over the loud music. No one is listening to you so you push your way to the DJ who is spinning the record player. “Hey! You need to stop. The party is over!”

“Get lost,” he says and continues playing music.

The control is slowly leaving your body and you start to panic. People are doing body shots off of other people, some are in the pool half-naked, and some are playing beer pong and doing drugs, among them is Amber. From the DJ stand, you can see over everyone’s head and to the couch where you left Amber. There are white lines on the table, one of which she sniffs up her nose. You don’t think anyone can hear your heart break over the music.

You jump off the platform and push through the crowd to get to her. She sniffs up another line of drugs when you yank on her hair.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Great, it’s the fun police,” she giggles with her friends. She grabs her alcohol bottle and takes a few swigs. “You need to lighten up, Y/N. Have fun. Get drunk. Get laid. Where’s Dean?”

Tears prick the back of your eyes. “This isn’t funny, Amber. This is my life. You come in and ruin everything! You’re poison and a parasite. I don’t even know why I helped you in the first place!”

Amber glares but she is too high to care enough to bite back.

“Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven!” she shouts. A few people cheer her on as she shugs the rest of her alcohol. Some drops fall from her mouth when she pulls the bottle away but she wipes it away with the back of her hand. “Y/N, you go first!”

“No, I’m not playing, Amber. Seriously, the party is over.”

Amber doesn’t listen and spins the bottle on the now drug-free table. The bottle spins and lands on a spot that’s right behind you, and she grins when she sees who is standing there.

“Dean, you gotta go in the closet with Y/N.”

You turn swiftly and see Dean standing there with an emotionless face. Shit, he looks pissed. Someone grabs your shoulder and pushes you and Dean into the nearest closet. The door closes before you can say anything. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

“I don’t care about the party, anymore.” Dean steps closer to you, puts a hand on the wall behind you, and leans in closer to you. “What are you doing to me?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

“I can’t get you out of my head. You’re so different from her.” You can only assume he’s talking about the woman before you. He’s so close that your heart is racing a million miles a second. He leans in so close that you think he is going to kiss you but he doesn’t. He’s stopping himself as if kissing you is the most horrible thing to do. You sigh in disappointment which Dean picks up on. “Fuck it.”

He turns back to you, grabs both sides of your head, and kisses you so deeply that your knees immediately go weak. He holds you close and takes complete control over the kiss. His lips mold to yours like they were always meant to be there. His tongue touching yours sends sparks flying down your body. Your head is swirling too quickly for you to keep up, and all you can smell is him.

He finally pulls away from you and you lean against the wall to steady yourself. Dean doesn’t say a word and leaves the closet since the seven minutes are up. You touch your lips with a shaky hand as you force yourself to calm your racing heart and mind. Amber is gone from the couch when you leave the closet but you don’t care about her. You storm over to the DJ who is taking a water break and snatch the microphone from the stand.

“Party is over. Get out. The police have been called and are on their way!”

That does it for most. They scatter like startled cats and the rest leave because everyone else is. Soon, the house is empty and covered with trash and empty bottles. You’ll clean this later but right now, there is one person on your mind who you need to deal with. It’s not hard to find your sister when she is vomiting her guts out in the downstairs bathroom. You don’t care if you get vomit on you. You yank her away from the toilet by her hair and pull her toward the door.

“Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this,” she cries.

“You’re done, Amber. You’re not living here anymore.”

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again,” she sobs.

You drag her to the front door and throw her out on her ass. She has tears running down her face and looks at you with a heartbroken look.

“Please, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

“No, I am not doing this again. Go find somewhere else to sleep, and go find someone else who will give a shit about you because I am done.”

With that, you slam the door in her face. You start to clean the house from the partygoers but that doesn’t distract you from Amber’s cries on the front porch. You continue to ignore her until she stops which means she either fell asleep on the porch or she left. A quick check through the window tells you it’s the latter.

Amber stumbles from the house in tears and down the long driveway to the road. She has no idea where she is going to go but maybe there is a homeless shelter that might take her for the night. She pulls her thin jacket tighter against herself since it’s starting to get cold outside. She walks further down the road when she hears the rumble of a car behind her. Maybe she can hitch a ride to town.

She turns and puts her hand out to avoid being blinded by the headlights. The car slows down next to her, and the driver rolls down the passenger side window.

“Can I get a ride into town, please?”

“Hop in,” the man says.

Amber is quick to hop inside the car where the heater is gently blowing.

“Sorry if I seem like a mess. My sister just kicked me out of her life, basically. I know I’m a fuck up. I fuck up all the time. I understand why she would but she’s my sister. We’re supposed to stick together through thick and thin, you know? So I do a bit of drugs. So what?”

“You poor girl,” the man says. “I can help you.”

Amber looks up and sees he hasn’t moved the car since she got in. She glances over at him in confusion. He has a beer belly, hairy arms, a scraggly beard, and dark eyes.

“How?”

The man grins with sharp fangs where his canines should be. He grabs Amber and sinks his teeth into her neck. Amber screams for her life but no one is around to hear them. He’s right about one thing: poor girl.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[qqtxt]

hello hello! i adore your writing and i hope you're doing well, i wish you all the best with your masters (i'm working on my masters too actually!) ❤️

if you're up for it, could you write about reader taking care of drunk!yeonjun while he's being pouty and cute and sentimental? the clip of him being a cute drunk on the suchwita teaser made my heart flutter~

omg that's exciting!!! (and thank you! back at you, lovely!) master's buddies unite 🔥✊🔥 right off the bat, the second i saw this, i wrote it immediately, haha! the way my heart stopped when i noticed who was appearing on suchwita! so here's the little something i wrote! >:)

[🦊] just let me love you

✿ pairing: yeonjun x reader / fluff, silly 🌸 / mentions of alcohol and drinking / word count: 622 words ✿ yeonjun is already very vocal with how much he adores you but just wait until he has alcohol in his system... [masterlist 🌸]

"ahhh!" is the first thing you hear greeting you (albeit rather muffled) the second you open the door to reveal–"oh god, how much did he drink?"

soobin snorts, pushing the door open wider for you to step through, "don't ask me. all i know is he won't stop screaming until he sees you so for the rest of us, please."

you chuckle and nod, waving off the two youngest in the living room before you pad towards your destination. giving the door a knock, you hear a yell don't come in unless you're y/n! with a scoff, you twist the doorknob to push the door open. the sound itself is enough to grant yeonjun to kick in the direction of the door, despite being a good distance away from it since he's decided to plaster himself on the bed.

"hey... you're not y/n..." he pouts, furrowing his brows at you. 

closing the door behind you, you make your way towards him with a raised brow, "oh yeah? take a good, good look before you say something you regret," you sit next to him on the bed, patting his thigh which grants him to sit up immediately. "you don't get a free pass just because you're drunk."

he huffs at you, almost waving you off but then he squints his eyes at you to the best of his ability and the way the realisation hits him is as funny as it is adorable. "ah!" he exclaims, hands now glued to your cheeks as he lures your head towards him so he can get a good look despite the alcohol blurring his vision. you can smell the soju from his breath and let's just say, yeonjun isn't one to turn down drinks if he feels like a hundred and ten percent.

"there you are!" he grins, the signature cheshire-grin appears, his charm seeping from his pupils, "i've been looking everywhere for you!"

you laugh, using a hand to comb his hair back, "yeah?"

the pout forms on his lips, brows furrowing as he nods, "yeah..." the sleepiness in his veins taking over his system, voice getting softer, "i missed you..." his hands slip from your face, so he can curl himself towards you. his arms slither around your waist and before you know it, he's half-crawling so he can lay his head on your lap, burying his face down with his arms locked around your figure. amused, you welcome him with a hand on his back, the other stroking his head as he whines in delight, snuggling into you more.

"just how much did you drink?" you ask, fingers threading through his hair.

"dunno," he shrugs, refusing to move, eyes fluttering shut, "just want you here. want you to stay..."

it grows quiet, but the sudden surge of energy peaks when yeonjun snaps his head up to get a look at your face looking down at him with a raised brow.

"you are staying, right?"

you sigh and use the hand in his hair to nudge him back to lie down on your lap, "yes, jun. now, rest."

you feel the grin he presses to your thigh, his arms squeezing you as he nods, "mmkay." regardless whether yeonjun has had six or twelve glasses of soju in his system, nothing can numb the happiness that spreads in his system when he has you here with him.

(("do you think y/n's doing okay in there?"

"i don't care. he would've nearly woken up the entire neighbourhood. since y/n went in, he's been quiet so i'd say they've got a winning chance more than any of us combined." soobin disappears to his room, the door closing after.

"ten bucks soobin-hyung punishes yeonjun-hyung tomorrow."

"bet."))

[ragingbookdragon]

Does This Unit Have A Soul

Nick Valentine x Sole Survivor

Word Count: 1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: ...I do in fact have a desire to fuck the robot

It is, a lonely night that she finally comes to the realization that there’s something more than just friendship for the synth. The radiation storm coming has her upping the speed to find the nearest shelter and just as the first burst of sickly thunder snaps across the land, she’s pulling Nick and Dogmeat inside the small building. It’s musty, the last traces of a trader caravan evident as the layers of dust cover over one another.

She drops her gear, shucking off the leather jacket and armor before collapsing onto the ground, already pushing RadAway into her body to cleanse the burst of radiation she’d received from the storm. Dogmeat busies himself turning about three times before he plops down beside her with his head on her thigh. Nick, however, is pushing a chair up against the door and laying a landmine. It makes her laugh lowly in her throat, remembering the time she and the original Nick Valentine shared a hotel room together when they were on a case. He’d pushed one of the wooden chairs up underneath the doorknob and put a bottle behind it. You’re paranoid. She’d told him and he, being the wise-ass he was had cracked back, Yeah, and paranoid cops survive.

The chuckle is loud enough to register in his CPU because he looks over his shoulder and, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she retorts, and he rolls his eyes.

“You were laughing.”

“I was not.”

“You were too.”

It slips out before she can help it. “You’re paranoid.”

Nick freezes, like he’s been struck by lightning and she sees it when he obviously remembers, because he lowers his head and replies, “Yeah, but paranoid detectives survive.”

She’s never explicitly told Nick she knew the original man, but she also knows this is still Nick Valentine, and he’s always been as sharp as a whip and able to jump to answers faster than light. She smiles softly, almost sadly as she asks, “How long have you known?”

Nick sighs, shoulders drooping as he turns and walks over and sits beside her along the wall. “Since just before helping me with Winter.”

“How come you never said anything?”

He shrugs. “You and Nick, the thing you two had back then wasn’t mine to intrude on.”

“It wasn’t like we were a thing, Nick. I was just his best criminal attorney and he my best detective.”

“But you knew.”

“Knew that he loved me?” she laughs. “Nick didn’t love me. Lust, maybe, but he never loved me. Not like Jenny.”

Nick eyes her for a moment, watches the way those words, Not like Jenny, come out of her mouth, the tone of her voice, the flash in her eye. “Green is best saved for mutants, doll.”

She startles for a moment, wide-eyed staring at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He gives her a knowing look.

“I was not jealous of Jenny. The two of us were friends. Just because Nick and I were good friends more doesn’t mean I was jealous of him having another relationship with another woman.”

“But this was before you married…Nicholas?”

“Nate,” she corrects with a scowl. “And yes, it was before I married him.”

Nick doesn’t say anything, but that annoying hum escapes him, and he lights a cigarette and looks away.

“I wasn’t jealous of her.”

“Of course not. But you were attracted to Nick.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Anyone who knew Nick Valentine was attracted to him. He was a lady-killer! With that stupid, cocky grin and that face of his! Being a cop was a plus!” And then she realizes it all of two-hundred years later. “Oh my God, I was attracted to Nick the whole time.”

"Well I coulda told you that,” he snorts. “I’ve got loads of memories about his thoughts on you.” He’ll never tell her, but he enjoys the way she flusters at that and looks away. Though, he worries when her demeanor turns solemn. “Doll?”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” she murmurs.

“For what?”

She looks back, eyes sad, lips pulled down. “Back in May of 2077, we knew that it was getting dangerous for Jenny to continue being without witness protection. When the request came in for it, I pushed, but…I didn’t push hard enough and…and then…” her words fall short and she reaches up to wipe her eyes. “Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry. It was my fault that Jenny was killed. I should’ve pushed harder for my bosses to get her in, but I didn’t. Nate was at home with the baby and so much was happening and I just—”

Nick rests his hand on hers, the cool metal stilling her. “You didn’t kill Jenny,” he murmurs. “And Nick knew it too. He didn’t blame you.”

“You should’ve.” That’s the one thing she does, never separates the original and the synth. They’re both Nick, just different times and situations.

“I don’t,” he says and curls his hand around hers. “And Jenny wouldn’t either.”

Her lips wobble and she stares at him. “Do…do you think he and Jenny are resting now?”

Nick nods. “I do. I think their souls are finally at rest.”

She lays her head on his shoulder, cuddles close to him, knees brushing the cool of his thigh. “Do you think ours ever will, Nicky?”

She only calls him Nicky when she flirts with him; it makes his center circuits burst with something fierce. He lets out a deep breath and wraps his arm around her, letting her cuddle against his chest, ear pressed to the synthetic skin beneath his shirt. “I think…when it’s finally your time, doll, and you’re old and white haired, yours will.”

“I said ours.”

“Do you really think this old unit has a soul.”

Her head cocks up, stares him straight in his yellow lit eyes and says, “More than anything, I do, Nick Valentine.”

He smiles, softly at her, ushers her back to lay down, knowing she’s plum-tuckered out; he waits until she’s snoring against him, brushing his fingers through her hair and murmurs, “What a woman.”

Nick used to say that all the time about her. Back when he would watch her take down someone in court. Justice prevailing. What a woman.

But this time, Nick is here, she is here, it’s them against the world.

“What a woman, my girl is.”

[chimindity]

No boyfriend

Summary | Rafe doesn't like the idea of his sister getting a boyfriend. Request by @/anon

Pairing | Rafe & sister!reader

Warning | Rafe being toxic towards his sister!!

A/N | anon!! I love your request so much I changed the plot a bit and I hope you like it, instead of them being outside, they are hanging out in reader's room.

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

You have always been in love with this older boy from your class. Even though Rafe wasn't really fond of him, he never truly liked the idea of you having a boyfriend. The first time he saw you talking with this boy on your way home, he forbade you from even interacting with him.

Today, since your brother is not at home, you took the risk to hang out with your boyfriend at home. After all, he just has to leave before Rafe comes back. As you close the door, you can sense your boyfriend's anxiety in his voice, -"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows, looking at you. You peck his lips and grab his hands.

-"I'm like, a hundred percent sure, this is a good idea, we are not even making love or anything dirty, right?" You say, while showing off all your plushies that were placed on top of the headboard of your bed.

He gives you a light smile as he purses his lips, -"Right, you got a point." You stick out your tongue, feeling a wave of relief as he finally starts to relax. Everything seems perfect until the doorknob starts moving, -"Y/n, why the hell did you close the door? I'm opening this up." You start to panic while staring at your boyfriend, knowing that you two are already in trouble.

Rafe walks in, his eyes immediately land on the not so stranger boy in your room, and pause to give you a death stare before motioning to the boy to get out of the house, he didn't even need to speak, his eyes spoke for himself.

You watch your boyfriend step out of your room, meanwhile a gasp gets pulled out of your mouth as you feel Rafe's grip around your wrist, -"The heck were you thinking, huh? Think I wouldn't notice that dumbass? Oh—now little miss thinks she's grown enough to get a boyfriend?" He grins, tightening his firm grip as you try to let go of it.

-"Rafe! What is your problem?" You look into his eyes, not wanting to let him control your life, this time, -"He's my boyfriend and so what? Can't I do my own stuff? You're not dad," you yell, still trying to free yourself from his grip. -"I'm not dad, huh? Y'think dad would let you hang out with that boy?" He eventually lets go of your hand, his eyes filled with disgust, -"Yes! Dad would, Rafe. Dad would let me have a boyfriend," you step further from him.

-"You can't even take care of yourself and you need a boyfriend? That boy must be pussy whipped, man," he chuckles, watching you up and down. You fold your arms across your chest, feeling upset about what he said, "Rafe? Why would you say that?" Your voice starts to break, while your eyes fill with tears already.

Your brother finally goes quiet, awkwardly standing in front of you as he watches you cry, -"You're the worst brother ever, I hate you, Rafe!" You're about to break into tears, attempting to leave your room before you feel another grip around your upper arm, -"What do you want? Don't you think you've done enough?" You look back, he simply smirks at you and chuckles, -"You're really sweet, throwing a tantrum at your grown age, hey— didn't dad ask you to do the dishes? Better do it sis. See? I'm just trynna be protective here, alright?" He looks down at you, still not letting go of your arm.

You feel your heart shrinks, is Rafe just being nice? Was he really trying to protect you? You glance up at him and slowly nod your head as you slipt out a few sobs from your mouth, -"Yes, he did, Rafe. I'm sorry for arguing." The tone of your voice softens, causing Rafe to loosen his grip around your arm, letting you go into the kitchen.

He walks into his room, watching you going downstairs, a wave of pride runs in his heart, feeling the power he has over you.

Taglist

@nemesyaaa @marvelfanfics1 @jjsfavgirl @ziggyfaremen @mrvlxgrl @wearemadeofstardust0

[achaotichuman]

PLEASE WRITE ERIS ACCIDENTALLY BURNING HIS HAIR OFF AND DEDICATE IT TO CRIMSON SHE HAS BEEN WORRYING ABOUT IT ALL NIGHT AND I THINK IT WOULD BE VERY FUNNY IF YOU WROTE IT Actual quote from Crimson: "Like what if he wakes up one day and is brushing his hair and get mad at a knot in his hair and just burns all his hair off :(((("

Sometimes I would like to know what goes on inside your and Crimson's heads. Anyway I think this is hilarious, but I also made it angsty. So enjoy @fell-in-luvs

It was an awful day that was intent on making itself worse with every passing moment. What made it ever the more cruel was that he had woken up in a semi-decent mood, something that was often times few and far between.

Eris had woken up, stared at the ceiling for a moment, before deciding that the day may not be as terrible as they tend to be.

He should've known that thought signed his death warrant the second it entered his mind. As nothing can ever go smoothly for Eris Vanserra.

He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and immediately as he went to stand, one of his shadowhounds burst up from the ground and bolted to him. As if ordered by the Mother to find the quickest way to sour his alright mood.

In a flash of sleek grey hair, and a shout from Eris, his legs were pushed off balance and he tumbled to the ground. Head slamming into the corner of the bedside table.

"Fuck!" He cried out. The shadowhound, Luca, didn't even notice his sudden cry of pain. Instead choosing to jump on his stomach, causing the air to whoosh from his lungs and start licking his hair.

"Luca!" Eris shouted.

Finally, the youngest of the little recognised the anger in his voice. Whining as he hoped off and moped towards his bed and the rest of his still sleeping siblings.

"Oh dear Mother." Eris cursed, why he had thouht the day would be without it's trials he didn't know.

Next, he wasn't sure how he thought he would avoid it. But his Father was the next to ruin the day further.

Eris hadn't even fully entered the dining hall before Beron's voice was booming through the room. Echoing in a way that made Eris quake. He held onto the doorknob a beat longer than he should have, simply trying to keep the shaking of his hands down. It was early and he hadn't been prepared for the sudden loud noise. It was a mistake to hesistate, as Beron shouted "Eris!" Again.

"Yes, my High lord." Eris said, head bowed as he strolled to the table.

Beron ordered the room be cleared, and his brothers, whom all shot him dirty looks as none had even begun to eat. The servants and his mother all quickly left.

Two hours Eris was screamed at. Two hours of the day, without barely taking a breath too long. He kept his head down, staring at the plate of soon enough cold eggs and soggy toast.

It was early. He was tired. He had stayed up until dawn was peeking on the edge of the horizon. The mask was slipping.

As Beron began to insult him, names he had called him a hundred times before shot at his eldest son. Eris began to cry.

Tears slipped from the corner of his eyes, and it was every ounce of strength in his near shaking body that he didn't make a sound.

Beron noticed the tears. And stood from the table. Chair smashing to the ground and dishes shaking. Eris went ramrod straight, but didn't have time to do anything to even cover himself up. As Beron grabbed him by his hair. Pulled his head back and slapped him across the face.

Eris made the smallest noise of pain, and his father slapped him again. Leaving a big, fiery red handprint across the side of his face. At least this time he didn't cry.

Beron, hands pulling his hair tighter and tighter till it burned pulled his head up and screamed into his face "Stop fucking crying!"

Eris stopped crying, not from any violation of his own, but simply because the fear that shot through his body paralysed him into place.

Beron let his hair drop and headed back for his seat.

Only then were his brothers and mother allowed to return for breakfast. All brought new, piping hot meals. Eris was the only one who had to eat his cold food.

As he left breakfast shaking, he thought about locking himself in his room and sleeping for the rest of the day. Perhaps that was the only way to salvage it.

Then he remembered what he had on his agenda and wanted to scream into a pillow until he had no voice.

The meeting with Rhysand went as well as any sane person could expect.

Rhysand refused to listen to single idea anyone proposed, and shunned any word that came out of Eris' mouth. If Eris wasn't so used to dealing with his father, he may very well have burned Rhysand's wings off. As it were, Beron and Rhysand were the same in too many ways for Rhysand to be a good person in Eris' eyes. Even despite the small list of things he had done right by the world.

The ignorance and arrogance maybe he could deal with. But it was when Cassian made a snide comment about the bruise now blooming on his face, that Eris finally decided he had enough.

It was fine if Cassian wanted to be snide about the bruise. If it were anyone else that said it, Eris would have possibly even laughed it off. But it was Cassian who said it, and Cassian was well aware of where it came from, or at least had a clue. Being the brute was somehow the only one to figure out that Beron tortured his eldest son.

Eris called Cassian exactly what he was, a brute.

He left that meeting with the Shadowsinger's fingerprints bruised in his neck, and some internal damage from a blow to the gut.

Rhysand had the decency to allow him to see a healer before he left and she wasn't much better than all of them either. If the dirty glances and half-assed attempt at properly caring for his wounds wasn't enough, she made one to many comments about him deserving it. She did her job well enough that Eris could breathe and walk with only minor pain, then he got the hell out of there.

To top the day off, as soon as Eris walked through the doors a bucket of water splashed down on him. And he lifted his eyes to see second eldest Vanserra, Silas' guilty ones.

Apparently that bucket on the door was for Brom, the third eldest. Whilst Silas was as apologetic as he could get, Eris didn't say a word and went to his room.

He locked the door.

He grabbed a pillow.

And he screamed so loudly he was certain the pillow was doing nothing and all through the Forest House were simply hearing Eris Vanserra scream out his emotions.

Finally, when his throat was raw, and he could barely talk. Eris let the pillow drop to the ground, and went to his washroom, to at least clean some of the bad day off.

He stripped and changed into sleeping wear. Then started at himself in the mirror.

No Prince stared back.

Just a man with dead eyes, dark circles, a bruise on his face, on his neck and down his chest, and scars up and down his body, some self-inflicted, others punishment. And of course, wild tangled hair.

With a heavy sigh, Eris decided to fix the one thing he could and that was the mess of red that had become his head. Grabbing a brush on his counter, he put it to his hair.

One knot after the other, each more resistant than the last.

"Dear, motherfucking, Cauldron and Mother." Eris cursed as tears edged into his vision. Beron's hand grabbing his hair had rendered his skull sensitive. And yanking at the knots only caused fire to spread over his head.

"Why, why, why." He mumbled as he pulled out another knot. Red strands stuck to the brush, his shirt and fell to the ground.

After half an hour, Eris was tired, he wanted to pass out and there was one knot left.

It was medium sized on the side of his head. And he pulled and pulled and pulled. He tried putting conditioner and moisturiser through it, but it refused to come out.

"Please, please, please." Eris was damn near sobbing. He didn't care anymore, he begged his hair like it would actually listen with tears streaming down his face, some from pain others from exhaustion.

"Please- Fuck!"

The hairbrush snapped into two.

Eris stared with his mouth agape. The half with the bristles caught in the knot, and the handle in his hand.

One heartbeat.

Then the next.

"Why fucking me?!" Eris screamed.

Then a burning smell. Then smoke with in his eyes. Then Eris was desperately reaching inside his core to find the source of the flames and put it out.

"What the fuck?! What the fuck?! What the fuck?!" Eris screamed as he jumped around in a way that may have been comically hilarious if he was the one watching not jumping.

Eventually the smoke stopped, but the burning smell was there. Something smelled charred and awful.

"Good Gods save me." He mumbled, then he turned back to the mirror.

"Oh."

Fuck.

"My."

He was going to hang himself.

"God."

Half of his hair was black and crunchy. Most of it, completely gone.

Nothing but cinders on his shoulders. It left him with hair that stuck up straight, some that fell to just above his eyebrows and all choppy and uneven and smelling like smoke.

"No."

Why.

"No, no, no."

The damned fucking knot was still there and the hairbrush was still stuck.

Eris grabbed his hair and screamed so violently his nose started bleeding.

The door to his room burst open, and the three brothers that remained alive and in the Forest House sprinted into his bathroom.

Brom had an axe above his head, Albus had a wooden spoon and Silas had a metal bat.

"What? Whats-..." Silas started.

The three gaped at their eldest brother. Covered in cinders, half his hair gone, eyes red and puffy and face bruised up.

Eris was breathing hard, he looked between all three of them, then back into the mirror.

He started hyperventilating.

"Oh Eris." Silas dropped his bat and rushed into the bathroom.

Eris couldn't even see straight, he couldn't breathe, the room was too small, and the walls were closing in.

Silas pulled him into his arms and too the floor.

Eris sobbed into his shoulder.

Today was not a good day.

[helenvader]

I just have to quote this in its entirety. 🤣 Trust Fred Colon to make Havelock feel slightly unsettled, and more than slightly ironic.

At precisely eleven o’clock there was a smart rap on Lord Vetinari’s door. The Patrician gave the woodwork a puzzled frown. At last he said: ‘Come.’

Fred Colon entered with difficulty. Vetinari watched him for a few moments until pity overcame even him.

‘Acting captain, it is not necessary to remain to attention at all times,’ he said kindly. ‘You are allowed to unbend enough for the satisfactory manipulation of a doorknob.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari raised a hand to his ear protectively. ‘You may be seated.’

‘Yes, sah!’

‘You may be quieter, too.’

‘Yes, sah!’

Lord Vetinari retreated to the protection of his desk. ‘May I commend you on the gleam of your armour, acting captain—’

‘Spit and polish, sah! No substitute for it, sah!’ Sweat was streaming down Colon’s face.

‘Oh, good. Clearly you have been purchasing extra supplies of spit. Now then, let me see …’

Lord Vetinari drew a sheet of paper from one of the small stacks in front of him. ‘Now then, acti—’

‘Sah!’

‘To be sure. I have here another complaint of over-enthusiastic clamping. I’m sure you know to what I refer.’

‘It was causing serious traffic congestion, sah!’

‘Quite so. It is well known for it. But it is, in fact, the opera house.’

‘Sah!’

‘The owner feels that big yellow clamps at each corner detract from what I might call the tone of the building. And, of course, they do prevent him from driving it away.’

‘Sah!’

‘Indeed. I think that this is a case where discretion might be advisable, acting captain!’

‘Got to make an example to the others, sah!’

‘Ah. Yes.’ The Patrician held another piece of paper delicately between thumb and forefinger, as though it was some rare and strange creature. ‘The others being … let me see if I can recall, some things do stick in the mind so … ah, yes … three other buildings, six fountains, three statues and the gibbet in Nonesuch Street. Oh, and my own palace.’

‘I fully understand you’re parked on business, sah!’

Lord Vetinari paused. He found it difficult to talk to Frederick Colon. He dealt on a daily basis with people who treated conversation as a complex game, and with Colon he had to keep on adjusting his mind in case he overshot. ‘Pursuing the business of your recent career with, I have to admit, some considerable and growing fascination, I am moved to ask you why the Watch now appears to have a staff of twenty.’

‘Sah?’

‘You had around sixty a little while ago, I’m sure.’

Colon mopped his face. ‘Cutting out the dead wood, sah! Making the Watch leaner an’ fitter, sah!’

‘I see. The number of internal disciplinary charges you have laid against your men’ – and here the Patrician picked up a much thicker document – ‘seems somewhat excessive. I see no fewer than one hundred and seventy-three offences of eyeballing, earlobing and nostrilling, for example.’

‘Sah!’

‘Nostrilling, acting captain?’

‘Sah!’

‘Oh. And I see, ah yes, one charge of “making his arm fall off in an insubordinate way” laid against Constable Shoe. Commander Vimes has always given me glowing reports about this officer.’

‘’e’s a nasty piece of work, sah! You can’t trust the dead ones!’

‘Nor, it would seem, most of the live ones.’

‘Sah!’ Colon leaned forward, his face twisted in a ghastly grimace of conspiratoriality. ‘Between you and me, sir, Commander Vimes was a good deal too soft on them. He let them get away with too much. No sugar is safe, sah!’

Vetinari’s eyes narrowed, but the telescopes on Planet Colon were far too unsophisticated to detect his mood.

‘I certainly recall him mentioning a couple of officers whose time-keeping, demeanour, and all-round uselessness were a dreadful example to the rest of the men,’ said the Patrician.

‘There’s my point,’ said Colon triumphantly. ‘One bad apple ruins the whole barrel!’

‘I think there’s only a basket now,’ said the Patrician. ‘A punnet, possibly.’

‘Don’t you worry about a thing, your lordship! I’ll turn things around. I’ll soon get them smartened up!’

‘I am sure you have it in you to surprise me even further,’ said Vetinari, leaning back. ‘I shall definitely keep my eye on you as the man to watch. And now, acting captain, do you have anything else to report?’

‘All nice and quiet, sah!’

‘I would that it was,’ said Vetinari. ‘I was just wondering if there was anything going on involving any person in this city called’ – he looked down at another sheet of paper – ‘Sonky?’

Captain Colon almost swallowed his tongue. ‘Minor matter, sah!’ he managed.

‘So, Sonky is alive?’

‘Er … found dead, sah!’

‘Murdered?’

‘Sah!’

‘Dear me. Many people would not consider that a minor matter, acting captain. Sonky, for one.’

‘Well, sah, not everyone agrees with what he does, sah.’

‘Are we by any chance talking about Wallace Sonky? The manufacturer of rubber goods?’

‘Sah!’

‘Boots and gloves seem non-controversial to me, acting captain.’

‘It’s, er, the other stuff, sah!’ Colon coughed nervously. ‘He makes them rubber wallies, sah.’

‘Ah. The preventatives.’

‘Lot of people don’t agree with that sort of thing, sah.’

‘So I understand.’

Colon drew himself up to attention again. ‘Not natural, in my view, sah. Not in favour of unnatural things.’

Vetinari looked perplexed. ‘You mean, you eat your meat raw and sleep in a tree?’

‘Sah?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing. Someone in Uberwald seems to be taking an interest in him lately. And now he’s dead. I would not dream of telling the Watch their job, of course.’ He watched Colon carefully to see if this had sunk in. ‘I said that it is entirely up to you to choose what to investigate in this bustling city,’ he prompted.

Colon was lost in unfamiliar country without a map. ‘Thank you, sah!’ he barked.

Vetinari sighed. ‘And now, acting captain, I’m sure there’s much that needs your attention.’

‘Sah! I’ve got plans to—’

‘I meant, do not let me detain you.’

‘Oh, that’s all right, sir, I’ve got plenty of time—’

‘Goodbye, Acting Captain Colon.’

Out in the anteroom Fred Colon stood very still for a while, until his heartbeat wound down from a whine to at least a purr.

It had, on the whole, gone quite well. Very well. Amazingly well, really. His lordship had practically taken him into his confidence. He’d called him ‘a man to watch’.

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 9- Finale

*abortion, kidnapping, mentions of rape, language, extreme violence*

(At the end is a choose your own adventure story! I encourage you to read all three)

You find yourself at Vought this time in a new location. There was a copper couch near a giant window overlooking the city, an American flag adorned on the wall, old timey paintings that look like they date back a couple hundred years scattered along the wall. This must be Homelanders penthouse. You look at the man before you, so cock sure and full of himself.

“Look at you! You didn’t vomit this time.”

“Where’s Grace?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her, I’d worry about yourself. Take a seat.” You didn’t obey his order and stood still. “TAKE A FUCKING SEAT!” Homelander points to the sectional, his eyes glowing softly. You follow his command.

“There, was that so hard?”

“So, we’re back on this bullshit huh? You still want a little supe baby?”

“Like I said all those months ago, Butcher took something away from me, now I’m taking something away from him.”

“What makes you think that I would let a child anywhere near you? What kind of mother do you take me for?” Homelander starts chuckling,

“What makes you think that he’ll need a mother? I never had one and I turned out perfect!” Homelander applying extra emphasis on the word perfect.

“Yeah, perfectly psychotic! I bet the real reason why you’re doing this is because everyone is starting to take you as the asshole you are, and they don’t love you anymore. News flash Homelander, no one will ever love you.” Homelander flew to you and grabbed your jaw firmly,

“I’m doing this because I’m the fucking Homelander, and I can do whatever the FUCK I want!” He lets go of your jaw and inspects you up and down like a predator observing his prey. “You’re not one of us anymore. We can’t have that.” You look away from Homelander, a sharky toothed grin spreading along his face as he flew out of the room. Now was your chance, you leaped from the couch and ran for the door. Turning the doorknob, you were knocked back and your back slid across the floor.

Homelander approached you with a syringe full of what you assumed was Compound-V. While you were struggling to ground yourself, he flipped you over injected the substance into your spine, you screamed. A stinging feeling that slowly graduated into your blood feeling like it was boiling. You twisted and contorted in agony, the last time you were injected they gave you a tranquilizer for the pain, this time there was no such kindness.

“Come with me darling, I’ve got such a romantic night planned for us.” Homelander hoisted you up, draped you over his shoulder and made his way up the spiral staircase to his loft.

“I’ll never be the mother to your children!” You said with every bit of strength you had, pounding on his back. It didn’t work. It was like tapping him on the back.

“Yes, you will.” You let out a shrill laugh.

“I aborted that thing you forced inside of me all those months ago you know. I’ll never be anyone’s mother!” This struck a nerve in Homelander, he pushed you off his shoulder and you fell past the stairs and onto the coffee table below, knocking the wind out of you.

“You what?” Homelander was towering over you in no time. He reached down and now had his hands around your neck. Gasping for air, you clawed at his hands, attempting to peel them away. “You BITCH!” Homelander throws you across the room into the granite countertop in his kitchen and it collapses from your weight. You lay there, crumpled in the rubble. Heavy footsteps approaching,

“You killed my baby?!” Homelander picks you up by your neck again and strangles you. What he didn’t know is before you were in his grasp, you grabbed a chunk of debris on the floor. With the Compound- V now pulsing through your veins, you drive the stoney debris into Homelander’s head. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to cause him to drop you and him to stumble backwards. Homelander touches the spot where you hit him, noticing blood on his glove. With a feral yell, Homelander uses his laser eyes on you, which you narrowly escape.

“Hey douchebag.” You turn and see Ben throw a sucker punch to Homelander’s face. Homelander flies backwards and knocks down the dividing wall in his living room. You quickly get up.

“Get out of here doll, I’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this. Go on y/n.” Annie and Kimiko walk into the penthouse and stand next to Ben. You stand in your place. There’s no way that you’re not going to help the three of them take Homelander down.

“Love.” You feel a gentle grasp on your shoulders. You turn hotly on your heels and see Butcher and Hughie standing behind you. “We need to get you outta ‘er.”

“But what about them? They need help.”

“We’ve got a plan. Just trust us.” You follow Butcher and Hughie out of the penthouse and make your way to the elevators. Butcher pressed the button repeatedly.

“You know it’s not going to come here any fast with you pressing the button 10 times.”

“Hughie, shut your fuckin mouth.” The elevator arrives and you hear glass breaking, Annie grunting, punches meeting a solid structure, all coming from the penthouse..

“Love, come on.” You enter the elevator. Pressing the lobby floor button, you feel the elevator start its descent.

“Come on you bastard, go faster.” Then, its as if some sick and twisted deity listened to Butchers silent prayers, there was a loud metallic clank and then, free falling.

The elevator, with the three of you in it, fell many floors. It stopped suddenly and the three of you slammed on the floor of the elevator, mildly disoriented. Butcher got up and popped the trap door open on the roof of the elevator. You used your strength to hoist him up so he can get a better look.

“We’re close to a stop. About 3 feet away.” You pushed Butcher up and helped Hughie follow. You used your strength to pry open the doors and the three of you filtered into the hallway. You hear a scream coming from the elevator shaft and then the elevator fell.

“Annie!” Hughie’s scream echoed in the cold, dark tube.

“Hughie, we gotta stick to the plan. Annie will be alright.” With some more coaxing, you were able to get Hughie to follow the two of you, looking for a stairwell. You start to feel uneasy on this level… and for good reason. It’s the lab. This is where you were brought the first time Homelander kidnapped you. It looks basically the same, save for some neon green tubes which housed the Temp-V. You look at Butcher and he appears like a man jonesing for his next fix. You tug on his sleeve,

“Come on, we need to leave.” Butcher continued to stare at the substances on the counter.

“Billy, you-” before you could finish your sentence, Homelander burst through the ceiling and grabbed Butcher, knocking Hughie to the floor unconscious.

“NO!” You shriek. You grabbed Homelander by his shoulders, but he shrugs you off. Then, one punch, two punch. You hear bones cracking in Butchers face. Watching in horror as the ‘hero’ in front of you, beat up your boss, your friend, your confidant. Butchers face now quickly bloody and swollen, even after a few hits. This lit a fire in your belly, one you never felt before, you were vibrating with rage. Everything around you became zeroed in on Homelander.

“HEY!” you shout, voice demonic and unrecognizable. Butcher dropped limp to the floor, his face badly beaten, blood oozing from his mouth. Homelander’s focus was now on you. “Leave him alone.”

“Or what?”

“I’m going to kill you.” You pick up a metal stool and threw it at Homelander, he dodges most of it, but the leg grazed his arm and left a substantial gash, the wound rapidly bleeding through his uniform. You stalk towards him, watching his every move as the two of you move around in a circle. Homelander’s lips were pursed together, wheels in his head spinning, then laser eyes. You dodged the attack yet again, ducking behind a counter. Homelander begins to approach you when,

“You don’t get to run away from me that easy.” Ben grabs a fistful of Homelander’s cape and yanks, causing Homelander to lose his balance and fall backwards.

“I used to idolize you growing up! I watched all your movies. I thought that you were the only one that was as strong at me!” Homelander shouts.

“You think you are as strong as me, you wear a fucking cape! You’re just a cheap knockoff!”

“No, I’m better!” Homelander shoots his laser eyes at Ben, but he repels the beams using his shield. Homelander continues to use his laser beams, you notice Ben’s strength is waning.

“You were the old, broken version. I am-AHH!” Homelander lets out a blood curdling scream. While he was distracted, you grabbed large pieces of broken glass and ran to the cunt and jammed it into his eyes from behind. No more laser eyes. You picked Homelander up by the collar as he continued screaming and punched as hard as you could, he went flying back though 3 separate lab rooms. Meeting him where he landed, you knelt over his chest. Homelander attempted to push you off him, but between the pain in his eyes and the punch you just delt him, he was confused.

“This is for all the poor saps you fucked up over the years!” One punch and cracking filled the lab room. “This is for RAPING ME and TURNING ME INTO A GODDAMN SUPE!” Another crack. You leaned in closer and whispered, “And this? This is for Lenny.” The last punch you delivered wasn’t inflicted on his face but was directed through the left side of his chest. Homelander let out a garbled cry as you removed your hand, ripping out his heart.

When you saw Homelander, lifeless on the ground, your rage dissipated, and you began to shake from exertion. Using Homelander’s suit to wipe his blood off your hands, you unsteadily got up on your feet. You hear a commotion coming from behind you.

You choose.....

Butcher Soldier Boy Y/N

@butchers-girl @deans-spinster-witch @xmariakx @my-obsession-spn

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 6

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: drinking AN: Hey look- Y'all get to meet the kiddo! You think I stretched it out long enough? Chapter 5, Masterlist, Chapter 7 ~~~~~~~~~

Mia wanted to puke as her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. She wasn’t ready to face her sister but Ashley was a storm of her own; Ashley had never once waited until someone was ready to face her. That wasn’t something that was going to change now. The door creaked as she pulled it open, the old hinges screaming for her. 

“Mom!” Sally shouted and ran forward as soon as the door opened. You could be forgiven for thinking they had been apart for weeks based on the excitement level but it had only been a day and a half. 

“My Little Flower,” Mia wrapped her daughter up in her arms. Picking the small girl up, Mia let the momentum spin them around. “I missed you.” 

“Auntie Ashley let me have Ice-cream for lunch!” Mai made a face of over dramatic horror while Sally only giggled. Ashley made a show of lecturing Sally about tattling to Mom about their adventures while Mia cried, “Ice Cream isn’t lunch!” 

“It is when it’s over a hundred outside. Vegas rules- it’s on the back of the sign.” Ashley stepped inside, small pink backpack hanging over her shoulder.

“I’ll have to check the back of the sign on my way home next time!” Mia teased the little girl, rubbing her nose against the much smaller button nose. Sally had gotten many of her father’s features but mother and daughter shared noses. 

“Why don’t you take your bag to your room?” Ashley swung the bag off her shoulder and held it out. “Your momma and I need to have some words about when ice cream can be counted as a meal.”

As soon as her little feet touched the floor, Sally was slipping light up pink shoes off her feat and grabbed her bag. She glanced at the stranger in her home and gave him a small wave before tiny feet made a series of thumps, loud in the way only a five year old going up a flight of stairs can manage and trailed backpack behind her as she disappeared.

“Unpack your bag!” Mia yelled in the direction of the stairs. A sound that she hoped was agreement came from above. “And put your dirty laundry in the hamper!”

“Should I go somewhere?” Tom wasn’t sure where he would go but he wanted to give the women privacy. Perhaps he was more trying to ensure his safety based on the fire in Ashley’s eyes.

“Stay right there.” Ashely sounded as if she owed the apartment. Mia wasn’t going to put herself anymore in the line of fire by arguing though. 

“You better keep that little girl safe.” Ashley was clearly worried and who could blame her?

“I wouldn’t put her in harms way intentionally.” Said the woman who got wasted when she was supposed to just be having a quiet night in the hotel she worked at while the AC was down in her apartment. She was the woman who married a total stranger. 

Could she really say that anymore?

Ashley opened her mouth to say something. Mia knew what she would say; everything she herself had been stressing about as soon as Tom made it clear he didn’t want to cut things off.

“I know you don’t know me-” Tom interjected, putting himself in the line of fire with clear hesitation. Family squabbles were always a delicate minefield but this wasn’t his battle ground and he had no idea where the mines were lurking. 

“Oh but I do, Mr. Big Shot Actor.” 

Mia winced at Ashely’s tone. That had to sting. She was thankful that someone other than her took some shots though.

Sighing, he approached what felt very much like a trap. 

“Yes, I am an actor. Yes, I’m experiencing some successes at the moment. Will the momentum continue? I certainly hope so but there is no guarantee.” Running his hand through his hair, he didn’t know what he needed to say but settled on, “Do not hold my career against me.”

“What does an actor who’s working on something as huge as freaking Marvel want with a Vegas casino cocktail waitress?” Ashley’s voice rose and Mia quickly reminded her to mind her volume. Now wasn’t the time to defend her job- Ashley had her points but goddamn did they sting. 

“What isn’t there to want?” Mia struggled to read the tone in Tom’s words. 

“A kid.” Ashely’s voice was cold as ice. 

Mia was starting to feel like a spectator watching a tennis match as Ashley and Tom went back and forth. A beer and some popcorn and it could pass as a Vegas show.

“I don’t mind that she has a kid.” He sounded honest. 

“But would you have?” Ashley pushed. 

She was good at pushing, that was why she had a decent job and a good partner in her life. That’s why she amounted to far more than a Las Vegas casino cocktail waitress. 

“If I speak honestly, I can’t say.” Ashley started to say something but Tom didn’t give her a chance to make more than a sound, “For all I know, she told me last night. I don’t know. Neither of us can remember more than bits and pieces. What I can say is that I am committed to giving this a fair chance for me, for her and from the moment I found out about her, for that little girl up there. This marriage deserves a fair chance and I intend to give it that.”

~~~<3

When Ashely was satisfied that Tom would be safe around Sally, she went up to say her goodbyes upstairs. It was hard to say who was more thankful when the front door clicked shut behind Ashley when she left.

 Giggles came from the floor above, giving away the unbothered joy of a child that Mia was envious of. Kids, man- they have things so easy.

“I swear to you,” Tom said, breaking the silence that had started to build in the room. “I will not hurt her.”

“Don’t promise that. There’s no way this works out. Because of that, there is no way she dosen’t get hurt. Hopefully it won’t be bad.” 

It had been two years since Ray had walked out of their lives, out of Sally’s life, most importantly. Not once had Mia dated anyone seriously in that long and lonely time. 

Sally hadn’t ever been introduced to a boyfriend and now she had a step father and she didn’t even know it.

“Mia-” She cut him off.

“We need to get you settled in.” Mia's voice was thick and she was feeling overwhelmed. 

What she really wanted was to go upstairs, find the deepest darkest corner of her closet to sit in and cry. The stress was suffocating and there was still so much that needed to be figured out.

“Are you alright?” Tom scooted closer on the couch and reached out. There was hesitation in his touch but she didn’t have the energy to pull away.

They had been married for half a day and it could be counted on one hand the amount of times they had touched. She didn’t realize she was holding back tears until one slipped from her eye. It felt strange to have someone wipe it away. 

It felt nice to have his hand resting against her cheek. 

“What do we tell her?” Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Crying could happen later when the neighborhood was asleep. 

“I’m a friend visiting?” Tom offered. 

“Who’s that?” Mia coughed back her emotions at the sound of Sally’s voice. 

Mia jerked back from Tom’s touch. It was reflexive and she nearly fell off the small couch from the force of it. Tom looked to her for guidance, letting her lead him through the interaction. 

For that, she was thankful. 

“Well,” Clearing her throat, she stood and walked toward Sally. “This is Thomas. He’s a special friend of Mom’s. He’s going to be visiting for a while. Would you like to introduce yourself?” 

Sally wasn’t much of a shy child, though if anyone asked her she would insist she was. Short legs took her right up to the couch. 

“My name is Sally.” She was matter of fact. “I’m five. In a few months, I get to start school!” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Sally.”

“You talk funny.” Sally giggled. Behind her, Mia cringed back and mouthed an apology to Tom who only laughed. 

“I do, don’t I? I’m not from around here- to me, everyone else here talks funny.”

“Where are you from?” Sally was quick to warm up to anyone. 

“I’m from England. It’s very far away. There, everyone talks like me and only a few people talk like you.”

“Wooow!” Sally had a way of drawing out her ‘wow’s, as if the longer the wow, the more impressed she was. Mia had no idea where her daughter picked it up but she was always amused by it.

“Everything here is just a little bit different. Will you help me when I get confused?” 

Sally nodded eagerly. There were few things she liked more than to have a job. “Why are you here?” 

“I’m here visiting and making friends. Will you be my friend?”

“Sure! I’m going to go color you a picture!” She announced, running back up the stairs.

“Well, that went well.” Mia sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, running her nails across her scalp. It was a habit she had tried to break plenty of times, it made her hair look greasy quicker, always seemed to pull some hairs out and it tangled her hair, making it even more of a annoyance to brush at the end of the night. “Thank you for humoring her.”

“To little ears accents can be exciting.” Silence ticked on, neither were sure what to say. The situation was weird and without anything to direct conversation, it returned to two strangers in a room. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Mai didn’t know what else to say but the silence needed to end. 

“Water is fine.” She wasn’t sure how to make him feel comfortable in her home. Did she even want him to feel comfortable. As the tap ran, Tom looked around. “Is there somewhere out of the way you’d like my bags?” 

Mia looked around the room herself. There wasn’t a hall closet, shoes instead were piled on a small shelf by the door and coats hung on a hook by the door. The broom and mop hung from hooks on the wall in the open. Looking at Tom even, it was clear that he wouldn’t fit on the couch. 

He wouldn’t fit in the space. 

It was more than that though. He wouldn’t fit in her life and they surely couldn’t fit in his. 

~~~~~<3

The champagne in her glass was delicious, or she was just so wasted that she thought it was. Either could be true, if she was honest with herself. Her head spun so she did too, in the middle of a sea of white and twinkling lights sparkling off glitter and gems.

Feet tangled together and champagne spilled as the floor tipped and twisted. Strong arms caught her. 

A prince caught her. 

He was her prince, wasn’t he? 

This was a dream, a fairy tale. This wasn’t real. This happened in movies. 

Was she in a movie? Was she asleep? If she was, she wanted to enjoy the dream while it lasted. 

“Did you pick a dress?” His voice was smooth as velvet as she swam in his ocean blue eyes. Was it lame to think of his eyes as ocean blue? Was that something people only thought in books?

“I can’t pick.” Each option seemed to be swept from her mind with each sip from her glass. “It’s too much pressure!”

“But its for forever.” He leaned down and kissed her hard and quick, leaving her breathless and head spinning for a whole different reason. 

“That just adds more pressure.” Time was running out. Like a princess, when the clock struck midnight her life would change forever. 

“Ma’am, please bring the most flattering dress. We’ll trust your expert opinion. Shall we dance while we wait for her?” He spun Mia around in a clumsy circle as the staff fluttered off. 

It was ten thirty, far too early to be this drunk but it didn’t stop them. They were making their own magic, set to the timing of some internal clock that only they could read. This was their night.a

~~~~~<3 Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze@kats72

[famousfilmsfan]

Season 2

Bryan: You know. You guys are kinda hypoctires

Freddy: What?

Bonnie: Why?

Bryan: You tell me to get help but refuse to tell me when I have my appointments until they happen and refuse to let me make my own appointments.

Freddy: That’s because...uh.

Bryan: And you tell me I should spend more time at home away from you and have a personal life but everytime I do, you force yourselves into my house and mess with my personal life. Which is it? Want me to be my own person or have you guys in it all the time?

Bonnie: That’s because we..

Bryan: and you guys say I don't take Constructive criticism well. Your critisim isn't constructive at all you just say that ‘This building sucks’ ‘Your layout is utter nonsense’ ‘This design is bad’ You don't even try to be nice about it or think that, I DIDNT DESIGN THIS PLACE! HELPY DID!

Bonnie: But uh...You did visit this place to okay it...right?

Bryan: No. Helpy didn't even tell me the address until we got here after the pizzeria burned down. Also you say ‘You’re bad with money’ whenever I buy myself clothes or accessories when you guys are allowing Helpy and the others to buy silly shit they don't even use, and you don't say that to them.

Bonnie: There is a reason for that.

Bryan: Which is?

Bonnie: Well...Helpy..is..smart?

Bryan: She fell for a Nigerian prince scam, three times!

Bonnie:...A different kind of smart.

Bryan: And then there's my sleep schedule. You tell me to sleep more but in the middle of the night, you wake me up for stupid reasons! You do it because you can't tell me in the morning because i’m ‘Forgetful’

Bonnie: Then when are we supposed to tell you?

Bryan: In the afternoon? Like 3 PM? When i’m awake for a while?

Bonnie: Oh. Forgot that was an option.

Freddy: Yeah same here.

Bryan: Now, have anything you want to say?

Freddy: Well..Uh. You should really be more mature about this. So we’re hypocrites, stop being a baby about it.

Bryan: You have no place to talk about being mature, you died when you were ten you don't even know how babies are made.

Freddy: Yes I do!

Bryan: Then how?

Freddy: *unsure* When..a mommy and daddy love each other.

Bryan: See? You call me a child even though you are literally still children playing grownup!

Bonnie: Well we’re not throwing a tantrum.

Bryan: Actually when you reach a certain age it’s called a mental breakdown. And i’m sorry you guys don't like me having feelings. If you couldn't tell that was sarcasm.

Bonnie: Why even bring this thing up?

Bryan: Therapy.

Freddy: You’re seeing another therapist?

Bryan: No you guys are.

Freddy: What?

Bryan pushes two of them into a room and locks it. There's a guy in there.

Bonnie: You can't do this!

Bryan: Why? You force me to go to therapy how is this different?

Bonnie: We don't need it!

Bryan: You have a large lack of communication skills, you favor others and hate me even though they do worse things, you blame me for things that aren't my fault. And we have no idea why Freddy has such bad anger issues.

Freddy: I DONT HAVE ANGER ISSUES! *Pulls the doorknob off the door*...Okay maybe I do but I don't...need help.

Bryan: I’ve said that hundreds of times but you ignored it, so i’ll ignore it.

Freddy: You’ll have to let us out sooner or later....Bryan! Bryan!

Bonnie:...I think he left.