#and straight up told her she pretty much implied he should come into her house to you know what. oh and he followed her 😬

[angelbesideme]

#they should have been the main couple

#milk pansa #jane ramida #lakornet #lakornladies #asiandramanet #dailyasiandramas #thaidramaedit #thai actress #oops! mr. superstar hit on me #ninisdarlings #(nini i’m sorry for tagging you idk if you’d be interested but milk is here so 👉🏻👈🏻) #i was curious so i watched the first ep and…… yeah #it could have been sm worse so i’ll give them that but jesus the main lead is just so…. idk #i have nothing against the actor obviously but the character… like he made the girl sit on his lap to do his makeup #and straight up told her she pretty much implied he should come into her house to you know what. oh and he followed her 😬 #they try to make him look romantic and a heartthrob but nope nope nope #look at gmmtv giving us that when we could have been getting THIS #im already mad at them for never giving us a namtan x jane gl so they better do give milk and love one or else 🔪 #anyways i’m rambling #i probably won’t make any more gifs of this series but i just wanted a few milk x jane ones on my blog just because #gifs #mine

[bitterseaproduction]

Me again, thanks for the answer. It was a thought on a possible birthday drabble for grandlovescheme :) If you like supernatural Daemyra you should check out her chats in ask. But okay, I love that you said that about rejection. Because I think Rhaenyra understands, but I also think that it really did feel like a rejection to her all the same. And I think that hurt is still there. Yes, he did finally spend the night with her but he still never said he wants to marry her. I know why he didn't but I'm sure she still has that doubt that goes back over ten years that mirrors does he want me/does he want to marry me. And I like how you layer all that. At the dinner she told everyone, including him she never wanted to marry again. I'm sure she understood what she said to her father and to Daemon himself about her true feelings. And even though time has passed I really doubt Daemon even said anything about her decision. Which would lend more into the doubts she has. I guess I hope one day she gets to hear him say all the things she has needed to hear to really heal, for so long. My question is more of a thought I had reading your last update than an actual straight forward question I guess. I was thinking as I was reading about the favor that it's wonderful they both worked together for Helena and for their goals. But a small part of me wondered if part of the conversation we didn't see was them hinting each other about him asking for her favor. Like alluding to that he would have if not for them having a plan. I don't think he would have actually. But I do think it could have been a light moment for them to wish and, what if for a moment. I'm sure Rhaenyra thought about it when she talked to him, even if she won't say it to him. Maybe after she thanks him for agreeing to did it. Daemon could have said something like Perhaps I could/would have asked for another favor were this not a plan. And Rhaenyra sad wistful moment that they need not wonder about that now.

Hello! Absolutely, apologies for the delay in replying this time.

And yes, I ended up talking out Daemon's motivations with a friend of mine a while back and it really comes down to this is the same guy who walked into almost certain death in the Stepstones rather than accept help from his brother, who walked away (albeit temporarily) when Viserys denied him Rhaenyra, who did not follow through when Rhaenyra goaded him on at her wedding despite being willing to spill blood to free himself to wed. He clearly wants Rhaenyra, but he has so many hang-ups over his brother and is not TRULY willing to turn over the boat himself, just rock it now and then, that if they have to go through Viserys to be together, it would inevitably be a problem.

And as you say, Rhaenyra knows it. And it stings that she knows he wants her just as much as she wants him, but his resentment (and yes, love) of his brother is just that great. And I plan to tackle it directly more later, but I love the dichotomy of rebellion and loyalty to family in Daemon. I sincerely think there's no one alive who places more importance on what it means to be of House Targaryen during The Dance than Daemon himself, and The Thing he did presumably coming next season only amplifies that belief.

But as to your question-thought, I think you are quite on the money. I didn't deep-consider the conversation that happened (and I imagine there will be more of that sort of thing as the story starts to speed up in the next leg) BUT the chapter where Rhaenyra & Daemon chat on the way to the council meeting is pretty much who I imagine them interacting now, light and affectionate with a lot of unsaid meaning (like Daemon basically implying he's not sleeping with anyone else by saying he doesn't attend brothels now).

I've probably rambled enough, but yes, I basically give a full blessing on that favor take. :)

#daemyra #a truth so strong #daemon targaryen #anon reply

[wat-the-cur]

Some more Trigger headcanons (TW: Mentions of neglect and ableism):

- In “Ashes To Ashes” Trigger implies that his mother died when he was little, making it necessary for his grandparents to take him and his sister in. This is supported by him referring to her in the past tense, in “Video Nasty”. While I do believe his mother did die, I feel that Trigger went to live with his grandparents, before she did.  Elsie Ball, as many young mums are, was totally unprepared to have a child, when she had Trigger. Unfortunately, as little Trigger got older, Elsie never got any better at looking after him. It was not that she was necessarily cruel, but she was neglectful in a lot of ways, a lot of her young son’s essential needs slipping her mind. As Trigger is autistic, there were things that were more difficult to do for him, like bathing and feeding him, and teaching him language and motor skills. As a result, Elsie did not try for very long, and simply did what was easiest.  Trigger was four when he went to live with Alice and Arthur Ball, a year before his little sister was born. When Trigger got to his grandparents, he had not been potty trained, he could not speak and he was borderline anaemic, from living off bread and biscuits.  - Elsie died not long after giving birth to Trigger’s sister. For some years, Trigger believed his baby sister had arrived one day, in his Nan’s handbag. - It was Aunt Reenie who solved the bathing problem. She found that Trigger responded much better, if he was told he was going to have a bath a bit beforehand. She was also more gentle when washing and rinsing him, talking him through it and trying not to let water, or soap run over his face. He would still whine and squirm, but he would not scream and cry, as he had done before.  - Trigger learned to speak fluently by seven years old. He still had a bit of a stutter and difficulty pronouncing certain words, making it necessary for him to speak slowly.  -  When Arthur first started taking Trigger to work with him, he tied him to his waist with some string, so he would not wander off. As it turned out, this was unnecessary, as Trigger was so disinclined to wander off that his Grandad would accidentally hit him in the face with the broom many times.  - He was not good at sports in school, due to coordination issues, but he loved to move around. Sport was the only subject he really enjoyed, providing there was not too much contact. Much as the coach did not want him on the football team, he could not legally refuse him and it helped that Trigger’s mates all spoke up for him, as well. While Trigger never got to be a terrific footballer, he did get to be pretty good.  - Trigger never really got used to being in the young offenders home, even by the end of the eighteen months. When he first got there, he had to hide whenever he could to cry, and sometimes he couldn’t help crying in front of the other boys. He had been able to defend himself alright in Peckham, but being in a foreign environment, away from his friends and loved ones really took the wind out of his sails. He was knocked straight to the bottom of the pecking order. He would not start moving up it, until he befriended a smaller boy, in a similar position to himself. He decided he was going to look after him. He first fought back, on a day when he watched his friend getting picked on for crying over the death of a family member. A whole lot of rage came out and he ended up beating the perpetrator, brutally. This made a lot of the boys think he was unstable and could turn on a knife edge. He still had a number of run ins, before his sentence was over.  - Denzil used to write to Trigger, while he was at the home. The other lads knew this and would get him to read out the letters that Trigger sent back.  - It took Trigger a while, after coming out of the home, to readjust. He would move around his grandparents house, like he was not sure he should be there. He was jumpy and humourless, not as engaged with his school friends as he had been. Whenever an adult addressed him, he stood up and spoke like an army cadet.

- Trigger never saw his friend from the home, again, but they became lifelong pen pals.  - Though Boycie was never exactly a good friend to Trigger, he would always hang around with him and sometimes show him a little favour, when they were young. They made a bit of a habit of stealing bottles of Mr. Boyce’s brandy and drinking it in the park, or pulling pranks on the teachers.  - All of the lads had dalliances with Marlene, before she married Boycie (and possibly after). Her time with Trigger started after he agreed to piggyback her home, when she was wearing an ill fitting pair of heels. He had not anticipated expected a snog afterwards, but he got it.  - Trigger is not especially fussy when it comes to how a lady looks, but he does like blonde hair a lot. 

#only fools and horses #ofah #headcanons #trigger (only fools and horses) #colin “trigger” ball #british sitcom #80s sitcom

[theneondemonx]

HOUDINI | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.

▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship

▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 3464

▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk

( ➜ Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad

You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.

Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.

No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.

You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.

He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.

Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.

But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.

So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.

You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.

You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.

And again, you believed him.

He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.

When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.

The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.

He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.

What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.

“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”

You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.

How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.

You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.

“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.

“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”

Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.

“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”

You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.

“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”

He chuckled darkly.

“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”

He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Did you let him touch you?”

“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.

He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.

“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.

“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”

He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.

You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.

You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.

You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.

“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.

The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.

You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.

You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.

“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”

Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.

“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.

“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”

“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.

You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.

Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.

“Fuck! Jungkook!”

He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.

When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”

His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.

“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.

He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.

“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”

You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.

“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”

Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.

You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.

You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.

A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.

“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.

The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.

“Take off your dress and bra.”

Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.

“Now bend over the couch.”

Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.

He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.

He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.

“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”

You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.

“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”

“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”

He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.

“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.

You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.

“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”

You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.

Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.

“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.

He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.

“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.

“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.

You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.

He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.

“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”

And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.

I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“I love you too, baby.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jk #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook criminal au #smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts criminal au #fanfic #oneshot #bts oneshot #bts x reader #criminal au

[griffintail]

I had this idea, I dunno if it’s dumb or not, but I figured if anyone knew it would be you! Y’know, cause you seem like you know way more than me about all these mcyt guys and gals? Anyways, I saw that a lot of people headcanon that Shlatt was Tubbo’s dad, and seeing all those dad!Shlatt AUs gave me an idea:

What if after Shlatt’s dead, after things have settled, after Tubbo becomes president and spends most of his time cleaning up the messes and mistakes Shlatt left behind- he discovers he wasn’t Shlatt’s only child. He finds handwritten letters in Shlatt’s files from a distant village, all of them fairly recent, asking him for child support money, or asking him to take “his mistake” with him. But the last letter Tubbo finds is a typed one informing Shlatt that the woman who sent all the previous letters has died, and that he has 1 month to come collect his child, or they’ll become a ward of the state; it’s been roughly 2 and a half weeks since that letter arrived. How would Tubbo react to all of this, and more importantly, would he take on the responsibility of becoming his new sibling’s guardian?

I don’t know how I became the person to come to for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

The Girl with the Horns

Pairings: Brother! Tubbo x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, Implied Buillying, Swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Tubbo looked up the old White House building, taking a deep breath before going in. Inside, he immediately scrunched up his nose at the familiar smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

        “Damn it, dad.” He muttered under his breath before starting to clean up the building.

        He said he’d clean the building out himself as his father was the one who trashed it and now was that day. A lot of his presidency was cleaning up Schlatt’s mistakes before he even ran the rest of his new country. He sighed as he put another empty bottle in a trash bag. Schlatt had really lost it running things.

        Slowly but surely, Tubbo was able to get the White House to a much cleaner state. He was now in the main office and was searching the drawers for his father's inevitable “secret” booze stashes when he found some handwritten letters tucked in the very back of the drawer. Frowning, Tubbo took them out and saw them all addressed to Schlatt.

        Sitting down, Tubbo read the letter on top and his eyes went wide, back going straight as he reread the words before him.

        I want money for this child you helped bring into this world!

        A child?

        The rest of the letter was talking about asking for child support and Tubbo was floored. Quickly, he read the next letter and it was much of the same, demanding Schlatt to take responsibility.

        “Holy shit…” Tubbo muttered. “I got…I got a sibling?”

        He made his way through the rest of the letters, his heart clenching when the woman writing the letters called his poor sibling a mistake or made stabs at Schlatt.

        Then the last letter was a lot more formal. It was stamped with an official seal and dated. Schlatt had opened it as told by the broken seal but had obviously also put the letter back without a care after reading. Tubbo’s breath hitched as he read the letter though.

          Dear Mr. Jschlatt:

        We are sorry to inform you Miss Trentha has passed in an accident.

        Behind, she has left a five-year-old (Y/N), of which in our records has your name on her birth papers. We will give you a month’s time to make a decision; after, we will have no choice but to send (Y/N) to become a ward of the state.

                Tubbo quickly looked at the date of when the letter was sent.

        “Two and a half weeks!” Tubbo exclaimed as he jumped up. “Shit! What should I do?”

        He looked around the office he had spent time cleaning trying to process everything at once, words failing him. In a few short moments, he had found out he wasn’t an only child, that Schlatt hadn’t even looked back at this girl or her horrible mother, and that the sibling he just found out about was going to become a ward of the state! Schlatt had at least been kind enough to Tubbo to let Philza raise him but this child going into the adoption system…

        “I-I got to run L’Manberg. There’s so much to do.” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair as he panicked.

        But then Tommy’s words echoed in his head.

        You can’t become the next Schlatt.

        Schlatt was obviously going to let this child fend for themselves, Tubbo couldn’t be his father. He had to at least meet them. With a new will, he gathered around his friends, and with reassurances that they had L’Manberg covered, Tubbo set off on a horse to the village. It was a good three-day journey, so he’d only have roughly a week left to make his decision of what he was going to do.

        Coming to the village, Tubbo took a deep breath as he stared at it. What was she going to be like? She probably didn’t have the best raising based on the letters that the mother sent. Tying up the horse outside the main hall, Tubbo went in, going through the various processes to prove that he was indeed Jschlatt’s child and proving that his father was dead.

        After, they took Tubbo to a home where a bunch of children were outside playing but there was one that stood out among them and it wasn’t because she was sitting alone. It was because she had tiny horns on top of her head that were just starting to come in. Tubbo put a hand on his horns that were just starting to curl without thinking.

        “That’s (Y/N).” The man that led him here nodded to the little girl.

        “She’s five, right?” Tubbo asked.

        “Yes. She’s not very talkative, but you can introduce yourself to her.”

        Tubbo had few guesses why she didn’t want to talk. He went over, a few of the other kids were pointing at him. (Y/N) was using a stick to push images in the dirt, looking up when a shadow got in the way of the sun. Tubbo smiled when he saw her surprise when she looked up at him, he sitting next to her, wearing his casual wear rather than his suit.

        “Hi. I’m Tubbo.” He introduced himself to her.

        (Y/N) was silent as she stared obviously at his horns. “You have horns…”

        “Yeah, I do. I’m a ram just like you.”

        “Really?” She met his eyes now.

        “Mhm. I, uh, I actually knew your dad because he was my dad.”

        She shifted as she looked back at the ground. “Daddy was a bad man.”

        Tubbo winced, putting a hand on his neck. “Why do you say that?”

        “Mommy use to say that.”

        “Ah. Well…dad wasn’t the greatest, I agree. It wasn’t nice for him to leave you alone.”

        The little girl was silent and Tubbo tried to think of a subject change.

        “Do you like drawing?”

        She nodded. “Mommy wouldn’t let me use paper but I like drawing in the dirt.”

        “Oh…do you…have any friends?”

        She put a hand on one of her little horns and he immediately understood.

        “I get it.” He smiled gently, putting a hand on his horn. “I didn’t have a lot of friends until I met my best friend Tommy. I’m sure you will find some friends.”

        His heart melted as she gave him her first small smile. “I hope so.”

        He sat with her just talking away, the time passing so fast without either of them knowing as they talked. He felt like he learned so much but so little about her; yet, he loved every moment sitting with her. She had to go back with the other children of the orphanage but within a few hours, Tubbo made up his mind. He couldn’t leave this little girl with everyone else; he’d take her back to L’Manberg.

        So, in the morning, Tubbo put on his suit to be professional and he did the paperwork before waiting for them to bring (Y/N). (Y/N) came in timidly and Tubbo smiled gently as he crouched in front of her.

        “Hey, so, I don’t want to leave without you, would you like to come with me? I can introduce you to a few of my good friends.”

        “…They’re all nice like you, right?”

        He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, a few of them are pretty nice.”

        She looked around but nodded. “Ok.”

        He grinned as he stood up. “Then I’m going to take you back to my home.”

        They got the few things that she owned and Tubbo put them on the horse. After, Tubbo changed into more appropriate riding clothes before getting on with (Y/N).

        “Alright, here we go.” He muttered before getting the horse to go.

        Off they went to L’Manberg, Tubbo making sure they had shelter each night. It was a bit stressful for Tubbo on these few days. He had gotten used to not eating every day but he had to remember now to make sure (Y/N) ate. He also had to remember this was boring as hell for her so he tried his best to make little games as they galloped along. There was a point he went off on a bee tangent for half an hour after spotting one and pouted to himself when he saw (Y/N) had fallen asleep against him but he kept an arm wrapped around her so she didn’t fall off.

        As he got back to L’Manberg, he huffed as he saw Tommy and Fundy arguing as Quackity was laughing, Ranboo standing to the side awkwardly. Yeah, that’s how he expected his cabinet to act with him gone. He tied up his horse, grabbing (Y/N)’s things before taking her hand as he walked over to them. As the pair went over, (Y/N) hide behind him shyly.

        “Guys!” Tubbo called.

        “Tubbo! Tell this furry bitch—” Tommy started.

        “Oh, fuck off Tommy!” Fundy shouted back.

        They started having another go.

        “GUYS!” Tubbo shouted, making (Y/N) jump with the rest of the group. “I have someone for you to meet, so can you shut it?”

        Tommy spotted the little girl peeking out from behind Tubbo, noticing the horns first.

        “Holy shit, she has horns like yours.” Tommy went around Tubbo.

        “Yeah, this is (Y/N), she’s my little sister.”

        “A sister?!” Tommy looked at Tubbo surprised.

        Tubbo nodded. “I adopted her.”

        “I’m sorry?”

        “It’s a long story but I’m back and I’m got to bring her to my house,” Tubbo told them before walking off, feeling the little girl squeeze his hand tighter, probably getting overwhelmed.

        They got to Tubbo’s house and he looked around.

        “Er…You can have my room. I’ll need to make you a room.” He smiled at her.

        “Ok…thank you.”

        He patted her head between her horns. “I couldn’t leave you behind sis. Let’s get you settled in and I can make us some steak. Sound good?”

        She nodded.

        Tubbo knew it would be stressful learning to take care of another human while he had to run a nation but he had his friends to help him. He hoped he could do all this right.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

[liquorisce]

the girl in the meadow

pairing: armin x annie | ao3

summary: Burdened by his parents' broken marriage, Armin's family relocates to Shiganshina. There, he meets a girl in the meadow. 

//“Does it hurt?” he asks, gesturing to her bleeding nose.“Not as much as it probably hurts for my dad,” she says, taking what he offers, proud despite her obvious pain. “I made sure he’ll never walk straight again in his life.” //

cw: implied child abuse, death, supernatural elements

He slipped out of his house as soon as the voices started getting louder. He cringes as he walks down the street and he still manages to hear a loud crash from his house. It makes him want to hide when they yell like this; makes him wonder what happened to the parents who’d read him books when he was younger, who’d taken him travelling and told him to be curious about the world.

Now they could barely speak one civil word to each other. Apparently that’s why they were moving– Trost had too much history for his parents, too many misunderstandings. In front of him, however, they’d smiled large, toothy, fake grins. Shiganshina is nice, they’d told him. “It’s small, lots of greenery, lots of open spaces to play for a kid your age!” 

Enough open space for him to get lost, he thinks wistfully, as he finds himself in a large open field, stretching his hands out under the clear sky. He lies like that for a while, watching the clouds drift past through his crooked glasses, until he hears a sniffle from beside him. 

A little girl stands not too far away, blonde hair and blue eyes just like him, mouth set stubbornly, actively willing tears not to drip down her nose. 

Despite the eternal fighting at home, Armin had turned out to be an attentive, helpful boy, so he hands out his handkerchief to the girl. “Does it hurt?” he asks, gesturing to her bleeding nose. 

“Not as much as it probably hurts for my dad,” she says, taking what he offers, proud despite her obvious pain. “I made sure he’ll never walk straight again in his life.” 

Armin looks at her thoughtfully. “Do you fight a lot with your dad?”

She turns to him properly, and he sees the marks on her face, obvious red bruises as if someone had backhanded her. “He deserves it.”

“My parents fight a lot too.” All the time. Every day. About everything. It makes his ears hurt. 

“With you?” 

He shakes his head, feeling bad when he notices the way her eye is starting to swell. “Good,” she says. “If they ever lay a hand on you, just tell me. I’ll show you some moves.” And she winks, her black eye squeezing when her lips curve up in a smile. “What’s your name?” 

“Armin,” he tells her, as she hands the bloody cloth back to him. “I just moved here.” 

“Well, nice to meet you, Armin.” She turns to leave, waving. “Let’s meet again! I should get back before my dad comes looking for me.” 

…

He never meets her again. He comes back almost every single day, in spring when the tulips are in bloom, in autumn when it’s grey and windy, in winter when he’s wearing his thickest coat. But he never sees her. He doesn't see her in school either, and nobody seems to know about her. It doesn’t help that he’d never asked for her name, all that he knew is that she looked kind of like him– but somewhat pretty, somewhat broken.

People only look at him funny when he gives them this description; one time his classmate Eren asks if he was just talking to his own reflection and managed to convince himself that it was someone else. 

He learns to shut up about her eventually. Just like he learns to make new friends. He still thinks about her from time to time– the first person he’d met in this town. The girl with the broken nose and the black eye who’d told him they’d meet again.

He wonders how she’s doing, if she ever stopped “fighting” – he’s older now, eighteen almost, and he knows now that it’s called abuse – with her father. He wants to tell her that his parents may have never laid a hand on him, but they went their separate ways now and he’s grateful for it. 

And somewhat subconsciously, his body guiding him through wistful memories, he makes his way to that spot where he met her, six years ago. It’s become his secret place, a meadow on top of a hill, a large tree providing shadow and cooling him from the sun that bore down so heavily on them. 

“Armin?” 

He thinks he hears something, but he’s been accused of an overactive imagination before, so he just closes his eyes, resting gently against the tree trunk. 

“Armin, is that you?” 

A cold sweat runs down his forehead. He’s replayed their little conversation so many times in his head, he remembers her voice perfectly. And just now, the voice behind him sounds almost too similar. 

When he opens his eyes he sees her bending over him, and his heart catches in his throat. A numbing horror washes through him as he realises it’s more than just the voice that is eerily similar. It’s like she’s been captured in a photo of that day, saved for posterity– the same cargo pants, the same black crewneck… the same bruises on her face. 

She looks at him with a mild annoyance as if there was nothing largely out of the ordinary. If it was completely normal that he’d grown into a man, and she is still watching him with the eyes of a child. “... I’ve been waiting for you. Why did you never come back?” 

The words catch in his throat. “What do you mean?” 

“We said we’d meet again, didn’t we?”

Six summers ago, yes. When he was still a little bit shorter than her, when he wore glasses instead of contact lenses, when he ran away from his family looking for respite. So much had changed for him since then– but nothing had changed for her.

Here she was, in front of him, stuck in time exactly the way he’d first met her. “I was waiting for you,” she tells him. Smiles that same smile he’d seen six years ago, lips wincing as they turned up towards her blackened eye. Holds out her hand as she asks him to take it. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, watching her as if he were watching a mirage, a child that haunted his dreams since he was one himself, her hands almost shimmering in the sunlight. 

And even though he didn’t give his hand, she grabs it, her touch icy cold under the blazing sun, blue eyes turning more desperate. “It’s Annie. Don’t you remember?”

#aruani #liquorisce fanfiction #armin arlert #annie leonhardt

[spacedikut]

the blessing of a blizzard ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a blizzard leaves the team holed up in the bau office. spencer can’t stop thinking about your elusive boyfriend, mike, who might not be your boyfriend after all. 4.3k

a/n: festive fic! kind of! im too scared to do a final check so if there’s errors or i misuse pronouns just lemme know ily happy holidays ! thank you to the incredible @homoose for helping with dialogue :D

Mike. His name is Mike, and Spencer hates him.

Full name Michael, Spencer presumes, which comes from Hebrew meaning “who is like God?” A rhetorical question, implying there is no person like God, Michael was one of the archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible.

What Michael should mean, however, is the guy that stole your heart and left Spencer thinking things very unlike him – that Mike, a man Spencer has never met and that clearly makes you very happy, has a really stupid name, for example.

There are three things Spencer knows about him:

1. Ever since you started deciding on his wardrobe, ladies love him. It makes you a little jealous, apparently.

2. You love baking him homemade treats whenever you can. Like a movie playing in his head, Spencer can perfectly remember you excitedly chatting with Garcia and Emily, animatedly explaining how excited Mike gets when he sees you’ve made something just for him.

3. Mike can be a bit of a dick, actually. There have been several mornings you’ve come in with a long face, leaning back in your desk chair far enough to view the world upside down and whining about how grumpy Mike was that morning, how you had to tip-toe around your apartment lest he get mad.

You’d called him your soulmate, added that he’s a light in your life you didn’t know you needed until you had him. You’re a person who chooses their words carefully, so when you’re walking around putting Mike and soulmate in the same sentence, you mean business.

That business is ripping Spencer’s heart out of his chest, apparently. Because you’re busy showing JJ pictures of him on your phone right now, blissfully unaware of the subconscious glare Spencer is lasering into your phone as he leans against the jet counter.

Spencer’s never had the honour of seeing Mike (a genuine word you used – honour) and you know what? Spencer doesn’t want to know what Mike looks like. Spencer doesn’t care. Mike’s probably ugly, anyway, and Spencer’s confidence within himself grows day by day and if there’s one thing he’s learnt recently it’s that comparison is the thief of joy and-

“Oh!” JJ exclaims, “He’s gorgeous!”

Fuck Mike. Really, fuck him.

+++

The floor is slippery beneath everyone’s feet, the surrounding area slowly losing its mixture of colours to blend into one coat of white.

It’s snowing.

Garcia greets the team, a steaming cup of tea in her bejewelled hands, and everyone gets to work right away. There’s whispers of the snow getting heavier and sticking and covering more and more ground with more and more depth; people are rushing against the proverbial clock to get done and get home before they’re all stuck.

But that won’t happen, right? If people were genuinely concerned about getting snowed in, surely everyone would’ve been sent home early as a precaution. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Rossi’s the one to notice it, calling out, “Check it out. Snow’s pretty bad.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like they’ll race to the windows then deflate with disappointment because you couldn’t even create a single snowball with that light coat, but holy hell people are walking around with snow up to their ankles and it’s still coming down thick. And then the lights are flickering and JJ is making frantic calls home to Will and Hotch is exiting his office, phone pressed to his ear, calling everyone to attention:

“There’s a blizzard incoming. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be on the roads, so we’re being told to sit tight. You should all try to call home, just in case; we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

Some people still brave it, still try to head on home, and whether they make it or not is up to the Gods. The team glance around, varying expressions – Emily and Derek look pissed, JJ is worried, and you and Rossi are straight-faced. Penelope is bouncing in excitement.

“It’s like a sleepover!”

All Spencer can think about is how Mike will have to suffer another day without you. He bites back a smile.

+++

Spencer’s straining his neck, butt barely on his desk chair, in attempt to see around all the bustling people that stand between you and him. Through the glass BAU doors, on the phone, your shoulders are slumped and you kick your boot against the floor a few times to channel your multitude of emotions into something. He hopes Mike isn’t giving you a hard time for something that isn’t within your control.

Emily looks up from her monitor, where she’s doing Christmas shopping even though it’s Christmas Eve, and looks thoroughly amused by Spencer’s internal battle of wanting to watch you but not wanting it to be obvious.

“You good, Reid?”

Spencer flinches like Emily pinched him. “Yeah, good. Fine. Are you good?”

Emily makes a show of slowly turning to look at you, still on the phone, then slowly turning back to Spencer’s wide-eyed gaze. She smirks. “You think they’re talking to Mike?”

Yes, Spencer does think that, but he’d made a point to not fully acknowledge it. And there’s something about Emily’s smugness that tells Spencer she’s teasing him – she knows something he doesn’t and it makes his eyes narrow. “Probably. Why?”

Whatever the response is, Emily’s barely opened her mouth before she’s interrupted by Penelope Garcia gracefully clapping her hands, getting the attention of every BAU member. The team quiets and all eyes are on Penelope. Except Spencer, who watches with concern as you sneak back to your desk, a furrow to your brow and downward dips either side of your mouth.

“I know these are less-than-great circumstances, and we’re stuck in work of all places, but that shouldn’t mean we can’t have a little fun! So…”

She wildly gestures for Hotch to step forward, a cheesy grin on her face and a gleam in Hotch’s eye that tells everyone he’s also smiling but internally, and she takes the three large boxes he was carrying like the good sidekick he is.

“We’re building gingerbread houses!”

There’s exclamations of surprise and joy; Emily lights up at the idea of doing anything other than work or sitting at her desk, and JJ takes a box to look it over before asking, “Where did you get these?”

Hotch answers. “They were supposed to be for the kids,” He shrugs, holding back a smile, “However, I guess we can use them now.”

“Yes,” Penelope nods, “Yes, we can use them now. Get your game faces on, because this is a competition. Hotch and Rossi are the judges, because they’re grumpy old men, and the rest of us will be in teams of two fighting to build the best gingerbread house the BAU has ever seen.”

Derek speaks up for the first time, just to insult Spencer. “I refuse to be on a team with Reid. He has no creative skills.”

Members of the team laugh and Spencer reacts indignantly. He wants to reply, but you’re already speaking.

“Hey! I’ll take him! Spencer’s great.”

Many heads snap to you when you speak, Spencer’s surely got whiplash, but you’re looking at him and smiling at him and him alone. He’s breathless at the sight, how you chose him and have literal stars in your eyes, yet all he can think is how undeserving he is of such a beauty. How undeserving anyone is, mostly Mike, to exist in the same reality as someone who puts the definition of beautiful to shame.

Spencer’s about to make the best damn gingerbread house the world has ever seen.

+++

So, building a gingerbread house? A little more difficult than originally thought.

Maybe it’s the sticky icing, or the temptation to simply eat all the sweet decorative candy rather than use it for its intended purpose, or…

Maybe it’s the pretty teammate Spencer has that keeps brushing against him, keeps brushing against his hands, and like a virus to a computer you completely wipe Spencer of all thoughts other than: Y/N.

Spencer caught you watching him while he was rolling up his shirt sleeves, caught you staring at his hands and trailing your eyes up his forearms, following the sleeves as they moved inch by inch up to his elbows.

Then, when Spencer was holding two pieces of gingerbread together, you were too lost in thought to put the icing between the cracks and cement them together. Your eyes were trained on the fingers pressing the pieces together. Spencer had to call your name three times to wake you up.

Then, something weird happened (if the previous instances weren’t weird enough). You two had been in your own bubble of hushed tones and accidental touching, surrounded by bickering and collapsing houses and at one point Emily offered Rossi twenty bucks if he just votes for her and JJ without them making a house, and suddenly it’s silent. All he can hear is his heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears, and all he can feel is the warmth of your breath on his ear because you’re right there, over his shoulder, joining him in hunching over your creation to decorate it with all kinds of shapes and colours.

The close proximity is too much. It’s too much.

You lean even closer, shoulder and arm pressed directly against Spencer’s, and lift another hand to place a miniature candy cane next to the gingerbread door. The action causes your hand to brush Spencer’s, and for the first time ever he’s not jolting away like he’s been electrocuted, no, his hand stays there, hovering, waiting and hoping for more.

Hoping for more of you.

And you seem to realise, too, that Spencer’s reaction is abnormal. He can’t decide if you’re testing the waters, or if it was a mere accident. But what are you testing the waters for? Why are you trying to touch him? Why do you want to touch him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees you turn to look at him, and he almost doesn’t reciprocate. Almost.

You’re so close, face so close to his own. You take the softest breaths, in and out, sending the gentlest puffs of air onto Spencer’s lips.

He has no idea what the fuck is happening. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Your eyes, always shining and full of an emotion Spencer can’t decipher, dance around his face – his eyes, to his nose, stopping on each cheek, back and forth and up and down. Spencer’s captured by them, unable to tear himself away, which has become quite the habit since he’s known you.

Then you’re looking at his lips.

Spencer blinks, hoping to clear away the obvious hallucination he’s having, but no. Nothing changes. Your gaze remains, unwavered, making Spencer subconsciously open his mouth. The softest gasp leaves it when your pupils dilate.

This is the perfect moment to kiss, right? Right here, in front of the gingerbread house you made together, decorated together, and now begin the start of something else together. It makes sense, it’s almost poetic, and Spencer’s thought about you and him in a relationship enough times to consider this opportunity good and sweet enough to regale everyone with in the future.

Can you imagine it? “We had our first kiss in front of the gingerbread house we slaved over together. We won the competition, too.”

There’s a loud clang – Penelope found an actual gong from somewhere – and Rossi announces that the timer has gone off and it’s time for the judges to vote for the winner.

When you gently pick up yours and Spencer’s creation and take it to a cloth-covered table, where Rossi and Hotch ominously stand with their arms crossed, Spencer is frozen in place.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

There’s no way you wanted to kiss him. It isn’t possible. You’ve never looked at him like that before. It must’ve been a mistake.

But you were so close…

No. If Spencer made that move, it would’ve ruined everything – your friendship, the festive fun, the atmosphere of the entire evening. Everyone’s expected to be stuck here for at least another six hours, and making it tense and awkward was not something Spencer is willing to do.

But your eyes…

Spencer can’t think about that fact too much. That could mean anything – dilated pupils don’t necessarily mean you’re in love. You could’ve gotten a good whiff of the gingerbread and felt hungry, or a song you really liked started playing from the playlist Penelope created. Or, most likely, Spencer thinks, you were thinking about someone else.

Your boyfriend, for example.

You have a boyfriend. Mike.

Of course, you were probably thinking of Mike. Your boyfriend.

Spencer almost kissed someone in a relationship, and he’s pretty sure you almost kissed him too.

+++

Much to Derek’s chagrin, you and Spencer win the gingerbread house contest.

Penelope was baffled, frantically gesturing to the Jacuzzi she made with icing and- Derek made miniature weights? Somehow? It looked chaotic.

“Practicality, my dear,” Rossi told her. “Who, living in a gingerbread house, is worried about working out?”

Even though you and Spencer were the winners, Derek and Penelope and their pouting (and calls for a rematch) took the attention away from the obvious awkward tension between the winners. Spencer stayed at the desk you worked at while you took your house to the judges, stayed at the desk when you were crowned and stayed at the desk when you cheered.

You looked at him, wide grin and happy eyes, and all he could do was tightly smile back. Give a thumbs up.

He gave you a thumbs up. You nearly kissed less than ten minutes prior. And all he could do was give you a thumbs up.

The light in your eyes dimmed, but you seemed to understand.

Understand what, exactly? Spencer’s not so sure either. But something clicked in your head – you nodded to yourself as if confirming whatever you’ve concluded, and turned your back to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, the team has spread across everyone’s desks. Turns out, Hotch is a big fan of gingerbread - he’s consumed most of Derek and Penelope’s creation, icing and all, while Rossi has decided now is a good time to open one of the many bottles of whiskey he has in his office.

Spencer believes having that much alcohol in your work environment is breaking some kind of rule, but the snow isn’t letting up and it looks like a sleepover in the BAU office is likely. He deserves a little whiskey.

And where are you in all of this?

Spencer won’t lie and pretend he hasn’t had you in his line of sight the entire time, so he’ll recap what you’ve been doing: laughing at Derek’s jokes, plaiting Penelope’s hair, eating the candy Emily and JJ didn’t use on their house.

You’d left the room to call home and check up on things (check up on Mike, Spencer thinks bitterly) and now you stand in front of the large window by the BAU elevators, watching the snow fall.

Spencer has the perfect view of you through the glass doors. When the call ends and you stay there, he grabs a paper plate, grabs one of the walls from yours and his masterpiece and makes his way towards you.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how he’ll even act, but he wants to talk to you. Things feel weird after the almost-kiss, and Spencer never wants things to be weird with you. He can’t have things weird with you. You hadn’t talked to him once since the competition, and he has a feeling you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

So he does. If that’s what you need, he’ll do it.

(He’s making this more dramatic than it needs to be, really, but he feels everything so deeply when it comes to you)

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice perfectly matches the snowy atmosphere. It makes you feel warm inside, like you’ve just taken a sip of hot cocoa, and so often he’s left goosebumps on your skin just from speaking.

Seeing the outstretched paper plate in his hand, you take it gratefully. “Hi there. Thanks.” You nod to the gingerbread that you begin breaking up.

You hand him the first piece even though he brought it for you, and it’s silent while you both chew thoughtfully and watch the pure white outside. It doesn’t feel weird, necessarily, standing here, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, but you’re certainly more in your head than usual. You’re thinking a lot and, as much as it hurts him, Spencer knows you’re likely preoccupied by your boyfriend and not what transpired between you earlier.

It’s that thought, that disappointment settling into his chest, that opens his mouth unconsciously: “How’s Mike? Does he know you’re not making it home tonight?”

He regrets it immediately, worsened by the way you stop mid-chew, eyes dimming like Spencer’s taken a baseball bat and shattered the lights inside.

This is unchartered territory – talking about Mike with you – and you know it. Who, in their right mind, willingly asks the person they have feelings for how their relationship with someone that isn’t you is going? Does Spencer enjoy pain?

Although this is the first time Spencer’s mentioned Mike to your face (he’s mentioned Mike plenty to a laughing Derek), he’s been so close to presenting the topic many times. He wants to know so badly – wants to know how well Mike treats you, really treats you (he will profile you), if you see a long-term future with him and if not, on average how long does it take you to get over your exes? Just an estimate?

You swallow the gingerbread you’re eating. “He’s okay. My roommate has to take care of him, but at least he’s got someone.”

Huh?

Since when do you have a roommate?

And why is your roommate taking care of your boyfriend?

Oh. Guilt blooms in Spencer when it registers that he’s been thinking ill of a person that might be sick. No wonder you dote on him so much and seemed devastated to make that phone call home earlier - Mike needs you, you can’t be there for him, and you feel horrible for it.

Spencer feels horrible for having the subject of his anger be someone you so clearly cherish, so deeply love. He’s embarrassed that if he was asked to explain why he hates Mike so much, he’d have to tell them it’s because Mike has you, and you’re what Spencer wants. What about what you want?

“Take care of him?” Spencer asks. The concern is genuine, which is an emotion he never thought he’d have in regards to Mike. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” You shrug. “He needs someone watching over him at all times, that’s all.”

That’s all?

You continue. “Make sure he eats – and only eats what he’s supposed to. Give him his meds. Make sure he poops. Those kinda things.”

What?

“Your… roommate makes sure your boyfriend poops?”

Now, Spencer knows what you look like when you’re confused. Honestly, he has every facial expression you’ve graced him with tucked away in a proverbial box he spends too much time thinking about. He knows that when you’re trying not to laugh, you bite the inside of your left cheek. When you’re frustrated but need to present a professional front, you bite the inside of your right cheek. Happiness fills your entire face, like every inch is consumed by it, and you’ve trained yourself to transport anger to your hands, where they twist into tight fists and leave fingernail marks in your palms.

Confusion is one of his favourites (second only to joy – for obvious reasons. Have you seen your smile?) because it takes many forms. You’ve pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes, tapped your foot on the floor. When you do them all, Spencer considers it a jackpot. There’s something about the way you look when you’re presented with something you can’t quite figure out yet, when you’re perplexed, that just-

You make it hard for him to concentrate. He can’t be a genius when you’re around because you’re so pretty. You’re a vision and he can never rattle off information to you specifically because he will trip up and divert to talking about the beauty that is you and that would be embarrassing for many reasons.

But this type of confusion? The way you’re looking at him right now? He’s never seen this before. Your jaw has dropped, your brows are furrowed so deeply they might fall off, and you look… horrified.

“My… my boyfriend?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend. Mike?” He looks around, waiting for cameramen to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked, because why don’t you know who your own boyfriend is?

You move slowly, placing the half-eaten plate on the windowsill before turning to face Spencer fully. You take a second to compose yourself.

“Mike is my cat.”

Mike is…

“And he’s having digestive issues, so he needs to be watched pretty much full-time.”

Silence. Tense, weird silence.

“…You thought Mike was my boyfriend?”

Spencer sputters, then, because of course he did! “Yes! The way you talk about him was… it was… it seemed…”

He flustered, oh so flustered, hands flailing and face enflamed and burning from the inside out. How had he not known?! How had… how had your wires gotten so convoluted, so mixed?

Does everyone know that Mike is a cat? Is Spencer the only one out of the loop? The look Emily gave him earlier, that knowing too-smug look, was that…

She was making fun of him. She knew he thought Mike was a person, not a pet, and was teasing him because of it.

All at once, the world seems lighter and dimmer – a contradiction that leaves Spencer’s chest heaving – because the past year feels like a lie. He’s spent so long seeing the way you come to life when talking about Mike, sitting opposite you on the jet as you awaken like a dying flower watered when home got closer and closer, and it was all for… a cat?

There’s a mist over Spencer’s eyes as he recalls every overheard declaration of love and coos of how handsome Mike is, and you’re laughing. Spencer’s having a crisis in front of your very eyes and you’re laughing. Hunched over, a single tear falling from your eye, clutching your stomach because it hurts from the ferocity of your giggles.

By the time you quieten, your hand is over your mouth to cover the big grin that grounds him, gives him something other than this revelation to focus on. Spencer’s still baffled, frazzled, but there’s the tiniest of smiles on his face because of how overjoyed you look. And he did that. Albeit his stupidity did it, but Spencer’s stupidity nonetheless.

You’re out of breath. “God I… I don’t even know what to say. You really thought my cat was my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s fighting a smile, lips wiggling. The way you’re looking at him now, all blinding smile and crinkled eyes, alleviates him of any anxiety he earlier had. Like you’ve wiped away his plate-full of worries, all the times it felt like he took an arrow to the heart, all the times he caught you smiling at your phone because you were looking at pictures of Mike, it’s all worth it. Because you’ve never looked like this while talking about Mike, and Mike is a cat. He isn’t a person, isn’t your boyfriend. Mike is a cat and Spencer has a chance.

Spencer has a chance.

“Does this… this means you’re single, right?”

A somewhat terrified look overtakes his face.

“Oh, shoot, you are single, right?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Yes, Spencer. I’m single.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He repeats your nod, realises what he said could imply, and starts shaking his head. “Not-not good good. You’re incredible and need to be appreciated, but… good, because that means we could, you know…” He gestures vaguely. God, why can’t he get coherent words out? “If you wanted to, we could-“

“Are you trying to ask me out, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

Just to cause immense emotional distress, you raise an eyebrow, mischief clear on your face, and wait for him to continue.

“You want me to actually ask?” He winces.

“I’ve spent the last year convinced you didn’t like me, so, yes, I want you to actually ask.”

The new information sends ice down Spencer’s back because what? Since when? “You- what?“

“I’ve liked you for a while, Spencer,” You cross your arms over your body, slightly embarrassed. “But you always kept your distance so I did too, I guess.”

“I thought you were taken!” Spencer exclaims. “If I’d known I would’ve-we could’ve- I would-“

“You’d what, Reid?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone, but there’s no denying you’re incandescently happy.

He takes a deep breath and asks what he’s wanted to for far too long. “When this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Relief flashes in your eyes, like you didn’t fully believe what was happening until he finally asked, and words have never sounded as pretty as when you say: “Yes. Yes I would.”

Like lovesick idiots, you stand in front of the window with the snowfall as a backdrop, grinning at each other. You can’t help it – you lean up, press a kiss to his cheek that immediately sets his skin ablaze, and fall back onto your feet with a smile sweeter than all the sugar you’d consumed today.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Somehow, despite the nerves and the way his heart is trying to leap into your hands, he manages to tell you, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

+++

(Three weeks later, Spencer meets the Mike. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Spencer takes the first opportunity he can to apologise for all the bad things he said about him behind his back. The purring tells Spencer he’s forgiven)

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @prettyboy-reid @shadyladyperfection

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #genuinely if anyone reads this and has suggestions on how i can improve as a writer #and maybe as a person in general #pls message me #something about this feels OFF and i cant tell what

[separatist-apologist]

You should do a one shot of Elain letting her inner fire out and yelling at the IC about using Elain to control Lucien AND going on and on about Lucien failing Feyre in Spring. (I mean we all know Tamlin abused Lucien both mentally and physically and its a bit hard to take care of someone else when you are being abused yourself. Ya feel me? HA)

This will be done more elegantly if you're reading I Know Places. I also can't help but feel like my Elucien reputation is becoming Night Court slander. This is my preface by saying I LIKE (most) of the IC, so this isn't dunking on any one person or being an anti.

Anyway don't send me hate if you don't like this (Send me Eris X Elain brotp prompts instead!!!)

Elain stomped through the city streets of Velaris, furious. Lucien was back in the city again, and yet he hadn’t come to visit. Things had been rocky, sure, but she thought they were doing better. They’d been exchanging letters weekly, she’d made him dinner—granted, at his apartment—and they’d even had that sweet kiss she still daydreamed about to the exclusion of all else. Yet, for the fourth time in six months, Lucien had come to Velaris, met with Rhysand, with Azriel, with Feyre, but not her. She’d been quietly polite about it the first time. He was a busy man, after all and probably had somewhere to be in the morning. She’d been quiet but less polite the second and third time, allowing her self-doubt and insecurity to creep in but now she was just mad.

If he didn’t want to see her, he should just say so.After four years of yearning and avoidance to get to where they were, which was practically no where given how far away he chose to occupy his time, he at least owed her an explanation.

She pounded on the blue front door that comprised his little town house. She heard scuffling and a muffled crash before the door flung open.

“Elain,” he breathed, clearly not prepared to see her, given how disheveled he looked. “To what do I—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” She demanded, crossing her arms over the silver cloak she wore. Frigid wind whistled around them, biting at her cheeks though she hardly felt the chill over her hurt and anger. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Ah…come inside,” he urged, stepping out of the way to let her in. Elain did as he asked, mostly to prevent making a visible scene she knew would work its way back to Rhysand and his inner circle.

“I understand if you’re too busy to spend time but not even a note?” She rounded on him once they were out of the foyer and in his living room. He reached for her cloak, ever the gentleman but Elain swatted his hand away.

“I do want to see you,” he replied softly, palms raised upwards in defense. Both eyes, one gold, one russet, watched her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb that might explode at any moment. She certainly felt like one.

“Then why don’t you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Lucien licked his lips. “It’s…complicated.”

Her stomach dropped. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What?!” He panicked, taking a hasty step towards her. “No, just you. Only you, I swear.”

“Then explain. I’m not stupid, I can follow whatever is keeping you. I don’t want secrets between us I want—” She stopped herself before she could admit that what she wanted was to be in the same place for longer than a night.

“I need permission to visit with you,” he told her, dropping his hands with a sigh. Elain looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean…permission?” She demanded.

Lucien gestured for her to sit but Elain shook her head, her mind whirring. Why would Lucien need permission to see her? He’d been nothing but polite, he’d give her distance…they always had a chaperone, she realized. Save for once, right before he left to find Vassa, Lucien and Elain always had an audience unless she snuck out of the house. It was why she’d begun writing him letters in the first place. That was the only way she could speak to him without someone else in the room.

Lucien was watching her shrewdly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Do they think you’ll…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. He laughed dryly.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then why? No one cared about how much time Cassian spent with Nesta.”

“Well…I imagine it’s different when the High Lord trusts the mate in question.”

That didn’t make sense. She bit her bottom lip. “They trust you…you’re their Emissary…”

Lucien laughed again, plopping onto his cream-colored couch. “Emissary I may be, but trust me they do not.”

Elain frowned. “Because you’ll betray them?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, his every word condemnation. She could put it together now. Lucien was in Velaris for her, he’d left Spring for her, and he’d continue to be the Emissary on behalf of the Night Court for as long as Elain lived in Velaris.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” she assured him, crossing the wood floor to sit beside him. She took his hand and squeezed, looking up into his tanned, beautiful face. Lucien smiled at her sadly.

“If I quit, I’d never see you again.”

“Of course you would, we’re—”

“Do you imagine Rhysand or Feyre would just hand you over with my resignation? If that were the case, I would have taken you from here when we first met.”

“So I’m what? Bait?” She asked breathlessly. He didn’t respond but the steely look in his russet eye was answer enough. “Something to keep you in line?”

He shrugged but Elain was angry again. “I thought you were avoiding me,” she told him, pulling her hand from his. “I’ve been mad at you and all this time you were trying?”

“Elain—”

She spun on her heel and tore out of his apartment, well aware he was right behind her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t an object or a tool to be weaponized against her own mate, for cauldrons sake. She was tired of being treated like a pretty piece of furniture that couldn’t think for herself. She wanted the Nesta treatment, she decided, storming into the river house.

“You had no right!” She shrieked, storming into Rhys’ study. She’d meant to find Feyre first, but Rhys was there, sitting at his desk staring down at parchment. On the couch beside the fireplace, Azriel looked up, hazel eyes wide at the outburst.

“Hey Elain…Lucien…everything okay?” Cassian asked from a chair in the corner.

“No!” She continued, her chest heaving. If she didn’t say everything now, she’d chicken out; Elain hated confrontation. Rhys stood, his violet eyes glittering with emotion. A moment later Feyre skidded into the room, practically slamming into Lucien’s back.

“What’s wrong, Elain?” Feyre asked breathlessly, shoving past Lucien to touch Elain’s shoulder. “Did something happen, did—”

“Why does Lucien need permission to visit me?” She demanded, stepping out of Feyre’s grasp only to slam into the sold chest of her mate. “No one had a problem with Cassian breathing down Nesta’s neck, but Lucien needs advance written notice?”

“Whoa, that’s not how it went,” Cassian complained. “If anything, she was breathing down my neck—”

“Cassian,” Azriel murmured quietly, silencing his friend.

“You and Nesta are different,” Feyre tried but Elain didn’t want to hear it.

“So? I think Nesta could have healed perfectly fine without being…fucked—” she whispered the word, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Up against a wall.”

The mood of the room became immediately tense. Cassian stood; arm crossed over his broad chest.

“Elain,” Rhys warned. Lucien put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing his support. She didn’t have to do this. She could walk away, could tell them to shove it. She had to. Lucien didn’t understand, was good at sticking up for himself but she wasn’t. They needed to know.

“It’s shameful,” she told Rhys, looking him dead in the face.

“We just wanted to keep you safe,” Rhys told her, his voice very much implying she was on dangerous ground.

“From what? I thought Lucien was Feyre’s friend,” she challenged. “I thought he was your Emissary. How can you trust him with your politics but not his own mate? Why is it okay for Azriel to see me but not Lucien?”

Rhys’ took two steps forward, darkness rippling off his back. She’d overstepped, she’d openly challenged Rhys and, perhaps most damning, she’d done the one thing he’d ever asked her not to; discuss the almost events of Solstice. Azriel’s face paled for a moment as Cassian, Feyre, and Lucien all turned to look at him. “I’m not your political pawn,” she whispered, stepping closer to Lucien.

“You are my subject and you will sit down and stop talking.”

She felt the metallic tang of magic slam into her face, attempting to make her obey. Elain knew what Rhys didn’t, what she’d kept a careful secret until that moment. He couldn’t compel her; his magic had no effect. He wasn’t her subject. She never had been.

“Sit down,” he said again, his every word dripping in authority. She straightened her spine even as her hands trembled. “You can’t make me,” she replied, pressed as close to Lucien as she could get.

“Rhys,” Lucien warned, his own voice rich with that same magic. She shivered at the sound. Rhys glanced towards Feyre, exchanging some conversation silently between them.

“I want to leave,” she told them, her voice wobbling nervously.

“Elain…can we talk? Just me and you?” Feyre murmured, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Elain looked over her shoulder but Lucien was still staring at Azriel with a clenched jaw. “Fine.”

Feyre grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room. In the hall, Nesta had her back pressed to the wall. She followed behind Elain silently, spine straight, eyes cold. The three practically ran down marble floors, up the stairs, all the way to Feyre’s room. She locked the door behind her, as if that would keep anyone out.

“What happened with Azriel?” Nesta asked the second the door was shut.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Feyre interrupted, ignoring Nesta’s question. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you saying that as my sister, or High Lady?” Elain whispered.

“Where will you go, Elain?” Feyre prodded. “Spring—”

Her laughter was practically a shriek. “Did you know the last time Lucien came home from Spring he had bruises all over his ribs? Couldn’t look me in the eyes when I asked what happened? What do you think happened?” Elain demanded. Feyre flinched.

“How can you send him back there and stand here and tell me I don’t understand the situation?” Elain pressed. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, Elain, I’m sorry,” Feyre interrupted breathlessly. “I care about Lucien, too but he’s cunning and—”

“And what is Rhys?” Nesta interrupted with an imperious smile.

“You suddenly like Lucien?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips. Nesta scoffed.

“No, but I like watching Elain tell Rhys to fuck himself. And…and it meant a lot what you said about…”

Elain nodded.

“Don’t leave,” Feyre pressed, ignoring Nesta completely. “Move in with Lucien if you want just…just don’t go.”

“I want to do more than garden,” Elain whispered. “We’d still see each other…he’d still help you, if you asked because you’re his friend…and I’m your sister.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes glassy. Elain knew she was still talking to Rhys, trying to strike some sort of balance between the fight they’d just had and not making things worse. “Rhys is asking if Lucien will go to Day Court on his behalf…they have a lot of libraries…Vassa still is spelled and we haven’t been able to figure it out. Maybe you could go with him? If you want, I mean?”

Elain nodded her head. “I’d like to see the other Courts.”

“But you’ll come back?” Feyre asked, her voice small and Elain knew she needed to apologize to her sister. Feyre was trying…Feyre had been good for all those years, selfless even when she didn’t have to be. Guilt gnawed at Elain. She’d let her temper get the better of her. She crossed the room and hugged Feyre tightly.

“Of course I will. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Wrong again,” Nesta said dryly. “You should yell more often. Tell Helion if he tries anything—”

“Helion won’t try anything,” Feyre assured Nesta. “Trust me.”

Nesta frowned. “He’ll take one look at her face and fall in love just like everyone else. How can you say—” “Rhys is going to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Elain cajoled. “I can handleone High Lord calling me pretty.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “It…it’s not appropriate, you have a mate—”

“I can handle it,” Elain said firmly, determined to do something for herself. “Promise.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Rhys and Lucien in the archway. They looked tense; neither looked at the other. Elain wondered what had been said. Rhys looked from his mate to Elain before raising his palms.

“We…we worked it out,” Rhys assured her. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she told him, not sorry at all. She suspected he knew.

“Day Court?” Lucien asked, brows raised, his face very much. She smiled.

“Day Court.”

#elucien fanfic #elucien fic #elucien prompt #all roads lead to day court #helion is gonna hit on elain #thanksgiving will be awkward that year #feyres gonna be like i TRIED to warn you #while elain stares at a plate of yams

[animeomegas]

Omega!Naruto - Family Night

Now I’m so curious as to what a typical family night would entail with the boys! When the kids are pretty young and they finally have some time off and their alpha also has some time off to spend together? 👉🏻👈🏻with house husband itachi because that is the only way><

I assume you want the Naruto boys, I’m going to post them one at a time, so I can keep active this week. Up first is Naruto!

Warnings: Mpreg (implied)

Naruto:

As Hokage, it was rare for Naruto to get a full day off without some emergency calling him back to work, but today he had left Shikamaru in charge, (against his will), so that he could come home to spend the evening with you and his children.

And what better way to spend time together than with a board game!

Naruto picked up a simple board game (suitable for younger children) on his way home, knowing that you had sorted out the snacks last night.

“I’m home!” Naruto calls out, shuffling through the front door with the new game and a couple of stacks of paperwork in hand.

“Daddy!” He heard his eldest son shout, followed by the sound of little footsteps sprinting towards the door.

Naruto put the bags on the floor in preparation, crouching down and holding out his arms as his son flew around the corner with a huge grin on his face.

“Oof,” Naruto had the wind knocked out of him as his son barrelled straight into his chest. He stood up, holding his son tightly in his arms.

“You’re getting so big now!” Naruto exclaimed, over dramatically wheezing as his son giggled. “Can’t believe you’re already nine, soon I won’t be able to pick you up anymore!”

His son gasped and tightened his arms around Naruto’s neck.

“No, I always want daddy to pick me up.”

“Hmm,” Naruto hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose daddy’s just going to have to train more so he can keep doing it then, huh?”

His son nodded furiously. “Yes, daddy, I think that’s a good idea.” He then nuzzled his face into Naruto’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of his father’s scent and purring gently. Naruto purred back, pressing a kiss onto his son’s head.

At that moment, you rounded the corner, a one-year-old twin in each arm, smiling tiredly at him.

“Looks like someone is trying to get out of doing their homework again,” you teased your son. “You know we aren’t playing the board game until all homework is done.”

Your son huffed but wiggled his way out of Naruto’s embrace and made his way back to the kitchen table to join his sister to finish his homework.

You and Naruto both laughed gently at his antics, before moving to embrace each other, careful not to crush the twins.

“Missed you,” you murmured.

“Missed you, too,” he responded.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, just enjoying each other’s warmth, before one of the twins reached up and yanked Naruto’s hair.

Naruto swore lightly under his breath, before trying to remove the tiny hand clenched in his hair. Both twins were giggling at his struggle. You suppressed your own laughter.

“I told you these two are going to be trouble,” you laughed.

“Yeah,” Naruto grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “I can see what you mean.”

“Daddy!” came a voice from the kitchen, “Can you come here, please?”

“Oh,” you remembered. “She wants you to proofread her homework before she gives it in on Monday.”

Naruto nodded. “I can do that. Coming!”

Naruto headed into the kitchen, where his oldest children were working on homework. It looked like his son was working on maths homework from his civilian school, while his daughter was writing about the history of the Shinobi nations for the Academy.

“Can you read this please?” his daughter asked, shoving a piece of paper in his face.

Naruto slipped into the chair beside her and picked up the document to read. He felt his eyebrows raise up the more he read. It always astounded him how good his daughter was at history.

“How is it?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers a little.

“Honestly?” he started, “Better than most of the mission reports I have to read. Good job!” He praised her, ruffling her hair.

She grinned at him, carefully rolling the paper up and slipping it into her school bag.

“How was your day at school today?”

“Great!” His daughter exclaimed. “Uncle Sasuke’s daughter beat up this boy in the playground for pulling her hair! It was awesome!”

Naruto snorted, not surprised in the slightest.

“Sounds like fun,” he laughed. “Why don’t you go and help set up for game night while I finish up the homework with your brother?”

Once all the homework was complete, everyone settled down on the living room floor, surrounded by plenty of snacks.

The twins had been put to bed, and now you, Naruto and your two oldest children were ready to play the game.

Your son had dragged half of his nest with him, laying blankets and pillows down next to Naruto before climbing onto his father’s lap and refusing to sit anywhere else.

 Seeing as they were sitting together, you decided to play in teams; Naruto and your son vs you and you daughter.

The game was fiercely competitive. Well, your son was a lot more focused on getting cuddles from Naruto, but everyone else was very invested!

In the end, you and you daughter won! Her excellent strategic skills coming in handy!

It was late by the time the game had finished, and everyone, stuffed with junk food, was starting to get sleepy.

You left to check in the twins in the nursery while Naruto tucked your other children into bed.

His daughter always wanted to talk more about her day before bed, so Naruto sat on her bed, gently stroking her hair while she talked about her day.

“-and then I said he was being stupid, and I got sent out into the hall! Which wasn’t fair because he was being an idiot.”

Naruto nodded, still listening with full attention. He always enjoyed the faces of his shinobi when they realised he knew every bit of academy gossip. Those with children in the academy could guarantee that Naruto knew more about what they did there, than they did.

“-and then you came home, so you know the rest.”

“Sounds like an eventful day,” Naruto laughed gently. “I’m very proud of you for working so hard on your homework today. Maybe try not to get kicked out of class again though.”

“Iruka sensei said that you didn’t even come to class most the time.”

Naruto choked on nothing, flushing pink. “Well… Iruka sensei is exaggerating a bit, but school is very important okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” she whispered, eyes already closing.

“Good girl, sweet dreams.”

Naruto left the room quietly, leaving her door open a crack, before heading to his son’s room. His son was already ready for bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to come and tuck him in.

“Hey, buddy,” Naruto whispered, stepping fully into the room. “Ready for bed?”

“Yep, but,” he hesitated. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

Naruto frowned slightly, moving to sit on his bed with him.

“Why not? You not tired yet?”

His son shook his head, playing with one of the many blankets on his bed.

“Then why?” Naruto asked gently, stroking his son’s head.

His son didn’t answer but climbed onto Naruto’s lap.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, voice muffled into Naruto’s shoulder.

Naruto sighed sadly. “I have to go to work, my sweet boy, I’m sorry.”

His son started to cry and sniffle into Naruto’s shoulder. Naruto’s heart broke more and more with every sob/

“Shh, shh,” he hushed him, rocking him slightly and purring to try and calm him down. “Please don’t cry…”

“Don’t want you to go!” His son wailed, gripping tightly onto Naruto’s shirt.

“Shh, shh, calm down, I’m right here,” Naruto tried desperately to soothe his son. “You don’t have school tomorrow, right?”

His son nodded.

“How about you come and spend lunch with me, yes? You could go and grab some ramen and bring it to my office and we can have lunch?” Naruto offered, desperately hoping it was enough to calm him down.

His son considered the offer for a moment, before slowly nodding once again.

Naruto let out a sigh of relief.

“There we go,” Naruto settled his son back into bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, okay, don’t forget!”

“I’ll never forget, daddy!”

Naruto smiled proudly at him. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Naruto leaned down for one last cuddle, scenting a cuddly toy for his son, before leaving his room with a soft ‘Goodnight’.

You were standing right outside the door, obviously having heard the previous conversation. You gestured for him to follow you back into the living room. Naruto slumped onto the sofa, head in his hands.

“It’s not your fault, Naruto,” you whispered to him, sitting beside him and taking him into your arms.

Naruto laughed bitterly. “It feels like it is. He shouldn’t have to miss his own father that much; I should be here.”

“You are here,” you disagreed, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re doing as much as you can, and as long as you keep joining us for family nights and having lunch together, no one can accuse you of not loving your family enough.”

Naruto let out a breath, sagging like a puppet with cut strings. “Sorry, it’s just hard sometimes. I can’t stand it when he cries for me, it makes me feel awful.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“I don’t want him to grow up without me, he’s already so big, I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

“You haven’t, baby, I promise. They all look up to you and love you so much.”

“Yeah…” Naruto leaned back fully into your embrace, feeling a little better. “I guess…”

“Come on, I think we should both get some sleep before the twins decide it’s play time again.”

Naruto whined in disagreement. “Let’s cuddle here for a bit longer.”

You laughed at his dramatics, but agreed, pulling him firmly into your arms, and settling onto the sofa. Naruto pulled a blanket from the arm and laid it over you both.

“This is nice,” he purred, pressing a few kisses to your neck.

“Yeah, it is,” you tightened your grip around him slightly. “Relax as best as you can, baby, you deserve it.”

#naruto #naruto uzumaki #omega!naruto #alpha!reader #mpreg #abo #omegaverse #headcanons #imagines #family life #hokage!naruto #omega!Naruto Uzumaki #gn!reader #gn!alpha #reader insert #x reader

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Adventures In Babysitting

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 4,019

Summary: Dean and Y/N spend a weekend looking after Sam and Eileen’s son. Looking after the baby brings up the conversation of children, as Dean puts the plan of proposing in motion.

Warnings: It’s literally just fluff. Like so much fluff. Implied smut.

A/N: Time stamp #4 is here! This one brings you right up to the proposal in the epilogue of Life’s Lessons. I’m taking a little time stamp break to bring you all something in maybe late June/early July, and I’m so excited about it! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Y/N smiled, watching on as Sam and Eileen took care of their son, Elliot Patrick Winchester. It had been 2 and a half months since he arrived, and the Winchester family had never been more excited to have a new addition, especially one so adorable. Sam and Eileen somehow just knew exactly what they were doing, becoming pros at handling everything that comes with having a baby instantly. Knowing them pretty well now, Y/N had a brief thought that Sam must have researched anything and everything to do with pregnancy and babies. A book could never tell you exactly what to be prepared for, but they were a good guide, and the new parents were making it work and doing a great job.

However, Y/N could see how exhausted they both were. They had been going non-stop and hadn’t had any sort of a break, which she could see they desperately needed. She and Dean had talked between them that they should babysit and give them a Saturday off for now, so they could catch up on much needed rest. Now that Elliot had started to sleep through the night a little more, she knew that she and Dean could handle it.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, having freshened up just after Y/N, for lunch that they brought over to Sam and Eileen’s apartment. Eileen told them that she missed them and wanted them to come over, so they picked up some food along the way and made it to their apartment pretty quickly.

“There’s my man,” Dean said, smiling as he saw his nephew in Eileen’s lap. He walked over and instantly picked him up from Eileen, holding him close as he began to walk around the apartment.

Y/N watched on as he cooed at the baby, making funny faces and just being all around amazing. She had to admit that after seeing Dean with her nieces, and now his own nephew, it was beginning to stir feelings within her about seeing Dean as a father.

“Did you tell them what we talked about?” Dean asked, as he turned around to face her.

“I was about to,” she replied, before turning to look at Sam and Eileen. “Dean and I think you guys really need a break, so whenever you want us to, we’d love to take Elliot off your hands for a Saturday.”

Sam and Eileen smiled at them, both looking more than a little relieved at the offer. “That would be amazing,” Sam sighed, a small smile on his face. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden, Sammy,” Dean interjected, stopping his brother from thinking there was anything wrong with the idea. “You’ve been at this since the kid was born, you gotta relax.”

“Thank you both. That would really help us, we definitely need to recharge,” Eileen signed, smiling as she looked between Dean and Y/N.

“You’re welcome,” Y/N signed in return, smiling at Eileen.

The next weekend, Sam brought Elliot over to Dean’s house, complete with all the things that he would need for his little stay with his uncle and aunt. Both Dean and Y/N were excited to look after the baby, while the new parents were just relieved to sleep the day away.

Sam arrived in the late morning, giving Dean and Y/N enough time to clean up before he got there. Y/N held the door as Sam carried the baby into the house, followed by Dean carrying Elliot’s bag and portable crib. He set them down in the living room, as Sam put the carrier down on the coffee table, with Elliot sitting inside, looking around inquisitively.

“Thanks again for doing this, guys,” Sam said, as he leaned over Elliot and undid the straps to take him out of the carrier.

Y/N smiled brightly at the baby as she held her hands out, instantly taking him from Sam. She held Elliot close, kissing his forehead as she gently rocked him. Dean looked over, smiling as he saw the baby in Y/N’s arms. She looked good like that, and he had a sudden thought about what she would look like with their baby in her arms.

“You’re so welcome,” she told Sam, looking up at him. “And you pick him up tomorrow at whatever time, no rush. Okay?”

Sam laughed, slightly as he nodded. “You got it.”

Sam gave them a rundown of what to do with Elliot, what time to feed him, when to put him down to sleep, and a few other things to know. For the most part, he would be easy to take care of, and Sam made them promise to call if anything happened that they couldn’t handle.

“We got this, Sammy.” Dean walked over to Y/N, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, and it’ll be good practice, right?” Sam joked, chuckling slightly.

“Yeah,” they both said, agreeing without hesitation.

Sam was taken aback, considering his comment didn’t seem to get the standard freak out reaction from them, both of them as calm as ever. His expression turned into a small smile, already knowing that even though he had teased Dean about it, his older brother was going to be a great dad when it was his turn.

“Alright, I’m going to head out.” Sam leaned over, kissing Elliot’s head softly, before leaning in and kissing Y/N’s cheek. “Have fun.”

Y/N laughed and looked down at Dean’s nephew, nodding. “We will.”

Dean walked Sam to the door and said goodbye, shutting the door and walking back into the living room. He smiled at Y/N as she looked over at him, the thoughts he was having before coming back to him. He pushed them away, knowing it was way too soon to be thinking that way, even though they had already talked about it. In fact, they were about to be one step closer to that reality. A few weeks ago, he had gone to his parents’ house, wanting to talk his mom about how he wanted to propose to Y/N. He told her that he wanted to use her ring that his dad had given her, which she had kept for him to use some day. Nearly in tears when she heard that he was going to ask Y/N to marry him, Mary had agreed straight away and had given him the ring.

The plan was in motion now that he had the ring, and Dean already knew how he was going to propose. At the house that he had been renovating with the help of his friends and some professional help, after a night out. He couldn’t think of a better place to do it than the house that they would spend the next stage of their lives together in.

Dean got to work on fixing the portable crib, opening the contraption in the living room and staring down at it. It definitely looked more complicated than it probably was, so he would just have to take it one step at a time, trying to remember what Sam had told him. His first attempt was completely wrong, making him start all over again. Y/N watched on, amused by Dean’s attempts to set the crib up, rocking Elliot back and forth. Groaning loudly and cursing inwardly, Dean kicked the crib with frustration.

“Who designed this thing? NASA?” he complained, his face pulled into a frown.

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “There’s instructions for a reason, babe.”

“Please,” he scoffed as he looked down at the crib. “Those are just there to confuse you even more.”

“Well, for the sake of your nephew, you should probably have a look at them,” she informed him, turning slightly to show him Elliot’s eyelids drooping with sleepiness.

“Fine,” he huffed, picking up the manual.

Within a few minutes, he had figured it out and assembled it securely. Y/N walked over slowly; Elliot now completely asleep in her arms. She leaned down and gently put him in the crib, relieved when he didn’t wake up. She looked down at him, smiling softly as she watched him sleep peacefully. Dean stood next to her, his expression resembling hers as he looked down at his nephew.

“He’s so cute,” she whispered, reaching out to lightly run her finger over Elliot’s little hand.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, his voice low like hers.

“I’ll get started on lunch,” she stated, turning and kissing his cheek before she walked into the kitchen.

Y/N made some sandwiches for lunch, Dean and her sitting in the living room as they ate and kept a watch over Elliot. After lunch, they washed up and cleaned up the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise and wake the baby. Their attempts weren’t enough, as Elliot woke up and started fussing. Y/N went to him, picking him up and holding him close until she realized he needed a diaper change. Making quick work of setting things up, she started to change him, cooing and making faces at him to distract him.

Dean watched from the kitchen, knowing she couldn’t see him. He felt the familiar feeling he had earlier return, as he watched her smile and play with the baby while she changed him. He turned away to finish cleaning the kitchen, not wanting to get distracted by what he was thinking, but still smiling as he washed the dishes, those same thoughts still very much in his head.

The rest of the day continued in much of the same way. It had been relaxing for the most part, Y/N getting in some reading as she laid on the couch, checking in on Elliot every time he needed attention. Dean did the same when she couldn’t, both of them tag teaming pretty damn well, whether it was to feed him or change him, or just be with him when he needed. It was good practice, sure, but more than anything, it just solidified that he and Y/N could handle just about anything together.

Dean made dinner as Y/N sat on the couch, Elliot in her arms as he looked up at her. She smiled as she ran her finger over the small tuft of brown hair on his head, his slightly chubby cheeks which would no doubt get bigger, his little nose and chin. One side of his mouth quirked up, an attempt to smile as he looked up at her.

“Alright, dinner’s ready,” Dean called out, bringing two bowls of pasta to the table.

Y/N got up from the couch, slowly putting the baby into the carrier, and carrying him on to the dining area. She set him on the table across from them, smiling as she sat down, seeing him quite content to be with his family. Dean pulled a face at him, but his morphed into an unamused one, the baby showing quite a personality already.

“That face right there is so Sam,” Dean said, laughing as he looked at his nephew’s blank expression. “He’d always do that when he didn’t like a joke I’d make. Guess the kid takes after his dad in that, too.”

Y/N laughed as she took a forkful of pasta, looking between the baby and Dean. “Maybe that’ll change when he’s older.”

“Better,” Dean muttered as he ate.

Y/N pursed her lips in thought, wondering if she should voice the question that suddenly came into her head. “So… when we have our own…” she trailed off as she looked at him, her cheeks heating up at the subject.

“Uh huh,” he mumbled, smirking. He was amused at her reaction and wanted to see where she was going with this.

“Well… how-how many do you want?” she asked, hesitantly as she bit her lip.

He hummed as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his beer. He put the bottle down, looking over at her. “Well… two’s good, I like the thought of two. Like me and Sammy.”

She nodded, smiling. “Like me and Jill.”

He nodded, as he thought about the idea of two kids. Suddenly, flashes of his recurring dream he had had so many times over the years came to him. In the dream he had three kids, two boys and a girl.

“The idea of three though…” he started, as he looked at her. “I don’t know, I guess it feels… complete.”

Y/N beamed, trying to hide her face as she smiled wide. “I like the idea of three, too.”

“Awesome,” Dean muttered, unable to contain his smile either. “Though, god help me if we have a girl,” he stated, shuddering.

“Why?” she asked, laughing lightly. She looked over at Elliot, giving him a once over before turning back to Dean.

“I’m going to go pretty crazy with a girl. I mean, when she starts dating… nope, you know what? She’s never dating.” Dean shook his head, as he sipped his beer, not wanting to think about it anymore.

Y/N laughed as she shook her head. “That’s not going to be in your control, baby.”

“Yes, it will,” he countered, not listening to reason. “Especially if the boys are anything like me.”

“I think you’re pretty great,” she said, leaning closer to him.

Dean scoffed as he looked at her. “You didn’t know me back then. Trust me, you would’ve hated me in high school.”

She shook her head, completely disagreeing with him. “I don’t know, seems like you were the rebel and bad boy type, but you have a quiet and kind side too. Feels like I would’ve totally had a crush on you, Dean Winchester.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to her.

“Oh yeah,” she whispered, moving in and kissing him, passionately. She pulled away after a moment, smiling. “If those boys turn out to be anything like you are now when they grow up, she’ll be fine.”

Dean smirked, sipping his beer before he continued to eat. They didn’t say much else on the subject after that, continuing their meal as they kept an eye on Elliot. That conversation told them everything they needed to know. Neither of them could wait for the day they had a child of their own.

After dinner, Y/N cleared up while Dean took over on Elliot duty, feeding him. Once he was done, Dean wheeled the crib into his bedroom and started to get Elliot ready to put him down for the night. Once she had cleaned up, Y/N walked down the hall to the bedroom. She smiled as she heard Dean talking to the baby, leaning against the doorway as she watched him changing Elliot’s diaper. He squirmed around, getting a little restless.

“Hey, you know what? I’ll pay you money if you stay still,” Dean joked, as he leaned over the baby.

Y/N laughed quietly, shaking her head at Dean’s attempt to calm the baby. She watched as Dean secured the diaper, buttoning Elliot’s onesie back into place and slowly picking him up. He held his nephew close, making her feel things she had no control over in that moment. She couldn’t wait to see him as a dad, this little glimpse as an uncle proving that he would excel at it. She laughed again as Dean started humming “Smoke on the Water” to Elliot.

“Dean,” she started but stopped when he shushed her. He rocked the baby, and she could see Elliot’s eyes closing.

“It’s working,” he whispered to her. He walked over to the crib slowly, still humming.

“Okay, if I put you down, you gonna be a man about it?” he asked his nephew, quietly, despite knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

Dean slowly laid Elliot down, smiling when he saw him fast asleep. He looked at Y/N and smiled in relief. He cleaned up and put everything back in its place, washing up in the bathroom. He ushered Y/N out of the room as he left the door open, slightly ajar.

They walked down the hallway and dropped onto the couch in the living room, Y/N immediately curling into Dean’s side. She laid her head on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his. She smiled softly as events of the day played through her mind again.

“We did good today,” she said, looking up at him.

“We did,” he agreed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You were awesome.”

She smiled as she wrapped her arm tighter around his. “So were you.”

They moved in and met halfway, their lips pressing together, a slow kiss between them. Y/N shifted back slightly, allowing Dean to wrap his arms around her waist as hers moved around his neck. He moved into her, his hands gently pressing into her back as he laid her down on the couch.

“This is so high school of us,” she laughed between kisses.

“The rebel and the babysitter… yeah, sounds about right.” He chuckled as he leaned in again.

She hummed against his lips, chuckling lightly. “More like the nerdy babysitter.”

“Even better,” he mumbled against her mouth. “You know how I feel about your little teacher clothes.”

They continued to kiss passionately, pulling each other as close as they possibly could. Dean removed his lips from hers, moving down to her neck, leaving small kisses and nips along her skin. His hands slid down her body, pushing up her shirt and feeling her warm flesh against his palms. He reached for the edge of it, pulling it up slightly, when a sudden wail from the bedroom startled both of them. He jerked back, hovering over her, as he looked down the hallway to where his nephew was now crying.

Dean groaned, shutting his eyes. “Of course Sammy’s kid is a cockblock.”

Y/N burst into laughter, cupping her hands over her mouth, as her shoulders shook from how hard she was laughing. She felt the couch shift as he got up, hearing him walk away down to the bedroom. She sat up and fixed her shirt, getting up from the couch and following behind him. When she got to the room, she saw Dean leaning over the crib.

“Alright, kid. What’s going on, huh?” he asked, as he reached in and picked up Elliot. Holding him close, the baby started to calm down, small whimpers leaving his mouth before his eyes started to close. “Ah, someone just wanted a little extra attention before he completely passed out, huh? I get it.”

Y/N walked closer and wrapped her arms around Dean’s waist, looking down at Elliot as he held him.

“Hope this means you’ll get some proper shut eye, and I can score with your aunt here,” Dean whispered, looking between the baby and Y/N with a small smirk.

She shook her head as she rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re insatiable.”

“When it comes to you, damn right I am.” He leaned over, kissing her and lightly nipping at her lower lip, causing a small moan to leave her.

“Not in front of your nephew,” she scolded playfully, looking up at Dean when he pulled away. “You get him to sleep, I’ll go find something for us to watch.”

“Okay.” He kissed her once more, winking at her before she turned around and walked out of the room.

He bit his lip and looked down at Elliot, smiling. “She’s pretty great, huh?” he asked, seeing Elliot look up at him.

“She’s really gonna be your aunt soon, if she says yes,” Dean said, quietly. “And then hopefully you’ll have some cousins to cause trouble with, soon too.”

Elliot’s eyes drifted closed again, a small sigh as he fell asleep again. Dean kissed his head softly and gently laid him down again, smiling as he didn’t jostle from the movement.

Dean shut the lights off, leaving the bedside lamp on for some brightness, before he left the room and walked down to the living room to join Y/N.

The next morning, Dean and Y/N tag teamed just as well as they did the day before, before Sam arrived at noon to pick Elliot up.

Y/N kissed Elliot’s forehead, frowning as she handed him over to Sam. She watched as the father strapped his son into the car seat, feeling a little sad to be giving him back already. Looking after him had naturally been a challenge, but she loved it so much and loved seeing Dean with the baby, too. Sam turned to them, smiling as he hugged each of them.

“Thanks so much again for doing this,” he said, leaning against the car.

“You’re welcome,” Y/N said, smiling. “I just hope you and Eileen got the rest you deserve.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely did. I think we slept for like 7 hours, didn’t get up until the late afternoon,” Sam told them, laughing slightly.

“Good. You needed it.” Y/N rubbed her hand up and down Sam’s arm, before stepping back and standing next to Dean.

“Always happy to look after the little guy, you just say the word and we’re ready, Sammy,” Dean added.

“We really appreciate that.” Sam tossed his car keys up before catching them again, a small smile on his face. “Alright, we better go. Eileen’s missing him already.”

“Tell her we said hi,” Y/N informed him, as she and Dean watched Sam get into the car.

“I will,” Sam agreed, sitting in the driver’s seat with his window down. “We’ll do something soon.”

They both gave Sam a small nod and waved as they watched him drive away from the house.

They walked back in and Dean closed the door, immediately swooping behind Y/N and pulling her close. She laughed as she leaned back and kissed him; the kiss instantly heating up.

“The kid leaves and the first thing you do is this?” she asked, her eyes closing as he kissed her neck.

“Damn right, I didn’t get any last night because of him,” he replied, between laying kisses on her neck and shoulder.

“You know, that was just a taste of what life is going to be like with a baby,” she informed him, chuckling at him as he stopped kissing her and pouted.

“Damn,” he whispered. “Are we really sure we wanna have any?”

She smacked his arm around her playfully, laughing as she shook her head. “Yes.” Turning around in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck, wagging her eyebrows at him. “Besides, think of how much fun we’ll have making them.”

Dean visibly shivered as he looked down at her, moving down to kiss her, a little more hunger for her behind it this time. He hummed against her lips, pulling away slightly. “Maybe we should start now?”

She shook her head but smiled at him. “Give it a little time, babe.”

“Fine.” He frowned but it quickly morphed into a smirk. “We’re still gonna have sex right now, though, right?”

“Obviously,” she replied, with a little ‘duh’ expression.

Kissing her again, he picked her up as her legs came up to wrap around his waist. He carried her into the bedroom, but pulled away slightly, smiling.

“Hey,” he said, softly getting her attention away from his lips. “How about dinner next Saturday? Just you and me… we haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip as she smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Awesome,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss her again.

Sometime later, as they laid in bed wrapped up in the sheets, Dean held Y/N close. Both of them were content, basking in the peace that came after the intense love making, knowing they didn’t have to speak and fill the silence. He smirked as he thought about his plan, and how she had unknowingly agreed to a night out that would change their lives forever.

It was a lot of pressure, and it could just as easily completely backfire on him, but Dean was certain that things were going to be okay.

With Y/N by his side, they always were and hopefully if she agreed to be his wife, they always would be.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons​ @winchest09​ @downanddirtydean​ @jensengirl83​ @wonder-cole​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @flamencodiva​ @ellewritesfix05​ @roonyxx​ @akshi8278​ @hobby27​ @michellethetvaddict​ @spngirl05​ @kyjey​ @halesandy​ @440mxs-wife​ @stoneyggirl​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @redbarn1995​ @marianita195​ @babypink224221​ @deans-baby-momma​ @parinarain​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mandalou29​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​  @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @prettyboyswow​ @lunarmoon8​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

#Life's Lessons Saga #Life's Lessons Time Stamps #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Smut #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

[attllhak]

@tortilla-of-courage I flipped one of my Fancy coins and got heads, so here’s the one about Wild! (And Twilight and Time and Malon.)

This is also the first fic I wrote, so there’s also a lot of worldbuilding details here too. Regardless, enjoy!

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

Twilight really shouldn’t be surprised by things like this anymore.

He had managed to befriend a trench mer about a year ago, and after all the drama that came from that he really should be used to weird shit just, happening to him.

But, here he was, surprised.

In his defence, usually he didn’t run into other mer when out swimming.

His family’s farm was along the coastline, and there weren’t any pods native to the area (outside of the trench mer that lived in the trench a few miles out to open sea), so the only mer that Twilight had ever run into were friends of his father’s who’d come to visit.

This was not a friend of his father’s.

The most obvious detail that this was something new was that all of Time’s friends were deep sea merfolk, and this individual was very much a tropical mer.

Well, maybe a mer. Twilight had never been good at telling the difference between merrow and mer, and that was made harder by the fact that he’d never seen a tropical mer before. This person could be mer or merrow and Twilight would never have been able to tell.

The second detail that said this was a new circumstance was all the blood.

That was actually what drew Twilight over. Large amounts of blood drew sharks, and though they were mostly kept away from the shores by the local zora, it was still better to avoid large blood pools in the water regardless.

Upon approaching, Twilight had noticed that the blood was fresh, and was coming from a merfolk that was definitely new to the area.

This tropical mer had been horribly injured, the entire left side of their body leaking blood into the water around them. Long, tangled blonde hair floated around their head, and their pale blue fins were tattered and damaged, and a few on their left side were just gone altogether.

Twilight initially thought they were dead until he got a bit closer, and their eyes moved to look at him.

Twilight had jerked back in surprise, eyes wide as he took in the expression on the mystery mer’s face, which had gone from defeated to hopeful.

Twilight had to fight to remember to breathe with his gills and not his throat for a moment.

He swallowed, and slowly tried to remember how to speak with his skin.

‘Who, what, why,’ he floundered for a bit. ‘Who are you?’

The mystery mer just watched him lazily, as though they didn’t have the strength to do anything more.

After a long, long moment, and what seemed like quite a bit of effort and pain, they managed to flash ‘help’ at him.

Twilight didn’t even hesitate, moving as quickly as he could without tripping over his fins to the mystery mer’s side, gently scooping them into his arms. Once he had a decent grip on them, he looked around to orient himself, and then took off towards the shoreline where he knew his parents would be.

He didn’t know if the mystery mer had issues with humans, but he couldn’t think of any other way to help them. The trench mer really couldn’t be trusted with delicate matters like this, as much as he loved Midna, so his parents were the only option he had.

He just hoped it wouldn’t make things worse by accident.

His head broke the surface not far from the shore line, where Time was sitting in his human form with Malon.

“Dad!” He shouted, struggling a bit more to keep his passenger steady as the water became more and more shallow. “Dad!”

Time looked up, noticed Twilight trailing blood, and was on his feet immediately.

He met Twilight halfway, which is when he noticed the mystery mer.

“Twilight, what,”

“I found them a ways out,” Twilight gasped out, letting Time help him carry them further onto shore. “They’re really badly hurt, and I couldn’t just leave them, so,”

“Malon!” Time shouted. “Red potions! Hurry!”

Malon nodded and ran up to the house as quickly as she could.

Time and Twilight hauled the mystery mer up onto the shoreline, though still in the water, and Twilight crawled up to the skirt that he and Time both had to pin around their hips to shift back to his human form, since clothes and mer don’t usually mix.

Twilight hurried back over as quickly as he could, stilling pinning fabric in place as he crouched down.

Fortunately it seemed like breathing straight air seemed less painful for the mystery mer, who had taken to clinging to Time’s shirt with his good hand.

Time carefully brushed back their hair, exposing the injuries on their head. Time frowned deeply.

“Can we help them?” Twilight asked, ringing his hands with worry.

“We can,” Time confirmed, and Twilight let out a full body sigh. “He’ll end up with some serious scarring, but he’ll live. What I’m more concerned about is the nature of these injuries,”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, frowning as he looked over the injuries himself.

Malon came back, three bottles of red potion in her arms as she dropped to her knees next to Time. She handed him one of the bottles.

Time nodded, mouthing ‘thank you’ to her, and opened the bottle. “Twilight, support his head,”

Twilight reached out, lifting up the mystery mer’s head so that Time could tip the bottle back and they could drink without choking.

“Dad, what did you mean about the injuries?” Twilight tried asking again once the bottle was empty and they were waiting the few seconds needed to see how well the potion worked so they could gage how many they would need.

Time frowned, but eventually pointed to the parts of the mystery mer’s tail where the fins were missing. “Here, the injuries imply his fins were sawed off by netting,”

“Netting?” Twilight asked, not really following. He knew he was rather sheltered for merfolk, since he grew up on land, but he couldn’t think why someone could end up missing fins from netting.

Time nodded gravely. “Poachers use a specific kind of netting that can cause serious injuries if you struggle too much,”

“Poachers?” Twilight echoed. He wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know people tried to poach merfolk, but poachers never got near zora controlled waters, which was where he’d found the mystery mer. “What are poachers doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Time said, popping open another bottle to offer to the injured mer.

Twilight accepted the other bottle as his mother got up to go and get more.

They spent well over an hour there, crouching in the shallows with this mystery mer as they slowly fed them red potions.

After a long while, Time declared that was enough, and they sat back.

The blood had stopped, but the entire left side of the mer was red and raw still, a collection of marks that would scar pretty badly. But they’d live.

Time sighed, letting the mer cling to his shirt with no small amount of relief.

“He’ll probably need to relearn how to swim with the missing fins, but he’ll be alright,” Time said, and both his wife and son sighed. Time looked up at Twilight. “You did good, bringing him back here. You probably saved his life,”

Twilight smiled. “I was just trying to help,” he shrugged.

“Thank you,”

Everyone froze, and let their eyes fall to the very tired mer in Time’s arms. Their voice croaked and was very quiet, but they all heard it clearly.

They all blinked at each other. Apparently no one expected them to speak a human language.

“Of course,” Twilight said softly, offering one of his hands, which the mer took with their bad hand. “I wasn’t just going to leave you there,”

They nodded, squeezing Twilight’s hand weakly and offering a smile.

“Darling,” Malon asked gently, drawing attention up to her. “Do you mind if we ask your name?”

The mer said nothing, frowning softly.

“Do you have a name?” Twilight tried. Midna had told him that not everyone in the trench had names, and he knew nothing about tropical merfolk. Maybe they had Nameless too.

“I don’t know,” the mer finally said.

“You, don’t know?” Time echoed.

“I don’t remember much,” they admitted, curling in tighter towards Time’s chest. “The last thing I can think of is floating, and then he found me,” they pointed towards Twilight.

Time and Malon shared a look.

“You don’t remember anything?” Malon asked.

They shook their head lightly.

Time and Malon shared another look, and Twilight shifted uncomfortably, bringing his hand up to join the other, just so he had something to do with them. He knew his parents did this often, speaking silently through facial expressions, but he’d never been able to figure out what they were talking about.

“You aren’t going to send me back out to sea, are you?” The mer finally asked, looking more than a bit concerned. “I, I don’t want to go back out there alone,”

“Of course not, dear,” Malon promised them, reaching out to set her hands on the one Twilight had between his own hands. “We wouldn’t do that,”

“We will need to find a way to make sure he doesn’t dry out,” Time pointed out. “We do live on land,”

“We have an extra water trough,” Malon pointed out. “We could pull it inside and fill it up until we think of something better,”

Time hummed. “Would it be big enough?”

Malon frowned at him.

“Right, my mistake,” Time coughed, covering up an amused smile.

The mer finally turned to look at Twilight, marred up face twisted in confusion.

“My mother is human,” Twilight explained carefully. “Dad and I are merrow, but since we can live on land, and mom can’t live in the sea, we live on land. We can and will bring you home, but unless you happen to be merrow then we’ll need to find a container to fill with water for you,”

“I don’t remember if I’m merrow,” the mer said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Twilight smiled. “That’s why we’re talking about options,”

The mer nodded, and curled back into Time.

“Alright,” Time sighed. “Twilight, can you carry him up to the house? I’m going to run ahead with Malon to drag a spare trough into the house to fill up for him,”

“Sure,” Twilight nodded, readjusting how he was crouched to take the mer from his father.

Both his parents stood up and headed back to the ranch, and Twilight watched them go, then turned back to the mer. The mer had wrapped their arms around his neck to hold on, and was looking between the retreating forms of Time and Malon and back to Twilight.

“You don’t have gills,” they said.

Twilight tried to look down at his neck (unsuccessfully), and shrugged. “I do, but they’re closed up right now. I don’t need them in my human form,”

“Oh,” the mer said, then nodded. “That makes sense,”

Twilight stood up, grunting as he shifted how he was holding the mer, and began slowly walking up to the house. Slowly because he didn’t want to trip at all.

Sure enough, Malon and Time had set up a horse trough in the kitchen with a small amount of water in it, towels and other soft materials lining the edge. Twilight knelt down and set the mer in it, being careful to be mindful of the still only mostly healed injuries.

The trough was just a bit too small, the mer’s tail sticking out the one end even fully sitting up.

Twilight and the mer both looked at the arrangement, taking in the cramped conditions.

“Well, this is most certainly a temporary thing,” Time sighed, holding a bucket of water in his hands and frowning at the arrangement. “I’ll call Ruto and see if any of the zora have anything that can help tomorrow,”

“That would be good,” Twilight agreed, voicing the mer’s nod.

(---)

The zora did promise to help with better accommodations, but it would take a while. So the mer spent a week and a half in a repurposed horse trough.

They took the mer back out to the shore every day, and Time and Twilight tried to help him relearn how to swim with his injuries. A zora princess, Mipha, also often attended these lessons after Time had called Ruto and gotten the zora involved. Mipha was a healer, and Ruto had made it very clear that they would be looking into poaching in their waters as that was unacceptable, and wanted to make it up to the poor victim.

This worked well, as the mer took quite a liking to Mipha, and she to him.

Of course, this was also where Twilight and Time learned just how outgoing their new family member was.

Malon called him their ‘wild child’, and after a while ‘Wild’ just became his name.

It fit, if nothing else.

Even on land, Wild continually became more and more vocal and involved in day to day life. He had been very quiet and reserved when they first brought him home, probably a side effect of his memory loss, but as he got more comfortable with them he started coming out of his shell more.

He would sometimes remember random things, and sometimes they would be sad things and others would be happy, but it was never anything big, or that they could use to find his original pod.

Wild didn’t seem to mind that much. He mentioned more than once that he was happy where he was, and was glad Twilight had found him that day in the open water.

The day he called Twilight his brother was the day that Twilight decided he wasn’t going to easily let go of Wild. This was his little brother now and Wild was part of his pod. Time didn’t argue this declaration, just told Twilight to go make sure Wild didn’t hurt himself showing off for Mipha.

Wild did not get hurt showing off for Mipha. Barely.

Wild adapted rather well to the lack of fins, and eventually was swimming just as gracefully as Twilight. Which still wasn’t very graceful, but it was effective enough that he was swimming confidently.

Which is when they spotted the boat.

It was a marine research boat, Wild recognized it but didn’t know why. Marine researchers weren’t allowed in zora controlled waters, it was one of the things they did to crack down on poachers. Hard to pose as marine researchers when marine researchers weren’t allowed in the first place.

‘We should go find Mipha,’ Twilight flashed at Wild, watching the ship warily.

Wild said nothing and didn’t move, just looking at the ship.

‘Wild,’ Twilight grabbed his arm. ‘We should go,’

Wild turned and blinked at him. ‘I know this ship,’

That sent Twilight’s heart up into his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from eying Wild’s scars, a reminder of the poaching that he’d survived.

Twilight swallowed hard, reminding himself that if this was what he was worried about then he’d need to be the one to stay calm, and tightened his grip on Wild’s arm a tiny bit. ‘We need to go,’ he flashed again, trying to press more urgency this time.

Wild shook his head. ‘I know this ship,’ he repeated.

Twilight took a deep breath, glancing up at the ship and seeing people start looking over the side of the ship. That did not calm his nerves. ‘Wild, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. And,’ he trailed off, biting his lip as he struggled and failed to avoid looking at the scars.

Wild caught on and shook his head. ‘I have a good feeling about this ship. I think it’s a good thing,’

Twilight did his best to avoid the worry and panic building in his chest. ‘They still can’t be here. These are zora waters, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. We need to go tell Mipha and Ruto,’

Wild shrugged. ‘Go then, I’ll wait here,’

‘I am not leaving here without you,’ Twilight flashed.

People on the ship were pointing now, and a small boat was being loaded to lower.

Twilight was starting to really worry now, biting his lip and trying not to squeeze Wild’s arm any harder.

‘Wild, please,’

‘You’re really freaking out, aren’t you?’ Wild asked.

Twilight nodded, not bothering to hide it with how the smaller boat had all but hit the water already. They were basically already out of time.

‘Okay,’ Wild offered him, as though he was consoling a small child, which Twilight would be offended by in any other circumstance. ‘Let’s go find Mipha and Ruto and tell them there’s a boat here that shouldn’t be,’

Twilight relaxed just a bit. ‘Thank you,’

They turned to swim off just as the person in the small boat started shouting.

“LINK!”

Twilight startled, not sure how this person knew his real name, as he’d been named after his father and so they both had nicknames. Wild, however, froze.

“LINK!”

Twilight turned to look, seeing a blonde woman with short cut hair leaning over the edge of the small boat, the arm not balancing her switching between waving and cupping her mouth when she yelled.

“LINK!”

‘Wild?’ Twilight asked, shaking his shoulder slightly.

Wild snapped out of whatever daze he was in, twisting in the water to look at the woman.

“ZELDA?!” He shouted back, bubbles erupting from his mouth.

Twilight reared back. Wild never spoke out loud when underwater. Even in the big tank the zora installed for him in their house, he either flashed or surfaced to speak to them.

It didn’t even register that Wild knew the woman’s name until after Wild was already halfway to the surface.

Twilight panicked and followed.

Twilight made it to the surface slower than Wild, and very carefully peeked his eyes above the surface.

Wild had jumped up and had his arms hooked over the side of the boat, and was laughing alongside the woman.

“Oh, and who’s this?” ‘Zelda’ asked, spotting Twilight.

Twilight sunk just a bit further in the water, narrowing his eyes warily.

“Oh! That’s my brother, Twilight!” Wild waved him over, grinning. “Twi! This is Zelda! She’s a friend of mine!”

Twilight cautiously approached, trying to hide how his heart was still ramming in his chest. He poked the rest of his head out of the water.

“Hello Twilight,” Zelda smiled. “I didn’t realize Link had any siblings,”

“Hello,” Twilight said, voice carefully kept even, which was about as polite as he could manage. “You do realize your ship is illegally traveling through zora controlled waters, right?”

Zelda blinked at him, and Wild glowered. Twilight just waited.

“Well, no,��� Zelda admitted. “My father had said he’d spoken to the zora here, and that we’d be able to pass through to look for Link. He went missing a while ago, and we’ve been very worried,”

“He was lying,” Twilight informed her bluntly. “If he really had spoken to the zora then he’d know that we’d found him already, and there’s no need to look,”

Both Wild and Zelda blinked at him.

“You’re certain?” Zelda asked.

Twilight lifted an arm to gesture at Wild. “How many merfolk do you know that would match his description?”

Zelda turned to look at Wild, who in turn blinked down at himself.

“You make a very good point,” Zelda conceded.

“You should probably get your boat out of here, before you get into a lot of trouble,” Twilight advised.

“Right, a very good idea. Thank you for warning me,” Zelda smiled, and Twilight could almost believe she was sincere, but he didn’t really want to do so, just in case.

“We won’t tell anyone about it,” Wild offered, and Twilight sent him a half-hearted glare. “So you don’t need to worry about getting in trouble,”

Twilight HAD planned to tell Time and Ruto about it.

“We will need to tell them that someone had lied about speaking to them about getting permission,” Twilight reminded Wild. “That could become a big problem in the future,”

“Oh,” Wild seemed to deflate.

“We don’t need to tell them who was here though,” Twilight offered hesitantly at Wild’s dejected look, not really caring about how worried Zelda was. “We can leave the ship and it’s crew anonymous,”

“Thank you,” Zelda gasped in relief again, smiling.

Twilight shrugged. “I will need your father’s name, though. For the report,”

“Oh, uh, right,” Zelda fumbled, but did provide a name.

“You should come visit!” Wild grinned. “I’d love to introduce you to the rest of the family!”

“The rest of your family?” Zelda asked.

Wild nodded. “Yeah, mom and dad,”

Zelda frowned. “Link, didn’t you tell me your parents had died in a wreck a few years ago?”

Wild blinked. “They did?”

Twilight looked between them. “You didn’t tell her about the amnesia, did you?”

“Amnesia?”

Wild slid off the side of the boat and sunk up to his nose under the water, his hair floating like spider legs around him.

Twilight sighed. “I found him a few weeks ago floating injured in the water here. I brought him home and my parents and I healed him, which is when we learned he had no memories of anything before I found him. We brought him home with us, since we didn’t want to just leave him alone in the sea. The parents he mentioned are my parents, since we adopted him into our pod after a week or so,”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked.

“I’ve been remembering things though!” Wild piped up. “It’s how I recognized you,”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Zelda smiled. “And, I’d love to visit your new family, if they’d let me,”

She and Wild both looked at Twilight.

Twilight shrugged. “Mom is human and Dad and I are merrow, so show up on land without the ship and we’d be happy to let you in. We have been trying to find Wild’s original pod,”

“Wild?” Zelda blinked.

“We didn’t know his name and he didn’t remember,” Twilight explained. “We’ve been calling him Wild,”

“Ah,” Zelda nodded. “That makes sense. Where do you live? We’ll turn the ship around and meet you over land,”

Wild happily provided her their address, and she signalled for her smaller boat to be lifted up, promising to visit over land.

They watched until the ship had fully turned and left, and then headed back home.

Wild swam up to swim in front of Twilight.

‘You won’t get her in trouble, will you?’

‘The only person I plan to get in trouble is her father,’ Twilight explained.

‘Thank you,’ Wild flashed back.

Twilight did get Zelda’s father in a lot of trouble. Ruto had blown up, and Time, despite being dimmer than a true mer, still managed to nearly blind them as he went off.

It ended with Time and Ruto swimming off, publicly and angrily plotting while off on a warpath. Time likely had the same thoughts Twilight had.

They didn’t even have time to explain that they should be expecting company.

So they surfaced, Wild slapping the water while Twilight pulled on his skirt, and then Twilight carried Wild back to the house.

They decided to start by telling Malon that they’d have company before getting to the bit about Zelda’s dad lying.

A few hours later and Time walked in, still dripping and wearing only his skirt from coming out of the water. He was cursing under his breath.

Which is when the knock on the door sounded.

Wild shot up over the top of his tank, excitedly asking if it was Zelda, which confused Time immensely. Malon went to explain, and Twilight opened the door.

Zelda was tucking a bit of hair behind one of her ears, whispering with one of the people with her when the door swung open. The talking stopped when they saw him, not unexpected considering he was a big guy made mostly of muscle before even taking in the claws or second eyelid that came from being merrow.

Three people stood around her, sheikah Twilight guessed, based on the pure white hair and reddish eyes. One of the women had a streak of red dyed in her hair, and the man had a rather absurd haircut. At least the last woman looked mostly normal. Er, at least in that sense that she was only dressed like she was some kind of ninja or something. A gerudo woman stood a few feet back, watching him closely.

Twilight just smiled, not bothering to hide his fangs since he knew Zelda was already aware he was merrow.

“Zelda! You made it! We’ve been pretty excited about you coming over,”

Zelda smiled back. “Twilight! I’m glad we got the right house. It’s a pleasure to see you,” she waved at her companions. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a few more mutual friends of Link and I’s, since we’ve all been really worried about him. This is Impa, Purah and Robbie, and that’s Urbosa back there!”

Urbosa stepped up to the porch, eying Twilight. He got the impression she maybe didn’t know he was merrow.

“So, you’re the one who found and rescued Link,” Urbosa greeted.

Twilight nodded. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he offered his hand.

Urbosa accepted, eying the claws on his hand.

“Twilight?” Malon called, appearing behind him. “Is this the friend you and Wild mentioned?”

Twilight nodded, and stepped aside, inviting them all in.

Malon greeted them happily, waving them into the living room where Wild was mostly out of his tank.

Wild slipped when he went to wave, and Time reached up calmly to catch him. Time hadn’t bothered to change, but was wearing a towel around his shoulders and was no longer dripping.

“Careful,” Time warned. “You don’t want to fall out,” he said it seriously, but there was mirth in his eye.

Wild grinned sheepishly, but without shame, and slipped back into the tank.

Zelda ran right up to the tank, craning her head up to look at Wild, her companions following her.

“Link!”

Time swiveled his head to her, looking confused, and Twilight hid his snort behind his hand. Time eyed him as well.

“Zelda!” Wild grinned. “You came!”

Zelda scoffed. “Of course I came! And, I brought more friends of ours!” She waved at the others, who all echoed their own greetings.

“Twilight,” Time said slowly. “Did you know Wild was having friends over?”

“We tried to tell you when we reported the confused marine research ship,” Twilight explained. “But you and Ruto got so mad that we couldn’t find a spot to jump in, and then you both swam off. So we came home and told Ma,”

Time nodded, eying the group. “And, you’ve learned Wild’s real name?”

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed.

“And his name is Link?”

“Yes,”

Twilight’s grin never wavered, and Time just sighed. Malon burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Impa asked, eying the group.

“Oh, I,” Malon coughed, trying to reign in her laughter enough to speak. “There’s three of you!”

Time sighed, and Twilight’s grin just grew.

“What does that mean?” Zelda asked.

“I’m Link Jr,” Twilight explained, pointing. “Dad is Link Sr,”

A few more voices join Malon’s in laughter.

Time sighed again.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” Time said, walking out of the room, flicking his towel up over his head and pointedly ignoring the rest of them.

Twilight finally broke and snorted.

The conversation went very well actually, and Urbosa relaxed quite a bit once it was explained to her what merrow were. She came from the desert, and so hadn’t ever encountered merrow before, which explained the weird looks she gave Twilight when he opened the door.

Zelda promised to visit more as well, and to bring more of their mutual friends in the future, and agreed to stay for supper when Malon offered.

“Oh, Wild,” she turned on their way out, looking a bit curious and confused. “I have a question,”

“Yeah?” Wild asked, leaning out of his tank and still grinning.

“Why are you in a tank and your brother and father aren’t?”

Wild blinked. “Because they have legs,” he said, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes,” Zelda agreed. “But, so do you,”

“What do you mean?” Wild asked.

“Wild, you do know that you’re merrow, and not mer, don’t you?”

“I’M WHAT?!?!”

#linked universe #lu #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #malon #lu flora #mer au #injury mention #blood mention #behold! mer au fic! #i have one other thing with twi and wild #and one explaining what happened to wars #and i really need to introduce legend hyrule and four #but i'll do that later #for now there is this

[anamatics]

From your prompts list - 81. “I feel like I’m being stabbed.” / “How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?” - this is Winter finding out about the time Weiss got impaled lol

okay first of all, ow. Second of all, enjoy my vague handwaving in some Bees Schnees directions.

Curfew, 1.7k

October in Atlas means the sun doesn’t come up until nine o’clock in the morning and goes down just after three in the afternoon. Weiss, the last time she came home, found herself unused to the long nights after spending much of her year in Vale hating how each day and night was, roughly, the same length. This time, she’s used to it in a way that no one else is. Blake hates it, hates the darkness and the cold, snuggling up to Yang each night once she thinks Weiss and Ruby have gone to sleep.

The problem is that Weiss doesn’t sleep well in Atlas. She sleeps better here, safely locked away behind the academy walls, than she has in her nearly two decades of life living in this kingdom. Part of it, she knows, is that Winter is two floors up in the officer’s quarters. This is the closest they’ve been to each other at night since Weiss was nearly eleven and Winter left and never came back.

Weiss turns over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. There’s no helping it. She shoves the duvet aside, tugs on a discarded sweatshirt from the pile on the floor, and slips out the door.

The hallways of the academy are dimly lit at this hour of the night, and Weiss wanders up to the balcony that overlooks the parade grounds just off the mess. She sits there, staring out at the city that’s been her prison for so much of her life.

A dream amongst the clouds and the cold, Atlas glows blue and beautiful the scant moonlight that breaks through the cover. Weiss’s breath fogs the window. She presses her palm to the glass. The coolness is grounding, it lets her drift.

The pressure at her side, the near constant ache since they left Mistral, rears its ugly head. Weiss curls her arm around herself, fingers curling against the glass. Close your eyes, push it away. It’s just phantom pain. Yang has it too.

If she doesn’t think about it, it will go away.

Yang told her that. You gotta just power through, it’ll pass.

Weiss inhales. Exhales. Counts the breaths.

This, too, shall pass.

The sound of approaching footsteps fills the hallway. Weiss’s fingers twitch already halfway to twisting the threads of her aura together to form a glyph. She stares at the figure in the reflection on the glass, still foggy with her breath.

“Technically, there is a curfew for cadets.”

Weiss’s lips twist into a lopsided smile. “Good thing I’m not a soldier.”

She’s met with a hum of agreement. Winter approaches, stopping just outside of Weiss’s reach. “It’s nearly midnight. Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Weiss tilts her head to look at her sister. Winter’s jacket is folded under her arm, her tie undone at her neck and three buttons on her shirt undone. She looks as wrecked as Weiss feels, dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is pulled back in messy bun, curling a bit as though she’s been out into the humid night air of Atlas this time of year.

Winter hesitates for a moment, before setting her jacket down on the bench Weiss is leaning against and settling down beside her. She smells a bit like smoke and a bit like booze and a bit like something Weiss cannot place. Perfume? No, that’s not quite right. Weiss’s eyebrows shoot up. Cologne?

A beat of comfortable silence fills the space between them. Winter’s thigh presses against Weiss’s. The traveler’s crease at the front of her trousers pulls flat as Winter stretches her leg out in front of them.

“So, why are you just getting in?”

Winter exhales. She definitely smells like cigarette smoke. “I had a social engagement.”

This is the sort of information that Weiss chews over, another piece of the secret life her sister’s lead since she left home. The one Weiss knows so little about, but the one she so clearly is still living. It is so alien, watching her sister interact with others – watching the easy way she speaks to Penny, the way General Ironwood trusts her implicitly and the Ace Ops clearly see her as a mentor. And yet Winter doesn’t seem to have friends outside of work. She seems to exist simply to work.

So it’s with some hesitation that Weiss nudges Winter’s shin with her foot, a teasing tone creeping into her voice. “You have a social life?”

“A… colleague asked me for a drink, catch up.” Winter shrugs, fiddles with her watch strap. Her eyes flick to Weiss, before they turn back to the shifting clouds over the city. “You haven’t been sleeping since you got here.”

And there’s no answer to that, other than the truth. Weiss pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt – Yang’s sweatshirt that smells like Blake’s deodorant: earthy and crisp, like rosemary just pressed – and curls her hands around the fabric. “When I close my eyes in this place, it fells like all the air goes out of the room.”

“It was months before I slept soundly,” Winter confesses. Up close, Weiss thinks her eyes look like Mother’s at mid-day. Not quite all the way to drunk but not exactly sober. “I got caught out after curfew – one I had to mind – often because sleep wouldn’t come.”

“What did you do?” Weiss asks.

“Got a running habit.” Winter looks to Weiss. “And then some other, far less healthy ones.”

Nose wrinkling, Weiss hums. “You’d think you’d avoid it entirely, given how much it ruins things.”

Winter draws her knee up and wraps her arms around it. She rests her chin on her knee, eyes fixed straight ahead. She says nothing for long enough that Weiss wonders if she shouldn’t have said that at all. Her mind races, think for something she can say to fix it, when Winter says a non-sequitur, but one which recalls the original intent of her question. “There are restrictions as to who can access these premises, Weiss. With good reason.”

And as much as she wants it to matter, it doesn’t. He’s father, he can open any door, he can sniff out any lie. “It doesn’t matter.”

A warm weight settles over her shoulder and Winter’s fingers curl around her arm. Weiss leans against her, head tucked up under Winter’s chin like she did so often when they were children and hiding in some unused part of the house from Father’s rages.

“Sometimes,” the words are like sandpaper in Weiss’s mouth, “when I think about being back here, my heart beats so fast I feel like I’m being stabbed.”

“How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?”

Oh.

“Winter, something happened in Mistral.”

Weiss retreats from the warmth of her sister. She turns, sitting cross legged, and pulls her hand away from her side and tugs off the sweatshirt. The tank top she’s wearing underneath has already ridden up her stomach a bit and she tugs the hem up and looks away. Lets Winter see the scar. Lets Winter see her shame.

Eyes wide, Winter leans in, brushing her fingers against the raised skin at Weiss’s abdomen. With her hand there, Weiss is remined, yet again, that the scar is the size of Winter’s fist. “Weiss, this is…” Winter drags her eyes up to meet Weiss’s and her expression turns deathly serious. “What happened?”

“I looked away.” Weiss lets her tank top fall down back over the scar and pulls the sweatshirt over her head. “I was too slow and I looked away.”

“That wound would have – would have—”

“It didn’t.” Weiss knows her voice sounds harsh, but she refuses to admit what happened in that context. “But it was a close thing. If Jaune—"

Winter pulls her close again. “I should have stayed in Mistral. We could have delayed the withdrawal a few more weeks. I could have – I should have been there.”

There’s no reason for that, no reason for Winter to blame herself for this. “This isn’t your fault. I was the one who was too slow. I was the one who turned my back on Cinder Fall.”

“It’s my duty to protect you Weiss.”

“You said you wouldn’t always be around to save me,” Weiss points out.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get the chance to try.”

And Weiss has nothing to say to that, because there is nothing to say. Winter will always talk a big game, but still want to be there, still want to try to do the right thing. It’s lost time, it’s making up for a lifetime of silences like the one that stretches out between them. One that’s uncomfortable when they’re so used to trading comfortable silences as a currency for survival.

It’s nice, leaning against Winter like this. Where Winter can be a solid, tangible object of support. Weiss inhales, Blake’s deodorant and Yang’s shampoo mingling with the strong, crisp scent of her sister’s cologne. Cologne. It’s then the question bursts, unbidden, from Weiss. “Were you on a date?”

Winter freezes, body stock still.

“Why… would you ask that?”

“You smell nice.”

“Are you implying I usually do not?”

“No, I mean that it’s nice. Your um…” Is it wrong to say what Weiss thinks it actually is? “Your perfume is nice,” she hedges.

“Well,” Winter says at length. “It’s not mine – and I’m pretty sure if asked, you’d be told it was cologne.” Winter’s fingers tangle in Weiss’s hair and she rests her cheek against Weiss’s head. “Someday I’ll tell you about her.”

And though she’s burning with a desire to know, though the her throws Weiss to the point where she feels like the ground is shifting underneath her, Weiss lets it go. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“If that’s what you want.” Winter gets to her feet and collects her jacket.

Weiss follows.

(Weiss is pretty sure she’d follow Winter to the end of the world.)

#fanfic #weiss schnee #winter schnee #rwby #schneesters #my kryptonite #ANYWAY ENJOY SOME WEISS PROCESSING THIS TRAUMA THAT THE SHOW WILL NEVER ENGAGE WITH

[astaroth1357]

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work. 

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise. 

Mammon 

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan 

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan 

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus 

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor 

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged… 

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant

The tavern is lively in the evening.

A fact you are endlessly grateful for. It provides an imperfect little sanctuary to drown out the mad howling from the outside.

The shrill sound is nothing new, nor out of the ordinary for you; it has been with you your entire life. Ever since you were a child, you remember the fear it instilled and the nights it kept you awake, shivering in terror underneath the covers of your bed. You remember the stories your mother told you about the monsters lurking in the darkness of the forest… even more so now that her warnings and tales are all you have of her.

Perhaps that subconscious terror is the very reason which had you seeking work at the inn.

You could do literally anything else in the village than tolerate the half-mad grouch that is the owner –he never even pays on time— yet you are still here. Possibly to escape the cold walls of your empty house at night. Possibly to avoid being alone with the howls and the padding right out your door. You don’t know how the other villagers do it. They’re either braver, denser or crazier than you give them credit for.

As for yourself, you know for a fact you are not as strong as other people think you are. Maybe it is your sturdy build that tricks them, or the killer glare you’ve perfected over the years of putting up with the town’s shit. Whatever the case, you are in no hurry to debunk the lie, even while you recognize it for what it is.

A distant howl threatens to crack the cocoon of safety you’ve convinced yourself you’re tucked into, so you focus on the drunken chatter and the bard’s soft music a tad harder. It’s just the wind. Just the wind out there. Your knuckles are white around the bear glass you’re in the process of cleaning.

And then something strange catches your eye.

At a shadowed, quiet corner of the tavern, a shopkeeper is speaking to a hooded woman. The scene would not be anything out of the ordinary… only, you know just about every individual in this damned village –it comes with the job— yet you do not recognize her.

And you’d remember that tight, lithe figure, that is for certain.

There aren’t many girls in the village who can make plain black robes look like an article right out of a fashion magazine. So, yes, she is the first thing your mind settles on. But your attention quickly shifts to the person she’s talking to. The man has had far too much wine to drink –you’d know, you served it— and he’s not exactly the type you’d trust being inebriated around women. Already, he’s looking at her like a starved beast salivating over a freshly cut steak.

Your hazel eyes narrow at his direction.

“I will ask you for the final time. Do you have what I ordered for my mother?” the girl asks, her silvery voice curling slowly around every word, as if she’s talking to a toddler or a fool. It’s as funny as it is cute, but you can’t let yourself smile just yet. Something in his gaze takes all the mirth out of the situation for you.

Instinctively, you’ve moved closer.

“I have it. Yes, of course. Come with me an’ I’ll give it to you.” There is a very obvious slur to his words that inspires no confidence.

You want to shout when the girl so very easily follows him outside.

There are too many things wrong with that thought. Her, possibly new to the village, alone with a lecher like him. Her, unprotected, out in the dark, where every soul in this cursed place knows not to be.

Suddenly, you’re hyperventilating and you don’t know why. You don’t know her and her wellbeing is none of your concern. Everyone in the town is out for themselves, that part was made abundantly clear to you a long time ago. There is no room for compassion, especially at night. She made a bad decision and the consequences are her own to deal with.

You are not a heroine to follow her out and save her from the wolves and the man’s intentions and the rumored monsters. You are not that good of a person. You know it like you know the sky is blue; you are not that brave.

But you must be stupid.

You must be, because it’s not a minute later that you hurry out the back door, as well. It’s difficult to see anything in the dead of night, but you manage to spot the pair on the side of the building. The shopkeeper is now leaning too close to her, a drunken grin to his lips as he reaches out to grab at her chest. The girl’s hand flies to her hip, the handle of a weapon visible there just under the shadows—

Your fist is faster.

It cracks straight against the man’s jaw in a sound that shouldn’t be so satisfying but it is. His head knocks against the wall and he falls backwards like a pushed domino. Howls echo in the distance but the sound of your heart is too loud in your ears to register them.

You turn to the girl to make sure she’s alright –to see her with a gleaming sickle in hand, hovering awkwardly mid-air. At least she had a weapon with her. Yet it’s not so much the blade as her face that captures your attention.

She is beautiful. All delicate features befitting a princess, curved nose and cupid lips and a small chin. Her brown hair looks silken-soft as it runs down the sides of her angelic face… but you haven’t heard of any angels with an umbral, rose-like tattoo on their foreheads.  

You have heard of beings bearing such markings that you’d be smart to avoid.

The contrast between the attraction you feel and the danger you should feel leaves you hanging there, still and mute. She is the first to move, hooking her sickle back to her belt in a motion far too dexterous not to ring some alarm bells in the back of your head.

“Well.” she says. “Looks like I’ve been rescued.” she doesn’t sound rescued. “Unnecessary… but sweet of you.” If her smile wasn’t so pretty maybe you would have already started running indoors.

“N-no problem.” you say as you’re beginning to regret all your life choices.

Her eyes flash down to your neck, then back up to yours. You don’t see her move, but her hand is suddenly on your bicep, just above the curve of your elbow. You can feel the chill of her skin through your clothes. “Relax. You’ll have a heart attack.”

Easy for her to say.

A quiet moment passes between you, during which you are all too aware of the fact your back is now pressed against the wall and she’s in front of you. Then, “Is it the howling…?” she asks. You’re half-lying when you nod. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t very well let my valiant protector get eaten, now, can I?”

It’s meant as a joke, but your heart constricts further in your chest. Images you’d like to avoid thinking about come to mind. How casually did she say the word ‘eaten’, though…?

“I’m –not really any of those things.” You shake your head. “What did you need from this guy?”

Conversation is probably good, you muse. It helps with your nerves and it keeps her occupied. Plus, she’s kind of really cute, the way her voice so perfectly matches her face. You can’t help but add that to the list of reasons.  

A pout crosses her balmy lips. The moonlight that caresses her face makes them glitter. “I wanted a surprise gift for my mother. My order should have arrived by now –so maybe I don’t need him, after all.” Maybe I don’t need him alive is what she doesn’t say but strongly imply.

“No, no! I can get it for you!” you say the second she makes to move towards the unconscious shopkeeper.

A soft, airy chuckle leaves her lips. “Didn’t you say you aren’t a valiant protector?”

“Words I stand by. But there’s been enough loss in the village as it is.” you somehow find the courage to reply. “I’ll get it from him tomorrow—”

“So, that’s where you are.” Another female voice chimes in, this one several tones darker than firmer than the brunette’s. The figure that looms in the darkness wears a similar attire, but she feels more ominous than the one in front of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” she says, stern, like an older sister you don’t want to ever cross.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” The brunette waves with her free hand. The one that’s not still on your arm. She turns back to you, her expression sweet amusement once more. “Be home tomorrow night and have my order with you, yes?” You can imagine it’s impossible for anyone to say ‘no’ to her when she bats her lashes like that.

You also don’t want to imagine what will happen if you refuse.

“Uh— Yeah.”

She beams. She downright beams. “Excellent!” She steps away and you take a much-needed breath…

But then she seems to think twice about it and slips right back into your space. Dainty fingers catch your chin, deceptively strong. Cool, soft lips land on your warmed cheek. She smells good, is all you can think about while she’s that close. Like the cold and roses and faint undertones of something metallic.  

“Thanks, sweetheart.” she purrs.

The edge of her hood brushes your forehead and she’s out of reach before you can even blink. She waves at you from her sister’s side, who looks none too pleased with any of this.

And then— she blends into the dark and you finally register how cold it is outside.

Ko-Fi

#Cassandra Dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady dimitrescu's daughters x oc #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!! #Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn

[alphabet-blues]

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

#Parkner #Drowning Lessons #Fic #Chapter One #Parkner Euphoria Fic #Graphic Drug Usage #Harley Keener #Peter Parker #Keenker #Parley #Harley/Peter #Harley Keener/Peter Parker