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notyetneedcoffee · 3 years

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Stiches, Part 2

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

Stiches Part 1

Consciousness came slowly, like sunlight filtering through a thick fog. Warmth surrounded your heavy limbs and when you tried to move, a delightful pang registered in the muscles of your inner thighs. A low moan slipped passed your lips as the ache between your legs caused a flood of images from the night before to crash across your mind.

You told the traveling Witcher you wanted to feel him for days after he left. The man took you at your word. Playing your body with the mastery of a hundred years of practice, Geralt assured your cunt stayed swollen and wet as he fucked you thoroughly, roughly, and repeatedly.

“Stay put,” a deep gravely voice rumbled against your ear. A strong arm pulled you tighter to his bulk. “I am not ready to awaken yet.”

You turned in his arms to bury your face in the hair of his chest. Your knee easily slipped between his thighs as his legs tangled with your own. His large hand settled at the back of your neck, and you felt his deep sigh. His weighty and lax body wrapped around yours. His half hard cock pressed into you belly. Despite fatigue, your hand moved between you to wrap around his length.

“Hmm.” Geralt pumped into your palm once before pulling your hand away and pressing your palm to his lips. “Sleep now, my dove.” He chuckled lightly. “Later I shall plow you like the fields of wheat in Novigrad.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled into his chest and succumbed to the warmth, drifting off to sleep again.

Darkness enveloped the world. The warmth surrounding you turned your limbs numb, preventing you from moving away from the wailing in your ears. Harsh and painful, the sound clawed at your mind brought you to panic. You needed to run, needed to flee, but you couldn’t move. Not even a sound came forth as you tried to scream. The source of the wail pulled at you, ripping into your chest, tearing the life from your breast.

Light flared. Fire seared your flesh. Breath rushed through your lungs and you screamed.

Hard rough hands shook you. A deep voice called your name. Your eyes popped open to see Geralt on his knees over you, gripping your shoulder hard. Shock left your heart beating like a galloping horse. Cold steel brushed against your hand and you realize his sword lay beside you.

With another shake he said your name, scowling. “Are you with me? Why do you have a Hym attached to you?”

“What?” You looked up at him. “I, um, I have nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Geralt’s jaw clenched. He let you go, sitting back to lean on the headboard and place his sword beside the bed. “No,” he huffed. “A hym has attached itself to you. What have you done?”

You sat up, pulling the blanket up with you. “What? I have not-“

“Don’t lie to me.” Geralt large hand grasped your jaw. You never saw him move. He was just suddenly holding you down, growling in your face. “Hyms only feed upon the guilty. What have you done?”

A tightness gripped your throat, but it wasn’t Geralt’s hand. Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t know.”

He released your jaw, but didn’t let you go. He pulled you upon his lap. “Tell me of the creature in your nightmares. Is it just in your dreams, or does it whisper to you while awake?”

“Just nightmares.” You twisted your fingers in the blanket. “They come once, maybe twice, a week.”

“I suspect,” he tilted his head to look at your downcast face. “That is the only time you allow yourself to sleep soundly.” You nodded. He took a deep breath, running his fingertips down your spine. “Hyms attach to persons holding onto guilt, great guilt. They feed on it, create a darkness in the person, so they can feed even more.”

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I can help you, little dove. I can defeat this thing, but you have to tell me.” The warmth of his large hands slipped up to rest upon the base of your neck. His voice rumbled low and deep, but it made you want you curl against him and weep.

“The spring after my husband was killed,” You sniffed and leaned into Geralt’s chest. “One of the smiths, Wallen, attempted to gain my favor. I turned him away, but he persisted. He became obsessive and abusive. I feared him and took great pains to never be alone with him.”

He remained silent, but his fingers began their journey over your back again.

“One day three men came to town. They were part of the raiders who attacked when my husband died. I knew they were dangerous, knew they would kill without remorse.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Never before had you uttered the words, “I knew they were listening when I lied about a large commission Wallen had taken.”

Geralt nodded. “They killed him for riches he did not have.”

“I told myself, I just lied. I didn’t kill him. It was a little lie, that’s all.” You wept. “He was vile and mean. I could not push him away anymore. He attempt to...he nearly...I knew he would do worse than force me if he caught me alone. I was afraid.”

A single rueful huff erupted from his chest. Geralt pressed his lips to your hair. “Such feelings for nothing but a cunning solution to a problem.”

“But…”

“If this man came after you, and you held a blade, what would you do?”

“Use it.” You huffed.

“If he came after you, and you own attack hounds, what would you do?”

“I’d release them.” Your tears ceasing.

“So all you did, my dove, is release the dogs you had at your disposal.” Geralt pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin below your ear. His tongue slipped along the edge of your ear before he nipped at it lightly. “Now that you have spoken of it, the hym can be fought.”

“How?” You turned your face into his neck.

“Tonight you will take me to where the Smithy was killed.” He felt you stiffen, but he shifted you in his hold to tuck you closer to his chest. “You can. You will. The hym will come to you. Then I will kill it.”

“How do you kill a nightmare?” You asked in a small voice.

“I’m a Witcher.” He chuckled. “Or had you forgotten?”

“No,” you quietly laughed. “How could I?”

“Then tonight I shall slay your monster.” His hand tipped your head up. His breath washed over your lips.

“But I have no coin to give you.” You fought not to smile.

“Then we shall have to barter.” Geralt’s mouth possessed yours, drawing a delicious moan from you. He tossed away the offending blanket, and moved you to straddle his lap. Your fingers tangled in his white hair. As your tongues battled, his hands encircled your waist and he rocked you against him. Your breasts raked over his chest.

Still sensitive from the night’s amorous activities, you grew wet against his hardening cock. You nipped and kissed along his neck. “Gods, you feel so good.”

He only grunted, as his rough hand squeezed your breast, thumb rubbing over your taunt nipple. With a fluid movement, he flipped you both. You landed on your back. Geralt hooked your knees over his arms. Leaning forward he trailed love bites down your chest.

“So sweet.” He hummed against the soft skin of your inner thigh. The scruff of his chin grazed your sensitive clit and you gasped. Geralt laid the flat of his tongue over you, soothing you, teasing you. “Do you need rest, my dove?”

“No.” You panted, fingers twisting in his hair.

“What is it you want?” His voice vibrated through your body.

“Fuck me.” You breathed.

He chuckled, crawling up your body, painting a trail with his mouth. When his cock pressed against your slick core, he kissed you hard, burying himself deep. His groan mixed with your moan. Unlike the night before, he moved slow and deliberate. The length of him moving in and out at such a pace that your breath became one, the tension coiled, and heat spread.

“Yes,” you clung to his shoulders, legs wrapping tightly around his hips. His fingers dug deep into the meat of your ass, holding you tight. His weight pressing into you and the scent of his sweat filling your head, you lost yourself in him.

His pace quickened. Your body tightened. You curled your hips up. His hips snapped, cock hitting you perfectly. Your thighs shook. His grunts mingled with your cries. Geralt pounded into you with force. You dug your nails into his back, coming hard. He growled, following you.

You held on with weak limbs, relishing in the feel of him. He rolled and pulled you along with him. Your fingers trailed down his side, feeling the stitched you placed there just the day before. Lifting up, you checked his wound. It was pink, but looked a week old.

“Told you I heal quickly.” Geralt sighed.

“Good thing,” you settled into the crook of his arm. “I’d hate to aggravate an injury before you go monster slaying again.”

He huffed. “It would be worse if you sent me off hungry.”

You laughed, sitting up. His eyes were closed and a relaxed smile was on his face. “I think I can manage to satisfy your appetite.”

Geralt’s golden eyes met yours, glinting with mirth. “You’re definitely doing that, but what about food?”

Soon the two of you were dressed and seated at your favorite table in front of the fire. The inn owner, Rulla, thankfully did not comment as you immerged from the Witcher’s room. She just gestured to your table and followed with a pitcher of ale and cups.

“About time. I suppose you’re hungry.” Her reproachful words did not match the teasing smile on her lips. When Geralt grunted an agreement, she wondered off to quickly return with a large platter. Unloading bowls of stew, loaves of bread, and a large plate of cured meat and dried fruit.

Your stomach grumbled, realizing for the first time how famished he’d made you. Geralt tore off a piece of bread and began to eat with purpose. He did everything with purpose; eating, fucking, monster killing.

By the time this Witcher moved on, he would not only leave you well bedded, but free of your nightmares. You smiled, feeling better than you had in ages.

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mymedicine · 4 years

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Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

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helakkas · 2 years

Text

Happy New Year, everybody! May the next year be better to you than the last. (Honestly, fuck 2021.) And with that, it’s time for me to log off.

TL;DR: I’m taking a break from all social media. I’ve already put some things in queue (I have over 5000 likes that I should clean out), but if it runs out, don’t worry about it. I’m fine - or will be.

I’m mostly writing this as a note to my future self. I always scoff at those “I’m deleting! Try and stop me!!!” posts, and absolutely no one is obligated to read this nor react to this. This is just...well, a diary entry of sorts. A snapshot of time. A reminder for myself, of how I felt at this time in my life. (And also somewhat incoherent rant, since I’ve been writing and editing and deleting parts of this post for the last two weeks, usually in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep.) The point is, I’m exhausted with social media - not tumblr or twitter or reddit or instagram particularly, in general. I’m tired of being here. I need to get out. I’m tired of the constant cycle of misinformation, bad takes, outrage at something, bad takes of that, correction of misinformation, another take-down of earlier misinformation, more misinformation, another wave of outrage.

Even if I rarely, if ever, post anything to voice my opinion or mutter it under my breath in the tags, I see and read everything that passes my dash or timeline. I think on it. I react to it. And it’s exhausting to react to everything, no matter if it is with outrage or disappointment or even joy. Who’s the villain of the week? What are we protesting today? What should I be aware of now? What moral dilemma should I tackle today? Even if I don’t reblog/post/tweet about it, it occupies my brain space and I react to it. I also don’t really know anyone online or talk to anyone here that much, but I can’t help but get emotionally attached after seeing the same names and avatars year after year, posting and/or reblogging about something that means so much to them. It’s obviously a me-problem, getting emotionally attached to avatars and feeling sad or disappointed when I have to unfollow someone for posting a really bad take or venturing into a fandom I can’t or won’t follow - but if it’s a me-problem, it’s my responsibility to take care of it. And it’s tiring to curate my experiences online. No matter how many times I unfollow people for posting/reblogging bad takes or block or filter certain words or topics and try curate my dash/timeline, something will always pop up that makes my day worse. Instead of being a relaxing respite from my real life, social media has only worsened my anxiety and depression even when I try to use it sparingly. I’m fairly certain people weren’t made to handle this much information; at least, I’m certain my brain can’t handle that much. It’s also addictive, at least to me - I find myself getting invested in drama that I usually wouldn’t glance at when I can’t sleep, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling endlessly in a stupid attempt to get my brain to stop thinking, which obviously doesn’t work when I keep feeding my brain even more information.

So, this is me taking care of a problem that’s entirely my own doing. I’m tired. I need a total break to see if I even miss this. Only because I’m bad at remembering dates and it’s easier to keep count this way, starting on January 1st (as cliché as it is), I will delete twitter, tumblr and reddit (and whatever else I’m forgetting right now) off my phone and log off from my accounts on my laptop. I haven’t logged off from tumblr and twitter voluntarily in... years. Seven years, probably. I honestly don't remember, which is alarming in itself.

I’m not deleting this account (or any others). I’m still too attached to it and the journey I’ve taken on it, but I’m not sure when I’ll next log in. Next week? In a month? In half a year? In a year? Never? I don’t know. I’ll try and see how long I can go without the need to fill the void in my life with endless scrolling and the outrage cycle. I’m kind of excited to see what I’ll do to fill the time left over when I don’t have to keep up with the latest fandom drama or read a dissertation on what we’re mad about today. Maybe I’ll start drawing again. Maybe write again. Maybe play piano. Maybe start a whole new hobby. Maybe exercise, read, cook more, spend time with friends and family. Who knows.

If you read my ramblings this far - thank you, you honestly didn’t have to. You don’t really know me, after all. I’m just an avatar that appears on your dash sometimes.

Take care, everyone. Be kind to one another, as well as yourself.

#personal #so long and thanks for all the memes i guess

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amimons · 3 years

Text

This is about the m//aribat ship making the Top 100 ships and my opinion (I’m not a fan)

I’m putting this on the keep reading just so it won’t fill up the feeds of those who don’t care to see

Look I’m all for letting people ship whoever they want as long as its not harmful. And I’m not telling anyone they can’t ship this/enjoy it because fandoms are meant to express yourself and explore ideas. From the content I’ve seen coming from this crossover it’s pretty much salt takes and this fandom has a fixation on salt.

I’m seeing people get mad about the frustrated remarks some fans are making about m//aribat making the top 100 ships. But when this ship has a heavy focus on being salty towards the majority of the miraculous characters and tearing those characters/ships apart its just ??? I’m not a fan of this crossover not because I’m not into crossover ships or DC comics but because this ship above anything else is a spite ship.

In my experience of coming across this crossover multiple times it focuses on bashing Alya, Adrien/Chat (and associated ships with him), and the entire class. It’s the disrespect towards other’s ship preferences and character favorites that make people annoyed. It’s possible ship something without salting on another ship.

So it’s disappointing to see that this fandom, during a year+ hiatus is still only putting energy into salt when nothing except an hour long special happened this year.

The fact that this crossover is used to express hatred towards some ships but then fans of the m//aribat get mad at those who express their anger towards seeing this ship and the themes and ideas that come from it is hypocritical. You are allowed to hate ships. No one is stopping you from writing this crossover and although there will be a disagreement of opinions, you can express them. But that also means that people who don’t like seeing this crossover can say so. A lot of people love to trash the show and insult those who like certain aspects of it but then get annoyed when people point to this crossover side of the fandom and say “no I don’t like that.”

No one should feel belittled about enjoying this crossover and I’m not saying every single written M//aribat fic is salt focused. But as someone who is a fan of Miraculous Ladybug the only time I’ve came across this ship (which is plenty) it’s riddle in salt and character bashing so not a good look. I’ve seen misogyny, racism/microaggressions, and just overall toxicity with some of the ones that were pushed to my tumblr suggestions on my dash. Which leads into the final point.

In terms of tumblr, this ship gets tagged in the main miraculous tag. The spam is also just a nuisance to be quite honest. Tagging it does lessen the content but it can slip through the cracks even when salt and this ship is filtered out, it still pops up. Not to mention it will also get tagged with lovesquare ships and other characters when those ships/characters are present to be salted on. It’s like avoiding the unavoidable.

So yeah that’s just my opinion on the disappointment/frustration in seeing it on the list. You can be happy about the ship being on it. This isn’t saying you shouldn’t. This is just the perspective of someone who isn’t too happy with it and explaining why.

#and no i dont need to be enlighten on this crossover so please please please dont lol #i also dont want to linger on this too long #but this is me going off #fandom salt

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crystalrose555 · 3 years

Note

Would you write toddler mc scenario's

I’ve seen this going around a lot so I’m going to give my own spin. The following events happened in one day and the first line of each is what MC calls them and I shall call it

10 Himbos, a child and a toddler (since Beel and Belphie are two halves of the same idiot XD)

Lucifer

“Lucy”

Hides behind his coat when walking together

almost trips him when they grab onto his leg

Plays with the rope on his waist

will try to take his quill and help sign papers

with crude duckies and bunnies

Gives them some fake papers to sign and play with

Smirks at how easy it was to fool a toddler while looking over his work.

“Ok, there’s page 21,22,23, 25...Where’s 24?”

Page 24 is now a paper snowflake with Lucifer’s name on it

Calls Mammon to take care of them

Mammon

“Mammie”

Shows them sleight of hand tricks

disappearing a grimm behind their ear etc.

Gets to the card tricks only for MC to scatter the cards everywhere

Breaks his sunglasses with an oopsie step when he cleans up the cards

Flushes his wallet down the toilet in the confusion

Threatens to sell them

actually tries when they try to bend Goldie in half

Realizes selling them is too harsh and that no one wants to buy a toddler except for sickos, so drops them off in Levi’s room

Levi

“Lebi”

Would barricade them in his tub but they will sneak out

they read his mangas too hard (crumbled and/or ripped pages)

And play with the pretty dollies AKA Ruri Chan’s Flying Adventure

Insert aggressive Japanese swear words

Satan hears the commotion and volunteers so that Levi doesn’t summon Lotan

Satan

“Saltine”

“...You can say Saltine, but not Satan?“

Will go back and forth to get them to say his name correctly with him growing more and more impatient.

MC will keep giggling and saying it because they like seeing Satan angry

A very dangerous game

Asmo has to come in and point out that MC thinks it’s funny to call him that.

“...Asmo, they’re yours now.” And walks off.

The sound of something breaking as soon as he turns the corner.

Asmo

“Aussie”

Surprisingly has an easy time taking care of them at first

Plays dress up with his furs and costume jewelry

Will brush and style their hair with bows and clips

Will keep moving and making him have to start over, but that normal with a toddler

However, draws the line when MC get into his bathroom and dumps all of his perfume into his bathtub and draws on the tile with his lipsticks and mascaras

MC: Pretty!

*Insert High pitched scream*

Beel burst in when he heard Asmo’s high note

decides to take them when Asmo starts crying

Beel & Belphie

“Bee” & “Bumble”, calls them together as “Bumblebee”

The best caretakers of their brothers

Beel will play all the games with them, from the floor is lava to tag

When they get tired, Belphie tags in and puts them for a nap with him

Its a pretty good dynamic until Beel has to make lunch

since he keeps eating it takes longer, so MC wakes up with Belphie

They try to start crying until Belphie says they’re playing Hide n Seek

Belphie counts and MC hides

Annnnd he falls asleep as soon as he gets to 7.

Beel: Belphie, where’s MC?

Belphie just shrugs

The entire house is now searching for the toddler MC

Solomon

“Bad”

Finds MC who manages to make their way towards Purgatory Hall

Wonders in a toddler can be efficient at spell casting

Instead he talks to them and gets them talking about the brothers since toddlers have no filter

Gets a kick at hearing what happened earlier with Asmo

He then decides to teach MC swear words

Before the first swear can come out of his mouth, Simeon pops out with an angry smile

Simeon

“Simi”

Scolds and lectures Solomon on the proper etiquette with a toddler

Plays with his shawl while Simeon tries to get Solomon to take the situation seriously

This causes a back and forth between the two of them

MC walks away when there is no attention coming to them and their stomach growls

Luke

“Lukie”

Notices that MC was going to wonder off

Tries to tell Simeon and Solomon but they are too heated in their argument

Manages to stop MC from putting dangerous things in their mouth

Sighs and takes it upon himself to feed them

However, he foolishly expects a toddler MC to stay still

Comes back to see MC wondering into a portal that Solomon left open

His scream grabs the attention of both Simeon and Solomon

Barbatos

“Barbie”

Was watering the roses when he heard a sudden noise of something struggling and crying

Discovers MC covered in scratches from the thorns and tangled in the barbs

Cuts them loose and carries them back to clean them up; calms them down surprisingly quickly

Upon hearing their stomach, he goes and makes lunch for them which is basically child friendly finger food

Summons a high chair and bib so they don’t make a mess and run off

Takes the moment to take care of the roses he had to cut

However, turns to see that MC are gone

Takes a moment to look in the near future and sighs to himself

Diavolo

“Dibobo”

Is mesmerized by the tiny MC

When they start folding up his paperwork, he stops them just so he can teach them how.

Slides down the railing of the Castle stairway with then in his arms

When they start to draw on the walls, gives them a literal canvas with finger paints and he actually hangs it up in a corridor

Phone is full of photos of their fun times

It’s so nonstop, MC is actually exhausted and takes a nap in his arms while he sits in his office and actually does work

Bonus Round:

*The brothers along with the Purgatory Hall crew burst into his office, arguing and panicking, barely taking notice of Diavolo and MC*

Simeon: Why would you leave a portal open, Solomon!? Have you’ve gone insane!?

Solomon: I don’t have babies around when I do magic, how was I suppose to know?

Luke: *Whimpering from the stress*

Mammon: Seriously, how could you lose MC? How the hell did you fall asleep playing Hide and Seek?! Beel: I’m sorry :(

Belphie: Don’t apologize Beel, at least we didn’t try to sell them.

Satan: Mammon did what!?

Mammon: Hey at least I wasn’t going to feed them to Lotan!

Levi: They destroyed my Ruri Chan figures! Asmo: Whatever, what’s important is that we find MC! I feel so horrible! Lucifer: Exactly, I hate to report this, Lord Diavolo, MC has gone missing and we have no idea where they are. Diavolo with MC sleeping in his arms:

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calpops · 4 years

Note

HOUSE WARMING PARTY! Ashton deadass will present them a little lemon tree, Mike joke about some of the pictures cal hung not being leveled, girlfriends commenting on the style and little details, while Luke just enviously looking at their back yard saying that piggie would love it here (he just loves his dog, okay? lmao) just a warm nice evening with friends

With the finishing touches on the new house being completed the question of a housewarming party crops up. Calum is all for it, a gleam of pride in his eyes about the house and the fact that it’s yours together makes that pride mix with love. It’s home and he wants his friends to celebrate the occasion. You agree, mostly because his excitement sways you. You’re not fond of huge parties but he promises it will be intimate and easy going. Just a small gathering of close friends and no expectations other than a good time and new memories to create in the new house.

The day of the party you rush around to clean the house together. Tossing shoes you leave all around the house back into the closet, Calum lightheartedly chiding you for the bad habit. Picking up guitar picks and discarded remotes that bring a spring of pain when accidentally sat on; you give Calum a taste of his own chiding for his bad habits. You play fight and tease each other as cleaning finishes and the afternoon sun filters in through the living room windows. The cream colored curtains you decided on are opened so the backyard sits in view and the sun warms the house.

Ashton is the first to show up, he lives the closest and has already seen the house; casually popping over for visits. Usually after you had already made dinner. You’d feed him in exchange for his help with the house; moving something heavy or installing something that Calum thought he could do on his own but turns into a two and then three person job. Luke and Michael and a few other close friends follow shortly after Ashton’s arrival. As promised it’s easy going. You give tours with Calum, show those who hadn’t stopped over for a peek the entirety of the house. Calum holds your hand the entire time, giving you gentle squeezes at opportune moments.

Michael cracks jokes at how the frames and shelves Calum and Ashton hung just days ago are crooked and two glares find their way to him. He throws his hands up and head back in a surrendering laughter and you whisper to Calum that they look perfect. Your attention drifts midway through a tour you’re taking Luke on; showing him Calum’s music room. You’ve heard the spiel about it all a dozen times already. You look out the window, Calum’s words fading in and out as your attention wavered. Your thumb runs over his hand subconsciously, always finding comfort in small forms of intimacy. There’s a bit of noise in the living room where the rest of the guests have gathered of their own volition. A bit of music spills through the house but it’s soft and on par with white noise as discussion is more important.

“Figure someday this might be a good nursery,” Calum says to Luke, your attention snapping back to Calum and his rosy cheeks, eyes flickering over to you unsurely.

You’d spoken of the future with Calum. Once in the dead of the night as he woke you after a dream. He told you he wanted everything with you—marriage, kids, a picket fence and porch swing. You’d gone warm and felt your heart fluttering with those same desires. You’d told him you wanted everything with him too. He hadn’t brought it up again and you were content to wait, knowing you’re both still young and that marriage and kids and porch swings can wait. To know those thoughts are still in his mind brings that warmth back to you. It heats your cheeks and has you turning into his side, burying your face against his shoulder as Luke lets out an audible aww at the entire situation.

“And your backyard is made for kids and dogs,” Luke adds on, eyes drifting out the window almost longingly. “Petunia would love it out there.”

***

The night goes on with jokes and laughter. Everyone gives housewarming gifts. Some more practical than others. Michael bestows new cookware much to your chargin and Calum’s fear of an already overstocked kitchen where pots and pans fall out of the cabinets every time the doors are opened. Luke gives fuzzy blankets and tells Calum that rolls of fabric do not count as proper blankets and you deserve better than that. It earns a rumble of laughter from the small crowd and a delighted thank you from you, a grumble and glare from Calum and eventually a proper thank you as well. Ashton’s present is less conventional but still amusing. A lemon tree and a set of scented candles; it’s a confusing combination but very Ashton.

Altogether it’s a pleasant night and you’re glad to have had time with friends. But you’re even happier when they leave and you and Calum are left to snuggle under new blankets alone. His arm is wrapped around you and the house is quiet. You lean your head against his shoulder and his hand runs through your hair.

“I’ve been thinking about that dream,” Calum tells you. “I can’t wait to have everything with you.”

You smile. You can’t either. The house is just one step in the direction of everything. You’re excited for the rest of the journey. Wanting to know what everything and forever could entail. You know it will be good—so long as Calum is by your side.

***

~Can someone please tell me if tag notifs are working? Did you get the notif from this post? I hope so 🥺~

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @calumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @goth5sos @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @cashtonasfuck @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @thesubtweeter @akafeliznavidaddy @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @cals-wildflower @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @mantlereid

#calum hood #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #cal!dates #chblurb

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sdottkrames · 4 years

Text

Purple Peter Eater

Summary: @comfortember prompt 1 - rescue

Halloween is interrupted by none other than Flash Thompson, and when he’s mean to her big brother, Morgan has something to say about it. After all, even superheroes need rescuing sometimes

Read it on A03: here

***If anybody would like me to tag them, please let me know. I don’t have very many followers, and I don’t know how many read my stories, but I’ve seen tag lists and would love to start one of my own!***

“Petey! Psssssst. Petey!!!” something nudged at Peter’s side. “Wake up!”

Peter groaned and turned over in bed, opening his eyes to meet his little sister’s unfathomably energetic ones. He looked at the clock, rubbing his eyes until the blue numbers revealed themselves to say 6:15 am.

“Mo, it’s too early,” he mumbled, rolling back onto his back and closing his eyes again. “You need to go back to sleep.”

She climbed onto the bed and started patting his cheek insistently. “But PETER!” She paused to take a breath as if the next word held all the weight of the world. “ Candy!”

Peter’s eyes cracked open and he gave her a small grin as he remembered the day.

“Okay, okay. I understand why you’re excited. Why don’t we go downstairs and turn on a movie until breakfast?”

Morgan’s eyes widened and Peter could see the plan forming there. “But no candy for breakfast, little monster. We’re going to watch a movie, and that’s it.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get to eat plenty of sugar tonight after Trick-or-Treating.” He ruffled the little girl’s hair as they headed down the stairs into the living room of the Stark lake house.

Once Morgan was settled on the couch, snuggled into his side with Frozen II playing quietly in the background, Peter slowly fell back asleep.

He was jolted awake about an hour later as Morgan shouted joyously along with Elsa as she discovered Ahttohallan, and he giggled at her enthusiasm. Like most girls her age, his sister loved Frozen. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing her white Elsa dress already and figured Pepper must have hidden it for that exact reason. Morgan would wear that dress day in and day out if she were allowed. She’d been begging to wear it for weeks, and he knew Pepper wanted to save it for Halloween.

“You excited for tonight, Momo?”

Morgan turned around and leapt into Peter’s arms. “SO excited!”

He kissed her forehead, natural as anything, and hugged her to him. When he’d first met Morgan, he was definitely a little scared. Scared because suddenly he was questioning his place in Mr. Stark’s life. Now that he had a daughter of his own, how would he ever find time for Peter? Peter was just…some kid from Queens that Mr. Stark had taken pity on. Morgan was real flesh and blood.

But then that little girl had looked up at him with wonder and awe in her eyes, and any doubt that Mr. Stark loved him started to fade as she said, matter-of-factly, “You’re Spider-Man. Daddy’s told me about you.” She had hugged him then, her little arms firm around his neck. “I’m so glad you aren’t lost anymore.”

Peter had most definitely cried. And then his fears morphed into something else. Suddenly, he was a big brother, and that scared him. He’d never had a sibling; how would he even know what to do? Would he be a good example? Would he be able to protect her? Would she love him when she got to know him more? But Morgan fit into his life just as naturally as she’d fit into his lap, and soon the two were nearly inseparable. (Tony denied it, but he got teary-eyed when he saw his two kids together, alive and well.)

Peter could hear and smell bacon sizzling in the kitchen, and soon Tony called them in for breakfast. The next few hours passed in a blur. They ate and then took on the battle of keeping Morgan entertained until she was allowed to get into her costume. Pepper coerced her into helping clear the table and helping Tony feed Gerald, and then Peter is enlisted to entertain her. He took her swinging in the woods near their house, raked a pile of leaves for them both to jump into (cause c’mon, it’s a pile of leaves! Of course, Peter jumped in them too!) and even played tea party in her backyard tent.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Morgan got more and more impatient until it was close enough to trick-or-treating time that she could finally, finally get into her costume. Pepper made it a whole thing to make Morgan feel special, curling her hair slightly and letting her wear makeup (Pepper and Tony had decided she would wear make up until she was at least 13 except on very special occasions). Morgan preened in the living room as Happy, May, Peter, Tony, and Pepper smile and clapped and assured her she looked beautiful.

The adults dressed in casual outfits, but Peter had been roped into being Kristoff for Morgan. It hadn’t been too difficult to find a costume, and he wasn't going to complain about an excuse to dress up and get free candy, no matter his age.

So they headed out, the adults in their jeans and halloween shirts (Peter insisted on some festivity from them, thank you very much) and Morgan in her white Elsa dress and a white jacket, and Peter bundled up as Kristoff. He wore a brown shirt under a black sweater, coupled with black pants, brown boots and a red belt. He even found a black beanie to really commit to the look.

Morgan was thrilled, and Peter couldn’t ask for more.

They headed into New York, because the lake house didn’t have many neighbors, and Morgan threw herself into getting candy with gusto, knocking on doors like it was her day job. The adults lagged behind, leaving Peter, with his limitless energy, to keep up with Morgan.

Time suddenly slowed down and stopped as Peter made eye contact with a familiar face, and not in a good way.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter said, and Morgan paused as she watched Peter’s face fall, shooting a frown at this newcomer that made her big brother’s smile go away. He was some kind of character in a purple suit with green hair and some weird scars on the side of his mouth. Morgan didn’t know what he was supposed to be, but he reminded her of the song her dad had played this morning, Purple People Eaters.

“What’s up Penis,” Flash sneered. “Aren’t you a little too old to be Trick-or-treating?”

“Aren’t you?” Peter shot back, finding strength as his sister’s hand slipped into his. His hand still trembled and his heartbeat was loud in his ear, but he had his sister at least.

However, that presented its own problem.

Why, of all places, is Flash here? Peter wondered bitterly, and prayed that the bully wouldn’t say anything more. He was determined to be a good example to Morgan. He couldn’t let her hear what they said about him, what he sometimes let himself believe. She was too good and pure.

“Duh. That’s why I’m not.” Flash grinned and pointed to a house down the street that was lit up, colorful lights filtering through the windows, and music seeping out the front door, pulsing like a living thing. “I was at this thing called a party, which you might have heard of if you were ever invited to one. Too bad you don’t have friends.”

Suddenly the small hand that was holding his wrenched away, and Peter looked over at Morgan, surprised. Only...she was already several steps away, marching right up to Flash, her eyes blazing and mouth set firm in the way she does when she really doesn’t like whatever they’re having for dinner.

“That is my brother ,” she said, glaring up at Flash, who stood about twice her height. “He is the best big brother in the whole wide world, and you should be nice to him. It’s not nice to be mean to people.” She took a breath and her glare became a little less frosty. “But Daddy says that when people are mean to other people, they are hurting on the inside, so we should be extra nice to them.” She sniffed, considering, and then shocked the heck out of everyone (because by now the others caught up and heard Morgan’s little speech) as she wrapped her arms around Flash. His face goes completely blank. “So I’ll be nice to you. But now you have to apologize to Petey.”

She pulled back to level the teenager with a look that is so Pepper, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she gestured to Peter. Nobody, absolutely nobody , can resist that look, even given from a five year old, and Pepper preened a little with pride.

“Sorry, Peter,” Flash mumbled, not meeting Peter’s eyes.

Peter’s eyes widened slightly. “Thanks. Happy Halloween, Flash.”

“You too.”

Flash looked like he’d rather be literally anywhere else, his defenses crumbling slightly, bravado effectively brought to nothing by a little girl. He brushed past the group, heading towards his car.

Peter marveled at how good and mature his little sister is. Here he was worrying about being a good mentor to her, and she taught him! He decided to follow her example and extend some good will.

“Flash,” he called. “Do you wanna come with us? You’re never too old for free candy.”

Flash flushed. “Thanks, but I actually have to go,” he said vaguely. “Places to go, people to meet. You know.”

He quickly turned and hurried off, and Peter looked back to his little sister.

“Thanks, Mo.”

“Even heroes need rescuing sometimes, Peter,” she said sagely, wrapping her hand in his again.

“I guess you’re right. You’re my hero then, Princess. Now, your majesty,” he said with a flourish, offering Morgan his arm. “shall we go procure some more candy for our loyal subjects?”

With that, they resumed their activities, knocking on doors and filling their baskets with more candy than anyone could possibly want.

They didn’t notice Tony quietly following the boy, Flash, to his car.

“Aren’t my kids just amazing?” He asked, grinning to himself when the boy jumps.

“Do I know you?”

In answer, Tony flipped off his hood, gratified even more when the teenager’s eyes widened and his mouth popped open.

“Y-your kids, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, Princess Elsa and Kristoff over there. I believe my daughter made you apologize for being mean to my son?” Tony raised his eyebrows, and Flash’s mouth moved, but not a sound came out. Tony’s eyes softened, and he decided to take pity on the kid. “Here’s the deal, I bet you’re a good kid. Probably got a rough home life, so you take it out on other people. I get it. But how about you stop doing that. You might make some real friends that way, yeah?” Just to be sure he got the point across, Tony hardened his voice again. “But if I ever hear about you harassing my son again, I will find you, and we will have another little chat. And I won’t hesitate to bring the little girl, either. Understand?”

Flash nodded mutely, practically jumping into his car after Tony patted his shoulder and started heading back to his family, now a block away.

Once Peter and Morgan have filled their baskets, they head back to the lake house to snuggle by the fire, watch Hocus Pocus together, and eat as much candy as they possibly can. Tony situated himself on the couch with Morgan between him and Pepper, and Peter on his other side. Happy and May elected to avoid the already squished couch, instead snuggling on the loveseat.

“Tony, quit stealing all the Reece’s!” Peter complained as his mentor pilfered a fifth one.

“Fine.” Tony rolled his eyes and took one of Morgan’s instead, eliciting a loud complaint from the little girl.

“Daddy, we already gave you so much candy. You can’t have more.”

“Will you guys pipe down,” Happy grumbled, and the others laughed before turning their eyes to the screen.

But Tony’s eyes never left his kids- his beautiful, brave, selfless, kind kids- watching as they slowly slip into a sugar-induced food coma.

Once the movie is over, he carried them upstairs, kissing his love and whispering his assurances into their hair.

Happy Halloween,” he whispered, standing in the doorway, drinking in the still somewhat overwhelming sight of them snuggled together on Peter’s bed before shutting out the lights.

Morgan really couldn’t have a better role model. Morgan may have rescued Peter earlier that day, but she learned it from him.

What a happy Halloween, indeed.

#happy halloweeeeeeen #mine #comfortember 2020 #comfortember

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 87

Chapter 87 Summary: Rowan struggles to figure out how to deal with his emotions while Cordelia figures out a way to help him feel safe. (Skin Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, coping mechanisms

“Huh, Cordelia must have gotten up early,” Rowan was pulled from his contented daze by Peter’s voice. “Her horse isn’t there,” Peter could feel the shift as Rowan’s head lifted and looked over his shoulder.

“She always woke up really early while we were travelling,” He murmured softly, not wanting to hurt Peter’s ears. “She woke up before me, but I mean I am pretty used to sleeping in,”

“She does,” Peter admitted. “But usually when she’s at home she’ll let herself stay in bed, it’s rare she has the time, after all,” Rowan realised they were in front of the cottage and straightened.

“I’m still on your back,” He commented, hands gently clutching Peter’s shoulders for balance. “I hope I wasn’t too heavy,”

“I barely noticed at all,” Peter smiled, stopping so he could twist his head to look at the boy. “You seemed to be resting, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He crouched stiffly and let Rowan’s feet land on the damp grass.

“I might…could I go back to bed for a while?” Rowan asked, tilting his head down gently.

“Of course,” Peter smiled. “Sleep as long as you like.” He lifted a hand to cup Rowan’s cheek and tensed as the boy flinched away from him. “Sorry,” He murmured, lowering his hand as cold dread filled his chest. “I wasn’t going to strike you,” He said softly, hurt dripping from his voice.

I’ve done it again!

“I don’t mean to!” Rowan exclaimed suddenly, his hand trembling in front of his mouth as he bit his nail. “I don’t-I don’t like being touched!” He whimpered. He hated having to explain himself to Peter. He didn’t want to have to explain everything again.

It was only early morning and it had already been a draining day. He turned quickly and raced into the house, Peter could hear the door of his bedroom closing heavily and let out a sigh.

“I know, Rowan.” He mumbled sadly to the air that was left behind.

Rowan flinched as a soft rap on the door alerted him of Peter’s presence. He didn’t like it in the corner anymore, and he didn’t want to be on the bed at the moment, so he was curled up under the bed, eyes running along the strip of light that the quilts let filter beneath the furniture.

“Hey, Rowan,” Peter’s voice remained muffled through the door and Rowan inched forward gratefully. “I’ve left some breakfast outside the door for you, I have some work to do so you don’t need to worry about me waiting for you.” Rowan popped his head out from under the bed and stared silently at the door. “If you need anything, I’ll be just outside.” More silence. “All right, well, as I said, I’ll be outside.” Rowan could hear the dejected tone in Peter’s voice and winced, he didn’t mean to be so rude, he didn’t know how he was supposed to answer. No matter how many times he said it, Peter wouldn’t listen when he said he didn’t deserve this treatment, he didn’t know how else to respond.

After a few minutes Rowan judged that Peter wasn’t waiting for him to come out, and he wouldn’t need to worry about him for the moment. He wished that Cordelia was here, it was easier to talk to her. She already knew what happened, he didn’t have to explain why he was being so odd to her.

He carefully cracked the door open, peering out to the ‘breakfast’ that Peter had left him, his fingertips wrapped around the handle of the mug and pulled it towards him, the caramel-coloured liquid smelled softly of tea and sugar, he dragged that into the room but left the bowl of porridge that was resting beside it. He had always hated porridge.

Rowan slithered almost entirely beneath the bed again, shoulders and head still exposed so he could still drink from the mug. Every creak of the house made his head whip up and he would watch the door intently for a few seconds to see if it was an intruder before taking another uncertain sip of his tea.

Rowan liked it under the bed. It was secure. No one could get to him here. Not even Oliver would be able to reach him from the opening. But, Rowan wouldn’t care if Oliver did manage to get a hold of him, because at least then he would be alive.

“Hey, Rowan?” A softer voice filtered past the door and his ears pricked up. “It’s me, Peter said you were in here,”

Where else would I be?

“You haven’t eaten your breakfast, bud,” He didn’t think Cordelia had ever called him by anything other than his name. He didn’t know if he liked her calling him ‘bud’. It made him think something was wrong. People’s behaviour changes when they’re lying. William was sweet to him before feeding him poisoned sweets. “Are you awake?” He grunted softly in reply and heard the timbre shift under her feet as she settled. “I have friend,” She said gently. “I want you to meet them,”

A friend?

“Do you mind if I come in?” He remained quiet for a moment before swallowing in defeat.

“No,” He murmured and the door slowly opened.

“Rowan? Where are you?” She asked curiously as she entered the room and found it seemingly empty.

“Down here,” A soft voice said from beneath the bed and she suppressed a snort as she realised. Rowan flinched as she knelt beside the bed, blocking out the sliver of light.

“Is everything all right?” She asked, lifting the edge of the blankets to look under the bed and find Rowan’s eyes, which were black in the dark space. “Why are you hiding?” Rowan was glad that she couldn’t see his blush as he looked down in shame and shrugged as best he could.

“I like it here,” He muttered. “The tight space makes me feel safe.”

“That’s all right,” Cordelia said, a smile twitching at her lips. “Do you want a hand out?” Rowan shook his head and crawled back into the open room, pushing himself to his feet in front of Cordelia. “You have cobwebs in your hair,” She smiled, reaching towards his messy red curls. “Can I brush them away?” Rowan hated people touching his hair. He knew they wanted to pull it, and he hated waiting for it to happen.

“All right,” He mumbled anyway and bit his lip tightly as he felt her fingers brush through his dusty hair, gently flicking off the dirt he had acquired from cowering under the bed.

“There we go,” She sighed gently. “That’s better, do you want to come and meet my friend, now?” She asked and he swallowed nervously before nodding. “Good, they won’t hurt you, I promise. They’re going to help you.”

Help me? How?

He held tightly onto Cordelia’s hand as she led him through the house, taking small steps so he didn’t trip her up or fall over himself. It was warmer outside now that the sun had fully risen, but the edge of ice still pricked his skin, clinging to the pale creature and flushing him red.

“Wh-where are they?” He asked nervously, eyes scanning the clearing desperately to catch sight of them before they saw him. “Why do you think they can help me?” He jumped as she led him around the side of the house where Peter was working and he noticed the man looking at him. He was smiling, though.

“They’re going to protect you,” Cordelia explained gently, patting the hands that were clutching her right one in a death-grip. “Keep you safe from anything that might hurt you.” Rowan looked at her in confusion as he processed the suggestion. Suddenly he fell to the ground with a yelp as a wet nose pressed against his leg.

Standing as tall as his head was a large black dog, looking at him inquisitively as its tail wagged lazily at their new friend.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #Cordelia #PTSD whumpee #conditioned whumpee #coping mechanisms #therapy dogs

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itsanerdlife · 4 years

Text

Cruel Boy 18/33

Pairing: Howie Stark x Reader

Warning: Lies. Betrayal. Just a lot of violence. Mentions of Domestic abuse. Parental abuse. Murder Suicide. Death. Guilt. Hate. Deception. Lots and lots of anger.

A/N: This is a bit darker theme, but Howie isn’t dark. Anger problems and bad choices but he’s not a bad person.

Playlist!!

First love. First heart break. Life time of hate. When the silver spoon feeding you love is taken away, you learn to lick it off the knives. Howie Stark broke you. Him and his brother ruined your life. Destroyed your dreams and crushed your soul. Your best friend is dead and your life is a mess. When you take a bartending job, it just happens to be owned by the Bastard Son’s MC. Just your fucking luck. Jokes, you haven’t had luck since Gwen died and Howie ripped out your barely beating heart. There is no way in hell you’re giving him a second chance. Hell will freeze over before you let him touch you again. Not a chance are you ever letting the Stark’s near you again. Hell might have just frozen over.

Tag List Open

He leads her into his room, Peter shoves the door shut once the three of them are inside. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. Moving towards his desk, hopping up she cracks the window. Crossing her legs, Indian style, she picks up the pack of smokes sitting on the desk. Placing one between her lips.

Peter shakes his head, leaning against Howie’s dresser. Her head tips as she takes a pull off the smoke. Always trouble, that’s exactly what she was. He drops down on the edge of his bed.

“Out with it. Let’s not pretend we don’t know why we’re in here.” She sasses.

“Who do you know that would break in?” Peter folds his arms over his chest, watching her.

“Depends on which of my bad choices we’re talking about.” Her shoulder pops up.

“The guy at the bar.” Howie grinds out.

“Brock? Yeah I could see it.” Her head tips from one side to the other and back.

“Enough to smash up your stuff and steal random things?” Peter’s brow jumps.

“No. Brock was more a slap me around and yell shit. He didn’t even know the hoodie was Howie’s.” She shrugs. Howie’s teeth grind together.

“Where do we find him?” His voice gravel.

“Runs some fuck boy gym over on Columbus and Division.” She flicks her wrist as if to discard it. “Why are you acting like I’m the only one that could be tied to this?” Her eyes cut between them.

“She’s got a point.” Peter shrugs.

“You think, MJ?” Howie cuts his eyes to his brother.

“Nah, but Emma? She’s a fucking hyenis bitch.” Peter smirks.

“Amen.” Y/N smirks, handing over the smoke to Peter. Her mouth still puckered like she was chewing on something sour.

“What.” He watches her.

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe you two dumbasses didn’t go along with that old bastards idea?” Her head shakes.

“Why the hell would we agree to that?” Howie leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“It wouldn’t the first time you went along with one of his stupid ideas.” She points out with a lifted brow.

He and Peter exchange the same look.

“Swear on Morgan. We had no idea.” Howie looks over at her.

“Fuck that.” Peter growls. “Swear on Gwen, we had no fucking clue.” Her brow slips up, eyes slowly slipping towards him. He knows he has the same shocked look on his own face.

Peter never spoke of her name. Never talked about her. Swearing on her grave that was a hell of a sign if you knew Peter.

“Okay.” Y/N nods her head slow

“What the fuck Y/N?! You were really what, gonna up and just walk out on us?” Peter snaps, pushing off the dresser.

“Yeah! Yeah I was.” She throws her hands up.

“Without a word?” Peter’s tone offended.

“Christ you two.” She looks between them. “I don’t get it. You walked away from me. What you stumble upon me again, and I’m just supposed to fall in line again?” Her eyes roll.

“You were never in line to start.” He points out.

“I don’t think she even knew there was a line.” Peter snorts.

“Still the same way.” She bites.

“Well it’s different this time.” He stands, staring at her. Her brow slips up.

“How so?” There’s challenge in her voice.

“Because we know what it’s like without you now.” Peter practically growls.

“We’re not doing that again.” He adds, his own voice close to a growl.

“That what you think?”

“What we know.” His own brow lifts. Daring her. She nods slowly, running a hand through her hair.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but not again.” Peter speaks up. “I’ve lost too much already. You stay, or I’ll find away to keep you here.” He shrugs. Howie wonders what he meant by that exactly.

“If you,” he swallows the sharp words “don’t want more, at least stay anyways. You’ve always been family.” Howie nods, tucking his hands into his sweat pant pockets. He glances down, pulling his shoulders in.

“Shit.” Peter laughs, he darts forward.

Y/N’s toppling off the desk. One arm up, a leg thrown out like she was going to stop herself somehow. He laughs, his hand closes around her ankle, the other hand at her waist. Peter’s caught her upper half.

“What the fuck?” Howie laughs, when she’s seated on the desk again.

“I tried to drop my head back. Your desk is not like the old house.” She laughs.

“Christ.” Peter snorts. “I’m going back to bed. But I’m taking your dog.” He points a finger at Y/N. “And your bags.” He mumbles leaving the room. The door closes behind him, they hear him call Baby and a few moments later his bedroom door closes.

“He just took my dog.” She blinks at him.

“You tried to leave.” He shrugs.

“Why did you leave Emma?” She blurts out. A look of surprise on her face when their eyes meet. “Wow, still don’t have a filter.” She nods.

“It was never a serious thing with her. Hasn’t been a serious thing since you.” He admits with a shrug. “Honestly,” he sighs “since you’ve been back. Letting another touch me, touching another.” He shrugs “Feels too much like cheating.” He chews the inside of his cheek.

“Oh.” She chews her bottom lips.

“Go to bed Y/N. Stop trying to run away.” He sighs, stepping away from her. A flash of rejection on her face.

“Okay.” She slips off the desk. He drops on the bed, falling back. Hands rubbing over his face. “When you go and beat up Brock tomorrow, watch out for his friends. They like cheap shots.” His head lifts off the bed, looking at her. She stood in the door way watching him.

“Who said,”

“I know you and Peter. You’ve been itching to get your hands on him since I showed up.” She shrugs. He leans back on his elbows.

“We’ve done worse for less done to you.” He shrugs. Her head does the side to side tilt again. Her eyes roll softly.

“You’re an idiot.” She smirks, leaving. The door closes behind her.

“Love you too.” His voice a whisper, dropping back on his bed again.

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

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @irepeldirt @jordan-ia @jcc04220 @dumblani @nishanki1 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @rogvewitch @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sexyvixen7 @doctoranon @queentoffee @abschaffer2 @tony-stank3 @tomhardy41 @bookluver01 @drayshadow @teller258316 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @cutekittybast @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @thelostallycat @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @queenkrissy11 @shield-agent78 @elite4cekalyma @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @scooby-doodoo @chanelmadrid13 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @itzmegaaaaaaan @optimistic-babes @elizabethaellison @rainbowkisses31 @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @thatpeachybandgirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @eggingamazinglove @deathofmissjackson @awkwardfangirl2014 @queenoftheunderdark @laneygthememequeen @writingaworldofmyown @death-unbecomes-you @shann-the-artist-moon @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mcuwillbethedeathofme @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Howie 'Damn Boy' Stark: @ml7010 @gabile18 @crayonwriting @callme-barnes @untoasted-ravioli @andycanbeemotional

CB: @coley0823 @csigeoblue @lakamaa12 @tomhardy41 @ms-rogers06 @wolfiemichele @eridanuswave @tireddork-knight @honey-bee-holly @multifandomgirl-us @eggingamazinglove @badassbeckettswan @fandomsstolemylife00 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

#Marvel #OFC!Howie Stark x Reader #Avengers #OFC!Howie x Reader #Cruel Boy #Marvel Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Stark Series #Avengers Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Series

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hklnvgl · 3 years

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Hi your name pops up on a lot of different fandoms I'm in - hp, trc, tua, atla. I love your blog, and need some advise. I'm having real trouble. I spend hours on Tumblr because I don't want to unfollow ppl as I want to be mutuals with the content creators in my many fandoms. I like some posts of some people but theyalso post a lot of non fandom things and don't tag for it. Like about drugs mental health or political angry stuff. How do you manage so many communities and following so many ppl

hello there! i don't know if it's a lot of not but i follow around 300 blogs and, true, not all of those are exclusively fandom. i think you actually have different concerns here so i'll try to address these as best as i can—i'm in no way an expert in social relations and definitely not one in online ones so this is just my opinion and my personal experience. (this got long and it's 4 in the morning and i can't find the read more on mobile so just bear with me and scroll down)

while i follow people and read fic and occasionally write and interact with a ton of fandoms, i'm not the same kind of active in all of those. i invest lots of energy in being part of the trc fandom bc i'm really passionate about those characters and their stories, but i for example wouldn't say i'm an active part of the hp fandom. I'm not saying you have to choose just one fandom to make your experience worthwhile, but that you really don't need to force yourself to follow stuff you're not interested in or interact with them. i follow ballet blogs and blogs that only post 19th century painters' works. i like having their posts pop up in my dash. i wouldn't say the people running those are my friends, though, bc we've never really interacted apart from me reblogging their stuff occasionally.

what i'd advise you to do is curate your experience carefully. if you follow some blog but they post a lot of stuff that you don't care about and they don't tag that, you can block the keywords in that stuff (not just the tag but you can now filter words appearing in posts. i have filters set for lots of things i don't want to see like spoilers or artists i don't follow or things that really annoy me and i just don't have to see that content. true, sometimes a post escapes that filter, but i still don't see it 9 out of 10 times so it's worth it).

a person still posts too many things that you don't really want to see, and it's too random that you can't really see a pattern on what to filter, you can either send an ask to that person asking them to tag (and they may do so or not) or you can just unfollow them. it might seem ungrateful? or just rude to unfollow someone that you had followed bc they're a great artist or you like their fics but at the end of the day it's you who count and you who have to look out for yourself. follow more sideblogs or just tags of the things you're interested in and the stuff will just appear on your dash.

as for being more active on fandom and making friends—that's just another can of worms. there are plenty of great advice out there (you can have a look at @ao3commentoftheday great advice on the matter) but it's still hard and depends on lots of factors. there are really populated fandoms in which you get lots of interaction from a fic or just a tagged post, bc there's just so many people, but it's harder to make friends there just bc of that. if the thing you're interested in is a rare pair of an old fandom it's going to be harder having people interested in talking about it. my advice would be to just interact with the stuff you like.

reblog the art you enjoy and leave comments in the tags, send asks to your favourite artists telling them what you enjoyed about what they do. leave comments on ao3 (idk if you're a writer yourself but we do notice you and we learn your usernames and we're always excited to see you there). a longer comment gets more noticed than a short one and a short one more than a kudo. we can not see who subscribed our fics but all of that is still appreciated. even if we creators seem popular or unattainable (we are not and at least i don't consider myself a big name or anything like that) you can always drop by and send an ask or just message us to talk about fandom and stuff. I've heard great things about discord but I have yet to try that myself.

i do personally spend a lot of time on tumblr just bc all those political angry stuff and mental health are things that don't get mentioned in my other feeds in other social media and therefore i don't get too stressed about it. i kinda hate going into twitter bc the political talk is about the people ruling my country so it affects me more directly. here i just enjoy the memes about horses leaving hospitals and vibe with it all. i am also a very curious person that gets bored super easily so i really like that here you can find random videos about chicken and then gorgeous pynch art. i like the variety.

that may not be your case though so I'd just say don't be afraid to unfollow people you don't like following and don't be afraid to interact with people you admire. also, don't expect people to just follow you back and don't be disappointed if they don't. you may be in fandoms they don't like or they may like having a super minimalist dash. you can only control what you do so do your best at that!

#i hope that helped!#i can't sleep probably due to stress and various other issues and i think I'm kinda hungry but not gonna leave my bed now #also thanks for asking me! i don't know if I'm the right person but i love that you like my blog bc i also spend a lot of time here!#ask #d

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years

Text

Character Traits Meme - Aria & Vano

I was tagged by the lovely @mercurypilgrim (thank you! :D)

I can’t remember who I tagged last time so if I’ve tagged you twice and/or you don’t wanna do it again (or the first time), no pressure as always :D but I shall tag @abyssal-space @sentinelapologist @thatmmolesbian @stratosara

I did the Sith twins last time, so it’s Aria and Vano’s turn this time! :D

[WEALTH ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

(Aria lived hand-to-mouth on the streets for a while during the start of her story, but built it back up after she returned to the Empire. She’s not quite “wealthy” but she did inherit a lot of her father’s things after his death so she’s what I would call “comfortable”.)

✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

(Mostly fit, but has extensive scarring from her younger years and some long-term memory damage thanks to a bad glitterstim habit in her younger years.)

✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / transient / slave / unsure

(Was a smuggler for about 5 years after joining up with Merak & Ziri, but after returning to the Sith/Jedi, she worked her way back up again ;))

✔ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying / other

(Graduated from the Sith/Jedi Academy, sooo that counts as qualified right? :P)

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / classified

(Uhhhh, yeah. Murdering a lot of Jedi Masters for the Sith, need I say more? She was arrested during the battle of Ilum and spent several years in jail until the first proto-alliance had need of her to help them fight the Revanites. As a show of “good faith” after Yavin, Satele expunges her record and allows her to return to the Sith with Vano, since any further damage Aria could cause has already been done - she’s already been feeding the EmpireJedi intel for years by that point!)

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children : has a child or children / has no biological children / wants children / has adopted children

(Ziri is SORT OF like an adopted daughter to her. Sort of. But uh, she’s bad with children. Do not leave them with her.)

◑ Relationship with Family : close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

(An only child (though in the Zephyrverse AU(s) she does have several half-siblings on her father’s side!)

◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

(Killed her mother as part of her Sith trials (something that still haunts her), was raised by her father Darth Noctis, but later on as an adult orphaned when Baras’ assassins kill Noctis. Then adopted into Vano’s family after they eventually marry. What a mouthful huh?)

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

(One of the loudest people you will ever meet, Aria has NO filter and almost NEVER keeps her mouth shut. Vano wishes she would, but she does not XD)

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

(I would call it “organised chaos”, it might seem a mess to someone else, but it’s organised to her. She never sticks to one plan and is always improvising on the fly, but she’s very good at that!)

♦ closed-minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

(This one was difficult for me to decide...she doesn’t really get anxious or panicked so I decided to go with “calm”, though a more accurate description would simply be “doesn’t give a shit”)

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

(Unless she’s close to you, she’s NASTY. Not someone you want to spend quality time with.)

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

(When it comes to life-or-death, she’s always cautious. She’ll never risk her life for you, unless your name is Vano or Qyzen. But if death is not on the cards, she will absolutely take risks without balking about it.)

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

(She’ll follow Vano and the Ahaszaai twins - and her father when he was alive - but otherwise, don’t tell her what to do. She’ll flip the bird at you.)

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in between

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

(loyal to a select group of people (Vano, Saarai, Ni’kasi, Qyzen, her father), everybody else, you may never know if she’ll help you or put a knife in your back.)

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

(See above)

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable / naive and/or inexperienced

(Aria is demiromantic so it takes time for her to build that sort of bond with someone, couple that with her father teaching her from a young age that “loving someone was weakness” means she’s not really given it much time of day. Now that he’s not around to keep pushing that viewpoint and she can learn to be more openly affectionate with Vano, though, she’s starting to try.)

❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

(I think this speaks for itself LOL)

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

(If it’s human(oid) and it has a pulse, she’ll fuck it. She’s a whore, sir.)

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(I would hope so, she’s been fighting stuff for a good few decades now!)

≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(Her dad was a Darth and he intended for her to take his place one day, he made sure she could do everything she needed to be successful.)

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(She can dance well enough to not make a fool of herself, and maybe draw some simple things, but not much more than that!)

✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(She ran with smugglers. She’s not as good as they are, but Merak and Ziri taught her how to slice and she can make do in a pinch, though she wouldn’t be able to handle like...advanced encryptions and so on.)

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(She’s always loved a good drink. If she’s not working, you’ll find her at a bar somewhere, drinking the other patrons under the table XD)

☁ Smoking : trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Not nearly as often as she drinks, but yes.)

✿ Other Narcotics : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Oh boy, oh boy, she did a LOT of stims in her younger years while she was smuggling. Hasn’t touched them for a long time as of re-joining the war(s) proper.)

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Previously a lot. Medical stims were a good, quick substitute if she ran out of other things. Since she’s gone clean, though, she won’t touch them now for fear of relapsing if she does.)

☻ Indulgent Food : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(If Vano wants to go out to eat, she’ll go with her, but it’s not something Aria herself will specifically suggest.)

$ Splurge Spending : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

♣ Gambling : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(On occasion, if she has time.)

[WEALTH ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

(Vano’s never had to worry about money, but she’s not rolling in it either. Just comfortable :))

✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

(Gal works out, she keeps herself in good condition! :D)

✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / transient / slave / unsure

✔ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying / other

(Graduated from the Sith Academy, so I am once again assuming yes :3)

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / classified

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children : has a child or children / has no biological children / wants children / has adopted children

(Unfortunately for Vano, her wife is not a child-oriented person, so they probably never will. It’s okay though, she’ll find a way to substiturte, probably helps teach younglings at the Enclave or something!)

◑ Relationship with Family : close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

(Vano has a younger brother, Merak, who is my smuggler. While they’re separated for some time, they’re still close - in fact, Merak begins his smuggler career because he wanted to travel the galaxy to try and find Vano again, and he needed money to keep searching so smuggling it was!)

◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

(her father was killed when Vitiate’s Inquisitors raided Mirial and he tried to stop them from taking Vano with them to train, but her mother is only very weakly Force sensitive and was left behind. She works in the local Jedi Archives on Mirial, but after the Alliance forms and Vano and Merak reach out to her again, she eventually joins them on Odessen <3)

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

(Vano is pretty outgoing and friendly, but not very “in your face”. She’s the quiet-but-friendly sort of type.)

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

♦ closed-minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

(Mostly calm and collected, though post-Valkorion possession, she has moments where she gets anxious. Particularly if she’s alone, or if she can feel he’s about to pop up and start bothering her D:)

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

(The only time she won’t be agreeable is if you’re a dick, basically.)

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

(Not STUPID reckless, but Vano will take calculated risks and/or react first, think about herself later in order to defend someone else.)

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

(Mostly pretty reserved and quietly thoughtful, but known to be VERY vocal in terms of defending minorities or other disadvantaged people and so on.)

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in between

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

(Vano’s loyalty knows no bounds. She has a strong moral compass and she won’t continue to follow a complete tyrant (which is why she always kept Baras at arms’ length) - but if you’re generally a good person (even if you make mistakes sometimes - or a lot of times if your name is Aria XD - she will cross the entire damn galaxy for you and do anything for you, no questions asked.)

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless

(She likes it. Buuuut she can also go a long while without any and not get twitchy about it, if the world’s on fire or something of that nature, sex goes on the back burner, she can survive without it if necessary.)

♥ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable / naive and/or inexperienced

(Yes please! Flowers, chocolates, sunsets and rolling credits, Vano’s a sucker for some good-ol’-fashioned romance.)

❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

(I struggled with this one, because Va’s not really “naive” she’s just very...vanilla? XD Willing to try things, but Aria’s definitely more experienced in terms of variety of things than she is, so Ari’s usually the one um, “in charge”. ;))

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(She trained with the Sith. She had to be good or she’d be DEAD XD)

≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(Pretty good, she’s not illiterate, but certainly not as silver-tongued as say, Aria.)

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(Decent enough singer and dancer, very good at calligraphy, which is one of her main hobbies when she’s not saving the galaxy from mass-murdering tyrants :’))

✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

(Decent enough. She can work the Razor’s computer systems, crack some rudimentary passcodes and do other basic things, but she would leave the more advanced slicing and coding to Aria, Vette or her brother, they’re better at it.)

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Social drinker, so will have some at a party or occasionally one or two while she’s out with Aria, but nowhere near as much as her wife.)

☁ Smoking : trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Va’s a stress-smoker, so the more pressure she’s under and the more worried/frazzled she feels, the more she smokes. If she’s having a pretty “normal” time of things, it’s in moderation.)

✿ Other Narcotics : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

☻ Indulgent Food : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Sometimes ya just have a shitty day and you have to eat an ENTIRE bag of toffee all to yourself. When you’ve saved the galaxy like 3 times over you deserve that much XD)

$ Splurge Spending : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

♣ Gambling : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

(Not so keen on it, prefers to watch Aria and her brother whilst they do so she can get them out of trouble if they get into it.)

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #tagged meme #OC meme #swtor oc: vano shenly #swtor oc: aria saal #mirialan #sith warrior #jedi consular #the outlander #art by: moonlitalien & varjopihlaja

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

Promise Me Forever [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 3/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

It turns out to be another sleepless night for Dante. At first, he simply cannot get comfortable; blaming it on the humidity caused by a storm rolling in, he opens the windows and strips himself nude, and kicks the covers to the foot of the bed. Then comes the restlessness he knows all too well, the kind that can usually be solved with a nice little round of masturbation. Yet the second his hand touches his cock, the image of Lir comes to mind, and he releases it with a curse. He might be an asshole, but he's not that kind of asshole.

All of that serves to leave him irritable and more than a little wound up the next morning, and he spends a long time in the shower, trying to get himself under control. If he doesn't, he'll snap at her sooner or later, or worse, and she doesn't deserve that. Dante is careful not to drip too much water on the floors as he dries off, and then he dresses and heads down into the shop.

“—will be alright," he hears Lir say. Pausing, he leans over the railing, his brows going up at the sight of her sitting on the couch with a woman sobbing into a tissue. "Dante will be able to take care of it."

Her position lets him drink in her figure, the braid of her hair exposing the elegant sweep of her neck. He swallows thickly, listening to the conversation unfold. "Are you sure?" the woman sniffles.

"Yes. He's very good at this. I've seen it," Lir reassures her. "I know you must be feeling hopeless, but he can help you."

"Help with what?" he calls as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Lir stands and gestures him over. "You have a new client," she says, beaming with pride.

Dante remembers the fuss she made over him killing the demons last night, and he clears his throat uncomfortably as he sits at his desk. "What's the situation?" he asks.

The woman sniffles as she describes what sounds like a very basic haunting: Demons have taken over her garage, nasty little devils that are eating the stray cats. "My poor babies," she sobs, blowing her nose. "I leave food out for all the neighborhood cats. I tried to keep them safe, but they've been devoured, one by one!"

"That must have been very upsetting," Lir says sympathetically.

She nods as Lir pats her shoulder. "Misty had a litter two days ago, and I know they'll be next. Please, you have to help me!"

Lir looks at him expectantly. It's obvious she wants him to say something comforting, but he frowns. "Why are you feeding all the vermin anyway?" he asks. "Stray cats are a nuisance."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows his mistake. Lir's eyes go wide as the woman leans forward and hisses viciously, "Listen, you, those are God's creatures you're talking about, and those evil, disgusting demons need to go straight back to hell where they belong!"

Dante holds up his hands to defend himself, but Lir quickly interrupts, "What Dante meant is that you should feed them elsewhere until he can take care of the demons for you. Didn't you, Dante?" she finishes, giving him a pointed look.

". . . Yeah." The woman deflates, her tears returning, and he feels a brief stab of irritation he tries to ignore. "It sounds easy enough. You and your . . ." Lir shakes her head subtly. "You and your friends should find a place to stay for a few days, until the job is done."

Watery eyes fix on his own. "You'll be careful, won't you? Those . . . those things have caused enough damage."

He does his best to hold in a sharp retort, though his voice is clipped when he replies, "I'll do what I can."

"Come on," Lir says gently, helping the woman to her feet. "Let me make you a cup of tea, and then we can work on getting your contact information, okay?"

She leads her away, Dante tracking the sway of her hips. It's only been two days since she arrived, bringing another mess for him to sort through, yet he's finding himself more and more adjusted to her presence, more at ease with having her around. And it helps that she's pretty to look at, even if that train of thought is likely to lead him to other, less polite ones.

After Lir serves tea she produces a contract for her to sign, which the woman does as she rambles on about her cats. Dante tunes out Lir's polite questions after the felines to wonder how she had found them—hell, after Morrison had given him a stack of boilerplates years ago, he stuffed them in a drawer and forgot about them. Did she clean his desk too?

The woman leaves and Lir makes sure the door is firmly shut before bursting into giggles. "That was a strange one!" she remarks, walking over to his desk and handing him the contract. "Are all your cases so interesting?"

"Yeah. Hey, how did you do that?" he asks.

Lir blinks at him, her arm still extended, holding out the paper for him to take. "Do what?"

"That. With that client. She left . . ." Dante grasps for the word. "Happy?"

Her brows furrow, and he's filled with the sudden, ridiculous urge to kiss the indent between them to smooth it away. "Do your clients tend to leave unhappy?"

"Maybe. I dunno." He takes the contract from her and leans back in his chair to get a little more space before he does something she'll regret. "They certainly aren't saying thank you, or smiling."

"I . . . I was just nice to her. That's all." Lir tugs at the hem of her shirt, her fingers worrying the fabric. "I was taught how to be a good hostess, in case I ever needed to be, so I just . . . talked to her?"

"Talk to her," he muses, opening a drawer in the desk. "I'll have to try that some time.”

He looks down and frowns again, spying hanging file folders neatly labeled and lined in order. When did she have time to do all this?

"Are you hungry?" Lir asks. "I didn't get much done with the client here so early, but I did manage to bake some muffins and brew some fresh coffee."

"Come here," he says, pushing the drawer closed with his foot. She does as he's asked, stepping around the desk until she's next to him, and there's the same nervous energy from the other night, when he'd cornered her in the laundry room. Slowly, he stands, leaning down to study her face. "You sleep at all?"

"What? Yes, of course." She looks up at him, a faint rosy hue to her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wonderin'. You got a lot done over the past few days."

Lir chuckles. "I've never been one to need a lot of sleep. Besides, I've been training my whole life to take care of a son of Sparda. And I . . . like it." The last part is almost a whisper, and she blushes and looks away. "You've been very kind to me, letting me stay here. It's the least I could do."

"Show me these muffins," he says, and Lir gives him another smile that leaves him a bit hot under the collar.

He is on his third when the phone rings back in the office. "I'll get it," Lir says, breezing out of the kitchen.

Her voice filters in with, "Devil May Cry, how can I help you?" as he looks over the remaining muffins, when Lir calls, "Dante! It's Lady!"

"Alright!" he calls back. Snagging a blueberry muffin and popping as much of it as he can into his mouth, he saunters back to his desk, swallowing as he grabs the receiver. "'Bout time you called."

"Yeah, yeah." Her voice is a bit crackly. "Almost thought I had the wrong shop for a minute. When'd you let her start answering calls?"

Dante glances over to Lir, who is carefully sweeping the rug by the door. "I don't let her do anything. She chooses to. I just don't stop her."

"Well, aren't you getting soft?" Lady laughs. Ignoring his sputtered protests, she continues, "I found her home. It's a town called Llyrlen, about three hours away from Fortuna by car. Pretty self-contained, too."

"Llyrlen, huh?"

"Yeah. Seems they take this god thing pretty seriously." She sighs. "But, from what I could gather, it's all true. Sparda and this Ler met and made a promise, and Lir, as the god's direct descendant and the only of her sisters eligible to marry, was sent to fulfill it."

He rubs his lips. "What happens if she doesn't?"

"From what I heard, exactly what she said. She'll be an outcast, stripped of everything and sent to work in the archives for the rest of her life. Kind of like a nun, only less pleasant."

"Okay." He glances at Lir, who watches him expectantly. Can he really let that happen? "Thanks for doing this. I'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah. Don't let Lir leave, okay? I'm going to make a quick stop but I'll be there in a few days. Then I'll help her figure out what to do."

Dante feels a bit of a burn in his throat at the implication that he wouldn't bother doing the same. "Yeah. I won't. And, hey, listen, they didn't know you were there, right? Lir's family?"

"What do you take me for? I'm a professional."

With that the line goes dead, and he sighs as he hangs up the receiver. "What did she say?" Lir asks tightly.

Dante shrugs. "You were right. We're supposed to get married."

He waits for the accusatory response, but instead she looks at him, her eyes more hesitant than he'd like. "What do you want to do?" The question startles him; shouldn't he be asking her that? "Should I pack my things?"

"No! No, you're not goin' anywhere." He runs a hand through his hair, leaning heavily against his desk. "I don't think marriage is in the cards and, after you seein' what I'm really like, I'd be surprised if you still wanted to. But you can . . . Having you around is nice. If you want to stay, you can."

Dante expects her to respond with her usual enthusiasm, but instead, she seems to deflate. "I can't impose on you like that."

"Sure you can," he says. "I don't mind."

Lir shakes her head. "It's not . . . you're the son of Sparda, and—"

"Would you lay off that son of Sparda stuff?" Dante snaps.

"Well! It's the truth!" she fires back, taking him by surprise. "And I can't stay here if we're not married. It's not proper."

Her expression is furious, but Dante bursts into laughter. "Proper? Like marrying a stranger is proper?"

She folds her arms in a huff. "That's different."

"How?"

"Because it was . . . It was . . . It just is!"

"I'll pay you," he chuckles, trying not to focus on how cute she is when she's mad, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, trying not to wonder if she'd look like that after he kissed her. It's not the time, it's not the place, and he's got no right to think those things about her. "You stay here, work the phones, greet clients, and I'll pay you in room and board."

"Forty percent," she says.

"What!" he exclaims. "No way. That's robbery."

Lir shrugs. "Fine. Thirty."

"Ten."

"Twenty-five."

Dante growls. "Twenty and I'll take you to the aquarium and the zoo."

"Deal!" She sticks her hand out with a grin. "See how good I am at negotiating?"

"Damn near ruthless," he agrees, clasping her fingers between his own. Yet he finds it harder than he'd like to let go; blaming it on whatever it is that's making him so horny, he forces himself to drop her hand. "Well, looks like we've got the rest of the day to ourselves. Anything you want to do?"

Lir taps her chin. "I need to see what I can cook for dinner tonight, but, before that, I'd like to finish cleaning upstairs. If that's okay?"

"Be my guest."

She smiles at him. "Okay. I'll make a fresh pot of coffee. Oh! And you need to start getting ready for that job, right?"

"Right. Cat lady." Lir gives him a look and he rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sooner I get that done the better." He walks around his desk and grabs the guitar case, slinging it over his back. "You'll be okay for a few hours?"

"Yup!" she says. Then Lir smiles shyly. "You'll be safe, won't you?

That makes him pause. When was the last time anyone had been worried for his safety? Usually everyone assumed he would be fine, and he always was, but something about having her ask makes him feel warm in a way he doesn't quite understand. "Don't worry that pretty head too much. I doubt I'll need more than the girls to handle this." Seeing her confusion, he amends, "The guns."

"Oh! I see. Well, then. Hm." Dante waits to hear whatever it is she's trying to say, but what he's not expecting is for her to brace her hands on his shoulders and lean up to press the briefest of kisses to his cheek. "For luck."

His skin burns with her kiss, and Dante quickly spins, giving a weak salute as he heads out the door. Suddenly filled with way, way too much energy, he decides to head to the job on foot, whistling to himself as he moves through the city.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante practically crawls back to the Devil May Cry, sighing with relief when he turns the knob of the front door.

He winces, his fingers and hands covered in scratches that leave tracks all the way up his arms and over his chest. They don't hurt terribly bad, but the sheer amount of scrapes all combined cause him to ache every time he moves. The rest of him hadn't fared much better, his clothes splattered with now-dried blood, sweat and dirt making his cuts sting.

All he wants is a beer and a nap, maybe in that order. But the second he steps inside the shop and smells the cleaning products and fails to trip over some stuff on the floor, he remembers he's not alone anymore.

"Dante! You're back!" Lir calls excitedly over from the couch. He turns around and gingerly takes off his coat, hanging it on the door as her voice gets closer. "I was starting to worry. I didn't make anything but I can heat up—oh my goodness! You're hurt!"

Her hands are on his arms, pushing up his sleeves as she chews on her lip. "Nah, I'm fine," he says.

Lir gives him a sharp look, making him feel scolded. "What happened?" she demands.

"Those damn cats," Dante growls. "The demons were no problem, but the cats didn't like me much."

"Oh," she breathes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to . . . Of course they'd be aggressive towards you. Cats can sense demons, and one was attacking them. Sit here." She tugs him to the couch, and he allows her to guide him, sinking onto the cushions with a sigh. "I'll be right back. I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom."

Dante waits until she's gone to lean his head back, and it isn't long until he's dozing. The sensation of cool hands against his skin rouses him a bit. He cracks open his eyes to find Lir kneeling between his legs, her hair tucked behind her ears as she carefully dabs antiseptic over his scrapes, a bottle of beer sitting next to her on the floor. He lifts a hand to graze his fingers over her cheek, and her eyes flick to his face, a soft smile curling her lips.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he chuckles. "But I'm good."

Lir gives him a shy smile. Then she shifts to lean over him, brushing his hair back so she can swab his forehead. "These don't look too bad, you know. They'll be healed in a few days."

"Sooner than that," he murmurs.

Dante can feel his healing working already, but some part of him wishes it wouldn't, so she can still keep working on him. Lir searches his face before going back to checking his arms, and he uses the opportunity to just gaze at her.

It's not the first time he's studied her, but it is the first that he's been this close while doing it. Her brows and lashes are darker than her hair, an ashy gray, and they almost seem to glow with the pale amber of her eyes. There are no freckles or other markings on her creamy skin, though a faint scar tracks along her temple, and, with her straight nose and full lips, she's gorgeous. Dante brushes a few strands of hair from her face, his heart thudding uncomfortably when she leans into the touch after a second's hesitation.

When she looks up again, they are close, close enough that he can feel her breath fan on his lips. His own part and her eyes dart down, and Dante feels his heart thudding as her mouth curves up into a smile. "I think you're going to live," she murmurs.

"Lucky me," he replies.

Lir licks her lips. The gesture makes something inside him tighten, but then she eases away, leaning over to clean up her supplies. "I was thinking of doing a delivery order," she says, her back to him. "Now that I'm staying I can get more groceries in. There are also some items that I can use to make different oils and potions you can use."

"Potions?" murmurs Dante, his eyes sliding along her spine.

She peeks at him over her shoulder with a grin. "Yeah. Like for when you come back from fighting some stray cats covered in cuts and bruises?"

"As long as you're the one putting it on me." She stiffens for a moment before laughing quietly, and he decides that he likes the sound of it almost as much as he does the sound of her talking to him. "You know, I gotta ask. Pretty girl, good head on her shoulders, and her family sends her off to marry someone she's never met? How'd you wind up with this gig?"

Lir hums, latching the kit. "I have three older sisters. One of them is married, and the other two are betrothed. I was next in line. That's all."

"Three sisters?"

"Older sisters," she corrects. "There's a younger one, as well."

"That's a . . . lot." He chuckles, the sound cutting off when she stands.

Lir shrugs. "I guess they figured they needed enough daughters in case one of you showed up."

"And what if I didn't?" Dante puts his arms up on the back of the couch, the soreness already faded. "How did you even find me?"

"Fortuna," she answers. "Kind of hard not to notice you."

Dante huffs a laugh as he shakes his head. "Yeah, that was a fuck-up in every way. But suppose I hadn't been there. We wouldn't have ever met."

It isn't a question so much as a realization, and he ends up frowning as she nods in agreement. "I probably would have been married off. If my sisters and I did not marry the son of Sparda, then we would be tasked with creating the next generation of brides."

She offers him a smile before carrying the first aid kit away, her steps soft on the steps. Dante scratches his head, thinking on what she told him. Honestly, it was creepy as hell.

"The next generation of brides," he mumbles. "What the hell did you do, you old bastard?"

Not wanting to get anywhere close to that conversation topic again—at least, not now—he grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns on the television, flicking through until he finds Netflix. Patty had set it up for him and given him one of the slots on her account, but he's never really used it; but maybe there will be something Lir will like. Though why that matters, he doesn't know.

She comes back as he's scrolling through different horror movies, and he hears her gasp and looks up to find her covering her mouth with her hand. "What . . . What is that?"

"This? It's . . . Oh. Shit, I'm sorry." Cursing, he flicks back up to something far less gory. "It's called Netflix. All sorts of movies and shows to watch. Thought you might want to pick something for tonight, if you're up to it?"

Lir plops down on the couch next to him, one leg tucked under her, but he notes how she still sits very straight, as if it is practiced. "I don't know," she says very matter-of-factly, turning to look at him. "What kind of entertainment do you like?"

"Uh . . . I guess action? Or maybe a scary movie?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing scary, please. But action would be okay."

Dante nods and scrolls to the right screen. He chooses a movie about aliens invading, the world sending its best fighters to fight, the hero's girl trapped and needing rescuing. Lir had brought him back a plate with some reheated lasagna, which he tucks into as she relaxes just a bit, her eyes on the screen.

But his eyes drift to her again and again, gauging her reactions. At first he tells himself because he wants to see if it's too intense, or if she understood a joke, but eventually he realizes because he just likes watching her. It's almost like reliving it through her, and when she shouts at a lame jumpscare he chuckles. Lir leans in towards him a bit, her eyes glued to the screen, and Dante decides to experiment, pretending to yawn as he reaches his arm up and around her back.

She looks at him, a mixture of concern and confusion playing across her features. "Am I crowding you?" she whispers. "I'm sorry, I'll move."

"No, no, I thought . . ." He yanks his arm back and places it next to him. "Nevermind."

Lir gives him a curious look before turning back to the television. Dante clears his throat, shifting a bit, but now way too distracted by his crash and burn.

It occurs to him briefly that Lir might not know he is trying to flirt a bit, so he decides to take a more direct approach. "Hey, Lir," he murmurs, tilting his head towards her. "Did you know—"

"Sh," she hisses, her eyes glued to the screen.

He sinks back into his seat, steadfastly keeping his own gaze focused on the movie. This no longer seems like a good idea; between her semi-ignorance of the things outside of her home and his inner turmoil growing the longer she's around, being on this couch with her is probably the worst way to be, and it's all made worse by the dull, insistent ache in his groin. Not that it's her fault. Well, maybe it is. Lir readjusts next to him, and her thigh feels like a brand when it brushes his own.

What he needs is a magazine, a bit of lotion, and a bit of time to himself.

"This is really fun!" Lir exclaims, flashing him a grin.

"Yeah," Dante sighs, stretching his legs out and propping them up on the table. "It's swell."

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #fanfiction #writing #story #my figures #collab #promise me forever #pmf #whoops i'm late sorry

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 15

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud

The chime of the doorbell startles him awake; eyes snapping open, brain foggy and disoriented as it tries to figure out just what the noise was. The moment both the baby and Declan had started yawning and fussing, he’d laid down with them in the living room; Addie on his chest, his son tucked securely between him and the back of the couch. He’s certain he’d drifted off before either of them had; a hand placed protectively on Addie’s back; an arm wrapped his son. Lulled to sleep by the warmth of their bodies and the sound of their soft, steady breathing. The house quiet and peaceful. The three oldest at school, Esme out with her brother, and nothing but the sound of the ocean and the cool, steady breeze that filters through the windows.

The noise becomes more insistent, pausing momentarily before into one long, incessant tone. At first he reaches for his cell phone that rests on the coffee table, brain still attempting to straighten itself out and register exactly what the sound is, where it’s coming from, where he is, and even what day it is. He’d gone back on the Valium that morning as soon as the kids got on the bus, and it hit him almost immediately; making him drowsy and lightheaded, causing him to sweat profusely and develop a pounding headache. Now he feels as if his senses are impaired; sounds muffled as if he’s trying to hear underwater, his vision blurry. And in a near euphoric state he thinks about how he never even knew they had a doorbell; or at least he didn’t know what it sounded like. No one’s ever used it in the past six months that they’d been living there; delivery drivers and the postal carrier all resorting to knocking or leaving things on the chair by the front door; spurred on to do so by a handwritten letter Esme had taped to the mailbox that stated if anyone dared waked the baby or bothered her while feeding, there’d be ‘hell to pay’.

It becomes apparent that whoever is at the door isn’t going away, and he attempts to slip off the couch without waking either of the kids. Declan the biggest obstacle with his sweaty body and damp hair pressed tightly against him. And he manages to slide his arm out from underneath the sleeping toddler, who only gives a loud, content sigh and rolls over, pressing his face into the cushions. Then he stands, placing Addie in the portable playpen in the middle of the room and using a foot to push the coffee table out of the way in case Declan rolls over and falls off the couch. The last he needs is having to haul two kids to the hospital for a concussion or stitches. Or both.

As he heads for the door, he briefly considers grabbing some clothes and throwing them on; it would really set off the religious zealots that often travelled door to door if he was to answer in nothing but a pair of low slung boardshorts, body covered in a myriad of tattoos and scars. He’d already gone to the door once in the same fashion: a group startled and slightly scared little old ladies collecting things for a church food drive. But when he hears Addie begin to fuss, he decides against clothes, only caring about wanting to get the goddamn noise to stop.

When he finally answers, the blond on the other side of the door opens her mouth to speak, then abruptly stops; clamping her lips shut as her eyes widen and she slowly looks him up and down. Normally he’d be self-conscious; that the once over is in nothing more than a mixture of shock and concern due to the number of scars that mar his body. He’d never given a shit before; until his brain decided to turn against him and try and make his life a living hell. But there’s no curiosity or concern regarding his battle wounds; this once over was one of admiration. And he can’t stop the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Who are you?” Tyler asks, checking the driveway for any unfamiliar cars, then glancing towards the woods and then down the road, checking to see if she was alone or if there was anyone lying in wait.

It’s a hell of a way to live; thinking everyone is the enemy. But he’s stepped on a lot of toes and made a lot of enemies. And while you may physically leave the job, you’re never fully clear of it. Not until you die. Then and only then is your slate wiped clean.

“Never mind that,” she replies. “Who are YOU? The pool boy?”

He frowns. “What?”

“Well dressed like that. Looking like...that. I just assumed that maybe...”

“I live here,” Tyler informs her.

“With Esme and the husband?”

“I am the husband.”

“You?” she gives a started laugh. “You’re the husband?”

“For the last six and a half years.”

“Okay...hold up,” she chews pensively on her bottom lip, head cocked to the side as she regards him. “You’re Esme’s husband?”

“Am I not speaking English? I just said I was.”

“She told me her husband is retired.”

“Yeah? I am. And?”

“So I’m sure you can understand why this...why you...are a bit of a surprise. I was expecting someone that actually looks retired. Someone a lot older. And someone not as...” she once more looks him over from head to toe. “...well, not so you.”

“Look,” he rakes his fingers through his messy hair and scratches at the back of his head. “Not to sound like a total dick...”

“Too late.”

“...but who the hell are you? And why are you on my doorstep?”

“I’m Salena.”

“The new neighbor.”

“The one and only,” she confirms, and holds out a hand. “And you’re Tyler.”

He nods, hesitating at first, then shaking the hand offered to him. “Why are you here?”

“I was hoping to see Esme. I come bearing gifts,” she holds up a reusable shopping bag. “I told her last night when we were texting that I made a killer Dorito taco salad that she needed to try and that I make some up. Enough for all of you. Is she home?”

“She’s out with her brother.”

“The cute firefighter,” she states.

Tyler shrugs. “If you say he’s cute I’ll take your word for it, I guess.”

“I had messaged her saying I was going to pop by, but I never heard back. So, I’d thought I’d just run over and see what’s up.”

“I’m honestly so confused right now. I just woke up and my brain isn’t functioning properly yet. How you even know my wife?”

“We’ve been hanging out. Since we met the other days when I was moving the last of my stuff. She was taking the two littlest ones for a walk and Declan saw my dog and got away from her...”

“Wait. You know Declan too?” It was the one that he absolutely hated; Esme taking it upon herself to allow strangers around his kids. She’s too trusting; too quick to see the good in everyone yet not even stopping to look for the bad. He doesn’t trust anyone. Aside from her. And regardless of what she thinks of how paranoid she thinks he’s is; everyone is a possible threat.

“He’s my absolute favorite. He’s just such a little charmer. That smile and those eyes? I can see where he gets them. The eyes. Not the smile because you haven’t cracked one once since you answered the door. You do smile right?”

“Look, I had a rough night. I barely slept. You woke me up. I don’t even know what day it is right now, to be honest.”

“It’s Friday,” she informs him. “I’m the one that watched Declan yesterday. So Esme could have said time to herself. Well she had the baby. I just thought maybe she needed a break. That’s a lot to handle. Five kids.”

He tries hard to hide the anger that seeps into his voice. “You watched my kid?”

Salena nods.

“Yet I don’t even know who you are. You watched my kid, yet this is the first time we’ve met. And you’ve been hanging out with my wife?”

“Yeah, you know. Lunch. Girl talk. Stuff like that. She didn’t tell you? It must have just slipped her mind. I know she has a lot going on. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“Is it okay if I wait here for her or...”

He arches an eyebrow. “Here?”

“Where else?”

“I don’t usually let women into the house when my wife’s not home. That’s how rumors and shit start and I don’t need any more drama in my life. So I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I’m kinda busy with the little ones so...”

“I could help,” Salena offers

“I don’t need help. I’m not a rookie. And there’s nothing down there for you,” he informs her, when her eyes wander below his waist. “So if you could just...I don’t know...stop.”

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. “Do you always walk around in no underwear?”

“You always question what people do in their own house?” Tyler counters.

“Touche.”

“If you weren’t looking down there so much and so closely, you wouldn’t even know I wasn’t wearing any.”

“Oh, I’d know,” she boldly responds. “That’s kind of hard not to notice.”

“Is there a reason you’re here or...”

“Like I said, I’m here to see Esme.”

“And like I said, she’s not home. You’ll have to come back. Or call her. Or text. I dunno. But I’ve got little ones in the next room, so...”

“Yes! Sorry! I won’t keep you any longer!” She offers the shopping bag and he reluctantly takes it. “I just...wow...you are definitely NOT what I was expecting. At all. Wow. Okay, I’m gonna go. If I don’t hear from Esme, will you let her know I came by?”

“How am I going to know if you didn’t get in touch with her?” he asks, as he steps out onto the front porch, quickly checking the mail before once against surveying the road and for any sign of remotely suspicious activity along the tree line.

“That!” she points at him, as she walks backwards down the front walk, bumping into one of the recycling bins that sit at the curb, giving it an awkward apology and then giggling in embarrassment. “Is a very good point! I’m going to go now. I just...wow...totally not what I thought you were going to look like. And now I’m rambling and making a total fool out myself.”

“Just a bit,” Tyler agrees.

“Oh! She calls to him before he can step inside. “Weird question, I know. But did someone come to your door last night? Around two am? Because someone showed up at my place and knocked for like ten straight minutes.”

“That would have been my very drunk brother in law. I think he was looking for a hook up.”

“Well if that’s the case, tell him to come to the back door next time. I’ll answer for sure then.”

Tyler just smirks and shakes his head, both amused and annoyed by her honesty, and then closes the door behind him.

***

“Maybe we can try this again,” Kyle says, as they settle into a table on the Sovereign's outdoor patio. “Maybe we can make it through the meal without fighting.”

“Technically we didn’t start fighting until after dinner,” Esme points out.

“And technically you were the only one causing a scene, so...”

“Fair enough,” she surrenders, and places her hobo style purse and her lone shopping back on the ground, cell phone on the tabletop. “This isn’t a set-up is it? I’m not going to get five minutes into lunch and Nik will show up?”

“Nik’s gone.”

Esme arches an eyebrow.

“Not gone, gone. So don’t get your hopes up. She got a call last night. About a job in Venezuela. Needed to be there within a few hours or all hell was going to break loose.”

“Nature of the beast. You get used to those phone calls, unfortunately.”

“I thought maybe she’d slow down a little after we got engaged and started planning a wedding,” Kyle says. “I thought maybe that was enough to keep her busy and occupied, but...” he shrugs, and flips open his menu.

“Nik doesn’t do the job because she needs to keep busy or occupied. She does the job because she IS the job. She’s always been hard core about it. Completely devoted. Not to mention, she’s the boss. It’s her own company. And she has a lot of people relying on her to keep things running smoothly and to keep them safe. It’s a lot of pressure. A lot of stress. I wouldn’t to do it. Run the show.”

Kyle smirks. “Did you actually just pay Nik a compliment in some weird, back hand way?”

“I have nothing against job Nik. I actually admire THAT Nik. It’s the other Nik I can't stand. The one that spent six and a half years trying to destroy my marriage. And...” she holds up her hand in a plea for silence when Kyle opens his mouth to speak. “...I know Tyler and I aren’t perfect. That things have never been conventional or normal between us. But that’s the way we are. And that doesn’t give her a right or a reason to try and bang my husband. So don’t even try to defend that.”

“I agree that that part is a little messed up.”

“You think?” Esme rummages through her purse for the bottle of recently purchased prescription meds. The doctor immediately writing out the order when she couldn’t get through the first thirty seconds of describing how she was feeling without bursting into tears.

“So you get used to it?” Kyle asked.

“What? Some trifling bitch trying to wreck your marriage?” She pops one of the pills into her mouth and swallows it down with ice water. “No. You don’t.”

“Not that. The job. The phone calls. Them leaving at a moment’s notice. Now what you’re doing or talking about at the time. You do get it used to it, right?”

“I don’t know if you get used to it. But you learn to tolerate it. I’ve had phone calls come in at some pretty inopportune times, let me tell you.”

“How inopportune?”

“Let’s just say, Nik and her phone calls are the epitome of cock blocking.”

Kyle nearly spits a mouthful of water across the table.

“Right?” Esme laughs. Talk about bad timing! But in Tyler’s defense, he did always finish the job at hand. So...”

“Okay, that is too much information. I don’t think about you two...you know...finishing.”

“Kyle, despite what you think, I’d have sex more than five times. I just don’t have it to procreate, you know. It happens to be a lot of fun.”

“I do not what to think about those things when it comes to my little sister, okay? I know you’re a wife and a mother and all of that, but you’re still my kid sister. I still want to beat the hell out of any guy that touches you.”

She laughs and sips her water. “I’d love to see you try.”

“And totally get my ass handed to me? No thanks.”

She grins. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit defeat.”

“I’m not stupid,” he chuckles. “This is Tyler we’re talking about. I’ve heard about the shit he’s done. What he’s capable of. And he’s totally capable of killing me with his bare hands.”

Esme nods in agreement.

“Aren’t you scared? You know what he can do. You know the things he’s done. Aren’t you even a little bit afraid? Of him?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never been afraid of him. Ever. And I’ve seen his temper at its worst. He’d never hurt me. Or the kids. I have no reason to be scared of him.”

“But what if he snaps on day? What if everything that’s going on his brain just becomes too much and it gives way? What...”

“Tyler would never...ever...do anything to hurt me. I’m not scared of him. I’ve never been scared of him. It’s the opposite, actually. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Because I know if anyone ever tries to get to me or the kids, he’s more than capable of stopping them. He’s not a monster, K.”

“I never said he was. But that kind of job? Being a mercenary? And doing it as long as he did?”

“Tyler was never the job. The job was just part of him. I’ve known a lot of mercenaries. A lot. Guys that allowed the job to totally take them over. To the point you didn’t even recognize them anymore. That’s that all they are. Callous, cold, calculated, violent. Extremely violent. And horrifically abusive. To everyone. Girlfriends, spouses, kids.”

Kyle gives a small, almost sad smile. “Nik’s told me some stories.”

“Tyler would kill himself before he ever hurt me or the kids. He’d put a bullet in his brain if he ever got like that. I’m not scared of him. I never have been. And don’t underestimate me. I could put him on his ass if I ever had to.”

Her brother laughs at that.

“He’d never do anything to us. That’s the last thing you need to worry about. He was never like those other guys. I guess that’s what really set him apart; what I found really intriguing about him. Out of all the mercenaries I’ve worked alongside of and knowing the stories that revolved around him, I expected him to be one of them. And he wasn’t. He was still human. And you may not see it because he’s stubborn and thinks he has to hide certain sides of himself, but he’s a good person, K. A good person who’s had to do some terrible things to stay alive. He’s a big man with an even bigger hurt. You just have to be fortunate enough to get to experience it.”

“I see how he was with you. How he is with the rugrats. He adores those kids. And worships the ground you walk on. I mean, I think you’re an annoying bitch, but...”

She smirks and directs a kick to his shin.

“But I see how he is with you. You guys share a pretty profound bond, you know. You saved his life. Literally.”

“I did what anyone would do,” Esme reasons. “You save people all the time.”

“That’s my job.”

“I wasn’t going to let him die there. And I definitely wasn’t going to let someone hold me back and expect me to just stand there and watch him die.”

“Esme,” Kyle sighs. “Don’t bring Nik into this.”

“She left him there. She didn’t even want anyone to get to him to help. What kind of person does that? He became expendable. The job was done, and she need him anymore. And she was willing to let me die on that bridge too. I know you love her, but least accept the truth on who she is and what she’s capable of.”

A server comes to take their drink and food order, and Esme gives he a smile of appreciation and hands her the menu.

“I saved Tyler because he deserved better than the end he was being given.” she says. “Because no matter how badly he thought he deserved death, he deserved a second chance more. You learn a lot about someone when you’re running for your life and trusting them to get keep you alive, believe me.”

“And when you spend five days in a hotel room pretend to be married to them,” Kyle grins.

“I’m not talking about what their favorite sexual positions are or how kinky they can be. And trust me, he can be extremely dirty.”

Kyle grimaces. “I do not need to hear this.”

“And regardless of what you or Nik think, it wasn’t just sex. Those five says. It’s not like we never spoke to each other. We talked. A lot. We told each other things we’d never told anyone else. So it wasn’t just physical connection, as amazing as that was. It was more than that. Way more. I wouldn’t have stuck around in Australia and spent months sleeping in a chair at the hospital if it wasn’t.”

“And now here you are. Married, five kids.”

She nods.

“Honestly, I never expected this from you. Especially after Mark. After all the shit he put you through…"

“Well sometimes someone comes along and shows you that not all men are the same. That not all love hurts. I was lucky. Not everyone gets that chance.”

“I gotta hand it to you, kid. You’ve come a long way.”

“I didn’t mean to cause issues between you and Nik,” she says. “Just so you know. That wasn’t my intention. But we’d give up that life. That’s why we left Colorado. To start fresh. And suddenly she just shows up? Asking for his help? Again? He’s shed enough blood for her. Tyler owes her nothing.”

“It’s not she’s asking him to go back out there,” Kyle reasons. “She just needs his help. With Ovi.”

“And don’t even get me started about that! Her encouraging this with Ovi. After everything that’s kid been through? For years we’ve struggled to get that kid healthy. Mentally healthy. And he gets some stupid ass idea in his head and instead of telling him how stupid it is, she encourages him! Recruits him. You must be able to see how screwed up that is.”

“He’s not a kid anymore,” Kyle reasons. “He’s a grown man.”

“He’s my kid. No matter how old he is. This is a horrible idea, K. Ovi deserves so much better than this. And something or someone has gotten into his head and poisoned him to the point he thinks this is a smart, viable option. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing. For Ovi. For Tyler.”

“All Tyler has to do is train him. That’s it.”

“And you think that’s enough?” she gives a dry laugh. “I’ll you what. You put in some of the leg work. Spend a couple of days when them ‘training’. It's not as simple and basic as you’re making it out to be. Try it. One day eve. And then see you how you feel about it.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Go ahead. I know you think you’re a total bad ass, bit you now idea what it all entails. No idea. But if you think it’s that easy, then come on over and Tyler will put you through the paces. You’re probably be crying for mom when it’s over. If you even last that long. You’ve been to the gym with him; you know how hard core goes.”

Kyle nods.

“Imagine that times...I don’t know...twenty. And that’s if he’s slacking. Don’t underestimate him. You can the take man out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the man.”

“You think he’ll go back?” Kyle asks. “That he’ll get the itch? That just training won’t be enough.”

“I’ve told him that if he has to go...if Ovi gets into trouble and needs his help.... that’s fine. I’ll support him one hundred percent. But if he willingly goes for any other reason, we’re done. I’m done. I’m leaving and I’m taking kids with me. No looking back. I cut my loses and that’s that.”

He frowns. “That seems a little harsh.”

“I can’t do that life again. I just can’t. And I love him, but I love my kids more. And they deserve better than that life. They deserve a father that’s devoted to them and only them. And he can’t be if he goes back to the job. He just can’t.”

“So you’d just take off and take his kids?”

“I didn’t say he wouldn’t be able to see them. Because I’d never do that to him. Or them. But they need a stable, calm environment. And when he’s doing the job, our house is anything but stable and calm. It’s not what’s best for the kids. Not Tyler. Not me. Them.”

“Well for his sake, I hope he does the right thing and doesn’t fuck up. That’d probably kill him losing his kids.”

“Don’t put that on me, Kyle. It’s hard enough making that kind of decision, but adding that kind of guilt to it?”

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do, and you know it. But you honestly go to that extreme? Taking his kids away from him?”

“I wouldn’t be taking them away. They’d still see him. It’s about giving them a stable environment. And nothing is stable when it comes to the job. Because first the job comes about, then the drinking, then the fighting. You don’t know what it was really like, K. You only know half of what went on in our house.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” he comments. “You guys got back together. After you split for those six months.”

“Because he promised to get his shit together and said he wanted to work on things and make them better. And you know what? That lasted about eight months. And then it all started all over again. All because of the stupid goddamn job and because of Nik’s inability to leave him alone.”

“Esme, we said we weren’t going to fight. And if you bring up Nik, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and you know it. If you didn’t want me with her, why’d you even set me up with her in the first place?”

“Because she was way too good to be stuck with Mark. No one deserved to be stuck with that asshole.”

“So what? You used me to get her away from Mark? What...?”

“I didn’t think anything would actually happen between you two,” she admits. “At least nothing serious. I thought you’d have your fun for a little bit and then move on. You’d never been interested in settling down before. I never thought you’d start thinking about it when you met her.”

“That’s messed up. Using your own brother like that. Here I thought you did it because you wanted me to happy.”

“Of course I want you to be happy. I just don’t want you to be happy with her.”

Kyle gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“You’re too good for you,” Esme informs her.

“First, she’s too good for Mark, now I’m too good for her?”

“You deserve someone...I don’t know...different. Someone who can devote themselves to you. Who isn’t so hung up on their career. Someone who’d be happy being a firefighter’s wife. And believe, there’s tons of girls like that out there.”

“Maybe that’s not the type I want. Maybe I want someone who has more going for her. If you were that against this, why didn’t you say something before? Instead of waiting until four months before the wedding. A wedding which you...my own sister...hasn’t even committed to yet.”

“Have you ever thought maybe I’m not comfortable being there? Kyle’ she’s spent years trying to fuck up my marriage. And now I’m just supposed to be okay with hers?”

“I’m your brother.”

“Exactly. You are. Which means something should have told you marrying the woman spent six and a half years trying to fuck mt husband wasn’t a good idea.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought you’d grown up enough to let it go. She tried, he turned her down. End of story.”

“So you’re okay with being married to someone with no morals?”

“You’re okay with it,” he retorts. “You’re married to someone who killed people for a living.”

Esme scowls. “That’s not the same thing and you know it.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s even worse. You’re going to preach to me about morals when you’re married to hired killer? Who you were fucking three days after you met him. And you think you’re somehow morally superior?”

“That’s low, Kyle. Nik has enough blood on her hands herself. Including Tyler’s.”

“And you’re still holding onto that. It’s been almost what? Seven years? Since Dhaka? And you’re still holding onto that?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she scoffs. “You watch someone you love get shot in the throat. You have them bleed out all over you. You stick your fingers in their neck to try and keep them alive. And then you tell me how easy it is to get over.”

The server arrives with their food, breaking the tension that has fallen on the table. And Esme takes a sip of her water in a vain attempt to wash down the lump of emotion that now sits firmly on their throat.

“You have no idea what was like,” she scowls, as she uses her fork to stab at the salad on her plate. “Saying what I saw. Doing what I did. You have no clue, Kyle. And you have no right downplaying it and telling me to just ‘get over it’.”

“It’s been almost seven years,” he gently reminds her.

“And sometimes it feels like it’s only been seven days. So until you’re at in that kind of situation...and I hope you never ate...you need to keep your advice and your opinions to yourself. If you want to marry Nik, go ahead. But I won’t be there. None of us well. I love you. But I don’t agree with what you’re doing. If it were anyone but here, I’d be there. But after what she’s done...after she was going to leave us there...I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy for you. Because I’m not. I know what she’s like and I know what your life is going to be like. You’re going to spend it being second to the job. And you deserve so much better than that.”

“So do you,” Kyle says. “But you stick around.”

“Don’t ever compare Tyler to her. Because you know that’s complete and utter bullshit. He is nothing like her.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Esme. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

“Don’t even put the two together in a sentence. If you want to marry her and never have a normal marriage or kids of a stable life, go ahead. But I’m supporting that bullshit.:

Kyle sighs heavily. “You’re even more stubborn than I remember.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m just sick of peoples’ shit. Hers. Yours. Why couldn’t she just leave us alone? We were happy. Things were great. And now all of the drama is back again. And I’m had it up to my eyeballs in Nik drama.”

She sighs heavily when her phone vibrates against the table, then grins when she checks the text message.

“Apparently you’ve made an impression on my neighbor,” she says.

“Salena?”

Esme nods. “I guess she stopped by the house and Tyler told her you showed up at her place last night looking for a piece of ass. And she actually believed him. Now she wants me to give you her cell and her home number. You know shit is getting real when someone gives up their home number. Do you want them or...?”

“I’m engaged,” he reminds her. “I’m getting married in four months.”

“That means you have four months to change your mind.”

“Esme...”

“Don’t be so difficult,” she snags his cell from where it sits next to his plate and proceeds to add Salena’s name, info, and numbers into his contacts. “Trust me. You’ll thank me for this.”

He somehow doubts that.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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