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suntoru · 8 months

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𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?!

✧˚ · . alt title: getting jealous of a little kid trying to steal ur man!!

cw: gn! reader, pure fluff, crackfic, maybe swearing, not proofread, idk what else please cut me some slack for wriothesley and nuevillettes part i haven’t gotten that far in genshin

─ ✰ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 notices your little pout and glares to the small child. the little girl’s clutching onto his hand tight, sending him adoring gazes as she nuzzles into him softly, smirking deviously at you when she thinks your boyfriend isn’t paying attention. he’s a little confused at first, but manages to connect the dots. ah. so that’s what it is. his lips curve into a small smile as he notices your jealousy, thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. he places the now scowling child into adeline’s care for a bit, before making his way to you with a sheepish smile.

“dearest… are you in need of some attention? my apologies, it seems i have neglected you for a bit too long. how about a walk together… just you and i?”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 is a girl dad, you can’t convince me otherwise. the little girl is giggling in his arms, squishing his cheeks as they play princesses and knights. for some reason, the girl is set out for you, side eyeing you every time you try to get close to kaeya. so with a sigh, you sit and watch them play with a small huff. after a while, kaeya hands the five year old some mora, telling her to go buy a snack from a nearby cart and that they’ll play again later. she excitedly runs off as he saunters over to you with his signature smirk. he scoops you up into his arms, holding you flush against his chest. “you’ve got some real competition, hm?” he lets out a charming laugh as he teases you lightheartedly.

“don’t worry my love, you still own my heart… for now.”

─ ✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 loves playing with little kids. they remind him of teucer and his other younger siblings, forgetting about his harbinger duties for a moment as he plays hide and seek with the little girl. she shyly hands him a flower she picked herself, blushing slightly. he feels his heart melt, feeling a sense of protectiveness was over him as she clutches his leg tight. he’s unaware of your pout until the child reluctantly has to go back home for supper, his concentration snapping back to you. he grins at your frowny expression, tugging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

“aww, y/n, are ya jealous? ahaha, so you are! …stop pouting, i’ll make sure to give you some extra attention tonight~”

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 does not like the little kid either. sorry, what were you expecting? he doesn’t like any kids at all, unless it’s your kid. reluctantly, he entertains the child for a bit, attempting to hide his annoyed expression as the little girl tugs at his hat, giggling loudly. he also finds himself glaring coldly at the five year old every time she sticks her tongue out at you, climbing into his lap as she refuses to look at you. at this point, he just wants to go back to you, but the little girl cries every time he attempts to stand up. he almost smiles when the child’s mother finally finds the little girl, speed walking over to you as he allows you to cling onto him softly, frown instantly melting away.

“hmph. what an annoying brat. …our kid would be much cuter.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 smiles at the small child as she draws a picture of her and kazuha holding hands. he allows her to play with her hair, acting as a father figure to this sweet little girl. it’s almost like a perfect family… except this demon child hates you. she steals all of kazuha’s attention, and whenever you try to initiate affection, she drags him away possessively. …you never thought you’d have a five year old compete with you over your boyfriend. if not for kazuha’s patience, you might have lost it. he pulls you into a corner with a knowing smile, peppering your face with kisses as he chuckles softly.

“dove, there’s no reason to pout… you’ll always be my muse, alright? so stop frowning… a smile suits you much better.”

─ ✰ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 frowns slightly seeing the girl cling onto his arm. …where are her parents? should he leave? …no, that would possibly put the child in danger… but at the same time, it’s taking away his time with you. he allows the little girl to stay, observing curiously as the little girl blushes ever so slightly while playing with his hair. …strange. this small creature acts so much like you, yet seems to hate your guts… he turns to you, surprised to see you grouchy. standing up, ignoring the girl’s protests, he tilts your head up with his hand, gorgeous amber eyes boring into yours.

“…have i done something to make you upset? tell me, so i can fix it.”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 knows. this little bitch knows what he’s doing… it’s been a peaceful few weeks, why not stir it up a little? he holds her teensy tiny hand in his, feeding her delulu in further, and spends what was supposed to be your date with him into a play date with the little gremlin. it’s seven when the girl falls asleep, finally paying attention to you. he smiles mischievously at your grouchy pout, pulling you in closer as a soft melody starts playing, spilling you around as you waltz around the room.

“…ah? so you knew i was teasing you? …i have to make it up to you now? very well. how about a nice massage and some cuddles tonight?”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 stares at the child. …why is it so attached to him? kaveh and you were right there, with open arms, beaming at the little girl… and now sobbing as the child ignores you… not knowing what to do, he continues reading his book… but it’s not long before she tugs his sleeve, asking for him to read her a book. he obliges, reading to her in the most monotonous voice, it would be more surprising if the little five year old didn’t fall asleep. looking up, he sees you scowling at the little girl, and he feels his heart warm the slightest bit.

“…what i read her? the extensive analysis of the color brown: the non-illustrated edition. simply fascinating.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 cooes as the little girl bats her eyelashes, beaming so innocently, his entire heart melts. this little girl is his now, sorry parents!! you snooze, you lose. when you whisper to him how you think she hates you, he audibly gasps. this sweet little angel? no way!! he shows her all around his office, the secret projects he hasn’t even shown you yet!! they have a field day with that. when the sun sets, he reluctantly gives her back to her very grateful parents. his eyes sparkle at your pout, squeezing you tightly.

“oh, you wish to know what the classified architecture is too? …it’s… our future home. for me and you.”

─ ✰ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 visibly softens at the little girl tugging his shirt. unbeknownst to most who believe he is as stoic as he is in the court, he seems to be very soft and gentle. he allows her to clumsily braid his silky strands, keeping the hairstyle on for the day, ignoring the confused stares he gets from fellow passerby. however, when you try to give him a peck, she pushes you with a glare, clinging onto his sleeve! your mouth visibly drops, and you don’t know whether to laugh or be mad. neuvillette is equally as shocked, scolding her lightly.

“beloved, are you all right? …no? shall i kiss it better?”

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 expected the five year old to go running into your arms, screaming and crying. after all, he certainly looks like a scary man, having quite a tall stature, covered in scars as well. but no, she innocently beams at him cutely asking to play tea party. so that’s the sight you walked into, a small child, wriothesley, and a handful of barbies surrounding the round table, all having teacups. the girl glares at you, telling you you can’t join, as your smile drops. this little roach… who does she think she is? before you can say anything, he pulls you to the side, whispering quietly.

“babe, we’ll have our own tea party date later… yes, yes, i promise.”

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

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blackpearlblast · 27 days

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ezzideen's recounting of eid during the genocide, translated and put together by boshra. all sides have alt text and full transcript under the cut.

link to ezzideen's facebook page / donate to ezzideen's campaign

slide 1: A picture of a lit candle in the darkness.

Title: Story of Eid Through the Eyes of Ezzideen Translated from Ezzideen's Facebook page

slide 2: For ten consecutive years, the arrival of Eid brought a lump to my throat, a lump with many meanings for me (exile from my country, being away from my mother, my beloved, and my family and relatives, in a country where no one else knew of Eid's arrival but me). Before coming here, I thought long and hard about what I should do during the Eid days. I imagined thousands of scenarios: How would Eid pass?

slide 3: Which house would we visit first? Should I give out Eidi (gifts to children, like my uncle's grandchildren and my cousin Abu Bilal's children)? Would the first house we visit be my grandmother's? How would my mother react when I give her the Eidi? What would be our first breakfast? Should I go to the Eid prayer in jeans or in traditional clothes? Where would I and the young men of the family spend Eid night? And many, many more details, from where we would spend the first night of Eid to what kind of nuts we would buy for the guests.

slide 4: And today, on Eid day, here I am writing this text without needing to know answers to any questions, because Eid has passed like this: My big uncle's house was destroyed (no need to visit it), my uncle's grandchildren and my cousin's children have died (there is no one to give Eidi to), my grandmother also has died (no reason to visit her house, as it suffers in silence as we do), there is nothing in the markets fitting for the luxury of an Eid breakfast (and if found, no one in the country can afford it),

slide 5: Abboud, Bilal, Ahmed, Mohammed, and Yusuf were killed (the adornment of our family's youth) so there is no need to think about where to spend the first night of Eid, no need to choose what I wear for the Eid prayer (as no prayers are held and no mosques are in this country), and my mother? My beloved, I am ashamed to even mention to you that it is Eid! As for the rituals of Eid, there is no ritual but to cry in imposed silence, for even God wept silently for the martyrs this morning as the rain fell.

slide 6: Screenshot of a post from Ezzideen's Facebook page.

Caption: Main post from Ezzideen's Facebook page. Link in bio.

#eid #eid mubarak #eid 2024 #gaza #north gaza #free gaza #palestine #free palestine #EndIsraelsGenocide

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stone-stars · 3 months

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happy 6 years of naddpod everyone <3 (alt title: the dragon pussy podcast making me cry for 6 minutes straight)

Transcript:

Mee Maw: That's true, but… there's also somethin' else. Murph: And you see she pushes her cloak to the side, and you see she has black scabs-- Caldwell and Jake: Oh, no! No no no! Moonshine: Oh, Melora! Murph: --and deep crick rot all over her chest and neck.

Marabelle, weakly: Jolene? I-- I didn't realize I was gonna get to-- say I was sorry. Moonshine (pretending to be Jolene): Thank you, of-- of course you're forgiven! I love you so much! You're my big sister!

Melora: You're not cursed. You were born like this.

Hardwon: (desperately) Gemma? Gemma? Gemma wake up. Gemma baby. Hey. Murph: You see she's-- she's-- she's cold and dead. Hardwon: Fuck!

Balnor: I couldn't help them. I can barely swing a sword. Alanis: There's a war coming, and everyone needs to fight. Even old men who don't know how.

Beverly, crying: No, he's-- he's my light. He's my Pelor! He always was! I strayed!

Bev Sr: You tell her the truth, Bev. You tell your mom that I died in the Feywild. Beverly: (crying) You know I'm bad at lying. Bev Sr: It's not a lie, Bev.

Deadeye: Yeah, I know I'm down a hand. And an eye. And a life. But I got a soul, and a family. And I finally know which is worth more.

Deadeye: I hate to think about what woulda happened to me, but maybe more I hate to think about who I still would've been if I had never met you.

Rosa: JV, I can't-- I can't find my lantern. JV: Aw, well look at that? There's a lantern right here. Rosa: Are you sure that's mine? JV: Yeah. Yeah, I'll-- I-- I'm gonna go look for mine.

Hardwon: --interpretation. I-- I-- Moonshine: Hardwon, I really don't want you to want to die, because I want you to live so much and I don't want to be alone in that feeling.

Lydia: Elias, is that you? Hardwon: It's uh-- It's still little Elias. You saved the child, ma.

Lydia: I don't know what I've been these past few years, I don't know what I've been these past few decades. But I want you to know that when I was your mother that... you were wanted.

Murph: Somebody who felt they could never have a child… um, is holding their child. Moonshine: I-- I didn't want to need you, dad, but… now that you're here… it-- it's kinda nice.

Murph: Your father has given you... a strategy guide on how to beat him. Caldwell: I have to look away so that the tears don't ruin the pages.

Beverly: (tearful) I don't want to go. I don't want to go. But I have to. It's my duty. I have to do this. Moonshine: Okay, youngin, I want you to know. I will love you whatever you choose to do. But, here's my two cents: A child has a duty to his father, but a hero has a duty to the world. Now, I've got my opinion of which you are. But it's time for you to decide.

Bev Sr: Thanks, Bev. I always-- I knew I could make the deal, because I knew you'd stop me.

Moonshine: (tearful) I-- I've been wanting to tell you about this for so long, and I just didn't get a chance to. And I don't know if I will, so I just wanted to make sure I told you.

Moonshine, crying harder as she goes on: Paw Paw. You are… You are my best friend. And you are the best part of me. (sobs) And I am so grateful. For-- (sobs) the fact that so much of our lives have been braided together. But… where I'm going, next-- after we beat Thiala, which we will-- you can't come, mmkay? So I just need to make sure that you are taken care of, and I need to make sure that you take care of some people, okay?

Pendergreens: This time, you picked me up. And you were nice to me for no reason.

Pendergreens: If when you come back... if I'm different? Moonshine: Mhm? Pendergreens: Just, remember me as I am now. 'Cause I like who I am when I'm around you.

Death: I will take everything from you-- Hardwon: Quit pointing at people! Death: --until you come with me. Hardwon: Ok-- I'll go! I'll go. Beverly: Hardwon, no! Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back.

Lydia: All my life, people told me what I had to be. You don't have to be anything other than what you are.

Lydia: I think you should talk to your friends. Not because you owe them an explanation, but because you deserve to be heard.

Melora: Beverly. Beverly: Yes? Melora: I wish you could grow up in a normal world, but the Gods have not blessed you with a normal life. You are… afflicted with duty. Things thrust upon you far beyond your years.

Melora: The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.

Moonshine: How long do Half-Elves live? Mee Maw: You talkin' bout Hardwon? Moonshine: I mean-- It's on my mind.

Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. (tearful) And there's a part of me that doesn't want to find out what that feels like.

Moonshine: There is something sour I probably need to swallow, though. It is-- There's people you meet that are once in a timeless body lifetime kinda people, right? Mee Maw: Oh, yeah. Moonshine: Okay. Mee Maw: And you keep 'em with ya. Moonshine: Okay.

Moonshine: (crying) It's okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in this world, I knew I was only borrowing you.

Hardwon: Moonshine, when-- When I left Irondeep, I-- I didn't know where I fit in. And then I met you, and you didn't just let me in. You brought me in, and you thought I was good.

Balnor: I hope that you all get to leave this world with the same comfort that I had: knowing that it's in good hands. I love you. Murph: "Your knight, Balnor."

#naddpod #bahumia #happy six years of naddpod everyone!!#emily axford #brian murphy #caldwell tanner #jake hurwitz #moonshine cybin #hardwon surefoot #beverly toegold #naddclips #weavings

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smrsxx · 10 months

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Based on this request . . .

Title : Chaotic

Pair : bayverse!optimus adoptive dad x human!gn reader

Summary : You and Optimus are going for a ride and you just can't stop thinking about how you ended up in this situation.

Tw : actually none , just pure fluff.

English isn't my first language so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me.

Ps. I finally published this after a week l and I'm so sorry that I was late. I hope you liked it. I personally loved it. I'm going to be out of town ( I don't know for how long ) because of some family issues. I will try to work on a new series that I was requested too.

I really tried. I hope it's good.

_______________________________________________________

He is so done with you.

He actually can not understand how you are so much energetic.

One minute you are quiet and peaceful -

and the all of a sudden you are going crazy and started doing all kinds of stuff.

At first you decided to clean the whole entire base , including the Transformers themselves.

That is how Optimus found himself - in this type of situation.

He is sitting on top of his berthroom , looking at you while your cleaning literally everything.

He looks at you and decides to give it another chance. " Are you certain that you do not need any help ? "

"Thanks again but no. I think I'm gonna go clean Ratchet's room again. " You say to him , but more to yourself.

To save you from trouble Optimus decided that the best option is to take you away from the base - maybe for ride.

Just to calm you down.

_____

This is how you found yourself sitting in his cabin at his alt - form driving in the night.

A podcast you both love is playing softly in the background.

You are in your peaceful state right now.

And you both knew why.

" it's quiet. I like it. " You said to Optimus , your head resting on his left window.

" How so ? " He asked you making you both laugh at his obvious joke about your personality.

" it's not funny. " You answered smiling.

When you reached your secret place , where Optimus could change into his real form , you both went quiet.

After a couple of minutes you broke the silence.

_____

" Do you remember the first time we met ? Wait - that was a stupid question - you remember everything. Anyways - back to what I was saying . . . I wanted you to know that I am so grateful that I was there that night. If I had said no to Sam to go out for a ride with Bee I wouldn't have met you. And do you remember when we first started to form our relationship? You are just like a father to me and I know it sounds strange , because your this - . . . You're just special you know ? " You said to him , trying to hold your smile back.

You didn't know if he was comfortable with that , but you really admired him and loved him as a father and you couldn't think about your life without him.

His silence made your stomach turn.

'I freaked him out. I fucked up. ' You thought to yourself.

"If you think that my silence after your confession is a bad thing , do not because it is not. I am grateful that you gathered the courage and tell me that you are happy that you've met me. Trust me all Autobots do. Even Ironhide - even though he doesn't show it much. But me ? Especially me ? I am extremely happy that you are inspired by me. You are a wonderful human being and we've learned so much from you. I'm proud to be considered your friend but I'm even more proud to consider you my daughter. " He answered making tears form in your eyes.

_____

You both remembered the moment. Hearts and sparks filled with love.

You loved your dad - even if he was a big , giant , tall machine.

Your dad loved you - even if you were a small but fierce human.

You knew everything about each other.

You told each other everything.

You were father and daughter.

You had an amazing bond.

" I love you dad. Even if your extremely bossy sometimes. " You said to him smiling.

"Well I have to be , considering that I have to deal with bots and humans like you. " He answered making you gasp and laugh.

"But I love you too. " He finally said to you.

You loved your dad and your dad loved you.

__________

Until next time . . . Enjoy summer : ]

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

#transformers #transformers bayverse #transformers imagine #transformers fanfiction #transformers x oc #transformers x reader #optimus prime #bayverse optimus prime #optimus prime x oc #optimus prime x reader #transformers optimus

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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am i the asshole for leading a guy on an low-key manipulating his feelings? (🐺 so i can find it later)

trigger warnings for mental health issues, family death, and suicide mentions.

title is kiiinda dramatic, i know. and i should be clear that i know that what i did was definitely wrong to a degree, but idk how messed up it was.

for context: i (19 f) was freshly seventeen and had just returned to in person school for my senior year after doing my junior year online at home. the majority of my best and only friend had forgotten me almost entirely and abandoned me despite our texting throughout my online year. new social circles had formed in my absence and i had a very difficult time readjusting, especially because i had come out of isolation with worsened anxiety, depression, and lowkey suicidal idealization. to top it all off, my grandfather who i adored had just died. i was desperately lonely and at the lowest i had ever been mentally in my entire life. i say this all not to excuse my actions but to provide some context as to why i acted the way i did.

so i meet this guy (i think like 15-16?) who we'll call finn. finn is a year below me but we share an elective class. we were initially drawn to each other bc we were both the only alt/geeky kids in the room and hit it off really well. and at first things are going pretty good; we eat lunch together every day, share music, talk about our interests etc. normal friend stuff.

but here's the part where i'm probably ta: finn had told me earlier on that he's the type to catch feelings super easy, so i guess i should've expected it, but he tells me that he has a crush on me. not directly though--he starts talking about this girl that he has feelings for but doesn't have the courage to confess to. and the first time he brought it up i didn't realize it was me and ofc tried to hype him up so he could confess and all that. but by the second conversation we have about it, it dawns on me that he's definitely talking about me. and i'm like "ah fuck," because the last person i wanted it to be was me--i'm mostly into girls, and also saw finn as a little brother more than anything else. but i keep hyping him up anyways saying stuff like "oh c'mon the worst she can do is say no! and even then you can at least move on with closure!"

so he takes my advice and confesses to me over text. i turn him down as politely as i can. which is where this whole thing should've ended tbh. but it didn't. his confession (even though it was over text) really endeared me and made me feel appreciated and beautiful in a way i never had been before. i'm not conventionally attractive + a plus size girl, and had never had anyone confess to me before, let alone say something as sincere and sweet as finn did to me. i was always the girl guys dared each other to ask out as a joke, yknow? it felt nice to know that someone saw me as desirable. again, this doesn't excuse my actions or justify them. just context.

so i decide that even though i know i'm not going to pursue anything with finn, i don't want him to lose interest in me either. so i start acting like i might be into him. tell him certain outfits make him look cute, go on and on about how much i love his hair (he really did have nice hair tbh), lean in a little closer when we talked, and constantly reassure him that he'd get a gf soon because good-looking, sweet and funny guys like him don't stay single for long.

he definitely notices bc he (again over text) asks if it's ok to be more physical when we interact. like can he hold my hand if we walk down the hall or whatever. this is definitely where i should've stopped, but i didn't. i kept up the pseudo-flirting bullshit.

and then he confesses (you guessed it! over text) for a second time, insisting that he really thinks that i like him back now. i tell him i don't know what he's talking about but that i'm happy to keep being friends with him. again, i don't stop the flirting-that's-not-quite-flirting.

this continues all the way until the end of the year. he tells me before i graduate that he really cares for me and doesn't want to lose touch after i leave. i promise him we won't. at this point i'd realized the gravity of my actions and had come to regret the way i treated finn, and decided the best course of action was to let our friendship fizzle out after i graduate. so i stop responding as frequently to him, he eventually stops reaching out until finally we lost contact and i delete his number.

i know that what happened was kinda fucked up, but how bad of a fuck up was this tumblr?

(secondary question: is this something that would've had a lasting impact on him and his view of relationships? i hope it isn't. i hope he forgot about me quickly. i hope he's doing better and has found someone who actually likes him.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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themummersfolly · 23 days

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Brotherly Art

alt. title: Love Is Stored In the Infodump

This is the first of a three part series on Thrawn's relationship to art. He's such a nerd, I love him so much.

-----

People who meet Thrawn often think he’s quiet. People who know him, at least for any length of time, often wish he was.

Thrass understands the complaint, but he doesn’t share it. When his brother gets onto certain topics, the stiff poise and awkward reserve melt away; his eyes shine with more than bioluminescence, and he lays out his opinions with the enthusiasm of a child and the earnestness of a professor. True, no one else can get a word in edgewise. But Thrass has spent enough time in university to appreciate the free dispersal of knowledge by someone passionate about the topic. And Thrawn rarely looks so alive, let alone happy. Thrass wants to see him happy.

“-but in 68 BCA, you start to see a shift in the assembly technique, as though the makers’ perspective on the physical possibilities of their craft has begun to shift. The history books say they didn’t have any contact with outsiders until at least 50 BCA, but I think we can see from the pottery alone that the date of first contact can be pushed back by almost a decade. It shows up in other artifacts, but it’s most clear here that their whole conception of their place in the universe underwent a seismic shift-” Thrawn looks up from the zoomed-in picture of a potshard on his questis and glances at Thrass. “This isn’t boring, is it?”

Someday, Thrass reflects, he’d like to meet whoever told Thrawn his interests were boring. There’ll be an assault charge, of course, but he’s fairly certain he can talk his way out of the worst of it. “Not at all. I like hearing what you think.” His own questis pings. “Delivery’s almost here.”

“Ok. I have to use the fresher anyway.” A look of urgency crosses Thrawn’s face and he practically vaults the couch on his way. Thrass shakes his head. Trust Thrawn to get so wrapped up in a topic he forgets to pee. Thrass gets up to clear the table for their meal and brings Thrawn’s questis with him. When he sets it down, the jolt causes the screen to switch back on. He blinks. Instead of the potshard, the screen is a solid, alarming blue.

“Thrawn, I think something is wrong with your questis.”

Thrawn emerges from the fresher, still drying his hands. Thrass hands him the device.

“It’s gone all blue. If I broke it, I’ll replace it-”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Thrawn breathes a visible sigh of relief. “That’s just the lock screen.”

“You set your lock screen to The Blue Screen of Death?” In fairness, it’s not the strangest thing his brother’s ever done. Thrawn shakes his head.

“It’s a painting by Cli’ure’akoio, one of her Color Studies. I’ve got downloads of all her older work, this one’s my favorite. Most people just see skin tone when they look at it, but a blue this saturated and even is really difficult to produce outside electronic media. And look how she applied it, it’s hard to tell here but there are no visible brushstrokes. That’s what makes this picture unique: she’s taken something absurdly simple and executed it so perfectly it’s like she’s daring people to say they could do the same thing, openly flexing on her critics-”

And just like that, he’s off on an extended explanation of the experimental paintings of Cli’ure’akoio.

Later, as Thrawn scrolls through his questis looking for a particular painting, Thrass peers over his shoulder. Most people’s image files are full of family members, tookas, or scantily clad individuals they deny any knowledge of; Thrawn’s is full of art downloads.

“Do you have any pictures you took yourself?”

“Oh, certainly.” He pauses on a blurry picture of a stack of duracrete slabs. “I took this at the sculpture festival last year. I usually stick to downloads, though. I don’t take very good pictures.”

Thrass shakes his head. “Have you ever thought about collecting any pieces yourself?”

Thrawn doesn’t look up from scrolling. “I don’t have the room; I live on a light cruiser. Besides, most of these cost more money than I’ll ever see.” There’s a wistfulness in his voice that only someone who knows him well would pick up on. An idea takes root in Thrass’s mind; he files it away for later.

Thrawn’s shore leave is over entirely too soon, in Thrass’s opinion. He hurries to the shuttle station to see him off, careful not to drop the package under his arm.

He spots his brother on the edge of a knot of CEDF personnel, waiting for the shuttle to blackdock. Thrawn stands outside the chattering conversations of his peers, hands behind his back, waiting his turn to contribute to the discussion. He turns when he sees Thrass approaching.

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” he says by way of greeting. Thrass envelops him in a hug.

“Had an appointment I had to keep. Besides, I have a going away present I have to give you.”

He takes the package from under his arm and presents it to Thrawn. By now the others have taken note and gathering around to watch.

“Open it.”

Thrawn strips the wrapping away and stares at the transparesteel case. Then he registers its contents and his mouth falls open. “You didn’t-”

“I told her what you said about her Color Studies. She says she’d be honored to have this piece in the hands of someone who can appreciate it.”

One of Thrawn’s peers looks over his shoulder at the painting. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s one of Cli’ure’akoio’s latest series, Studies In Color and Texture.” Thrawn looks like he’s tearing up. “Each tile is done in a different pigment and brush stroke.” He holds the painting in its case as though receiving a holy covenant. “This is for me?”

Thrass nods. “I had it mounted in a protective case. It’ll be as safe as anything on the ship- probably safer.”

Thrawn meets his eyes, a significant effort for him, Thrass knows. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

“It’s a good start to your collection.” A tone clangs over the loudspeakers, announcing the arrival of the shuttle. “There’s no time now. But when you get home, you’ll have to explain the series to me.”

Thrawn won’t be able to wait until his next shore leave, Thrass reflects as he waves goodbye. His next letter is likely to be several densely packed pages, expounding on the technical aspects and deeper meaning of the work of Cli’ure’akoio, fit more for a graduate level art history paper than a casual conversation.

Thrass can’t wait to read it.

#star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #mitth'ras'safis #thrass #thrawn/art #thrawn is autistic coded #short fiction

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mico-evelyn2 · 2 months

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WHY YOU SHOULD BE A YOTES FAN! (or at least like them) (Pt 1)

Social Media admin: the yotes social media admin has lost their mind and honestly i think they're on crack

2. Our jerseys look fly as fuck a.k.a when we lose we lose in style 😎

[⚫Home, ⚪Away, 🟣Alt]

3. Clayton Keller (sean avery's opp): No. 9 is the yotes superstar. He's the unofficial-official captain and his hockey is so fun to watch (also he's a pretty white boy with dimples, you🫵will love him, you have no 🙅‍♀️ say in this) (btw i'm never getting over that second picture)

4. Travis Dermott is an amazing person🤩. The NHL banned the use of pride tape and Travis Dermott gave the league a massive middle finger (he is literally my hero) (his interview where he spoke out against the NHL) (Via The Athletic)↴

5. the future: Listen i understand we might not be in Arizona in the next 2 years but idc. I'm here to talk about our draft picks. they currently have 34 picks in the next 3 drafts with 20 of them being in the 1st 3 rounds (this is fucking insane and I cannot wait for the future)

5.5) 2022 round 1 draft: This photo isn't relevant but it is to me because I love how short Maveric Lamourex (6'7ft, 2.01m) and Conor Geekie (6'3ft, 1.93m) make Logan Cooley (5'10ft, 1.78m) look

6. like every team you need someone who looks like their mascot and arizona is no exception. Allow me to introduce No. 29 Barrett Hayton and Howeler the Coyotes

7. No. 39, Connor Ingram my precious goalie🫶. He is important to me because he's open about his struggles with OCD & past addiction. And also he's a good goalie (that saves the yotes ass a lot of times) read more here

8. @/did_the_coyotes_lose on Insta or @/didtheyoteslose (twitter) is small community of yotes fans :) and also sometime the main title card is posted by the arizona account

(usually they lose two games after and go on a horrendous losing streak. When will the yotes admin learnt that posting did_the_coyotes_lose is a curse)

9. MIKE SMITH GOALIE GOAL!! HE SCORES WITH JUST 11 SECONDS TO GO! It got in the net with 0.1 seconds remaining on the clock. Needless to say, best goal in yotes history.

10. Father a.k.a Nick Bjugstad (No. 17) and his wife Jackie have a foundation called Goals For Kids, "Provides youth from all backgrounds with the skills to be successful" <- paraphrasing what their website says

11. Travis Boyd (No. 72) he is literally just a family man. That is kinda his whole thing, it's sweet.

12. Michael Carcone (No.53) knows how to serve on and off the ice because his grandfather owned a bar and a pizza joined (but genuinely i need to know if MC53 can serve drinks, it would be great if he can)

13. Logan Cooley my goat 🐐 all you really need to know about him is that he's just a little guy and is good at hockey

14. speaking of little guys clayton keller & logan cooley are both the second shortest (michael carcone is the shortest) but i would like to bring your attention to this photo, it's beautiful 🥹

15. barrett hayton & clayton keller are in love (bromance) (to add more BH29 profile picture on insta is a picture of them)

16. Lawson Crouse (No. 67, Alt captain) his nickname is "the sheriff" because of his style of play (not important but he's ginger and i felt the need to mention this because they're a very rare breed)

17. Dylan Guenther - another little guy (he's 6'2💀) - scored THE game winning goal for Canada at world juniors in the gold medal game against czechia (it was a beautiful moment)

18. Barrrett Hayton serves cunt on and off ice (i mean look at this goofy ass hat, only someone with confidence can pull this off)

19. Harvard graduate Alexander Kerfoot (No. 15, alt captain). He did a Q&A with The Athletic in 2019 and I think it say all you need to know

20. No. 63 Matias Maccelli, oh i love this man. He looks like a teddy bear and if you squeeze him for long enough he will squeak. And also he's good at hockey and is going to beat his season high points scored (49)

21. Jack McBain (No. 22) if i'm being honest idk much about him and i couldn't find out much. But something i know is that his insta is private and i respect that🫡

22. No. 38 Liam O'Brien or Big Tuna. He's an enforcer with the most penalty minutes in the league (133) (he's a ginger, a very rare breed) also he's going to be a girl dad 🔜

23. One Step Coyotes is a program that allows adults with special needs to play hockey (@/onestepcoyotes on insta)

24. The short leash line was a line with Keller - Schmaltz - Garland in the 2020-21 season. It was nicknamed this by rick tocchet and it has got to be my favourite line name

25. this video is actually everything to me 🥹

Lawson Crouse saying, "You go baby go ahead." changed my brain chemistry.

And the Cooley repeating to himself, "don't fall, don't fall, don't fall..." 😭😭😭😭

#not making a part 2 #i'll make a part 2 when i have time 🫶#arizona coyotes #nhl #logan cooley #clayton keller #lawson crouse #dylan guenther #yotes lb #nhl imagine #nhl hockey

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blondie20000 · 3 months

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SPN Season 14 Recs

Season 14, the season that had so much potential. As I am in an SPN mood, I'm going to recommend some season 14 fics that I love! Links are in the titles of the fics. Fics are from both Ao3 and FF.

I also added my fics because while I do have a masterlist in my pinned post if anyone is looking for a specific season, they can look here.

More fics may be added later on.

The Bringer of War by MadisonTheGeek

Summary:

"Now that the archangel Michael has made it to a new world and taken possession of Dean Winchester, he can begin to put his plans in motion for a new world order. Meanwhile, the rest of the Winchester group search restlessly for the missing Dean and slowly being to unravel Michael's plans."

Not All Good News by trevelies

Summary:

"Michael is caged inside Dean's mind for now. But there's grace leaking from the cracks, banging on the doors, and Dean knows what happens at the end of this story. With borrowed (and confusing) Archangel abilities, a group of mistrustful Apocalypse Universe Hunters, and too many Michael Monsters to deal with, Team Free Will 2.0 is ready to clean up the mess that Michael's left behind and stop another apocalypse. Not all the danger is locked inside a bar's walk-in freezer, though - and the Winchesters need to watch out for old and new enemies around every corner.

And at the end of it all, Dean needs to decide how far he'll go to get rid of Michael once and for all."

Gonna Leave a Scar by trevelies

Summary:

"Michael repossesses Dean in Kansas City, and Team Free Will 2.0 isn't exactly on board. It doesn't matter that their only weapon and chance at defeating Michael is currently broken into pieces - family never gets left behind. And that goes double for Winchesters. Sam does a deep dive into Dean's head because he's not letting Dean disappear on his watch, even if it means facing an Archangel on his own turf."

All On You by trevelies

Summary:

"The Spear" speculation. Dean's vision is swimming - literally. But Team Free Will 2.0 has much bigger problems. The angels have finally located Michael, and the Winchesters have Kaia's Spear, an angel and a half, and about three weeks of bad memories to take out on Michael's feathery ass."

The Abyss Gazes Back by Water_of_life

Summary:

"Dean was able to convince Sam to go along with his plan of locking Michael (and Dean) away in the ma'lak box and dumping it in the Pacific Ocean. Sam gave in to Dean then, but he never gave up searching for another way to save Dean and the rest of the world from Michael. Now that a group of deep sea researchers have stumbled upon the box, Sam is about to find out if he put the reprieve to good use, and if they are all ready to face what is coming."

Omission, Lies, and False Truths by GalaxyThreads, SpiritClusters

Summary:

"In the wake of Lucifer's death, with Dean missing, Sam falling apart, and Cas struggling to keep everyone together, Jack realizes there are a lot of things he doesn't know about the Winchesters and Cas. Things he should know. Things he's going to fight to learn."

10 Years Gone by cayuga

Summary:

"What if Nick had kidnapped Mary before she'd gone into Donna's workshop and saw the Ma'lak box in Damaged Goods? What might have happened if Dean had managed to go through with his trip to the bottom of the Pacific without telling Sam."

the lies I tell myself by randomfills (spnfanatic)

Summary:

"Alt. take on season 14, episode “Nihilism”. Sam and Cas have a plan to bring Dean, literally, out of his head, but Michael is ready for them and once they enter Dean’s mind, they quickly realize they’re in Michael’s playground and Dean has been hiding things...things that even Sam didn’t know. (mentions of abuse, flashbacks)."

The Room by Fantasticly_Anonymous

Summary:

"Sam learns what it is that Dean’s been doing up at Donna’s cabin and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it enough that he thinks up his own solution to their little Michael problem. A bit of a bottle episode, a ‘What If?’ scenario, and a character exploration between the different members of Team Free Will and the archangel thorn in Dean’s mind. In which, nobody, not even the entire world, needs to die."

Rather be the hunter than the prey by vrskaandrea (MalicMalic)

Summary:

"The story takes place in S14E15 Peace of Mind , only instead of Dean, Cas is the one to take Jack to Donatello to try and find out if he still has his soul. Sam and Dean take on a simple salt and burn where they meet up with Ketch. Upon their return, they are welcomed by a sight that has Sam experiencing Deja vu. Forgotten plotlines."

Match made in Heaven by vrskaandrea (MalicMalic)

Summary:

"Two people the world forgot about find each other by accident. Their love is so strong, so powerful when they run into an army of monsters, this unlikely couple ends up being a bigger threat their leader ever anticipated. Michael just couldn't let something as powerful slip thought his fingers and he will end up biting off more then he could chew. Set during season 14"

Roles Reversed by vrskaandrea (MalicMalic)

Summary:

"What if when Dean got hit in the head and the doors of Michael's cage opened, something happened that made them reverse their roles? That made Dean an archangel who could just snap his fingers and instantly kill demons? That made Michael nothing but a pitiful soul that kept drowning in his own nightmares? Come and see."

It's all in the blood by Becciehill1976

Summary:

"Faced with recurring fears about Michael returning as well as trying to fit back in to life in a busy bunker, Dean needs time away from everyone, so he can get his confidence back and find his place in the world Sadly, being a famous hunter has it’s draw back as Dean finds out the hard way when kidnapped whilst on a hunt. From there, Dean gets to find out that there are worse things than being the Archangel Michael’s vessel, as he battles powerful vampires. Will he be able to escape his new prison or will his family find him in time?"

One of a kind by MalicMalic

Summary:

"Someone told me that someone told them there aren't enough of Michael/Dean fics out there. Let's change that. While we're at it, why not add another Michael to the mix and see what happens."

Passenger by moonlightsdean

Summary:

"With Michael having escaped Dean's mind and caused destruction in the bunker, Jack took the initiative to end things once and for all with Michael. Now with Michael dead and Dean freed of having Michael trapped within his mind, he'll be able to relax and have time to deal with the aftermath of what happened with the AU hunters. But what if Michael's relinquish from Dean's mind wasn't as clear cut as it was made out to be? When things start going awry for Dean he's left to wonder what really happened during the time he was unconscious, and why he just can't catch a break."

The Price You Pay by Jadeys_World

Summary:

"It was a miracle that Sam survived taking on the Archangel Michael. Team Free Will is going to find out what it takes for a miracle like that to happen and what it costs when a Reaper and unreliable Rogue Angel each decide to help in their own way. There are secrets and betrayals, a world that needs saving once again, but at least they have each other."

An Alternative Ending by AnotherWriterWhoWrites

Summary:

"Michael isn't sure how long he's been in the cage, time is meaningless to him. But as his sanity slips further and further away, resentment to his father sets in. And once Lucifer takes Sam and Jack away a desperate Dean is more than willing to let what should've happened years ago, to happen now."

Of All The Burdens I Must Bear... by Jadeys_World

Summary:

"Chuck constructs the perfect punishment for Sam after the events of Moriah. Lucifer is given a new life to make amends for the burden his father placed on him when they defeated The Darkness. Sam is adrift and alone in his new life, left to find a new strength to cope without his new reality as the enemy."

At What Cost by Jadeys_World

Summary:

"Mary is gone, taken beyond any Winchester deal or pleading, but there's one option left to them. They can get her back, but it will come at a price, a price that might be too much for Dean to pay. A story of family, betrayal and the things you will do for the people you love."

Burned Away by AnotherWriterWhoWrites

Summary:

"In which Sam is the one with Jack at S14E17 Game Night and as a result, a different person dies."

Testing by AnotherWriterWhoWrites

Summary:

"Mary takes a pregnancy test. Post Episode 13 Lebanon."

Peace When You're Done by kittenofdoomage

Summary:

"Dean puts himself in the box in S14 when there’s no other way to defeat Michael. Canon divergent from the end of “Ouroboros”."

Dean in the Box by Secretwrittenword

Summary:

"The box came to a rest on the deepest floor of the ocean. The pressure pushing down on it caused the structure to creak and groan... Set in Season 14, with no other option, Dean seals himself into the Malák box and sinks to the furtherest depths of the ocean. Once there he has nothing but time to kill and an Archangel to annoy."

Dog Dean Afternoon by Secretwrittenword

Summary:

"Sam and Cas go on a hunt leaving Dean and Jack alone in the bunker to recuperate. After going for a walk Jack finds something that just might be the key to help Dean recover from his ordeal with Michael."

Escape of the Archangel by themodernteen

Summary:

"Adaptation of the 14x14 episode "Ouroboros" when Dean is unconscious after getting his head slammed into the wall by the demigod. My own interpretation of the episode, what goes through Dean's mind in his internal battle against Michael, and a worried Sam and Castiel watching him endure it."

Nemesis of the Mind by TiTivillus

Summary:

"In an attempt to save Dean from Michael, Sam delves into Dean's mind. Things don't go as expected."

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by TiTivillus

Summary:

"Dean is back… or is he? Coda to 14x02 "Gods and Monsters".

Consequences by Jadeys_World

Summary:

"Season 14 AU. Sam is determined to free Dean from Michael and turns to Rowena and the Book of the Damned for help. She finds a spell that will work, but, of course, there will be consequences, and this time, Sam will be paying the ultimate price unless Dean can find a way to save him in return."

Consequences by Blondie2000

Summary:

"For some reason, Lisa found herself drawn to him. She reaches out and places her hand on his cheek. As soon as she touched him, she felt a jolt of electricity go through her. The touch it felt so familiar. The buzz it gave her felt familiar."

"Dean." She repeated his name. "Dean."

Black by Blondie2000

Summary:

"AU of Game Night. Jack wanted Mary to leave him alone. He gets what he wants and accidentally sends Mary to a place where no humans go. Now with Mary gone Jack has to get her back before the Winchesters and Castiel find out and Mary has to survive the dark forces that lurk in the Empty."

Snow Day by Blondie2000

Summary:

"Jack experiences his first ever snow day."

One Time Deal by Blondie2000

Summary:

"Sam and Jack have been kidnapped by Lucifer. Time is running out. What if Dean never said yes to Alternative Michael but instead says yes to our Michael. It is a risky deal but Dean will do whatever it takes to rescue his family and beat the devil once and for all."

The French Mistake 2: An Archangel Nightmare by Blondie2000

Summary:

Dean is gone, Michael has retaken control, and his army is outside, ready to come in and tear everyone apart. With no way out, Sam seeks out help that causes everyone to be sent to a world where their lives are a T.V show and they are actors. Not only do they have this world to worry about, but they still have Michael riding around in Dean's body on the set. Can TFW 2.0 get back home?

The Road to Hell by Blondie2000

Summary:

"The Winchesters find a way to save Dean from Michael. This results in Michael becoming the thing that he grew to hate. He ends up going on the road to Hell. Will he make it to the end? Read and find out."

Who is a Wee Cutie Pie? by Blondie2000

Summary:

"To stop Michael, Rowena puts an adorable curse on him. Set Season 14 Episode 14. AU where Michael never possessed Rowena but stays in Dean instead."

We are One by Blondie2000

Summary:

"Dean confronts Michael. It leads to unexpected results."

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #angst #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #au michael #michael!dean #season 14 #anael spn #sister jo #mary winchester #nick spn #fic rec #reader

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pochipop · 2 years

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＃ GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — A FELINE'S WISH FOR A BIRD OF PREY (AYATO X READER).

#. synopsis! — accompanying ayaka to a masquerade ball becomes an increasingly more difficult endeavor when you realize just how differently you've lived compared to your wealthy, noble counterparts. not to mention that ayato suddenly asks you to dance with him .

#. characters! —ayato .

#. warnings! — angst , mentions of/references to class disparity .

#. word count! — 4.6k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Duty swept Ayaka away a while ago, leaving you in the Masquerade Hall alone. You’ve got a vice-like grip on the once-pristine glass you’re holding that’s now riddled with sweat from your clammy palms and squished fingerprints from your constant fidgeting. You haven’t taken a single drink from it the entire time, instead holding it just to feel more like those around you. This was a bad idea from the start. And the worst part of all is that you knew it was a bad idea, but couldn’t bear the thought of turning Ayaka, your newfound best friend, away.

So you went along with it. You found an outfit elegant enough for the occasion, —the occasion being a Masquerade Ball for nobility and high-ranking government officials from all the nations of Teyvat, held in bustling inner-city Fontaine,—you chose a mask upon arrival (and were stuck with only two options, one being a slightly cracked, oddly colored fox, and the other being the obvious choice of a falcon with intricate, vine-like designs,) and you took a deep breath, hoping to simply grin and bear it.

You’re hardly an individual who can be considered “from nobility.” You come from a family of miners: hard-working, but not exactly high on the list of social status, especially in a place like Inazuma where titles often hold much weight. You don’t exactly fit in here, either. Though you spent a fair amount on your outfit, it’s painfully obvious that yours would be considered cheap if you were to compare it to anyone else’s here. It’s then that you passively start to regret not having let Ayaka have an outfit made specifically for you as she’d offered many times over. . .

“Don’t go to the trouble! Everyone will be focusing on you and Ayato, —not me. The way your outfits look is much more important!” You’d insisted at the time, and even now, you agree with the heart of your assurance.

But everytime someone so much as glances in your general direction, you fear they’re then turning back to their wealthy comrades to snicker about how “unfortunate” you must be to have shown up in something so lackluster. After all, the most expensive thing adorning your body at the moment is your earrings that aren’t even yours to begin with. Ayaka lent them to you as a last minute touch up, happily clipping them to your earlobes while mentioning that she’d never worn them before because they never seemed to match her outfits properly, “but they match yours perfectly!”

You weren’t so certain about that, but again, didn’t have the heart to turn her away.

“Care to dance?”

You nearly jump out of your skin and drop that fairly sullied glass held tight in your hand when Ayato approaches you with that request. He notes the way you flinch and quickly apologizes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but a dangerously amused smile seems to play ever so gently on his lips just below the hem of the silver, gem-adorned cat mask that rests atop the upper half of his handsome face. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

To say that Ayato makes you nervous would be a grave understatement. You know much of him, but have spoken to him personally very few times. Of course, being close with Ayaka has afforded you sneak peeks into parts of his life from time to time, but you’re certain that admiring him from a distance and truly knowing him are two completely different things.

It doesn’t help that you have a crush on him, —one that Ayaka thankfully has yet to pick up on, as far as you know. She likely wouldn’t be mad, but as her elder brother, Ayato feels beyond off-limits. You often feel guilty for harboring any feelings for him in the first place, so there’s no telling just how much worse that would get if you ever indulged in that attraction actively. . . Although, you doubt someone of Ayato’s status and admittedly high-levels of handsomeness would ever glance in your direction. There’s distance there that need not be filled, as far as your perception of it goes.

“That’s okay,” you manage a coherent reply before explaining: “I’m a little on edge is all. I don’t come to events like this often.”

But you’re sure he’d already deduced as much from your clothes.

“I try to avoid them when I can,” he admits in return. “The idle chatter is a rather tedious endeavor.”

You’ve heard that sentiment from Ayato before.

“I imagine it gets tiring being someone of your status at gatherings,” you acknowledge.

“Ah, you know who I am, then?” He says, almost sounding saddened by it.

Huh. . . ?

Did he really think that a simple mask would be enough to hide everything else? It’s not as if he and Ayaka both don’t stand out amongst a crowd. Even with their faces covered, it’s nearly impossible to not notice them each in their own regard. Ayaka’s giveaway is her long, powder-blue ponytail that bounces ever so slightly when she walks, as well as the way she seems to glide across the floor like she’s dancing sometimes.

And Ayato. . . His giveaway is not only his hair that might as well be sparkling under the dimmed lights of the hall, but his voice; so melodic and sweet, but confident all the same. The voice you’ve heard in passing a million times before when he enters the Kamisato Estate and you hear him walking by through the halls from Ayaka’s bedroom. He moves in ardent strides and drips with security. He lives in a completely different world from you.

“. . . Kamisato Ayato,” you say, answering his question.

His amused smile seems to falter into one of melancholy.

“Correct,” he confirms. “Being from Fontaine, I’d just assumed I’d need to introduce myself properly.”

He leaves out the part about assuming your lack of nobility or high status based on your clothing. While he can be tactless at times, he knows much better than to mention something so careless. Just as well, he still thinks you look lovely tonight, even if your outfit hadn’t been hand woven to match your every dip and curve.

“Being. . . From Fontaine?” You inquire further, feeling hopelessly confused.

Although, you must admit that it makes sense he wouldn’t recognize you. He traveled with Thoma rather than his sister after he learned that Ayaka would be bringing a friend along, so he hadn’t a clue what you’d be wearing or what mask you’d be donning. Not to mention the fact that most conversations between the two of you have been quick and in passing, Ayato simply stopping and greeting you to be polite rather than out of genuine interest. He’s busy, always rushing about from place to place, or locking himself away in his office to complete stacks of paperwork that might as well be tall enough to reach the ceiling.

It makes sense that he doesn’t really know you well enough to pick you out of a crowd, especially with a mask on the upper half of your face. Unlike you, he likely hasn’t memorized your voice. He hasn’t looked on as you grace his presence with your own, heart thumping a little faster.

“The falcon masks,” Ayato elaborates, “they’re quite popular among citizens of Fontaine, no? Perhaps I assumed too quickly.”

You should tell him. You really should. But the opportunity to be someone else before him is just so enticing that it’s hard to resist. Impossible, even.

“You’ve got a good eye,” you tell him.

It’s not really lying if you don’t outright deny his suspicions. Lying by omission, sure. . . But not simply lying.

He laughs, low and charming.

“I must agree,” Ayato answers, but somehow, it doesn’t seem to be the case that he’s referencing the falcon mask’s connotation.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

“The offer to dance still stands, by the way,” he says, offering his hand for you to take. “If I may?”

Without fully thinking, you begin to reach up, but stop yourself halfway. There’s a lot wrong with this situation, and you’re beginning to worry that you’re going to wind up in over your head. What if Ayaka sees? Although, that’s unlikely considering that she’d been ushered away by some very talkative businessmen from Liyue to another room entirely, and if her luck were to rear its ugly head, she might well spend the rest of the night getting an earful from them. And you know better than anyone that she wouldn’t be the type to interrupt or easily find a way to remove herself from the situation.

I should tell him.

You open your mouth to make the confession, but another spills out entirely.

“I. . . I’m not a very good dancer,” you say.

For what it’s worth, that is true. In a setting like this, you haven’t a clue how to move your feet or dance with someone else. Ayaka had offered to teach you some simple steps, but you’d insisted that it wouldn’t be of any use, and if not for Ayato’s startling request, you more than likely would have been right.

“I’m not much of one myself,” he notes, almost playfully so, “but I can lead a few choppy steps, if you’d give me the honor.”

He’s persistent, but not pushy. You know you can decline and he won’t be upset. . . But his hand is right there, outstretched to you of all people, and it’s hard not to feel like the luckiest person in the world.

So you take him up on his offer and let your fingers softly grace the flat of his palm. He offers you another smile, although you can't seem to read between the lines of this one, and he places your sullied glass on a passing collection tray. As promised, he leads you in an easy dance, whispering to you the directions you should step the first few times as he seeks to ease you into the movements.

"You're a natural," he compliments, though you're sure he's only being polite.

You gaze up at him through the wide slits in your falcon mask, quickly finding his eyes behind the holes of his own. Even under the shadow cast from his feline disguise, you can see the bright, heart-melting periwinkle sparkle of his irises. You've never before had the opportunity to gaze up at him like this, but you quickly subvert your gaze to the ground, pretending to watch your feet as you move slowly in his wake. He's so. . . Perfect. So much so that it's driving you wild.

To dance with someone like him at an event like this is a dream come true; but in the back of your mind, you know it wouldn't ever truly last. He'll move on, find someone of higher status, whether by way of choice or pressure to do so. He'll never think twice about you once this night has passed.

"Your eyes are beautiful," he says in a low, whispered voice.

Your heart all but palpitates at the compliment. It feels so sincere, —like it's not just something he's saying because he wants to have a fleeting love affair with someone he thinks to be from another nation. This behavior of his, if a bit reckless, is genuine. . . Maybe even devastatingly so.

"I-I don't know about that," you answer with a brief stumble, quickly finding your verbal balance once more, "—but thank you. That's nice of you to say."

His fingers, once loosely hooked around the tippy top of your hip, relax to a semi-firm hold. Like it or not, every touch is melting you down even more, and even the thought of being caught by Ayaka has completely slipped your mind. You don't have the will to fight these feelings away for the time being. It's hard to not live in the moment when every graze of his fingertips electrifies your nervous system and leaves you tingling from head to toe.

As you dance with Ayato to the soft, violin-heavy music that plays in the background, you lose yourself. You can't help it. Everything is too intoxicating, and though you've purposefully avoided all the alcoholic drinks tonight, you've found yourself lost and delirious all the same.

Kamisato Ayato. . . It's all your fault. . .

"If I may," you request softly, "why did you ask me to dance with you? Out of everyone else, I mean."

His answer is quick and concise, as if he didn't even need to consider it. Or, perhaps it was more so that he'd been waiting for such a question all along.

“You seemed to be the only person here who wanted nothing from me at all.”

It’s hardly difficult to imagine all the people that have likely approached him tonight in need of something here and another there. . . Ayaka began dealing with very similar things the moment she entered the hall. You’d been on your own for most of the night, chatting with her in between the exhausting conversations about politics, foreign affairs, and other things you have little to no experience with outside of being her companion. You know little more than the average person even still, as Ayaka prefers to keep business and friendships as very separate endeavors.

“It must be rough,” you acknowledge, “. . . I doubt I could manage even half as well as you do if I were in your place.”

“You flatter me,” Ayato smiles again, “but I’m hard-pressed to believe you. I have a feeling you could manage just fine.”

Again, it’s so genuine that it almost stings.

“Beyond that,” he continues, reaching up with a single hand to push his mask up to the side, revealing his full face to you, “I’m interested to know more about you. What brings you to this event?”

Your sister.

“Um. . . Nothing really in particular,” you reply vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

He doesn’t press it, though he is curious as to what your answer means. Something about the way your kind eyes flicker up at him, and then quickly away again almost sheepishly, is familiar to him somehow. . . Not that Ayato is any stranger to nervous eye contact.

“Might I ask for your name then?” He inquires.

Your heart begins to race. What are you to do in this situation that you’re completely and utterly unprepared for? If you’re honest, what happens if he recalls the day you introduced yourself to him officially? It’s not much of a longshot to assume that Ayaka has spoken of you to her elder brother, and though he may not know you personally at all, he likely knows of you. But you’re drawing a blank and can’t seem to think of any fake names to offer him that don’t sound completely and utterly ridiculous. The silence between the two of you, while having only lasted for a few seconds by now, seems deafening.

Just when you’ve decided to succumb and let the pieces fall where they may in order to avoid the long-term embarrassment, a saving grace seems to swoop by with slicked back hair and a gaudy suit on. A man you’ve never seen before approaches Ayato and all but pulls him away from you, as if you had never existed in the first place. . . And maybe in their world, the one Ayato lives with the rest of his wealthy, noble counterparts, you never truly did. He’d interrupted you as if you were little more than dirt on his shoe.

“Mr Kamisato, it’s been quite a while! I’ve recently heard news that the state of affairs in Inazuma has been faring quite nicely since you were given a higher position. Though I’m sure the work is tedious, I imagine the results have been pleasing for both yourself and. . .”

You’re out of earshot before the man finishes, having slipped out of Ayato’s grip and back into reality. With murmured apologies, you slip through the crowd and into another room altogether, spotting Ayaka in the far corner. You can tell her smile is strained, but there isn’t much you can do to help her. In fact, there’s really nothing you can do at all. So instead, you slip out onto the balcony of the building, desperately in need of some fresh air.

It’s cold out here, and though lots of people are mingling inside, you feel alone, —completely isolated in your own little prison. You slip the mask off your face and hold it in your hands, trying your best to hold back tears as you crane your neck to look up at the sky. Stars seem to twinkle amongst the inky expanse above, but their joyous concert falls on deaf ears. A small sob bubbles up your throat.

To make matters worse, you reach up to hastily wipe away your shameful tears, only to find that one of your earrings is missing. One of Ayaka’s earrings. You know you have to find it, but you can’t will your legs to move. Even more so, you know you don’t exactly look your best right now, and the thought of letting anyone see you this way is completely humiliating.

You resign yourself to huddling against your knees, back pressed to the wall in the far corner where you can’t be seen from the inside. There, you let yourself cry for a few minutes, —allowing yourself to feel every inch of sorrow and discomfort, thinking maybe it’ll make you feel better. It doesn’t. . . At least not really, anyway. So much had been right, and then so much had been wrong. Or, maybe everything had been wrong the entire time and you were just too caught up in the moment to realize it.

By the time your tears stop flowing and you’ve leveled your breathing out, someone has joined you on the balcony.

“Y/n?”

His voice is familiar, almost comforting in the moment. You draw your gaze up to meet his eyes from where you’re sitting.

“Thoma. . .”

“Is everything okay?” He inquires, softly adding: “if there’s something you need to talk about, I’ll be glad to lend an ear.”

You give a bitter laugh, mostly at yourself. He’s just being kind, as he always is, in true Thoma fashion.

“I just don’t think I belong here,” you tell him.

“All the fancy clothes and all the jewels, —all the people with more Mora than I’ll likely ever see in my entire lifetime. People who’ve lived most of their lives well off, doing things I can only do now because of my friendship with Ayaka. . . And even then, it’s clear that I just don’t fit in. The divide between myself and everyone else is wide enough to swallow me whole.”

Thoma gets it, probably more than you might expect. With how well he’s integrated himself into the Kamisato siblings’ way of life, it’s almost too easy to forget that Thoma is much like you. He often accompanies the two on various trips, aiding in their schedules, sometimes taking care of the finer details. His official title is that of a housekeeper, but he does much more than just that behind the scenes of it all.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” he tells you gently. “I really do. It’s not easy sometimes, even for me, and I’ve been to dozens of events like these.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you reply with a soft smile, “you look the part, and I’m sure you play it well enough.”

“I certainly didn’t at first. I was completely overwhelmed, and probably feeling a lot like you are right now. Completely lost and afraid to make any mistakes, worried that everyone was judging me no matter what I was doing, as if everyone could see right through the nice suit I was wearing and the smile I was trying so hard to keep plastered on my face.”

“And it’s like everyone just knows somehow that you’re not meant to be here, that you’re not cut out for this kind of environment, and they’re all just standing around waiting for you to mess up and completely humiliate yourself or something,” you add bitterly.

“At the same time though, you seem to be invisible,” he continues. “People maneuver around you and disregard your existence sometimes, —as if you’re so insignificant that they couldn’t be bothered to give you the time of night.”

“Exactly,” you sigh deeply.

“But,” Thoma says, optimistically so, “a lot of that is all in your head. Most people don’t come to these kinds of events to poke fun at others, and the rude people only stand out because you’re already focusing on all the negatives. At the end of the day, someone like you. . . People like us, —we have just as much a right to be here as anyone else.”

“I do believe that’s true,” you acknowledge.

“I just. . . Wish that everyone else believed that it was true as well.”

“Well, whether certain individuals like it or not, here we are,” he says candidly.

You smile.

“Thank you for talking with me, Thoma,” you say.

“My pleasure,” he replies, eyes slitting into little crescent moons as he gives you another smile.

Just when he’s about to comment on how chilly it’s gotten as the night has deepened and suggest that the both of you head back inside, another man steps out onto the balcony.

“Thoma,” Ayato says, “have you seen Ayaka by any cha—”

He stops himself mid-sentence when he realizes that you’re sitting in the darkest corner of the balcony, arms wrapped around your knees.

“Nevermind,” he withdraws his previous question, “. . . would you mind giving us a bit?”

Thoma asks no questions, simply nods his head and does as was asked of him. He slips back inside and moves away from the entrance to the balcony, just to be clear that he has no plans of eavesdropping on whatever conversation is about to take place.

You have a hard time even looking up at him now, nonetheless meeting his eyes. It’s far too late to pull the falcon mask over your upper face again, so with no hope of hiding your appearance now, you take a quick breath in and resign yourself to whatever outcome is waiting on the horizon.

Ayato seems as calm, cool, and collected as he always does. It’s almost intimidating now.

Before he speaks, he offers his hand to you for the second time tonight. Once more, you take it. It’s warmer the second time around. . . He helps you to your feet and doesn’t mention that your eyes are puffy or that your face is a little tear-stained.

“It’s a bit cold,” he notes, slipping the jacket of his suit off in order to drape it over your shoulders.

It smells like him, and you don’t have the will to hand it back. Your shaking hands grip at either side, pulling the jacket around yourself a little tighter.

“Thank you,” you say in a voice barely above a whisper.

“I suppose I did presume too quickly that you hailed from Fontaine,” he comments.

There’s no hint of bitterness in his voice, —in fact, there’s little more than a silent understanding. You’re not certain of how much he’s been able to grasp from your brief interaction, but you have a sneaking suspicion that your feelings for him are no longer a complete secret. Which is embarrassing, of course, but. . . It could always be worse.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, nearly choking on the words as they bubbled up from the back of your throat. “I know that I’ve put you in an awkward position, and that truly wasn’t my intention, I just. . .”

You trail off, uncertain of what to say. You don’t really know what happened. It was like you were being swept away, completely overtaken by the way his warmth seeped from his palm to the tips of your fingers. Selfishly, when you had the opportunity to touch someone you’d long thought to be out of reach, you couldn’t manage to turn him away.

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” Ayato assures you. “I’m the one who asked you to dance, after all. It was my mistake not recognizing you much sooner. You did feel familiar to me somehow, but I couldn’t seem to place it.”

You stay silent, unsure of what you’re supposed to say in reply, or even if you’re supposed to reply at all.

“Ah,” he says, as if a lightbulb has gone off over his head, “that reminds me.”

His long, lithe fingers fumble around in his pocket for a moment or two before he removes them and holds a dangling crystal between them. Your eyes widen a bit at the sight of Ayaka’s earring, —one half of the pair you thought you’d lost for good.

“I realized who you were after you’d rushed away,” he explains. “These earrings were a gift from a member of Liyue’s Qixing given to Ayaka last summer. I recognized this one the moment I saw it on the floor at the tip of my shoe. The pieces came together easily after that.”

Ayato turns to the side, bringing the earring close to you.

“May I?”

You nod in approval, and he says nothing more, instead reaching out to brush a few loose strands of hair out of your face and tucking them behind your ear. He then clips the earring to your earlobe before pulling his hands away and returning them promptly to his sides.

You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I really am sorry,” you tell him, “even if you don’t think I have to be. The truth is that I was happy when you asked me to dance and once I realized you didn’t recognize me, I thought that if you knew who I was, you’d have taken the offer back. So I didn’t say anything.”

“I wouldn’t have taken the offer back,” he says firmly.

“When I told you that I wanted to dance with you because you were the only person in the room that I didn’t feel wanted me to do something for them, I meant that. And I meant it when I said your eyes are beautiful as well, —because they are. Especially now. They reflect starlight like the surface of the ocean.”

You clam up in the face of such a bold compliment. Ayato makes it hard for you to breathe sometimes. And as if to emphasize his points, he offers his hand to you for the third time that night.

“Would you like to dance with me? No masks, no interruptions. . . Just the two of us and the waxing moon.”

With your heart pounding like a drum, you take him up on his offer yet again. It feels much more intimate now that you’re away from everyone else, his hands stationed along your hips and your hands resting on his shoulders. You decide then and there that when this party ends, you’re going to be honest with Ayaka about your feelings for her elder brother. Whether this goes anywhere between you and Ayato is one thing, but not telling Ayaka the truth is another, and she’s likely deserved to know all along. Avoiding it has given you a lot of grief, and with these sudden and fully unexpected developments happening as they are, you know it’s better to be honest with her now and not blindside her with this later if things end up getting serious.

Hopefully, everything will turn out okay in the end.

You have a feeling it will.

But for now, you’re content where you are, dancing with Ayato under the light of a thousand stars.

#genshin #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #ayato #ayato angst #kamisato ayato angst #genshin ayato #kamisato ayato genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #kamisato ayato x reader angst #ayato x reader angst #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato x y/n

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mxpseudonym · 6 months

Text

Even if it's your fault, I'll fix it

alt title: Luca is a messy bitch who lives for drama and Blossom's happiness

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Blossom OC

Summary: When he finds out Blossom has been surpressing her firey ways in the name of love, Luca makes sure to let Blossom know she never has to hold back.

Length: 6778 (but it goes by fast)

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a real story-length addition to the Luca x Blossom unofficial series! I enjoyed writing this and am so happy to finally share it after weeks of ironing it out. Enjoy!

.:.

She loved Luca Changretta.

She was in love with Luca Changretta.

If she didn’t know it before, somehow, she knew it now. In the little alley outside of Luca’s cousin’s home in Brooklyn, she leaned against the brick apartment building, looking up at the clotheslines that went from window to window.

It was warm enough and breezy. If she leaned to the right a bit, she could see the open window and balcony of the apartment 5 floors up that she'd just come from. If the music spilling from the window didn’t give it away, the radio on the windowsill that was the color of the Italian flag sure did.

She clenched her teeth at the thought of going back in. Supper wasn’t for another hour and a half so it was an apartment full of women, some Changrettas and some who married in (or, in her case, were soon to marry in) who were cooking the best food on the block. Their hands mixed, pinched, rolled, and chopped together food that tasted like home. But while their hands worked magic, their mouths ran wild.

Mrs. Changretta’s grievances may not have moved Luca, but they moved his aunts and grandmother. She may have been his Blossom, but to everyone else, she was someone to be tested and brought to heel.

But the worst part, was that she loved Luca Changretta. On her best day, she could argue with God himself and only lose by a thin margin. She was her own best advocate and a professional at being stubborn- difficult even. For every one thing said, she could return it tenfold with something witty. But for Luca, she was quiet.

How could she possibly fight the family she was going to be marrying into with her usually fire? She sighed, looking up again and wishing she was one of the pigeons flying from rooftop to rooftop or even a blouse fluttering in the breeze. The metal door next to her creaked open.

Luca’s Aunt Vera smiled gently when she spotted her. Vera married into the family decades ago, but from what Blossom heard, there were growing pains. Uncle Eddie was too head over heels for Vera for it to matter though. After two decades together, there wasn’t much the family could say without beating a dead horse. The only reason they bothered was because Aunt Vera had yet to have a child after so long of trying, and any weakness was fair game for vengeful gossipers.

But that morning, Uncle Eddie walked her all the way into the apartment and kissed her sweetly before leaving her in the battlefield of women while showing his strength. The message was clear: don’t mess with his treasured wife. Blossom wasn’t surprised though, Aunt Vera was kind and quietly funny. And in her late 40s, she was as stunning as ever. Uncle Eddie was lucky as far as Blossom was concerned.

“Here you are,” she said. Blossom nodded.

“Here I am.”

“Lonnie was right about the alley, then. But you can’t hide any longer, unfortunately. Nonna just got back from the market and is putting people to work,” Aunt Vera told her, then sighed. “I’ve been where you are. They’re a tough family. But avoidance makes it much worse, trust me.”

They locked eyes and said, in those few quiet moments, more than Blossom even knew how to put into words. Aunt Vera held out a hand and Blossom took it.

.:.

Cousin Marcia was the ringleader for the most drama. Blossom noted this as she sliced lemons quietly, biting her tongue as not-so-hushed whispers about her floated in from the hallway.

Lonnie, Luca’s youngest sister, was in charge of watching the children who were peeling potatoes on the stoop and Aunt Vera was arranging the tables in the large dining room. Blossom was without her allies while listening to Marcia spread all kinds of opinions to the younger wives of the family who eagerly jumped on the bandwagon. Blossom could hardly blame them. It was likely better to feel included with the Changrettas than an outsider never to be trusted.

“If you ask me,” Marcia said from around the corner, “That girl doesn’t think too highly of us Changrettas. Dana, how long did it take you and Tony to get hitched? A year and a half? And Nathaniel and Ruth, only 8 months. She’s an uppity bitch if you ask me.”

Blossom glowered at the cutting board, face enflamed. It wasn’t so much the words themselves as it was that she had to restrain herself. Piercing words flew through Blossom’s mind towards Marcia, but only manifested as slicing open the rind a new lemon. She knew what Marcia was going to say and how she was going to frame it.

“Now this girl has been stringing Luca along for half a decade at least. I bet she’s waiting for someone better, richer*, to come along. Like she’ll find it. And she’s got him so lovesick he’ll carry on for who knows how long. He’s so foolish, I can’t see how he could run anything with that judgment.”*

A gentle hand appeared on her back, taking her away from the scathing comebacks she was plotting in her head.

“Good, even slices,” said Nonna Changretta. The old woman had made the trip to New York with Luca’s mother and two aunts at the start of spring when it was warm enough to travel and would stay for a few months to make the most out of it. Blossom had only met her a few times, but this Nonna reminded her of her own who had passed only a few years before. And at that moment, her praise was like a glass of water in the desert.

“Thank you,”

“Nonna. Just like everyone else.”

Blossom smiled at her warmly and repeated the name. And as if it was her stage cue, Marcia came around the corner with more smugness than Blossom though could fit in the house.

“Nonna is too kind. You’re not even family and you get to call her that,” said Marcia. Two of Luca’s nieces stood behind her and nodded, arms crossing like they had something to prove. Blossom reminded herself to put the knife down before turning to the grandmother of the family.

“You are too kind. And if you want me to do anything else, just let me know,” Blossom offered while wiping her hands on her apron. Nonna patted her hand with a smile then turned to Marcia.

“Let’s welcome her warmly. Good intentions make for good food,” Nonna said.

“But Nonna,” Marcia whined all of a sudden and made her way across the kitchen to grab her hand. “I’m just thinking about Auntie, oh! I mean Mrs. Changretta.” Blossom rolled her eyes at the mistake that simultaneously made Nonna’s eyes soften.

“Your mother in law may have been my goddaughter, but she was like my own child. Audrey is your Aunt, no matter what,” Nonna all but gushed. Marcia gave Nonna a hug with tears welling in her eyes, but she wasn’t so overwhelmed that she couldn’t give Blossom a pointed pout as she sniffled.

“You mean the world to me. And that’s why I said what I did. It may be a little mean, but whenever Luca brings her around, she never helps out. She just shows up and eats!” Marcia said. She stepped back from Nonna, wiping her non-existent tears as she turned to Blossom who could only watch the show with crossed arms.

“I haven’t been allowed to see a kitchen until Luca and I got engaged. I always bring food, Marcia, you know this,” Blossom said evenly. “Now I’m always here.”

“You never even use Changretta recipes,” Marcia accused. “How can you call it cooking?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blossom stepped closer to her, and Marcia stepped back with a comical look of fear on her face that made Nonna place a hand on Blossom’s arm.

“Don’t get violent, dear. I’ve heard about your temper.”

“My temper?” Blossom asked, head whipping around to the old woman who was now several degrees colder towards her.

“You have given Luca such a hard time about getting married when we all see how much he spoils you,” Marcia carried on. “And then you make him wait, stringing him along. And now you’re in here, bringing your own recipes and ruining tradition.”

“Tradition?! Those recipes are from my family’s tradition. I was sharing it,” Blossom started, only to get cut off by one of the nieces.

“Who even asked?”

Blossom took a deep breath, ready to give each of them hell. But in a split second she clenched her hands closed instead.

“Dear, you may do things a certain way in your home, but Marcia is right,” Nonna said. Blossom’s mouth dropped open for a moment. She was the one who was wrong? “I don’t know why you’ve taken so long to agree to my grandchild about marriage, or why you’ve given my daughter such a hard time. But to become a Changretta, you must humble yourself,” Nonna told her with fervor.

“Yes, be humble,” Marcia agreed. Blossom pressed her lips together to stop any words from escaping. Anything she said now would be a waste of breath. Nonna tasked her with preparing the chicken because she was the only one who wasn’t busy and wasn’t squeamish about blood and feathers, while Marcia got pulled to sit for a bit of wine and catching up.

Even as she plucked feathers, Blossom didn’t blame Luca’s grandmother for any hardships. The matriarch had a bleeding heart for those in need and a fierce sense of loyalty. Not to mention Blossom was new to the whole family.

It was Marcia she had the issue with.

Some families welcomed new in-laws with open arms and Blossom never expected the Changrettas to be one of them. They had a business and a reputation after all. Luca’s lobbying for her helped a lot, but it wasn’t enough to get anyone to deal with their least favorite cousin not cousin on her behalf. Marcia and Frank didn’t have much to do with the business and they weren’t exactly loyal to the Changretta name. So why on Earth was Marcia of all people spreading rumors about her amongst the family and taunting her?

Blossom speculated it had something to do with wanting to get on Mrs. Changretta’s good side, which meant Marcia and Frank were probably up to no good. But the truth wouldn’t stop Marcia from being a pain in her neck.

She washed her hands thoroughly when she was done, then headed downstairs to the place Lonnie knew where to find her. As the breeze fluttered through a white dress that was ready to be taken down and folded, she thought to herself that she did love Luca very much. It made all of this seem worth it.

.:.

Luca leaned over the passenger seat of his car to look out window with a furrowed brow. He’d just pulled up to the apartment and could already tell something was off. Blossom’s arms wrapped around herself while she talked to Lonnie and his Aunt Vera on the steps. Even with her back to him, she looked meeker than when he left her that morning.

He sat back in thought, a million reasons why crossing his mind before he stopped himself. The first order of business was seeing if she was actually upset and how much so. Luca hopped out the Ford, avoiding cars and kids in the middle of a foot race to walk around to the sidewalk.

“There’s my brother,” Lonnie alerted them with a chin jutting in his direction. She was newly 16 and already full of the Changretta loyalty and stubbornness. His Aunt greeted him warmly like she always did, but Blossom on the other hand barely looked over her shoulder at him even when he moved into his place next to her and slid the purse off her shoulder to hold it for her.

“Take good care of Sister,” Lonnie said with a big smile as she reached for Blossom’s hands. “We’ll have dinner sometime, just us. Maybe Thursday after school? You can teach me how to cook veal.” Lonnie grimaced at the idea of it, but quickly returned to a smile.

“I’ll help,” Aunt Vera agreed, patting Blossom on the shoulder. Luca looked between them and then at his fiancé. She glanced at him for only a moment and he knew. She was actually upset alright. They kept coming up with ideas until Blossom chuckled and begged them to stop.

“Alright, alright, we’re going now,” Blossom said. Luca went ahead and opened the door for her, helping her step up into his Ford then paused. He leaned into the door way. His eyes scanned her body as if he would find some sort of wound on her skin. She looked at him expectantly while he observed her.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked.

“Really good,” she said. She nodded for emphasis, and now he was certain. She was very upset.

The drive back was quiet, neither doing more than stealing a few glances. Luca wasn’t a genius, just a diligent detective when it came to his Blossom. After 5 years of going steady, she’d finally agreed to marry him. And while his mother was impatient for either a wedding or, preferably, a breakup, Luca didn’t mind going at her pace because now he knew her best.

Blossom was lost in thought and staring out the window to stop him from getting a good look at her expression. But he kept looking anyway, his heart not knowing whether to ache or ignite in rage.

“Pay attention to the road,” she told him suddenly, finally looking forward long enough to nod toward the streets he should have been navigating with more care. But half a glance was enough. Being 3 blocks from his apartment didn’t stop him from pulling his car over and taking out the key.

Luca tossed his toothpick out the window, ignoring her questioning. He angled himself to view her fully, then leaned forward to grip her chin. He tilted her head this way and that in the evening sun until she pushed his hands away.

“You’ve been sad since I came and got you,” he announced the problem he was trying to solve. His voice was tender but serious. Always serious when it came to her. “Did something happen? I know it, I can tell. What happened?”

“You always do this, saying you can see it in my face.” She huffed and pressed the back of her hand against her cheeks. She refused to admit anything at all. “Anyway, I just ate too much. I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Aht!” Luca grabbed her hand before she could turn to open the door. “You’re not going anywhere. Tell me. Did you talk to my mother? Is that why you were on the sidewalk with Lonnie and Auntie V and not inside when I picked you up? Hm?” He prodded.

Blossom sighed then gave him a tight smile and an arched eyebrow. It was a look that told him loud and clear not to make a fuss anymore. Luca’s head dropped for a moment. He lifted it again with a stern look and wagging finger.

“If you have a problem and you hide it from me, when I find out I’m going to keep all of your grandmother’s candied walnuts to myself when she sends them.” He ended his threat with a firm pinch to her cheek. She couldn’t resist the urge to smile for a moment as she pulled his hand down.

“Of course, I talked to everyone, it was a Changretta women’s evening,” she reminded him. She paused for a moment. Her fingers tapped his knuckles thoughtfully then looked up at his ever patient face with another smile.

“Your cousin, Marcia.”

“Oh no.”

“She’s good at making her opinions well known. She was telling some of your nieces that I was uppity and looking down on the Changrettas because we haven’t gotten married yet. She said I must be waiting for someone better and richer to come along.” She let out a sigh and looked at their interlaced hands. “Then she told your grandmother that I never help and I’m trying to ruin tradition by bringing my family’s recipes into Changretta kitchens, and your Nonna lectured me about marrying into your family meaning that I needed to be humbler.”

Luca let out a low whistle as he sat back in his seat, but never letting their hands separate. “Family” was a generous term for his cousins who were so distant they didn’t even share his blood. When his Nonna’s goddaughter passed, she took in her son because there was no one else to raise him well. But Frank was spineless and found a wife in Marcia who was after his money and the Changretta influence. It didn’t take long for him to act like he was owed everything.

Frank and Marcia didn’t work for anything but threw the Changretta name around like a badge of honor to get all sorts of benefits. Luca was sure they had a few hundred dollars on a tab at one of the best restaurants in the city. Angel said he’d take care of it, but his brother heeded his mother’s warning to tread carefully and now his pseudo-cousins were bringing the trouble to the house.

"She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It’s not a big issue. I’ve got thick skin, and your grandmother’s just thinking about respecting your family.”

“You shouldn’t have to have thick skin.”

“Luca, this is your family, not some strangers. Even if you don’t like them, your Nonna does and she’s important to you. You treat me so well, too. I need to shoulder some of this.”

“Blossom, do you know I’ve known my family all of my life?” He asked, making her eyes roll. “We’re one hell of a force to be reckoned with, even when it comes to each other. Okay? When I met you I thought, ‘damn, she’s gonna give them hell,’” he admitted. “You haven’t tip toed around before and you don’t have to start now.”

“But it’s not so easy. Your mother, your aunts, your Nonna, and all of your family are here now. I’m just one person.”

“Since when?” He asked, pointedly.

“But when you’re not there,” she whispered earnestly, more earnest than he’d ever seen her. “And even if you were there, what if you end up getting cast aside in the business because of me? Isn’t Uncle Eddie a sitting duck because he went against the family?”

Luca suffocated the giddy part of him that wanted to point out that she cared so much about him. Now was not the time. He squeezed her hand instead.

“Uncle Eddie isn’t a sitting duck,” he said. “He’s been asking me to keep him in the city at his station for years because Auntie V is an only child. Her parents are older and stick alive, God bless ‘em.” Blossom didn’t look convinced even as he assured her that he was a capable son, and that an invaluable member of the Changretta business. “No one is making me a sitting duck.”

“That makes me feel better,” she admitted. Luca shifted closer to her in the small space. Blossom glanced around through the windows and suddenly wished they weren’t on the side of the street. Luca was too unpredictable.

“Don’t hold back next time. You’ve never needed me to protect you, but I still do it. I’ll talk to Nonna,” he said softly. It warmed her chest as he kissed her hand.

“You’re playing favorites,” she accused.

“Yes, definitely!” He nearly shouted, making Blossom startle then smack his arm.

“You scared me,” she said, laughing at his outburst and incredulous expression. Luca suddenly reached up and grasped her face.

“Fuck Frank and Marcia. Doesn’t matter what you get into, just tell me. Even if it’s your fault, I’ll fix it,” he said, a heated promise. “I love you when you’re righteous and I love you when you’re about to rip someone’s face off. Sometimes I even like it more.”

“You’re sick,” she said, muffled from his hands still squishing her cheeks.

“As a dog,” he agreed then leaned over and pressed his lips against hers in a forceful peck.

Blossom finally made him get back in his seat and take them the few minutes up the street to his apartment. He held her hand tightly from the car to his front door. As he unlocked it, he checked again. “You’re sure Ma didn’t say anything?”

“Your mother’s problems with me have definitely made their way into the Changretta news mill. Your aunts fought me on everything today. My dress is tactless, the way I make arancini is wrong which it’s not. And I don’t respect my elders because I speak at the wrong times.” She smirked a bit. “That’s actually the most comforting part. Reminds me of my grandmother saying I was too rough.”

Luca held the door for her. He went on about how they were too hard on his precious Blossom while sitting her down in the living room. He put the radio and handed her her favorite wine in a glass, not stopping until he was next to her with her legs in his lap, hands massaging her calves.

“You’re too sweet to me,” she told him quietly then said through gritted her teeth, “Maybe we should try having you be rougher with me. Then they’ll pity me and treat me better.” Luca just huffed and focused on the task at hand.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’d never. This the least I can do since you’re doing me such a big favor.”

“Favor?”

“Two, actually. Braving the Changrettas, and agreeing to marry me.”

Blossom sat her glass aside just as the radio announcer began reading the headlines. She moved her legs from Luca’s lap, but shifted her dress so she could straddle him before he could protest.

“I’m going to get you into a lot of trouble,” she told him. Luca nodded in excitement, earning yet another accusation that he wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, Blossom’s Bordeaux was left forgotten on the table as the latest films were announced, and Luca had a new lipstick stain to remove from his collar by the time they reached horse races.

.:.

Blossom’s short temper was the roughest part about her, Luca thought. But the rest of her was soft. If she knew they were sick, she’d make her fellow nurses soup whether she liked them or not. If Lonnie wasn’t wearing stockings in autumn, the teen would get scolded on her way to the shops so Blossom could buy her a new pair.

It was how she could be hot headed and sometimes careless with her words, but always deeply kind that made him love her. And it was what made him certain that her holding back with his family was probably doing more harm than good. The Changrettas knew tough love, and they were just as scared of her as she was of them.

It took two weeks for his mother to pull him aside and start talking about the things his Blossom would say and do at the family gatherings nowadays. How his mother was sure she’d lost her mind.

“Luca, Luca, Luca. Even Nonna can see that she is arrogant and crass,” his Ma told him. He slid a toothpick in his mouth and waited for his favorite phrase.

“She doesn’t know her place.”

He had a few Uncles and cousins talk to him over business lunches about how Blossom had ruffled their wives and mistresses by being blunt. A beating around the bush kind of way to say she was making trouble. But Luca just tucked the tie Blossom had made him into his suit before leaning over his steak.

“Why can’t she say it? It’s true.”

Meanwhile, he’d never been so close to his Uncle Eddie who was having a ball. Apparently his Aunt Vera had never felt more courageous around the Changrettas with Blossom around, and had actually started going to more of the gatherings. By the turn of seasons, his Blossom had her fire back, and a few of his nephews asked where he’d found a woman like her.

But even Luca knew that this wouldn’t be solved until one pivotal moment. And that moment would involve the two people who he hadn’t seen in weeks and was even sure they were avoiding him. His pseudo-cousins were likely stewing in this change of behavior, getting frustrated that Blossom wasn’t getting ostracized, but instead gained a few friends within the family. And knowing them, they would eventually cause a scene to turn the tides again. When that moment would come, he’d be ready.

The tension at the Changretta gatherings weren’t gone, just different. Blossom set the tables in the church hall where Nonna’s birthday lunch was going to take place as soon as the food was ready and everyone was sitting. Nonna told her weeks before that all she really wanted at her age was to see everyone, young and old, in one place.

“I see you’re keeping busy.”

Forks were being pulled from Blossom’s hands before she could look up at Aunt Vera’s usual radiant smile.

“If I sit still, I’m afraid I’ll be asked to scale a fish all of a sudden.”

“You tried to hard to please at the beginning. Now they know you’re good at things like that.”

They chatted as the room filled slowly. It was reaching noon and Blossom had yet to see Luca, Angel, or any of the men who ran the business. Vera looked around for Eddie as well, but turned to Blossom with a small scowl before she found him.

“Marcia just got here with her followers.”

“Pay them no mind. Nonna’s birthday matters more than anything. I want to live until 93 too, so it’s good karma,” Blossom teased. Still, she glanced over Aunt Vera’s shoulder to see Marcia all dolled up with Luca’s nieces by her side once again. She also found a teen with a bow in her hair hurrying past the crowd toward them

“Auntie V, Sister,” Lonnie huffed. She was out of breath but had a big grin on her face. Aunt Vera quickly got her some water as she caught her breath. “I have an urgent message for you,” she continued.

“For me?” Blossom looked to Aunt Vera with a raised eyebrow, then back to where Lonnie was gulping water.

“My brother says no matter what happens today, to not get flustered and to not be scared. You can fight and scold all you want, he’ll be here soon.” Lonnie was giddy to be the one to let Blossom off the reigns. Aunt Vera couldn’t hold in her laugh.

“Luca reminds me so much of Eddie. If I had more of a fighting spirit, he’d let me go crazy,” she reminisced.

“The last thing we need is two troublemaking gold diggers, though. Isn’t that right?”

Marcia walked strutted over, haughty as ever. She looked Aunt Vera up and down, then Blossom.

“Don’t you know how to bite your tongue for the greater good?” Blossom asked her. “Be hateful all you like, but it’s your grandmother’s birthday.” Marcia scoffed and looked to the nieces who were just as ruffled.

“Hateful? You been reading a dictionary or something? And I know what day it is. You are the guest here,” Marcia reminded her. A few of the gathering Changrettas were tuning into their conversation as Marcia got louder. “Don’t be so uppity.”

“Is this how you treat guests then? Not to mention that we’ve been here all morning helping Nonna set up. You’ve been nowhere to be found.” Blossom pointed out, and went on to ask the nieces if their mothers knew where they had been either.

“Why do we have to tell you anything about where we’ve been? You’re not my mother, you’re just some hussy who crawled into Luca’s bed.”

“How dare you?” Aunt Vera gasped as she stepped forward. Turning to her, Marcia smirked.

“Do you finally have something to say? They’ve called you all sorts of things since I’ve been around, and this is the first time I’ve heard your voice. Feeling brave?”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Blossom hissed. She glanced around the crowd that was fully watching them now and stepped in front of Aunt Vera. She may have had thick skin, but Aunt Vera wasn’t like her. “Stop it.”

“Let’s go all the way, actually. Aunt Vera, you’re forgetting about family aren’t you? This woman has insulted us so much already. When will you choose your actual family first. Oh wait. You don’t even have a child to attach you to the Changrettas. I guess you’re not actually-”

Blossom heard the slap ring through the hall before she felt the stinging in her right hand, or realized she’d reached up and hit the woman. The shock of the audience left the room quiet as Marcia slowly turned back to her, a hand reaching up to her cheek.

“Marcia Gallo, we have the same amount of Changretta blood as you. None. You have been a brat this whole time because you married Nonna’s goddaughter’s son. That I can endure and bite my tongue about. You’re spoiled rotten and use the Changretta name to run up tabs and do illegal gambling. God knows what else.”

“How did you,” Marcia started pathetically, but Blossom kept on.

“But this? It’s come to this? You feel brazen enough to call out such a thing here? Are you in your right mind?” Blossom asked loudly.

I hand on her waist made her jolt and rip her heated gaze away from Marcia and turn to see the comforting face of Luca Changretta.

“What,” she stammered as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “When did you get here?”

She looked around him to see the missing Changretta men in toe, including Frank who was sulking as he walked through the crowd.

“I’ve got good timing, huh?” He praised himself and sent her a wink. But all amusement dropped when he turned to Marcia. Even in his linen suit, a casual look for the occasion, he was still menacing in his own right. “What’s this about?”

Marcia let out a laugh in disbelief, eyes watering from the pain and her own frustration. “Your girl just hit me, Luca. Can you believe it?”

Luca perked up in surprise and whipped his head down to his Blossom. Their eyes only met briefly, but it was enough to let Blossom know her partner was about to put on a show. She let her eyes fall to her hands as she nodded.

“Well, no. I can’t believe it,” Luca said. He took a breath as he looked around and said loudly, “You see, my Blossom is the gentlest, most caring woman I know.” A Changretta acquaintance questioned him from the crowd of bystanders, but Luca glowered at the man, which was enough to shut him up for the rest of the day. “Virtuous even, like a little lamb.”

“A gentle woman with a strong right hook. There’s a first time for everything,” Marcia spat. Her own eyes held contempt but had met her match in the Changretta’s youngest son.

“For her to be forced to do something like that. I can’t imagine what you’ve put her through,” Luca said. He tsked her and squeezed Blossom’s shoulder. Luca looked down to see Blossom surpressing a smile, and that was enough for him. “But I did happen to hear something on my way in. You called me wife a name. I dare you to repeat it.”

“I didn’t,”

“Hussy,” Lonnie said, popping up from behind her aunt. “You did call her a hussy.”

“Hussy,” Luca said the word slowly. “You must not value your wellbeing.” Marcia’s eyes quickly scanned the room for her husband just as Frank was pushed through the crowd.

“Don’t try to come in here and scare me, Luca. This girl here is nothing but trouble. I won’t go easy on her just because you’re here. I’m thinking about the Changrettas,” Marcia said. She used her lifeline then looked at Frank. He couldn’t meet her eyes, but grabbed her arm.

“Shut up, woman,” he told her under his breath. Marcia gasped. Blossom would bet that he’d never said a word against her before. There was shuffling behind them, and Blossom looked to see the crowd parting for Nonna.

“Have you all had enough fun making a mess of this sacred hall? On my birthday of all days?” The old woman asked as she came to stand in the center of it all. Blossom quickly moved to get her a chair and helped her sit. Nonna patted her hand and gave a gentle smile. “Good girl.”

“I’m sorry we’re making a ruckus on your birthday,” Blossom apologized.

“Don’t apologize now. Isn’t it always like this when you’re around?” Marcia scoffed, then looked at Nonna. The tears gathered in her eyes as if a director somewhere just said ‘action!’. “Nonna, I was just telling her about family. Your family is a precious thing. Mother’s family,”

“And who is your mother’s family?” Nonna asked.

Everyone turned to Nonna in surprise. She’d never asked such a question before. It separated the beloved goddaughter’s family from the Changrettas themselves. Frank looked up at her, eyes wide and hands ready to tremble.

“Frank,” Nonna began, “I’ve disappointed your mother and further disappointed you.”

“No, never,” Frank pleaded. He kneeled by her chair and grasped her hands.

“I’ve spoiled you, and made you stupid. I��ve let you bring this woman in our house. I’ve let her be unkind. I’ve let you both drag the Changretta name through the mud for your pleasure,” Nonna listed until her voice wavered. Her children and grandchildren all took a step forward to comfort her but she raised a withered hand to stop them. “Angel and Luca have already shown me what you’ve done. The debts that you owe, all attributed to our name.”

Luca pulled out a thick stack of folded papers from his pocket. and tossed them on the ground next to Frank. The man didn’t have to look, and Blossom gathered it was because he’d already been confronted before he arrived. Now Marcia was flipping through papers helplessly while Frank pleaded with the woman he saw as a grandmother.

If Blossom didn’t already know what they were, the look on Marcia’s face was enough. Pages of IOUs, loans, property purchases, and the like.

“You’ve been following us since the beginning?” Marcia asked quietly. But she didn’t need the answer.

“Nonna. I just wanted to make my wife happy. I wanted to live in pride like the Changrettas, but nothing ever made me feel like one,” Frank muttered. His head dropped.

“You eat at our tables, you drink our wine. You run for the business, and you get all the opportunities we do,” Luca said. He wouldn’t let the man gain an ounce of pity. “And now, you let your wife bully my sweet Blossom like this for months? When will it end?” Luca asked as he pulled Blossom into his side. She didn’t dare look at her fiancé. She would laugh at his dramatics if she did. Nonna stopped Luca from going forward.

“Frankie,” Nonna called, making him raise his head. “It’s time for you to leave the nest. Go to Chicago. Never use the Changretta name. And don’t come to our city again.”

Blossom watched the most gentle version of a family exile that she could ever imagine. The Changrettas’ gang led Marcia and Frank out of the hall. The room was abuzz and if there was anyone left to spread gossip to, Blossom was sure the grapevine was moving as fast as ever. The nieces who followed Marcia were pulled aside by their mothers and Blossom could only imagine the tongue-lashings.

“My dear,” Nonna called to Blossom who was by her side in a moment. “I heard every word Marcia said to you. You’ve endured it all this time for Luca haven’t you?”

“For that crazy man? Never,” Blossom teased. “I never thought the Changrettas were a soft family. So I expected a few trials. But Marcia made me protective over you all. Forget about me. I didn’t like how she treated you all. She was always rude or lying.”

Nonna patted her hand then looked for her grandson. Blossom pulled Luca down to kneel so he didn’t tower over them.

“You’ve found a wife we can all be proud of, Luca,” Nonna said. “Audrey will always be your mother and she’ll never think anyone is good enough. But I’ll talk to her. I see how much you love one another.”

“That means so much to me,” Blossom said with a squeeze of her hands.

Blossom watched as Luca placed a toothpick in his mouth and leaned against the the wall of the alley outside of his cousin’s wives’ home in Brooklyn, then turned her eyes to the clothing lines.

The baby shower inside was winding down, and Luca had pulled her out to escape any questions about their own children. Now that Marcia and Frank had been gone for a few weeks, the gossip about her had come to a close. She would take the baby talk over getting her character questioned any day. Still, she stood beside him and looked up at the clothes on the line in thought.

For so long, her mother begged the saints to give her a husband who could tame her. Her mother never went to church, which she thought actually helped show that she really meant it. They’d never agreed on much. Every day was a competition to see which would win out, her mother’s pride or her own stubbornness. So while her mother prayed for that, Blossom prayed that she would find someone who could understand her. She never would have thought the saints were actually on her side the whole time.

She no longer desired being something light and airy, blowing in the wind. Her eyes fell to Luca again. He was lost in his own world as well. Next to her was a partner who would tell her that her only jobs were to never doubt herself, to not be afraid, and to let him love her well.

Luca turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Admiring my profile?”

“Oh yes. You’re very handsome,” she said quickly. He grinned at her and crossed his arms.

“What are you thinking about that’s put you in a good mood?”

She raised up on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his, to which he wasted no time letting his hands find her waist.

“I was just thinking that you’re doing me a big favor.”

>> Luca Changretta Master List

#Luca Changretta fanfic #Luca Changretta #Luca x Blossom #Peaky Blinders Fanfic #Blossom OC #MXPseudonym

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morningbloodystar · 8 months

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Well if it isn't the infamous Hellsite.

Might as well introduce myself, though you humans do have severe trust issues. The number of times I need to prove my identity, honestly...

Lucifer Morningstar, The Devil, Former King of Hell (the current one is Jesus. Don't ask me how - the one thing I try not to question is the good fortune I get), whatever you wish to call me, really - and by this I mean official titles, not nicknames - most definitely not at your service. For that, visit my nightclub, the Lux.

If you wish for me to adopt you - quite a trend, I must say - do fill this up, simply so I may know the latest addition to my gremlins (affectionate).

Credit to @lady-without-name for the idea and the wonderful implementation, as goes the credit to my child @violet-yimlat for the official Morningstar Crest.

[ hi y'all im ro (admin) ,, she/they ,, and honestly ive been following along certain rp threads for such a long time I kinda wanted to take part myself so here it is + i saw lucifer sometime back and bcs of wish fulfillment don't want him to leave his family :[

minors pls pls pls interact with caution cause y'all know him, lucifer is a hoe (affectionate) and will not hesitate around mature topics

[ oh also i made an alt @maze-of-bad-bitches bcs mazikeen. and @three-surnames bcs TRIXIE BABY! and @real-and-imaginary For The Echolore. if you wanna see me rp as my own (lucifer's) child, and also my general account, it's @tujhse-raabta. i have adopted too many kids to count, but KEEP EM COMING LOVES, LET LUCIFER AND CHLOE BREAK A WORLD RECORD ]

timeline is a bit wonky, but I'll provide comprehensive lore eventually (once it exists), and feel free to ask if anything is confusing y'all! i love to interact, and probably will butt into most rb chains, tho timings are a bit sketchy (i follow indian standard, but i do get a bit busy coeldls) but pls don't hesitate to tag/ask/interact with luci,, he's sweet I promise 😭 also we encourage all the sillies in this household. THROW THE SILLIES AT ME I KNOW YOU HAVE IT IN YOU!!

also i am SORRY if I respond to your mention/rb after decades 😔😔 i promise I see it all and Will Respond im just a slow typer + executive dysfunction

either way ty love y'all so much<33 ]

#lucifer morningstar #good omens rp #lucifer rp #intro #ooc

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slutforstabbings-archive · 11 months

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Spend the Night

post-accident!alt!Corey Cunningham x alt!fem!Reader It's been a while since Corey left Haddonfield. He's making a new life in a new town, with a job as a bouncer at a bar that puts on punk and metal shows, living with Craigslist roommates. His past still haunts him, but maybe you can help him forget about it for a couple of hours. contents - smut (18+ MDNI), angst, mentions of past abuse, not-quite-friends to lovers, casual sex, handjob, PiV, subby Corey and slightly domme Reader 5,176 words requested by @ethanhoewke 💕 inspired by these tweets she sent me, and this post I made a couple months back. see my drawing of bouncer!Corey here. @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @multifandom--mess @toxicanonymity @cordelium @hersweetrevenge

Corey leans against the stool in the doorway of the bar, half sitting, half standing, a far away look on his face. When he’d clocked in, the bartenders had been watching some ridiculous action movie with a title like Shoot Bastard or something on mute on the TV above the bar. Shoot Bastard-esque movies remind Corey of Ronald, and thinking of Ron inevitably leads to thinking about Momma. Corey knows he shouldn’t give a shit what happened after he left – how Momma had handled it, how harshly she punished Ron, if she cried, if she misses him – but any little thing can send him down that rabbit hole. Even after all this time, all it takes is 10 seconds of straight to DVD bullshit out of the corner of his eye.

One day, coming up on two years ago now, Ron called Corey into his office. Corey assumed he was in trouble. Earlier in the week he’d had a fight with Joan just as he was about to leave for work. He was so upset when he first got to the garage that he accidentally let all the oil out of a car that had already been given a full oil change. But that wasn’t what Ron wanted to talk about.

“You gotta leave, kid,” he began. “You gotta get out of here. I know I’m not your dad, but I care about you like you’re my son, and I can’t sit around and watch what she does to you, what everybody does to you, anymore. You’re a good kid. You deserve a normal life.”

“Okay…” Corey said, not sure what to make of the declaration. He liked Ronald well enough, was thankful for the job and the distraction for Momma that Ron provided. But it was certainly news to him that Ronald might think of him as a son.

Ronald, for his part, wasn’t exactly lying. He did hate the way most people treated Corey, and he did feel a familial fondness for the quiet teenage boy who had grown into a fine young man in front of him over the past nine years. He was, however, having a moment. He was about to unveil his master plan to get Corey out of Haddonfield, for good. Ever since his divorce from his first wife, he’d felt small and ineffectual, winding up with a second wife who treated him like shit, largely because it’s what he felt he deserved. Doing this was as much about saving himself as saving Corey.

“I know your mother has access to your bank account,” Ron said, laying out the plan he’d worked so hard to devise. “So I want you to go to a different bank and open a new account there. I’m gonna start paying you twice. We’ll keep your direct deposit where she expects it to be. You use that check the way you always do, buy your snacks, put some in savings, don’t do anything that would make her suspicious. But I’m gonna give you a second check. Put that one in your new account, save the whole thing. We’ll do that for a while, until you have enough money to disappear.”

“Is that legal?” Corey asked.

“Christ, kid. Do you even wanna leave?”

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… I just don’t want any more legal trouble. For any of us.”

Ron deflated, his moment punctured by feelings of sadness for his pathetic step-son, and guilt for not doing more sooner.

“Don’t worry,” he assured Corey. “It’s all above board. I’m giving everybody raises cause the shop’s been doing so well. You’re just gettin’ the biggest one.”

Corey stood there dumbfounded for a moment. Ronald didn’t exactly obey Momma, but he was usually very careful about the ways he defied her. Helping Corey escape would probably end their marriage if she ever found out. While Corey had never understood what Ronald saw in Momma (or what Momma saw in Ron), he struggled to believe Ronald would jeopardize his relationship with her that way.

“You’re really for real?” He whispered.

“I’m really for real. Now, don’t tell me when you’re leaving or where you plan on going. Just buy a bus ticket when you feel like you have enough money and get out of here. And when you go, leave the card for the bank account she watches. We both know if she can see where you are, she might follow you.”

It took Corey three months of getting two paychecks to feel like he was financially ready to leave town, and another month after that for him to be emotionally ready too. But Halloween was coming, and he’d be damned if he spent another Halloween in fucking Haddonfield. So one chilly October morning he convinced Momma to leave for her errands before he left for work, promising he was right behind her, since he knew she hated it when he was home alone. Then he shoved as much of his wardrobe as he could fit into his backpack. He put his phone and the debit card Momma monitored on his dresser, emptied both of his savings accounts, and boarded a Greyhound bus headed west.

Corey looks down at his freckled thighs below the tattered hem of his cut-off shorts, his bare legs decorated with tattoos under wispy red hair. He doesn’t have to wonder how Momma would feel about those. She made it very clear that in her opinion tattoos were only for sailors and convicts (Which had his father been? Corey wondered but never asked). He’d always thought they were cool, always wanted to have as many as he could find space for. He got his first as soon as he could after he got away. It grounds him a little to see them whenever he looks down, a permanent reminder that his life is his, not hers.

A familiar voice brings him out of his thoughts.

“Helloooo. Earth to Corey.” It’s you, standing in front of him with a folded five dollar bill between your fingers and a concerned look on your face. “You good?” You ask him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says as he puts your money in the cash box. He stamps the back of your hand and waits for you to head inside, but you don’t.

“So, I had to park like, super far away. Would you mind walking me to my car after the show?” It’s not something you would ask just any bouncer at just any bar, but Corey is your favorite bouncer at your favorite bar. You’ve had a little crush on him for ages, dying to get even 10 minutes alone with him. If he won’t make the move, it’s time you did.

“Oh, uh, sure. Of course.”

“You’re the best,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. Then you go through the door and into the bar.

You spend the whole show distracted, thinking more about Corey than about the musicians playing their hearts out on stage. You remember the first night he worked the door. You could tell he was new from a distance, which intrigued you, and as his features came into focus as you drew nearer, you only became more interested. The new guy was a hottie. It had been winter then, so his tattoos were hidden from you, and his hair was a rich, warm brown. The weather warmed and Corey's clothes got less bulky, the hems on the sleeves of his shirts and the legs of his pants steadily rising with the temperatures, giving you a delicious view of his strong limbs. The seasons have progressed, and his hair has gotten longer, full of coppery strands brought out by the sun. It’s like every time you see him he’s better looking than the last. Tonight is no exception.

But his looks aren’t the only thing you like about Corey. When you go outside during changeover on nights he works the door, you shoot the shit with him. You like how his voice exists in the space between raspy and smooth, an accent you can’t quite place peeking through on certain words. You like the way he struggles to tell when you’re joking, but he’s always a good sport about the miscommunication, and how he has his own offbeat sense of humor that you’re slowly learning to watch for. You like his crooked smile, and the way he casually brings up complicated, niche knowledge without ever sounding condescending.

The nights Corey works inside, you feel extra safe knowing he’s watching over you. Sometimes he appears at your side with a plastic cup of water, yelling “Stay hydrated!” in your ear over the music. He checks on you when you fall in the pit, and he enforces the rule against crowd killing with an iron fist, dragging dudes who think it’s cool to windmill out to the sidewalk by their shirt collars. If another showgoer is bothering you, all you have to do is meet Corey’s eyes and you know he’ll take care of the problem.

You didn’t park so far away with the intention of getting him to walk you there, but after circling the block three times and seeing no nearby spots, you had no choice. You weren’t particularly scared to walk the distance, but you’d seen Corey as you drove past, Chicago Bears cap backwards over his gorgeous hair, pack of cigs tucked into the rolled up sleeve of his t-shirt, biceps bulging from the way his arms were crossed, and a lightbulb clicked on in your head. You practically sprinted to the door from your parking spot.

Outside on his stool, Corey’s still in a weird mood. He’s had his eye on you for months, and he’s pretty sure you’re interested in him too. Even so, he’s petrified to make a move. He favors you over the other patrons whenever you’re there, and he knows his coworkers notice, but it’s the only thing he can think to do to get closer to you. And his insecurities around dating just bring him right back to Momma. She fucking did this to him. Her refusal to let him have any normal interactions as a kid meant he still couldn’t as a grown-ass man. It’s like getting away from her only made her more present in his life.

He’s trying to remember what his therapist said about negative thoughts moving through without getting stuck. Thinking them and feeling them and then just letting them drift away. They can come over to hang out, but they can't spend the night. Corey wants to be someone you would let spend the night, and he thinks he could be, if he could just fucking relax for 30 goddamn seconds.

And it isn’t helping that you haven’t come outside once tonight. The reason is that you’re just as anxious as you are excited, thinking of ways to angle the walk to your car into something more, just like he is. But he doesn’t know that. So he sulks on his stool and hopes the thoughts will be done passing through before the last band plays their last song.

When the closing act does finish up, you’re the first person out the door, appearing by his side before the reverb of the final notes even stops echoing.

“Hey,” Corey says, “I usually have to stay for like, 15 minutes after the show ends, then I can walk you to your car.” Add something to let her know you want to hang out, he thinks, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Okay, no problem,” you say.

You stand off to the side and chat with friends until his shift is over. He takes the cashbox and the stool inside, and then he’s keeping pace with you down a quiet side street towards your car. A light breeze cools the sweat on your neck from dancing and you shiver. Corey comes just a little closer, knowing he runs hot, hoping he can subtly warm you with his radiant heat without you noticing. He’s not slick at all, but it’s endearing. You drift nearer to him too, so close you would barely need to reach out to lace your fingers with his.

“So. Where do you park?” You ask. “I can drive you to your car, since you walked me.”

“Oh, I walk to work. I don’t live far.”

“Oh, okay. I can drive you home, then.” You wait a beat to see if he’ll ask to hang out. You can sense that he wants to, but as you turn the corner and your little sedan comes into view, you decide it’s up to you. “Actually, I’m really hungry. Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

“Yeah?” Corey smiles. “I’m starving.”

You take Corey to a little shack of a New York style pizza place, where you eat giant slices on a rickety bench leaned against the side of the building. A window AC unit drips onto one half of the seat, so you sit with your bodies pressed together.

You and Corey have had a lot of physical contact since you met. He’s stamped the back of your hand a hundred times. He’s hooked his elbows under your armpits to hoist you off the floor, caught you over his brawny shoulder when you run out of crowd to surf, gently cleaned and stuck a bandaid over a scrape from the studs on someone else’s jacket. Somehow your thighs sticking together in the humid air feels much more intimate than any of that.

The proximity makes Corey’s heart pound in his throat. This close to you he can see the fine glitter you dusted over your skin before you left the house, and the little half-open holes dotting your face from piercings you’ve retired. He does his best to hold his voice steady and not think about the conniption Momma would have if she could see him with a painted harlot practically sitting in his lap. The negative thoughts can’t spend the night, he reminds himself. But he still wants to.

“It’s getting late,” he says when you’ve been sitting there talking and holding onto your grease-stained paper plates for what feels like hours. “Are you… Um. Do you need to get up early? Tomorrow?”

“No, I have a free day tomorrow. No plans, no responsibilities. I’ll probably be horizontal all day,” you say, laughing. You phrased it that way on purpose and you can see it working as Corey swallows hard and tries not to get distracted by the mental image of you lounging around in a tank top and panties.

“I’m free tomorrow too, and I’m not tired. We could hang out more, somewhere else?”

“I’d love to. Do you have somewhere in mind? I think most places are probably closing right about now.”

“Oh, uh…” Corey responds lamely.

The obvious answer hangs between you for a moment. You wait, daring him to say it first. You’d been dying to spend 10 minutes alone with Corey, and taking the lead tonight has gotten you that and so much more. You could quit while you’re ahead, adopt an oh well, maybe next time attitude. Or you could finish what you started.

“If you want, we can –”

“What if we –”

You both try at the same time.

“No, you –”

“I’m sorry, you –”

Corey’s embarrassed, but you giggle, a sweet sound that immediately makes him feel better. He laughs with you. You point at yourself, then at him, then at yourself, an exaggerated look of questioning on your face. He laughs at that too, pointing emphatically at you.

“If you want,” you start again, “we can go back to my place?”

You live by yourself in a little studio. You unlock the door and reach inside to turn a lamp on, before swinging it wide and pulling Corey inside. He takes his hat off, his large hand fluffing out the dent in his hair, and looks around for somewhere to set it down. His first impression as his eyes wander is how similar to his own apartment yours is – how you’ve had to work around the eccentricities of the building, how so much of your furniture would be instantly recognizable to anyone who's seen a recent IKEA catalog, how your mattress and box spring rest directly on the ground.

Momma (ugh there she is again) always kept the house spotless, with strict adherence to her ugly-but-well-defined aesthetic, taking meticulous care of the heavy wooden furniture she made Corey’s father buy before Corey was born. While living somewhere that hasn’t been fossilized for 25+ years is a much needed change of pace, he’s often embarrassed by the disheveled way he and his roommates keep things, cringing whenever they bring a friend or partner over for the first time. He was grateful that you suggested your place, but seeing the way your rooms reflect his destroys that insecurity and makes him feel right at home.

You’re still holding his wrist from pulling him inside, and you use it to guide him on a “tour” of your tiny space.

“This is the living room,” you say. Then you drag him one foot to the right. “And over here is the bedroom.” Corey laughs as you rotate him 90 degrees. “Enormous, state of the art chef’s kitchen.” You gesture toward the rickety old range and skinny half-sized dishwasher. You pull him down the hallway and into the bathroom. “And here we have the sauna and spa.”

“Wow, it’s just like a big mansion from a movie,” Corey says.

“They’ve actually filmed like, 100 movies here,” you joke. You reach behind you and turn the water on in the bathtub. “I’m gonna wash off real quick, you know how gross it can be in the pit.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” He turns to leave but you wrap your fingers around his wrist again.

“You don’t have to go. You can sit on the toilet and keep me company. Or you could join me.”

Corey opens and closes his mouth in surprise, shaking his head, floundering. “Join you?”

“If you want.” You shrug, pretending to be nonchalant.

“No. Yeah. I mean. It would be great to join you, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

You pull the pin to switch the water from the faucet to the showerhead. “Do you want to check the temperature?”

You switch places with him and he leans over the edge of the tub to stick his hand in the stream. He considers it for a second. While he’s distracted, you start taking your clothes off. You’re down to just your bralette and panties when he turns back around.

“I think that’s… good,” he says, the end of his sentence strangled by the sight of you in your underwear.

You smile sweetly as you peel the bralette off and raise it over your head. Corey gawks. “Are you gonna shower with your clothes on?” You ask.

“Oh,” Corey says with a nervous chuckle, setting his glasses and his hat on the vanity. He tries (and mostly fails) not to stare at your breasts as he pulls his shirt over his head. He loosens his laces to slip out of his boots, yanks off his socks, and undoes his belt. His face feels hot, which he knows means it’s red. He clears his throat and drops his shorts, then he turns around to give both of you some privacy for the last step.

When his shirt comes off, it takes your breath away. You knew Corey was a thick boy, and kinda heavily tattooed, but you were not at all prepared for the sight that met you as he started to strip. The true breadth of his shoulders, the size of his traps, the soft definition of his abs, and lines of his hips pointing right where you want to be, all accentuated by his tattoos, way more of them than you were expecting. If he could keep his eyes off your tits, he might’ve noticed you were staring at him too.

He steps into the shower with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. His modesty is adorable. On his end he’s not sure which would be worse, shrinkage from the cold air, or chub before anything has even happened. Either way it seems best to keep things obscured and fix his eyes on the drain as you step into the tub and close the curtain.

“You don’t have to hide. I’ve seen a dick before,” you say gently, as if reading his thoughts. “And you don’t have to avert your gaze.”

Corey looks up from the floor of the shower, meeting your eyes. You give him an encouraging smile and he chuckles, dropping his hands. “Okay.”

The temptation to look down immediately and see what he was hiding is strong, but you manage to keep your eyes on his face. You duck out of the shower stream to let him get wet, flipping the top of your body wash and squeezing some out. You gesture with the bottle to Corey and he offers you his hand, palm up. You dispense a little dollop for him.

“You have more tattoos than I thought you would. How long has it taken you to get so covered?”

“Like a year and a half?”

“Holy shit, Speed Racer!” You laugh, and he fucking giggles. He’s so cute you could die. Between your legs, your clit starts to throb.

“I uh, had to wait a long time to start getting tattooed. Kinda thought it would never happen. So I’m going a little crazy, trying to catch up.”

“That’s actually so cool. I’m glad you get to make that happen.” You finally let your eyes drift down, studying his tattoos through the bubbles on his skin, using your hand like a squeegee to get a better look at a few of them, and to have an excuse to touch him. They’re all American Traditional – faithful to the rules, truly old school, Sailor Jerry levels of traditional – but you can pick out the hands of several different artists. They’re all packed extremely solid, the colors vibrant and smooth under his freckled pink skin. You get a decent glimpse of his penis while you check out the tats on his stomach. It makes a very good first impression, although if he’s much of a grower you might be in for a challenge. “They’re beautiful, Corey. You have really good taste.”

He shakes his head, denying the compliment. “It’s all flash from a walk-in shop.”

“But you picked the shop.” You slide your soapy hands back up his torso to squeeze his shoulders. “And you picked the designs off the wall.” You squeeze again. “Curation makes the collection.”

“I guess I’ve never thought of it like that,” he says.

You stand there like that for a minute, your hands on his shoulders, looking into each other's eyes. You’ve never seen him in decent lighting before, and you’re learning that he has the longest eyelashes in the world, and his eyes are the color of good iced tea, but staring at him is only making you thirstier. You drape your wrists over his shoulders and rest your forearms on his chest. He puts his hands on your hips. You slowly drift closer to each other as if pulled by magnets. The last traces of Corey’s rough mood from earlier in the night flow down the drain with the soapy water. All he’s thinking about is you.

You can feel him starting to get hard, the tip of his cock poking you in the thigh, higher and higher until you lean away enough for it to reach its full height. You lean back in closer than you were before, wrapping your arms all the way around his neck. Finally he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, his plush lips feather light against yours. But his boner resting on your belly is making you want him too badly to abide by that for long. You press in harder, and he returns the pressure. You open your mouth more, and he follows your lead. Your tongues slide against each other and he sighs into your mouth. He still tastes just a little like the cigarette he smoked before you left the pizza place. His hands move from your hips, massaging your back and tentatively cupping your ass.

You kiss so long the water starts to get cold. You pull away from him reluctantly, despite your lips already getting chapped, and rinse the few remaining bubbles from your skin. You pull a giant blanket towel from the cabinet and wrap it around both of you. It’s extremely inefficient when it comes to actually drying you off, but you barely care, just using it as an excuse to keep your arms around him.

“That’s dry enough, right?” He asks. He’s so hard it borders on painful. He’s desperate for more, anything more, whatever you’ll give him.

“Yeah, that’s totally dry enough,” you agree, tossing the towel over the curtain rod.

You lead Corey back down the hallway, to the foot of the bed. You crawl up to the head of the bed, wiggling your ass in the air for him as you go. At the head of the bed you lay down and beckon for him. He scrambles to lay down next to you. His lips are so raw that they taste like blood, but he’s insatiable, needing to be kissing you. He pulls you into his arms so that you’re lying on your side, and you drape your top leg over his pelvis. His breathing gets heavier, and he’s dying to rock his hips so that his achy, leaking cock rubs against your impossibly soft thigh, but he doesn’t. He’s not sure if it’s okay, not realizing it’s the whole reason you put your leg where you put it.

If he won’t grind into your thigh, you’ll just have to grind your thigh into him instead. As his length drags across your skin it leaves a hot trail of precum. He shudders beneath you and makes a little strangled sound. It makes your pussy gush. You want to make him whimper, you want to hear him groan and whine and cry.

“Corey,” you purr against his stubbly cheek. “Why are you holding back?”

“I, uh – I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. Like, what you want me to do.”

“Should I just tell you what to do?”

“Please.”

You kiss him again before giving your first instruction. “Don’t try to be quiet. The walls in this place are really thick, so you don’t have to worry about anybody but me hearing you. But I want to hear everything.”

“Okay,” he whimpers.

You reach your hand down and wrap your fingers around his shaft. He inhales sharply. His satiny skin slides up and down as you gently stroke him. You told him not to be quiet, so he lets out a long moan, surprising himself with how desperate the sound is.

“Does that feel good?” You coo.

“Mhm,” Corey groans.

“Good. Don’t try to be still either, baby. If you want to thrust, thrust.”

And thrust he does, immediately, pressing his hips into your hand hard before dropping them back down to the bed. Your satisfied laugh is music to his ears. He thrusts into your hand again, and again. Faster and faster. You kiss him as you pump his cock in your hand, but he’s too busy whining and panting to kiss you back.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Stop for a second. Please.”

You release him and bring your hand to your mouth, tasting the mess he made. The sight of you licking his precum off your palm nearly kills him. While he recovers, you pull a condom out of the drawer in your nightstand. You hold it up for him to see, squeezing it so he knows the little air bubble is still inside.

“Can I put this on you?” He nods. He closes his eyes and lets out a long, shaky breath as you roll the condom on. You lay on your back and gesture for him to climb on top of you. “Okay, now come here,” you say.

He kneels between your legs. You hold your arms out to him and he slowly lowers himself into them, planting one wide hand on either side of you. His cock taps against your slit and it makes you both hum.

“I need to feel you inside me,” you whisper.

Corey’s toned arms almost give out. “I need to be inside you,” he agrees in a strained voice.

You guide him to the right spot. With one push he slides all the way in. He’s completely fucking perfect, filling you all the way up. He flexes his hips experimentally, and the smallest little movements cause him to make the prettiest little whines. You feel so good around him, he’s scared he won’t last five seconds if he moves the way he wants to, but the way you’re looking up at him weakens his will, and he gives in.

Once he starts in earnest, he can’t stop, overtaken with a sense of urgency, needing more, more, more. His face and chest turn bright red. His eyes tear up and he squeezes them closed. The way he pounds you feels fucking incredible, but the sight of him and the sound of his whiny moans getting higher and higher pitched is what makes you truly feral.

“Holy shit, Corey.” You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. “You feel so fucking good. You fill me up just right.”

You feel the effects your words have on him, faltering slightly before fucking you even harder.

“Look at me,” you command. He opens his eyes and you see the tears welling there. You’re worried for a second, but before you can ask if he’s okay, he reassures you.

“I’ve… never… felt this good,” he says between gulping breaths. “I’m really… really close.”

“Oh yeah? You’re close?” Your tone is teasing, but sweet.

“So close,” he barely manages to say, the rhythm of his movements becoming less coherent.

“I want you to cum for me.”

“B-but… but…”

“Don’t fight it. Cum for me, Corey.”

You wrap your legs around his hips and that’s his undoing. He whines your name, muscles trembling, spilling into the condom, a single tear breaching his waterline.

"Oh my god," he says, voice hoarse as he lays back down beside you.

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm," he hums happily.

When he realizes you didn't cum, he's adamant about returning the favor. And you'll let him in the morning, coaching him on exactly how to rub your clit to make you scream, before you take him for breakfast at a greasy little diner and drop him off to a chorus of "Ooooh where were you last night?" from his roommates. But for now you just snuggle into his thick, strong arms, content to spend the night with him.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham smut #fan fic #fan fiction #mine #cc

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thequeendesi · 2 years

Text

A Promise

Title: A promise

Alt Title: I will ruin your fucking life

Warnings: swearing, Nate Jacobs, sexual innuendo, drug alluding, stress

Disclaimer: I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise

Rating: MA-16

Word Count : 1.9k

A/N: hi! I don’t think y’all exited five out so soon, but here it is!

@ellyskey , @minaxcarter , @leslienjazzy y , @write-from-the-heart t , @local-bxbby y , @twdbaddie1090 , @multiharlot , @lovesanimals0000 0

Flynn looked behind you and Elliot, his eyes meeting something’s. “Dada?” He asked, arms stretching out for Dada. Your gaze broke from Elliot’s as you began to look up. Your eyes meeting Nate’s.

“Nate, what’re you doing here?” You asked, pushing Elliot behind you as you acted as a barrier between the two men.

“I just wanted to see my son. Tomorrow’s his birthday. I know you got the Facebook notification.” Nate shrugged, a half smile on his lips as he looked towards Flynn. “Look at him (Name). He’s reachin’ for his Dada. You really wanna tell him no?” Nate asked, almost degrading you in a sense… just without words.

You turned your head a little to look at Flynn. Who kept his arms outstretched, eyes welling up with tears as he began to fuss. “You’re fuckin’ evil for using Flynn like that, bro. You ain’t even here for him.” Elliot injected himself into the conversation.

“El.” You said, eyebrows narrowing towards him. “Five minutes, Nate. You can sit on the couch with him.” You moved from the doorway, pushing Elliot as well a little.

“How nice of you (Name). You think you can get a picture of my son and I?” Nate asked the two of you, sitting on the couch next to Flynn. You watched as your son crawled onto that monster’s lap. You weren’t even sure Nate was human at this point, because there wasn’t any possible way that any human could be as evil as Nate. You knew if you would’ve caught him on the wrong day, there’d be a first degree murder charge.

“A picture?” Elliot whispered to himself, almost astonished at his request. But if you knew anyone, you knew Nate Jacobs.

“This is killing you, ain’t it princess? To see our son love his father.” Nate asked you. “He would’ve loved me more if you wouldn’t have broken up our family.” You felt a pit in your stomach as he blamed you. “Nate, I didn’t break up shit. You fucked Cassie when I was in the hospital having Flynn!” You shouted at him.

“Who put you into labor though?” Nate asked, looking at Flynn, covering his ears. “You’ll scare Flynn, (Name), come on.” Nate chastised you like a child. “It’s been five minutes, Nate.” You said.

“Been 4 minutes.” He said, shaking the timer on iis phone. “I got… 52 seconds left.” He put the phone down, adjusting Flynn on his lap. “Aren’t you glad I’m one of those nice and rich baby daddy’s?” He asked. “Never took you to court, I could have Flynn with me in two seconds.” He threatened.

“You couldn’t. And if you tried everything I know about your family goes public. Even your dad.” You said. “And that ain’t a threat, Jacobs. It’s a promise.” You said. Nate’s expression darkened.

A year ago, you would’ve cowered. But, you knew in front of people, he’d never lay a hand on you.

The timer rang as Nate took a deep breath, his charming smile returning to his face. “Dada has to go now, buddy.” Nate said to Flynn, walking over to you. He placed Flynn back in your arms as you hugged the confused baby tightly.

“(Name).” He said to you, exiting your apartment.

“What Nate?” You said, rubbing Flynn’s back.

“You ever threaten my family again, and I can promise you I’ll ruin your fucking life. And we don’t want that, do we?” He looked at you. “I’m sure Flynn needs one consistent parent to keep him from having issues like you.”

You took a deep breath. “Keep my parents out of your mouth. They fixed themselves.” You said. “And I’m sure they did. Which is why they’ll pass the search warrant and when their P.O’s will test them, they’ll pass. Right?” He closed the door behind him.

You took a deep breath and walked straight to the couch, reaching under it. “Fucking typical bastard.” You whispered to yourself. “What’d you find?” Elliot asked, trying to break the silence between the three of you.

“Recorder.” You responded, checking under the table, pillow, and behind your door. Finding three more tiny spyware type cameras.

“You think there’s anymore?” He asked you as you tossed them out of your window.

“He only sat on the couch.” You answered, sitting on the couch with Flynn on your lap.

“You ok?” Elliot asked, sitting next to you. “I’m fine.” You said, focusing on fixing Flynn’s hair. “(Name). Don’t push me away because you’re upset with someone else. You have to communicate with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Elliot reminded you.

And you hated hearing it, but you knew he was right. “I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I just hate that he does this… he wasn’t always like this.” Flynn leaned into your touch. You knew if Elliot wasn’t there in that moment what would’ve happened would’ve been way worse.

“I’m sorry.” Elliot said, placing his arm over your shoulders. You shook your head and leaned into his touch. “Not your fault.” Flynn looked at Elliot.

“Hi buddy. I’m Elliot. Or El.” Elliot greeted Flynn, reaching his hand out.

And Flynn touched his finger. You smiled a little at the sight. “So you still ain’t planning on running?” You asked him, looking up at him.

“Nah.” Elliot shook his head. “I think I’m where I need to be.” Elliot kissed your forehead. “My girl and her son.” He said.

“Aren’t you worried about the police going to your parents house?” Elliot finally asked, the question finally being asked after he built the confidence. “No. They’re clean.” You said simply.

“Clean?”

“My parents did some things. I did some things. My grandmother did some things. We’ve all done some things.”

“When’d you get clean?”

“Nate put me through detox when he said we were gonna have a family.”

“That’s crazy. You were 16 when you got pregnant though.” You nodded. “Mhm. We planned Flynn. It wasn’t ‘til after I was clean he started his shit. Was high on anything since 11, started dating him at 14, he put me through detox three days before my 16th birthday. I didn’t get pregnant for another three months.” You explained.

“Jesus.”

“Almost 4 years later and we’re still going through this shit. He went through dozens of girls. I went on one date two weeks after we broke up with a guy who’d liked me since middle school.”

“How’d it go?”

“Nate cussed me out.” You half-laughed. “Called me a whore for going out so soon. That I was already planning for another baby.”

“What was your drug of choice?” Elliot asked, his brain starting to understand why his sobriety was so important to you now. “Anything. I’ve pretty much done it all once. When Fezco found out I thought I was done for.”

“Where were your parents for all this?”

“High themselves. When you’re 12, you don’t think you’d be doing coke with mom while dad cooked dinner, but c’est la vie I guess.” You shrugged. “Why’d Nate beat you up earlier?”

“He saw the hickey you left.” He answered. “He thinks we had sex.” You sighed, pinching your nose’s bridge.

“Are you ace?” Elliot blurted out.

“No!” You sighed. “No, I’m not ace.” You know what he’s thinking though. You two haven’t had sex, but make out any time you have. “I just… haven’t had sex in a while.” You explained a little. “It’s not off the table though. I’ve been tempted. I was really tempted the other night and if I didn’t need to come home at a certain time…” you trailed off. “You get where I’m going.”

“Oh so I’m tempting?” Elliot teased.

You pushed him a little, noticing how Flynn was sleeping on your lap. “It was time for his nap anyhow.” You stood up, walking over to his room. You placed him in his crib, then closed the door behind you.

Elliot’s arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed your neck. “What’s stopping us now?” He asked, kissing down more. Your hand gripped the doorknob as you leaned into his touch, head leaning back against his shoulder.

You whispered a swear under your breath as he found the spot. “Do you want to?” He asked, hands going under your shirt to place themselves on his hips.

“I don’t do anything more if you don’t want to.” He kissed your jaw. “I want it.” You said, turning to face him. “You want it, baby girl?” He asked. “Yea.” You said.

***

Elliot ran his fingers up and down your back, clothes thrown all over the room. “You alright?” You asked, looking up at him. “Yea. You?” He asked, pushing some hair from your face.

“I’m okay.” You looked over at the baby monitor, Flynn still sound asleep. “What time is it?” You asked him. “My phone’s in the living room.” He answered, shrugging. You nodded and kissed him softly.

Elliot’s arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you on top. “Again?” You half joked. “Nah. Just prefer you on top.” He said. You stood up, and put on a pair of shorts and a crop top. “I’m gonna check my phone. Do you want yours?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Nah.” He answered, both hands going behind his head. You nodded and walked into the living room. You picked up your phone. “Oh fuck.” You whispered.

You continued to repeat it as you called your mother’s parole officer back.

“Don’t tell me Shannon.” You pleaded.

“Your parents were arrested due to breaching their parole conditions.”

“How did they breach it?” You asked. “They tested positive for methamphetamines, marijuana, cocaine and opiates.” She answered. “Are you serious? Test them again! Watch them pee. Watch the tests show up!” You shouted into the phone.

“Ms. (Last Name), we watched them urinate. We watched the tests develop. And we watched your parents' reactions during the whole process.” She paused. “They’re guilty.”

“What’s about to happen now?” You asked, sitting on the couch. “They have to serve 430 days behind bars. They could be out with good behavior sooner, but they’re going to need to detox, because their levels were high. From what it looks like with our numbers, they indulged in cocaine this morning.”

“This morning? No, that's impossible. They had Flynn until 10 this morning.” You said. “The numbers aren’t lying, (Name).” Shannon responded. “Oh my god. They watch my son when I’m at work. They’ve been doing drugs around Flynn. They did fucking drugs around my baby Shannon!” You shouted a little, falling to your knees.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, “I gotta go. I gotta find out what I’m doing next.” You said, hanging up the phone promptly and tossing your phone at the couch.

You just wanted to scream. They were clean! They’d been clean for months. You cupped your face in your hands and sobbed.

Two arms wrapped around you as you turned into his chest. “They were doing drugs around Flynn, El. I was so busy with work and Flynn… I ain’t even noticed.” You whispered.

Elliot hugged your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. “What am I gonna do? I need someone to watch Flynn while I work. I can only do the night shifts because he sleeps through the night.” You sniffed, rubbing your face. “This is ridiculous.” You sobbed.

“We’ll figure something out.” He shushed you.

#des’ writing #des’ series : angel #des’ original series #des’ oneshot #euphoria elliot x reader #euphoria elliot #euphoria fez #euphoria series #euphoria imagine

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