#{ Texts w/Blake }

[wu-marcy]

okay wow blake and sun are NOT cute 💀

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Guilty As Sin

Batter Up Chapter 6

!!! This takes place After Chapter 2, when reader and Joel's relationship was still a secret. !!!

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: What if Joel did in fact write MINE on your upper thigh when the two of you sneak away from your friend's wedding? Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (reader has an IUD), cream pie, bondage, a singular ass slap, neck tie turning into a gag, Joel's got a dirty mouth,spot the Taylor Swift lyrics in my writing, panties are getting ripped off. Words: 3,030

A/N: Baseball Joel is back. Thank you for being so patient with me during my hiatus. I've had this fic rattling in my brain since I heard "Guilty As Sin" by Taylor... and I may have been in feral mode while writing this. This can be read alone, without knowing most of the story of Batter Up.

Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Blake Velasco, the Capitals’ celebrated third baseman is finally marrying his longtime partner, and your friend, Gemma. You tell yourself you flew in for her, but really you’re here to see one of Blake’s groomsmen… Joel. You’ve been dreading today, your first official outing as a couple and nobody knows.

The two lovebirds really went all out for their December wedding. Crystal covered snowflakes hang from the rafters glitter in the flickering candle light, urns of white roses fill every extra space, golden and white tones fill the opulent mansion. 

Soft orchestral music begins, your skin instantly heats at the realization you’ll soon see Joel. Internally fighting and cursing every urge to turn in your seat and wait for the first sight of your boyfriend, you’re finding it hard to keep your cool. The procession begins, heartbeats begin skipping beats once you spot the same curls you like to tug hanging low against his neck. His longer offseason hair is slicked back, wide shoulders hugged perfectly by his form fitting black tuxedo. You can’t look away from his broadness walking down the aisle. 

Joel takes his place at the altar, the whole room dissolves around him. He searches for you, a perfunctory nod sent your parents' way turns into a smug smile once he spots you. His eyes crinkle in the corners, the same creases that show themselves whenever he’s closing his eyes in bliss appearing. He’s so debonair, all dressed up in his tuxedo, you want to wrap the silk black tie around your hand and pull him closer.

You’re sure he can tell how he’s affecting you. Helplessly trying to focus elsewhere, your eyes attempt to roam the room before staring at the chandelier above and bracing yourself for the next half hour of trying not to look at Joel standing tall and striking only three rows away. You look towards him, he’s still staring at you, a whimper chokes out. You brush a pretend piece of lint off your dress trying to cover your audible slip up catching your mom’s attention. She leans over and asks if you’re okay, you give her a weak smile and nod. Joel’s eyes still watch you, an imperceptible wink sent your way. Relief soothes your tenseness once the bridal procession begins. This is going to be awful. 

___

Swaying trees twinkle in the wind, fairy lights cascade down the branches, the shining orbs glow all around you, you wish they could warm you. It’s too damn cold. You just had to choose the tight gold dress only held together in the back by thin straps? You really had to forget your shawl in the reception? Sure, you wanted Joel to untie and unwrap you tonight, but now you wonder if it was all worth it... stuck shrouded in darkness behind the gazebo. Your teeth chitter, hands trying to rub warmth into your limbs while waiting for Joel to finally meet you far away from the picturesque mansion. 

You can just make out the loud music playing mostly drowned out by the raucous shouting of the party attendees. Your phone buzzes in your hand. Sorry, stuck talking, be out ASAP. You thumbs up Joel’s text and roll your eyes. Since when did he like talking? It’s been ten minutes and you’re freezing and frustrated. Joel’s teammates, your parents, and your friends are all in that far away house. Nobody has any clue about your tryst.

He’s been in your proximity all day, the two of you trading as many quick glances you can afford, a rush sent to your heart every time your eyes meet. Looking at him’s like playing with fire, you just can’t help yourself even though you burn yourself each time. He’s ridiculously handsome and he’s been driving you insane all day. 

Your wet core aches and you haven’t even touched him.

Joel Miller in a suit consumes your thoughts all day. Conversations flow around you, contrition and lust warring in your brain. It’s impossible pretending to listen to whatever story or joke people keep droning on about while he stands only a few feet away. Your nerves work overtime thinking everyone can plainly see all the fantasies in your head. Propriety in these situations always came easy to you, but today you’re suffering, longing for your boyfriend.

Looking up at the stars twinkling above you, you sigh, at least it’s a clear night.

A warm weight pushes against your back, Joel’s arms wrap around you, a large hand splaying against your stomach while the other rests across your breast bone. You’re instantly warmed. 

“Sorry baby, got caught up ‘n had to sneak out without anybody seeing,” he inhales your scent. “You look fucking amazing, it’s been so hard to stay away from you.” 

He pushes you harder against him, the shape of his half hard cock rubs against your ass.  

“Been having to adjust myself all fuckin’ night because of you in that dress, feel like I’m being haunted.”

His hands cup the weight of your silk draped breasts, his breath is hot against your neck when he kisses it. 

“We should probably find a safer place, anyone who looks hard enough could probably see us,” you groan.

“I know a place, slipped an usher a couple hundred.”

___

Joel leads you down a path back towards the house staying in the shadows of the outskirts of the yard, he confidently navigates the maze of hedges ahead of you. A dark building stands alone and quiet, perfect for the two of you.

Joel punches in a code on the door lock and opens it. Trepidation enters when you realize exactly what you’re doing. Sneaking into the guest house of the rented mega mansion your friends got married in to fuck your boyfriend that they, and everyone else, have no clue about. You’ve never been religious, but you feel like a sinner. 

“Is this okay to do?” the contrition begins to rear its head.

“It is baby, paid off a couple more members of the staff too. Cost me a couple grand.”

He leers at you like he’s a wolf and you’re the prey, he wants this. 

“Jesus Joel!”

“It’ll be worth it.”

He crowds and pushes you in before kicking the door shut. 

“Lock it,” you breathe. 

You’ve been caged up all night, now he’s here with you, his mouth on your neck. It’s time to crack the locks. You turn, crashing against him, hiking up your dress and wrapping a leg around him to rub your core against the soft fabric of his suit.

Your kisses are rushed and messy, moans floating in between your already labored breaths. 

“Fuck,” Joel pulls away, his eyes blown out with lust. “Turn back around baby, once I saw the straps of your dress, I had an idea.”

You follow his directions, turning quickly, heels wobbling on your shaky knees as he runs his fingers up your exposed spine. 

“This dress is something baby, love these delicate little strings all over your back.” He begins to untie the threads criss-crossing your back. “S’like you’re my own little present.” His fingers are quick and precise, chills shoot up your spine at his touch. “Turn back around baby.” You face him, dress falling to your hips. A mischievous glint in his eyes sparkles as he holds up two thin strips of silk. 

“What’s your plan?” Your heart shatters against your chest when he arches his eyebrows and licks his lips.

“M’gonna tie you up ’n take you right here in this guest house while everyone we know is just across the yard. You good with that?”

Your mouth drops, uttering a pathetic yes, your cunt aching with anticipation. 

“That’s my good girl,” Joel grabs a marker off the counter top. “Now, they told me there’s a bedroom to the left.” 

___

“Well, would you look at that? Gold sheets to match your pretty silk dress,” Joel chuckles. “Of course they have a four poster bed in their guest house, some people are too rich for their own good.” 

A light push lands you amongst the soft sheets. Joel takes in your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and gold dress sitting askew definitely too wrinkled for its own good. 

He hangs his jacket on the chair back, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. The sheets feel velvety smooth, you can’t keep still. 

Joel grabs your foot, easily turning your body around, the silk of your dress slides across the satin sheets. 

“Stretch your arms like this, baby,” Joel makes a T-pose to demonstrate.

You follow his direction. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

He straddles you, a bit of his weight placed against your stomach, his thick thighs strain in the black pants, your mouth waters at his closeness. He picks up a wrist, tying the string around you and the bed poster before doing the same for your other wrist. He tugs on both, smiling when they barely move. 

“They feel good baby?”

“Perfect. I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Me neither, but I think we’re going to like it.” 

He runs a hand down to your bra, effortlessly snapping the front hooks open. You blink in awe at the size of him taking up so much space on this king sized bed. 

He runs a hand down your face, pausing at your lips, dipping his thumb in to cover it in saliva. His thumb leaves a trail of wet down your chin and neck to your breast, circling your nipple before pinching it. You attempt to buck your hips at the sensation but you’re met with resistance from his weight. Both of Joel’s hands grab your tits, deep brown eyes getting darker when he watches himself push them together. 

“Look how perfect your tits fit in my hands. Perfect fucking size, so fucking smooth and pretty. It’s like they were made for me.”

Joel scoots back, now straddling your legs and pushes your dress up to rest against your stomach. He whistles a low note, taking in your soaked panties. 

“Baby, you’ve made a mess down here, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen and nod.

“I’ll clean you up because this is my pussy and I gotta keep it in good shape, don’t I darlin’?”

“Yes,” you coo, another gush releases against the silk of your panties. 

“Because this pussy is mine, right baby?”

“Fuck,” you howl, body begining to quiver under his attention. “Yes Joel, all yours.”

“You’re mine, aren’t you baby? Just because all those people in that house can’t see it, everyone knows, right baby? You’ll always be mine.”

“Oh my god, yes, I’m only yours.” “Perfect.”

Joel reaches into his pocket, pulling a black Sharpie out and uncapping it. He looks up for approval, you frantically nod wanting to find out the mystery. 

The marker tip is placed against your upper thigh, the ink is cool against your searing skin. You lift your head up to watch Joel. 

M-I-N-E is written on your upper thigh. 

Your head slips back down against the pillows overwhelmed by the way Joel licks his lips while staring at his inscription against your skin. He caps the marker, placing it back in his pocket before laying down between your legs, stretching your thighs wide to fit him. 

Nuzzling his head in between your thighs, his mouth rests against your drenched panties. The sight must look so depraved, Joel’s almost fully dressed inhaling your scent with his nose nestled in between the divide of your folds as you writhe underneath him, your hands tied to a stranger’s bed. He grabs the seam of your flimsy silk underwear and tears them off, you’d chastise him if you weren’t so fucking ready to feel his mouth against you right now.

“You’re mine baby, forever,” his fudgy brown eyes gaze into yours when his tongue darts out and licks a long stripe up your aching pussy.  

He groans against your drenched cunt, lapping up all of the slick you’ve spilled out through the day. Your hands tighten against the restraints when he sucks your clit in the perfect way he always does. A thick finger circles your entrance, his tongue slowly teases your clit, both cause you to drown in satisfaction. You love how he looks in between your legs, his strong nose bumping against your skin, dark eyes focused on your face.

Your hips begin grinding against his face when he sticks another finger in, his biceps stretch across the white dress shirt with his movements. In, out, in, out, his two thick fingers fuck you, his lush mouth still adoring your clit with every lick and suck.

The silk ties pull at your wrists, your fingers dig into your palm, the buildup of watching handsome Joel Miller at a wedding made you ache all day, and now he’s here eating your pussy. You’re so overwhelmed by him, his love, his adoration, his fucking perfect mouth. Your orgasm rolls through you, your cunt rides the wave of pleasure against his mouth, grinding into his gorgeous face. 

He doesn’t let up, a third finger is pushed inside, his tongue traverses every dip, fold, and nerve. He pulls his fingers out and rests them against your aching entrance before burying them right back in. You shout his name over and over, chants of Joel screams across the room.

He pulls away.

“Baby, you gotta quiet down,” Joel’s face covered in your juices pulls a raucous moan out of you. “Baaaaaby,” he chastises, hand flying up to pull his tie apart. He balls the tie in his hand before stuffing it into your mouth. “Quiet.” 

You moan around the tie, biting down on it hard, shaking and aching as another climax splinters you. Your vision turns just as black as the tie currently packed in your mouth. Your arms burn as they strain against the ties, your legs locking straight.

“That’s it, baby, I’m fucking drowning in you,” Joel’s voice brings you back down. Your eyes open to him licking his top lip, tasting and savoring you. 

He pulls the tie from your mouth.

“I love you,” you weakly whisper, shattered by him yet again.

“Love you too baby,” Joel places a kiss against your makeshift MINE tattoo before climbing up your body and untying your restraints. 

__

He kisses each wrist as you shake them out. 

“You good baby?” 

“Of course I am,” you smile.

His thumb rubs your cheek, a doting look sits across his features. He still resembles the perfect picture of a formal man, shirt still buttoned, hair still perfectly placed, the only sign of any mischief being his missing suit jacket and sleeves pulled up to his elbows… until you notice his erection bulging his zipper out.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You know what.”

“Oh,” Joel clutches his crotch in his large hand. “This, baby? Well, since you’re mine, I’m going to fill you with my cum and make you even more mine. Now, turn over.” 

__

Your head rests against the silk pillow, heart beginning to race hearing the unzip of Joel’s dress pants. Your legs are pulled apart before he covers you in his weight, the cool cotton of his shirt brushes against your overheated skin. 

His cock nudges between your legs, you adjust to allow him full entrance. Joel slowly pushes in, his arms framing your head settling fully above you. His deep exhale hits the back of your neck. 

“Fuuuuuuck baby,” sprawls from him.

“Hmph– oooooh,” a conceited retort is interrupted when Joel buries himself in you. 

“You feel so fucking good, been needing to fuck you since I saw you, sitting all pretty at the ceremony then watching you twirl on that dance floor, you’re so fucking gorgeous, still can’t believe you’re mine.”

Your bodies rock together, his big cock filling you, you’re engulfed by Joel. It’s delightful. 

“Mine,” his hoarse whisper ghosts against your ear before he tugs against it with his teeth. 

The tempo of his thrusts rises, your cunt gladly accepting the volume. 

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. You’re mine, aren’t you? Only mine. Tell me,” he grunts.

“I’m… I-I’m yours, all yours,” squeals pathetically from your mouth, muffled by the pillow. 

Each snap of his hips against your ass sears so heatedly, you fear the bed sheets will be set ablaze. 

He rolls against the exact spot that amplifies your soul, a chorus of bliss strums through you. Symphonic ecstasy ripples overwhelming you, eyes squeezing shut, mouth screaming into the fluffy pillow. Your pussy flutters against his cock cramming your hole, the two of you entwined in a duet you’ll never tire of. 

Your head turns, lungs panting for air, whimpers yelping across the room as he rides your orgasming pussy, composing the melody of his own burgeoning orgasm. 

His hips stutter, the rhythm getting lost at the crescendo of his climax. 

Your name is moaned out, large hands gripping into your shoulders, his broad body collapses against you, briefly smothering you before rolling off.  

A quick smack stamps against your ass.

“Mine,” Joel growls. 

___

The mirror reflects someone who looks freshly fucked, Joel, on the other hand still looks flawless, his suit jacket already applied. He winks at your reflection while he efficiently knots his tie. 

“I get to go back now with no underwear, my hair’s a mess, and your cum is still leaking out of me, thanks. Hope everyone just thinks I’m drunk.”

He laughs a booming laugh, before kissing the top of your hair. “Anytime baby.”

Joel throws a stack of cash from his jacket on to the table before adjusting his tie, the smooth texture so obviously disfigured by your bite marks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you hug him tightly. 

“Tomorrow. I love you.” He sandwiches your chin between his fingers, placing one last kiss against your mouth. “Go have fun, I’ll be watching.”

“Love you too,” you breathily sigh, adjusting your wrinkled dress and heading for the door, with the final obstacle ahead… convincing all of your loved ones inebriated by the open bar that you’ve been there the whole time. 

“Miiiine,” he sing songs through the closing door. 

Guilty as sin.

[alienpossession]

Blake stopped by a convenient store to grab some additional drinks requested by his frat bros when he texted them that he got the drinks and on his way back to the frat house. It was 5 hours ago and the last time he ever informed anyone.

Everything went normally at first. Blake cruised through town enjoying the breezy evening air as he rolled down the window of his car while listening to some trap music. But then, something caught his attention. Some strong smell that somehow intrigued him. He abruptly stopped his car and then start to walked out from it as he plunged deeper into the woods, his thick sweater and the rest of his clothes taken off without any regards whatsoever in the process, revealing his hot, lithe body.

The phone in his pocket rang, but he paid no attention, his mind clouded and weakened by this incredibly alluring scent. He violently broke branches and leaves as he burrowed through the wilds, his skin were scratched and scarred as he continued to push through the bushes, feeling his body become more and more excited.

From behind the bushes, his target finally appeared - a sinuous large plant that seemed to be not from this planet. The pheromones released by the plant drizzled in the air like fine rain. He could not wait any longer - his shorts, underwear and shoes flew to the ground. He reached his hand straight towards the flower and took a deep breath of this aroma and his brain turned off completely, he fell to the ground in a full orgasm. His body shuddered and he fell silent, plunging into an incredibly vivid dream.

The plant seemed to be waiting for this, its branches quickly sensing a new victim as its clung to Blake's body from all sides, hiding him from prying eyes. One of the small pods at the base of the plant twitched and changed color. It began to grow.

This went on for several hours, the only thing that broke the silence was the ringing tone of the phone, to which no one reacted. Sometimes the body entwined with branches moaned in a dream, trying to resist, but the branches only tightened more and penetrated deeper into his insides, sucking out his memory and life energy.

The pod had grown to the size of the body next to it as the next stage began. Its top split open, the cracks widening and spreading throughout the pod. A white liquid gushed out from inside and the pod itself opened completely.

Blake, or a perfect copy of it, came out from it. He opened his eyes, raised his right hand and focused on the plant. He examined the plant several times, and then touched his body with his palm. A smile broke out on his face as he ran his entire hand across his abs, feeling the fluid-covered skin tighten.

The surge of strength was endless and all-encompassing. He lifted his torso up and sat down, feeling the tension in his abdominal muscles. Then he tried to flex the muscles in his arms, the veins bulging under his skin as he curled his palm into a fist. The feeling was amazing.

He got up and stood up. Uncertain at first, Blake's muscle memory filled him quickly. A minute later, he was standing on the ground as confidently as any other person. He touched the plant that gave birth to him and smiled, the plant responded to him in return and wrapped one of the branches around his arm.

The phone rang again, and with a quick glance he found Blake's shorts, went over and pulled the unfamiliar thing out of pocket. He looked at it in bewilderment for only a few seconds, and then pressed the right button and leaned it against his ear.

- Blake, is that you?

He cast a quick glance at the motionless body covered with twigs and leaves next to him and did not answer.

- Blake?

- Yes it's me. I'm Blake.

He smiled.

- Where are you disappearing to? The party should already start, but we're waiting for you.

- I'm lost. In the forest. I will be there soon.

- Hurry up.

The voice on the phone is gone.

Blake stared at the body lying on the ground, and a sinister smile bloomed on his face.

- I'll hurry, Blake.

He did not want to leave his plant, but his mission was more important. Before leaving, he tore off a few seeds and small pods and put them in his pocket.

This is going to be a wild party.

So this is a story from a follower that I tweaked a little here and there. I guess I'll make this a series called "planting the seeds". Wait for more updates about this!

[julietaxalvarez]

Julieta: ENGAGED? Julieta: i need details IMMEDIATELY

Text - Julieta & Liliana

Liliana: I AM ENGAGED. Liliana: TRAVIS ASKED DURING DINNER Liliana: OHMYGOD

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 8

2.4k | angst How many times can you run from someone before they run from you? (part 1) (part 9/end)

An enemy sniper’s bullet went straight through Raider’s leg.

Keegan performed first aid on the collapsed K9, forcing his hands to not tremble from the dread. The bullet had miraculously missed his bones, but the blood still poured from the open flesh. While everyone had taken their masks off, Keegan kept his on. No one needed to know how many ugly tears he shed in silence as he helplessly held his whimpering best friend for the whole ride. He was losing too much, too soon.

Back in the city, in the waiting room of the veterinary hospital, his stare burnt onto the unassuming clock which appeared to move slower by the second. He called you from the hospital’s landline, the only thing that could distract him from everything that was going to shit, but you didn’t pick up.

He had been waiting for what felt like hours, his huffs heavy as he paced the empty room. Empty because since he arrived, the other patrons seemed to prefer to wait elsewhere, away from the man with the storm brewing in his eyes who gripped the seats next to him like he was about to fling them across the room.

When Raider made it out of his emergency surgery, Keegan let out his breath as his shoulder sagged in relief. He knelt next to his kennel, petting the K9 as he lay on his side with a loopy stare, his tail swaying weakly.

“I know you miss her, buddy. I’ll get her, okay?” He took his handkerchief out of his back pocket, placing it next to Raider. “Keep this safe for me.”

The sun was setting when Keegan made it to your apartment. Ideally, he’d visit with a bouquet and a rehearsed speech; alas the stars hadn’t aligned at the slightest the past few painstaking hours. In fact, they had been blown out of the fucking sky because when he got out of his SUV, you were in the courtyard heading to your building, a man next to you.

He slammed his door shut and stalked towards you. He had no right to – perhaps it was the remnants of his agitation, but he wanted to punch the dude for standing so close to you, making you smile and laugh like that. He was walking you to your door, were you going to invite him in? When it was just him on your arm weeks ago?

“I need to talk to you,” he declared.

Your eyes widened momentarily before you walked past him. He didn’t relent, following you.

“You blocked my number. I’ve been trying to reach you the past week.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice was cold as you maintained your pace.

“Don’t think she wants you here.” The man stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you leave her alone, mate?”

Who the fuck was this green-eyed dude with the posh English accent telling him what to do? He might have been as tall as Keegan, but he didn’t look like he could survive half a punch.

“I’m not talking to you.” He didn’t spare the man another glance. “Raider got shot. He’s at the vet hospital.”

You stopped and turned to him. “W-what?”

“He made it out okay, but I thought you might want to see him.”

“Oh God,” you whispered. “Yes, I’d love to see him. Blake, I’m so sorry, I need to go.” You placed your hand on the man’s forearm.

“Are you sure?” He gripped your hand, wary eyes wandering to Keegan before going back to you.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll text you, okay?”

Keegan noticed the way you fiddled with your shirt as you rushed to his car. It was his first instinct to wrap his arm around you whenever you did so, but he caught himself before he made the contact.

“Who is he?” he asked as he drove off. “Was he the one who sent the flowers?”

“Why does it matter, Keegan?” you retorted, an edge in your voice.

“Just answer me.”

“Are you lying about Raider?” The venom dripped from your accusation.

“I’m not. Why would I do that?” He glanced at you. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t actually. I don’t know you anymore.”

I’m jealous, okay? I want you all to myself. “Just… Tell me who he is and I won’t ask again,” he softened.

“It’s none of your business. And if you won’t shut up, let me out of the damn car right now because I’d rather walk on my own than hear your voice again.”

He decided it was enough of an answer who the man was.

During the silent drive to grab Raider’s things at his, the lump in his throat wouldn’t stop swelling, but he’d calmed down enough to not want to scream anymore. It didn’t matter if it was your date or your boyfriend. He’d accepted that he’d irrevocably messed up and nothing was going to change that.

You helped collect the K9’s favourite toys from the living room which was still a mess from him leaving in a hurry for his previous deployment. When he emerged from the bedroom, Raider’s blanket folded in hand, you were waiting by the door. As much as he wanted to stay in the delusion that there was still a sliver of hope of mending this, he understood he might never even get the chance to speak to you again with the way you wouldn’t look at him.

“I just… Can you hear me out? I just need 5 minutes. Please.” His fingers clenched around the soft fabric.

You spared him a glance. He took it as his cue to proceed.

“I wish I had the balls to say this sooner because this feels far too late now. I know you hate me, but at this point I’ve got nothing to lose. So I just… want to tell you I’m in love with you.”

Your stare didn’t waver.

“I want to parade you around to my teammates, take you home to meet my family, kiss you goodnight, every single night. I don’t know how you make me so happy, so alive. But I never said anything because…” He exhaled, arms dropping to his sides, fist clenching and releasing. “What happened to me was… You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m a w-”

“Is this a joke?” You scoffed. “I told you I won’t stop you if you wanted to leave, and you did. I only asked you to be honest and you couldn’t even do that. So save your sorry excuse for someone who’d buy it.”

His gaze fell to the floor. “It’s not an excuse,” he said lamely.

“What are you doing this for? Was it not enough that you left me hanging for a whole week? And- and I heard how you rushed out to leave that morning.” You swallowed. “You’re unbelievable. I shouldn’t have gone out with you, shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have forgiven you or let you stay the night!”

Your words, like daggers to a bleeding wound, made it hard for him to breathe. His chest felt bound, icy, his fingertips tingled as his heartbeat echoed in his ears.

So he walked past you and left, the only thing he was good at - running away from problems. Because it hurt less than to see the anger, the disappointment in your face, knowing it was his fault.

In the hurry, he took Raider’s blanket with, but his buddy would have to wait. His skin scorched as he drove to the mountains, but this time, the pain didn’t dissolve after his transformation. He ran aimlessly, wailing and howling the pain away in the woods, blinded by the hot, white fire. Having had experienced nothing as agonising, he wished he had a weapon to just end it right there and then.

He didn’t even make it up the mountain when his legs bucked and he collapsed onto his side, heaving, like breathing through shrapnel impaled through his chest. His eyes didn’t stay open much longer, and he succumbed to the burn.

Keegan didn’t know how long he was out when he woke to his own pained scream, tears down his face in his human form. He ran his calloused hands down his body, but discovered no injury. With the ache in his chest, like a hole had been blown through it, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was reality. He got dressed and dragged his unsteady legs to his car, not feeling like he was all there.

It was in the dead of night when Keegan got to the vet hospital, but as Raider’s handler, the staff cleared him to visit anyway. At the clink of the kennel opening, the K9’s eyes flicked open to him, tail swaying twice before slumping to his side again.

He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispered, rubbing his head. “I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even get her to see you without fucking everything up.”

He reached behind the pooch, tucking him under the blanket, but his hand bumped onto something. It was his phone chew toy, the one you were supposed to bring with him.

You’d been there for Raider, despite how much Keegan had hurt you. You still cared even when you didn’t have to. You weren’t allowed to be this kind to someone like him.

Truly realising how much he’d lost, the gravity of it all, he choked out a sob. He didn’t care about having to live the rest of his days as a wolf, but losing you… He couldn’t handle that, yet the situation was the bitter fruit of his cowardice.

The city had long settled when the door to his apartment slammed shut. He didn't care if anyone screamed at his face for the noise at the hour either. He didn’t care about anything, but-

Wait. He smelt you.

You sat up on the couch, rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the florescent lighting. He dove to his knees, arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he choked. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Why can’t you just be honest with me?” You stroked his hair.

“I’m always too scared. Of messing up, of losing you.” His embrace tightened, not caring if he smelt like earth and moss. He didn’t want to let go.

“You keep running away.”

He pulled away, puffy eyes meeting yours. “Can I show you? Do you trust me?”

You nodded. He went to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar before emerging in his wolf form. At the sight, you gasped, frozen in place. He took slow steps towards you, tail between his legs.

“You’re… You’re the wolf from the woods.”

His tail rose. You met him halfway, dropping to your knees to embrace him. He leaned into your hair, accepting that this could very well be the last time he could smell you like this. He pushed you onto your back, standing over you, nuzzling your neck he stained with his tears.

“I want to work things out, but… You keep making me feel like you don’t want me, when you can be kind to me.”

It took a blink of an eye for him to shift above you, now caging you under his body. “I do. I’ve never wanted anything as much. I’m sorry I don’t know how to handle myself and I keep hurting you.”

You cupped his face, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

He closed his eyes. “But I’ll be better. I have to be. For you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, arms around his neck. The weight on his shoulders released, he could breathe again as the bound around his chest loosened. When you smiled against his lips, he pulled away.

“I’m not looking, but are you… Naked?” Your eyes stayed on his as you tried to bite back your laugh.

He gave you a sheepish smile. “I forgot again.”

You scratched the back of his head.

He sighed. He’d missed your smile beyond words. “I like it when you do that.”

“I know. Your tail told me as much.”

In bed, with you in his arms as the sun rose, he told you about the recon duty. How he had no idea what was happening to him for the first few months, how he could run faster and further, and healed from his injuries in no time at all. He recounted how he eventually got the hang of it until he met you.

“You smelt so good, better than peanut butter, but I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was impossible for me to have someone, a mate. Until that morning, I saw your birthmark, just like my scar.”

He explained the concept of mates, voice hushing as he detailed how the bond worked. His grip on you tightened without him meaning to - he wasn’t ready to know you didn’t feel as deeply towards him for the bond to seal. He braced for you to rip yourself off him, a scream, anything, at the ridiculous lore he told.

The air stilled. “Do you believe all this?”

“I don’t want to, but at this point everything feels more than a coincidence.”

“Then we should bond,” you stated. “The 7th full moon is less than two weeks away.”

“How do we know this is the right thing, or what’s going to happen to you?”

“We don’t, but I don’t care as long as it’s with you.”

“I’m not dragging you into this, peanut. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I love you, Keegan,” you mumbled.

Eyes wide, he sat up, gripping your shoulders. “What- what did you just say?”

You averted your gaze, biting down your smile.

“I love you, peanut. So fucking much.”

His heart soared. Your words melted his fears away, like balm on tender flesh. You cradled his face as he leaned into the smile that he wanted to worship every day.

The wolf fixed his mess after all, and all he had to do was be honest to his peanut, and trust that the universe wasn’t out to get him. With his yearning for you in his bones, maybe this time, he thought, it paid off to be a fighter of his own fate.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime @blackthorncrown @dekitora

[liebgottsjumpwings]

AUGUST AFTERNOON | FAYE FISCHER | MASTERS OF THE AIR

Summary: Faye Fischer and her newly acquired friend Ken Lemmons spend a sunny afternoon at Thorpe Abbotts, Faye thinks about the past few years and is then (not so) rudely interrupted by a certain curly haired pilot. Who had managed to make her blush several times some days ago.

Warnings: general war violence, implied minor (and not canon) character death.

Word count: a bit over 2500

Note: this was meant to be a little less than 1k word blurb, turned into way more. I hope it isn't too boring as most of it delves into Faye's experiences before the mota canon. That is also because I use my ocs to study certain historical events, so this really is just self indulgence. Please pretty please let me know what you think of it! (This fic is also posted on AO3)

AUGUST 21, 1943, 16:32 

“What kind of name is ‘Just-a-Snappin’ even?” Faye Fischer wondered out loud, only half expecting an answer from the man in front of her as she came to sit up from her lying position in the grass. She squinted, just about able to make out the text on the B-17 Ken Lemmons was working on. Her squint disappeared as he came into her sight, blocking the warm ray of sunshine she had been enjoying moments prior, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “You’re gonna have to ask Blakely that one,” answered the curly haired man standing in her sun. Looking at him, she wondered why he would hide those curls under that beanie. Probably so all that working grease wouldn’t get into it. 

Faye shrugged, letting herself fall back into the grass. “Whenever I ask Blakely a question, the man answers with a goddamn riddle,” she let the end of her sentence continue into a sigh. Ken just laughed, his hands firm on his hips. The sun made the edge of his curls shine, almost like an aureole. Visually, him standing in her sun wasn’t so bad, it looked quite pretty. Her skin was starting to miss the warmth of the sun rays, though. Faye’s fingertips tapped on the cap of her camera lens, the Contax II had been laying on her stomach, under one of Ken’s work rags, to shield it from the sun. “Keep standing like that,” Faye ordered him as she removed the cap from the lens, turning on her camera. 

“Aren’t you only supposed to use that for… you know… work purposes?” she heard him ask as she fiddled with the exposure settings. A scoff escaped past her lips as she lined up the viewfinder with her left eye. “Shut up, they made me pay for my own film rolls when I arrived in England, so they’re mine technically anyway” Faye deadpanned in response, snapping a photo of Ken. “Besides,” she continued, putting her camera back under the rag again, letting her head fall back into the grass, “don’t you think the photo I just took wouldn’t go over well with all those war bond leaflets?” She held up her hands, reading an imaginary leaflet “Purchase a war bond so our curly haired cuties can maintain our bomber planes!” she sarcastically called out. It earned a belly-laugh from Ken, who then turned around, readying himself to get back to his maintenance work as he continued laughing, “I hope to God not.” Faye smiled in response, “Yeah, well, I’ve taken more leisure photos on this camera than the OSS would be comfortable knowing. It is only fair because nearly all film rolls were mine anyway,” she trailed off, closing her eyes again as the warm August sun blanketed her. 

The warmth took her back to August, nearly three years back, 1940. To the emerging hills behind Mulhouse, in the occupied region of the Alsace in France. Back then, she too had snapped a photo that the OSS would turn their noses up at. She couldn’t help it, though, the sleepy little cottage the, back then, above ground resistance she was attached to used as their base of operations was too pretty against the sunny hills. Plus, the whole rule against taking photos that do not directly aid the war effort was bullshit anyway. They increased her morale, no? Surely a heightened sense of morale would aid the war effort. Just like her friend, and resistance member Isidore was aiding the war effort by developing the photos Faye had taken recently. His girlfriend, Julienne, a distant cousin of Faye’s neighbors back in Louisiana, the Klotz family, laid next to her in the grass, yelling at her sweetheart to stop working so hard and join them in the warm sum. She still remembered the minty smell of the Ground Ivy that tickled against her cheeks in the field near the cottage as she watched Isidore exit the cottage, some of the successfully developed photos under his arm, he dropped them above the two women. The photographs whirled softly down onto them, like those propaganda leaflets that had recently been dropping from planes over the region. The association made her chuckle. She much preferred these photographs over those leaflets. 

Oh, how she longed back to be in that sleepy little field just behind Mulhouse. Unknowing and indifferent to what was about to wash over her. Over her dear friends. Over her distant relatives, up north in Sélestat.  How she wished to gain that sense of unknowing and indifference once more. The fleeting feeling of walking back home from the shul on those warm August evenings, taking the train from Mulhouse towards Sélestat, being greeted by her grandmother’s second brother, the one who stayed behind in Alsace. Being taken in to his family, learning about their extensive history and connection to this land. It made her feel proud, like her family here. All of that despite the impending feeling of calamity. That feeling grew more and more with each news item about the Germans inching closer. Forcing themselves back into the territory they’ve claimed as theirs for eras. This time, it came paired with a terrifying venom against a group of people so deeply rooted in this region. 

After the annexation of the Alsace into Nazi-Germany, the resistance group Faye had been attached to by the OSS was forced to go underground. Her work, instead of reporting back to the OSS on current events in the border region between France and Germany, became a high-risk operation that aided the Alsatian resistance in its activities against the Nazi occupier. When it happened, the OSS had forbidden her to associate publicly with her family and the community she had built up. They deemed it ‘too riskful’. And because Faye had no choice, she listened to those orders. And just like that, her growing connection with her ancestral home region, her family, the core of her very identity was snapped away. Just as quick as it had flourished. She watched the treatment of her people become more and more dire every day. She watched and she could do nothing but watch. Nothing outward anyway. In secret, she was doing more than she ever had done. Risking everything to make it harder for the Nazis to spread their hatred and evil. In return, she got the gnarly gift of having to distance herself from the recently cultivating bond with her family that lived halfway across the world from her. 

Yes, she still had Isidore, Julienne and the rest of their group. Though, as they were forced to become underground, a painful strain started to form on their friendship. Understandably so, tensions were high, risks were always there and the imminent feeling of doom never stopped looming over the group. 

Which ended up being for good reason. Come the early February days of 1943, Faye found herself with her left cheek pressed into the cold ground where the minty Ground Ivy once grew. The barrel of a Karabiner 98A straight against her right cheek. She still wasn’t sure who gave up their activities to the SS. She wasn’t sure if she cared enough by then either way. Or now, for that matter. In the two and a half years that spanned from that first summer in Alsace to February of 1943, Faye had grown disillusioned to the point that she wasn’t even sure if she cared about living, or dying. Maybe it was for the better that death seemed so close. That it came to her in the form of a German rifle. 

That was until she remembered why her family decided to migrate to the United States. Back in the late 19th century, the Jews of the Alsace were already facing hardships. And it was those hardships that made her grandparents decide that from there on out, their family line would not suffer under those hardships anymore. So they set sail to Louisiana, because their children, and their children, and their children (and so on), deserved a life of flourishing. So it was there, February 1943, with the cold barrel of a Karabiner 98A pressed to her face, that Faye decided that she would honor that wish. She would not die at the hands of those who wished her dead. 

She wasn’t sure how, but she ran, she ran until her feet gave out and Isidore made them duck into a dense shrub. His face stained with dirt, much like hers. And through the dirt on his face, tears traced their paths. Then it dawned on her that Julienne hadn’t made it out with them. Faye hoped with everything she had in her dear friend wasn’t left out, alone in that cold field. But there wasn’t much time for hoping. They had to make it to safety. To a place where they couldn’t be reached by those who were looking for them. 

Switzerland. Within a few days of frantic fleeing, both of them somehow made it to Basel, just over the border. Isidore’s previously tear-filled eyes had turned empty by then. And Faye feared for him. She feared for everyone they had to leave behind. The fear didn’t leave her when she walked away from the hospital she had helped Isidore to, so his wounds could be looked at. Not caring much for her own, and after the OSS had been made aware of her whereabouts, they had arranged a route to England for her. To ‘escape’ the risk she found herself in, according to the OSS. She still scoffs at the mention of ‘risk’, the OSS would never fully know. And so, after a goodbye ‘for now’ and a promise to keep in touch, she departed for the train station of Basel, on towards Bern, and from there, hopefully England. She watched the fields roll by, they were barren, empty of life. She tried to not let it remind her of Julienne too much. Hoping that her friend had somehow made it to safety, like her sweetheart and Faye.

Her memories were disturbed by the warm sun once again being taken away from her. This time, it wasn’t because a certain crew chief by the name of Ken Lemmons was standing in between her and her blanket of warmth, it was because Faye hadn’t noticed the time pass by and the sun having moved behind the officer’s buildings on the air base. She let out a groan at the feeling of her back cracking as she sat up, her camera falling into her lap. Slowly opening her eyes, to her surprise, ‘Just-a-Snappin’ had been exchanged for a different airplane. Though, her eyes were too blurry from the sun shining onto them, to make out the name. These damn pilots and their airplane names. 

What she did make out was Ken and what seemed to be a pilot, standing by the plane as Ken pointed out several things on the wing. The pilot nodding, seemingly intently listening to Ken. Faye, after rubbing her eyes intensely, was able to make out more of the scene in front of her. Her sight darted towards the plane again, reading. ‘Rosie's Riveters,’ she mouthed the words. Way better name for a plane than whatever Blakely was thinking with his one, Faye thought. Her gaze moved over to Ken and the still unknown pilot again. Squinting, she could make out the brown curls, kept small and neatly arranged on top of his head. The 100th and their tendency to hide their gorgeous curls irrationally annoyed Faye to no end. She eternally cursed Ken for hiding them behind his beanie, too. She looked back to the nose of the plane, ‘Rosie’s Riveters.’ Oh. Robert Rosenthal. The man that had made her blush the other night without even knowing he had. Robert Rosenthal had arrived at Thorpe Abbotts some two weeks after Faye herself did. She had been sitting with Helen and the other women as she watched him come into the officers’ club, his feet carrying him, dancing towards his crewmates. It was his little twist and the way his jacket moved in the air flow created by it; itt had been the first time she smiled that day. And Helen noticed. Sending Faye a teasing look as she dug the nose of her shoe into Faye’s shin. The action made Faye’s cheeks turn bright red, sinking deeper into her seat, disappearing into the shadow of the curved wall as she let out a soft, intoxicated giggle. 

It wasn’t much later, after Nash had successfully achieved a dance from Helen, that Rosenthal’s eyes locked with Faye’s. The same red from before creeping up from her throat to her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile. His returning smile was beaming, like a direct ray of sunlight across the room. She would receive a few more of such smiles from him throughout the night.

Now, with his pilot’s hat snug under his arm, Faye could see him smile at Ken, a thankful smile. And who wouldn’t be thankful for Ken Lemmons. The man worked tirelessly to send them up safely into the air. But, oh she was sure it was Robert Rosenthal standing there, alright. Yeah, that smile, of which she had been on the receiving end several times now, she recognized it. The familiar, uneasy yet welcomed feeling creeped up in her stomach again. She could feel the flush in her throat. Combined with the hours of direct sunlight she had received over the afternoon, remembering their shared looks made her slightly lightheaded as she rose to her feet. Hoping to quietly leave, as to not gain the perception of both men standing some feet away from her. 

Mission unsuccessful, though, damn it. “Fish!” she heard Ken call her. Her arms dropped beside her body as she turned around, her camera swinging with a little delay. She caught it, so it wouldn’t hit her on her stomach. For some stupid reason, her breathing increased in frequency as she watched the two men walk over to her. She had to consciously try to not take a step backward everytime they took one forward. She tried to keep her eyes strictly on Ken.“You think that is a better name for a plane?” he asked, pointing towards the B-17. Her eyes followed his pointing, reading the text on the nose of the plane for a third time. Before she realized, she already voiced her opinion. “I think naming anything but a pet or a human is a weird thing anyway,” she retorted, eyes dead set on Ken. Next to him, she heard a chuckle. “I’m actually quite proud of ‘Rosie’s Riveters’” she heard the curly haired brunette next to Ken say. There was no fighting it anymore, she had to actually look at him now. And she was sure you could compare the color of her cheeks to the apples they served in the breakfast hall, bright red. Still, like she always did, she came up with a retort; “Well, it’s better than Blakely’s, I guess,” she said, a sly, yet slightly shy smile appearing on her lips. The brunette in front of her let out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. It tugged at Faye’s heartstrings, “Yeah, I’ll take that.” he said. And there it was again, that goddamned smile.

[simonsrosebud]

“It becomes kind of a lost and found situation” MY GOD. I WANT TO KNOW MORE PRETTY PLEASE

AHHH my wish is ur command, this is the full rundown on how Andrew stumbled upon Blake and brought her and Elliot into his and Neil’s family

So Andrew waits in the shed and catches her when she opens it. Mans is bored okay let him live.

Blake drops the bike and tries to run, and promptly trips in the still wet grass from when it rained an hour before. She kinda twists her ankle and tries to run again but can’t, and Andrew tells her to get up. She’s the same height as him and all fight, yet quickly folds when reality sinks. She begs him with mud on her arms and side of the face not to call the police or her dad “I-I was just- the 24 hour pharmacy is six miles away and I can’t drive and I just needed-” she’s close to hyperventilating and starts trying to back away. And Andrew tells her to knock it off. “You do this three times a week” boom got her. “I… I work there.” “At the pharmacy” “At the checkout counter,” she scowls. “At midnight” “I have school” “Not at 4pm” “I- look, are you going to get me in trouble or not?” “Contemplating it. Tell me the truth first.”

Blake works at the 24 hour CVS at 12-4am bc she doesn’t trust leaving her brother at home when she’s not there. Night time is safe bc everyone is asleep and safe. When she tells Andrew her brother is 14 and not like 3 he tries not to assume the worst. Because of this, he gives her Neil’s ratty old bike that’s been sitting for years, pumps the tires, and drops it on the grass for her. “Petal with one foot”

I should mention that he does this not bc he feels bad about her working at 15 years old but because he can’t won’t afford to get involved. She’s not his kid, she doesn’t know him, he has no ties or responsibility to her. He doesn’t know her situation, she never says anything about abuse and not every situation is like his own past, but he just has this sick feeling anyway.

That should’ve been the end of it, but two weeks later the bike shows up back in the shed looking like it’s been run over. A note attached reads “i’m sorry”. Andrew leaves $20 by the electric bike and writes “take the fucking bus” under her handwriting. 4 days later the money is gone.

Blake is gone for another 4 weeks, and then when Andrew can’t sleep one night he sits outside smoking a tiny bit of weed (bc Neil made him give up cigarettes long ago) and he catches her walking down the sidewalk. She freezes bc she was definitely about to borrow the electric bike again. This time he allows it. Neil hasn’t used the thing consistently since he was 38 (4 yrs ago) anyway.

2 weeks later he catches her outside again, this time texting Renee who is on the other side of the world for something he doesn’t care enough about, and Blake has a bruise on her jaw and a cut on her cheek, bandages around her one wrist/hand. “Bicycle accident” is what she says. “Funny. The bicycle is scuff free” He sees the brief panic in her face. “Who is hurting you?” bigger panic “No one, you’re crazy” “Maybe once. I know abuse when I see it” “fuck you, you don’t know me” he scares her off. No trace of Blake for 2 months, bike untouched.

2 months later, Andrew goes to the 24 hour CVS to get smth idk, not thinking ab it being Blake’s workplace, but what do u know? Blake is at the counter wearing a turtleneck in summer. She doesn’t notice him w her headphones in, and smth in Andrew cracks when she lifts a scratched up a bruised hand to lightly pull the neck down and itch, revealing the bruises. Her eyes are hollow when she sees him, recognition insignificant, but as soon as she realizes what he’s rlly looking at she silently shakes her head as if saying “no, not here, not now, not in front of others pls don’t say anything”.

Andrew leaves without purchasing anything.

However, when she steps outside 20 minutes later post-shift Andrew is waiting on the hood of his car. “If you lie to me, I will call the police and you can let them find out who choked you.”

Scratchy voiced, like she screamed too hard at a concert, she says “No-No please don’t, I can’t- you can’t call the police” “Give me one good reason not to” “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” she starts breathing heavily and raggedly and trips over herself into the brick wall of the CVS. She’s never had a panic attack before and she can’t catch her breath and is she allergic to something? Is she dying? Andrew makes her sit without touching her, and waits her out patiently until she’s breathing normally.

“Please don’t call anyone” “Then show me” “Why? What the hell do you even want?” Andrew wishes he had an answer to that but he doesn’t. What does he want? For this kid to not die at the hands of someone else? To get off better than he had? Andrew’s been retired from exy for 6 years now, and sure, he got bored sometimes, but aiding a teenager he didn’t know out of abuse or through the foster system wasn’t something he was really looking to add to his plate.

To be honest, he’d been hoping that the bruises were from a boyfriend that she could just break up with. But Andrew knew better.

He wouldn’t know without seeing her wounds, though, and he’d done the trade game once to know that sometimes it worked. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and showed her his scars. She didn’t know who he was, there was no one for her to tell. He didn’t care anymore as it was.

“I gave myself these when I was younger than you. When things got worse, I got myself sent to juvie just to get away from it. I will make you a deal. You tell me the truth about what is going on, and I will get you away from it.”

“Not to juvie, I hope” she jokes meekly. He shakes his head and she just deflates. “It’s our dad” she whispers like he can hear her “He was always rough handed, but then our mom died two years ago and he just started getting really bad. Like, slaps me or spanks me for talking back, or-or throws shit all the time. I had- my hands were all wrapped up cause he threw a vase and it shattered, and I had to clean it up cause he won’t and he just- he just shoved me down into all the broken pieces and it cut me all up” she was crying again, shaking hands pressed to her eyes “and he almost drowned Elliot cause he thought throwing him in the lake over and over again would teach him to swim,” and oh that was an ugly sob “so now I make Elliot st-stay after school for sports and go right to his room after. I’ve been cooking our meals since mom died but dad doesn’t go to the grocery store and sometimes he barely gives me enough money to get food, so I’ve been working-” Blake cuts herself off bc she is trying not to panic again, and when she opens her puffy eyes she’s met with Andrew’s calm but blank stare.

Andrew doesn’t have the luxury of staging a car accident anymore, though. “And the neck?” “I told him I wish he died instead of mom” “Good”. Andrew stands and unlocks the car “We are going to get your brother, and then I am getting you out of the house. How long will it take for him to notice that you’re gone?” Blake looks scared again “I-I don’t know, he’ll notice, but he probably won’t do anything about it until night time. But he-he has my location on my phone”

Easy fix, she turns the location feature off and Andrew drives her to him and Neil’s house first bc he wants Neil as extra help just in case. “The girl that broke into the shed” “Oh, uh, hi? Why is she outside our bedroom?” Andrew switches to German “Her father beats her and favors drowning her brother.” Neil sits up bc okay that’s got his attention, and the first thing he says, albeit cautiously, is, “Does he… do I need to call-” “No” and phew thank god. Neil doesn’t need two confirmed hits on his hands. It’s been 23 years since he got rid of Grayson for Jean.

“We need to go get him out of the house, and in the morning we need to call our lawyer. For them” “Why not the police?” “She said no.” it’s so telling that that’s enough for Neil to get on board “Well, alright. Not forever, but definitely for the night”

Blake is kinda taken back by all of Neil’s scars bc he was sleeping shirtless after all, but then they’re leaving the house again and Blake is on the phone with Elliot that only gives Andriel a one sided convo about “we’re getting out of there for good, pack what you absolutely need, the rest we’ll… i don’t know, we’ll get another time, maybe…. yes, i’ll be there soon. don’t leave your room, i’m gonna go in and pack and then we’re out. quick and quiet, hear me?”

Anyway, luckily their dad isn’t even home they don’t know why. Neil sees Elliot looking through the window as they pull in, and when they follow Blake up the stairs Elliot trips backwards away from them “Who the fuck are they?” “We’re neighbors, kind of. We’re getting you out of here, take it or leave it” “El, it’s fine, please, I promise”

Neil goes with Elliot, who has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm. “Dad left in a rampage when he saw you were gone, i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it”

But then all four of them are safe in Andrew and Neil’s house, and King immediately goes over to Elliot who promptly collapses into a panic attack against the front door. He and Blake sleep in the guest bedroom except they really don’t sleep bc Andrew and Neil can hear the hushed whispers and questions and crying, because they might be in a strangers house and they might not know what comes next but they’re out and they’re safe and they’re going to be okay.

[pyrrhicpoison]

tw // self harm mention + scars

WOOHOOO THEYRE FINALLY DONE!! team rwby are here and real after nearly 23 hours spent on them in total 😵‍💫

^ versions without the text&arrows

vvv hc transcript + hcs not mentioned vvv:

Ruby

She/they/crescent

5’4

Genderfluid

Butch Lesbian

AuDHD + PTSD

goggles: ‘Goggles to protect remaining eye (+they make crescent look cool as hell)

right eye: ‘Eye scratched out by Cinder’s grimm arm’

green hairband: ‘For Penny :(‘

nose: ‘Shares nose shape, skin tone & freckles with their Dad & Yang’

upper chest: ‘scars on chest from CC’s attempted possession’

chest 1: ‘Yang bought their binder & had it customised for her (+ Blake)’

chest 2: ‘Binds their chest most of the time except from when she’s in Vacuo. Then they borrow trans tape from Blake and bind with that instead’

sash: ‘CR hooks onto the back of sash and sits diagonally across crescent’s back’

shirt and shorts: ‘Stole one of Yang’s goofy shirts & cut his cargos into shorts’

Weiss

She/her

4’11 (5’2 w/ heels)

Transfem lesbian

Asexual

OCD + PTSD

hair: ‘Hair cut shorter & she wears it down more often’

green hair tie: ‘For Penny :,)’

nose: ‘Shares nose shape with her brother + got her beauty mark from her mother who has one in the same place (TO ME!!)’

face: ‘On E’

red bandana: ‘gift from Ruby :)’

right arm: ‘Heavily scarred arms from SH & fighting grimm’

left eye: ‘Blind in this eye’

left shoulder: ‘Wears shawl to protect shoulders from the sun (burns easily)’

right side: ‘Chest scar carries over to her back & she has no feeling in the skin there — the nerves were burned away and caused permanent damage’ then off that ‘Doesn’t cope well in hot climates (Vacuo) too well because of this’

myrtenaster: ‘Has a strict routine she keeps with maintaining Myrtenaster and if she doesn’t do it, it’ll send her into a spiral’

Blake

She/they

5’7

Non-binary bisexual

Autistic + PTSD

ears: ‘Gold jewellery like her mum’s’

right eye: ‘Eyes shine in the dark due to faunus night vision’

left eye: ‘More prominent faunus facial features (slit pupils, fangs, nose, etc.)

hood: ‘Hood has cat ear shaped pockets that unzip so she can choose whether to have her ears out or covered’

chest: ‘wearing trans tape under crop top’

left bicep: ‘Has big, strong arm & shoulder muscles from throwing Yang around with Gambol, but a softer tummy cause she’s healing from all the bad habits they picked up in the WF’

orange scarf: ‘Wears orange scarf to mirror where Yang’s arm ends and where metal begins’

tummy: ‘happy trail and STRETCH MARKS!!!”

shoulder+elbow: ‘More furry like their Dad’

forearm: ‘Scars from WF training, SH & grimm’

waist straps: ‘Yang uses these to pull her in for a kiss all the time :)’

chaps: ‘chaps + cowboy boots = sapphic devastation’

tummy scar: ‘The scar on her hip is the only one that still looks fairly gruesome, and the only one that burns and stings even long after the initial injury is healed. She thinks it’s because technically she was stabbed there twice, even if the second time she managed to use her semblance to get away.’

Yang

She/he

6’0

Butch lesbian

AuDHD + PTSD

nose: ‘Got his nose scar while fighting a jabber walker’

eye: ‘Eyes have specs of crimson in them even when his semblance isn’t active’

ear: ‘Shares skin tone, nose and hair with his dad’

facial hair: ‘On T’

left bicep: wears scarf on left bicep to mirror Blake’

arm,legs,tummy,chest: ‘HAIRY!!! :D’

leg: ‘Heavily scarred from SH, grimm and bar fights’

shorts: ‘Can sew and likes to decorate his trousers/shorts with patches & pins. He also likes to sew things for his team (he’s the reason they all have the team colours somewhere on their outfits)’

chest 1: ‘Scar across chest from Neo’s blade’

chest 2: ‘Got top surgery at some point in Vacuo (he likes to joke around and say that her semblance blew his tits off).

HCS NOT PUT HERE (i forgor):

Ruby:

•takes tips and advice from Yang on how to dress but mainly just throws clothes on and hopes for the best. she hasn’t quite got the hang of things looking… cohesive… yet.

•strong arms from swinging CR around.

Weiss:

•Was quite slender, but began gaining a bit of weight once she got back to Remnant. Starting to heal :,).

Blake:

•has chronic pain that stems from her tummy scar and radiates up her spine. Overworking, stress & the cold cause most flare-ups.

Yang:

•has a collection of goofy shirts (That ruby always steals from).

•has weapons hidden in her prosthetic arm in case he’s ever out of dust or in a bind.

•still experiences phantom pain in his stump and pain from some of the scars he’s acquired over the course of the war.

[sniickerdoodless]

YOURE TAILOR MADE FOR THE MODERN TIMES‼️

made a mesmerizer screenie w my ocs mwehehe,, the character on the left is named evie and the right is blake

progress + text ver under the cut

[lakesbian]

misc. green eyes thinking i'm not sure how much of will actually be relevant for my post about bogeymen creature design but i think it's fun how she's a pretty solid postergirl for the whole "becoming so lonely and isolated she's desperate to literally eat people" cannibalism-as-intimacy thing certain corners of tumblr love so much, but none of that is actually portrayed as particularly romantic in-text. there's no poetic charm to her desire to be as close to someone as humanly possible, it's just her talking cheerfully about wanting to throw up down blake's throat while he stands there in awkward misery. gross and unpleasant! or her promising that she won't eat him until After he dies in-between brusque and brutal descriptions of her eating other people. also gross and unpleasant. like it's intimate but it's not Good. permanently destructive and disgusting act of consumption that leaves her w/ nothing afterwards. and that all makes it feel a lot more genuinely evocative of her loneliness and the perceived grotesquerie of her own desire that is so central to why she turned out the way she did.

also the implications of her hooks meaning she literally can't be close to someone without getting snagged and tearing them up. also blake having so little flesh left, being so closed off and careful about intimacy that being close to her Doesn't hurt him. also blake being upset when he sees her being hurt by paige's hurt-and-be-hurt light spell thru no fault of her own because she can't help it. can i get 50 more interactions between these monster bitches

[callmewrinkles3]

Deal.

July 2018

Em still wasn't sure why she'd agreed to do this. She could have left. She could have walked away and pretended that Dan never sent that text, that she'd leave Dan alone and pretend they'd never met. That Monaco never happened. It would have made her life easier.

But Dan had actually called her and she couldn't turn him down over the phone. And without thinking she told him to meet her at her favourite cafe in Ealing, close to where she'd been to uni. So she was sitting there trying to get some work done before he arrived. She'd nearly texted him to go to the Pret down the street, somewhere unfamiliar, but she deleted the message. A familiar place would be better for her nerves, Sue grinning and starting her latte as she walked in and asking how Em was and what she was doing.

She sat in the corner with her coffee and a chicken sandwich that Ron handed her with a smile and a greeting. She'd have loved to say that she didn't notice Dan walking in, but she did immediately. It was too small to not notice someone arrive, but that curly hair was too much to ignore. He came straight across to her with his broad smile and she couldn't help but return it.

"Hey Emmy, what're you drinking? I'll get one."

"Caramel latte, just tell Sue it's for me and she'll know." It took five minutes before he was back, one of the little trays in his hands carrying everything. There was a coffee for each of them, a blueberry muffin for her and a noodle salad for Dan, with a slice of cake in between them on the table to share.

"The woman at the counter said this is your favourite, is that right? I guess you come here often."

"Yeah, I used to work here in uni. Still pull shifts if they need a hand and I have time." Em took a sip of her coffee, smiling at the taste. "Congrats on France, by the way. And happy birthday, I hope it's a good year for you."

"Thanks, we're doing drinks after Silverstone for it. At least I got to finish the race this time! Plus some good points. But how are you? How was the last few weeks?"

She paused, trying to work out how to make it sound more fun than it had been. "You know, the usual. Working, making sure Blake's apartment doesn't fall apart while he's running around the world."

They both took a bite in the awkward silence that had fallen between them and Em waited for him to speak. It had never been awkward between them before.

"I owe you an apology." It was the most serious she'd ever heard him before.

"Dan-"

"No, Emmy, please. I owe you one. I shouldn't have just ignored you, that was wrong and I'm sorry. I know it doesn't fix it but I didn't mean to. Yeah I was busy, but I shouldn't have. I promise I didn't want to. Work was insane and with the way my schedule is I didn't want to bother you when you have enough going on." She watched him take a few seconds to work out how to phrase what he wanted to say and let him pause. "I'm sorry. It wasn't a one night stand, and you're my friend. I don't want us to lose any of what we have."

"You don't need to apologise, Dan. We both did it."

"Yeah but I w-"

"Look, Dan, I still want to be your friend. I still want to hang out with you and spend time with you when you have it, and we both know you don't have much." She took a breath to get the rest of what she needed to say out, "But I don't think we should sleep together anymore. You mean a hell of a lot to me, and if we keep sleeping together we're going to fuck up eventually. We can be friends though, right?"

"Yeah. Friends." The smile on his face didn't fully reach his eyes and that hurt Em, but she knew it was the right call. And if he didn't want to be her friend he could fade out of her life. It'd be fine. They stayed quiet eating for a few moments.

"So you're coming to Silverstone, right? I organised a hotel room for you."

"Dan..."

"I have your pass!" He pulled four passes from his jacket, lanyards wrapped around the neatly stacked batch. "You don't have to take a flight this time. Please? As my birthday present?"

"I have your birthday present, actually. It's not much, but here." Em felt so silly pulling it out of her bag. The book was carefully wrapped in blue paper. She'd seen Jack Brabham's autobiography in her favourite second hand book shop the week after Monaco and picked it up. Trying to think of a birthday present felt impossible for the man who could have it all. Now sitting in front of him it felt ridiculous to give a Formula One driver a book about one? Stupid. But Dan was opening it so she couldn't take it away.

"It's for me?" Dan asked, oblivious to Em's internal freak out. "Emmy you didn't have to."

"It's nothing. Like seriously, it's nothing. I don't even know what I was thinking when I got it, but you said you wanted to start reading more and I thought it'd be nice."

She took a sip of her drink and looked down at the table for a moment, wanting to give him a couple of moments to act like he was happy instead of just seeing disappointment on his face. Why did she think this was a good idea? Stupid. Stupid.

"You saw this and thought of me?" He smiled as he held it up. A real smile.

"I mean Australian, driver, it made sense in my head. I know it was a stupid idea."

"Emmy it's perfect. I love it. Thank you, seriously. Dad used to tell me stories about watching him drive when he was a kid, he'll love me saying I have this. I love it."

"Glad you like it." She smiled shyly, picking off a piece of muffin to pop into her mouth. "Can I think about the race?"

It was absolutely a lie. She knew she'd say yes. She knew it. There was nothing those brown eyes couldn't make her do.

"Of course you can. But if it helps in any way, I have to say I'd love to see you there." Dan insisted. As much as Em hated to admit it her heart began to melt just a little bit.

[nadvs]

reader sleeping w blake to make rafe jealous is good... but imagine rafe texting reader to hook up and every time reader turns him down saying she's busy and then he sees blake's story and it's a series of pics & vidd of blake and the reader from their date <///3 and rafe feels like he's losing her slowly and he can do nothing but watch another man treat her the way he's been too afraid to do all the time

how did you know i’m planning for rafe to see stuff on social media that will slowly break his heart piece by piece 🫢 he’ll be torturing himself looking at posts and thinking “if that guy really is her type, then i never even stood a chance”... i’m a sucker for angst and jealousy can you tell

[felonytaxevasion]

It's a bit late, but can I ask what you thought of the awakening ritual in 1.7? In addition what do you think about the idea awakening in general, that anyone can do it, rather than most urban fantasy where you are born w/ magic?

Feel Very positive about it!! I mean. Obligatory important disclaimer I'm only on 7.5 so my understanding is limited but

Something that's really resonating with me is how the Magic in a way dooms everyone who uses it. Like as much as it first appears that groups like the DuChamps and Behaims are able to use magic with mostly positive results, when we get their sections in Histories it reveals that their family has sold them into servitude just as much as Thorburn Sr did. Their contracts tie them to what we are lead to believe are more altruistic entities than demons, but just like every practitioner keeps emphasizing the lines between Others are blurry and categories are not strict.

It's a beautiful magic system though because it really clearly represents the cycle of abuse to a point is almost heavy handed but the magic itself is so interesting it doesn't feel corny or overplayed. And Blake being able to induct his friends is just so. Perfectly encapsulates the feeling of letting your friends into your abusive situation. The risk reward of They Might Be Able To Help You but you could also be sending them to their tragic doom just like you were lead to yours. It reminds me a lot of experiences I've had/observed when it comes to addictive self destructive behavior patterns and trying to help your friend out of them only to fall in yourself.

I'm still trying to put thoughts together about Blake and Rose's awakening/the ritual itself specifically. I think it's interesting how it seems to amount to introducing yourself and giving a small offering to spirits for power. The ability to lie isn't actually that small but in the grand scheme of things that can go wrong for a practitioner it's such a predatory loan of power. It's saying "look at these great returns you got for such a small price! You shouldn't lie anyway!! Dealing with others is safe and ok and we will not come back to even the odds later at all!!" The ritual itself even tries to make the argument Others don't even consider the ability to lie a gift just a courtesy, as if being Forswarn doesn't give them an incredibly significant foothold onto your soul.

Just all of the magic system is set up to favor others/doom humans. It's just the guarding of books protecting a hypothetical group of teenagers playing the awakening game at a sleepover and starting an accidental massacre. And the guarding of books isn't even effective considering this has already happened in the text Multiple Times.

Overall it's just super grim and tragic and I'm a really big fan of stories about lambs realizing their being walked to their slaughter and trying desperately to free themselves so I'm having a Great Time

[bcolfanfic]

For micah and wyatt, are they eachothers first relationship or did they date/HU with other people before eachother? I would also just love to hear more about Micah

micahhh sweet boy. he’s so much like gale in my mind. was a real quiet kid and had some speech delays from stuff w/ being a preemie. john would joke that gale was their ‘micah translator’ because he could always make sense of his gesturing and mumbling. <3 they just get each other.

he grows up knowing wyatt somewhat because he sees him when everyone gets together. but doesn't know him super well because wyatt's a good few years older than him and micah being a shy kid kinda sticks to his sister and the girls (the croz girls, naomi, the twins, helen and blakely's girls).

though when he's applying for colleges and what not he ends up goin' where wyatt's at because they have a good undergrad program for what he wants to do. social work <3

even as a college kid he's painfullyyy shy but his roommate is more extroverted and gets him out of his shell (author's note: i am introvert and my college best friend was/is an extrovert, i am projecting). takes him to a party that wyatt's at and wyatt is so :0 hey you, what are youu doing hereee?? still sees him as that shy lil kid that wouldn't hang out with the other boys at all the unit reunions. but is *fascinated* seeing him in such a different environment. and feels real protective of him all of a sudden.

wyatt texts him the next morning asking if he wants to go get hungover breakfast together, and can't help but laugh a little at how dead on his feet poor hungover micah looks lmao. but from that morning on they become buddies (:

wyatt's um ~been around the block~ and has had a handful of college hookups and boyfriends. micah sees him making out with boys at parties and that's what flips the "oh hm" switch in his brain about being attracted to him lmao. but micah hasn't done *anything* with anyone ever past making out with someone in high school once or twice.

they start hanging out more on campus after that little breakfast. throw a frisbee around, sit in the lawn chairs and yap etc etc. and one of those lawn chair yap sessions is when wyatt is like you're gay right? micah gets soo flustered bless him. but wyatt is just like lol yeah i figured, ribs him a lil about how he was always hanging out with the girls when they were growing up but didn't seem the least bit interested in any of them. asks him if he finds any boys on campus cute and micah is just like (: no (: just focused on my studies (:

which *wyatt* finds cute. tells him he should come to a party one of his buddies is throwing that weekend and ofc micah goes. finds himself switching outfits like 3 times before he leaves which his roommate makes fun of him for lmao. could mean nothing.

but wyatt can sense the nervous energy all over him, can tell he put a lil more effort into how he looks than he normally does and the cogs in his head start going. tells him he looks good just because he wants to see him blush, and gets all in his space touching his arm when he's talking to him. doesn't go further than that for the moment but it's enough that micah's head is spiningggg.

micah tries to distract himself by talking to other friends for a bit, but eventually sees wyatt across the room. locks eyes with him and smiles all cute. and when wyatt kinda nods in the direction of a more isolated area of the house micah goes right over there like an eager puppy.

says he was just gonna come looking for him, wyatt is like mmm yeah? and kisses that boy good. <3 kisses him silly and blows him in an empty bathroom with the party still going on right outside the door he has him up against <3

[sillypilled-friendcel]

26: My biggest pet peeves

31: What your last text message says

26: ogh... i have so many this is hard..... but. probably ppl watching videos w their volume all the way up no earbuds in a common room, esp if the tv is on (blake does this constantly)

31: idk if discord counts so u get 2. 1st is to @eldritch--cutie and second is to my mother

[goblinontour]

ok this might just be me but in my mind mr turner is a huge fan of english romantic poetry. like the era of poets that emerged in reaction to the industrial revolution so (in particular) keats, byron, shelley and maybe blake. i really see him as loving keats and particularly the great odes of 1819. my fav is ode on melancholy (sooooo mr turner coded) which is a call to the reader to embrace deep melancholic thoughts. in the poem keats esentially argues that sadness is a fundamental part of human nature due to the transience of mankind (everything beautiful comes to an end etc) and therefore we should simply embrace these feelings since it is a symbol of our humanity. maybe i’m looking into it too deep but i just see that as an incredibly powerful sentiment which kinda resonates w mr turner’s whole vibe.

i’ve done my best to give a summary of the poem but give it a read (and maybe even some analysis?) and let me know your thoughts.

- 📸

(p.s. sorry if this is too much - the english lit student in me got carried away 🥰)

i just read that one you mentioned. i think it’s beautiful but i’m gonna be honest on a first read i barely understood anything before i read a bit more from the summary and what you read. i think i’ve mentioned it before, i study english too but more so the grammatical aspects. i did have to deal with literature too (though not english) and it was so tough to me😭 i envy you for liking it cause i had to just memorise the characteristics of each period to be able to analyse texts (i think it’s romanticism here right? hopefully i’m not embarrassing myself) anyway sorry for just spitting nonsense, after understanding it better i totally see him being into that, though he may not be the best at following what the poem implies.

i liked this bit:

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;

And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

Bidding adieu

just sounds pretty idk😭