#I don’t journal nearly enough when I do it by hand

[sheerbadluck]

:(

[galactic-magick]

Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

Words: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.

You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.

“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.

“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.

-

You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.

“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”

“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”

Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.

-

“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”

He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”

“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”

“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.

“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”

“You don’t have that here?”

“Seemingly not,”

You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”

“We’re married?”

“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”

-

You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.

You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.

You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.

That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.

Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.

-

You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.

“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”

Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”

“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”

You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?

Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?

You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.

He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”

You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.

But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.

You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”

“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”

“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?

“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”

Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?

“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.

“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”

He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.

-

You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.

But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.

But you must pretend that you do.

You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.

“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.

“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.

“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”

“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”

“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,

“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”

Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”

“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.

-

What if I stayed? You wonder.

You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?

What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?

But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.

You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.

“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”

Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”

“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”

“So...I can get home too?”

“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”

Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”

“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”

“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”

Little Jayce giggles.

“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”

“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”

“Of course, Professor. I understand.”

-

You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.

It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.

You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.

Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.

The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.

“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.

“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”

“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”

“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.

You nod, turning towards the device.

“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.

Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:

“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”

[slytherinboysvip]

!Motorcycle rider bf¡ Theo Nott

(Nsfw! Your boyfriend Theo has a motorcycle now.. and a hot fucking helmet.) (helmet kink? lol idk) smut smut smut

Your boyfriend Theo didn’t have many outlets to get away from his thoughts, before it was smoking which he’s attempting to slow down on for you, occasional journaling not that he’d ever let you see that, and now his newest and most favorite hobby riding his motorcycle.

To be completely honest at first the idea terrified you, an angry Theo driving around on a motorcycle going any speed he pleased “Starò bene amore mio, tu sei il mio portafortuna”(ill be fine my love youre my good luck charm). You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t say he looked damn fucking good in his helmet. So good in fact that you needed him to fuck you in it.

It’s like his whole demeanor changes when he puts it on, you can’t see his face yet you know his beautiful sleepy eyes are looking directly at you underneath, yet all you see is his fit body and it just did something to you. It didn’t matter what he was wearing as long as that helmet was on his head you were drenched.

𓆙𓆙

The first time you rode on the back of his motorcycle was amazing. He bought you your own helmet “I had to get it for you baby it screamed you, and it gave an excuse to finally make you ride with me. Not that you haven’t done that before” He winked while putting it over your head. You were glad it was on so he couldn’t make fun of your profuse blushing but who cares it’s because of your hot boyfriend.

He put his helmet on and you nearly fell to your knees he looked so fucking hot. Without saying anything he lifted you up and onto the back of the bike and got on in front of you. “Can you hear me principessa?” You jumped hearing his deep voice in your ear “Yeah? how can I hear you Teddy?” You were so confused “I got mics duh, had to be able to hear my baby. Now hold onto my waist we’re gonna get going don’t let go.” His voice was demanding and you did as he said.

Wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, he grabbed your left hand and kissed it before putting it back down and kicking off, You didn’t expect it but the bumpiness of the road was doing something to you. You tried forgetting about it, it wasn’t happening, you weren’t getting turned on, but you were.

Your hands mindlessly wandered down onto your boyfriend’s crotch, rubbing slightly yet acting oblivious. “What do you think you’re doing there, hm?”. You almost forgot your boyfriend could hear you, “Nothingg, just resting my hands duh” You added some pressure and heard a small groan turning you on even more than before.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish doll” One of his hands came down and stopped your hands forcefully, a small moan escaping your mouth unwillingly. “My cute slut” He chuckled pulling your hands back up and going back to both hands steering.

𓆙𓆙

It has been long enough and you needed him to fuck you in the helmet. At this point all you had to do was tell him, of course he’d do it he does anything for you but the act of having to ask is so embarrassing, but its what has to be done for your own sake.

Reluctantly walking over to your boyfriend you quickly somewhat quietly expressed your feelings “Ireallyreallyneedyoutofuckmeinyourhelmetorilldie”. He looked at you with a confused look “Say that again but in actual words this time” He placed both hands onto your shoulders looking deep into your eyes, yet another weakness of yours. “I want you to fuck me in your helmet” You mumbled just enough for him to understand, trying to look away .

He chuckled before pulling your face to look him in the eyes again “il tuo desiderio è il mio comando, principessa” (your wish is my command princess). He got up and turned you around, “Keep those pretty little eyes of yours closed for a second”. You heard him walking away and did as he said before feeling a tap on your shoulder, “Turn around doll.”. Doing as he said you were greeted by a helmeted Theo, “Holy fuck you’re so hot”

“You know what you asked for, don’t waste time get on the bed for me slut”. You just nodded quickly before running for the bed and undressing. “Good girl, know just what to do for me. Get my pants down for me”. Pulling them down as much as you could you grabbed his growing dick and putting it into your mouth looking up at him from the bed, this entire view and situation made your pussy fucking drip.

You could hear his low groans coming from underneath the helmet and it was making you want more, “Please fuck me Teddy, please I fucking need it” You were looking up to your own reflection and seeing yourself covered in saliva because of this and made you feel something you never felt, you just wanted more. “Lay back then, I want you to fucking watch me.” He removed his shirt and holy shit he everything became even better. You definitely weren’t protesting this.

His rock hard abs, his throbbing big fucking dick and his helmeted head. He was like a god. Lining himself up to you he rammed deep inside making you give out a loud moan, his pace was immediately picking up hitting all the right places. His right hand came up to your pussy and he easily found your swollen clit begging for attention, he began swift circles over your clit with his thumb moving it side to side occasionally, It was already making you go over the edge. Everything about this moment was everything you needed.

Your pussy began clenching around his dick, your orgasm nearing and moans increasing, he kept his pace and underneath the helmet he was a mess, moaning and cursing because of how good your pussy felt. “è una bella merda, tesoro” (thats that good shit baby) He moaned deeply. Even though your legs were shaking and you couldn’t control your moans he kept going. Pace now increasing and still not leaving your clit alone. You were being so overstimulated but it never felt so fucking good.

He pulled out but before you could even say anything you were roughly flipped over onto your stomach and pulled back, legs reaching the floor lifting your ass up and slamming right back into your pussy. Screaming moan leaving your mouth “FUCK THEO MM”. Your screams only encouraging his behavior making him go even harder, hitting far and deep you were a mess and he was going feral.

He reached his hand forward grabbing onto your jaw shoving two of his fingers into your mouth yanking you back forcing you to arch, he leaned forward his helmet barley in view but enough for you to get turned on some more, his dick was driving you insane. “You’re so wet mm” he moaned “Fuck im gonna cum again Theo!!” You announced as you collapsed back down to the bed, nothing changing but him holding your hips up to continue fucking.

Your eyes were rolling back and you were feeling nothing but numb pleasure going dumb. “Cum for me good girl, mm fuck” “I love your pussy..” He stroked deeply “..and i love how much of a needy whore you are for me” He stroked harder and quicker “..and mm I fucking love.. filling you up” He moaned his last words feeling his cum shoot deep into your pussy unexpectedly making you moan. “Fuck theoo”.

He gently pulled out and spread your pussy lips watching intently as his thick white cum dripped out. Finally walking over to the side table and getting tissues to clean you off. “Now to take this off and get you properly cleaned up” He removed the helmet and he was sweating underneath which was also attractive to you. “Fuck it was hot in there but fuck that was hot” He laughed and you laughed along “That was definitely fucking hot. We need to do it again sometimee” You laughed again.

He lifted you off the bed and brought you into the bathroom sitting you down onto the toilet and starting up a warm bath “Any of your cute soaps today love?” He asked while looking through your box of bath bombs “Hmm, surprise me” You smiled at him and he went to looking. “This one’s perfect” He plopped in the only all black one that is definitely going to stain the tub.

He helped you into the bath and got into the shower next to you, being able to see him was funny but it’s just from the stomach up so it’s not much of a show. You sat there relaxing watching the water drip down his muscled back and felt content after that entire thing. This was most definitely needed.

Hopefully you enjoyed that<33 I know i���ve been gone for a bit but writes block LOL anywho im not sure how this is so lmk!!!

Masterlist

[starsofang]

simon riley x autistic!reader requested by anon! <3 tw: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v, but all of it's really fluffy

a/n: was originally gonna make this request more of a headshot typa deal but ended up writing 2.7k of fluffy sex with Simon and autistic/virgin reader, so i hope you enjoy anon, and i'm so sorry for the long wait <3

Simon knew you like the back of his hand. He knew every little quirk, even the ones you weren’t even aware about.

He kept you afloat amongst an unpredictable sea that threatened to consume you and pull you down under. Your head could be its own raging storm, cracking with jolts of thunder that shook your state of mind, yet Simon was the gleam of sunshine poking through the clouds.

That’s how it had been up until this point. Your relationship was a sweet one, filled with fields of flowers and the buzz of bees. It was soft and supple, but lately, there’d been a brewing cloud looming over your colorful paradise,hiding away the rays of light your flowers needed in order to blossom.

Sex. It was the most complex form of intimacy in your mind, and it was why you’d avoided ever doing it like the plague. The turmoil that the mere thought of sex brought you was nerve wracking, nearly throwing you into overdrive.

Simon never asked for it. He seemed perfectly content with the way things were – staying up late to hear your enthusiastic passion that poured from your lips like his favorite bourbon, encouraging your interests with subtle gifts he’d give you when he’d happen to see it passing by, holding you when your mind wasn’t a whirlpool of spitfire that threatened to lash out at you.

He never asked, nor did he seem keen on asking. And that was the issue.

You were curious.

Simon had allowed you to positively be you in all forms. He didn’t define you by your autism, it was simply a chapter in the book about you, while the rest of your story was much more special in his eyes. It wasn’t a setback, nor was it a concern – it was there, and meant to stay.

No matter how supportive he was towards your individuality and your comfort, it didn’t settle the unease of wanting to take the next step, but not knowing how to ask for it.

It festered your mind like a flu until it began to worsen into a burning fever. You kept it bottled up, the feeling of keeping it locked away making your body feel as if it were going to combust.

It didn’t take Simon long to notice. Of course it didn’t. Like said previously, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” he asked you when he finally had the chance to sit you down in his room.

The curtains were shut to keep the light out, knowing they irritated you and too much brightness made your eyes squint to the point of an ache. It was quiet apart from the subtle background noise of his TV, plastered with a show you enjoyed watching on nights alone with him. Bits of you were neatly placed around the room, like your journal placed on his desk with your favorite pen carefully set on top of it, or your clothes folded in a tidy pile on one of his shelves he had reserved for you.

“Nothing,” you responded, though Simon knew you enough to detect the lie, even from just one small word.

“You know you can’t hold it in, so talk to me,” he urged, taking a seat next to you from where you sat on the edge of his bed with your hands in your lap. You were picking at the skin around your nails, and like he’d always done, he picked them up into his own hands, soothing his thumbs along the back.

You blinked at him, mouth remaining shut. But the fever was becoming unbearable in your head, scorching you from the insides. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid asking him any longer.

“Why don’t we have sex?” you asked, blunt and to the point. His eyebrows raised from beneath his mask, one that he had yet to take off during your relationship. You never pushed since he never pushed you. Both of you had your own oddities, and for him, the mask was it.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he confessed, tone remaining calm and soft as he continued to encourage you to speak your mind. “I didn’t want to ask you, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know why you found yourself frowning, but you did, feeling a bit stumped from his answer. He had a point. You’d made no indications on wanting to be more intimate, and Simon’s only ever considered you in your best interest.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he rushed to say. “I meant – do you want to?”

You did. The longer you found yourself thinking about it, the more you grew a need to try it. You trusted Simon entirely.

“I’ve never done it.” You felt embarrassed, though unsure why. This was Simon, after all.

“That’s okay,” he assured, giving your hands a squeeze. “Then we don’t have to, yeah?”

“But I want to,” you protested, frowning at him. He huffed out a quiet laugh, fiddling with one of your fingers affectionately.

“That’s okay, too.”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, because I won’t be good, and I’m scared it’ll be too much, then I’ll ruin it by getting overwhelmed, and–”

“Hey,” Simon called out, lifting one of his hands off of yours to cradle your face. You sucked in a breath, exhausted from the rushed flow of panicked words that spilled out, allowing yourself to breathe. “We’ll take it slow, yeah? We’ll do everything at your pace, and the moment you say stop, we stop, no questions asked. I won’t be upset with you, sweetheart, and you certainly wouldn’t ruin it.”

You stared at him while he stared back at you, eyes filled with fondness and love that was only ever reserved for you. They were understanding, assuring, like deep pools of serenity you could float in forever.

“Promise?” you asked, and he laughed again.

“Promise.”

Simon continued to stare at you for a long moment, taking you in, before his hand lifted the bottom of his mask and tugged it over his head, showcasing the entirety of the very man who’d given his all to you. Since it would be your first time making a new step in your relationship, he figured he’d do the same by completely stripping himself of the very thing he wore to hide away.

Rugged and scarred, but beautiful, and you admired it until you surged forward to initiate the first move, like he’d always waited for you to do. He melted into you, cradling your face with tender emotion, pulling you in and calming the nasty sea that flooded your being.

Simon knew exactly how to make you feel safe, while also enjoying yourself. This wasn’t about him, it was about you, and he was absolutely determined to ensure that your first time was comfortable.

He covered the bed in your favorite blanket he kept just for you, soft and fuzzy, much more comfortable than the cotton sheet that always felt a bit too scratchy, even on his own skin. He laid it out for you, encouraging you to take your place.

His fingers were careful as they undressed you, and with every fabric he pulled off of your body, he took off of his own so the state of nudity was matched and you didn’t feel too exposed in comparison to him. He spoke to you with coated sweetness, telling you how proud he was that you told him of your needs, how honored he was that you trusted him to be the one to take you.

Simon took his time. He made no rush or fervent motion, and he allowed you the time to gather yourself if his hands became too much when they mapped out every inch of your skin. Soft and soothing, thumbs brushing along your hips as he waited patiently for you to assure him to continue.

When you were fully exposed to him, he smiled at you fondly, eyes lighting with nothing short of love. He was seeing you for everything you were now, and though for brief moments it was overwhelming to you, he was quick to wash the burden of it away with gentle guides of his hands.

The first finger was uncomfortable, even if he remained careful and slow when prodding you. Your face had mushed up into one of discomfort, and his eyes never left sight of you so he could watch for any indication that it was too much.

You, on the other hand, were both on a cloud of praise from the way he handled you so cautiously, while also free falling from the sky in anxious turmoil. The TV was echoing in your mind, the sounds of chatter causing you to lose focus. Combined with the intimate touches he filled your body with, it was already starting to become too much. You just didn’t know how to express it.

“Hey,” Simon called out to you, easing his finger out of you and instead placing his hand on your hip. “Tell me. What is it? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” You shook your head, letting out an exhale you were holding. “No, just– can you turn off the TV? I can’t– I can’t focus.”

Simon smiled warmly at you, moving without hesitation to shut the television off. The room was quiet now, and you breathed a sigh of relief, your mind finally calming.

“Better?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to continue, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.”

Simon gave your hip a comforting squeeze before resuming his previous notions, sliding the pad of his finger along your slit before easing back inside once again. It was only when Simon was sure you could take it that he pressed in a second one, keeping his pace slow and controlled.

Discomfort was turning into pleasure, the feeling so new to you, so foreign. It wasn’t as overstimulating as you thought it would be thus far, but you had Simon there to assure it wouldn’t be.

The feeling of his fingers moving at a steady rhythm, back and forth with the occasional curl of the pads pressing up against your gummy walls, quickly spiraled into something good, something you didn’t hate.

Simon watched you the entire time, and when you gathered the courage to open your eyes and look at him, his smile nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

“You’re doin’ good, sweetheart,” he praised, and a whimper left your mouth, causing you to squirm shamefully. “No, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be quiet around me, you know that, don’t you? Love hearin’ you, always love hearin’ your voice.”

His words caused your breath to quicken at the same time his fingers did, a spark of piping desire and need erupting inside of you, like lava spilling out of a volcano. It filled you to the brim, threatening to explode.

“That’s it, sweet girl. There you go,” he cooed, further urging you to let out any noises you had been holding back.

Before you could revel in the newfound fulfillment, his fingers slipped out of you, leaving you to whine at the loss. He smiled softly at your pout, lifting his clean hand to smoothen the furrow in your brow.

“I want to be inside you when you cum for the first time,” he explained, and you scrunched your nose up at his choice of words. They were unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, and clearly he found it amusing, judging from the snort that exhaled through his nose. “You tell me if it gets too much. Promise.”

You released a shaky breath, peering up at him from where he hovered over you, his hand tracing the lines on your face.

“I promise.”

That was all he needed to line himself up with you, gently easing the tip of him inside. It was an uncomfortable stretch, one that had you whimpering in disturbance. Simon shushed you, cradling his hand over your cheek and placing a warm kiss on your nose.

“I know, sweetheart. Tell me to stop. I will.”

You shook your head in protest despite the clear fluster of your emotions. He could see the inner workings of your mind driving themselves into exhaustion, so he grabbed one of your hands that were fisting the tufts of your blanket in a death grip, gently guiding it to the span of his bare shoulder.

“Dig your nails in if you have to, pretty girl. I don’t mind, hm?”

He knew when you were stimulated, you needed something to grasp and claim as yours. It was the reason you picked at your fingers the way you did, or gnawed on your lip until it was bloodied and raw. Now, he was encouraging you to release that tension, but at his own expense instead. He wanted you to express yourself comfortably.

You did as he said the more he pressed into you. Your nails created sharp indents into his scarred skin, threatening to break and pierce into him. His face showed no discomfort of his own from the sting, instead focused on your own, eyes gazing into yours the entirety of him sheathing himself fully.

Every time your face twitched, he leaned down to kiss it, showering you with his encouragement and pride for you.

When his hips were flush with yours, he stayed still, giving you all the time you needed to adjust.

Your entire body was more full than ever before, and you began to take in that feeling. It was like the world came to a stop and was waiting for your return, remaining patient and kind while you gave in to the fresh feeling of intimacy to its fullest.

“Still good, sweetheart?” he asked, and his voice brushed all the worries away.

“Mhm.”

“Doin’ amazing, sweet girl. M’gonna move now, okay?”

Another nod and he began to guide his hips back, dragging along the inside of your walls before promptly pressing back forward. It left your mind in a frenzy, and the only thing you could do was blink up at him and gasp every time he pushed and pulled in a game of tug of war.

Simon smothered you in affection while he continued to thrust into you, pressing along the spongy spot in your core that had your mind blanking. The blanket beneath you was soft against your skin, and you squirmed against it cozily whenever his thrusts had your body slightly shifting every time his hips slapped into yours, thankful he knew you well enough that he recognized what you needed to feel content.

Pleasure wracked your body, becoming overwhelming hot under the flesh of your skin. It flushed you a sheen a pink, layering you were evidence of your enjoyment, and he pressed daft kisses against the warmth.

The chord was unraveling, and the more it threatened to snap, the more Simon whispered you praises.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Doin’ so well, it feels good, yeah? You can let go, you can do it.”

With a loud cry, you did, the thin chord breaking in half and snapping, leaving you to burn with unfamiliar euphoria that took over every part of your bloodstream. It warmed you from the inside and out, and when you came down from it, Simon had pulled out, finishing himself off into his hand. When you gave him a confused and rather ruffled look, he smiled.

“Don’t think you’ll like the feelin', sweetheart,” he noted.

You laid there with an overwhelming flood of satisfaction when he went to clean himself up. When he returned, he had a warm washcloth that he used to carefully clean you up as well, knowing that if the wet, sticky feeling lingered, you’d grow agitated and uncomfortable.

Simon wrapped you up in his arms when all was said and done, making sure to brush away the stray hairs that tickled your forehead and instead tucking them behind your ears. Your mind was on mute, the consistent buzz that always lingered settling into nothingness. Simon tucked you into him, swaddling you with the fuzzy blanket and tugging it up over your ears just the way you liked, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead and softly playing with your hair until you were consumed by your own sleepiness.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Could you write about stan or Ford taking care of their sick s/o? I've been suffering from an awful head cold this past week and it sucks i could really use the comfort 😭

sick days with Stan & Ford (x reader)

a/n: starting with smth sfw while i work on… other things hehehhe but I hope you’ll feel better! take your meds and let yourself rest 💌 and thank u for the ask, anon!!

Stanford Pines

the kind of man who fights interdimensional monsters but still worries if your tea is the right temperature.

he tucks you onto the couch, fussing over pillows and blankets until you’re buried like some kind of marshmallow. then he disappears into the kitchen, where you can hear pots clanging and. . . is that the blender?

when he returns, he’s holding a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a strange concoction that’s vaguely green.

“head cold or not, you need fluids. hydration is important,” he says, setting a mug of something herbal-smelling on the coffee table. “this tea is from the forests of dimension 52. the locals swear by it for respiratory ailments.”

you squint at the mug. “it’s not gonna. . . mutate me, right?”

Ford pauses, adjusting his glasses. “probably not.”

“Ford!”

he chuckles, sitting beside you with a soft sigh. “it’s perfectly safe, i’ve tested it. besides, you trust me, don’t you?”

and of course you do, even when his idea of “helping” involves interdimensional remedies that could very well grow you a third arm.

you take a tentative sip. the taste is weird, but soothing, warming you from the inside out.

“good?” he asks, watching your face expression.

“yeah,” you admit, sinking deeper into the blanket. “not bad.”

satisfied or at least faking this, he leans back, but that little crinkle in his brow never really goes away.

“you’re overthinking again,” you notice, looking at him.

“i am not,” he says, entirely unconvincing.

“Ford.”

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “i just hate seeing you like this, i keep thinking there must be something more i can do.”

you reach out, tangling your fingers with his. “you’re doing enough, really, just stay with me, okay?”

Ford’s expression softens and he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“always.” and he stays, reading to you from one of his journals while you drift in and out of sleep. his voice is calm, comforting and every so often, he pauses to carefully check your temperature.

Stan Pines

you wake up with your throat feeling like sandpaper and your head pounding. you barely have the energy to groan, let alone drag yourself out of bed, but the world outside your room is loud. voices from the tv, Stan’s yelling at it.

with blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you stumble out and see Stan sprawled on the armchair in his striped boxers and tank top, he’s shoving popcorn into his mouth by the handful, but when he sees you, he nearly chokes on it.

“jeez, you look like somethin’ the cat dragged in. worse than waddles after he found that mud pit last week.”

you sniffle. “thanks for the pep talk, Stan.”

he waves you over as his tone softens. “c’mon, c’mere. what’s wrong? flu? cold? bubonic plague? don’t tell me you’re contagious.”

you plop next to him, dropping your head onto his shoulder. the tv’s too loud, but you can’t even complain about it.

“it’s just a cold,” you murmur. 

“cold, huh? well, that’s nothing to mess with,” you can hear the tease in his voice. “lemme get my doctor bag. got some snake oil in there that cures everything, even bad attitudes.”

he shuffles off to the kitchen, muttering about needing to find some ginger ale. he comes back with a mug of tea that looks. . . questionable. is that a bay leaf? and a handful of mints?

“drink this, kid, don’t ask questions.”

you sip and it’s awful. Stan grins as you make grimace. “told ya it’s magic. now, get cozy.”

he turns the tv down and drapes his old, scratchy afghan over you. you don’t know when it happens, maybe during some ridiculous commercial for glow-in-the-dark socks, but you fall asleep with your head still on his shoulder.

when you wake up, the tea’s gone, replaced by a cup of melted ice cream with a sticky spoon, meanwhile Stan is snoring loudly with his arm protectively thrown over you.

[writingsonsaturn]

all of the girls you've loved before

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: the ending is a little rushed, and this is so not proofread but NEW SERIESSS, love you enjoy

wc - 2.7k

content warning: fem!reader, cheating (not from tim), fluff, talk of blood (reader is a blood analyst)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You and Tim have known each other since you moved into the neighborhood when you were twelve, you had moved right across the street. He saw you one day outside helping your mother bring in boxes from a moving truck, he noticed the way your hands shook with the heaviness of the box but instead of dropping it, you fought through and continued carrying it inside. When you had walked back outside you ended up noticing him too, the way his hair lightened in the sunlight, his thin body shaking with nerves as the pretty girl he was staring at for far too long walked up to him and asked him a question.

“Do you know how to fix a pipe?” your voice flowed through his ears like honey soothing a sore throat, “oh um, no i don’t but i could ask my dad” he responded with a shake in his tone, although he hated interacting with his father he would at least try his best and ask for you. “Thanks!” you smiled and then asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime, explaining you just moved here from a couple states away and needed a friend, “yeah, that would be really cool” he agreed quickly, very quickly.

In no time the two of you became inseparable, spending endless days together with no regard for anyone else who wasn’t inside the little bubble the two of you had made. 

During the high school years, the crush you developed for Tim only grew stronger and stronger, during the classes you two had together he would always insist on sitting next to you and nearly every time he would never take no for an answer. The teachers found it easier to just succumb to his demands then argue with him over it, he would say a very polite ‘thank you’ and trot his way over to the desk or seat right next to you. You would always roll your eyes and say “it wouldn’t kill you to not sit next to me you know, it only makes their lives harder” and he would snap back with a “i work better next to you” and with that you would smile and turn your head back to the teacher with a warm feeling in your face.

Although one day, Tim came to you in a panic freaking out about not knowing what to wear. 

“Wear to what?” you questioned, confused why Tim of all people was freaking out about what to wear.

“Cindy agreed to go on a date, now hurry up, which shirt looks better” he rushed, holding both

shirts out in front of him with an impatient look.

You chose the shirt on the left, it was black with a blue vertical stripe on it. Biting back the sheer shock and hurt you felt in your chest and mustered up enough faux happiness, “now get out of here, and go get the girl” you said with a tight-lipped smile.

From there on out you tried your best to shove the feelings for Tim deep, deep, deep down into the deepest pit you possibly had in your body. You eventually also found yourself a boyfriend, you loved him deeply, and enjoyed his company. Cindy, Tim, you, and drake had double dates every week or so. Drake and Tim would talk about football while you and Cindy would groan about the upcoming physics test and how the homework was just absolutely destroying your social life.

Cindy and Tim broke up after junior year, they both wanted different things and felt neither of them wanted to take a chance at a long distance relationship. Tim would be heading into the military after graduation and Cindy was going to study abroad in Germany for a journalism degree. However, you and Drake were going decently strong, he had football scouts watching him at a couple of games and you were getting a full ride scholarship to an ivy league college.

That was until Drake cheated, the cliche of a football boyfriend cheating on his not so popular girlfriend had prophesied. You were completely and utterly distraught to say the least, Tim came over after you hadn't shown up at school that day and wouldn't pick up any of his calls. Your mom answered the door with a saddened look, “Hey sweetheart” you mom whispered “she’s not doing too well.”

Tim internally freaked out, considering any and all possibilities, the worst one being that you’re dying, obviously. Your mom must have seen the way his heart practically fell out of his jeans because she quickly explained what happened, “oh my, she didn't tell you?’ with a scoff she continued “Drake cheated on her, he was, i assume at a house party, and someone snapped a photo of him kissing another girl” her tone was sad, with a hint of anger, that someone had the audacity to hurt her little girl.

Tim nodded and stepped inside, taking off his shoes and walking upstairs to your bedroom. He pressed his ear against the door trying to get a sense of what he might be walking into, but heard nothing so with a light knock he entered your bedroom, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to walk into but you sitting on the ground with a small blanket covering you and your knees tucked into your chest wasn't it.

“Oh, Y/n” he sighed and sat right beside you on the ground, you sniffled in acknowledgement and looked at Tim with red, wet eyes. 

“How can someone just do that?” you croaked.

“I don’t know, honey” Tim replied, wishing on every star that he could take your pain away and punch it into Drake’s skull.

You leaned into Tim’s chest, silently sobbing and asking questions you knew Tim wouldn’t be able to answer. Every time he would just hold you tighter and tighter, almost morphing your body into his until you cried yourself to sleep.

He stayed there for a generous amount of time before carrying you to your bed and tucking you in, and wishing you sweet dreams before leaving and going back into his own bed.

After a couple weeks of consoling you and getting you back into your groove he went and talked to Drake, confronting him in the school parking lot after football practice. He wanted nothing more than to beat his face in with a baseball bat but he figured you wouldn’t be very happy bailing him out of jail, so he opted for a stern scolding instead.

“What’s up, Drake?” Tim huffed out, walking over to Drake's car. “Oh, hey Tim” Drake said with a tone way to cheery for this situation, “Listen, what happened at the party was nothing but a drunken mistake, and besides, Y/n wasn’t giving anything up anyways” he explained “you know how us men are, we need intimacy” Drake ended with a small smile, assuming Tim would understand and bro hug him.

Tim however only became more heated, looking at Drake with red in his eyes, “so what you’re saying is, Y/n was just someone for you to get your rocks off with, and she wouldn’t give it to you so you decided to cheat on her?” Tim tried to put together Drake’s motives but couldn’t for the life of him understand the shallowness of that concept.

“Exactly, bro” Drake sighed in relief, thinking he got through to Tim, “you’re a real piece of shit, you know that Drake?” Tim growled. “Y/n did nothing but care and love you, and you drop the moment she doesn’t fuck you?” Drake’s face dropped, quickly realizing the predicament he was in. 

Tim walked up to him, nose inches away from Drake’s, “If I ever see you even breathe near her ever again, you will be on the floor faster than you can even registar what is happening, do you understand me?” Tim ended his sentence with a push and walked back to his car feeling somewhat better.

Tim sat in the driver's seat for a while, contemplating what to do next. He decided it would be nice to take you out to your favorite restaurant and go over college majors with you as you had been needing help figuring out what you should do for the field you were wanting to step into. 

As senior year came to an end Tim and you parted ways but always kept in touch, it was hard sometimes but the two of you did your best.

He would send you letters asking how college was, and you would send letters back asking if he was still a little twig or if he had finally built up muscle. Worry was always something you carried everytime a letter would be late or you wouldn’t hear from him for a while, but thankfully all was always okay.

When he got out he decided his next course of action would be to go into the police force, telling you it was the closest thing to the military a civilian could get and you supported him through the training academy. You had gotten your degree in forensics and now work in the lab as a blood spatter analyst, and he was a rookie.

You and Tim were absolutely stoked to be able to work in the same precinct, even opting for carpooling every now and then when you were too tired to drive. You also figured out way before Tim did how big of a crush Isabel had on him, she smiled so wide when he walked in and would constantly talk to him and invite him to get drinks after work. 

“You know she likes you right?” you teased, looking at Tim with a smirk as you ran tests in the lab. “Who? Isabel?” he asked obliviously, not quite catching onto what you caught onto months ago, “God Tim, yes!” you whisper-yelled “she makes googily eyes at you every time she’s looking at you.”

“You really think she likes me?”

“Oh my god, you are such a dude, of course she likes you!”

“Should I ask her on a date?”

“Yes Tim. Ask the poor girl on a date, she’s been waiting”

After you lit a fire under his ass, he quickly asked Isabel on a date and their relationship flourished from there. You on the other hand only had a couple of boyfriends off and on, none of them could make you very happy, and you would feel bad for leading them on. Never knowing why you weren't ever satisfied by good men.

One day Tim came up to you in the lab, very secretly and locked the door while looking at you. “Hey, i need womanly advice” Tim said, almost scared even the wind would pick up on his voice. 

“Alright, hit me” you smiled finishing up your email, “which ring do you think Isabel would like best?” your eyes flashed to the screen Tim was pulling up. The images showed two sets of princess cut diamond rings, one wearing a silver band while the other wore a gold band. Tim was smiling ear to ear waiting for you to react, you studied the rings hard before deciding Isabel would most likely prefer the silver band over the gold band.

“Thank you, Y/n” Tim looked at you before hugging you tightly, “I mean it, thank you” he finished by giving you a last squeeze before leaving. Your heart felt oddly heavy, holding emotion you weren't quite able to explain away, the world was dimmer.

Tim’s wedding came and went, you attended and gave a very long, tearful speech. Telling Tim how proud of him you were and how glad you were that he had found Isabel. It still stung, although you weren't entirely sure why, Tim’s heart has never been yours to hold and keep safe.

Then, Isabel started to delve into drugs, Tim would come to your house nearly in tears every other night thinking Isabel was cheating on him. You would comfort him, trying to reassure him that she wasn’t cheating on him and her job was just hard. She just needed extra support, you thought.

Your heart ached for Tim when the two of you found out Isable was using, you also hurt for Isabel, occupational hazard completely turned her life upside down. You did your best to be there for Tim and stayed up to date with any possible sightings of Isabel, but you never caught wind of her whereabouts.

Fortunately, one day when Tim was riding with his new rookie, Lucy Chen, he ran into Isabel, who was inside a convenience store. He came by your lab after it had happened. 

“She looked bad, Y/n” Tim’s voice cracked, looking more sorrowful than he’s ever looked before. 

“I'm so sorry, Tim, that’s so awful” you hugged his slumped frame, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll find her again, I know it” you pulled away smiling at him lightly. 

He gave you a forced smile, telling you he would take you to lunch after your labs came back, you wished you could give him more but there was really nothing else you could do for him. 

After a couple of months and a really sloppy secret op, Isabel was finally able to get the help she needed and was willing to go into rehab. Tim was ecstatic to see her looking so much like her old self again, and he understood when she said she no longer wanted to be with him, that she felt she couldn’t move on with him still in her life.

Tim was just happy to see someone he loved for so long doing so good. 

He lived the single life for a while, getting back on his feet and his mental health back into a good position. 

Rachel was a short fling, but you were sure Tim loved her. 

You strongly disliked Ashley but that's neither here nor there.

Then he finally opened his eyes and saw you.

You were who he’s been waiting for his whole life, the one who saw him at his most vulnerable, while also seeing him at his most fulfilled. It took him too long to notice but he finally did, every long night chat that he always came to you for, all the times he needed to cry on someone's shoulder he would go to you. He was finally going to tell you that, and he hoped to the highest of powers you would feel the same.

After his shift he walked over to your lab, knowing you, you would be working later than you should be. He let out a nervous breath, and opened your lab door. 

“Y/n? You in here?” Tim’s voice echoed off the plain walls.

“Over here!” you called from the back of the room.

Heavy footsteps made their way towards your voice, they were fast paced, almost nervous. “Hey!” you exclaimed with a big smile stretching from ear to ear, you were sitting on the floor with files spread out around you, looking like your office had been paper bombed. 

“Hi, Y/n” there was a quiver to Tim’s voice, one that made your stomach drop, you didn’t know what Tim was about to tell you but whatever it was, it’s causing your anxiety to mix with his.

“Are you okay?” 

“Perfect.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” you laughed nervously.

“I'm in love with you” Tim finally spit out, swallowing his fear and looking into your now wide open eyes.

“What?” your mouth was agape as you asked, your heart nearly exploded with eagerness and relief. 

“I'm in love with you, and i want to take you on a date” Tim repeated, with more confidence this time. “Okay” you stated simply.

“Okay?” His voice was laced with a bit of confusion and happiness. 

“Tim, i’ve been in love with you since we were in middle school and instead of hitting me with a dodgeball you took a hit for yourself because you just couldn’t bring yourself to tag me out” You laughed out, getting up from your paper tornado you've made around your office.

Tim pulled you into him with one hasty movement, “I wish i’d noticed sooner” Tim had a slight frown adorning his face.

“Every dead end street, led you straight to me, You noticed when it was the right time” you said quietly, wanting this moment to last forever. 

“So, where are you taking me on our first date?”

[gffa]

Did you know I’ve probably cried like a dozen times from BATFAMILY fic over the last two weeks? I’m not a big cryer, so that’s saying something for me, by which I mean, I realize I have some incredibly intense feelings about fictional characters, but also fandom is phenomenal about hitting those feelings dead on in exactly the way they mean to do. And it’s great, hell yeah make me cry buckets in emotional catharsis!! And then balance it out with comfort or humor because my soul needs soothing, too! I have been reading so many comics lately (so many good comics, what is this, I’m not used to having comics I actually think are good) and I love the canon so very much, but part of the draw towards this fandom has always been the enthusiastic fic response, the willingness to explore things the comics themselves don’t always have time for, whether aftermath of events or psychological effects that aren’t necessarily intended but are fascinating to consider or just straight up downtime that’s not about a case because fic doesn’t need to make people punch things in every issue. The two go hand in hand for me and getting fun comics to read and fun fic to read has been really meaningful to me in a time when I’ve really needed that in my life. I hope that I can return the favor even a little by shoving a bunch of fics at you and only making you scroll a little to get through my Dick Grayson Problem. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ May Our Memories Light The Way by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce, time travel, 1.9k      Bruce travels into the past and serves up an apology long over-due. ✦ Late Spring by halyordan, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k      Dick gets in his first ‘fight’ at school. Luckily, Bruce was an angry boy once. He knows how to deal with it. ✦ the color violet by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & cast, 2.6k      The address – 1007 Mountain Drive – told Alex two things: one, their patient was either going to be someone unreasonably wealthy or an unlucky service worker, and two, getting to the actual patient was going to be a bitch. ✦ as i was walkin’ by oh_fudgecakes, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.6k      Bored and chased out of the kitchen by an irate Alfred, a young Dick Grayson falls through a loose floorboard while exploring the attic and ends up in an locked storeroom housing an interesting set of journals. ✦ help me fill this hole in my soul by renecdote, dick & bruce & cast, 5.9k      Dick nearly drowns on patrol one night. He’s fine, except that he really isn’t. Alfred and Bruce take care of him when he gets sick and let him know that even though his parents are gone he isn’t alone. ✦ medio by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k      Loss, again. This loss was by his hand, by his own tongue, with words so sharply edged that they tore apart his mouth and left his lips bloody. The manor was silent, and he was alone. And Alfred’s half birthday was in three days. ✦ My Little Bird (is a Troublemaker) by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 10.9k      No, not good enough, thought Bruce as he gripped the boy’s shoulders in his hands. Dick still didn’t move and the man had to resist the violent urge to shake the answer out of him. This wasn’t his little bird. This wasn’t his Robin, he would never do something like this. Dick gets caught drunk, Bruce loses it. ✦ things kept hidden by emavee, dick & bruce & cast, 9.7k      “Better hope the Batman doesn’t catch wind of you. Batman hates metas. He’ll make you disappear. That’s what he does.” “But I’d never hurt anyone,” Dick stammers. He doesn’t know very much about Batman, but he’s a hero, right? He fought crime, like Superman, and Superman was a hero. Right? ✦ (Not) Enough by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k      After the training simulation goes wrong, Bruce takes his kid home. ✦ i can’t promise (it’s not written in the stars) by konan_konan, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 7.3k      Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. ✦ what’s needed most by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1k      Dick wants to fly. Bruce would like that to not involve giving him a heart attack for once. ✦ two sheep counted, but not enough to sleep by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick hasn’t been sleeping. It’s a problem Bruce should have addressed by now. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ (At the Very Least), I Can by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, 3k      “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis ✦ Catch by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick, 2k      Raptor has Bruce in dire straits. Nightwing catches Bruce as he falls. Then it turns out Bruce never fell at all, he jumped. “Dick. I didn’t fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you’d catch me.” Childhood trauma never truly goes away, it seems. OR, the emotional aftermath of “Better than Batman.” ✦ Call Me if You Need Me by LiterallyThePresident, bruce & dick & alfred, 1.1k      “Master Bruce is rather distraught, you see.” and now Alfred sounded pained, “The dose he received was not enough to render him immobile, but it is causing some paranoia and unpleasant hallucinations. He… Well, he appears to be rather convinced that something has happened to you.” BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Sons and Fathers by FabulaRasa, dick & bruce & jefferson & dick/babs, 4.9k     Dick has three conversations that needed to be had, at the end of season three. This is blatantly a “there I fixed it” fic. ✦ The Best Medicine by JpegDotJpeg, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cass, 2.2k      “I’m dying.” “You are not dying.” “This is it. It’s the end for me. I bet I have some exotic viral disease with no known cure and now I’m going to waste away into nothingness.” “I highly doubt that, Master Richard.” ✦ Look to the Stars by Zephyrra, dick & bruce & jason & hal & alfred & cast, lantern!dick, 8.3k      After Batman fires Robin for the last time, Dick becomes a Flying Grayson in an entirely new way: by becoming a Green Lantern. But no matter what kind of mask he dons, Dick Grayson has a way of (accidentally) changing history irrevocably. This is only the beginning. ✦ the courage of stars by theragingstorm, dick & clark/lois & jon & cast, 1.8k      When he really needs somebody, Dick goes to Metropolis. ✦ a great honour (to hold you up) by dizarys, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 2.6k      “For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.” ✦ i am tired of all these motherfuckin’ bombs on these motherfuckin’ spaceships by konan_konan, dick & bruce & damian & titans & background dick/kory & justice league, 4.5k      “Those generators won’t last long,” barks Batman. “We’re losing our window. What other plan do you propose, Nightwing?” He huffs. “I’m gonna blow up the ship.” or: when the justice league gets stranded in space, the teen titans come to the rescue. it doesn’t exactly go to plan. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT HIS SIBLINGS BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY: ✦ abyssal plain by glassofwater, dick & jason, 3.5k      “What did you do?” “Exactly what he said. I killed him.” ✦ Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once, tim & jason & cast, 5.5k      ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ ✦ Break the Ice by dizarys, dick & jason, 1.5k      He felt the blades pierce his body. It was at the height of his leap, back arched as he sprang backwards over the car. A bolt of searing hot pain shot through his side then thigh. But Nightwing still landed with grace and flung his escrima sticks straight into two gang members’ heads. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Not Quite Saudade by Wisptheraccoon, dick & damian & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & jon, 3.1k      Aka. The reason Dick is no longer allowed to leave on long missions without Damian. ✦ Scorpion-grass by Ididloveyou_once, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.9k      Damian gets hit with fear toxin and is forced to relive Dick losing his memories… Dick could’ve gone without knowing how the kid reacted to his amnesia. ✦ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight by theragingstorm, dick & damian & john/mary & cast, time travel, 63.4k wip      After an argument with his Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian finds himself in Dick’s past, with one of his greatest tragedies fast approaching and no easy route forward for either. As long as he risks being stuck seventeen years in the past, all he can do is live at the circus, with a family he never knew — and just maybe learn from it all. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ When Wisdom Must Go by AnicomicQueen, bruce & dick & tim, 5.1k      Bruce experiences taking his children to get their wisdom teeth removed. Chapter 1: Dick (Age: 17) Chapter 2: Tim (Age: 16) ✦ So you’ll know where I’ve been by victoria_p (musesfool), jason & steph, 2.1k      “I just noticed your scars.” “We all have—Oh.” Jason drops his gaze again, runs his fingers along the faded incision on the left side of his chest. “No one else has one of these.” ✦ and when you’re in the trenches by dizarys, jason & tim & dick, 4.3k      When Jason stumbles across a shocking discovery, he’s forced to decide how much he truly cares about the people he used to call family. ✦ The Kids Are All Right by Browniesarethebest, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 11.4k      Dick and Tim are de-aged. It goes about as well as anyone would expect. ✦ World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph & duke & cast, 7k      Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake. BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NOT EVEN CANON WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Not So Large but Definitely In Charge by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & tim & bruce & alfred, 6.7k      Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago. ✦ there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      Tim breaks the silence, half-glancing over his shoulder to murmur, “Pop-culture has taught me that you’re supposed to seek out your parent in the middle of the night. Not your sibling.” “Pop-culture isn’t a perfect teacher, Timmy.” ✦ will we ever get to the other side? by dizarys, dick & tim, 4.8k      Blockbuster is dead and Dick is lost. Haunted by that night and no longer Nightwing, he flees Gotham only to find himself back in Bludhaven on mob business. Now Robin is the city’s new protector and Dick is determined to avoid Tim & his old life. That is, until he finds Tim bleeding in an alley. ✦ World Gone MAD by Havendance, dick & tim & justice league, 5.5k      Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death. ✦ Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      He’s already halfway up the stairs, towards the window on the second floor landing, when Dick says, “Tim.” He turns back, says wide-eyed and guilty, “Mhm? Can I– I’ll get you a blanket? If you want?” – Or, Tim visits Dick in Bludhaven. ✦ unleash the beast (with a kiss on the cheek) by InkpotSprite, dick & tim & bruce & jason & stephanie, 1.3k      Dick’s chest tightened as his lips parted to say something that he’d truly regret. Before a soft pair of lips pressed against his cheek, then disappeared so quickly that Dick was almost sure he’d imagined it. If it weren’t for Bruce’s fractionally wide eyes, Dick would think he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tim smiled back at him. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ cat tactic of healing by CarrionCarnival, tim/kon, 2.1k      Kon finds a moderately sick Tim, and decides that it’s his problem to solve. feline style ✦ In the Corner Taking up Space by Louis_the_Snake, tim/kon & cast, NSFW, 5.1k      Tim gets roped into doing a simple modeling gig for Wayne Fashion with some of his siblings and realizes that everyone he knows is way hotter than he is. And the hottest thing about him is his ass. Which ends up plastered in every major city in the U.S. ✦ Thief by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon walks in on Tim wearing his leather jacket. ✦ only touched you once by distracted_dragon, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon decides to tease Tim a little with his TTK. ✦ Missing Words by Violet_Witch, tim/kon & cassie, 6.9k      It takes Tim years to realize what’s always been there. ✦ What’s Real and What Isn’t by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & bart, 2.3k      Kon’s eyes almost glow in the dark, a luminescent blue so vivid Tim almost can’t stand looking at them, though he has a harder time trying to look away from them. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something. Your heart was beating so hard it woke me up.” Tim feels himself a flush. He can’t even sleep without bothering someone else. “Oh,” He replies, voice small. “Sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” “You’re shaking,” Kon points out and Tim curses internally. ✦ you taught me the courage of stars before you left by popsunner, tim & kon & bruce & damian & lois & jon & cassie & cast, 6k      “He loved you, you know,” She says wistfully, meeting his eyes. Tim looks away. “I loved him too.” “Love.” “What?” “Love,” she repeats. “Not loved. He might be gone, but we don’t love him any less.“ BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Arguments with the Recently Deceased by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & clark & tim & cast, 7.9k      Dick just got back from a lousy, week-long adventure traveling in time. When his ride drops him off at the cave the morning after he left, Dick isn’t expecting to find Bruce in the middle of a complete meltdown. Dick realizes there’s been a mistake- Dick hasn’t been gone six hours, he’s been gone six months, and everyone thinks he’s dead. ✦ Solar Flares by glassofwater, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 46.1k wip      Personhood, noun: the quality or condition of being an individual person. Son, noun: a man regarded as the product of a particular person, influence, or environment. Dick Grayson, noun: oldest son of Bruce Wayne, first son of Batman (i.e., a sum of parts, not a whole) ✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & alfred & cast, 14.3k wip      When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much. ✦ Going Nuclear by wrsttballplayer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, time travel, 15.3k wip      Dick looked at his younger self; the way his brow twisted up in so much anger and his was chest heaving with pure vitriol. Dick remembered what fury like that felt like. He remembered the way it burnt in his throat. He used to spew that poison at Bruce all the time, hell even the Titans had gotten the bad end of his temper more than once. And yet, Dick couldn’t place the last time he had been mad like that. Nowadays, all his anger died into withering flames of resignation and compromise more often than not. ✦ Why Is Tim the Only One With Any Tact? by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & wally, 4.1k      In which Tim tries to mediate an argument between Dick and Wally. Things don’t go so well. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, 3.8k      Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out. ✦ the flute of your whole existence by LovesFrogs, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, 4.2k     He could voice his greatest fears, weaknesses, or most secret dreams at the drop of a hat; all the things he’s never put into words before and keeps tucked close between his ribs. What kind of ammunition is his son going to ask for? What will he make Bruce admit, knowing he is incapable of a lie? ✦ The Kids Are(n’t?) Alright by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & tim & alfred & cast, rape aftermath, 3k      Dick saves a young rape victim from his babysitter and in the process reveals his own trauma. The problem? Dick is Batman at the time, and kids are blabber mouths. ✦ Cursed Silence by TheSilencer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & steph & cast, 3.4k      Dick Grayson is given a gift - to seal away his emotions. No one has a good time. ✦ Peeking Through the Tunnel Beyond by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, read the tags, 2.4k      Or, Dick Grayson just can’t seem to free himself from his past. And this time, Bruce is there. ✦ soft clocks by dustorange, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim & alfred & tiger & cast, 35.2k      Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he’s alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. ✦ Never Say That by JackHawksmoor, bruce & dick & jason & damian & cast, 9.6k      "Calm down, I’m not aiming for anything vital,” Jason said irritably. Batman turned away from the man he’d just floored. “We agreed-” he began sharply. “I didn’t promise anything,” Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. “You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-” Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SILLY FOR AWHILE: ✦ there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist, hal & dinah & ollie & flash & j'onn & bat-kids & young justice & justice league, 3.7k      A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who’s the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points. ✦ The One With The Bat’s Son by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & wally & hal & billy, 3.4k      “Batman has seven kids.” Wally blinked. “You’re shitting me.” “Not even a little, I just overheard him and Supes talking.” “Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at Hal incredulously. “You don’t think -?” Hal nodded, slowly and seriously. “Batman could be Captain Marvel’s dad.”

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Dean Winchester Prompt Response

Summary: You and Dean refuse to speak to one another after an argument and Sam has finally had enough.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I loved writing this but I always love it when it comes to Dean. 😊 And of course, I couldn't resist when it came to Sam in the end. Brothers, gotta love 'em. ;)

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Female!Huntress!Reader

Warnings: mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 1449

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version ✨ Alec version

Dean snuck a glance at you only to quickly look away when you looked up from your lore book. In return, you snuck a peek at him but pretended you were looking at something else when he lifted his head from one of the hunter’s journals he’d found in storage. 

Sam had watched this infuriating dance happen at least twelve times by now and it was getting on his last nerve. At first, he thought it was hopeful. Then heartbreaking. Now it was just damn aggravating, more so because he knew his older brother was being his usual stubborn self. All he needed to do was come out and apologize already, and Dean knew that yet still refused to budge an inch.

You and Dean had gotten into an argument during the last hunt. He’d been upset that you had taken on three vamps by yourself—something you had done back in your high school days, along with killing other creepy things that slithered out of the dark. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, which you had proven multiple times, and you knew when to ask for help. Dean didn’t want to hear it, claiming you could have been killed had he and Sam not been close by. You both dug in your heels no matter what Sam said, and you two were still at an impasse, giving each other the silent treatment. Still, that didn’t stop the longing glances Dean gave you when you weren’t looking, or the sad looks you gave him when he was none the wiser. It was driving Sam nuts. He had never met two people who were so stubborn—aside from his parents, of course—and now that he thought about it, stubborn or not, you and Dean were well-suited for one another.

“You know,” Sam broke the silence. “At some point, you two are going to have to talk to each other again.”

Dean shot him a surreptitious glare. You had no problem offering a withering glare of your own.

“Look,” Sam continued. “Y/N is right, she can take care of herself and if she needs our help, she’ll say something.” At your triumphant smile, Dean’s gaze darkened.

“No one asked you to butt in, Sammy,” he warned.

Sam nearly rolled his eyes. “If I don’t, this won’t get resolved because you both are too hard-headed to make the first move. Y/N,” Your eyes darted over to him. “My idiot brother won’t say it but the reason he got upset is because he’s scared.”

Dean’s free hand clenched into a fist and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Sam ignored him and continued, “He’s scared something is going to happen to you and he won’t be there to stop it. That’s why he freaked out that night. He’s not trying to tell you what to do or be a controlling jerk. He just wants you to be safe, that’s all.”

You bit your lip and turned your attention to Dean, who suddenly seemed very interested in the book in his lap. “Is that true?”

After a moment, he ground out, “Yeah. It’s true.”

You stood up, letting the book in your own lap fall to the ground with a heavy thud, and made your way over to Dean. You ripped the book out of his hands, tossed it to the floor, ignored Sam’s irritation at your carelessness with such old tomes, and crawled into Dean’s lap, his hands instantly coming around you to support you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss him. You felt him immediately begin to relax under your touch and only when his lips were completely pliant and moving with yours did you pull back, staring into his green eyes.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”

He slid his hand up your back and to your hair, tenderly rubbing the strands between his fingers. “I don’t know. I just… That vamp had you in a hold and it scared the crap out of me when I couldn’t reach you fast enough. What if he had gotten more of a drop on you? What if—”

You gently placed your fingers against his lips, stopping him from finishing that question. “He didn’t. I killed my first vamp at 12, took out my first nest when I was 16. Hunting’s in my blood just as much as it is yours. I know what I’m doing.” You ran your fingers through his hair reassuringly, scratching at his scalp, and watched him lean into the touch. “But if you want, we can talk about it. We’ll come up with a plan that makes you feel better and works for both of us. Okay?”

He gave you a dopey smile that melted your heart. The magic touch had worked; the tension from before had finally lifted. “Okay, baby. Sounds good to me.”

You kissed him again, this time with a little more passion. “You know what else sounds good?” You murmured to his lips when you both needed a breath.

Those green eyes you loved so much immediately lit with an all-too familiar fire. “Do tell.”

You leaned in and whispered your plan into his ear, making sure Sam wouldn’t overhear. By the time you pulled back, he was grinning like crazy. Clearing his throat, he helped you off of his lap and back onto your feet as you both turned to face Sam, a mischievous smirk fighting its way onto your face. You knew that would get him going.

“Actually, I just remembered I left the…stove on in the kitchen. And Y/N here has to go call Jody to…give her an update on the case and how it’s going.”

Sam gave you both a look; he wasn’t buying it. You turned and gave the same look to Dean. He really hadn’t come up with anything better than that? “I hate you.”

“You have a weird way of showing that,” he teased, subtly rubbing up against you and smirking. This man was so lucky you loved him.

You shook your head and looked away, your cheeks growing hot. The bastard was turning you on even more and he knew it. It’d been almost two weeks, the longest you’d gone without since — well, since meeting him.

Sam was the one to clear his throat this time. “Whatever. Happy you both are talking to one another again. Now, go do what you’re going to do but just not in front of me, please. Okay? And you’re welcome.”

Dean shot Sam a look but he was too happy to care what Sam was intimating about his being the one who settled things between the two of you. He gave his younger brother a wide smile. “If you need us, we’ll be…” He trailed off, gesturing to the hallway that led to the rooms.

“Oh my God,” you muttered in embarrassment as you grabbed his hand and pulled him after you.

“Oh, hey!” Sam yelled. “Keep out of my room this time, Dean. I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean called back.

You had just turned the corner when Dean immediately had you up against the wall, kissing you passionately and picking you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. When you pulled back for air, your brow furrowed in confusion at seeing Dean move past his door. “Dean,” you panted. “Where are you going? You just passed your room.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Okay, then where are you taking me?”

His smirk was so wicked you knew what the answer was before he said it. “Sammy’s room.”

“Dean, are you kidding me? No!”

“Relax, we won’t be in there long.”

“You know how upset he was last time and he just said—”

Dean came to a stop and kissed the crap out of you, effectively silencing you. You may have been a little dazed when he finally let you get some air. “He’s got the better bed and I want the very best for you, baby.” He then gave you a salacious smirk and leaned in. “Plus I know how much you love that headboard.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you as certain memories replayed in your mind. You were able to hold onto that headboard for a long time, it held you up well, and same for Dean…oh shit. Sorry, Sam.

“What are you waiting for?” You bit out impatiently, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his chuckle. As he walked you into Sam’s room, shutting and locking the door behind him, you made a mental note to later google the hell out of this headboard and find one for Dean’s bed.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 29: Crossed Wires

Screenshot Credit: @boardchairman-blog

Bearblr Promptober Day 29: Corruption (sorta? I tried)

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) introduces him to impact play (flogger), and it wrecks his wiring. Mild smut.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned fight with Syd, Richie and Nat, casual suicidal thought (1), impact play (flogger), fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (1006 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for weeks.

29 Oct 2024

Darling crossed a lot of my wires, but her magnum opus had to be soldering the ones for pain and pleasure together.

The anticipation of getting hit sat as this half-molten brick of brimstone in the pit of my stomach. It churned with the heat of magma, bubbling up as licks of flames that, in the fleeting but eternal minutes I waited kneeling next to the bed with my forehead resting on my folded arms, I could almost feel at the roof of my mouth. I’d spit flames, I was sure of it, if the eon stretched any longer, and they’d fucking annihilate whatever small fragments of me remained coincidentally affixed together after the thrashing I received that day. If I wasn’t non-linear, if I wasn’t being scraped off the fucking pavement and put into a jar when Richie, Syd, Sugar, and I all exploded at each other, it was because of negligence. Because one or some of their barbs was aimed lazily enough to miss the fucking target—not because I had any connective tissue holding me together. I don’t often want to die, but at The Bear partly through prep that day, an otherwise nondescript Monday? I prayed Richie would grab a knife from the block and tear it across my throat.

“What’s your safeword, sweetheart?” Darling whispered from behind me.

The sound of leather groaning as she, in all likelihood, twisted the flogger around her hand, pierced the silence further.

“Mercy.” It barely made it past my throat.

Cool strands of leather brushed across my bare back, between my shoulder blades, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Goosebumps exploded along my arms.

“Shhhhh…” She wove her fingers into and gripped a fistful of my hair. “Relax. Remember, we don’t have to do th—”

“Please, just fucking hit me already,” I whimpered.

“I will once you relax, pretty boy.”

“Fuck you.” It left my mouth before I could stop it. My face erupted in heat. I drew in a breath to apologize, but she cut me off.

“I know. I get it. It’s okay.”

 My mouth wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t produce the apology. A whooshing sound, then a crack, then a sting between my shoulder blades. Exactly like a jump rope to the ankle. Exactly like she’s said it would’ve felt.

“Fuck!” I hissed. I gripped fistfuls of the sheets and recoiled against the pain.

It surprised me more than it hurt, at first. Not the pain, but the little surge of heat in my navel, dangerously close to arousal. Then, the sting faded into warmth and tightness, like something was tugging at my skin. And then the pain came back. Duller. Deeper. Irritating, almost. I wanted her to rake her nails over it.

Oh, I was fucked.

“D-do it again,” I said. “Please.”

Fucked straight to hell.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it, sweet—”

“N-no. No. P-please do it again.”

The second one had that initial spark of pain, but then the sensation went away. Melted into the same dull, distant tightness that was already present. But holy fuck, it felt heavenly. My dick stirred, halfway to half-hard, and all I could think of was—

“Again? Please?”

She didn’t hesitate this time, and I couldn’t stop a groan from tearing from my chest.

“Oh.” She curled her hand around my throat and lifted my head to greet me with a wicked grin. “Oh, does that feel good, pretty boy?”

She wasn’t squeezing, but it was just enough pressure for blood to pool in my head, and I got that fuzzy, floaty feeling. My dick strained in my sweatpants, and all I could do was press up against the side of the bed, try to chase down some friction. My eyes fluttered closed without my consent. Please, squeeze harder. Please, please, fucking crush me in your hands, call me pretty boy again, leave bruises, leave shadows like a fucking dog collar that I can take with me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll act less like a wild fucking animal. Maybe it’ll feel like you’re there and I won’t fucking lose it.

“I asked you a question, pretty boy.” Gentle.

I pried my eyes open. Whispered, “Y-yes.”

Something about seeing her like that, effortlessly in control, a Goddess hovering over me, powerful, commanding, the handler of a rabid animal—listen, I will take Darling however she comes to me. I love her so much, I’ll give her my ribs. I love her so much, it feels like it’s killing me, but I will lie in that grave if it means I can listen to her voice, be enveloped by the scent of her skin, taste her strawberry lip balm, but something about her being in control destroys me. I’m helplessly caught in the riptide of her existence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I will give you anything, my love. I am yours. My whole being is at the foot of your throne. I trust you to nurture and protect me more than I do my own blood.

Do with me what you please, my love.

It wasn’t for five heartbeats, wasn’t until I saw her eyes darken, that I realized I whispered it aloud.

The next one stung less than the first two. The one after unlocked some feral part of me that I didn’t know existed, and I bit the side of my hand to keep myself from screaming. Not out of pain, it was something else. Something reflexive, primal, felt like it was damn near under my diaphragm. I was too hot. I didn’t have any layers to remove, and the radiator was still out, so it should’ve been cold in the room, but I was burning up. The sinking, molten arousal in the pit of my stomach undulated and coiled with every strike until one of them, a random one—nothing special about it—set off stars in my vision and ripped a pathetic cry from my throat.

End note: this piece is truncated. The writing fatigue has thoroughly set in. I might write the rest of the scene at a later date.

That was the moment. That’s when the wires crossed.

Part II

[oddballwriter]

Daily Bite

Summary: You take up a job with a trashy celebrity newspaper to go undercover under a housekeeper for a mysterious tycoon family who never lets the public eye see them just outside of Chicago. Your job is simple: collect information and send it back to the company to publish. But it seems like things are stranger than you originally thought they were going to be.

Warnings: Vampire au. No gore happens here, but if this gets enough love, then the story will progress, and there might be a few cases of that in future parts. Gender-neutral reader, no mention of pronouns or any type of anatomy. This whole thing is very pilot-y.  

Author’s Snip: Here I go again with my vampires lol. Will I ever finish a series? Who knows. But now this is here and I want to know if you guys are game.

Notes: This whole thing is what I'm going to call a Pilot-Fic. Basically, this is a thought that's been rattling inside of my head, and I want to do it, but I want to see if you guys are interested. So this is basically going to be a teaser and pilot for it to possibly get green-lit by you guys. At the end, I'll put a poll and you guys can choose if you want this to continue. 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,876

Taglist:

You were a journalist who was as broke as bricks. That's how you ended up with this incognito job working for a trashy celebrity press company. This isn't where you had thought you'd be in your life when you studied and majored in journalism, but it was better than having nothing. It wasn't anything personal to who you were sent to spy on; the company was just offering you a fat stack, and your contract had it stated that this was your only job and then you're free, and also they’re able to cover your tracks on who you are so that you’re not identified once everything goes public. So, the only dirt on your hands will just be morally.

Anyhow, your job revolved around an interesting, albeit strange, tycoon family, the Spectors, who’s managed to successfully stay out of the public eye for nearly two centuries now based in the outskirts of Chicago. You aren’t too sure what they’re a tycoon of, but the press company made it very clear that they were very lucrative and secretive about themselves. Locking themselves in their large mansion and even larger estate away from the eyes of the world and doing all their business there. The only people allowed to see or be near them are the staff employed on their estate and a handful of outsiders who do whatever task they’re given and then immediately kicked out, each and every single one of them having to sign nondisclosure agreements and getting buried in cease and desist letters and threats of lawsuits to any who dare say a thing about them.

Thankfully, you aren’t too in the dark as to who’s living in that big old mansion. According to the sparse few who have said something, there are three men who are all identical triplets and are heirs to the family business and wealth, but seemingly all agree to keep to the estate and never go out. Their names are Marc, Steven, and Jake, most likely being juniors and sharing the same names as the other pair of triplet sons from the Spector family before they randomly became closed off to the world.

Not much is known about them other than that those giving the information either got buried in legal papers or chose to shut up. Everything else is in the walls of the mansion and the sealed mouths of the staff.

But that’s where you come in.

There were two job openings for housekeeping and cleaners that the company managed to catch and send to you. You applied, and you managed to get the job. The only thing is, you would have to pack up and move into the mansion since the only job is listed as a live-in. That was fine, though, you’d still be getting paid by the owners, have a roof over your head, and food, so you would have to find a place to rent and try and supply yourself with groceries. So you packed up what you had and headed off for Chicago and the Spector estate.

However, it seems like the universe wanted to give you a bit of comeuppance though. The press company wanted you to arrive a few days early so that “they don’t have time to hide anything”, but the day that you made it to Chicago it was bucketing rain and you still needed to get to the estate in the outskirts. You did pack an umbrella, but it wasn’t doing much good in these conditions.

You decide that the best way to get there is a taxi. Thankfully, just as soon as you signal for one, one comes shortly after. The driver rolls down the window; you can’t see him too well due to the screen between the driver and passenger seat, but you can hear him clearly when he asks where you’re heading. You tell him, and he says he knows how to get there. You then pay him upfront to save you from having to pay when you get there since you’ll have to take your luggage out of the trunk too.

Sliding into the back seat, you find that he’s also got the screen between the front and back of the car, still obscuring him from being seen properly by you, coupled with his driver's hat and coat. It doesn’t really matter to you. You’re just happy to get a break from that god-awful rain for now.

“This money better be worth it.” you quietly grumble to yourself as the driver takes off.

Along the drive he starts conversation with you. Nothing too big, just casual small talk.

“So what’s over there for you at the old Spector place?” he asks. “I got a job there,” you answer simply. He lets out a ‘huh’ as a response. “Not a lot of those in there.” he says before adding, “They rarely let new people in. You must be lucky to have gotten that job, huh?”. You shrug, “I guess so. It was the last application I made.”.

“You having trouble with finding jobs?” he questions.

“Yeah. Not much out there for someone like me, I suppose,” you answer.

“What’s your expertise?” the driver asks.

You hesitate to answer at first before landing on a half-truth, “Journalism. But I gave up on that. All the good stuff is taken already.” you say. “Journalism,” the driver echoes back. “Why do you say all the good jobs are taken? I’m sure someone’s looking for a journalist out there?” he says after a moment. You sigh and answer in a mumble, “Well, I didn’t find any.” as you thought about your current job.

“But I guess working as a live-in housekeeper isn’t too bad of an in-between job.” the driver says, which catches your attention and makes you confused. “I never said what I was going there for,” you say in your confession. The driver notices your apprehension and says, “Lucky guess. Most people who get a job there are there to be housekeeping.” with a nonchalant attitude. That shook off your confusion, and you shrugged back with your own remark, “Well then, I’m no different.”.

After a brief silence, the driver speaks again with a strange question.

“You’re not scared, are you?”.

“Why would I be scared?” you question.

“People like to tell scary stories about that place. Talking about how they never seem to leave that old place and don’t talk to anyone and making up all kinds of stuff.” the driver says.

“What kind of stuff?” you ask.

You can hear a sort of humor in the drivers voice as he talks, like what he’s saying is like some big joke to him.

“All kinds of stuff. Like how the mansion’s haunted and that there’s all this mystery about the family, why they just randomly closed off to the public centuries ago and haven’t left since, and all sorts of stuff. Some people like to say that the original family never actually grew old and died to leave everything to their descendants and that they’re actually vampires living amongst themselves.”.

You psshh at the thought of that. You had actually heard that crazy theory before while researching what there was a record of about the family after taking this job, but you knew that it wasn’t real. You had heard that the three sons started acting off all the way back before hermitting themselves, but it was known that their parents died very suddenly and that it was possibly a mourning thing that they never left that phase and that the rest of the generations kept to for whatever reason.

Other than the records predating the 1840s, you found nothing. Except for one source talking about medical history that made it known that the two first of the triplets, Marc and Steven Sr., were born slightly conjoined at the hip and had some health issues around that. You aren’t too sure why you remembered that one morbid fact, but it was there and might be worth something.

The rest of your ride was filled with more small talk and the occasional look outside the window.

Still pouring.

You eventually reach the outskirts and into a dense area of trees that completely hide the city as if it was never even there, after a bit longer, you eventually reach a gravel road with a big metal gate with tall stone walls up ahead that hide the other side except for a roof of the mansion off in the distance that just manages to peak over the walls into your line of sight.

"You need help getting all your stuff up there? The walk up to the place is longer than it looks." the driver offers, "No extra charge." he adds. You nod and thank him for being willing to lend you a hand as you prepare yourself to get out of the cab.

The gate just happens to already be open, so you don't need to buzz for someone to come get it if there even is a buzzer anywhere.

You take a few of your lighter bags and make the hike up the rest of the gravel path with the driver behind you. So you look back for him, you feel a bit bad since he's walking with no umbrella, with his hat and coat being his only protection from the rain and seemingly having to tilt his head down to keep his face dry, so you go back towards him and share your umbrella with him.

"Oh, don't worry about me." he laughs, "I've been through worse," he says. "I don't want you to get sick," you say. "I don't get sick. But thanks for the concern." the driver responds.

As you walk, the mansion seems to get bigger and bigger and taller the closer you get. It also doesn't help that its dark color pallet is dulled out and looks unmaintained, making it look spooky and straight out of Halloween concept art. No wonder people say it's haunted. It looks haunted. Even the front door is bigger than you once you reach it.

You set down your bags to have a free hand to knock. It takes a while and a few more knocks, but eventually, someone opens it up a bit to see who's there. You peek your head in a bit to see a stout older woman who has grey streaks in her hair already and wrinkles that emphasize her bothered expression.

"No solicitors." she says before you can even get a hello in.

"I'm not a solicitor," you say before you introduce yourself and say that you're here to be one of the new housekeepers.

"You're here three days early." she scowls.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," you apologize. "Something came up, and I had to come early and couldn't get a room anywhere here till it was time for me to arrive. I tried to contact someone, but the only option was a letter. I guess the mail is slower right now." you lie. Not fully. The only way to contact is by letter was true, and the job offer was actually via a personal ad in the paper. But you never sent a damn letter.

The lady eyes you up suspiciously for a bit before seemingly taking it while grumbling "No one ever tells me anything.".

"You came all the way up here all by yourself?" she questions.

"Oh, no. A driver helped me with getting my bags up-" you explain as you turn to look at the driver, but when you look, he's gone. You look around for him, but you don't see him walking down the pathway or even his cab where the gate is anymore. You turn back to the woman and finish your sentence, "There was a taxi driver who helped me get my bags up here.".

The maid just opens the door and lets you in, saying, "Alright. Get in here before you get any more wet.".

Stepping inside, the maid closes the door behind you and tells you to stay there as she goes off somewhere in the house, which gives you time to get a look at this place.

You find it's a lot bigger on the inside, if that's even possible. There's a large indoor mat at the door that takes up most of the entrance area. The whole foyer up ahead has more space than most people do for their houses, with two old-style grand staircases going up the sides that take you up to the rest of the floors. There are three main hallways that you can see. One on each side of the house just where the bottoms of the stairs end, and one in front of you under where the two staircases meet. This place is just as spooky looking on the inside as it is on the outside too. The lighting is cool-toned, making the place look a bit blue even though some lights are trying their hardest to light the place up. It's also deafly quiet; the only thing you can hear is the echo of the old woman's footsteps along the polished hard floor, but she's far enough away that they've become faint. You can also hear a muffled conversation somewhere within the house, but all the walls that might be between you and whoever is talking make it unknown to you. But as you listen closely, you manage to make out what seems to be three separate voices.

You hear footsteps coming to where you are and see that it's the maid coming back to get you. She gestures for you to follow her and takes you down one of the hallways on the side of the house.

"You're lucky that we just cleaned out the room that you'll be living in while you work here," she remarks. "I'm really sorry about the early arrival. If I had known, then I would have found some way to wait until the day I was meant to come," you claim. The lady humphs back before saying, "I don't like having to repeat myself, but since you're here and your other new co-worker isn't, I'll have to make due.".

"You're the head maid?" you ask.

"Yes." the lady responds quickly, sounding annoyed before she continues.

"We'll do this," she proclaims, "You spend today settling into your room. Tomorrow, I'll give you a brief tour around the house. And the day after that, your co-worker should arrive sometime in the day. After that, I show you both how to do things around here while giving them their tour." she explains. "Got it?" she asks demandingly.

"Got it." you echo.

It was at that point that you two reach a corridor full of nothing but doors where you two stop at one. The head maid pushes open the door to reveal a relatively nice but quaint room. It looks like a very small hotel room, with only a twin-sized-looking bed, a small nightstand, and a little desk with an even smaller-looking personal bathroom. You were expecting something more cramped and a bit dehumanizing, but this was actually really nice. A bit banged up in a few spots, but it was pretty nice compared to the rooms you'd heard about concerning live-in jobs.

"This will be your room from now on." the head maid says as she places a single key in your hand, "This is your key to it." she tells you. She then points a finger right in your face as she orders you, "Do not lose it. If you do, then we have to get all the locks redone.".

"I'll protect it with my life." you joke as you promise to keep it on you, but she just huffs. "The staff have designated breakfast, lunch, and dinner times. Lunch is in an hour and a half. Dinner is at six." she says as she begins to walk away.

You try to ask where exactly you're meant to go for your meals, but she seems to have caught on by herself and says, "Staff's dining room is down the center hallway from where you came in and is the second to last door on the left.", she also adds "You can eat in your rooms too if you want, just don't make a mess. And if you do, clean it up.".

You take a mental note of that and take all your things into your room, shutting the door. You put everything in its place and proceed to take out your pocket journal and pen that you plan on using as you collect information.

"Just arrived at the mansion. This place is already giving me the creeps look-wise. Took a cab here. The driver was friendly but didn't tell me much about the family other than the stories and theories I'd already heard. Met the head maid, was really rude, didn't catch her or the driver's names. The head maid says that she'll give me a tour tomorrow. Waiting for the other new person to come before we actually start working. I'll see if I notice anything out of place on my tour. Haven't seen any of the three owners, yet. My room's nice though."

[joeybsversion]

Strangers

Joe Burrow x Reader

You and Joe try to work things out

“Dear Me,” you scribbled into your journal, humming along to the soft music at the coffee shop. “He’s leaving for the NFL, you still have one more year of college. Let him go. He will find bigger and better things than you. Let him find a nice girl he can bring to games. There will be someone he can be happy with. Yes, he’s sweet, and caring, and handsome, but he is also grown up.” You set your pen down, taking a sip of your coffee, hoping it would help the lump in your throat disappear.

The door of the coffee shop quietly swung open. You glanced up, as you always did out of curiosity. You know what they say, curiosity kills the cat. At that exact moment, you were the cat. Joe walked in, with confidence, in a jacket you had gotten him a few months ago. He smiled at strangers around him, and then gave you the same smile. That’s when you realized, you were now a stranger to him.

You quickly flung the front cover of your leather journal shut, stuffed your pen into your purse, and did anything to make yourself look busy. Two hands quickly met the top of the table you were sitting at.

“Hey.” Joe cleared his throat.

“Oh, hey.” You looked down, doing your best to make sure he couldn’t see the tears that had formed in your eyes as you wrote about him just moments earlier.

“Writing?” He asked, pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat.

“Studying.” You lied.

You sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Both of you searching for the right words to say. You hadn’t seen Joe in nearly 3 months now. And it had been some of the most emotionally draining 3 months of your life. Neither of you really officially ended things, but you both knew. “Goodbye.” “I love you.” “I’m sorry.” “Good luck.”

“Can we talk?” Joe croaked out.

“I don’t think there’s really much to say.”

“I’m sorry.” He reached over and grabbed your hands. “Please, just give me a minute. I need closure.”

You hated that word. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you hoped he would promise you a future and things would go back to the way they were. But here he was, confirming that things were officially over.

“It’s been 76 days. I’ve spent every single one thinking about you.” He brushed his thumb across the top of your hand as he spoke. “I thought I knew what I wanted. Becoming an NFL quarterback. Being the most popular, most liked person in the room. I thought those things would make me happy. And they did….temporarily. But you,” he paused, clearing his throat, “You’re the only thing that could make me happy forever.”

You choked out a little half laugh, half sob. “Please don’t say stuff like that. We both know it’s not true.” You shook your head.

“Please don’t play the victim and act like I’m the bad guy.” Joe scoffed, the tone in his voice quickly changing. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that said things weren’t going to work.”

“What was I supposed to say when you said you were leaving?” You pulled your hands away from his. “Don’t leave? I love you?” You questioned.

He shrugged and let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Okay? But I thought you’d say something.”

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, the anger in his voice was making you nervous.

“Do you want to try again?” He asks barely loud enough for you to hear him.

You can’t answer, your throat is too thick with emotion.

“If you want me to beg, I will. If you want me to jump through flaming hoops, then bring them on. I’ll spend every waking hour I have until I have to report to training camp proving to you how badly I want you.” He looked away, blinking back a few tears.

You felt your own lips start to tremble. His words are painful and beautiful at the same time.

“Every word is the truth. I want you back. I can’t imagine starting this new journey without you.” He said. “I fucked up letting you go. I still love you.”

You swallow a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine will fill you with the right words to say. “Even though I have another year of College left?”

He smiles. “My rookie year is going to be chaotic, and busy. It’ll be better for both of us if you’re busy too, dontcha think?”

He makes a fair point.

“We can make it work. I know we can. The question is, do you want to try again?” He pauses. “Do you want me?”

You can see the fear that you might reject him in his eyes. His hands are trembling on the table. His breathes are shallow and quick. The one thing he is confident about though, is wanting to make things work with you.

“I want you.”

[separatist-apologist]

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

They weren’t invited to the celebration held that night, which disappointed Elain. She knew from the journals she’d read that Lucien spent the majority of his evening thinking about the would-be Empress, who was housed somewhere on the estate. After the walk around the garden, she’d been a little panicked that she’d ruined everything. She was here, though—and Elain merely had to hang back and let the Emperor do his thing.

Arina was back to pacing again, cradling her hand against her chest as though she’d injured it. While Elain felt some measure of calm, Arina seemed more panicked than before. “You’re not taking this seriously,” she complained, unwinding her hair from the pins Elain had used earlier that day. 

“I am,” Elain protested with a nagging feeling of fear. “What do you want me to do? Rob the Emperor?”

“Yes,” Arina hissed, rounding on Elain so quickly Elain nearly toppled to the bed. She, too, was undressing for the evening, preparing to sleep. “Bat your eyes at him and beg him for coins and a horse.”

Elain scowled. “We’ll mess up the future if I start flirting with him.”

“Who cares about the future?” Arina demanded, back to pacing. “I’ll rip off a thousand butterfly wings if it convinces you to do anything besides trail after—”

“Stop it,” Elain whispered, wrapping her arms around her body. “I’m not racing out of here without a plan. If you want to, no one is stopping you. Go bat your eyes at the Emperor for a horse and some coins. Or better yet—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Arina hissed, cheeks burning with color. “I don’t want to get trapped here.”

Assuming they weren’t already. Just because they’d somehow come through didn’t mean they’d easily make their way back. That scared Elain enough into not wanting to try at all—at least she couldn’t be disappointed. Giving voice to her own secret fears, she whispered, “Do you think Gray is worried?”

Arina nodded solemnly. “People are probably looking for us.”

“Let’s bide our time—let them think we’re no threat. They’ll forget us soon enough. You know what’s coming…right?”

“We don’t study history the same way,” Arina reminded Elain, plopping beside her on the mattress. 

“A fire,” she reminded Arina, glancing toward the window. “And an attempted coup. They’ll be so focused on keeping their lives and the city safe that they’ll forget us. We can slip away in the ensuing chaos.”

Arina took a breath. “Okay. As long as we have a plan.”

“We can ask the Emperor for money tomorrow. Tell him we need clothes and hope he’ll put it directly in our hands.”

“And when we don’t buy clothes?” Arina questioned. Elain wasn’t sure about that. Shaking her head with a sigh, she only shrugged. Elain didn’t know. 

“We’ll figure it out.”

There was time—about a month of it, assuming she had the date right. Elain was terrified to ask Lucien where they were in the Julian calendar and betray herself as any stranger than she already was. 

“And the stables. And…how to ride a horse,” Arina murmured, ticking off an invisible checklist in her mind. 

“I’m sure one of the gentleman here would oblige—”

“Don’t give them ideas,” Arina ordered, rounding on Elain again. “It must have occurred to them that we don't have a father or brother to supervise us. How long before…”

“Lucien won’t allow it.”

“No, because he’s too busy trying to figure out how to get you into his bed.”

Disavow him. 

Elain shook the thought from her mind. “He’s with his wife tonight,” she reminded Arina, who had no clue how the Emperor spent their time. This was Elain’s passion—bordering on obsession. Helena was here and if Lucien could be trusted, he’d seek her out once the wine wore off before going back to bed to document the moment he knew he had to marry her. In the morning, Elain would be nothing more than a troublesome ward Lucien wanted to be rid of.

“Sure,” Arina replied, making her way toward the door. “Keep this locked.”

And that was that. Arina sauntered across the hall, the lock to her own bedchamber clicking loudly once the bronze was latched in place. Elain took Arina’s advice, well aware that there was little protection afforded to her here, and she lacked even the most fundamental rights she’d grown accustomed to back home. 

Pajamas were simply the night tunic she’d worn beneath her clothes—a simple white shift, truly, that would have been see-through in the sunlight. Here, in the near dark, though, Elain’s modesty was protected. As if that were an issue, truly. She’d been sleeping with Graysen for years, her chastity was a distance dream left back in the states. It had been such a trivial thing to her, a construct easily shed when the right man came along.

And still, she didn’t want to advertise that fact and make people think she was available to anyone with a passing fancy. 

Elain crawled into bed, oil lamps still burning, and realized she was bored. She was so used to scrolling her phone at night, staring aimlessly into the void that now she didn’t know what to do with herself. How did people fall asleep without something to look at? Elain turned on her side, wondering how the party was going. Would they stay up all night? She’d wanted to be invited and had been, at the same time, relieved she hadn’t been. Elain didn’t think she could fool a room full of people who’d been born and raised in this time period.

She couldn’t sleep, though. She was too warm, too awake, too anxious. Kicking the blanket off her body, Elain made her way to the balcony overlooking the gardens. Fate, too, stood beside her, watching as she braced her elbows against the marble. Lucien made his way outdoors, sighing softly as he ran a broad hand over his long hair. In every marble bust she’d ever seen of him, his hair was shorn short—she rather liked his non-conformist ways. Elain couldn’t help but watch, mind racing. She remembered this moment from his journals, had read it a million times throughout undergrad. It had become an obsession, wishing she could feel even an iota of what he described in that moment.

Lucien would turn, locking eyes with his future wife and as they looked at one another from across the garden, he wrote that all doubt melted away, leaving him with a feeling of pure certainty. It could only be her—no one else. At least she’d get to see it in real time. Lucien paused just outside the marble pillars, head tilted toward the starry sky overhead. Somewhere just behind him, she heard a man’s voice call his name.

Lucien began to turn, halting when his gaze snagged on her. He was too far for her to truly read his facial expression which was half relief. Elain’s heart picked up in her chest, beating frantically as she stood there, watching her just as surely as she watched him. 

The insistent voice called for him again, drawing his attention back toward the cheerful flame of the interior of the palace. Only when Lucien’s back faced her did she exhale the breath she’d been holding. With Lucien gone, Elain could stay as she was, leaned against the marble.

The world felt different to her. Newer, somehow. Like a planet she’d never visited, a foreign world with foreign customs and people who looked like her but shared almost nothing in common with her. 

Elain knew she ought to go to bed rather than stand there and reflect. Turning, Elain might have gone, too, had she not heard a grunt of air followed by fingers gripping the railing and then an all-too familiar face.

“This is hardly dignified,” she said dryly and Lucien hoisted himself up onto the balcony, clearly pleased with himself.

“I have no dignity to speak of when I stand in your presence,” he said through a huff of labored air. 

“You smell like wine,” she complained as he righted himself, absurdly handsome in the moonlight. “Are you inebriated?”

He offered her an easy grin. “A little.”

“Go to bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” he questioned, stepping around her with more grace than a drunk man ought to have. Elain trailed behind, hands bunched at her sides as Lucien’s gaze swept over her room. They landed, predictably, on her mussed bed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Don’t you dare say whatever it is you’re thinking,” she warned, hating the creeping flush making its way up the back of her neck. 

Lucien glanced over at her. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She was certain he would, though, if he thought he could get away with it. Instead, Lucien plopped onto the bed she’d recently vacated, stretching his long, muscular body across the sheets. Elain remained on her feet, more nervous than she’d ever been in her life. Even when Graysen had pressed her for sex, agreeing to turn off the lights and that she could keep her shirt on, if she wanted. Unlike Graysen, Lucien was the sort of man lost to history. He exuded something far beyond confidence—some word Elain didn’t know in any language, couldn’t describe but could certainly feel. Pinned beneath his gaze, she thought if he told her to strip herself naked so he could merely look, she’d have done it.

“The man you were bound to. How did that come about?” Lucien asked, plucking at some invisible piece of dust from the bed. 

“Are you asking me about courtship?” she asked, genuinely confused.

 Lucien’s eyes brightened. “Courtship,” he repeated, the word strange in his voice. “Yes. Explain it to me.”

“It’s not much different from what you have here,” she lied, because dating seemed impossible to explain. “We met and he…brought me gifts? Took me places?”

“And your father? He arranged the match?”

God, no. Elain tried to imagine her father arranging husbands for her, Nesta, and Elain. “He’s dead, remember?”

Lucien’s face blanched. “My apologies. Who arranged it?”

“I did.”

There was another long pause. “You?”

There was no missing her indignation. Lucien threw up his palms as she crossed her arms over her chest, frustrated that she couldn’t just explain the customs and culture of her own time period. He didn’t understand, had grown up in a vastly different world where women were little more than cattle. He might value her—might care about her opinion—but he’d never fully grasp the idea that Elain made every decision for herself, male relative be damned. 

“Yes, me,” she hissed. 

“Of course,” Lucien agreed, clearly deciding this was not a fight he wanted to pick. Illuminated in the golden glow of the dying lamps, he pressed on. “This courtship…how long did it take?”

“Eight years,” Elain said with a relish, delighting in Lucien’s confusion. He was clearly trying to do some math in his mind to figure out her age, as well as his own internal misunderstanding. 

“So you don’t love him.”

“I—”

 Elain stopped, the words caught in her throat. A triumphant smile slid over Lucien’s features as he sat up fully again so he could cross the room to see her. She knew what she’d been about to say.

I don’t.

It was the second thought, pushed right behind instinct, that screamed yes you do! You do love him! She didn’t have to lie, here. Elain didn’t have to pretend, here in the ancient world, that she wanted the future Graysen was offering. Maybe she had, once—but not anymore.

It was strangely freeing to admit it to herself. As Lucien approached, Elain only barely paid him any attention, her own internal triumph far more interesting. Whispering, she said, “I don’t love him,” to herself. As if it would matter in this place where love was a nice thing to find, but unnecessary to marriage itself. 

Elain’s gaze snapped upward as Lucien reached for a strand of her hair. Lifting it to his nose, the Emperor himself inhaled the scent, eyes burning. Oh, she thought, heart racing again. Oh no. 

“Alis propriis volat,” he murmured, unaware of how her stomach flipped violently at the words. “Is that what you want, Helena? Jewels? Lovely things?”

“I—” Elain couldn’t move, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. What did he say? “What did you call me?”

Lucien dropped the strand of her hair, adjusted the shoulder of his toga, and turned for the door. “Helena,” he repeated without a look backward. “The people will demand a Roman, and so I’ve made you one.”

“You…”

“Rest,” he ordered, unlocking her door. “We’ll see more of each other in the morning. Let me show you how a Roman does courtship.”

And then he was gone, leaving Elain in the encroaching dark with only one word echoing through her mind.

Helena.

Fuck.

—-

I saw her eyes, bright as stars—the only bright thing amid the dark and I knew. 

Lucien was in a good mood. He’d seen Elain in a nightdress, which had been enough to fuel several lurid fantasies he’d tell her about once she was in his bed. Afterward, once he was spent and his skin cleaned of sweat and smoke, he slept better than he had in years. Certainly since he’d been named Emperor. It felt like at least one thing might work out for him amid the chaos that was the rest of his life. 

She wanted a courtship before she decided? Lucien wasn’t opposed, though it wasn’t common among [upper class what are they called??]. She’d betrayed herself in that moment as a plebian and Lucien simply did not care. He’d invent an entire lineage for her so he could make her his wife and he’d do it with a smile on his face. 

A nervous servant came stumbling into his office holding a wooden box of the item Lucien had ordered. Hairpins, encrusted with pearls, lay in the purple cushioned interior. He could picture them nestled among the wild, dark curls, shimmering iridescent in the bright sunlight. There were other pieces he was dreaming up, but those would take longer and he wanted to give her something that morning.

It wasn’t Elain who joined him for breakfast, but his older brother. Eris came in looking immaculate and yet exhausted at the same time. “Up late, brother?” Lucien asked as he rose from the chaise he’d been lounging on. 

“What is your plan for the barbarians?” Eris demanded. “I have compiled a list of every man in Britania who has not taken a wife. It was my thought—”

“They’ll remain in Rome,” Lucien interrupted, hackles raised. “I have thought about the blonde…Agrippina?”

“Arina,” Eris practically snarled. “What about her?”

“Sulla…what is he calling himself? Hibernicus imperator?”

Eris snorted. “He’s a friend to no one but the banks, let alone Hibernia.”

“He mentioned last evening he was looking for a wife…and like so many, finds himself entranced by the shade of her hair.”

Lucien was watching his brother carefully while pretending none of this was terribly interesting to him at all. Eris had nearly been married once—the woman in question had run off with another man before the ink could ever be placed to parchment and Eris had seemed relieved by the entire thing. Lucien was resolved to stay out of his brother's affairs…but something was going on.

Maybe he, too, was fascinated by Arina’s shade of blonde hair. 

There was a violence to Eris’s expression that Lucien found fascinating, though he remained as he was. “Are we agreed?” Lucien asked, drumming his fingers against his desk. He knew they weren’t—knew that Eris was going to wreck this somehow, someway. It interested him to watch, given how controlled Eris typically was. 

“Fine,” Eris said dismissively, just as Lucien hoped he might. Nothing would entertain him more than watching what Eris might do next. Lucien had no intention of extending a sincere offer to Hybern, who was supposed to be courting a different bride, besides. 

“Tell me about the provinces,” he said as more of his advisors began trickling in, holding rolled pieces of parchment that held the figures of the empire. As Lucien ticked slots on his own sheet of parchment, he let out a small sigh of relief. Things could  be worse.

They could be better, of course—they always could be—but he had money to pay his soldiers, to repair crucial infrastructure and most importantly, to host his games without worrying it would empty his coffers. Lucien intended to ensure everyone was able to eat something, which would engender the good will of all his people. To a Roman like Lucien, ensuring his military was happy came above all else, but right beneath and nearly as important was the love of his people. If they turned on him, no amount of military control would save him.

One only had to look at how thoroughly Nero had been buried to know that. Too many vanity projects had been the downfall of Nero—Lucien would need to be more careful and ensure his legacy was more than just gold plated halls and fucking his way through the patricians. 

Which, of course, turned his thoughts back to Elain. There was something about her—something that felt more akin to magic, that seemed strange and exciting all at once. It was more than just her ethereal beauty, though Lucien wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t drawn to her for that, either. When she looked at him, he swore she saw through him, those brown eyes cutting through flesh to find the bone. 

What did she know about him, he wondered? What had she discerned since she’d arrived? Lucien wanted to rise from his chair and find her, but business needed to come before women. If his father had learned that lesson, perhaps he would have been Emperor rather than Beron. 

There was talk of the provinces and letters read from the presiding governors who both swore their allegiance to Lucien while offering slimy congratulations and informed him of the politics happening within their borders.

There had been little raiding, which was always a blessing from the gods. Lucien didn’t want to find his first month plagued by barbarians looking for weakness or ship off his soldiers before they got to participate in his circus. 

Clapping his hands together as the sun rose higher in the sky, Lucien offered everyone sweating in that overheated room a smile. “Enough talk,” he said, rising from his chair to stretch out his aching, stiff legs. “At least of business. Tell me about my games.” Smiles split the faces of the once severe politicians, patricians, and generals. Everyone liked a good celebration—or any excuse to get a little too drunk. 

“Emperor,” Hybern stood, dark eyes gleaming with what Lucien wanted to believe was mischief, but was likely something dark, “I had the most inspiring idea.”

Lucien wasn’t unwilling. “Tell me.”

Tracking Elain down was harder than Lucien anticipated. It was a particularly hot day, leaving sweat to slide down his spine. He knew he ought to cut his hair, if only to get it off the nape of his neck. Make himself a proper Roman. The idea, typically revolting, suddenly had merit as he stepped into the steaming heat. All he wanted to do was see her and talk to her. 

And of course she was nowhere in the palace. Lucien accosted several servants before he learned she and Arina had been asking about the stables before they’d been pointed toward the city. If he told his brother, Lucien knew Eris would immediately assume the worst. In truth, he was a little uneasy about the queries. 

Where did they want to go? Stalking through the city, Lucien’s mind turned over the possibility that Eris was right—that they had nefarious goals and he’d been blinded by Elain’s beauty to truly notice. He knew some barbarian societies utilized women as warriors and leaders…did they also utilize them as spies?

Surely.

Lucien was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he was practically on top of Elain until he half tripped into her. She stood in front of a stall, arms crossed over her chest as her friend, Arina, argued in loud Latin with the vendor. 

“Two denarii is absolute theft. You can take—”

The vendor, catching sight of Lucien standing behind them, immediately averted his gaze and bowed his head, which caused Elain to turn first. Her cheeks, warmed by the hot Roman sun, seemed to pale when she saw him. Arina, however, merely arched her brow before turning on him.

“We’re being cheated by a vendor.”

“I’ll pay,” he said, well aware it was his coins jingling in their pockets anyway. Some of Arina’s fire seemed to extinguish, though Lucien knew she didn’t like that he’d swooped in the way he had. They were dressed like respectable women and oozed money—of course the vendor wasn’t going to negotiate with them. It lended weight to his belief that wherever they truly came from, women held much more power and sway than they did in Rome.

He was curious about all of it. Not suspicious enough, either, which he knew could hurt him. Women had toppled regimes in Rome just as they did everywhere else. It was just…looking at Elain, even as he handed over the denarii, Lucien didn’t believe she’d come here to harm him. Those eyes were too soft, the same color brown as a fawn's coat, her face shaped like a heart, her skin unblemished like polished marble save for the freckles that speckled along the bridge of her nose.

If she was a spy, her people had chosen well. Lucien simply did not want to believe she would betray him. 

The merchant handed over a pale yellow scarf to Arina, who immediately handed it to Elain. Biting her lower lip, Elain told him, “It’s for my hair.”

“Beautiful,” he murmured without meaning to. Then, remembering he’d come to question her, Lucien cleared his throat. “I’ve come to escort you back to the palace.”

“They send emperors for that, now?” Arina asked with a roll of her green eyes. He did believe she was a spy—she could have been a general if she’d been a man. “Lasciaci in pace, porca puttana.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

Elain sighed. “It’s nothing—she’s complaining about the heat.”

Lucien didn’t understand the harsh tones coming from Arina, but he knew an insult when he heard it. It was tempting to demand she tell him the truth and there was no way for Lucien to know for certain. Not without finding a translator, which was notoriously difficult. Most of the people he knew who spoke the local barbarian dialects lived within the provinces they governed rather than the capitol. He’d send an inquiry, he decided. Lucien had a knack for languages.

He led them through the noise and bustle of the city, watching from the corner of his eye as Elain replaced one scarf for another, expertly wrapping it around her hair and neck the way a Roman lady would. 

Once back inside the shade of the courtyard, Arina split off muttering in that language beneath her breath while Elain tried to keep from laughing.

“She’s insulting me, isn’t she?” Lucien asked, rounding on Elain so quickly she nearly stumbled into a fountain of Venus. The image was striking—the goddess of love in her red painted dress, head and hands tipped toward the sky and Elain, who might have been the real-life incarnation of her, sitting on the marble lip with wide eyes. 

“Of course,” Elain replied, wincing as she rose back to her feet. Lucien had offered her a hand which she politely declined, wiping non-existent dirt from her backside. “She doesn’t like men.”

“Oh,” he said. Eris would be devastated, but he supposed it made sense, if not…a little strange to consider. “I—”

“Not—not like that,” Elain said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She likes men, she just finds them to be very stupid.”

Lucien found her attraction to other women easier to understand. “But…men aren’t stupid.”

Elain blinked up at him, lips pressed in a thin line. “Of course not.”

“All of the greatest minds in the world are men,” he continued, certain she did not believe the words she said. 

“Because they’re allowed to have minds,” Elain snapped, stepping around him with burning cheeks. “While women maintain their homes and raise their children and ensure their every need is met so all they have to do is think and write.”

Lucien trailed after her, heart thudding in his chest. “It is what women enjoy doing.”

It was her turn to round on him, spinning so quickly a couple wild curls escaped the pins beneath her pallas. “Is that what they’ve told you? Or simply your belief?”

“Women cannot handle excitement,” Lucien snapped, frustrated with her. “It’s bad for their constitutions—”

Elain laughed, face tipped upward toward the skies and right then, Lucien truly believed he was in the presence of divinity. She was Venus, fiery and furious as she faced off with him. Who else but a goddess would dare to laugh in the face of an emperor? Lucien’s knees trembled for a moment, palms sweaty, as he wondered how best to show contrition. 

It felt sacreligious to touch her and still he did, grazing his fingertips over her jaw. “Why were you sent to me?”

Her angry laughter faded, eyes widening with fear. “I…” He watched as she swallowed, teeth worrying against her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

A better man would have promised to help send her back, but Lucien was not a better man. He wasn’t even a good man, because when Elain crept closer, placing her palm against his chest as she asked, “Will you help me get home?”

Lucien nodded his head. “I will.”

And he knew, when he left her in the palace, safe within his walls, what he intended to do. She had no father, no patron—no one to object to the document he drew up. He only required his signature, which he inked to parchment easily.

Lucien intended to keep her on mortal soil.

As his wife.

Arina:

“Congratulations on your impending nuptials.” Arina spun, stola tangling around her legs at the sound of Eris’s voice. She’d heard his words before she registered the angry glint in his eyes. 

“What marriage?” she demanded, fingers skimming over her ribs for a knife that wasn’t there. She’d tied it to her ankle, for all the good it did her at the moment—Eris stalked forward, dragging long shadows in the flickering candle light. Night was nearly upon them and she didn’t want to be seen alone with him. Didn’t want to be seen anywhere. She and Elain were in danger and

Arina knew it—the Emperor looked at Elain as though she were responsible for the very sun in the sky. Arina knew what that meant, knew that unlike back in modern Rome where men looked at Elain that way, too, that Elain had no say if Lucien decided to put her in his bed.

And she had no say if he sold her into a different marriage that separated them. 

“To Hybern,” Eris practically growled, reaching for her. Arina reared back, slapping at his fingers before he could touch her. Eris exhaled, clearly irritated. 

“No one told me about this.”

“Why would they? You are, after all, a simple woman—”

“Vaffanculo!” she hissed, slapping him so hard it made her palm sting. Arina hated Eris so much right then, more when he grabbed both her wrists and, with more force than was probably necessary, shoved her up against the marble wall, hands pinned over her head.

“I’m warning you,” Eris hissed, his breath wine-sweet against her face. “Hybern is a miserable bastard I wouldn’t wish on even a malefica like you.”

Arina struggled against his hold desperately but it was no use. He was battle hardened and strong, the calluses of his fingers scraping over the delicate skin of her wrist. “Why would you help me?”

His eyes glittered and oh, she shouldn’t have asked. He was jealous. He wished he’d been the one who’d been told to marry her, but couldn’t oppose the emperor. Unaware of what she knew—that he did marry and he was happier for it the way so many stupid men were. 

“You’re an ill omen,” he breathed, lowering his face closer, until there was merely a breath between her mouth and his. “You’ll destroy me if you stay.”

That wasn’t true, though there was no point in arguing with him, either. “What makes you think so?”

“I had a dream from the gods before you came,” Eris told her, amber eyes searching her own for some proof he was right. No matter that he’d probably been lost in his cups at the time and half hallucinating. “They warned me about a beautiful woman, they…”

“Help me, then,” Arina urged. “We just want to go home. Give us a horse and we’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

Eris looked pained at the thought, his better sense warring with whatever he thought was going to happen between them. Nothing, she wanted to scream. She wasn’t staying in this shithole draped in ivory and gold to play second class to a man when she could do that back home surrounded by antibiotics and air conditioning. 

“Please,” she whispered, snapping Eris back to reality. He seemed to have realized what was happening and the position they were in.

“I’ll leave you two horses,” he murmured. “But if you get caught and brought back, do not look to me for help.”

“I wouldn’t look to you for anything, don’t worry,” she snapped, shoving him back. His words bothered her, for some reason, though Arina didn’t care to contemplate why. Eris’s face twisted with anger and quick as a viper, he reached for her hair to pull her face close to him again, neck inclined so she was looking directly at him.

“I want to hate you,” he said and she knew before their lips touched that he was going to kiss her. Men were painfully predictable, even in ancient history. They never quite graduated beyond pulling pigtails on the playground, unable to just admit they had feelings that made them uncomfortable. 

Just before they touched, Arina had been prepared to knee him roughly between the legs, well aware he wasn’t wearing anything beneath his long, purple embroidered tunic. But then…then. Oh. Arina had expected something gross but Eris’s mouth was soft even when the rough stubble of his cheek scraped against her chin. He smelled nice, like a warm day in Autumn. Even his fingers softened in her hair so his fingers could gently rub at her scalp.

It had been a while since she’d kissed a man, and longer still since that kiss had been interesting. Good. And tragically, for all his talk and stalking around, Eris was a good kisser. He tasted sweet like wine and his skin was sunwarmed despite the late hour.

She should have shoved him backward. Hit him across the face for good measure. Even when he released her wrists, Arina simply brought them to his neck, one hand circling the soft skin while the other moved up the nape of his neck to card through the short, auburn strands. Arina sighed against his mouth, giving him access just behind her teeth. Eris was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. Seizing the opportunity, Eris pushed her harder against the wall so he could press himself against her, letting her feel proof of his tainted want.

The gods had warned him about her. What did that mean? 

She forgot when his tongue swept against her own, eliciting a soft moan from her throat. Eris, too, groaned in pleasure at whatever it was he felt. Did lust streak through his body, too, settling between his legs like an unwelcome and unwanted guest? Arina would have let him drag her to bed—she’d slept with worse men, after all. If Eris had hauled her up into his arms, she would have let him, giving him one good night and a story she could hold on to long after she was back home. 

But Eris pulled back, eyes wild and hair mussed. He must have known they were in dangerous territory. A few seconds more and maybe he would have. “I don’t want to ever see you again,” he said before turning, his words a threat. Arina knew what would happen to her if she failed.

He’d marry her.

[fayeforrosie]

Blooming For You

Part 5

Karina x Fem! Reader

Today was finally the day Karina could confess her everlasting feelings for you, but there's always something in the way

Part 5 to The Only One I Want

Warnings- Swearing, angst if you read upside down with sunglasses

Word Count- like 3k maybe i forgor

“And when I’m with you, I almost feel like I’m a different person. It’s like I can just be myself without the worry of disappointing my audience and those who support me. I’ve never felt this way before, and before meeting you, I would have never guessed I would be able to experience such protruding feelings. So, Y/n... with all of this said... I would love it if I could take you out sometime, not as a friend, but as your girlfriend.” 

Karina stood tall, shoulders high as her chin pointed proudly. She took a breath as her gaze had yet to fall, the corners of her lips threatening to upturn against her better judgement. 

“Um no thanks”, Ningning glared back at Karina, her face conveying pure disgust as her eyebrows dipped lower than her rolled eyes. 

“Ning that’s not helping!” The leader shouted, reaching over to connect her two hands into the youngest member’s shoulders, pushing her back as she almost fell off of the side of the bed. 

Ningning laughed, wiping the fake tears that were apparently spilling from her eyes, pretending to hold her stomach as if her laughter was corrupting her airway. 

“I’m sorry I'm sorry... it sounds great Karina. I know you’ve been practicing so don’t worry about it, okay? Just be natural, who is she to say no to you if you’re just being yourself?” 

Karina took a breath, calming herself down and putting her mind at ease. Ning was right, she told herself, you’ve been nothing but welcoming of Karina ever since she met you. Everything you’ve done for her, from tutoring the idol and supporting her goal to become a fine artist like yourself, to becoming a friendly face in which Karina never had to wonder if you would be there for her as a friend, physically and emotionally. 

So why was she worried? 

Well for one, you are the only person Karina believed she could ever fall in love with. You were almost too perfect to be real, as if Karina were to rip a sheet of paper off of her undusted scrap journal and jot down a list of things that would make the ideal significant other.

Maybe in the past, Karina would leave the sheet blank, unable to come up with any feature or trait that could create the perfect person for her, as she believed that there could be nobody she would fall for, and she will never experience such a thing, but now, Karina is for certain that you are the very, and only, girl that she wishes for. 

“Ok... I’m gonna do it Ning”, Karina pumps her first in the air, lips sealed together in certainty. 

“I believe in you Rina! Go get ‘em!” 

- 

In your art room, sensing goosebumps arise on your skin as you walk over to clothes the blinds of the window, you hum to yourself the rhythm of the faint noise of one of Aespa’s song, Lucid Dream. 

Before ever meeting Jimin, you had seen her face plastered on every building, her smile persisting you in every makeup ad across the street, becoming exceedingly memorable. Nevertheless, you weren’t exactly familiar with who she was as a person, although fans necessarily haven’t a clue on who their idol is behind camera, you were antithetical to those who have her birth chart, shoe size, and coffee order memorized. 

Sure, you’ve seen people doing one of her group’s dance challenge out on the street, or the sound of her songs playing in a local café, however her music was not something you were exactly acquainted to. 

Now, Jimin has become a close friend of yours, visiting you nearly every day, to the best of her ability, and not only working hard to better her artistic capability, but even becoming comfortable enough to come in some days, too tired from work, and simply rest her fatigued body on your arm and make conversation with you for the remainder of your class.  

She had recently found out that you weren’t one to listen to her music, as you enjoyed more Western artists, with the exception of Twice, which she was a bit offended by, so she took it upon herself to introduce you to her entire discography, lasting longer than you’d be fond off. 

When Jimin played the song you were hearing at this moment, it instantly caught your attention, and when she observed the angelic and beautiful smile painted across your face, your eyes squinting in attentiveness, she promised herself she’d work on more songs that would have relevance to your taste. 

The song ended, along with your night, so you waltzed your way to your desk, readying yourself to head back home. Jimin was supposed to come over for a class today, but she cancelled only an hour ago as she was stuck wasting her time at work, her words not yours. 

It saddened you, because candidly you found pleasure in her presence, you enjoy when she is next to you, her soft voice carrying through the light atmosphere, soft music in the background as you soak yourself in the moment. It was something you found yourself looking forward to, and in fact, you sought Karina was only thing on your mind recently. 

You thought of her before you went to bed, snuggling yourself in the warmth of your blanket, wondering what it would feel like if her arms were to just slowly wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to her body. 

You thought of her when you were driving, imagining her in the passenger seat, a smirk displayed on her mouth as she put on her own group’s music, laughing when you roll your eyes and tell her you’ve listened to it about a hundred times now. 

Maybe you were delusional, but you thought of her in ways that a friend, or a co-worker, or an art teacher should never feel for another someone. She haunted you, appearing in your dreams just when you thought you could finally go a few hours free of the girl running circles around your mind. 

And unbeknownst to you, Karina felt the exact same way, possibly in a more obsessive, delusional, love-sick way. 

So Jimin found herself ogling down at her feet as they swiftly moved across the pavement of the sidewalk, her cap atop her head, while her hood rested above it as well, and her mask pulled to the tip of her nose. The light patter of the rain played over in her muffled ears, masking the ringing voices of chatter throughout the street. Karina thought she had hope tonight, as it was raining and not many people would be out in the city, but that was evidently proved to be inaccurate, the constant shoving against her covered arm serving as more evidence. 

As she finally reaches the end of the street, glancing up to see the familiar building she has come to love only a few blocks down, she smiles and rushes over, only to see you walking out of the very door she was running to. 

Her stomach twisted into a bundle of nerves. She isn’t prepared, but it needs to be done, or she’ll go mad. 

“Y/n!” She yells, her hood falling with the intensity of her speed, her poster tucked under her hoodie, sheltering it from the rain that began to pour heavier. 

You turn at the sound of the neighborly voice, accustomed to the sound of it, and you flash a smile before you could even glance in her direction, thinking you weren’t going to see her today. 

“Jimin!” 

“I need to talk to y-” 

That’s when a few men revealed themselves from behind an empty alleyway, their cameras shown proudly in their hands as they hastily began taking shots of the idol running desperately to you. This wasn’t a good image for her, she couldn’t be seen like this. Jimin had always been seen as such an admirable adult by her company, abiding by the rules, doing as they asked, not as a girl who would sneak out often to chase around a girl she was in love with. 

And the public? What would they say when the rumors arise about her chasing a girl in the rain with a giant poster under her hoodie? And if the company releases a statement that she was not supposed to even be out at the moment, and she was disobeying the rules? The public would ruin her. 

It was all too many thoughts at once, Jimin felt a rush of anxiety wave over her body, freezing at the sight of the paparazzi and what they could do to her, so she allowed them to assume control over her, running in the opposite direction of you into the most secluded area she could find, loosing the paparazzi in the process. 

Your smile abruptly dropped, heart coming to a standstill while you thought of what had just happened. 

Jimin was racing over to meet you after hours, dressed silently and reserved so nobody could recognize her, but the camera men knew. She was caught in the act of only talking to you, so why was it such a problem that she had to run away from you? Was she embarrassed to be friends with you? Did she not want the public to see that she was with someone who wasn’t as famous as her? 

Your anger rose, but in spite of that, what got you the best was the overwhelming sadness consuming your emotions. Who were you to think someone so popular and loved would ever want to even be seen with you? And you thought of her in a romantic aspect? Hah! You’re embarresed for yourself more than anything. 

- 

“Fucking bitch, I fucking knew it. Who am I to even...”, you trail off in your thoughts on your way back to your apartment. It was a close enough distance to walk, and for all that it was raining, and you had yet to buy an umbrella for yourself over the years, so your stuck with your drenched hair swirling down bellow your eyes, blurring your vision. 

“Fuck!” You shout, kicking an innocent rock adjacent to your foot. Everything seemed to agitate you in the moment. You couldn’t focus when all you could think about was how the girl you liked was precisely unsettled with the thought of being seen with you in the public view. 

Your phone rang in your pocket once again, and you ignored her calls like the last fourteen times, rolling your eyes when your infuriating ringtone once again pervaded your ear drums. You seriously need some sleep. 

You feel another text from her come through, so you finally had enough and raised the phone from your jeans, entering your password and looking for her contact, and that’s when you notice the numerous texts sent over the past half hour you’ve been apart. 

Y/n i’m so sorry

I didn’t expect something like that to happen

I didn’t mean to run off on you like that I promise. 

It was exactly what you had expected her to send... you scroll further. 

Y/n? 

Please answer

I know you walk home and I didn’t see you holding an umbrella

Are you home safe? 

Please respond

I’m worried

I hope you aren’t mad at me

At least let me know your safe

Y/n? 

You could get really sick

Seriously please answer

I’m going to your house 

Eyes widening, you through your phone back into your pocket and speed down the sidewalk hastily. You didn’t understand why she’d act so worried about you as if she hadn’t entirely ran off on you in response to her own shame. Who does she even think she is? You seriously don’t understand this woman. 

You rush across the street when you finally see her tall figure standing underneath the sheltered doorway. She doesn’t notice your presence yet, so you fix your appearance slightly and walk sternly down to her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to face you. 

“What the fuck was that?” You yell. 

Jimin spins to you promptly against her will, flinching at your blaring tone at such a late time, especially when it was her first time hearing you raise your voice to that level. 

She doesn’t know what to say, suddenly caught off guard by your confrontation. It takes her a while to finally digest the scenery. Your clothes and hair thoroughly soaked head to toe, eyes red as she notices a single near fall down to your chin, or maybe she was mistaking it for the rain, it was hard to tell. 

She was saddened by the looks of you, her heart dropping entirely as she thought of how rigorous the walk home must have been. You must be so cold and hungry, if only she could provide you with such things to make you feel better, although you’ve probably already caught a cold by now, unfortunately. 

“I-” she stutters, “what do you mean?” 

You laugh in her face, almost mocking her. 

“What do you mean what do I mean? You completely ran off on me as soon as those guys came over!” 

Jimin notices you are still in the rain, so she pulls you under the small roof before she responded. 

“You must be so sick Y/n, can we go inside first please?” She begs. 

Your eyes squint, wondering if she was only playing with your feelings, acting as if she really cared for your well being. Well, maybe she did, but would she say the same thing with another presence around? 

“Like you care Karina.” 

Jimin flinches, not only at your tone, but the fact that you called you Karina after continuously calling her by her real name even before the two of you became friends. It was like you knew how to attack her hearts in the perfect place. 

“What are you talking about”, Jimin furrows her eyebrows, reaching to hold your arm but you pull away from her. 

Your gaze drops, and that is when Karina can finally differentiate your tears from the rain as you raise your head dismally. 

“You don’t even understand, do you? I was so excited to see you Karina! I always am! I always fucking look forward to when we can see each other! I look forward to our art classes, and being with you, and seeing your smile brighten when you learn something new! It makes me so happy, seriously! But who am I to even say these types of things to someone like you?” 

Jimin is hesitant on which words to focus on, possibly the beginning of a confession, or the last sentence you had dropped like a bomb on her, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what you were getting at. Or maybe she did, and didn’t want to even believe you would think of such a thing. 

“Why’d you run away from me?” You cry. 

Jimins tears are now racing against yours, following them down to the gravel bellow the two of you. 

“Jimin are you embarrassed to be with me? Are you ashamed to be seen with someone like myself?” 

She shakes her head repeatedly but allows you to continue, sensing you weren’t done. 

“And I was so stupid to even think we had a chance together, how stupid of me to forget that you're an idol, and you’d do anything to protect that perfect fucking image, even running away from those who are close to you.” 

Jimin cuts you off before you can go on, sick of the lies spilling from your mouth. She couldn’t handle knowing you felt so wrongly about her feelings. 

“Y/n that’s not true! I’m sorry okay!" She shouts, “it took me by surprise, I always get so much anxiety when dealing with things like that! It doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of you, or I’m embarrassed to be seen around you! I...” 

Jimin is hesitant to finally show you the poster she’d been fostering on the steps, but she thinks back to what her members had told her, and determined this to be the best, and only time she could do this. 

“I wanted to meet you because I wanted to give you this”, she extends her hand out to you, and the poster is a bit wet and unfolded, but you take it in your grip and open it slowly, careful not to rip it. 

Your eyes fall on the work of art she created, a beautifully drawn Lillie draped against a similar Carnation. You noticed Jimin implemented every piece of advice you had given her to create such a preposing masterpiece, not missing how she used your favorite flower, as well as hers. 

And then you saw what was bellow it... a letter. 

Dear Y/n, 

Everything is all so sudden to me. I haven’t known you for too long, but that doesn’t matter, because in the time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to realize that the only thing I need in my life is you. I was so, incredibly attracted to you when I first saw you in that art museum, and you wouldn’t believe the things I did to find you (i hope that doesn’t sound weird, haha). You’ve been the only thing on my mind, and when I’m dreaming, I can still imagine your beautiful smile and soft skin. I’ve never been one for romance, but after meeting you, I know my perspective has changed. And when I’m with you, I almost feel like I’m a different person. It’s like I can just be myself without the worry of disappointing my audience and those who support me. I’ve never felt this way before, and before meeting you, I would have never guessed I would be able to experience such protruding feelings. So Y/n, with all of this said, I would love it if I could take you out sometime, not as a friend, but as your girlfriend.

You hadn’t noticed your tear stains dripping onto the paper until you finally raise your gaze to the awaiting beauty before you, biting her lips like an adorable puppy. 

“Jimin I..”, you’re at a loss for words. Out of everything that could have been on that poster, you certainly did not expect that. After the recent events that had happened previously, your hope for a future with the girl suddenly fled down the drain, nonetheless here you are with a written confession laying in the palm of your hands

You don’t know what to say, you want to start with an apology, expressing how sorry you were for misinterpreting her feelings and pronouncing her the bad guy. You want to tell her how you feel the same, and that you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather be with than her, but the way her lips pouted in anticipation pained you to no extent. 

You walked closer to the girl, reaching for her slippery hand and taking it in yours. Everything is telling you to kiss the worried look right off her face, diminish any negative thoughts she may be having, and so you pull her closer by her hand, now placing your other on her cheek. 

Even in the darkness of the night, you can nonetheless perceive the instant flush in the girl’s cheeks, and that’s the last thing you can see before you close your eyes and lean forward, connecting your lips to hers. 

Karina’s wintry hand rose to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to her body. You release your grip you had with her other hand, now placing it upon her waist to steady yourself. 

Her lips glide against yours with ease, its pillow-like feel easing the dampness of the rain droplets everlasting on her lips. You feel Karina smile as you continue to kiss her, and you do the same, appreciating such a moving moment between the two of you, admiring how it could be the possible start of something beautiful. 

It’s not until a while does Karina pull away from you reluctantly. 

“You're all wet and freezing babe”, you smile at the pet name, “let’s get you upstairs and into some comfy clothes.” 

You smile and nod, agreeing to follow her into your complex, trailing behind her back with your hand in hers as she opens the door to not only the entrance of your apartment, but hopefully the beginning of an irresistible, and beautiful bloom of a relationship. 

~

The long awaited last part ☹️

im rlly sorry for the delay guys, i know that it took a while :(( but i hope you all enjoyed❤️

[greenhousethree]

Good Enough

100-Word Drabbles for Arthur and Ginny Weasley

Fifteen drabbles written for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week, Oct 16th: Arthur Weasley. Read below or on AO3.

i.

“You’re joking.”

Molly chews back her smile, shakes her head coyly. The house isn’t quiet, per say, but in a rare stroke of luck the twins and Ronnie’s naps have aligned.

And he’s wedged around the bathroom sink with his wife, giggling like children over a potion that’s just changed color.

“A girl…”

The day she’s born, Fabian is there. Peers over the bassinet for so long, Arthur wonders if he too is counting ten perfect pink toes.

“Shit,” he says to Arthur over a cigar that night, after talking war, “this world will never be good enough for her.”

ii.

It’s his turn tonight, when they hear little feet across the kitchen floor. He’s not surprised it’s her, face still blotchy, hair sticking up everywhere from this afternoon’s tantrum that left her knackered.

She whips around in the pantry doorway, eyes like saucers. “I’m hungry.”

After leftover stew from her yellow paisley bowl, he lays in bed with her. Grants her request for a story on the condition she doesn’t suck her thumb.

“Once upon a time, there was a witch named Ginny who lived in a deep, dark wood…”

“No, Daddy,” she whispers, eyes nearly closed. “I’m a dragon.”

iii.

Molly tells him she cried the whole way home from King’s Cross. By early afternoon, he can still tell— the aftershocks seem to surprise her, those gasping little breaths. 

“You know the best part of being the last one left,” he divulges over homemade strawberry ice cream that has yet to do the trick, “is that no one’s here to fight you for your pick of broomstick.”

The rest of her bowl melts on the porch swing. She’s out until it gets dark in the orchard, comes in for supper with leaves in her hair and the biggest jack-o-lantern grin. 

iv.

The day they bring her back home, he carries her trunk upstairs and sits beside her on the bed. Apologizes for ever blaming her, even for a second. 

She counters by saying something lifeless and self-loathing and broken. Eleven-year-old fingers pick at bruised nail beds— tiny, perfect hands. He still can’t fathom it.

That night, Molly brings her dinner and doesn’t come back down. When he heads up to bed, he sees they’ve clearly emptied all her shelves, stacked every novel and journal and textbook outside her door where they can’t hurt her. 

He’s never been angrier in his life.

v.

Since this morning, he’s meant to tell her he’s sorry— sorry they couldn’t offer her anything better on her birthday than this condemnable house-turned-war room. Sorry for the second-hand leather satchel wrapped in faded Christmas paper, even though she wanted a broom; sorry everyone’s thoughts are on tomorrow’s hearing.

After dinner he finally says it, out of Molly’s earshot. Sitting on the stairs leading from the kitchen, plates of fudgy cake in hand. 

“Don’t apologize.” She’s still smiling huge, bumps his shoulder. The Flatulence Fez the twins crowned her with slips down over one eye. “I really love the bag.”

vi.

It should’ve been the day that made them proudest as parents, marrying off their firstborn. It wasn’t. 

This morning, they boxed up centerpieces and charger plates in the shed, repaired all the furniture, met with the Order. His ears still ring. The house is eerie without those three. 

He finds them in her room. His wife is clutching their daughter as she sobs harder than he’s ever seen, inconsolable, wracking herself hoarse. He feels it like a sword to the chest.

In bed later, Molly shakes her head with that look he earns sometimes when he’s being thick. “She’s heartbroken.”

vii.

Friday before Easter, he changes from work robes into something Muggle and tweed and itchy. Platform 9¾ is packed with people avoiding eye contact, and the Express is late. It was late in December, too— arrived without Luna. He waits, terror tightening his throat.

He’s numb with relief when he sees her, one of the only kids lugging a trunk like he advised. She’s swimming in a jumper he’s sure is Ron’s, and that twinges a bit. There’s something different, he notices, walking to the entrance. Colder. Quiet. He doesn’t ask… can’t quite bear to.

Four days later, they flee.

viii.

She’s fighting him. Kicking, clawing.

He holds on with everything he has, arms clasped around her chest, and it’s like he can feel her breaking inside. But if he lets go, he’ll lose her, too. Like Fred. 

Like the body they’re all staring at, lifeless at Hagrid’s feet.

Weeks later, when the Boy Who Lived finds him in the shed one night, hedging, guiltier than anyone he’s ever seen, he already knows. For a moment he considers letting the kid squirm, like the father ought to do.

But then he remembers her first year, and wordlessly hands over a screwdriver. 

ix.

“One more,” she tells their waitress, pointing at a coaster she’s put in the middle. “For my sixth brother.”

The table falls quiet. But then George chuckles and they all take his cue, except Molly.

Snow collects on the windows as the bangers and pies and chips are served. She laments early-morning practices to them all, pretends she’s already bored of all the travel.

“Knock it off,” Charlie snickers, grinning. “Rookies can’t complain. We know you’re having a blast.”

At the end of the night she beats everyone to the bar, pays their tab. Arthur suspects it’s her whole paycheck.

x.

“I definitely saw you cry,” she accuses. She’s graceful even in smugness, grinning something wicked over her lipstick-stained champagne flute.

He pretends to grumble, but he knows she knows. “Hard not to, with the bloody groom getting all choked up.”

The band calls them up soon after, and he pulls her close. “It’s okay,” she murmurs as her face starts to blur again, inches away. “Just admit you’ve gone soft, Dad. I won’t tell.” He tugs on her hand to spin her, chuckling.

They cut cake, and Harry whispers something that makes her laugh, and she lights up the room.

xi.

Predictably, the stadium loses it when she flies out with a new surname on her kit. Ron rolls his eyes as she lands on the pitch with a bit of swagger.

She flies well today, but he reckons she could miss every shot and the commentators would still talk of nothing else. In the stands, Harry laughs when Arthur leans over to ask how it feels to play second fiddle. 

“I’ll never be good enough for her,” he snorts over the rim of his pint. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

She scores twelve goals, and the Harpies clinch playoffs.

xii.

“I’d kill for a drink about now,” she mutters, leaning against the railing. He knows better than to say she probably shouldn’t be out here, either— the venue’s porch, serving as refuge for men who normally never smoke.

He takes a long drag as they watch her boys toddle after their dad on the lawn. “Nearly there, sweetheart.” Treading lightly with his words, lest he incur any of what Muriel’s other well-intended mourners did with their attempts at small talk (“Like a fucking whale, thanks for asking”).

“Hey,” she smirks, “maybe you and Mum can buy a beach cottage now.”

xiii.

The mug Molly poured when they arrived is tepid now, sitting on the table. Shadows lengthen like ghosts beneath his daughter’s eyes; he suspects they’re five days old.

The kids are all asleep, Molly updates them.

Her jaw tightens. At her temple, he notices a couple of gray strands. “I can’t—” she whispers. Squeezes her eyes shut; nothing else comes out. “They need their dad. I’m not good enough on my own.”

“He’ll come home safe, darling. Always does.” And he makes her promise to never say that again. 

He takes both of her hands in his, and they’re cold.

xiv.

They’re celebrating Ted and Vic beneath a canopy of fairy lights. Bill’s weepy toast prompts Fleur to frisk his brothers till she finds George’s flask.

She never realizes Ginny’s stowing the bottle. 

His children outlast their kids and spouses. It’s one of those nights he can’t let himself miss, tired as he is. 

His daughter points a wobbly finger. “Lils has a boyfriend, by the way. Doesn’t think we know. Harry’s going spare.”

He chuckles. “Now he gets it. Imagine trying to justify hating the Chosen One.”

She laughs, nearly tips her chair. “You should tell him that. Might help.”

xv.

It comes in waves. Feels like a lifetime has passed since yesterday; another before that. Molly— bless her— tried to prepare him for it. Tried to comfort him. Imagine.

It feels too big now, their little house on the beach. Perfect for two lives, cavernous with just one. 

She finds him in the garden before sunset. Small, warm hands enclose his. 

“Look, Dad.” 

It’s a delicate, fluttering thing with blue wings, bobbing on the wind. Molly’s favorite. 

“She’s found us again.”

He smiles and tucks a silver lock behind her ear, meeting her gaze— precisely the same shade of brown.

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 10

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,702

Rating: We'll go with a soft NSFW; there's smut but it's not explicit.

** This chapter also contains the 'body horror' portion of the blanket warning, as there is explicit talk of Frankie's monthly transformation **

Summary: It's time. The night of the next full moon means tagging along with Frankie - and Will - when they head to the camper.

Despite only knowing each other for a short period of time, Frankie's willing to show you the most dangerous part of himself and you're more than ready to let him.

But there are other things hiding in the Green Swamp ... and they're much more dangerous than he is.

Author’s note:

This is the chapter that I've been waiting to get to for a REALLY LONG TIME. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. (This would have been posted HOURS ago, but my power has been out all afternoon even though it's SUNNY OUT.

Please feel free to come and talk in my DMs about it if you want. I'm always here.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

Frankie was restless in the days leading up to the next full moon, and there was no hiding it.

He wasn’t rude or mean, and he didn’t distance himself from you - but he did treat you just a little differently. And you didn’t mind at all.

You especially didn’t mind when, on the night before he was set to change, he nearly dragged you down the hallway and into his bed and spent what felt like an hour between your thighs.  He made you come twice with his mouth, Frankie’s moans mingling with yours and sending vibrations through your body that followed the waves of pleasure. 

But when you pushed him away, protesting that it was too much, he went willingly. Frankie’s head popped up and his eyes were bright, the evidence of your arousal glistening on his lips. “You alright?” His voice was husky, the man pausing long enough to take a deep breath and flick his tongue out to get a final taste. “You sounded like you -”

“I am.” You shivered, nodding. “Come up here, Francisco.” He did as you asked, though he didn’t immediately lay next to you. Instead, he kissed his way up the center of your body, turning his head to suck one nipple briefly into his mouth before releasing it and pressing his lips to the base of your throat. “Is this how you always are this time of the month?”

“I don’t know.” He took a breath and then lifted his head, meeting your eyes. “I’ve never been with anyone the night before. Never … trusted myself.” Your heart broke for him, but in the same moment, you understood exactly what he was saying. This means he trusts himself with me when he’s this vulnerable, too. It’s not just tomorrow. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” 

“No.” Cupping your hand against his cheek, you shook your head slowly. “You’re just … more enthusiastic than usual. Couple more minutes of that and I wouldn’t have made it through you actually fucking me.” His lips quirked up briefly, but he kept quiet, still watching you. “And I really want to be able to enjoy that for as long as possible.” 

You could feel him pressing against your leg. 

Even though you knew how much going down on you turned Frankie on, it was still a point of pride for you to have evidence of it. Because he’s got so much else on his mind right now, too. Urging him to close the distance with the curl of your fingers beneath his chin, you met Frankie’s lips with your own. 

It was him that broke away first, Frankie’s teeth closing around your lower lip as he pulled back - and quiet words following moments later. “You could have told me to stop.” 

“I didn’t want you to.” Laughing, you dragged your fingers through the curls at the base of his skull while he settled in next to you. “I just need a couple minutes right now to breathe, and then I’ll be good to go.” He murmured in agreement, one of his arms wrapping around your midsection, but you and Frankie stayed quiet otherwise, both of you breathing heavily. 

He and Will were picking you up the following afternoon. The three of you were going to head straight to the RV, making sure that Frankie had plenty of time to get settled in before the sun set. He wanted to be the one to show you the routine, and you were on board with it. Because if I’m going to do it again, I need to know exactly how to help him. 

“Can I tell you something?” He kissed the top of your shoulder, pausing to give you a chance to reply. 

“Of course.” Turning toward him, you moved your hand so that it rested against his bicep. The new position allowed him to trail his fingertips over your lower back, the motion soothing. “What’s going on?”

“I’m worried about tomorrow.” Worried? Why? “It’s … I had them record me changing once, because I wanted to see it from someone else’s perspective, and it’s …” He winced. “I’m worried that you’ll be disgusted by -”

“If you don’t want me to watch you shift, that’s fine. It’s up to you what you show me.” You spoke quietly, keeping your voice even. “But it’s not going to change anything, Frankie.” Leaning in, you kissed him, letting your lips linger against his for long seconds. “Me being in your life isn’t only about being around for the best parts… and I’m not just talking about your wolf.” 

You meant it - you needed Frankie to know that you didn’t expect him to sugarcoat things for you, no matter how terrible they were. But only if he wants to include me. “Thought I had to put a ring on someone’s finger for them to be around for better or worse.” He’s joking, but … shit. That is what I just offered to do. He paused, saying your name and waiting until you pulled back enough that you could meet his eyes - and see that he was actually amused - to continue. “There’s a lot of bad shit. Shit I haven’t told you or showed you or -”

“We’ll get there.” You squeezed his arm, nodding without looking away. “We’ve only known each other a little while, there’s still plenty of time. This just … circumstances forced a few things a little early, and now we’ve got to deal with them.”

“Sure as fuck did.” He grinned, some of the tension breaking. But it was only a momentary reprieve, because the worry settled back in his features a few seconds later. “I really don’t want to scare you away, and this might. You can tell me it’ll be fine all you want, but until -”

“Until I see it for myself, neither of us are going to know what’s going to happen.” You nodded, chewing on your lower lip. “Frankie, I don’t want this to be more stressful for you than it already is. That wouldn’t be helpful at all.” 

“I keep thinking about the fact that tonight might be the last night I get this with you.” He closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. “And I don’t want … that would be fucking awful.” You didn’t reply right away, instead letting his words sink in. 

He wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t truly think that there was a possibility that he’d lose you. And the thought of losing you wouldn’t have been so terrifying to him if he didn’t feel strongly for you. Shit. 

“It won’t be.” You brought your hand up, running your knuckles over the stubble on his cheek. “At least not by my choice, ‘Fish.” You were certain of that - of the fact that whatever he showed you the following night, it wouldn’t change the way you felt about him, at least not in the ways he was concerned with. “You’re asking me to trust you tomorrow, right?” He nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Then you need to trust me, too.” 

Your hand slid back, fingers curling around the back of his neck before you urged him closer. Please trust me. “I do.” He nodded and then kissed you, exhaling through his nose without pulling away. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t need an apology, Frankie.” You spoke against his lips, taking the lower one between your teeth at the end of your sentence and tugging. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He sighed, the hand on your back sliding down to your hip and squeezing. “But…” You traced over the curve of his lip with the tip of your tongue, the ends of your fingers delving into the hair that curled against the nape of his neck. “I do need you to fuck me right now.” 

You weren’t usually so blunt with him, because you didn’t need to be. But he needs a distraction. And he needs to know that I want him. “That’s what you want?” You nodded, humming as his mouth returned to yours, Frankie pushing you backwards and then letting some of his body weight rest on you. “Good.” He rocked his hips forward, grinding against your thigh. “Me too.” 

Frankie swallowed your reply in a deep kiss, and for the next few minutes, you let your mind wander. You knew that sex as a distraction wasn’t the best call - but rationalized it as necessary in that case when he finally pushed up and away from you, reaching for the bedside table and the condoms there. The following day was going to be stressful, and the more relaxed both of you were when the sun set and he changed, the better. 

You did come a third time that night - but it happened almost 30 minutes later - Frankie’s orgasm triggering your body’s response, which was no less intense than it had been earlier. And instead of pulling out immediately, he held you close for a long time after, his face pressed to your neck. 

It was almost impossible to tell because of your ragged breathing, but you could have sworn you heard - and felt - him speaking against your skin, Frankie’s hold on you secure. You didn’t want to put him on the spot, so you didn’t question him about if he’d spoken - or what he might have said. 

And instead of continuing your earlier conversation, you and Frankie simply climbed back into bed after cleaning yourselves up, his arms wound tightly around you from behind. It was you that said goodnight first, sleep already creeping up on you thanks to how exhausted your body was. He spoke his reply directly into your ear, the arm around your body tightening - though his voice was low. 

He fell asleep before you, the worry gone and his body relaxing as soon as his breathing evened out. You weren’t far behind him, but  you took the time to link your fingers together against your stomach, his curling against yours, even though he was already snoring softly. Nothing is going to change. It can’t. 

You fell asleep holding his hand and with the comforting feeling of his body pressed against you from behind … and neither of you moved until morning. 

— 

Will and Frankie showed up to get you early, but you were already packed and ready to go by the time the SUV pulled into your driveway.

After putting your overnight bag into the trunk with both of theirs, you climbed into the back seat, taking a deep breath. “Hey, guys.” Will said hello in return without looking at you, already backing out of the driveway, but Frankie turned to look into the backseat, his eyes bright beneath the brim of his hat. “Francisco.” 

You could tell he was nervous; you could see how rigidly he was holding himself. At your tone of voice, he relaxed marginally, lips twitching upward into a small smile. “Hey.” He paused and you reached forward, squeezing his arm. There’s no reason for you to be so nervous. “You ready?” 

“I am. I brought snacks, because -”

“We’re going to stop before we get to the RV.” Will looked back at you in the rearview mirror, arching a brow. “Couple fast food places right off the freeway. And there’s stuff in the camper, too.” Frankie reached up and covered your hand with his, but then turned to face forward, settling back and against the seat. “It’s about an hour drive, so you should get comfortable. ‘Fish always picks the music, so sorry ‘bout that in advance.” 

That got a laugh out of you and a groan from Frankie, but it also lightened the mood, which seemed necessary. “I also brought headphones.” You cleared your throat, settling back against the seat. “Just in case.” 

Will’s laugh filled the interior of the car, but it was drowned out when Frankie spun the volume dial on the radio - and then started to sing along. Maybe this is going to be OK. 

— 

After you got to the RV, the three of you sat inside with the door open, eating. It was a little before 6, which meant that you had just over an hour before Frankie needed to start getting ready. 

As the minutes passed, you noticed the change in mood, though you and Will kept up a steady stream of conversation and Frankie tried to do the same. Will seemed anxious, while Frankie’s nerves became more and more apparent, the man repeatedly removing his hat so that he could drag his fingers through his unruly curls over and over. 

It was difficult to watch - and you made a mental note to ask Will later if that behavior was normal, or if Frankie was acting differently because you were there. Either way, it didn’t matter, because as soon as you were done eating, Will stood up, wiping his hands against he front of his pants and clearing his throat. 

“I’m going to head up into the trees.” He looked between you and Frankie, taking and releasing a deep breath. “I’ll be down as soon as you head out, ‘Fish. Don’t forget the t-”

“The tracker. I know.” He nodded once, his tone sharp. “I’m good, Ironhead.” 

“I’ll be watching at sundown, but not before.” Will said your name, waiting until you’d shifted your attention to him to continue. “I will not let anything happen to you.” Do you really need to say this? It’s just going to - “Frankie made me promise to say that to you while he was still here. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but -”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Frankie straightened up, reaching out to take your hand. “Not with you.” There was nothing else to say, and so you just nodded, the two of you waiting until Will gathered his things and headed out the RV’s door, closing it behind him. And then when it was quiet, you watched Frankie carefully, waiting. 

You wanted to let him explain things in his own time, and in the way he wanted to - and that meant not leading him. Taking the opportunity to look around the small space, you grinned at the sight of the photos that decorated the walls.

“We figured that since this belongs to all of us, it should look the part.” Frankie stepped toward one of the bulletin boards, pointing. “Took this on our first deployment together.” His finger moved down and to the right, jabbing at a shot of the five of them that looked much more recent. “This one was from South America.” 

Stepping closer, you took a better look at the picture, which was of them sitting on a patio together, the cheerful lights strung above them illuminating a wooden table that was littered with cans and bottles, but keeping the background in shadows. “Before everything?”

“Before Lorea, yeah. That was the night we agreed to help Pope.” Frankie sighed, lowering his arm. “Was pretty much the last good night we had before everything went to shit.” 

“At least you didn’t come home empty handed after everything you guys went through.” He laughed, but the sound was bitter, Frankie backing away from the photos and turning to unlock a crate that was sitting on the other side of the room. 

“Yeah, the money’s a nice little consolation prize.” He bent down, pulling a folded blanket and a notebook out. “Especially now that I have to deal with this every month.” He reached back in, pausing before he withdrew his hand. “I know you brought your gun, but I’m going to need you to carry this one tonight.” 

He turned back to face you, holding out a revolver and a holster, his expression serious. “Why?”

“Because you need to have something that’s got silver bullets in it, and if you used your gun, you’d have to explain why you’ve got them in there already.” You hadn’t even thought of that, but it made total sense. That would have been a mistake on my end. “They still carry when they’re with me. Ironhead’s got a gun of his own up there. This one’s a backup, but he’ll be looking to make sure I gave it to you.”  

“Of course.” You took it from him, undoing your belt and sliding the holster onto it. “Anything else?”

“The notebook’s to keep track of the time the change starts, and when I come back.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Ironhead’s focused on numbers, so leave that to him tonight. I don’t know what the fuck they do while I’m out there, but I’m sure he’ll fill you in.” You nodded, swallowing before you took a step closer to Frankie. “The blanket’s because I get naked before. I didn’t the first couple times and I ruined my goddamn clothes, so now I just …” He shrugged. “Take ‘em all off.” 

“Do I bring it back in once you’re gone?”

“No. Whoever’s out here usually just moves it underneath the awning on the side of the RV so that I have a little privacy when I come back. If it’s rainin’, yeah. Bring it inside and then set it out again right before sunrise, but otherwise …” He shrugged again. “C’mon, let me show you the rest of it. We’re running out of time.” 

For the next thirty minutes, Frankie showed you the rest of the inside of the RV, carefully explaining the measures that they’d taken to protect themselves - and him. He showed you the tracking device and the app they used to monitor it, the map of the area that he tended to frequent - a peaceful place that was about fifteen miles south of the camper near a small creek  that gave him plenty of space to run. 

As the time ticked down, you could see - and feel Frankie’s demeanor change. Not only did his words come out faster, but you saw the way his body moved - fingers flexing more often, his wrist twisting back and forth by his side as he explained things to you. 

You stayed close, though, listening to him and asking questions. You made it a point to touch him, even briefly, every so often just so that he knew you weren’t going to shy away. I wouldn’t. Ever. A little after 7, he stopped abruptly, straightening up and turning to look at you. “I need to go outside.”  

“Of course. Do you need me to leave while you get undressed?” 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” That got a smile out of him - and a laugh out of you, but as you stood back and leaned against the edge of the dining room table, you stopped laughing. He methodically removed his clothes - starting with his shoes and socks and then moving to his shirt, the man taking everything off and tossing it into the chest that he’d pulled things from previously. “Keeps my scent hidden. Seems like a good idea with this other wolf running around.” 

You agreed, murmuring the words back to him. “You said your senses are heightened now, right?” 

“They are.” He nodded, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, slowly sliding them down and over his hips. “Soon as I go outside it’s going to … I don’t know how to explain it. Explode, maybe?” Frankie looked back over his shoulder at you, smirking. “You smell amazing right now, by the way.” That took you by surprise, as did Frankie’s wink before he faced forward again and then stepped out of his jeans, bending down to scoop them off the floor. 

You couldn’t help the way your teeth clamped down on your lower lip when he straightened up, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the waistband of his underwear - the only thing he had on. Your reaction to the sight of his body was instinctual and because he’d just admitted that everything was heightened, you knew he’d sensed it, too. 

Frankie gave you a much longer than necessary glimpse of his bare ass before he leaned forward and picked the blanket up, wrapping it around his shoulders. “When we go outside, we’re gonna go and stand in the middle of the clearing. Will’s going to be able to see everything, so…” He spun to face you, and for the first time, you saw true worry in his eyes. “I’m going to say goodbye to you in here, if that’s alright.” 

“More than alright.” Closing the distance between you, you reached for Frankie, taking his face between your palms. “It’s going to be fine.” He nodded but didn’t say anything before you kissed him, moving in as close as you possibly could with him holding the blanket closed around himself. 

You knew you had very little time - and when Frankie stepped forward, backing you up and against the closed door, you realized just how little. 

He’d never kissed you quite like he did then. 

What started out with you in the lead quickly shifted to something more, his mouth hungry against yours, Frankie’s hips rolling forward and keeping you pinned against the wood. You felt him growl into your mouth - the sound needy as his tongue stroked yours, and you moved a hand into his hair, yanking his head to the side as you let out a moan that only made him inch even closer. 

The desire was bleeding from his body. 

Frankie was trembling against you, and you had no idea how he managed to keep his hands off of you and firmly holding the blanket. But it’s a good thing he did because him touching me now is … He broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away, Frankie lowered his head and nosed along your cheek and then your jaw before dropping his head so that he could nuzzle against your neck. “What are you -”

“The way you smell right now is fucking …” He groaned, and you felt him press an openmouthed kiss to your pulse point. “Nothing like it.” Dragging your fingers through his hair as he took a deep breath, you closed your eyes and inhaled too, trying to see if there was anything different that you could sense.

He still smelled like Frankie - faint cologne and clean sweat, a hint of laundry detergent from the blanket - and even though you knew what was going to happen in only a few minutes time, you still didn’t feel any differently about him. 

The motion of his hips stopped as you felt his chest expand with a few deep inhales, followed by Frankie pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck before he nipped at it with his teeth and straightened up. “Couldn’t help it.” He raised a brow, meeting your eyes. “At least this time I can blame the wolf.” 

“We should go outside.” Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you tilted your head to the right. “I don’t want you to cut it too close.” You saw uncertainty in his eyes for a few seconds but then he nodded, closing them and stepping back.

You moved away from the door and then pulled it open, walking down the few steps that led to the forest floor. He followed, but was silent - and didn’t break that silence until you were about ten yards from the RV.

“Flip the snap on that holster.” He swallowed, shifting back and forth on his feet without looking away. “But don’t put your hand on the butt. I don’t … know how I’ll react to that.” You nodded, wetting your lips. “I’m not going to get mad if you look away. This is all new for you.”

“You’re going to let me see?” Your eyes widened. “Frankie, I thought -”

“I am.” He rolled his neck out before he tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. “I need you to know everything.” He winced and shuddered, his eyes shut. It’s happening. “Step back.” His voice was lower than usual, and when Frankie opened his eyes, you saw that they were lighter, his pupils wide. “And if it even seems like I’m going to -”

“You won’t. But I know.” You tapped the gun, smiling at him. “It’s alright, Frankie.” He wrinkled his nose, and you watched as the blanket twisted in his hands as he tightened his grip. “I’m right here.” 

The clearing was silent, and though it should have bothered you to know that Will likely had a gun pointed at the two of you, you were entirely focused on Frankie. You wondered what the beginning of his change would look like - if it would start slowly or happen all at once, resulting in the man in front of you disappearing as he became something else. I’m going to find out. I - 

“Don’t…” He groaned, stomping one foot and gritting his teeth. “Don’t run. Turn away if you need to, but please don’t do anything that might make me chase you.” Oh, Frankie. You knew it was dangerous, but you didn’t even try to stop yourself from taking the few steps forward that were necessary to put yourself directly in front of him. “What the fuck are you -”

“Stop worrying about me.” Placing your hand flat on his chest - palm over his frantically beating heart - you stared directly into his eyes, which were already more gold than brown. “Focus on what you need to focus on, Francisco.” He went still, but then nodded, his gaze flicking down to your mouth and then back up. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Leaning closer, you kissed him on the cheek and then backed off, knowing that you were already pressing your luck. 

“You might not say that in a few minutes.” I doubt it. He dropped the blanket suddenly, exposing his entire body to you - and for the first time since you’d met Frankie, you looked at him with something other than want. 

There was no real way for you to describe what was happening except to say that it looked like everything was stretching. The bones in his arms and legs were elongated, as were the ones in his hands, which forced his fingers to curl inward toward his palms. Even Frankie’s chest seemed to expand, and you watched in disbelief as the shape of his body changed, breath catching in your throat at the sight in front of you. He’s got to be in so much pain. 

Frankie stayed quiet, though, and when you looked up and met his eyes again it was you that made the first sound. A gasp tumbled from your lips before you brought a hand up to cover your mouth at the sight of his face. If not for the tangle of curls on his head and the lingering furrow between his brows, you wouldn’t have even known it was him, because it wasn’t a man’s face you were looking at - it was that of a wolf. 

He bared his teeth as he fell forward and his hands hit the ground, but the only noise you heard was the grunt of the impact. You had no idea how he stayed silent. No matter what he’d said, the process of changing had to be painful, and you were almost certain that he’d lied to you about the way it felt in order to spare your feelings. “Oh, Frankie.” 

It slipped out before you could stop it, but he didn’t even acknowledge your words, and though you assumed he’d heard you - his human ears had become the pointed ones of a wolf - you had no way of knowing for certain. 

He dug in with his hands, leaving a few gouges in the earth, but when you watched his shoulderblades shifting beneath his skin for the final few seconds before dark fur sprouted from his body, you finally looked away, needing a second to compose yourself. 

You were crying; you felt the tears tracking hot down your cheeks, but it wasn’t because you were afraid of him. Instead, you were angry for him, upset that every 30 days, he had to relive the transformation twice in the span of twelve hours. Nothing could prepare me for that. Not a goddamn thing. 

A whining noise drew your attention again, and when you turned your head back toward Frankie, you gasped a second time, lowering your hand. 

The man you knew was gone - and in his place was the largest wolf you’d ever seen, sitting on his haunches and staring at you with its head tilted to the side. “Hey, Francisco.” Reaching up with one hand, you wiped away your tears and gave him a smile. “Look at you.” 

You took a few seconds to do just that, your heart thudding in your chest at the sight of a werewolf, not even ten feet from you, after years of searching. He was much bigger than you’d imagined; the top of his head reaching almost to the center of your chest, and his shoulders were broad, mirroring the man in human form. 

He pawed at the ground, and you watched as he scented the air, never looking away from you. You wanted to move closer, but didn’t want to spook Frankie, so you cleared your throat and took a breath, giving him a smile. “Can you understand me?” He nodded and then blinked twice, but he stayed put. Fucking weird. “Will you come closer?” Wetting your lips, you laughed, the sound nervous. “Only if you want to. I -” 

He moved as you spoke, rising and then slowly trotting forward, but stopping before he was close enough for you to touch. Even in the slowly darkening twilight, you could see that his wolf mimicked the way Frankie looked as a man, and you wondered if that was the case for all of them. 

Shaggy fur in a deep chestnut threaded with gray covered his entire body, but his face was lighter, especially on his cheeks and snout. With a genuine laugh you leaned closer, biting your lip at the sight of his cheek. He tilted his head to the side, staring at you, and it was easy to read his curiosity.

“The patches in your beard.” Reaching up, you tapped your own face. “You’ve still got them.” For whatever reason, seeing that was what tipped you over the edge and put you truly at ease. Because he’s still Frankie. “Even as a wolf, I’d know that handsome face anywhere.” He whined again, ducking his head, and when he looked up, you could have sworn he was smiling. Good. Good, he can see… I’m not afraid. “That looked like it hurt, Frankie. But thank you for letting me watch.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stared at the wolf in front of you, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. 

You didn’t know how he’d react to that - had no idea if anyone had ever touched him in that form, or if he even wanted anyone to. Why wouldn’t he? You felt oddly calm, even though your heartbeat was still elevated, and as you eyed Frankie, you realized that Ashley and Alec hadn’t been lying about the size of wolves. He’s huge. And if the other one is this big, too… I’d stand no chance, especially if he was attacking me from up close. 

“Am… am I allowed to touch you?” Gritting your teeth, you swiped at your face with one hand. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question, I just -” But apparently, it wasn’t, because Frankie rose to all fours and took another cautious step toward you, putting himself within arm’s reach. You had no idea what to do, and so you held out one hand toward him, proud to see that it was almost completely steady. 

He moved his head, turning toward your outstretched hand to sniff it, and then you moved on autopilot, stepping forward and lifting your hand so that you could slide it between his ears, fingers curling into the fur there. It’s not as soft as it usually is. You still grinned at the feel of it, your other hand moving to the side of his neck and stroking downward. 

“You’re gorgeous, Francisco.” Humming as  he stepped forward again, nudging your hip, you kept going. “And you’re fucking huge, and if I didn’t know it was you, I’d be …” You sighed, stroking his fur. “You’re intimidating, even when you’re just sitting there. Thank you for not scaring the fuck out of me.” He nudged you again, rubbing the side of his face against your hip, and then without warning, he broke away from your touch and circled around your legs, head lowered. “You still don’t like compliments, even when you’re like this, hmm?” 

His head shot up and you somehow knew that if he were human, he’d have rolled his eyes. But when he took a seat in front of you again, you took a deep breath and crouched down, bringing yourself closer to his eye level. 

The two of you stared at each other for long seconds, and the longer you looked, the more of Frankie you saw in front of you. The wolf sat proudly, though his head was tilted to the side as he eyed you.There was warmth in his gaze, along with a sense of calm that you hadn’t expected with how nervous he’d been only minutes earlier. 

He’d given you permission to touch him, and so you did, reaching out and stroking the fur along the side of his face and then down his neck, following the motion of your hand with your eyes. He repositioned his paws, inching marginally closer, and at that your smile widened, a barely there nod of your head accompanying it. His fur lightened as it got closer to the ends of his legs, and you were surprised to see what looked like a black smudge atop the left paw. He must have had that one when he was bitten. “Frankie, have you ever…” You touched it, looking up. “Your tattoo, it’s….” 

He lowered his head further, and when you felt the press of his wet nose against the back of your hand you finally moved it away, letting him see. The noise he made in response was almost startled, which made you laugh, and forced you into a sitting position, giving you a chance to look up at him. 

He straightened up again and stared at you, blinking slowly, and then Frankie extended a paw and rested it on your knee, the movement cautious. You reached for it, lifting it slowly, and when you pushed gently on his toes, you saw the true size of his claws, as well as noticed the fact that his paw itself was massive, and much larger than your palm. You wondered if he was considered small for a wolf, and then wondered if Ashley would allow you to see any of her pack during a full moon so you could compare. 

“Frankie, the fact that you’re like this with me now …” You met his eyes again, taking and holding a deep breath. “This is incredible. You’re incredible.” He ducked his head again but it didn’t last long, because he drew his paw from your hold and then moved forward, lowering his head and sniffing at your bare arm. You felt it moments later - the warmth and wet of his tongue as he licked the back of your hand. “Oh. Oh, ok…” 

You moved then, raising both arms and putting them around his neck, turning your head so that you could bury your face in his fur. If you hadn’t been certain before, that moment made it clear that you loved him, wolf and all. How could someone not love him?

Frankie let the weight of his head rest on your shoulder, and you head him whining, the sound loud - followed by the press of his paw against your other leg. He’s trying to hug me back. Oh, Frankie. 

He pulled away first, but didn’t go far, and even though you stayed mostly still when he started, your eyes widened as you felt him nosing at your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Shit. He’s… 

Frankie licked your neck twice, and then rubbed his face against it, whining loudly as he backed off. But that time, he took a playful stance, his tail wagging back and forth and his ears swiveling as he watched you, tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

“Oh, you’re in a good mood now?” He nodded again, agreeing, and when you pushed to your feet, he stretched, front paws out and that half of his body lowered while the back end remained upright, tail still moving from side to side. “You need to go, don’t you.” He set his paws and then shook his body, yipping out a reply to you at the end of the movement. “Then go, Frankie. Run. Have a good night.” Stepping forward, you reached down and found the metal chain around his neck, trailing your fingers over it until you found the tracking device. “I’ll keep an eye on you. We’ll keep an eye on you, alright?” 

He barked then, turning his head to the right and then looking up, and you knew it was looking for Will, even though he likely couldn’t see him. He barked twice more - the sound carrying, and then Frankie backed away further, putting distance between you. 

Part of you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him to stay in the clearing with you all night. But you knew that he had to, that he needed to run and stretch his legs and let the wolf’s instincts take over for the few hours that it could. And it would be selfish of me to ask him not to do that. 

“Be safe.” You said his name, crossing your arms. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” He whined, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, though he stayed in place. What is he waiting for? You watched him closely, Frankie turning his head to look up, and even though you weren’t sure, you spoke again. “Go ahead. It’s not going to scare me. Let me hear you.” 

Your permission had been what he was waiting for, and only moments later, Frankie sat and tipped his head back, letting out the loudest, longest howl you’d ever heard in your life. It didn’t scare you, because you knew it was him, but the sound was chilling, and somehow different from the regular wolf calls you’d heard previously. And it’s different than last month’s, too. It sounds … fuller. 

He howled a second time, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he held his position, nose pointed toward the sky and his broad shoulders set. It was an incredible thing to see - and it would have still been incredible even if it wasn’t Frankie that you were watching. But the fact that it is him… it’s more special. 

The howl trailed off, and Frankie rose to all fours again, turning away and toward the woods to the south. At the edge of the clearing, he stopped and looked back, pausing long enough to howl again - that one long and low, almost sad. 

And then he was gone, disappearing through the trees and into the gathering darkness. 

You waited a solid minute and then deflated, dropping to your knees and covering your face with both hands. You were overwhelmed - there was no way around it, and since you knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to hear it, you started crying again, shoulders shaking. 

It had gone much better than you’d imagined it would. Frankie had seemed at ease with you in way that you’d never expected, and despite your tears, you weren’t scared or upset at what you’d seen. It made you sad, of course, but you were convinced even more than you had been earlier that you had nothing to fear from Frankie, even when he was a wolf. 

It was still almost a slap in the face to have learned just how large werewolves were, and exactly what your relatives had expected you to face in order to complete your revenge quest. Frankie’s gentle behavior was, as the guys had said, somewhat misleading, because the others wouldn’t be like that, especially around someone that they didn’t know. And the Chaos wolves are especially dangerous for someone that’s accustomed to a wolf they know. 

Reaching up, you rubbed at the side of your neck and then reached out with your other hand to touch the spots in the ground that he’d disturbed, fingers trailing over the claw marks and then coming to rest in one of his pawprints. A wolf the size of Frankie could easily overpower an adult human. A wolf the size of Frankie without the self restraint of a former Army Special Forces helicopter pilot could do it before the other person even knew what was happening. “Fuck.” 

You hung your head, shaking it back and forth. Yes, you had a better idea of what you’d be up against when finding a Chaos wolf, but it made the odds seem so much more stacked against you. “You alright?”

You shot to your feet at the sound of the voice, your hand automatically going for the gun on your hip as you whirled around. Will stood a few feet away, both hands held up with his palms out and a smirk on his face. Jesus. “You scared the fuck out of me, Will.” Your heart was racing, fingers frozen just above the butt of the gun.

“So let me get this straight.” He lowered his hands and then crossed his arms. “‘Fish turns into a goddamn wolf right in front of you and you’re fine. Two minutes after it happens, you’re petting him … and I’m human an’ ask if you’re doin’ alright, and you go to pull a gun out on me?” 

“I…” Wrinkling your nose, you winced. “Yeah, that’s kind of fucked, isn’t it.” Both of you laughed then, and you rubbed at your face before you said anything else. “I don’t even know what to say. That was … that happens every time?”

“Every time.” He stepped past you and reached down, picking the blanket up. “He’s quiet now, though. First few times, he screamed.” 

“He said it didn’t hurt, that it was just uncomfortable.”

“He’s a fucking liar.” He folded the blanket with precision, and then moved back toward the RV, motioning for you to follow him. “His goddamn bones grow and move. His face changes shape. I didn’t go to college and study the fuckin’ supernatural, but … the way he screamed at the beginning? I can guarantee it hurt. And it might be something he’s more used to now, but …” 

“Yeah.” It made you feel worse, but you couldn’t fault Frankie for lying to you. “So what now? He won’t be back until morning, right?” 

“Right.” Will stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “So now it’s a whole lot of sitting and waiting. We’ve got internet and TV inside. I can take you up and show you the view from the blind. We can stay out here… it’s up to you.” 

“We should probably go inside.” You rubbed at your neck again, nodding. “That way you can show me what -”

“Look.” He stepped forward, laying a hand on your shoulder. “The hardest part is over. The rest is just waiting for him to come back.” Will’s smile was small but genuine, his blue eyes bright in the single overhead bulb beneath the awning. “We’ll check his location a couple times, and update the guys once just to let them know everything’s good, but aside from that?” He tightened his fingers against your arm and then let go. “It’s just a typical night.” Unless something goes wrong. 

It was unspoken, but it hung between you. Everything’s going to be fine. Closing your eyes, you let yourself listen to the forest around you - the faint sound of bugs and the breeze, along with the hooting of a far-off owl reassuring you. Alright, Will. “Got any beer in that fridge?” 

He surprised you with a laugh, but only moments later, Will was gesturing for you to head inside in front of him. “Sure fuckin’ do.” 

— 

 Both of you dozed off a little before midnight, the TV playing some action movie from Netflix in the background. 

You woke up a few hours later, Will snoring quietly on the couch next to you, and when you stood, he didn’t move. He must have had a long day. You covered him with a blanket and then headed over for the laptop that had Frankie’s tracker displayed on the screen. 

He was still far south of where you were. For a minute or two, you watched the motion of the dot that signified his position as it moved East along the bank of the creek, wondering what he was doing and what he was feeling. 

By the information that was also on the screen, you saw that there were still hours until sunrise - and when Frankie would return. The thought of laying back down - that time on the bed instead of the couch - wasn’t appealing, and so you decided to go outside and enjoy the darkness for a little while. It’ll relax me. The sounds and the smell, and … 

Slipping your shoes back on, you grabbed the gun - but not the holster - from where you’d set it earlier and headed for the door. “Where you goin’?” Peering back at Will, you saw that he’d opened his eyes, one hand rubbing the sleep from them. “It’s -”

“Just outside for a few minutes.” Tightening your hand on the door handle, you smiled. “Need to stretch my legs, and I didn’t want to risk waking you up.” 

“Take the gun.” He cleared his throat. “Just in case.” You held it up so that you could see it, and when Will nodded, you went through the door, closing it softly behind you. 

You looked around, eyeing the circle of light that was provided from the ones strung above you and then sank down onto one of the chairs near the firepit. Moments later, you set the weapon down on the ground beside you. You couldn’t see much of the sky through the trees, but the moon was bright, and it was only when you stifled a yawn with one hand that you looked away, humming as you rubbed your eyes. 

You and Will had gone over a lot while you sipped your beers, but the thing you took away from his companionship was that the nights spent waiting for Frankie were usually very uneventful - and that being there with someone was a welcome change of pace. 

He filled in the logbook and then let you flip through the previous entries. While you clicked around through Frankie’s previous location records, he stepped outside to call his wife. They had a routine, and the fact that you were one of six - seven if you counted Yovanna - people that were included in it wasn’t lost on you. 

You’d also skirted the topic of just how close you and Frankie were. And based on Will’s posture and facial expressions, you had an idea that he was well aware of exactly how serious it was between you. That was fine with you - he was one of Frankie’s closest friends, and since Pope was also aware of where things stood, you figured that the others weren’t far behind because even though they didn’t know you well, they did know him. 

It scared you more than a little that things were moving so quickly, but you didn’t regret letting it happen that way. “Not with you, Frankie.” With a sigh, you pulled your phone out and opened your photo album, swiping through and finding one of the pictures of the two of you. You were both grinning at the camera, Frankie’s arm around your shoulders, and one of your hands holding onto his, fingers linked. 

You didn’t know what you were going to say to him when he came back and was human again, and you hoped that whatever you did manage to get out, he believed. Because I’m sure he’s still worried, even though he saw that I really wasn’t afraid of him. Sighing, you flipped back to the actual camera and then swiped to take a video, reversing the view before you pressed record. 

“Hey, you.” Staring at the screen, you thought for a few seconds. “It’s been a while since you left, but I just … I know you might not believe me when we talk next, and I wanted to tell you a couple things that I’ve been thinking about all night.” You stood and took a few steps further away from the RV, trying to be mindful of the fact that Will was likely sleeping, and the window above the couch was partially open. “I wasn’t crying earlier because I was scared. I wasn’t crying because I was … disgusted by what I saw.” 

You stopped moving, looking off to the side and then back at the phone. “I was crying because I’m upset that you’ve had to deal with this alone. I’m upset that you have to downplay how much it hurts to become the wolf every month. I’m just … I couldn’t do it, Frankie. Before I saw you tonight, I had no idea. Everything I thought was wrong.” 

You meant the transformation, but you also meant that you’d been wrong about werewolves in general. “I hope you’ll believe me when we talk, you know? I don’t want you to second guess this or me or the way I feel about you.” Because I don’t. 

You went quiet, staring at the small screen, and with the absence of your voice, you realized that the woods around you were silent, too. You didn’t hear insects, and the owl from earlier was quiet. But we’re deep in the woods. There’s always noise. You looked away from the phone and then back at it, your hold on the device tightening. Unless there’s a predator close by. 

It could have been anything - a panther, a bear, a bobcat - but the same instincts that led you to Florida told you that it was something else… and that it was watching you. And it’s close, because it wouldn’t be quiet otherwise. You had the RV between you and the forest on one side, and thanks to the phone’s camera, you could sort of see what was happening behind you. But I want to turn around. I want the RV at my back, and … 

“It’s important that you know this, Frankie.” Your voice shook and you winced at the sound, your eyes moving over the phone screen as you peered into the darkness displayed on it. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Because I …” You trailed off at the sight of a pair of glowing eyes flashing on it from somewhere behind you, but they blinked out moments later. Whatever it is is big. “Frankie there’s something behind me.” You whispered the confession, fighting back tears. “The gun’s by the chair, I don’t have it on me and … fuck. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” 

It wasn’t him - you could sense that it wasn’t him, and the eyes - though you’d only seen them briefly - were a different color than Frankie’s. And even though it was all the way across the clearing and in the woods, you knew that you wouldn’t have time to get from where you stood to your gun before it made it to you - especially if it was as big as or bigger than he was. 

You had one play - and likely only moments to attempt it. “If this goes bad, Frankie … at least you’ll know what it looks like.” You flipped the camera and then spun so that the RV was behind you and you were facing the darkness… and  then you opened your mouth and screamed. 

“Will!” 

—    

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 • 𝐄.𝐖

synopsis: ellie writes in her journal religiously, a foolish attempt at reconciling with her feelings and understanding what it is that happens to her particularly when she is around you

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warning: written in ellie’s pov as the entire story is told through her journal entries, if this is well received it might be a multiple part series, loads of angst and borderline emotional cheating

I saw her again this week. Or better yet, she saw me, and I don’t think I have ever dropped someone’s hand so fast as when her eyes glanced down towards mine and Cat’s intertwined, in the end that only served a purpose to make them both upset. She pretended not to have noticed me after that and deep down I couldn’t blame her for it, though it’s been nearly a month since our last conversation a part of us both know that a friendship shouldn’t experience something that feels like a break up.

Guilt is the second worst feeling I’ve ever experienced and still it comes pretty damn close to grief. Sometimes kissing Cat I pretend that it’s her instead, eyes shut from all reality it’s almost like I can shift her taste into whatever I imagine hers to be instead and in the moment it feels too good for the guilt to settle in, it feels like home. Which is a shame, in the end, because this is about me not deserving that comfort. I remember Cat had to stop me, push me off her to catch her breath with a laugh and she looked me starry eyed to say she’s never felt me so into her before. The strawberry in my lips turned to poison so fast. She didn’t know. Didn’t even understand why my face fell at the comment, felt the need to tell me it was just a joke but we both knew it wasn’t.

Cat is easy. Easy in a way that borders boring which means it’s safe. Life is hard enough as it is for me to keep having these impulses towards devastating gut wrenching love, the kind of love inevitable with her. I told her once when we still liked to pretend we were friends that she was something of a tornado, like this force of nature so inevitable to everything else that sweeps up everything off the ground, and she was so offended. Like I’d said she was destructive. But she is. I haven’t given her the opportunity to abandon me and still it has broken my heart to glance at her across a room and not run straight to her arms, not be the one making her laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve heard the laugh I would bottle and save to get drunk on hard days and now can’t even treasure for good ones.

To be loved by her, though I guess it may be pretentious of me to assume she loved me, was finally coming up for air, was watching a meteor shower, is probably the closest I’ve ever gotten to the moon and understanding what it is to moon over someone, she personified my astronaut dreams and I am a stupid asshole who keeps dropping things on Earth because they’ve got new found gravity. I miss floating and I hate all the things I’ve crashed on the ground, sometimes I’m not sure who’s shattering the most without her. (I do. It’s me. I’m taking this metaphor too far.) But she would hate me if she knew. I thought I had lived long enough as myself so I could find her but not having died for the cure only means I never get to have her, not fully, not if she knew. And I wanted her to know me. More than I wanted her to just love me, which is terrifying. That’s why we can’t be.