#I need an answer for like two slides and can’t find it or it’s hidden in layers of vague one off lines

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Slowly going insane (<- working on a project I chose to do for fun)

[mammonsrockstargf]

a/n: hi fellas, i have hypersomnia, which basically just means i fall asleep a lot so here’s the brothers with a very sleepy mc.

At first, the brothers are kind of confused. Demons don’t need as much sleep as humans and they’re baffled by your excessive sleeping. Do all humans sleep so much? Why are you always flaring your teeth at them? (They later learn that this is called yawning.)

Lucifer initially thinks you’re lazy and it honestly bothers him. Simultaneously you remind him of a certain brother, so he also lets many things you do slide. He'll just sigh when you fall asleep 45 minutes into one of his lectures. “I think they understood my point,” he says, before turning to Mammon and continuing his lesson for a good two hours. As you get closer, he understands that you aren't lazy and he even lets you sleep in his office at R.A.D. whenever you need it.

One late evening you trudge into his office, blanket in hand. He looks at you with a raised brow. "Bed, now. You haven't slept properly in like 3 days," you say, while pointing your finger threateningly at him. Much to his own surprise, he finds himself in his bed with you snuggling into his side. He supposes you kind of complete each other in that way, where he sleeps too little, you sleep too much.

The first time you fall asleep during one of your hangouts with Mammon he’s annoyed. He lets you sleep it out because you just look too cute when you’re sleeping, but when you wake up he’s crossing his arms and pouting. “Am I really that boring, huh?” Luckily, we all know the great Mammon can never stay mad with you for too long, so he warms up to you again within an hour or so. If you want you can always speed up the process significantly by giving him kisses or a big hug. It works every single time.

Once he realizes you don’t fall asleep because of him, but because you’re just so damn tired, he stops getting bothered by it. Instead, he just tugs you in, covering you in blankets. He'll even scold his brothers if they're being too loud around you. This just causes them to make fun of him, but always at a lower noise level.

Leviathan is also hurt at first, especially because you fell asleep during an anime marathon. He’s a bit harder to make happy again. He’s absolutely convinced it has something to do with him. No matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t believe you until one day when you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation with Mammon. The sight makes him laugh so hard, he almost falls over.

After that, he doesn’t mind anymore. After all, if you fall asleep around Mammon, then it's probably you who's the problem, not him. He lets you sleep with your head in his lap. He’ll even tread his fingers through your hair, but he’ll never admit that to you when you’re awake. Once you wake up again he’s happy to give you a recap of what you missed in the episode, plus an analysis of the dialogue and the hidden meanings of certain scenes.

Satan doesn’t mind at first, because he likes how it bothers Lucifer. He even helps you get away with it. When you fall asleep during class, he’ll put a book in front of you so the teacher can’t see and he’ll answer the question for you if you’re called on. He even begins to write notes for you. Later it just becomes a habit of his, he does it for you without thinking.

If he’s reading aloud for you and you fall asleep, a smile will tug at his lips and he’ll just continue reading for you. Because of you, he begins researching human sleeping patterns. After he reads that certain foods can make you more energized, he begins to carry fruits and nuts with him, which he offers you whenever you get sleepy.

Asmodeus thinks beauty sleep is very important. It’s only natural that someone as beautiful as you should sleep a lot. Besides that, he’s probably the one who wakes you up from your sleep the most. Too much sleep can be bad for you as well! Besides that, he can't wait for you to wake up to share the insane gossip he just heard. You need to hear it now!

Like with Lucifer, you remind Beelzebub of Belphegor. A lot. His chest hurts when he finds you sleeping in the living room and he carries you to bed. When you fall asleep on his shoulder, he pats your head. He likes just looking at you when you sleep. Not in a creepy way, you just look so peaceful. It soothes the ache in his chest.

If you get too tired while you're out on a trip or assignment, Beel will often offer to piggyback you. Beel is a big guy, he could carry Diavolo around if he wanted to. With you on his back, he barely even registers your weight. His arms hook around your legs and sometimes his fingers will dig into your thighs. He likes the way you wrap your arms around his neck and the way he can feel your breath on his ear, while you whisper things to him. Most of all he likes when you fall asleep and he can hear your soft breathing.

Once you become friends with Belphegor, he’s excited to have a sleeping buddy. You come up to the attic to have your midday nap with him and he immediately opens his arms for you. “I’m serious, Belphie, only one hour,” you say, while setting the alarm on your D.D.D. “You know I can’t sleep for any longer than that.” Belphegor just nods sleepily and traps you in his arms. Once you're asleep, he grabs your phone and turns off the alarm.

When Beel comes to wake you up, saying it’s time for dinner, Belphie just laughs when you slap him lightly and complain that you slept for three hours. After that, you refuse to nap with him anymore until he swears that he won’t mess with your alarm again.

One time you mentioned that you have a hard time waking up in the mornings. The constant night of the Devildom is really messing with your brain. That very same day, a new bed lamp is ordered for you. One of those that imitate the sunrise in the morning, slowly lighting up your room as you wake up. You’re a lot more energetic in the mornings after that, a sight that makes all of the brothers smile your way at breakfast.

thanks for reading! you can find my other stuff here. <3

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his shy gn s/o nervously asking if they can kiss him on the lips?

note: going to answer his as if it’s their first kiss together reader is asking for!

bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13

Astarion

tries to downplay how genuinely pleased he is by putting on his typical bravado “oh well I knew you couldn’t keep away, darling”

secretly chuffed because he understands having boundaries over your body and he’s pleased that you’re comfortable enough with him to ask

doesn’t want to make a big deal about it in camp but doesnt hide, either — wraps an arm around your waist and brings you to where he’s standing in the mouth of his tent

wants to make it special. catches your lips with his fangs a little but not too hard.

melts a little when he feels your hand gently run up his chest.

when you break apart, smiling, he feels a little thrill at how happy you look ❤️

Gale

surprised you’re asking! out loud says, “you don’t need permission to kiss me, they’re always gladly accepted.”

but sees how much courage it took for you to ask. Is so happy you trust him.

looks around, “where do you want me…? it has to be perfect…”

that’s enough to break some tension, you laugh and press your lips to his

his hands settle on your waist. not too tight, just enough to anchor you to the moment

you can feel him smile into it 💕

“well I certainly hope that we’re able to repeat that.”

you laugh, and go in for another one…

Wyll

my man is a romantic. this kiss is at a planned event.

not that he’s pressuring you into it! he just wants to have a lovely romantic date and it so happens that that’s where you feel safe enough to ask.

you're sequestered away from the group, little picnic spread out, he wanted to have a nice moment for just the two of you.

you gather up the courage to ask him and he’s surprised for a moment! but then he smiles; hand sliding up your arm to cup your face, his lips meet yours when you lean into it

it’s perfect. soft, gentle, loving. you can feel the emotion behind it.

he’s smiling when he pulls back. for a moment, you want to apologise for not instigating this sooner. but then, as if he’s read your mind:

“you’re worth waiting a lifetime for.”

Halsin

honoured you trust him enough to ask.

he doesn’t care about rushing into anything. he’s an older man, happy to wait to take things at your pace.

not to say he isn’t pleased you asked — he is! he’s wanted to know what your kiss tastes like for a while now.

when we see him kiss in game there’s a ferocity behind it. but this time it’s soft, he lets you take the lead with pace.

uses his body to shield you from the rest of the camp so that the moment isn’t too public.

hands softly wrapping around you, bringing you to his broad chest. keeping you safe against him.

he mutters against your lips. “nature truly look its time with you. you are perfect…”

if he says it enough, maybe you’ll believe it’s true.

Dammon

is so immediately thrown he can’t even answer for a moment.

is the heat in his cheeks from the forge or something else…?

manages to find his words after a moment, “oh… yes! hang on, let me…”

cleans his hands, quickly splashes his face with water to remove the soot, turns to you-

“how should I…”

you reach over and gently press your lips to his, surprising him!

but then he wraps his arms around you, tail swishing in such enthusiasm it takes out a row of tools

he’s a bit nervous to start with but gets super into it

wants to do it again and again… if you’ll let him…

(and you do)

Rolan

you ask if you can kiss him.

an immediate “YES”

he’s so excited. there’s a non-zero chance this is his first kiss.

tries to be soft and careful but can’t hold in how happy he is.

teeth clack together a bit, maybe a bit too eager with tongue… but you find yourself smiling into it anyway 💕

again, another tail swisher. can’t keep his emotions hidden from you. doesn’t want to.

he wants to touch you all over but keeps his hands to your waist to make sure you feel comfortable.

when you pull away he’s blushing, muttering “wow…”

he’s left speechless by you.

Zevlor

my man is the most respectful tiefling around.

honoured to be asked to kiss you. I think he takes you somewhere quiet, secluded. doesn’t want people staring.

slowly brings you against his body before pressing his lips to yours.

you feel… protected by his kiss? it’s hard to explain.

you just know he’d protect you.

and the kiss is perfect.

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

-

-

Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

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Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[solarmorrigan]

May I request a thrupple for the angst quote prompt?

“Please I just… really need space right now.”

With ChissyxStevexEddie. If not the thrupple then a pair of your choice from those three characters.

Hello! I'm sorry, I didn't quite manage to work Chrissy into this one. Honestly, this particular fill argued with me so much I'm kind of glad I even got Eddie and Steve in there. I hope this is okay, anyway!

[post-S3 Steddie AU; CW: Deals with the aftermath of torture, heavily discusses non-consensual touching (not inherently sexual, not between Eddie and Steve), contains the theme of trying to help someone through trauma. This is very soft, though, I promise]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

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The Steve Harrington who comes home to Eddie from the hospital on the fifth of July is not the same one who had kissed him goodbye before his shift at that shitty ice cream parlor two days prior.

He’s still Eddie’s Steve, of course he is, but he’s also – he’s withdrawn, and he’s jumpy, and he’s so, so hurt.

Eddie had seen the aftermath of that fight with Hargrove (who hadn’t? Though Eddie had even had the privilege of watching the last of the bruises fade from up close as he and Steve became friends), but this is worse. Eddie can’t articulate how at first, but it is.

At least back in November, Steve had been able to talk about how he’d gotten his injuries; this time, he has to hide behind some fucked up cover story – because bull-fucking-shit had he gotten hurt by falling debris in a freak mall fire.

Debris hadn’t left marks like fucking boot prints on Steve’s back and chest. It hadn’t bruised and rubbed his wrists red and raw. It hadn’t left the distinct shape of fingers in purple and blue, wrapped around his arms on both sides.

Eddie had tried exactly once to address this, when he’d first seen the extent of the damage hidden under Steve’s shirt. He’d tried to demand answers, tried to get out of Steve who had laid their fucking hands on him, but Steve had gone grey under his bruises and shook his head.

“It was a fire, Eddie. Nothing else. I need you to understand that,” Steve had said, more serious than Eddie had ever heard him, his one good eye wide with urgent anxiety – with something almost like fear. “It was just a fire.”

Eddie hasn’t brought it up again.

It makes him burn to know that someone had done this to Steve and that he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. It makes him want to scream, it makes him want to find whoever had been responsible and make them hurt, but more than anything–

More than anything, it terrifies him.

Because this Steve is different – his Steve is different now, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

It scares him to see Steve slinking around the trailer like it isn’t his home (more of a home than his parents’ house has ever been). It scares him when he forgets that Steve’s left is his bad side and that if he comes up on him too fast, he’ll startle the shit out of him. It scares him that Steve has a bad side. It scares him when he reaches for him, unthinkingly going for the contact that Steve has always been so hungry for, has been so comforted by in the past, and instead Steve flinches away.

Eddie has never really had to take care of someone else, and he feels like he’s fucking it up at every turn. He feels like he’s hurting Steve even more, that he’s no better than whoever did this to him, no better than Billy fucking Hargrove, no better than Steve’s parents; he’s afraid he’s going to ruin things, break Steve beyond repair, because he doesn’t know how to care for this new version of him.

The only thing that gives him hope that he isn’t doing too badly is the fact that Steve is staying. He still wants to be in Eddie’s company, still reaches out sometimes and tentatively slides his hand over Eddie’s while they’re watching TV together, still shares Eddie’s bed at night. He’s been stubbornly insisting that he’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs time to heal, but beyond a refusal to admit that anything is wrong, he still trusts Eddie to help when he’s not at his best.

Of course, no matter what he says, Steve isn’t actually fine, and even if that weren’t made apparent just by looking at him, it becomes abundantly clear when the lights go out and they lie down to sleep – when the nightmares hit.

Sometimes, they’re small things: quickened breath and inaudible murmuring, furrowed brows that eventually smooth out as Steve is released back into deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Sometimes, though, they’re loud and sharp and violent.

Sometimes, like tonight.

Steve is half twisted in the sheets, struggling in a way his broken ribs really can’t afford, arms flailing and jerking as he tries to fight something off, as he mutters no and stop and please. Eddie sort of wants to cry, thinking about what could be making Steve beg, but more than anything he wants to wake Steve up.

He shakes him by the shoulder, dodging the jerk of his arm, and hopes he can call louder than whatever’s going on in Steve’s head.

“Steve. Steve, c’mon, wake up,” Eddie shakes Steve again and Steve jerks away with a wounded noise. “It’s just a nightmare, baby, come on. Steve!”

Steve’s eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, like he’s been holding his breath, but his gaze is still hazy. He’s awake, but he isn’t present, and he immediately starts shoving at Eddie’s hands, trying to scoot away on the bed.

“No, no, get off– get off me!” he shouts, managing to make it as far as the edge of the bed before the tangle of the sheets holds him in place.

“Steve it’s– it’s just me, it’s Eddie, it was a nightmare, you’re–” as reassuring as Eddie is trying to be, he can’t help the distressed crack in his voice. “Baby, you’re safe, I fucking swear.”

Finally, Steve stops struggling. He lies against the mattress for a moment, breathing heavily, before he ventures a small, “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” Eddie promises.

He shuffles closer on his knees, reaching out for Steve, hoping to comfort or soothe or ground or something, but Steve flinches away, tossing up an arm to halt Eddie in his tracks with a quickly barked, “No.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out, and he doesn’t mean to sound so fucking broken, but he should be the one person Steve is never afraid of, and he’s fucking that up.

“I… Please, I just…” Steve stutters out, still catching his breath, trying to sit himself up against the wall that the head of the bed is pressed to, “…really need space right now. Just– just leave me alone for a while.”

And all at once, even if Eddie knows nothing else, he knows that isn’t right.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now, sweetheart.”

Steve, now propped up against the wall, lets his head hang with a heavy sigh. “Eddie…”

“No, look, I’m not–” Eddie scrambles off the bed and moves across the small room, until he’s got his back to the opposite wall. “I’m not gonna touch you, I’ll stay over here, you don’t even have to look at me, but I’m not going to leave you by yourself.”

Steve had never wanted to be left alone when things were bad before. When he was alone, his anxiety would consume him; without the anchor of another person, it would carry him away, and Eddie is certain the same thing will happen now if he leaves Steve to deal with the aftermath of his nightmare in solitude.

For a long moment, Steve stares at him, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears in the low light of the bedroom, but he eventually looks away again. He says nothing, just curling in on himself in a way that must be hell on his ribs as he leans back against the wall, and Eddie takes that as the best permission he’s going to get.

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees pulled up in front of him in a loose mirror of Steve’s position. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, but he’s there, and he has to believe that’s worth something.

It startles him when, some thirty minutes in (probably the longest Eddie’s ever been able to sit in silence without something to occupy him), Steve speaks.

“I can still feel their hands on me.”

His voice is a quiet rasp, but the words hit Eddie like hailstones. He wants to ask who, he wants to demand what, but he knows if he says anything now, Steve will clam up, so Eddie keeps his mouth shut, and he waits.

“Even before they– before they started hitting me.” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie, instead addressing the wall, gaze distant and unblinking. “They grabbed me and… searched me, cuffed me, they kept – putting their hands on my face, grabbing my hair, and I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t stop them.

Eddie feels a little sick.

Steve is quiet for so long after that that Eddie begins to wonder if he should say something, but Steve breaks the silence before he has to figure out what.

“Out of everything, I don’t know why that… why that left the biggest impression, but I–” he breaks off, turning and finally looking at Eddie. “I want to feel you again, but any time someone touches me, I can only see them.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s going to survive this. His heart is going to fucking break.

He needs to do something, he needs to help, and maybe he has no clue what he’s doing, but this is his Steve, and he has to try.

Slowly, Eddie levers himself up off the floor and moves towards the door, where he hits the switch for the overhead lights, making the entire room go bright.

Steve winces at the sudden change, turning a wary look on Eddie as he approaches the bed.

“Eddie, what…”

“Just– just trust me. Let me try,” Eddie says, soft and earnest, holding Steve’s gaze as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Please?”

It takes a long moment, but Steve gives a hesitant nod, and Eddie scoots closer. He leaves space between them, still, but he gets close enough that he could reach out and take Steve’s hands – which is exactly what he intends to do.

“Look at me,” Eddie says, quiet and firm. “Just look at me, nowhere else.”

Steve does as he’s told, and Eddie manages a smirk.

“Just pretend I’m the most interesting thing in the room,” he tries to tease. “Like there’s nothing else you’d ever wanna look at.”

“Don’t have to pretend,” Steve murmurs, eyes locked on Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s smile melts into something more genuine.

“There you are,” he says softly.

He reaches for Steve’s hands, and slowly, Steve unwraps them from where he’s been clutching firm around his legs, and lets Eddie touch him.

His hands are cold in spite of the summer heat that invades the trailer no matter how hard their crappy little air conditioner works, and they’re trembling slightly, but Steve doesn’t pull back. He stares right at Eddie and holds on.

Eddie brings one hand up, cradled in his own, and presses a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The bruises there have already faded (their presence had been the least distressing out of all the damage; Eddie likes knowing that Steve had at least gotten a few hits in), but he attends carefully to each knuckle, anyway. He kisses the back of Steve’s hand, feeling a little like a courtly lord from one of his own campaigns. Steve is starting to look at him like he might be one.

The bruises around Steve’s wrists are taking longer to heal; the damage is deeper, and the colors still paint livid rainbow circles on his skin (his face is going to take longer, still; Steve says the doctor told him he’d lucked out with a minor fracture to his orbital bone that will heal on its own with time. Eddie looks at the discoloration there and feels like he has some choice words for the doctor). Eddie moves his attention up, brushing his lips featherlight across the top of Steve’s wrist before turning his hand over and paying the same devotion to the underside.

“Eddie…” Steve breathes, and Eddie presses one last kiss to the palm of Steve’s hand.

“It’s me,” Eddie promises, bringing Steve’s other hand up now. “Watch me, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

He keeps eye contact as he lavishes Steve’s left hand with the same attention he’d given the right, and it occurs to him that he’s been inside the boy in front of him, but this is somehow the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.

Eddie doesn’t move beyond Steve’s wrists, doesn’t push any more than he already has, and Steve’s eyes are still on him by the time he finishes, wide and soft and glassy.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands to hold both of Steve’s in his lap.

Slowly, Steve nods. He looks away at last, turning his eyes to their joined hands, and tightens his fingers until he’s holding onto Eddie properly.

They sit like that for a long time, quiet and close, until Eddie can feel himself flagging and he can see Steve’s eyelids drooping.

“Let’s try to get some more sleep,” Eddie says around a stifled yawn. “You do need your beauty rest, after all.”

Steve laughs, a little huff of a thing, and casts a quick glance up at Eddie. “Can– can we leave the light on?” He rushes the words out, like he hates to even ask, but Eddie only nods.

“Whatever you need, Steve,” he promises – and he means it.

Maybe he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s not going anywhere until he figures it out.

And when Steve settles down beside him in bed, and scooches just close enough that their arms are pressed together, Eddie figures maybe he’s not doing too badly, after all.

[hotchnisslvr]

a bau found family easter

category: fluff, found family, drabble

characters: rossi, reid, derek, hotch, prentiss, jj, will, garcia, jack, henry

word count: 1k

summary: rossi hosts the bau team for easter sunday including the perfect home cooked italian dinner and egg hunt extravaganza for the kiddos.

“Hey Rossi,” Spencer interjects from where he’s perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter. “I don’t think they’re quite old enough to know what ‘reconnaissance’ means.”

A graying eyebrow arches toward his hairline as the elder agent regards the young doctor before turning his attention back to the kids. “Well, kids. Anyone know what reconnaissance means?”

“Reconn-oh-swince,” Henry whispers as he rolls onto the tips of his toes, fingers twitching around the handle on his Easter basket.

Rossi points a ring adorned finger at him and smiles. “Close!” He shifts his attention to Jack. “Any ideas, son?”

Jack looks at his shoes, then over at his dad, who is smiling at him encouragingly from behind the bar where he sips on a Corona. “You were collecting facts!” he finally answers.

Rossi claps his hands together, “Bravo, Jack!” He inclines his head toward Reid whose furrowed brow indicates his confusion and surprise.

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron calls.

“Well,” Rossi continues. “I did some of that and it looks like we had a special guest visit the backyard.”

An excited giggle escapes Henry’s lips as he bounces up and down in place. “Who? Who?”

“My good friend, the Easter bunny.”

Henry’s eyes widen as a big smile spreads across his face. He looks up at his mother, who is standing by the backdoor with his father. JJ smiles in turn, her heart swelling at the sight of the boys’ excitement.

“There are a lot of eggs out there in need of gathering.” Rossi reaches into his blazer pocket and withdraws two plastic eggs. “Jack, you’ll be looking for the blue eggs and Henry, you’ll be looking for the purple eggs. You each have twenty eggs. Are you ready?”

Both boys nod their heads eagerly.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Oh, Rossi, for the love of God please let the little babies run free. My great big auntie heart can’t take the suspense.” Penelope cries from her place at the kitchen table. She leans her head against Morgan’s chest, feigning passing out. The bunny ears headband she’s wearing nearly pokes Derek in the eye as she does this. Morgan’s brow arches as his lips curve into a sly smile. “Babygirl, what are you doing?”

“Shh,” Penelope says. “If this is how I go, it’s how I go.”

“Go!” Rossi shouts and jumps out of the way as the two boys tear toward the back door. Fortunately, Emily is there to pull open the sliding glass doors just in time. The boys clamber over one another as they race across the patio and down the steps into the wide expanse of Rossi’s backyard.

All of the adults follow, drinks in hand. JJ and Will are first into the backyard, Will with his smartphone in hand capturing photos and videos as the boys dart around the yard.

Penelope dashes out after the boys with Emily, clapping and cheering as they find their eggs hidden around the grass, in bushes, and on top of rocks. Derek picks Jack up at one point to help him reach one that was perched in a low hanging tree branch. That had been one of Rossi’s “hard” finds though all of the eggs were in relatively plain sight.

Rossi approaches Aaron, who is watching Jack from the patio. A genuine smile plays on his lips as he watches his son run around the yard. “You think he’s having a good time?”

Hotch looks away from Jack for a moment to look at his colleague and friend. He nods. “I think so.” He pauses and takes a swig of his beer. “The holidays are always hard for him, since Haley—”

“I know,” Rossi interjects. Hotch didn’t need to finish that statement. He elbows him gently. “It’s okay if they’re hard for you, too, you know?”

“I just don’t want him to miss out on anything,” Aaron says as his gaze shifts back to Jack, who’d just found another egg. He holds it up in the air, his toothy grin lighting up his face. Henry had just found one as well. JJ ushers them together for a photo.

“He won’t,” Rossi assures. “You’re doing a great job, Aaron. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Jacks calls as he trots over toward them, plastic eggs clattering as his basket bounces alongside him.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“I can’t find the last egg!”

Hotch passes his beer to Rossi and takes Jack’s hand. “Let’s see if we can’t find it, how’s that sound? Come on, let’s go.”

Rossi smiles as he watches the scene play out in front of him. Everyone is smiling. The children are laughing. There’s no vestiges of the horrors and dread of what they face daily at work lingering on anyone. Today, they’re all just people; friends, fathers, mothers, godparents…one, big, found family. He couldn’t be prouder. The BAU had been his pet project from the beginning, and he’d always known it would grow and be a success. He’d never thought it’d turn into a family, not one as closely bound together as this one.

As Jack finds the last of his blue eggs hidden behind a bunch of daffodils, a chorus of cheers erupts from everyone. Henry even calls out, “Good job, Jack!”

Rossi smiles to himself as he heads inside to check on dinner. It wouldn’t be Easter without one of his perfectly al dente pasta dishes, after all.

He drops Hotch’s empty beer bottle into the recycling bin and watches through the glass of the sliding back door as Aaron and Will hoist the boys onto their shoulders, holding their full baskets in the air like trophies. Everyone gathers together as JJ extends her arm to take a selfie, commemorating the occasion to memory.

A Happy Easter, indeed.

[lilyrizzy]

For the writing promot: yell 👀

The beginnings of a lesbian maxiel story bc…why not! cw: creepy straight guys & their slurs

“You two should kiss.”

It’s not the first time strangers have asked this of her and Max. It’s always guys too, hung up on the fantasy of two gay women being in the same room as each other, how it must mean they are entitled to a free show.

Daniel blames Pornhub and the videos she used to get herself off, hidden underneath her teenage bedcovers. All before she knew any better, before she knew where to find the stuff made for women.

Now, she just laughs like the good natured girl she is, while Max shoots the guy a death glare he can’t see.

The air of the bar is damp, sticky like you could cut it with a knife if you tried. Each breath she pulls into her lungs tastes a little like the tequila she’d merrily accepted and Max had refused, brought by the same assholes trying to hold their attention now. She might be a millionaire, but she’s not about to turn down free booze.

There are two of them this time, nicknamed Cocky and Cockless in her brain. She’s not going to bother remembering their names when she’s sure they know nothing about her beyond that she is a woman, a race car driver and bisexual.

“Maxy here isn’t my type,” she half shouts over the stready thrum of bass that is vibrating the floor underneath her feet. “As cute as she is.”

She shoots Max a wink, but it only has Max’s expression darkening and her eyes narrowing, all while Cocky, perched in the stool between them, grins. Cockless, stood besides Max, tries to get her attention by tugging at her elbow. She shrugs him off firmly, then harder when he tries again.

True to his name, Cocky is bolder. He leans further into Daniel’s space, not at all hiding his attempts to look down her top.

“I thought all the pretty girls were into the butch ones,” he says, a grin on his face as his eyes flick back up to hers, like they are in on this joke together. Like it’s not being made at both her and Max’s expense.

His words press against the same bruise that has been blooming across her chest since the day Max joined their team. Raw talent in the car and all cool confidence once you dragged her away from it. Everything Daniel both wanted and wanted to be.

It’s too much, too close to the bone, the same way the hand that comes to rest on her leg is, big and clammy, engulfing her kneecap.

“Daniel,” Max says, something deliciously demanding in her voice, like she wants this man’s hands away from Daniel’s body as much as Daniel does.

Daniel can’t make herself look at her, afraid she’ll give something away.

“Not me,” she forces past her teeth brightly.

Cockless has given up with Max, is instead flagging down a bartender to order another drink. Cockless, who seemingly only has eyes for Daniel, keeps laughing.

“And what is your type then, sweetheart,” he asks, and the condescension in the pet name is all it takes for her decide she’s done playing nice.

He’s running his fingertip of the hand not touching her across the rim of his glass. She’s sure he thinks is sexy, but in reality looks fucking stupid. She keeps the smile on her face and makes sure all her teeth are showing when she answers.

“Someone with a big cock,” she says sweetly, letting her eyes drag over his form. “But it looks like I’m not finding that here either.”

Finally she looks at Max who is still hovering at Cocky’s shoulder. Nodding at her, Daniel stands, shoving the creeps hand from her skin. Max doesn’t need words to know they are leaving, and instead simply follows as Daniel leads them away from the bar and back towards the teams booth booth. It’s filled with the foul mouthed Red Bull mechanics they call friends, that at least pretend not to imagine them fucking at all hours of the day.

“Hey!” The Cocky calls to their retreating back, and his sweaty fingertips slide against the bare skin of her shoulder for just a second as he reaches to stop her.

She turns, ready to tell him to fuck off, only to find Max already in his face.

“If you touch her again, I will break all of your fingers,” she tells him, like a promise. “And shove my cock down your throat.”

Cocky backs off, hands in the air as he mumbles something about, fucking dyke bitch.

Daniel hardly hears him over the pounding of her heart, the clenching of her cunt.

[smok3r7]

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

I Need Help

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: How can a diner affect two peoples lives and the way they live? It’s like the butterfly effect and weird coincidences all wrapped into one, for both Joel and Renae.

Word count: 10.1k

Warnings: Angst, verbal fight

—

Joel can feel the tension in the truck between him and Sarah, it seems every other second he’s glancing over at Sarah next to him in his rear view mirror and he just watches the way her small face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to talk about it. He can only imagine the questions she has about this morning, or the situation as a whole. But frankly, he’s more worried about his answers to her - how would he explain it in a way she would understand, but without totally degrading Annie?

Because she is still her mom.

His palms can’t help but sweat and constantly re-grip the steering wheel multiple times, and his stomach softly growls but it’s hidden by the country music that flows through the truck. He’s so nervous and the lack of sleep has him feeling even more on edge. He’s never been like this around Sarah - but she’s also never witnessed first hand, or at least to Joel’s knowledge, how bad Annie actually is.

“So, dad,” the sweet angelic voice soothes his ears, but also scares him, “What exactly is going on with mom?”

There it is - the one dreadful question he didn’t want to hear, especially today. Umm, well, he’s trying to think of something, really anything to say to her while he’s focusing on the morning traffic in front of him, only about a block away from her school.

“She just isn’t the same. Did- did I do somethin-“

“No,” he blurts out and turns his head, loud enough to startle her for only a second, and look back at him as he stares into her beautiful doe eyes, “Don’t ever say that alright? Mama’s just got some of her own things she’s gotta sort through - I can’t help her, Grandma ‘n Grandpa can’t help, only she can. It's never your fault, ‘kay?”

Sarah just nods her head and whispers, I love you. Joel can feel the water glaze over his eyes, so he glances back to the driveway that leads to her school, then back to her. “I love you too baby girl. Now,” he clears his throat as he pulls up to the front of the building, puts the truck in park and twists his torso to look at her fully. “I don’t want this mornin’, or the things about Mama, to mess with your head. Go have fun with your friends, learn somethin’ new that you can tell me at dinner t’night, alright? I love you so much, my little princess.”

A genuine smile takes over the meek one she had, and she leaps out of her seat and wraps her arms around Joel’s shoulders and tightly squeezes. You’re the best, she whispers into his neck and he’s somewhat surprised, but he whisks those thoughts away and mindlessly hugs her back.

This is his daughter, and Annie may be her mom, but Joel will be damned if he continues to let her act like this, especially since he knows that it’s starting to affect Sarah.

“Alright, dad,” she laughs, “I’m gonna be late!” Joel lets go of her, sorry sorry kiddo, and watches as she slides over to her door and hops out the truck, but before she closes it she tells him she loves him one more time. Joel blows a kiss to her and waits until she’s in the school to pull away.

Sarah picked out her outfit today and surprisingly, it turned out cute; A simple light purple t-shirt, white capri cargo pants, and her purple and white sneakers. Her gorgeous brown hair was pulled back into a low bun, one of her favorite hairstyles for school.

He can’t help but feel warm and proud about his intelligent, beautiful daughter. He pulls out from the school and continues down the main road to his house and he dreads having to face the reality that waits for him.

—

With his house key in the door knob, Joel takes a deep breath before he twists the key to unlock it and deal with Annie. This is the last time, he mumbles as he pushes the door open and locks it behind him. Deciding to not dwell on this anymore than he has to, he walks down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen where he sets his keys down and grabs cleaning supplies from the cabinet under the sink.

Again, this has become part of his egregious routine and Joel despises it every single time, mainly because he never would’ve guessed this is how his life would’ve turned out to be. He married Annie because he genuinely loved her, and she loved him.

Maybe they were naive to get married only after two years of dating and knowing each other. But Joel felt that she was the love of his life, he was acting like a teenager trapped in a thirty year old body.

Their chemistry was like they were meant to be, Annie completed him in ways he never imagined and he matured a lot in their relationship - more than her it seems now. The sex was nothing Joel expected out of her, it became one of the main reasons he loved her was because of her skills in bed. The way she could take his whole cock in her throat and let him ruin her face how he wanted, had Joel obsessed. A major red flag now that Joel looks back on it. But they were so happy the twelve years before Sarah and the couple years after but Joel’s love for her has vanished completely; all he cares about is Sarah and Tommy.

When Annie was hammered one night about a year ago, she told Joel that she simply fell outta love with him because he gives so much time and attention to Sarah. Joel absolutely lost his mind that day, he came this close to kicking her out then and there but he just packed a bag for Sarah, picked her up from school, and they stayed at Tommy and Maria’s for the weekend.

This has happened more times than he’d like to admit and Joel is not proud of it or himself for allowing it, but he is proud of Sarah and how well she’s been handling herself.

Her grades have never slipped past a B-, she’s never been in detention, she still is the bubbly little girl that Joel remembers, and she’s still very involved with her group of girlfriends - Joel just worries a lot about her, always will. He just prays that it stays that way, even though he knows as she gets to be a teen, she may have some issues with things, in which Joel will be there every step of the way with her.

“Joel?” Annie’s tired voice comes from the living room, “Is that you baby?”

“Yep.” His voice monotone as he stands up with a small plastic bag full of dirty paper towels in one hand and cleaners in the other. “Be there in a minute.” Although Joel wants nothing more than to eat some greasy food and go to sleep - he’s probably accumulated four hours of sleep this whole week - Joel knows that he’s not going to be able to do any of that, this Wednesday is going to kick his ass.

After throwing away the soaked rags away in the trash can that sits behind the garage, he heads back inside, washes his hands, and grabs a small brown wash cloth and runs it under cold water, making sure to ring it out so it’s not sopping wet, otherwise she’ll complain about it dripping down her neck, and he doesn’t wanna hear it.

Joel walks into the living room and spots Annie laying on the brown sectional that’s against the huge front window. The suns blocked by the blackout shades that are partially over the window, a beam of light shines through the sliver in the middle.

“There you are,” Annie purrs, shifting to her side to look at Joel. “Worried me for a second.” He can tell she’s sobered up since he left her in the bedroom over an hour and a half ago. She showered, her damp blonde hair clings to her shoulders and neck, she’s wearing Joel’s gray sweatpants and his Texas Longhorns shirt.

Before he lost his love for her, this would’ve had Joel drooling while crawling to her, then fucking her into oblivion. But now, he has no physical reaction to her anymore, hasn’t for two years. Any time she tries to initiate anything sexual, Joel’s body doesn’t react - April fifth, two-thousand twenty-two was the last time they fucked and there was no attachment from Joel. He only did it to see if the chemistry and spark was still there, which it was not. It’s pretty sad if you really think about it.

Yeah yeah, Joel mumbles as he slightly bends over and sets the washcloth on her forehead while she just stares at him. He can’t help but feel livid about this morning, it’s the latest she’s come back and he can’t stop hearing Sarah’s, dad, on loop. It breaks his heart every time.

“You can’t keep doin’ this Annie.” Joel scolds her as he takes a step back, folding his arms over his puffed chest, “This is not healthy, or safe for you.”

Annie sits up, moving the cloth to the top of her head, and stares back at Joel, her bright blue eyes glowing, he can see the gears turning in her brain. “Wait…what?” Her expression is one that Joel hasn’t seen since she was sober, it’s like she’s actually listening to what he has to say. Which rarely happens anymore.

Now he’s getting angry, because she’s acting like she’s done nothing wrong or that this is all normal - which it’s not. Joel can’t help but scoff at her, “You’re a piece of work, ya’ know that? Did you not hear Sarah this mornin’ when I had to carry your drunk ass to bed?”

“No, I-“

“Didn’t think so.” He turns to walk away, he can’t have this conversation right now because he will snap on her. Then that will be something he will regret.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annie stands up and walks to him, the cool rag being thrown to the floor, “Huh?”

Joel spins around and in seconds in her face as he calmly, but strongly tells her, “I’m filing for divorce ‘n full custody of Sarah. That’s what I mean.”

“You can’t- Joel, no-“ Annie can’t form a sentence, she’s speechless from his threats, which she knows he’ll act on. Joel knows it too and he’s not scared, so he starts to walk away again. But Annie snags his left forearm, forcefully spinning him to face her, the pleading demeanor now forming into an evil one.

“You are not taking my daughter.” She snarls, her eyes never leaving him in a death stare, her body is vibrating from the adrenaline flowing. “Over my dead body, Joel.”

Joel can’t help but smirk at her sudden confidence, even though he knows she somewhat means it, there’s no way she’s gonna stick to it. “You’re already halfway there,” he leans down so he’s inches away from her face and whispers, “Why don’t ya’ go finish the job for me?” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but he can’t help himself - he’s been a doormat for so many years.

Something changes in Annie’s eyes, something dangerous. Joel should’ve seen it coming, but he doesn’t or at least not until it’s too late. Annie winds her right hand back and smacks Joel across the face, her acrylics scraping his cheek and tip of his nose. Fucking asshole, she whispers behind tears filling her eyes. Joel can’t do anything but smirk with his tongue in his cheek as he stands back up and just turns around to leave.

“You know,” he’s about to reach the corner that leads to the garage when he hears it, “A real husband would help his wife, not abandon her when she really needs him.” This punches Joel in the gut more than the slap did, because all he’s done for the past four years is be the husband who takes care of his wife who has an addiction, multiple, that she won’t admit to.

He’s the one who’s given up everything for her, he can’t remember the last time he had fun or a night to himself - his life revolves around Annie. But he has no fight left in him, he wants to give up on this and he has every right to. Joel knows there’s nothing left for him to do or to try to fix - this is the end.

“Same could be said ‘bout the wife.” He mumbles loud enough for her to hear and he sees the vengefulness and pain spread across her face before he continues to leave. Snagging his keys off the counter where he left them, Annie continues to cry and shout at Joel; everything from I’m sorry, to fuck you, Joel, to you’re not taking my daughter, until he slams the door behind him.

Now in his truck, Joel flips between skipping work or sucking it up and going in, but he decides there’s no way he could have a good work day, or even be productive. He’s simply too exhausted to be any kind of help to anyone right now. As he exits the cul de sac and hits a main road, Whitney st, he grabs his phone from the seat next to him and calls Tommy, he knows he’ll understand. Tommy’s the only one who Joel can really talk to about the things going on with Annie, so he knows how bad it is.

After the first four or five rings, he picks up, “Hey Joel, what’s up?” With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone to his ear, Joel sighs and tells him he’s not gonna make it in today.

“Annie again?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow ‘bout it all.” He sighs, turning down one of the million dirt roads, Cherry Ave, in silence.

“Alright, go get some sleep, big bro. Tell Sarah I said hi for me. ‘Kay?”

Will do, see ya. Joel hangs up and throws his phone back on the leather seat next to him, then moves to turn up the radio so he can mindlessly listen to it.

“There are days every now and again

I pretend I'm okay

But that's not what gets me

What hurts the most

Was being so close”

“Damn song,” he mumbles as he leans to his left and grabs his pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes while listening to the music. He grabs one and lifts it to his lips where it sits between the top and bottom, he flicks his baby blue lighter on and holds the flame on the end of the cigarette, quickly glancing to the road and back while he inhales lightly at the same time, making sure it’s lit. Once he feels the rush of nicotine hit his throat and flow through his chest, and a cloud of white smoke fills the truck and billows out the window, a sense of calmness swarms him from the inside out.

Joel continues to drive aimlessly for the next two hours, losing count of how many cigarettes he smokes, just wishing him and Sarah could just run away and start somewhere else. A place where she could flourish without the fear of her mother, where Joel could be the father he knows Sarah needs. And who knows, maybe even find someone for himself, to be an actual partner.

The dinging of his gas tank brings him back to reality, he glances down and sees the light is on, god damnit. He did not mean to drive that much, he needed this tank to last him till Friday but looks like he’ll have to fill up now and be broke for the rest of the week. Luckily he was on his way back, so he’s close to the city so he can make it to a Speedway that’s less than a couple blocks away.

“Three eighty-six?” He can’t help but laugh in disgust at the ridiculous gas prices as he pulls up to a pump,“What a joke.” Shutting his truck off, he rubs his eyes with his fingertips to help relieve the fuzziness that sits behind them. After recouping himself enough to go inside, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and checks how much cash he has, pulling out two fifties and six twenties. Not as bad as he thought.

While debating which would be the best financial decision, his stomach growls like a pack of wolves. It hits him that he hasn’t eaten anything - he glances at his wrist watch that reads eleven twenty-two - in about twenty hours and it’s starting to affect him.

Joel remembers Jes’s Diner is only a mile away from here, his favorite place for brunch, which sounds fantastic to him right now. So he decides to use one of the fifties and one of the twenty’s, seventy should get him close to a full tank. So he puts the rest of the cash back in his wallet and hops out his truck to go pay for his gas before he heads to the diner.

—

Renae takes one last puff off her cigarette before she throws it to the sidewalk and smooshes it with her larger part of her heel, squishing it making sure it’s out. She’s meeting up with Gia and Bianca at the same restaurant they always do when they come home, Jes’s Diner, it’s just before noon when she gets there. She feels relaxed mainly because she doesn’t have any appointments until three thirty PM, so she can spend a good chunk of her time with her sister and niece.

The restaurant has an outdoor seating area with multiple large fans on the ceiling which helps to keep the air flowing, and since it’s the middle of May in Austin, it's warm.

“Auntie!” Bianca basically yells and leaves her chair to run to Renae when she spots her about two tables away. “Hi Lovebug!” Renae cheers back as she holds Bianca under her armpits and lifts her up into a tight hug, slightly swinging her small body side to side. I missed you so much, Bianca mumbles into the crook of Renae’s neck, and she tells the girl the same before she walks on over to the round table where Gia sits with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.

The cement causes her white colored heels to take over the slightly enclosed area, if she’s getting looks or stares she doesn’t care. Renae always has heels on her feet - it’s a rare sight for her not to. The only place she doesn’t is at the gym - other than that, you never see her without them. She knows the clicking of them on hard surface floors can annoy or distract a lot of people, but she doesn’t let the opinions of others influence things she loves.

And her main love will always be her heels - next to Bianca and Frankie.

“Alright B, sit down please.” Gia looks up at Bianca, who’s still in Renae’s arms, “You’re gettin’ too big for that, soon you’ll be as tall as Auntie Renae.” She can’t help but laugh as she watches Renae let Bianca down to the floor and turn to face her.

“And hi, Mrs. New York!” Renae smiles and slightly bends over to hug Gia, so she doesn’t have to stand up from her chair. Gia coined that name for herself when she first moved and, when Renae started saying it, it just stuck. So she calls her that every time, it’s even Gia’s contact name in Renae’s phone. Hi baby, Gia hugs her tightly for a moment, then let’s go and let's Renae walk to the other side of the table and sit down.

As she sits down she adjusts the hair clip that holds her vibrant loosely curled hair so it’s off her neck. Even with the fans, the Austin heat is rampant this time of day and year almost unbearable if not taken seriously. Gia always tells Renae she’s crazy for still having her vibrant long, thick hair down or how she wears jeans a lot of the time but Renae has become accustomed to the weather by now, after living in Texas for her whole life.

“So what’s new? Give me all the ‘deets!” Renae questions as she rests her chin in her right palm, while her left hand lays on the table. Bianca’s coloring one of the kid menus that they have here while Gia starts talking about their wonderful little world.

“Well, little miss Bianca here,” she lightly pinches Bianca’s cheek before letting go, “just finished her fifth grade class and will be at the middle school next year!” Renae looks over to her and she can’t help but grin from ear to ear about her niece. Look at you lovebug, she raises her left hand causing her jumble of thin gold bracelets to slide down her arm, for a high five and Bianca returns with a slap. She then goes right back to her coloring and not really paying attention to the conversation between Gia and Renae.

“Hi, welcome to Jes’s! I’m Ariana and I’ll be your server today. What drinks can I start you beautiful ladies with?” The cheery waitress asks as stands between you and Gia with her small notepad and pen.

“Chocolate milk, please!” Bianca tells her, lifting her eyes off her menu for a second before going back to it. Alrighty, miss? Ariana nods her head towards Gia. Just a water with a lemon, thank you. Renae’s thrown off by her request, usually the two of them would get the bottomless mimosas. She cocks her head to the side at Gia, who’s now trying to avoid eye contact.

“And for you miss?”

“Uh, I’ll do a mimosa, please.”

“Perfect, I’ll be right back with those for you guys!” Then she’s off to retrieve their drinks.

“Just water? What is goin’ on?” Renae can’t help herself, she’s gotta know if something is up because the only time Gia will order only a water is when-

“Wait- are you pregnant?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as loud as she did. Gia can’t help but laugh and nod her head at Renae’s expression. Oh my god, Renae squeals as she scoots her chair back enough for her to stand up and slide over to the other side of the table where Gia is.

Gia stands up and Renae is finally able to see the medium sized bump that she’s been hiding. “Holy fuck- congratulations!” Renae says in pure love and shock as she hugs her younger sister, “What are you having?” Renae can't get the words out fast enough before she proceeds to pay attention to her bump. Hey, little thing in there, she whispers as she lightly holds her hands over the sundress that covers her sister's growing belly.

“We’re not sure, so we decided we wanted to find out in the delivery room. Robert is excited, he’s gone out and gotten piles and piles of things for the baby - a mix of boy things, girl things, and neutral things. I almost feel like he’s more excited than I am,” Gia laughs before Renae hugs her for the last time before returning to her seat.

“How do you feel, lovebug?” Renae asks Bianca, as she dabs her waterline with the napkin, trying her best to not ruin her makeup. I can't wait to be a big sister, I’m gonna be just like you auntie! The three of them giggle amongst themselves as Ariana comes back with their drinks.

“Are we ready to order or do we need a couple more minutes?” She asks with her animated hands and voice, the three of them look at each other and agree they're ready. Bianca orders first, followed by Gia, and then Renae. Ariana tells them it should be out soon and to just wave for her if they need anything until then.

Gia and Renae get back to chatting about Gia’s life in New York and with the new baby on the way. Renae is ecstatic for the both of them; but that hidden jealousy creeps up on her even though Gia and Robert totally deserve this. She just wishes those kinds of life changing experiences would happen to her before they did with Gia, or even in Renae’s life at all.

Maybe it’s an older sister thing. Always wanting to be the first to do something special, which she did; Renae was the first one in the family to get a college degree and to become an extremely successful woman, a lawyer even. She’s highly proud of herself for believing she could do it, but there’s still something missing and with Gia having it all, it hits Renae directly and hard. But after really thinking about what exactly that something is, she gets it.

Love.

“I have to pee, I'll be right back. B, do you have to go?” Gia asks her daughter, who agrees and goes along. Renae’s left by herself, with her second mimosa in hand, she decides to chug it so she can get a little buzz to take the edge off. She wasn’t expecting to hear this wonderful news from Gia but something about it just hurts Renae’s heart.

When she swallows the last bit of the mixture of orange juice and champagne, she spots this handsome older looking man on the other side of the outdoor patio, seated and eating by himself.

The man looks disheveled, but in a hot way, and Renae feels her heart skip. His hair is curly, but messy, she wonders if the grays she observes are natural, or from a source of stress - maybe a mix of both. What really convinces her is the scraggly beard that also has grays throughout. His age lines prove her point more. The two scratch lines on the tip of his large nose catches her off guard just a bit, she’s not sure what to make of them. His bulky arms stretch out the fabric of his soft dark shirt, she can visibly see the sweat stains that are forming in his armpits while he cuts his food up and brings it to his mouth.

Renae can't stop staring. Her light green eyes won’t leave the man that sits on the other end of the restaurant, who’s simply eating. There’s just something about him that has her feeling foggy and dazed, maybe it’s the way his sharp jaw moves as he chews or the way his large hands grip his silverware and wrap around the handle of the coffee mug making them look like they’re meant for a mouse to use.

Who are you? she whispers to herself right before Gia and Bianca return from the bathroom. At the same time Ariana comes back with a tray that holds three different plates of food that is steaming hot.

—

Joel’s been to Jes’s Diner many times over the course of his life, so much that he doesn’t need to look at the menu. He gets the same thing every time; An omelet with all the fixings, a side of potatoes, two over-easy eggs, and a small side of bacon.

”No Sarah today?” Polly, the forty year old waitress asks, as she pours the black coffee into the mug that’s on the table. Polly and Joel were neighbors growing up, she was like one of the guys. So whenever Joel comes in, she gets his order.

“At school. It’s her last week as a fifth grader ‘n I don’t like it. Not ready for her to grow up ‘n leave.” He states as he grabs a packet of sugar and opens it, pouring it slowly, then picking up the silver spoon to stir the mixture. “It’s not easy, but you got this. I’m sure about it.” She chimes, trying to perk him up even just a little.

Thank you, he puts a weak smile on his face as he takes a sip of the steaming coffee, wake me up just a little bit, he thinks to himself. “I’ll be back with your food, dear.” He nods and thanks her again, taking another sip trying to jump start his head for the second time since Annie came home this morning.

While he waits for his food he does a quick overview of the patio; ten large round metal tables spaced out and about 8 of them are filled with small groups of families or women chatting amongst themselves. Then he spots her. This woman is stunning, even though his view is somewhat obstructed because of the other woman and young girl with their backs to Joel.

Her vibrant orange hair seems like it’s clipped back, but a few pieces hang in front and on the side of her face. Joel can tell she’s younger by the way she maintains herself, her eyebrows are thin but arched and her lips plump with a light red tint to them. Her skin is tan, like she was just at the beach or somewhere similar, strong thin tan lines from a bikini lace her skin. The way her eyes light up and her smile gleams in the conversation she’s having has Joel almost drooling into his coffee.

Her black tank top sticks to her skin perfectly, like it was made for her, causing her cleavage to spill out a little. He leans back in his chair a bit so he can catch a glimpse of her legs and he has to stop himself before he gets caught; light washed jeans that hug her waist, thick thighs, and calves perfectly.

Exactly his type.

Joel feels his cock grow in his pants as he continues to watch her. He shifts from in his seat and his belt buckle to try to relieve himself, then shifts his eyes back to his Home Screen on his phone that sits flat on his table, trying to think of anything other than this woman that has him feeling like a creep.

“Omelet, potatoes, eggs, and bacon for you, sir!” Polly comes back to the table and sets down his couple plates of hot food, his stomach grumbles again. Joel clears his throat and thanks her again and she’s off to work other tables.

Joel instantly dives into his omelet, eating like someone who hasn’t eaten in days - which he kind of understands, to an extent. Hopefully he won’t have to feel that way anymore, which brings him back to his fight with Annie and the divorce. He starts building a quick checklist of things that are his; The house, his truck and her car, has a full time job, all the bills are in his name - even her phone bill - and still has plenty of time for his daughter.

He shouldn’t have much of a hard time getting what he wants out of this situation, the only thing he could see is Annie trying to come after Sarah. Which Joel has a reasonable concern about because he knows first hand how bad her addictions are and that she has shown no interest whatsoever in trying to better herself. She’s simply not mentally competent to be a parent to Sarah, not even the slightest.

Joel has given her chance after chance to get help and she denies it each time. Says she’s gonna do better and actually try, but that never lasts more than two weeks, at most.

After two hours of breaking down everything and eating about ninety percent of his food, he’s finished everything but his couple strips of bacon that are left. He spots Polly walking his way so he stacks up the few plates and silverware he used and slides them to the edge of the table for her.

“Thank you, baby, you treat me so well,” she blushes, “but I wanna ask, everythin’ okay?” She points to her nose, suggesting what happened to Joel. He’s quick to dismiss it, Tommy’s kitten got me yesterday, he knows it comes off as a lie but he’s not ready to talk about his failed marriage with people. “Damn cats,” she fake laughs, catching onto his subtle warnings, “Well, here’s your check, just go up to Ben in the front and he’ll take care of you! Tell Sarah I say hi and I miss her dearly!”

“I will, dear, hope you have a good rest of ya’ day.” Joel nods his head and hands her two twenties before she picks up the dishes, you’re too kind, she smiles then starts her clean up process and she’s gone.

But before Joel stands up out of his chair he turns his head and looks for the gorgeous redhead from before, but he’s not prepared for how close she is to him. She’s a few feet away from him, her and the two others she was with are walking to the front door but they pass his table.

She’s even more beautiful in front of him; she looks to be around Joel’s height, five ten-ish, the heels make it difficult to tell. The sight of her under the table before was an absolute understatement of how she actually looks, her ass and thighs look like they could suffocate Joel - in the best way - and he can’t help but melt at the sight of her belly not being flat, she looks healthy. Proportional to her body type. Far too many women don’t have the love handles that Joel loves to grip or the plush skin he can bite into - his cock twitches again, making Joel incredibly aware of the situation.

Just wanna tear her ass apart, fuck her until she’s pleading for me to stop. Mhmm. Wonder if she likes it rough? Or if she’s a sweet little thing, who doesn’t have much experience… ‘n will let me show her a good time.

It’s quick, maybe three seconds but it feels like eternity the way they stare into one another. He’s infatuated with her and he hasn’t even spoken to her. Joel and her locked eyes, he memorizes the color; forest green with a hint of brown in the middle. He’s hit with the scent of vanilla, jasmine, and a faint smell of cigarettes, a smell that he would love to come home to everyday and take over the smell of his sawdust and sweat.

Instantly he can feel his cheeks warm and his lips curve into a dumb smile, and to his shock, she does the same thing - then she’s around the corner and gone, like an apparition.

Joel shakes his head twice, what am I doin’? He waits a minute or two for his dick to calm down, so he doesn’t make a fool outta himself, what is goin’ on? Joel can’t remember the last time he felt like this. It’s not like he doesn’t get the random moms of the neighborhood or in the PTA that flirt with him and try to be extra friendly. They’re nice and all, but he’s never been attracted to anyone other than Annie and if it wasn’t her, it wasn’t anyone.

After about five minutes of him yelling at himself in his head, he stands up and heads towards the front to pay, leaving him only eighty bucks left for the week, and heads back to his house.

Now back in his truck, only about ten minutes away from his shell of a home, he’s now back in his head about what to do. He figures the best thing tonight is to grab Sarah from school and head straight to Tommy’s. He wants to avoid as much trouble as possible because he hasn’t told Sarah anything about his decision, he just hopes he can do it before Annie manipulates the whole thing like she always does.

Pulling into the garage, he notices Annie’s Toyota gone, thank fuck. Joel for the second time today feels totally relaxed, parks his truck, takes the key out of the ignition and heads inside to shower and pack for him and Sarah. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but he knows it’s the only way to stay separated from her because she won’t leave when asked to. That’s when the real problems begin.

As he walks into his house he’s instantly confronted with the smell of weed, it smells like it could be coating the walls. Joel never understood why she smoked in the house when they have a balcony from their bedroom and a back patio off of the kitchen. Joel doesn’t have a problem with weed, he smokes more than most people know, but he absolutely despises when Annie smokes in the house. It takes forever to get the smell out of the rooms and furniture, clothes even.

A part of him feels like she does it on purpose, because she knows that Joel is going to take care of it before Sarah gets home. So it’s almost like her form of punishment for whatever Joel did is response to her bullshit behavior.

“So much for a shower,” he grunts and begins opening all the windows and doors that have screens in them to avoid bugs getting in. He turns on any and all ceiling fans, lights some incense, and begins wiping down countertops in the kitchen - where he found his rolling tray and his weed, not hers of course.

About twenty minutes later, Joel’s alarm starts blaring on his cell phone in his back pocket, causing him to jump and drop the towel he was ringing out in the sink. He pulls it out and hits the stop button and checks the time. Two fifty five PM it says, informing him that he’s got thirty minutes to get to Sarah’s school. It usually takes at least twenty-five to get there from any of his job sites, so he gives himself plenty of time. But from the house the school is no longer than ten minutes away, which is nice, one of the main reasons why Joel picked the school - other than it’s the number one public school is his county.

Shit. He’s still gotta pick up around here and pack up her things, he really doesn’t want to come back later on. He needs to get outta here, preferably sooner than later. After double checking the house smells clean, closing all the windows and doors, he goes into Sarah’s room, which thankfully her door was shut and the only room that didn’t reek.

Joel can’t help but release a heavy breath and lean all his weight on the door, bringing his dry hands to his face and massaging his whole face in distress. He’s hit his breaking point; the lack of sleep, aggravation, disappointment, and sorrow that seep out of his skin and soul are escaping the strong man act he has to maintain.

He starts to weep into his hands as he holds himself up - he refuses to sink to the floor, he can’t bring himself to do it without feeling like a chump. Mainly because he’s breaking down in his ten year old daughter's bedroom. He’s had to keep a secret life for so long to other people, they just don’t know how bad it really is. He’s been through so much shit with Annie these past few years and he hasn’t asked for help, even though it’s been offered by Tommy and some of Annie’s friends who have come to Joel.

It used to mainly be that Joel was ashamed that he found himself and his daughter in this situation, and he didn’t want people to know his business. But now, he doesn’t care about that. He cares for Sarah and making sure she’s okay, that’s all that he needs to worry about right now.

He sighs, wiping away the tears he let slip through the cracks, and pushes himself off the door so he can grab his daughter's things. He grabs her empty soccer bag, sets it on her lavender purple bedding, and turns to her dresser and begins to grab clothes; shorts, shirts, leggings, socks, underwear, and her bathing suit. He slides over to her bathroom and grabs her toiletries that she has in a little bag in a drawer, bringing it over to the bag and zipping it up.

Joel figures they’ll stay at Tommy’s the rest of the week and all weekend. He just needs to leave the house, it’s suffocating for him to be here, too many memories - bad ones - for him to enjoy being here. Even though he’s by himself.

Takes him a shorter time to pack; his toiletries, work clothes, comfy clothes, and his bathing suit - it’s all he needs. With Sarah’s bag in one hand and his on his shoulder, he jogs down the stairs and moves to snag his keys so he can leave.

A sense of security takes over. Just knowing that he told Annie what he’s planning on doing and that Sarah is with him and not her, it’s relieving. He doesn’t have to worry about Sarah wanting to see Annie or asking questions about why, she already knows, most of it not all. He heads out to his truck and he’s on the way to grab Sarah.

With fifteen minutes to spare, he sits in the pickup line that’s full of a variety of trucks and cars waiting for their kid to come tiredly walking out. While waiting for her Joel decides to get a jump start and at least take a look online for some kind of divorce lawyer. If he’s gonna do it, he might as well start now. No backing out now.

Lawyers near me, he mumbles as he types into google, he has to scroll twice until a name sticks out to him. Without reading anything he clicks on R&R Law Firm, and he’s shocked when he sees a picture of two women and the one with red hair sticks out. It then clicks, that’s the woman from the diner.

Renae Russo.

—

Right after brunch, Renae took Gia and Bianca back to her apartment where they’ll be staying until Sunday afternoon. They’ve stayed at her place numerous times before so they know to make the place their own, and now with Frankie there Bianca has a little friend.

Renae has enough time to change out of her casual clothes and into her skin tight black dress, that covers her chest and goes to her knees, with matching black heels. She lets her curls fall from her hair clip as she teases the roots of her hair, creating volume and letting the curls loose; it’s a cute, messy but natural looking style that suits her perfectly.

“I’ll be back no later than six-thirty, love you guys!” She tells her sister and niece before she’s out the door and walking to her BMW. Shockingly, the weather calmed down a bit, it can’t be any hotter than seventy-eight or nine - way cooler than the ninety degrees it was earlier.

Traffic isn’t terrible, yet. She’s sure on her way home, it’ll be awful. It always seems like she gets caught in the worst traffic on the way home. She just can’t seem to find the right way back, she thought after ten years she would be a pro. But guess not.

Searchin’ kisses, the man she misses, the man that he longs to be.

Renae sings along to the one and only Amy Whinehouse, her favorite artist of all time. That’s her girl. It was her first concert at sixteen and Renae has been in love with her ever since then. She knows all Amy’s songs and has been to fifty percent of her concerts. Renae actually made it to her last show in twenty-eleven in Serbia, and we all know how that turned out. It was truly heartbreaking for Renae to witness and listen to, live.

So he tries to pacify her, cause what’s inside her never dies.

Suddenly her phone starts vibrating in her purse that’s sitting in her passenger seat, since she’s at a red light she reaches over and grabs it. Now more of a mumble than actually singing, she reads the name on her screen and she can’t help but smile. Her cheeks turn redder and redder, she can’t help herself from slightly biting her lip as she stares at the ten letter name.

Dominic Amaro</3

Renae’s favorite and most recent ex, the one that she just can’t let go of, but knows that she ultimately has to. After two years of dating, he had to move back to Italy to take care of his mother who became extremely ill and help with his two younger siblings, and although Renae understood completely, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t hurt by it. She saw herself marrying him, even having kids. She thought he was the one, but she was wrong.

But even after breaking up three years ago, they randomly call each other and will chat about anything and everything. Sometimes leading into phone sex… Or, quite often, if she’s honest. It’s one of the highest reasons why Renae hasn’t lost her mind completely. Dominic has the voice of an Italian man - that of a gentleman, not a mobster - his octave is low but his accent is smooth, almost like an Idris Elba, but Italian.

The traffic light switches to green as she hits the green accept button, raising the phone to her right ear as she manages to fly towards her job. Hi Dominic, she purrs with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone, anticipating his smooth voice.

“Hi amore mio, how are you?” His voice is relaxed and Renae can tell he’s had a couple drinks, his accent is loose, not as strong as sober Dominic.

This kind of irritates her, but also not, because he can’t hold his liquor and that’s usually when a lot of their fights start, and Renae does not want to do that right now. If she was at home, she would absolutely rip into him and let him fight back - then fuck herself with her fingers while he talks her through it and strokes himself to the sound of her arousal and her deep moans.

Renae chuckles at his words as she pulls into the parking garage of her building, “Things are goin’ well, work has been busy and Gia came into town for this weekend. So I’ve been pretty happy.” She confesses, pulling into a parking spot and turning her car off, throwing her keys into her lap.

“Va meglio?” Are things getting better? Last Renae knew, Concetta had liver and kidney failure, but that was a couple months ago by now.

Before he says anything, she hears him heavily sigh and take a sip of whatever alcohol his choice is. That’s not a good sign, she mentally says while she quickly pulls her phone from her ear and looks at the time. Three twenty five. Fuck me, she mutters. Raising the phone to her ear again she hears him mumble something. What, baby? she asks him with sincerity.

She hates that she’ll have to shorten the conversation because from the context clues she’s picking up, this isn’t going to be good news. But Renae always puts her work first, which might be why she messes things up for herself - like marriage or kids. It’s just how she lives her life right now and she’s content in living with it, until otherwise she’s going to continue living this way.

To be less of an asshole than she already is, she lets Dominic vent about his mother and how she only has a little less than a year to live, and how his younger siblings are rays of sunshine but he feels terrible for them because they’re so young. Renae can’t help but feel her stomach tie into knots at the news while she walks through the parking garage and waits in the elevator. She met Concetta once when she came and visited Texas for a month, the sweetest little Italian woman ever - feisty too, Renae and her were two peas in a pod really. So even though she doesn’t have much to go on about her, Renae still feels awful for Dominic because no one, especially him, deserves to go through anything remotely similar.

“Amore,” she drags out, leaning her ass against the back wall of the elevator, “I’m sorry. I mean like, Damn- I wish you and your family didn’t have to go through this.”

“Prego, um- but the real reason I called is cause, uh“ Renae can tell he’s having a hard time getting his words across, she’s not sure if the language barrier or if he’s just struggling. Dominic’s English isn’t bad by any means, but Renae can tell after he moved back to Italy, he’s reverted back to speaking Italian all the time because of the way he speaks.

She’s now out of the elevator and on her office floor, waiting to walk into the long hallway that leads to her destination. Since she knows her office is occupied, she decides to finish her phone call. It's just something personal that she doesn’t want people to know about. Gia doesn’t even know that she’s still in contact with Dominic, not because Gia would be disappointed about it but just because Renae doesn’t want to have to explain any of this to anyone.

Another big reason she doesn’t want to bring it up is because she doesn’t even know how to break it down to herself. Renae has zero idea of what to make of the situation-ship with Dominic and she hasn’t needed a reason to. As far as she’s concerned, Dominic is just another man that she can’t let go of and she feels like he knows it.

She checks the clock on her phone one last time and she’s two minutes from being late, but there’s also no way she can just hang up on him, even if he understands that she has a client. Renae can’t help herself, she still loves him, or at least thinks she does.

“In a month I’m coming to Texas for a couple days-“

“You can stay with me!” she blurts out, and she’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s the desperation for some touch, a familiar one, or it’s the empathy in her that has made her feel for him. “Just send me your flight information and I’ll grab you and give you a place to stay. ‘Kay?”

A second of silence comes from the other end of the phone before he coo’s, “è così difficile non amarti…thank you.” It’s so hard not to love you.

This hits Renae directly in the heart, hard. She wishes she could jump through her phone and hug and kiss Dominic, but she can’t. This thirty-five year old man has her wishing she never lived in Texas and met Dominic in Italy, just living their happiest lives together.

“Well,” she bites her bottom lip again in a poor attempt to hide her smile, “you don’t make it easy yourself, Dominic.”

With both her shoulders occupied with bag straps, she leans her back against the wall outside two wooden doors, and stares at her pointy black heels. She hears a tiny chuckle leave his lips, she can visualize the slight pinkness that overgrows his face - much like herself.

Suddenly Rachel Yonkers - the other half of R&R Law Firm - walks out of the double doors. Causing Renae’s attention to come back full force and on her as she says, I’m headin’ out for lunch, see ya’ in a bit.

Slightly pulling the phone away from her mouth she responds, enjoy, as she smiles and waves her free hand. After the elevator doors close on Rachel, Renae’s attention is back on Dominic who correctly guesses she’s at work and then lets her go.

“Ciao, my love.”

“Ciao, Dominic.”

She hangs up and gently throws her head back until she rests on the wall with her eyes closed. What am I doing? This is gonna ruin me. He’s gonna ruin me forever. Somehow, she stops herself from falling down yet another spiral.

Throwing her phone into her purse, she takes a deep breath as she stands herself up, slightly shaking her whole body to get rid of the jitters that flow through her entire nervous system. Smoothing the sides of her black cotton dress, then swiping a strand of thick hair on her left side behind her ear, her fingers drag along the shape of her medium size hoops that hang from her ears, before walking through the double doors.

“Hi, Riley!” She chirps as she struts through the lobby of her office, head on to her assistant who’s behind her desk. Riley is fresh out of college, she has her criminal justice degree and is currently studying for her law degree - so she’s been with Renae for the past year and she told Riley this can be a permanent job for her.

“Afternoon, Ms. Russo. Jackie Cora is waiting for you!” She informs Renae as she staples a stack of papers together, setting them down on a pile.

Awesome, thank you, Renae smiles as she adjusts her black Micheal Kors purse that hangs on one shoulder and her laptop bag that hangs on the other. Her three thirty appointment is with Jackie Cora, who wants to file a PPO on her ex husband, Charlie Frey. He won’t stop harassing her with phone calls and emails about wanting to try again with her or come back to get some of his things, even though they aren’t there anymore.

Police can’t do anything other than tell him to leave while they’re present because there’s nothing legally they can do. But he hasn’t stopped since the divorce which was 5 months ago, and Renae was the one who did their divorce, so she knows how dirty and hasty Charlie is.

“Hi Jackie!” Renae chirps as she enters her office and walks to Jackie who’s sitting on the opposite side of her desk. Jackie stands up and shakes Renae’s hand, returning to welcome, then sitting down as she begins to divulge into the things that have been happening and what she wants done about it.

—

Staring at the printer, Renae’s right hand sprawls on the counter and her pointer finger taps impatiently, her nails causing a tink tink noise that echoes through her office. She glances away from the stack of papers that are slowly piling, to the clock above her and it’s been two hours since her and Jackie Cora have been together. She sighs as she goes back to the almost dead printer and she only needs one more page, which thankfully comes out with no issues.

“Here we go,” she announces as she grabs the stack of papers and turns around to bring them to Jackie. Who sits at the table surrounded by two large envelopes, her and Renae’s laptop, and Renae’s notes. “The last of your copy of things. This one is the letter that you’ll read in court on the thirtieth, so two weeks from today.”

Renae grabs the last envelope and seals the papers, then hands it over to Jackie who then collects her belongings putting them in her large tote bag. “Thank you so much Ms. Russo, god.” She stands up, her long brown hair thrown behind her shoulder as she steps to Renae and hugs her, which Renae returns warmly. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Please call me if anything escalates, please.”

After a few minutes of back and forth farewells, Renae is left alone in her office. She can finally relax, she did not realize how bad Jackie’s situation actually was. The amount of text messages and calls that she had printed out for evidence was staggering, Renae has never dealt with anything quite like this. But she has no doubt in her ability, that she’ll be able to help Jackie out - if anything it should be easy.

“Fuck, man,” she groans, throwing her curls up in a messy bun that sits on top of her head with loose strands all over - it’s more of a real messy bun than the cute, intentionally messy kind. She digs through her purse that sits underneath her desk - I need a cigarette after that fuckin’ debacle, aha - she feels the box with her finger tips and quickly snags them out.

Her mood swings instantly as she sees her Marlboro Reds in her hands. She’s not proud of it but her cigarettes are her anchors in life; always there when she needs them to. But she’s not a crazy smoker, a pack will last her four to five days a week sometimes. It’s something that works to take the edge of just a little while.

Which is exactly what she craves right now.

Phone in one hand, Marlboro Reds in the other, Renae struts to her door but just before she pulls her glass door open. Her phone on her desk rings. Motherfucker- she mumbles as she hangs her head down while shaking her head, every goddamn time.

It takes her a second before she commits to turning around and answering her phone as she plops down in her office chair. Renae Russo, she forces herself to sound light and cheery, because work comes before cigs.

“You have a call on line two, saying he wants to talk to you specifically,” Riley tells Renae, “I don’t recognize the voice at all.”

“Hmm, okay thank you, hon’.” Renae doesn’t waste any time. She’s quick to switch lines, putting the phone on speaker so she can move around freely without the problem of the cord. Pushing herself out of her chair, she stands up and leans over her desk just enough so her hands support upper body, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Good evening, I’m Renae Russo and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to right now?” Even with her voice forced, she still genuinely wants to help whoever this person is - they just happened to catch Renae at a bad time. It’s a good five seconds of silence from her black phone that she now stares at from her position.

She knows some people have a hard time reaching out to divorce lawyers, which is why she gives them a chance. Uhh, he starts before he clears his throat, Renae can hear a faint mumbling that somewhat sounds like encouragement to continue.

“Hi Ms. Russo, um. I’m Joel Miller n’ I wanna- well, need to file divorce papers against my wife. Shit, ex-wife I guess now.”

Renae is trying her best to pay attention to what Joel just said because of the way his voice flows so effortlessly, but has much effect. Most southern accents sound the same to Renae at this point, she hears it all day long, she’s gotten so good that she can guess some towns or parts of the state based on their accents alone. However she’s stuck on his, there’s something about his that has her feeling gooey and mushy on the inside. Enough for her to have to sit back in her chair, leaning back just a bit as rests her elbows on the arms of the chair and she intertwines her fingers on her belly. Trying to contain herself and hide the butterflies that dare to escape.

“‘n I need to get full custody of my ten year old daughter.”

Her stomach drops and her nerves grow larger.

“Well, Mr. Miller,” she charms, leaning forward to grab a pen and a sticky note, “It’s a good thing you called me.”

[theriu]

By a stroke of unexpected blessing, I acquired an actual in-store copy of LoZ: Tears of the Kingdom! Behold!

And the natural first thing to do was inform my niece and nephew who are also avidly awaiting it. This was quickly followed by impromptu arrangements for a Cool Aunt Sleepover including said niece and nephew and also another niece and nephew. We took turns playing through the intro and exploring the first map and completely lost track of time! And now, slightly out of context potential spoilers under the cut as I recount our reactions and my favorite moments of the night:

[Link crawling on the ceiling like a lizard while Older Nephew searches for Clues] Zelda: Oh! Link, the master sword is glowing! [Link back on the ground, but tbf she totally could have noticed the sword glowing while he was crawling on the ceiling]

“[Older Nephew], can you PLEASE keep moving?” “I need to click Zelda a fifth time to make sure we got all the dialogue!”

Awwwwww ZELDA IS A LIL HISTORY NERD BLESS HER HEART

“Those rocks are definitely patterned like breakable rocks. I bet we can come back later and break them.” “Yeah they are you’re probably right.” (We were not right.)

Older Nephew: “Just what is Ganon smoking for there to be so much? He must have horrible lung problems.”

Me, totally nervous about upcoming creepy scene: “[Younger Nephew] you’re gonna need to leave pretty soon, this next scene is probably gonna be SUPER CREEPY” (It was indeed creepy but nowhere NEAR as creepy as I expected from the trailers, altho I did close my eyes for the one head-turning part, dont judge me)

Older Nephew: “Yeah, dead Ganon. Ganon without water. Dehydrated Ganon.”

“SO THAT’S HOW THEY RESET HIS STATS”

[Everyone to Younger Nephew] “You can come back in now!”

“Where did his shirt go?” “Magic” “Why are his PANTS gone?” “No idea”

[After finding pants] “Did we miss his shirt?!” [The quest for a shirt continues]

“The portal is down there—“ “I KNOW I’m EXPLORING”

Link really just walked up to a giant drop into open air without his parasail and went “Time to yeet,” no answers given and no questions asked. Classic.

“Giant lilypads!”

“I found a STICK!”

“NEW MUSHROOMS!!!”

[Everyone while Older Niece was breaking pots] “Destroy ancient relics! Demolish personal property for cash! Commit vandalism!”

Older Niece decides her talents are better served livetexting our progress on Discord.

Younger Niece is delighted that the new fuzzy race have big wing-shaped ears like her original character and is now calling Rauru her grandfather.

“I bet you can ride the emus!” (You can’t and I’m still mad about it)

[While I am searching a tree for eggs] Older Nephew: “Are there any eggs? Do we get to consume a bird’s children-to-be?”

Younger Nephew ends turn early because he hasn’t learned how to hit yet and there is an enemy robot RIGHT OVER THERE. Understandable, really.

Older Nephew slides down to explore dangerous ledge hovering over the abyss. Younger Nephew, repeatedly: “This is dumb.” Me: “Yeah, it is.” Older Nephew: [finds a hidden chest] Me: “Never mind!”

Older Nephew has dubbed first hand power Magic Superglue. I don’t remember what it’s actually called, so apparantly it stuck (ha!)

“THE KOROKS ARE BACK!” [cheering]

The children cheering me on as I fuse six giant blocks into SUPER BRIDGE

Accidentally glueing comically small-by-comparison crate to the very corner of Super Bridge

Younger Niece gets jumpscared by an emu BOLTING out of the trees RIGHT AT THE SCREEN. Gameplay paused while room recovers from laughing fits.

“We can FUSE STUFF INTO NEW WEAPONS?!! This is the BEST THING EVER!!!” [Older Nephew and Younger Niece conduct rigorous experiments resulting in some actually cool weapons, a stambulb arrow, and an apple stick.]

REVENGE OF YOUNGER NEPHEW: Comes out of shrine and destroys a robot in two hits with Boulder Sword.

[After 2 1/2 hours] “WE FOUND HIS SHIRT!!!” [cheering]

“You hit the fans to make them work!” [Older Nephew forgets to unequip ax and obliterates half the raft]

Utterly delighted over discovering the glow seed arrow trick myself while ineffectively trying to kill a robot.

Younger Niece: “How come you always find the eggs?” Me: I’m just that good. It’s because I own birds.”

[Group hilarity] “MINE CART SHIELD!”

[Group insanity] “MINE CART HAMMER!!!!”

And that’s when I looked at the clock and realized it was 1:30 in the morning, so we wrapped up and went to bed. AND A GOOD TIME WAS HAD BY ALL!

[iftheshoef1tz]

Ahoy! For Halloween, I thought I’d give you all a teaser for my latest project. 😈

Eris Vanserra is a young doctor in West Germany in 1968. After learning his mother has been keeping the old ways behind the back of his deeply religious, deeply abusive father, Eris decides the easiest, most direct way to vengeance is by summoning a demon. This scene takes place in Grunewald, a forest in West Berlin, where Eris summons said demon. This will be, of course, Azris, so y’all know who the demon is.

Special thanks to @queercontrarian who helped me develop this idea by suggesting it take place during the ‘68 riots in West Germany in the first place and who is also indispensable as a translator. This is unedited and unbetaed and will likely change its form before i actually post this thing. Enjoy!!

A break in the trees reveals the lit-up summit of Teufelsberg. He can’t quite see the three dome radio towers, but he knows they’re there. He’d seen them up close only once, when he’d gone skiing three years ago. It had made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, to be so close to the machinations of the American secret intelligence apparatus.

Now, though, there isn’t any snow, only the wet squelching of fallen, rotting leaves beneath his bike tires.

It had been easy enough to find his mother’s book, in the end – it had been in the kitchen next to the cookbooks. A smart hiding place, one Beron would never think to look for something important.

Decoding it had taken somewhat longer. It was handwritten in shaky cursive, sometimes in what seemed to be Middle German, and Eris had risked eye strain trying to tell the writer’s vowels apart. But there, hidden among recipes for poultices and medicines for pain or fertility, is a three line recipe, as it were.

The cold October air whips Eris’s hair into his face as he mouths the words to himself: ich beschwöre euch, Dämon. Gebt mir eine wahre und getreue Antwort, sodass ich an mein ersehntes Ziel gelange. Ich beschwöre euch.

It’s not the original Middle German, of course; Eris is on the other side of the Luther’s ninety-nine theses and he trusts his pronunciation of modern German much more than the other. It had occurred to him that the translation might affect which demon answered his call, but in the end, he had decided it didn’t matter. This was all a fool’s errand, regardless.

He laughs once at himself. It clouds around his mouth before being blown away by the wind. Rain is in the air, and he needs to get this idiocy out of his system before then.

It’s the kind of rebellion he has never had the time or energy for, and he feels as though he’s tilting at windmills. If he were a braver man, he’d simply murder his father himself.

Eventually, he feels he’s reached deep enough in the forest, and he slips off his bicycle. He hesitates before simply resting it against a nearby tree. Yes, it’s technically visible from the path, but it’s nearly eleven at night in the middle of a bloody forest. No one is around to steal it.

Leaves and branches crunch beneath his feet like rusty, crackling laughter, and he feels foolish again. He can turn around now, be back in his apartment by midnight, and not have his landlady be any the wiser.

But something pulls him deeper into the loamy dark, his torch beam hardly piercing the darkness around him.

Eventually, it is only Eris and his stupid quest in the dark of Grunewald, and he draws to a halt. It takes only a moment to kick away leaves and clear a small section of grass, and he slides a glass jar from his backpack.

The recipe had called for chalk or dirt, and he uses dirt he’d collected from the farm to draw a circle in the cleared space. It’s wobbly, and he swipes at his mouth in irritation. The motion leaves dirt on Eris’s face; he can feel it but doesn’t care.

Next is another small jar, with two slender sticks of incense. He’d stolen them from Nesta last week and figures the scent of cedar would be least offensive to a demon. It’s incredible how much effort he’s put into something so stupid. Perhaps, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips as he eases into sitting position, he should start considering that he’s doing this after all.

The circle is barely visible in the torchlight, and the lit end of the stick of incense also seems to disappear into the clutching dark. He is alone here in the dark woods.

Eris shuts his eyes against the sudden lurch of fear and inhales once through his nose. He exhales, then repeats. On the third breath, he murmurs, “I invoke thee, demon.”

The silence thickens around him.

“Give me a true and faithful answer,” he continues, his gloved hands clenching in his lap. “So that I may accomplish my desired end.”

The wind breaks the silence suddenly, moaning through the trees. The sound of it through the leaves sounds like a snake’s hiss, sharp and violent. Eris is alone and cold here, and no one will notice he is missing if something goes wrong.

“I invoke thee,” Eris forces himself to finish, barely above a whisper.

A faint shudder rolls through the earth, or maybe it’s just Eris himself, and he squeezes his eyes tighter shut. Would it be better or worse to open his eyes and find that his words have brought him nothing but embarrassment?

After a moment, the wind dies down, and Eris cracks his eyes open.

He is alone. The incense is no longer burning, its embers quenched by the hissing wind.

“‘I invoke thee,’” he snarls to himself and rushing to his feet. He kicks through the wobbly line of the dirt invoking circle, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Bullshit.”

[…]

He turns to look behind him, his fear from earlier returning. It’s thick along the back of his tongue as he watches two perfectly round lights bob up the road towards him. He pauses, one foot sliding in the mud just off the road, as the tremulous lights steady and the rumble of a car engine reaches him.

Thank God, he thinks acidly. What a day it would be if demons weren’t real but aliens were.

The rumble grows closer, and Eris sticks out a thumb, slick and shining in the car’s headlights. It slows as it reaches Eris before finally stopping in front of him. The driver is revealed bit by bit as he rolls the window down – dark hair flopped carelessly across his forehead, piercing hazel eyes underlined by heavy bags.

“You lost?” the man says. His German is accented in a way Eris can’t quite place.

“My bike was stolen,” Eris says, not bothering to hide his shiver. “Could I trouble you - ”

“Get in.”

Eris blinks in surprise at the quick acceptance, but the man is leaning back in his seat as if he picks up strangers in the dark woods every day.

He slips into the car, winding the window shut as fast as possible. The storm spits a last few drops into his face, and he collapses back into his seat. The inside of the car is too warm, the heat turned up nearly to the maximum. The engine purrs beneath Eris’s feet when the man takes off, and Eris watches the man’s hand resting on the gear shift.

The skin looks waxy, and Eris recognizes them for the burn scars they are. He has the strange impulse to touch them, to make sure they are real in a way nothing else has felt tonight.

“What were you doing out here so late at night?”

Something in Eris rebels at the patronizing tone, but he quashes any visible reaction beyond pushing his sodden hair from his face. When he looks over, the man’s hazel eyes are so dark as to seem black.

Blandly, he replies, “Biking.”

The man laughs, just one short burst. “Of course.”

“Thank you for the lift,” Eris says. He arranges himself in a way he knows makes him appear smaller, more delicate. It angles him more fully towards the man and shows off the curve of his hip. Some men like that, Eris knows, especially when they don’t like to like men. “I was dreading walking home in the dark by myself.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” He smooths a hand down the front of his sweater.

The man waves a dismissive hand at Eris, encompassing his whole body. It somehow manages to make Eris feel brutally naked, and he curls into himself with no coquetry in the motion. “Don’t do that thing you did just then. Make yourself so – ”

“I - ” The word falls pathetically from Eris’s mouth as more half-formed excuses pile up on his tongue. Maybe the man is a policeman or part of the secret service, and Eris has just broadcast his willingness to spread his legs for another man. God, maybe he’s an American.

Eris waits, breath trapped in his throat. But the man never finishes his sentence, and his hand falls to the gear shift again. The engine rumbles beneath them, knocking Eris’s thoughts into one another.

Beron will kill him if he’s arrested for this. He might kill his mother, too, for breeding such a deviant. It doesn’t even occur to him to be afraid that this man might kill him for the offer, which, despite it’s immediacy, lacks any real teeth.

“I think I can walk from here.” Eris is proud his voice doesn’t tremble; his hands are steady, too.

In response, the man purses his lips. He doesn’t pull over, though, and Eris thinks he might vomit. At least if his body turns up at some point in the future, no one will know he was with a man before this. The thought makes a hysterical laugh well up in his throat, competing with his excuses trapped there.

He wishes, suddenly, pathetically, for Nesta.

“Do you know anyplace quiet we could go to?”

The man’s voice is almost covered by the engine, and Eris has to swallow once, twice, before he says, putting a little of Beron’s sternness in his voice, “I’m not taking you home with me.”

At this, the man turns his head towards Eris. They pass under the first street lamp of the main road, and Eris narrowly bites back a gasp.

Eyes black as coal with no white showing, the demon says, “I think you and I have some things to talk about.”

[mochie85]

Just Breathe - Chapter 4

Just Breathe Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Zephyr just wanted to be left alone. That's how she's been her whole life. Abandoned, unwanted, and angry. Oh so angry. While taking her revenge on the people who have wronged her, she gets caught by the Avengers and is given the opportunity to either work with them or be kept prisoner by them. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 3k Warnings: Angst, history of trauma, some cursing, MCD A/N: This one is dark y'all. I appreciate all the love and support for this story. And I can't thank the two original requests I got to make it. I'm really sorry it took me this long to finish. I was finally in a head space to get it done without it affecting me emotionally. So, I'd like to thank you for your patience. Next up, I'd like to finish TH&TH.

“Zee!” Steve calls out to you as you run back down the hallway. Barnes was standing right next to him in the elevator. If this was any indication of how life would be like living here, you knew you made the right decision to leave. You wouldn’t want to run into him every day. It wouldn’t end well for either of you.

Loki raised his hand up on Roger’s chest. Stopping his advance towards you. “Neither of you are going anywhere near her!” he growled. Steve looked irritated as he tried to walk past Loki, ignoring him completely.

Loki materialized in front of him again, stopping him. “Rogers. You need to stop.”

“We need to talk to her, Loki. Bucky found the last hidden base. That’s what he and Sam had been doing these last four months.” Loki involuntarily looked at Barnes who was standing way behind Rogers with his hands in his pockets. “If she wants to take down HYDRA so bad, this is her chance.”

“Is he coming too?” Loki asked, still staring at Barnes.

“He has to. He’s the one that went on the mission and has the intel,” Rogers answered.

“She won’t go along with this. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“Can you guys please stop talking like I’m not here?” Barnes interrupted.

“Then leave!” Loki snapped.

“Loki, I know you’ve gotten really close to her. But if she’s going to be a part of this team. She has to learn to work together. You of all people should understand that,” Rogers finished.

‘A part of this team.’ Loki finally realized one thing. They were never going to let you go. Even after this HYDRA base was dismantled. They would find a way to keep you. If not working with them, then for them. They would be no better than the HYDRA agents they were trying to stop.

So, what does that mean for me? Loki thought. I could make all the reparations and apologies they want, but it would never be enough for them.

“I’ll go talk to her. I can’t promise you her civility. But I can make sure she will lend you her aid,” Loki huffed.

“Ok. We leave tomorrow at twenty-one hundred hours.” Rogers just nodded, trusting that Loki will deliver on his word.

“I suggest you prepare the larger jet. More room means fewer accidental meetings like we just had.” Loki narrowed his eyes toward Barnes and walked back to your room, hoping you haven’t figured out a means to run away yet.

As soon as Loki closed your door, he found you leaning over your balcony. “Where are you going?” Loki asked, confused and astounded. “We’re at least 90 stories up? Are you mad?”

“You stalled them long enough. I’m getting out of here,” you explained.

“I still have your duffel. How are you going to survive without it? Get in here and we’ll talk.”

“You’re not gonna try to convince me to stay are you?”

“Let’s talk,” was all Loki said. He left the sliding door open and waited for you on your bed.

“What is it?”

“They found the last HYDRA base. The Captain wants you to go on this mission.”

“Whose gonna go?”

“Barnes will be there,” Loki answered your underlying question.

“NO!” you walked back towards the balcony sliding the door open. Loki used his seidr to shut it.

“Let me go Loki. I’m not working with him!”

“Just listen…”

“I said, NO!” you yelled marching your way to your bedroom door instead. Loki magically locked it too. You tried the knob. Rattling it and trying to force it free. Your breathing got haggard as your tried to keep your anxiety down. “Let me go, Loki!”

“Darling, relax.” He said calmly. Slowly making his way to you, his hands up in peace.

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one being asked to work with your abuser. You’re not being used like a tool just so they can all pat themselves on the back and wish themselves a job well done at the end of the day,” you spat out rolling your eyes. You tried the balcony doors again.

“It’ll be the last HYDRA base, darling. Then you can leave. You won’t have to stick around anymore.” His voice had gone soft and regretful.

“And what makes you think they’ll let me? They’re not gonna let me go. They’ll put me back in that glass cell just like HYDRA.”  You tried with all your strength to pull that sliding door open. Even so much as huffing trying to get the air around you to break the glass.

“It’s no use,” Loki said coming up to you. “Stark reinforced the doors this high up in the tower. Safety measures,” he said putting his hands on both your shoulders. You stopped at his touch.

“Open the doors, Loki,” you simmered with rage.

“I’ve tried countless times to blow those doors wide open. The glass never shattered. It took me a while to realize that it was the same glass that they used in the cell downstairs. The same cage. Just with a better view.”

You laid your forehead against the glass, defeat in your breath as you sighed. You looked out admiring the lights of New York. It really was a better view. But no view was worth the cage that they put you in.

“It’s too late for me, darling. But I promise you, I will help you breathe free. Do you trust me?” He asked softly.

You lifted your head up and saw his reflection in the glass. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern, but his eyes- his eyes glowed with mischief.

The flight south towards Georgia only took an hour thanks to the speed of the quinjet. It was the most nerve-wracking and confusing moment in your life.  You had all these emotions warring for attention inside you. You were angry, energetic, and terrified. You were tired, and the most confusing emotion of all, you felt safe.

Loki sat with you the whole flight. When he couldn’t hold your hand, his knee rubbed up against yours, promising stability and security.

Your restlessness made you fidget. Your hands shook and you started looking around the jet catching the eyes of the Winter Soldier.

“Look at me, Zee,” Loki said. “Don’t look at him. Keep your eyes on me,” he said with a gentle command.

“I pictured today going totally different in my head,” you said biting your thumbnail anxiously. Loki pulled your hand from your mouth and held it. Keeping you from soothing yourself by damaging your nailbeds. His calloused hands felt cold to the touch as he twined his fingers with yours.

“Yes, now it’s even better. You get to finally have your revenge on the people that wronged you,” he joked. You sighed and involuntarily looked at Bucky again. “What did I say?” Loki chided.

“To keep my eyes on you,” you answered hesitantly, looking back toward Loki.

“Good girl,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes, swiping your hand away from his. He only chuckled as he continued reading a novel he brought with him.

“Ok team, listen up,” Steve said coming back from the cockpit. “We’re gonna touch down in less than fifteen minutes. Bucky you can go with…” after considering his options, Steve decided, “…Loki. If you can protect each other, and create a distraction, I can infiltrate the bunker with Zee and Nat. Zee and I will get any prisoners out of there. Nat’s main concern would be to extract files. Sam will stay here in the jet for a quicker getaway in case things go sideways. He’ll have Redwing on patrol. Any questions? Good.” Not giving anyone time to answer back. “Suit up.”

Instantly, Steve donned his shield behind him as he made his way to the back-hanger door. Loki’s green seidr engulfed him changing his casual Midgardian wear to his fine Asgardian leather. Barnes rolled his metal arm causing you to flinch at the swift movement. A flinch no one missed but didn’t dare to bring up.

Loki squeezed your shoulder one last time, his swirling eyes trying to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud. You nodded as you watched him jump off the back door, only a few stories off the ground. Bucky followed him, shooting as he landed on his heels.

“Ready, Zee?” Steve asked. “Keep a wind-shield around Nat and me and we’ll cover you until we get inside.” You nodded at his command. Running when the jet touched down on the field.

Everything went according to plan. Loki and Bucky had managed to attract the attention of all the guards outside the facility, while the three of you forced your way into the heavily armored base.

Once inside, Nat went her separate way to try and decrypt any information she can harvest from the servers. You and Steve separated as you took the top steps to see if they were keeping anyone in the labs.

Your heart ached whenever you did these raids. It was too late for you to have hope that the Avengers would’ve saved you a long time ago. You had to save yourself.  

Checking that every room was clear, you headed for the nearest window and blasted it with air from your lungs. The glass shattered as you looked down seeing Bucky shooting at some HYDRA henchmen disguised as SHIELD operatives. You kicked the glass out of the window not caring if it scratched Bucky one bit as you jumped.

You floated down, using your breath to slow your fall. As soon as your toes touched the grass, you were tackled down by Barnes from behind. You yelled and screamed as his whole body encased you. “Get off me! Get off me!”

Bucky didn’t listen to you. All he knew was that a gunman was pointing his rifle toward you, and he had to cover you. Nail scratches and bites be dammed! He would not let you get shot. Fire after fire, the gunman emptied his round.

Tears flowed from your eyes at having such close contact with him. The cold feeling of his arm once again touching your skin made it crawl, triggering memories that you would rather have stayed buried.

Steve threw his shield, disabling the gunman. The shots ceased as Bucky knelt up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated. You pushed him off you and tried to crawl your way from under him. Loud sobs wracked your lungs as you tried to breathe. “Zee, please. Th-there was a gunman…” he tried to explain.

“Get away from me!” you yelled at him. Bucky looked exasperated.

“Perhaps now is not the time,” Loki said coming up behind Barnes, misdirecting a few more bullets coming your way.

“I just saved you,” Bucky countered.

“Buck, not now,” Steve tried to intervene. “Let’s go. Zee, let me help you up.”

“Don’t touch me!” you screamed as you got yourself up.

“Zee, we have to work as a team.” Steve tried to placate.

“Team?! A team?! We are not a team! Answer me this Rogers, when we’re done here and we’ve taken down this last HYDRA facility, would I be able to go free?” you asked. “Would you let me go or would you put me back in that cell in the basement, studying my powers? Did you let Loki go?” you yelled pointing in his direction. “No, you haven’t. I’m nothing but a tool for you. A weapon. So don’t you dare fucking tell me I’m part of this team.”

Bucky got up with you and tried his hardest to apologize again. Consequently, Loki tried to keep him away from you. Holding his arm out, stopping his advance toward you. No one saw the gunman get up from his supine position on the ground grabbing whatever firearm was available.

A small flutter of wind was all you felt. A displacement of air barreled through as the gunman’s bullet hurled its way toward Loki. You only had a small window of time before you pushed Loki out of the path of that bullet and blew your air against Bucky and Steve, hurtling them some distance away from you.

“Zee?” you heard Loki yell. Steve ran towards the gunman, following his shield, as he threw it again to incapacitate the attacker. Bucky ran towards you and Loki.

“What happened?” he asked as Loki cradled you on the ground.

“She got shot!” Loki snarled back.

“Is she-is she…” Bucky tried, out of breath. “You saved my life,” he said.

“Now, we’re even. I don’t owe you a thing,” you gurgled.

“You’re gonna be fine, dear. Just a minor wound. We’ll patch you back up, all right?” Loki said looking down at the massive wound bleeding out from your abdomen. Loki looked up at Barnes, both of them knowing that what he said was a lie. Barnes took off his shirt and handed it to Loki to press on your wound. “Hold it still. Hold it strong, darling.”

The air around you fizzled. Heat began to rise as the oxygen around you tried to fill your gasping lungs with air. You were panting for breath. Your vision was slowly fading, and you knew what was happening. “Loki…”

“Don’t you dare, darling,” he said lifting you up. Everyone was running towards the jet now. Nat and Steve secured the remaining captives inside as Sam was preparing to take off.

“I’m not gonna make it, am I?” you asked meekly. Loki looked down on you, hurrying towards the aircraft. “Lie to m-, g-god of mischief,” you whispered.

“You’re going to be fine, darling,” he said, coolly. You smiled up at him one last time and exhaled your last breath.

“Darling, w-wake up.” Loki shook your body as he fell to his knees again. “Zee! This is no laughing matter. I need you to wake up!” he cried. “ZEE!” Loki’s face twisted in pain as he watched your lips part to your dying breath. The fire in your eyes, the one that he loved so much, the fire that he looked forward to seeing every time he annoyed you or got on your nerves, extinguished.

There was no sound in that small moment in time. Other than the roar of the propulsion and the cries of a god on his knees for a friend that just died in his arms. Everyone’s eyes stung from what they witnessed.

The flurry of heat and air swirled around you both, With no oxygen in your lungs, it vibrated as it tried to make its way inside your body. Fire engulfed all around you. An explosion was imminent.

“Loki!” Rogers yelled. “She’s causing an explosion around her. You need to leave her!”

“I- NO. I can’t!” Loki cried as the flames rose higher. Loki engulfed the two of you in his seidr, the explosion encapsulated in his small bubble. Everyone looked away as the explosion ensued, showcasing a bright light flashing in everyone’s eyes.

When the heat and the light died down. There was nothing left of your body but ash. Loki’s armor was dusted with soot. His fingers dug into the earth where your body had burned after the heat got too much for him to bear.

Thor had once told him how he harnessed the light of a dying star to help forge Stormbreaker. Loki could never have imagined the willpower it took to do that. Until now.

Steve came by and stood next to Loki. The weight of losing a member of his team collapsed his knees and he joined Loki on the ground. Everyone gathered around as a gentle breeze came and took some of your ashes along with it. Loki watched as it gently swayed and picked up. You were finally free.

“Loki,” Roger’s voice muffled in his ear. “I’m sorry Loki.”

You don’t get to be sorry, Loki thought as he glared at Rogers. He sunk his fingers deeper into the ground, clutching whatever he could of your cinders.

His lips blistered and his face burned as Loki stood up and quietly made his way back into the jet.

A month later, Loki puts on his best black suit with a dark green handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. Must keep up with appearances, he thought as he straightened his tie, slicked back his hair, and collected the calla lilies that were on his dresser.

The rest of the team watched as Loki made his way through the common room toward the elevator. They had a ceremony a week prior for your passing. They collected whatever they could from the facility and placed you in an urn. That’s where Loki was headed now, the cemetery to lay flowers for your final resting spot.

He relished the newfound freedom he was able to have. In a sense not only were you free from your glass cage but so was he. When they found out that he’d been sneaking out just to visit you and leaving you flowers, Stark himself lent him one of his vehicles.

The team wanted to help him recover from your loss. They didn’t realize how close the two of you had gotten. All those times it seemed like Loki was being his mischievous, annoying self, was really his way of trying to integrate you into the team.

Loki drove the half-hour trip west. Away from the city. Away from the buildings of glass and concrete to where the ground was green and the air was fresh. He got out of Stark’s car, adjusted his suit, and walked over to the giant marble wall adorned with plaques.

Loki walked over to the other side of that wall, where only your plaque had been installed. A small stone plate That read your name.

Zephyr Friend and Avenger.

Loki ran his fingers through your name. Whispering it with reverence. He knew you’d want this name. The name you chose for yourself. Not the one your parents gave you at birth. He planted the lilies on the canister by your plaque and sat down at the bench behind him.

He looked at the vast wall that was completely empty. Glaring white with veins of gray and black. He took a deep breath in and sighed, reading the last line of your headstone.

Until we meet again.

And Loki smiled.

⬅️Chapter 3 | Chapter 5: Finale➡️

@emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr @luvlady-writes @kellatron55 @huntress-artemiss @crimson25 @purplegrrl27 @sarahscribbles @ladyofthestayingpower @ozymdias @lokixryss @athalialaufeyson @thedistractedagglomeration @theotherspiderlady @holdmytesseract @gigglingtigger

[nuwildcat]

WIP Wednesday Public Claiming

*clears throat* I may have stumbled across the Public Claiming tag in Ao3 while tagging for another fic and gone running back to @luckydragon10 with it in my grubby little paws. What resulted was two feverish writers scrambling to get the ideas out of their heads and onto virtual paper. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT GO CHECK OUT ASCENSION on Ao3. Nemi crushed this prompt. I am still working on my version, but I’m giving you all a little teaser now.

Welcome to the historical AU with war prize!Porsche fic that wasn’t supposed to happen...

Kinn stares down at the man pinned beneath him, who pauses for barely a moment before he’s squirming to get out from under Kinn. No, that won’t do. Kinn uses his larger frame to pin Porsche in place, seating himself above svelte hips and grabbing ahold of first one wrist and then the other.

Porsche glares up at him, fury written all over his face. Earlier he’d moved like a leopard, swift and sure; now he looks more like a disgruntled kitten. The thought pulls a grin across Kinn’s face and makes Porsche hiss, “What?”

Kinn leans down, pressing into Porsche’s wrists and feeling the other man’s hands twitch. “I believe this means I’ve won. Again.”

Porsche scoffs, turning his face away and showing Kinn his sharp jaw and vulnerable neck. It would be easy, so easy to lean down and lick that sweaty sun-kissed skin. Kinn’s eyes track a droplet as it slides down Porsche’s long throat. The bravado from a second ago is completely missing from Porsche now. He’s frozen in place, staring at Kinn from the corner of his eye.

“What do I get as my reward?” Kinn says lowly, letting the words hum in his chest. The moment stretches between them, the tension sticky and thick. Porsche is a temptation laid out like this, Kinn’s for the taking, but he will not make a move without the other man’s concession. Kinn had not been lying that first night. He beds men who want to slip between his sheets, not those that are there reluctantly or out of duty.

Porsche’s eyelids slip to half-mast, long lashes alluring as though there are hidden desires in Porsche’s eyes if Kinn can pry them out of him. Between one blink and the next Kinn is imagining Porsche splayed out in his silk sheets. His night robe slipping from one shoulder. It's red and embroidered with golden dragons. Desire curls low in his abdomen at the vision.

“What does his highness desire?” Porsche asks, voice smokey and sweet in a way Kinn has never heard before.

This, Kinn wants this. He wants this beautiful man yielding to him. He wants Porsche flushed and panting from taking his cock. He wants to know what Porsche sounds, and tastes, and feels like. The desire grows inside him like an insatiable beast.

“What will you give me?” Kinn murmurs back.

That gets Porsche to pause; it almost seems to shock him. Porsche doesn’t expect Kinn to care what he wants, and that is what makes Kinn move back instead of taking those tempting lips. He watches them morph into a pout and can’t resist the need to brush a thumb over them, feeling Porsche’s breath ghost across his skin.

“When you have an answer to that question, darling, you know where to find me.” Kinn stands leaving Porsche sprawled on the ground as he collects his clothes and sword. “Don’t leave me waiting for long,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leaves the glade.

It’s Porsche’s move now. Kinn has laid the bait; all he has to do is wait.

ALSO! Tomorrow Chapter 11 of Silvered Perceptions comes out, so keep an eye out for that. If you need to catch up before hand you can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44397949/chapters/111665977

[weixuldo]

Enigma// Ch 7

Anakin x Reader

(A/N: this one is kinda intense? idk. but we’re gonna be getting into heavier topics from here on out)

anakin never calls you. but he does tonight.

Warnings: depiction of injury, mention of blood, permanent injury, prosthesis, alcohol, verbal berating, ptsd, swearing

_______________________________________

You were woken by your stupid ringtone at 2 in the morning. Who the fuck could that be on a thursday? You squinted at the screen and were shocked to see his name on the device.

Anakin.

This was not like him, he never reached out. The sleep immediately left your eyes and you were alert. You answered the phone with a worried voice, “..Hello?”

“Y-Y/N , ughhh, I need- I need” his voice was strained on the other line.

“Anakin! Hello?! Are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I need your help”

“What happened?” you asked as you gathered your purse and keys. 

“You cannot tell Ahsoka or Ben” he pleaded

“Ok, ok, what happened, Anakin? Do I need to call 911?” you demanded as you shoved a thin jacket over your tank top. 

“No, It’s fine, I just need some help.”

Fuck. 

You hopped in your car and headed for his apartment. 

Your mind raced as you drove under the cover of glowing street lights. Did it have something to do with his injury? Was he having health problems? Was he drunk? So many questions flooded your mind.

Finally you made it to his door and began to knock. No answer. You didn’t have time to wait for him so you grabbed the hidden key under the plant Ben showed you all those weeks ago. You busted the door open to find a smashed beer bottle next to the couch. 

“Anakin!” you yelled as you shut the door.

“Here” he responded from his room. You raced to him and were shocked to see him lying half way in his bathroom with a large cut on the side of his temple. You were even more shocked to see two prosthetic legs coming out of his sweats

You decided to ignore your questions and focus on helping him. “Oh my god, what happened?” you asked as you helped him sit up.

He winced and then let out an intoxicated laugh, “Leg gave out and I hit my head on the coffee table”. 

“Anakin, you might have a concussion! We need to get you checked out!” 

He grabbed at your arm with his stiff hands, “Nonono, No doctors, I’m fine”.

“Anakin this could be serious-”

“Please! I promise I'm not concussed, I-I just need some help getting up” he pleaded.

“I just can't get my leg secured, please don’t call anyone Y/N…Please” his blue eyes were brimming with tears. 

You felt like you should call a professional, but you knew he had some type of PTSD and you didn’t want to directly go against his wishes.

“Ok, I won't, but we need to get you up ok?”

He nodded furiously and began to produce apologies. You wrapped an arm around his waist and placed one of his arms around your shoulders; he was shaking and you could smell the liquor on his lips. 

You pulled him up and began to move him towards his bed. You were almost to his bed when you felt something wet trickle down your leg, you looked down to see a wet patch on his pants. You gasped at the sudden sensation and sat him on the bed.

“I’m s-sorry, I’m Sorry” he repeated, gloved hands pawing at his pants.

You examined closer and noticed he must have had a catheter in, immediately your face fell. “Hey, It’s ok Anakin, It's alright” you tried to comfort him. 

“I-I can’t I-”

“Shhh, it’s ok, I’ll take care of it” you offered as you began to slide his soiled pants off. 

“No!” he shouted before you could pull them below his thighs.

His eyes were wide with fear.

“Anakin, It’s ok, I know.” 

Your words seemed to calm him and he allowed you  to proceed. You took his pants and the punctured bag to the bathroom. He was drunk, you didn’t have time to review the events that just transpired, you needed to make sure he was ok.

You washed your hands and came back to him with a washcloth and some bandages, his blue eyes flickered open when he felt the bed dip. He winced as you touched the rag to his temple but soon relaxed once you bandaged him. 

You helped him into his sheets and turned him on his side. You wondered if you should have taken his legs off, but as of now that felt like overstepping a boundary, so you left them on. He furrowed his brow as he huddled under his sheets. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t”

“It’s alright, just go to sleep ok? I’ll take care of this”

He nodded as he rolled over in his bed, “Please don’t tell Ben and Ahsok..” he trailed off before falling asleep. 

You brushed his hair out of his face and went to look for cleaning products to tidy up the mess. Hopefully he would explain some of this in the morning. 

_____________________________________

You woke to the sound of Anakin coughing, quickly you sprang up from the makeshift bed you made on the floor and went to his side. He panted and panicked when he felt your hands on him.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he shouted as he pushed you.

“Anakin, It’s just me” you said, his eyes began to frantically dart around the room.

He winced and touched his temple, once he felt the bandages he looked at you with a confused expression.

“What the hell?”

“You fell,” you said.

He looked down to see a small wet patch on his sheets. He quickly grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lap. He made a coughing noise and looked away.

“It’s ok Anakin, I can help you clean it up” you offered, you really didn’t want him to feel embarrassed.

He glared at you and nervously asked, ‘How much did you see?”.

“Enough”.

“Shit, I usually have my cath..” he began.

“I think you punctured it when you fell, so you didn’t have it last night”.

“Were Ben and Ahsoka here?” 

“No, you asked me not to call them”

“Did you?”

“No”.

He placed a gloved hand over his face and sighed in relief. “You won’t tell them, will you?” he added.

“I won't, but you need to give me some context as to what happened last night. I need to know you're ok”.

“I fell, that's it” he responded shortly.

“Anakin, you called me drunk out of your mind at 2 in the morning, I think you owe me more than that”.

“Fuck Y/N, you want me to tell you my whole life story or something?” he spat.

“No, but maybe tell me why you were drinking so much that you fell”

“I fell because i don’t have any legs and my prosthetics fucked up, it wasn’t the fucking drinking. And I drink cause my life is a shitshow” he grumbled as he swung his legs off the side of the bed.

“Why did you have a catheter?” you asked.

“Cause I usually don’t sleep with my legs on and I don't want to wake up to piss stained sheets”, he pushed himself off the bed and braced himself on the wall. “Now if you're done interrogating me, I’m gonna go wash up”.

He obviously was not happy about you finding out about his disability, but you were still concerned for his safety.

“Anakin, I don't think you should be walkin-”

“Fuck off” he said as he struggled to gain his footing.

He began to slip but you grabbed him just in time. He grunted as you wrapped your arms around his torso. He was definitely not happy with you right now.

“Anakin, please.” you pleaded.

He huffed and surprisingly allowed you to assist him to the edge of his bed.

“I can help you, just please…take it easy”

“Taking it easy gets you nowhere, but I'll comply…only because i have a killer headache”

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding and thanked him before you started taking care of the room and him.

***

(a/n: things just got real, is he going to clam up or be more open? also im def not a medical professional, so some of the stuff is most likely not accurate :/ bear with me though haha)

Taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana

[echo-bleu]

Number 5 with Fingolfin, please! I imagine it would be sometime during the crossing of the Helcaraxë. 💙

Thank you for the prompt!

I thought it would turn out angsty as usual, but somehow it didn't! (Well, don't think too hard about things to come.) A sweet moment between Fingolfin and Idril on the ice.

I'm using their Quenya names since they haven't encountered Sindarin yet, so Ñolofinwë=Fingolfin, Itarillë=Idril, Turukáno=Turgon, Findekáno=Fingon. With surprise guest appearances.

On AO3.

5. Trying to walk on ice

Sometimes, thinks Ñolofinwë, Itarillë’s laughter is the only thing that gets him through the day.

She’s now spent nearly half her life on the ice. She barely remembers Tirion, or the light of the trees, or anything but the cold and the stars, and yet her laughter warms the frost out of their hearts.

She’s too young to walk all day, so she spends most of her time in one of the horse wagons sliding on wooden blades or, when it gets too cold to risk staying still, being carried on someone’s back. Turukáno and Elenwë take turns, with Findekáno and Ñolofinwë himself sometimes pitching in when they get too tired.

Or when they want to spend time with the only person still able to brighten their days, like now.

They’ve made camp for the night – or for the time being, at least, because with the Trees gone, night blends into day. It’s a good spot, the ice is thick enough here to hold everyone without fear. They might stay for a while until the horses are properly rested.

The snow glows under the stars. Were it not so cold, not so bleak a journey, Ñolofinwë would find it beautiful. He sits at the edge of his tent on thick layers of furs, little Itarillë in his lap, and together they watch a group of Turukáno’s people who appear to be doing something with batons and some sort of overshoe. They move back all at once to give space to the two they have equipped, who – somehow – start gliding on the ice.

Itarillë squirms in Ñolofinwë’s lap to look up at him. “What are they doing, grandfather?”

“I don’t know, but we could go ask them.”

“Can we?”

Ñolofinwë smiles at her and lifts her to her feet, after checking that she hasn’t kicked off her boots again. In Tirion, she went barefoot everywhere and she chafes at the need for shoes even here, but having any skin bare but their faces is folly. Even her ears are carefully hidden into the crown braid Turukáno has carefully folded her blond hair into this morning (evening, night – no one remembers to keep time any more).

They approach the group in the short, waddling stride that they’ve learned to take. The thin layer of snow over the ice crackles under their feet, treacherously hiding the slippery surface.

“My lord,” one of the elves immediately bows to Ñolofinwë.

“The princess is curious about what you’re doing,” Ñolofinwë says. “Ecthelion, is it?”

The elf nods. “We’ve devised a new method for moving faster on the ice!” he answers excitedly. Bending down, he picks up a piece of leather, to which is attached something that Ñolofinwë first takes for a wooden slate. “It’s a horse leg bone,” Ecthelion explains. “We drilled some holes into it and shaped the ends, and we tie them under our shoes. It allows us to glide, and push forward with the batons.”

“It’s fun!” another elf tells them with a large grin. He has a thick mane of unbound golden hair flowing around his shoulders, in the manner of the Vanyar – one of Elenwë’s, then. Ñolofinwë gives him a dubious look.

“Maybe the princess could try!” Ecthelion offers. “We’ve perfected the technique, it’s fairly safe. The ice is thick all around the camp, we’ve checked.”

Ñolofinwë thinks about it for a moment, but Itarillë looks up at him with such pleading eyes that he can’t resist. “Please, grandfather?”

“Alright, as long as you make sure she’s safe.”

Itarillë squeals and claps her gloved hands together. Ecthelion goes down to one knee on the ice to tie the pieces of bone to her boots, picking a pair that’s a little shorter than most of the others. It’s still a little too large for her.

“Stand carefully with your feet apart, Princess,” Ecthelion tells her, patient and gentle. He stands up again and holds out his hands. “Here, hold onto me.”

Her small hands are engulfed in Ecthelion thick gloves. He starts walking backwards, careful not to slip – he doesn’t have bone overshoes of his own – and pulls her with him. Itarillë glides forward on the ice.

“Oooh!” she exclaims. “Do it again!”

Ecthelion chuckles and obeys. Then, “Do you want to try too, my lord?” he asks Ñolofinwë cheekily.

“Maybe not today,” Ñolofinwë says. “But I can at least entertain my granddaughter and let you get back to your race.” He gestures at the rest of the group, who seems to have started a sliding race on the edge of the camp.

Ecthelion takes it for the request that it is. With all the care in the world, he pulls Itarillë closer to Ñolofinwë until she can transfer her grip from one elf to the other.

“Gradfather, it’s fun,” Itarillë says excitedly.

“I can see that,” Ñolofinwë smiles.

He gently pulls her around the ring of ice that the gliders have cleared from snow. She’s stable enough, so he speeds them up until he’s going as fast as he safely can walk.

Itarillë laughs her heart out. The sound seems to Ñolofinwë like the most beautiful thing in the world. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Turukáno and Elenwë watching them with smiles on their faces.

Even in the coldest night, he thinks, there is warmth to be found.

-

I'm not sure that I quite filled the actual prompt here but I couldn't resist elves inventing ice skating. They're using horse metatarsal bones here, which is one of the oldest recorded type of skate. I figure that they might invent metal skates at some point but they don't have a forge on the journey, so it will have to wait until they're in Beleriand.

The elf with golden hair is of course Glorfindel. Tell me he wouldn't love ice skating.

[sanerontheinside]

TPM Quiobi #3 and #29

3 & 29, as goodbye and as a promise [ao3]

What was it about this little Mid-Rim gem, Qui-Gon wondered, that had caught the Sith’s attention? He still could not see it, but the Force was rapidly converging on Naboo, on the upcoming battle, as upon something momentous. The turning point, perhaps, in some greater scheme.

He paced the cramped quarters, acutely aware of Obi-Wan’s absence.

Obi-Wan was avoiding him. Not overtly, of course, but the Queen’s ship was modest in size. For them not to cross paths in several hours—that must have taken some careful maneuvering.

Regret curled in the well of Qui-Gon’s mouth. He’d been harsh with Obi-Wan, perhaps unfairly so. In spite of the difficulties between them in the past, they’d done well together, as a team and as Master and apprentice… as friends, even. They were closer than close, almost inseparable.

For many months now, Qui-Gon had been dreading the inevitable: that one day he would be forced to let Obi-Wan go. The young man would be Knighted—an accomplishment well deserved, certainly. Except that Qui-Gon couldn’t see Obi-Wan’s future as a Knight, and that blindness dripped with nameless, bottomless fear. After all, Obi-Wan had been ready for more than a year. Qui-Gon remembered discussing his intention to put his Padawan forward for the Trials with Mace even before then—it must have been soon after the disaster of the Eriadu Trading Summit—but while Mace had agreed with him, he’d given Qui-Gon an apologetic look.

“You make a good team, and a new Knight needs time to adjust, run solo. Knight Vancil is injured; Master Choi and their Padawan are on extended assignment. We can’t spare you, yet.”

Much had happened in the last year, though. In the last two years, even. The galaxy seemed to be spinning ever faster out of control. Maybe Naboo was a turning point. Or maybe it was a final piece of some terrible machine sliding into place with an audible click.

A shiver skittered down Qui-Gon’s spine.

He wanted to look deeper, but dreaded what he might find. For weeks he’d been plagued with nightmares—Obi-Wan falling, Obi-Wan dying. Set against the weave of his thoughts, Qui-Gon didn’t dare examine the resulting tapestry.

The door hissed open. Qui-Gon glanced up to see his Padawan—cloak wrapped tight around him, shields wound tighter still. The look on his face was inscrutable.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth—and then found nothing to say. “We should get some rest.”

Obi-Wan stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes, Master.”

His Padawan stepped past him, towards his berth. He was so unnaturally quiet, in the Force and in the cabin, that Qui-Gon’s hair rose on the back of his neck.

“Obi-Wan…”

Obi-Wan stopped. His expression was patient, questioning. Impossibly calm.

“Let me help you,” Qui-Gon said. “You should rest without nightmares, tonight.”

Again there was that strange delay, and then Obi-Wan bowed his head in acceptance. “Thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon felt strangely relieved. Whatever else, Obi-Wan still trusted him with this.

*

He was cold. The light was stark, painful.

“Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll train the boy?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I will, Master.”

Sweet gods, he’d never seen Obi-Wan so heartbroken. In all their years together, he’d seen tears on that face barely a handful of times, and none of them like this, falling silently.

“I… promised you,” he said, summoning the strength to brush a tear from Obi-Wan’s cheek with shaking fingertips, “Knighthood.”

“Master, please, I’m not—” Obi-Wan’s face twisted, and he shook his head. “I wanted—”

Like this, even as Qui-Gon’s body failed him and his vision greyed, the Force showed him everything—everything Obi-Wan had kept hidden, everything he hadn’t dared to say. It was a cruel gift of sight. You, the Force whispered, I wanted you.

And Qui-Gon’s heart answered, a weak and fluttering thrill. All that he had hidden from himself—all of it struggled to the fore, now, but he didn’t have the time—

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t leave me, my Master,” Obi-Wan begged him, “Qui-Gon. Stay with me.”

Sweet gods, how he wanted to. How he wished that he had but a moment more, to reach down their bond, to tie his every thought to—

*

Qui-Gon woke with a start, heart pounding, with a shout resonating in his throat. For a second, he thought he could still hear it, and hoped he hadn’t woken Obi-Wan. His Padawan needed the rest; he’d been having nightmares—visions, Qui-Gon suspected. Though if they were anything like his own, he rather hoped Obi-Wan had been spared those images for once.

He realised, slowly, that there was a voice in his ear, that he was not alone, but lay cradled in familiar arms. Obi-Wan’s pale, frightened face came into focus above him. They were on the floor.

“Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. It sounded like relief.

Qui-Gon’s breathing calmed, and he swallowed against a dry throat. “I saw—”

The look on Obi-Wan’s face stopped the words in his mouth.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I know.”

There it was, that quiet heartbreak. The tremor in the hand that gently cradled his head. Qui-Gon felt his chest grow tight. “You couldn’t tell me?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I didn’t know how.”

The future is always in motion, or so common Jedi wisdom said. Foresight had never been Qui-Gon’s talent; but here, on the Queen’s ship in the middle of nowhere, on the way to some nameless terror, the possibilities scattered before his eyes. Qui-Gon saw lonely years stretching out, felt the emptiness in his own chest—the ache of a grief that would not heal. He could not bear the thought of leaving his Padawan this way.

“Obi-Wan,” he whispered, and reached up to wrap a hand around the young man’s neck. He stroked a thumb along Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, watched the faint ghost of a smile that appeared on Obi-Wan’s lips.

And then Qui-Gon tugged him down into a kiss—sweetened by the soft sound of surprise he got for it, by the immediate relief in Obi-Wan’s frame.

Long moments later, they broke apart—breathless, relieved.

“I will not leave you,” Qui-Gon whispered. “Remember that. Even if you do not see me, do not know me,” he rested a hand on Obi-Wan’s chest. “Know I am here with you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I need more than this.”

“I know.” And he did know. The thought of leaving Obi-Wan behind was still unbearable.

“Promise me.”

Qui-Gon blinked, momentarily surprised at the reversal in their roles. And yet, for Obi-Wan—“anything.”

“Don’t die,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Not tomorrow, not the day after. Not on Naboo, and not on this mission.”

Qui-Gon laughed gently, sadly. “There are things we cannot promise, even with the Force itself as our ally. You know this, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nodded, the faintest curve a smile to his lips. “And yet, we have always managed to do the impossible. You promised me a Knighthood, Qui-Gon Jinn. Now I want you there to see it, my Master.”

Qui-Gon sighed, and offered up a prayer: Force, do not make a liar of me. “I will be there,” he rasped, and pulled Obi-Wan close again.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kanato Ecstasy [06]

ー The scene starts in the Ghoul’s house

Yui: ( I feel as if I’ve finally gotten used to living here... )

Kanato: So, what should we do next...?

I would not mind staying here for a while.

However, if you have another place in mind, I wouldn’t mind moving there either.

Say, do you have a preference? 

Yui: Eh? I-I...

Selection

→ I’m happy as long as we’re together (❦)

Yui: I guess I’ll go anywhere as long as we’re together. 

Kanato: Fufu, I see. Thank you very much. 

→ I can’t think of anything in particular 

Yui: Let’s see...I guess I don’t have anything specific in mind...

I’m sorry, Kanato-kun. 

Kanato: ...Well then, I suppose we can stay here a bit longer. 

Yui: Eh!? B-But if we stay here, then...

Kanato: ...Then? 

Yui: W-Well...We might burden Kino-kun and the others so maybe we shouldn’t...? 

( Haah...I can’t tell him. )

( That his brothers might just come to attack him... )

( I don’t want to provoke him now that he has finally calmed down... )

Kanato: No need to worry about them, really. 

Even if he won’t let us stay here at his place, we can always just move into a nearby abandoned building and live there in secret. 

Yui: ...Yeah, you’re right. 

Monologue

The crimes Kanato-kun has committed, 

are far too grave,

to simply let slide. 

And I too,

carry a very heavy sin. 

So I wonder, will we truly be allowed,

to continue to run away and live hidden away despite all of that?

Perhaps it would be better to simply give up on everything,

and atone for our sinsーー

But...

I am not mentally strong enough just yet,

to make such a decision. 

Yui: ( ...Haah... )

Kanato: ...

...I’d love to just go to a world where it’s just the two of us, really. 

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: I mean, I feel like we wouldn’t have to worry about any unnecessary things then. 

Yui: ...Sounds like Adam and Eve’s Paradise.

Kanato: Fufu, you might be onto something there. 

Yui: ( But...Even if it was only us two left in this world, I’m afraid Kanato-kun might not find mental peace regardless? )

( As long as I exist, I’m sure his anxieties will continue to follow him around... )

Kanato: ...Right.

Then why don’t we head for Eden? 

Yui: ...!? 

Kanato: I mean, it’d be just the two of us there, right?

Hey, don’t you think that sounds like a wonderful plan? 

Yui: W-Well...

( What now? I can’t simply nod my head. )

( I mean, if Kanato-kun were to go to Eden right now... )

( I’m sure his plan will backfireーー )

Monologue

ーー We should go to Eden (エデン). 

I could not nod in agreement,

to Kanato-kun’s words. 

However, nor could I tell him,

that if we were to go there,

it wouldn’t be a happy (幸せ) life waiting for us. 

The only thing I was capable of,

was to talk around the question,

by giving him a vague answer. 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー