#I wanted to make this post months ago but settled on something more tame about Jace thigh riding bc-

[whoblewboobear]

*sigh* Okay yeah, sure. Porter piss kink and Jace desperation kink 🙄✌️Perv!Porter a lil bit too cause I love he~

~ They’re a match made in heaven bc Porter gets to be sooo mean about not letting Jace go. They might be cuddling or something and Jace is like “I’ll be right back, gotta pee.” Porter doesn’t let him, but he does hold him a little tighter, pressing on his bladder until Jace is practically begging to go. Porter just flips them over and holds Jace on top of him by his hips and just says. “Go.” And Jace is squirming, he’s so confused bc Porter.. said go? But didn’t loosen his grip.. and looks like he’s waiting for- And then it dawns on Jace and he’s beet red, so embarrassed, so humiliated, but so fucking desperate so Porter decides to be a little nice and presses on his bladder again until Jace is just covering his face and letting it all go. He’s so lost in how good it feels, he starts rolling his hips, and Porter is in fucking heaven. Jace is also in heaven but still mortified by how much he’s into it.

Porter wastes no time to double down on this. He’ll tell Jace he just needs to make a quick trip to the store and get Jace to join- listen I think Jace is the kinda dude that no matter what if he’s going anywhere he pees first bc once in his adventuring days he didn’t. He got knocked out with a full bladder and woke up in a puddle bc his body stopped holding the minute the lights went out. His party had a good laugh about it but he didn’t, so he takes the precaution. Porter knows this story, he LOVES this story. He can still sweet talk Jace out of skipping his bathroom break by saying they’ll be in and out in no time. But by the time they’ve started driving further out of town it hits Jace. He knows what Porter’s doing. He didn’t need to go yet, he’s not bursting. He knows Porter will keep driving until he is.

They’re on their 6th stop and Jace is fighting for his life to pretend he’s fine but Porter made it back to the car in time to find Jace curled up so awkwardly and he just leads with his soft voice because even though it’s hot he knows Jace is probably extra pissed off. Jace looks over and frowns and just asks Porter to take him home. Porter carefully pulls Jace into his lap and kisses him so soft and sweet and tells him he’ll take them home but Jace knows what to do if he’s uncomfortable. And he is but he’s so flushed and still so into it. He’s already got his face buried in Porter’s neck, rocking his hips desperately against porters thigh. He’s just waiting for Porter to say it. He rubs Jace’s back and tells him to let go. Porter is in love with the feeling and the sounds that Jace is making and when Jace is empty he shudders and cums so fucking hard. He mumbles “now take me home,” casts a prestidigitate to clean up the mess and Porter drives them home, painfully hard. Because he needs more room than just the inside of his truck for how hard he’s gonna fuck Jace once they get back. 🥰

[moonydustx]

Love me

masterlist | requests here

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: a sudden breakup leaves you questioning what could have happened to Bucky, until you discover he just wanted to keep you safe.

Warnings: a little angst, drama, smut ( p in v, f receiving oral, dirty talk) A lot of tears, but with a happy ending. If I left something out, just let me know.

WC: ~ 3k

A/N: Just an excuse to write about make-up sex with Bucky. No beta, sorry for possible errors as English is not my first language. Also, I'm not used to writing smut, but I hope you like it.

Requests here!

"You need to leave." Bucky asked, without even looking you in the eye.

"What does that mean Buck, did something happen?" you tried to touch him, but Bucky dodged your hands. "What is happening?"

"This mission made me think of many things..." he sat in the kitchen chair, Alpine didn't take long to pass between his legs, waiting for a caress. "I wasn't made for this life, for this." he pointed to the small space between you two.

"Wait, what do you mean?" your voice was already trembling when trying to at least understand what was happening. "Are you breaking up with me? Buck, two days ago everything was perfect, what happened? Please, I need you to explain."

"I already told you, I just..." for a second he looked at your face. The thick tears that ran down your cheeks made him feel his own throat close. He would have a few more reasons to hate himself after that. "I can not do this anymore."

"Is this your best explanation?" you charged and he just shrugged.

The noise of your engagement ring hitting the kitchen table bothered him, but not as much as seeing you walk out the living room door without even looking back. For the first time in a while, it was his turn to allow tears to flood his face.

One month, thirteen days and a few hours.

Maybe it wasn't the healthiest thing in the world to count the dates of the last time you saw your ex, the fateful day he kicked your ass.

You wish you were one of those people that you get over easily, or at least pretend to be by posting happy pictures on social media, but that wouldn't be you.

Your type was more to isolate yourself and drown in your own sorrows, which was also not possible due to work. You had to put on your best social mask and move on, even if you still didn't believe a word Bucky had said.

"Chef, there's a visitor for you." Tyler, one of your employees, caught your eye.

Before he even speaks, you can feel him watching you. Everyone there knew something was wrong.

"How urgent?" you ask with zero atention.

"It's an avenger, so I assume this is the most urgent we've ever had at this restaurant."

The knife in your hand fell onto the board, a chill running through your body. If it was Bucky, Tyler would have told you, after all, your ex-boyfriend had already spent a lot of nights accompanying you to the restaurant. Could be news about him, maybe not good stuff.

"Annya, can you take over for me?" you asked, hearing a "Yes, chef!" by far.

Your mind ran through different scenarios, the vast majority without a happy ending, while you took off your tame and cap.

The weight on your shoulders disappeared when you saw Sam smiling, waiting for you at one of the tables. As soon as he got to his feet, you hugged him.

"I thought I wouldn't have the privilege of seeing the head chef."

"Consider yourself privileged then, because tonight promises." you settled into the chair across from him. Despite the smiles and the mild climate, something told you that there was something more. "So, you came to try the new meat."

"No, not today, but I'm still trying. I'm here to talk about Bucky."

"Did something happen?" your heart immediately sped up, all those fears coming back like a flood.

"It's all right with him." Sam reassured you, noticing your posture change at the time. "I have some information and to be honest I can't stand to see him suffer over it any longer."

"Suffer for what?"

"You, what else would it be?"

"Sam, he chose to leave me. It still hurts, but there's nothing you can do about it." you explained, seeing him nod. "But if there's anything I can help you."

"I'd rather tell you and then you choose what to do. On the last mission, some personal information was leaked. About the team, about Sarah, the boys, you."

"Exactly what about me?"

"About you and Bucky, they used that to try and coerce him, that's what made him choose to walk away from you." he handed you a cell phone.

On the screen, a photo of you and Bucky leaving the restaurant at night, another of the two of you running together, another of you in a coffee shop.

"Who got this? I-I... Are we in danger?" you looked around for suspects, for cameras trained on the two of you, but found only people engrossed in their own conversations. "Who made this?"

"It does not matter now."

"How does it not matter?"

"Bucky sorted it out and whoever it is, they won't be bothering you anymore." Shit. Sam doesn't need to say more for you to understand what resolve means. "I'm only telling you this because I know you still like him."

"It takes two to make a relationship, at the very least." you responded right away.

"Just think, wouldn't someone who did all this thinking about protecting you love you?" Sam asked and laughed when he saw your confused face. "Oh man, you two deserve each other."

"Should I talk to him?"

"Well, he's in town, no plans for the next mission. Maybe you should." Sam shrugged and got to his feet. "Now that I've taken this weight off of me, I'll let you work, but I'll be back and you better cook the best steak I've ever had."

"Order noted." you said goodbye to him with a quick hug. "Thanks Sam."

"Don't thank me, I'm just doing my part as the future best man." he winked, eliciting a laugh from you and then left.

The evening at the restaurant, despite being full, seemed to take forever to pass. Amidst the food, your head wandered over the images you'd seen, what Sam had said.

It was past midnight when you got home. You took a hot shower, somehow trying to calm your mind, but that wasn't enough. Before putting on your pajamas, you thought a little more. You couldn't miss that opportunity, even if it was to close that chapter of your life. You got dressed and headed towards Bucky's apartment.

Your legs made you walk from side to side, restless in front of the door, your mind bubbled with possible excuses for a visit during the night. You knocked a few times and got no response, but you couldn't just walk away.

The keys you still had danced between your trembling fingers before they even reached the lock. Upon opening the door, you can see Alpine look up curiously, immediately jumping off the couch and going to tangle at your feet.

"Hello for you too!" you bent down, feeling the soft white hairs by your hand.

The door behind you closed by itself, giving you only the trouble to lock it again. The small apartment seemed untouched since the last time you were there, you took off your three shoes, leaving them next to Bucky's boots, an old habit.

The same brown cushions as the Alpine ration in the same corner. Your photo still next to the TV. If you closed your eyes, you could remember the day that picture was taken, your nervous laughter being on a Ferris wheel and Bucky's arms around your waist.

You've heard Bucky before you've even seen him in full. The murmurs came from the side of the sofa, and as you feared to find him, he was lying on the floor, only a pillow and a sheet protecting his body from the cold floor. He was muttering something incomprehensible, even from a distance you could see the sweat gather on his face.

Trying to get closer without scaring him, you knelt beside where he was lying, Alpine climbed on the arm of the sofa, carefully following your every move.

"Buck?" you called him in a whisper, not having much effect. This time, you chose to touch his shoulder, shaking it slightly, the nickname involuntarily falling from your lips. "Babe?"

As if out of breath, Bucky sat up, catching all the apparently lost breath. It took a few seconds for his blue irises to meet yours, trying to assimilate what was happening.

"Am I still dreaming?" he muttered to himself, it was only when he felt your hand take his that he seemed to realize reality. "You are here?"

"Yes." you replied, settling into a sitting position.

For a few seconds, you chose to just watch him. The disheveled hair and beard had been undone for some time, a little longer than usual. Next to his military dog ​​tag, hung the ring you wore. Regret took over your body for leaving behind.

"Are you well?" his husky voice interrupted you from daydreaming about the two of you's recent past. Trying to push those thoughts away, you just shook your head and tried to do your best on your own, but you already knew him to know that wouldn't convince him.

"I should be asking that. Was I having a nightmare?"

"Yes... I couldn't sleep and in the little time I could, some demons decided to take the time to disturb me." just as you had, he smiled and just like him, you knew that all was not well. "What are you doing here?"

"Needed to see you." your hand that clung to him let go, busy pinching your own hand nervously. "I've been talking to Sam."

"I don't know what he told you, but I can guarantee..."

"Please let me speak." you cut him off, afraid he would ask you to go again. "I know about the threats, I know about everything and I wonder what your head must be like. But what I want you to understand is that I'm okay with it."

"You do not understand."

"You can help me with this. It may sound silly, but, I don't know, I can learn to defend myself, I can spend more time around you. I just don't accept that our story ends like this, for fear of something that still it didn't even happen. I want to try, I want to stay!" you had to pull yourself together after dumping everything on him.

It could just be your impression, or maybe just the street light streaming in through the window, but you could have sworn his eyes were teary.

His hands pulled yours to lock around the back of his neck. In a rush of courage, you crossed your legs over his, settling in his lap. His hands slid down your back, locking onto your waist.

"Say you don't want me, that you don't love me anymore and I'm gone." you whispered and he immediately denied it.

"They said your name, they talked about you, about us and I didn't know how to react." he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as he felt your fingers tangle in his hair. "I don't think I've ever felt that… that fear. I thought it would be easier to walk away than stick around and let them hurt you. But shit, it hurt. It still hurts not to have you around."

"If you want, I can stay away, just ask, I understand. I just need you to be honest." His hands, previously tied around your waist, went up to your face, wiping away a few tears. "Now if I stay, we'll get through this together. Please..." your voice came out a lot lower than you expected. "Ask me to stay, tell me you still love me."

Your current self was waiting for an answer, yearning to hear those damn three words. Your now self didn't have a shred of regret. If at any time you dared to rethink what had been said, that was left behind when you felt his lips on yours.

His right hand tangled in your hair, deepening his lips on you, while the other kept you attached to him, squeezing your waist. His tongue drew the roof of your mouth, such a good and familiar feeling. God, how you missed that.

"I love you." Bucky's voice murmured, moving just a few millimeters from your lips. "I love you." he stole another kiss, this time even more intense. "I love you, every bit, every part." the kisses began to go down the back of your neck, reaching that part that shivered your entire body.

"Bucky, please."

"Let me love every piece of you, please doll." he asked, letting his tongue run up to the edge of your ear. "Fuck, let me show you that I haven't stopped loving you for a second."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you babe." you whispered, pressing your still covered intimacy against him.

Heat was starting to build up in your core, making it impossible to think. His lips pulled away from yours, only for in a single thrust, he'd jump to his feet and keep you locked in his arms. It didn't take long for you to feel your body against the soft fabric of the bed. Bucky took a little time to admire you, there again. The red eyes, the shy smile that was still there, even after so long.

"I missed you so much, here, in my bed, being all mine" his eyes asked permission to continue and a slight nod was enough for your pants and your blouse to find the bedroom floor.

His metallic hand ran over your shoulder, gently removing your bra, with each new piece of skin uncovered, you felt his lips deposit quick kisses, the urgency to be able to feel each piece of yours.

"Do not tease me." you asked when his lips touched your nipple. The tongue circling the protruding point, eliciting a timid groan from you.

"You are so sensitive, so good." the wet kisses descended towards your intimacy, touching with the lips the thin and humid fabric that prevented it from going exactly where you wanted.

You even tried to fight back, but even strangled, Bucky could hear you.

"Don't hold back, babe." he pulled the fabric off, tossing it along with the pile of clothes on the floor. Distracted lips, sliding down your thigh. "Let me hear you."

"It's dawn Buck, I don't want them to think... Fuck!" his tongue went straight to your clitoris, eliciting a muffled scream.

"What you saying." he pulled back a little, just to admire her intimacy. "All this for me?"

"It's how I missed you." Bucky dove into your intimacy, sucking your spot.

You could already feel your body about to boil. His tongue slowly circling your clit, while one of his fingers slowly entered your pussy, soon becoming two.

Sweet nothings came out of your lips, begging for something you didn't even recognize and it didn't take long for your vision to become blurred when you felt his tongue being replaced by the vibranium hand, the fingers cold as snow in contact with your clit were more than enough to reach your peak.

"Don't stop, please, please Bucky!"

"Give it to me honey, I know you want to come for me."

For a few seconds, amid an almost hoarse scream, your previously blurred vision disappeared for good. Your legs were shaking as you felt him settle between them. The lips still wet from your juice slid down your cheek, making you blink slowly.

"Still with me doll?"

"Yeah babe." you took his lips, tasting your own and giving him the freedom he needed to enter you.

He thrust slowly, Bucky's face hid in your neck as he moaned low, murmuring sweet nothings to you. So tight love. How I missed this pussy, made for me. You are mine, all mine.

The speed gradually increased, the headboard of the bed knocked insistently against the wall and you just hoped that the neighbors had a heavy sleep.

"Love, I can't hold it anymore." his hand went down to your clit, circling the most sensitive spot on your body. "I can sense that you can't either."

"Just like that Bucky, keep fucking like that." you begged, feeling the heat take over your body again.

"Come with me my angel. I can feel you tighten around me, give me one more, just one more."

The moans of both of you came out in unison and leaving you on the verge of an orgasm, it was only necessary to feel his hot liquid invade you to reach your own peak.

Bucky stayed in there for a few seconds, until he got out of you and turned you on top of him, hugging you tight and sticking his nose through your hair. Your scent was intoxicating, your body against his made him feel again that that cold apartment was home.

"You forgive me?" the hesitant tone of his voice caught your attention.

"Nothing to forgive" you settled on his chest. "Just promise never to leave me for that again?"

He gently pulled your face, making you look into his blue eyes. "I'll never, never leave you again, that's the easiest promise I've ever made in my life."

"I love you Buck."

"I love you more my angel." you snuggled into his chest and little by little your eyes grew heavy, his hands sliding on your back, in a comfortable silence.

The last thing she heard before falling asleep was an indignant tone in his voice.

"Wait, do you really want to learn how to fight?"

[yellowkitkieran]

hiiii i have a kt request 🫶🏼 can you please write something where andy’s invited kieran and his gf to his house and it’s the first time that kieran’s taking someone with him and he’s nervous? (+can we also get andy teasing kt? that’s always fun) ignore this rq if you don’t like it but PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING FOR KIERAN ANYTHING PLEASE

thank youuu

Settle the Nerves (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7k

Kieran Tierney doesn't get nervous. Not before cup finals, not before scotland matches in front of a packed house, and definitely not when one of his best mates invites him over. 

Definitely not, especially when he's been given a plus one.

Andy Robertson's dinner parties are always heaps of fun. When it's just the lads, it's normally the entire scotland squad that shows up to either celebrate a win or console each other after a loss. They're a tight knit group- win or lose, it's nice to have the support in place. Those ones are always full of story telling and drinking, and usually end up with half the squad sleeping off various intensities of hangovers in some of the guest rooms. 

This time it's different. It's nearing Christmas, and it's set to be a feast this weekend, kicking off the holiday season for any of the lads that can make it. Amdy's wife and daughter will be there, which means it'll be tame- a fact Kieran doesn't mind at all. And this time, your name was included on the whatsapp message next to his own. 

It's not that he doesn't want to bring you along- he does! Of course he wants to show you off, but he's also terrified the lads will scare you off with old stories of him. Despite only dating for a few months, you mean far too much to Kieran for him to entertain the possibility of something going wrong. 

You're more excited than he is, that's for sure. You haven't stopped talking about it since he mentioned it in passing a few weeks ago. Picking out your dress was a task in a half you told him- enlisting multiple of your closest friends to help make sure it was perfect, not too over the top and not too scandalous. Whatever you picked, Kieran is sure he'll love it… and also sure you'll steal the show. 

And now as Kieran stands before the closet in his childhood house, he finds himself wishing he'd brought his Arsenal cufflinks from his home in London. Instead he'll have to use the little rose ones of his father's, which he doesn't really mind, it's just that they've got sharp edges and they'll be harder to fiddle with at dinner. He's gotten good at hiding his tics in public settings. The occasional post match interview at Arsenal wiped that out of him quite quickly. 

A knock on his door startles him and he curses under his breath when he drops the little velvet box, sending the cufflinks flying. "Yeah? Who's it?"

"It's me, babe. Are you almost ready?" Kieran sighs, scooping up the jewelry from under his dresser and sliding the links through the holes at the cuffs in his freshly pressed black dress shirt. 

"Yeah love, I'm about done. Just have to get my shoes on and I'll be ready. Mum and dad gone already?" They'd informed Kieran when you arrived that morning that they'd be spending the weekend with a family friend across the countryside, so you had the house to yourselves. 

"They left ages ago, Kieran. I'll wait in the foyer, yeah? Hurry up though! I can't be late to meet your mates!"

Kieran quickly finishes buttoning his top, throws on his slacks, and ties up the laces of his Oxford shoes- the ones he hates because they pinch his toes- and checks his hair one final time in the mirror. He looks decent enough, he needs a haircut but his barber back in London can't squeeze him in for another week. He'll get to it eventually- right now he has a party to attend.

Maybe he can come up with an excuse not to go. His throat is bothering him- yeah, scratchy like he's coming down with something. Kieran scratches the stubble under his chin; that idea won't work. You'll see right through him, since it's the same excuse he always uses. 

"Right, let's get on with it then." Kieran tousels his hair one final time before opening his door. He expects to find you waiting. Instead he's greeted with one of his favorite sights: your curves.

Before he's taken a single step, the rich emerald green at the hem of your floor length gown distracts Kieran. He allows his eyes to trail up, up, up over the curve of your backside to where the gown fades to a deep black, dotted through with small dust like crystals that catch the light. The second Kieran steps out of his room you turn, flashing him a brilliant smile. It's then that Kieran finally is allowed a view of you in your full glory. He grins, immediately drawn to the deep v neckline that he swears ends only a few inches above your navel. 

You spin, the flared skirt swishing with the motion. "Well, how do I look? Think your friends will be impressed?" 

"Mouthwatering," Kieran murmurs and means it literally. He'd be drooling if he had an ounce less of self control. You step towards him and he lays a gentle hand on your waist, conscious of leaving the satin fabric wrinkle free. "I'm not sure I should let you out of the house, let alone meet all my mates." Kieran leans forward to pepper the underside of your jaw with kisses. You tip your head back after the first, trying to get away, though he'll chase you tirelessly. He holds firm on your waist now, refusing to allow you to leave him high and dry. 

"Kieran," you whine, dragging out the last letter for a few seconds. "We're gonna be late. You took too long getting ready-" 

"Because I knew you were gonna look absolutely bloody gorgeous, and I had to compete somehow-"

You push at his chest, hard enough that he breaks away with a sigh. "And because of that we have no time to be distracted by kisses. We have to get going! Andy's waiting for us!"

As you drag Kieran to his car, all he can think about is marching you right back inside. For the entire ten minute drive, his hand never leaves your thigh. Sometimes he lays it flat and lets his warmth soak through the thin fabric, and once in a while he traces shapes with feather light fingertips. If nothing else, at least you've distracted him from the ball of nerves that's settled in his gut. Until he parks his Audi outside Andy's house, that is. 

Kieran stumbles up the stone path after you, using your grip on his wrist to propel him along at your speed. You raise a fist to knock on the white painted door but Kieran reaches for the knob and opens it before you have the chance. 

"-be here soon darling, if you could just finish picking up your toys? Thank you my love- Kieran!" Andy, previously crouched down to speak with his three year old daughter, claps Kieran on the shoulder. "Well don't you clean up nicely! And this must be your girlfriend- hello love, great to finally meet you. This one never shuts up about you and I must say, I can see why!" 

Kieran's cheeks blush a furious shade of pink. "Come on mate, don't start already!"

"You're pretty." The soft compliment comes from the toddler hidden behind her fathers legs, clutching his dress pants in her tiny fists. 

You crouch to be eye level with her, not a second thought about it. Kieran's heart swells to double it's size when you murmur, "Thank you sweetheart, you're ten times prettier than I am though. Your dress is gorgeous! I love the fluffy pink skirt!"

Noticing Kieran's wistful look, Andy leans in to whisper, "you'll have one of those soon enough mate. Especially if you keep looking at her like that."

"I- what? Cut it out! It's only been three months mate- I'm not thinking like that!" Actually, he is thinking like that. Has thought of that plenty of times. You, holding a baby, cooing at his daughter, who would look just like you. A few years later, maybe a boy as well- and that would be enough for him. Kieran loves you, and he told you as much on your fourth date. He's reiterated it every day since then, and you've always returned it with the same enthusiasm. 

"Oh you're so in love mate," Andy coos, poking Kieran's side. "Just say it! You love her- the lads are gonna love it!"

Kieran scowls at his friend, "Oi leave me alone Robbo! Like you weren't smitten with your missus the second you saw her!"

Andy glances over his shoulder and smiles at his wife, a beautiful brunette woman who matches his chaotic energy perfectly. Andy was transparent from the beginning, telling the team again and again that he'd marry her- and he did, three years ago, at one of the most love filled ceremonies Kieran has ever attended. 

"I mean just look at her mate, how could I not be? That's my gorgeous wife in there!" Andy whistles and she grins at him, wagging her towel at him before taking the last dish out of the oven. "Your lassie will be your missus soon enough, Kieran. I've not seen you so starry eyed anywhere but a football pitch."

Kieran rakes a hand through his hair while he watches you follow Andy's daughter down the hall. The little tyke insisted on showing you her stuffed animal collection and really, how could you say no? 

"Look, just… don't say anything yeah? I love her, I do, and I'm terrified of messing this up. And can you help me keep the lads in check too when they get here? I don't want them scaring her off."

"I've already told them to behave, and with Mila here I'm sure they will… speaking of my daughter- Mi!"

Mila pokes her little head out of her room with a brilliant grin. "Yes, daddy?" Kieran would fold instantly if he were in Andy's shoes. Instead, his friend holds firm with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Did you steal Kieran's friend from him?" When Mila only giggles, Andy clicks his tongue. "What did daddy say about that?"

"Umm… to not to?" 

"Andy it's fine," Kieran murmurs, knowing that you love children of all ages and are probably perfectly content to hang out and have a tea party. "Honest, she won't mind."

Andy sighs, scowling at Kieran in a way that makes him feel as if he's the one being scolded. "Alright, but after dinner you're getting tucked in and watching Frozen in the theater room, okay?"

"Okay daddy! Now I have to pour the tea- bye!" Your laughter permeates through the slammed door. A smile creeps onto Kieran's face; he'll never not love that sound. 

For the next twenty minutes, Kieran helps Andy set the table, pick out a few bottles of wine, and pours himself a glass for good measure. Since he'll be driving he'll cap himself at just the one, but you'll be free to have as much as you want. 

McGinn and McTominay are the first ones to arrive, with half a dozen other lads coming by soon after. Kieran is mid conversation with Scott when an arm snakes around his waist and your head rests on his shoulder. 

"Sorry mate, one sec-" Kieran turns and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring "Alright yeah?" And waiting for your nod before turning back to his friend. "Scott, this is my girlfriend." Independent as ever, you take over the introductions and shake Scott's hand after giving him your name. Kieran can't keep the proud smile off his face. Despite his nerves, he's proud to call you his. 

"I was just telling Kieran how I'll never forget the time he had to streak through the changing room-"

"Scott," Kieran half growls, having warned him already not to bring anything like that up. Why couldn't he pick a story like the time Kieran slipped on the pitch and nearly broke his ankle instead? That one was far less embarrassing. You don't need to know all the silly little details. 

But when you tip your head back and laugh and the arm you have around his waist goes tighter to ensure he doesn't materialize into a ghost and slip away, Kieran forgets why he was worried in the first place. "Were you? Kieran never shares his fun stories with me… please, do tell!" 

Scott launches into his story, starting again from the beginning. You watch with curious eyes, laughing at the right parts and nodding at others. Kieran's attention is locked on you. On the way your eyes crinkle, on how your laugh draws in anyone in a five meter radius. Kieran's arm winds possessively around you, hand settling on the curve of your bum as a fes of the other lads join the conversation. Will any of them try to steal you? No, of course not- they all know you're Kieran's and none of them would try changing that. It doesn't stop the primal side of Kieran's brain from wanting to make it perfectly clear who you belonged to. 

By the time everyone's arrived and sat down to dinner, you've made friends with the whole squad. Kieran had no doubts about that- though his nervousness has quieted down and he's much less scared about being embarrassed. How can he be, when you reassure him with a kiss after each story? One to his jaw, another to his cheek- you leave him looking forward to the next story solely so he can have a bit more affection from you. 

During a lull in conversation, Kieran refills your wine and leans over to kiss your temple. "Having fun my love? You seem like you're enjoying yourself, if those rosy cheeks say anything."

Your hand rests on Kieran's thigh under the table, the muscle going tense under your touch, "mmhhmm, I'm having loads of fun! I love you baby… you're so pretty- I love hearing stories about you!"

"Oh, you're tipsy already… you're adorable." Kieran kisses the crown of your head twice. "I love you darling, are you gonna make it through this dinner without falling asleep?" 

You push against Kieran's hand when he brushes his knuckle under your eyes. "Mmhhmm I'll be okay- I'm supposed to have another tea party with Mila after dessert. I can't miss it!"

"Alright baby, if you say so," Kieran murmurs before leaning in to give you another kiss. Andy slaps the table from a few seats down, his bellowing voice breaking above individual conversations.

"Oi, Kieran! Quit snogging your missus at the table will ye? My daughter is present!"

Kieran smiles sheepishly at your Mila, who's mum has slapped a hand over her eyes. "Sorry Mila- uncle Kieran promises he'll behave now." As Kieran speaks, he snakes a hand under your arm and rests it high on your thigh. "Anyway, have you lassies heard about the time Andy had to stand on boxes for a set of kit release photos?"

Andy groans, "I'm always at the front- I was bloody sick of it! It was only for a few photos, I just needed a little boost!"

The rest of the night is filled with banter and stories of all sorts. You're too far gone for that tea party you promised Mila, so Kieran scrawls a rain check on a note for the toddler to cash in at a later date. Kieran herds you home, carries you to his bedroom and sets about getting you dressed and ready for bed. Once you're comfortable in one of his shirts and cuddled into his side, he kissed the crown of your head a million times. 

"Keyyyyyyyyy don't do that- you're making my head spin!" 

"Ah, sorry my love… you're drunk hmm? That's alright, I'll look after you. You just sleep yeah? I love you, sleep tight my darling." Kieran presses a soft kiss to the center of your forehead before you tuck your head under his chin. As your soft snores and gentle breathing lull him towards sleep, he's not sure what he was so nervous about in the first place.

[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Epilogue

A/N  As promised, here is the epilogue to Ginger Snap.  It’s been two years since Jamie and Claire first got together as a couple.  Let’s see where they’ve gone on their journey.  The title of this installment is Keep the Home Fires Burning.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I scrutinized my reflection in the antique glass.  The local hairdresser had collected my curls atop my head in way that both tamed and embellished them, braiding in tendrils of lily of the valley to create an unmerited halo.

Jenny’s double joined me in the mirror, holding a strand of seed pearls.  She carefully lifted them over my head and fidgeted with the clasp.

“These belonged to our Mam, given tae her on her weddin’ day.  I ken she would want ye tae wear them.”

“Jenny,” I breathed, fighting back tears.  “I’d be honoured.”

With a curt nod that indicated her limit for sentimentalism had been reached, my soon-to-be sister-in-law returned to her usual businesslike manner.

“They’re all set outside.  Are ye ready, Claire?”

I took one last glance in the mirror and a sanguine woman looked back.  I’d never been more certain or ready for anything in my life.

“Absolutely.  Let’s do this.”

***

With the proceeds of the sale of Ginger Snap and by combining our life savings, Jenny, Ian, Jamie and I managed to purchase Lallybroch back from their uncle six months ago.  Since then, Jamie spent the workweek in the Highlands, investing sweat equity into the massive endeavour of converting the eighteenth century manor and its outbuildings into a hotel, spa and gourmet restaurant.  On the weekends he joined me in Edinburgh, physically exhausted but blissfully happy.

One such weekend, we had been walking hand-in-hand down Grassmarket when Jamie pulled me towards a nearby shop.  

“Are you thinking of getting a tattoo?” I asked when he didn’t immediately explain our unexpected halt.  He was looking intently through the window, but I got the impression he wasn’t really seeing the designs and various body jewelry on display.

“Aye,” he started out slowly.  “In fact, I was thinkin’ perhaps we both might.  As a symbol, if ye will, of who we are tae one ano’er.”

I’d never before considered getting a tattoo and was tempted to dismiss the idea out of hand, but something about Jamie’s seriousness tempered my response.

“That’s a mighty permanent symbol, Fraser.”  His cobalt eyes sparkled when he looked at me.

“Aye, tis.  What dae ye say, Arsonist?  Are ye ready tae belong tae each other, under our skin like blood and bone, until our lives be done?”

Which was how I became engaged to Jamie in the most unconventional way imaginable, standing in front of a display of Celtic knots and navel rings with tears in my eyes.

***

Downstairs, Lallybroch was a mess of step-ladders, idle carpentry tools and drop clothes.  I stepped around a bucket of half-solidified plaster on my path to the front door.

This hadn’t been the plan.  I was meant to finish my three year contract as a surgeon at the Royal Edinburgh, Jamie was going to oversee the restoration and opening of Lallybroch, and only then were we going to get married.  

Somewhere along the line, we got a bit ahead of ourselves.  I rested my hand against the tiniest hardening of my lower abdomen.  Roughly twelve weeks ahead of ourselves, and counting.

Ironically, it was Jamie who insisted we move up the wedding.  Apparently the few traditional scruples he maintained all converged around children born out of wedlock.

I stood on the steps of the Lallybroch courtyard under a lapis blue sky, staring down an improvised aisle of borrowed chairs and white muslin.  Common wisdom held that it was the bride who was the centrepiece of a wedding, but Jamie took my breath away.  He wore his Fraser tartan, brilliant white shirt and tweed vest, his hair a sea of burnt sugar waves.  His already lean physique now had the consistency of marble, brought about by long days of hard labour.  He stood tall and proud, a lighthouse calling me home to port.

No family accompanied me on my short march to his side.  No violins trilled a romantic tune.  To my left, an arched gateway was clad in ugly scaffolding.

But it was perfect.  Perfect, because I moved forward of my own volition.  Perfect, because the song love sang in my heart was endless.  And perfect, because the man I approached had reminded me to see past the surface of things, to the strength and beauty that lay within.

Jamie greeted me with a watery smile and an outstretched hand.  Where his cuff lifted, I could make out the text of his tattoo, written in my own hand.  He’d chosen his inner wrist, so that he could always see it as he worked.  The words were from his invocation, spoken in a Leith storeroom so many months ago.  

Come, set my life on fire.

I’d given my own tattoo a great deal of thought, that giddy day in Grassmarket.  As a doctor, I didn’t feel comfortable having it visible while I worked.  The text was still more important than the location, and I considered and discarded several options before settling on one that encapsulated the essence of our relationship.  Whispering the words in Jamie’s ear so that he could write them out in his slanted script, I could tell by his gratified look that he appreciated their meaning.

That tattoo was on display to our entire acquaintance as we recited the vows that were both mere formality and eternal promise. Just above the ivory back of my dress, between my scapulae, where wings would grow if I was able to fly.

Hold a space for me to be free.

[depressedtransguy]

okay this is my first posted fic please mind the tags

As The World Crashes

More and more blood smeared across Loki's hands as he tried to use something, anything, to stop the liquid from pouring out of Stephen's chest. Bandages slipped through his fingers as he spawned more and more, compressing them down to soak until they were completely red. Spells upon spells were cast to no avail. He tried everything from ice to fire and from Earth remedies to Asgardian magic. But it wasn't working. 

Tears slipped out from the god's glassy emerald eyes and splashed down onto one of the Rings of Raggadorr spread out below them as he heard his husband's breath only getting shallower and shallower every time he inhaled and exhaled. "Loki, stop," he roughly groaned, raising his trembling arm up to wrap around his wrist and pull it away from his body. "It's not going to help." 

"Well I have to do something!" the god of mischief choked out, more water rolling down his cheeks, his hands shaking harder and harder. "This is not how the greatest sorcerer supreme since the beginning of time goes out, struck down by some second rate monster attempting to do nothing more but devour a few trillion beings." 

A low chuckle came from Stephen's abused abdomen and he tilted his head slightly to make eye contact. "They didn't strike you darling." 

The god couldn't even stabilize his hands anymore, the held back sobs coming out in other ways. "Not the time, Stephen," he managed to hiss. 

With a small squeeze to his wrist, he comforted, "Your hands are shaking as badly as mine do. Relax darling, it's okay." 

"You think this is fucking okay?!" A small prick to his emotions was all it took for it all to come pouring out at once. "This was fine, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE!" His voice trembled and cracked like crazy. Loki raised a bright red hand away from his husband's blood soaked robes, pressing it to his own chest and biting down so hard on his lip it bled. "This was supposed to be fine Stephen. A simple mission we were given a fortnight ago to save a few planets from some interdimensional beast. Nothing extreme, we deal with this all the time, and this should have probably lasted about two days tops. It's been two weeks. I watched you wave our daughter goodbye as we left for Kamar-Taj. She waved back. Our son told you to come back alive. You agreed. So you're going to fucking come back alive Stephen, do you understand me?" 

Stephen didn't immediately respond. The sound and sight of his husband's sobbing and the pain was most likely both strangling his vocal cords, making him able to do nothing except slip their hands into place and link their fingers. "It is okay Loki. It is. Everyone has a time. Death is what gives life meaning." 

"Stop talking like that!" Loki begged, leaning forward until his body was racking with sobs right over Stephen's bloody one. "This isn't your time. We still have so much left to do. Frigga's only 25 in human years, she has so many more milestones to reach, and we're going to be there for her. And Anthony, he's just my age when we first met, we're going to be there for him too. Plus, you promised we'd grow old together baby. And you haven't broken a promise to me yet." 

Yes, Loki was obviously being selfish. But he couldn't give two shits. Stephen was not leaving him. "I'll still be there for you, always. I'll see Frigga grow. I'll see Anthony grow. I'll see you grow. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay," Stephen whispered, summoning the last bits of strength he had left in his body to raise up his hand not currently holding Loki's and yank his time stone necklace off, then pressing it into his open palm. Next he gently slipped his fingers into his beginning to gray hair and then brought him down to where he was lying to press their lips together. 

It almost felt like the first time they kissed. 

Now that was a while ago. A little over 1,500 years, just based on their daughter's age. Loki didn't remember the exact year. But he did remember that it was five months after Ragnarok. After the Asgardians settled in Norway, the god started visiting the sorcerer supreme more and more just out of plain boredom--but that quickly changed into because they both wanted to see the other. It only took a power outage and a fire to make them admit it and kiss softly by the tamed flames.

They were so young then. So much had changed. 

Yet Stephen's lips still felt the same against his. That had never wavered through the years. It's how their fights ended. How battles ended. What they did before they fell asleep at night. No matter what happened, how they grew and changed as people, Stephen and his kisses never left. 

Until now. 

But... maybe this last one would be enough. 

"I love you," the sorcerer supreme rasped against his lips. "No matter what--never forget that." 

Loki reluctantly bobbed his head lightly and gave him a sad smile, his heart cracking to see the pain laced in his gray eyes and on every line on his face. But that would be gone. He'd be in a better place: one without pain, without the haunting past, without the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He'd get to rest. "I love you too darling. More than I ever thought I could love another being." He took a small shuddering sigh before continuing. "Thank you, thank you for giving me a life that I doubt I would have reached without you. You were the one who let me rest for the first time in my life. And now it's my turn to return the favor." 

"Oh Dewdrop, thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better partner to spend my time with. You and Frigga and Anthony. I love you all with more heart than I ever thought I had." 

The strain in his voice was only getting worse, making it clear that he didn't have much time left. Last word time. So Loki swallowed all the trembling and fear and cracks to properly dismiss his husband. "You gave me a reason to live. A reason to wake up in the morning and actually face the world. And for that... I will forever be grateful. I love you. And I will never forget you." 

Their lips were pressed together once more to seal the pact of love and acceptance that flowed between them, recognizing that this would be their last time together until Loki entered Valhalla himself. Souls touching for one last time. 

Soon enough, Loki felt the body underneath his slowly ebb away from existence, Stephen turning to gold dust to become one with the universe where he belonged. He could clearly tell when there was nothing against him anymore, nothing but air. But he still sat there for a few minutes, reveling in the moment. Testing to see if everything would drop and the event would just be revealed to be some crazy lucid dream he had. He still had that thought in the back of his head that he would wake up any moment with Stephen's arms wrapped around his waist despite previous embracing of the situation. But when he finally peeled open his lids and stared down at the infinite space below the magic ring--he knew that this was real. And Stephen was dead.

[suggiebabe]

How Some MHA Boys Would Play MC with Their S/O

A/N: HEY GUYS! I was gonna post something like 2 days ago, but lost motivation, and now its in the drafts!! Still no motivation to write it, but I want to write this one since I’ve been playing w some friends recently hehe

Parings: Bakugou, Shouto, Hawks, Kaminari, Tamaki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing and fluff (literally all my warnings ugh)

Does NOT want to play with you at first

After you tell him that not even you can beat the Ender Dragon, he takes this as a challenge, and immediately downloads the game

When you first start the game, he is one to strategize on how to actually become good. Like he searches up what to do sometimes just to make sure he can be the strongest (he doesn't tell you though, to you, this all came from his own brain)

He literally never dies, like what the fu ck

When it comes time to build houses and bases, he builds super far away from you

Doesn’t share any of his materials either

“Suki, can I have some sugarcane? Pretty please?” 

“Go find some yourself dumbass” 

“But you have a ton of it!?! Can’t I just have a little?”

“No.” with ZERO hesitation 

When you aren’t online he’ll put some in your chest cause he feels a little bad for saying no

He actually finds and beats the Ender Dragon quite quickly, but what else do you expect from Bakugou? The most competitive person probably on  this earth?

After he beats the game, he probably won’t play it again

Agrees to play with you just because you seem so excited about it, and he is a WEAK man when it comes to your happiness 

Follows you around like a little puppy until you die in a cave and he has no idea what to do, cause you’re back in spawn, and he’s now alone

He offers to go back to you, but when you tell him to keep going, he has the BEST luck with finding diamonds

(Ok I’m gonna say it, but Torodoki is probably a SIMP for people that teach him how to deal with special emotions, so he’s mega simp for you uwu)

When he comes out of the cave, he offers to give you ALL of his findings, but you refuse to take all of it since he found all the diamonds n all that good stuff

He still gives it to you anyway, cause he’s not really playing this game for himself

He’s actually really good fighting wise, so when you’re building y'alls base, he’s on night watch for the bad guys

You guys live together of course (beds next to each other OhMyGosh) 

Probably tames a cat with heterochromia 

“Sho, its like you! Let’s tame it!!!” 

He tames it first try and names it “Todoroki #2”

Ender Dragon takes a while to beat, but you beat it nonetheless!!!!

He really only plays when you play, cause that’s the only reason why he plays lol

He already knows what it is, and he agrees when you ask him to play it, because he takes this as an opportunity to bully you (ofc all in good heart)

He doesn’t tell you he knows what it is though, so he tricks you into “teaching him how to play” just to waste your time

Once he gets tired of that act, he just starts to play it as a pro and you are just ?????

Hes super good at mining and building

Always comes out of caves with diamonds, and not just 1 or 2, but like 6 or 8

His base is SO COOL, boy oh boy, does this man know how to build

Ofc he has a pet parrot, and he names it “Parrots”

Bad thing is that he knows how to use red stone, so when you’re not online the only thing he does it set traps up all around your house

He feels bad that sometimes they actually do end up killing you, so he always lends you diamonds and whatever materials you need

He’s already beat the Ender Dragon, so he knows all the tricks on how to beat it (I’m like 90% convinced that he’s played it during his high school years) 

He’s on and off of the game, constantly starting new worlds since he finishes his others

He was the one to ask you to play with him

This boy wants to do everything with you, from mining, to farming, to building

When the two of you go mining, he’s the type to dig the gravel on top of him, and die cause he couldn't get out, which makes you need to stop whatever you’re doing to get his stuff

Makes you wait for him while he goes back down to the cave and then you guys can keep playing together

You both only have 1 base, and 1 house, because he doesn’t want to risk dying you dying from mobs

Both of you share your materials with each other, since you both go mining together it only feels natural to share 1 big storage area

“Kami why do we have 3 enchantment tables? We only needed one??”

“I made an oopsie earlier, now we only have 8, my bad!”

Pain.

The Ender Dragon is a CHALLENGE!! You both are pretty okay players, so beating it takes a lot of time

When you finally beat it, Kami probably puts the head on top of y’alls house, just to show how epic it is

He plays without you sometimes, but when you play without him he gets sad :(( (hypocrite much??)

He hesitantly accepts your invitation, but its only because he’s new at the game, and he doesn’t want you to see him be bad at it

He would probably play a lot when you aren’t online, then excitedly show you all the new materials he got while mining when you come back online

Swears he’ll protect you from any mobs that try to come your way while you build your shared base cause he’s not all that good at building

He doesn’t want to live alone, because he just likes sharing things with you

The more you two play the game together, the more bold he becomes with his skills

Turns out to be insanely good at mining and fighting so when you two go to caves together, he always seems to come out with more than you probably ever will

Tamaki is very good at thinking, that’s like his main thing, so everything he does went through a thorough thought process, which explains why he’s just so great

“Tama, I feel like you’ve played this game before.. there’s just no way you’re better than me when I’ve been playing it for years”

“Bun, what could I do to make you believe me?”

After a long debate, you settle on him giving you a diamond chest plate

The Ender Dragon is a HASSLE. Tama never actually ends up beating it, he just goes for moral support

He also is on and off with the game, only picking it up once every 3 months or so, but when he plays, HE PLAYS.

Another A/N: I hope u guys enjoyed it, I was so close to writing for 4 days in a row, but then my brain said “no <3″ and I lost all the motivation for 2 whole days!!!!! I’m back now, lets see how far I can go!!! Also might turn on requests, but I’d probably get like 2 LMAO

[ironmandeficiency]

laying low

pairing: fennec shand / reader

word count: 3019

summary: she didn’t want you to retire because you were the only one she trusts to have her six. you retired because you couldn’t let yourself fail and get her killed.

a/n: i want her to step on me but also i wanna be the one (1) person the stoic badass is soft for. also i’m posting from mobile again so ✨hooray✨

warnings: angry fennec, parting on maybe-bad terms, canon typical violence, being kidnapped, toro calican himself is a warning (undid his death for the sake of plot)

“is this really what you want? to sit here and let yourself rot?” fennec was bitter. you hated seeing her like this and nearly every muscle in your body ached as she spoke. the two of you worked together like a finely-tuned machine and she clearly thought that you retiring was a waste of potential. but when you slipped up and nearly cost fennec her life, you refused to endanger her with your presence. she was far too valuable to you and you would do anything, even retire in this skughole, if it meant keeping her safe.

after a speeder crash you endured during a fight against stormtroopers, it severely impacted your ability to fight. fennec knew that you wouldn’t be the same, but that didn’t bother her. there were only one or two more bounties picked up afterwards because you realized you had become a liability. fennec was having to cover your ass more often than not and even though she insisted that it wasn’t a problem, you had to do something different.

picking up a little slack would be miniscule if you were with her but you didn’t see it like she did. you had been her longest companion and the only one that she’d ever let see her weak. life came with trauma, and with trauma came nightmares — she remembers the first one she had early into your partnership, the way you held her close and anchored her to reality. from then on it was decided: you were it for her. not that she’d ever tell you, but it was true nonetheless.

you sighed at her words; the very same thoughts went through your head at the beginning of this plan but it was the only viable option for you. “it’s all i have left. maybe i can find some peace before hunters come looking for me.” you pour two mugs of caf, setting one on the table in font of an empty chair as an invitation for her to sit. she doesn’t.

the anger in the air around her nearly chokes you with its intensity, rising in the air like heavy plumes of smoke from a raging fire. you’re unsure what you can say to tame the blaze, if you even can at all. normally you would know the exact words to say to bring her down when she’s this upset, but now you were the root of the problem and there was nothing short of foregoing retirement that would make her happy.

fennec continues talking about the brave fighter she fought alongside turning into someone she didn’t know, how you’re showing your belly to the world like the damn tooka sunbathing in the windowsill. the venom she’s spitting doesn’t bother you. she’s angry and hurt, probably feeling abandoned by you and your decision to stay and make a home.

“if you ever need somewhere to lay low, i’ll always welcome you. we’re partners fennec, whether fighting side by side or not.” you wanted to give her that much. even if she wasn’t ready now, you would always welcome her into your new home, into your arms the way you’ve yearned to for years.

nothing is said to acknowledge your words. you didn’t think she would say anything anyway but it hurts regardless, another reminder that she doesn’t like this the same way you don’t. all she does before leaving you is grabbing the mug from the table and pouring its contents down the drain, letting the mug clatter in the sink once it’s empty.

maybe one day she could see that you were doing this for her. maybe one day, probably long away from now, she would walk into these doors with the weight of the galaxy being dropped on your doorstep. with a soft smile and open arms you would greet her and show her what it was like to live the quiet life.

for now, you would just have to settle for the warm embrace of the memories you shared, hoping that more could be made in your new little hut.

it’s been close to six months since you retired. you hadn’t seen or heard fennec since she walked out of your front door wearing her signature scowl. it still stung, after all this time, that after everything she wouldn’t even comm. you’d tried that the first couple weeks after she left but there was never a reply, only a dwindling hope and the worry of not knowing if she was okay.

that was one of the biggest benefits of traveling with fennec; you would never have to worry where she was because she was always right beside you. there was never a nagging worry that ate at you, no nightmares allowed to linger since her touch would ward them away. life without her was a new normal

there would be days where you would see something and want to tell her about it, throwing her name over your shoulder only to remember that she was never there to hear what you had to say. the comms you sent grew further apart as time went on, eventually stopping altogether. she would never reply anyway, there was no reason to waste both your time and yours on something seemingly broken beyond repair.

she may not have been dead, but you still lost her.

several more weeks went by and you had grown accustomed to the solitude. sure you would socialize when going to the market for food and supplies, but it was never anything of substance, only mere pleasantries and remarks on the quality of the items you bought. somehow you were far more weary during retirement than you had been before it.

your mind would drift to her still, wondering whether she had found someone else to watch her back or if she was vagabonding all by her lonesome. how you yearned to see her again, hear her voice or feel her hands gently help you when you fall like you have lately. it’s like your body doesn’t see the reason to keep up. you exercise to the best of your ability and try to stay fit as possible, but you’re still losing your footing more and more often, even at home.

it comes to a head when you’re making breakfast. everything had been okay prior, but one little nudge of your bad leg against a table corner and you’re sprawling. laying on the floor covered in your breakfast, it takes you thirty minutes to muster the strength needed to stand on your own.

the next day, you get a cane. you loathe having to buy it at all, hearing her voice calling you old and jokingly asking where your grandchildren are. it’s either a cane or losing what little mobility you have left, so you go with the former. you despised the visible display of your weakness, grated on what pride you had left. if fennec could see you now, what would she say?

the man had beat his way into your home with every intention to rob you and take what little supplies you had. he had been traveling for days in the desert and was tired. but then he saw exactly whose house he was robbing and he had an even better idea: take you to what used to be jabba’s palace, now ruled by bib fortuna.

see, the paths you used to tread alongside fennec provided ample opportunities to make an enemy here and there. jabba was one of them simply because you refused to work for him, and with his death, you had a little bit of peace. fortuna never attempted to seek you out but anyone who knew of jabba’s grudge against you would be wise to the reward your capture would produce.

this young hotshot was foolhardy and far too cocksure compared to his abilities. if you were in the body you used to have, this buffoon (who made his name very known to you in some sort of dominance attempt?) would be dead thrice over. but time wasnt kind to you and you still have a near-lame leg, so at his mercy you were.

you just wished he would shut his damn mouth for longer than it took him to suck in another breath. he must not realize that silence is far louder than jabbering when it comes to someone holding your life in their hands. maker forbid you have peace in your final moments, apparently. figures.

jabba’s former palace was soon in your line of sight and if you weren’t positive that you were being led to your death, you’d have been grateful to be freed of the nuisance that was toro calican. all the assurance you could find as he hauled you out of his speeder was that his arrogance would soon get him killed if he continued the way he was going.

toro dragged you to the throne room with a hand roughly dripping your bicep, trying to hurry you along as if you still had two normally functioning legs. you knew he knew about your predicament, your lack of fully independent mobility a frequent topic of his. “ease up, wank stain! you know i have a lame leg!” his answer was an aggravated huff and his blaster pressed harder into your lower back.

the lower you descended, the deeper the dread sank into your gut. this was actually real, you were about to die. peace had been made long ago with the knowledge of someone possibly wanting to find you, but now that it was happening… completely different.

you wondered if fennec would ever find out about your death. or if she did find out, your brain would questioned if she would even care. of course she would, your heart consoled, think of how long you traveled together! the trust! the bond you two share transcends time!

but you cut your journeys with her short, there was no telling. there were so many things you wish you could have told her, not just about the feelings that only grew in their intensity during her absence from your side. you wanted to tell her about the stray tooka that you took in when you first settled down; she had a litter of kittens and one of them had a glare that rivaled your dear assassin’s. there was an action holonovel you read once that had you cackling, imagining your fennec cutting off all the frivolous villain monologues with a blaster to the face.

she was never told these things and now that you were becoming rancor chow, she’d never even know them. the idea of dying before telling fennec everything that you’ve been stewing over for so long, not telling her you loved her, fuck was it heartbreaking.

a mumbled curse fell from your lips when you felt saltwater make a descent down your cheeks. you didn’t want your harbinger to see you this weak, this vulnerable, but you had no choice in the matter. your hands are bound by a pair of shockingly sturdy binders and there was no way for you to wipe the tears away. all you could do was blink them away, then meet death with your chin up and your love in your heart.

“now what do we have here?” that was most certainly not the voice of bib fortuna. you opened your eyes to find a broad man clad in green beskar occupying the throne. your common sense identified him as boba fett, which you should have thought was impossible. then again, you didn’t think it was possible for someone to be as annoying as toro calican. it was a day of being proved wrong, it seemed.

anyone could see that toro wasn’t prepared to see someone that wasn’t bib on the throne. his eyes had grown to the size of the twin suns and even through your wet eyes, you could see his facial expression morph from his fake swagger to a dog of uncertainty. nevertheless, he persisted, throwing you down at the foot of the throne. “there’s a bounty on their head and i’ve come to collect the reward.”

boba fett, even through the beskar, doesn’t seem pleased. he doesn’t move his helmet’s line of sight from toro as he speaks, something you’re grateful for. “there’s been a, how do you say, recent transfer of power. and with that change came a new way of doing things, you understand.” he scoffed at the man, your proximity to the throne enlightening you to just how annoyed he was becoming in such a short period. it seemed that toro had that effect on everybody.

“how do i know this is actually someone with a price on their head? what evidence do you have that proves their identity?”

it was clear that your captor didn’t expect to have to prove a damned thing. what a fool, not even bothering to prepare for a single unexpected event. you were almost ashamed of having been overpowered by him at this point. “anyone who’s anyone knows, this is the former partner of the late fennec shand! i’m sure you heard abour her demise — that was me by the way — and now i’ve brought her partner to you, to be taken out of commission…”

all the hair on your body stood on end. fennec was dead? killed by the very man that brought you in? no, not your fennec. she wouldn’t be overpowered by this arrogant bastard in her sleep with a hand tied behind her back, there was no way. but boba said nothing to negate the rumors and that told you everything you need to know. “if you have even a morsel of mercy, by the stars make this quick. if she’s really gone, then i’ve kept her waiting for far too long.”

those were the first words you’ve spoken since toro bound you and dragged you like a ragdoll from your home. there was no reason to entertain the man, but there was the tiniest sliver of a chance that you could implore the mandalorian in front of you to end your life with the efficiency he was known for.

he asked the man his name and merely hummed in acknowledgment when it was boastfully given, like his name meant something to a battle hardened mandalorian such as boba fett.

if you had paid attention to boba’s demeanor since your arrival, you would have noticed that something in his air changed when toro spoke about being the one to kill fennec. some would have mistook it for disbelief but it was much more than that. boba knew that toro was indeed the man who shot fennec shand, but he was not the man who killed fennec shand because she simply wasn’t dead.

she was, in fact, just in the next room scavenging for another bottle of fluorescent blue spotchka when her curiosity was piqued by the conversation occurring in the throne room. at the way the voices seemed to be familiar, she abandoned the search and decided to see for herself what the commotion was.

what she found sent liquid fire through her veins. you, on your knees and head bowed just enough to show resignation and grief, binders shackling your arms and fennec knew that you wouldn’t be able to get up on your own because of it. toro calican, the man who nearly killed her all those sunsets ago in the middle of tusken territory standing above you with a wicked sneer on his lips. this would simply not do.

“word of advice, calican,” she made her presence known with her voice, walking around to boba’s right hand side and leaning a hip against the throne. “always make sure your kills are dead before you leave them. leaving them for dead? that’s how you make enemies.” her blaster was out of her holster and firing before toro could reply, and boba was impressed with the speed she fired with. he had a feeling that it had to do with the figure at the foot of his throne.

your eyes had to be deceiving you. there was no way, toro killed fennec… right? so how in the stars was she here now? the feeling of her hands on your cheeks, warm brown eyes giving you much needed comfort after what you’ve been through. you didn’t even register boba leaving his throne until he’s on the ground in front of you, unclasping your binders with the gentleness one would treat an injured animal. maybe that’s what you were to him, a pitiful tooka missing a leg that was dropped on his doorstep.

before you can venture deeper into this rabbit hole, your body is pulled off the questionable floor and into fennec’s embrace. the way she felt against you, the calluses of her hands as she held you, it was home. you didn’t know when the tears had come back but she was quick to wipe them away with the pads of her thumbs.

“seems you found trouble. what happened to laying low, huh?” her comment brought a ready chuckle from your throat and a small smile to her lips. sweet maker how you’ve missed that smile. “maybe you’ll be safer here, what do you think?”

any and all words elude you. nothing on this planet or any other in the galaxy could drag you away from her now, not when she’s as beautiful now as the day you met her, when she gives you the smile you knew was only saved for you. “i’m always safer with you, fennec.”

she hums, her lips pressing to your forehead to ground you both in the reality of being together again. “i’ll have to say the same about you, desert rose. nearly died only a week after i left your hut.”

“only a week? i thought you’d last longer than that.”

“it was because i didn’t have you. but we don’t have to worry about that anymore, do we?”

she was right, you wouldn’t have to worry about losing her for the rest of your life.

fennec shand taglist: @cryptidcody @sacred-things @clownocoruscant @steel-phoenix @aerolanya @felucians @bookbandobssessed @senator-nahberries @obirain @themarcusmoreno @jedi-mando @flightlessangelwings @whovianwar @hornystarwarsbisexual @kaermorons (i love this handle bye ohmygod)

[mythicamagic]

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

AN: ...yeah so I'll post part five in a few hours and THAT will be the ending to this Ex Sesshoumaru saga. Smh. I wrote too much of this. Read the other chapters - here.

----

She can't recall how it started.

It wasn't as though either of them had woken up one day and decided to pursue something. They'd become 'companions' of sorts- not quite friends, not casual acquaintances either. Kagome spoke with him while sitting on the grassy hillside, wearing full miko garb and explaining about future technologies.

Talking turned into meeting up regularly. Meetups turned into secret rendezvous.

Kagome wagered she'd been a source of intrigue for the demon lord. A window into the future. He listened with rapt attention and intelligent, sharp eyes. His questions were short and to the point- humour dark and smirking. Kagome found him endearing, in an irritatingly proud kind of way.

She learned about demon culture and his shining, unblemished heritage. How his ancestors had created magnificent weapons that could cut through stormy skies and block out the sun.

Kagome really couldn't say how it started.

He still hadn't been keen on humans, deeming them weak. A few were the exception to the rule. Kagome had figured that was enough. To be counted amongst those few meant she was 'special.'

She felt special, kissing him. Being loved by him made Kagome glow golden, radiating power and contentment. He encouraged her to train, to build up her reiki to new heights so that she might shock and amaze like no other miko before her. To go beyond the title of 'Shikon Miko.'

But centuries of bigotry didn't just 'go away' overnight, nor was it cured by love. He still thought of humans as beneath him. He loved her despite her humanity, not because of it.

In hindsight, Kagome shouldn't have been surprised by his reaction to her hypothetical question.

"If we ever have kids, do you think they'll be recognised as heirs?"

"What?"

Kagome shifted atop a pillow within his room at the Western Stronghold, setting down her book. "I'm just saying, I know your court is still pretty old school with how they feel about Hanyous. Think it'll impact our kids being able to take over the Western Lands?"

What a naive question. She'd been so wrapped up in how he made her feel- Kagome hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that he hadn't changed enough. Not enough for such a question. She'd asked hoping to be assured. That he'd comfort her with the knowledge that any children they had would be respected.

They wouldn't end up like Inuyasha. Ignored. Cast out.

Sesshoumaru had looked at her with such a perplexed, complicated expression. He spoke slowly, as though breaking the news to a child.

"A Hanyou will never rule the Western lands."

The surprise had set in- like she recognised the handle of the knife buried into her gut, but the pain hadn't registered yet. She'd questioned him, of course. His explanation wasn't any more encouraging.

"Hanyous only live a few centuries. I cannot entrust something as important as the longevity of these lands to one, nor can I guarantee they would mate a demon to extend their lifespan."

"Why don't you just say what you mean?" she uttered coldly, betrayal simmering in her blood as she stood. "You don't want one. You don't want an imperfect kid with me."

"That is not what I-"

"You don't have to say it," Kagome glared. "It's there, behind every word you just said. When were you gonna clue me in on this, huh? And what the hell is your plan?- because if you intended to keep me as a fucking mistress all this time while you play happy families with a pure-blooded bitch then-"

"No-" he snarled, terrible and thundering. Sesshoumaru got in her face, large hands curling in her hair, thumbs stroking the shells of her ears, trying to soothe. "I would not have you be Izayoi. You would be my mate. I would make you my Lady. We may have pups."

"That's very considerate of you," she sneered, flashing blunt teeth. "And where's this pure-blooded youkai kid coming from, hm? Because I sure as hell can't give you one."

Golden eyes slid away. It was as though a part of him knew, recognised that his duty would put him at odds with what they'd created together. He looked young, suddenly.

"I will create an heir with an inconsequential demoness."

"Inconsequential?" Kagome stared, hysteria bubbling up inside her. She broke away from him, his touch feeling unwanted, cold. "You'd use some poor woman just for that?"

"You are attributing human emotion to this," Sesshoumaru uttered, gaze flicking back to her. "She would be honoured by it. Her family would want for nothing-"

"Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!" Kagome burst, tears blurring her vision. "Can't you hear yourself? You'd still have to sleep with her, with a stranger. She'd carry your child for months, only to be torn away from them? Or would she live here? Would I have to see her every damn day and know- be reminded that I and my child weren't enough for you?!" her voice broke, a wave of emotion slamming her in the gut, only just registering and truly feeling the implications of her words.

His expression cracked, eyes widening, recognising he'd hurt her. Long claws unfurled.

"Kagome-"

"No! No, I'm done," Kagome backed away.

Years of sadness and mistrust loomed over their relationship suddenly, where before there had only been lazy mornings or evenings spent resting her head on his thigh, listening to long claws plucking the strings of a koto and inhaling rich, spicy scents of smoke from an ornate pipe.

"Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me," blue eyes swimming with tears glared. "Thank you for clarifying everything, Lord Sesshoumaru. I just wish you'd told me this two years ago."

He tried to touch her again- only for the miko to slap his attempt away with a crackling hiss of holy energy. Sesshoumaru was forced back, his hand steaming, narrowly avoiding being burned as Kagome backed away.

She'd never seen the look of pure, unadulterated surprise and distress contort his regal features before. But Sesshoumaru was proud. Sesshoumaru was a being carved from stone, who could not be moved by the words of a mere mortal.

He let her go.

Kagome didn't so much as grab her bag. She hitched a ride on Ah Un and made for Kaede's village. It wasn't long before she'd said her goodbyes, propelled by distress and anger into a hasty decision.

She jumped through the well, never to return.

It was a terrible, disappointing end to her feudal fairytale.

---

Rising slowly, Kagome blinked tired lids open, coming to a silent conclusion in the cold light of day. Picking up the phone, she called Natsuki and scheduled a meetup.

Promptly breaking up with him.

He didn't seem terribly shocked by the news.

"So… are you going to him after this?" He asked point-blank.

"What?"

"That silver inuyoukai I sensed on you last week. Figured you had something else going on."

Stiffness rendered her shoulders tense. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "for making you feel that way. I'm not going to him, but I have been thinking about him."

"Heh, you've been thinking about him but not going? Sounds difficult."

"It is," she smiled, reaching over the table and squeezing his fingers. "Goodbye, Natsuki."

The way he'd eyed her hand, just for a moment- warily- as though wondering for half a second if she'd taken her pills, only strengthened Kagome's resolve.

She knew what she wanted now.

---

Dressing up that night, she wore her best things. The nicest pair of earrings, shoes, right down to her dress and underwear. She did everything to allow herself to relax, soaking in a tub with candles littered around the edge beforehand.

Glancing at her pills on the nightstand, Kagome grabbed her purse before leaving, having not taken them all day. The effects should've worn off by now. Walking down the stairs, she experimented with a light flex- pink static racing over her skin in a faint crackle.

Dark hair fanned out, soon settling about her shoulders. Kagome took a long, indrawn breath. Life flowed through her veins. Her heart pumped, alive, healthy. Too long had she soaked herself in misery and settled for any half-decent demon cock willing to tolerate her power. Her species.

No more.

Kagome headed straight for the youkai bar.

She slipped in, a known regular by now. Unlike usual though, after grabbing a drink she didn't content herself by sitting at the bar until a tall dark and handsome stranger approached her. Kagome downed it to ignite a fire in her throat, hissing quietly and setting down her glass before easing around grinding bodies on the dance floor.

Standing in the centre, with speakers booming, vibrations thrumming through her- multicoloured lights flashing overhead in the much too dark room, with sweat and youki plastering to the air like heady vapour, Kagome took a breath. Beefy hands met her waist, intending to 'dance' with her - before she let reiki flow.

Younger demons immediately backed off, spooked by the mere suggestion of power. The hands left her body as she met their gazes. If they wanted to touch her, they'd have to reach her.

Dark eyes turned to the miko, intrigued. Some started to approach, but she gradually turned the facet of her holy powers higher. Bigger, more arrogant males kept moving closer. They could match her, tame her. She was just a priestess, after all. They hadn't been anything substantial in centuries.

Kagome held her head high on the half-empty dance floor, pink energy now static and visible, racing over her body like a live wire. And still more poured into her aura, seeping out like a huge barrier. She wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

Even the bravest stopped, all demons now pressed back against far walls, snarling at her, some evacuating the bar.

Kagome's heart shuddered. Her shoulders fell. All that, and she still hadn't let everything out. Maybe she was supposed to make herself smaller. Maintain the air of an unassuming priestess by a big strong demon's side. Settle. Accept it. What had she been expecting?

Feeling foolish and a little selfish for spoiling everyone's night, Kagome stepped back with the intent of recalling her energy.

A palm met the pink barrier, a sharp sound ringing out like the crack of lightning. Youki -familiar, dominating, unique- crashed against her aura, creating a plume of sweeping mists. Through the pink haze, Sesshoumaru stepped forward.

Unlike his usual modern look, the glamour was absent this time.

Kagome's eyes widened, oxygen briefly freezing inside her lungs. His markings were on full display. Seeing him again, really seeing him, awakened a strange feeling inside her.

Kagome grit blunt teeth, refusing to soften. She allowed another wave of her reiki out, creating a blazing inferno that licked along the wooden floors and sent every other demon fleeing.

Golden eyes narrowed slightly, but Sesshoumaru kept his palm raised, long hair whipping around him.

As reiki slid through the gaps of his fingers, he took a step closer. Followed by another. Red youki buffered its natural opposite, creating sparks and wafts of charged steam. He walked around the room, slowly tightening the circle around her like a predator closing in, though not without effort.

Kagome had never felt anything like it. She'd never let so much loose before. She could even keep going, she could-

Sesshoumaru's hand closed over her wrist, eyes hazed red. He panted, face lingering close. "Enough. I can withstand you, dear one," he said in a rush, light burns dotting his cheek and forehead. "But those outside cannot. You could obliterate every demon within a 5-mile radius if you wished, but I know you do not want that."

Kagome blinked, shaken. Catching her breath suddenly, she trembled, holding onto him.

His presence stabilised something, allowing Kagome to slowly begin reeling blistering power back. Her body weakened, forehead finding his shoulder as pink power receded back inside. Wild youki died down not long after.

And that was how Kagome Higurashi was barred from the only youkai establishment in the city.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Fall Is Dick Riding Season

A commission for someone who does not want to be tagged. GN reader/Bloodhound for the one post of ‘It’s fall, which means it’s riding someone’s dick in their hoodie weather’.

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to Reblog fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, werewolf strap makes a come back which means KNOTTING, biting, bruising, feral Bloodhound, Bloodhound having their signature oral fixation, uhhh piercings?, Reader is gender neutral but explicitly written with a vulva!

Words: 2.8K

_________________

When autumn comes, it comes in slow like most seasons on this planet. The Apex arena changes beautiful colors, the normal green tones turning into warm oranges and yellows. The Leviathans that called the arena home didn’t seem bugged by the colder weather, happily chewing on the trees that changed color and not putting up a fuss.

When fall comes, it means that the legends have a month to relax. The season wouldn’t start back up until early spring so the wildlife would be just as lively and itching to go as the legends. However, this meant that your partner, Bloodhound, was itching for something to hunt after.

You didn’t blame them. They weren’t made for the domestic and quiet life. They preferred an active role. The games brought them a sense of accomplishment, both for their gods they worshiped and for themselves. Quite often you’d be left with one raven, whichever one was up for the arena that day went with Bloodhound, and know if they were having a good game or a bad depending on how the second raven reacted.

But, of course, when autumn comes, it means downtime.  

~Rest under the cut~

The first few days are nice. Bloodhound doesn’t stay in the dorms and instead comes home to the little cottage deep in the woods you two shared. Munnin and Arthur greet you as usual by latching onto your shoulders and fighting over who gets to be held like a baby first. But, not before you’re able to see Bloodhound tug off their mask and helmet. Approaching to kiss you softly with full, chapped lips and murmur against you adoringly in greeting of; “Hello, beloved.”

Once it finally starts getting cooler out, you open up the windows much to the ravens’ delights. But, much to your own dismay, Bloodhound starts to feel cooped up at home. Kissing you one morning and telling you that they won’t be gone long, that the Allfather wills their hands elsewhere.

And as always, you nod understandingly and sigh as they part from you with a loving rest of your foreheads together and their gloved hands brushing your waist.

That was five days ago they set out. Arthur was left behind this go around, settling down on the window sills or going about his own business. He demands cuddles quite often and treats you don’t let him have (except a few under the table that ‘slip’ from your grasp), but otherwise he provides nice enough company.

You get lonely on day five. Already itching for their company yesterday so you’d taken to raiding their closet.

You do it again today with less worry of it, tugging on one of their older, cozier hoodies. It’s big even on them and reaches mid-thigh for you. Black with the Apex logo on the back as you lift the collar and inhale their scent. Much to your delight they must have worn it a couple of times before deciding it was still clean and putting it away again.

To try and distract yourself from missing them, you have soon set out on your shared bed. Tucking your body against the window that you had open with the curtains pulled back. Letting air flow run throughout the room in a small, chilly breeze that caresses your bare legs that rub against the many furs underneath you.

You huff a bit as you lie down, settling on reading a book and trying to keep your eyes focused on it. Tucking the collar of the hoodie up to your nose to inhale the scent of it as you read.

Bloodhound always smelled good, similar to pine and something akin to violets and cinnamon. You smile at the thought, tugging the collar closer and sighing against it.

You think of them with a lazy, growing smile. Their red curls had been getting longer, about mid-back now and getting a bit less tame. You think about the way their lips feel on yours, softly molding and sharp teeth capturing your bottom lip. How their hands, rough and calloused from their hunts caress your hips as soft as ever to drag you closer. Hungry growls out of their throat if you press closer to them to fit your hips-

Your breathing is getting heavier, eyes fluttering as you let the book fall from your grip and off the bedside. You try to settle down, resting your hand on your abdomen and drumming there. However, your mind is hungry for it.

And what’s the matter with indulging anyway? They weren’t here- and if they were, you’re sure they wouldn’t mind you indulging IN them as well.

Your hand sneaks down, pulling the hoodie up and teasing at the edges of your underwear. You do as they would, toying with yourself as you rub at the slit of your heat through your panties. Tracing upwards and applying just enough pressure over your clit.

Your breath hitches and your head tilts to the side, biting your bottom lip as another breeze runs through the room and reminds you that you’re doing this right in front of an open window. Truly, that part didn’t matter, your home was far too into the woods to worry about neighbors. But, gods know if Arthur popped his little head in you’d feel mortified.

That is, until you hear the front door open and hear tell-tales boots. Your eyes snap open, pulling your hands away from yourself and perking up.

In no time you’re prodding down the steps, far more interesting in seeing your partner than jacking off. Peeking around the corner to see them pulling off their helmet. Shaking their long braid free as some curls frame and curl onto their face.

The steps creak as you take the next one, and their head shoots up to look at you. Eyes tired, but their singular good one trained on you like the predator they are.

“Is that my clothing?” They tease, a smile on their lips already as you smile sheepishly back. Bare feet padding on the ground as you reach them, wrapping your arms around their shoulders so they may do the same to your waist. They bury their nose into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent. You know they can smell it with the way they grip at your firmer.

You hear the edge of a growl and just about laugh as they try to pull a bit away, but you tug them closer. Urging them to tilt their head with your hand laced at the braid at the nape of their neck, pulling so you can kiss at the now exposed flesh.

“Elskan-” Their voice warns, and you hum in response. Letting your teeth catch their pierced lobe before kissing down their neck and nibbling over their pulse point.

Their claw-like nails dig at your hips through their gloves and you make a playful sound in reply.

“I can do the work,” You insist, voice low as you suck a hickey against their neck just to hear their breath hitch. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie there and enjoy the view.”

“Tempting,” They breathe out, shuddering when your tongue flicks over the bruise blossoming on a peachy patch on their darker flesh. “Would you still wear this?” They murmur, letting their own hands gently tug at the hoodie.  

You hum in affirmation and let your hand drop to toy at the bottom of their few layers of shirts. Parting your lips so you can nip just beneath their ear. “As long as you aren’t wearing any of this in return.”

--

The journey to the bedroom is quick and hurried with your insistence. Bloodhound laughs at you as you help them out of their clothing, at least down to their tight muscle tank and boy shorts. They insist you keep wearing the hoodie again, as you dig around for one of their strap ons.

You don’t even realize which one you have in hand. Just helping them pull on the boy short-like harness and fitting the cock through. That is, until you recognize the bright red visage of said cock.

It’s one they very much enjoyed. Themed after a werewolf, a beast fit for someone like Bloodhound. It’s rather large, seven inches long not including the knot and as thick as three of your fingers. The knot was about baseball size and the ability to attach a syringe to the underside of it to fill with cum lube. Depending on if you wanted to get stuffed full more than with just a knot.

You swallow thickly and think about your decisions briefly as you lube it up. Making a show of jacking them off and applying extra lube as you tuck your now lubed up fingers under yourself. But before you can even get to do that, Bloodhound is pawing for you.

“None of that, my love. I can do this much for you.” Their voice is soft and adoring as you nod your head quickly. Letting them urge you up onto them, straddling either side of their head and pulling the hoodie up and over your chest. You hold it there with one hand, the other resting on the top of their head.

If there was one thing that was certain, it was that Bloodhound loved giving oral. Proof as their eyes flutter open half lidded, peering through thick lashes up at you as their mouth opens. Their pierced tongue licking from hole to clit and nosing at you afterwards.

They moan against you at the same time you whine. Bloodhound, for finally being able to taste you. You, for finally getting the stimulation you wanted.

Their clawed hands come up and over your thighs, locking you in place and digging the points into your flesh. Idly, you scritch at the top of their head and breathe out, “Good dog.” More on instinct than anything, but it makes their eyes flash dangerously. Their slit pupil widening as they lap at your clit hungrily.

It isn’t long before your grip in their hair is now two handed. Riding their face and eagerly moaning when their tongue presses into you. Their nose against your clit and their eyes closed, looking like they’re enjoying a meal intensely with the way they whine into you.

Eventually you’re begging, pulling at their hair and grinding your hips messily against their face. Bloodhound moves with you, gripping your thighs tight so you hold still and moaning low when you yank at their hair. They focus their tongue on licking feverishly against your clit until you’re cumming with a weak cry and small jerks of your hips.

Kitten licks are left on your clit as you shake and try to push at their head. “H-Hound- no, please- want to ride you- can't if y-you- you- you-” You try to sob out, but get cut off by your own high-pitched cry when Bloodhound licks at your slick hole, getting every bit they could out of you.

Greedy bastard.

With a few more begs and a few more pushes, they let you off. Allowing you to straddle their hips so you can finally catch how they look at you. Hungry eyes trained on your body, their lips shiny and wet, matching their chin before they wipe their mouth off on the back of their hand.  

They briefly flash you canines as they laugh at you. “Well? Come, show me what you have been waiting for since I have left, pretty one.” They coo towards the end as they gently tug at your hips with a relaxed stance about them. As if they were royalty and you were the entertainment.

They don’t rush you as you settle onto their cock. Easing the first few inches into yourself with a mewl. Your body is relaxed and certainly wet enough for it from Bloodhound’s talented tongue.

It takes a moment or two longer than you intend before the rim of your cunt is pressed to the larger beginnings of the knot. Stuffed full already as your arms shake, pressed to either side of Bloodhound’s head as you try to get your bearings.

“Too big?” They almost take a mock cooing tone for you. Bloodhound’s hands caressing underneath the hoodie to brush at your hips and sides, gently squeezing at the softness around your middle in appreciation.

You shake your head, huffing through your nose as you adjust to the size. Making a show of lifting your hips up and pressing back down with a choked breath and bowing your head at the sensation.

Goddamn it.

You can feel them grinning at you as your arms shake. But, determined as ever to get what you wanted and let them rest, you begin riding them in earnest. Pulling your body back up to grab behind you at their toned thighs. You let your head fall back, shamelessly whining as your cunt is stretched around the size of the cock again and again with each rock of your hips.

You can feel their gaze on you. Intense and predatory as their nails dig into your hips. They gently pull at you, urging you to ride them faster, just a little harder. Just to watch you struggle as your body twitches and your fingers grip tighter at their thighs.

They watch you with an intensity of a starving wolf. Seeing how your neck strains, how they can watch your pulse from here. Oh, how your body curves so beautifully- and they swear if they move their hand to your lower abdomen they can feel the thickness of the cock inside you-

It’s all too much. They cannot sit here and be a toy for you, or a pillow princess in a sense. They have to have you, claim you, it’s too intense of a feeling.

They push themselves up into a sitting position. Snatching your hips as you yelp in turn, almost falling but they pull you against their body. Their hands cup under your ass just as your arms go around their shoulders, choking out their name before they begin pistoning their hips up into you.

The bed creaks with their effort, hardly heard as you cry out and moan. Your hands fly up so one can grip at the back of their neck, the other clawing at their back as they use their muscles to thrust up into you. Their snarls are loud in your ear, followed only by the feeling of their teeth against your neck. Lips kissing away at bruises they leave behind with each growing hickey and bite.

When their hips grow tired, they use you like a doll and fuck you on their cock. You feel sloppy and far too wet, feeling it sticking to your inner thighs as you try to keep up with the motions. But, they won’t stop. Their hands just insistently push and pull until you’re rocking against the knot and sobbing into their neck, “Hound- Hound- fuck I can’t- it’s too much-”

Your voice is shaky with each hard, heaving breath you take. You’re absolutely throbbing on the edge by now, everything alight and far too hot. Yet, they don’t relent.

“You can take it,” They huff out, voice low and almost growling it out possessively. “You will take it.” They repeat, stressing out each syllable with a tug of your hips. Pressing up against you and pushing you down as the knot presses and stretches.

Your scream is muffled in their neck, your hands desperately clawing at their back as the knot presses into you. It’s all far too much, especially when their hand moves from your hip to instead rub at your clit. Using your own wetness to slide over your clit easily. You cum as they growl their native tongue into your ear, only managing to make quick translations in your head. Making out; ‘Mine’ ‘Love’ ‘Little whore’.  

There’s just a few moments where they let you rest like this. High on your orgasm even as their fingers tease at your hardened clit, making you give weak jerks and whines in response.

“Do you wish to be moved?” Bloodhound murmurs against your sweaty temple, pressing a warm kiss there even as you hum your negative in response. They laugh, gently shifting you in their lap. “You are heavy.”

“Tough.” You murmur back, nosing deeper into their neck to feel the vibrations of their chuckle.

Carefully, they move both your bodies as one. Shifting to lie on their side and keeping your leg thrown over their hip so they can stay locked inside. Their hand lovingly strokes down your side, petting you as you lazily roll your hips just to feel your inner walls squeeze.

“You are a greedy little thing, my love.” They tease at you, their hand coming under your ass to tease at the outer rims of your pussy, completely stretched out. “I am gone for five days, and you cannot manage yourself?”

Tiredly, all you can reply with is a negative hum. Lightly shaking your head with a yawn. “Nah, you do it better.”

Way better.

[cheri-translates]

[Fan-created Texts] Day 57 - Day 79

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

These are fan-created texts by 夏月_mleila on Weibo, based on Gavin’s 100 Day Event e-mails, and she has given me permission to translate them!

She started from Day 57, and skipped certain days!

[ DAY 57 ]

Eli said that the picture I’m using as my phone wallpaper would have looked even better if the angle was tilted slightly. What does he know? You look pretty no matter what.

-

Gavin: Eli said that the picture I’m using as my phone wallpaper would have looked even better if the angle was tilted slightly. 

Gavin: What does he know? You look pretty no matter what.

MC: Haha, is that how you responded to him?

Gavin: No, I couldn’t be bothered to waste my breath on him. I just added his name to the 50km field training.

MC: ...isn’t that a little too harsh?

Gavin: He won’t learn if I’m not harsh. It’s not his place to comment on you.

MC: Maybe he was just giving suggestions out of kindness?

MC: This way, he might never dare to talk to you again

Gavin: Actually, he was already supposed to go for the field training. I just used this opportunity to discipline him.

Gavin: It’s even better if I don’t mention it. It’d save him from speaking nonsense the entire day.

MC: Poor Eli!

MC: I’m secretly celebrating that you aren’t my leader.

Gavin: ...I definitely wouldn’t do that to you.

MC: I know, I was just kidding

MC: Thank you for saying that I’m pretty, and that I look pretty no matter what (*/ω \*)

Gavin: What’s that bunch of characters at the end?

MC: It’s a shy expression

Gavin: There’s no need to be shy, you’ve always looked pretty

MC: ( *^ 3 ^) / ~☆

Gavin: What does that mean?

MC: It’s a kiss!

Gavin: Cough...

Gavin:  ( *^ 3 ^) / ~☆

Gavin: I just remembered that I have to settle some matters. See you after work.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Eli’s Post: I was already very careful with my words and actions, but I didn’t expect to tip the boat over anyway... I really meant it out of goodwill

MC: I don’t know how to comfort you, so here’s an “All the Best”!

Gavin: Do you have any objections?

Eli @ Gavin: Nope, I’ll comply with my superior’s arrangements.

Minor: I suddenly feel incomparably at peace. Did something happen?

-

[ DAY 58 ]

It does feel different eating ice-cream when the weather is cold. But it isn’t good for your stomach, so I’m confiscating half.

-

Gavin: You bought ice-cream again?

MC: Yup. Kiki recommended it this time - she says this brand’s matcha flavour is incredibly delicious!

MC: I’ve had a few bites. The feeling of eating ice-cream in autumn and summer are completely different. 

MC: It doesn’t melt as quickly, and it’s even more cooling and icy in the mouth.

Gavin: It does feel different eating ice-cream when the weather is cold. But it isn’t good for your stomach, so I’m confiscating half.

MC: (｡•́︿•̀｡)

MC: I knew you’d say that, so I only bought one stick per flavour!

MC: Officer Gavin, please show mercy...

Gavin: In that case, you can eat half of it. I’ll eat the remaining half.

MC: Tch. Is this just an excuse so you can eat it?

Gavin: What do you think?

MC: Fine...

Gavin: Wait till the weekend when I’m with you before eating it.

MC: You don’t trust me!

Gavin: It’s not that I don’t trust you. Did you forget how your stomach hurt so much last month that you couldn’t even stand?

Gavin: If you don’t listen to me again, I’ll get angry, and will no longer be your human heater.

MC: Even though that’s what you say, I know you wouldn’t do that!

MC: How could you bear to see your girlfriend feeling awful yet brush her aside!

Gavin: I care about you, but won’t indulge you. Will you listen to me obediently?

MC: Yes! I’ll solemnly carry out Officer Gavin’s instructions, and will firmly resist the temptation of ice-cream.

Gavin: Good. If you manage to perform well, the reward will be a sumptuous meal over the weekend. What do you want to eat?

MC: Really? I want to have hotpot!

Gavin: Okay. When the time comes, I’ll make a reservation in advance.

MC: Gavin is truly good, Gavin is the best, Gavin is the best boyfriend in the world!

Gavin: Cough...

Gavin: Remember not to eat ice-cream on the sly.

MC: As you command! Hotpot, here I come!

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC’s Post: To deal with indecisiveness, the best solution is to get one of every flavour!

Kiki: Matcha flavour! I strongly recommend the matcha flavour!

Minor: Boss, are you buying ice-cream on the sly again? Be careful of Bro Gavin’s criticisms.

MC @ Minor: He wouldn’t criticise me. He only criticises you.

-

[ DAY 59 ]

If you feel cold, you can put your hands into my pocket anytime.

-

MC: Why is it so cold this autumn! I’m prepared to snatch up a pair gloves on 11/11!

Gavin: So why were you more willing to ball your hands into little fists than to place them into my pocket?

MC: Anna and the others were around, so it'd have been so embarrassing...

Gavin: There’s no need to feel embarrassed. 

Gavin: If you feel cold, you can put your hands into my pocket anytime.

MC: My ice-cold hands are all ready. Where’s the pocket?

Gavin: I’m going for a mission soon, and I can’t leave.

MC: So it isn’t “anytime”, you big liar!

Gavin: Don’t be anxious, let me think.

Gavin: I could order you a cup of hot milk tea first. After the mission is over, I’ll look for you immediately, okay?

MC: I was just teasing you! I have a hot glass of water accompanying me right now.

MC: I know that if I don’t take good care of myself, a certain person’s heart will ache, right?

Gavin: Right.

MC: And when a certain person’s heart aches, I’ll be very upset too. So I'll definitely take care of myself!

MC: I won’t disturb you. Go do your thing, and be safe on your mission.

Gavin: Mm. After work, my pocket and I will pick you up.

MC: Okay! My hands and I will be waiting for the two of you.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC: With you, every day is warm.

Minor: Summer must be pretty hot then?

MC @ Minor: @Gavin, I’m leaving him to you.

Minor: Boss, don’t do that, I was just kidding!

-

[ DAY 60 ]

This morning, I realised that the tallest tree in the city had white leaves. When I leaned over to take a look, I saw that they were white frost.

-

MC: Giving you a hug

Gavin: What happened?

MC: The weather is so cold, so it must be even colder in the sky, right?

MC: Could you promise me one thing?

Gavin: What is it?

MC: Before the weather turns warm, aside from work purposes, could you not use your Evol if you don’t have to?

MC: Even though I know that you’ll definitely take good care of yourself, there are certain times when you really neglect your health for work.

MC: I’m proud of how much you’ve achieved, but I’m even more worried about your body! Do you understand what I’m saying?

MC: I accidentally said too much. I’m such a nag, haha.

Gavin: No, I don’t find you to be a nag at all. Actually, I’m really happy.

Gavin: Thank you. Thank you for being understanding and caring for me. 

Gavin: Before, I always felt like being on my own was all right, and that I could be freer alone.

Gavin: But ever since being with you, I experienced the warmth and strength of love.

Gavin: ...this time, it’s my turn to say too much.

MC: Shouldn’t family members care for each other? I care for you because you care for me too.

Gavin: You view me as a family member?

MC: ? Weren’t we family members since a long time ago?

Gavin: Yes, I’m someone who has a family now.

MC: Gavin...

Gavin: There’s no need to worry. I'll take proper care of myself so my girl wouldn’t be distressed.

Gavin: It’s late. Rest soon, goodnight.

MC: Mm, goodnight.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: This morning, I realised that the tallest tree in the city had white leaves. When I leaned over to take a look, I saw that they were white frost.

Minor: It’s Frost’s Descent - Gavin, remember to keep warm.

MC @ Minor: You know what Frost’s Descent is?

MC: Next time, ride Sparky back from work. If it gets colder, we can take the train together.

-

[ DAY 61 ]

The picture you sent me yesterday wasn’t a wolf. It’s a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog - a breed of dog which is very loyal and tame.

-

[ Yesterday, 11.12pm ]

MC: 

MC: I swear that I'm not sleeping late. It’s just that my phone recommended this sticker to me, and I find it really cool.

MC: After looking at this wolf, I thought about you, so I sent it to you.

MC: There’s no need to reply, I’ve already gone to sleep!

[ Today, 12:17pm ]

Gavin: Sorry, I just saw your messages.

Gavin: The picture you sent me yesterday wasn’t a wolf. It’s a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog - a breed of dog which is very loyal and tame.

MC: Really? It looks so much like a wolf!

Gavin: That’s because it’s a hybrid between a wolf and a dog. But there are still differences.

MC: Could you tell me more?

Gavin: The main differences between the two would be their ears and tails.

Gavin: The Czechoslovakian Wolfdog’s ears are much larger than a wolf’s ears. Their tails have a curl, while wolves don’t.

MC: Which means without a reference picture, it’d be difficult to differentiate them.

Gavin: That’s right. The lines are very blurry. If there’s a reference picture, it’d be much clearer.

Gavin: But they are violent dogs, so many cities in the country prohibit rearing them. And they belong to a rare breed, so the chances of seeing them are quite low.

MC: I've got it, thank you for the lesson, Teacher Gavin.

Gavin: I sense that you’re more interested in wolves than before?

MC: That’s right, because it’s your guardian animal!

MC: As long as anything is related to you, I’m interested in it.

Gavin: Same for me.

MC: I welcome Teacher Gavin to share more of such interesting tidbits of knowledge with me.

Gavin: Mm, if it’s something I know, I’ll tell you.

MC: Okay, I’ll be an obedient and good student.

-

[ DAY 63 ]

When I was tidying the room, I found the champion prize from last year’s STF long-distance race in autumn. It’s a keychain of a running military dog.

-

MC: Are you home?

[ Today, 10:02 ]

MC: ? You aren’t back yet?

[ Today, 10:13 ]

MC: Is your phone turned off?

MC: Remember to reply when you see this - I’m waiting for you!

[ Today, 10:18 ]

Gavin: Sorry for making you worry. My phone ran out of battery. I just found the wire to charge it.

MC: It’s okay as long as you’re fine, and safe at home.

Gavin: Mm, I'm fine. Tiny Blackie dragged it underneath the sofa, so I spent a long time searching for it...

MC: Haha, was it throwing a fuss since you were only looking at your phone?

Gavin: Maybe. When I was looking for it, I made a mess out of the house. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to contact me...

MC: It’s all right. Aren't I contacting you right now?

Gavin: Next time, this wouldn’t happen again. I promise.

MC: Mm, I also promise that you’ll be able to contact me anytime.

Gavin: Oh yes. When I was tidying the room, I found the champion prize from last year’s STF long-distance race in autumn. It’s a keychain of a running military dog.

MC: You’re so amazing! You always emerge the champion in every competition. Unlike me, who can’t even run 800-metres.

Gavin: You’ve already made a large improvement. Long-distance running requires endurance, and that requires time to gradually build up.

MC: Mm. That keychain must be really cool, right?

Gavin: If you like it, I can give it to you.

MC: No need, That’s a badge of honour belonging to you.

Gavin: Silly. Whatever is mine is yours. Even I belong to you.

MC: Cough...

MC: Rest early, I’m shy (I’m not!)

Gavin: Mm, goodnight, my cute girl.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC’s Post: Ah... wjzbytkx, awslzsl..., He called me..., I’m so happy!!!

Minor: Boss, has a virus entered your input system?

Gavin: That’s only if I’m considered a virus.

MC @ Gavin: Please don’t speak anymore, and let me calm down!

-

[ DAY 65 ]

I changed a new driving playlist recently. Those songs you recommended - I like them very much.

-

MC: Knock knock knock, is Student Gavin there?

Gavin: Here.

MC: Could I ask Student Gavin if he wishes to eat little cakes made by me?

Gavin: Yes.

MC: What? I can’t sense Student Gavin’s enthusiasm! (please type a few more words!)

Gavin: Mm, I really want to eat the little cakes you make.

Gavin: What made you think of making them?

MC: Today, Anna brought little lemon cakes she made, and I thought they were really delicious.

MC: So I asked her how to make them, and am planning to make them for you over the weekend.

Gavin: Sure. In that case, we’ll buy the ingredients together during the weekend.

MC: I’ll warn you in advance - don’t harbour high expectations, because Anna mentioned that there’s some difficulty involved, and you know that I...

Gavin: It’s okay, we’ll make them together.

MC: Is there a difference if the two of us do it together?

Gavin: Mm... doesn’t seem so.

MC: Haha, so what if our cooking skills are poor? We have self-awareness!

Gavin: Oh yes, I changed a new driving playlist recently. Those songs you recommended - I like them very much.

MC: Do you have the song “Running with the Wind”?

Gavin: Mm, yes.

MC: Haha, I can kind of picture it.

MC: I heard a new song yesterday. When I heard it, I thought of you, so I’ll send you a link.

MC: -sends link to a song called “Chasing the Wind”-

Gavin: Okay, I’ve received it.

MC: Remember not to turn the volume up too loudly while driving.

Gavin: All right, I'll take note.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: I think of you when I hear the songs you recommended.

MC: Be safe! (incredibly loudly)

Gavin @ MC: Got it. (incredibly loudly)

-

[ DAY 66 ]

In the movie we watched yesterday, I keep thinking that werewolves are even more dashing and decisive than vampires.

-

MC: How was it? Did you manage to coax the kid into being happy?

Gavin: Don’t bring it up - it was even more tiring than being out on a mission.

MC: Haha, the stories didn’t work? I really loved listening to them when I was young.

MC: Also, with such a dashing Big Brother telling her stories, why wasn't she happy?

MC: If I were here, I’d definitely be overjoyed.

Gavin: Maybe I didn't put in enough emotions when telling the story. In the end, a colleague brought candy over to coax her.

MC: As expected, no matter how old a person is, they are defenceless against delicacies.

Gavin: Do you want to hear it? If you do, I could tell it to you.

MC: Sure!

Gavin: Are you done with work?

MC: Mm, I’m slacking a little and reading the reviews for the movie we watched yesterday.

MC: Vampires can teleport, influence emotions, and can even read minds. They’re so cool

Gavin: But I think werewolves are even more dashing and decisive than vampires.

MC: That’s because you’re a werewolf too!

Gavin: What?

MC: I meant in the way you’re very incredible, dashing and decisive.

Gavin: But I’m neither dashing nor decisive when faced with kids.

MC: Haha, that’s all right. Everyone has areas they aren’t good at, so don’t take it to heart.

Gavin: Mm. Do we have any plans for Halloween?

MC: Could we not eat pumpkins this year?

Gavin: Mm, looks like the pumpkin dinner last year left a large psychological shadow on you.

MC: It’s normal to get tired of something when you’ve had too much of it. This is called the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility. 

Gavin: Does this mean you’ll get tired if you stay with me for long?

MC: Do you have to rake up that incident which happened such a long time ago!

Gavin: No, I was just joking with you.

MC: Haha, you’ve learnt how to crack jokes?

Gavin: Yes, I learnt it from you.

MC: Please pay the school fees, Student.

Gavin: School fees? Could I use a story to get a discount?

MC: You can. In that case, I want to hear a unique story.

Gavin: That’s quite difficult for me. But I’ll give it serious thought.

Gavin: Mm, I just need to practice for a while.

MC: Practice? What for?

Gavin: I’ll need to tell it to our kids in the future

MC: Why are you suddenly bringing up our kids?

MC: I can’t talk anymore, I’ve got to resume filming.

Gavin: Okay, I’ll practice on my own then.

-

Fan-created Weibo Post:

Gavin’s Post: Question: How should one tell a story in order for a kid to like listening to it? (If the answer is effective, you’ll get an additional day of rest this month)

Eli: Old Gav has finally attained enlightenment. I’ll talk to you via PM!

Tang Chao: Leader, I’ve sent the answer via message!

Auntie from the Canteen: They aren’t even married yet. Listen to what Auntie says.

My Girl: ...you don’t have to be so serious about it!

-

[ DAY 67 ]

My phone is spoilt. It’s a good thing I can memorise your e-mail, and didn’t miss the sign-in.

-

MC: Haha, since you can’t use your messaging app today, I shall leave some doodles here.

MC: I’ll draw a small ugly wolf here - ^•ェ•^

MC: And here, an adorable little rabbit - ∩•ω•*∩

MC: I’ll add a clove. Hmm... how can I make a clove?

MC: Forget it, I’ll just add a Pearly - (•<>•)

MC: Finally, just to conclude, I feel a little silly today. Even though I know you’ll contact me soon...

MC: But I can’t help but say...

MC: I miss you. 

-

[ DAY 70 ]

It’s too cold to eat watermelons during this season. I bought cantaloupes and have placed them in the fridge. Remember to eat them.

-

Gavin: It’s too cold to eat watermelons during this season. I bought a cantaloupe and have placed it in the fridge. Remember to eat it.

MC: Which one is heavier - a kilogram of iron or a kilogram of cotton?

Gavin: They’re the same weight.

MC: So why would a watermelon be colder than a cantaloupe if they’re both in the fridge?

Gavin: ...putting it into the fridge preserves its freshness. When eating it, you have to leave it out till it becomes room temperature.

MC: So a watermelon is colder even at room temperature?

Gavin: Aren’t fruits with higher water content usually colder than fruits with lower water content?

MC: Is that so? Watermelons have a 94% water content and ranks No. 1. Cantaloupes have a 90% water content, and ranks No. 4.

MC: There isn't much difference.

MC: Based on such logic, drinking room temperature water is even colder.

Gavin: ...if you want to eat watermelons, I can buy one for you in the afternoon.

MC: Did I place importance on the wrong thing? The important thing is someone’s meticulous care, right? 

MC: Don’t worry, I know how well you treat me.

Gavin: So do you still want to eat a watermelon?

MC: Nope, my Gavin says watermelons are cold.

Gavin: It’s all right. If you really want to eat it, you can just eat less.

MC: it can wait till the cantaloupes have been eaten. Could you come over to eat them with me after work?

Gavin: What’s wrong? Did I buy too many?

MC: Because it’d be even warmer with you by my side! When I eat it, it wouldn’t be as cold.

Gavin: Cough. Okay, I’ll pick you up after work.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: How good you are to me - I know it very clearly.

MC: Are you referring to me? Are you referring to me?

Gavin @ MC: It’s you, it’s you.

-

[ DAY 71 ]

After the door locked, I realised that I didn’t bring my keys. I never thought that I’d have my forgetful moments too. It’s a good thing the windows weren’t locked.

-

Gavin: Something pretty new happened today.

MC: What is it?

Gavin: After the door locked, I realised that I didn’t bring my keys. I never thought that I’d have my forgetful moments too.

MC: In that case, do you want to come over to my place for now?

Gavin: It’s a good thing the windows weren’t locked.

Gavin: ...

MC: That’s good! I even wanted to call the locksmith for you.

MC: But it’s been so cold recently. it’s better to close the windows at night, or you might catch a cold.

Gavin: Hearing what you just said, I’m not very sure if I locked the windows. Maybe I locked them because of the falling temperatures.

MC: Take a look after work then.

Gavin: ...okay.

[ Today, 12:33 ]

Gavin: What if it’s locked?

MC: Find a locksmith!

Gavin: ...got it.

[ Today, 12:40 ]

Gavin: I suddenly remembered that I need to head out for a mission today, so it might be very late by the time I return. Would the locksmith still be open?

MC: They’re usually open for business around the clock. Hold on, I’ll send you the phone number of the locksmith who helped me previously.

MC: 07295287

MC: What’s up with you today? Did you skip breakfast? You seem a little dazed?

Gavin: ...

MC: Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.

MC: I just think you’re a little different today. How could you have forgotten such a habitual thing?

Gavin: It’s nothing much.

MC: There’s something off about your mood.

Gavin: There’s really nothing.

MC: Okay...

MC: In that case, you should come over to my place later.

MC: It’d be so late when you return. By the time the locksmith arrives, you’ll be frozen. We’ll handle it tomorrow, okay?

Gavin: I’ll be fine.

MC: If you don’t listen to me, I’ll get angry!

Gavin: Okay, don’t be mad. I’ll listen to you.

MC: Mm, be safe at work, and see you tonight.

Gavin: See you tonight. 

-

Fan-created Weibo Post:

Eli’s Post: A certain someone is bursting with joy today, and even smiled at me!!! What happened? Oh no, did I make a mistake?

Tang Chao: Relax, Captain Eli. It has nothing to do with you.

Eli @ Tang Chao: I can rest assured then. What’s up with him?

Tang Chao @ Eli: Don’t probe any further, I’m afraid of getting slaughtered!

-

[ DAY 72 ]

I’ve familiarised myself with the technique of cutting bunny apple slices. Next time, I’ll show it to you.

-

Gavin: I’ve familiarised myself with the technique of cutting bunny apple slices. Next time, I’ll show it to you.

[ Today, 12:02pm ]

Gavin: What’s wrong, are you busy?

[ Today, 12:06pm ]

Gavin: Why aren’t you picking up? Did something happen?

Gavin: Call me when you see this.

MC: I’m busy now. My darling is amazing. I’ll call you later. 

Gavin: Who are you?

Gavin: I’m warning you. No matter how you obtained her account number, I have my ways of tracking you down.

MC: Sorry Gavin, something cropped up earlier. I’m sending a client out, so I can’t call you right now.

MC: It’s really me, my account hasn’t been stolen, and I’m very safe. I’ll explain more later. I’ll take around 10 minutes at most. Trust me, okay?

Gavin: Okay.

[ Today, 12:12pm ]

MC: Sorry! I made you worry. I didn't do it on purpose... don’t be mad.

Gavin: So what happened?

MC: I was tidying up some files earlier for the client.

MC: Minor and the others had my phone to check some meeting records. He said you sent a message, and that you sounded very anxious and worried.

MC: So I told him to reply based what I said. I didn't think that...

Gavin: You said that?

MC: Nope. My original words were “I’m busy now. Gavin is amazing...”

Gavin: ...got it.

MC: Don’t blame him, he didn’t mean it.

MC: He explained it to me, and said...

Gavin: What did he say?

MC: He said he didn’t expect people who are dating to not call each other “my darling”...

Gavin: Cough, sorry.

MC: Why the sudden apology?

Gavin: I’ve never noticed such things. If you want to hear it next time...

Gavin: I could call you that too.

MC: Really? Let me hear it now then.

Gavin: Now?

MC: You just said you could it. Not even half a minute has passed and you’re already going back on your word?

Gavin: No, I just...

MC: All right, I was just teasing you. I really like how you call me “My Girl”, “Little Lamb” and other pet names.

MC: They are unique, and filled with your affection and feelings.

MC: So there’s no need to force yourself to say something you don’t want to.

Gavin: It’s not that I don’t want to. My thoughts are the same as yours. I find them more unique, and better representations of us.

MC: So this misunderstanding has been cleared up, right?

Gavin: Yes.

MC: In that case, I’ll start looking forward to your bunny apple cutting skills this weekend. 

Gavin: There’s no need to wait till the weekend. I can do it now. Look outside the window.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC: A certain up-and-rising cutting master’s little bunny apples - they’re amazing, aren’t they!

[words in the pink rectangle: picture of the bunny apples Gavin had cut]

Minor: That’s incredible! As expected of my Bro Gavin, the perfect man.

MC @ Minor: Relax, he doesn’t blame you. There’s no need to curry favour with him.

Minor @ MC: Thanks Sis-in-law! I can live on!

-

[ DAY 74 ]

Found a puppy stuffed toy while tidying up, and thought about how it’s been a very long time since we last went to the claw machine together.

-

MC: A new mall opened near my office recently, and there’s a very delicious ramen shop. Next time, I’ll bring you there to eat.

Gavin: Okay.

MC: There’s even a games arcade on the third floor of the mall. We can play together too.

Gavin: Speaking of games arcades, I found a puppy stuffed toy while tidying up, and thought about how it’s been a very long time since we last went to the claw machine together.

MC: I'm free.

Gavin: What did you say?

MC: I said that I’m free this weekend. Aren’t you asking me out?

Gavin: Okay, then we’ll go this weekend, and can also eat at that ramen shop you mentioned.

MC: Sure, but I really didn’t expect that!

Gavin: Didn’t expect what?

MC: I always thought you were a cool and dashing man who only liked drag racing and boxing.

MC: I didn’t think you’d have childish hobbies like roller coasters and claw machines.

Gavin: I’m not the one who wanted to ride the roller coaster...

MC: But you brought up the claw machine yourself, didn’t you?

MC: Don’t worry. No matter what you like, it wouldn’t change your perfect image in my heart. 

Gavin: The important thing isn’t the claw machine, it’s...

MC: The important thing is eating ramen?

Gavin: The important thing is being together. Being together - do you understand?

MC: I understand.

MC: Are you angry?

Gavin: No.

MC: I can tell when you’re angry or not.

Gavin: I’m really not angry.

MC: I know that you aren’t angry, but you’re not very happy either.

MC: My darling. I’m calling you “My darling”, okay? ps: My phone hasn’t been stolen! This isn’t Minor either!

MC: Or you could tell me what I need to do to make you happy.

Gavin: Go out with me, and free up your weekend for me.

MC: Okay! I’ll be with you, and my weekend will be entirely for you.

MC: Are you happy now?

Gavin: I really don’t know what to do with you

MC: That means you’re happy! Relax, I’ll stick to you the entire weekend, so you can’t toss me aside even if you wanted to!

Gavin: You said it yourself, so you’re not allowed to go back on it.

MC: When have I ever gone back on my word?

Gavin: Who was the one who asked if we could have ice-cream yesterday?

MC: Cough, that was... that was...

Gavin: Was what?

MC: I can’t find an excuse, so what?

Gavin: So what? I can only pamper you. 

MC: Look out of the window.

Gavin: To look at the stars?

MC: Can you see that my smile has reached the solar system?

Gavin: Mm, I see it. Want me to bring it back for you?

MC: No need, I’ll leave it up there to spend the night today.

Gavin: In that case, need me to cover it with a blanket? It might catch a cold that high up.

MC: Haha, stop messing around. Rest early, and see you tomorrow.

Gavin: Mm, see you tomorrow. Goodnight. 

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: Someone said she’d stick to me over the weekend, so I'm including this picture as proof (don’t worry, only you can see it)

MC: I won’t go back on my word!

Gavin @ MC: Silly, I’m keeping it as a souvenir.

-

[ DAY 79 ]

Eli and the guys said they didn’t want to see me hovering around in STF today. How baffling. So, I’m here to see you.

-

Gavin: Want to drink milk tea? I can bring it over to you.

MC: ? You’ll be passing by my office during a mission?

Gavin: No, Eli and the guys said they didn’t want to see me hovering around in STF today. How baffling. So, I’m here to see you.

MC: Has your phone been stolen?

Gavin: No, it’s me. 

MC: No way! STF members listen to the Commander’s instructions. When does the Commander listen to them?

Gavin: ...there are times when I need to consider my subordinates’ moods.

MC: I still don’t believe it’s you.

MC: Question: When we cooked for the first time, what happened?

Gavin: I burnt the pot...

MC: It’s really you!

Gavin: ...couldn’t you have asked about something else?

MC: It was the first thing I could think of - maybe the impression was pretty deep, haha.

MC: Want me to give Eli a call to ask what exactly is going on?

Gavin: No need, it’s really nothing.

MC: What do you mean by “nothing”? You were chased out for no reason, and you aren’t angry about it. And you even left?

Gavin: How should I have reacted then?

MC: By slamming the desk harshly, then pointing at them before saying, “I’ll give you another chance. Repeat what you just said.”

Gavin: In your eyes, am I like that?

MC: Am I wrong?

Gavin: ...not entirely.

MC: All right, since you don’t want to elaborate further, I won’t probe more either. I trust that you can handle it.

MC: Come over. I’ll comfort and protect you.

Gavin: Okay.

Gavin: Is your shopping cart ready?

MC: I’m still deciding between two outfits.

Gavin: Just get them both.

MC: No need, the two outfits are very similar! Help me pick one!

Gavin: Okay, I’m already downstairs.

-

Day 80: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

夏月_mleila: Sure, of course you can. Thank you for liking it. I also wish for more people to see them

[something-tofightfor]

Guess Who?

1.5k follower celebration #1

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (HCtS)

Word Count: 1293

Rating: None, really. This is pretty tame. 

Here we go! My first post for the entries for the 1.5k event, and it’s for @pheedraws! This one was a heck of a lot of fun to write, because I’ve missed Mr. and Mrs. Delos... let’s see what they’ve been up to since ‘Appreciate It’ ... and how Logan is dealing with staying somewhat quarantined. 

“This wasn’t a good idea, Lo.” You wrinkled your nose at your husband, pausing. “We don’t have to -” 

 “Yes we do.” The man’s tone was sharp, and though you knew that it wasn’t directly at you, it made you sigh. “What are our other options?” We don’t have any. You tilted your head back, staring up at the slowly darkening  sky for a few moments, and then looked back down at the table in front of you. Here we go. 

 “Does your person have …” You squinted. “Brown eyes?” With a grumble, Logan picked the card up from the slot at the front of his game board and brought it closer to his face. 

 “Yes.” He tucked it back into the slot, and you began flicking down the tabs filled with cartoon images that did not have brown eyes, thinking. 

 “Does your person have hair?” Logan’s question caught you off guard, but you quickly replied with a yes, watching as the man flipped down a few impossible options of his own. “That was a stupid question.” He frowned. “There are only four of ‘em that don’t -”

 “Not a stupid question, Logan, it’s part of the game.” You tapped your fingers against the glass of iced tea sitting on the table next to you, the tips of them dampened by the condensation running down the glass. “My turn.” He looked back up at you, waiting. “Is your person wearing a hat?” 

 “No, she -” He winced. “Fuck!” Logan swore loudly, closing his eyes. “They are not wearing a hat.” Fighting back laughter at the expression on his face, you flipped down the people wearing hats, and then after a short pause, also flipped down all of the remaining men. Sorry, Lo. “Oh, come on, that’s not…” He sighed. “What do you have, like three options left?” 

 “Logan, I told you that we didn’t have to play. All of these are here for Em when she’s over, and I’m not sure why you thought that we…” He was staring at you, his eyes focused, and even though you could tell he was annoyed you also saw something else behind the expression. “When you suggested game night, I thought we’d play something on the PlayStation or the Switch, not...” You trailed off. “Why do you have that look on your face? You look like -”

 “I’m sick of sitting in the house.” He ran a hand through his hair - which was much longer than you’d ever seen it, the ends of the strands curling around his neck and almost to his shoulders. “It’s been months, and I just …” He sighed. “Leavin’ to go into work is one thing, but we…”

 “I know it sucks, Logan, but think of it this way… if we don’t go out, no one can spin stories about us.” The game abandoned, you stood and walked to his side of the table, waiting for him to scoot his chair back so that you could lower yourself sideways onto his lap. “I know things are a lot different now than they were a couple months ago, but it’s good press for us to be…” You gestured toward the house with your left hand. “Here instead of out in Hollywood or Calabasas or…” You ran your fingers through his hair absently, watching as he turned his face up to look at you. “Delos has shifted their focus to the medical field over the past few years, and it looks good when the CEO is on board with doing whatever he has to to -” You were cut off as he pulled your face to his for a kiss, Logan’s lips pressed to yours in a way that you’d never get sick of. You know I’m right. 

 “But we…” He sighed, kissing you once more before releasing you. “You’re right. That one time we went out to dinner and downtown, they had a field day, didn’t they.” You nodded, still combing through his hair. He should keep this, even when… things are back to normal and he wouldn’t get crucified for getting it cut, even by a Host. You felt your lips lifting at the thought. “They should stick to giving the real celebrities shit and not me.” 

 “What did you tell me when we got married in Vegas?” You pressed your hand to his chest, eyes moving down briefly to look at the rings you wore. “It comes with the territory?” He laughed at that. “There’s plenty of time for them to take pictures of you - of us when all this is over and everything’s open again.” His eyes locked on you, you winked at him. “Your person’s Susan, by the way.” 

 He didn’t say anything, though his gaze dropped back to his rack of cards, and yours followed. Bingo. With two fingers, you plucked the card from the slot, grinning and holding it up in front of your husband’s face, watching as his frown deepened. He hates losing. 

 “You know, Lo…” You shifted on his lap, letting the card fall to the table and hoping that it didn’t blow away. “I know you guys try to keep the Hosts kind of a mystery until the guests get into the Parks … but did your marketing team ever think to make games featuring some of them? The ones in the ads and brochures, at least?” His eyes widening slightly, you continued. “Of course you can market it any way you want, but you know it would entice some of the Guests to try and find Hosts that they hadn’t otherwise…” 

 “I’m sure it’s been brought up, our people are…” He groaned as your hands dropped to his shoulders, fingers digging in as you moved them in slow circles. “They’re good with stuff like that, but I’ll mention it to the marketing lead next time I talk to…” He groaned again, arms moving to your waist and then going around it, one hand settled on your hip. “That feels…” He went silent as you continued to work on his muscles, his head drooping down and your eyes out on the sand of the beach beyond your yard as Logan relaxed under your touch.

 I’ve gotta do something. You let out a breath as your hands moved lower, Logan resting his forehead against your shoulder for a few seconds before turning his head to kiss the side of your neck, lips moving over the skin almost lazily. He saw Juliet at work when they both needed to be in the office for things, but Logan hadn’t seen Emily or Isaac in person in months, nor had he spent time with Mark outside of video calls. But it’s best. They have to be better than… You thought of the other people that you, Logan and Juliet commonly shared the pages of the tabloids with, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. All of them. And he is. They are, but … I bet I can get them over here to swim and to eat without…

 Your mind working, you didn’t even realize that your hands had moved to the front of Logan’s chest, pushing him away from you. “Hey.” His voice startled you, and you shook yourself back to attention. “What are you thinking about?” Don’t tell him yet. Make sure it can happen first.

 “Just trying to figure something out for you.” You raised one eyebrow. “But I’m not gonna tell you what it is.” His eyes lighting up, Logan searched your face for a few seconds, but seemed satisfied with the answer. “Want to pl-”

 “No.” He slid an arm beneath your knees as he pushed the chair back even further. “No, I can think of a much better game to play with you tonight.” 

---

General:

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[whichtammy]

Sent from Ithaca Ⅰ

Summary:

After "the Blip" and getting back to his daily life, Sam Wilson gets attracted by an email shown in his mailbox repeatedly and starts continuous correspondence with the sender named Ithaca. During their correspondence, Sam fills the lost memory of his lost home and starts to rebuild new life in the so-called post-bilp era. With the more letters he sends to and receives from Ithaca, however, the more strange connections does Sam find showing up between his real life and the words written down by that Ithaca who loves to tell stories and poems in his letters. Sam can't help but feeling that maybe there was not only an anonymous pen pal who loves literal fantasy behind the name of Ithaca, but a sign with an intention to lead him to get across the boundary between stories and the real life.

—————————————————————

Hi，

I was in your support group for veterans four years ago, are you still work there now? I'm wondering if I could be a member of your group again, or could you please recommend some other groups like that for me?

PS. I'd like to ask that can we talk if it is possible? The group work under your guidance had helped me a lot in the past, I wishthere could be a chance for me to say thank you in person.

Please contact me.

Yours

Ithaca

Sam Wilson finds the mail in his mailbox much of puzzling, the sender'sidentity is ambiguity, as well as the intention. He did work in a support group for veterans for a while, not a short time in fact, it was a regular and steady job after his retirement from the army. However, everybody could know it if one ever had any interest in Sam Wilson, nearly everything of him is on the internet after his real identity was made public, and his work experiences is just a small part of this massive archive of Sam Wilson, open source, 7/24 online. So, even the sender said he (maybe a she, Sam thinks) had been in his support group, there is nothing provable that he or she had really been there, nor if he is really a veteran who is searching for information. It seems like that the only real and clear intention is to get contact with Sam, and for some reasons, the contacts on the other side chose to make himself vague, hiding behind the name of Ithaca, which is no doubt an alias, left nothing of contact details, no phone number, no address. Of this Ithaca, the only information Sam receives is the request of "please contact me"at the end of an email and a traceless virtual mail address.

Another information Sam has is that the sending time of the mail is three years after when it was first sent. He checked through the inbox, there are actually more than one single letter with the same content, that Ithaca keeps sending the same mail to him every three months all the time and today is the day of another third month, so his mailbox received the exactly same words again. He must be doubting, if notthe detail time of "I was in your support group for veterans___ago" keeps changing, that maybe the sender had set a repeating schedule sending and forget it all afterwards, only to leave him an alarmed-like mailbox to remind him that "it'stime"with a virtual Ding.

However, the sender never forgot his letter, nor did Sam ever receive the reminder. He didn'tget any reminds of his mailbox at all during the past three years, in fact, he was even not reminded of himself either for such a long time. He feels like the life of his is a movie with the audience left midway, when the one was back to watch, it is already the "three years later". He also thinks himself as the movie lost audience and the audience missed the movie at the same time, as the movie, he continues without being conscious of, as the moviegoer, he watches with a lack of awareness of what has happened. There is a gap in his memory, something interrupted there, he knows it is there, but he can'tknow what it is that he missed exactly——he just keeps playing and watching, for he has settle down in now, he would have no time to chase the missing part in the past at the same time.

Is the mail a plot supplement of the movie? Sam clicks the reply, forIthaca’s mail, not the other mails alike in his inbox. His mail address got public too after the publicity, people keeps sendingmails in, they are just having a try, it'ssort of a free inviting after all. Many senders write true and false stories about themselves with fictional names and identities, some of them even make up stories of Sam and them to make themselves look like a real person who had real connection with him. Now, Sam has learned to distinguish these big and small lies from his experience of being a celebrity, he doesn'treply any of them now, but he picks up some long mails of them to read with an interest at some time and gets amazed by the imagination and details all the time. He admits to himself more than one time that he would really believe those stories they write about Sam Wilson if he is not Sam Wilson himself. Sometimes he would wonder, did he really in fact play a role in others'life in such a strange and detailed way? Is he really someone to others? Can he indeed have such strange and detailed meaning to strangers'life?

So he replys.

Hi Ithaca,

I'm not working in that group now, if you are looking for something like that, I think that the official website of SRV(Supporting and Rebuilding with Veteran) may provide the information you need about similar activities and groups we had before.

It would be my pleasure if i had helped, I'm so grateful for your supports, too.

Best wishes

Sam Wilson

He reads his brief reply again with a mixed feeling of curiosity and suspiciousness. He wants to see the sender behind the mask, while he is afraid of the fact that what he reveals would only be another face of a hater, a stalker. The mailbox is fulled with mails of stalking, fever, curses and hatred, and they are only a small part of the massive archive of the cult of Sam Wilson. Maybe that is what it takes be to a celebrity, Sam thinks, being a celebrity means exposing yourself to everyone, there is a chance that anyone could come for you, holding a comprehensive information of you and somehow your life truns to be a waiting for the ambush from maybe a friend or foe. He used to believe that he would leave the habit of distinguish people as friend and foe behind when he left the army, he knew he needed time to adopt a new regular life, he would take time to tame his battle life into a tamed daily life, that's why he joint the support group for veterans, as a group member first, sooner a group leader. Sam had expectations of it, he was hoping to build a loose but continuous connection between his two lives and land himself in the soft daily life without enemy in the end.The smooth landing he hoped for would not erase his old friends who had gone with his old foes away in a cold way, he was trying to make it a soft goodbye. Sam truly believe it a realistically ideal plan, he was planing to share this realistic idealism to more people like him. He failed, he thinks later, his vision of life was much simpler that what it is. Life was not going to say a soft hello in return, Sam soon realized the group was in fact the beginning of a new war. He had planned to meet with different people and experience, even complex adventures, the exciting potential was as another a great reason why he choose to keep contact with veterans, but he didn't see the whole vision, he didn't know how strange the man he would meet, nor did he predict the adventures coming along with him. He had no idea about the honor he would fight for, for he was clueless about bad things coming along with it as well.

He recalls that he had regarded the veteran group as a farewell to sacrifice, no more sacrifice he would see, what's waiting for would only be stories of sacrifice to be heard, they would not be alive but are only memories, living in the past and reliving only in the room crowded with lively narrators. That was what Sam expected for, he was prepared for heavy stories and sharing the burden of those who could take their stories alone no more. He would be obligatory to help if the owner wanted to share her or his story. Tell the untold, remember the forgotten, make nameless sacrifice heard and rest in a rectified name, he said this to himself. Now he sees the imprudence of his prediction, the future has given him stories as wish, telling him that his life would be totally changed by a stranger, who carries so many stories that he himself is like a fictional being in the end, every story he had dreamed for would come true because of the stranger, in a wilder way though, just like a fictional fantasy.

For this reason Sam feels he has a empathy for people who write him long letters, how couldn't he show up in someone's "normal life" when the living legend Captain America could ran into his house and asked for help when he was a normal nobody. Sam is immersing in those thoughts and writes his polite reply with a intention of keeping distance from Ithaca. On the one side, the last thing he wants to do is to arouse the interest of a potential stalker, on the other, he would blame himself if he intended to ignore someone with a honest and stubborn heart, even though he knows that the line between a insisting fan and insisting hater is always dim. Sam would like to believe maybe the sender really have some stories to tell, the name of Ithaca implies it, too. The name is another reason made him write his reply, he is home now, spending his time getting familiar with the small town he used to know very well. It occurs to him that the sender, if is telling the truth and did attend his group activities, could possibly be the young man who said wanted to be a poet in a theme activity of "getting a job". Sam remembers his talk, he said he was reading Homer then and recited some verses from the epic. He can't remember the verses by words, but he has a clear picture of the scene, it was some poetic sentences about the desire of going home and the failed of it. The young man said that everyone in the room would share the same feeling when they heard Ithaca calling Odysseus. A long silence fell down to the room after his speech, the young man sensed it too, he said "sorry" as a conclusion. There was no "it's OK" responded, perhaps people in the room had no clue of whether should she or he accept that apology, they may didn't know should they take it as something offensive but forgivable, people were just sad. Sam was short of words for a while, he hadn't read the book then, but the poem did hurt him down in a direct way. He thought at that time that maybe that was the gift of being a poet, look at the reckless young man, he could lift and drown people's hearts only by a verse.

Sam opens the browser to search what exactly the verses are, unfortunately, his vague memory leads him to nothing precisely relevant, which makes him want a reply mail from Ithaca more eagerly, he wants him to contact him back, as long as he is the young man in his memory. Sam opens his mailbox, writes and sends another mail to Ithaca, he thinks himself kind of reckless as soon as he clicked the button of "send", what if he is not him? What if the man on the other side has a dark plan? Would he use his letter as an inspiration of gossips and rumors? Things like that happen all the time. Sam is so tired of get misunderstood because of his own words being twisted, he always gets hurt of those made-up stories, he is tired of making explanations of his stories which are not belong to him at all, he is tired of feeling hurt. He sends it anyway.

Hi Ithaca,

I can't remember if it goes like

"they talk about the days of going home"

Sam

To Be Continued…

[emcon-imagines]

Let Each One Hear Her Own Thoughts

gif

words: 1665 notes: based off of this post I made after the Wandavision finale. for those of you unfamiliar with my OC Willow featured in this story, you can read about her here, or just dive right in and enjoy this little post WV fic! Willow and Wanda share a sister-like relationship after meeting at the compound years ago, when Wanda took Willow under her wing pre-Civil War. summary: Wanda receives a regular visitor at her cabin, someone repaying a favor they owe her from years ago.

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

It was still sunny when Willow cleared the mountains and started over the lake, the late afternoon light casting golden shadows on the waves down below. She hadn’t heard a quiet like this in a long time, perhaps in five years, and back then, the quiet was more suffocating. This one wasn’t. It was freeing.

She could see why Wanda had retreated here.

On the opposite shore, the cabin came into view and Willow began her descent, her back aching from the long flight and her heavy backpack. New York City felt a long way away—try as she might, she could never make the trip in a single day. Maybe it was for the better. Time spent in the city was chaotic, busy, full of responsibilities she didn’t feel ready for yet. She still felt herself looking to someone like Natasha for the answers, only to remember that she wasn’t there.

Wanda was sitting on the porch, cup of tea in one hand and the other shielding her eyes from the sun as Willow approached. Her feet hit ground, the grass just poking through the melted snow, the air smelling like spring and dirt. “Hey,” Willow said, stretching her wings out one last time before folding them in, though not all the way. Another reason she appreciated the cabin. There was nothing to hide here, no strangers spying on her every move. Her wings could touch daylight.

“Hey,” Wanda said, standing and turning towards the house. “I hope the trip—”

“It wasn’t bad,” Willow answered quickly. “It’s nice to… you know… get away from everything right now.” She followed Wanda into the cabin, the smell of dust and pine had almost become a comfort to her. On the table, she set down her backpack, unzipping it and pulling out several plastic bags. “I think I got everything—except for the cereal, they didn’t have that brand, so I went to another store, and even asked but they didn’t have it either.” She passed a box to Wanda. “So… this is similar?”

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Wanda said, and the corner of her mouth lifted as she set the box down. “I’m not picky.”

Willow shrugged. “I am.” She nodded at Wanda. “You know, in case the roles are ever reversed, the brand does matter to me…”

“I get it.”

“Bread,” Willow said, handing the bag to Wanda. “I hope it’s not squished. It got bumpy over the mountain pass.” She pulled a few more plastic bags from her backpack. “Oh! And look!” She held up one of the bags so that Wanda could peer inside. “I forgot which spices you said you needed, so there’s like… an assortment… there.”

“What’s in here?” Wanda asked as she searched through one of the bags with produce. “Are these… baby carrots?”

“Yup.” Wanda gave Willow a questioning look and Willow rolled her eyes as she zipped her backpack up and slid it against the wall. “Oh, come on. The Scarlet Witch or whatever still should eat a vegetable once in a while.” The joke rolled off her tongue easily enough, and she hoped it would be received that way as well.

“Now you sound like Natasha,” Wanda said, and she began to put away the items Willow had brought.

“Well, someone has to,” Willow said, the weight of her own words settling uncomfortably as she thought over the last few weeks. “Anyways…”

“You all right?” Wanda asked, turning back around from the cabinets. Willow had taken to wandering the cabin, tucking her wings in further as she navigated the small space.

“Well, you know. It is what it is.” Willow paused, trying to put what she was feeling into words. “It’s a weird time to be alive. You?”

Wanda didn’t respond, half-smiling as she shut the cabinet door, though there was no joy in the smile, just exhaustion. Willow sat down on the couch, wanting to say more, and yet not knowing what to say. She stared out the window at the darkening sky, the mountains disappearing into the clouds and the purple horizon. Where do we go from here?

Willow leaned over the back of the old couch to face Wanda, who was still heating a pot of water on the stove. “You know you can talk to me, right?” Willow asked.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Wanda said with a sigh.

“Oh. Oka—”

“No, I’m— sorry.” Wanda looked up at Willow and leaned back on the sink, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her sweater as she thought. “I’m pretty sure I used to tell you the same thing, a long time ago. I know you’re just trying to help.” The pot on the stove began to simmer and Wanda turned her attention back to it, opening a box of pasta that Willow had delivered the previous week, and dumping enough of the shells into the pot for the both of them. “I’m glad you’re here,” she finally said. “After everything… you still…”

“You’d do the same for me,” Willow said. “You did the same thing for me. Remember when I first showed up at the compound?”

“Mm. It was like trying to tame a feral cat.”

Normally, Willow would have a retort back, but she only smiled at the memory, and then started laughing. “Yeah. I was really… scared, actually. When SHIELD found me, I thought my life was over.”

“How are the others?” Wanda asked. “I… well… I’m not sure they’d…” She gestured around at the cabin and shrugged helplessly.

“No, they’re just busy,” Willow answered. She laid her head in her arms as she continued to lean across the back of the couch and yawned. “Sam is with Bucky… I haven’t even begun to look into what they’re doing and honestly, I’m not ready to. But I have a feeling it’ll catch up to me eventually. It always does. Rhodey’s still at Stark’s, helping them sort through things. Clint’s home. Same with Scott, he’s home too. Remember Scott? He was at the airport. He was the one who came up with the whole time travel thing. Sort of. So, I’d say things have quieted down, but I don’t want to jinx it.”

The pasta finished and Wanda carefully used a spoon to hold back the pasta as she strained the water out before splitting the shells into two bowls and opened a jar of sauce on the shelf to pour over each one. “Cheese is in the fridge,” she said, and Willow got up to get it, also getting out two forks and two cups from the cabinet.

They sat on the floor, in front of the fireplace on the other side of the room, the cabin lit by a warm glow.

“You really just buy the cheese for yourself, huh?” Wanda asked as Willow screwed the top off of the bottle to shake out the Parmesan cheese faster. “I’m pretty sure you’ve gone through two of those in a month, and you’ve only been here for a few nights.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s called living deliciously,” Willow said.

For a while, the two of them ate in silence, the only sound the scraping of their forks against the bowls and the occasional press of wind rocking the cabin. It reminded Willow of the late-night dinners they used to make at the compound, long after everyone had gone to sleep, as they tried their damn hardest to not burn anything or set off the smoke detectors, which happened a few times too many.

“I saw a rat drag an entire burrito across the street the other day,” Willow said suddenly, finally tiring of the quiet.

“What?” Wanda asked.

“A rat. Like the size of a rabbit. Dragging a burrito across the street in Hells Kitchen. A fully wrapped burrito, filling and all. And it didn’t spill even a little of the filling. I stood there and watched the whole thing; I mean it took this rat like five minutes and cars were coming both ways.” She paused to scoop up a clump of sauce and cheese.

“Well?” Wanda said. “Did he make it?”

“Oh, he did,” Willow said. “I mean, it was close, the burrito got grazed by a tire once or twice, but he got it across the street. At one point he started rolling it on its side… now that was really something. It was like I was watching evolution in real time.”

Wanda smiled for the first time that day, a real smile, and it made Willow’s heart swell just a little, proud of the victory, no matter how small. “Hmm, we’re going to see that rat signing the Accords in a few weeks then,” Wanda responded with a small laugh.

“Yeah, right after the pigeon I saw take what I’m pretty sure was a deliberate poop on a cop car yesterday.”

They finished dinner and Willow cleaned up, washing the bowls and utensils in the sink and leaving them out to dry on the counter. She was exhausted, exhausted from the flight, the past week, and she was almost certain that if she wasn’t doing the dishes, she’d fall asleep standing up. She heard the crackle of static as Wanda turned the radio on, beaming in a signal from a lonely public radio station somewhere in the mountains. With a yawn, Willow climbed back over the top of the couch, plopping down and stretching as she tucked one of the pillows under her head.

“Oh, there’s no way you’re going to be able to stay awake for ten,” Wanda said, referencing the time their show started, some true crime radio show that they had been tuning into in lieu of a television and their usual fight over sitcoms, reality television, and documentaries, the latter which usually won out.

“No, I’ll make it,” Willow said. “Creature of the night and all.”

“Have you still been having them?” Wanda asked, laying down across the armchair that cornered the couch.

“What? No,” Willow said. “Not in a long time.”

“So, you’ve been sleeping?”

“Yeah.” Willow knew she didn’t sound convincing, but Wanda didn’t say anything else on the matter, the two of them sitting and listening to the radio as fuzzy alternative music came gently through the small speaker.

In Willow’s mind, there were plenty of other problems beyond stray nightmares, and besides, she knew she’d sleep just fine that night.

[savvyblunders]

Personal Post: Imposter Syndrome, Reading Traditional Books, and thoughts about my own writing

{Just rambles regarding books, fanfiction and some of my thoughts therein.}

It’s been a terribly long time since I read any published books--aside from those written by fellow fanfiction authors. It has reached the point that I find them entirely too cringey. The plots are tame, the characters stiff, the language rote. I especially have a hard time caring if there is a supposed ‘romance’ involved. Forget about het romances, they’re so formulaic that they leave me cold. It isn’t that I have no interest in the portrayal of a relationship between a woman and man, it’s that by and large they might as well have been churned off of a factory production line. 

Part of my objection is to the tired old tropes and gender roles which authors (and readers) don’t seem to realize they’re not only falling prey to, but encouraging with their work. The world doesn’t have to be turned on its head to be interesting, but you shouldn’t know from the first few scenes between characters how it will play out--and further more, not care.

I did read a rather good psychological mystery a few days ago, however. I think perhaps it was successful in part because it was so different from the usual run of stories that people publish, but also because there wasn’t a romance shoe-horned into the storyline. The narrator wasn’t particularly sympathetic, but nor were they entirely unredeemed. I don’t want to give too much away, but it explored the themes of bullying, memory, redemption and revenge, with an enjoyable twist that I didn’t see coming--I was successfully led astray by red herrings, which isn’t always the case when I’m reading mysteries. The book, should anyone be interested, was Girl Gone Mad by Avery Bishop.

{I keep on rambling after the break ;)}

I also read another which was such a stinker I deleted it from my Kindle history and couldn’t tell you the title or author. This beauty had a somewhat interesting premise of a woman who wakes from a six month coma with full amnesia and throughout the book has to struggle with not remembering anything and depending on her husband, children and neighbors for the details of her life. Frustratingly, she finds parts of her personality and tastes have changed--at least as far as they all tell her. She begins to doubt that she is who they say--an issue further compounded when certain facets of her life pre-coma are revealed. Then when the ending arrives, there is a twist and a reveal which could have been pretty neat, only it arrived at the end of such a rote story, with such clunky storytelling and unimaginative language that I kind of didn’t care. It was clear, I might add, that the female protagonist was written by a man. Although blessedly he didn’t go into raptures over her perky breasts, long hair, or other physical attributes [insert vomiting]

My reading resulted in a two-fold feeling. One, traditionally published books are by and large crap. A few months ago I tried reading a book from a famous author whom I used to be quite a fan of. It was part of a series with which I used to be enamored. I settled in, expecting a very enjoyable read. After slogging through three chapters I gave it up. The writing was generic, the characters shallow and the ‘bad guy’ was so sketchily written as to be bewildering, not mysterious. 

That book left me frustrated and annoyed. But it also revealed something to me which I had somewhat accepted and understood prior to that, but not entirely absorbed. Just because a book is traditionally published doesn’t mean it’s any good. Just because an author is well known--or even on the best seller list--doesn’t mean they can write. There are more places to find interesting, funny, heartbreaking, sexy, fun, amazingly written, daring and wonderful stories than at a bookstore or through Kindle. 

The second part of my two-fold feeling was that while, as a writer, I may have much room to grow, I still have valuable skills to offer. My four years of writing fanfiction have honed my talent, refined my style, and influenced my voice, perspective and ability. A good beta, or editor, is invaluable. While I used to write solo and not show it to anyone, simply edit and post, I’ve come to understand the inherent value of feedback. It can be a tricky road, as you might find yourself influenced too much by a reader into trying to suit their tastes rather than your own, but a good beta (eternal thanks to @paialovespie & @hoomhum)--that is to say, a great beta, will not only see the nuts and bolts which might need tightening, but will offer insights which blow your story from ordinary to inspired. The same goes for a ‘personal cheerleader’ (the highest of praise to @mottlemoth) or someone who reminds you at your dark times that you are capable of far more than you can conceive of in that moment. Forget nasty comments online, most of us are our own worst enemies--after all, we know our weakest spots and can zero in on them mercilessly.

Even without a beta, I believe in myself as a writer enough these days (most days) to hope that one day, with hard work, skill, great editing, and some luck, I too could be published. Not a NYT best seller, perhaps, but then, I’m not entirely certain I’d like that. I don’t say this out of any sort of pretentiousness, but because, in essence, these days, I want to write the kind of things that appeal to a more niche audience. I’d like to point with pride at my small book, nestled there on a bookshelf, or available with one click of a button, as something that helps give a voice to a community which has, and still continues to be, marginalized, ignored, fetishized and pandered to, in equal measure. Perhaps it would be for the best if what I wrote wasn’t palatable to the greater reading public.

Of course, those days when I’m full of zest and confidence don’t always last. Like any creator, I fall prey to Imposter Syndrome. Lord, I can’t believe that a time used to exist when I didn’t know what that was! I knew the feeling (oh, how I did), but had no clue that a term existed to encapsulate it. The concept that I wasn’t alone in having days (weeks, months, years) of being cast into doubt that I had anything worth saying--a voice worth listening to--isn’t a new one, but to find out that I’m not alone was unutterably comforting. 

Since, like so many people, I’ve been suffering from a lack of ambition and ability to focus during this global pandemic, I haven’t written much at all, that inner voice rang loud and clear. I’m a fraud, a fake. Any ability I had was used up, clearly as shallow as a mud puddle if a little adversity was enough to dry it out. The struggle to get myself past that was, and is, one that swings from good to bad almost day by day. I had to finally give myself permission to be sad, scared, worried, tired, uninspired. Eventually I decided it was enough that I could find comfort and solace in other’s writing. And oh, how I have! Even though days and days would pass when I couldn’t even muster the interest to read, other times I would consume fanfiction fervently, feverishly. 

And there was so much out there! Adventure, sex, romance, comedy, crack, fluff, hurt/comfort. It seems funny that I can rail against the ‘formulaic’ writing of published books and then turn to ‘tags’ and ‘tropes’ for comfort. But I think the difference lies in the heart that is written into those fanfiction stories. Most of us, while being somewhat influenced by friends, mutuals and fans into writing for a hungry public, are, by and large, writing for ourselves. The old tried and true ‘write what you know’ advice seemed empty and meaningless to me for years. If we only ever write what we know, then how do sci-fi, fantasy, adventure, etc., get written? My brain went to the obvious and ignored the heart of the matter--it isn’t so much what you ‘know’ as writing what you need. What makes you passionate. Even if you’ve never been on a space ship, or been part of a polyamorous, platonic communal family group, if you write it with that yearning and spirit in your heart, it will reach out to someone else.

Fanfiction, at it’s core, is self-comfort.

In my estimation, looking at traditionally published books, it seems that what most of them lack is that heart. The writers aren’t writing because they need the story, or because they are compelled to tell it. It isn’t that they had a hell of a good time writing it, or that they made themselves laugh while doing so. They had a publishing deal to fulfil, a publisher to make happy, a reading public who had certain expectations. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but if it’s your only motivation...then the writing suffers the neglect and a percerptive reader will note the difference. 

By and large, the fandom, the ship, even the trope, aren’t what captivates me most. I’m a pretty eclectic reader. I enjoy a good story more than I do the fact that it is a particular pairing. The draw is how well it is written, any chances the author took, the indulgence into style, formatting, etc. that they allowed themselves. So why should published books be any different? I’ve heard (non-fandom) people dismiss fanfiction as niche. Perhaps it is. But it is also broad, vast, uncharted territory where we’re all having a lot of fun and enjoying the hell out of ourselves.

Maybe those published authors need to spend a little time with us. 

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Making omelettes at an egg farm

Annika has an egg farm, e-i-e-i-o... On this farm she has a bunch of chickens, e-i-e-i-o!

Literally the first thing that popped in my head when Annika posted about buying the farm. I still can't believe the place is hers - and Kaisa's too - like it was totally unexpected but with how things are turning out now, I can't imagine it happening any other way!

Running an egg farm was pretty much an accidental thing. Old Mr. Elmhearst built the place about fifty years ago, becoming known as the egg and poultry man for nearby towns. Then about a few years ago, he had to go into semi-retirement for health reasons before fully retiring last year. He then sold the farm and moved away to live with family. A neighbor took care of the chickens in the meantime while waiting for someone to buy the place.

It was the neighbor, Vint, who planted the idea of Annika running the egg farm through an offhand comment. Being a farmer himself, as well as the owner of the local produce stand, keeping up the egg farm on top of that is just too much for him. He's been helping Mr. Elmhearst find buyers but it turns out that egg farmers are a niche market. Of course, Vint's willing to keep running the place on the side for as long as it takes to find a new owner, but he can only do so much.

He mentioned the dilemma to his friends, who have also been helping out in terms of keeping up and looking for potential buyers. Annika and Kaisa were hanging out at the diner with a friend when Vint approached them and the guys got to talking about the egg farm. Annika and Kaisa were aware of the situation so Kaisa offered to pass the information along to her colleagues at the hospital.

What caught Annika's attention was the money. When Vint mentioned how successful Elmhearst was in terms of the money he made, Annika was all ears. Over the next several days she did a lot of research and asked Vint about the place. No one had any idea what she was thinking - they all thought she was just curious.

Let's just say that when Annika announced that she was going to buy the egg farm, no one believed her. Even Daisy Jane and I were questioning it when she posted about it online. It's not that we didn't think she could do it - more like why would someone with absolutely no background in farming want to take on something as big as running an egg farm? Given how at the time Annika was going through a bit of a rough time, it seemed like an impulse decision. Can't blame her though, as I too would've hopped on to the first opportunity to break out of a rut no matter how out of left field it was, especially if it fell straight into my lap.

Using her life's savings, Annika bought the egg farm. She had to do some poking and prodding to get Vint and Mr. Elmhearst to sell it to her. Reluctantly, they accepted her offer, cutting the price in half and saving half that money in case Annika changed her mind. Kaisa wasn't too crazy about the idea either, but she supported Annika on this new venture, offering to help out when Vint was unavailable.

As expected, Annika had a rough transition. Up until then she had never done anything related to farming or raising chickens. She never even had her own garden or took care of more than one plant at a time. Everything was brand new to her!

No one would hold it against her if she gave up. There were many times when she wanted to throw in the towel but she said that a little voice in her head kept telling her to get back up. Annika figured that a year was enough time to figure out whether or not running an egg farm's her thing - the others weren't sure if she was going to last a few months. Again, it's not that she can't do it, it's a question of whether is this something she really wanted to do.

Fast forward about six months in and everything's changed! Things still aren't 100% smooth, but it looks like Annika's found her footing. Just when she was about to admit that raising chickens wasn't for her, she decided to give it one last go. It's still a lot of work but Annika's finally starting to enjoy it. Big plot twist, right? From finding a routine that works for her to getting more comfortable working with chickens, Annika found that running an egg farm isn't too intimidating once you finally know what you're doing.

It also helps that she has loyal customers - mainly friends and family at the moment - so that's been keeping her afloat. Even when she struggled with the farm, she managed to break even with the profits and upkeep, which is actually pretty good. Obviously she's nowhere near how Elmhearst ran the place at its peak, but if she keeps this up, maybe she'll get there in a few years. For now she's happy that she's making a profit, and that buying the farm wasn't for nothing.

Seeing the quaint little farm in the countryside with the chickens and pastoral scenery, I can see why Annika was charmed by this place. It's one thing to read about her posts about the farm online, it's another to see her run the place. Annika's always been a fast learner, but being able to pretty much run an egg farm with no experience is an impressive feat! And of course, Vint helps out whenever he can so that makes things a little easier. Annika hopes to fully run things by herself once she's got everything down.

The house is in the process of renovations since it's pretty old. Elmhearst managed to fix up the place as much as he could before selling, but there's still a lot that needs to get done. Fortunately most of what's left to be fixed isn't really anything big, but now with Kaisa in the process of moving in with Annika, she wants to make sure the house is in tip top shape before she settles in.

That's part of the reason why me and the campers are visiting here. Aside from wanting to meet up with old friends, of course. I'm always accumulating on craft materials so I try to use them up rather than let them sit in my inventory because you can only store so much stuff at a time.

Along with building stuff for the house, we also got to help Annika out on the farm. She has six chickens, nicknamed the Spice Girls because of their names - Ginger, Cinnamon, Pepper, Cayenne, Anise, and Nutmeg. Aren't they cute names? I have never been in a chicken coop before so it was an interesting experience. Still getting used to being around them - I don't know why but I'm afraid of getting pecked or bitten by them. But for the most part they're pretty tame and friendly. I can see why Annika became attached to them once she got used to them.

Yeah, I don't know how Annika does it. Honestly, I probably would've given up as soon as the chickens started acting out. Farm life just ain't my cup of tea so anyone who can run one all by themselves is impressive in my book. I'm so proud of Annika and her accomplishments!

Kaisa stops by often to drop off some of her stuff and help out around the farm. I think her moving in with Annika is for the best. She's a nurse at the hospital, working the night shift - something that her dad and brothers aren't happy with. Basically they're early birds while Kaisa's a night owl - and the guys often make fun of her for sleeping in and such. Like, no offense to those who like waking up early but why do some of them feel the need to flex on that? I'm a night owl myself and why some people see that as a flaw that needs to be fixed is a mystery to me.

Like I said, Kaisa works the night shift from 7PM to 7AM. Being a new nurse, most of the entry level positions are for nights, so you gotta take what you can get. Working nights isn't bad though, things are a bit more quiet and you get paid more. Plus it's not like Kaisa's become nocturnal - she only works three days a week - so it's not like the job's taking over her life. In fact, the night shift works out perfectly for her and she loves it!

Literally the only reason why her family doesn't like it is because it's inconvenient for them. By inconvenient, I mean it goes against what they believe. Kaisa's dad has been pushing her to switch to days now that she's been working for over a year, which Kaisa has no desire to do. It also doesn't help that her family sees the night shift as a "lesser" position because patients are usually asleep at the time despite the fact that she is just as busy and gets more benefits from the job. Now it's getting to the point where Kaisa's finally fed up with them trying to push their standards on her that it's time for her to leave the nest.

I honestly don't understand people who feel the need to push their own ideals into others. They're the kind of people who act like their way is the best and if you aren't like them, then you need to be fixed. Although a good number of them do mean well sometimes, it's just exhausting trying to get them to understand that not everyone functions like they do.

Vint also drops by from time to time to help out and check in on us. Annika credits him for being the reason why she kept trying on the egg farm. Had she been running it all by herself, she would've given up after a few days. Kaisa says he's a good guy, but has a tendency to spread himself a little too thin. Although the three of them grew up together in the same town, it wasn't until Annika became neighbors with Vint when they really got to know each other. So in a way, he's become Annika and Kaisa's mentor/older brother figure. I'm looking forward to getting to know him some more in the next few days.

In between renovations and tending to the chickens, we got to looking up egg recipes like omelettes, quiches, custards, and more. Today we made omelettes as Vint gave us a big box full of fresh dairy and produce. I'm not an expert at making omelettes so it was good practice! Though, to be honest, I'm not the biggest fan of omelettes - they're a bit heavy and eggy for me so I can only enjoy them once in a while. But I have to say, using fresh eggs and veggies really do make a difference!

Since we were feeling creative from all the building and interior decorating, we kinda threw together an omelette contest. It's always fun to come up with new recipes and share them with friends!

Pancetti made an arugula, salmon, and goat cheese omelette over toast. I don't know why I never thought of having an omelette over toast - it's genius! Plus the goat cheese and salmon balance each other well while the arugula adds a nice contrast to the flavors. I think this is my favorite out of all the omelettes we made today.

Erik's creation is a pizza omelette, a creation that's fun to put together. It's basically a pizza but the crust is a cheesy omelette. Drizzle marinara, add some cheese and other toppings and voila - pizza omelette! I made mine with mozzarella, ricotta, onions, peppers, and sausage.

Plucky threw together an omelette salad topped with a creamy ranch dressing. The omelette's made with caramelized onions and chopped up into strips. For the ranch, she made some buttermilk, added a bunch of herbs and seasonings, and drizzled it over the salad. For some reason I don't like eggs in my salad but this is an exception - especially with the dressing.

Claude went for a dessert omelette, an interesting twist that turned out great! You'd think it would end up tasting like sweetened scrambled eggs or a custard gone wrong, but it's not. It's kinda like a pudding in terms of texture, but not overly sweet thanks to the cream cheese. To add to the dessert element is coconut sticky rice, which pairs well with the cream cheese omelette.

It's been fun helping Annika and Kaisa out on the farm. Like I said, none of us ever imagined Annika, out of all people, to run an egg farm. There's still a lot that she has to learn, which she's looking forward to. It's a lot of work, but she's been enjoying it a lot. Now that I've seen it for myself, I can't imagine her doing anything else. I can't wait to see where this venture will take her!

Tomorrow's more of the same - renovations, collecting eggs, and tending to the chickens. We're also gonna make puddings and help set up for the Apple Dumpling Festival, where Annika's running an egg stand.