#I'd like to do a series of these at some point (when my wrist is less fucked-_-) with more of my ocs and the animals I associate them with

[da3drat]

Meri and the Hare

been wanting to do something like this for a whileeee. I definitely associate her with hares. something about being quick, agile, and aware of her surroundings in the way only a prey animal can LMAO

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 8 - The Lightening King

Chapter Summary - A storm hits, igniting an unexpected fear from one of the boys, and bringing him a little closer to Y/N. Y/N decides to investigate Hongjoong's office while home alone.

warnings: trauma-induced fear, oral (f receiving)

Series Masterlist

MINORS NOT ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT

It had been a long time since I'd had company during a storm. However, it was still the same as it was before. I had no one to turn to.

I had been in the kitchen since about 2am, waiting for the storm to pass while sipping on some water to calm my nerves. It was worse when I was alone living in that crappy apartment, I'd usually cower in my bathroom until the storm would pass.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter, far away from the window by the sink. I was usually calm this time, like something supernatural was comforting me. As I sat, another crack of lightning illuminated the room, revealing a silhouette in the doorway.

I let out a yell, luckily muffled by a boom of thunder. The silhouette steps out of the dark, revealing Jongho watching me with a puzzled expression.

"You scared me!" I snap.

"Why are you awake?" He asks, his voice rough from sleep. He steps a little closer, I notice he glances at the window briefly before moving away from it. "I went to check on you-" He shuts his mouth quickly.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. Did he go into my room?

He stays silent, avoiding eye contact. He sighs, hopping up onto the counter beside me, not looking at me as I just stare at him dumbfounded. This is probably the longest we'd stayed in a room alone together.

He glances at my wrist, his eyes scanning over the healing area. "Does it hurt?" He asks softly, looking at me.

I glance at him before looking down at the cup in my hands. "Not anymore," I answer. The bruise had died down after a few days, I kept it uncovered on purpose so I could rub it in Seonghwa's face a little.

He refused to look at me, not even in passing. Wooyoung and Hongjoong had tried to speak to me, but I'd ignored them. That's what they get for doing nothing. Wooyoung had gotten pouty once he realised I was ignoring him, whining whenever I'd walk away from him if he wanted to talk about his day. Hongjoong seemed to not care, his infuriating grin visible even in my peripherals.

I missed Seonghwa a little, which was strange considering what he had done. Maybe I missed the idea he had fatuated for me.

"Y/N?" Jongho calls out softly, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. "I am sorry... About all this."

"Why are you apologising?" It wasn't his fault, I was the one who agreed to do this, I wasn't forced.

"We should have warned you about things." He says, staring down at his feet that dangled. I took a moment to take in his attire. Rarely did I see them in something as basic as a shirt and sweatpants. Jongho only wore a baggy shirt and grey sweatpants in that moment, a look I could have never imagined on him up until this point.

"I knew I was getting into something shady." I say, "So don't feel bad for me."

Jongho hums softly, glancing at me briefly. "Why are you up so late?" He asks, looking me in the eye for the very first time. His eyes were so calm. Something about them made me want to fall into them and never return to this world.

"I'm scared of thunder." I say, causing him to raise his eyebrow. "You better not laugh." I huff.

"No, it's fine." He chuckles. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't like lightning."

I stiffle a snort. Big, gruff and scary Jongho is scared of lightning? Who would have guessed.

"I'm not laughing at you!" He complains, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Is there a reason?" I ask, placing my cup down on the counter.

"I suppose." He says, face dropping. "Does your fear of thunder have a reason?" I nod in answer.

The night I left, my father chased me up the stairs in rage. I never thought he'd actually cared that much about my presence to be so angry that I had made it into the Society. I managed to lock myself in my room, but the banging on my door went on for hours. The profanities, the promise of my death, every possible name or slur under the sun was thrown at me that night. I managed to pack a bag and sneak out of my bedroom window, not even bothering with goodbyes.

My mother never came to help. No one did. My sister was too weak at that time to plead with him, and as far as I knew, Chalita was dead. I had no one.

I told Jongho the part about my father, I'd never told anyone about it before. But something about the boy next to me made me want to open up to him, to tell him everything.

He listened, his eyes never leaving my face as I talked for what felt like hours.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, hesitating for my hand before pulling away. "No child should ever go through something like that."

I nod in agreement. I'd come to terms with my shit childhood long ago, like most children of abuse do at a certain age. Though it sticks, you grow from it and vow to never repeat those actions again.

"What about you?" I ask suddenly.

"Me?"

"Why're you scared of lightning?" I ask.

Jongho looks around the kitchen for a moment before speaking. "When I was little, my house caught on fire. Electrical wire in my dads workshop caught on fire while I was at school. My younger brother decided to stay home that day too." He explains.

"I wasn't even there... Yet, for some reason, whenever I see lightning or wires just laying around, I get scared." I nod in understanding, and unlike him, I don't hesitate to take his hand. He looks at me, somewhat shocked before squeezing slightly.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"11." He answers. "I didn't grow up in this life. My families riches was nothing compared to this." He says, gesturing around, referring to the house in general.

"How did you get here then?" I ask.

"Yeosang found me." He says, looking towards the centre island. "I was working as a bouncer for a bar back in college and dealing with these two guys tryna get in without ID. Guess he liked me." He chuckles. I smile at his story. "By the time he convinced me to meet Hongjoong, everyone was almost here. Well, except Wooyoung." He states. "Wooyoung was the last to join."

I listen intently, picking up the small crumbs that I could about these men.

"They aren't that bad." He says, noticing my analysing. "They just... We all have our issues."

"Issues that involve threatening me?" I say, giving him a deadpanned look.

"Well, that was a bit much, I agree." He says with a sigh, looking down sheepishly.

"I just want to be accepted properly." I say, hopping off of the counter to stand in front of him. "I want to know you guys, I don't want to be an outcast or some woman that will one day give Hongjoong an heir." He flinches at my last sentence. I guess they didn't know that I knew of their true intentions.

Asami had laid it out for me during the brunch. I could respect her bluntness in all honesty.

"I don't want to be just an incubator."

"You're more than that." He blurts out. "Mingi can see it. I can see it." He hops down from the counter also, standing in front of me. "Look, I don't want to make excuses for them because what Seonghwa did was wrong." He says, gently tilting my chin up to look at him. "But that doesn't mean that they aren't trying."

"Well... They're not trying very hard." I grumble, causing him to chuckle. A rumble of thunder, which makes me jump in surprise, gripping Jongho's forarms tightly.

"Come on." He says, taking my hand and tugging me along. I follow mindlessly, as he leads me back towards the stairs and to my bedroom.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." He offers, closing my door behind us. I head to my bed, not hesitating to jump onto the soft sheets. He comes to sit beside me, his feet still firmly on the floor as I sit up to look at him.

"You don't have to." I say softly, but he doesn't get up, only shifting a little closer.

"I want to." He whispers. "I know I don't talk much." He starts, his breath fanning across my face. "But I think you are one of the prettiest women I have ever laid eyes on."

In an instant, I feel his lips on mine, his tongue running across my lower lip seeking entry. I grant it, much to my own surprise, humming softly as he gently moves me to lay down against the soft cushions.

A heat stirs inside me as he pulls away, his hard gaze boaring down at me so intensely my skin felt on fire. I pull him down again, tangling my fingers in his hair, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. He grinds his hips down on mine, desperately seeking friction as his hands scrunch up the sheets around my head.

"Do you want this?" He whispers, his lips hovering close to my ear.

"Yes." I say, voice could barely be heard over the thundering of rain outside. But, he heard me. His lips moved to my jaw, then to my neck, then finally his fingers unbuttoned the first button of my pyjama top to reveal my collarbone and top of my cleavage. He left soft bites and sloppy kisses there. My hand stayed behind his head as he went, my fingers tugging on his hair lightly with every little nibble he punctured into my skin.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes before moving down, his hands spreading my thighs further apart to make space for him before his hands found the waistband of my shorts. A flicker of question flashed into his eyes, darkening once more when I nodded.

He pulls my shorts and panties down together, throwing them towards the end of the bed before lifting my thighs to rest on his shoulders. I could feel his breath, cold against the searing heat of my core.

I laid my head back, waiting for contact with bated breath. He moved his head forward, pressing his tongue flat against my clit to test the waters. When my body jolts, he moves to my core, groaning at the taste before beginning to devour me like it's his last meal.

The storm outside is forgotten. All I can feel is the way Jongho explores and brings me pleasure I have never felt before with only his tongue. I look down, my eyes meeting his as he watches my every reaction, my bodies movements, and facial expressions with every flick of his tongue. He reaches a thumb up to gently circle my clit, causing me to let out a soft gasp.

My moans are soft and high pitched, only stirring him in more as he presses his face impossibly closer, practically smothering himself with my slick.

I can feel my orgasm approaching, the cord in my stomach tightening as I neared the edge. I knew he could tell, the way his thumb moved faster over my clit, bringing me closer and closer as if coaxing me towards release.

I felt something snap, letting out a soft cry as the pleasure washed over me. He helped me through it, not pulling away until my body fell limp and my breathing steadied. He slowly moves back up my body, pressing a gentle kiss to my forhead before laying down beside me.

"What about you?" I ask softly, my voice hoarse.

"I'll be fine." He answers, his strong arm pulling me closer. "You can return the favour another day."

Feeling watched wasn't an odd thing. It had started since the first time I noticed Aurora's portrait, and I found a comfort in it.

The presence didn't feel hostile, despite the lack of affection from the men I lived with, making this odd prison feel a little warmer.

I heard a call of my name on the breeze as it flowed through the winding halls of the estate. It was as if it was beckoning me towards Hongjoongs office, one of two places I was forbidden to go. I knew if he'd found out I went in there, Seonghwas threat would become reality. However, that didn't deter me.

I waited until I was home alone, which was normally between 7am and 5pm on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, giving me plenty of time to snoop. I had no idea what I was looking for in hindsight, but someone wanted me in there. Or something.

Hongjoongs office was a mess. Books staked to great heights and pushed away into corners of the room, his desk covered with so many papers I could only get a glimpse of the desks surface.

I move around the office, careful not to trip on anything as I look at a specific bookshelf full of folders. The folders had names written on the side, all members of high society. I stopped briefly when I saw my own name, the dust on the shelf indicating it had been recently taken down and put back. I looked for others with similar dust patterns. Kim Namjoon, YangYang Liu, Lalisa Manoban. I paused when I saw it, my breath hitching and heart stopping briefly; Chalita L/N. My sister.

Hongjoong had a file on my sister? The one I pursumed dead over 10 years ago. Why?

I take the file, staring down at the cover for a moment before opening it. There were photos from our childhood, of her, myself, and our youngest sister, all smiles without a care in the world. She was 7 years older and was a firecracker, to say the least. I missed her.

I heard the front door open and close downstairs, making the hairs on my arms stand up. Did one of them come home? I glance around, noticing Hongjoongs laptop still sitting on his desk. Shit. I stood my ground despite the fear coursing through my veins. He knew something about my sister, I had to know what.

When his office door swung open, he stood there in shock. For once, I had him by surprise, and it had me thrilled.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong snaps, his eyes turning into a glare.

"What do you know about her?" I ask, ignoring his question and holding up the file. "What do you know about my sister?"

"Put it back. You shouldn't be in here." He snaps, stepping closer, but I raise the file in defence.

"Don't tou dare tell me what to do when you've done nothing but lie to my face!" I yell, causing him to step back.

"Okay. I'm sorry." He says gently, holding his hands up.

"Cut the act." I scowl, causing his face to relax into a teasing grin.

"You're picking up fast, Princess." He chuckles, stepping closer and gripping the file and ripping it from my hands. He walks towards the window, gazing down at the cover.

"Chalita is a topic of interest right now." He says simply. He glances at me for a moment, studying me. "So it's true you thought she was dead?"

"How did you-?"

"I know a lot of things." Hongjoong says. "Everyone my men come in contact with, everyone you know, everyone that you will know, I know them all." He says, walking to stand in front of me again.

"How did you know I thought she was dead?" I ask.

"Your father did that. Told everyone that she was years ago." He explains. "Said he found her mutilated, like a victim of The Cobra." He says, noticing the flicker of familiarity in my gaze.

"But she's alive?" I ask.

"Yes." He answers simply, sliding the file back into its place. "Now, should I tell Seonghwa you snuck into my office?"

I scoff. "Do it, when he comes raging, I'll already be out the door." I say, turning on my heel before he stops me, taking my wrist gently.

"He is sorry." Hongjoong says, but I don't turn around.

"It's not an apology if it comes from someone else." I say, ripping my hand away and walking out into the hallway. I stop for a moment. "Maybe you and the others should take notes from Mingi and Jongho. Or have they not told you of our time together?" I ask, turning to see his puzzled expression.

"What?"

"I see they left details out." I laugh, turning once again and heading back towards my room with a skip in my step, knowing full well Hongjoong is watching my every move.

By 8pm I was hiding away in my room once again. I hoped Mingi or Jongho would join me, my stomach feeling giddy at the feeling.

When I heard someone knock on the door, a smile spread across my face. I jumped up and shuffled hastily to the door, only for my smile to drop when I realised that it was neither.

Seonghwa stood there, one hand behind his back and the other reaching out to stop the door from slamming shut in his face. It backfired, his fingers getting wedged roughly in the door causing him to let out a grunt of pain. I swing the door open again in shock, staring at his fingers and then at him.

"Guess that makes us even." He jokes through gritted teeth, cradling his hand against his chest. That's when I noticed it, a box clutched tightly in the hand that was hidden. "Can we talk?"

I blink for a moment, processing his words before foolishly stepping aside. He enters slowly, making his way to my bed and sitting down on the end. I stay standing, opting to sit on the loveseat by the window.

"I'm sorry." He says, breaking the awkward tension. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."

"Yea, you shouldn't have." I say, crossing my arms. He huffs softly, a smile spreading across his face.

"I promise I'll do better to keep my anger in check. I did not mean to hurt you. Understand that." He says, moving now to kneel on both knees in front of me. "You were right with what you said with Jongho. You don't deserve to be just a woman to us when you've accepted us so kindly and without much complaint." He says, flattening my palm and placing the box in my hand.

"What is this?" I ask.

"A peace offering." He says, gesturing for me to open it. I do, shocked by what I find inside.

It's a ring, but not an engagement ring. It was an exact replica of the one each of them had on their finger. Signifying their bond to each other, that they were a family. This ring would mean they were recognising me as one of them. How good did Jongho talk me up?

"Seonghwa.."

"You don't have to accept it right away." He says. "Just- Know that we're trying."

My gaze softens as I look at the ring. The details are so much clearer now, every dent and engraving.

"I know." I whisper, looking up at him. "And I'm trying to."

taglist

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling

@neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

@vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingisglasses

@pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland @joonhasjiminsjams @atzlordz @lightwxodd

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snowflakes dancing on the wind

the wistful wyvern, chapter one

a/n: this series is the second instalment i my eflorr trilogy. if you haven't already read fused with the foe, then i'd highly recommend reading that first so that you know what's going on.

summary: three years where you’d sworn off love entirely, tried to interpret it as a good thing, a gift really. You could be more productive, more focused. But now that you were home again, hearing the molasses tone of his voice and seeing the beads of sweat slowly rolling down the landscape of his body, over the ink that crawled up his left arm, you knew three years wasn’t enough to mend your heart. The rest of your life probably wasn’t long enough either. 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, flashbacks, alcohol consumption, kissing, dragon attack, childbirth (with very ronja rövardotter timing), blood, weapons, violence, crying

word count: 4296

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

series masterlist | next chapter

info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist

masterlist | join my taglist

TEN YEARS AGO, ON THE THIRTY-SEVENTH DAY OF WINTER 848 PR

A biting chill swirled through the echoing halls of Yoslor Penitentiary that noon when two gruff guards yanked you from your cell and dragged you to the far side wing of the prison. 

Passing countless doors, at last, they arrived at one with someone already on patrol on the outside. As a rusty key twisted in the lock with a reverberating click, the guard, still barely letting your feet skim the dirty floor, practically shoved you inside the chamber. 

As they threw you down into a cold chair and yanked at your chains to fasten them in a strong loop smelted into the stone floor by your feet, a voice suddenly caught your ears and caused your squinting eyes to flicker up. 

“Easy, boys! No need to drag her by the scruff of her neck as if she were a cat and not an eighteen-year-old girl,” you noticed the man already seated on the opposite side of the table, “would you please uncuff her?” he requested with an outstretched hand, a command, to your surprise, the guards obeyed, “thank you,” he leaned back in his seat as the manacles fell from your sore wrists. 

Rubbing the angry marks wrapped around your joints, a shiver ran through you as you saw the cloud of your exhale clear in the air. 

When the guards had settled on either side of the exit behind you, the blonde stranger opposing you tilted his head and asked, “do you know who I am?” 

“Should I know who you are?” your gaze lifted from your wrists and met his, “look man,” you sighed heavily, “if I at some point stole something from you, I don’t have it anymore. I don’t really have much of anything anymore in here,” a short and dry chuckle tied a bow on your statement. 

With his stare never straying, his chin then tilted slightly as he said, “I am Steven Grant Rogers, crown prince of Eflorr,” his title rolled off his tongue with such ease as if it didn’t have any merit at all, “and you’re Y/n Y/l/n, daughter of the famed One-eyed Ollie,” he rested his forearms against the table’s edge, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Blinking back at the royal, your brows furrowed softly at the mystery of why a man such as him would pay someone like you the time of day, “…alright, uh, sure.”

“We’ve kept an eye on you for a very long time, long before your father slipped away and made you take the fall for the break-in at the Sulmier estate,” your jaw couldn’t help but clench at the memory, “you’re very talented.”

“Yeah, can you just hurry up and tell me what you want?” you grunted as your knee tensely bounced beneath the table, “they’re serving soup today for supper and I’d rather not miss it.”

Huffing out what seemed like an amused breath, the prince glanced down a moment as he announced, “I have a proposition for you,” he met your gaze once more, “either you can pay for your father’s crimes here in prison or you can come work for me,” he offered slowly, “twenty years either way, but in here you will be treated as, well, essentially an animal,” his eyes briefly flicked around the cold chamber, “whereas with me you will be just as any other warden. You will have the same rights, the same opportunities, maybe even a home by the end of it.”

“…you wanna give me a job?” you squinted back at him. 

To which he simply nodded, “yes.” 

“Me?” your eyebrows only seemed to knit together tighter. 

“Like I said, you’re very talented. I could use someone of your skillset,” he then leaned back in his seat, “so, I’ll give you some time to decide,” he clasped his hands together in his lap, “if you don’t show up at Fort Borün before all the snow has melted, then let’s just say that you wouldn’t be able to get very far with the bounty there’ll be on your head.”

The heavy ivory pelts that made up your cloak billowed around your frame as the piercing wind whirled it around. You had to lean forward a bit to even make any headway in the howling blizzard that coursed around you. Icy snowflakes struck the upper part of your features that the tugged-up scarf didn’t cover. 

Squinting in the snowstorm as you crested the hill and walked under the archway, you glanced above and spotted icicles hanging from the drawn-up portcullis. 

As you glanced around the courtyard and the snow-dusted castle looming in the background, your feet soon carried you over towards a pair of bundled-up wardens posted outside a door. 

“Excuse me,” you interrupted the lewd joke one of them was halfway through telling, “could any of you–” 

But it wasn’t till the soldier to the right jumped and yelped, “ah, by Apa!” that it occurred to you just how camouflaged your frosty visage had been in the blizzard.

“Holy fuck!” the other one clutched his heart after nearly drawing the crossbow strapped to his back.

“Oh gods, sorry. Thought you were a snowman some fucking pixies had put a curse on,” the first knight, whose head was warmed by a thick knitted cap, steadied his breathing with a short laugh, “what do you need?”

Glancing between them, you asked, “could you point me in the direction of Master Tully’s office?”

“Ah,” the beanie-wearing warden nodded, “you’re a new recruit?”

Stifling a laugh, you tilted your head and huffed, “you could say that.” 

“I’ll show you,” the dark-haired one gestured, “come with me.”

“Thanks,” you offered him a small smile as he then held the door behind them open for you to enter first. 

The dining hall of the bustling barracks that you entered nearly gave you whiplash with the warm contrast it had to the freezing environment you’d just been trudging through for weeks. The fireplace down on the far wall warmed the interior and lit up the faces of the soldiers halfway through their meals. 

As you pulled back your snow-dusted hood and tugged your frosty scarf down to expose your nose and mouth, your palm attempted to brush some of the flakes off of you. 

“He’s right over there,” your guide pointed to the balding man sitting alone at a table in the corner of the chamber, before he disappeared from your side and joined some comrades on a long bench, sneakily stealing a chunk of bread from one of their bowls. 

Slowly stepping closer to the older man, hunched over some parchments as he dipped and softened a crusty piece of bread in his stew, you carefully croaked, “master Tully?”

“Aye?” he lifted his gaze to find you. 

“Hi, I was told to come talk to you,” you stepped closer and reached out your hand, “I’m Y/n, I don’t know if you–”

“Ah, yes, Y/n! Great to have you on board, lass,” his gruff hand swiftly gave yours a shake, “you must be tired after that long journey, so why don’t you grab a bowl,” he briefly pointed to the humble buffet off to the side, “have a wee rest, and then we’ll sit down and discuss everything after that, yeah?”

Offering him a light nod, you agreed, “sounds good, sir.” 

As you wandered over to fill up a bowl, Tully waved over the warden who’d shown you the way. 

“Barnes?” 

Swiftly, the soldier rose from his seat, “yes, sir?”

“Go show Y/n her quarters,” Tully returned his attention towards his stew. 

Barnes’ dark brows then knitted together, “who’s Y/n?” to which his commander simply pointed with the hand still clutching a chunk of bread, “oh…” the warden’s glance followed the trail, “right…” before raising his voice to catch your ears, “oi, snow!” you didn’t turn around even as he neared, “hey!”

Dragging the curve of a spoon from your lips when you finally noticed his stare, you finally perked up, “who, me?” and pointed to yourself. 

“Yeah you,” he didn’t slow down as he gestured for you to shadow him, “come.”

“Oh, uh,” with the bowl of stew still in your gasp, you tried not to spill as you scurried to keep up, “my name is actually Y/n,” you corrected him.

Halting his step momentarily, he turned and reached out an inked hand for you to shake, “Bucky,” a small smirk tugged at his lips as your eyes finally got the chance to wash over his visage now that his striking features weren’t veiled by a blizzard, “welcome aboard, snow.”

PRESENT DAY

You felt like somehow you should have predicted that this would be your welcome home greeting. That this striking heartbreak could have somehow been prevented if you’d only remembered when training was usually held. 

It was just rubbing salt into the wound you’d been trying so fiercely to mend. Yet, it was still there, open and festering, bleeding till you nearly passed out. You couldn’t start doing that again, purposely seeking out the salt just to feel something, just to for a single second feel good before reality settled in again. Perhaps your timing had been on purpose, perhaps your subconscious had just been so strong that it had forced you to return home right at the time that practice was held in the middle of the courtyard, and none other than Bucky stood in the centre, shirtless and glistening with sweat, as he ran the newcomers through a drill, sparring with each and every one of them till they yielded. 

You tried to get your feet to move again, you truly did, but you couldn’t keep walking past, couldn’t look away, could barely even breathe as he moved like water through the trainees.

But then suddenly, as your fiddling fingers had found the long, braided leather cord wrapped nearly a dozen times around your wrist to form a bracelet, the playful comment that left Bucky’s lips to egg the recruits on fell short, as his ocean eyes flickered up to find you, only worsening the bittersweet agony you were in.

THREE YEARS AGO, ON THE SEVENTY-SECOND DAY OF AUTUMN 855 PR

“Oh, wow,” Bucky swiftly lowered his goblet from his lips and exclaimed as his stare found you, right as you passed over the threshold and entered the bustling ballroom, “holy shit.”

Closing the short distance between you as he was standing off to the side, your skin prickled at his alarm, “what?”

“No, just–, you’re in a dress,” his gaze danced across the emerald silk draped around your form, the fabric’s shade made you stand out amidst all of the warm harvest fest decorations, “never thought I’d see the day…”

“Well, they aren’t really that practical in our line of work, so–” 

“Oh, I beg to differ…” he smirked, taking a sip of wine which by the looks of it was in no way his first cup, “I think you should always be dressed like this…” slowly stepping closer, his stare continued to lick you up in a way it never had before, “especially with a neckline as low cut as that,” as his eyes brashly dipped to your cleavage, your hand couldn’t help but shoot up to tug it up a bit more, a nervous instinct that only conjured a deep chuckle within his chest, “happy harvest fest to me.”

With cheeks burning hotter than the sun, you coughed out, “you–, uh, you look good as well.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he cheekily cocked a brow and leaned in a bit closer, causing your spine to press up against the wall behind you, “how good?” 

As your heart fluttered and nearly flew out of your chest, you heard yourself sputter, “oh, well, I mean, you always look good, you just–, uh…” your words then poofed away into nothing as he nonchalantly tugged a stray piece of hair behind your ear and let his touch linger on your heated cheek, “uhm…” 

“I just what, snow?” he purred, and you swore you saw his gaze flicker down to your lips. 

“You–… you–…” 

But before your wildest dreams could come true, an individual accidentally bumped into Bucky and lodged him far enough away from you to snuff out your hopes of the taste of his lips. 

“Wow,” the guy briefly clapped Bucky’s wide shoulder, “sorry, mate.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled as the fella went on his way. Raising up his goblet for another sip, he then turned his attention back to you, “so,” his grin was still bright on his features, “you gonna let me dance with you tonight?” 

“Dance?” your eyes grew wide, “oh, y-yeah,” you tried your best, though still failed to sound casual, “sure, if you want to.”

“Great,” he held your gaze a moment longer before saying, “I’m gonna go grab another drink, you want anything?” 

“No thanks, I’m good,” though there was now a decent enough distance betwixt you two, you still stood virtually plastered against the wall. 

“Alright,” he breathed as he began to back up, offering your gown one last glance before he disappeared, “that dress…” his head gently shook from side to side as a long exhale flowed from his lungs, “gods, you look way too hot tonight, it’s not fair.”

When his visage was no longer in sight, you slumped down a bit and took a generous breather, the grin on your face nearly making your cheeks ache. 

After your pulse had settled back from the nervous butterfly he had transformed it into, a fellow warden spotted you and shouted. 

“Hey, Y/n!” he waved for you to come over and join the little cluster he was on the edge of, “you’re still here! I thought you’d left already with lord fancy pants or whatever.”

“Lord Witherington, and yeah, it’s first in the morning that the ship leaves port,” you walked up to him. 

“Well, at least you get to enjoy one last harvest fest extravaganza before becoming a babysitter.”

“Hey, he is doing important research up in Efira, in areas that haven’t been explored since Rimesunder’s demise,” you raised a slightly defensive hand as you noted the historical significance, “it’s an honour to protect him.”

“Yeah, yeah, honour and all that crap,” he sighed light-heartedly as he raised his mug up to his lips, “but you still have time to get seriously fucked up tonight.”

“So that I can be both seasick and hungover tomorrow?”

“So that you can for once cut loose and have one last fun night before you leave!” 

Marinating on his point a moment, your thoughts couldn’t help but float away to Bucky. 

What if tonight was the night? What if you just finally took the leap and told him how you felt? 

Then, like a clock arm clicking into the new hour, you made your decision. 

“Give me that,” you grabbed the drink out of his hands before he could take another sip. 

“Wow, that’s what I’m talking about,” the soldier cheered as you swiftly downed the strong brew, “yeah!”

“Gods,” your face screwed up when you swallowed the last gulp, “that’s disgusting. What is that?”

“My uncle’s mead.”

“Urgh,” the sickly sweet taste burned on your tongue. 

“Yeah, he’s not that good at it,” he accepted the mug as you passed it back in his grasp, “but it’ll sure get you pissed in two sips or less.”

Hoping that the half tankard you’d downed would grant you the courage you sought, you glanced around the ballroom, “I gotta–, uh, did you see where Buck went?” and when he then pointed out towards the main hallway, you offered him a small smile, “thanks,” before disappearing down that way. 

You felt like you were gonna be sick as you walked through the crowds. But if it was from the nerves or the mead that was already making you dizzy, that you weren’t sure of. 

As you searched the castle, carefully poking your head into drawing rooms and narrow hallways, you found yourself anxiously muttering just beneath your breath. 

“…I just thought you should know that I like you–, no, not like that…” you shook your head at your tongue-tied attempt at figuring out how you’d profess to him, “James, I have been in love with you since the day I met yo­u–, no, that’s stupid, I never call him James, that would just be weird–” 

Your murmuring then hushed as you turned down a secluded hallway and spotted the very warden that you had combed the palace for, down towards the end of it. 

The only thing was, he wasn’t alone.

Sliding deeper into the shadows, you couldn’t spare yourself the heartache and not look. 

Bucky’s lips were attached to the long neck of some leggy blonde. Her quiet whimpers echoed against the fortress walls as he felt her up and surely littered her skin with heated lavender marks. 

Suddenly, they shifted, turning till Bucky’s back was pressed up against the walls and, to your surprise, now no longer obscured by his bulky physique, another lady, a redhead, appeared beside the hickey-adored one. 

“So,” the redhead bit her lip as she slid her palm down to pet the palpable tent in his pants, “are you gonna show us to your chambers or what?”

“Yes,” he breathlessly nodded, “yes I am,” before seizing their hands, “right this way,” they then stumbled further down the dark hallway till they disappeared from your sight, leaving you frozen in the engulfing shadows with tears silently streaming down your face. 

PRESENT DAY

“Snow?” his eyes grew as wide as his grin, “gods, it is you!” Bucky then all but forgot about the training session he was in the middle of teaching and crossed the courtyard, “it’s really you!” once his brisk stride reached you, he plucked you up into his brawny arms and spun you around, “you’re back!” 

As soon as your feet touched the ground again, you took a large step back, though hated how the distance gave you a better view of his naked torso.

“Hi, Bucky,” you uttered, readjusting the bag strung over your back. 

Why did his touch still have to make your heart flutter? 

“Three years,” he placed a wide palm on your shoulder, “three fucking years!”

Three years where you’d sworn off love entirely, tried to interpret it as a good thing, a gift really. You could be more productive, more focused. But now that you were home again, hearing the molasses tone of his voice and seeing the beads of sweat slowly rolling down the landscape of his body, over the ink that crawled up his left arm, you knew three years wasn’t enough to mend your heart. The rest of your life probably wasn’t long enough either. 

“Yeah, you–, uh,” you swallowed the thickness of emotions that peeked through in your tone, “you grew a beard.” 

“And you still look exactly the same…” his gaze washed over you as a soft sigh flowed from his lungs, “gods, I’ve missed you,” he then tilted his head and asked, “you missed me?”

“I–,” blinking back into the stormy sea of his eyes, you felt your frame begin to tremble at the feelings that were still as alive as ever, “uhm…” averting your gaze, you had to get away before everything burst, “I need to go report to the king,”

“Oh, yeah, right,” his electric touch slid from your shoulder, “last I saw, he and the queen were in the blue drawing room. You haven't met her yet! She’s kind, you’ll like her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you refused to look back at him as you turned towards the main entrance to the castle. 

And as you began to walk away, you heard his voice call after you, “really is good to have you back, snow!”

Nearly ripping the door off its hinges, a fleeting gasp escaped you as you saw the queen by the open window, shooting arrows after the beast that whirled outside. 

“Your majesty,” you exclaimed as your eyes briefly flickered to her pregnant belly, “there you are!” you then swiftly crossed the room to yank open the small servant’s door, “this way!” 

Reluctantly, the royal stepped back from the window, smoke and ash gushing into the castle from the opening, and followed you up the revealed stone spiral staircase. 

As you rushed up the tower, your glances didn’t just dart back to the queen, only a few paces behind you, but every time you passed one of the narrow windows, your vision couldn’t help but catch the chaos down below.

The stubborn dragon, that had plagued the town of Borün for two whole years now, had returned. 

With daggers still tight in your grasp, you tried not to think about the people you knew to be down there in the fray, wonder if they had all been burned to a crisp, but instead attempted to shake it off and focus on your mission at hand. The king had commanded you to flee the fight and protect his wife and unborn child. 

A glint of fire reflected in the queen’s eyes as you glanced back at her to find her pace halted and her palm clutched on her stomach as she stifled a groan. 

“My queen,” you dropped back down a step closer to her, “are you–”

“I’m fine,” she waved you off and drew in a shaky breath, “keep going, I’m right behind you.”

Soon at the top of the tower, you pushed the door open and held it for the noble to enter, your glance though darting out the window as she passed. 

But when a low groan seeped from her throat, your gaze darted back to her with worry, “alright, that really doesn’t sound that good,” the door slammed behind you as you sheathed your weapons and stepped closer to her, “did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m–, ah! I’m alright,” she uttered through gritted teeth, her eyes squeezed shut as one hand reached out for the wall while the other stayed on her belly, “fuck…” 

Glancing down towards her hand as it rubbed in slow, soothing circles, your eyes then widened, “are you–… your majesty, a-are you–”

“In labour?” her eyes barely opened as she met your tense gaze, “yeah. My waters broke a while ago.”

“Oh gods!” now you truly wished you’d just stayed down with the dragon, “now? Here? I–, I–, wha–, can’t you just turn it off?”

Letting both her quiver and bow slide off her frame and drop to the floor, she let out a strained exhale, “not really how it works.” 

“I–, I–, okay, I don’t know what to do–”

“That’s fine,” her arm then reached out for your support, “I do,” you carefully helped her further into the chamber before she sank down a wall till she was seated on the floor, her pale yellow gown bunching around her legs, “alright, I’m gonna need one of your knives when its time to cut the umbilical cord.”

“O-okay,” eyes still wide, you checked your belt just in case they’d mysteriously disappeared in your panic. 

Noticing the terrified expression on your face, the queen’s head tilted slightly as she said, “Y/l/n, please don’t pass out on me, I need you here with me.”

“No, no, I’m not gonna pass out,” you rushed to reply, though weren’t completely convinced yourself, “I just–, w-what do I do? Do I do anything?”

Raising up her fingers, she panted, “take my hand.”

“Alright, yes, of course,” you swiftly grabbed her palm. 

You had no idea how much time passed, if your hand would eventually fall off for how hard she was squeezing it, or even how many times the royal’s groans, which threatened to morph into screams, reverberated off the palace walls and mixed with the chaos rumbling from outside. 

Then suddenly, an echo shot through the castle, “dove!” and though she couldn’t find it in her to yell back, the familiar voice visibly thawed something within the queen. 

“Up here!” you yelled as loudly as you could. 

Swiftly, the door was kicked down, and in stormed a honey-haired man, whose bloodstained shield and stout axe promptly dropped to the floor with a loud clang. 

“Steve!” the queen cried out through the relieved smile that softened her pained expression, “you’re here!”

“Yeah,” he looked as if a feather could have knocked him over, “I’m here, I’m here,” the king then rushed to switch places with you, kneeling beside his wife and clutching her hand in both of his, “what fucking timing our daughter has,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of him as he bought the back of her palm up to his lips and planted a chased peck upon it, “not even born yet and she already wants to join the fray,” he uttered, conjuring a slight laugh to crack through her pain, “a real fighter, just like her mom.”

Gazing up at him, a sombreness suddenly washed over her features as she then murmured, “my love, if I don’t–”

“No,” he swiftly cut her off, “that’s not gonna happen, you hear me? History won’t repeat itself, you’ve done everything in your power to make that so. You can do this, dove. I know you can.” 

He held her hand through it all, took the sting as each one of her nails broke his skin and every ear-piercing curse she threw at him, till a new life was suddenly in the room, laying against the exposed skin on her mother’s chest and wailing about the sudden change in scenery.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[moonselune]

Let's see... how about a gentle giant tav with the girls, in game we never really have anyone comment on the height difference. When I romanced lae'zel on my honor mode run it just occurred that lae'zel is tiny compared to the muscular body types so I'd love to read some lovely gentle giant tav doing things tall people do to there partners irl. e.g: carrying them, teasingly commenting on how short and cute they are (yes even karlach) just like wholesome/nsfw scenarios yk? This is quite a lengthy ask so my apologies in advance 😅🥺

So so so so so cute, didn't end up doing NSFW as I got too caught up in the fluff lmao, but Shadowheart's is a bit suggestive ;)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Your lover Karlach's tall, muscular frame often gave her an air of unapproachable strength. Yet, in your larger embrace, she became someone different—someone vulnerable, and even a bit playful. One evening, as the two of you were lounging by the campfire, she suddenly leaped onto your back, wrapping her legs around your waist and her arms around your shoulders.

"Carry me, mighty warrior!" she teased, her warm breath tickling your ear. You chuckled, standing up with ease despite her solid build.

"As you wish, my fiery tempest," you replied, adjusting her weight so she was more comfortable.

Karlach's laughter was infectious as you began walking around the campsite. "This is amazing," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "I rarely get to be carried like this. You're so strong."

You could feel her happiness radiating off her like heat from her infernal engine, and it filled you with joy. "Well, you deserve it," you said, your voice tender. "You deserve to feel cared for."

As you continued to carry her, Karlach leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "You know," she said, her voice soft, "I love being up here. I can whisper sweet things to you, kiss you whenever I want."

You turned your head slightly, meeting her eyes with a smile. "Then whisper and kiss away, my love."

She giggled, planting a series of soft kisses along your jawline. "I love you," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection.

Holding her close, you continued to walk, savoring the intimacy of the moment. For Karlach, who was so often the protector, being carried and cared for by you was a rare and cherished experience. And for you, having her so close, feeling her warmth and hearing her whispered words of love, was a privilege beyond compare.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Minthara enjoyed every moment of having you by her side. Your towering height and broad shoulders added an extra layer of intimidation to her already fearsome reputation. She would often position you just behind her during her numerous confrontations, taking immense pleasure in the way people cowered and recoiled at the sight of you.

"Stand right here," she would say, pointing to a spot that would maximize your imposing stature. You would comply, your silent strength a perfect complement to her authority - she thought. It amused you, and it delighted you seeing her so happy.

One evening, during a heated negotiation with a group of reluctant villagers, Minthara stood tall and fierce, her words sharp and unyielding. The villagers' eyes kept darting to you, their fear palpable. Minthara noticed this and smirked, relishing the power you both exuded.

"And if you think of crossing me," she warned, gesturing to you with a flick of her wrist, "my love here will ensure you regret it."

After the villagers had hastily agreed to her demands and scurried away, Minthara turned to you with a satisfied grin. "See how they tremble?" she purred, stepping closer to you. "It's delightful."

You nodded, your expression neutral. You had grown accustomed to her delight in intimidation, and while you supported her, there were times when her bossiness tested your patience.

One day, Minthara took her bossiness a step too far. She had been issuing orders for hours, her tone growing more and more demanding. Finally, in a fit of irritation, she snapped at you, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Do you not understand what I want?" she hissed. "Must I spell everything out for you?"

You took a deep breath, your patience wearing thin. Without a word, you bent down, scooping her up in your powerful arms. Minthara's eyes widened in surprise as you carried her effortlessly towards a large, sturdy tree.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice a mix of curiosity and indignation as she clawed at you back.

You didn't answer. Instead, you found a low-hanging branch and, with a quick heave, deposited her onto it, high above the ground. Minthara clung to the branch, glaring down at you and practically hissing as you stepped back, crossing your arms.

"You need a time out," you said simply, your tone firm but not unkind.

Minthara looked down, her expression a mix of surprise and frustration. She was feline in her movements, agile and graceful, but even she couldn't easily descend from such a height without risking injury.

"You can't leave me up here," she called, a hint of a growl in her voice.

You smirked, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "I'll let you down when you've cooled off."

For a few moments, Minthara glowered at you, clearly debating whether to argue further. But as the minutes passed, her anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a reluctant amusement.

"You are infuriating," she finally muttered, though there was no real venom in her voice.

"And you are bossy," you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Eventually, you reached up, your strong arms lifting her effortlessly back to the ground. She landed lightly, her expression softening as she looked up at you.

"Perhaps I was…a bit much," she conceded, her tone almost playful.

"Just a bit," you agreed, your smile widening. Minthara stepped closer, her hands resting on your broad chest. Practically batting her eyelashes at you.

"But you still adore me," she said, her voice low and confident. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close.

"Of course," you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

In the heat of battle, you and Lae'zel moved as one, a formidable duo whose coordination and trust in each other were unmatched. Lae'zel, despite her fierce independence, had come to enjoy a particular aspect of your strength and height. During one particularly intense skirmish, Lae'zel called out to you, her eyes blazing with exhilaration.

"Throw me!" she commanded, her voice filled with adrenaline.

You didn't hesitate. Grabbing her firmly by the waist, you lifted her effortlessly and hurled her towards the enemy ranks. She landed with perfect grace, her blades already slashing through the air. The enemies fell before her, unable to withstand her ferocity.

After the battle, as the adrenaline began to fade, you found Lae'zel leaning against a tree, her chest heaving with exertion and excitement. She looked up as you approached, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

"That was incredible," she said, her voice breathless. "The way you threw me… I've never felt so powerful."

You smiled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you replied, your voice filled with affection. "I love seeing you like this—so alive."

Lae'zel's eyes softened, a look of genuine affection crossing her face. "You are strong, and you understand me," she said quietly. "In battle, you and I are unstoppable."

Later, as the two of you rested together in the quiet of the night, Lae'zel moved closer to you, her hand resting on your broad chest. "I want you to know," she began, her voice soft, "that I cherish these moments with you. Not just in battle, but here, now."

You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "And I cherish you, Lae'zel," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "In every moment, on and off the battlefield."

She looked up at you, her eyes shining with an emotion she rarely showed. "Then let us make the most of every moment,"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The battle had been fierce, with arrows and spells flying in all directions. As the dust began to settle, you scanned the battlefield, your eyes locking onto Shadowheart. She was surrounded by fallen enemies but looked unharmed. Still, your heart pounded with worry.

Without a second thought, you strode over, scooping her up effortlessly and slinging her over your shoulder. "We've got to get you to safety," you said, your voice tinged with urgency.

Shadowheart made a small sound of protest but didn't resist. You carried her to a quieter, more secure area, finally setting her down gently on her feet.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concern etched on your face as you examined her for any injuries.

Shadowheart's cheeks were flushed, her breathing a bit ragged. She looked up at you, eyes wide and pupils dilated. "I'm… fine," she stammered, her voice unsteady.

You frowned, touching her forehead lightly. "Are you sure? You look feverish."

Before you could react, Shadowheart surged forward, her lips crashing into yours with a fervent intensity. The kiss was heated, desperate and when she finally pulled back, you were breathless and stunned.

"Sorry, I just uh couldn't help myself." she confessed, her voice a low whisper. She looked you hungrily and as you were still reeling, you didn't have time to process her words before she pushed you down onto the soft grass. Her hands were all over you, pinning you to the ground as she kissed you again, her need palpable.

"Shadowheart," you murmured against her lips, your voice a mix of surprise and desire. You were used to being scolded at after pulling a stunt like that.

"Just let me," she whispered back, her tone filled with urgency. "I've never felt like this before."

You surrendered to her, your hands roaming over her smaller frame as she took control. The intensity of her need matched your own, and the two of you lost yourselves in each other, the aftermath of battle fading away as you found solace and passion in one another's embrace.

Lae'zel, who had a downed Astarion slung over her shoulder was not impressed when she found the two of you and you were on dishes for the next week.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira, having lived long enough, had a habit of making herself comfortable wherever she was. Your broad, muscular frame had become her favorite spot to rest, not out of affection—though there was plenty of that—but out of sheer practicality.

One evening, as you sat by the campfire, Jaheira approached with a book in hand. Without a word, she settled herself on your lap, her back against your chest as she began to read. It was such a common occurrence that neither of you thought twice about it. You wrapped your arms around her, resting your chin on her shoulder.

"Comfortable?" you asked, a hint of a smile in your voice.

"Very," she replied, not looking up from her book.

A few minutes later, you reached for a nearby piece of equipment, but Jaheira shifted, making it clear she wasn't moving.

"Do you mind?" she said, her tone mock-offended. "I'm sitting here."

You chuckled, moving the equipment aside and wrapping your arms around her again. "Sorry, my love. Didn't mean to disturb you."

Jaheira glanced back at you, a small smile playing on her lips. "See that you don't," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

The two of you sat in companionable silence, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other's presence creating a perfect moment of peace.

Later, when scratch found himself in your lap, Jaheira huffed in mock indignation, standing up with exaggerated reluctance. "Honestly, you'd think people would know better than to take my spot,"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling her back into your lap as soon as Scratch had become interested in a passing squirrel.

"It's all yours," you said, kissing her temple. And so, Jaheira settled back in, her book in hand, a contented smile on her face as she enjoyed the comfort and warmth of your embrace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xoxo

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships - Epilogue

Summary: A glimpse into the rest of your life with Wanda Maximoff.

Word count: 2.3k+ | Warnings: None; Just Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: We officially come to a close! I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story. This is my first time completing a multi-chapter fic and I couldn't have done it without you. You guys will always have a special place in my heart. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'll keep writing--my request box is open :)

Series Masterlist

-

Epilogue

Ten Months Later

Montauk, especially in winter, looks as if it's straight out of a postcard. 

For as long as you can remember, Montauk is the only place that's felt like home. And you've shared it with the woman who's known you even before you took your first breath in this world. But now, there are days when she doesn't recognize you, days when she cries out in fear thinking you're an intruder, when she tearfully calls for her own mother or searches anxiously for her late husband.

The merciless grip of Alzheimer's is steadily robbing her from you, and time seems to draw out the process in a cruel, agonizing manner.

Wanda is there for you though, through every difficult moment. She is your rock when you feel like crumbling, your light in the darkest moments. You are both staying in Montauk for some time now, taking care of your mother. Your mother sometimes recognizes her, and she’s remarkably warmer to your ex-wife more than you can remember. You think, perhaps, it has something to do with her memories that are slowly wilting away, and all that is left is the love she’s always held back for the other woman in your life.

One evening, as snowflakes start to gently fall from the sky, Wanda gets the sudden urge to take a walk. After some persuasion, you find yourself pulled out from the inviting warmth of the bed you've been sharing, grumbling while putting your layers of clothing back on to indulge Wanda in her whimsical idea.

Hand-in-hand, you set off just as the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon with streaks of indigo and pink. Snowflakes settle on Wanda's hair, turning her fiery locks into a winter wonderland. She smiles, her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dimming twilight. 

You soak in the sight of her, the love of your life, aglow in the beauty of the snowy evening, committing it to memory. 

An old park lies ahead, its swings and benches blanketed by the fresh snowfall. Wanda leads you to the swing set, her laughter carrying through the chilly air as she plops down on one of them. You take the swing beside her, the frosty metal biting through your clothing, but you don’t mind. The sight of Wanda, her face flushed with cold yet bright with joy, is worth braving the winter chill.

As the swing set gently comes to a halt, Wanda nudges you, pointing towards a row of trees in the distance. “Look over there,” she says, “Do you see that?”

You squint at the snow-laden branches, trying to decipher what she's referring to. While you're absorbed in your futile search, Wanda quietly slips off the swing, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. As you turn back to her with a puzzled look, ready to ask what you were supposed to see, you find her on her knees in the fresh snow, looking up at you with an earnest gaze.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pops it open to reveal a simple yet stunning ring nestled within. 

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart stutters at the sight of Wanda's hopeful gaze. For a moment, everything seems to stand still. Snowflakes suspend their descent, the air holds its breath. With a lump in your throat, you utter a word you never thought you'd say in this moment. 

“No.”

Shock registers on Wanda's face, her eyes wide and vulnerable. The world seems to crash around her, the word echoing ominously in her ears. But then, before she has a chance to fully comprehend what's happening, you're sinking to your knees in the snow beside her.

“Because,” you begin, laughter choking your words even as tears track down your cheeks. You fumble in your pocket, pulling out your own small box. You pry it open, revealing a gleaming ring nestled within. “Because I want you to marry me.”

The world, previously paused, starts up again in a rush of sound and color.

Laughter bubbles up from within you, filling the silence, mingling with the tears streaming down your face. Wanda stares at you, stunned into silence, her tears mirroring your own.

“Yes,” she breathes out finally, her voice choked with emotion. “Yes, yes, yes.”

In the stillness that follows, you gently take her hand, slipping the ring onto her trembling finger. 

You look up at her, your heart in your eyes. “Yes, Wanda, I'll marry you,” you whisper.

Wanda's fingers are ice-cold, trembling with adrenaline, when she reaches for your hand, your ring. Her focus is so intense as she slips it onto your finger that it feels as if everything else has fallen away.

Without wasting a moment, Wanda lurches forward, lips finding yours in a kiss, full of passion and relief. The chill of the snow around you seems to dissipate as your mouths move in a rhythm perfected by time and familiarity. Every small shift, every pressure, the way she tugs at your lower lip, the way you reciprocate by pulling her closer by the waist, it all stokes a warmth that radiates from your core, spreading outwards, rendering the winter air irrelevant.

The soft moan that escapes Wanda against your lips fills you with a satisfaction, an overwhelming sense of rightness that even the best of days prior to this moment had not quite achieved.

Like all beautiful things, the kiss comes to an end. She pulls away, her breath ghosting over your lips as she whispers, “Yes,” echoing your sentiment. “Yes, you will.”

Year 2

A year later, the smell of antiseptic and the sterile white walls of a hospital room are your surroundings. You lay exhausted on the hospital bed, swaddled in a light hospital gown, holding the newest addition to your family. 

A baby girl. 

Yours and Wanda’s. 

She is swathed in soft pink blankets, her tiny face peering curiously at the world she's just entered.

Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and slightly terrified, Wanda is darting around the room, fretting over everything and anything. Her brows are furrowed as she questions the nurses on the baby’s feeding, changing, swaddling. She's always been meticulous, but her anxiety seems to be on a whole new level today.

Meanwhile, she's constantly checking up on you too. A wet cloth to dab your sweaty forehead, a soft kiss to reassure you, a gentle squeeze of your hand. Each time she asks if you're okay, if you need anything, if you're feeling too tired or too overwhelmed.

Her voice is a touch higher than usual, her movements slightly rushed. It's all too adorable, you think. The endearing sight of Wanda fussing over you and the baby brings a soft smile to your tired face.

Wanda’s gaze alternates between you and the tiny bundle in your arms, as if she’s afraid that this is all some dream that she would wake from.

“You're doing great, love,” you reassure her in a voice hoarse with exhaustion, but filled with so much love and admiration for this woman. Your woman. You wouldn’t trade her frantic behavior for anything else.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask Wanda, lifting the baby slightly from your chest.

Wanda freezes at your question, her eyes flickering from the tiny face peeking out from the swaddles and back to you. She seems to be calculating the risk of her holding something so precious and delicate. She bites her lip nervously, her hand absently wringing together.

“I'm... I'm afraid I might hurt her. She's so small,” Wanda murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

A soft laugh bubbles up from you, finding her concern endearing. With your free hand, you tenderly take hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Wands, love, she's our daughter. She already knows you and she wants her mom. Come on,” you encourage her, your voice soft but confident.

With a deep breath, Wanda nods. She gingerly slips onto the bed beside you, her arm tentatively reaching out. Her hand hovers over the baby's tiny form, her fingers trembling slightly.

Seeing her hesitate, you gently place the baby into Wanda's waiting arms. The moment your daughter is cradled in her arms, Wanda's eyes fill with unshed tears. Her gaze is locked on the little face looking up at her.

She's silent for a moment, just looking down at the tiny, squirming bundle in her arms. You watch as she traces her finger lightly over your daughter's chubby cheek, her touch feather-light as though she's handling a priceless piece of art.

“She's... She's beautiful,” Wanda finally whispers, her voice choked with emotion. You watch as a single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.

“She has your eyes,” you say softly, leaning against Wanda's shoulder.

Her response is a watery laugh, and she turns to press a kiss on your forehead. “And your nose,” she retorts, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I didn’t know it was possible to be even more in love with you,” she adds, looking into your heavy-lidded eyes.

As you look at Wanda holding your daughter, overwhelmed with love and emotion, you think that there can't be anything equally perfect as this moment. 

Year 4

Something equally as perfect comes two years later.

You and Wanda return to your new apartment in Manhattan, this time with a little more noise, a lot more love, and two new family members in tow. 

The eighteen arduous hours of Wanda's labor are still fresh in your mind. The anxiety and fear you felt, the helplessness, as you watched her endure the pain, fighting for every breath, are experiences you would never forget. For a moment, you feared for her life, but Wanda, as always, proved to be a force of nature. She battled through, delivering the twins normally. Your two-year-old daughter has just been promoted to big sister status, with the arrival of her twin brothers, William and Thomas.

Wanda, holding Billy, looks at you over the top of his little head. Her eyes are bright, tired but excited. You carry Tommy, his tiny hand gripping your finger, and his weight in your arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Despite being outnumbered by your kids, you and Wanda are no novices now. With one child already, you've learned the ropes of parenthood, even if juggling the needs of three young children is still quite the adventure. 

Looking back, you can't help but wonder. If things had been smoother, easier, would you still end up here? 

Sure, life has thrown you a few curveballs. But those curveballs brought you to this moment, to this feeling of complete and utter happiness. 

You wouldn't change a thing.

Because this is it. This is your perfect. This is the beautiful chaos of a big family you and Wanda have created together. And you wouldn't trade it for the world. 

This moment is everything you ever wanted.

Year 35

You both retire to a charming little town on the east coast, away from the relentless hum of city life. The house is a modest one, its size perfect for two people entering the golden years of their life.

It's a quiet evening when you find yourself sitting in the bathtub, the warm water soothing against your aging muscles. The bathroom door creaks open and in walks Wanda, unadorned and as beautiful as the day you met her. You watch as she undresses, each wrinkle and mark a testament to the years you've spent together. The sight of her, the raw display of strength, beauty, and age, leaves you breathless.

She eases herself into the tub, the water rising as she settles across from you. Your legs brush against each other, a touch that still sends warmth spreading through your veins. Her eyes, the same captivating pair you lost yourself in more than four decades ago, meet yours and your heart does a familiar dance.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a teasing smile. “You have that look again.”

“What look?” you feign innocence, though a mischievous glint gives you away.

“That look as if you're seeing a young woman, and not the one who's been trying to get a senior discount for the past few years,” she quips.

You chuckle, leaning closer, the water ripples between you two as you do. “Honestly, after all this time,” you whisper, fingers tracing the back of her hand submerged in the water, “I can't help myself.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, her cheeks tinted with a hint of a blush that reminds you of her younger self. “Ever the charmer,” she murmurs, her voice betraying the flutter of excitement she still feels from your compliments, even after all these years.

“You may have a few more lines here and there,” you whisper, your eyes taking in every beautiful detail of her face, “But to me, you're as breathtaking as the day we met. Time can't change the way I see you, Wanda.”

With deliberate slowness, you lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. As you pull back, you see the warmth in her eyes, the soft smile playing on her lips, and you feel an old, familiar urge.

Your next kiss is deeper, more insistent, and your hand finds its way to her waist, pressing her closer. Her laughter bubbles up, breaking the kiss momentarily as she playfully swats your wandering hand away.

“You really still find this,” she gestures to herself, “Desirable?”

You lean back slightly, taking in her form with a deliberate, exaggerated slowness, your gaze wandering from her face to her feet and back up again. “Every inch.”

She gives you a mock exasperated look, but the smile that's trying to break through belies her true feelings. “You and your words,” she mutters, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, her fingers tangling in your damp hair. “Do they ever run out?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you reply earnestly, your lips hovering just above hers. “Never when it comes to you.”

Making love isn't as easy as it once was, with bodies grown old and not as supple. 

But your love for Wanda—if anything, is stuck in time.

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22 | @hyper-fixated-delusions

[wisecreatorprofessorwolf]

Fifty Shades of Gambit

I may write fifty shades styled fics for other characters if people are interested. I just know our boy Remy would be into this, I'm going to write a Magneto one at some point thanks to the whole series of X-Men 97, he’s been so hot and slutty especially episode 8.

Series: X-Men

Gambit x dom top male reader

this could be considered a second part, or extension to In a classroom, what could go wrong, but can read it as a stand alone. I also don't know how long this may be. Also thank you and feel free to like, repost and even comment.

Remy had started to feel very pent up, since YN has been more focused on his work. Every time Remy tried to initiate something with YN, he'd be pushed off, or told later. this has been going on for weeks. did they break up and not noticed, he'd remember that surely. No, had he upset YN, had he been a naughty boy, not to his knowledge, now that got him thinking. But nothing came to mind. Absolutely nothing.

Remy was getting desperate now, would he have to resort to using the stash of toys under their bed.

it came night time and YN had yet to return to their room, alone. He begins by bringing out the purple leather case from under their bed, then strips from his clothes completely naked, looking at his reflection in the mirror, posing. Remy returns to the case to open it to reveal a range of toys the couple had used in their times.

he reaches for a tube of lube and one of the dildo's, once he was done lathering the toys in lubricant. He contemplates the position he should take. he settles on laying on his back, raising his legs as he slides the toy, it just wasn't the same. It wasn't YN, it didn't feel like anything, but he endures, he continues sliding the toy in and out. Eyes closed trying hard to imagine and replace the feeling with something more. when a moan slips.

YN outside their bedroom heard a sound, was that a moan, YN knew that sound well, but he assume Remy was with someone. No, he knew Remy would never do that to him, then YN had started thinking how long had it really been, and it hit him. he had to do something about this. opening the door to see poor Remy jamming a dildo in him

"YN, YN PLEASE" Remy whines

"AWW has my baby boy missed me ?"

Remy squeals. "YN Désolé(I'm sorry) I've been a bad boy Désolé(I'm sorry)" almost pleadingly.

"No need to apologies baby I was the one at fault I'd been to busy for you, how about I fix that, you going to be my puppy" Remy frantically nodding " S’il vous plaît (please) YN" Remy gulps nervously as he see's YN's expression harden on him, "It's not YN tonight, you know what to call me? Don't you puppy" Remy was now moaning "Oui Monsieur (yes sir)".

YN could only chuckle at the site of Remy now be a good puppy and come to me. Remy in all his excitement springs of the bed letting the toy slip out and walks towards YN once he reached YN excitedly he saw a look of disappointment flash over YN's face and all of a sudden a hand slapped him across the face and pushed him back on to the bed, causing him to moan desperately " try again puppy" Remy moaned again realising what to do he rolls off the bed and begins to crawl towards his master. Now some may thing Remy would feel humiliated and he is and he loves it so much, the sting of the slap the rough push back, he can only feel something when he's round his master YN. Once he's reached YN on his hand and knees he comes to a sitting position, hands resting on his knees right in front of his masters tented pants. "That's more like it good boy" Remy preened at the praise. "Merci, Monsieur (thank you sir)"

YN brings a hand over Remy's hair, then begins to remove his shirt and tie "hands behind your back pup" Remy places his hands behind his back with out question. YN walks around, tie in hand and binds Remy's hand together, nice and tight that the tie was biting into his wrists. "You like it tight don't you?" Remy moaned at the bite of the tie constricting against his wrists, with a nod. With that YN walked round to see the neediness in Remy's eyes, he then went to unbuckle his belt and removes it from the loops of his trousers. suddenly Remy was met with his masters crouching form. " Such a good boy, you want your collar?" Remy was salivating drooling, nodding frantically "Oui Monsieur (yes sir)". With that YN wrapped the belt around Remy's neck, YN then stands the tent still very prominent in YN's pants Remy needs it more than anything, more than he's needed it more than anything in his life, rests his face in YN's groin, the heat and musk was like a drug to Remy, one he would never quit. He begins mouthing, kissing and drooling over YN's trousers till he feels a rough tug on his collar. "You want my cock, do you?

" plus que tout (more than anything)" YN undoes the button to his trousers revealing the zipper "ok puppy lower the zip with your teeth" Remy moaned and drives his face forward sucking on the zipper, raising it with is tongue to catch it between his teeth and lowers it, the heat and smell radiating from YN's cock was much stronger once YN dropped his trousers and kicked them across the room. Remy's face buried in YN's underwear everything was heightened, so close now, so much more desperate, no longer taking the anticipation. Remy bites at the waistband and drags them down once face first with what he's been desperate for all this time. he can't stop drooling at the sight. "bad puppy I didn't give you permission to do that, what are you some mutt?" with a hard pull on the belt causing him to choke, with that Remy came on the floor moaning trying to catch his breath.

"answer me are you a mutt? another rough tug on the belt, Remy was painfully hard even after just cumming "Je suis désolé je suis désolé (I'm sorry, I'm sorry)"he was sobbing at this point. "Get on the bed mutt" YN had let go of Remy's collar, he hung his head low turning to crawl towards the bed, he then lifts himself onto the bed, his knees aching finding comfort on the bed. All Remy was met with was YN's cold predatory stare as he walked towards the bed. Remy was sweating bullets, he knew he'd been bad now, he'll take whatever punishment YN decides. YN then removes his ties from around his wrists "now lay back mutt ". Wait what's happening is this part of the punishment, but Remy does as told lying back arms and legs spread, with that YN finally smirks. moving towards the harnesses on the bed posts and starts to bind Remy's limbs. "You must be a mind reader mutt you knew what was next, maybe you wanted this, to be a naughty mutt and to be punished" Remy moaned "no sir non Monsieur" "Really look at the state of you, writhing desperately like some needy slut" Remy moaned wriggling under the restraints, cock painfully hard. Remy moaned when YN slapped his cock "look at yourself in the mirror, slut, you love this". Honestly YN knows him too well, can see right through him, he loves the feeling of being humiliated, degraded, treated like a slut, a toy solely for YN's pleasure. But he never meant to be a naughty boy for his master, he was just too excited. too eager, he wanted to please YN not disappoint or anger him. feeling his cock get slapped again and again.

"I think some extra toys are in order". YN looks through the box of toys, Remy looks over at the box to look, to see an eye mask, noise cancelling headphones, nipple clamps, a flogger and a thick purple ball gag, or as Remy likes to call it "THE JAW BREAKER", sounds bad but in all honest it's Remy's second favourite thing to suck. Remy relaxed as they get set on the bed and not getting used right away, but he's now worried more toys may get added. YN then straddles Remy feeling the weight of YN weigh on his abdomen, had him moan and writhe "I think you need claiming, don't you?, let everyone see who owns you" Remy moans as YN roughly kisses Remy Biting his lip for access, tongue slithering inside his mouth moaning as he sucks on YN's tongue and his hands roam and roughly handle his body till they reach his nipples, then Remy broke the kiss as YN harshly twists his sensitive peaks. YN kissed sloppily along his jawline leaving little bites, going down to his throat, biting leaving hickeys and licking all over, then that special spot close to his collar bone. Bite, a hard bite was left causing Remy to cry cumming all over himself. "looking pretty pup, I'm not finished though" Remy sobs as YN finally reaches his nipples, both hands roughly handling his pectoral pushing them together one hand leaves and is replaces with the wetness of YN's tongue and lips sucking and then a bite repeatedly in that order Remy's senses with overloading, over and over licking, sucking and biting his left pectoral was going to be bruised after this then with a wet pop YN's mouth retreated and replaced the hand on the right pectoral "can't neglect the other can I now pup" and hand roughly massaging his left while your mouth repeated its torturous act on his right.

With a sudden pop YN pulled away, Remy felt relief wash over him finally it was over..... It was far from over as YN lowers himself down licking, kissing, nipping at his abdomen, till he reached Remy's cock but he focused on Remy's thighs instead leaving slaps and bites all over, Remy cried thrusting up, his cock hardening, slapping against his abdomen leaving spattering of cum here and there. "Awwww does my puppy want something? Remy released a girlish scream when YN nips at his foreskin, suddenly Remy cums already lost count it sprays landing on YN's face and hair and over his own abdomen mixing with the mess already there.

YN shuffles back up Remy's body licking and kissing soothing the harsh bites he left in his wake, till he reaches Remy's blissed out tear stained face, he looked perfect like this under YN, only YN can do this to Remy. Break him down so easily reducing him to a withering pleasured out mess desperate for more. once YN's face was close enough Remy began licking and the cum off YN's face, leaning forward desperately for his master to kiss him, the kiss was hot and overwhelming as Remy sucks wontonly on YN's tongue moaning like a slut in heat. Remy suddenly gags as YN's hands wrap around his throat. Breaking the kiss, just the right amount of pressure Remy thought to himself, YN know what Remy needs before even he does, one the traits of a great master.

Remy looks up to YN, there's a hunger he hasn't seen before sudden YN shuffles up Remy's body till his hard throbbing cock is slapped against his face, Remy was lightheadedly licking, kissing worshipping YN's cock like his life depended on it, YN threw his head back groaning, muttering praises "you're such a good puppy now, my good puppy" Remy's eyes roll back like a shark as he happily suckles the precum from your tip like it was ambrosia. Remy was truly addicted to YN in every way possible. suddenly Remy gags as YN slides his thick, engorged cock down his throat with out warning. But Remy relaxed his throat and took his master like the expert he was without gagging any further, he could feel YN's cock stretching his throat, the burn and sting, caused more tears to drop down his pretty face. Then YN started to move sliding back and forth treating his poor throat like a fleshlight, Remy could feel the veins of YN's cock slowly pulse, sensing YN was close Remy tries his utmost to suck , YN threw his head back thrusting forward as he fills Remy's throat. Remy felt a sense of euphoria as he felt the thick sweet yet salty cum clog up his throat and fill his mouth, Remy tightened his lips around YN's cock not wanting YN's cum to go to waste. YN pulls Remy off by his hair still shooting painting Remy's face white with thick cum, Remy licked his lips with a moan "Merci, Monsieur" moaned brokenly with hearts in his eyes, feeling more cum land on his messy, sweaty body.

YN shuffles off Remy's body, he felt so light now. trying to even out his breathing, while he watches YN do the same. YN peers down at Remy caressing his cheek lovingly "you think you can keep going my love?". Remy nodded frantically "toute la nuit (all night long)" YN chucked at the response, seeing the hearts in Remy's eyes, he's clearly drunk on him. H kisses Remy once again Remy slobbering and moaning into the kiss even going as far as licking YN's face again "I've broken your mind, haven't I puppy?" Remy nods even more frantically even making dog like sounds. "Ok puppy, your my good boy right "

"Bark Bark" Remy really was gone now, just your good boy right?.

YN sits beside Remy stroking the hair that clings to his sweaty forehead. "Good boy" Remy just pants like a dog. one hand leaves his head causing Remy to whine, then sees the hand was hovering over the toys, their was a spark of recognition and anticipation washing over his features. YN's takes the nipple clamps, placing one on his left, Remy moans and yips and the bite of the clamp against his hard peak, then slowly placing the last clamp over his right nipple, Remy cums yet again. "Good boy, who's a good boy?" "woof woof" "That right you are, my good boy" YN then removes the restraints on Remy's limbs. Remy suddenly rolls over both hands on his ass cheeks parting them, presenting himself to his master whining feeling the drag of metal on his nipples, face buried in the duvet, YN roughly massages Remy's beautiful ass cheeks, occasionally giving them a pinch or a slap and sometimes a soft kiss, that has Remy preening contently. YN shuffles forward grinding his cock against the cleft of Remy's perfect ass, Remy grinding back, whining "Ok puppy, Ready?" "Bark woof Ba..r.r...k, ohh mon Dieu, c'est si profond (oh my so deep)" punched out of Remy as YN suddenly snaps his cock inside Remy, he begins to howl at the rough abusive pace YN was going beating his prostate brutally making his eyes roll back, tongue lapped out drooling "Bark bark " Remy rocks back meeting every one of YN's thrusts, arms aching Remy drops them and curls them around his tummy feeling the sticky mess but even more important the bulge of YN's cock so deep in his guts, the burn was euphoric, the sting were kisses to his insides, rearranging reaching even deeper, he was sure YN had to have a breeding kink or pregnancy kink with how rough and deep he'd be filling him, how after every time he'd feel his tummy fill up and bulge with his cum.

Suddenly YN stops his vicious thrusts, Remy however continues to thrust himself back moaning and panting like a dog. YN's hands roam Remy's body, searing to the touch, yet one hand leaves for a toy the eye mask the other hand pulling Remy up by his hair, with a cry Remy yelps only to see in front of his face your hand holding the eye mask, still thrusting himself back on YN's cock he licks and kisses YN's hand. YN takes that as a yes, YN then uses both hands to place the mask over Remy's eyes, it was all dark suddenly feeling hands return to his body he throws himself back on YN's cock recklessly causing the bed to creak and grind. But no one in this room cares, not one bit.

Remy begins moaning as YN rests on top of him feeling the heat wash over him, his breath against his ear as he nibbles the lobe, the arms wrap around him tightly and raise him up, Remy's cock bouncing pathetically in the air with each snap of hips as skin slaps skin.

Remy cums on the duvet as YN bites his earlobe quite harshly "Bark Bark" Remy whimpers out enjoying the sting and the snap of his body meeting YN's. One hand wraps around Remy's throat pulling the collar to keep him in place while he collected the noise cancelling headphones and slides them on Remy.

YN lets go of the collar, Remy had lost all strength long ago, flopping down head first into the soiled duvet. "BARK!!! BARK!!!!! woooof Wofffff!!!!! WOOOOOF!!!". as YN thrusts at a ruthless pace, abusing his insides, breaking him from the inside out, YN pulls on the collar again only to let go letting Remy flop again in his own mess. "WOOF!!!! BARRRRKKK!!! YIP!!!!!". Remy feels the ruthless slamming losing its rhythm, sloppy pace beating and branding Remy's insides, he could feel the pulse and convulsions of YN's cock with a final hard thrust spearing Remy "WOOFFFFF!!!!!! BaRRRRK!!!!! WooooooooF!!!" Remy is being filled to the brim with YN's cum, Remy was preening feeling himself feebly cum thin, pearly cum. All the while feeling his tummy swell with your cum, as he rubs himself, whining.

Remy mind broken, feels himself being held tightly in place, a hand carefully removing the headphones and eye mask, Remy was startled by everything around him except for the reassuring hand of YN, to keep him grounded. "How woof loud was bark I mon amour?.

"not that loud my love, you're my good boy aren't you?" Remy tiredly nods receiving a gentle kiss to his forehead then his lips would you like the JAW BREAKER now babe, Remy nodded as YN brings it over and places it in Remy's mouth as YN connects the straps . YN still inside Remy carefully shuffles so that they could sleep on their sides.

The next morning.....

Remy wakes up in YN's tight embrace feeling the wet pearly slick pooled on the duvet from his used hole. YN must have slipped out in the night he thinks to himself. Suddenly the grip tightens and YN's hard length grinding against him, Remy decides to remove the gag, to ease his aching jaw "Someone's up" Remy sleepily moans, rubbing his jaw, as YN slides his length back inside Remy's used hole the grip tighten and YN rolls Remy onto him "I want my good boy to ride me" Remy rests his hands tiredly on YN's chest as his tight grip lowers to his hips. Remy begins rolling his hips slowly, rising up and down nice and slowly for his tired body. "Like this sir" Remy purred "just like that, good boy". YN helped raise Remy's body up and pushed his thighs down roughly spearing his cock deeply inside, this continued, Remy didn't know he had tears left to cry after last night. All of a sudden with a harsh trust upwards Remy moans loudly as he came on YN's abdomen thin, watery cum, feeling YN cum inside him again. YN lets Remy droop against his shoulder kissing his hair " you're my good boy, i love you so much Remy" Je t'aime aussie monsieur(I love you too sir)" YN tilts Remy's face to kiss his lips "pouvez-vous me brancher monsieur? (can you plug me up sir?). YN nodded fumbling about till he reaches the box that had been knocked on the floor, must have been while they slept. The couple get off the messy stained bed and go through the toys on the floor till Remy found the thick purple butt plug and decides to take that inserting it himself with a moan.

the couple finally washing up and getting ready for the day. as they reach the dining room they see the tired faces of the x-men, "Hey gang how'd you sleep" "WE DIDN'T" with a resound uproar.

[rainbowsky]

Hi rainbowsky! I'm a new-ish (autumn 2023) Yizhan fan - it's been so much fun to explore and read everything available, your blog included! I really enjoy your opinions and insights. I have a question and a request. Question: When CQL first started airing, what were people saying about the relationship between WWX and LZ in the show, and about the actors playing them? Did the CP start right away? Request: Then later on, when the BTS started appearing (when was that - after the show finished airing, right?), what were people saying about the real interactions between the two actors? Were people shocked? Amazed? Even more curious? I can imagine social media was on fire! But I'd like to hear from someone who "lived" through it in real time. Please give me a description of what it was like - especially what your thoughts and feeling were as you saw it happening. I wish I could have been there! Thank you!

Hi Blbrave! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog!

This is all a very, very long time ago, but I'll do my best to share what I can remember.

Actually, the CP started before the show began airing. The supertopics were opened during filming in 2018. I think this was inevitable, given that the series is based on a BL story. Of course fans of the novel will go into all of this with an eye toward the two characters and, by extension, GG and DD.

Similarly, as the show was airing of course there were a large number of viewers who knew it was a BL and viewed it as a BL at that time, even though it was being billed as a martial brotherhood series. There was a lot of analysis from fans trying to spot various ways that the production team managed to get around censorship and signal the queer romance between WWX and LWJ.

Others have done far better, more comprehensive analysis of all that than I could ever do, but it's so long ago I don't know where those posts might have gone. Some of this was discussed in my post about queerbaiting, so you can look there for more info.

As I said in that post, one of their smartest ways of highlighting the queer relationship was to downplay romance between the straight characters. We never see a straight couple doing something that we don’t also see LWJ and WWX doing. Yanli's wedding happens off camera, yet we see LWJ and WWX do their bows on camera. There’s never a kiss or any kind of PDA between straight characters, yet we see LWJ and WWX in each other’s arms throughout the series.

We got a gay kiss:

We got gay sex:

There was also the headband repeatedly being described as the domain of only family and spouses, and the various ways they connected it with WWX. WWX grabbing it when he was possessing the paperman, and also at one point being tied to LWJ by the wrist with the headband - all of this signalling that WWX was a spousal figure for LWJ.

There was the drunk scene with LWJ giving WWX chickens (a wedding tradition in China).

And many more examples I won't get into.

There were many of those types of things in the series, and they were discussed enthusiastically at the time. However, I don't think there were many bystanders who made those connections. It was primarily fans of the books/show (i.e. those who appreciated it as a BL story and not as a bromance/friendship story) who saw and discussed those hints.

I know the idea that anyone could be so oblivious to the gay subtext throughout the story that they miss the queerness entirely is hard to get one's head around, but straight viewers usually just see WWX and LWJ as best friends and sworn martial brothers. The show could never have been made or aired if that wasn't the case.

In fact, newer fans might not be aware that there was a lot of controversy during filming because of leaked early attempts to create a straight romance between Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing. Some relationship-building scenes between them were filmed, and at one point in the BTS GG is heard complaining about the straight romance and saying that all those scenes should be deleted.

In the production team's defense, there was doubt at the time about whether the show could air given its source material as a BL novel. They likely had investors and backers pressuring them to make sure that the story was unambiguously straight.

Fans of the novel made a massive uproar about it, threatening to boycott the series. The backlash was so extreme that it became a bigger threat to the success of the show, and the straight romance was killed. We all owe a lot to those agitators! 😅

The BTS

The BTS clips were first discussed in an Untamed press conference (that section of the interview starts at around 36:30). The producer said that in the future some of the behind-the-scenes moments would be shared. GG and DD exchanged a glance and looked extremely uncomfortable with it.

A lot of turtles find that clip funny, and laugh about what GG and DD might 'have to hide', but I have never understood how fans can find GG and DD's discomfort funny.

It might surprise some newer turtles to hear that there were moments where GG and DD appeared to be uncomfortable with the BTS, but there were.

Another moment happened in an interview where GG and DD were asked to explain a BTS scene of the two of them in the boat, where GG is lying in DD's lap. DD turns to the interviewer with a shocked and displeased look on his face and says, "They released this?"

There were other moments as well, but I haven't kept a comprehensive record of all that. This happened long before I clued in on how quickly clips can disappear in this fandom.

I believe that it is totally normal to have mixed feelings about the BTS, and I believe GG and DD are no exception to that. No doubt they enjoy some of the clips and feel uncomfortable about some of them, just like many turtles (myself included).

There were official BTS clips released during promo, but the unofficial BTS clips didn't come until later. I talked in more detail about the unofficial BTS and how they came to be released here.

The unofficial clips began being released by fansites in the fall of 2020. It would be hard to overstate how different the atmosphere around them was to what it is now. Now it's quite common to find BTS clips all over the place, both in C-social media and on international sites like YouTube and Instagram.

However, back in 2020 they were extremely hard to get ahold of, and sharing them outside of where they were initially released was strictly forbidden and frowned upon by fans. In fact, if you dig back through my 2020 posts I'm sure you'll find many posts where I admonish people not to share the BTS clips, and where I bitch about people sharing them without authorization. I also answered a lot of asks about these issues at the time (just one example).

Times have changed a lot, and now everyone is sharing them all very freely without any concerns.

The situation was a lot different back then:

GG and DD had gained a tremendous amount of popularity from the show, but their reputations and careers were not yet fully established and secure.

227 was still an active concern that was still making news and still impacting GG's life directly. He had not yet recovered from any of it and was still mostly lying low. He was constantly being attacked and antis were constantly out to get him.

The Untamed was still fresh and current, and being discussed regularly in the media. Because filming was still fairly recent, what happened during filming would still run the risk of impacting GG and DD's lives and careers.

Fans were coming under very close scrutiny because of 227 and other fandom-related scandals. The government was starting to crack down heavily on fandom culture.

This was all uncharted territory. No one knew how the BTS might be received, or how it might impact GG and DD. Fans were very freaked out about the possibility of anything compromising getting leaked and harming the boys.

No doubt fansites were also worried about how fans might respond to some of the releases, and wanted to ensure they didn't upset or anger fans, or stir up more excitement than could be safely contained within the fandom.

All of this contributed to a climate of extreme caution and secrecy around the release of BTS clips.

We never knew when one might be released, and when they were released they were typically only put online for a few minutes, then deleted. This was all done in an effort to limit the exposure of these clips primarily to turtles who have GGDD's best interests in mind.

The clips were heavily watermarked and overlaid with visual and audio curses that 'reuploaders must die!' ('banyun biss', which I'm sure most of you have encountered in some of the clips you've seen).

Early clips were heavily watermarked.

Those who missed out were out of luck. It was extremely socially unacceptable to re-share clips once they'd been deleted. Those who missed out would have to rely on recaps and transcripts from those who had seen the clips. Fans took to staying up all hours watching and waiting for a release.

Back in those days people tried to save every clip they could, hoarding them greedily. Turtles' phones were filling up with large video files. It's funny to think about now, because the clips are everywhere and so easy to find these days, but back then it was a whole Thing.

The initial releases were sporadic and quite tame as fansites dipped their toes in the water of how all this would be received. Gradually over time clips became more frequent and stayed up longer, and some of the more salacious stuff began being released. Those clips were often accompanied by hilarious intro images.

(For those who don't get it, it's the PornHub logo).

Of course all of the clips were heavily discussed as they came out, and a clearer picture of GG and DD's relationship and of their experience of filming began to take shape over time. Some of the fake rumors (such as the 49 fake candies and the CPN that GG designed a racing suit for DD) were gradually proved to be true as these clips were released. However, that was mostly confined to fandom circles.

There were occasionally times when these clips or their content would cross over into the mainstream and start trending on Weibo. In many of those cases, the hotsearches would be bought and pushed by antis of GG and DD who want to see them cancelled. At those times turtles would jump into action to wash those topics and replace them with mundane, unrelated content.

There were fan theories and fake rumors about GG and DD's reaction to the clips. Sometimes when new clips were released GG and DD would be seen online and turtles assumed they were watching them. Of course, considering the clips featured them, it's highly likely that they did eagerly await releases just like the rest of us.

I suspect that it was likely a mixed bag for them. Some clips might have really stressed them out either upon initial release or after reactions began to emerge, while others likely made them laugh and feel nostalgic about filming.

A large percentage of BXG light banners and slogans came directly out of the BTS, some of which you can see GG and DD discussing in LRLG rumors.

Dumplings, rice noodles, 3+2 biscuits (cr @knivescharade in this post), discussed in this LRLG rumor.

There were definitely a few scandals and close calls that came out of the unofficial BTS, and solos and antis frequently tried to use them against GG and DD and tried to spin negative narratives about their relationship using disingenuous takes and edits of them (they still do to this day).

For example, the clip where GG tells DD that he prefers a natural look to idol makeup was used against GG at the time, and antis tried to make it seem like GG was homophobic and that GG was against men wearing makeup. Some of the clips where they were playfighting or bickering were used to try to create a narrative that they hated each other. That kind of thing.

BTS and fan service

One of the most common questions I've gotten about the BTS - and I still often get this question - is, "Aren't the BTS just acted out/scripted as fan service to promote the show?"

There are a few reasons people have this question in their minds.

Solos #1 narrative about GGDD is that their CP was just for the show and the BTS was all fan service, and nothing about their relationship is real. They push this claim very aggressively on social media anytime GGDD or The Untamed is discussed, and new fans will almost always encounter those claims in this way.

CP fan service is a normal part of how dramas are promoted, so people familiar with Asian dramas will often immediately jump to that assumption about GG and DD and about the BTS.

Heteronormativity leads many people to immediately dismiss the possibility of a gay relationship, which leads them to try to come up with other explanations for those clips.

People naturally have a hard time believing what they're seeing with some of those clips. Some of it is pretty jaw-dropping and it's understandable that some people will be skeptical.

However, there are a lot of really good reasons why these clips are obviously not fan service.

For one thing, the show was billed as a martial brotherhood, not as a romance. Some of the official BTS clearly did try to appeal to CP and MDZS fans and could be counted as fan service, but those weren't even the ones BXG are most excited about. (There is a playlist of some of the official BTS clips here).

The most exciting stuff was never released during promo, and almost none of it is overtly romantic. A lot of it is really crude and totally unreleasable as promo. GG and DD are lewd, crude and often rude in ways that only two people who are really close could ever get away with. In many cases it's the casual way GG and DD constantly cross polite social boundaries with each other that shows their intimacy, rather than anything overtly sweet or romantic.

A lot of it is also totally incomprehensible to regular audiences. You have to be a turtle digging deeply into GGDD to understand the significance of most of it. For example the way GG took care of DD on his birthday, or the way DD constantly bargained and haggled with GG to get him to eat more.

Most importantly, if it was all fan service then why did GG and DD never do any joint CP endorsements? The entire point of doing that type of fan service is to make a buck. Other drama CP - including BL - do this all the time.

And it doesn't make sense that a production that was as low budget as The Untamed could afford to have the two lead actors learn a whole second set of lines and do a whole second performance that never ended up getting released.

And of course, none of that explains why the bulk of the BTS clips ended up in the hands of fans and released years after the show finished airing. A lot of it still has never been released to this day.

I've often joked that if the BTS were scripted they were far more complex, more melodramatic and better written than the drama itself. You just can't come up with this stuff in a writer's room. 😅

Anyway, this post got a bit long but hopefully it gives you a bit more of a picture of what it was all like at the time. Sorry, I guess I didn't talk much about my own feelings/reactions, but hopefully you can get somewhat of a sense.

Overall it was exciting, but I also had some deep reservations about it all (and got a lot of hate mail for voicing those feelings, too). Keep in mind this wasn't long after 227, so I think it's understandable that I was feeling very wary about everything.

But that's all water under the bridge now. It's been many years, and if the BTS were going to harm GGDD it would have already happened. I think it's all pretty safe territory now.

Edit: some more of my thoughts and feelings at the time:

One of the most exciting things for me about the BTS clips was seeing so many of the fake rumors being proved true. There were a lot of rumors (including the 49 fake candies) that I totally scoffed at when I first heard about them, only to later find via the BTS clips that I had been totally wrong about them and that these things had actually happened, and even crazier things were gradually revealed.

Things were changing pretty rapidly for a while there now that I think about it.

Learning more about their relationship and seeing just how much they looked out for each other was another big one for me. Also the timeline. The BTS really reinforced my belief in The Devil's Timeline (the belief that they got together prior to filming).

But overall that was a very different time in the fandom as well. There were always so many candies coming out, not just BTS clips but things that came out of GG and DD's activities and social media posts. It was a really really busy time in the fandom.

Since then there has been a government crackdown on fandom culture, on the entertainment industry, on LGBTQ etc. in China, plus DD's split with Nike and him having to delete a lot of his GG candy posts from his Weibo account.

Things are so different now, and unfortunately a lot of it for the worse. Being a turtle is not always easy, and I'm sure being GG and DD can't always be easy either. We make it work, but I do sometimes look back wistfully on the freer, more exciting times in the fandom.

More such times could come in the future. We just have to keep moving forward and hope for the best.

Somewhat related: I did a semi-comprehensive post about GG and DD's reaction to turtles here.

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Seven

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV, very brief and very vague smut

a/n: there is no two ways about this, this chapter is tough. please take care in reading - as always, i'm not going for shock, just truth. thank you for reading

...................................................

I'd like to touch you

But I've forgotten how

And said I didn't need you

But look at me now

The Breeze/My Baby Cries as performed by Bill Callahan

..................................................

Small, sacred things must be rationed. Must be carefully given, and carefully taken. But that is not what this is, not any more. They have both become a little greedy with this, maybe Dove more so than him, something he didn’t think could be possible. Like she’s trying to make sure that he will still be there, that he will still be open and waiting for her when she reaches for him, and he always is. 

He knows what her asking looks like by now. It starts with touch, a hand slipping around his waist, resting on his shoulder, curling around his wrist. Any sort of small presence. I am here, and I want something . And he wants it too. 

“Hi.”

“Hello.” 

“Did you sleep alright?” He knows that she did, no fret or flurry, just her small puffs of breath fanning over his chest. But he still asks, and she nods. Her touch is curious, collecting, the way she draws a line from his brow down the slope of his nose, random mappings, just because she can, just because he will let her. And then, like always, her brow will furrow, briefly, smoothing back out like she has reassured herself that yes, she can, so she does. 

Always small, always short-lived, there and gone, kissing like they’re getting away with something. By the time they sit down to breakfast, she will already have asked for a few more from him, and he will have asked for several as well. Pulse points, checking in, still there, still wanting this, both of them. 

No, it has not gone much further than this, and he does not care. But he thinks it frustrates her. Sometime last week, sitting on the couch in their usual curl, they had tried, and it had not gone well. More like he had tried, and it had not gone well. Tried to take too much, more than she was ready to give, though she tried to all the same.

 A bit stiff when she settled in his lap, uncertain hands balled into fists against his chest, and he kept his own palms respectable, reassuring, and wide against her spine, trying to soothe some of that tightness away. And it was not a small or short thing, her lips parting for him, small sounds in the back of her throat for him, hips twitching and trying for him. Where or when it became too much, he isn’t sure. What he does know is that suddenly, those little rasps of pleasure turned into a sharp, panicked whine, and she pulled away from him so quickly that her teeth nicked his bottom lip. A quick pulse of pain, the clearest warning. Too much, you will ruin this with your greed if you are not careful. 

And of course, Dove had apologized, a rapid succession of sorry, her head in her hands from where she had curled into the side of the couch, away from him. Angry at herself, and she had no reason to be. 

He is learning. Do not corner her, she will seek out the space that she needs if he does. Do not curl hand around the nape of her neck, she will try not to let it show, but something will slip in around the edges of her expression, something pained and stifled. 

She is learning too. How much he likes her hands brushing back through his hair, not that he would ever admit it. Nor would he confess to the strange kick in his chest whenever she presses her lips to his temple, always when he isn’t expecting it, her silent sidle up alongside him, a lean that he slumps into. But she knows, somehow, and she gives these things to him often enough that he fears he will start getting used to it, start taking it for granted. 

So, for now, he does not ask for any more than this, leaning over the console for one more before she has to go into the diner for work, a sigh when she pulls away. 

“Are you coming in for lunch?” He huffs. There hasn’t been a day in ten months that he hasn’t come in for lunch while she is working. Only recently has she started asking that question, her own way of making sure.

“You have to stop giving me fries.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m gonna end up having a heart attack.”

“No one’s making you eat the fries, Joel.”

“Then what are they on my plate for?” 

“Fine, no more fries.”

“Well, maybe just a couple.” Exasperated, a roll of her eyes, her smile screwing to the side. 

“I’ll see you at lunch.” 

She does see him at lunch, three fries pointedly placed on the edge of his plate. He sucks the salt from his fingers. 

…

Everything has rolled over green by now. Spring, the shortest mercy of all. Soon, summer. Wildfire season, and the thick haze it promises. Soon, a year since she came to stay with him. It makes him nervous, checking for any sign of flutter or flight. But there is none. She preens under his palms, settling into his side on the couch after dinner, a usual, used to it, routine. 

He would be happy with this, and only this. Every evening on the couch with her would be a gift. But it is so very human to consider the possibility of more. To imagine what undoing the buttons of her shirt would feel like, would look like. And it’s certainly not normal, the way they move around each other before bed. How they had established this rhythm, he is unsure. Every night, he will face one wall, and she will face the other, and by the time they turn around, there is nothing to see. Nothing more, at least. He scolds himself for that thought. As bad as the rest for wanting like that. Is he? Isn’t he? 

But he is not the only one wanting. He must remember that.

Tonight, she tiptoes out onto the edge of her want. Clearing her throat before he pulls back the covers on the bed, though her eyes will not quite meet his when he looks at her. 

“What is it, Dove?” It’s like she knows the motions, the movement, what want looks like, but she cannot quite place all the angles of herself inside of it. She takes two shuffled steps around the foot of the bed, toward him, then stops, like she must give her full consideration to what comes next. 

But she is not the only one wanting. He must remember that.

He can show her what comes next. He can close that gap. And now, he does. And now, she lets him. 

Just as he has learned what sets her to flight, he knows now what will steady. A hand on her waist, his thumb pressed against the bare slip of skin between where her t-shirt has gotten rucked and the band of her sweatpants. His other hand skirting around between her shoulder blades, stuttering wings. He kisses her once and pulls away just enough to watch for any pinch of fret in her expression. There is none. 

The next one is hers, stepping closer into his chest, her hand threaded through his hair moving him as she wills. A soft, small noise skitters up the back of her throat, maybe surprise when he wordlessly asks her to open to him. Tongues and teeth, and the strange animal movement of it all. He licks into her, and her hand curls closer at the nape of his neck. 

His turn to be surprised, she pulls away, a huff of a laugh when he just tries to follow. Her hand against his chest, and half of a swollen smile on her face that says patience, let me. 

This is going to destroy him, isn’t it? And it already has, hasn’t it? Ruined him for anything, or anyone, else. Only made worse when she carefully tucks her arms back through the sleeves of her t-shirt and shrugs it off over her head. Bare, new, for him. Her arms settle in a loose cross over her stomach, hands curling around her waist. Devastating shadows in the small pools of her collar bone, the fall between her breasts, washed warm in weak lamp light. And he only realizes that he hasn’t moved, only small breaths somewhere high in his throat, when her face falls, a quick crumple of fear, of rejection, her shoulders already starting to curl.

“Please come here, Dove.” Monstrous, how big and loud his want turns when she steps back into his arms. He must portion it, parcel it, slow moves. He finds every notch and nick of her spine with his palm, settling low, where his fingers can run a careful circuit just beneath the waist of her pants. Selfish, certainly, seeing what is okay, what will be allowed. He puts his mouth over her sternum, presence more than anything else, her spine dipping and bowing as her arms curl over his shoulders. A sigh of his name, like prayer, like all he could possibly need in this world. Feed him and shelter him in the sound of that sigh. 

“You too.” For a moment, he’s unsure what she means, but her fingers slip down and flirt with the hem of his shirt, and it’s enough for him to do the rest. And he’s never been too prideful, too vain about these things. But it has been so long since something like this. Older, worn around the edges, and some small, simpering part of him works an excuse, or maybe an apology up between his ribs for her. Sorry, not younger, or stronger. Not better at this, any of this. But it’s unneeded, unasked for, like she knows exactly where it rests beneath his skin, her palms spanning his ribs, coming to rest as a merciful cage over his heart. She likes to feel it, he thinks, the way it trips over itself when she touches him. Stupid heart, stuttering heart, so owned and overwhelmed heart. And then it’s his, and hers, so close that he can feel the places where her ribs are hollow, where they let out the sound, the shy admission of her own, for him. 

“Is this okay?”

“Mmhmm.” It’s a tight sound, high in her throat, her eyes a little rounded, a little wide. And he thinks that maybe, too much is starting to creep in, maybe, time to stop.  But it’s Dove who leans in for the next kiss, Dove who hums when she parts his lips, as animal as he is. And it’s Dove who crawls back onto the bed, elbows bent and sinking into the sheets. He has to remind himself that yes, he can look, as much as he wants to. Yes, that jumpy smile in the corner of her mouth is for him. And yes, it’s him that she wants to come closer. What a gift. What a pretty, painful gift.

He is careful. All his want, suddenly singular. To make something good for her, to make it right. To lay pleasure in her lap without the tenuous binds she seems to keep it wrapped in. 

But there is someone else in bed with them. A ghost in bed with them. And pleasure will never be so simple so long as it lives and breathes with them. 

So he is something more than careful. His muscles shake with the effort of holding himself over her, aware of every place that his body touches hers, the cradle of her hips, the soft splay of her knees letting him know that yes, okay, yes, come closer. She’s still in sweatpants that used to be his, faded gray that he thumbs at over the rise and dip of her hip bone, just beneath the elastic.

She lets him. Lifting her hips for him, bare for him, her cheek tucked down near the close hike of her shoulder. Watching his hands more than anything else, a small pull between her brows, her eyes flitting at the way his palms settle at the hinge of her thighs, keeping track of each finger. 

He lays his palm over her stomach, an ask in and of itself that she hums a small sound to, something he thinks is yes, enough for him to let his hand slip lower. Her hand curls closer around his nape, seeking a kiss, comfort, as he parts her with his fingers, pleasure for pleasure’s sake. And at first, it is good, her eyes dropping shut and a keening sound settling between her parted lips. Her hips tilt up into the cup of his palm, and he gives her a little more, watching the dips and bends of shadows dance against muscle moving with stuttered breath. 

What changes? Suddenly, not pleasure. Not there at all. One moment, she is sighing his name, and the next, she is silent. Maybe a good thing, but then he sees the way her eyes are trained somewhere up and back, almost all white. And what could be confused for simpering sate, her hand curled in the sheets, is something else entirely. He can see how tight her grip is in the painful pull of skin over her knuckles. And her other hand that had been settled in his hair has taken up a similar position at her side. She is bracing, he realizes. She is muscling herself through something, trying to get through something. And she is doing it for him.  

“Dove?” He says it twice, a light shake to her hip where he has moved his hand, enough to get her blinking again. A strange look passes across her face, her brows pulling down and a huff of an exhale. Like frustration, though where it is usually directed at herself, it now falls squarely on him.

“Why did you stop?” There is no good way to answer that question. He could almost laugh with the absurdity of it, settling back on his knees, surprised when she follows after him, propping herself onto her elbows and squinting at him in the dim lamp light. 

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.” Without hesitation, rehearsed, like it was ready and waiting in her throat. 

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He hates the way her face falls, eyes drawing heavy down her cheeks. Rejection, though he didn’t mean for it to be. But she moves into near-immediate action, lifting up onto her knees, hand to his chest and hand in his hair and soft, murmuring words it’s alright, please, I want to , please that just make his stomach slurry up sick. He collects both of her wrists in his hands, settling them down in her lap. It’s a familiar posture, pattern, her expression crumpling for a second time as she recognizes that his no is final, that this will not continue, no matter her coaxing, no matter her assuring. He has already seen what fear looks like in her body, and he could not stand to see it again beneath his own hands. 

When she doesn’t say anything more, her chin tucked down so he could not catch her eyes if he tried, a sigh slips between his ribs. A weak attempt at sorry, he swipes her t-shirt off the floor and offers it to her. Anger always feels so good when there is hurt, cauterizing the wound from the inside out. It does not surprise him when she scoffs, her fingernails grazing his skin in a sharp snarl of pain as she takes her shirt from his hands. She refuses to look at him as she stumbles off the bed, jerky and flustered in getting dressed. No response to his quiet call Dove, please, she has already shut his bedroom door behind her, the soft pad of her feet on the stairs.

He knows that he was right to stop, to not let whatever that was go any further. Like pantomime, like performance. Not her pleasure, not really, but what she thought it should look like. Putting on a show for his benefit. Not agent, not active, but acting. None of it real, or maybe all of it too real, enough so that she had to get away from it the only way she knew how. A leaving, without leaving at all.

Sleep does not come. Behind his eyes, her knuckles so white, and the frightening tilt of her eyes so very far away.

…

She will not speak to him. And of course, the sheep are on her side too, closing ranks when he joins them in the fields in the morning. She won’t so much as look at him, all her attention on Punch and Judy, quiet words that he can hardly hear, and smiles that are certainly not for him. The lambs have gotten more confident in their growth, in their age, and they treat him with as much reticence as the rest of the flock, leaving a wide berth between themselves and him when they pass by to get to the water trough. 

Joel is lost, words testing and trying up his throat, though nothing feels right. All through breakfast, and in the car, silence. She rests her elbow on the passenger side door, head in her hand, whole body tilted away from him and toward the window. And she doesn’t say anything when he drops her off at the diner, but neither does he, some half-formed thought hanging fizzled and futile with the slam of her car door. 

He does not go to the diner for lunch for the first time in months. Unwanted, he figures, it would only make it worse if he did. He goes to the drugstore instead. They have found a careful configuration of medicine that makes her throat feel better. A well-timed stagger of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, and the kind of cough drops that have menthol in them, though she gags at the taste. He picks up more of everything.

“So Dove is leaving soon?” Rod’s question shocks him, quick stoppage of his pulse, kicking back with a wince under the fluorescent store lights. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I heard her and Sal talking at the diner the other day. He was gonna give her a good deal on his son’s old car. I just figured, you know, she must be making plans for herself.” The rest of Rod’s words are a muted wash beneath the white noise whine in Joel’s ears. Words that make him dizzy. Words of leaving.

And that was the goal, wasn’t it? She was always going to leave. And last night, well, easing the task of leaving with how wrong he turned and twisted everything between them.

Stepping out into the sharp spring air, his head spins, stupidly clutching two pill bottles and a packet of cough drops, the kind with menthol, to his chest. Though things clarify, crystallize quickly. Oh, this is why he shouldn’t have. All that shouldn’t for a reason. The consequence of ignoring shouldn’t is finally here. 

But it’s never too late to shutter up and shut down the beating fact of his heart. Good for her. Car from Sal and plans for herself and nearly a year’s worth of money saved, good for her. And she doesn’t need him, good for her. Doesn’t want him either. Last night, that wasn’t her want. That was some sick transaction, or at least an attempt at it. Her time with him coming to an end, and how considerate of her, to try to give him what he wanted. No, no better than any other man in that way. Good for her for getting out, her second act, escape artist extraordinaire. Fucking good for her.

It is childish, jokingly juvenile, but it still feels good to throw away the two pill bottles and the packet of cough drops, the kind with menthol, and slam his car door much the same way she did earlier that morning. He sits there, reminding himself of inhale and exhale. Until eventually, he thanks something silent for the small mercy that there is no one else walking down the main drag of town when he gets back out of the car to rummage through the trash for the two pill bottles and packet of cough drops, the kind with menthol. He knows she has run out of all of them, and she needs them, really, and he already bought them, so there. Huff, slam, sigh, there. Good for her.

Relief, that he too has something to be angry about when she gets into the car after her shift at the diner. He keeps his eyes on the line of his knuckles on the steering wheel.

“You didn’t come in for lunch.” 

“No, I didn’t.” He pushes down the sick swirl in his gut, the smallest, simplest part of him satisfied in how much the ensuing silence hurts. But he can’t help himself, he has never been one to play fair, words furling up his throat, quick poison when they get back to the house.

“Reckon you don’t need me to drive you to the diner anymore. Real handy of you to get a car sorted for yourself.” He knows that if he looks at her, all this anger will smother itself out in shame, though he still hears the sharp inhale she takes, shifting in the passenger seat. 

“Who told you about that?” 

“It’s a small town.” 

“I thought you would be happy about it.”

“Sure, I’m happy about it. I suppose you’ll be leaving soon then?” Just enough bluster, enough mean, to turn an arched brow her way, though his face falls instantly when he finally looks at her.

“I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you.” Clipped, quiet words, barely stitched together between sniffs that will certainly slip into tears. Her eyes are already starting to swim. He did that. He caused that. Too late for sorry because she’s already shrugging out of the car and shuffling through the tall wisps of grass toward the flock. He watches her through the slivered reflection of the rear-view mirror. A shame, because it is a beautiful day. Painfully blue and bright, a rash of wildflowers ruffling a fiery mane over the fields, burst capillaries against green dermis. And a woman standing amongst sheep, her palm extending out and resting against a woolen rump. Even in the small slant, he can see the shake of her shoulders. 

…

They do not eat dinner, do not sit on the couch, and they certainly do not go to bed together. It is dark out, and he is already upstairs when he hears the front door open and quietly close. She spent the whole evening outside with the animals. His ears prick to the sound of her footsteps trailing down the hall toward the guest room, willing a change of direction that he knows will not come. Another door opens and closes, he sighs.

He has no clue how real this car is. If it is already, or if it will soon be hers. How soon is soon? How soon is leaving? He works all of it up in his mind. How fragile this all really is, and how quickly he managed to ruin it.

........................................

taglist: @cassiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @joelsgreys @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @beskarandblasters @narxisus

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Once again I got caught up with the chapters and I gotta speedrun the writing i hate myself 😭 -Danny Words: 1,703 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Cherish the River' -by Jasper Wilderness

XLII: I Am Once Again Making Problems for Others

Ara decides that if Leo is willing to face the possibility of her turning into an obnoxious minor goddess that acts just like Aphrodite, she can go to sleep and face whatever that brings.

As soon as she closes her eyes, Ara gets sucked into visions. Some are so fast she can't even make sense of them: fights in alleys, children running through wide expanses of grass—a girl, scowling at a nonsensical paragraph and praying for divine help to come and get her out of her test... Suddenly, a hand closes around her wrist and yanks her backwards. 

I land on the pitch-dark floor of the Hades cabin. "What the—"

Nico crouches next to my head. "Where the Tartarus were you?"

I sit and look around. "This is a dream?"

"Yeah, mine," Nico tilts his head. "I felt you... all over the place. All the demigod dreams I jumped through... you were there. I called out for you and you showed up here."

I examine my hands. "The voices..."

"What?"

I tell him about Will's offerings and all the stuff that I'd gone through since leaving camp. I even tell him about what happened at the cave and while fighting Commodus.

"That explains why you've got white streaks in your hair," Nico raises a brow. "You're something else now."

I look at my hair, no one had pointed it out until now, and I hadn't seen it. "I'm sorry, Nico."

He shakes his head, taking the news with surprising calmness. "I'm glad. I could sense you sometimes, your mortality blinking on and off. Turns out you were only breaking out of the mortal cocoon."

"Don't say it like that," I make a face.

"Should I tell the others? Chiron and Lily... they should know. Maybe that's why Mr D isn't around, you'll take his place and Lily takes yours."

"I don't think that's what's happening," I pause, getting an idea. "Hey, can't you summon Lily here, too?"

"Want me to?"

"Please."

The boy gets up and leaves the cabin for just one second, I still find it weird that he follows my orders so easily nowadays. The door slams open and Lily storms in, wrapping me in a hug. "You're alive!"

I hug her back, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Hi, Lils..."

The girl holds me by the shoulders. "Tell me everything."

Lily's expression is hard to read during the first few minutes, probably because everything is pretty standard for a quest—until I reach the events at the Zoo. My feverish crisis, and all that came after, and Lily gets very quiet.

"Nico..."

"I'm here."

"You heard about the offerings, didn't you?" Lily looks at him. "Because I... I did it too."

I couldn't have been more surprised if Lily had admitted to sleeping in an owl onesie. "You... what?"

"Well, it's like Will said. The gods have forsaken us. But you haven't. We've been so difficult to you, Queen B," Lily holds both of my hands. "We question you, and you've taken each blow with grace. You love us."

My eyesight blurs with unshed tears. "I thought you'd be angry at me."

"Angry?" Lily huffs. "Never."

"Why not? This isn't what we wanted, and you know it's not good news..."

"I was angry when you were arrogant. You had a good-natured interest in others and then you changed, got dismissive and acted like we owed you everything. I know you were in a lot of pain, and I'm sorry I couldn't see it... But you've never stopped helping others while getting nothing in return, and I'm happy knowing my best friend is going to last me a lifetime."

Lily cups my face and I cry like a little kid. "All our hard work paid off," I press my hands over Lily's. "No more kids left to their luck. I'm gonna look after all of them."

"I know."

"I'm scared."

"I know," Lily's lower lip quivers. "I'm sorry if our offerings sped up this thing—but you got this. You always do."

Nico gets on one knee next to us, pressing his hands to our shoulders. "We'll keep camp safe, and if you don't come back after helping Apollo... we'll understand why."

Lily sniffs. "Would be better to have our communications, we could call you sometimes..."

"You can call me," I squeeze her hand. "Burn offerings, it works. You'll always be on my mind."

We hug again, and then Nico snorts. "Drew is gonna be livid..."

Ara opens her eyes and sees daylight. She packs her stuff and walks out of the room, the Waystation opening paths for her with ease. In the kitchen area, she spots Emmie cooking, Lester and Meg seated across from Georgie, coloring and immersed in her own little world.

Jo is focused on a project while Calypso tries not to strangle Leo while he fools around unpacking all she's packing for him on the kitchen counter. Lit is next to Apollo quietly eating breakfast.

"No one woke me," Ara speaks up.

Leo's smile widens. "Morning, Sunshine, we all agreed you needed the catnap."

"What time is it?"

"Barely dawn," Calypso flicks her wrist and a wind spirit sends a fresh glass of orange juice at her. 

Ara drinks, glad that it tastes good. "Thanks." She approaches Lester and Meg, both getting up the moment they see her to get ready to leave. 

Lit looks at her and Lester, holding his coffee with both hands. "Thank you. For the second chance."

"I believe in them," Lester smiles. "And third and fourth chances. But I only forgive each person once a millennium, so don't mess up for the next thousand years."

"Couldn't be me," Ara smirks, patting Lit's back a tad too harshly. "I'm a pampering guardian. Unless you're a pirate. Please never become a pirate, those guys smell weird and I love killing them."

"I will keep that in mind," he retorts with a weak smile.

Lester nudges her and points to the outline of Agamethus, standing next to a window. The teens approach him. "I'm glad you're still here," Lester says. "You know what happened at the Cave of Trophonius, you know he is gone."

The figure moves in agreement.

"Your brother asked me to tell you he loves you. He is sorry about your fate. I want to apologize, too. When you died, I did not listen to Trophonius's prayer to save you. I felt you two deserved to face the consequences of that robbery. But this... this has been a very long punishment Perhaps too long."

Ara speaks. "You could've grown bitter like your brother, you could've done a lot of damage, yet you decided to show the way to other demigods. That is something I respect and relate to."

"If you wish," Lester adds, "when I attain my godhood again, I will personally visit the Underworld. I will petition Hades to let your soul pass on to Elysium." Agamethus hands the boy his Magic 8 Ball. "Ah. What is your wish, Agamethus?"

I WILL GO WHERE I MUST. I WILL FIND TROPHONIUS. TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER, AS MY BROTHER AND I COULD NOT.

Just like that, he's gone. Ara stares at the golden speckles that float around as the only proof he was there. "You know, Lester, we'll all fade one day. That will be my comfort."

Lester hums, looking at her softly. "Strange comfort."

"Is it?" She looks at him with the same tenderness in her eyes. "Give your time to others, Apollo, that is how the gods help," she chuckles, "and is the only thing we have in abundance."

"So... what is your plan?" Lester crouches next to Meg. "Why the roof? If we are seeking the Labyrinth, shouldn't we be on the ground floor?"

"We need a satyr."

"Yes, but... How do you intend—?"

"Shhh."

Lester purses his lips and stands, leaning in to complain at Ara. "Let's lose her in the labyrinth."

"Don't even joke about it," Ara gets goosebumps. "I want you as close as possible at all times, I'm not trusting that place even for a second." The tomato patch splits open and something starts to come out of it, big and breathing... "Holy goats!" She gasps.

"This is one of the more important satyrs, a Lord of the Wild," Lester says in awe. "How did you find him?"

Meg points at Ara. "General Jackson gave me a name and said he was good. Is this him?"

"It's Grover!" She beams.

Hearing his name, the satyr wakes up abruptly. "I didn't eat them! I was just..." He blinks. "Birdy? Wait... this isn't Palm Springs. Where am I?"

"Hello, Grover Underwood," Lester says happily. "I am Apollo. This is Meg. And you, my lucky friend, have been summoned to lead us through the Labyrinth."

Ara drops to her knees and hugs the satyr. "Mighty Pan, I'm so happy to see you!"

The satyr is still groggy, but he chuckles. "You got taller. Again. What's going on?"

The girl glances at Apollo over her shoulder, then back at the satyr. "I think we should feed you first."

"What? Why?"

"There you are!" Leo walks up to them with his duffel bag over one shoulder. "Can't go without my good luck kiss!" He stops and spots the satyr. "Is that Grover?"

"Leo Valdez," Grover stands and helps her up, patting her shoulders to clean her, only getting more dirt to stick. "You're back? Good! Birdy was worried sick about you."

"He came back two months ago, G-Man," Ara frowns. "You haven't gone to Long Island since last year?"

He blushes. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, but... we can talk later."

Ara goes over to Leo and the boy waves at the satyr. "Nice to meet you, dude! Let's meet sometime and eat enchiladas! Bye, guys!"

The girl takes him away from the group. "Ready to go?"

"Yup. Got it all here." He pats his bag. "You got your satyr, so you're ready too, right?"

"Yup," she eyes him. "Hey, if you need to talk, you can burn an offering."

Leo laughs, then he sees her expression and stops. "You're serious?"

"About 95%," she grins. "Or you could just dream of me."

The boy pulls her closer. "Now that's a given..." He kisses her and mumbles. "I know you're immortal and everything but that doesn't mean you can't get hurt, so be careful..."

"Mind your business," she pecks his lips, steps out of his embrace, and shakes his hand firmly. "Masters of unlikely?"

"All the way, Sunshine." Leo winks. Festus comes into view and the boy jumps over the ledge, landing on the dragon swiftly. "See you soon!"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[eyes-of-metal]

Gambling With The Heart

Chapter Two

Eric Singer X OC

A/N: I would love to have linked that first chapter, but Tumblr is being a dick, so that it won't let me. Anyway, please enjoy the second chapter of this series.

Eric’s POV

I'm still not sure how that worked for me. I figured there was no way anyone that pretty and young would entertain a conversation with me. I'm not twenty-five anymore and haven't been for a long time. I have to be three times her age.

Then I fumbled, starting that conversation pretty bad. I pointed out the watch as a last resort because I couldn't think of anything else to say. I figured it must have had some kind of story. Not every day do you see a nice watch like that on the wrist of a girl like her. It’s a Tag Heuer Carrera chronograph, in black with rose gold. It’s a sexy watch, and it looks good on her wrist.

The first thing that came to mind was that her rich boyfriend had bought it for her. She'd tell me that, and I’d return to the table and say I told you so. Only that didn't happen, and the story was much more interesting.

It turns out that she won it in a poker game and had no idea that it was worth around $10,000.

Not every day you meet a beautiful woman who won a watch in a poker game and is from Canada.

Vegas has its fair share of characters, but I've never met anyone who's caught me off guard that much. I sure wasn't expecting that when I walked up to her.

I also wasn't expecting her actually to agree to see me again. She is new to town and doesn't know anyone; that could be why she said yes, but even if it is, I'll take it. I was sure I would get shot down, but she said yes and now I have her number.

I sound like a teenager, not a sixty-six-year-old man. Teenage Eric wasn't pulling girls that hot, though. He barely pulled any. I guess that's what teenage me and sixty-six-year-old me have in common. I figured I'd be married by now. Life had other plans.

I picked up the piece of paper with her number written on it. She signed it with her name. Jewel. Next to it, she put a little diamond. It's a cute touch. I wonder if that's her favourite card suit? I'll have to ask her.

She hasn't left my mind since I met her earlier. It’s been a while since I met anyone who did that to me. I want to call her. I don't want to come on too strong, though I don't want to come off as uninterested. I'm interested. I don't know if she's interested in me, but I hope she is. Jewel agreed to see me again, so that has to be a good sign, right?

“What do you think, buddy?” I ask, looking at Ash, who just jumped on my lap.

“Should I call her?”

I give him a scratch behind the ear, and he makes a little noise. I'll take that as a yes, even if it was probably because I gave him a scratch.

I take my glasses off my cluttered coffee table and put them on to see the phone screen. The print on these things is so small. Then I dial her number from the piece of paper. I just hope she picks up.

It rings once. Then again.

“Hello?” I hear her voice answer.

“Hey, Jewel, it’s Eric Singer,” I tell her.

“Oh hey, Eric.” She says, sounding happy to hear from me, which makes me feel good about this decision.

“I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night and if you wanted to go out for dinner.” I shot my shot.

“I’d love to, but I work tomorrow night.” He tells me, sounding disappointed.

“What about tonight?” She suggests, “Unless you already have plans.”

“No, I'm good with tonight,” I say.

The sooner, the better.

I glance at the time on my watch. It's 3:30 now. I should give us time to get ready and for me to find a good place to take her.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” I tell her.

“Okay, sounds great.” She replies, “I’ll send you my address because I can't remember it off the top of my head.”

I laugh at that; we've been there when we moved to a new place and can't remember our address.

“No problem; I'm looking forward to seeing you later.” Fuck it. I might as well be truthful.

“I’m looking forward to it too.” Jewel replies, “I'll see you at seven.”

“See you then,” I say, hanging up the phone.

Well, that worked out better than I could have imagined.

——————————————————

Jewel’s POV

I can't believe I went from alone to hanging out with Eric Singer within 24 hours. It feels unreal. Yet it’s reality. I'm freaking out a bit. I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of him. He’s him, and I'm me. Yet he asked me to go out for dinner. I am now freaking out a little.

I have no idea what to wear. I haven't been out to dinner with anyone in so long. I've never been out to dinner with anyone like Eric before. I also have no idea where he's taking me. I don't want to be overdressed or underdressed.

I also don't want to look like a sugar baby. After all, he is an older man, and I am a younger woman; this is Vegas. He looks great for his age, but that age gap isn't going to disappear. I've seen lots of that. That's far from my intentions here. I could never do that. I'd feel very guilty. I like making my own money.

I sigh.

Whenever I’m freaking out, there is one person I call my sister Victoria. She always knows what to do. Even though I'm unsure if I want to get her involved, I know she’ll help.

I take out my phone and FaceTime with her.

“Oh look, Mark, it's Jewel! My long lost sister!” She answers dramatically, her fiance Mark sitting next to her.

“Nice to see you too, Victoria.” I laugh, rolling my eyes, “How's it going, Mark?”

“You know the usual, how are you doing? How's Vegas?” Mark asks; I love my soon-to-be brother-in-law. He's perfect for Victoria and like a brother to me already.

“Well, that's why I'm calling,” I tell them, “I’m going out to dinner with someone, and I don't know what to wear.”

“Oh, who?” My sister asks, looking intrigued.

“Eric Singer from KISS,” I tell her, awaiting the judgment.

“THE KISS DRUMMER?!” Mark gasps in shock; he's a big fan of KISS.

I love KISS, but not nearly as much as Mark. They are his all-time favourite band, and he has an extensive collection. So I know his sister-in-law met one of them and is going to dinner with one, so I must have him on cloud nine.

“YOU’RE HAVING DINNER WITH THE CATMAN?!”

“Yes.” I can't help but laugh at Mark’s reaction.

“You’ve been in Vegas two weeks and already have a date with a rockstar.” My sister says, looking impressed.

“What does he look like, Mark?” Vic asks as Mark takes out his phone to do a Google search.

“There he is,” Mark says, showing Vic a photo, hopefully a good one of Eric. Not that bad ones exist.

“For someone in his sixties, he looks pretty good,” Victoria says approvingly.

“Look at you pulling rockstars.”

“I wouldn't say I pulled him.” I tell her, “This is just a dinner between two people; I don't know if it's a date.”

“You always do this, Jewel.” Victoria says, “He asked you out; it's a date. Let yourself have this.”

“Fine.” I sigh. Even if I'm not convinced, it's a nice thought. I would be lying if I said I didn't have a bit of a crush on this man.

He was easy to talk to and not pretentious or flaunting who he was; it was like I was talking to any guy. Not the drummer of one of the biggest bands in the world. It was nice.

I'm looking forward to more conversation later. He seems like a fascinating man with lots to say.

“Now, what should I wear?” I ask her to get back on the subject.

“Hmmm.” Victoria debates with herself.

“What about that leather skirt you wore to our engagement party?”

That is a great skirt. It's a vintage leather mini-skirt with a zipper up the front. It might be a little too sexy, though. I don't want to give off a slutty vibe. I don't see him as someone who'd be into that.

“Is it too sexy, though?” I asked, pulling out the skirt and looking it over.

“Jewel, it's the perfect amount of sexy.” Victoria says, “Just wear some tights if you're worried about showing too much legs.”

“Alight, I can do that,” I say, taking out my sheer black tights to go with it.

“Now for a top, how about….” I pause as I dig through my top dresser drawer for a top.

“This?” I asked, pulling out a simple silk tank top.

“Thats perfect.” Victoria smiles, “I’m so happy for you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this happy.”

“Thank you.” I smile back at her, and I am thrilled.

“Speaking of cats,” Mark says, holding up Shadow, my big fluffy black cat.

“Someone wants to say hello.”

“Oh, hello, my baby boy,” I say to my baby voice. I miss that cat so much.

I couldn't take him with me when I moved, so I left him with Mark and Victoria. I was living with them before I moved. He was my cat, but he also loves them. And know for a fact that they spoil him to death. Sometime, once I'm more settled, I’ll get another cat. I miss having one around.

“It’s pretty empty around here without you.” My sister says, sounding sad. I know she misses me, and I miss her too.

“I know, I miss having you guys around too,” I tell her, “Soon you'll be married, and then I'm sure you’ll find a way to fill that empty room.”

“I know, I know.” Victoria says, “But I just miss my little sister.”

“She misses you too.” I do miss them. I don't know if I could have done this without the ability to contact them and see them. Thank god for modern technology.

“But I'm also happy things seem to work well for you.” Victoria continues, “You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Vic.” I smile.

“You know, if this works out, I could have a member of KISS at my wedding.” Mark fanboys, I just sigh and shake my head.

“If this goes well, I never let him meet you.” I tease, “Nothing could scare this man off more than you jizzing your pants over him being in KISS.”

“Hey.” Mark tries to protest.

“Come on, sweetie, she has a point. You are like the biggest fan.” Victoria laughs, and Mark can't argue with that.

“Oh yeah, you’ll freak out over this.”

When I met Eric, I suddenly remembered he was having dinner with Bruce Kulick. So, I also saw Bruce Kulick, who happens to be our favourite KISS guitar player. I know Mark’s going to flip hearing about this.

“Guess who Eric was having dinner with when I met him.”

“Who?” Mark asks excitedly.

“Bruce Kulick,” I tell him.

“So far, you've met two KISS members?!” Mark says absolutely beside himself, “You’re living the dream.”

I just laugh at that.

“Well, I should probably get going,” I tell them, looking at my watch. The watch I now know is worth $10,000, thanks to Eric.

“Okay, you have fun.” Victoria says, “I love you.”

“I love you guys too. Talk to you soon.” I reply before we hang up.

I hope this dinner goes well.

——————————————————

Eric’s POV

I take a deep breath and knock on Jewel’s door. I'm nervous. I have no idea why. I've taken girls out to dinner before. It’s been a while. I will admit that, but it's not like it's the first time. Usually, it ends badly, though. I hope it doesn't end that way with her.

The door opens, and there Jewel stands. She looks gorgeous. She's wearing a short leather skirt that fits her like a glove. She’s also wearing a silky tank top that shows off the right amount of cleavage to drive a guy wild. Keep it together, Eric.

You don't want to be the creepy date staring at her boobs all night, even if they do look good in that top. Enough of that; be respectful. Don't make it awkward.

“Hi.” She smiles when she sees me, grabbing her purse off the table in her entranceway. Hers is a real table, unlike mine, a drum stool.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her as she steps out and locks her door.

“Thank you.” She smiles sweetly at me, “You look good too.”

Not as good as her.

“Thank you, I tried my best,” I tell her, “Let’s go.”

“Alright, lead the way.” She tells me as I walk back to my car.

Eric, you can't mess one up. I remind myself. This is a rare chance you can't fuck up.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

not sure what to qualify this as, but I read the following in "getting where your face won't spoil the view" by notlucy and it's been stuck in my brain ever since

(tw for like implied cannibalism/vore I think?)

they were initially talking about rimming but then bucky went too stupid (affectionate)

“Steve…”

“Eat you out for days.” He fists a hand in Bucky’s hair, yanking his head back and exposing the column of his throat. Grinning, he goes in for a bite, sucking the rough, stubbled skin. “You need a shave.”

“Eat… me… “

It’s not an insult—he’s too spacey to be witty—but the way he says it makes Steve laugh all the same, and he kisses his jaw, his neck, the space beneath his ear. “Yeah, eat you up. Inside and out. Cut off pieces of you, just for me.” Bucky licks his lips; Steve takes advantage of an open mouth and shoves his thumb in, forcing Bucky’s tongue down, gratified when he gags. “You want that, Buck?”

A frantic nod, head moving as much as it’s able. God, he’s pretty like this.

do you have any thoughts like this about them?? idk if it falls under primal but it just scratches my brain well and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it some!!

ps. I don't like it in a gore way, more like the concept of consumption itself, on a brain sense more than the body? * insert Steve Kemp's speech about eating/consuming/being consumed being a form of love * I really don't know if this ask makes any sense anymore lmao thanks for reading this

"getting where your face won't spoil the view" by notlucy

I FUCKING LOVE THAT SERIES AND LET ME SAY--

Another line/idea from that series that makes me feral that's also, if you think realistically, very graphic is:

“What’d I say about moving, genius?” he growls, jerking his arm higher and oh, Jesus, Steve’s strong, he’s so strong and he could break the bone if he wanted to, but Bucky doesn’t want him to, doesn’t think he would, except that he could, and probably that’s the point. “I didn’t—ow, fuck, I’m sorry, but…” “No buts. No excuses. Next time I’ll nail your hand to the wall. Got me?” Bucky shivers and whines, caught between pure fantasy and harsh reality as he gasps out, “please don’t do that…” “No?” Steve’s grip tightens on his wrist, the pain a bright spark. “Why shouldn’t I? Because you’re in charge?” “Shouldn’t…” He drinks in a lungful of air, desperate and yowling, both loving and hating the threat. “Not… shouldn’t. You can but please don’t because I’m sorry and I’m…” “That’s right. I could. But I won’t. Because I believe in second chances.”

That excerpt is from "those clinging vines that had me bound, well i don't need them" by notlucy

I have many asks I need to get to, and I try to go in order of when they were sent in, but... maybe it's just my barely disguised teeth fetish talking (or maybe it's the vague religious undertone, nailing a hand to a cross that gets me, oops)... I could not resist this one.

All credit for inspiration goes to notlucy. This particular AU of Steve and Bucky, I am not claiming as mine! I'm just writing a general, darker d/s stucky pairing.

Content warning for non-gore, non-graphic mentions of dismemberment, death, etc. I promise it's not as dark as it sounds?? I don't know. This just came out of me 💀💀

"E-eat me," Bucky whimpers, voice strung out and pathetic.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, sweetheart," Steve teases him, just the right amount of bite to his words as he prowls circles around Bucky's strung up, helpless form.

Bucky's wrists are encircled by thick, padded cuffs. Attached via chain to the anchor points in the ceiling, his arms are held straight up above his body. Not too unforgiving, not too relaxed. Meanwhile, Bucky's legs are forced embarrassingly wide by a spreader bar at his ankles, attached via matching, snug ankle cuffs. He's not going anywhere. All he can do to squirm is shiver.

Helpless.

Just like Steve likes him.

He grins meanly, "you're so desperate for me."

Bucky whimpers in agreement, running out of words as he gets deeper and deeper into subspace. The expression on his face is stupid. Slack and empty-eyed. So precious.

"You just want to be in my mouth," Steve's upper lip curls up as he says it, almost snarling the words out.

Bucky's head lulls back between his shoulders, collared throat fully exposed, crumbling under his words, his voice, his promises. Wanting it just as badly as Steve is claiming he does. Slut.

Steve grabs his throat, standing in front of him, big and imposing, "you just wanna serve me, huh?" He shakes him around. Just a little. Enough to make him choke and sputter, glowing red under the attention. "Give into your higher purpose, yeah? Yeah. I know, sweetheart, you can't hide it, you want me to take little pieces of you, keep you close, so all I have to is reach over when I'm starting to feel hungry and..." Steve rakes his nails down his sides, unkind, "get a little piece of you to satisfy my appetite. More and more until there's nothing left."

"Hhuh, please!" Bucky keens.

His dick is so hard, jutting up obvious and obscene and wet between his trembling, lithe thighs. He already must've been on fire before Steve grated him with his nails, but as a result of the treatment... he burns hotter. His flesh turns even more pink. Red. Stained from his hairline, all down his face, neck, and chest, to his heaving stomach. The shape of his ribcage expanding and contracting, gleaming with sweat, as he struggles to breathe is fuckin' poetry in motion.

Steve bites down a groan, barely resisting taking the moment to himself to jerk off or to stand behind Bucky and fuck up into his exposed backside. Maybe not even his hole. Bucky is for him, after all. He could fuck his thighs instead. Deny him everything, but the glide of his throbbing, hard dick between those sweet thighs.

Jesus.

"You're so inspiring, baby," Steve waltzes behind him, dragging his nails across the canvas of his skin as if he wants to paint a masterpiece. All desire and lust. Art. "The way you cry and writhe," he lets out a hungry sound, "God, I don't know if I wouldn't be able to resist and I would eat you up right away, devour you like the starving man I am, or if I would have to drag it out and savor the taste, the thrill, because you beg and squirm and cry so prettily. Dinner and a show. How about that?" Steve chuckles, slapping his side hard enough to leave a handprint.

"God! G-AH!"

Steve cuts his second adorable little wail right in half, with a few equally had slaps to his ass. More handprints. One on each cheek, then a few overlapping prints. More claims. Like a brand on a prized piece of cattle.

And, huh, isn't that a thought?

Maybe he'll bend Bucky over, put him in a stockade so he can't go anywhere, and carve his initials into him. SGR. Maybe he'll make a custom brand, heat it, and listen to him squeal and cry as it sizzles. SGR. Although...

His Ma did always tell him not to play with his food before eating.

Glossing over that delicous idea, for now, Steve pinches Bucky right where it hurts, if his chest rattling sob is anything to go by. Yet, he conversationally speaks over his struggles, "what if I strung you up, tied you up all pretty, and just took little bites out of my new piece of artwork?"

Bucky makes a wordless caterwaul that sounds like assent. Or please. He's squirming, he's crying, and he's enjoying himself. It's hard to tell. Completely incoherent.

"Or, maybe I decide to bring over some friends and show off my catch, hm?" Catch. As if Bucky is some kind of game--fish, deer, elk--and Steve the hunter. "I know their mouths would water just looking at you. You look so delicious. Tender and juicy, huh?" Steve gropes his pointedly tender (from the spanks) ass, unashamed and filthy.

"AH!" Bucky keens.

"Don't worry, though, sweetheart," Steve smoothly purrs, "you're all mine." He bares his teeth. Wolfish.

"St-Steeve," Bucky whimpers. Cute.

"Mine. I'd never let them have a taste," he grabs him hard. His hips. He wants to leave fingerprint bruises behind. "They'll just have to hunger from afar. Admiring all the marks in you--chunks taken out by my teeth." Steve bites his shoulder, smelling his dark musk. He's sweating badly. Glistening. Beautiful. Steve licks his lips and goes on, "aaaall these marks because I couldn't help but steal bites while waiting for them to show. You're irresistible, sweetheart," he inhales deeply, as if he's wafting a fine wine, taking in the notes. "Want you so bad. I want you in me. All of you. 'M gonna eat you."

"Eat me!" Bucky begs, pathetic, mouth open and lips trembling.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve encourages, his mouth is split in such a wide grin that his face aches. He can't stop, though. "You're gonna be begging for it right up until you're swallowed whole, aren't you? You just can't help yourself," Steve pulls his head up just to grab at his chin and pinch his sweet dimpled chin. Shaking his head around. He looks so silly. Yet, Steve really does want to eat him. He makes him so hungry. "You want it so bad."

"Y's!" Bucky slurs, crying out.

Steve licks up his tears, swallows, then licks his teeth and shuts his eyes as he makes a humming sound like he's a delectable dessert. Like he's never tasted anything sweeter.

He hasn't.

God.

"After I'm done with you," Steve whispers harshly, "I'm never gonna forget it." He bites at Bucky's jaw, moaning despite himself because poor Bucky is completely limp. His head is up because Steve's holding it that way. "I'll taste you on my tongue forever. And I'm gonna tell everyone about it."

Bucky moans hoarsely, and he swoons in bonds. Feet giving from under him. Falling onto Steve's solid chest.

Steve chuckles, pleased, but pushes him back to standing, lips to Bucky's ear, "'m gonna say how there was this adorable, sweet sub that wanted me so bad he cried and begged and plead until I just ate him up like the big, bad wolf."

Bucky whimpers, a tiny, desperate sound.

"My sweet little bunny..." Steve licks his tongue up Bucky's throat, over his Adam's apple as he swallows, broad and hot, "I'm gonna tell them about how stupid you went whenever I sunk my teeth into your neck." He does it now. Bucky shakes, silently screaming. "And they're gonna stare at my teeth and know. They'll know how sweet you were. Too bad I had you all to myself."

Bucky can't speak. He can't stop shaking. He just stays there limp, whining, crying, wanting. The want rolls off of him in waves. Steve's going to devour him. Mouth on his throat, sucking bruises and leaving behind teeth indents, and hand tight around his cock. It doesn't even take him three strokes before he's giving in. Cumming right in Steve's palm. Steve licks it all up. His mess. Every part of Bucky is delicious and demands to be savored.

P.S. I have a playlist specifically themed around teeth that I was unashamedly blasting as I wrote this 😏 (and yes, I have a problem. I just like teeth, okay?)

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/goldenfoot/730129219314663424/i-was-considering-recently-how-kataras-necklace thoughts ??

*sighs* Okay, let's do this.

"Katara didn't go into detail about her grief during her bonding moments with the other guys"

1 - The reason Katara brought up her mom during these moments was because she could relate to the pain, say, Aang and Haru were feeling, and wanted to comfort THEM. When you're trying to help someone, you can bring up your experiences, but you don't make it all about you.

2 - Katara first started talking to Zuko about her mom in Ba Sing Se because she felt he was trying to diminish the suffering the war his nation/family started. She literally starts with a "How dare you?" And in the Southern Raiders, she only chose to talk to Zuko about it after a long time of them traveling on a mission specifically to hunt down Kya's killer. Of course it came up and felt like the right moment to discuss it a bit more in depth.

3 - The Southern Raiders was part of Zuko's life-changing field trips with his new friends, with them bonding - it would not make sense to NOT have him bond with them in ways that were different with how they all had bonded with each other before because it'd get boring to watch.

4 - Talking about traumatic events can be VERY difficult. Sokka didn't really discuss his trauma about his mom dying until book 3 - it's not that weird that Katara did the same.

5 - I'd argue that her talk with Haru WAS pretty in depth. It was only focusing more on the bond she had with her mom BEFORE the tragedy, not the tragedy itself.

"Zuko is the only one that 'wore' the necklace as well, symbolizing his in depth understanding of Katara's pain"

Zuko didn't have the necklace in his pocket, but rather on his wrist, because this is a TV series, and the whole point is that we should SEE things that will be significant in the episode.

Zuko had that necklace in the first place because HE STOLE IT. She did not trust him with it, did not allow him to touch, and show frames him getting it as NEGATIVE thing. It could NEVER be a symbol of any kind of trust or friendship (let alone romance) between him and Katara, because it was a way to show HOW ZUKO COULD AND WOULD HURT HER! Him stealing it, taunting her with it is literally another cruel reminder to Katara that even after taking away her mom, the Fire Nation STILL could take away even the little things that gave Katara comfort after all of that - see Zuko trying to capture/kill the boy Katara explicitly called FAMILY.

Even worse, while he did do a good thing by helping Katara confront the man that killed Kya, Zuko did it for all the wrong reasons. He came up with some bullshit theory of how Katara was TOTALLY not mad at him for essentially handing the victory to the Fire Nation and nearly killing Aang in the process, but was in fact "unfairly" shifting blame for her mom's death onto him (like "I lost my mom" wasn't exactly what they were bonding about before he stabbed her in the back).

Sure, by the end he was genuinely thinking of what he thought was justice, but that doesn't change the fact that at start he literally used her trauma to get her forgiveness because he thought he deserved it already (not to mention, having Zuko, the boy who was banished for trying to DEFEND the soldiers of his nation, suddenly be okay with killing one of them because of past horrible actions, like he was not doing the same thing two weeks before, is one of the WORST aspects of an otherwise pretty good episode).

"Zuko is the only one to wear the symbol of Katara's trauma, like she's the only one to touch his scar, showing their connection"

*Dies laughing* My guy, Mai was nuzzling said scar every other episode, which Zuko seemed to like quite a lot. Stop lying.

Also, Katara touched it to try to heal it - after Zuko had just told her he no longer resented it being there as he no longer felt that scar defined him as a person. While Katara's intention was sweet, that kinda shows how, even during a bonding moment, she and Zuko are NOT on the same page.

"Why was Zuko mentioned during the flirty Kataang moment?"

This is what people call a "joke." The show is making fun of the idea of Zuko giving Katara that necklace back and getting a kiss in return because the writers considered the thought that absurd. Hence the sarcastic tone, and hence Katara kissing AANG. The guy that actually gave her the necklace back with good intentions.

(Seriously, IMAGINE using "Sure, the show is actively making fun of the idea of Zuko and Katara bonding because of that necklace, and showing us how she's into Aang, but this is TOTALLY secretly proving how great Zutara is, trust me" as an argument).

[smurphyse]

Bloodied Up In A Barfight | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 3 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: barfights, fistfights, mentions of death, tension, arguments, BAU talk

Summary: You head to Tooky's bar to tend bar for Holly, and a fight breaks out. Later, Spencer finds something out about you and things get worse.

After a long irritating day of trying to fix a toilet in Room 2, I went up to my apartment for a nice hot shower, stared out the window for a bit like always, then made my way to Tooky's. 

It was one of my favorite spots in town. Nestled in the middle of the bay on the beach, the ramshackle bar held a special place in my heart. It was where I first kissed Ernie right before an eighteen year old me went home with him that night we met. If only I'd known what happiness would come after that night, I would have cherished it more. 

A whirlwind engagement, three years of bliss and love and the sea, all culminating in one violent night that took him from me. I should have known I wouldn't get to keep him or my happiness. 

I tried to shake away the crushing weight of my own memory as I did every day driving through these streets, but some days it was harder than others. Instead, I focused on driving my shitty old VW bus around the pothole that Spencer hit on his first day. With a smirk I noticed it was bigger than the day he got here. 

A majority of the seating was laid on the sand, hand placed stones that Tooky herself had put down when she first came here. She’d turned this beach into a paradise of hammocks, tables, and a small theater with a sheet hung with the ocean behind it. The woman was ancient, but she was more than happy to show off her much younger forty year old wife Vera who looked at her like she was made of gold. 

The bar was open, little cut tiles shaped in the design of fish and the waves outside under a wood top. Glasses hung from mounts just in reach for servers and the mirrored back held all the tequila and alcohol a girl could ask for. Tooky had small swings on the outside of the bar walls, and the patrons used the windowsill as a table. People already milled about though the sun was just beginning to set, the ocean blue shimmering with the bright pink-purple of the fading light. 

“Hey Tooky!” I called as I stepped in, that old familiar smell of cigarettes and palm fronds washing over me like the sand in the wind. 

Tooky, aged like the mountains and canyon ranges around us, rested on a stool behind the bar. Blue and pink neon flashed over her silver braids, the ends of which laid in her lap they were so long. Turquoise and sandstone jewelry hung from her long earlobes and wrinkled wrists, and she gave me a big smile and a wave when she saw me.

“Honey Bee, c’mover here!” The silver backed bracelets clacked with her movements, her sundress swishing along. Tooky Builds-the-Fire was as old as the sea itself, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She was as full of light now as she likely had been as a kid.

I made my way over and gave her a big hug. Her spindly arms held me in a death grip, nearly cracking my back. She let me go and placed a kiss on my cheek and gave a sneaky pat on my backside. "Where's that lovely wife of yours?"

Tooky pointed a shaky finger toward the beach, "She's helping the band get set up. You know how much she likes the music."

"Hey Honey!" Micah called, carrying a box of bottles from the kitchen, his long braids hanging over his shoulders. He set them on the counter and pulled me in for a quick hug. He pointed at Tooky, "Thanks for helping mom out tonight. Holly doesn't do so well here during this time of year."

"Oh, I don't mind," I told him with a smile. I set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Besides, gives me something to do other than fix toilets all night."

Micah gestured to his uniform, "And you couldn't say no to the town sheriff, right? Cuz I'm so intimidating and all."

"Oh, Sheriff Builds-the-Fire, you are the only man in this town I both fear and admire."

"As it should be," Micah grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't much taller than me, and the fact that he looked almost exactly like his mother made him insecure at times. People didn't tend to take him seriously. 

Micah pointed over to the corner of the bar and leaned in close enough to whisper, "Your boy's been here all day drinking his feelings. You might wanna check on him."

Sure enough, there was Rico in the corner hunched over a glass of whiskey. I could see the liquor in his eyes all the way from the bar, and I sighed before putting my stuff away in a locker in the kitchen, then made my way over to him. 

He was drawing on a cocktail napkin, and even before I came up to the table I knew he was drawing a picture of Ernie. Rico had painted the mural of him outside Collie’s, and Ernie was the one who bought him his first sketch set. The two of them had the same crooked smirks, always together no matter what. Even when Ernie and I took over the inn for Mattie May, Rico would stop by every day for lunch just to hang out with his best friend.

I slid into the chair opposite him. He didn't bother to look up. "Do you need me to take you home, Rico?"

He shook his head slowly, "I'm doing just fine here, Honey."

I couldn't stand it, his standoffish pose. He was on the defensive, but I could never resist poking the bear. It was something Ernie loved about me, but it was something Rico became easily frustrated by. 

"You should go home, get some sleep."

He finally looked up at me. His eyes were wet, red rimmed and exhausted. My shoulders sank with the weight of his gaze, and he knew it. 

Rico swallowed thickly, "You gonna marry me?"

"Ric-."

"I didn't think so," he said softly, waving a hand. "I knew the first time I asked that you'd say no."

"I do love you, Rico. Okay? I'm just…." The words spilled out like a geyser, but it needed to be said. I was never going to marry him, no matter how much I wanted to just to make him happy. "I can't stand the thought of you hating me because of this."

“I don’t hate you,” he said earnestly, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Rico, I can’t have you mad at me because I don’t want to get married. I’m not ready to do it with anyone-.”

"I'm allowed to be mad,” he cut me off firmly. “I'm allowed to be upset, okay? I know it makes you feel guilty but… it can't be my problem if you're not going to marry me. I need to feel what I feel, too. You’re not the only one who’s sad and fucked up around here."

I looked down at my lap and nodded as the tears welled. My voice strained as I tried to keep myself together. "Yeah… I know."

Rico pushed his empty glass toward me, “Will you get me another?”

I got up on shaky legs and took it with a trembling hand, “I’ll have Vera bring it over.”

I didn't even know why I was so upset. I didn't want to marry Rico, and the only real reason we'd started up in the first place was because of a drunken night last year. We were both lost without Ernie, and the thought of having to go on without Rico as at least my friend killed me inside. 

Turning on my heel, I made my way back to the bar, the glass hung loosely in my fingers. I pushed it across the bar where Vera had made her way to, cleaning a glass with a cloth. “Hey, Vera. Can you get Rico another one?”

She leaned on one leopard-printed hip and shook the washcloth at me, “You don’t wanna serve your boyfriend?”

I felt tears threaten to spill as I shook my head, “Can you just take care of him for me tonight?”

“Sure, Honey,” she said quietly. Vera filled the glass with Rico’s favorite, pressed a hand to my cheek as she passed and gave me a smile. Her bouncing blonde curls made me feel better, as did looking over just to see Tooky watching her backside with a lopsided grin. 

I let out a breath and decided to take over for her, picking up a glass to clean. When I turned toward the door I nearly jumped out of my skin at Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the counter with a cheeky smile and a wave. 

“You, uh, you made it out Mr. Buzzkill,” I said shakily, trying to covertly sniffle. It didn’t work, and he squinted my way.

“Are you crying?” I waved a hand in front of my face and shook my head, but I couldn’t help glancing over to where Rico sat in the corner talking to Vera. Spencer twisted on his barstool enough to look at him with a furrowed brow and a frown. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, and he turned back to look at me. His face told me he obviously didn’t believe me, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to him about this stuff. “What can I get you?” 

Spencer watched me for a moment, a pair of not-quite hazels searching me in an almost analytical way. He seemed to scan me and know in that moment that if he pushed me I was going to freak out, so he pulled out his wallet and a ten, then slid it toward me. 

“Bourbon, neat,” he decided. 

I pushed the bill back to him, “First one’s on me.”

“You know, nobody around here will let me pay for anything."

"You should take it and put it toward something fun like seeing the sights," I told him with a watery grin. I leaned over the bar and put my chin in my hands. "There's a lot of great places around here."

Spencer made a face and nodded, his gaze flicking down to my boobs. He made no effort whatsoever to disguise it and smirked like a cat, "I've got sights aplenty right here."

With that I snatched the ten and held it up for him to see, then stuffed it down my bra, "Just for that, I'm keeping this."

Spencer leaned back and laughed, "You earned it."

I poured Spencer his bourbon and made my rounds, waving hello to the people who came in. Nell ambled in after a bit, waving goodbye to Bernie before coming inside. Rose and Mattie May came up to the bar, trapping Spencer between them and Lonnie and Lloyd on the other. He conversed with them lightly, clinging to his bourbon like it was a lifeline, but I saw him eye the twins with caution. 

Lonnie and Lloyd Evarts were fraternal twins who just…sucked. They were assholes, and I avoided them and their leering every chance I got. They drank as much as they wandered around town picking fights and bothering people.  

Lonnie was the oldest by a few minutes, with a beer belly, rough gray speckled beard and greasy hair. Lloyd was tall and lanky, over a head taller than his brother, and liked to speak with a low creepy voice. They just liked to be a bother, so I got them their drinks and went on my way. 

I sang along to the music as I worked, the band playing soft acoustic rock as the street lights came on and the hot sun turned into an only slightly cooler night. Sweat made its way under my arms under the heat of the lights and errant conversations, but I tried to keep myself busy and not focus on Rico. 

Eventually, I couldn't really help myself. He just looked so damned lonely in the corner by himself. I poured some water into a big cup, ignoring Spencer's watchful gaze and pleading eyes to save him from Mattie May's questions and went over to Rico. 

Setting the water in front of him, I slid into the chair next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He sighed heavily and met my gaze with a watery smile. 

"Hey," I murmured, giving him a squeeze. 

Rico licked his lips and chuckled, "Hey."

He covered my hand with his and returned my squeeze, "I think I need help getting home."

I leaned my chin on his shoulder and nodded, "I already called Micah. He's on his way."

Rico let out a long sigh and glanced up to where Spencer was sitting stiffly next to Lonnie and Lloyd. He waved a drunken hand that way, "My mom says he's really nice. He knew she was Basque just by her accent."

"She even brought him karouga," I told him playfully. "She might ditch your dad for him if you're not careful. Augustin is gonna be traded in for a new model."

Rico laughed quietly, slurring a bit, "She said the same thing about me and you. Said he may have eyes for you."

"Oh, well if Augustin is on the table I'll take him."

"You're sick."

I reached out to palm his chin and smile brightly. "You kinda look like him. Maybe that's why I think you're cute."

He groaned and pushed at me, "You're disgusting. I'm gonna throw up all over you if you don't shut up."

We laughed together for a moment, and it faded into us watching one another sadly. Twelve years of grief and friendship tied us together, Ernie the knot that kept it all from falling apart. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat on his skin. 

"Collie and Augustin would have been great grandparents," I whispered, and he nodded, his hand absentmindedly reaching out to palm my empty stomach. I placed my hand over his, "They still will be. You have time, Rico."

His fingers tensed, then released, his thumb rubbing circles for a few seconds before he pulled away. Rico ran a heavy hand over his face and let out a grunt that told me he was trying to contain his emotions. "We shouldn't have a serious conversation right now. I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty drunk."

"Drink your water and we'll settle the tab."

It took a few minutes, and some spillage, but he finished it. Rico held out his hands like a child, and I took him by them both and hoisted him to his feet. A handful of wobbly strides later and I got him up to the bar between Lonnie and Spencer. 

"Vera, can you settle his tab? Stick it on my card."

Rico set a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder, who stiffened up tightly from it. He leaned in close to drunkenly whisper to him, "How you likin' the town, hipster?"

"It's Spencer," he said slowly back, flinching away from Rico’s breath. "It's…fine. How's my car?"

Rose leaned back enough to tug on the back of my shirt for my attention, "Did you call Micah?"

"He's on his way." I swatted at Rico, who was leaning far too heavily on a stranger he didn't know or even like very much. "Rico, leave the man alone."

"'M being polite to your guest, Honey," he told me flippantly. I shook my head and gave Spencer an apologetic frown. "Your Jeep's got a lot of miles on it for the year. How long you been on the road, man?"

I spotted Lonnie smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch my attention. I did my best to focus on the receipt for Rico’s frankly astonishing amount of drinks he'd had today. 

"Two years. I've been just about everywhere," Spencer told him sheepishly, and he put a steadying hand on Rico’s chest to keep him from falling on him and out of my arms. 

I signed the receipt and slid it back to Vera, but as I turned back to Rico and Spencer I felt an unfamiliar hand on my backside. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Lonnie grinning at me with tobacco stained teeth. 

"Back off, Lonnie," I snapped. When I pushed at his wrist, his grip only tightened. "Ow! Goddamnit, Lon-."

Rico twisted off my shoulder before I could stop him, ripping Lonnie's hand from my ass. Spencer got up sharply from his stool and stepped up next to him, his hand going for his belt. 

Lonnie wasn't phased, and he ignored them completely. He loomed over me and cocked his head, his equally nasty brother standing behind him. "I hear Rico didn't knock you up. Lloyd and I are more than happy to step in, do what he can't."

"Back off, Lonnie," I urged, trying to keep Rico behind me. "Tonight's not the night."

"I think it's a perfect night," Lloyd sneered, grinning at me like the creep he was. "We'll show you a good time, Honey. Let you feel a real man for once."

"You boys better head home if you know what's good for you," Rose spoke up, and when I looked back he was up on his feet too. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Lonnie snapped. I was closer to him than I ever wanted to be, stale beer and cigarettes washing over me as I struggled to keep Rico in place and standing. Lonnie knew that Rose and Rico had served, and both were certified badasses, but Lonnie and Lloyd both served too, and for some reason they thought that gave them the right to fuck around and not find out.

“I’m talkin’ to the lady here,” he continued, reaching a dirt stained hand out to push back my hair. I swatted him away but he wasn’t phased, nor by the sudden silence that overcame the bar. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it was my least favorite feeling in the world.

“I don’t want to talk to you or your brother,” I told him in a low voice, hating to be the center of attention. “I’m taking Rico home. You two just enjoy your night.”

I pulled on Rico’s arm until he moved with me, staggering and glaring at the twins over his shoulder. We barely made it two steps before Lonnie called out again.

“Maybe I’ll find you one of those nights you’re walkin’ home alone, then, bitch!”

Fuck.

Rico turned on a dime, the droopy effect of alcohol reverting to fierce stupidity. I was caught between them, his chest against my back as he swung a heavy fist toward Lonnie. It connected with his cheek with a loud smack of Rico’s knuckles. 

Everything seemed to explode in a millisecond. 

Lonnie barely flinched through his own alcoholic haze, his fist barreling toward me before I could react. A blast of pain cracked across my vision, a bright haze of red and white bursting over my sight as my body twisted from the force, a sharp yelp bursting from my chest. 

I hit the ground hard, my wrists and knees taking the impact. Yelling echoed in the back of my mind, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and broken glass. Hot blood dripped down my nose and chin as I struggled to blink back into focus. Somebody had their hands on my shoulders, which I feebly tried to push away. 

The napkin Rico had drawn Ernie on lay on the floor beneath me, trickling droplets of iron red beading the surface before bleeding into the paper. Memories swirled in my mind as I gazed bleary eyed at a drawing of my dead husband. Blood and the whipping wind jerking my hair from my scalp… sharp lightning cracking and thunder booming around us… the sight of the love of my young life bleeding out in the ocean. 

Then just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped. 

I looked up cautiously to find Rico on his ass next to me, clutching his nose, but that wasn't what made my heart stop in my chest. It was Spencer.

Lloyd laid flat on his belly with Spencer's boot between his shoulder blades, struggling to get up. Lonnie's arm was twisted behind him and out, Spencer pinching between his thumb and his pointer finger with one hand, the other tangled into his hair. 

"Get the fuck off me, man!" Lonnie snarled, but Spencer just twisted his arm further, earning a strangled yelp from the drunken asshole. 

Mattie May and Rose both had their arms under my armpits, hoisting me to my feet. Hastily, I snatched the napkin from the floor and enclosed it in my fist. I could hear her speaking softly to me over the ringing in my ears, asking me if I'm alright. All I could focus on was him, and the shift in his body. It was like staring at a whole other person.

"Apologize," Spencer snapped, his dark eyes sharp and more focused than I'd ever seen. Even with a handful of drinks in him he was steady and strong, his grip unyielding. "Now."

“Fuck y- argggh!” Lonnie tried, but another sharp turn on his shoulder had him howling. “Okay, okay! I’m fuckin’ sorry, man!”

“Not to me, dumbass,” Spencer growled lowly. Keeping one foot on Lloyd’s back, he turned Lonnie to face me and my spurting nose and lip. “Apologize to her.”

“I’m… sorry,” Lonnie gritted out, but the burning hatred in his eyes told me he wasn’t, and that this wasn’t over. 

“Alright!” Micah’s voice sounded out as he sauntered into the bar, and all turned to him. His weathered hands planted on his hips as he glowered down at the Evarts brothers. “That’s enough, boys. Head home.”

Rose pushed me gently behind him as Spencer released the twins. They both got to their feet rubbing their shoulders and scowling at me. Micah knew me well enough that I wasn’t going to press charges, so he waved them out of the bar and went for Rico.

“I’m guessing I have him to thank for this escalation?” Micah grunted as he bent down. He and Rose looped their arms under his and pulled him to his feet as he tried in vain to quell some of the blood flow.

“Yeah. I’ll help you get him to the car,” Rose replied gruffly. He kissed Mattie May on her cheek and I avoided the sight painfully as they drug Rico out of the bar.

“Honey, lemme look at ya,” Mattie May urged, tugging on my jaw. When I wouldn’t turn she instead twisted in front of me, slightly obscuring my view of Spencer.

I watched him and his reddened cheeks, the way his hands started to shake now that the fight was over. I watched him watching me back even as he snagged his bourbon off the bar and downed it in one go. 

“I’m fine,” I muttered. She ignored me, as did Vera and Tooky, poking and prodding around. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t seem to look away from Spencer. He couldn’t look away either, it seemed, just gazed at me with a deep bone aching sadness and shame I’m sure reflected in my own eyes.

Another squeeze down my arm, a sharp rocketing pain that burst through my wrist. It was enough to drag me away from Spencer Reid, my angry gaze flicking to Mattie May, “Ow! Goddamnit!”

“Let’s get you some ice, Honey,” she replied quickly, her former nurses’ training kicking in. Before I knew it I was being dragged around the bar and into the kitchen, but when I looked over my shoulder Spencer hadn’t moved his gaze from me, but something had changed.

The sadness had switched to grief, and a little bit of fear.

The world spun as the girls pulled Honey into the kitchen. Spencer watched helplessly as the door swung shut, his body shaking and too stiff all at the same time. 

Is this who I am now?

He could see her through the window, see that she was okay and talking. One of the women blotted her nose with a dish rag as Mattie May pulled out a first aid kit. Spencer leaned against the bar for support, but he was certain if he looked away from Honey he would crumple into a ball of tears. 

Spencer was an idiot, reacting like that. The first sign of trouble and his training kicked in, that old familiar chivalry he’d thought he left behind on a cool DC morning as he skipped town like a ghost. He saw Lonnie and Lloyd, looking too much like the men he’d met in his work, and worst of all…

He saw Honey, frightened and too hard-headed for her own good to not back down from a fight she couldn’t win. You can’t win against men like that, people with their minds made up… and all he saw for a moment was Maeve with Lonnie’s fist heading right at her. His agent training burst out of him without permission, and the next thing he knew it was like after prison again, stopping some asshole from messing with Tara… when he was out of control and pissed off at the world.

Is this who I am now?

A heavy hand on his shoulder made him flinch and duck, turning sharply to find Rose looking at him with his dark eyes. Spencer’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breath struggling to return to normal. Rose motioned to the barstools in front of them, pretending as though he didn’t notice.

“Sit down, son.”

With a shaking hand, Spencer took a deep breath and pulled out a stool. He slid onto the cool leather and gripped the bar while Rose went around the other side. He pulled a bottle from the bar wall and poured him another drink, then pushed it toward him. Spencer snatched it like a man dying of thirst and poured it down his throat. 

"It's a good thing you did, taking over like that."

Another deep breath, count to five, let it out. 

"Bar fights are a dime a dozen. Don't worry too much about it. Lonnie and Lloyd aren't stupid enough to press charges."

The glass barely had the chance to hit the bar again before Rose poured him another. Spencer lifted it to his lips, just moments away from temporary salvation in the arms of liquor when he spoke again.

“Ex-con or cop?”

His only reprieve from the world hung mid air, just out of reach of his mouth as Spencer stared shell-shocked at him. “What?”

“Mattie May says you didn’t serve, but you don’t like fireworks.” A quirk of his heavy brow told Spencer he wasn’t getting out of this one. “Your hand went straight for your belt, like you were reaching for a gun. You got that haunted look in your eyes like a man who's seen some things. You didn’t serve so… ex-con or cop?”

Spencer swallowed thickly. The cool beads of condensation from his bourbon trickled down his hand and wrist. Rose sighed, “Nobody’s judging here, son. We welcome all kinds in this town, as you’ve surely noticed.”

Is this who I am now? What would ever be the right answer to that question? Both. Neither. 

Spencer’s heart weighed a thousand pounds as he stared painfully back at Rose. Licking his lips to prepare himself, his jaw quivered. His voice shook as he admitted for the first time in years, “FBI. Almost twenty years.”

Rose didn’t say anything about that, but the slight twitch that etched across his weathered features told Spencer everything he needed to know about his thoughts. Really? You? How could someone like you be capable of such a thing?

“Thank you for your service,” he said instead.

“Don’t,” Spencer replied. 

He downed his drink, pushed it forward for another. Rose obliged, tipping the spout over the rim. Spencer found himself looking once more to the kitchen window, his eyes sliding over without much thought. Honey seemed pissed off as ever, glaring at something in her hand as Mattie May wrapped her wrist with an Ace bandage. The distinct swell of a coming bruise tattooed across her cheek and lip, her nose red from cleaning blood away.

“She’s fine,” Rose’s voice came through, tearing his gaze away. “Honey’s taken harder hits than that.”

"Her husband?" Spencer asked, a bit unsure of such a bold question. "That why she wears that ring?"

Rose scratched his chin as he thought. His eyes wandered around the bar, seeing who was close. When he was satisfied nobody would hear, he leaned on his elbows on the bar. "You know, Honey don't look like it, but she grew up catching lobster on a boat off the East Coast."

"How'd she end up so far from home?"

"I don't know specifics," Rose muttered with a shrug. "Her daddy was a real religious type. Made it clear one day she could live there with his rules as gospel, or leave. She left, hitchhiked until she met Mattie May at a truck stop on her way home from visiting her sister."

A sweet genuine smile stretched across his cheeks, "She brought her to town. Honey met Ernesto. It was…instant. They just fell in love like that."

Sigue viviendo, Ernesto, Spencer remembered, thinking back to the mural outside Collie’s. 

"Yeah, those two were something else. Before she came along, Rico, Holly Henson, and Ernie were just three boys who came back from Iraq with hell to raise. They were wild. Honey walked in one day and those boys all turned into men. She showed them they could be more than haunted."

Spencer couldn't help but squint at his words, glaring at Rose as he downed his fourth shot in as many minutes. Rose dutifully poured him another, continuing on, "They all loved the water, fishing. Honey trained in water rescue back in the day, and she still went out when they needed her. Ernie and Honey would go on these week long trips up and down the coast. Ernie used to wear his ring on a chain around his neck so it wouldn't get lost.

"One day they didn't come back on time," Rose said, and this time it was his eyes that became haunted. They traveled back to a time Spencer couldn't see, remembering something he didn't know. 

"They got caught in a storm, a big one that came outta nowhere. They tried to get control of the boat, but a lightning bolt hit the deck, blew the damned thing into pieces."

The breath caught in his chest, Spencer's body subconsciously leaning forward as he found himself wrapped up in the story. He could hear Honey griping about being left alone, but it all seemed so far away. 

Rose sighed, his dark heavy gaze landing on Spencer's once more. "Some tourists found her a few days later holding onto a piece of driftwood. She was holding his body to her by that chain with his wedding ring on it. Hers had slipped off in the waves."

Spencer looked over to the kitchen window once more. Sure enough that ring hung around her neck. She fiddled with it as she stared dead eyed at what looked like a napkin, rolling it between her fingers. 

"She brought my Ernie home to me," Rose spoke quietly, earning Spencer's undivided attention once more. 

"He was your son." It wasn't a question. 

"Yeah, he was a good egg." An unspoken declaration of devotion from a man going through unimaginable pain. 

"Goddamnit, I'm fine!" Honey snarled, stomping her way out of the kitchen. It seemed to be her favorite word. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

The door swung behind her like a dog's wagging tail. She squinted at Spencer and Rose as she came out, but Rose reached out a hand for her bicep, pulling her back to him. 

He tapped her chin, "That's a good shiner, kid."

Honey's scowl morphed into a slow chuckle. She shook her head and pulled away from him with a big grin, "You're a dick."

Mattie May made her way out of the kitchen next, inching her way back into the main room as if she was a bit fearful of Honey’s wrath. Her arms made their way around Rose's waist as she watched her flit back around the tables.

"Will you stay with her? Help her close up and drive her home?" Mattie May asked Rose softly. "I don't like the idea of her alone after what Lonnie said."

"Yeah, but you know Honey. She's gonna growl at me all night about it."

Spencer's mouth opened before he could think to stop it, "I could drive her home so Mattie May doesn't have to go by herself."

Both of them turned surprised to an equally surprised Spencer, but they were far more amused. 

"Boy, I know you've had more drinks than the five I poured you," Rose told him sternly. "I wouldn't trust you to drive a stationary bike right now."

"Well, that is true," Spencer replied, realizing in embarrassment the slur of his voice. "She can drive me home. There's no way I'm finding my way back to the inn by myself anyway."

They looked at one another, seemingly having one of those silent conversations couples do when they've been together long enough. Not so funnily, he used to have similar ones with the BAU. 

"Okay. You two be careful, though," Mattie May smiled. "Gets pretty dark around here at night on the beach. There ain't many streetlights."

"Will do," Spencer replied. He saluted her with his drink and polished it off, welcoming the amber gold and the edge it took off with it. 

He vaguely registered Rose asking Honey to drive him home, focused on drowning his feelings in his bourbon. After a few more hours, the patrons shuffled out. The old woman behind the bar and the pretty blonde left before closing time, and eventually it was just him and Honey alone. 

She ignored him mostly, avoiding his gaze as Spencer tried to avoid hers. She made her way behind the bar, pulling out trash bags and tying them off. 

"You didn't have to do that, y’know," she muttered, and when he looked up she was watching him through her lashes. Her cheeks flushed a dark pink, only making her bruise look darker. 

It was already blotching purple, and by the morning it would turn black and blue. Part of her lip had split, and god help him, it pissed Spencer off more than anything. 

"I can take a punch, Mr. Dreary," she said when he didn't reply. She pointed at his glass. "You didn't need to do that. You obviously didn't want to."

"Oh, I wanted to." 

Her hand reached out, fingers loosely grabbing the tumbler. She twisted it for a moment and bit her bottom lip as she thought. "He was trying to hit Rico and missed. He's a drunk asshole."

"No, he wasn't." Spencer told her. Honey's brows twitched, but she didn't say anything. "He may be a drunk asshole, but he aimed right for you in a place that would bleed the most and bruise the worst. I'm sure he's had plenty of practice accidentally punching women."

"And you know so much about that?" she challenged, stubborn as ever. "He's all bark and no bite."

"I know more about it than I'd like." Spencer's own hand found its way across the bar, clasping around her good wrist. "I've seen hundreds of Lonnie's. They seem all bark and no bite, but they're impulsive. Especially when they're angry. When he said he'd wait for you to walk home alone one night, he meant it. He'd have no problem finding you and raping you in the street before leaving you there."

Her jaw clenched tightly, but she nodded with tears in her eyes. Honey cleared her throat and held up one of the trash bags, "You might as well make yourself useful. Dumpster’s through the kitchen."

Spencer slid his hand from her and got to his feet. He rounded the bar and took it from her hands, his legs more than a bit unsteady. 

"You okay?" she asked quietly, watching him nervously. 

"I might be on my knees painting the inside of the toilet later," he told her with a watery lopsided grin, "but I'll be fine."

Her laugh was all he needed to walk away from her, smiling to himself. She chucked quietly behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. It was dark, illuminated only by the red light of the EXIT sign. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he passed through the hot room, still emanating heat from the hours of serving up burgers and fish fry to the patrons.

The night was only a few degrees cooler as Spencer pushed open the heavy back door and stepped into the alley. It reeked of stale beer, piss, and sand, making his nose curl up. He tossed the bag into the dumpster, the bottles inside hitting the inside with a loud clang. 

He gripped the slatted wall for support as he turned inside. His legs didn’t want to cooperate along the shifting sands, his veins mostly alcohol by now. Tugging the door back open, he stepped back inside into the glowing red blanketing the kitchen. 

"Get away from me!" Honey's voice came from the bar area. 

Spencer's body kicked into gear, his hand going to his belt for a gun that wasn't there. His badge wasn't either, and he was drunk. Old familiar instincts blazed to life, his ears picking up on a shuffling to his right. Spencer turned just in time to see the business end of a baseball bat coming toward his face. 

It connected with his nose, the fragile cartilage cracking under the force. Spencer was swept off his feet with the impact, landing hard on his ass on the concrete. The bat came down again as Honey screamed in the other room. 

Blinking blearily through the pain, Spencer's foot shot out, his boot catching the side of his assailant's knee. The man screeched in pain and collapsed, clutching his kneecap and howling

"Oh fuck, Lonnie!" he cried out, and Spencer recognized him in the dark. It was Lloyd Evarts. 

The swinging door flung open and in came the bastard Lonnie himself, dragging Honey in by her hair. Fresh blood dripped down her nose under the red lights, and he tossed her to the ground before swinging a heavy foot out. It caught Spencer in the ribs, his movements slow with the alcohol and stun of the hit to the face. 

“Take that, you piece of shit!”

Lonnie kicked him again, and again. Spencer tried to swing out his fist, but caught nothing but air. Lloyd was on his feet in Spencer's drowsy haze, stomping down on his shoulder and side as he tried in vain to get up from the floor. 

If he didn't get up, he'd probably die. 

The unmistakable rack of a shotgun ran ice water through his veins. He couldn’t see Honey, couldn’t find a way to pick himself up to get her the hell out of here. What an embarrassing way to die for who he used to be… shot on a cold floor in a town he didn’t know or like, trying stupidly to protect a girl he didn’t want to be attracted to.

The gun blasted out with a loud boom! that rattled the kitchen. Spencer braced for the all-too familiar feel of bullets in his flesh, but they didn’t come. Instead a loud howling ripped through the room through the ringing in his ears.

Another pump of the gun, the clattering of a spent shell casing petering across the concrete. The gun went off again, followed by the screech of a wounded animal. The blows stopped battering his drunken body, shuffling feet and screams echoing around him.

“Let’s go! Go, go, go!” Lonnie’s voice cried out, followed by them scrambling out the door. 

Spencer rolled onto his back, vaguely registering the gun hitting the ground. All the fight was gone, and he was just a pair of black eyes. The EXIT sign glowed ominously above him, the acrid smell and copper taste of blood in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, sure that it must be broken. 

“Spencer,” a soft voice came, full of tears and worry. 

A shadow moved in front of the sign, dark and surrounded by the red light. Soft dark hair glimmered even in the darkness, and Spencer reached a bruised hand up to run his fingers through it. He palmed her cheek, his breath catching in his chest as his brain struggled to remember where he was.

“Spencer, stay awake,” the voice said again. “I’m going to get some help.”

It was so quiet, shrouded in darkness and mystery. Familiar, but where was he again? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care, either. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, a slight hiss of pain escaping lips he couldn’t see. Her skin was warm, the fresh scent of saltwater and sweat washing over him. All he wanted was a hug, someone to hold him until he felt better. 

“Spencer, can you hear me?”

“Maeve?”

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... Also, what do you think is going to happen next?

CM Forever Tag:

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks  @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo @sebastiansstanswhore 

@louderfortheback @pandabiiissh @calebye

@dottirose @lfaewrites @padsfirewhisky @wheels-upin-thirty @f-me-reid @justanothercmblog 

[matrixxsystem]

Terrapin Soup Part 9 (1/7)

After a round of showers Usagi stepped back into his room to see Leo sitting on his bed fairly focused on his phone. He had in fact stolen one of Usagi's shirts which might just be the cutest thing he's seen possibly ever.. The dark mask he wore earlier was no where to be found and since he had just been in the shower the wraps on his arms were missing too. He liked seeing Leo like this.. So casual and unguarded.. Usagi gently knocked on the door frame letting him know he was there, Leo perked up and smiled more seeing Usagi with his ears down again, god he was cute.. He scooted over leaving room for Usagi to join him as he set his phone down. "Dee said Hyo's fine, he's stable and should be good to come home tomorrow as long as he doesn't over do it. And I told Raph I'd be home soon, after we go to your place and get whatever you might need to spend the night. I-If you still want to that is.." "I'm glad he's alright, and yes Leo. I'm still planning to stay the night." He chuckled as he scooted closer, resting his head against the sliders shoulder, "I'm glad you bought us a bit of time though, I was hoping to properly thank you for tonight." Leo looked down at him, very confused as to what he meant, "But I thought you did? You said thank you like twice and y'know- We kissed downstairs, was that not a proper thank you?" Usagi looked back up at him unamused, "It was, but don't you recall I said, 'if we both come back in one piece I'll kiss your wounds better and then some' hm?" Leo blushed a bit nodded, "Well.. Yeah, but I didn't know if you were serious or just saying things to get me to go-" "You're very cute when you're confused, did you know that?" Leo rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Usagi pulling him closer, "Excuse you- I'm cute all the time~" "True... Then, you are especially cute when you're confused, and when you do that thing where you tilt your head to the side, like an animal trying to understand the language." Leo rolled his eyes again gently nudging him, "I'm taking that as a compliment. But we probably shouldn't be gone much longer, Raph is like, the king of worry. I'm giving you like.. Fifteen minutes, get some pajamas and whatever you need for the night."

"Would you be opposed for staying like this a bit longer? I only need five to get ready anyway. " Leo thought about it for a moment, he really didn't need much convincing. "Mm.. Fine, only cause you're so soft and fluffy. But only ten minutes alright? Then you can help me re-wrap my arms and we'll head out." "Mhmm. Anything you say love." 

-_-_-_-

Donatello pulled his mug of the shelf in their kitchen, filling it with 90% ristretto and 10% creamer. He saw the tech on the wrist light up and gave a tired glance. He hadn't been sleeping as well as he could have with the series of new projects he'd been hyper-focusing on lately. Seeing the alert he spat the sip he'd just taken and slammed his mug down going to the medbay to get April.

This was not the day he was hoping to have.

Not in the slightest. 

"April-!" He called as he pulled the fabric curtain back, hoping there'd been no issues. She perked up from the beanbag chair in the corner, she'd been peacefully doing her homework with her phone beside her playing some music quietly.

She perked up a little surprised that he didn't just text her, "What's up? Did something happen to the mutant dude?" Donne hesitated but nodded and made his way over to April showing her his notification, "I might have added some of my nanotech into the IV Leo gave our patient. It's revolutionary stuff really, it circulates the bloodstream doing dozens of internal scans so even if my external scanner is in use or not close by I can still be connected to the vitals and see what's going on. And even-" "Donnie get to the point!"  "Right right sorry- Part of the functions was not only monitoring the system but also tracking what passes though! And as we all know it takes about 40 hours before what you've eaten fully passes and becomes untraceable-" "..I didn't know that." Part 9.2

Part 1

TS Master Post

[loverboy-havocboy]

I hope it's okay to ask, but how did you go about designing/choosing the tattoos for Boost, Sinker and Comet for Aliit?

of course it is, i love talking about my boys!! thank you for asking!! for those who are curious, you can take a look at their tattoos here and an explanation post where i talk about some meanings here

the disclaimer here is that the only ones i designed were comet's top surgery tattoo, the honeycomb testosterone, the phoenix (which was still edited from a design i found), the darasuums, and sinker's sun and moon moths (which are frankensteined from designs i found). all the others were things i found on pinterest, and they're collected in a board here

the rest is going under a cut to save everyone's dash 😅

the matching sun, moon, and stars on their wrists were written in before i had a picture of them in my mind. that little dynamic (that could be it's own post probably lol) for sinker, boost, and comet respectively carried over from the sick au.

the second was comet's phoenix, and i love talking about this tattoo 😂 idk if you've read aliit or not anon, so i'll preface by saying that it covers up a tattoo comet got for his abusive ex, and he got it in the fic "out of the ashes". i cycled through several coverup ideas, and by this point i was working on designs, so i was thinking about what would reasonably cover it, what comet would like, and what boost might choose for him. i was getting kind of fed up 😅 when i came across a throwaway line i'd written about rising from the ashes of that relationship. i thought "oh hm like a phoenix" and then just 💡🤯 because @brokenphoenix99 had been commenting on my stuff since i started writing and i never would've made it to writing aliit without that. so stumbling upon the phoenix idea became a way to honor her place in aliit's creation 🥺💖😭

once i started working on the designs, there were a few more that i knew i wanted them to have, like boost and sinker's "darasuum" over their hearts in each other's handwriting, gregor's tally marks, and comet's trans symbol on his stomach. so those were easy.

there were others that i knew they would have because of who they are and what important to them, but only had a vague idea of design wise. most of them have to do with the theme and title of the series, now that i think about it - family. comet and thorn's matching one (honeycomb testosterone), because their relationship played a big part in shaping who comet is and it's very important to him. gregor's matching one with foxtrot, because they're his family. boost's in memory of his parents who passed (lighter and flowers) and his sun and moon for him and sinker. i knew sinker would have at least one celestial tattoo for the pack, and he ended up with several, but the snake is a combination of that and the fact that i knew i wanted him to have a snake. he just seems like a snake guy to me.

the rest were chosen painstakingly through hours of scrolling through tattoos 😂 gregor was easy, but i knew each of the pack would have at least a dozen, since boost's been tattooing them since they were in high school. i'm not sure i'm completely happy with what i chose, but the tattoos were the only thing holding up a 7 months long project, so to be honest i was slapping them on at the end

thanks again for asking <3