#I've been more active than I should be since the storm came though

[eatember]

I'm sooooo sore

If anyone uses cbd for pain relief will you message me with what you get? Idk if I can get any here rn (near Asheville) but I'm going to go check today.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Beyond the Black - CH 1

Fandom: Ateez Rating: Mature Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, with a little bit of Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa sprinkled in AO3 Masterlist

Summary: Wooyoung is the son of a merchant sailor for the King, one of his best. He is coming of age to prepare to take his fathers place as the captain, and so his father takes him on his first sail. After nearly facing death in a raging storm at sea, Wooyoung and his father make port at their destination. Not long after their arrival Wooyoung finds a boy washed up on sea, still alive, and the most gorgeous thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He is instantly entranced by him, taken by this boy with no memory of where he came from or why he had been washed up on shore. Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less about the unanswered questions, but how will he feel when he finds out the boy he has so very quickly fallen in love with turns out to be one of the most revered pirates to have ever sailed the seas?

A/N and Warnings: I added them to the bottom of the post, just because it's a bit long, so if you'd like to see the warnings just head to the bottom :)

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

     Wooyoung's favourite thing was the sea. Not being on it, no, that wasn't quite the life for him, but just being near it was enough. He loved the smell of the salt on the air, and the feel of the misty ocean breeze hitting his face as a wave crested upon the rocks below the cliff. He loved the sound, the ebb and flow of the waves as they washed upon the shore and retreated again. Wooyoung could fall asleep to it, completely at peace with his eyes closed laying in the tall grass, his arms outstretched and his fingers weaving through the blades. 

     But the ocean was more than that. It was also full of new beginnings, of hope and purity and strength. With each day the sun rose upon the horizon and brought with it a fresh start, no matter the storms and turmoil of the day before or how dark the night had been, the sun always rose without fault and cleansed the world of the past. For a moment each day, as Wooyoung sat upon the cliff by his home on the edge of town, he could feel those few seconds of tranquillity as the new day began untouched and untainted, completely pure. The sky would be painted in beautiful hues of pink and orange, his skin tinted with it like the sky's own canvas, reflected upon the calm surface of the water. It was the only thing Wooyoung could think of when he pondered upon perfection, even now as he sat on the same cliff looking out.

     “Wooyoung, darling!” He turned to find his mother walking toward him from the house. She had the skirt of her dress gathered gently in her gloved hands, her hair done in an intricate updo with not one single hair out of place, even with the breeze. One of the housemaids followed closely behind her with an arm outstretched, a paisley coloured lace parasol held above his mothers head. She was as beautiful as she always was, the very definition of class and elegance. Every time he laid his eyes upon her, he could see why she was envied by the women in town, and desired by the men. 

     “Yes, Mother?” He smiled at her as he answered.

     “Come,” she waved a hand at him, “your Father’s ship is returning to port today, I've been told they've been spotted on the horizon and should be here shortly. Shall we greet him?”

     He nodded and stood, then turned to walk back to meet her, and held his arm out for her to take as they walked back to the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The port was a flurry of activity by the time their carriage made it through the busy town streets and pulled up at the docks. It was full, each ship docked was a part of his Majesty's royal merchant navy, and all delivering goods to be brought to the King himself. 

     Since his father was head of his Majesty's merchant navy, Wooyoung had been to the palace many times. He had attended lavish parties, elegant dinners, summer gatherings in the gardens. The King's palace wasn't too far from where his own home rested just outside of town, but Wooyoung much preferred his solitude as opposed to the large crowds that a king’s parties would amass. And now that his father had returned from yet another successful voyage, there would surely be another invitation from the King arriving soon. 

     "Wooyoung, my son!" His father called to him from down the dock where he had just stepped off the ship's ladder. "How were things while I was gone?"

     "Perfect," he answered as he hugged his father, then turned and let him sling an arm over his shoulders as they walked back to his mother.

     "I'm glad to hear," he smiled, then when they reached his mother, he said to both of them, "tonight we will have a special dinner prepared. I have some news I would like to share and I feel it requires more than a simple meal."

     "I'll have the chefs informed as soon as we return home then." His mother returned his smile and lifted up for a quick kiss, before she turned and got back in the carriage.

     The two of them followed her, with Wooyoung sitting across from them inside, his leg bouncing with anticipation as the carriage left the docks. "What's the news, Father?"

     His father chuckled, always impatient his son was. "I will tell you at dinner, so you'll just have to wait until then. Though I know that will be difficult for you, patience is a virtue, Wooyoung. Trust me, it will be well worth the wait."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Waiting for dinner felt like a lifetime for Wooyoung, but finally he was sitting at the table in his usual spot, across from his mother with his father at the head. There was a king's feast worth of food laid out before them, and Wooyoung could wait no longer.

     "Father, can you tell us the news now, please?" He was practically vibrating in his seat.

     His father chuckled, a deep rumbling from his chest as he dug into the pocket of his jacket. “The news is that I have already been assigned another route for his Majesty, this time as a direct request from the King himself that me and my crew are the ones to make the trip, a delivery on his Majesty's behalf to a neighbouring kingdom.”

     “Already?” His mother asked, her brows furrowed. “You've only just arrived home, when did the King have the time to approach you about another route?”

     Finding what he was looking for in his pocket, he pulled out a rolled up, and now crinkled, piece of parchment bearing the King's seal. “There was a messenger from his Majesty waiting for me at the port when we docked the ship, I spoke with him just before the two of you arrived.” He handed the parchment over to his wife, who opened it and read it, but he turned his attention to Wooyoung. “I know that this is fast, as you said I've only just arrived home, but I do believe it comes at the perfect time as there is something else I have wanted to discuss with you both for a while now.”

     “What's that, darling?”

     “Our son’s future,” he answered, his eyes never leaving Wooyoung, who now stared back at him with both worry and confusion clear in his gaze, “Wooyoung, you are of age now where you should be seriously considering your career, and it only makes sense that you would take my place in the coming years as head of his Majesty's merchant navy.” Wooyoung lifted a hand from the table, about to voice his apprehensions on the matter, but his father stopped him. “I understand that it is a very high pressure job, but I trust you will do well, Wooyoung, and that is also why I would like to take you along with me on this assignment. I can start teaching you the ropes of sailing, of managing a crew as well as all of his Majesty's shipments both in and out of our ports. It will be the beginning of your apprenticeship, and when I am ready in a few years I shall retire, and you will be ready to step in and take my place. And the last thing I wished to discuss, is that I believe it is also time that Wooyoung be married.”

     “Father, no, I don't think-”

     He was stopped again by his fathers insistent tone. “It is a wise decision, son. Many men your age are already married and starting families, it is time you did the same. Upon our return we will start the process. Your Mother will arrange for some meetings and see if we can't find you a nice girl from a suitable family that catches your eye, and hopefully by the fall we will be planning a wedding. Are you on board with all of this, Wooyoung?”

     Though it was phrased as a question, Wooyoung knew it really wasn't. It was a warning, more like his father was saying, you will be on board with this whether you like it or not, because that is how it always was. Wooyoung may be a child of a high class family, always been given exactly what he wanted and grew up in a very wealthy lifestyle, but when it came to things like this, his future or his career or even who he would one day marry, he was not so privileged. He knew this would be coming soon, as his father said he was of the age where it should have already been done, but it still angered him deeply that his entire life had just been laid out and decided for him in less than the time it took to eat dinner. But what could he do except agree, nod his head and accept his fate. The last thing he wanted to do was disobey his parents or disappoint them. So that's what he did, nodded his head and accepted it.

     “Excellent!” His father beamed and his mother squealed with excitement across from him. “Be sure you're ready in three days, that is when we shall set sail, and just like that the first leg of your bright future begins, my son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Three days came and passed in the blink of an eye, and Wooyoung suddenly found himself standing on the overcrowded dock wishing he was anywhere else. There were crew members bustling past him, hauling all kinds of barrels full of who knew what, all of them shouting and cursing, not paying any mind to how many times they nearly ploughed him over. He was even less impressed when one of them passed by, dragging a barrel full of something that smelled god awful, bumped right into his side and scuffed a large dark stain onto his new white shirt. 

     “Wooyoung!” His father called to him from down the dock, and Wooyoung turned an annoyed look at him, just finished rolling his eyes at the man who ruined his shirt. “Come here, I want to show you how to ensure the proper inventory makes it onto the ship.”

     “Oh, sure.” He waved and faked his best smile at his father, grumbling to himself as he stalked over. “Exactly what I wanted to do.”

     As soon as he reached his father he instantly pulled him into his side and started going over the inventory parchment with him. But Wooyoung could honestly say he did not retain a single thing his father had told him, he wasn't even really looking at the parchment as his father pointed to this item or that. He had no interest in this whatsoever, frankly if half the items never arrived he couldn't have cared any less then he already did. 

     “And this must be the special item we are delivering for his Majesty, the final piece we were waiting for before we could set sail.” Wooyoung finally snapped to attention as a beautifully carved wooden box passed by them, carried by a man with much more grace and decorum than the other ruffians running around the docks earlier. It was stained in the carved crevices and highlighted with pure gold, he knew whatever was inside must be worth its weight.

     “What is it?” He asked.

     “A gift from his Majesty to the King of Nero.” His father answered, and he baulked at him.

     “Nero!?” He shook his head, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he was able to speak again. “That's a two week sail across the sea!”

     “In good weather,” his father added, absently re-checking the inventory sheets before passing them off to a waiting deck hand, “if we hit any sort of storms or even simply rocky seas, it could take double that. Which is why you always have to prepare for the worst, pack extra supplies just in case your trip takes longer than planned. Not only is your inventory a top priority, Wooyoung, but so is your crew. They need to be fed and well taken care of, because without them the ship would go nowhere. Now, get on board, I'll show you how to set off and then we will meet in my chambers later this evening for dinner.”

     His father left him with an aggressive pat on the shoulder that had him lunging forward a step. Wooyoung cringed as he stood frozen in place. Two weeks at sea, minimum, pending an easy smooth sail, which was highly unlikely. And once they arrived in Nero, it would only be to turn around and spend another two weeks or more sailing back home. Wooyoung loved the sea, but this was ridiculous. He was more than happy just watching and listening to it from the comfort of his little cliff by the edge of their home, he was not thrilled about this at all. Merchant sailing, or sailing of any kind was not the life for him, and if he didn't find a way to tell his father that, he was going to be stuck with it for the rest of his life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Seven days in, not even halfway through the journey yet and Wooyoung had lost count of how many times he'd been sick. It was starting to ease now, but the first few days it had been so bad that more often than not he wasn't even able to attend his lessons with his father, not that he minded that part, but hanging over the edge of the ship for hours at a time had been less than appealing. So far, merchant sailing had turned out to be just as horrid an experience as he had expected.

     “Wooyoung.” He lifted his head as his father approached him and landed his hand on his back. He was still slung over the edge of the ship, still sure his face was as green as seaweed, but he hadn't thrown anything up in at least a few hours.

     “Father,” he panted, closing his eyes tight to stave off a sudden wave of nausea, “I don't know if sailing is for me, I don't-”

     “Don't worry about this,” he gestured to him, sweating and limp on the railing, “I was the same as you on my first sail, perhaps even a tad worse. But it eased eventually and now look at me, head of his Majesty's merchant navy, spending weeks at a time at sea without so much as an upset stomach. You will get there after a few sails.”

     “If you say so.” He shook his head and hung it low over the railing again.

     “I actually came to ask if you would like to join me for dinner.” Wooyoung couldn't help the heave at the mention of food, but his father continued anyway. “The chef is making a special sushi dish, I've even managed to sneak some caviar aboard to celebrate your first voyage as an apprentice, and the chef agreed to make san-nakji just for you-” 

     His father stepped back and laughed, full and straight from his chest, as Wooyoung lunged further over the edge and threw up. 

     When he was finished he groaned and wiped the back of his now soiled sleeve across his mouth, eyeing his father with a deviled look. “Really, Father? Was that necessary?”

     “Just helping you get it all out of your system, son.” He reached out and gave his back another pat, this time lingering and rubbing gently. “You'll be alright soon, I promise. But you really should eat something to replace everything you're tossing over the side. I can have the chef make you something easy, some rice perhaps-”

     Both of their heads whipped up toward the front of the ship as a massive crack of thunder rumbled across the open waters. It was the first time Wooyoung had looked at anything besides the water below him all day, and though the storm wasn't too close, it was moving quickly.

     “Those clouds look really dark,” he said to his father, “much darker than any storm I've experienced on land. What do we do?”

     His father stood still for a moment, watching the storm with a focused look, before he answered, “Our best course would be to avoid it as much as we possibly can. We can change our course to head north east and sail around the islands, put them between us and the storm, and hopefully come out behind the storm on the other side. If not, our next best course of action would be to hunker down on one of the islands. The last thing you want to do is get caught in a storm like that in open sea.”

     Wooyoung looked back at the storm again as a second ear shattering rumble of thunder hit him. It shook him to his core, seeing clouds that black, and he swore it was already much closer then it had been only minutes before. 

     His father turned and began barking orders to his crew, all of them instantly jumping into action, but Wooyoung found he couldn't move and not because of the nausea. He had a bad feeling about the storm, and even more than he already did, he regretted ever stepping foot on this ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The sky around them was so black one would have thought it was the middle of the night. The deck was so shrouded in black Wooyoung could barely see his own feet as he stumbled across the ship. He was soaked completely, both from the rain and the never ending mists that came from the waves crashing against the sides of the ship. His nausea was gone now, replaced with gut wrenching fear with every dip and jerk of the ship being whipped around by the storm. He knew his bad feeling had been right, and how ironic it would be for him to die out in the middle of the ocean, killed by something he loved so deeply, something so beautiful and yet as deadly as the wrath of the very gods that controlled them. 

     “Father!” He screamed above the raging turmoil around him, but he felt drowned out by the thunder, the screaming crew mates, and Poseidon's rage. “Father! We need to do something, we're going to die like this! We're lucky we haven't capsized yet, and we've already lost crew over the sides!”

     A flash of lightning illuminated his father at the wheel above him, and seeing him only made Wooyoung panic even more. He had never seen his father in such a state, washed out in worry of his own and his eyes seemingly lost in the vast darkness around them. “All we can do is keep pushing and pray we make it through! Tell the crew to batten down the hatches and secure themselves!”

     All he could do was stare up at his father, how could this be all they could do? Why did he ever agree to getting on this ship? He did not want to die at sea!

     “Wooyoung!” His father called out to him, a new fear taking over his features, one more intense than it had been moments ago, then Wooyoung found out why.

     Lightning lit up the sky, along with the wave that was hovering over their ship, as tall as the mast and heading right for Wooyoung. All he could do was stand stock still and watch as his fate curled over him and readied to crash down. This was it, this was where it ended for him. A life spent gazing out at the ocean would now end at the bottom of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: So I was going to wait until I had some chapters stocked up before posting, but I was just too excited and I couldn't! Also the writing is flowing right now, so the chapters are coming quickly lol So I gift you chapter one! In this chapter we get a little insight into Wooyoung's life and his expectations. And as a slight heads up, I'm just going to say that after this chapter, things are going to start heating up real fast… and I'm going to leave you with that, enjoy!! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N and Warnings:

First, yes, I ship kpop groups, but no, that does not mean I am crazy about them outside of their groups. It's hard to explain but I see them in their groups as almost characters in a sense, but whatever my boys decide to do in their real lives outside of the groups, I fully and completely support them as long as they are happy :) And with that being said, if this isn't the kind of fic for you, it's okay if you don't read it!

Second, this is going to be a very different fic from anything I have ever written before (I think). It's not going to be super dark or anything, perhaps a tad bit more angsty then usual, but it is a fic about pirates so there will be fighting, and blood, and violence, some homophobia because of the time period. Though keep in mind there will be a happy ending for our boys, and that the major character death in the tags does not apply to either San or Wooyoung. There will be NO rape or non-con, I do not mess with that, but there will be lots of smut, as promised.

And third, this is my first Ateez fic, so please be kind XD

And I think that just about sums it up. Please enjoy this if you do decide to read it, and I thank you for coming along on this journey with me <3

[pollunam]

Flaws. Part 7.

The sun blazed high above us during the day. Freddie and I were fishing, though my efforts were not particularly successful.

— It's really simple, — he said, — you cast and reel.

— The main thing is that it's hilarious fun—casting and reeling. At least it’s better than casting and sitting in a boat at four in the morning, feeding bugs while waiting for a bite.

— Seems like you’re out of luck, — Graham said as he walked past.

— Maybe you’ll have better luck?

— A competition?

— A competition.

Hessie returned with his fishing rod, humming a tune to himself.

— Oh, we're in for a delicious dinner! — Gus's voice came from behind us. It seemed fishing was the main event of the day for everyone.

I sighed, adjusting the loose strands of hair that had fallen from my bun. The sun was scorching; I wasn't prepared for this, having always cherished the rain and storms.

— Hey, Jeffrey, — Gus called out, — want to earn some money?

Applyard appeared from the cabin. — I'd do almost anything for that.

— The guys are competing, — Gus began, then turned to us. — By the way, in what?

— Who catches the most fish or, Y/N, better yet, who catches any fish at all? — Graham smiled good-naturedly.

I mimicked him, distorting the words.

— Oh, I get it, I’m betting a hundred on Graham, — Jeffrey laughed. — That’s a sure bet.

— Really? Is that your support?

— Don't take it personally, it’s just business. Well, Gus, your choice?

— Freddie, I’m betting on you, don’t let me down.

Freddie whistled. — I won’t mess up, sir.

— Very inspiring, — I shook my head.

Graham, meanwhile, was getting fired up, whistling a tune even louder.

Lassen emerged from the cabin, drops falling from his hair, looking fresh and energetic.

— Fresh as a daisy, my friend, — Gus clapped him on the shoulder. — We’ve got an interesting battle going on. Who do you think is the best fisherman among these three?

— Hessie.

— You didn’t even hesitate, — I grumbled.

— It’s just logical. He’s been sailing since childhood, so this is his element.

— Yes, but he hasn't caught a single fish our entire trip, while Freddie has, — the captain noted, raising a finger.

— Are you guys making bets?

Appleyard and March-Phillips nodded.

— I bet on Y/N, — Lassen winked at me.

— I’m definitely making money today, — Jeffrey smiled.

— So, let's set a time limit, an hour should be enough.

They sat behind us, and I felt like a racehorse. Not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but the competitive spirit spurred me on.

I don’t know if it’s luck, Poseidon, or the guiding star that helps fishermen, but it’s worth trying to win.

— Looks like I've got a bite, — Graham exclaimed happily, reeling in his line, but at the last moment, the fish slipped away, its scales glinting in the sunlight before it disappeared into the water.

Jeffrey shouted in frustration.

— Stuff happens, don’t shout too soon, — Hessie responded irritably.

Lassen and I exchanged glances. — Go on, I believe in you!

— He supports her because they’re a team. We’re a team too, — Graham insisted, gesturing between himself and Jeffrey and then to me and Anders.

— Freddie, ignore him and catch the fish! — Gus yelled. — Don’t distract my fisherman.

Soon, Freddie threw the first catch into the net.

Graham became even more determined, casting his line with such force that it seemed like the rod would follow and fly around the Earth.

I felt a tug on my lure; the festivities were starting on my street too.

— One-one, — Gus noted. — Well, Apple, I think you’re going to go broke today.

Anders smiled without any bravado. He didn’t care how much money he would win or lose by evening; it was genuine joy.

— You’re doing great, — he mouthed, and I turned away shyly, not yet used to the fact that there was something more behind those words.

Time passed, and tensions rose. The three of us had an equal amount of fish, and Graham's mood noticeably improved.

— Exactly five minutes left.

I was truly starting to enjoy the activity, not worrying about the results, because an unempty net was already a win for someone who usually avoided such entertainment.

Graham grunted, — Oh my God, did I catch a shark? — He pulled with great effort, and finally, a big fish appeared out of the water.

— That counts for two, — he said.

— Guys! — Gus clapped his hands, — Time's up, and we have our winner!

Jeffrey smiled triumphantly as he collected his winnings. — I'm sorry, but Hessie and I aren't such easy opponents after all.

— Especially you, — I shook my head, putting away my fishing rod.

The evening draped the sky in a soft, slightly prickly blanket of cold. The radio crackled in the cabin as Graham searched for the right station.

— Finally! — Hessie exclaimed as a song came on. — Now we can eat.

I gently nodded to the music, setting the table. For a moment, it felt like the cabin had transformed into a cozy little house filled with songs every evening and morning news readings, while coffee languished in a cup.

— Dance night? — Freddie asked, rolling up his sweater sleeves as he took his seat. — You're a culinary wizard.

— Thank you, — I smiled, placing a glass in front of him.

— I'll open it," Alvarez said, taking a bottle of wine. "Since we’re celebrating tonight.

— What are we celebrating? — Lassen asked as he entered the cabin.

— Life.

— Sounds like a beautiful toast.

Soon, the cabin was filled with the sound of clinking glasses, the clatter of forks on plates, and the crunch of bread rolls.

— I've never eaten anything tastier, — Graham praised.

— You haven't tried her signature pie, — Appleyard interjected. — It's the ultimate.

— Just an ordinary pie, — I shrugged.

— Don't be modest.

— And you should be more modest, Jeffrey.

— Come on, as they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and you've won us all over. What’s wrong with that?

I smiled slyly. — Except for Gus, of course.

— What are you hinting at? — The captain bristled.

— At a certain lady who was in the office.

— Marjorie? — Jeffrey choked, coughing. — No way.

— First, no, second, why are you so surprised?

— It's hard to explain, but it's like you’re completely different.

I leaned back in my chair, watching as various emotions and thoughts flickered across the men's faces.

— I don’t get it, so I need to find an identical person now? — Graham asked.

— Of course not, but think about it—him and Marjorie.

— I don't know who that is.

Jeffrey raised his eyebrows, then turned from Hessie to Gus. — Don’t worry, friend, it'll pass.

— What will pass?

— Your infatuation.

— Are you two mocking me?

— I never joke about this. But if you tried to impress her by stealing cigarettes and a coat, I think you succeeded.

— You don’t understand women, captain, — Freddie laughed.

— Let’s drop the topic, or I’ll have to tell stories about your love escapades.

— Whose?

Gus looked at me like he knows something.

— Jeffrey once got into a bar fight over a girl, only to find out later it was with her brother, which nearly led to a fight with her.

—Y/N broke a guy's nose when he tried to kiss her.

— I was fifteen and didn't want to kiss him.

— Yes, but you cried about it afterward.

— He doesn’t understand women either, — Freddie shrugged.

— Well, maybe Anders is our expert?

Everyone turned to him, calmly finishing his salad, seemingly not even listening.

— What’s up?

— Lassen, you look like a formidable and relentless machine. How do the ladies like that?

— No complaints so far. What's the point of this conversation?

— The point is, you boys don’t understand women at all. Except maybe Freddie, it seems.

Freddie and I exchanged glances. — Much appreciated.

— That’s not true, women just need to be loved.

— Oh, so you're a loveful guy, huh? — I crossed my arms. — Tell us more.

— Yeah, Lassen, tell us, — Gus smirked.

Anders put down his utensils, adjusted his glasses. — I get the feeling you're trying to catch me saying something wrong.

— No, friend, but since you're such a great lover, why not share some tips?

Anders took a deep breath. — That secret will die with me.

— I know one thing for sure, — Jeffrey stood up. — Girls love to dance, especially our lovely Y/N — He smiled, extending his hand to me.

The song swept me into the dance, seeping into me like a strong drink. The melody swirled, and I spun along with it. Jeffrey danced beautifully, feeling the rhythm, and sang along to the lyrics. The lightness of our feet, the speed of our turns, and the incredible joy rising within me took my breath away. Jeffrey held my hand firmly, spinning me toward him and lifting me up. The song ended, and there was applause.

— You're still a good dancer, Apple.

— You two should enter a contest—you'd win for sure, — Freddie handed me a glass of water. — That was fantastic!

— Y/N, may I have a dance? — Graham asked.

— I'd be delighted.

The evening was marked by dancing and sweet wine. I danced with everyone except Lassen, laughing and twirling in the euphoria of the music that filled the air. Dance always created a separate world where miracles happened, my mind emptied, and all that was left was to keep breathing.

The weather took a turn for the worse, with thunder rumbling or perhaps it was just my heart pounding loudly in my ears. The guys stepped out onto the deck from the stuffy room to check everything before the storm hit.

— Now it's my turn for a coveted dance, — Anders said softly, stepping close.

— Have you earned it?

Anders smirked, leaning in even closer. His breath seared my neck, triggering an irreversible reaction within me.

— Using your secret methods to seduce?

— You know it's not like that, — he replied calmly, leaving a trail of kisses.

His hands settled on my waist, pulling me into a slow sway. The music played softly from the radio, and our gazes melded into one. The wild swing had turned into a silent conversation of our bodies. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat rapidly, as if from excitement and thrill.

— Hey! Anders, Y/N! — Freddie burst into the cabin, momentarily stunned. — Sorry.

— It's alright, we’re just wrapping up the evening with a dance, — Lassen replied.

— What happened? — I stepped back, regretting the fleeting moment.

— There’s a ship—British Navy. Looks like we’re in trouble.

— Stay here.

— Absolutely not, — I said, stepping out. — If it ends now, they’ll search the cabin too, trust me.

Anders took my hand. — Then stay close.

I nodded, following him.

The ocean raged, as if the scene was straight out of a movie, the colors intensifying dramatically. Thoughts of a cold cell weren’t scary but unpleasant, like a fat rat in a garbage can. There was something else, truly frightening. We watched the cruiser turning in the distance.

— Stick to our usual strategy. Now we’re on a honeymoon, — Gus said. — As ridiculous as it sounds, the story always works.

— And what are you doing in our honeymoon? — I asked.

Freddie asked. — It's obvious lying if we’ve been seen.

— They couldn't have. If you leave now, they won't see.

The guys went down to the cabin. The rain started drizzling.

— We won't end up in their brig, not today, — Anders said cheerfully, clearly an adrenaline junkie enjoying potential danger.

— You know, New Year’s is soon. I don't want to spend it in a cell.

— We'll celebrate it and not in a cell.

— You’re an optimist, one of a kind.

The cruiser approached.

— You know, we’d make a good husband and wife.

— We'll find out now, — I smiled. — But yes, we're doing well.

Soon, the British ship drew alongside us, crew members and the Viscount himself appearing on deck.

— What are you doing here? — came the voice from the ship. We had to crane our necks to see them.

— Good day, we’re just on a little honeymoon trip from Sweden. — Lassen put his arm around my shoulders, likely for authenticity.

— How did you end up in these waters?

— We lost our way.

Viscount Algernon called someone over. "You speak Swedish, don't you?"

Apparently, it was their cook, who nodded casually and spoke to Anders. It looked like a charming chat between old friends.

— Quiet, Lassen. Let your wife answer, — the Viscount said.

From this, the conclusion was clear and not encouraging.

— Of course, I'd never refuse, but I'm not very good at it yet.

— And do you know why, milady? Because you are Edith Wilkins by birth, who wasn’t married just a couple of weeks ago.

— Why don’t you consider the possibility that it could have happened during that time frame?

— Let’s just check everything out, search the cabin, and have an interesting interview with you. You can tell us your love story over a cup of tea.

— With all the details? — Lassen squinted.

— You’re playing a risky game, guys, but if you have nothing to hide, drop anchor.

We exchanged glances. We had to hope for a miracle, which came when a German submarine approached the cruiser. Shells began to fire.

— Time to get out of here, — Anders ran to the sail, releasing it.

Graham emerged from the cabin to help. At full speed, we escaped the fire and the battle scene.

— Clever, very clever.

— As if we ordered the submarines to show up right next to us, — I chuckled.

— But you held your ground well, can’t deny that, — Gus noted.

Freddy still glanced at me questioningly. Perhaps it seemed foolish to keep secrets, especially when there was nothing significant to hide, but I didn’t want to share, still internally on guard, occasionally indulging my fears.

Rain thundered all night, and the ship swayed. Wrapped in a blanket, I still felt the cold creeping into my sanctuary. The mission was nearing its end, and I was getting involved in a fling. It seemed even more foolish than everything else. Of course, Anders never lacked attention from the opposite sex. Emotions sounded the alarm. I imagined getting burned by someone who might not turn out to be a romantic gentleman. I opened my eyes, staring at the wall, replaying all the moments we had spent together. There wasn't a single moment where he made me doubt him. So why was I almost drowning in fear now?

— Can’t sleep? — Jeffrey asked quietly.

— No.

— Want to smoke?

We silently got up and stepped out into the pouring rain, huddling under the small overhang of the cabin. Jeffrey lit my cigarette with his lighter.

— Everything okay?

— Yeah, of course.

— I’ve already told you, I see everything.

— And what’s your conclusion, expert?

— I don’t understand. Did that stupid cruiser throw you off? If so, forget about them. Worse things lie ahead.

— Thanks, very comforting.

— You know, it’s easier to assess the situation in contrast.

— You’re right, — I said, taking a drag and closing my eyes.

— But you’re wrong in one thing, that’s not the reason.

— Apple, come on, it’s all right, just nerves.

He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t say anything.

— What will you do when it’s all over?

— Work, as always.

— You know, it may not be my business, but I’ll say it anyway. There’s too much work in your life, you’re missing out on reality.

— What do you mean by that?

— Just life, raising flowers, going on dates.

— Thanks for the plan, friend, but I’ll manage somehow.

— I thought so, you won’t listen.

— Why would I? You burst into my life, handing out free advice.

— Because I care,Y/N, you’re like a sister to me.

I sighed, knowing he was right.

— Fine, I’ll think about your words, agreed?

— Yeah, — he put out his cigarette, — and what about you and Lassen?

— Oh God, nothing.

— So, he’s not the reason either?

— Only if we’re talking about worldwide catastrophes.

Jeffrey chuckled, — okay then, good night.

I stood there a bit longer, finishing my cigarette.

[nacricissa]

Diary of a Twitter refugee

I have officially stopped following just about everyone I used to follow on Twitter because I like it more here. I suddenly realized that I hadn't written, retweeted, replied to, or even liked a tweet in a long time, until one post came across my timeline about TREE LAW and I responded to it like it had come across my dash and I realized I only enjoyed the tweet because I was treating it like Tumblr so I decided to leave. I haven't deleted the account because I don't think my local member of the legislative assembly is getting a Tumblr, but for content Twitter is no longer the place.

It has actually been a bit hard coming to Tumblr, not because I think I don't fit in, but because it seems Tumblr thinks I don't. I see a good number of posts deriding Twitter refugees as a group, talking about how none of us work with the culture of Tumblr, we're too dunk-focused, or political, or whatever. For me, that was a part of Twitter I carefully avoided, and even though I can think, in my little brain "they don't mean you, it's the bad Twitter refugees they're talking about"... I've not really seen many, so I don't know if I am actually different to them.

My history with Tumblr was that in high school, my friends had it (I even sort of had a post get ~200 notes by telling my friend to post it to her Tumblr on my behalf) then I saw the way Tumblr trickles out to the wider web: reposted memes, history videos created by YouTubers who were themselves active parts or at least observing from across Tumblr as the communities they describe rose and fell. Through this time, though, I never made a Tumblr, because it was the website for people who liked talking to each other about the things they liked, and I didn't like to share, to remember that the books I was reading were less than my personal portal into an extant alternate world. Then, once Twitter started falling apart, I realized there was nothing really stopping me from using Tumblr as a replacement, as a... blog to post my writing, and a way to follow content I enjoy.

Since I've been here, I've even started engaging in fandom. People have liked posts I've written about things I like. One of my original pieces of writing even got reblogged. I like to think Tumblr is right for me, but the doubts, the thoughts of "you should have gotten a Tumblr when you were fourteen, weathered the storms of teenage dysfunction if you really wanted to fit in here" never really leave me.

[bogleech]

PART 2: ENVIRONMENTS & MORE MONSTER BREEDING

Instead of one big open world, this game has "circles" you can teleport your evil tower between, like it's some kind of demon realm? My favorite is the Circle of Conquest, only the second one you unlock, because it has all the worms and bugs and mushroom monsters and undead with lakes of neon green slime.

Each location goes through four different seasons that shift every ten minutes, they each have a unique weather effect, and I think they also have day and night cycles?! In Conquest, the slime pools dry up during the summer but then it RAINS slime, and when it rains slime, there are bubble slimes everywhere!

The different circles get really varied too, one of them is a dessert world where it rains candy sprinkles and the seasons get holiday motifs. Giant pumpkins grow in the fall! There's also the Circle of Fortitude, a giant junkyard with seasonal green smog and lightning storms that activate some of the abandoned machinery.

Going in blind, I initially thought these different areas were disappointingly small, but once I'd been to all the major circles it turned out those were just their "lower echelons." I only just began to unlock the "middle echelons," which aren't even the final maps, and they're gigantic as well as sometimes visually distinct from!

The middle echelon of Conquest is a brighter, more open place blooming with flowers, and maybe you don't think it looks that huge from this screenshot, but look for the little grey tower way in the distance, with a lightning bolt hitting it; that's where I came from, and I'm only halfway across this map. Now my critique has shifted from "the areas should be bigger" to "a lot of this space is wasted," unfortunately, because there's not a lot of unique stuff to do other than run into monsters to initiate battles. I wish there were more NPC's at least; in almost every circle, the friendly NPC's are also monsters, but there's only ever a couple of them concentrated in very tiny, very barren "towns." I'd love if you could run into non-hostile monster characters just out in the field.

The overworld monsters do have some fun little behaviors they go through, though. In the wintertime here, the Carnivines all fall asleep :) yes these three-headed plants are called Carnivine. I think they've possibly been called Carnivine since before a Pokemon was ever localized as Carnivine.

Anyway here's some more monster breeding I've done: I made this maniacal crab bone this horrible miniature sun and for some reason that made a boxy lobster creature that they now call Palooka Prawn, though I remember earlier in the franchise it was called a "Digster" and was supposed to be a burrowing land crustacean.

Later I bred the DIGSTER with one of those lamp things to make this excellent coral monster.

I also got one of those horrible giraffe men, because every boss and unique monster character is also an available species, and then I mated him to another human corpse to get a skeleton horseman. I'm assuming the giraffe gave birth to this new skeleton and the skeleton gave birth to the horse.

GOD the breeding is addictive though. You can preview all the monsters you can get from every possible combination, so every time you get a new one, you're going to end up browsing through your whole collection to see what new options you have, and then since breeding "fuses" monsters together you're going to be weighing exactly which combo to expend one of your rarer monsters on, or trying to amass even more just to check and see what else that rare find can produce. It's a lot more fun than just looking it up on a wiki guide, at least. The palette-swapped green slime man might not be as cool as his mom, who was The Moon somehow, but he's rank B, one of the strongest tiers, and his ancestry gave him three skill trees that work great together, which is another really fun aspect:

A single skillset can include both attacks and stat boosts to unlock; the "empath" set here includes one of the best multi target damaging movies as well as one of the best full party healing moves, which just cost a whole lot of MP in battle. But he also has Strong Speller, which includes a +60 MP buff, and Zam Ward, which is almost nothing but MP and Wisdom buffs, which all stack! The battles also may be basic, but they're still satisfying and challenging; it hasn't gotten too painfully grindy yet, but I've also never felt as overleveled as I quickly feel in a Pokemon game. You can also battle the traditional way by picking out exactly which attacks to use every single turn, OR let your monsters autobattle, and they generally know the best attacks to use but you can still go in and set the priority level of every move or disable it altogether. You can also give a monster a broad directive like "show no mercy" or "support your allies," so, the simple classic menu battles still offer multiple playstyles and levels of control.

...............slime man

MY DRAGON QUEST MONSTERS THREAD

Dragon Quest Monsters: The Dark Prince is the first DQM game I've ever gotten to play after admiring the series since childhood. The bad news is that it leaves out exactly the three DQ monsters I love most. The good news is that everything else about it is great. I've been taking regular screenshots as I play and I am going to start adding things about it to this post, so it is going to get long. First of all here are exactly my next three favorite monsters in the franchise, which they fortunately did include, and were all available to me by almost the first area:

"Mad Mollusk" or in other dq games "taileater" is great because it has a sad flabby slug face at one end and a fanged leech mouth at the other end. When it uses magic, it reveals giant eyeballs in its antennae somehow?! Love how big the "carnivorous" mouth gets in the attack animation. What a stretchy guy!

"Lunatick" is just called "meda" (eye) in Japanese, I'm glad they decided it was like a parasite thing in the localization.

Finally there's DROHL, a classic DQ enemy that looks like...well I'm not gonna say what it really looks like but I think it's a cool little freak unrelated to that and I think it talks exactly like Droopy dog. Oddly it's known as a "Drohl DRONE," and I believe there are other "castes" in other DQ games, but only the "drones" are in this one sadly. I've yet to find this in the wild; I got it through the breeding system!

....Which is by far the most addicting thing about this game. The actual gameplay is good solid turn based RPG stuff, if a bit basic, but every monster can be bred with another monster to unlock a slew of other species. This is one of the first games in which they actually call it a "fusion" system now, I guess dropping the word "breed" from the English localization, but all other in-game dialog still calls these the 'parents' and 'offspring' and even makes jokes that they're getting married, so yeah, it's still breeding. What happens when you breed a slime with someone's dead grandpa??

.....There are multiple monsters you can get from that, but one of them, and the one that makes the most sense, is Slimeshroom! This is a new DQ slime that's some fungus! What's also fun is that every monster has up to three skills, and each skill actually unlocks a ton of spells, attacks, boosts and effects as you spend skill points on them. Then when you breed two monsters, you can give the baby any three skills from the parents. Any at all! I used this to make my Slimeshroom both a healer and a fire mage in the early game. This catches you up with the same progress I talked about when I first got the game almost two months ago so here's some things that have happened since:

I bred a flying cat and a vampire chinchilla to get a.....sexy bat??

I helped a fat rat - that's the name of his species - rescue his son

I bred a people ghost with a lamp ghost to get a bag of dirt!

I fought this bastard giraffe man who called an elderly wizard a "naughty boy" and put him in candy jail.

"Duffer" from the Giraffe quest is also best friends with Eileen the eye demon, and when you rescue him, they become your loyal subjects! BAD NEWS: this entire game is actually a prequel to Dragon Quest 4, and the player character of this game is the villain of Dragon Quest 4. Duffer and Eileen are also in Dragon Quest 4. They die :( .......Maybe this game gives you a chance to fix that future??? I don't know.

[harryhandstan]

HIIII happy (late) 4th of july!!

you are literally the sweet person to ever exist i can’t believe its been like 2 years since we last spoke. its crazy how time flies

oh noooo im sorry that happened to you :(( im glad ur doing better and taking good care of yourself 💓💓 wishing u a speedy recovery!

alsoooo good luck with house hunting! that must be so exciting!!looking for a new place to call home and making new memories in it! i just know youll find the most beautiful homey and perfect place!! im manifesting for u

im doing well!! not much happened except for school stuff but i just went to my first ever pit concert a few months ago! i saw the driver era (only because i thought ross lynch was hot lol) i didnt know what to expect for pit but i didn’t expect to stand for 8 hours straight 😭😭 AHHHH ALSO im seeing taylor swift in a few weeks and i literally cannot wait!!!!

im always thinking about u! talk to u soon!! good luck 🍀 love youuuuuuu!!! 💗💓💓💞💕

-🧸

happy late 4th of july to you too bestie!! I hope you had a great day!!

I'm sorry for the delay in answering this btw it's been storming here so my wi-fi has been in and out all day!

omg stop you're so kind to me I genuinely love talking to everyone and I consider you and many others here my friends so y'all make it easy to just repay the love I've been given!!

it's actually only been a year bub! I only know because I looked it up to refresh my memory about what we talked about before cause like I said a lot had happened and I couldn't remember if we'd talked since my accident. it was last year after my birthday and after harry's house came out. but really it's alright I don't want you to feel bad!

thank you so much for the well wishes ❤ I realized after that I left some detail out of what happened to me and didn't explain it very well, but if I ramble on too much just feel free to skip over it! basically not only was I kicked but I went flying about 8 feet across my yard too, which caused me to have a compression fracture on T11 of my spine. I also had a contusion on my right hip (which is just a really, really deep and bad bruise), which is where the point of impact was. I will (hopefully) continue to improve, but having arthritis still causes me to have a ton of pain if I do too much physical activity. that part of my spine is also partly collapsed and always will be, but my neurosurgeon said that as long as my arms and legs are still okay that I should just slowly start to get back to "normal" life and listen to my body as I go along! I asked if I needed to keep up with x-rays or anything over the years but he said my symptoms would get much, much worse if the collapse got any worse and I would know I need to come back to see him. he also said IF I would've had to have surgery that it would take like 12 pins and a huge rod to correct things so I'm so SO lucky that things weren't any worse!

thank you so much for helping us manifest!!! it means more than you'll ever know because it hasn't been easy so far trying to find a place 😔 we live in such a rural area in GA and we originally wanted to stay in the same town because I was supposed to start a new job in january and we wanted to be close to my work. I probably won't get to take that job now (which is a whole other long story), and since there are very limited options we're probably gonna have to broaden our search to surrounding towns that are slightly bigger! we ultimately want a house together, but I think we're gonna have to settle for an apartment for now until we can find the perfect place for us. anything would be better than here rn though!!!

idk if I've ever talked much about my dad to you but we have as no contact of a relationship as possible even though we live in the same house. he's the reason for my accident and so the day it happened and we were waiting for the ambulance to come my mom told him that we wouldn't be coming back to this house. but then we had no choice we didn't have the money or resources needed to go elsewhere. I was worried as I got better she would forget about that and slip out of that mindset, but thankfully she hasn't! she just told me tonight we'd probably go look at apartments next week and that she can't wait to get out of here. I could truly cry at the thought of having a safe, clean, and comfortable space away from him. it's what my mom, my siblings, and our dogs all deserve!

how is school going? how much longer do you have to go? and oohh I'm so happy you got to experience a concert in pit!! it's amazing but it is soooo exhausting I hope you got lots of rest afterward 😊 when I saw harry I wore my ankle support thing to my pit concert to because I knew my feet would be swollen the next day probably. and taylor swift that's so cool!! I'm very excited for you!! I hope you have the best time!!! where are your seats for that show?

I'm always thinking about you too!! seriously sometimes I'll just think about you or how you're doing so just know you're always getting any spare good vibes I have sent your way ✨ thank you thank you for the good luck!!! love you moreeeee 🤍

I was gonna tell you about getting to see stevie nicks and my road trip to see my little brother but I talked so much this time we'll save those stories for next time if you wanna hear about them!!

[glitterghost]

Okay friends, here we go. I recently stumbled upon author Claire Cray. Their slogan according to the official website is "Gay Romance On The Weird Side". And let me tell you, it's pretty fitting for their content.

I came across their most recent release, In Strange Woods (published August 28, 2020) on Kindle unlimited & decided to give it read. It's an m/m mystery/thriller and I found myself throughly enjoying the story and the characters. It's not really lengthy & it kept me engaged the entire time! Honesty, I fell in love with the two male leads. Both their personalities and their dynamic together. The romance spans only over a week or so, but the tenderness and organic growth between them is something I was & still am weak for.

(Ps. I absolutely adore one soft, flannel wearing, Nirvana listening, heart of gold boy, named Hunter!)

Another thing I loved about this book is that the romance didn't overshadow the plot, but accented it. It gets woven into the already ongoing story and I truly appreciated that. I don't want to say too much about the plot itself but I will pull the description and add it below!

In the stormy coastal woods of the Pacific Northwest, roots run deep and passions run wild.

Reeling with grief and hounded by the press after the mysterious massacre of his wealthy family, moody New York photographer James Worthington Crane decides to take his downward spiral somewhere far away: to the rural Oregon Coast, where he’s just inherited a random piece of property hidden somewhere in the woods upriver.

But when James pulls into the decaying seaside town of Brooks, everyone thinks he’s someone else—an elusive local rebel named Beau. Now James must fight through his own grief to unravel a tangled web of family secrets, mysterious doppelgängers, and forgotten history...with help from a soft-spoken local hunk named Hunter Quaid.

Hunter’s been on his own since he left his fundamentalist family at the age of fifteen. It’s taken years of hard work and healing to build the steady, stable life he has now, fixing up seaside houses while living alone in a trailer by the river. Then James blows in like a winter storm, disturbing the peace and stirring up a hunger like nothing he's ever felt.

As Hunter helps James search for the truth, their lives intertwine in unexpected ways—and they begin to discover what it means to find out where you really belong.

From the author of Merrick and Hidden Talents comes a sensual and emotional story inspired by the rugged beauty and offbeat history of Pacific Northwest timber country. In Strange Woods moves through ancient old-growth forests, abandoned logging roads, ramshackle seaside towns, decaying homesteads, coastal highways, and the stories hidden in the trees.

For me, this book hit a lot of things that I love seeing in stories and especially in m/m. Claire's pacing and writing style, for me, was pretty solid. So much so, that I delved into looking more into other works she's published previously, just to continue enjoying the writing. Though I still consider In Strange Woods my favorite of all I've read so far. I feel you can see the writing evolve more strongly than in some of their past titles. That and I just really am in love with James x Hunter! ♡

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Freebies

Many titles such as Thirsting For More & Backwoods Beast are free on Amazon. Both are paranormal shorts. Both published in 2012. The writing isn't as strong to me in these as it was in In Strange Woods but that's also an 8 year gap in writing. However, I like Claire's story ideas and to me it was still worth checking out!

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Classic Tales Gone Gay

I also just finished Spooky Smutty Stories, (also available on Kindle Unlimited) which highlights a handful of classic tells, well, gone gay, just as it says! This collection also features Backwoods Beast as the first entry but there is also a sequel of sorts in it, with the last story being Backwoods Boomerang.

Each story (seven in total), are uniquely written but also familiar to most of us. They hold just enough eerie, spooky and sometimes frightful content to maybe give you a goosebumps or two. Definitely a delightful read just in time for spooky season right around the corner!

Ever wished your favorite scary stories had more steamy gay scenes? Now they do. This collection of seven creepy, delicious m/m stories is filled with ghostly hitchhikers, haunted ships, seductive witches and more classic tropes from urban legends and oral traditions around the world. There's a tale here for everyone who likes it weird, so dive in and treat yourself to a good shiver.

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Historical

Oh, did I mention Claire's also done historical as well? I've yet to read Merrick & William but will definitely be making my way to them in the future.

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Spooky Season Newsletter Event 💀

I'll leave you all with one last bit of information. Since spooky season IS right around the corner, Claire is holding an event for newsletter subscribers and y'all should sign up for all the free spooky content to come! (I swear no puns but, well, yeah 🙃)

"Stories will be written in real time as Spooky Season goes on, and I’ll consider any prompts and ideas that come my way on Twitter!"

So be sure to sign up for the newsletter, as not to miss out on this event. You can do so by going here

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Links

For more information on Claire & Claire's books, as I'm sure I could go on but this is already a long post. You can find Claire at/on:

Claire's offical website

Twitter: @claire_cray (give a follow!)

Goodreads

Amazon

Tumblr- @clairecray-blog (but not sure if active)

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[sirpeachess-casual]

Love your Dick Grayson Must Die series. I've seen you're taking requests. How about mission goes wrong, Rachel gets seriously injured and Dick spends the next 24h in the infirmary with her blaming himself, possibly having a breakdown at some point because she gets worse before she gets better? I love when he's in full Dad Mode and their scenes in your fics always make me cry 😭❤

24:00:00

Part 3 of the Catching Dick Grayson series, Part 9 of the Dick Grayson Must Die series

Summary: In which Rachel is injured and given twenty-four hours to pull through. With the other Titans away, it's up to Dick to keep her - and himself - from falling apart.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Bruce Wayns is a trying to be a good parent, Dick Grayson is a good parent

~~

TITANS TOWERSAN FRANCISCO

24:00:00

Twenty-four hours.

Dr. Stewart had given Rachel twenty-four hours to pull through. If she could make it that long, she would make a full recovery. If she couldn't, it was pretty likely that the rest of the Titans - who were stuck in the airport - wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye.

Dick had broken protocol by bringing the doctor here. But she was a trusted League associate and he had been desperate. So he had called her, practically begged her to come, and allowed her into the Tower. She had gotten to work with him at her elbow the whole time, passing sponges and wiping her brow, until she had done all she could do. Then she had given him her diagnosis, wished them both luck, and left.

He sat in the infirmary, leg bouncing, tapping her number into his League and personal phone just in case. Swallowing thickly, he started the timer.

23:59:99

Twenty-four hours and counting.

He sat back in the chair, twitching and exhaling slowly. Kory texted him, asking how she was. He gave her the full update and she promised they would be there as soon as they could. The airport was a mess, though, and it would be quicker to hurry up and wait for the storm to pass than try to work out another mode of transportation. He understood.

23:53:38

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He had made it almost exactly twelve minutes before the itch under his skin forced him to stand and get busy somehow. He couldn't just sit here and wait for the worst without sacrificing what was left of his own sanity. Taking his phone with him, he walked into the great room, headed straight for the kitchen. He set his phone on the counter, the countdown displayed on the screen, and stood staring at the fridge.

He wasn't hungry.

He was hungry, but he couldn't eat.

He should eat. Sustenance was always important after a mission or his muscles would regret it in the morning. He knew this. It had been pounded into him since he was twelve.

But he couldn't eat.

Snatching his phone back, he stomped to his room. He stayed long enough to rinse off in the shower and slip into casual clothes - a gray shirt and some pants or something. They were clean and he didn't give the outfit a second thought. Bringing his laptop and some headphones, he dragged a comfortable chair into the infirmary and got settled. Legs crossed, laptop open, headphones ready, he sat.

He checked the timer again.

22:09:47

Two hours down, somehow. Only twenty-two to go.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

He lost another hour staring into space, arms crossed as he looked out the window. The sun had risen, its beams muted by the low-hanging dark clouds. Rain pelted against the windows and deck outside, distant thunder rumbling across the ocean. It looked like the rain wouldn't be stopping for a while, the furthest reaching vestiges of a storm tormenting the city.

He heard screaming, saw a splash of blood, and blinked right before Rachel went down. Stupid flashbacks. He pulled in a shuttering breath, tightening his arms and glancing at the bed. No change and no improvement. Twenty hours to go and she hadn't made any noticeable inch of progress.

Breaking pose, he marched to her bedside, tapping the monitor. He switched between windows, checking her brain activity, blood oxygen levels, anything that he could in any way understand. The numbers remained the same, maddeningly refusing to improve.

Oh, how he wanted to call Dr. Stewart and hear a trusted professional reassure him it would be fine. Or maybe Kory and let her fiercely kind words soothe him. If only Donna was still around; she would tell him how to take his overactive mind off everything and stop the spiral before it even started. Because it was coming. It was coming fast and hard and his only hope was to stave it off for the next nineteen hours.

Fingers tapping an uncoordinated rhythm, he switched the monitor to the default view and paced away. Large hands scrubbed his face and he counted his steps, timed his breathing, cracked his knuckles, did anything he could to get his mind focused on something other than the echoes of her screaming.

The walls started to melt and he knew he had to get out. He burst out of the room, pacing and breathing heavily in the hallway. Music would help, music always helped, but he wouldn't dare deafen himself to the beeping monitors even a little bit. He could read or work on reports if he wasn't so damn distracted. The training room was too far away - an entire floor beneath the infirmary - and he didn't need anything from the bedrooms.

He could eat. He should eat. But the suggestion was passed over before it could even be considered. No way would he be able to taste anything.

That left the great room, its lounge looking traitorously inviting. A sit would be nice, a moment to relax by the fire and release some of the tension in his shoulders, but he didn't deserve it. He needed to stay vigilant, ready to pop into action at a moment's notice. If her vitals changed, he needed to be there. If she started to wake up, he would be standing over her, welcoming her back.

His reflection caught in the rain and he saw blood on his hands, his own ineptitude mocking him. He had been too slow, his stupid moral compass a crutch keeping him from doing what had been necessary. If he had only been stronger, faster, better, he could have saved her. Without his own limitations in the way, she would have been fine.

His phone buzzed and he rushed to answer it. "Kory," he greeted urgently.

"We got tickets."

"When do you leave?"

"Not for another eight hours."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Look, I'm not any happier about it than you are. None of us are. You think we want to be stuck here with what's going on?"

His face sank into his palm, rubbing and pulling at his hair. "This wouldn't have happened if we flew private. If I had just... I could've figured something out."

"Dick, you only have so many strings you can pull. And you used a lot of them just to get her and yourself back home. That's what's important; that's she's back where she belongs."

He sighed, glancing down the hall. "I just wish I could have done more."

She returned the tense exhale, muffling the mic against the din of angry travelers behind her. "No updates yet from the doctor?"

"No changes. Everything is the same from a couple of hours ago."

"Well that's good, right? That means she isn't getting any worse."

He clenched his jaw to bite back the angry remark that almost came out. No, technically she wasn't getting any worse. But she also wasn't getting any better. The clock was ticking, her time running down, and she was no closer to waking up than she was when all of this started. "I'll call you back. Let me know when you're in the air."

"Dick-!"

He hung up, checking the timer and pocketing his phone.

18:34:07

He really needed a distraction, someone to talk to, to scream and rant at. Someone who could take his blows and bites and still consider him a decent human being when it was all said and done. God, he missed Donna.

When she was halfway, with exactly twelve hours left, her heart stopped.

Read the rest on Archive of Our Own.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Smut?? *sigh* Oh how i've missed it. Also, how do I choose just one? Okay, how about no. 33 “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.” (Don't mind me, I'm just too fond of jealousy fics)

Your time is now, friend! You picked a good one. It went… places I didn’t expect. I hope you enjoy it!

Best Man (and a Friend of the Bride)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 5717

33. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

Peter escaped the banquet hall at a near-run while the guests were still applauding Betty and Ned’s first dance. After the newlyweds had burst into the room not long before, Ned had broken away to give Peter an important heads-up: that Ned’s mom had informed all of his cousins that the Best Man was single and they were just waiting until the dancing to pounce. It freaked Peter out to know that a bunch of strangers had been checking him out while he stood at the head of the aisle, clapping his best friend supportively on the shoulder as the music cued Betty’s entrance.

Even in the face of matrimony (and it had been right in Peter’s face for the better part of two years as he fulfilled his role as Best Man), it wasn’t that Peter was a commitment-phobe, some sort of serial one-night-stand-er. He simply wasn’t in a rush to marry young. Plus, he was trying to keep his wits about him today of all days; May had warned that people could get a little nuts at weddings, what with the atmosphere of romantic gravitas thicker than the icing on the big white cake. She was probably back there right now, trying to intercept Ned’s eager cousins to give Peter a head start.

As he moved away down the corridor towards the front of the hotel, the thud of pop-y bass transitioned into the tones of two people attempting to keep an argument quiet. Up ahead, a dark-haired man crossed out of a room and pushed angrily through the front doors. They didn’t slam, which took some of the effect out of it.

Peter wondered if he should turn back, but if the other arguer came this way, it would look like he was trying to slink away after eavesdropping. He would just… be casual and slip right past.

Except, when he was passing the room the fight had occurred in, the other person, a woman his age, walked out. He grabbed her shoulders instinctively before she could run into him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter told her surprised expression, belatedly releasing her.

“Oh, this?” she asked, circling her face with a finger. “It’s not fear, it’s relief. I thought you were Brad storming back in for round two.”

He could guess, but it would be better to ask.

“Brad?”

“My…” The woman paused. “…ex-boyfriend.”

Peter noticed a few tears overflowing her brimming eyes and patted his pants for a Kleenex, coming up empty. Damn, he remembered feeling one when he stuffed his tie into the same pocket after the ceremony.

“Sorry,” he said, meaning it, “I think I had a tissue in my jacket, but I left it in the… in the room.”

‘Banquet hall’ was not coming to him as she gave an unconcerned shrug and tossed her loosely braided hair over her shoulder before catching him head-on with brown eyes that were even more brilliant for their shininess. She made do by swiping away the fullest tears and patting beneath her eyes with her thumbs.

“I’m fine,” she said and he felt bad for not asking.

While she sniffled and angled her head back to keep any remaining tears at bay, Peter glanced down, taking in the length of her dark copper dress. It would probably photograph stunningly outside, against all those red and gold leaves on the trees lining the hotel’s drive. Damn Ned for dragging him into the wedding photographer conversation. Everywhere Peter looked at this place, he saw lighting opportunities and reflections of the couple’s autumnal colour scheme. Stupid scenic, postcard-town venue. He looked quickly back up to the woman’s face, which was now more composed.

“I’m Peter.” He cleared his throat. “By the way.”

She nodded and said, “MJ. Betty’s mentioned you.”

“So you’re… bride’s side?” That term came to him.

“Oh yeah, she and I go way back, or as far as you can go back when people get married in their early twenties.”

“Right.” Peter laughed. “Me and Ned too.” But the small talk was bothering him. He met MJ’s eyes seriously. “I’m sorry, but I really need to know what the fuck that guy’s problem was.”

She laughed in what looked like surprise.

“How do you know I didn’t cause the problem?”

“Did you?” he asked to humour her.

MJ shrugged, appearing genuinely thoughtful.

“Sort of. You want details?”

“Nah, it’s none of my business.” He was just quietly pissed off that some dick could breeze out and leave this woman crying. At a wedding. This was, like, the exact opposite of what May had warned him about. No romance in sight.

She leaned sideways into the wall, crossed her arms, and sighed. He copied her, minus the sigh.

“First, I want to note that someone’s ability to cite George Orwell is not a strong enough reason to stay in a relationship with them. You got that, Peter?”

“Noted.”

She sighed again and rubbed more aggressively at the tear tracks drying on her cheeks.

“Would you believe the fight started with a proposal?”

Peter was usually more of a listener, but he could tell MJ needed him to contribute. Maybe she wasn’t a natural conversation-hog either.

“Isn’t proposing at somebody else’s wedding, like, bad manners?”

“Really bad,” she agreed with such vehemence that he understood why she and Betty were good friends. “It’s rude as fuck to take attention away from the bride and groom, but Brad’s a self-centered shithead like that, so I probably should have seen this coming.”

“That’s the problem with the Brads of the world,” Peter observed with sarcastic faux-wisdom. “You’re so focused on how self-centered they are and how much of a shithead they’re being that you forget the unpredictability factor. That’s the killer.”

MJ snorted.

“Right? Anyway, so I pulled him out here, because he started fucking whipping out that ring box while Betty and Ned were still dancing―” Peter shook his head in disgust. “―and while we were getting into it, I had this moment where I just stared at him and felt zero desire to keep talking, or hearing him talk. And, I guess, if I felt like that right after he tried to propose… I mean, that should be one of the emotional highlights of my life. Like, forget that his timing was shitty and selfish, I still should’ve been thrilled, on some level, that this guy I’d been with for the past two and a half years wanted to marry me. And I wasn’t. I think that’s why I started crying.”

She breathed deeply and Peter was staggered that he’d heard someone exorcise their feelings so well and so wastelessly. He admired her. Abruptly, MJ laughed.

“So that was a lot to unload on a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger, I’m your friend’s husband’s best friend!” he joked. “And I’m glad you explained. Otherwise, my plan was to assume that you were crying for Brad, because he doesn’t get to spend any more time with you.”

“You know, I’m impressed that you picked that up so quickly.”

“Well,” Peter shrugged, referencing Ned’s recent vows, “I’ve heard that sometimes you just know.”

They laughed until the front doors opening (not Brad―they both turned to look) shoved a wave of chilly air into the hotel. Peter wished he had his jacket to give her. He felt a little unbalanced, accidentally pairing up with this stranger after actively running away from the potential for that same thing down the hall. Instead of wading in, testing the waters, he’d shot down into a sinkhole. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping to find either. Because he hadn’t been hoping to find anything. Yet he really wanted to be around her; attraction wasn’t something he’d closed himself off to.

“We should get out of this hallway,” MJ suggested.

“Do you want to…” Peter jerked his thumb back towards the banquet hall. “…dance?” He winced. “Or is that a terrible thing to ask because, shithead or not, you were just almost engaged?”

She tilted her head side to side, considering.

“Pretty terrible. On a related note, do you want to come hang out in my room?”

His mouth fell open slowly and he straightened up. Saying ‘yes’ too fast… that would be another example of bad manners, wouldn’t it? If she asked though, he’d be lying to say that wondering how the fabric of her dress would feel sliding through his hands as he removed it hadn’t been taking up half his brain power since the second he saw her.

“We’ll go back to the reception in a bit,” MJ assured him. “I just need to take my shoes off and be blissfully alone for a few minutes.”

“I’m flattered that you can already feel alone when I’m in a room with you,” he said sarcastically, smiling to take the edge off. “This conversation is way better for my ego than dancing with one of Ned’s cousins.”

She laughed, easy, and reached out to grab Peter’s forearm. It shot a tingle through him probably even less appropriate than contemplating going back to MJ’s room with her. Unconsciously, he pushed his tongue against the inside of his lip as he watched her mouth.

“Dude, they were talking about your thighs through the whole ceremony. I was sitting in front of them.”

“You probably started it,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from her face like he was also a casual toucher. It was tough to tell whether she was blushing or just flushed from her argument.

“Nah, I was too busy looking at your arms. That jacket could only hide so much.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to one of his biceps. With his arms crossed, his dress shirt strained.

They were joking around, right? People flirted at weddings. All people. Including determined bachelors and brand-new singletons.

“Look who’s talking,” Peter countered, sweeping his eyes down her silky dress. The hug and drape of it.

Harmless flirting. Totally harmless. MJ gave him a thorough once-over.

“So… yes or no?”

Her hotel room had only her things in it and he wondered how he would’ve felt to encounter the heavily ridiculed Brad’s luggage.

“He left his bag in the car,” MJ explained, tossing the key card onto a table with an elegant flick. She flung her small purse to land at the head of the bed on a pillow. “He didn’t want us to stay overnight. Figured we could make the drive back into the city when things were winding down.”

“At what time? Three in the morning? Not a great plan.” Peter was puffing himself up every time he cut a slice off the absent Brad. He was aware of it, but he also couldn’t stop himself.

She sat on the edge of the queen-size bed, then changed her mind, crouching down at the mini-fridge and extracting a teeny bottle. Peter stood by as she unscrewed and sniffed it.

“No,” she gasped, quickly returning it to the fridge.

“You’re ok, right?” he asked tentatively.

MJ sat back and turned her head to look at him.

“I wasn’t going to drink myself into a stupor, I’m just curious. I like to explore my surroundings.”

Not quite an answer, but whatever.

She stood and glanced at the blank screen of the TV.

“You want to watch something?”

“Uh, no, that’s ok. We can just talk,” Peter said. Talk about how people hooked up at weddings. Right.

“Talk.” MJ nodded and sat beside him. “Sure. That’s a good idea. I think we skipped some of the general stuff when I dove straight into my drama. We could cover something a little less personal.”

“For sure.”

He caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye, just like he was doing to her. In a second, they were kissing fiercely, his hands on her shoulder and the back of her neck, hers clutching the front of his shirt. They twisted towards each other and her far knee nudged his thigh.

“Are impulsive decisions ever right?” MJ wondered, eyes closed, as he nipped her lip and kissed messily over to her ear.

“Don’t ask me that,” Peter mumbled into her ear. His hand played with the strap of her dress, dragging it over her shoulder and back up. Suspending himself in that place of temptation.

“What would Brad think―”

“Don’t ask me that either,” he requested before she could finish the question.

He felt for her knee and tucked his fingers behind it, wrinkling the fabric of her dress between his warm hand and the hot place at the back of her knee. Such a little tug, he thought as they kissed again, to bring her right into his lap. Peter gripped the back of her neck and stroked his tongue into her mouth. MJ’s head was practically lolling, she was so turned on. Ok, he could concede that this was something he missed during his careful state of singlehood. But it wouldn’t have been like this with a Leeds cousin, hadn’t been like this in Peter’s last actual relationship (sorry, Liz) or his handful of Tinder nights.

This wasn’t supposed to happen―his cock thickening in his black suit trousers, MJ’s long fingers undoing the tiny buttons of his shirt―but it could. They’d collided while fleeing in two different directions and now, maybe, they could run parallel for a while. If…

“Actually,” Peter continued, their noses bumping as he shook his head, “could you not say that name again?”

“I could do that.”

His fingers flexed and she swung onto his lap, dress slipping and sliding under his hand. He pressed a palm to the small of her back until she lowered her hips to his, then, as soon as they touched, Peter grew restless and flipped them, hauling MJ up the bed on her back. Her heart was racing, he could see. Her hands were hungry as they roamed his chest where his shirt hung open. She shuffled her dress until she was able to bend her knees on either side of his hips, kicking her high heels to the floor. They (Peter and MJ) had probably damaged her braid.

Propped over her, Peter pushed the delicate straps from her shoulders, one at a time, while she watched him. He peeled the front of her loose dress down with the slight dampness of his palm, caressing along her sternum. No bra underneath. There was a zipper at the side that he hadn’t noticed; she undid it for him.

He dipped his face to kiss the center of her chest, then lifted his head again, looking seriously into MJ’s receptive, unswerving stare.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole. You realize that, right?”

Slowly, he felt her hook her feet securely behind his calves, neck lifting gracefully from the bed as she did so. Always watching his eyes.

“Works for me,” MJ said. “Though that is going to make it a lot more difficult to feel like I’m alone in this hotel room.”

She grinned and he dove into it, kissing her enthusiastically and rocking his hips into hers. Peter shoved his shiny black shoes off with the toes of his opposite feet while using his hands to wriggle the top of her dress down to her waist. With a tremulous breath he hoped wasn’t the beginnings of regret, MJ helped him out of his dress shirt and tossed it unceremoniously aside. He didn’t look away to see if the article even made it over the edge of the bed.

And that was as far as they got, the both of them topless, when MJ felt around for her clutch and extracted a condom that had been intended for another guy’s erection. His excitement was momentarily quelled. As she passed it to him, chucking her purse away, Peter glanced at the wrapper before tearing it open. Good news: it wasn’t some inferiority-complex-inducing jumbo size. He exhaled slowly through his nose in relief and gazed at the peaked nipples of her bare breasts as he unzipped himself, pushed his boxers out of the way, and rolled the condom on. MJ hiked the hem of her dress up her thighs, the entire swishy length now just a fold of fabric around her hips, shimmering softly in the yellow light of the hotel room.

Peter dug his nose beneath her jaw and felt between her thighs with an eager hand. The room was snugly still around them, the sound of his own breathing in his ears. MJ gave a little gasp and dropped her legs wider at his touch. Her underwear felt lacy and―more germane―wet. He groaned and hauled the lingerie down her legs, stretching and wrenching instead of patiently asking for her to lift her hips, unbend her knees.

His fingers returned to her, dipping into her wetness and rubbing it up over her clit until her thighs gave a tremble. He kissed gradually down her throat. Laying her hands on his shoulders, MJ ran them across to the back of his neck. Peter traced a teasing circle around her entrance with the tip of his middle finger and, abruptly, her hand was gripping his hair.

“This isn’t a slow dance, Peter,” she told him, chin tipped up to unconsciously mirror how she’d pulled his head back. Her other hand wove down and found Peter’s wrist, forcing his finger inside her. “We aren’t making memories.”

He laughed, appreciating her bluntness, and raked a hand through his dishevelled hair the second she released it.

“I guess I just normally―”

“I don’t care.” MJ smiled. “Just be the hot Best Man and I’ll be a friend of the bride, ‘cause that’s what it seems like we both need. If you can’t do that, then get on your back and I’ll do it for you.”

Peter laughed again and bit at her neck―lightly, then harder as he felt her sink into the plush comforter they hadn’t bothered to turn down. When she moaned and bucked slightly to get his finger (positioned by her) moving, Peter curled it inside her and kissed her mouth to swallow some of the sound that was making his blood so hot.

“No, you’re definitely staying on your back,” he muttered against her lips.

MJ just nodded lazily, eyes shut, when he added another finger and pumped them faster. Her grip twisted gently around his wrist and Peter’s eyes nearly rolled back imagining the same motion on his dick. He didn’t know her―not ‘that well,’ but know her, period―but he was sure it was exactly what she wanted him to imagine.

He watched her stretch a hand over her head and grasp the edge of the mattress, fingers sneaking between it and the headboard. Kissing her hard, Peter hooked his fingers into her twice more, then withdrew his hand (she moved hers to the back of his neck). Arousal smeared her thigh as he clutched it and nudged his cock against her entrance, pressing inside when the angle felt right.

A little while for him and, for her, the first time in years with a new partner. They both had something to get used to and they both started off gasping, quickly rearranging their limbs to hold each other closer as Peter sunk deeper. A quick squeeze from MJ’s legs tangling around the back of his jerked him all the way inside her and she immediately bore down with her hips like she could pin him there from underneath. The forcefulness of it was hot. Liz had never been very… but no, they weren’t bringing their exes into this. Not into this hotel room, not into this bed.

Peter wrapped his arm all the way around MJ, stretching beneath her back to grasp her ribcage with firm fingers. He resisted slipping his other hand into her hair because it would demolish whatever remained of the braid that suited her so well; instead, he braced his forearm on the bed and cupped her bare shoulder in his palm. The heat and friction of the two of them moving against each other was raising the scent of whatever MJ had massaged into her skin to make it so soft. He inhaled deeply, tracing his lips down to her collarbone to leave a lingering kiss. With his arms bound up by her body and his legs increasingly swayed by the guiding action of hers, Peter went to rapid work with his hips.

Panting and groaning, MJ was as collaborative as she was combative―dragging him in with her legs and rocking her hips fiercely in pursuit of pleasure―and he wasn’t sure at all that she’d really surrendered, despite remaining on her back. But that wasn’t really what he wanted, was it? Wedding hookups, by whatever definition of them existed, were supposed to be easy, and yet Peter wanted a second go-round. Wanted to see her lotion lined up with her hair products and her makeup by the sink in the en suite when he brushed his teeth.

He inhaled and gave his head a small shake. This wasn’t his hotel room and MJ wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t looking for that. Ugh, he couldn’t think about this anymore.

Peter struggled to find a good moment to change positions and ended up just flipping them while she continued to writhe. He thought it was reluctance to put too much space between their groins, but, on his back and tossing a curl of hair off his forehead, he was staggered when MJ progressed to torturously drawn-out rises and falls of her hips. Obviously unembarrassed to be suddenly astride a near-stranger, she’d pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she eased herself up and down.

“Not a slow dance,” he groaned, hips bucking pleadingly each time she withdrew. But it felt deliriously good and Peter smoothed his hands somewhat possessively up her thighs.

“What,” she panted, tugging the pooling skirt of her dress out of the way as she rode him, “do you have to give a speech or something?”

Peter laughed, just once―it was all he could spare the oxygen for, huffing to thrust up into her.

“I do, actually. But Betty scheduled everything to the minute. The speeches don’t start until nine.”

“Lots of time,” MJ decided, jerking forward and back on his lap, so incredibly tight around him after months of his fingers and palm.

“Mmm,” Peter agreed. He slid his hands a little higher and started trying to intertwine their fingers.

She shook him off, returning her hands to his chest, and glanced briefly down and away.

“Not that we’re going to take long.”

“No.”

What could he do but agree? He exhaled, chest falling beneath her hands, wanting to tumble MJ down on top of him. She gave him a look and he thought it might’ve been because he wasn’t totally convincing (spending the night with her would be nice!) and he held her gaze until her eyes appeared panicked. Too intense, he told himself. Then Peter elbowed her wrists aside to collapse her onto his body, rolling them to land on top of her again.

“You’ve got good form,” he joked, slamming his hips forward so he struck deep, making her mouth open in a silent scream, “but you just take too goddamn long.”

“Show me how it’s done then, Best Man,” MJ shot back when she could get the words out.

With an eager grin, Peter pounded into her like he’d warned her he would. She didn’t try to trade places, or even voice a request to do so, too busy sucking in air each time he drove forward. Keeping himself on his elbows, he groped her breasts. Pinching her nipples made MJ speak his name in a high whine―“Peter”― that exhilarated him into a faster pace with his hips. He slid easily in and out of her slick channel, beginning to tremble with the feeling.

Meeting his wild thrusts, MJ reached up again, planting her palm against the headboard. Peter had to move one hand off her chest just to stroke down the underside of her arm. Her mouth quirked up in an unfamiliar expression; he realized what he’d done tickled her. To distract himself from wanting things he couldn’t, shouldn’t, have, Peter dropped his mouth to the center of her chest. He kissed her sternum before tracing his tongue over to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth. She let out a small scream and clenched fleetingly around his dick.

“Can you get off like this?” he mumbled, barely lifting his mouth from her, hips hastening.

MJ just nodded rapidly and closed her eyes. Maybe Peter watched her expression a second too long, because the question of whether she was imagining that he was Brad right now entered his mind. He still moved his hips, but he was numb until her free hand suddenly gripped his hair (fair, for her to wreck his carefully gelled down hair after his actions had made a mess of her braid). He almost laughed in relief and lowered his head to bite her nipple. He’d only seen the jerk for a few seconds, but Peter remembered Brad’s straight hair, shorter than his own. MJ could only be thinking of him, Peter, as her fingers loosened the curls he’d flattened with product to look more… what? Sophisticated or something, for the bridal party.

For these seconds, as her back arched, trapping his hand between them (not that he minded in the slightest), and MJ called out Peter’s name, she’d forgotten. Like he’d promised her. Fulfilling that promise was so monumental in his mind as his thrusts turned sloppy and he lost himself in her, that he nearly repeated the thought aloud. Luckily, he managed to turn it into a gravelly grunt, delivering forceful final thrusts that shook her beneath him; MJ’s arm had gone limp in her bliss, no longer bracing her against the headboard. Those arms folded around the back of his neck as he slowed to a stop and let himself―just for a minute―rest on top of her.

“My hair is totally fucked,” she murmured against his forehead.

Peter laughed weakly and kissed MJ’s neck, then, with a crease between his eyebrows, drew himself out of her.

“Not to mention my dress,” she sighed as he stumbled a bit on jellified legs into the bathroom to toss the condom.

He fumbled with hitching his boxers and dress pants up and swung the door partly shut for a minute to splash cool water on his face before confronting his expression. Dazed. But would the guests―would Ned and Betty―suspect sex dazed? His gaze shifted up to his hair. Oh right. Yeah, that was probably a giveaway. Peter gave fixing his hair a half-hearted attempt, then left the bathroom, stretching his arms back and his chest forward.

MJ’s gaze was waiting for him. Probably not waiting for the proudly (if accidentally) displayed flex of his stomach and arms, but it seemed like it went over well; her mouth fell open. It had to be retaliation when she raised her hips from the mattress and pushed her bunched up dress down her legs to lie there totally nude. Then, she sat up, stood, and strode past him into the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a I know exactly what I’m doing to you smirk. She shut the door and Peter had to mentally get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t walk straight into it like a lovesick idiot and break his nose.

He found his shirt on the floor, looking like a used tissue―it was riddled with an impossible number of creases. Peter sighed and went to the hall closet where hotels always tucked the iron and ironing board. The wrinkles came out easily and he hung it on the back of the chair at the neat, untouched desk, pacing unhurriedly as he waited for MJ to emerge from the bathroom. She was probably trying to salvage her braid. No point in throwing his shirt on until they were ready to go. Assuming she’d want to head back at the same time. Shit, he was overthinking this again.

Peter caught sight of MJ’s crumpled ball of an outfit as he turned and figured he might as well iron her dress while he had the stuff out. His gaze also fell on her lacy black underwear, which he did not approach, for fear of sneaking them into his pants pocket (she’d know―one look and she’d know). He assessed the fabric, letting it slip sweetly between his fingers, then laid it across the ironing board and draped a clean towel (also in the hall closet) on top to protect it from the iron.

Exiting the bathroom as casually as she’d entered it, MJ went first to the bed; she collected and stepped into her underwear. Which was not really dressed enough for Peter’s dick not to care. His jaw tensed. The moment she spun towards him, the situation (his situation) was diffused. She laughed.

“You’re ironing?”

Peter shrugged, continuing to smooth the iron across the towel.

“You were right about your dress. It was pretty fucked and I wanted you to feel good walking back in there.”

She appeared taken aback, but maybe in a good way, a surprised way, dropping her eyes to the floor and smiling to herself. When she glanced up again, she was trying to conceal the softened expression, rubbing a thumb over her eyebrow. Her hair looked good, he noticed. Not as tidy as it had been, but the escaped strands that waved around her face… they looked… well, then looked… Peter swallowed and quit staring.

“I steamed the dress at home and changed into it here,” she offered, crossing her arms over her naked chest. With her wide stance, she looked way more at ease than he felt. “The material’s kind of delicate, so you have to be caref―”

“I’m being careful,” Peter assured her. “My aunt taught me to iron, like, a decade ago.”

“Oh.”

“You’re surprised,” he noted with a grin.

He watched her back up and sit on the end of the bed.

“I’ve never had a man iron my clothes.” She snorted. “I would’ve been so shocked if Brad had ever…” MJ’s expression fell and her eyes flicked to his. “Is it ok if I say his name?”

Peter gave an awkward shrug and shifted the dress to iron the last foot or so. Too awkward. She sighed heavily.

“Peter, we should talk.”

“Hey,” he interrupted in a cheerful tone, “I’m just the Best Man and you’re a friend of the bride.”

“It’s too soon.” MJ laughed humourlessly. “It’s way too soon. Neither of us needs… this.”

Which instantly made him feel like he needed this. Because he’d forgotten everything with one glimpse of the woman in the dress like melted copper.

“I think this is just about done,” Peter said, shamelessly trying to divert her from speaking any harsher truths by drawing attention back to the dress. He set the iron aside, unplugged it, whisked away the towel. Everything was fine.

“I don’t mean this to be condescending,” she said, gently and absolutely not distracted, “but you might not know what it’s like to end a serious relationship. I don’t regret what you and I just did, but I know that, after ending things with Brad, having time to be by myself is vital, Peter. I don’t want you to feel―”

“I was engaged.”

The room was quiet, apart from the faint hiss of the cooling iron.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, though she hadn’t said anything. “I was engaged to my last serious girlfriend. Maybe you know Liz Allan?” He met her eye and MJ didn’t say anything. “She’s friends with Betty too. Obviously RSVPed ‘no’ to this particular occasion. It’s been more than a year since we were together, but… There were a lot of reasons.”

“For me and Brad too.” She sighed and he felt like it had come from his own lungs, releasing some tension. “Though it always feels like just one in the moment you break up.”

He nodded and glanced at the dress, then at her. MJ stood and walked over to him. Peter held her dress out to her, zipping it up along her side with intimate care as she got the straps to lie where she wanted them.

“You did an incredible job,” she said, inspecting the length of fabric once again draping her body. “Thank you.” The strength of his desire to tell her she deserved to be taken care of ached in his chest. “Come here,” MJ insisted. Peter was powerless.

With a wry smile, she lifted her hands to his hair, combing the sides between her fingers and pushing the front off his forehead.

“That’s better.”

He chuckled.

“Well, it couldn’t get any worse.”

They went back to the reception together, MJ holding the door open for him with an, “After you, Best Man.” She looked absolutely stunning and, if there were any Leeds cousins around, Peter didn’t notice them.

The two of them danced once or twice, then more when the less committed wedding guests headed to bed. Somehow, Peter and MJ weren’t among them and, with fewer partners in the room and on the floor, it was easy to drift together over and over. Eventually, they just stayed that way, exchanging calm smiles with Betty and Ned until the happy couple left too.

“I didn’t mean never,” MJ whispered when it was just them in the empty banquet hall.

The DJ was off the clock and they’d switched over to music from their combined playlists. Heart thudding, Peter held her closer.

“I know. I can wait.” After a minute, he added, “I’m pretty sure you’re what I was waiting for anyway.”

MJ leaned her head into his as he swayed them.

“You wanna go back to my room? We might as well sleep together in the less exciting sense and I’ll count today as one big exception.”

Peter grinned, leaning into her in turn and settling in for a little while longer.

“Come on, MJ. Give me one more slow dance.”

[traincat]

I've been ranting to my friends about Johnny being abused and raped recently and one of them said: Lyja has damaged and put an element of distrust into every relationship he may ever have. which is really fucking me up and I wanted to share in part bc I don't wanna be sad alone and also bc I think that's an interesting side effect of Lyja's time in his life that doesn't get talked about enough

Thank you for sharing this because the thing is I do think there is a very definite divide in how Johnny acts particularly in regards to relationships before and after his marriage to “Alicia.” I doubt this was entirely intentional on the parts of the writers who handled the book after, but I’ve said before that I think after a certain amount of time and with enough stories behind them characters tend to take on a life of their own, and even if the writers are hesitant to address it there’s no way an event like his relationship with Lyja couldn’t have deeply effected Johnny.

Simply put: I don’t think “playboy Johnny” exists before Lyja. I don’t buy into “playboy Johnny” much as a general phenomenon, because if you actually look at the canon there’s just not much to actually back it up, but he certainly has at periods played into this public (both in and out universe) perception of himself. What I mean is, pre-Lyja, there is absolutely no proof Johnny had ever engaged in casual sex. (There’s actually no proof he wasn’t a virgin when Lyja began working her way into his life while masquerading as Alicia; this panel from Fantastic Four #275 is the first time Johnny having sex is addressed:

That shirt is Johnny’s – you see him wearing it the issue leading up to this one. To be clear, there’s nothing in the issue that supports this being Johnny’s first time, either – it’s just that he doesn’t have any sex scenes prior. Either way, this is not the reaction of someone who had a good time.)

Pre-the Alilyja incident, Johnny had a grand total of three relationships: Dorrie Evans in high school, Crystal Amaquelin, Frankie Raye. He had a few dates with a girl named Lorrie Melton who called things off with him because he was more serious than she wanted to be, and shared a whole one kiss with a girl named Valeria from the Fifth Dimension (no relationship to his future niece). He also briefly pursued a girl named Julie Angel, who blatantly wasn’t interested in him. When Julie’s friend Sharon came onto him during this period, he reacted with discomfort:

(Fantastic Four #259)

So, playboy Johnny Storm, a womanizer who sleeps around – he doesn’t exist in canon at this point. (If anything, Johnny repeatedly reacts negatively to being kissed suddenly and without his permission leading up to and during the marriage.) Then you have the marriage, which happens fairly quickly – Johnny and Alicia’s relationship is “cemented” in FF #275, they get married in FF #300. I want to note that Johnny’s pretty young when he gets married, especially by modern standards – you have to do the Spider-Man math with this one, since Johnny’s age at this point in canon isn’t stated, but he and Peter both get married at roughly the same time. We know that they’re roughly the same age, Johnny being 16 when he got his powers and Peter being 15 and these things happening fairly closely together. Peter comments very shortly after he’s married that he’s been out of high school for five years, which would make both him and Johnny roughly 23 when they respectively tied the knot. Alicia is labeled during Byrne’s run as three years older than Johnny, but it should be noted that Byrne has a habit of making women younger and putting them in relationships with much older men – which would track if it’s his opinion Alicia first met Ben when she was 19. (It’s my personal belief that she should be older than that, but that’s neither here nor there.) We have no idea how old Lyja is in comparison to Johnny. So he’s young, and the relationship escalates very quickly, which, looking at it with the retcon in place, makes sense, because Lyja is on a mission to infiltrate the Fantastic Four. So it’s quick. The marriage, the Skrull reveal, and the ensuing melodrama lasts… a while after that. 

Then the big reset button that was Heroes Reborn got hit after Fantastic Four #416 and Johnny and family were shunted off to a pocket universe for a little bit, sans Lyja. Fantastic Four v2 is the first look we get at a more playboy-ish Johnny Storm in line with, say, the Chris Evans version of the character – older when the accident hits instead of being a fresh-faced teen, a bit irresponsible, comes off a little bit like he might be a dog. But this reboot canon can’t really keep it up: it reunites Johnny and Crystal temporarily, and then everyone gets snatched out of their alternate reality bubble and planted back in their regular timeline anyway. 

So let’s look at Johnny’s relationships after his marriage:

1) Alysande “Caledonia” Stuart: A young woman Johnny found and rescued in another dimension who lived with the Fantastic Four for a while. I’m including this even though it isn’t strictly a romantic relationship – Johnny appears to have feelings for Alsyande, but it’s unclear if they’re reciprocated or if she just feels a deep debt of loyalty to him for rescuing her. Either way, I really like how this relationship is handled; they’re both very respectful of each other in a way that’s missing from a lot of Johnny’s actual romantic relationships. They definitely didn’t have sex. 

2) Namorita Prentiss: The first actual romantic relationship Johnny has post-Lyja. This one’s another weird one; Johnny and Namorita first get together after teasing the paparazzi and commiserating about being famous. They then proceed to spend next to no time together. Seriously, like, to the point where the books remarks on it:

(Fantastic Four v3 #55)

Johnny and Namorita do do things like attend celebrity functions together, so I label this as Johnny’s first “publicity” relationship – less about being in love, and more about him and the other party looking really good together for the public eye. (This is also something he never did before his marriage.) Anyway, they break up off panel, although Johnny did apparently ask Nita to move in with him at one point, which she refused.

Kourtney: A second and much more prominent “publicity” relationship. Kourtney is a supermodel who we’re first introduced to when she breaks up with Johnny when the Fantastic Four go broke and he falls out of public favor. They do get back together for the duration of Marvel Knights 4, and then they apparently break up again. Nothing to write home about in this relationship – she and Johnny don’t really appear to actually like each other all that much, especially on her end. 

We enter a relationship deadzone for Johnny as we hit Waid’s run. He starts it off apparently shaking off a bad celebrity breakup, and while he goes a bit moony-eyed over a few pretty girls at the beginning, basically nothing happens. He at one point meets up with a girl from the internet who claims to be a fan of his and things seem like they might get romantic… except his body language really is screaming the opposite:

Fantastic Four #514 – I’m not saying how much of this was intentional or even what the intent was, but if there’s something a comic book artist should be good at conveying, it’s body language. Here Cole’s is aggressive – leaning in, touching his face – and Johnny’s is closed off – hands in his pockets, leaning away from her. It’s just interesting if we’re supposed to believe he’s hot for this girl.

Anyway, Cole turns out to be the Wizard’s daughter, catfishing Johnny to find a solution for her unwanted superpowers. So. That lasts two issues and nothing happens between them.

Psionics: And now we enter Millar’s run. Millar’s run is probably the biggest contributor to Playboy Johnny – not only does he have an ill-advised sexual affair with a superpowered bank robber named Psionics, he also gets walked in on – apparently – about to have a threesome with two girls cosplaying as Storm and the Scarlet Witch. I’ve had a problem with the cosplay scene for a while now, because it just doesn’t fit with Johnny’s 616 personality. Something about it has always felt very off. And while I could just go “well it’s Mark Millar,” it occurred to me on a recent reread what’s wrong with it: it feels staged. Johnny’s in the middle of filming a reality show; the camera crew is who walks in on him. If he was trying to cultivate this playboy image, well, one way to do it is to make sure you’re walked in on in a compromising situation. He and the girls are all still fully clothed, and he actually ditches the scene as soon as they’re discovered – to congratulate Ben on his engagement, but still – while the girls frankly seem more interested in each other. It’s a weird scene still, but there’s nothing in it either way to say he was or wasn’t setting it up to make it look like he was the kind of womanizing carefree celebrity party boy who has threesomes with hot cosplay girls while not actually doing that.

As for Psionics, the hot bank robber he sleeps with? Well, turns out her family from the future kidnaps him and uses him as a giant power battery in a machine that has a good chance of killing him. No bad feelings or anything, though.

Again with the awkward body language. He certainly just stands there while she kisses him. This is the exact opposite of smoldering passion. Also, next time he sees her she tries to kidnap his niece, kills his longtime family friend Alyssa Moy in front of him, and then gets murdered right before his eyes. So. That all happened.

He has one apparent would’ve-been one night stand in Hickman’s run after this, except she turns into a bunch of bug monsters and activates the Negative Zone portal. He also has a highly implied brief sexual relationship with Daken Akihiro at this point, who… uses that connection to make Johnny feel horribly guilty over Daken’s apparent death and then so Daken can steal a weapon from the Fantastic Four. There’s a weird pattern here.

Darla Deering: The last and most recent of Johnny’s publicity relationships – Johnny starts seeing Darla, a major pop star, sometime after his experiences in the Negative Zone. This is another “they’re in a relationship but they don’t spend any time together” fling, too – at the end of the relationship, when Darla’s gotten together with Scott Lang, Johnny actually admits that he liked dating Darla because of Darla’s celebrity lifestyle more than he liked her. 

Here we hit Robinson’s run. Johnny does a lot of partying after he’s lost his powers, and while it’s not explicit, there’s something of an implication during this point that he is sleeping around. However, his most serious relationships in this run are with his family, Wyatt Wingfoot, and Peter Parker, and he has no consistent romantic partner. 

Which brings us to his last serious relationship: Medusa. This one’s a weird one, too, and it’s one where I’m not hesitant to blame the writer’s lack of research at all when Medusa and Johnny were genuinely very close during her stint on the Fantastic Four team. It’s clearly a placeholder relationship – we know Black Bolt/Medusa were going to get back together. If anything, I think here Johnny’s holding onto a piece of his then-missing family the only way he knows how.

So, a couple of relationships post-marriage, but by in large, with the exception of Namorita where we see hardly any of their actual relationship on page and perhaps Medusa, nothing serious. Certainly nothing like his impassioned “head over heels” falls for Crystal and Frankie Raye. So there’s very definitely a change in Johnny after Lyja and in how he behaves in romantic relationships – the implication that he does have casual sex, the uptick in relationships that are clearly for the public eye, a lack of a previously held deep devotion to his partner. I think you could make a really good case for all this coming about as a result of lingering and unaddressed trauma from Lyja. 

There’s also, and this isn’t explicitly romantic, the appearance of this little quizzing game:

(Fantastic Four: Secret Invasion) This actually is Lyja in her only appearance since FF #416, disguised as Sue and trying to convince Johnny that Ben is a Skrull for… well for nothing good, obviously, but the book never actually gets into why she’s attempting to separate Ben from Johnny, except that separating him from his family is exactly what she tried to do before she was discovered to a be a Skrull during their “marriage.” But it’s telling that when Johnny feels like something isn’t right, he immediately starts quizzing “Sue” about things she should know. Definitely seems like the kind of game someone who unwittingly married and was abused by a shapeshifter would invent to make sure that the people in his life are really who they’re supposed to be.

So I definitely think there’s a lot of lingering trauma there that, if a really good writer dug into it, could inform a lot about both the romantic relationships he had after that point and his romantic future, especially if it was paired with a story where he explores his romantic feelings for men. It’d be interesting to see it doubled up with doubts after his relationship with Daken in that regard, since Daken also used him to gain access to the Fantastic Four. I’d love to see it all really gotten into and actually, for the first time, addressed, especially if it was in the context of a romantic relationship with Wyatt Wingfoot, who was present during the early days of Lyja’s seduction of Johnny and is also who Johnny ran to after he discovered the truth about the monster Lyja told him was their child. A lot of history to get into there.

[arianakristine]

I've been rereading some RH chapters and I just finished Storm. I can't remember if you've written the actual "moving in" conversation. If not, is it something you'd consider writing?

Title: Sunday Morning BreakfastSummary: Getting Graham used to the routine.Note: RH verse. I think other people have requested this, too, (including you all the way back at Storm!) and I am finally getting around to it :) It;s short, but I am getting the muse back in shape.

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               Grahamclicked across the screen, scrolling through the report. The words were dry andplaced, the investigating officer writing almost as if using canned responsesto each piece of evidence. He growled at the back of his throat, irritated atthe lack of effort that was put into it the first time around.              

               She’djust been a kid. Just a little older than Henry.

               Heglanced up over the hood of his laptop. Henry was on the couch across from him,feet curled up underneath and game controller in hand. His hair was messy, andhe was still in his band t-shirt and pajamas, brow furrowed in concentration.

               Grahamhesitated, rolling the cursor over the words again before glancing up. “Ipromise I’m almost done.”

               Henryhit the pause and gave a half smile. “No rush.” He sat up a bit and eyed him.“What kinda case is it?”

               Grahamrubbed the back of his neck and considered his answer. “About fifteen yearsold. A girl went missing near Julliard and was found near 101st.”

               Henry’sface dimmed a bit before he nodded knowingly. “Oh, so an old homicide?”

               Henodded with a grimace. “And the first guy really didn’t know what he waslooking for,” he grumbled. He sighed heavily and clicked from the initialreport to the witness list.

               “Isthat why you got called in yesterday? Even though there was the storm?” heasked.

               “Exactlywhy,” he said and ran his hand through his hair. He blew out a low breath. “Lazothought she caught something in the photos and wanted back up for interviews.But it ended up being a dead end. Now I need to comb through it again and seeif I can come up with a few new theories before Monday’s meeting.”

               Henryperked up. “Can I help?”

               Hewinced, already feeling like he would be in trouble with Emma for saying asmuch as he did. “Let’s ask your mom when she gets back.”

               Heslumped against the back of the couch and flicked his game back to active. Hedidn’t even glance up as he responded, “she wanted to ask you something, so I’msure she’ll be back soon.”

               Heraised an eyebrow. “Ah, really? Do you know what that something is?”

               Henry’sface was suddenly impassive, the click on the buttons loud as the TV boomedwith answering explosions. “I have an idea.”

               Grahamsnickered, expecting that the lad had much more than an idea. Emma had beenbrimming with excitement when he showed up for breakfast, though it quicklyturned sour when she’d gotten a call. She had made him promise to work in theliving room until she got back. He also didn’t miss the look shared betweenmother and son, the silent conversation that took place that he only halfcaught on to – the ‘save it’ that was justinterpretable.

               “D’youhave to go out a lot like that? I mean, get called in for stuff even at nightand weekends and stuff?” Henry asked, the sounds of shooting and demons dyingnearly drowning his words.

               Graham highlighteda witness and linked the report, and then nodded absently to Henry’s question.“Not a whole lot, but it’s still part of the job. If I was in a different unit,it’d happen a lot more frequently, but usually we have some more leeway in coldcases.”

               “Well …I guess that’s better,” Henry said at length. “Is it dangerous?”

               Grahamlooked up again. Henry was deliberately not looking at him, though he noticedhis Adam’s apple bobbing. He closed the laptop and set it to the side. “It canbe,” he answered honestly. “But I know how to keep myself safe, too.”

               Henrysighed and paused his game again. He turned in his seat and met his eye. “Iknow. All the guys down at the precinct say you’re good at this.”

               The airwas heavy after he said it, words unspoken that Graham didn’t have to readinto. “It’s easier than having to keep alive in the woods,” he said and crackeda smile.

               Henrydidn’t smile back, and instead slumped back onto the couch. “Graham …,” hetrailed off, collecting his thoughts. “Did—did you—“

               Hewaited calmly as Henry collected his thoughts.

               He blewout a low breath and his green eyes shaded. “Were you in Heaven?”

               Grahamstartled a bit. Oh, that. “I think you’ve been watching too much TV,” he said,a lame attempt at lightening the mood.

               Henrydidn’t fall for it, dark eyes wide and steady on his.

               Herubbed the back of his neck and rose, pacing the length of the couch beforesitting next to him. He stared at his hands a long moment, piecing through hismemories. He didn’t want to give the boy any less than what he really thought.“No, I don’t think so,” he began, squinting as he tried to focus. It felt …hazy. Not like Storybrooke memories, but hazy nonetheless. “I don’t think I wasin the other place, either. But it was dark and cold and … I think I was justwaiting.”

               Henryseemed to think that over. “Maybe because you were meant to come back to us?”he asked hesitantly.

               Grahamwould love to say that was the reason, wanted so much to reassure him withthat. But he had never really thought of himself with a purpose more than a cog.Luck was all he would attribute to what he was allowed to have here. “I don’tknow about that, Henry,” he said finally, and then leaned back against thecushions. “Something must have happened when the spell was cast and undone. ButI just don’t know what that was. What’s harder … I don’t know if we’ll everknow for sure why I’m able to be here with you guys.”

               Henryfrowned, obviously unsatisfied with the answer. “But you’re glad to be here,right?”

               Grahamgrinned, the sudden flood of happiness sharp and poignant. He threw an armaround Henry’s shoulders and squeezed him in. “Absolutely, Henry. I couldn’timagine anywhere better.”

               Henrypeeked up and grinned back, eyes light and happy. “Okay,” he said, and thentossed an arm around to make the hug real. “I’m glad you’re here, too,” hesaid, muffled into his shirt.

               Thedoor creaked and clattered, and Emma bounded in, muttering under her breath.She paused when she saw them and swiped a hand through her messy curls. “Good.You’re here. Now we can get back to breakfast.”

               Henrypopped his head up, beaming. “I’ll get the cocoa!”

               Grahamblinked in bewilderment at the sudden flurry of activity as Emma joined him inthe kitchen. “Uh, what’s going on?” he asked.

               Emmaclattered a pan onto the stovetop and turned with a glint in her eye.“Breakfast.”

               “Thisis our routine!” Henry chimed in from deep in the fridge. He came out with armsladen with eggs and milk and a package of bacon. “Every Sunday we do this,because it’s when we have the most time together.”

               “Suddencall-ins notwithstanding,” Emma said sullenly, then leaned over to kiss herson’s forehead. “We get a big breakfast together, one that’ll last for a couplemeals. Then we pile on the couch and watch a good-bad movie or two, then decidewhat special treat we want during the week.”

               “Specialtreat?” he asked.

               Henrynodded and went back to the fridge. “Since mom works a lot and I get a lot ofhomework, we get to choose one special treat so that we’re sure to do somethingtogether that’s just for fun.”

               “Like alevel of his video game, or a night out to Jacob’s, or the planetarium, or outto a museum,” Emma supplied.

               “Butthat’s not until later, and that always changes. This part is always the sameexcept for the food!” Henry called from the depths of the fridge.

               Grahamgrinned and stood up, brushing off his pants as he approached the counter.“Well, then, can I help? Or would I be breaking the routine?”

               Henrypopped back up with a handful of vegetables. “You can help dice,” he cocked hishead to the side. “I haven’t seen you cook a lot yet, but we gotta find something for you to do every Sunday.”

               “Hey,now, I can cook—“ His eyebrow popped up as the statement hit him, and he lookedover to Emma. She was avoiding his eyes, whisking eggs in a big yellow bowl.“Every Sunday?” he asked.

               Shehuffed a sigh and set down the bowl, and then placed her hands on her hips.“Well, yeah. That is if you wanna stay here.”

               “Huh?”he asked, brows furrowing.

               Henrydropped his elbows on the counter and then placed his chin in his hands. “Wewant to ask you to move in,” he said simply.

               “Move—“he looked sharply to Emma.

               Shegave a half-smirk, and shrugged one shoulder. Emma reached and tugged through Henry’shair anxiously. “The kid and I discussed yesterday. We thought it might beeasier if you didn’t have to go back to an empty apartment at the end of theday. And we kinda like you. It’d be nice to have you here all the time.”

               Grahamopened his mouth, but no words came. He pushed against the counter and pressedhis lips together a moment before responding. “You guys are settled here, Idon’t want to impose—“

               “Whosaid you’re imposing?” Emma said. She pushed the eggs over and glanced at himpointedly. “So long as you help.”

               Helooked over them both, catching the equal amounts of nervous, excited energy.Slowly, a smile began to tweak at his lips, so much that he had no control overit. “You’d want me here?”

               “Weneed to stick together,” Henry replied with a sharp nod.

               Grahamgrabbed the bowl. “Really?”

               “Really,”Henry chirped.

               “Really,”Emma reiterated, then handed him a pepper grinder from beside the burners. “We’reall here for some weird, cosmic reason. I like the idea of being together onpurpose.”

               He lookeddown at the bowl of eggs and carefully began adding the spices. “Well, I guessI should get packing.”

               Henryperked up. “For real?”

               Grahamlaughed, still feeling a little disbelief. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with youand your mom?” He ruffled his hair playfully. “I like the idea of beingtogether on purpose, too.”

               “Good,”Emma said, her sparkling eyes betraying the attempt at nonchalance. She movedaround the island and stepped on tiptoes to peck at his lips. “We’ll have youpick the movie, then.”

               If thiswas the reason he was here, he couldn’t say it was a bad one.

               Maybehe’d even eventually believe they were meant for this: together.

[honeydukeshowler]

Lillies and Nightshades

On the Eve of October 31st in the year 1981, Death watched two souls depart from the mortal plain and enter his realm. On this day, he watched with morbid curiosity as a third soul departed from the plain, briefly and smaller than the others- a babe- and go back as if nothing had happened. Then, a fourth, smaller and more foul, attached itself to the babe; it writhed against the bright thing and then it tainted it with the darkest of magics, before it nestled in a little deeper and remained silent.

The babe didn't make a sound.

He watched as mundanes cried and rain fell and he could feel the smug deviousness of Sister Fate as her web was woven.

As entertaining as his sister was, Death shook his head and descended into the mortal realm, under the cloak of darkness, since he had gifted his own cloak to an interesting man; Death's first friend. Death looked over the destroyed house before him and clicked his tongue, 'Such a waste of magic.'

Death walked through the rubble, moving past the magic users that were there, moving towards the little babe that was there, hidden and sleeping near his mother. He clicked his tongue as he listened to the mages, specifically the oldest mage, as they discussed what to do with the newly dubbed 'Boy-Who-Lived'- the eldest wizard glanced at the babe and Death could see greed, regret, and something that gave the white haired man a hardness.

'Like steel.' Death mused, smirking as the mortal turned away and spoke in hushed tones, obviously suggesting that they should leave the boy with the next of kin. Non-magic users. Death shook his head. That wouldn't do.

Death looked down at the sleeping babe once again and was mildly surprised to see a pair of deep green eyes staring back at him.

'Curious little thing, aren't you?' He smiled and bent down, reaching out to touch his forehead. Instantly, the babe was asleep again. Death scooped up the small child and walked away from the carnage, before he apparated away.

Heels clicked against marbled floors, sounding off like muggle shotguns, echoing throughout the atrium. Ebony box braids were pulled back away from their face- the hair itself decorated with small silver bells, golden cuffs and rune beads- and storm grey eyes sharpened with Ravenclaw intelligence. Cecily Graemark, youngest Head of the D.O.M in Wizarding History, walked down the empty hall towards her office. Most witches and wizards had gone home for the night, save for the Aurors and higher up officials, and of course some of the Masters in her Department.

Tonight was one of mourning though… Cecily had received the firecall- the Potters were gone, their son was nowhere to be found, and Black was taken in by the rest of the Auror force for treason. The only good thing that came out of it was shocking fact that the Dark Lord was dead. Sort of.

"If he was truly dead, his magic wouldn't still be reacting this much to the sweeping spells or the cleansing magic." Cecily muttered, swiping a hand through her hair.

"Headmaster* Graemark! Senior Master Grim is looking for you, he said it was important and an emergency!" An unspeakable, one from the prophecy room by the globes floating around with ambient magic, called.

Cecily frowned. Lucian rarely had emergencies he couldn't deal with. "Where's he stationed at tonight?"

"Time room, ma'am." Cecily's frown deepened. She did not like the time room, only because of how dangerous the principles of time are, but out of all the rooms, it was the most beautiful. Oak doors with engravings of runes- protection, time, and travel for example- decorating the edges and in the middle a carved moving picture of a crystal bell jar with a depiction of the life stages of a hummingbird- a mimicry of the giant bell jar in the room itself.

Pushing open the doors, Cecily smiled lightly at the Lumos lights dancing on the ceiling, like little faeries weaving spells, and at the endless ticking and tocking of the multitudes of clocks that sat on almost every surface in the room; some were resting on desks in pieces having been taken apart, some were floating in the air in a continuous loop of being taken apart and being put back together. Office doors lined the right side of the room, leading down to another large door that conjoined the Time Room to the Prophecy Room*- which was of course spelled with a Fidelius charm that only she and few others knew the word and wards that were keyed to Cecily only, as it was to the Headmaster before her.

"Lucian, are you in your office?" Cecily called out, scanning the room once more before moving towards his office.

"Yes, yes, come in dear, please." A gravelly voice answered, warm with a hint of excitement. Seconds later, the sound of a child chortling could be heard. She pushed open his door, curiously looking for the source of the noise. Lucian sat in an old tweed chair near a fireplace, a babe in his arms, looking down at him/she with a wide grin on his wrinkled, liver spotted face. The baby looked no older than one years old, maybe a little younger based on his/her size.

"Who is that?" Cecily asked as she stepped closer, cautiously looking into the green green eyes of the baby- she now concluded that it was a boy.

Lucian looked up at her and smiled kindly as he brushed a lock of black hair away from the babe's head; a fresh zig-zag wound located in the corner of forehead. So very familiar shamrock eyes, unruly pitch hair that was ever famous because of one family and... a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Harry Potter. Cecliy reached for the baby, her hand grazing over the open scar and to his hair.

"But this is..."

"I know."

"He's.."

"Cecily, I know. I know who he is, there was even a note with him from a very curious writer." Lucian interrupted again, he looked at her, noticing her hyper-focus on the boy, as if she couldn't believe that the Potter boy was alive and here. After all, he was missing from the scene when they searched for him. He smiled gently and held the boy out to her. She glanced at him, very briefly, before snatching up the child and wrapping him up in her arms. Harry just chortled and smacked her on the shoulder, before reaching for her hair. She stopped that mess right away, grabbing his hand and marveling at the contrast of colors. Her magic was dancing inside her, and then it was dancing outside of her- curling itself around the boy and claiming him as theirs.

"I..."

"I know. I've got the papers already. When your done signing, there's an international portkey- it'll take you out of Britain and to the North." Lucian said, holding out the parchment to her. It was a legal adoption document that was annotated by a witness- Lucian- and a lawyer- in this case it would be a lady named S.L. Chaulin.

"Why do I need to get out of Britain?" She asked, handing Harry back to him for a moment, as she signed the adoption papers. As soon as she was done, the parchments flashed, duplicated, and disappeared to be filed with Gringotts and with Chaulin. 

Lucian looked his age in the moment she asked. Deep lines carving through his face from years of worry and happiness and stress and frustration. He gazed at her and softly answered. 

“There are darker things at work here. I’m afraid for his future, that he will become manipulated just for the Greater Good.” And if that didn't tell her enough, the dark look he cast at the ruined picture of Dumbledore on his wall did. 

He turned to her. “He needs to grow up having his own thoughts and his own mind, not have a fool for a wizard twist his mind and use him for his own advantage; which is exactly what will happen if he were to live here. That is why you must take him out of the country. The portkey will take you near Oslo, where the magic is old and strong enough to hide him.” 

Harry looked up at her, green eyes glowing lightly and she understood. Nodding, she took the babe and the portkey. “You’ll keep in touch, yes? Run this place in my steed?” 

Lucian looked at her amused. “But, of course. Someone has to keep the underlings from blowing up this place. You just focus on raising that little boy int a strong and capable wizard. Don’t hide too much from him, when he is old enough to understand, you must tell him about what happened tonite.”

Cecily nodded again, smiling at her old mentor. “I’ll miss you, Lucian. Take care and don’t let the old goat get to you.” With that, te portkey activated.