#I've had it for a year and this was the first time I even took it out of its packaging. :-)

[astonmartinii]

put it all on red (bull) | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem russell reader

her brother won the race? does she know? does she care?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: VIVA LAS VEGAS

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user3: this is fucking hilarious

user4: her whole ass brother won the actual race and there's not a peep of him on the post

user5: i mean her boyfriend did win the championship...

yourusername: exactlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i mean my instagram is for pretty girls only

user6: do not erase george's beauty

yourusername: nothing to erase girlypop - FUGLY!

user7: the way the guys are in the media pen and can't see that y/n is coming for their necks in instagram comments

user8: i fear she's already started drinking...

user9: in the back of the sky broadcast she hands max a drink and i'm starting to suspect that it was not water or red bull

user10: LMAO HELMUT TOOK A SIP AND LIKE NEARLY FELL OVER

yourusername: i've never claimed to be good at mixing drinks

maxverstappen1: WHERE WAS THE TONIC ???

yourusername: i don't believe in tonic 💔

maxverstappen1: YOU GAVE ME STRAIGHT GIN?

yourusername: straight 🤣

maxverstappen1: Y/N THAT'S ATTEMPTED MURDER ON HELMUT ???

yourusername: free me i did nothing wrong !!!

user11: these people kill me

user12: sign of a healthy relationship is making gay allegations about each other

yourusername: ALLEGATIONS ???

yourusername: george is lucky that he was the first russell carmen met ...

georgerussell63: RIGHT, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH

georgerussell63: thank you for the congratulations but STOP flirting with MY girlfriend

yourusername: congratulations??? for what?

georgerussell63: WINNING THE RACE?

yourusername: boring!

georgerussell63: you are so lucky we're family because you are a few cards short of a deck

yourusername: CARDS? that reminds me ... time to gamble!

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1: winning without the fastest car isn't for everyone

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user13: this caption has y/n russell written all over it

yukitsunoda0511: i sat here and watched them giggle to themselves for a good five minutes while posting this

user14: tell max to post more pictures like the second one

yukitsunoda0511: they are not safe for innocent eyes and they are not taken with a locked door :/

user15: why are you there ???

yukitsunoda0511: they're very generous when they're drunk !

user16: so real

yukitsunoda0511: it's also not just me :(

user17: just how many people are using the bar tab?

liamlawson30: me!

oscarpiastri: me!

charles_leclerc: me!

landonorris: me!

pierregasly: me!

alexalbon: me!

yourusername: broke bitches

carlossainz55: you do not have a job?

yourusername: gambling and being pretty is more of a job that what you will have next season 🤨

carlossainz55: has anyone ever told you you're a really mean drunk

yourusername: just george about a billion times, you get used to it (we just don't invite you out)

user18: she is just dragging anyone now

user19: hold on that is her boyfriend's work boyfriend's enemy

user20: girl is 90% of lestappen twitter's source and you think she's not gonna have a problem with sainz???

yourusername: you're so sexy i actually can't even function

maxverstappen1: gotta put the trophy in trophy husband somehow

yourusername: jokes aside i am super duper proud of you, this year has been insane and you've proven that you are the bestest eva

maxverstappen1: couldn't have done it without my fave cheerleader

yourusername: i'll wear the uniform and everything ....

schecoperez: STOP

georgerussell63: still no congratulations? i know you won the title or whatever but we're going to be brothers soon SHOW SOME RESPECT

yourusername: literally suck his dick

yourusername: wait no

yourusername: suck my dick

yourusername: WAIT NO

yourusername: choke ❤️

georgerussell63: i have no words at this point

maxverstappen1: so romantic hehehehe

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: put it all on on red (bull)

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user22: ma'am why is there a cat?

user23: i think we already know the answer

user24: oh i know the answer i just wanna know the batshit explanation

georgerussell63: exsqueeze me ???

yourusername: don't speak like that about your nephew ??

georgerussell63: tell me you're not keeping it??

maxverstappen1: IT? HE JUST LEAPFROGGED YOU IN OUR WILL

georgerussell63: 1. you have a joint will ??? 2. why am i on it ??? 3. what is a cat doing with a monaco penthouse ???

maxverstappen1: i thought you could use the money ? i know toto ain't paying you what he promised me

yourusername: george your weird sugar daddy is more broke than you think sorry xx

georgerussell63: once again, what is stopping me taking the monaco house from a literal cat ?

yourusername: caesar will be very aware of his rights string bean - just because you talk in an uppity accent doesn't mean you actually know anything

georgerussell63: i cannot tell who corrupted who but i am sick of being your victim :(

user25: yes as fun as watching them dog george is i do want to know caesar's origin story

user26: i have a very bad feeling i know where he got his name

alexalbon: HE'S NOT NAMED AFTER THE CASINO IS HE?

yourusername: ding ding ding we have a winner, always knew you were the smarter half of galex

maxverstappen1: your gambling is getting out of hand

yourusername: did i or did i not win us a cat ?

maxverstappen1: AND £250,000 ???

yourusername: didn't want to promote gambling too much

yourusername: KIDS DO NOT GAMBLE IT IS DUMB

yourusername: look at me i literally have a child now ???

user27: we have lost the original plot of the movie

user28: you must be new, we stopped trying to make sense of these two years ago

lewishamilton: i can assure you it does not get any easier when you know them personally

yourusername: we aim to be sexy and mysterious

lewishamilton: that's strange because you guys dance like little boys and overshare at any given opportunity

maxverstappen1: guilty !

georgerussell63

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georgerussell63: i won the las vegas grand prix and all i got was this lousy cat

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user29: i am sensing a y/n and max meltdown incoming

user30: maybe they're too hungover to argue?

yourusername: NEVER

maxverstappen1: LOUSY CAT? FIRST OF ALL HE'S NOT YOURS SO KEEP HIS NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND ALSO I WILL KILL YOU WITH A GUN

georgerussell63: excuse me?

yourusername: do NOT threaten my boyfriend !!!!!!!!

georgerussell63: do you have selective sight or something?

yourusername: no i just like him more than i like you

georgerussell63: you only met him because of me?

maxverstappen1: i have faith we would've found each other regardless we have a SOUL TIE

yourusername: EXACTLY

georgerussell63: i give up.

yourusername: this is exactly why you don't have a championship ... no drive (pun intended)

georgerussell63: NOW THAT'S IT

maxverstappen1: are you threatening my girlfriend?

georgerussell63: OMG LEAVE ME ALONE

user31: their commitment to never letting george have a day of peace is really quite charming

user32: they're going to give him grey hairs before he even turns 27

alexalbon: i gotta say georgie, i'm not with you on this one - caesar is THE dude

georgerussell63: are all my eggs falling out of the basket at once?

maxverstappen1: that's called karma for calling caesar 'it' and a lousy cat

georgerussell63: i can't lie i am missing your honeymoon phase you guys were a lot nicer

yourusername: we never left the honeymoon phase we just like annoying all of you

maxverstappen1: makes you people leave us alone :3

landonorris: you don't have to be mean to do that

yourusername: YOU JUST GOT OFF OF THIN ICE NORRIS WATCH YOUR STEP

user33: they can make excuses all these want but they just like annoying everyone else

user34: i mean based on their vegas shenanigans i think they would be super fun to be around

yourusername: oscar literally came to stay while he 'looked for a flat' in monaco and hasn't left... it's been three months. face it we're a HOOT

oscarpiastri: they are fun! the secret is to not be annoying sorry george!

maxverstappen1: they grow up so fast :')

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1: took a gamble when i went for the lanky posh dude's sister and i can now say it was definitely worth it

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user37: bro says snug as a bug in a rug once and now he's labelled as posh HE'S FROM NORFOLK

user38: it's also the way that y/n never gets the posh allegations

georgerussell63: it's because she's scruffy as fuck x

maxverstappen1: literally outside your house with a knife, keep talking

georgerussell63: i'm a grown man, max, you don't scare me

maxverstappen1: so i'm free to do a little gardening while you hide inside?

georgerussell63: you wouldn't...

yourusername: GO FOR THE PEONIES MAX

georgerussell63: NOT THE PEONIES I BEG HAVE MERCY

user39: so i'm supposed to read all of this shit and take them seriously when they get in the car

user40: it's part of the charm i think

user41: it's all fun and games until you remember they are full grown adults who can vote who are arguing over flowers

yourusername: i'd go through the strenuous task of growing up with george thousands more times just to be with you

maxverstappen1: i've been in love with you since i was 14, there has never been anyone else for me and there will never be anyone else for me

yourusername: ugh why didn't we just get married in vegas ?

maxverstappen1: because even though i did just harm his flowers, i do want to marry you in front of our families

yourusername: i guess you're right

georgerussell63: you know what? based on how you usually talk to me... i'm touched

yourusername: if i'm feeling generous i'll even let you do the seating chart

georgerussell63: I LOVE YOU BEST SISTER EVER

user42: only a declaration of love between max and y/n could end with george proclaiming his love for charts

user43: how does one procure an invite to this wedding ...

yourusername: be cunty

yourusername: @zakbrownceo YOU'RE BARRED

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm the sibling who can't drive and yet i'm the one with four championship trophies in their house... george, step your pussy up x

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user44: omg queen who can't drive, she's such representation

yourusername: george says i'm so mean all the time but really i'm generous, i clearly gave him all the driving genes

user45: have you even tried driving?

yourusername: i went on max's sim once and got motion sickness and i'm also with the best driver in the world and siblings with an okay one - i'm surviving

alexalbon: he's already texted me about your language on this post

yourusername: just because he's a boomer in a string bean's body does not mean i must censor myself - he should know what stepping his pussy up means by now

georgerussell63: i will not be stepping on any pussy, i respect both felines and women

maxverstappen1: you called caesar 'it' so PLEASE

georgerussell63: i respect women?

maxverstappen1: you called y/n scruffy?

georgerussell63: that's y/n it doesn't count

maxverstappen1: that's not very feminist of you george. i am disappointed

yourusername: i agree, i really think the GDPA should reconsider the type of person they're letting run it

georgerussell63: huh?

yourusername: not once have i been invited to a grid meal ....

georgerussell63: well you're not on the grid that's why

yourusername: FEMALE EXCLUSION

maxverstappen1: you know we have attachment issues, you're so heartless george

georgerussell63: what is going on ???

yourusername: you CLEARLY don't care about me

maxverstappen1: and you CLEARLY don't care about the wellbeing of the grid

georgerussell63: I'M SORRY???

user46: george is unbelievably easy to rattle

user47: it must be so fun

yourusername: oh believe me, we have way too much fun

maxverstappen1: we once convinced him that it was a social faux pas to shake hands in japan lol

georgerussell63: IS THAT WHY MERCEDES WERE TOLD THAT EVERYONE THOUGHT I WAS REALLY RUDE ???

yourusername: LMAOOOOOOOO

maxverstappen1: so so so easy bro

user48: i guess a couple that plays mind tricks together, stay together?

yourusername: 4eva

maxverstappen1: til death do us part

yourusername: quite literally you're not leaving me alone with GEORGE

georgerussell63: you know what: DIE

yourusername: GASP

maxverstappen1: @fia get his ass

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX VERSTAPPEN CHAMPIONSHIP DAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE. IE. ME LOL

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[cellophaine]

Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

/

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[aziraphales-library]

Greetings! I have just come across your library and was ecstatic to find that you can help us find good omen fics!

I was wondering if you have any adult omens that have Azierphale and Crowley- ahem - going at it in the Bently?

Thank you so much for your work and help, and hope you are having a wonderful evening!

Hello! We have some sex in the bentley fics here, and I've got more now...

Sex, Cars, and Rock and Roll by pilatesandpinot (E)

Crowley propositions Aziraphale to come to the disco with him for a night of dancing and tempting. However, in the Bentley, Aziraphale has his own proposition, about 30 years in the making, and the pair gets carried away in the demon’s Bentley.

Thank Heaven for Naughty Angels by HumoringHolly, Orth (E)

Things take an unexpected turn on the lovers' drive to their dinner reservation at the Ritz.

Having a Good Time by zerodaryls (E)

Aziraphale is squirming in his seat. He’s squirming in his seat because Crowley is driving the Bentley, and Aziraphale also happens to be in the Bentley, and when those two things occur at once, Aziraphale tends to get a little nervous. He’s also squirming because Crowley smells really nice and his hair is done up just so and he keeps saying ridiculous things and cackling at himself and Aziraphale really wants to climb into his lap and rut against him until he comes. That might actually be the root cause of the squirming.

Gratuitous sex in the Bentley. Awwww yisssss.

their safest place by luciferfemme (E)

In September of 1933 a black Bentley rolls off the factory line and is purchased by a mysterious stranger in black. With a touch of demonic magic, the Bentley proves to be the safest place for them to hide from the world and share their love in secret.

Fulfilling a Demon's Fancies by Slurpi13 (E)

Satisfying Aziraphale’s whims was what Crowley preferred, regardless of the form it took. Never had he permitted himself to dream anything of the sort, much less his new reality of living with no responsibilities other than tending to his plants in the garden and doting on his angel as much as he’d like. Crowley had long existed if only for the chance to feel the warm glow of the angel’s happiness embracing him. That was not what Aziraphale was asking. (OR: Crowley wishes for nothing more than to please his angel. Aziraphale wants a turn at indulging Crowley. Sex in the Bentley has long been the demon’s secret fantasy.)

Four Speed Manual Transmission by DoonaRose (E)

The second coming thwarted, Crowley and Aziraphale head off in the Bentley towards the South Downs. But after six thousand years of waiting, and now suddenly not having to, Crowley can't stop looking at him. When he discovers he can touch Aziraphale as well, laying a testing hand against his thigh, it becomes inevitable that they don't quite make it all the way to the cottage before having to touch each other quite a lot more. First time hand jobs in the Bentley, parked in a quiet lane in the countryside.

- Mod D

[arpicityandneed]

Hello there :)

This is my first time requesting something but I was wondering if you could do prompt 7 with Loki?

Like maybe in the first Thor and they're having a ball and they're friends to lovers possibly?

I would be absolutely honored if you made this but no pressure 😁

Hope you have a great morning/noon/night ❤️

Hi hello! I love Loki so I hope you like how I've characterized him, this is supposed to be before he starts all the drama and maybe prevents it cause love conquers all ya know?

Loki (#7 finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck)

18+ f!reader. Creampie. Strength kink. Childhood friends to lovers. Semi public sex.

"So this is where you snuck off to." Loki only knew how to speak in a purr. You knew this, and yet it had still bothered you to listen to your childhood friend use his silver tongue on another woman. So you'd escaped to the balcony, mead in hand as you looked over the golden buildings of Asgard.

"I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone." Maybe the mead had gone to your head, or your centuries old crush was finally becoming too much to bear. You never spoke this way.

"I always notice you. Especially in that gown." Loki wondered if you knew what you did to him, wrapped in silk so close to your skin tone it almost looked like you were naked if he squinted.

"Really? Because I'm sure Lady Astrid would be happy to show you hers again." Yes, it was petty of you but your heart was aching. He'd been so close to her.

"Who?" Loki was genuinely confused, he'd made his rounds as expected of a Prince of Asgard, but he'd been distracted by you the whole time. He'd even used magic to keep an eye on you when you were out of his line of sight.

"The one you.. lingered with." You wouldn't face him, and for the first time in a hundred years Loki felt-- hopeful. Maybe his love for you could be returned after all.

"I'd do more than linger with you, if you'd let me. I'd spend a millenia groveling at your feet for a kiss." Loki closed the distance easily with his long legs, leaning against the balcony railing beside you.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better." You scoffed, "I don't need pity, even from you my Prince."

"Pity. That's what you think this is." Loki took your glass from your hand and set it aside, caging you against the balcony when you finally turned to look at him. He towered over you with something close to anger in his eyes.

"Maybe charming you isn't the answer then." His gaze flickered down to your lips a fraction of a second before he was kissing you. But even calling it a kiss wasn't fair. He was making love to your mouth. Sucking on your tongue, hand buried in your hair as he cradled you against him. His arm around your waist pulled you closer until you felt the hard length of him pressed into your stomach.

"Does this feel like pity to you?" He rasped when he finally pulled away, both of you breathless and panting. "I've wanted you too much for too long for you to ever imply I was offering out of pity."

"I didn't- didn't know," You were melting, the heat of his body through your thin dress was tearing down your defenses by the second.

"I was going to court you, before touching you. I wasn't going to be like Thor and bed you before I even asked for your hand. But maybe I need to be more like my brother for you to get the hint." Loki wasn't really even thinking before the words were spilling out of his mouth, because you were in his arms. He could see your pebbled nipples through the silk of your dress which he ached to taste. And he was so goddamn tired of being a gentleman if it meant you thought he didn't want you.

You were going to explode. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your ass and cupping your breast in his palm while he talked. Had you really been so mistaken?

"Maybe I should be more forward. Is that what you need little one?" Your cunt throbbed and you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and throwing aside your pride as you begged,

"Please? Need you, for so long now I've-" He shut you up with a kiss. This one even hungrier than the last as tugged your dress up your hips, cupping your sex and groaning when he felt how you drenched his fingers.

"Oh." He smiled wickedly as he traced your slit, feeling how your hole clenched down greedliy around the tip of his finger. "Hungry little thing isn't she?"

"Loki, please," you were lost in him. His clean yet intoxicating scent, the way his slender yet massive frame blocked you from view. It was like it was just the two of you in the whole realm.

"I don't know.. Don't want you to confuse this for a pity fuck." Loki was teasing you, and yet you could tell beneath it all he was truly hurt by your assumption.

"Prove me wrong then. Show me how much you want me." You pouted at him, trying to tug him closer as he freed his cock from his pants. The tip was flushed and sticky with arousal as he rutted against your folds to slick his shaft. Every grind of his cock against your cilt made you ache to be filled.

"As milday commands." It was a stretch to take him, but the slight burn was nothing in comparison to the bone deep relief you felt when he was sheathed in your wet heat.

His forehead dropped against yours as he cursed, eyeing the way your pussy was stuffed to the brim and creaming on him. He whistled low and appreciatively.

"This is not going to end here. Now that I know what you feel like," he swallowed thickly, thrusted a little deeper into you until you felt him in the back of your throat with still a few inches to spare. "I can't ever go without you again."

"You don't have to." You promised, wrapping your leg around his waist pulling him closer. It wasn't enough until his balls tapped against your ass. You'd taken all of him.

"I've waited too long to be gentle. But-" You were the one to silence him this time, nipping at his bottom lip so sharply you saw a bit of blood.

"I've waited longer." He grinned, more than a little feral over you. He picked you up and put your other leg over his hip- holding you up without even straining.

"Then you'll take me like a good little wife to be won't you?" You were stunned by his words but Loki didn't wait for an answer before he was fucking you mid air, using all his strength to lift you up and drop you on his cock over and over until you were screaming.

"Loki!" You knew he hadn't cast any spells for privacy, and yet you couldn't stop yourself.

"Louder, let all the women know who owns this cock." He growled in your ear, splitting you open and making your eyes cross every time he hit that spot inside you. Your legs were shaking around his waist as your orgasm grew like a wave threatening to drown you in pleasure.

"Loki, fuck, more!" Distantly you realized you would have to explain this to Heimdall at one point, but you were truly too fucked out to care.

"Good girl, just, like, that." Every word was met with a thrust inside your gummy walls that fluttered around his cock, sucking him in like your pussy never wanted him to pull out.

"You're going to make me cum, darling. Where do you want it?" He could still be somewhat of a gentleman. Give his lady options, like taking his load in her pussy or on her face.

"In-inside, please, want to give you a child!" Loki's grip on your thighs grew tight enough to bruise a mortal, but you merely moaned louder. He touched you like he owned you and you couldn't get enough.

"Want to give me an hier? Gonna be such a pretty little mother aren't you, fuck." His hand found your little bundle of nerves, and you whimpered as the wave broke. You came so hard you squirted, soaking his formal attire and ruining your dress without a drop of remorse.

"That's it darling, milk me. Take every drop I give you." His thrusts grew sloppy, the only sign of how out of control he felt as he started unloading in you. His heavy balls pumped spurt after spurt of seed against your cervix.

Only when he set you down on your feet did he pull out reluctantly, watching with rapt attention as his cum slid down your thigh. With a wave of his hand your clothes were righted and clean- but he left his cum leaking out of you as he offered his arm. The perfect picture of princely charm.

"Shall we announce the engagement then?"

[cheshiresense]

Oh my God, you mentioned wanting to write a thing about when Starrk finally let's his reiatsu out, and honestly, I've been thinking about that so much!!! Like here is Starrk, who has been keeping his reiatsu down to around average, who sleeps all the time, so doesn't stand out, who stands beside Ichigo, Ichigo who crazy stands out, also Starrk who joins the 4th, the 4th who everyone else considers to be weaklings!! You imagine the look on everyone's face the first time he let's lose!?! Maybe some bullying goes too far, and Starrk, who nobody thinks much of, just smacks them down hard!!! And everyone is like WTF lol 😆

sorry, I just love the idea of when people realize that Starrk is actually strong like Ichigo!! So 😁 funny!! Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. I love reading them.

Lol yes it's one of those scenes that you see happen in so many different ways and all of them would be fun. I'm undecided on how I want to do it Officially so I'm putting it off (or maybe I'll just write several of them lmao).

I imagine it would have to be very serious bullying for Starrk to take that much action, cuz like he really isn't the sort to step in for every little thing. If it happens to someone he considers one of his, he might note it down and then quietly go and prevent it from happening again from behind the scenes, but in real time, he'd rather diffuse the situation or leave it to the "victim" to handle it and only step in if it looks like they really can't, and even stepping in would just be a sharp word or two to run the bully off. He's not a straightforward bleeding heart the way Ichigo is, cuz the hit-the-problem-so-it's-no-longer-a-problem method is def Ichigo's go-to strategy, he would absolutely smack the shit out of someone bullying Asuka or Rangiku in front of him and be done with it right then and there, prob flaring his reiatsu without even meaning to cuz his control's a lot better these days but it's also kind of 0 to 50, well-hidden or flashing neon sign, no in-between unless he really concentrates 😂 It's another reason Starrk would have little reason of his own to act, cuz like Ichigo would absolutely beat him to it.

For me, I could prob imagine him unleashing his reiatsu/revealing his strength if someone's about to die and the threat is big enough that he actually has to flex. He's just not someone who'd easily show what he can do, and hiding it from the likes of Aizen and the Quincy wouldn't even be his top reason. It's more like lingering PTSD--his strength doesn't bother him anymore now that he's had years of proven control under his belt, and he's even needed every last bit of his power over the past decade of war, but subconsciously, he's still not 100% comfortable with just letting anyone feel it, even tho he has enough control now that it wouldn't hurt them unless he wants it to because what if? So like, his first instinct will always be to keep it locked down, and for minor stuff (altho minor is relative for him I guess lolol), pulling out that much power is def a last resort.

Again, it contrasts what Ichigo would do. Ichigo's just used to overkill. Like even before he got his powers, he learned that an overwhelming show of strength would solve most of his gangster-related problems very easily, plus he lived in a household where Isshin only backed off from kicking him into a wall or something by kicking first or kicking back. And then after he got his powers, it's not even really his fault that he internalized a "might is right" kind of mindset /points at the entire fucking SS invasion arc and honestly every arc after that/. And also he spent his first years of Shinigami-ing running around with an unsealed Zanpakutou and zero reiatsu control, being in a constant state of Shikai is natural for him, and (moving into this AU's headcanon territory) it took him several months into the Quincy War before he finally learned to seal it away and actually have other ways of fighting that isn't just flinging Getsuga Tenshous around. He uses Bankai the way other people use hand-to-hand combat or Kidou spells, so even now, his first instinct is to just hit the problem hard enough so that it won't get back up to do more harm, and for him, that applies to everything from schoolyard bullying to fighting monster-gods. And on top of all that, his actions are largely driven by emotion. More than anything else, his first reflex is to protect, and that often leads to him throwing way more power at a threat than he actually needs to. He knows how to be more subtle these days, but it's not his preferred method and def not a reflex either the way it is with Starrk.

Of course, Starrk also understands "might is right" just by dint of being a Hollow, but he's basically spent a thousand years as someone too strong for anyone to fuck with just by existing, so he doesn't have the same kind of exposure to physical conflict that Ichigo grew up with that would make violence his first instinct.

Aanndd omg this ran away from me lmao sorry, you get a speedrun analysis on Starrk and Ichigo instead 😅

TLDR I'm still not sure of any exact scenarios that would force Starrk to show his hand, I don't want to wait until a Sternritter shows up or a final showdown vs. Aizen happens because that would take forever before we get there (I mean I could just jump right in there since this isn't a whole fic, but in-universe-timeline-wise, I'd prefer it happening earlier), but it's difficult for me to imagine that something in everyday life or even just a Hollow extermination mission would be enough to make him reveal even a bit of what he can really do.

Case in point, if you remember that mission in SP canon where Shunsui brings Ichigo and Rangiku along on a mission into the Rukongai to gain experience, and Ichigo sees a Hollow about to attack Shinji who hadn't spotted it yet, but he also didn't want to leave Rangiku unprotected, he went straight for unsealing his Zanpakutou and basically hand-delivering a shopping list of unusual or downright unique abilities to Aizen via Gin. In this AU, if Starrk goes along, he would never do such a thing, and in fact, he'd stop Ichigo and just fire a damn Byakurai or something across the clearing and kill it that way. Even if Ichigo doesn't have the finesse to pull off a low-numbered Kidou spell on the fly, he could've chosen a higher-numbered one and that would've still revealed far less to Aizen than unsealing his Zanpakutou would. But again, subtlety isn't his strong suit. He now at least has the presence of mind to think about the consequence of leaping into the fray without thought, it would leave Rangiku wide open, but his first instinct is still to use overwhelming strength to protect the people he cares about.

In contrast, Starrk may be a soft touch compared to basically every other Hollow and quite a few Shinigami, but he has the maturity and just the general personality to go for the strategic option. He has a far more tactical mind, implied even in canon to rival Shunsui in that department, so rushing in just isn't in his nature.

The only other way imo is if someone just... asks. Reikaku (reiatsu-sensing) is a thing Shinigami learn. In canon people can sense exactly who's coming just by their reiatsu (if they know them), not just if they're a Shinigami or a Hollow or even a Human, but it doesn't really expand on how. So I imagine you have to have a good feel for the person's reiatsu, it's the same as my age headcanon for reiatsu, not only can someone halfway decent at sensing reiatsu be able to get an idea of the other person's age, they would also be able to recognize and associate that reiatsu signature with that person since everybody's is different, but obviously they would have to be exposed to it a few times to learn it. Starrk's reiatsu is very unique so once or twice would be enough, and I can see a situation where the kids might ask to feel it for that reason, or a mission might require the team leader to ask, etc. etc. So yeah, that's all I got.

[bluespring864]

Tags by @crossedcourt <3

I will now run with them and write an essay because I am always insane about Novandy ;-)

Specifically I want to talk about the "yes i've beaten you on every surface" part. Because I've had a few messages and seen a few comments to the effect of "Wait, they are starting a partnership at the Australian Open of all places?! How many times did Novak beat Andy there?" To which the answer is: Andy lost four of his five Australian Open finals to Novak, three of them rather badly (two in straight sets, one with a fourth set bagel) and he also very narrowly lost probably the most epic match they ever played - according to both of them - which was the Australian Open semifinal in 2012.

While this would be devastating and a cause for animosity for many tennis players I need you to understand that THEY ARE NOT LIKE THAT. At their first meeting at an under-14 tournament, Les Petits As in France in 2001, which concidentally was Novak's first international tournament ever, Andy destroyed him 6-0, 6-1 (Novak: "You gave me one game!") and they still laugh about it to this day. If and when they do press for this new coaching partnership, expect this to come up a few times.

It has always felt to me like their modus operandi was: us against the world (Novak: “Sometimes we catch up for dinner. It’s good to see somebody you grew up with doing so well in professional tennis and it’s great to show to people that top-five players, who are big rivals on the court, can be really good friends as well.”) And it never really changed, even when Novak took a commanding 24-11 lead in the H2H over the years (I am only counting matches played and leaving out the fucking tragic walkover from Andy that prevented their last meeting from happening), after it briefly almost evened out in 2012/2013.

This attitude, of course, is rather impressive from Andy, who could very well be bitter about how differently their careers have gone, considering that they are such similar players who were born only one week apart and that there was definitely much more hype around Andy at the start of their careers (Novak said when they were both 18 and played doubles at, you've guessed it, the Australian Open, that he would and wouldn't like to be like Andy because on the one hand Andy had much more support than him at the time, on the other hand he had the crushing weight of expectations to contend with).

But instead of being bitter, for the last few years of his career you could hear Mr. Murray say things like: “It would be amazing to see him do it [win the 23d Grand Slam] on Sunday. I will be supporting him. And I hope he can do it. Because it is incredible what he has done.” or plainly "I'm happy for him, he deserves it." Or even: "After Wimbledon [2023], everyone was saying it was a changing of the guard, but it wasn't for me." Oh it wasn't for you? You are defensive over the man who has beaten you more than any other in your career being written off too early?

Even during that crazy year of 2016, when they were the two frontrunners in the rankings by miles and Andy was chasing the number one spot, what did he say after losing the only French Open final he ever played? Well, he started it off with "This is his day today. What he’s achieved the last 12 months is phenomenal." and not only told the audience they had been extremely lucky to see Novak make history once again, but also ended with: "I’m proud to have been a part of today."

Us. Against. The. World.

So that's Andy, but what about Novak? Well, not to be outdone he will mention Andy in almost every interview, even when he was very much not asked about him. He will remember the 2013 Wimbledon final which he lost in straight sets to Andy as "a historic, special moment that I cherish" and, on court at the ATP Finals 2016, after his own second half of the year had been rather dismal, he also explained to the crowd that they were part of history that day and that "It was an honour to be on the court and to be a part of the big occasion. Andy is definitely number one of the world. He is the best player. He deserved to win."

If asked about the best matches he has played with Andy he will readily mention the 2012 London Olympics semifinal. We all know how important the Olympics have always been to Novak (if you didn't before 2024, you certainly know now) and this was a semifinal loss at his beloved Olympics in straight sets. Let that sink in.

When Andy retired this year, Novak explained: “He will inspire many generations to come. He inspires me, and we are about the same age." He, who has just finished his career outside of the top 100 and in a doubles match because his body wouldn't even let him play singles anymore, inspires you, who has achieved more than any other in this sport? That's really lovely, Novak. Oh, and by the way, how about Andy becoming world No. 1 and ending Novak's longest stint at No. 1 in his career? Novak's post at the time: "I am really happy to be in the same era with you."

Us. Against. The. World.

So, to make a very long story short: If I was surprised about the coaching news yesterday it was because they actually went for it, not because it seemed outlandish to me in any way. As you can see, it makes perfect sense. I am really glad we are getting another chapter of this story which - according to Novak - is "A script, a long story. A romance, I’ll call it." after we previously were treated to - according to Andy - "Rivals, doubles partners, friends and lovers?" By the way, he still has that Instagram post pinned. Anyway, before I digress, let me conclude this by saying:

You thought their story was over? Think again.

[dramatic-dolphin]

Re. Your women being so scared thing. And to be clear I mostly agree with you.

I'm not sure where you're from, but I'm from New York, and I can say for sure that I'd feel more safe in the most dangerous part of the UK than basically anywhere in the US. My Parisian aunt thinks Gare du Nord too dangerous to walk near under any circumstances, but to me it seems like a normal bigger train station level of danger, and the streets around it seem normal. I lived in a university town in the UK for a year, and I never felt in danger there or in London, even alone, even in the middle of the night. I was never alone in Berlin, but I was out at night, and I felt at least as comfortable as I would in New York. So I think, at last in the places I've been and from my experience, America is more dangerous and much scarier. I have never been street harassed in the UK, and I have been harassed and followed in New York plenty, and had several people attempt to attack me. Men in the US will also often harass you from a car, which is an explicit threat. It's also important to remember that parking lots are bad places to be and most of the US has to drive, and therefore park.

That said, I know some women who won't ride the subway at night, or at all, and that seems very paranoid to me. If you're riding at a remotely normal time and are paying any attention to your surroundings, you're almost certainly going to be fine. I also know girls who, even once they're in a car, of course, will send friends their location just in case. This seems extremely paranoid to me. Maybe check you're going the right way like one time. I do still think some of the things people do can be reasonable caution - yeah, didn't go hiking on a first date - but the perspective people are throwing at you strikes me as distinctly privileged. No one who's ever had a job can think that way. I've worked with a few women who took cars home after every shift, or their dad or their boyfriend picked them up in a car, and at that point, you have a job as a hobby, because unless he works nearby, you just spent your minimum wage on gas. If you take a cab home in New York, from Manhattan to any other borough, that's most of your pay. So to me, this level of paranoia generally reads that you've never had to be alone anywhere so you don't understand what it means, and you've never had to do shit with, and if you did do it, the money wasn't important.

Yeah a lot of time I get mad at this online because it just seems overly paranoid to me, and then a woman comes in with a personal experience or anecdotes, and it hits me that maybe the US *is* actually that bad? I live in Hungary, and I really like walking alone in the city at night, or going for long walks in the forest alone, and I've never really felt unsafe doing that, but - and this is crucial - neither have most of the women I talk to. Or at least, not to this degree. So, yeah, the US is possibly worse and more unsafe? I can believe that, it's just hard to conceptualize I guess, since the US likes to portray itself as tbe baseline for a "civilized" country, and I live in *Eastern Europe*. So there's preconceptions here, lol.

But yes, a lot of these, even when corrected for this, are just paranoid, there's no other way to see it. Like, no matter where you live, you truly do NOT need to share your location every time you leave home. And there's also the matter of being disconnected from the people and community around you, like being scared to help your neighbor or someone on your street. We live in a society, you kind of have to take an active part of it.

A lot of it is just a lot of energy spent on being scared every waking moment of your life. Like, okay, in the reddit thread I saw this in, there was a woman saying that she ALWAYS puts her ID in her front pocket when she goes outside so they can easily IDENTIFY THE BODY IF SHE DIES. Like what material good does worrying about this bring to your life? It's not even a self-defense technique, doing this will not help you with staying alive!! All it does is make you think about "oh no, I could get murdered" every time you leave the house. This is NOT a healthy mindset!

It's like a strange and widespread kind of anxiety, and the worst part is, it has you convinced it's necessary, and you can't get rid of it unless you make an active effort to do things despite being scared. First you have to convince yourself that you *won't* get murdered by your date if you don't share your location, and that's the hardest part. And yeah lol, having to do things alone helps you with this tremendously, because you realize that you've just taken the subway at night alone and survived. But if you're never forced to do things alone, you get stuck in this weird fear spiral, and whenever you see a stranger, you end up thinking about how they could murder you.

[laurenairay]

A reason to start over new - T. Jost

Summary: It’s been five years since Lucy has seen her ex-boyfriend Tyson. Can his grandparents’ Christmas party fix their broken hearts?

Happy birthday @senditcolton! This is my fic for your birthday bingo – I had a lot of fun with this one! I chose The Hand Touch, Exes to Lovers, Free Space (Resolved Angst), “You’re Too Good for Me”, and Winter Romance, making it a full bingo! Hope you have a wonderful day Nicole.

A massive thank you to @jostyriggslover96 for reading through this!

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: angst, flashback to breakup, some bad language, self-deprecation.

Title from The Reason, by Hoobastank

~

I've found a reason for me, To change who I used to be, A reason to start over new, And the reason is you.

~

“Oh wow, Val and Jim have really outdone themselves this year, haven’t they?”

Lucy glanced around at the Christmas decorations surrounding them, smiling at her mom’s words.

“Full of holiday cheer, as always!” she nodded.

She took off her thick coat and gloves, glad to be out of the icy air, hanging them up on the rack put out for guests.

“Now honey, if it’s too much, you can slip out back and head home, okay?” her mom said seriously, albeit quietly.

“You said that last year. And the year before that. For the last five years, actually,” Lucy mused.

“And I’ve meant it every year. They might be our neighbours, but you are my baby. And my priority, always,” her mom said seriously.

Not for the first time, Lucy was thankful to have the mom she did.

“And I appreciate it. But I’m going to be fine,” she said, smiling fondly.

“Alright, if you’re sure. You just send me a sneaky text if you change your mind though, yes?”

“Yeah, thanks mom,” Lucy beamed.

The Christmas Eve Party thrown by her neighbours was a tradition she’d attended her entire life, and even though she hadn’t dated their grandson in half a decade, Val and John had always insisted that she still came along. A lingering effect of being childhood sweethearts, she supposed.

“Amy! Gary! Lucy!”

The welcome from their neighbours was warm and effervescent as it always was, and soon enough Lucy found herself swept in by conversation and catching up. She may have gone to college in UBC Okanagan in Kelowna for both her degrees, barely away from home, but she’d lived in campus residence for all four years of her bachelor’s degree and moved out of her parents’ house properly into a small apartment near campus for her master’s degree. It would’ve been easy to move home after guaranteed accommodation ended, but Lucy had wanted to keep the independence she had grown to love, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t visit her parents at least every other weekend.

But it was still nice to be able to talk about her accomplishments with the people that she’d grown up alongside, especially now that she was in the final year of her master’s degree and looking like she was on track for starting the PhD she’d always aimed for.

After a couple of hours, she escaped the crowds in the living and dining areas, grateful for the sanctuary of the kitchen. There were a few plates of cookies and other Christmas treats laid out, and Lucy couldn’t resist reaching out for a snickerdoodle…

…at the exact time as someone else.

She jumped in surprise as a large hand rested on top of hers, not realising anyone was next to her, but as she looked up, she couldn’t but to freeze despite the warmth of his touch. Tyson. It was Tyson’s hand touching hers.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I…Lucy?”

“Hey Tys,” she managed to breathe.

The familiar curls, the big beautiful eyes, the sweet smile, and now a little bit of stubble? He looked good. Of course he looked good.

Tyson quickly drew his hand away from hers, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Uh, you have it, I shouldn’t be eating baked goods too much anyway,” Tyson said, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly.

Lucy pursed her lips and broke a third of the snickerdoodle off, handing it to Tyson with a raised eyebrow. Tyson huffed out a laugh but accepted the offered treat, sending her a small smile of thanks. Fuck, it may have been five years since they broke up, but he really hadn’t changed, had he?

“So, uh, you still come to these parties?” Tyson asked.

Lucy bit her bottom lip but nodded.

“Yeah, your grandparents insist. I hope that’s okay,” she winced.

“Of course it is,” Tyson said quickly, “They always loved you.”

Well that was something at least. Why did this feel so awkward? Sure, it had been five years since she’d seen Tyson, but they dated from eight years – surely they had more than this?

“I don’t usually come to these. Well, I guess you already know that, if you come every year. I, uh, I have the 24th to the 26th off this year, so I didn’t want to miss another Christmas with my grandparents,” Tyson explained.

“I bet Val and Jim were over the moon when you told them,” Lucy mused.

Tyson laughed softly, nodding. “They were. Mom and Kacey didn’t hesitate to come to Kelowna to join us, so it’s a big family Christmas this year.”

“That’s great, Tys. Really. Spending Christmas with your loved ones is important,” she said softly, smiling.

His smile dimmed a little, but he nodded.

“How’s, uh, how’s your degree going? Gramps said you’re doing a master’s now?”

He knew that? Did he ask? Or did Jim just tell him?

“Uh, yeah. I graduated my bachelor's degree magna cum laude back in 2020 and went straight into starting my graduate program there. I’m a paid teaching assistant for my supervisory professor too.”

“That’s incredible, Luce. Still doing Earth and Environmental Sciences?” Tyson prompted.

He remembered? After all this time?

“Yeah, yeah it is. Focusing in on environmental impact assessment for my master’s thesis,” she nodded, a little stunned, “I didn’t think…I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course I remember. You were always so passionate about your studies – it was one of the things I loved most about you,” he said softly.

“Tyson…” Lucy said faintly, trailing off when no words would come.

He smiled sadly at her, shaking his head.

“Sounds like…it sounds like everything was worth it for you,” Tyson murmured.

~

2019

“So you can’t make it over?”

“No, Tys, I can’t, I have labs to do,” Lucy sighed.

“We haven’t seen each other in so long!”

“I can’t just not go to my classes because you want me in Denver! You know this!” she groaned.

“I know, I know, but it sucks.”

Lucy frowned, even though he couldn’t see her. “You’re the one who didn’t come home for Christmas, remember?”

“The schedule didn’t make sense, and I offered to fly you down?”

“Tyson!” she groaned.

He stayed silent on the other end of the phone, a silence that sent an ominous shiver down her spine.

“So where do we go from here?”

“W-What?” she said, confused at the dull tone of his voice.

“Your priority is college, my priority is hockey, and neither of us can compromise. I would never ask you to compromise, just like you wouldn’t ask me. We have different priorities, clearly. So where do we go from here?”

“Tyson, are you really saying what I think you’re saying?” she whimpered.

“Yeah, I think we should break up.”

“We’ve been together for eight years! You’re the only boyfriend I’ve ever had, the only guy I’ve ever wanted. And you want to break up, just like that?”

“I don’t want to break up, Luce. But what other option do we have? Neither of us can give the other what we need right now. We have to focus on ourselves, don’t we? For our own careers? You have so much ahead of you and I can’t be there to celebrate it. And you can’t be by my side cheering me on from the stands. I love you, Lucy. But this isn’t working anymore.”

~

“Tyson, why would you say it like that? You think it’s been easy for me?” Lucy asked, throat a little choked.

“No, no, of course not,” he groaned.

“Then what do you mean?”

“Look, forget I said anything, okay? It was really good to see you, Luce.”

Before Lucy could say a word, Tyson walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen with her head spinning. What the hell was that?

For the final few hours of the party, Lucy indulged in a couple more glasses of wine than she intended, sticking solidly by her parents’ sides. She did her best to keep a smile on her face and ease into the Christmas festivity, even when Laura and Kacey said their hellos, but her mind just kept going back to Tyson.

“We’re going to start saying our goodbyes, okay honey? Why don’t you find all our coats.”

Lucy just nodded at her mom’s suggestion, grateful for the opportunity to escape the crowd. Well, she was grateful, until she saw Tyson sitting on the bench next to the coat rack, face flushed and eyes glassy. He was drunk, at least moderately so.

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, voice slurring.

What did he mean by that?

“I’m just getting our coats. We’re heading out,” she murmured, trying to ignore the whoosh in her stomach.

“Already?”

“It’s nearly midnight, Tys,” she said, smiling wryly.

“Well, fuck. Time flies when you’re having whiskey, I guess,” he groaned, putting his empty glass on the bench next to him.

She huffed out a laugh, unhooking the coats when she finally spotted them.

“You look good, Luce,” he murmured, looking up at her through his eyelashes.

“I do?” she blurted.

Damn it.

But Tyson just grinned. “Yeah, you really do. You always looked good, but damn you’ve really settled into your own skin, eh?”

“I love who I am, yeah,” she nodded.

She wasn’t lying, or even placating. Her studies in environmental impact had opened up a whole new side of her she hadn’t even realised was there, and she loved everything about the person she’d become through it. She just hadn’t realised it was obvious on the outside.

Then again, if anyone was going to notice something like that about her, it was going to be Tyson, wasn’t it?

“You’re too good for me.”

Oh fuck.

“That’s not true. Not even slightly,” Lucy said, frowning.

“No? I can barely get a team to keep me, and you’re soaring ahead with your academic career, just like you deserve,” Tyson scoffed.

This was just the alcohol talking. It had to be.

“Tys, those teams are the ones missing out. You’re amazing,” she said softly.

He paused for a moment, before shaking his head.

“If I’m so amazing, why did we break up?”

Because he had to put hockey first.

Because she had to put college first.

Because neither of them were each other’s first choice.

“That’s not fair, Tyson. We were kids when we first started dating. Barely 13 years old. And we were together for eight years! We had an incredible relationship! It just…we wanted different things. Our priorities were different, our passions were different – we might have grown up together, but we’d also grown apart. Your life is hockey and my life is academics, and that’s okay! That doesn’t mean we didn’t have love, yeah?”

The way that Tyson’s eyes filled up with tears made her own eyes water, dangerous lump rising in her throat.

“If I could go back and change it all, I would. I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.”

His soft words tore a sob from her throat and she shook her head. How could he be so cruel?

“Don’t say that. We made the right decision five years ago and you know it,” she whimpered.

Tyson’s face fell at her devastated expression, and he staggered to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry,” he said sadly.

And yet here she was, broken hearted all over again.

“I should go. I need to go,” was all she could manage to choke out.

“Lucy, baby, please…”

But Lucy just shook her head, clutching the coats in her hands, shaky smile on her lips as the tears finally fell. “Merry Christmas, Tyson.”

~

“So what happened at the Christmas Eve Party that has you all torn up like this?”

Lucy flinched at her mom’s voice, turning her head to see her standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Uh huh, and I’m a fairy princess,” her mom snorted.

Lucy couldn’t help but giggle, earning a fond smile as her mom walked into the room and sat down next to her on her bed. Lucy placed a bookmark in the book she’d been reading to give her mom her full attention. She’d needed a little respite from all the preparations to hold her dad’s family for a late lunch, after all the intensity of having her mom’s family over yesterday on Christmas Day, but she’d found herself reliving her conversation with Tyson over and over.

“Sounds like…it sounds like everything was worth it for you.”

“You’re too good for me.”

“If I’m so amazing, why did we break up?”

“If I could go back and change it all, I would. I’d choose you. I’d always choose you.”

So really, her mom coming up to talk to her was a welcome break from all of that as well.

“If you know it was the Christmas Eve Party then you can take a guess,” Lucy said, shrugging.

“I’d rather hear it from you, when Tyson’s involved,” her mom mused.

Well at least her mom was blunt about it.

“We had a couple of conversations, and it stirred up old emotions, old drama. He…mom, he said he’d go back and change it all if he could. That he’d always choose me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Her mom blinked a couple of times, lips parted in a surprised, before she coughed out a laugh.

“Well I could never accuse Tyson of being subtle.”

“Mom, seriously. This is stressing me out. I can’t stop thinking about it,” Lucy groaned.

“I think that’s an answer in itself, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“What?”

Her mom stayed silent, just nudging Lucy with her shoulder, and Lucy nudged back out of habit. What did she mean, that was an answer in itself?

“Lucy, honey, if you can’t stop thinking about Tyson choosing you above everything else, that means something,” her mom eventually said with a huffed laugh.

“But how can it? He still has his hockey, and I still have academics. Neither of those are going to change any time soon,” Lucy said sadly.

Because at the end of the day, that was the bottom line of it all. Their priorities haven’t changed.

“Just because your both still have your passions doesn’t mean that they have to be your only love. You can have both,” her mom said firmly.

What?

“How can I have both?” Lucy asked, confused.

“Do you love him?” was all she said.

“What?” Lucy said, surprised.

“Do you love him?” her mom repeated.

Lucy opened her mouth, shutting it again before huffing out a laugh. There was only one answer to that.

“Yeah, I never stopped,” she replied.

“Then you can have both. You spent the last five years missing him, and I know damn well that that boy missed you too - neither of you deserve that for another second. You can have both,” her mom said decisively.

She could have both?

How could she have both?

“You love him.”

“I love him,” Lucy whispered.

“Go get him.”

Lucy whimpered as she looked into her mom’s eyes, but she only saw warmth and encouragement. Her mom was right. She loved Tyson. She loved Tyson and if seeing him again this Christmas had taught her anything, it was that she was stupid if she tried to deny how much she missed him. If she didn’t tell him now, when would she?

“He leaves today. I need to go now,” she said suddenly.

“Well damn, okay then. Put on a sweater and I’ll find your snow boots,” her mom grinned.

Lucy felt like she was in a haze as she walked as quickly down the street as was safe, heart pounding as she spotted Tyson loading bags into his grandpa’s car.

“Tyson!”

His head whipped around at her shout, eyes going wide as he saw her walking towards him. Tyson shuffled down the driveway, missing Jim’s fond smile as he himself went back into the house, and the moment that she was standing in front of him, Tyson cupped his hands over her elbows to steady her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I love you,” she breathed.

Tyson whimpered, but Lucy wasn’t discouraged, not when she saw the wonder that filled his expression.

“You love me?”

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t stop thinking about everything you said the other night,” she blurted out.

“Luce, I’m sorry, I know I upset you but…”

“No, Tys, it’s okay,” Lucy said, shaking her head as she interrupted, “While I stand by what I said, that we made the right decision at the time, maybe we could make a different decision now?”

“What are you saying?”

She could understand his hesitation, really she could. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t coming out with this out of the blue, after five years of nothing at all. After five years of heartbreak and heartache. But her mom was right – she missed him so fiercely and she couldn’t bear the thought of him not knowing that.

“I want us to start over new. I never stopped loving you, not for one moment. We could have both. We could have our passions and our love, and I hate that it’s taken me this long to even consider that? I miss you and I love you and I know you’re heading to the airport to fly back to Raleigh, but tell me I’m not crazy for thinking we could do this?”

Tyson’s jaw dropped as he processed her long rant, and it was only his firm grip on her elbows that stopped her from giving up hope.

“That was a lot,” Tyson said.

She winced. “I know, but…”

“And you poured out a lot of emotion there,” he interrupted.

Lucy kept her mouth shut this time, as much as she wanted to beg him to say more.

“It’s been agony for five years, for so many reasons, but hearing you say that you love me and you want to give our relationship another shot? I just…”

Tyson trailed off, letting out a long breath.

“I understand if I’m too late,” she murmured.

But Tyson huffed out a laugh, raising one hand from her elbow to cup her face in a gentle motion that had her breath hitching in her throat.

“There is no world in which you’d be too late,” Tyson said softly.

“Really?”

“I love you too, Lucy. I never stopped either,” he murmured.

She couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that tumbled from her lips, smiling back up at Tyson as he smiled at her.

“We’re really doing this?” she asked, giddy.

“Yeah, baby, we are. I don’t know how we’re going to do this, or what it’s going to look like, but we’re both adult enough to know how to put in more effort this time round right, yeah? I’ll fly home for the all-star break, and I’ll fly you out for spring break, and we’ll have video calls that neither of us are going to miss. And everything else. We’re going to make it work this time,” he said, tone serious but face grinning.

“And we’re going to communicate, yeah? When one of us is finding it hard? We’ll find little compromises, as we can’t do the big compromises. We’re worth it,” Lucy added, not caring that her cheeks were aching with her smile.

“Yeah, we are. I love you, so much Lucy,” Tyson grinned.

“I love you too.”

Tyson didn’t waste any time in leaning down to press his lips to hers, their last first kiss.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Thoughts on Scriddler?

This is gonna be a long one, so buckle up...

Firstly, you gotta understand that all that follows is a recollection of the fandom over the years, since 2015 to be exact. Speaking stickily Jonathan Crane fandom, Scriddler has always been the most popular ship for Scarecrow. I couldn't give ya a beginning to this, as even back then I found years old art for Scriddler circulating. Though, tumblr as a social media is where it blossomed.

When I first started this blog, I had my OC to develop and I was very self conscious and unknowingly putting myself through trauma via art school and a lack of disability accessibility. Not gonna get into that, but I was very vulnerable as well as impressionable.

I did NOT like Scriddler, almost detested it. It seemed like it was everywhere, and this was before tumblr had a decent way of blocking. Not that it would have helped, because for some reason i liked suffering. Felt like I deserved to be depressed. Took me a long time to realize blocking content actually made life better aslhkds

Anyways, even early on I had a lot of support, people wanted to know about my OC and cared, but I always felt like I played second fiddle to the holy of holy, Scriddler. And if you've read any of my recent posts, you know I've come to accept that just how it is with OCs. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my fair share of anon hate, suicide threats, etc. The fandom was not always welcoming. Or perhaps there was just a minority who loved to abuse the anon function. (if you think there's a lot of drama today, you were not there when it was bad)

It took me a LONG time to grow to like Scriddler. I used to feel like they had very little in common, and it bothered me that most of the art was majorly sexual. That's a whole 'nother can of worms, but ya know. I don't hate Scriddler today, which should be obvious seeing as I reblog it now. Though, I like Hattercrow a tad more.

A lot of this was my own internal issues, though the fandoms penchant to take two males who never interact and ship them, suffice to say is alive and strong. Nicely enough however, there has been more "Scriddler" like content from comics. (I say this loosely, but they do interact quite a bite more than they did ten years ago)

Scriddler, and to a lesser, Hattercrow, is a ship you either love or hate. Except me. I kinda fall in the middle. Though I feel it's worth mentioning that Scarecrow has had his fair share of female/female presenting ships too, and as much as I hate to say it, they're generally disliked by the greater fandom. (or simply ignored) We all know why. I've mentioned this before. :/ and I've had close friends give up on their ships because of it. Just like me. I gave up. I hat admitting that, but I can't compete with Scriddler.

I wish there was a way to change that, but I wouldn't know were to start. That's why I try to support OCs for example, someones gotta do it. I can't let another person go through what I went though.

TL;DR: Sciddler is not a bad ship, I don't dislike it anymore, but don't think I'm not silently side eyeing the loud minority who shit on anyone for even thinking Jonathan could love a woman. Ya know, despite canon only showing evidence for that.

[myz-wykkyd]

Used my limited graphic design skills to make a chart of all the characters Rosalie has romanced in (almost) every farming sim I've played with her. Lol I'd always wanted to do something like this and I'm pretty happy with the result.

I made a free to use template of it on the right if anyone else wants to show off who they romanced. Feel free to decorate/doo what you like with it- just link back here if you use it so other people can find it o/

Brainrot Below<3

Now, though many of these games involved premade mcs- I've played as some variation of Rosalie in games for as long as I could remember.

I noticed there's a trend that popped up in her choices that I think is as interesting as it is amusing. Ofc, most of these choices were just my personal favorite bachelors of that game, but they were still used to devlop her, and I hadn't realized how much she leaned towards certain professions, personalities, ect. I've concluded my girl loves a hardworking boy whose brooding but sweet- or a golden retriever Marlin: Harvest Moon: A Wonderful Life was my first Farming Sim. I didn't get to play the female version until much later in life. So my choice of who'd I/Rosalie married had been pretty decided lonnng before I finally got to play it. But honestly even though I like Marlin, he's kind of the default choice because I didn't care for Rock and Gustafa- and Rosalie wouldn't either. I think if I had ever gotten to play HMDS:Cute I might have liked him more- or she would have married Griffin-

Blue | Harvest Moon: Magical Melody / Friends of Mineral Town: Loved Grey/Blue. (Let's face it their pretty much the same character). Upset the remake took away his hat. Little off topic, but even though character customization wouldn't be a thing in these games for years- I'd used to imagine my character had pink hair like Popuri LOL

Vaughn | Harvest Moon: Sunshine Islands: Vaughn was the first time I ever was head over heels for a character in one of these games- I just adored everything about him and I don't think it's hard to see why. Once she got to know him better, Rosalie def would have been hella smitten for this cowboy- (Also Vaughn walked so Logan could run-)

Owen | Harvest Moon Animal Parade: So Owen is an unexpected deviation. Most of these choices are also my favorites, but when I first played through HM:AP Gil was actually my favorite bachelor. I could have made him and Rosalie work, but it just didn't feel right. So after looking them all over I think she def would have preferred Owen

Dylas | Rune Factory 4: One of my favorite games from the genre- and I think the cast of romanceable characters was STACKED. Dylas was my favorite because he was seriously SO damned cute in all his events 🥰 Also think it's kinda funny he's a horse guy and Rosalie has a lot of horse motifs herself-

Alex | Stardew Valley: REALLY unpopular opinion incoming! I've put over 500+ hrs into SV 😭 but in all that time, I've just never clicked with any of the characters. Which really sucks because this is the first game I ever got to play as Rosalie. Alex and Sam were my favs, but I think Rosalie would lean more towards Alex.

Logan | My Time At Sandrock: Logan 😍💖🥰Just, guh- I LOVE everything about him and MTAS so damn much. Especially because the hyper fixation I had with this game/character was what led me to finalize Rosalie's design/character at long last. I developed so much content for him and Rosalie I never got to share 😭hope I can someday!

Mark | Coral Island: God I love big men who love animals- and Rosalie does too. 💦🥰 Honestly, even though he started out as one of my favorites (later to be replaced by Shark man hoo hoo haw), I wished more of his heart events focused on his relationship with the player instead of the dog. It was really cute at first but like 6 of the 8 cutscenes were about it and most of the time he never even interacted with your character. Was disappointing ngl.

Nokk | Roots of Pacha: Now- Nokk is not currently a romanceable character, but I'm hoping the future update will add him to the roster. 🫠💔Cause this is another case where I LOVE the game to pieces but none of the characters speak to me- aside from the one I can't have- Hayden: Fields of Mistria: and last but not least- Hayden. He just completely encapsulates so much of what Rosalie finds attractive, it's a little funny. I'm waiting until the game is finished to continue playing and I can't wait to see what the future holds for him.

The following will include some honorable mentions that I didn't include because I didn't have anymore room on my template/they weren't a farming sim/ect.

First up! Nathaniel from Sunhaven!<3 Feel like this responsible captain of the guard would work well with Rosalie. Honestly, there weren't really any choices that felt right for her, but for once in many years my main playthrough of the game ended up being with a different character and I had someone pre-picked out for her. So there lots of great choices, just none that suit Rosalie well.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: Working As A Unit

Summary- 5.2k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. You and Steve are finding a new side to being around one another. Neither of you had simple downtime before, but a possible glimpse into what life could be like for you. A mission together leads you two to become a lethal team.

Warnings- Hand-on-hand combat, heated at the moment making out and touching. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Wow it's been a while and I so appreciate everyone who has been so patient, sending supportive messages and the asks simply saying that they missed this couple. Knowing really kept me going. I know I have been vocal about how I've been struggling with writing but you all keep me going. I love it so much, even when it's hard. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for bouncing ideas, reading the snippets I would email, and giving suggestions. You have no idea how much it means to me. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading!

Chapter 9 / Masterlist

You and Steve started going on more missions together that Shuri sent along while waiting for Ulysses to return to the area. 

Sometimes it was about gathering intel on suspected smugglers, other times it was wider-spread travel, intercepting shipments leaving with hostages. All small, and easy enough for you and Steve to do together without many issues. 

Together you two started growing as a functioning team, relying on each other in ways you hadn’t before. Steve began to rely on your tracking skills, letting the Little Wolf lead the way to intercept smugglers moving small groups of shifters while your smaller stature kept you easily from sight. You in turn depended on Steve to take out threats along the way, the Alpha using speed and surprise to subdue anyone who took notice of the Little Wolf prowling. 

With T’Challa’s help, you could relocate the victims to get the help they needed and pass along information, allowing Wakanda to start mapping out trafficking routes. 

You and Steve were making a difference together. 

On the days when Shuri had no missions to send you two on and Ulysses had yet to make an appearance to the warehouse, you and Steve used this downtime to rest and prepare. Thankfully the heat passed, without you doing anything with Steve beyond sleeping in his bed with him. That simple act was enough to get you both through it. You had the Alpha’s presence in what became your nest and Steve was allowed to take care of the Omega in whichever way you needed him. 

As much as you both craved the intimacy sex would give in the moment, you knew deep down that you were still trying to heal, and be with Steve with trust in him not to abandon you or force you into a position that gave him all the power over you.

Steve kept his promise, nothing would happen between you two till you were ready. 

You learned to appreciate those days of nothing but each other's company. Typically Steve was the first to wake up and make breakfast.

Since your heat was over, you had moved back into your bedroom, without him fighting you about it. The Little Wolf had something to say, but she relented in the end. Whenever you wandered out Steve would have a plate of food ready along with coffee, and a gentle smile before you two would fall into a safe conversation, usually going over mission notes together and putting together a report to send back to T’Challa. 

Mid mornings Steve usually went for his runs while you did your workouts in the open living area, sometimes if Steve came back in time, he would follow along with you, going through the defense and attack moves that you had learned from the panthers in Wakanda. Steve also showed you other moves that he had learned in his years with the Howling Commandos, you were a quick study, and earning Steve’s praise made you feel giddy in a way that you hadn’t in a long time. 

Sweat was running down your back and face, heavily panting while Steve tossed you a water bottle while guzzling his own down, a wide proud smile flashed at you. “Y/N, do you even know how badass you are Little One?” He gave you a slight nudge when you turned a bit shy, rolling your eyes at him while taking some deep swallows from the bottle to keep from saying anything. “I mean it, if you ever wanted to, I’m sure Natasha would train you in her skillset.” 

You paused, your heart aching at his words like he genuinely believed you would one day return to his home, regardless of the status of you two. But you partially felt responsible that the pack didn’t have their Alpha, and part of you wondered how many of the wolves felt that you were to blame for his disappearance. Steve frowned seeing you shut down in front of him, your face turning away and your lips pulling tight as your inner thoughts spun, the Little Wolf growing agitated in your mind. Impulsive his fingers gripped your chin, making you face him with a questioning look. “Little One, where are you?” When your eyes snapped back into the moment, he let his hand drop. 

“Steve, I don’t know if going back is an option for me. That’s your home, your family. Me being there…” You broke off, not wanting to voice those dark little thoughts. 

Steve’s brow came together as he pieced together what you were not saying. “Y/N, you are a member of the pack, you became one the moment I invited you to stay before we were even together.” 

That’s always going to be our home Y/N. Your Little Wolf chimed in with a swish of her tail.  

“Our pack is found family.” Steve continued. “Bucky and I were born into it, but Sam and Sara came when they needed a place outside of the chaos of Shield. Natasha’s home pack was destroyed to recruit the pups, training them into assassins. When she broke free of them, she went to Nick Fury to deliver the organization’s crimes and he sent us in to dismantle the organization. She came back with me. Pietro and Wanda landed in Tony’s pack for a short time and went between us when they needed a break from the city. Clint came with his human wife needing to give her space from living in a pack but still be close enough for his wolf to find peace and have safety for his family.” Steve pieced together different members' stories, trying to convince you that you belonged there just as any of the others did. “It doesn't matter if we’re mated or not Y/N, they are your family and will tell you the same thing I did. You came when you needed a home and it will remain your home. Regardless of our history, I would never ask you to leave your family.” 

Now that was something you never considered, but the idea of it settled. You and Steve had already come so far with each other since he first left, would you be able to stay even just as friends? The Little Wolf settled back down once your line of thinking shifted. 

The evenings were when you two finally relaxed, crashing on the couch with the apartment TV. playing a movie that one of you picked out. You would curl up in the corner of the couch, eyes glued to the movie Steve had picked that night. 

This wasn’t something you had done before, not like this. Living with Pierce pack, there wasn’t entertainment allowed to the shifters for sale, you were just kept locked away with the necessities and each other to keep company, and living with Steve, you two would occasionally settle into watching some TV show, but most of the time you two or the wolves were exploring, Steve giving you a glimpse of life like you've never experienced before. But that wasn’t the case anymore and you found a deep love of movies. 

So night after night, you would make some snacks that you found in the store around the corner of the block, Steve would scan for iconic movies you absolutely must see, according to him. 

You got to also see a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before. A completely relaxed man, tossing popcorn into the air to catch you two turning it into a game, soon there was popcorn scattered all across the living room as the two of you started trying to toss it across the couch into one another's mouth. 

His face would scrunch up when you bounced the buttery pieces off his forehead or cheeks, making him chuck his pieces right back at you, making you smile in victory. “For being the big bad wolf Steve, you can’t catch worth shit.” You teased from across the couch, tossing up a piece to catch on your own. 

Steve brushed the loose popcorn on the floor and prepared to clean it up the next day. “I’m better at taking bites, not playing catch.” His teeth snapped in your direction and the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, tears streaming down your face as your giggles turn to hiccups. 

The Alpha is smug in Steve’s mind, knowing he made you laugh like that. 

Slowly movie night worked its magic, before either of you knew it, you two were cuddled up together on the couch, sharing bowls of snacks between you and the two of you debating the quality of the storyline and characters. Steve started getting a feel for what he thought you liked and proposed your first movie marathon. 

You lasted halfway through the eleven-hour Lord of the Rings marathon. You tried but somewhere in the middle of the second movie your head dipped down onto Steve’s shoulder and your breathing leveled out into the tone of sleep. 

<Look at that Steve, put her right to sleep.> The Alpha snickered in Steve’s mind, prowling restlessly in missing the bond. Steve barely moved as he eased the blanket off the back of the couch, letting it drape over your curled-up form, and you cuddled up closer to him, rubbing your face into the crook of his neck. 

Steve stiffened, this was the first time you’d touched him since your heat and he didn’t want to push past boundaries. 

<You relaxing with her isn’t gonna undo everything you two have accomplished so far.> 

Steve let the Alpha’s common sense settle, letting himself loosen, sinking in a bit against you and enjoying your warmth pressing into him. His focus turned back to the movie while his arm rested over your shoulders. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were still on the couch, your head pillowed and covered in a soft blanket that smelled like Steve. You tugged it around you tighter, sleepily smiling as you buried your face into the soft fabric and inhaled. Your Little Wolf was so content in your mind. You felt safe here, with Steve in this little apartment and it hit you that you hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Even when you were back in Wakanda, you constantly felt the need to watch your back. Now with Steve, you could relax and put all your energy into the mission. 

Adrenaline rushed through your veins, everything was in hyper-focus. Your Little Wolf paced, wanting to hunt down her prey. 

She practically salivated at the thought of opening her maw wide and sinking her fangs into these bastard's flesh, ripping them apart piece by piece.  

You let that rush feed your senses, making everything sharper. 

The crowd of handlers was rough with the shifters they were smuggling, all of them enclosed in collars. The Little Wolf’s snarls filled your mind at the sight. Your eyes narrowed on them, these were not panthers like you were expecting. 

Shuri had sent coordinates for a pack of wolves. You whispered, enough for Steve to hear you in the comm in your ear. “Where do you think they are from?” 

The Alpha was out of sight looking for the best vantage point of attacking the smugglers while keeping the prisoners safe. “I don’t know Little One. I don’t recognize any of them. They could be from home… we knocked out a large portion of it when we took out Brock, but it's hard knowing how far Hydra has spread.” 

“Are we able to get them out?” You asked as you started taking a quick count of how many there were.

“Their collars are not like mine,” Steve observed, making you take note of the leather strap enclosed around their necks. “I think that it's merely preventing them from shifting, they are fighting against the bonds, so they have free will.” 

Indeed you saw several snarl at the armed individuals forcing them from the warehouse, marching them across a shipping yard towards a large cargo ship. “That’s good.” 

“They won’t be fighting against us, if my theory is correct.” 

“Alright Captain, what’s the plan here?” 

“Cute Little One.” You heard him snort a bit, making your Little Wolf huff in amusement. “Get your ass onto that cargo ship unseen. If you can make your way to holding, do it.” 

You started working your way closer, using cargo containers to shield you from the scattering of guards on the perimeter. “And then what?” 

“Work your way inside, take out whoever you have to. There should be minimal security below deck.” 

“What are you going to do?” You paused at the ship's edge, scanning it for a way to get onboard. Nearby you could hear voices, but still seemed far enough away that you didn't duck back into hiding. Not yet anyway. 

“Work my way through the above deck crew.” You heard a swoosh through the comm, sure it was the shield T’Challa had made for him. You tapped your bracelet, feeling the metal lightly sweep over your chest and across your back, covering your most vulnerable spots. 

You kept searching for a spot to climb onto the towering cargo ship.“You got this Little One?” 

Your Little Wolf tensed, ready for you to take that leap. “Got this Alpha, see you up there.” 

“I will make a distraction for you and draw their attention so you can slip inside.” 

You prepared yourself for Steve’s distraction, sprinting to the walkway leading up to the ship's dock. It wasn’t long till you heard shouts of alarm and shots. 

“You better be okay Steve!” You harshly whispered into your comm as you took the opening. 

“Worried about me, Little One?” You heard in return, a hint of teasing in his tone while his comm crackled with background noise. 

“Just not in the mood to come save your ass.” You sass back, letting your senses wander. The ship shuddered beneath your feet, signaling that it was getting ready to ship off. Noticing a door that led into the ship, you sprinted for it. Skidding to the metal door, you eased inside. 

“Stay safe Little One.” Steve’s voice filled your head just as you ran into someone patrolling. His eyes widened when he saw you, raising his weapon in preparation to shoot you. 

It was automatic, your leg swung out to kick the barrel away and you pushed forward, your hand lashing out to cuff the man's face. The butt of the gun swung into your shoulder, knocking you off kilter. 

“We got a brea-” The guard started into his comm system. With a snarl, you tackled him, grabbing at his ear and ripping at the device to keep him from continuing his alert. The gun went skidding out of reach, but he hit you to stop your attack, whiplashing your face till blood burst from your mouth from a busted lip and making your head ring at how hard he had hit you. “Bitch!” His foot planted against you, shooting you off of him to sail over his head. You crashed against the floor, skidding across the metal. 

Your body twisted away from him. <Weapon!> Your Little Wolf alerted you and you snatched it to pull towards you when he came crashing back on you, the air crushed from your body. It was worth it though, getting him that close as you were able to swing the gun, cracking it aside his head. 

The guard's eyes rolled back at the sudden hit and he collapsed over you. “Fuck” You muttered, wriggling till you were able to pull out from underneath him. Shouldering the rifle, you also shoved his comm in your ear to listen in on the others. You pulled at him to drag him into a nearby room and slammed the door shut, twisting the handle enough to break it, preventing it from opening. 

In the comm, you could hear shouts of alarm, that someone was wreaking havoc on the top deck. 

<Steve is giving us our chance to secure the hostages.>

With a sprint, you started racing towards the stairs and swinging over the banister to drop several levels quickly, bypassing as much as you could. And we're gonna make every second count. 

“WHOA!” Someone shouted from the stairwell, making you glance up to see a couple of faces looking down at you. They didn’t give another warning, their weapons shoved over the railing and shot down at you. You ducked the bouncing bullets as best you could, dodging out of the stairwell back into a hallway. Thumps from the stairwell let you know they weren’t far behind.

Securing yourself around a corner, you dropped to your knees, rifle aimed down the hallway, ready for the attack. 

The Little Wolf honed in on the sound of footsteps, under your breath, you started counting the seconds to yourself, your breathing going calm. Once that door slammed open, your finger pressed down on the trigger. 

The shield Steve was given repelled the bullets, his arm shooting up to block himself while using the shield as a ram, rushing against the crew while bullets rained on him. The pinging was ear-splitting but they bounced off, resulting in hitting quite a few of the people attacking him. 

It had gone far better than he expected. The scattering of bullets dropping men in his path, then a few well-placed hits between his fist and the shield kept the momentum. 

<BEHIND YOU!> Came a sharp snarl and Steve twisted enough to miss the dagger in his back, catching him on the side of his neck instead. 

Pain made him bare his teeth with a snarl, turning to his foe. 

“Last one I expected to see.” Came the man's sharp reply, his blade swinging in his hand till his hand gripped the handle, prepared to slash at Steve should he come close enough. “Better prepared though than when Brock took you. Where’s your little bitch this time?” His smirk was cold as he continued his taunts. "Figures you would be too weak to snap her neck."

Steve let his words slide away, eyeing the man. <Provoke him into an attack.> His Alpha circled slowly, a predator on his hunt. 

Steve sensed the change in the air, the confidence in his opponent growing that he was able to push the Alpha into dropping his protection. It gave him the guts to charge Steve, his knife ready to sink into him. 

Last second Steve swung his arm up, the vibranium swiftly blocking the attack and cutting the blade off at the handle. With his hand, he grasped the sheared knife blade falling and flicked his hand into the man's gut, sinking the metal into him. 

Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes wide in surprise as Steve snarled in his face. “You were not much of a threat, were you?” The man dropped, Steve clenched his cut hand, trying to stop the bleeding grabbing the bare knife had caused. “Y/N… location?” He said out loud, holding his breath still to quiet himself, letting the comm have all his focus. 

It was quiet for a few moments, making the Alpha in him grow agitated. <Call again> 

Give her a chance. Steve waited for it, anything from you when your voice cut through the silence he willed on himself.

“I’m below… port side. I still haven't found where they are keeping them.” Your aggravated voice came through. “Shit-” Your voice suddenly cuts out, making Steve cry out. 

“Y/N?” He bolted, shoving himself into an open door, and racing down the stairs, he started passing others that you had already taken out. Steve headed towards the left, darting down halls and crashing through doors, essentially following your trail. 

Your scent was getting stronger and soon he heard loud thumps and grunts. The Alpha snarled as fear tainted Steve, all his senses growing sharper trying to get to you. 

Sprinting down the hall and locating where the sounds of fighting were coming from, he busted into a steel door, making it snap open to find you with your thighs wrapped around a man's head, your hands gripping at him and yanking his head back, your teeth bared with the effort while the man struggled to get free. 

It made Steve pause a second, processing that he was watching you about to snap a man's neck. And with a yank, the body fell limp and you untangled yourself. “Fuck…” He muttered, making your gaze snap to his, heated between the two of you. 

For half a second, before your eyes widened in alarm. “Behind you!” Steve whipped around to throw his shield up, the ping of bullets bouncing off them. A kick was aimed at his uncovered legs, making him grunt in surprise as he stumbled back, making you yelp in alarm.

<SHIFT!>  

You started wiggling yourself free from under the body, your Little Wolf urging you to shift cause she could move faster than you could. But it wasn’t necessary, the next moment a hand shot at you, Steve taking hold of your hand and pulling you to your feet. 

“Are you hurt?” You both asked each other at once, both of you panting from exertion and adrenaline racing, your hands pawed at one another, trying to check each other out when you took an exhale of relief. 

He was fine. 

“Little One,” Steve growled, staring down at you with a wild look, betraying everything he was feeling in that gaze. The glazed look of adrenaline-rushed fear and relief, as well as the lust simmering for you, the need to be able to reach out and take you. 

And you so desperately wanted it, your heart racing and the whole mission catching up to you, you pulled in closer, grasping at him to lift yourself to crash your mouth into his with a possessive growl. 

One that Steve equally matched with force, the air stolen from you as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and arching into him as you pushed your fingers into his hair to grasp on, tilting your head to get closer inside of him, your tongue plunging past sharp bites and snarls. 

Your back slammed into the ship's steel wall, effectively pinning you against his hardened body and it drove you feral feeling your mate so hard between your thighs, your hips rocking into him for the friction, your suit rubbing you in a teasing way, but you wanted to rip it off, everything between you. 

You wanted to feel his heat pour into you, his body smothering yours till you couldn’t get free, not ever again. You wanted to be claimed inside and out, made to be all his. 

More than being in heat could ever burn you. This wasn’t just a need to fuck each other. 

“You gotta- you gotta make me stop.” He hissed against your mouth, his eyes screwing shut like he was trying to control himself and you gave a sharp tug on his hair, pulling his mouth open in a gasp so you could claim again. “We can’t right-” 

You cut him off before even letting him finish. “Don’t you fucking dare Steve, not this time. You can’t take my choice from me.” You studied his eyes when they sprang back open, searching for your consent. “I want this, this is me telling you yes.” You tilted to his neck, nipping along the column to make him shudder, his head tilting back to give you all the room to use your mouth on him. You felt your Little Wolf tense, almost like she was holding her breath, waiting to see what Steve would choose. “The question is, do you want us? As messy and complicated we might be?” You felt him pull away, letting your feet settle back onto the floor, the ships wall no longer at your back. The space in between the two of you felt miles wide, making your Little Wolf curl on herself. 

Would he believe you were ready or would he pull away convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough for you? Steve eased you back from him, making sure you were looking right in his eyes, seeing the truth for yourself. “Before I even knew who you were, Little One, I looked for you. I will always want this life with you.” 

So easily were the roles reversed, Steve grasping the front of your neck to drag you in against him, closing whatever distance there was between you two. Your body so easily fit against his, all your senses coming alive feeling him hard against you while blue eyes searched yours, silently pleading for this moment to be true. 

All you could do was share another look back, reassurance, desire, hunger, and love. Words couldn't come close to what you needed to say to him, even if you could talk right now. But it was enough for Steve, for he claimed your mouth with his, taking away every rational thought. 

Your Little Wolf started her mates' song while Steve practically took all the air from your lungs. You clutched at him till he maneuvered you back into a wall, bouncing against the ship's metal with a whimper from you. 

It was enough to make him pull back, concern flashing across his features for a second but you yanked him back, clutching your hands into his suit and urging him with your kiss. You bit onto his lip, tugging. You wanted all of him, all that time spent apart made you feel almost frantic to reclaim some of what was lost. 

Steve growled against your mouth, your taste sending him right back to that first mating, how he couldn't get you out of his head, his Alpha driven mad to have you as his. His hand at your throat softened, slid up to cup your face, and then back to the base of your neck, digging his fingers into your hair and clutching, easing you back till your head tilted back. 

Panting as you stared up at him, you tilted your head back even further to let your throat flash, his gaze dropping to the column that bared his old bonding mark. It made his eyes flash almost possessively while he dropped his head and nipped along your neck, but never made that bonding claim even though he scrapped his teeth against it, making your body tighten, your thighs clenching as heat rushed through your core. His hand not holding your head still skimmed down your body, taking his time even though his kisses were urgent. “I never told you enough how perfect you are Little One. The only one I could ever belong to.” He breathed against you, his nose buried in against the racing pulse in your neck, drawing you in. 

Your touch was all over, recommitting the feeling of your Alpha against you. Your hands tried to work the fabric looser so you could get to his skin, but your hands were captured, stretching above your head to keep you pinned in place. “Please, Steve.” Your body arched, anything now to have him touch you, your Little Wolf was driving you mad with her song. She craved her Alpha, just as badly as you did.  

“I know Little Wild One, my Omega.” Steve nipped at your mouth, drawing you into another kiss that was deeper and more wild than the last one at first, slowing down into one of worship from him. His hand slipped between your thighs, gliding up to your center where you arched your hips into his touch. 

And this time being touched felt right. His hand cupped your heat, fingers pressing right against your sensitive spot and setting off your bundle of nerves till you were whimpering against his mouth. “Inside me Steve, I need you, not your fingers.” 

His jaw clenched at your words, the muscle fluttering with restraint. “We can’t do this...” His nostrils flared and he started cursing in his growls, catching your arousal and making his pupils dilate sharply on you. 

Your heart started to break at his words, a pained growl rising from you as you tried pulling from his hold but his hand on your wrists tightened and your teeth bared as you tilted your head, lust and anger taking over your features suddenly. 

His fingers never slowed down still bringing you higher, all your nerves firing pleasure through your body till it shook. “You cut me off earlier Little One. We can’t right now because it’s not safe.” His mouth nipped yours, risking the possibility of you biting back. His mouth dipped to your ear, growling against it. “Once I’m so deep inside you, knotting you to me, I am not going to be able to stop, not till you’re begging me for relief and then I still might not be able to. Be my good Omega because right now it's too dangerous for me to make up for all my mistakes while I am worshiping your body. Let me get you back to your nest.” His hand slipped into the band of your pants until he could feel just how warm you were, his touch expertly finding that bundle of swollen nerves and dragging calloused fingertips around it, circling and applying more pressure. Every little pleasurable nerve raced through your system. The touch of leather of his fingerless gloves made you whimper, arching your hips into his touch, letting yourself go finally. 

Your face buried in against him, still riding his hand for that relief. The spiral was building faster. Steve lifted your head from his chest, pressing his forehead to yours. “Come for me Little One.” He nipped his command on your mouth, pulling your whimpers and moans into him, all those pleasured sounds till you gasped, your gaze losing focus as you sank in against him. He let your wrists go, falling heavily onto his shoulders and he steadied you with murmured praises. “I promise Little One, I got you, I’m not letting you go.” 

Steve buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. Feeling his mate so close calmed his Alpha from fighting him too much. Your scent was warmth wrapping around him, that you were satisfied and taken care of, enabling the Alpha in his mind to settle knowing that you were safe with him. Warmth curled through him feeling you hide against him, his arms wrapping you closer so you felt safe in this moment. If he had it his way, you would be back at the apartment, treating you properly. The way an Alpha took care of his mate. His mouth pressed against the top of your head, pressing gentle assuring kisses to the crown.

If Steve could have, he would have stayed like that forever, let time stand still cause this was everything he let go of and somehow was given a second chance. You shifted in closer, molding your body to his own while you buried your face in closer, pressing your lips to his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. “You meant it, all of it?” 

Steve let his gloved hands cup your face, leaning his forehead against yours. “All of it. I know I made a mistake letting you go and I shouldn’t have let my fear win over my common sense.” He swallowed hard, as if he wasn’t sure what to expect but was preparing himself. 

“Come on Alpha, we still have others to save.” You leaned up to press an assuring kiss to him before he let you go, the two of you now racing to find the hostages together, a team.

[xxcxelum]

MOURN NOT FOR ICARUS~

ABOUT: very long, 8562 words

STORY: retelling of the greek myth with an addition to the end

WARNINGS: i mean i guess he dies lol

A/N: i wrote this almost a year ago but i've mentioned it a few times and people said i should post it so im posting it on my writing blog instead of my main.

There was a bird out the window. Icarus could not identify it, for he had never received formal education. However it was small. Each feather on its wings varied in different shades of brown, and it had a black face. Icarus watched as it flapped its beautiful wings, so gracefully flying across the view outside, and delicately landed atop a tall mountainside tree. The small bird did not have a nest in the tree. It only landed on a shaky branch and looked out at the scene below.

Icarus understood why the gentle creature simply perched itself there. He himself was perched at the windowsill, staring out at the ocean below. He found the rhythm of the waves mesmerizing. But more interesting than the movements of the water was what laid below. The tower in which Icarus and his father were trapped in was, though an unfortunate circumstance, built at the edge of a mountain. He could see the sea lapping onto the bottom of the cliff. It was hard not to appreciate the natural beauty of the sight. 

Ahead, at the horizon, were more rocks and mountains, more islands. King Minos has imprisoned both Icarus and Daedalus on the island of Crete. After what his father had done, Icarus didn’t see the punishment fit, especially as he had nothing to do with it. Yet there he was, sitting in the tower, admiring the cities from behind a window that would mean certain death if he leaned only a little closer.

“Icarus,” his father’s voice spoke from behind him. The young boy turned around quickly at the call of his name. He was met with the sight of Daedalus working with a collection of feathers and wax, an already agreed upon method to get themselves out of there. “Help me with these wings.”

He was quick to do as he was told, glancing back at the view and the bird only once more before retreating from the windowsill. “Yes, father.” Icarus took those few steps closer to the center of the room, though it wasn’t far since the room was small. 

The surrounding walls were old and adorned with nothing but dust and the slight growing of moss between the stones. Even the floor was empty, for there was no reason for King Minos to provide the prisoners with anything other than what was needed to fulfill basic needs, which he classified as food and water. Even those were given sparingly. 

Daedalus sat on the ground leaning over the incomplete wings. The frame was already completed, made of materials that Icarus couldn’t quite recognize. He had never been much of an inventor like his father, but although he never took interest in it, he always found it fascinating to watch. His eyes followed his Daedalus’ weathered hands as they bent the wire frame, preparing the wax and feathers. There were leather straps on either side, presumably for their arms when they wore the wings. 

Icarus stepped closer and kneeled next to his father. Daedalus said nothing at first, holding the frame out in front of him and assessing his work. Then, with a nod of self-confirmation, he turned to Icarus. “No,” he told the boy when he tried to touch the wire. “Stand up, son. And put your arms out. I must add the feathers, but I cannot do so with the wings on the floor.” 

That statement made Icarus’ eyes brighten. He was already excited to fly; he’d been looking forward to it since his father first introduced the idea of it to him months ago. He knew that was the day that it was finally going to happen, the day they were finally going to free themselves from their prison, but now it was becoming more real. Once he had his wings on, all Daedalus had to do was put on his own and they would be able to jump from the window without falling to their deaths. 

So, doing as he was told, Icarus stood up and opened his arms. He watched in awe as Daedalus carefully slid the straps of the wings over his arms, the leather cool and smooth against his skin. Icarus hadn’t noticed another strap that was placed upon his torso, attaching the frame to his back. 

He could not tell Daedalus’ emotions as he did this, for his face was expressionless, focused solely on not breaking the wings. However once he finished, Daedalus stepped a few steps back as if to admire his creation. 

Icarus turned his neck to look at either arm, which were weighed down only slightly by the metal frame attached to them. Though the feathers weren’t done being added, he still smiled. He was only getting closer to the moment of inevitable freedom. 

The boy smiled at the thought, and at the wings themselves. Even if they were not finished, and even if he was not one to build such things, he did admire them almost as much as his father did. They were carefully constructed, delicate but strong so that it would be able to support his weight. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, one of genuine joy and excitement. 

“I look like a bird, father,” Icarus laughed. It was a small observation, a comparison that made him smile wider. Daedalus’ face had been more critical as he had been examining the wings and how they looked on his son, trying to figure out the best way to attach the feathers, but his gaze softened at the childlike curiosity that came from Icarus. Daedalus’ eyes moved from the frame on the boy’s small body and met Icarus’ eyes, a small smile of his own growing on his face. 

“Yes, I suppose you do.” With a nod of approval, Daedalus then decided to begin with the feathers. Icarus continued to admire the wings on his back, waving his arms up and down until his father told him to stop before they broke. Then, Daedalus started working. 

He had planned this for a while, but had to be careful as he worked to make sure that everything was done exactly and precisely as it should. He developed a technique of dipping the feathers into wax and carefully placing them on the wired frame of the wings. It took much patience and standing still, which was not easy for a young Icarus. Icarus had been standing there with his arms out for too long, and he was getting restless. Daedalus noticed this and decided to talk to his son in order to distract him from moving too much. 

“Do you remember what I’ve told you about flying?” Daedalus asked softly as he worked. He was standing behind him, so Icarus stared out the window as he answered. Icarus noticed the bird was still there. 

“Yes, you said that we must be careful,” Icarus replied. “You said that the wings are strong, but not perfect.” Daedalus nodded as he placed another feather on the wings. He was getting closer to finishing. 

“And what must we do to be careful?” He pushed, wanting to ensure that Icarus knew what was needed to be safe while flying. Icarus sighed, as he had been warned many times of what to do, even before that day. Daedalus had the idea for so long that he had been explaining the dangers to Icarus far before the wings were close to being constructed. 

“Do not fly too high or too low,” the boy spoke, echoing what he’d heard time and time before.

“That’s right. Because too high and the sun will melt the wax, and too low and the water from the sea will dampen the feathers. We do not wish for the wings to break.” 

Icarus knew this. He’d been told this plenty of times. Daedalus also understood that the repetition of these rules were most likely an annoyance to Icarus, but he still felt the need to reiterate them. Icarus had always had a sense of curiosity, a look of awe at everything his eyes perceived. He was inquisitive. Sure, Daedalus admired that; he was glad that his son had at least inherited something from him, if not his interest in inventing. But he knew how Icarus could be, and knew that no matter how many times he reminded him, a small part of Icarus would still want to explore the sky. Daedalus had to do his best to emphasize the danger to his son. 

However the boy only found it irritating. Icarus knew what to do and knew that if he went too high or too low then the wings would break. It was obvious to him that he wouldn’t be so reckless as to put himself in danger like that, so he didn’t appreciate Daedalus saying the same thing over and over. Yet deep down, Icarus knew that his father only cared for him and wanted him to be safe. So he tried not to let it bother him too much, and to appreciate the love from his father. 

Daedalus continued for what was a little under half an hour until he finally finished the wings. When he told him that he was completed, Icarus practically jumped up, though he was already standing. Icarus’ smile only grew wider as he spread his arms out and looked at the wings. 

He didn’t know where Daedalus had gotten the feathers, he only knew that he had been collecting them for a while. So Icarus didn’t know which bird they belonged to, however they were a light tan color, almost an off white. Though they weren’t the right shade of brown, he couldn’t help but compare the wings to those of the bird out the window. It was a bird that he had been seeing a lot, though he wasn’t sure if it was the same one each time or simply the same species. Either way, his mind kept returning to the bird as he thought himself to be similar. 

Icarus’ excitement was palpable. He laughed as he lifted his arms up and down, mimicking a flapping motion. They were a bit heavier now, though not by much. The feathers were beautiful when they were all pressed together by wax, and he couldn’t even see the frame anymore. 

Daedalus looked pleased, not only to see the wings completed, but also to see his son so eager to fly. But of course before they could fly, he had to get his wings on and make them. Daedalus had started a bit on his own before, just to see if it was possible to do while someone wasn’t wearing them, but decided it might be best if someone else were to do it. However he couldn’t let Icarus put them on as he attached the feathers because Icarus was already wearing his pair. So Daedalus had to ever so carefully use the wax, like before, to put the feathers on his own wings. 

But that wouldn’t work forever. Eventually, he got to a point where the wings wouldn’t balance somewhere on their own, so he had to put them on and asked Icarus to help him with the last few feathers. 

Of course Icarus was more than willing to help. He wanted to be able to feel important, to feel like he was actually doing something useful and aiding their escape rather than just standing there and waiting impatiently for his father to have his wings ready to fly. 

Icarus quickly went to stand behind his father, who had already put the almost-done wings on his back, and did as he was directed to finish them. He tried to imitate the movements of Daedalus in the way that he had been using wax to attach the feathers to the wings’ frame. As he spoke he worked, rambling mostly out of anticipation. 

“You know, father, when we escape, the first thing I want to do is eat a proper meal. It’s been far too long since we’ve had that opportunity. Actually, maybe I will drink cleaner water first. That is a smarter decision.” Daedalus only listened with an amused smile on his face as his son spoke. “Perhaps the first thing I will eat is an olive.” 

That made his father chuckle. “An olive? Is that so?” 

Icarus nodded, placing another wax-dipped feather on the wings. “Yes, an olive. I like olives. I haven’t had one since we’ve been imprisoned.”

“Yes, well, the olive tree is the sacred plant of goddess Athena,” he explained, wording things carefully so as to not upset the deity. “And I will tell you, humbly of course, that my genius for inventing and such was a blessing from the goddess of wisdom herself.” That made Icarus’ eyes widen. He hadn’t known that. “So, as my son, perhaps she will favor you and give you the best olive.” 

The young boy grinned. It was new information to him that his father was blessed by a goddess, let alone one as powerful as Athena. And the idea that she would favor him as well was exhilarating, even if it only resulted in a single, well-tasting olive. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the impatient Icarus, but couldn’t have been more than an hour, they were finished. Icarus placed the last feather on his father’s wings, and Daedalus checked his own and his son’s to make sure they were intact and in the right condition to fly. Icarus, though not saying anything about it, was proud of himself for managing to finish Daedalus’ wings for him, even if the job had been relatively small. Just as he wanted, he felt important, he felt useful.

And now the time had finally come for the wings themselves to be useful.

The moment he decided they were finished, Daedalus got straight to the point. “We must be quick, Icarus,” he told his son. “I do not know how much time we have.” They both knew that he didn’t mean time left in the day; the sun, shining in all its glory, was still directly above them in the sky. However it was King Minos, their captor, who they feared. He did not enter their prison often, almost no one did, but those who were meant to feed them or check on them would come at arbitrary intervals. At any second could someone enter and discover their plan for escape. If that happened, there would certainly be punishments- punishments that Daedalus did not want Icarus to have to live through.

Icarus only nodded, understanding what his father was thinking. He waited for further instruction, but already knew that their next move was going to be: fly.

Daedalus stepped closer to the window starting by simply looking out and assessing the view, noting the height at which they were at and how if the wings were to break or malfunction, they would not be able to survive the fall. Especially not if they landed in the water. He took a deep breath and turned back to Icarus, who had also been looking out the window eagerly. 

“I know I have told you countless times before,” Daedalus began once more, wanting to stress as much as possible the dangers to his son. “But you will stay by me. When we jump out this window, give yourself a couple of seconds for the wings to begin gliding; do not panic if you feel you are to fall because you will not fall.” Icarus let out a sigh of irritation, but Daedalus continued. “And you will stay behind me as we fly. As I’ve said, do not go too high, as the sun will melt the wax, and do not go too low, as the water will dampen the feathers. Do you understand?” 

Daedalus knew that Icarus understood. He knew how much the boy cared about himself. He knew that he would never do something so reckless as to risk his life, he knew that. Icarus had so much to look forward to in his life; he was young and had much potential. Even if he wasn’t aware of it himself, Daedalus knew that the young boy had so much of his life ahead of him. He would never do something to lose that. 

“Yes, father.” 

For a few moments, their eyes were met. They both were aware of the risk they were about to take, of how much danger they were putting themselves in. Even if Icarus did as he was told, and even if Daedalus was so sure of his wings, there was always a chance that things would go wrong. Not just the possibility of a flaw in the making of the wings, but also the looming possibility that the gods themselves would interfere. 

Zeus was the god of the sky. If he wasn’t happy with them in his domain, he could easily strike them down before they even made it to the next island. Daedalus knew this. That was a risk he was willing to take. 

He nodded, and then broke eye contact with his son. 

One last time, Icarus looked around the small room that had been their unwelcome home for too long. The cold stone walls and floor. The furnishings, or lack thereof. The damp scent. He was relieved to be leaving, to have the smell of moss overgrowth replaced by that of the ocean. Not only relieved but, of course, excited. He took a deep breath and turned back to the window. The bird was still there, sitting out on the tree. But when it suddenly got up and flew away, Icarus no longer watched it in jealousy, for he knew that at last he would get to do the same. 

 Daedalus took the final moment before their escape to say a prayer. He prayed to Zeus, wishing for the king of the gods to grant them safe passing over his skies. They were not out of Zeus’ favor, the father and son, but not necessarily within it, either. And since the gods didn’t simply reply to favors like that so quickly, there was nothing more they could do in that moment than pray and hope he was in a good mood that day. 

Then, that was it. There was nothing else. No more wings to finish, no more rules to reiterate, no more prayers to be said. They had done everything part of their plan but one. There was only one thing for them to do, and it was jump out that window and finally, finally, be free. 

No words were exchanged between the two of them, only another small nod of acknowledgment, as Daedalus took the initiative to step up to the windowsill first. If the wings wouldn’t work, he told himself, he wanted to be the one to find out. Not Icarus. 

Icarus watched, his impatience only growing, as his father carefully climbed into the small window. He had to be careful in how he fit himself in it, so that the wings would fit as well and not be squished in the cramped space. Icarus let himself take a few steps closer, too. Because the moment Daedalus took off, it was only a matter of seconds until he would have to follow. 

The man did not look back to see Icarus’ reaction. He didn’t want the boy to realize the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want him to notice the shaking in his hands as he got so close to the edge, closer than he ever would, because normally that close would mean death. But this was not normal. They had wings, and they would fly.

“Go.”

That was the only warning Icarus had that his father had jumped. It took him longer than it should have for him to actually process what he’d just watched: his father jumping out of a window. Yes, there were wings, but for a few seconds, it simply appeared that he had fallen. He was now alone in the tower. There really was no turning back.

When he snapped back to the present, Icarus rushed over to the window and tried not to focus on how high up he was, how he couldn’t find Daedalus in the sky at first glance, how small everything was below. He forced himself to take a deep breath, climbed into the windowsill, and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he jumped.

Icarus was falling. 

That was the first and only thing he could register. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t grant himself the horror of seeing how fast he was falling towards the ground. He knew the wings would work, Daedalus had warned him that it would take a few seconds before they actually began to glide. But those few seconds were terrifying. 

Icarus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowned out by the wind rushing past him. He could also feel that wind, through his hair, through his entire body. He felt the disorientation of tumbling, his stomach turning, heart pounding, breath taken from the shock of the moment. Panic settled in- why wasn’t he flying? He was supposed to fly. The wings clung to him, feeling more like dead weight than anything else. They weren’t working, he thought. They weren’t working, they weren’t working, they weren’t-

As he fell, Icarus suddenly felt a change. A subtle resistance to the pull of gravity. The wind slowly stopped rushing past him, and as it slowed down he reminded himself to spread his arms out even more. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he forced himself to open them once the falling had slowed.

Icarus was flying.

He was flying like the bird he’d been watching enviously for far too long. He could no longer feel the wind rushing past him, but as the breeze picked up, he felt he was part of the wind. With his eyes open now, Icarus allowed himself to look down with no fear. He was not scared anymore. He was thrilled.

The view below was even better from the sky itself than from the window. He could actually see the rest of the town to his right, which he hadn’t been able to see from the tower. There were homes, buildings, the little ants below he realized were people, and trees- olive trees. He smiled at that. Not only at that but the fact that he was flying. He was doing it, he was finally doing it! This was the most amazing moment of his life. 

Directly below him was the sea. It was a beautiful combination of green and blue and even white with the foam from the waves. Above him was the sky, the clear sky. There were no clouds, only the bright, brilliant sun against the blue above. 

But, of course, he could never get too close to either of them.

Icarus shifted his focus. He had to find his father and follow him, as he’d been instructed. He lifted his head from admiring the sights to looking about the sky around him, letting out a breathless sigh of relief when he saw Daedalus several feet ahead of him. The man was facing him, too, as if they’d been searching for each other.

It was a strange sight, seeing Daedalus flying. The wings on his back looked so gentle, and he knew how delicate they were. They were strong, however, clearly enough to carry the large man. They looked like they didn’t quite belong on Daedalus. In a way, they almost made him look like an angel.

Icarus chuckled to himself at that thought, though it was probably a bit more animated than usual since he was already experiencing so much joy. He wondered if he, too, looked like an angel.

The father and son were far apart, but the moment their eyes met there was an unspoken understanding. Even if they couldn’t quite make out the other’s expression, even if there was no way they’d be able to hear the other if they actually spoke, they could tell how the other felt. Daedalus let himself smile at the complete, genuine joy his son was exuding. Then, making sure that Icarus was still going the right direction with him, he turned away and focused himself on flying towards the nearest island that was not the one they’d just escaped from. He could see it in the distance, not much further. They’d just have to keep going on the straight path, and they’d be there soon enough.

Icarus knew that this was the goal, to get to another island and be free. Drink fresh water, eat an olive, whatever they wanted to do. And seeing the island, so close yet so far, was only making it more exciting. 

For a long while, they simply flew. It only took Icarus a couple minutes to get the reins of the wings and figure them out. He quickly taught himself how to turn either direction, how to angle himself upwards or downwards. But he didn’t use that, of course, other than where he had to in order to direct himself in the right direction after Daedalus. He stayed close behind his father as they flew together, feeling the wind beneath his arms and breathing in the air, salty from the ocean below. 

It was then, in experimenting with the mechanics and controls of the wings, that Icarus made his mistake.

He began carefully, still heeding the warnings that Daedalus had given him. Icarus let himself glide lower, closer and closer to the water’s surface. It was gradual and considerate, not to put himself in danger. He knew the risks of getting too close, he knew that he should just stay directly behind his father. But he could still see Daedalus from where he was, a little below him now, and Daedalus was not looking back anymore. So as long as he continued to be careful, he could test the limits of the wings without them breaking. Or so he thought. 

Icarus slowly descended lower. It was almost that same feeling of free falling before, but this time much more controlled. There was not a single ounce of panic in him as he got closer to the water. The wind was rushing past him again, making it all the more exhilarating. Icarus was careful to spread the wings out as much as he could and use them the right way as to not lose control. 

When he got close enough, he could feel the water on himself. He was just low enough so that he wasn’t touching the ocean, but he could see it right there, right in front of him. The greens, the blues, the whites, the shining reflection of the sun. He could feel the cool droplets of water against his bare arms, too caught up in the pure delight of the moment to realize that the wings were being wet by the water, too.

Icarus was laughing. He was smiling. He was happier in that moment than he had ever been in his whole life. After so long being imprisoned, he felt free. This moment, being by the water, was more freedom than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t want it to end; he wanted that moment to last forever. He wished he could be suspended in time, always feeling such liberation and elation. 

Since that wish was impossible, he decided to take it a step further. 

He was already taking a major risk by allowing himself to get so close to the sea. He’d been told exactly not to do that. Icarus respected his father, loved his father, and would never intentionally go against him. But the lure of it all was too big. The feeling he got from it all was indescribable. He felt invincible. So far, Zeus had accepted their prayer for mercy in his realm and was allowing them safe passage. Maybe, Icarus dared to hope, Zeus was allowing him this moment. Maybe he was letting him risk the dangers because he understood. 

The king of Olympus was not an understanding god. But Icarus didn’t know that.

Icarus allowed himself another deep breath, breathing in the salt from the ocean, taking in the reality of the moment, before swooping back up to meet the same level as his father in the sky. Daedalus seemed not to have noticed that Icarus had done such an unsafe thing, and was continuing to fly. 

Once he was back where he was supposed to have been all along, Icarus only flew straight ahead for a minute or so until he just couldn’t resist the temptation of something different this time- not the sea, but the sun. 

Icarus looked up. If he had already gone too low without the wings being ruined, he could go a bit higher, right? Perhaps Daedalus had just been underestimating the strength of his wings. If he really had been blessed by Athena, surely they would be able to withstand a little heat from the sun. They’d survived the water, so he was certain that they’d survive the sun, too. 

So he took that risk and flew up. By this point, he had so much control over the wings, had figured out the small details with such perfection in such little time, that he knew how to raise himself higher and higher, steadily moving himself up into the sky. 

Daedalus still did not notice. He had made the mistake of trusting that his son would never be so reckless, would never be so ignorant to his own warnings. He did not look back and see that Icarus was no longer behind him. He did not know that Icarus was in fact getting so distracted and off-path that he could not even see Daedalus in the sky anymore. He did not realize that Icarus had been blinded in the most literal sense by his desires. If he had noticed, maybe he would have been able to do something to save him from himself.

Icarus, on the other hand, was relieved that his father did not realize. He knew that it would only anger him. So he could not say why he was doing it, why he was getting higher, why he was allowing himself the pleasure of attempting to reach the sun itself. It was not that he wanted to disobey his father. He did not want to go against his orders. He only wanted to have fun, and fun did he have. 

He was carried away by the moment, not realizing what he was really doing. Icarus just kept getting higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun, farther and farther from Daedalus, who remained oblivious. Icarus’ laughing had restarted again, the smiling on his face growing impossibly wider. He thought he had felt good close to the water; this was even better. The bigger the clouds and sun looked above him, the smaller everything else looked below him. He was soon able to actually feel the heat of the sun on his skin, more than one did on the ground. He could feel it on his face, like that of the flame of a candle. Warm and inviting, friendly, egging him on to get closer, convincing him that no harm could be done. He was having too much fun, being too foolish that he actually believed it. 

It stayed that way, all fun and entertaining. The pull of the sun was so incicing. The thrill of the flying itself was too great. The feeling of it all was the best thing he had ever experienced, the best high--to the most exact meaning--that he knew could ever be achieved. Icarus was, in that moment, the closest any mortal had ever been to the sun, the highest anyone had ever been in the sky. 

Icarus was the closest any mortal had been to the gods.

And he felt like a god. He felt invincible, infallible, strong, powerful, he felt unstoppable. He felt like he had become that bird that he had admired. He felt like he could fly anywhere, do anything, touch the sky. That was exactly what his mind was set on doing. 

Things didn’t change when Icarus began to smell something off. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean- no, that was long gone. He’d gone far too high for that. It was a smell that was accompanied by the sensation of something hot against his skin. Something other than the heat of the sun itself. He was so intoxicated by the pure feeling of euphoria that it took him longer than it should have for him to realize that the feeling of heat and the scent that he couldn’t put his finger on was actually coming from the wings. 

The sun was melting the wax, just as Daedalus had warned. 

Icarus didn’t stop when he felt this. He was still consumed by that sense of power and god-likeness. He didn’t want to stop, regardless of the wings melting.

Perhaps he realized that it was too late for him by then. Perhaps he realized that he was too far from the island to make it, he was flying over the middle of the ocean, not close enough to any to manage to glide himself to safety. Perhaps he realized that once the wings had begun to melt, there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he realized that he was going to die. 

So there Icarus was, flying like a bird for the first and last time. He didn’t let himself come to terms with the fact that he was not going to get that one olive, the fact that he was not going to have any of the hopeful future that had been promised to him. He did not want to be overwhelmed by the reality that he was not going to get to apologize to Daedalus for disobeying. He only wanted to continue feeling the hot sun, not the hot wax. To feel that freedom one last time. 

In what he realized to be his final moments, he let himself close his eyes. He once again did not want to see how quick he may have been falling to the ground once the wax completely melted from the wings. 

Icarus imagined himself to be the stick of a candle, the wings to be the wick, and the sun to be the flame. For a small time, the wick would burn. The candle would be alight, shining brilliantly, lighting up the space for as long as the wick could last. Until inevitably, the wick reached its end, the candle burning out. Until the wick finally died, reaching the stick of the candle and engulfing that, too, in flames. 

His laughter was the only sound echoing through the skies as he fell, the only thing alerting Daedalus that his son had flown too close to the sun and paid the price. 

***

His mind was still swimming. He could barely remember what happened, and didn't know where he was. He sat up but kept his eyes closed. But wait, he thought, that was wrong. He shouldn’t have been able to sit up. He was supposed to be dead. He shouldn’t even have a body anymore, he shouldn’t be anywhere other than the Underworld. But light was seeping through his closed eyelids, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was not in the dark depths of the Underworld. 

But then again, he’d also been certain that the wings would not melt under the sun.

Icarus reached a hand up to his forehead to try to stop it from pounding, almost losing his balance in the process. He took a deep breath, surprised that he had the capability to breathe. This was all wrong;  he had died. He remembered the wings breaking entirely and sending him crashing into the ocean below. He remembered death; he remembered the moments before it, too, when he’d accepted his fate. Where was he now, and why did he feel alive again? “Icarus.” The voice that spoke his name was one of power. It was deep, serious, demanding respect. It made his name no longer just a name, but a command. He forced himself to look up and open his eyes, squinting them at the figure before him.

It was a man, a man who somehow carried youthful features yet an expression weighed down by years upon years. A man who was completely ageless, both extremely old and extremely young. The man had blonde hair and wore a perfectly white toga that managed to still look bright white against his pale skin. He was muscular and had a strong jawline. Everything about the man was… perfect. It took Icarus a few moments to realize that the man was watching him emotionlessly with glowing golden eyes. Then he realized that all of him was glowing, he was shining like the sun.

Icarus realized that the man before him was no man at all. He was a god.

When the realization set in, Icarus forced himself to stand up, ignoring the dizziness. Maybe it was a bad decision of him to try to stand up in front of someone so powerful, he should probably have kneeled, but being sprawled across the ground half sat up was probably not very respectful, either. When Icarus stood, he let himself look around and noticed that their surroundings were essentially all white. They must have been in the sky somewhere, in the clouds. 

Icarus was so overwhelmed by the situation, not comprehending it all. He didn’t really think when he pointed his finger at the god--something he immediately regretted--and blurted the obvious:

“You’re Apollo.”

Then he quickly realized his error and tried to correct it with a sloppy bow. No one had ever taught the young Icarus how to act in front of a god. Thankfully, Apollo was not upset or insulted by the boy’s actions, though his expression remained blank. Icarus could not tell what he was thinking, and for some reason it made him anxious.

Apollo only nodded. “Indeed I am.” He watched as Icarus straightened up from his bow. Icarus felt like he was being scrutinized under the god’s divine eyes, and didn’t know whether to meet them or to look away. He was completely unprepared for this moment. “Take off those wings.”

Icarus hadn’t realized that the wings were still attached to him. They’d somehow stayed to his form into the afterlife- or at least he assumed this was the afterlife. He had no idea what was happening. Though now, the wings were mutilated. The wax had melted not entirely, but enough so they could not fly any longer. An entire part of the back was waxless, and everywhere else was either half-melted or had feathers missing. The sad remnants were clinging desperately to the now weakened frame. He obeyed Apollo’s order immediately and began fumbling to slide the leather straps off of him.

The wings fell soundlessly to the floor, which Icarus still didn’t know what that floor was. He then looked back up at Apollo, who still only stared at him. Icarus stood there uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then took the silent stare as his cue to step away. Once he did, Apollo stepped forward, leaned down, and picked up the wings, examining them with a certain detached interest. 

“Fine craftsmanship,” the god noted, looking at the slightly-terrified Icarus again. “I assume your father made them?” The boy nodded quickly. 

“Yes, he did. And I helped. Well, not with this pair but with his.” He then decided he should have left the answer at yes and not given unnecessary explanation. 

He really was a mess. 

Apollo nodded. He seemed to still not have been offended by Icarus’ unrehearsed nature. He simply spoke to him as if he were any other man, rather than a child who was both in awe and fear of the powerful being before him. Apollo turned his attention back to the wings, plucking a single feather off of them before dropping them back to the ground. Icarus cringed as he dropped them so carelessly but was afraid to say anything about it. 

“Do you know why you are here, Icarus?” The speaking of his name once again made him nervous, as Icarus felt so minor and insignificant in the presence of a god. His name didn’t deserve to be said by Apollo’s mouth; he didn’t deserve to be speaking with him. 

Icarus hesitated before answering. “Because… I died. But, forgive me if I am wrong, but this is not the Underworld.” Apollo waved his hand dismissively. 

“No, no, of course not. I would never go down there. It’s quite the opposite of my realm.”

His realm. It took Icarus a few moments to think about that. Apollo was the god of many things, he knew that. Medicine, prophecy, music, archery, the sun-

Oh. 

Icarus suddenly knew why he was there. His heart dropped to his stomach. He had been trying to do the impossible, to touch the sun. Daedalus had only been considering the god of the sky when deciding to pray for safe passage while flying. They hadn’t thought about the other gods who ruled the above, too. Had he upset Apollo with his recklessness?

“No, Icarus, you are not in the Underworld,” Apollo continued. “I stopped you on your path to Hades; I wanted to speak with you. Mortals die every minute, you see, but it’s not everyday I find one like you.” 

Icarus swallowed hard. The way Apollo spoke, he still couldn’t tell what he was thinking about this whole situation. He couldn’t tell if he really had offended him or not, and it was nerve-wracking. 

“I- I apologize if I insulted you, Lord Apollo,” he began carefully, the title sounding too formal for his young mouth. “I had no intention to.” Apollo shook his head. 

“Do not apologize. To me, at least. I am not insulted. If anything I am flattered, really. Most mortals fear the sun; they fear me. You, however, seem to have no such opinion. It was quite entertaining to watch, I will admit. Such courage you have for such a young boy. I must ask, Icarus, why do you not fear me?”

Icarus was taken aback by that statement. He had flattered the god? By being an idiot. It didn’t make any sense. Apollo should have been offended, he should have wanted to torture or hurt Icarus in his afterlife after he attempted to go beyond the mortal realm. But… he didn’t. Icarus didn’t know how to react. 

And the mention of his father, the reminder that he had gone directly against what Daedalus had instructed, hit Icarus like a punch to the gut. A reminder that he had disobeyed and gotten himself killed for it. He didn’t want to think about Daedalus just then; he wanted to figure out why and how he’d managed to flatter the god of the sun. Icarus took a deep breath. 

“I do fear you,” he admitted plainly. He didn’t know what more to say. 

Apollo was responding so casually that it made Icarus uncomfortable. He chuckled at his response, which didn’t make him feel any better- though Icarus had to admit that the sound of godly laughter was beautiful. “As you should, I suppose. But if you fear me, and I assume you must also fear death, why would you make such a rash decision and attempt to reach my sun?”

Icarus still was struggling to find the right words. He didn’t know how to explain his curiosity, it really had been an indescribable experience. The joy he’d felt in that moment was too much to ignore, he’d simply wanted to continue to go higher and higher. The skies had felt so limitless, the sun had felt so close. The consequences were unimportant as he flew, but now he was faced directly with them. 

“Because I wished to feel free.” That was the only explanation that Icarus could manage. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Free? You would have had more freedom if you hadn’t died, would you not? You gave up the rest of your life for a small taste of freedom?” 

Icarus only nodded. He was still at a loss for words, still trying to comprehend the entire interaction with someone so powerful. Apollo sighed, looking down at the small feather in his hand that he had taken from the wings. 

“Mortals are interesting creatures,” he explained. “They are born, live for so little, then die. But they find so much more to their lives. They’re born nobody, yet believe that they can become something great. It’s almost saddening to watch this endless cycle of life and death. To see the excitement in their eyes as they embark on a journey that will inevitably lead to their end. I don’t understand how you do it, how you keep yourselves so optimistic when you know that in half a century, more or less, you will be nothing more than a memory to the rest of the world.

“Mortals value their lives, no matter how insignificant. So that is why you interest me. You want to live long, you want to be important, yet you let yourself come to an early end for the sake of something as small and temporary as a fleeting feeling.” 

The god took a deep breath, running a finger down the soft feather, and looked back up at Icarus. The boy was only watching him, listening to an immortal’s perspective of mortality. If Icarus hadn’t been able to find the right words before, he was completely lost then. 

Icarus met Apollo’s gaze. The immortal was looking at him with something in his golden eyes that was noticeable now: a look of sympathy. Compassion. Perhaps even pity. 

He didn’t think a god to be capable of such human emotions. 

“I mean… I just…” Icarus tried to provide the god some explanation to his unexplainable actions. Apollo was watching him with interest as he spoke, the emotion in his expression barely there yet still noticeable. Icarus spoke slowly, his mind still turning as he explained. “I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t thinking. I had been trapped for so long… I got carried away by it all. I- I felt free, like I wanted, and I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make that feeling last forever.” 

Apollo studied the boy before him. He took note of his imperfections, his mortality. Even in death, Icarus’ hair had been ruffled from flight. His arms were red, presumably as a result of the wax melting off the wings and onto his skin. His clothes were tattered. The look on his face was one of fear and vulnerability. Apollo was used to mortals looking at him with that sense of terror, but this was somehow different. Something about Icarus’ youth and innocence. Apollo still didn’t understand how humans worked, how they managed to make such careless decisions, how they grappled with their inescapable death. But watching this young man try to explain himself, he thought that maybe once he could at least understand. 

“You are a fascinating mortal, Icarus. That is a compliment coming from me.”

Icarus swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

This entire conversation was unnerving, but he sensed a slight change in the god’s demeanor, perhaps a tinge of compassion. And he’d just been complimented by Apollo himself. He never thought that flying too close to the sun and doing exactly the opposite of what his father told him to do would lead to a compliment from one of the most powerful beings in the universe. But of the many things he was still unsure of in that moment, there was one question that came to mind:

“What will happen to me now?” He was almost afraid to ask. 

“Well,” Apollo began. “You will go to the Underworld and be judged, as all mortals are. That will determine where you spend the rest of eternity. You are not receiving any special treatment in your afterlife; I simply wanted to speak with you. And spoken with you I have.” Icarus was silent for a few moments, but then nodded slowly. But before he could give a verbal response, Apollo spoke. “Your father will mourn you greatly.”

Icarus was once again taken aback by that. He couldn’t quite tell if that was simply the god stating the obvious, or if it was some sort of order or curse, and he was too afraid to ask. “Yes, I am aware.” But Apollo’s next words surprised him yet again.

“Do you wish for him to?” 

Icarus froze. He didn’t want Daedalus to be saddened by his death, but of course he would be. His son had died, after all. It only made sense for him to mourn the loss of his own blood, the boy he had so carefully raised and loved. The child who’d become his closest partner in life. He didn’t want his father to be in grief. 

“I wish for my father to be happy.” 

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “Happiness. That is what you felt when you fell, correct? Daedalus will know that. He will know that you were happy.”

 Icarus’ eyes lit up. “You can do that?” He didn’t know if he would end up happy in the afterlife, or if he would receive punishment for being reckless. But at least in that moment, that small moment with Apollo, he was happy again. And Icarus knew that if Daedalus knew that, it would make him happy, too. Happiness was something neither of them had felt in so long. It was another feeling that had made the flight so intoxicating for Icarus.

“Yes,” Apollo said. “I can do many things.”

Then, before Icarus could express his gratitude, before he could say or do anything more, the entire moment shattered. Apollo disappeared, everything around them was gone. 

His conversation with the god was done. He was no longer in the in-between of life and death. Icarus was dead and would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would have to be judged, his eternal fate decided once and for all. 

But he would do all this with the knowledge that his father would know how he felt in those final moments. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he was happy then and now. He would enter the beginning of his afterlife knowing that eventually, Daedalus would get over the loss of his son. 

Icarus didn’t know what Apollo gained from that conversation. He didn’t understand why the god had taken such interest in him. But he did know one thing for certain:

He had died, yes, but he had felt freedom. He had found that feeling of happiness that had been missing for so long. Perhaps he had a small sense of remorse for his actions. If he hadn’t died, he would have been free with Daedalus, and they could have lived long lives together out of the tower that had confined them for so long. But in the end, he accepted his fate. He really was happy.

Because even if it killed him, he had touched the sun.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 xxcxelum

[heartthrobxhook]

Killian did observe how the other man sipped and appreciated the taste of the brandy where he had not. It was a deliciously rich drink with a sweetness that brandy was known for. Not all that special to him though. "We drink for two very different reasons." He informed the other as he set his glass down.

The story of how James rose to Commodore was quite the detailed one. Hearing of his accomplishments against pirates throughout the years left Killian with a neutral expression as he listened. They were impressive yes, but events that he had heard of and were massive blows to pirates. It seems they were both familiar with one another's reputation without knowing who had been behind it.

"Seems I've done these waters a favor putting an end to the scourge of piracy. Best you not to go sharing that in any ports we stop at, I'm sure there's plenty out there who'd want to slit your throat." Killian warned knowing that other pirates wouldn't hesitate to kill the man before him.

"The colonies..." He scoffs "Reminds me of the great roman empire, conquering lands and growing so large that it all collapses. What England wants is to control the world, the Order that we had been taught is not to create peace it's about controlling people. They don't want the masses to have free will." Killian reached for the bottle and refilled both their glasses with the dark reddish brown liquid. "Even with your promotion you were still just as trapped as the slaves in shackles."

Killian pauses to lift his glass, giving it a small swirl and taking the time to appreciate the taste with a slow sip. It was tastier than he had ititially thought as he had drank his first two quickly. "All pirates are different and have their own ways of going about things. But the one thing we all agree on is freedom. No one is ruled here, I am captain not because I wanted the position but because they chose me to lead them." He took another sip and stared at the brandy as he thought back to when he lost everything he held dear to his heart.

"I don't know how I survived that storm, but I ended on an island where these pirates took me in and nursed me back to health. This was an that you could not leave, you could sail in any direction away from it and as soon as it disappeared behind you it would reappear in front of you. They had been trapped for ages trying to find a means of escape and I helped them for what felt like ten years to find a way to leave. A heist to steal a magic bean from a flying boy to take us away from Neverland, the island where you never grow old." He uses his hook to move around the charts and pushes the one of Neverland towards James to look at. "Without me they'd still be trapped there. I saved them and they made me captain. They are my family that took me in and I take care of them in return. All this treasure you see, it's everyone's equally. I buy them the best supplies and stock my ship with good food, whatever they want or need I provide. We just plunder more than we can spend."

James observed Killian’s casual confidence. The sight of Killian downing his brandy in a single go drew a soft sigh of mock disappointment from James, who shook his head lightly.

“That,” James said, lifting his glass with practiced poise, “is not how one drinks brandy, Killian. A proper gentleman—pirate or not—must savor it. Observe.”

James brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip and letting the black cherry brandy linger on his tongue before swallowing with a quiet sigh of appreciation. He arched a brow at Killian, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “It’s a drink meant to be appreciated, not inhaled like cheap rum.”

Then came the touched smile again. "Trust," James repeated, his tone almost wistful. "I suppose we both have a bit of a complicated relationship with that word, don't we? But… I do know the kind of man you are, despite the reputation, despite the ship and the crew. "

Taking another a slow sip of his brandy, savoring both the drink and the moment. "You’ve proven yourself today especially, and I can hardly ignore that. As for backstabbing, well, if there’s one thing I can say for myself, it’s that I don’t go around betraying those who show me kindness… or who don't deserve it." At least not yet…

James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, a flicker of pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he began, James leaned back, cradling the brandy glass in his hand, pride crossing his face at Killian's question. "The promotion to Commodore," he thought aloud, "was not an overnight affair. It was the culmination of years spent commanding His Majesty's ships, capturing pirate crews, and bringing order to waters you lot seemed determined to make lawless."

He swirled the brandy in his glass, as though lost in the memory for a moment. "One contributing victory was the capture of the rum runners on what you pirates have deemed Rum Runner Island. They were a particularly evasive group—masters of slipping past blockades and hiding their operations in the labyrinth of caves along the island's shores. But we anticipated their movements, and with the help of local informants, laid a trap. A few well-placed fires in their cavern stores forced them out, right into our waiting arms. Their surrender secured one of the Caribbean's most notorious smuggling rings."

James allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and reflection. "The Crown was pleased, of course. Less smuggled rum meant more revenue in taxes for their coffers. But to me, it was about ensuring fewer weapons and contraband flowed into the hands of those who would destabilize the colonies."

He set the glass down, folding his arms across his chest as he continued. "My reputation grew further after a harrowing victory near the Windward Passage. We were outnumbered—three pirate vessels to our single frigate—but superior tactics and discipline won the day. It wasn’t without cost, though. Good men were lost in the fight, and yet their sacrifice solidified the Navy’s grip on those seas."

Another sip "That victory earned me both the respect of my peers and the ire of your kind. 'Scourge of Piracy,' they called me—because every captured flag, every destroyed vessel, meant fewer pirates preying on merchant ships and coastal towns."

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And then there was Port Royal. The crown took notice of my efforts when I was stationed there. Ensuring the colony’s safety and dealing with… persistent nuisances cemented my standing. Commodore was a natural step forward for me, if I aimed to follow in…. his… footsteps.”

One last sip, and he .. pushes the glass toward Killian. " I ah, don't suppose It would be too bold of me to ask for a refill? "

[thereisabearonmyceiling]

shaded citadel

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)