#a good woman never resents what shes meant to want more than anything

[quillkiller]

not me pulling out laura mulveys essay about visual pleasure and narrative cinema in the gc and going on about how women are always passive and men are always active in the narrative structure. we’re talking about lily evans btw! imagine having more of a buzzkill friend than me

[axeeglitter]

Back from the Vault: Forbidden Love

Luke and Nathan had always been close, best friends since kindergarten when Nathan stood up for Luke against a bully named Josh. Their bond had only grown stronger over the years, and now, as college roommates, they were inseparable. Their small apartment was a mess of dirty socks, sports gear, and magazines, but they didn’t mind. It was their first place together, and they cherished every moment.

Both were in good shape, though Nathan was more muscular, often walking around campus shirtless, much to Luke’s amusement. Luke, though less physically imposing, was proud of his friend. But when Luke met Abby during their second semester, everything changed. For Luke, it was love at first sight, and since he spent all his time with Nathan, their duo turning into a trio was inevitable. But things started to evolve as Nathan, the athletic charmer, and Abby, the spirited cheerleader, began to take an interest in each other. After a couple of weeks, without Luke noticing anything different, Nathan came home one night and announced the good news to Luke that he was no longer single.

Initially, Luke was happy for Nathan. Abby was the perfect girlfriend anyone would dream of, and even though it was painful for Luke to see his best friend live the love story he had envisioned for himself, he was glad Abby was with someone like Nathan. However, as time passed, Luke struggled to find happiness watching them spend time together and seeing their relationship evolve and deepen. He couldn’t control the thoughts that crept into his mind when he was alone, and the guilt weighed heavily on him. He knew he couldn’t betray his best friend, but his feelings for Abby and the pain of this sense of betrayal only grew stronger each day.

One night, struggling with his emotions, Luke went to a bar to drink alone. The place was dimly lit and mostly empty, save for a woman sitting at the bar, surrounded by empty martini glasses. Her presence was almost otherworldly, with a mysterious aura that drew Luke in. She wore a long, elegant black coat above a black suit, her silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes, sharp and filled with unsettling wisdom, never left his as he approached.

Luke sat down next to her, ordered a drink, and before he knew it, he was spilling his heart out to her, confessing his unrequited love for Abby and his growing resentment toward Nathan, thanks to more beers than he could count. The woman listened in silence, her gaze never wavering from Luke’s face. When he finished, she smiled, a thin, knowing smile that sent a chill down his spine.

“I’ve seen men like you before,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Men who want what they can’t have. Men who let jealousy consume them. Men who dream their lives instead of living their dreams.”

Luke shuddered, suddenly feeling as though he was in the presence of something far more powerful than he had anticipated. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he felt tears of frustration beginning to rise in his exhausted eyes.

The woman reached into her bag and pulled out a small, ornate vial filled with a strange, shimmering liquid. The liquid seemed to pulse with a life of its own, shifting colors from deep violet to bright emerald as she held it up to the light.

Luke hesitated as he held the strange vial the old woman had given him. He looked into her eyes, seeking some explanation for what this potion would do. The bar was dimly lit, and the shadows played tricks on his mind, making her seem more otherworldly with each passing moment.

The woman leaned in closer, her voice a low whisper. "This potion is powerful, but it won’t work on its own. You must mix it with alcohol, something strong, something your friend would drink willingly. Once he consumes it, his transformation will begin."

"Transformation?" Luke asked, unsure of what she meant. "What will happen to him?"

The woman smiled enigmatically, her eyes gleaming with a mix of sympathy and something darker. "He will change, Luke. Everything will change into something else, something that will remove the pain you feel, something that will ease it, something that will be useful and loved, cherished by the masses and needed by the world. He will change into something greater, and you will get your desires. But be warned: once the transformation starts, there’s no turning back. He will become anything that the potion sees fit, and you will finally live your dreams instead of dreaming your life," the mysterious woman said in an eerie voice. Luke could hear echoes of her voice resonating in his mind as his vision was blurred by the alcohol and the tears.

Luke swallowed hard, his mind racing with possibilities. He wanted Nathan out of the way, yes, but he hadn’t thought through what that truly meant. Still, the jealousy and frustration gnawed at him, and the idea of finally having Abby to himself was too tempting to resist.

"How… how do I control it?" Luke asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"You don’t," the woman replied. "The potion will cater to his master’s needs, his deepest desires. It will bend reality to fit what he truly wants. But remember, Luke: once it’s done, it’s done. There is no undoing what you will set in motion."

Luke nodded, unsure of what to say. He took the vial on the counter, his head tilted, his sight lost in the shimmering emerald and purple glitters of this liquid hope. “I don’t even know your… name,” Luke asked, but as he tilted his head, he realized the woman was not there anymore, leaving him alone at the bar. The bartender claimed not to have seen her, and Luke wondered if he had imagined the entire encounter. But the vial in his hand was real, and the temptation was too great to resist.

When he returned to the apartment, Abby was asleep in Nathan’s arms. Her head was resting on Nathan’s shirtless chest, her shoulders hugged by his hairless, muscled body. A wave of jealousy and anger washed over him. His hand tightened around the vial in his pocket as it started to glow with a faint green light. This was the last straw for Luke, and the potion activated to this feeling of jealousy and loneliness.

The next morning, while Abby was still asleep, Luke approached Nathan in the bathroom as he got ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you free tonight? I want to have a few beers with you, just the two of us,” Luke suggested, trying to sound casual. Nathan, a bit surprised but touched by the offer, was about to decline when Luke started again. “I don’t want to be sentimental or anything, but you are my best friend, and I just want to have a night like the good old days. We are growing up, and I don’t want time and relationships to put distance between us. I miss you, bro…” Touched by that, Nathan couldn’t say no. He looked into Luke’s eyes and realized that Luke was sincere, even more so because he never opened up about his feelings like that. Nathan smiled before answering, “Sure, man. It’s been a while since we hung out, just us.”

That night, as Luke and Nathan sat in the bar, Luke couldn’t shake the woman’s warning. He had mixed the potion into Nathan’s beer just as instructed, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and fear. They laughed, clinking glasses as they always had before saying in unison, “Bottoms up!” Luke forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside him, watching intently as Nathan downed the beer in one long gulp. As they continued to drink and laugh, Luke almost forgot about the potion. For a brief moment, everything was like it used to be: him and his best friend laughing, talking about everything and anything, and remembering their good old days. Luke started to notice subtle changes in Nathan. His movements became sluggish, his speech slightly slurred—nothing out of the ordinary after a few beers, but Luke realized it was more than that, and a deep feeling of joy started to rise inside him. His past was with Nathan, but his future would be with Abby. Nathan jumped off his chair all of a sudden and started to walk as best he could to the empty bathroom. By the time he reached it, he was struggling to stay on his feet, his head spinning uncontrollably. "Bro, are you okay?" Luke asked, feigning concern as he followed Nathan with calm, unbothered steps. Nathan groaned, gripping the sink for support. "I don’t know… something feels off. Like… like I’m burning up inside." Luke’s heart raced as he saw Nathan’s skin begin to redden, almost as if it were boiling from within. Sweat poured down Nathan’s face, his body trembling as he sank to his knees on the grimy tiles. "What’s happening to me?" Nathan gasped, his voice strained with pain. “I don’t know, bro, maybe you drank too much…” answered Luke as he saw Nathan’s transformation starting to appear.

Suddenly, Nathan screamed in pain as he felt his spine starting to hurt. A crack, and another one, then one more, again, and again, and again. Nathan felt like each of his vertebrae started to separate from each other before growing and thickening. The pain was awful, and for a moment, Nathan couldn’t breathe anymore. He fell on the grimy ground in front of the sink and tilted his head toward Luke with a pleading and terrified look. He needed help, but as he opened his mouth to call for his friend, a new series of cracks started to resonate in his bones. Nathan looked in front of him as his feet started to crack. His favorite pair of shoes felt constricting. It was almost like something was crawling inside as he saw the leather starting to boil, and then, with one loud ripping sound, his shoes vanished into dust, leaving his transforming bare feet on the cold tiles. His toes started to crack, elongate, and thicken. His feet started to grow thicker and longer as he went from a size 42 to a 47 in a couple of seconds. They looked way too big and disproportionate now, and as his nerves started to grow in them, he knew that it was only the start of something far worse. Nathan tilted his head once again with tears of pain in his eyes and found the strength to ask for help. But as the tears were starting to fall on his rosy cheeks, the only thing he saw was the vicious smile of his childhood friend.

“Do you know how hard it is to dream of something and never be able to get it? Do you know how hard it is to always stay in the shadow? Out of all the people on this planet, I really thought you were the one who would always be there for me. But instead, you ended up being the one that caused me to suffer the most. You remember how things were easy before? How we were happy and spending time together? Bros before hoes, right? Well, I think you forgot, and the worst part is, I can’t even blame you. Abby is a pearl. She is kind, talented, beautiful, smart. She is everything. And you knew I had feelings for her the moment my sight landed on her. But no, as always, you have everything, and I stood there, watching you live the love story I deserved. If at least you were still spending time with me, things would have been easier. But no! You had the perfect girlfriend, the perfect college life, and I stood there begging for crumbs of the life we could have had together. The best years of our lives, right? I don’t see how this can be the best. Standing in your shadow and sharing a bathroom as bonding time. Well, tonight it changes. Tonight, I get what I want. And you’ll finally understand what it feels like to dream your life instead of living your dreams,” said Luke with a sigh full of anger and pain.

Nathan realized at that moment that he wouldn’t be able to get any help from Luke because he was the one that caused it. As he tried to get up on his bigger, larger feet, a new pain appeared in his legs, and he crashed back on his hands and knees as the same thing started to happen to his pants. They started to boil, and all of a sudden, they exploded into dust as he stood there in his underwear with his hands next to the toilet seat. His legs started to boil—the bones shattering and reforming into stronger, thicker ones. His muscles boiled and reformed into massive ones that could crush watermelons between them.

Then the same phenomenon happened with his shirt and torso. All of a sudden, he was nearly naked in the dimly lit bathroom. His new muscled body glistened with drops of sweat and tears of pain as the final cracks echoed against the tiles. His new stronger, calloused hands stood still on the cold floor.

Nathan took a moment to realize the cracking had stopped, and he spasmed as he could breathe a bit better now that his ribs were done rearranging. He blinked and his back contracted as he tried to get up, but as he put his new sole on the ground, he felt Luke’s hand on his muscle-spasming back, forcing him back onto his hands and feet.

“I don’t think you are ready yet,” Luke said with anger in his voice as he realized a new change starting to unfold in the center of Nathan’s back.

Out of nowhere, Nathan started to feel a stinging sensation in his back where Luke saw the start of the change. Then, just like a wave crashing on the shore, the sensation began to grow and move all around in a circular motion, leaving in its wake a more golden natural brown tan. As the wave of stinging started to reach the front of his body, Nathan realized, screaming in fear, as his pale white skin began to change to a natural golden tan. As the wave passed through his muscled pecs, his nipples took on a brown cherry hue. Then, as the wave finally reached his legs and hands, Nathan turned his hands to look at his palms, noticing a faint demarcation as the inside of his hands was taking on a lighter golden tan than the rest of his body. The tingling then started to get worse in some areas of his body. His armpits, legs, pecs, happy trail and crotch began to burn. It was as if he were being burned alive, and sweat started to pour out of his pores, but instead of water, millions of tiny follicles of dark, dense hair began to be activated by the wave of change. Nathan felt the hair starting to scratch against his new sensitive skin, and he could even see some of his thick pit hair spilling out of his pits.

Nathan’s breath was intense and fast. He felt the transformation moving, and he was frozen in pain and fear as he felt the wave finally reach the base of his neck.

As it started to move, his face began to change. His lips started to grow and inflate as they took on a natural cherry color. Then his nose cracked and reformed into a stockier, bigger version of its old appearance. Nathan could smell a faint odor of blood as his sinuses cleared and grew into a bigger cavity, resulting in a better sense of smell. Then his eyes were touched by the stinging sensation as his vision went white. For a moment, Nathan thought he was blind as the wave was rewriting his eye color and sight, changing from blue eyes with fairly normal eyesight to a deep, velvety chocolate color and perfect sight, protected by thick dark eyebrows. All of a sudden, it was as if Nathan could see the world in high definition. The minimal details of his tanned skin on the back of his hand were clear; he could see the definition of his skin pores and the smallest grain of dust on the white tile beneath them. He would have screamed in surprise and joy if it weren’t for the wave moving on even further, engulfing his scalp and his dirty blonde hair, transforming them into wavy, almost curly black long ones after what a beard started to grow on his new masculine cheeks.

The stinging wave was finally done, and all of Nathan’s skin was now a natural golden tan, leaving him from a white Caucasian to a perfectly tanned Latino man.

Out of nowhere, as Nathan heard Luke laughing behind him, he found the strength to get up and pushed Luke against the tiled wall with his forearm against his neck.

“What have you done?! Turn me back! Now!” Nathan screamed in a menacing tone at what he thought was his best friend.

But all he heard in return was Luke laughing as he realized Abby wouldn’t be able to recognize Nathan’s new physical form. For a brief moment, Luke thought his problems were gone and he’d finally be able to be the main character of his life.

“It’s okay, bro. You might be angry right now, and it’s totally normal, but look at you—you have a perfectly muscled Latino body now. You literally look like a Mexican god. The world is yours, and you can have anyone, anyone except Abby, of course.” As Luke finished his sentence, he saw Nathan open his mouth with anger and tears of betrayal in his eyes. He looked at his best friend in the eyes and there he saw it—a shimmer of purple and emerald green light that turned some kind of light off inside Nathan’s brain.

As he was about to talk again, Nathan felt his strength leaving him. His grip on Luke weakened, his head started to spin, and he almost fell back on the ground if he hadn’t found support on the sink.

“Come on, bro, don’t try to trick me now. Look, I know it was maybe a bit too far, but look at your body. You should thank me, honestly. Have you seen your muscles?” said Luke in a genuine tone, not realizing Nathan was going through another transformation. After a couple of seconds, where Luke continued to explain how this could be a chance for Nathan, he realized he wasn’t getting any responses. Doubts began to rise in his mind as he asked in a genuinely concerned tone, “Bro, are you okay?” Luke felt fear rise in his heart as he saw Nathan’s head tilt in the mirror and noticed the same green and purple hue shimmer in his eyes' reflection. “What the fuck is that?” Luke thought loudly as he saw the shimmer disappear, leaving Nathan’s eyes lost and searching for answers. They didn’t know what was about to happen.

Nathan started to see flashes of memories in front of him: his parents, Abby, Luke and him in kindergarten, football games, his favorite movies. It was as if his life was flashing in front of him before being stuck in a distant place, still there but harder to reach, present but not as vivid as it had been. Nathan was slowly losing the grip of his reality as he realizes his body was getting harder and harder to control, he could feel his body gripping the sink and moving his head but was not able to control those actions. Then he heard it, a thick deep manly voice with a Latino accent in it.

“Is everything okay?” Luke asked again as he took a step closer to the sink.

"J-Javier," Nathan stammered in a low, almost inaudible tone, his voice now laced with a heavy Spanish accent. "My name is… Javier."

Luke felt a stab of guilt twist in his gut as he watched Nathan’s memories and identity slip away, replaced by the persona the potion was molding. "What are you talking about, Nathan? Don’t play with me,” said Luke as he took another step forward. But as Nathan tilted his head up, Luke saw the same purple and emerald green shimmer in the mirror reflection of Nathan’s eyes as it vanished once more. “Nathan, no… Stop playing with me, say something," Luke said again, with a concerned look.

Javier shook his head, still trembling from the lingering pain. "No… I’m Javier, I’m… your bro... Nathan… getting hard to control... Ja… I can’t fight… Javier’s stronger… I feel… everything… Help me… I…."

Luke’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the full extent of what he had done. Nathan was being erased from reality in favor of this new Javier identity—someone entirely different, molded by Luke’s subconscious desires and the power of the potion.

Luke tried to find a way to stop this, as he didn’t want it to go this far, but Javier was already stronger than what was left of Nathan’s mind, his new body fully formed. He felt a warm tingling around his crotch as the dust left from his previous attire started to agglomerate and create a floral swim short, the fabric barely containing his newly enlarged cock. The dust then moved around his neck and wrist as it turned into necklace and a bracelet before going on his right forearm where it agglomerated under his skin to form an intriguing tattoo design shimmering with purple and green before fading to a neutral black and grey. He looked at Luke with a mix of camaraderie and newfound confidence before scratching his balls and putting his cock in place and moved closer to Luke.

"Bro, I’ve gotta get back to work. Always nice meeting fans, even more when they are as sexy as you. Hope you enjoyed this moment as much as I did." Javier said, his accent thick and natural as he kissed tenderly Luke on the cheek and adjusted his thickening erection contained in his way to short shorts.

Before Luke could respond, Javier pushed open the door and stepped out of the bathroom into the bar. Instead of finding it busy with college guys drinking and cheering on a football match, Luke was assaulted by thumping bass, guys cheering, pulsating lights dancing on the walls, and what looked like a stage with a pole dance bar on it. Javier strutted onto the stage, the crowd cheering as he began to dance, his every movement a testament to his new identity.

Luke stood frozen in the bathroom, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He had wanted to get rid of Nathan, but he hadn’t anticipated the cost: the loss of his friend and the creation of a new reality where Javier now existed in his place.

As he staggered out of the very busy club, a woman dressed in a sharp black suit appeared beside him with a martini glass in her hand, her eyes gleaming with unsettling wisdom.

"You did well," she said, her voice filled with dark satisfaction. "Javier will thrive here. He was made for this life."

Luke’s stomach churned with guilt and regret as he realized the woman was the one he had met at the bar, except this time she looked much younger than when they met the day before. "How is it possible? How are you so young?” Luke asked in a surprised and intrigued way. The women only took a sip of her glass with a faint smile and her skin started to glow before starting to tighten around her face. In a mere instant she looked a couple of years younger, now being in her early 40’s.

“You see,” she started to talk in a calm way, “if there is something you can’t stop, it’s time. But fortunately, I found plenty of years ago a way to buy some. You didn’t only force your best friend in an unwilling life, no… You gave me all the happy years he could have gotten. And let me tell you, they are … tasty!” she finished as she took another sip.

Luke realized that she wasn’t drinking martini but Nathan’s life force: “But… it wasn’t supposed to go this far. I wanted him to change in order to get Abby, not turn him into… this for you to take everything from him. You said all I had to do was think about what my heart desired. I didn’t want that; he is my best friend, and I’m not a monster. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I wanted him out of the picture, that’s all. Not erasing him from existence and my life."

The woman’s smile was cold, almost pitiful, as she began in a serious, very calm tone. "You got what you wanted, Luke. Nathan is not a problem anymore, and you are finally able to be with Abby. For the transformation, though, I never said Nathan would transform into what your heart desired. I said he would transform into what the master of the potion wanted, and you were never the master. It was me all along. And what I really needed was a new gay Latino Gogo dancer for my club. Now, thanks to you, Javier belongs to me. He will dance here, night after night, for as long as I wish. And you… you must live with the consequences of your actions. See? Everybody respected their promises. But I’m not a monster. Nathan is still alive; he just doesn’t have the game control anymore. Think of him like a VIP passenger on the cruise that is his life now."

Luke turned and looked back at the stage, where Javier was lost in the rhythm of the music as men of all ages were throwing money bills at him. His body moved with a confidence that had never been Nathan’s as he grabbed his tight swim short and started to remove it in front of everyone, letting his manly Latino cock out for everyone to enjoy the view. The reality of what Luke had done settled heavily in his chest.

As the woman turned to go back into her club, Luke grabbed her arm, desperation in his voice. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

She pulled her arm free with a calm, calculated grace. "I am the owner of this club. And this is how I recruit my dancers: through the greed, envy, and lust of men like you."

Luke’s eyes widened as the truth hit him. He had been manipulated, led down a path of destruction by his own darker impulses. And now, Nathan—no, Javier—was lost to him forever. As Luke was about to beg one more time for things to be returned to normal, he felt his phone in his pocket vibrate. As he took it out, he saw a picture of himself and Abby kissing on the beach. He opened the new message he had just received, only to read from Abby <3: “Where are you? It was movie night tonight. Did you forget? Come back, I miss you…”

Luke turned once again in the direction of the club and watched as the metallic door shut closed on the laughing woman before starting to morph into a thick brick wall, muting the music and the cheers of the customers. The club was gone forever, never to be seen again.

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Hey everyone! As I mentioned before, I'll continue releasing new, refined versions of the stories I published before they were taken down.

I hope you enjoy this new version of Forbidden Love—I absolutely loved working on it.

As always, feel free to share your thoughts by sending me DMs or messages. Your likes and reports are much appreciated!

A big thank you to @tf-vigilante for helping with the pictures.

Let me know if you'd like a continuation of this story, or any of the others I've posted. Don't hesitate to send me your ideas—I always enjoy reading them, and I'll do my best to bring your vision to life.

Until then, take care of yourselves, and see you real soon with more new content! ;)

[heartpascal]

can we get more father figure joel? You know when Ellie killed the David, and then Joel comforted her? Maybe that but instead of Ellie it’s the reader, thank you <3

i am good

▹ joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you.

▹ — a/n: ok first request i hope it’s ok!! i know its kinda similar to the game but erm. its reader and joel this time!! and reader is much much less ok with the whole. murder thing but its ok bc joel is there to fix it &lt;3 yes he is your dad no you don’t get a choice he has decided it

▹ — warnings: allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens but the intention was there), vivid descriptions of murder, reader is misled and attacked, similar to the game with ellie (so kinda spoilers?), joel is ready to kill for you (and does), lots of blood, tears, father figure joel, lots of angst and upset, vomiting

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Getting air into your lungs was proving to be one of the hardest things you’d had to do for a long time, which, considering the journey you’d been on, was shocking. The act of simply breathing should have come easily to you, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not as you saw the reflection of your own bloodied face in the knife that was held up, a clear threat polluting the air.

You knew you had probably been lucky to even make it as far as you had — born into a world full of death and chaos and infection, you were bound to meet your gruesome end some day, but you didn’t want to die.

For the first time in a long time, your chest ached for the breath you couldn’t seem to provide, the want, the need to live almost suffocating you on its own. You had someone now, someone who cared whether you survived or not, who felt like you deserved even a glimpse at a happy ending, even if he didn’t like to state those things out loud.

Resentment was growing in your stomach, filling you with the need to be sick. Why did you always have to listen to the words Joel didn’t say, rather than the ones he did say? If you had just listened, conserved your trust for those who actually earned it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

When your hunting escapades had led you into a small horde of infected, you had just blindly put your faith in the aging couple who came to your aid, not thinking of what they might want for their troubles. You’d never had to escape without Joel’s help before, and you quickly discovered you weren’t all that good at it.

The two of them had dragged you back to their nearby settlement which they shared with a couple dozen others, all whilst you were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, your resolve fading each time they hit you to near unconsciousness. When they passed by a young man stood beside an older lady, you had called out to them, “Please, help me, please.”

“Gotta get something in return for the gear we wasted saving her ass,” the man had snickered to the two of them as glanced at the couple, just nodding at his words before turning back to their conversation.

You’d been knocked out when they approached a large community house, just getting a glimpse of the carpeted floor before the woman had struck her gun against the side of your head.

You had woken up in the middle of a chilled room, your arms straining with effort as you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing the woman holding a knife towards you. You couldn’t be sure how long it had been since they’d taken you, not with the way your stomach clenched with pain. The whole reason you’d been out there was to solve that, but you were sure that it had gotten worse.

“Listen, please,” your scratchy voice came out, much quieter than you had meant for it to be, “I—I can get you replacements for everything you used, but you gotta let me go.”

“We don’t gotta do anything, girl.” The lady snickered, as if even you saying such a thing was amusing. It made you feel small, powerless.

She got up, hearing her name being called, Cheryl, you noted, and sneered at you. Her skin was dull, and she looked vaguely ill, but that didn’t change anything about her threatening demeanour. At least one thing you’d taken from travelling with Joel was never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small, or ill, or kind they may appear to be.

Her hand grazed your face as she strode past, “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she was complimenting you, “You’ll do nicely. We’ll both enjoy you.”

You managed to avoid throwing up until she left the room, hearing a lock click into place. All that came up was bile, the clench of your stomach just becoming sharper afterwards. Your muscles felt weak, likely beginning to waste away with you having been inactive for a little while and injured, less energy wasted on muscle cells and more going into fighting off the infections that were likely trying to poison your blood.

Scanning the room, like Joel would’ve advised you to, you found nothing of much use to you. An old rickety chair, perhaps, but that would only help you if you could lift it, and you weren’t convinced you had the strength left within you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

Something deep in your chest nagged at you, the longing for Joel, probably. He had saved you on countless occasions, and you could only hope that it had been long enough that he had finally gotten worried. It seemed likely, he really did worry a lot for a man who wasn’t meant to care, but then there was the factor of him finding you, managing to take down all the people in the settlement that might fight to protect each other and—

You took a deep breath, finally feeling your lungs expand and take in some oxygen, and pulled yourself from the ground, keeping the bile that threatened to rise down as the nausea hit you.

The chair was lighter than you expected it to be, the insides of the wooden frame likely rotten away, and you managed to pull it towards the door, waiting beside it with shallow breaths. When the lock finally began to click open, you raised the lightweight chair as high as you could, and smacked it down against the person who entered the room. Splinters flew from it as it impacted, and you heard the clatter of metal as a tray they carried hit the ground with them.

Food, maybe, to keep you alive for… whatever it was that they had planned for you, you reasoned, but didn’t look to check. Instead, you grabbed a mostly-intact leg of the chair that caused splinters to dig into your palm, and stepped over the body of the man who had taken you, exiting quickly.

Footsteps hurried you, and you ducked behind a booth as they approached the room you were being kept in. There were lanterns lit all around the room, giving it a warm look that greatly contrasted the cold air and feel it had.

“Shit!” Cheryl cursed, and you saw her bend down to check on the man from over the top of your booth. A radio crackled though the air, before, “Lewis is down, the girl’s out. Anybody got eyes?”

Your fingers shook and you gripped on to the booth to stop them, hearing the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end of the radio, “She ain’t got out, yet, she’s gotta be in there with you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cheryl replied, her cold voice sending shivers down your back, “I’ve got her.”

The drag of Lewis’ clothes against the floor made you peak your head up, seeing her drag him into the room, before she exited and locked him inside. You ducked back down, heart hammering. You couldn’t escape from them in an open forest — how would you get out of a locked down building?

“Come on out, kid. It’s okay, you just gotta start behaving yourself.” She called, her slow footsteps failing to mask the sound of her unsheathing her knife. It wasn’t okay, it was very far from okay, you would argue, and you could feel that crushing fear of death pushing down on your shoulders, your chest constricting once again.

You tried to reassure yourself — you had faced countless amounts of infected and come out on the other side, what was one woman with very bad intentions? But it didn’t make you feel better, not when it was another human, who could feel exactly what you felt.

Her footsteps approached, and you leaped from where you were in the booth, trying to run as far away from her as fast as you could, but she caught up to you with surprising ease, your muscles clearly weaker than initially thought, and she grasped the back of your shirt, pulling you to a stop as you fell to the ground.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You cried out as she knelt down, one knee beside you and another pressing against your stomach, knife approaching your throat as soon as she settled you firmly against the carpet. It was red.

“You could’ve made this real easy for all of us,” she muttered your name, and you froze, having forgotten the way you’d yelled it out to them in the midst of the battle. “Be a good girl, now.”

You heard gunfire outside, and when her face glanced toward the guarded front door, you twisted underneath her, pushing yourself away to find enough room to kick the knee against the floor out from under her. She fell, her chin hitting the ground with a satisfying crack, and when she cried out, anger overcame you.

“You were gonna hurt me,” You said aloud, almost as if it was a realisation, rather than just fact. Your eyes hardened, gaze going red as you snatched the knife from her weakened grip. She reached out to try and snatch it back, but only got the drops of your blood that fell from the blade as you held onto it, twisting it until you finally held the handle. “Why— why were you going to hurt me?”

Her response didn’t filter through your ears, and the rage at how easily she and Lewis were going to do it pulsed, making your vision go blurry. When she sat up, tumbling forward to take you down again, you swiped her own knife until you felt the drag of something resisting it, and then you pulled harder, feeling something warm gushing down your hand.

Cheryl’s breath stuttered slightly, her hands rising to her chest as she groaned in pain. You looked down to your hands, where they were coated in a red that was darker than the carpet below them, and you were so lost that you didn’t notice her hand coming below yours, hitting it so hard that the knife went flying to the other end of the carpet.

Like a reflex, your fists came down on her face, feeling the shift of bones beneath your knuckles as they shattered upon contact. You didn’t stop, too wrapped up in the fact that you didn’t want to die, that she was going to hurt you, to kill you when she was done, she was going to tear you apart and throw away the pieces, she was going to take away what little humanity had left, she—

Arms pulled you away from the body beneath you, arms much stronger than your own, and you screamed, yelled out with your broken voice, “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, get off of me! I’ll kill you!”

The person shushed you, only holding tighter as you thrashed, turning away from Cheryl where she… wasn’t breathing. You stopped, tense muscles in your body going slack and burning as you stared at her, at her body, lifeless and covered in blood.

“Kid, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” said the person holding you— said Joel. Your hands dropped from where you had scratched his forearm, his arm covered in blood — though whether it was his, or Cheryl’s, or yours, you didn’t know.

He loosened his grip on you, eyebrows creased in concern as your entire body slipped when he moved his arms away, as if you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

“No… she— it wasn’t, I didn’t—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, the words dead on your tongue, because you didn’t what? Didn't mean to kill her?

Joel followed your blank eyes to the body he’d pulled you from, and he turned your head towards him quickly, eyes hard. “No.” He said, and at your somewhat confused expression, he continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Joel, I—”

“No,” he repeated, and pulled your head towards him, keeping you looking away from Cheryl as a gunshot rang through the room, echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear Joel at first, as he held up the smoking gun for you to see, “—killed her, see? I killed her.”

“They were going… they wanted to—” You choked on the words, feeling that bile come creeping back up your throat, and you lurched away from Joel as it came out, feeling him pull your hair back from your face.

Something in his eyes settled, however, at the choice of word you’d used — they. So this body wasn’t the only one in here? His question was answered by a bang at a door on the other side, the way your entire body flinched at the sound.

The door splintered, and a battered man came tumbling out, hurrying over to where he could see people crowded. His face went red, and he began to shout, “You fucking bitch—!”

Joel shot one between the eyes, and the man crumpled before he could get anything else out. He turned back to you, to where you were hunched in on yourself. He shoved his gun back in its rightful place, and held your cheeks between his hands, gunpowder residue transferring to your skin.

“Do you hear me?” His muted voice said, and you looked up to his face with a confused shake of your head, “It was you or them, and the only answer is you.”

“But, Joel,” you were interrupted, and he wiped the underneath of your eye of a tear that you hadn’t even known had fallen.

“No. You listen to me, remember?” Joel affirmed, and you nodded, the tears falling more now that you’d acknowledged them, your hands shaking as you tried to look past Joel, but he just pulled your face back to him. “I’ve got you, kid. Keep your eyes on me.”

You turned your face into his neck as you all but threw yourself into his arms, and they wrapped around you like they’d been waiting to do so. You missed his pained expression at the words, and the way heartache burrowed in his chest as he stood the two of you up, his knees clicking.

He swept you up, as if you were the smallest and lightest thing he’d carried in years, and he carried you away, your eyes staying glued to him as the two of you left behind the carnage he’d caused in looking for you.

[muddyorbsblr]

winter warmers collection: all wrapped up

See all the Winter Warmers pieces here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: After getting in hot water with Fury about his shenanigans that revolve around candy cane, you give Loki some advice on how to seduce someone if he really wants to go down the red and white striped road. Even if it hurt you to do so.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+ | unrequited love-themed angst; smut (minors and pearl clutchers i better not see you here if you know what's good for you); p in v; oral (f receiving)

Things to be aware of: besties to lovers; some fluff peppered in there to keep it interesting

"A Team, I swear on God, Allah, and whoever else is up there in that great big blue sky that if I catch wind of one more infraction from Laufeyson, I will forbid him from exiting this floor without at least one member of the team chaperoning him to make sure that this shit will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

You all looked up at Fury, who was standing at the top of the stairs whereas the rest of you parked yourselves into the seats strewn about in the common room. He exuded irritation and authority in his all black getup topped with a leather trench coat, looking down at each member of the team as if you were rambunctious toddlers who had a food fight in the dining room around the fine china rather than fully grown adults rightfully confused why once again he was giving a lecture on how to handle Loki.

"Director Fury, with all due respect, what exactly did Loki do this time?" you queried, not daring to look a the raven haired god by the island currently engaged in a hushed conversation with his brother Thor. You suspected it had something to do with his notorious flirting ways with the employees of SHIELD anyways.

"Let's start with the most frequent complaints I've been hearing," the director began while descending the stairs. "He's been dressing up in a red and white striped skin-tight neoprene jumpsuit and asking employees if they wanna--Hold on, you two!" He pointed at Parker and Bishop who were sitting closer to the door, Kate carrying Stark's little girl in her lap. "Out of the room. You're too young to hear this. Take Morgan with you."

"Well shit," the little Stark uttered, making everyone turn their heads toward Tony as the three children made their way out of the common room.

"What can I say she takes after her father," Stark proudly said with an exaggerated shrug. "Continue, matey."

"I resent that," Fury shot back. "As I was saying, neoprene red and white suit, approaching employees and asking if they would like to lick his candy cane." As soon as the words flew out of Fury's mouth, Sam and Bucky broke out into fits of laughter, asking Loki if he could lend them some of his shamelessness.

You did your best to ignore the irrational white hot needles of jealously spearing through your heart at the unsurprising knowledge that yes, this meeting was about the god once again sexually propositioning anything and anyone with two legs. Of course he would constantly try with every single person he could come across. Of course he was never satisfied with whoever he brought to bed that weekend; hell, with the mental tally you kept, you found that a woman was lucky if she was even brought back for a second time.

It wasn't even like this behavior took you by surprise. Thor had once regaled you with stories of how virile his brother had been in the parties they had back in Asgard. How many princes, princesses, debutantes, and dignitaries he had corrupted in his chambers.

The blond Asgardian meant well, of course, only trying to get you all to see his brother as something more than the possessed version of himself that the initial 6 members fought back in 2012. His ridiculous stories even paved the way for you to be able to strike a conversation with the god of mischief when he did arrive on Earth, eventually giving you both the opportunity to be quite good friends.

And yet it still stung whenever you had to reconcile with the reality that that was your ceiling; that was all you'd ever be. The friend he could conspire with to play pranks on the rest of the team, the one he could drag along to try out restaurants that you just knew he was going to bring a date to as soon as you gave your thumbs up. The cuddle buddy at movie nights with the team where he'd get so bored he ended up asleep with his head resting on your shoulder.

You had all those parts of him that he never shared with any of those other people. That should be enough. That was enough.

Except for the days when you'd get constantly reminded that it meant you didn't have all of him. You simply got the rest of him when those people who shared his bed had concluded with getting the best of him. And today, with Fury holding over the threat of undergoing a two-day seminar on sexual harassment over the heads of every member of the team? Today was definitely one of those days.

"Director Fury, let me be the one to sincerely apologize for my brother's infractions. I assure you that we will not allow for this to happen again," Thor announced, walking over to Fury and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm holding you to this," he addressed the god, before turning his gaze to roam over everyone in the room. "All of you." And then he walked out of the room, shaking his head as his leather trench coat trailed behind him almost like a cape.

"Mischief, you idiot," you grumbled, storming up and out of your seat and marching toward the stairs. "Why did you have to do that in public?" You ignored the amused smirk on his face at how you chose to cap off your question. "I mean if you really wanted to seduce someone the red and white neoprene was not the way to go. You wanna seduce a chick? Show up in her bed with nothing but red ribbon wrapped around you like you're the goddamn present, and if you really insist on the candy cane thing then spiral the ribbon along the length of your--Wait hold the fuck up why am I enabling this??"

"Doll face, please keep enabling this," Bucky joked from his seat, earning glares from everyone in the room. "What? I mean I figured if I wanna up my game with beautiful women I should consult the most beautiful woman I know," he explained, motioning toward you. The honesty in his words brought a smile to your face without much effort. Why couldn't you just get over your stupid infatuation with your friend and go for someone who was actually outspoken in wanting to be with you?

"Alright," you relented with an exaggerated sigh. "Just for you, Sergeant." He leaned forward to make a show of him listening intently to your next words. "Find a way to sneak in music. If she's into the campiness of the holiday, then use one of those sexy sounding Christmas songs. And for fuck's sake, ready a drink or a snack or something. You both will be exhausted and she'll appreciate that you actually bothered to think about aftercare."

"And what about the ones who just wanna hump 'em and dump 'em like your bestie Mischief here?" Sam's words simultaneously caused Loki to let out a low grumbling sound in the veteran's direction, as well as unleashed a fit of cackles from you.

"Truly, darling?" Loki deadpanned, the slightest lilt in his voice toward the end.

"I mean you do have that reputation, Mischief," you said through your giggles. "But honestly, Sam? Do it anyway. Choose violence and ruin her for everyone else but you."

Your words broke the room out into raucous applause as you made a show of curtsying and blowing kisses to the other members of the team. "Now see here, if you actually took the time to listen to her, Jack Frost, then maybe Fury wouldn't have threatened us with a two-day seminar," Tony remarked, immediately returning your sour mood.

"Literally nobody here needs a two-day seminar on what constitutes as sexual harassment," you seethed, leaning against the nearby wall. "We know that when the pipi's shown without consent that counts. We know that if someone puts their hands on us or makes inappropriate comments when we've shown no tangible signs of attraction and interest, that that absolutely counts." You glared at the raven haired Asgardian who was currently approaching you slowly. "Loki if I have to sit through two days of people spelling out the exceedingly obvious to me because you couldn't keep it in your pants, I swear on you, Thor, and every other deity there is out there that I will cut someone--"

You words were cut off as the god tugged on your wrist and pulled you into his arms, his free hand cradling the back of your head. "I know. I know, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would hold consequences for you as well. It will not happen again."

"Agent Y/L/N, you should be out celebrating with your friends. At least your team. They're all already upstairs getting ready to exchange gifts. The paperwork can wait for the new year, I guarantee you everybody will be too drunk off their ass to even file them correctly. You'd be doing them a favor handing them in late."

You looked at Fury with an amused disbelief in your eyes. "Never thought you'd be a bad influence on us, Boss," you answered him with a chuckle. "I'm almost done anyway. I'll just…conveniently forget to turn it in until the first week of January."

"Atta girl. Oh, and before I forget, good job with Laufeyson."

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Boss, I--I haven't worked with Loki on any missions for the last few months…"

"I'm talking about his behavior. I haven't heard any new complaints about him being a sleaze to anyone ever since that last time that I called you all in. Asked his brother about it and he just said that I 'have Y/N to thank for that'. So whatever you did, good work."

"You might not be saying that once you find out that all I did was tell him that if I ended up wasting away two perfectly good days parking my ass in a sexual harassment seminar that I would stab someone." Your words made him bellow in a fit of hearty laughs. "So really, whatever it is, it wasn't me. Wish I could tell you who to thank, though."

"Whatever you say, Y/L/N." Fury shrugged as he walked away from your desk. "Happy Holidays and all that."

"Happy Holidays," you mumbled as you finished up the last of the paperwork, putting the forms aside so that you could work on the tags for your presents to the team. You'd just begun to start on Wanda's gift when you saw movement coming toward your desk from the corner of your  eye. The silhouette was more than enough for you to surmise who it was.

"Darling, you should come upstairs." You kept at your gift tags as Loki kept approaching you, only stopping when he was in front of your desk. "I can only guard your plate for so long until my brother makes a play for it."

His jab at Thor had you chuckling quietly to yourself before you took a deep breath and returned to the lettering for Wanda's tag. "I'll be up in about twenty minutes, Mischief. Thanks." You looked up and the sight before you had you using all your strength not to make it known that your heart had dropped and shattered to the ground.

He was holding two rolls of red ribbon. One about two inches thick, the other less than half an inch thick. You were immediately brought back to your conversation with him a few weeks ago, about what he would do if he really wanted to seduce someone. He followed your gaze to the items in his hand and gave you a sheepish smile. "Let it be known I always listen to perfectly sound advice, dear Y/N," he said with a playful wink as he walked away from your desk. "I'll see you upstairs."

"Good luck," you blurted out, forcing a contrived smile onto your face as he turned around to look at you. "Whoever she is, I'm sure she'll love it." He simply  answered you with a devastatingly brilliant smile as he walked into the elevator; you waited until the doors closed before you allowed the tears to start welling in your eyes, not bothering to even wipe them away as they rolled down your cheeks.

Half an hour later you were heading up to the little party that Stark threw together for the team, your presents for each of them placed under the tree and you dressed up in an A-line tea-length dress with spaghetti straps set in a deep green rather than the more traditional and predictable poinsettia red.

"Lady Y/N!" You turned around to see Thor already halfway through a glass of whatever liquor his massive mug held. "Quite the choice of attire for tonight. I'm positive my brother would be more than flattered." He motioned toward your dress, the knowledge that you were currently wearing Loki's colors only now making itself known to you and quickly sinking into a feeling of utter mortification. "Ohh! And it is quite fortunate that I found you so early in the night; my brother told me that if I were to see you, I am to tell you that  he will not be attending this party as he is preparing a present…?"

"Yeah, I know about the present, Thunder." His eyes lit up in a strange mixture of excitement and fear. "He passed by my desk earlier and he was holding rolls of ribbon. He's the present. He's off to seduce some Midgardian girl. Lucky bitch." You finished your sentence with a huff, tilting your head toward the ceiling and willing yourself not to start tearing up in front of Thor; he wasn't nearly drunk enough to forget this yet.

"Oh no…" he signed, lightly placing a hand on your shoulder. "My friend, surely by now you know--"

"You know what? I'm over it," you blurted out, throwing your hands up in surrender. "He can do whatever he wants, he's a big boy he can take care of himself." You placed your hand over his. "Happy Holidays, Thunder."

A few minutes of picking at the food on your plate decided your course of action for the night. And none of it involved staying with the team as they merrily exchanged their presents and got so drunk off their asses that they'd be unable to take care of themselves in the morning. You declared yourself the designated caretaker to the children and the team tomorrow and began the journey back to your apartment.

"Babes!" You turned around to find Natasha and Wanda arm in arm, drinks in hand. "You're leaving already?" You nodded at them. "Nooooo but you just got here and you look hot and we haven't even exchanged presents yet."

"I'm not in the partying mood, Babes," you answered with a sad smile. "I'll only be a downer. You all go open presents without me I'll probably just bully Thor into gathering mine for me so I can open them in my apartment tomorrow or something."

"Really? Not Loki?" Wanda queried, slurring her words and swaying slightly in Nat's hold.

The bitterness seeped into your heart again as you answered, "He's not here tonight. Too busy getting busy. Probably with someone from Operations or where the fuck ever."

"But I thought--"

"Wan, it's fine," Nat cut off the sorceress. "Y/N, Babes, you don't have to stay if you're not feeling up to it. We'll see you in the morning." They both approached you and wrapped you into a stumbling embrace. "Besides, at least one person in the unholy trinity should be sober in the morning to take care of the others' hungover asses."

"Carbo load," you told them simply. "There's a tray of pasta in the catering table, I checked. And if that's not enough, I'll see about making you two some grilled cheeses after the party wraps up."

"You're the best," Wanda sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. "Merry ho ho."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh as you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Merry ho ho, Wanda." Nat helped pull her off of you so that could continue heading up to your apartment. Once you were only a few more meters away from home, your phone rang. A look at the Caller ID had your heart pumping erratically. Loki.

"Just in case no one's told you yet, darling," he spoke once you answered the call. "You look resplendent. Absolutely regal."

You scoffed into the phone, rolling your eyes at his words. "You're not even here, Mischief. I could be wearing a potato sack for all you know."

"And even then my words would still ring true."

Dammit, why did he have to make it so hard to not love him?Life would be so much easier if those words didn't hit me right in the heart. You sighed at his usual brand of what you lovingly referred to as "friendzone flirting". "So that was fast," you commented, your poor attempt at steering the conversation toward him and far away from you.

"What was?"

"Your seduction," you said as plainly as you could manage. "I know what that ribbon was for, Mischief. Don't even think about placing that back in the gift wrapping stock when you're done with it."

"Not quite," he answered you with a light laugh. "See, it hasn't begun yet."

You could feel what little food you had at the party start to come up at his implication. So he was calling you before he fucked his latest conquest because what? Why? Because he was bored waiting for her to put on her lingerie that he was gonna snap of anyways?

"Where are you, Y/N?" he asked with an even voice, as if he were almost cooing.

"Walking back to my apartment.  Actually scratch that. I'm right at the door," you answered as you unlocked the front door. When you were finally inside, you were taken aback at the sight of a golden drinks trolley by the entry table, containing two mugs, a jar of what you assumed was powdered sugar, a box that said Harry & David Hot Cocoa Bombs, and little containers of marshmallows, candy canes, and a little cinnamon shaker. "What the--"

"I used my key to your apartment to place my present for you." Something in his tone made it obvious to you that he was nervous about this.

"You got me a hot cocoa bar? That's--Damn, Mischief, I don't know what to say--"

"That's not quite the present, darling," he cut you off. "That's for after."

"After?" You walked toward your bedroom, ready to just kick off your heels and soak in the tub until you felt your unwarranted heartache melt away. "After what?"

Something from his end made you stop in your tracks. You could hear a woman's voice from his end, which was expected. What wasn't expected what that the voice…was yours.

"Loki, where are you?" you asked shakily, your heart beginning to pound in your chest as your brain tried to reconcile what you thought was happening. You pressed your ear to your door, dreading both the answer and what you would hear from your bedroom.

"Laying in bed, darling." Your free hand clutched at your chest as you heard his voice both from the phone pressed to your ear and from the door. He was there. "Truthfully my plans for tonight were not to seduce another nameless faceless Midgardian whose face I would end up enchanting in order for them to resemble the visage of the one I truly wish to share my bed."

"Really now?" you breathed out, your mind running a mile at minute at his words. At what they implied. "And what exactly were your plans for tonight, Mischief?"

"To lay out my heart to the woman who owns it, as well as my body if she'll have me. See, she and everyone around us have this image of me that I am a philanderer, and I fear that even if I tell her the truth of my whorish ways that she would simply choose to not believe me. I would understand. After all, it would not be so easy to believe that in my mind I have only ever been with her, that as I mentioned earlier I enchant the faces of those I lay with so that my eyes see her face looking up at me instead of an insignificant stranger's. That I love her beyond comprehension and seeing the obvious pain in her eyes the last few weeks as she looked upon me have felt like someone had taken my own daggers to my heart and twisted the blade. I knew I had to make right the wrongs I hadn't even been aware I'd done."

"Loki--"

"Open the door, darling. Please." You could hear his voice wavering as he said the words. "Let me see you."

You took a deep breath as you clutched your door handle, bracing yourself for whatever sight may greet you. Though you already knew what you would see: His godly form bared and wrapped in a festive red ribbon. Like a present.

Your present.

The image of him performing the over the top gesture in your imagination, however, was nothing compared to seeing said gesture with your own eyes. He truly was one of those exceptions wherein reality surpassed fantasy.

You steeled your expression into one of feigned indifference, one that he absolutely saw right through but you did it regardless, as your eyes roamed his sculpted physique, the red ribbon wrapped intricately around his torso that would come off in a dramatic flourish with one tug at the bow settled on the center of his chest. And attached to the thicker ribbon wrapped around him was the thinner ribbon leading to--

Goddamn he really did it. Candy cane dick.

"You look so divine it would put all the goddesses in Olympus and Asgard alike to shame," he spoke softly. You instinctively looked away to prevent yourself from any rash decisions when his eyes roamed over your body and you saw the candy cane twitch.

"And you look ridiculous," you choked out, your voice not even holding a shred of conviction. A lie so bad you may as well have worn a neon red sign saying This bitch lying.

He held out his hand towards you, beckoning you to him. "Come here and unwrap your present then, my love."

Your knees buckled at his words. "Your love," you echoed, though your tone was so laced with doubt that it sounded more like a question than anything else. When you reached your bed and placed your hand in his he sat up on the bed and pulled your hand toward him, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Yes," he answered you with a soft smile, his eyes looking up at you with such veneration it stole whatever breath you had left in your lungs. He placed his hands on either side of your body as he pulled you close enough so that he could press several kisses to your clothed stomach. "It's you, darling. Since the moment your eyes met mine."

His hands traveled down to the sides of your thighs, guiding you to rest your knees on either side of him on the bed, straddling his hips. Once your faces were level, you could see so clearly the emotions swimming in his eyes as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek, so gently it was almost as if he were afraid you'd break.

"Then why all those--"

"I valued your company too much that I dared not risk it simply because I desired your body," he explained in hushed tones, as if he was confessing to you, as if they were words of contrition. "You were too precious for me to lose to my own lust. And so whenever I felt the urge to shatter our friendship, I would find another to unleash those desires upon. It mattered not who. Even when I would deceive my own eyes I knew it would never be enough, and--"

"And in the process of finding another after another with the intention of preserving our friendship, you instead shattered me," you cut him off, your bottom lip quivering and your heart breaking with the effort you were exerting to not sob and yell your words out. "Every. Single. Time." He pulled away to look into your eyes, already brimming with unshed tears threatening to escape. Your next words barely came out a whisper. "I can't. I refuse to be another notch in your bedpost."

"You won't be," he pleaded, brushing the tips of his fingers lightly across your cheek. "I love you, Y/N. You are all I would ever desire. All I have ever desired since the moment we met."

You placed your hands on his shoulders, bracing yourself both physically and emotionally for the next words you were about to let out. "I love you, Loki." The smile on his face was so blindingly brilliant and rife with relief as he leaned in with the clear intent of pressing his lips to yours; however, you pushed back against his shoulders, earning you a confused look from the god. "If we do this, the sleeping around stops. Okay? Because I won't share you—"

He silenced you by pulling you towards him, your chests flush against each other, claiming your lips in a kiss that oozed of yearning and ages of repressed love. The moment you opened your mouth to him and your tongues met, you both sighed into each other's mouths in audible contentment. "I am yours, my love," he panted as he pulled away. "All of me. I do not intend to be shared, just as I have no intentions of sharing you if you would be mine."

His. That sounded like a dream. A beautiful fantasy too blissful to be true. "Yours…" You tested the word on your tongue as if it was such a foreign concept. "I'd like that," you said softly as you ran your hands along his shoulders, traveling down to his chest and the bow situated in its center, a loving smile stretching across his face as you did so. "So…if I tug on this it all comes falling off?" 

He placed his hand over yours, placing a tender kiss on your neck before whispering against your skin, "We need not go further if you're not ready to be intimate with me yet. We could stay doing exactly what we were just moments ago for the rest of  and I would be content. Because it's you. I am finally with you." He traced his lips along your jaw and up back to your mouth, claiming it once again in a soft kiss. "Only when you are ready, tell me. Or tug on the end of the bow and—"

"Yeah you can save the speech, Mischief. I'm ready," you cut him off, pulling at the end of the bow and watching the ribbon unravel with a dramatic flourish down to the bed. "I love you, and I want you to make me yours." His smile turned mischievous as he pulled the entirety of the ribbon off and away from him, his hands then returning to your thighs, skimming under the hem of your dress. "You're not pretending anymore," you cooed.

"And yet a fraction of this reality with you is worlds better than any illusion I'd ever conjured." His words sounded so reverent that they alone sent a rush of arousal pooling between your legs, worsening the state of your already drenched panties. His hands inched up slowly, hiking up the bottom of your dress along the way. He looked at you with an uncharacteristically timidity in his eyes, as if he was asking for permission. "May I?"

His hesitation unleashed something you could only describe as desperate in you. Desperate for more of his touch. His kisses. That lust he'd mentioned earlier that he didn't want to risk losing you to. You wanted him to lose himself to that desire now. Craved it, even. Your words from weeks ago echoed in your mind, a wicked grin playing at the corners of your mouth as they came to the forefront of your thoughts.

You wanted to ruin him. For everyone else but you. And vice versa.

As if he hadn't already ruined you the moment you walked in and spotted him all wrapped up like the best Christmas present you'd ever receive for the rest of your days.

You ran your hands down the length of his arms, hooking them under the bunched up hem of your dress and pulling the garment over your head, haphazardly throwing it down to the floor, joining the ribbon. His eyes lit up as his gaze roamed all the newly exposed skin to him, immediately leaning forward and pressing his lips to the skin above your heart and proceeding to trace the outline of your bra with his lips. "No more pretending," he breathed out, the slightly cool air of his exhalation chilling your heated skin by the slightest.

"No more pretending," you echoed with a satisfied grin pulling at your mouth. You brought your hands to his shoulders once more, urging him to look at you. Once he did you pressed a fevered kiss to his lips before groaning against him, "But I want you to fuck me as if you were."

Loki pulled your hips flush against his, both of you letting out an obscene moan as your drenched clothed core made contact with his hardened member. "No," he growled, reaching behind you to undo your bra, the undergarment falling unceremoniously to the ground and joining your dress. "Perhaps another night, my darling." He maneuvered your bodies until you were laying down on the bed, him hovering over you and looking up at you through his lashes. "This is not something that deserves to be over in minutes."

"Minutes?" you huffed in utter shock and disbelief. "What happened, they tap out?"

"Frustration on my part," he answered you simply, beginning to trail kisses across your collarbone and down your chest. "Because despite my greatest efforts my mind could not be deceived. They weren't you. None of them were you." He went on a path down your body, briefly taking each of your nipples into his mouth and laving his tongue over the stiffened peak, down your stomach, and stopping at your mound. "I can tell you now, my love, that this will not last for mere minutes. I intend to take my time with you."

As soon as he said those words, you let out a sharp gasp as he so effortlessly snapped apart the sides of your panties and pulled the fabric off of your body, proceeding to place your thighs on his shoulders and lift you off the bed. Just enough that your shoulders and upper back were still laying flat, but also enough that it would take great effort for you to find the leverage to squirm away from him if you wanted to.

You twisted your body in his hold so much that he seemingly casually laid his forearm across your lower stomach as he continued to subject you to wave after wave of relentless pleasure, steadily ramping you up to an orgasm that threatened to leave you boneless. "Oh my darling," he groaned against your skin, the vibrations from his voice sending a delicious thrill throughout your entire body. "I could devour you for hours."

The whimper that escaped your mouth felt so uncharacteristic for you. Then again everything about tonight felt unfamiliar to some degree. "Loki," you whined, prompting him to close his lips around your clit and flick his tongue mercilessly against the overly sensitive bundle of nerves, and letting out a scandalous moan against the desperately over-sensitized nub that send you over the edge. You screamed his name as your back arched off the bed, the haze of your climax making you only vaguely aware of how he held you still as you rode out your release on his tongue.

He set your legs back down on the bed and you were thankful for the reprieve, allowing you a few moments to catch your breath; however, the rest was short lived, as he gripped your hips and pulled you toward him until your ass sat atop his thighs, and he placed a hand under your back to prop you up and face him, pulling you in for a kiss so deliciously carnal as your tongues tangled together and you could taste yourself on him.

"I love you," he panted once he pulled away, bringing his hand down between you and lining his cock up at your entrance. He wrapped his other arm around you and held you close, pressing his lips softly along your neck and shoulder as you eased yourself onto him inch by inch, biting your lip as you felt the mixture of pain and pleasure as your walls stretched to accommodate him.

He moaned against your neck once you'd fully sheathed him inside of you, the backs of your thighs resting deliciously on the tops of his. You laid your hand on his chest as the other wrapped around the back of his neck, doing your best to move and set a pace for you both but even the slightest shift sent rippling shocks of pleasure all over your body that all you could do was rest your head against his shoulder and desperately whimper his name time and time again.

Those whimpers quickly became moans as he held your hips firmly and began to guide your body up and down along his length, capturing your lips in a desperate, nearly harsh kiss that proved effective in muffling the tell-tale screams of pleasure being elicited from both of you.

What started as a tender, sensual pace quickly turned frenzied as you both began to chase each other's pleasure, your hips finally moving of their own accord and allowing his hands to roam your body, his lips doing much of the same. When your paces grew staggered he moved you to lie back on the bed, your back once again flat against the mattress, and he hooked your legs around his waist as he drove into you mercilessly.

"Please," you cried out, feeling the coil tightening in your lower stomach once again. "I don't think--"

"Oh you can, my love," he countered you as he pressed his lips to your shoulder in a sloppy open mouthed kiss, your brain fogging once more as you felt him flicking his tongue against your skin, and his hand moving between you to start rubbing tight circles on the swollen bud. "Come with me," he coaxed as he proceeded to kiss along the shell of your ear, your moans echoing around your bedroom as his thrusts became slower, but harder.

Your legs shook with how hard your climax hit you, not even thinking you could manage it since you'd never done it before, but it truly didn't take you by surprise that Loki had managed to do just that as he somehow hit every sweet spot inside of you with every move. He reached his own peak as your walls clenched around him, his hips jerking against yours as he finally reached his release inside of you.

"You know, if I'm gonna be honest, I would've thought that you would've gone for the gold ribbon," you told Loki as you two were sat at the little kitchen island in your apartment, both of you nursing your own mug of hot cocoa as the god held your calf in his free hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I know we had some in the stock room last I checked."

"Well, my darling, you would be correct. But when I arrived at the stock room earlier today someone else had already taken the gold. That was when I knew I had to hasten my steps, make it here before…" he trailed off.

"Before what?" you asked with a chuckle.

He took a deep breath before placing his mug down and reaching over to take yours from your hand, setting it down as well, before he pulled you back onto his lap and captured your lips in a kiss that felt both possessive and desperate all at once. "This does mean that you are mine now, dear Y/N. Yes?" he asked when he pulled away, shock flooding your system when you saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he said the words.

"Of course," you breathed out, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You're stuck with me now, Mischief."

"I would have it no other way, my love." He wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands reaching up to weave his fingers through your hair. "Y/N before I made it to your apartment, I'd heard that one of the men on our team was trying to find a way into your apartment to follow the advice you'd given us weeks ago as well."

That reveal had taken you aback, your eyes widening as your brain tried to process the new information. "I'll be honest, Loki. If I walked in here and found someone else ribbon-clad in my bed I would've kicked them out. Walk of shame style. Tonight wouldn't have ended the way it did if it wasn't you."

Those words made him pull you in for another kiss, sighing into your mouth as he pulled you even closer to him, your bodies completely flush against each other.

"I'm glad you got the red, though," you said, a wicked smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as he looked at you with confusion rife in his icy stare. "I liked the candy cane look on you." You struggled to move away from him as he trapped you in his arms, proceeding to tickle your sides and render you into a giggling mess.

"My beautiful little menace," he chuckled as his onslaught ceased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Do you not even wish to know who it was that would have walked in shame out of your apartment had you found him instead?"

"You know what…I kinda am…mostly because I want to picture their walk of shame in gold ribbon. Who was it?"

You broke out into another fit of laughter, your body shaking uncontrollably as he held you against him as soon as he uttered the name. "Barnes."

A/N: Omg I'm so happy to finally finish this story and finish off the idea that's been running around my brain since Monday 😂 "Candy Cane Dick" story is finally done. SAS, if you know you know 😏

Everything tag list: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique

[opinionsbyaf]

ABORTION; THE NEGATIVE EFFECTS! As I sit here on my lanai relaxing waiting for the storm to arrive I slip into my inner self and go into deep thought, thinking about life and where it has taken me, things I have done, things I wished I'd done, and things I wished I had done differently. What comes to mind strangely enough is the now hot-button political subject of abortion! What a strange subject to just pop into my head in deep thought! Or is it? As my mind dives deeper I see the direction to where it's going. I always say that I have absolutely no regrets in life, cause everything happens for a reason, and we are meant to learn lessons from everything that happens to us, good or bad! As I think about it, I do have a regret, actually two! I was party to two abortions, and my regret is not with the decision to get one, even though the final decision was the woman's, the decisions were sound both would have had difficult lives, to say the least! My regret is the stupidity that ultimately led up to having to make such a heart-wrenching decision, one that I think of every day!! And that's the God's truth!! This was many years ago, and it still bothers me to this day!! I would have had two more sons!!!

This brings me to the purpose of my writing today! As I sit here in thought it comes to me that if the abortion laws that are presently on the books today, even after the defeat of Row v Wade more than half of my immediate family would not existed!! First, my brother Jimmy most definitely would have been aborted! That means that my nephew Jimmy and his daughter Amber would not exist! His brother Philip and his newborn daughter would not exist, and neither would their sister Gina and her two kids! That would have been seven more people lost from one abortion! Let that sink in for a moment!! You may be saying how do you know that your brother would have been aborted? Simple, if you think about the era the 50s, my brother was born in 1950 to a woman out of wedlock!! Do you think an unmarried woman, in the fifties would have had the baby given the choice, especially a twenty-four-year-old? Then there's me six years later! My mother hooks up with this tall handsome sailor on leave oh no, she's pregnant again! Only this time she threatened him! Marry her or she'll tell her brothers! My uncles at the time were men you didn't want to mess with and my father knew this, so the shotgun wedding ensues. If the laws were on the books in 1956 there would have been no wedding, there would have been no abuse, there would have been no resentment that my father had for me, and there would have been no beatings on my mother or us! I would have been aborted! That means my son Vinny would not exist neither would my two grandchildren. Only God knows how the lives of the rest of my stepchildren would have differed. The lives of the other people's lives that I've touched throughout the years. The woman that I saved her life from a mugger/rapist when I was thirteen would most certainly have been killed! One life affects so many, it's like a waterfall effect! Also, if I were aborted, there would have been no shotgun wedding! That means there would not have been the birth of my sister three years later!! She would have been an innocent casualty in this whole abortion mess as well as her children and grandchildren! That means, my sister would never have been conceived, nor would her three children and so far her two grandchildren! So, from two abortions we have lost an additional sixteen people so far, what does that translate to in the future? How much would that number grow? Out of the people lost, what did humanity lose, what inventions, what great politicians, what great doctors, what great anything?? The possibilities are endless!!! In my opinion, abortion has its place! It should be a medical and moral decision ONLY! If the mother is in danger of her life if the baby will be stillborn, incest, or rape! Reasons such as these, NOT as a contraceptive!! In today's world with all the technology and contraceptives available unwanted pregnancy issues should be in the past!!! If abortion was legal in the fifties I would not be here to annoy you with my stories and opinions, wouldn't that have been great!!!??? Just food for thought people! Now take a look into YOUR family see who you think would have been aborted and how it would have affected your life or your family's life, and leave me a comment! Thanks for reading!!

Anthony Fioranelli

[diddgery]

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom called Capreya. Renowned for its military strength and abundance of precious metals, Capreya was a prosperous kingdom, and nobody prospered more than King Astor. A selfish and power-hungry ruler, King Astor extorted the people of his kingdom to increase his wealth, and flexed his military might so that the neighboring countries would capitulate to his trade demands.

King Astor's son, Prince ██████, was raised to follow in his footsteps, but could never quite live up to his expectations. Despite his best efforts, the prince was weak-willed and fearful. King Astor restricted the prince's freedoms and forced her to study the art of warfare so that one day, she could lead the kingdom just as her father did.

But the prince resented her father. She resented her mother, and the very concept of royalty. When she would be paraded around to the various towns and cities of Capreya, she would see the injustices wrought upon the people. She saw them begging in the streets, she saw them going home empty-handed and hungry, she saw them being forced to enlist in the military because there was no other choice for them. And she hated it. She hated that this was the world she was born into, that this was the world she was meant to inherit. She hated that her parents had the power to change things, and yet continued to enforce this system. It disgusted her.

As the prince grew older, her discomfort with the world turned inward. She began to resent her own body for changing in ways she never wanted. She hated looking in the mirror and seeing someone who looked like her father. Sometimes she wished she had been born a girl instead. But when she tried voicing these concerns to her handmaid, the king and queen found out, and the prince was swiftly admonished and punished for having such awful thoughts. Because why would a prince ever want to be anything but a prince?

When the prince came of age, her parents hosted a grand ball to celebrate. The prince was forced to wear formal armor that she hated, and was shown off to the public as if she were one of her father's possessions (and in a way, she was). Young noble women close in age to the prince were paraded in front of her, and her parents pressured her to choose one to wed. When the prince admitted she had no interest in any of these would-be brides, her father became extremely angry and yelled at her in front of everyone, calling her an embarrassment and a disgrace to the royal family.

The prince left the ball ashamed and distraught, and upon returning to her room she decided she couldn't live like this anymore. She began packing in secret and hatched a plan to escape the castle and leave this miserable country for good. Shortly before her planned leave date she happened to overhear her father in a meeting, and was shocked to discover King Astor was actively working to destabilize a neighboring country with the end goal of taking full control of its natural resources and subjugating its people. The prince was horrified, and decided that she needed to do what she could to stop her father's plot before it could come to fruition.

The day came of her escape, and she fled the castle with only a few personal belongings and her sword. She disguised herself as a commoner- and a woman- and over the course of weeks made her way to the border. But by the time she arrived, she was exhausted and weak, which made her the prime target for a group of bandits. She did her best to fight back, but they had the numbers advantage. Then, three brave townspeople from the town closest to the border stepped in to help her. They didn't recognize her as the prince- all they saw was a girl who needed their help. When she was asked her name, the prince looked out towards a field of nearby flowers, and gave her answer.

"Daffodil."

[princess-of-the-corner]

Given wat Gabe did to her in canon, I tend to go the opposite with Chloe finding out. It more being a "I knew you were fucking evil!" and so she's either terrified or just overwhelmingly enraged or both depending on the scenario.

Then again I also tend to have her be a bit more mixed on Emilie too.

Basically, given the prospect of Adrien not being able to go to school has her breaking down into a wreck even though they barely interacted. I feel her desire for him to be there has to be rooted more in concern for him than anything.

As a result, while she might not consciously realize Adrien's family situation is abusive (In the same way Adrien is just kind of surprised at how cruel Audrey is but not really put out by it) she does realize its not good for him and so Emilie never stepping up when she was the one more inclined to hear Adrien means Chloe has... Complex feelings about her.

Basically, Chloe: "Emilie was a kind woman who Adrien adored and I found pleasant but distant. However she was also weak, and that weakness meant she never did enough for Adrien. I resent her for that, but only a little, because really, what else could one expect from the weaker half in a relationship? It'd be like expecting Sabrina to hold me to task, against their nature."

She'd definitely still be willing to help bring her bac on Adrien's behalf and also out of a little bit of desperation. "If I help bring Emilie back there's no way Adrien would ever stop being my friend and leave me like everyone else I love leaves me." But I tend to think her relationship with Gabriel would be a combo of irritation and nervousness that can escalate to anger and dread.

But that's me.

I don't mean that 'she's not scared of him' in the way that she thinks he's a good person.

But in that she now knows it's Gabriel. Adrien's shitty loser dad.

Hawkmoth is an unknown. She doesn't know his abilities, his limits, his morals. She doesn't know how he thinks and why he does things the way he does them.

Gabriel? She's been dealing with him for years. And while these actions are a step up in his game, it's still Gabriel. She knows the way he thinks. She knows how to play him to get what she wants from him. She knows how to plan for him to double cross her. Worst case scenario, she knows where to find him to knock him upside the head with a frying pan.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 19/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Morristown, NJ

The revelation that she was never meant to be a mother is one that it took her decades to come to. Once she did, a lot of things about her life that have always puzzled her suddenly made sense.

That’s not to say that she didn’t love her children. In fact, that’s what made the revelation so hard to come by. She’s always loved them, from the moment they took their first breaths. It wasn’t the children themselves that were the issue; it was the mothering.

Fox was the sweetest baby. His cherubic little face made her heart ache when the nurses placed him in her arms at the hospital. She was told again and again by friends and neighbors that Fox was such a good baby, so curious and easy to care for. He hardly ever fussed compared to most of their children. This left her wondering why she felt such vehement resentment towards him for needing her so much when he wailed for milk at 2:00 am.

Women are meant to be mothers. That’s what she’d always been told. She expected it to come to her naturally, as easily as walking and talking. But that wasn’t the case, and she felt defective and ashamed. She hoped that things would be different the second time. Then Samantha came along and made her aware just how easy of a baby Fox really was.

It was constant. Someone was always needing her, crying for her, tugging on the hem of her dress. Bill was never home, and when he was, he may as well have been an apparition for how much help offered. When Fox started school it got a little better, and when Samantha joined him she at least had school hours to herself. She’d start to think that maybe she missed them, and then they’d walk in the door squabbling and something thick and sour would rise in her throat. Hatred. Not towards the children themselves—she was intelligent enough to understand that they were simply behaving as typical children do. But the mothering. The mothering made her want to swallow a whole bottle of valium with her nightly glass of wine.

And then there was Carl, always lurking around somewhere in the background. Sometimes he ignored her, and other times he showered her with gifts and attention, cornered her in the pantry and promised her the world. They could run away together, make a new life in Guam or Puerto Rico. She strongly considered it, especially when Fox was out of diapers and it seemed likely that Bill would be able to find some kind young woman to marry him and be a proper mother to Fox. But then she realized she was pregnant with Samantha, and Carl told her that he wanted to be around to see the children grow up. He wasn’t even their father and he was still more interested in being a part of their life than she was.

Shortly before Samantha disappeared, he asked her a bizarre hypothetical question regarding which of the children she would give up, if she had to choose. She balked, but he pressed her, and finally she said Samantha. Not because she loved Samantha less than Fox, but because mathematically, there were fewer years until Fox left home and she could be free again. By the time she realized that the question wasn’t hypothetical at all, it was too late. The heavy guilt she wore draped over her shoulders like a shawl didn’t allow her to enjoy having only one—highly self sufficient—child to look after. It didn’t allow her to feel relieved when Fox moved across the Atlantic ocean to attend college. It didn’t allow her to feel anything, really, ever again.

Many years later, when Samantha was long since gone and Fox was away at Oxford, she met a young woman at the Country Club who was vibrant and self-assured. They got to talking, and it came to light that the woman was well into her forties, though she looked and acted more like she was twenty-five.

“How old are your children?” she’d asked the woman, wondering how someone could find such joy in life amidst all the mothering.

“Oh, I don’t have children,” the woman corrected her, seemingly unoffended.

“I’m sorry. Were you not able to?” she asked, feeling a pang of jealousy.

“I could have, as far as I know,” the woman said plainly. “I just never wanted any. Kids are great, but I’ve just never had any desire to have my own. My husband feels the same way, so we’re well matched in that regard.”

She almost felt silly that she’d never come to the same conclusion herself. She knew that she wasn’t a great mother, but until that moment she’d always chalked it up to a personal defect. At that moment, she understood that she wasn’t meant to be a mother at all; she never should have had children in the first place. But it just wasn’t an option you considered in her time. Young women grew up and became wives and mothers. Regardless of whether they wanted to. Regardless of whether they were any good at it.

But by then it was too late. Fox and Samantha were gone, literally and figuratively. She hoped that as two adults, she and Fox might find their own way to relate to one another, to cultivate a relationship that was not predicated on her having birthed and raised him. But she found that his wounds were too deep and too raw, and her guilt over having inflicted them still too heavy. She was proud of him, so very proud of who he became in light of how little she and Bill did for him aside from providing food and shelter. But even that motherly pride was not something she felt entitled to. Fox became the man he is despite her, not because of her.

The Paget’s Carcinoma diagnosis felt like poetic justice, in a way. Her breasts, which were designed to feed and nurture babies, would ultimately be the end of her. The grisly, painful end. She knew that she could call up Carl, enlist the help of his mysterious doctors and unorthodox treatments, but why? Why keep on living this way? Fox would never forgive her for how she failed him, nor would she forgive herself. She made her decision, and she felt at peace with it. Her hand was on the phone, ready to call Fox and say her final goodbye, when it started ringing and she found Carl on the other end.

He presented it as a second chance. A way to right all their wrongs. He couldn’t bring Samantha back, but he could give her a dignified death, and make her loss less traumatizing for Fox than what really happened. He could re-write history, make her the kind of mother who baked cookies for Fox’s friends on Friday afternoons and cheered for him on the sidelines of his basketball games. And she and Carl could finally be together, Bill nothing but a footnote in the deleted scenes. It would be like everything had gone the way it was supposed to, and Fox would truly be happy. That was the selling point that finally won her over: a chance to give Fox the mother he deserved, and the life that came along with it.

It was like a game for Carl to construct the optimal childhood. Did they take Fox and Samantha to Disneyland before she died, or did they just take Fox by himself afterward? Why not both?! Carl coached his Little League team, Teena was the chair of the PTA. Samantha died peacefully in her bed with her family by her side. They carried on, made new memories, flew to Oxford for Fox’s graduation. Fox met Diana at the Academy and they were married on the Vineyard. It all felt so incredibly perfect.

But seeing Fox’s face when Diana brought him by for dinner, calling him by the name of Carl’s other, forgotten son, made her nauseous. The placid, comfortable looks on Carl and Diana’s faces baffled her. How were they so unbothered? She’s not sure this was the right thing to do. She’s not sure that Fox is really any better off now than he was before. She’s not sure she is.

Her reverie is interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

“Spender residence, Teena speaking,” she says roughly, her throat thick with emotion.

“Hey Mom, it’s me.”

Her shoulders slump with the weight of the guilt.

“Hello, Jeffrey, how are you?”

“I’m okay. I wanted to ask you about something, and it’s going to sound really strange, but I need you to hear me out,” he says, his tone severe.

Her heart pushes up into her throat. He knows something.

“Okay, I’ll do my best,” she tells him, half hoping he’ll give her an opening to just come out with it.

“Was I…when I was born, was there another baby? Was I a twin?” he asks, and her fear is replaced with confusion.

“What? No, of course not.”

“Mom,” he says, his tone pleading. “Is there any way there was another baby? Were you given any medication that might impact your memory, like that…what was it that they used to give women in labor so they wouldn’t remember the pain?”

“Twilight sleep,” she answers flatly.

“Yes, twilight sleep. Were you given anything like that?” Fox—Jeff—her son, replies.

“No, Jeff,” she says tightly. “I was alert and I remember my entire labor with you, and your birth. There was only one. Why are you asking me this?”

Clearly something has tipped him off, and she’d feel safer if she knew what. There is a pause long enough that she almost asks if he’s still on the line.

“Can I share this with you in confidence? You won’t tell Dad…or Diana?” he asks.

It’s painful, all that she’s done to him and is still doing now. But this moment in which her son is trusting her with sensitive information, where his inclination in a time of difficulty was to reach out to her—his mother—is such a balm on her heart that she feels tears flood her eyes.

“Of course, Jeff,” she assures him. “You have my word.”

“Twice in the past week, someone has mistaken me for another man. A man who goes by ‘Mulder.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

I, Elizabeth Ann Kuipers, take you, William Richard Mulder, to be my lawfully wedded husband.

We proudly introduce our son, Fox William Mulder, born October 13th 1961 at Martha’s Vineyard Hospital.

“No, Jeff, I can’t say that it does,” she lies. Why do lies always come more easily than the truth?

Fox sighs, and she pictures him running his hand over his head and across the back of his neck like he’s done since he was a child. Since Samantha was taken. Since his life turned down a darkened path.

“Okay,” he huffs, disappointed. “Sorry to bother you, Mom. How are things going? How’s Dad?”

“Dad is fine,” she says, thinking of Bill, cold in the ground. As much as he saw and was party to in his time on Earth, she’s glad he did not live to see this. “We were just going to watch some television.”

“I won’t keep you,” he says. “Thanks for talking with me, Mom. I love you.”

Her chest becomes so unbelievably tight that she cannot form words, just an insufficient, “Mmhmm.”

The line goes dead, and she replaces the phone back on the receiver.

“Who was that, dear?”

She looks up to see Carl in the doorway, that unsettling smile on his mouth. She liked him better when he didn’t try to replicate normal human emotions. When he just told her sweet lies, fucked her over the sink in her powder room in Chilmark, and let her believe that life could be anything but miserable.

“No one. Telemarketer,” she answers. Lying doesn’t always feel bad. Sometimes, it feels very, very good.

She was never meant to be a mother, but maybe she can be a friend to her son. Maybe she can slip him a key to the exit, even if she’s the one who locked the door in the first place.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Forty-Two

It was impossible not to think about the plane ride when all was quiet. Nayeli's conversation with EJ was playing in her head like a scratched CD, skipping and replaying parts she didn't need to revisit. Partially how much he missed her, mainly the tears he shed and what led up to them followed by the kissing.

She longed to believe that he was blowing smoke up her ass. It would give her a reason to remain angry with him. But she saw the look in his eyes as he listed all of the reasons he wanted her back. The look of a man in pain, the look of remorse, the look of someone that didn't know what to do with themselves, the look of helplessness as he cried.

EJ was not a good actor, couldn't fake an emotion to save his life. No poker face and no ability to lie. She was grateful for that quality, yet at that moment, she hated it because it meant he truly did miss her, that he really loved her, that he wasn't blowing smoke up her ass and that he was ready to let her go if they were not meant for each other.

She was hanging on to pieces of resentment, telling herself that she was nothing more than another warm body, easily replaceable by someone more malleable, evidenced by his trio of trollops, but months went by with every opportunity to have another woman provide what she provided, and he hadn't looked for her replacement once.

Any woman could offer him anything, and it wouldn't matter. Because he wanted her. In all of her stubbornness, through all of her grudge-holding, he wanted to love her. But would he still want to love her once he found out she loved Israel?

She hadn't told him yet, though she would have to at some point. The thought worried her, made everything else she had to consider seem like horse fodder. Her heart was being ripped in opposite directions, one half willing to accept the other but not the other way around.

She wanted to throw in the towel and give EJ another chance. But why did she have to be the one to give in? Be the one to lose? Why was it always her heart on the line? She had little power in their relationship, and she had to hold on to what she could. However, holding onto that power felt a lot like losing.

Standing in that power meant giving up on the man she fell in love with almost a year ago, the sweetheart that spoiled her with affection, the man that saved her life, the man that promised her the world. She wanted that man back, not the selfish bastard pretending to be him. Her Ezra was right there, lying beneath the surface of a man unwilling to bend. He would never accept her feelings for Isaiah so she would lose no matter who she chose. She'd come to that conclusion with Isaiah, but it was harder to accept with EJ.

Isaiah was the better option. He understood that she loved them both, was willing to share her time. She wouldn't get that freedom with EJ. The choice was clear as day, let EJ go. Before they left home, she thought she had. Unfortunately, her heart was speaking a different tune. Her body was too, thanks to the kisses they shared. It was like something in her had been awakened after being dormant for months.

Paradise was supposed to be a perfect cure for stress. The sun, a private beach, people catering to her wants and needs. Antigua was everything Nayeli needed to get her mind right, but nothing in her mind was right. She was a mess of emotions and hormones, of thoughts and wishes, of prayers and dreams.

She sat on a lounger underneath a large tree with roots deep in the sand, yellow bikini giving off the aura of a sun and trying to enjoy the breeze as she sipped from a cup of iced pineapple juice with a splash of cranberry sparkling water and finally flipped the page of her book. She'd read the same paragraph four times, distracted because EJ was close by, purposely tempting her and testing her resolve.

He could've been anywhere else on the rented property doing push ups and sit ups, running laps and stretching. Instead he placed himself in her line of vision, enticing her and annoying her at the same time.

"Mommy, quick, come here! There's a sea turtle swimming by me!" Tatiana shouted, fascinated by the ocean and the fact that she could see into it. The water back home wasn't nearly as clear, the crystal waves of the Caribbean showing all the ocean's shallows had to offer.

Nayeli slid her bookmark horizontally toward the spine to save her exact spot and left the novel on the chair, eyes forward as she walked down the beach to Tatiana's side with the sun beating down on her. She caught a glimpse of the turtle when it changed its course and swam in the opposite direction, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head. Water passed over her feet and went up to her calves the closer she got.

"It's bigger than both of our faces!" she gasped at the animal with the beautiful, aged shell, wishing she'd brought her phone to at least capture a picture of the majestic moment. She admired how the turtle drifted leisurely, wanting to float and swim the same way.

"What are you two so excited about?" EJ joined them, having abandoned his beach workout when he heard Tatiana yelling. Nayeli briefly glanced back and whipped her eyes to the front to keep herself from ogling the cuts of his muscles on display. His hard work in the gym showed in the deeps ridges of his abdomen, his bugling biceps, thick thighs perfect for sitting and rubbing herself on. The man looked damn good and they both knew it. He flaunted it, likely thinking if his words couldn't make her give in, his body would. Bronzed up, oiled down and covered in a light sheen of sweat, he oozed pheromones that had her walking deeper into the ocean to get away from him so she wouldn't succumb to any urges tugging at the strings holding her bikini in place.

"Daddy, hurry up and go get your phone to take a video before it swims away!"

"Take a video of what?" he said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his bright yellow swim shorts. It was pure coincidence that their suits matched, but in EJ's head, it was a sign they were still connected mentally.

"The turtle! It's right there!"

Nayeli stood thigh deep in the warm salt water, grinning as the creature swam closer to her, "Do you know if there are laws here about not touching the turtles like in Hawaii?" she asked.

"No, but I won't tell if you won't," EJ chuckled, readying his camera and zooming in on Nayeli and her new friend. It swam right up to her legs and began to circle her, nudging her with its head.

"Too much talking and not enough pictures!" Tatiana said loudly.

"Relax." A small wave lifted the turtle and some nearby seaweed, water crashing and splashing higher up on Nayeli's body, "Turn around and smile, Shortcake!"

She lifted her head and twisted her upper body, cheesing at the camera as her leg was bumped again.

"I think it likes you," EJ said.

"I made a friend!" she responded excitedly, posing for a few pictures and taking her sunglasses off of her head before she decided to take a swim of her own. Another wave broke against her, and she sunk until the water came up to her chest, using her legs to push herself forward. Diving down, she swam until she reached her desired depth and flipped onto her back, floating peacefully.

It was her favorite island activity whether she was in the ocean or in the pool at their villa. To her, the action represented the utmost tranquility. One had to relax to float. Tension acted like cinderblocks on the body, heavy and life threatening so she was sure to be careful.

Water covering her ears, most of the surrounding noise was mitigated. She watched birds fly over her head and thanked God that she was alive and able to experience what the world had to offer her. Most people were just trying to survive, so it was important to be grateful for her luxuries, even in the midst of her own turmoil.

As she started to feel like she was baking, she dipped under the water to cool herself off and swam back to shore, squeezing the moisture from her heavy curls. Tati and EJ were still on the beach, evidently waiting for her to return.

"I thought you fell asleep out there," Tati said, grabbing onto her fingers with a sandy hand, "It's time for lunch."

"Perfect. Mama's hungry." Nayeli patted her empty stomach and let her daughter pull her back toward the expansive villa. She stopped at her lounger to grab her book and now watered down drink, feeling extra heat on her back from EJ watching her as they passed under the palm trees. She snuck a peek over her shoulder and found his eyes shamelessly glued to her butt, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he admired the subtle jiggling and bouncing of her cheeks. When he realized he was caught, he grinned.

"My bad," he said although he was anything but apologetic. Had they been alone in the villa, he would've palmed himself to emphasize what she was missing out on.

"Enjoy it while you can," she replied with a light laugh. She would be running away from him until further notice. Doing anything else would be asking for trouble to find her, and she was dealing with enough as it was. She didn't need another reason to spend hours in her head.

"What are you guys talking about?" Tati asked, having heard the exchange.

"Adult things."

"Oh brother. You guys are gonna start being gross again, huh?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nayeli feigned innocence as a subtle denial and set her book and glass on a table to rinse the sand off of her feet and legs and the saltwater out of her hair at the outdoor shower.

"Just please wait until I'm not around to kiss each other. I don't want to throw up." Tati stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

"You are so dramatic, Princess." Nayeli could feel EJ's eyes on her again as she stood on the wooden platform under the cool spray of fresh water, scanning her body from head to toe. She met his gaze, heat rising to her cheeks when she recognized the heavy-lidded look of lust. There was an absence of shame as he continued to eye-fuck her while waiting for his turn, handing her a clean towel from the stack one of the staff members set out for them when she finished, "Thank you." Drying off to the best of her ability, she threw on a cover up and joined the rest of his family at the long dining table under the straw roofed pergola in between the infinity pool and the fire pit.

Everyone was waiting for them so they could bless the food and tuck into the delicious selections provided for them. Carmen smiled at her as she approached.

"You look like you're enjoying your time here," she said, pulling out the chair next to her.

"I am, Miss Carmen. I really needed some time off. Life has been crazy." So has your son. Nayeli sat down and sipped from a glass of ice water to cool off, pushing her wet hair behind her shoulders. Tati moved a chair to the other side of her so she could sit between her and her father.

"I'm glad you get to rest and recuperate. EJ told us how hard you've been working." Carmen rubbed her shoulder, leaning a little closer and lowering her voice to keep the next part of the conversation between them, "I want to thank you for stepping up for Tatiana the way you have in spite of everything. Lord knows another woman in your shoes wouldn't do the same." Their problems were pretty much an open secret.

Though he'd been on his best behavior at Nayeli's request, everyone sensed the underlying tension between them, whispered about them behind their backs. The show they put on fooled no one, and Carmen wasn't convinced they were completely finished. Nayeli couldn't say for certain if they were, but she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up.

"I followed my heart and my gut," Nayeli shrugged, "I can't imagine making another choice."

EJ was the last to reach the table, and they all grabbed each other's hands, bowing their heads as Phillip gave thanks to God for their meal, their setting, and their good health. She got in line behind Kandice, helping Tati load her plate up with fresh sandwiches, sliced fruit and salad.

"Mommy, what's that green stuff?" Tati asked, pointing to one of Nayeli's sandwiches once they were back at the table.

"Pesto. It's made from pine nuts, basil, garlic, salt, olive oil and parmesan cheese."

"Is it good?"

"Very good, especially on pasta."

"Can I try it?"

"Of course you can." Nayeli picked up the sandwich and let her take a small bite, knowing that she would have to go back for another when Tati took a second one.

"It is good!"

"You can have it, Love." Nayeli rubbed Tati's damp braids and got up from her chair to grab another sandwich, greeting Kandice as she walked up next to her.

"Kids never let you have anything to yourself," Rakim's fiancée quipped, filling a small plate with some mango slices.

"Ever, but I'm used to it. I've been getting my food stolen since my nephew Diesel was old enough to eat solids."

"Awww, how old is he?"

"A year and a few months older than Tati. I watched him a lot when he was a baby, so I learned quickly that children will snatch any and everything from you. Same thing happened when I taught preschool for a hot minute."

"You used to be a preschool teacher?"

"Yeah, my degrees are in early childhood studies and child development."

"I thought you owned a bakery."

"I do. I went to culinary school after I graduated. Then I had family to take care of, so I taught while I was building my business."

"Would you ever go back to it?"

"Probably not. Love kids and I loved teaching, but I love what I do more." And thanks to EJ, she was free to continue pursuing any dream that entered her mind. Nayeli took a moment to look over at him. He was wiping something off of Tati's cheek and tapped her nose with his finger, tickling her side until she giggled and pushed his hands away. It was basic interaction, but it reminded Nayeli of one reason she fell in love with him in the first place; he was an amazing father when he wanted to be. Most of the time, really. One incident didn't wipe out everything else he'd done for Tatiana. Kandice recognized the look of longing and smiled to herself, ready to put her plan in motion.

"I think it's nice that you and EJ found each other. Rakim was worried about him for a while."

"Why?" Nayeli asked, biting into a pineapple slice and picking up another napkin to wipe away the fruit juice that made her fingers sticky. Thankfully they were far enough from the table that eavesdropping wasn't an option.

"He was lonely and growing bitter. We could all see the downward spiral coming. It's not easy being the only single person in this family."

"He dated women before me." After, too.

"Dating is a stretch. There were women, sure, but nothing of substance or that lasted very long. His picker was faulty, and they all showed their true colors eventually. You're the first to love him for who he is and not what he has."

"Money doesn't make up for poor character," Nayeli said and licked her lips, "At least not in my opinion." Some people were easily swayed away from their morals. She was not.

"Exactly. He needs someone like you to—no, he needs you to check his worst impulses, so don't give up on him. Please."

"Pardon me?" Nayeli's eyebrows lifted, temporarily creasing her forehead. She wasn't expecting to hear that from Kandice. Rakim, maybe. Carmen, absolutely. But definitely not Kandice. They hardly knew each other, and she was unsure of how much Kandice knew about their situation.

"Don't give up on him. I'm nosey and a light sleeper. I heard you guys on the plane."

Question answered, she sighed, "That's embarrassing. I'm sorry we woke you up."

"I woke up to use the restroom and heard you guys on the way back to my seat. He's a good guy that's had bad luck with women, and I'm not saying that because he's family or because I'm a few supervised hours and a test away from being a licensed therapist. There are a lot of things he didn't have to work for, and it made him lax when it comes to human connection. He's learning the hard way that real people value things like communication, respect and understanding over possessions. He won't get it right every time, and neither will you. The beauty in relationships are the lessons we learn along the way. Don't let him off easy, but give him a chance to make things right. He might surprise you." Kandice touched her arm before she walked away, and Nayeli stood there for several seconds, contemplating before she returned to her seat.

"You good?" EJ asked when she made it to the table.

"Mhmm."

As she sat and ate quietly, she wondered if Kandice had come to her of her own volition or if the family was colluding behind her back. It could've been a combination of both. Either way, the short conversation altered her mood and her mindset. She questioned whether or not she was being too hard on EJ. It wasn't a concern of hers before. Like she told him, she thought she'd taken it easy on him, but maybe she didn't take it easy enough.

He wasn't perfect, and she didn't expect him to be because she wasn't, but he did try to fix things the only way he knew how, the way most men thought women wanted them to fix things. When that failed, he suggested trying something different, and she questioned him and doubted him instead of hearing him out. She tried to convince herself that he was lying to feel better about being hesitant to fully let him back into her heart. Had she let her anger get the better of her? Let it blind her to the point of being unreasonable?

A man toyed with her feelings for six years but she had to ruminate on forgiving a few slip ups? Granted, the nature of them was pretty bad, but EJ never lied to her face. Or maybe all that happened with Jalen was the reason she was so intolerant. No relationship existed without troubles. EJ wanted to correct his mistakes, which was more than could be said for a lot of men. Her choices were stemming from a place of extreme pain, fear of feeling that pain again.

But fear was nothing more than a deterrent, a delay of the inevitable. Pain skipped over no one, and she wasn't going to be the exception to the rule. She couldn't let fear control her or allow it to harden her heart. She had to face it and hope the results would make her better.

☼☼☼

The sun had gone down hours ago, yet Nayeli lay outside on a daybed, staring up at the sky like the answers to all of her problems were written in the constellations. All she'd gotten was a breeze.

She was ready to go back to living a naive, peaceful life and breathing easy. Being on the island helped, but she couldn't stay in Antigua forever.

Wind rustled the leaves of the trees around her, noises of local wildlife providing a soundtrack worthy of a white noise app. She lifted her arms to tuck her hands underneath her head and the pillow it rested on, staring into the center of a group of stars directly above her. The lack of surrounding lights made them shine extra bright, almost as bright as the star EJ named for her.

"Hey."

Her simple thought manifested him, and she tilted her head to the side as she heard his footsteps approaching her resting place. His vacation uniform consisted of shorts and nothing else, occasionally a button down shirt he'd leave open to show off his pecs, and she once again found herself avoiding too long of a look at his body. She no longer had any doubts. She knew he was doing it on purpose.

"Hey," she said back, unsurprised when he took a seat next to her.

"I just wanted to check on you. You been out here by yourself for hours."

She was also unsurprised that he'd been watching her. He wasn't big on TV and would eventually run out of things to do once the rest of the house went to bed. His only options were sleeping, exploring nightlife, and bothering her. If push came to shove, he would definitely bother her.

"I'm alright. Just thinking."

"You feel like sharing?"

"Once I figure it all out, I will." She was continuously going back and forth with herself about her next steps, but she knew which way she was leaning. The daybed shifted as he started to get up, and she touched his hand before he could, "You don't have to leave," she said, voice gentle and inviting. His company was no longer unbearable, although she wasn't completely comfortable around him. He positioned himself next to her, stretching out but keeping some distance between them, something she appreciated.

For another hour and forty minutes, he laid there in silence, staring at her admiration of the burning balls of gas miles above them.

"Are the stars that interesting?" he asked.

"I'm imagining the one you named after me is somewhere in this cluster." She pointed and made a small circle with her index finger, "It's a long shot, but it would be nice. I haven't seen it since you took me to the observatory."

"That feels like it happened years ago."

"I'm not surprised. We've been through years worth of shit in about seven months." His mouth opened audibly, and she reached over to cover it with her hand, "If you're about to apologize again, don't. That wasn't a dig at you, just a statement." She didn't let go until she was sure she wasn't going to hear the word sorry. He laughed at her and turned on his side.

"Why are you looking for your star?"

"I don't want to forget what we were like before it all went to shit," she sighed. Her birthday was as close to perfect as they would ever get. Everything he planned was intentional from the excursions to her gifts. Every word spoken came from his heart.

"We were perfect," he said, hesitantly touching the back of her hand. She looked over at him, spreading her fingers so that his fit in the spaces.

"We were delusional." Her smile and eyes were sad. It didn't take long to come to the realization, but when she reached it, she knew that there was a lesson to be learned. One of love's beauties, as Kandice would put it.

"Maybe a little," EJ conceded, thankful that she wasn't keeping him at arm's length. They were making progress which was all he could hope for then.

Nayeli looked away from him, turning her eyes to the stars, "Why did you fall in love with me?" she asked.

"Your heart and soul spoke to me. Your wisdom spoke to me. I knew I loved you from the beginning, but I really knew at Tati's birthday party. The way you handled yourself with Savannah, the advice you gave me, when you stopped me from going after her, everything you did told me you were the one for me. I've never put my hands on a woman, and I never will, but Savannah almost got dealt with that day. I was already pissed off at her, and when she came at you, I saw red. You made me feel calm and at peace with a look. No one's ever been able to calm me down like that but you. You showed me that there was a better way. You showed me patience and compassion. You're thoughtful and honest, and I took that for granted. I wish I could take that back." He was careful not to apologize and ruin the vibe. She shifted onto her side and tucked her free hand under the pillow.

"There are things I wish I could take back, too."

"Like what?"

"Asking if you would get back with her." The embarrassment showed on Nayeli's face.

"There's nothing in this world that would ever make me go back to her."

"I know that now. I didn't at the time. If you knew me as well as you think you do, you'd understand why I had that thought in the first place."

"I do understand. You wanted her to be better than she was, but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck....."

"It's a duck. I get it, and I've seen the error of my ways. Being here has given me plenty of time to think about a lot of things. Mostly where we went wrong. I didn't like the answer, but I've accepted it."

"Accepted what?"

"That we moved too fast, Ezra." He thought he would never hear his name leave her lips again, that he was cursed to remain EJ as long as they were in each other's lives. He was so geeked that he almost missed her explanation, "Part of our problem is that we expected too much from each other too soon, and we did because we skipped some important steps. We jumped into playing house without knowing each other's communication styles, how we react when we're angry or upset. We didn't talk about the things that changed us, our deal breakers, our triggers, how we would work through our problems. We matched so well in certain areas that we didn't think about anything else until it was too late."

"I'll take responsibility for that. I pushed when I should've let shit happen naturally. Brandy told me to give you time that night we were all at Buster's. I went in head first when I should've listened to her."

"Yes, you should've, but I could've pumped the brakes. I should've. I was the one fresh out of a crappy relationship, and it was up to me to set that boundary. I never stopped you. I went in head first just like you did, and I knew better. My heart was ready for love, but my head wasn't. I wasn't thinking, just feeling, and when I started to think, the truth slapped me in the face. We did everything backwards, and it set us up for failure."

He didn't expect her to accept any fault in the situation, but he was grateful not to shoulder all of the blame. She was right. Had they done what she mentioned, gotten to know all of those things about each other first, the conversation that ended their relationship could've gone in a different direction. It might not have been as gut wrenching. It might not have happened at all because he would've known to give her space to process. He might've approached her differently, been more understanding of her worries and less judgmental. He might not have assumed she was going to end it.

"What do we do now?" Their only choice was to move forward, but he was worried that he'd done too much damage to do it the way he wanted. Their collective breakdown on the plane made it obvious just how bad he'd been, and he'd done some thinking of his own. Although he wanted back on her good side, he'd accept it if she told him no.

Nayeli chewed her bottom lip and prayed she wouldn't regret the decision she was about to make.

"I'd like to have that conversation you mentioned on the way here when we get back. My hope is that once we do, we'll be in a better place to figure out how to make each other happy."

Only two things sounded better to him; hearing that Tati was perfectly healthy when she was first born and Nayeli telling him that she loved him, too.

She could see the relief on his face under the light of the moon. She also saw the moment another thought darkened his doorstep, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading and prepping for the fight she didn't want to have.

"Where does that leave you and Isaiah?"

She was afraid that anything she said next would jostle the bridge they were building and possibly even cause it to collapse. But it was better to be honest than to spare his feelings only to switch up later.

"Exactly where we are now. I don't want to hurt you, but it's not fair if I'm not real with you about where we stand. I love him, and he loves me. I don't believe that's going to change," she admitted, unable to hold eye contact because she didn't want to witness his disdain. EJ was as quiet as a mouse next to her. She just knew that he was going to get up and leave, that that would be the end of it all, but he shocked her.

"When did that happen?" He was calmer than she expected.

"I don't know if I can pinpoint when. It just happened."

"How?"

"I didn't take our break up well at all. I was good about hiding it, but he knew I wasn't okay. He was the only person besides Tati that knew I wasn't okay. He helped me through it. He got me out of the house. He made sure I didn't completely lose myself. We were friends for years, pretty much family, and the more we hung out, the more I realized how much I genuinely like being around him. I'm happy around him, and when you cut me off and told me that you didn't want me to see Tati anymore, my heart broke all over again. He did everything he could to lessen that blow. He took care of me. We took care of each other, and the next thing I knew, I was in love," she explained, still afraid to look EJ in the eye. He went silent again, and her worrying worsened.

"Did you lie to me the first time I asked you about him?" he eventually spoke.

"No. We were just friends then. Some years back, I considered the possibility of being more, but I was with Jalen. When you asked me about him, we'd slept together, but it was only once. After that, we went back to being platonic, and that didn't change until I made it known that I wanted it to. By then, you'd already built a roster."

"Is that why you didn't want to stop seeing him?"

"I won't stop seeing him because he's lost a lot in his life. We're close, and I don't want him to lose me, too. I don't want to lose him, either. He's important to me," she answered and got ready for more questions. She knew where EJ's curiosity was coming from. She didn't want to be dishonest, but she was going to spare him the gory details.

"How long has he loved you?"

"As long as he's known me."

"Why didn't he make a move then?"

"Our timelines never matched up. When we met, I had just started dating Jalen. There was a connection with Isaiah, but when I'm in a relationship, I'm loyal to a fault. Eventually, he got a girlfriend, and he was with her for years. We still hung out, just not as often."

EJ wasn't sure how to feel. She told him that she loved Isaiah, but he could hear it in her voice just how much she did. Her feelings were strong, possibly stronger than what she felt for him, and that was scary. He pushed her right into the arms of the man that her father already considered a son. It was like God was telling him to give up, but why would He send Nayeli to him only to separate them? He didn't understand that.

"Does that mean you're not in love with me anymore?" he dared to ask, afraid of her answer but more afraid of not knowing if he had a shot.

"I would drop to my knees in relief if it were that simple. I struggle with the fact that I'm still in love with you because not only have you screwed me over more than once, but I wasn't brought up to be this way. I've entertained the idea before. Feeling it is an entirely different monster because I know it's not fair, but I can't change how I feel. If that means I have to let you go, it's going to break my heart, but you've given me time to prepare for that." The truth stung. At least he knew she hadn't stopped loving him. The question was who she loved more, who she was more afraid to lose, who she was willing to lose.

"Would letting him go break your heart?"

"Yes. That's not something I have to worry about, though."

"How's that work?" he asked, tone tenser than it was a few seconds prior. He didn't like the sound of that.

"He's a permanent part of my life. I've never kept my feelings for you a secret from him, even when things were at their worst. I wouldn't say he's okay with it. There's a reason you're not his favorite person, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you tried to hit him, but he loves me enough to let me be with you if that's what we decide."

"You gotta give me a little more than that because I don't know a single nigga that would willingly share the woman he loves."

"He's dated a polyamorous woman before. He has a different way of thinking."

"What the hell does polyamorous mean?" EJ propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at her so intensely that she started to shy away from the conversation.

"Loosely translated, many loves. It's a love style where someone has or can have more than one committed relationship with all parties' consent." Her voice quieted down, eyes dancing around to keep from looking at him.

"So an open relationship?"

"Sort of, but not really. When most people hear open relationship, they think sexually and this is much more than that. I'm not super educated on the topic yet, but it's about loving multiple people and that not taking away from the love you have for a specific person."

"That don't sound right to me."

"A lot of people would agree with you. I would've agreed with you before now, but I'm living in the middle of being in love with two men, so I can't."

"It sounds crazy."

"It feels like that, too." She still didn't understand it herself. She was looking forward to having a conversation with Aubrie if Isaiah could ever get it scheduled. She'd been looking into Facebook groups and reading posts on Reddit when she could as well.

"You think it's something you'll feel forever?"

"I don't know. Most likely, and that scares me just as much as the thought of losing both of you."

"What if I'm not cool with it?"

"Then you're not, but that won't change my emotions." If she could turn her feelings on and off, she would be in better shape.

EJ flopped onto his back and sighed loudly, "So I live with it or find someone else?" He was not okay with it, but he was less okay with the second option.

"Don't jump so far ahead. We still need to have that talk, but essentially, yes that's what would happen."

"I don't want to find someone else if I can help it, though. The talk is more for you than it is for me. I made mistakes that got us where we are now, and it's up to me to make them right. I want you to tell me what I can do differently to make you feel like being with me isn't a headache, if there's anything I can do. I want to be better for you."

"Being with you was never a headache. Everyone else's opinions and drama and everything that happened after we broke up was, and if I'm being honest, your actions changed the way I look at you."

"What can I do to fix that?"

This time around, she didn't question his sincerity. They were having an honest conversation, and although it was premature, she wanted it to continue. If they figured their shit out now, the thought of going back to California wouldn't have such a dark cloud hanging over it, "I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything. I've been out here arguing with myself for hours because as much as I still love you and want to give us another shot, I don't trust you. I've had hope in the past, I've wanted to give you chances, and you've repeatedly given me your ass to kiss when all I've done is tell you the truth. I can't help thinking you'll do the same if I decide to try again, and I'm tired of being hurt by you. The next time it happens will be my fault because I've seen what you're capable of. You've shown me that my feelings will never matter as much as yours. I wasted six years of my life in a relationship like that. I don't want to do it again. I don't have time to do it again."

EJ understood why she was wary. Jalen screwed her over, and so did he. Women lied to him in the past, pretended to care for him to get what they wanted out of him even though he never believed they were around for the right reasons.

They used him, and he used them. It was an equal exchange, so it was easy to move on when a situation didn't serve him. Nayeli was the only woman that was different, yet his treatment of her was worse than any of his previous situations, likely because there were real feelings involved.

Love made people do dumb things. Heartbreak lead to impulsive decisions, and being that he was already an impulsive person, it made him worse. But he refused to give up on her again, even with another man in the picture.

"I take full responsibility for the way I mishandled our relationship and everything I did after that. I was immature, I was an asshole and I was selfish. I want to grow from this, so if you could find it in your heart to give me another chance, I want to try rebuilding the trust between us."

"That's going to take a lot of time." More than either of them had to waste.

"I know it is, but I'd rather spend that time with you than getting to know another woman, so tell me what I need to do. Tell me where to start." He picked her hand up and held it against his face, eyes pleading for the opportunity to do right by her. They made some good strides, and the willingness she saw within him softened her up the rest of the way. She could give a little. Just a little.

"I think working on our communication is a good starting point, and if that means taking some time before we have a conversation, that's just what it needs to be. You need to listen to me instead of assuming you know what I'm thinking or feeling and making a decision based off of your own perception. Don't be hateful when I upset you. I don't expect you to never be mad at me, but I do expect you to respect me the way I've always respected you. Overall, just do better. Don't say you will. Do it, and be more patient with me, please. You lack patience when I need it the most, and I'm really going to need it now."

"Whatever you want, whatever you need, you got it. I swear, and if I fall short, let me know and I'll go harder. I don't want to be at odds anymore."

"I don't want that, either." She visibly relaxed, grateful that there was no pushback, excuses or deflecting. That was already a step in the right direction, and it made her feel comfortable enough to offer an olive branch of her own, "What do you need from me?"

"Give me a fair shot to make things up to you. I'm a fuck up. I'll own that, but when you doubt me and the stuff that I do for you and say to you, it feels like you don't see that I'm trying or that you don't want to see it."

"You have a point. I've been so angry at you that I didn't want to see it. Being angry is easier than risking my heart over and over again. I've been in pain, and it's made me put up a wall with you because I don't want to feel that pain anymore. There will be boundaries between us going forward, but if you can commit to being better, I can commit to having more faith in you." The wall was still there, high and strong. However, if he did what he said he would do, it would come down brick by brick.

"Done."

"And—"

"Here we go." He huffed and threw his arms in the air as he fell back onto the pillows behind him. Just when he thought he was in the clear, another bump in the road appeared. Nayeli laughed at his childishness and let him get it out of his system.

"I see where Tati's drama gene came from," she teased, "Don't act like that. Building a house on a broken foundation is a recipe for cracks, crashes, crumbles and expensive repairs. I think if anything, we should take things slow and work our way up to being in a relationship." His full lips formed a frown so deep that it made her think twice, but she kept going, "We'll start small. Maybe coffee dates and walks in the park. Then we'll do dinner, movies, deep conversations, making plans together and going to our respective homes at the end of the night. And during this whole process, I think you should see other people."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm still going to see Isaiah," she reminded him. The warm feeling between them cooled quickly, though EJ kept himself calm.

"I'm not tryna be in competition with that nigga," he said flatly.

"There is no competition. I love you both. It would be easier if I didn't, but at this point it's out of my control," she replied, hating that she was upsetting him. They were having their most productive conversation in months, and anything could change that for the worst, "Big Momma told me my heart was too big and that it'd get me into trouble one day. I never understood how that was possible because in my mind, love is never wrong. I get it now, and I wish that my heart wasn't so big. I can tell that this is hurting you, and I hate myself for it, but I'd hate myself more if I lied to you and wasn't true to myself."

"Knowing you're in love with somebody else does hurt, but I deserve it. I pushed you away when I should've pulled you closer. What other choice did you have?"

"Don't say that. You don't deserve it. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know you don't," he sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was sitting in a mess of his own making, though he had faith that things would end up how they were supposed to, "Bring it in." He opened his arms for her. Little by little, she scooted toward him and laid her head on his bare chest. His skin was warm and smelled of cocoa butter, and she closed her eyes as he held her and kissed the scar on her hairline, a reminder of their very first meeting all those years ago, "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"It's hard not to when this feels like a goodbye hug."

"It isn't, but I don't know what's gonna happen when we go home. I don't know if I'll ever be okay with your feelings for Isaiah. I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable with the idea of you being with me and him. I don't know if me seeing other women will make any of this easier. I'm not gonna feel the same way about them that I do about you, and I feel like that defeats the purpose of you telling me to do it."

"I just want to be fair to you. I can't ask you to hold out if I'm not going to," she explained.

"Think of it as payback for me expecting that from you while I was running around."

"That's not me, Ezra."

"It needs to be for a while. Dating other women isn't going to help me prove that I can be all you need me to be. I don't want any distractions. I just want to focus on being a better man for you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove that to you. We'll figure this out as we go, and whatever happens, happens."

They were playing with fire. Nayeli felt the heat even as a breeze blew over them. One thing she didn't want was a fight for her love or her time. She didn't want Israel and Ezra trying to outdo each other. She didn't want either to feel left out. She didn't want either of them to give up on her because they thought she loved the other more.

She wanted peace. Companionship. Friendship. Laughter. Support. Stability. Bomb sex. She wanted to create her village and raise a family filled with so much love that her children would never know what it meant to be without.

"Can you promise me something?" she asked.

"Anything."

"Don't lie to me about how you feel, and if at any point you want something or someone different, you'll tell me."

"I doubt I'm going to want anyone else, but yeah, I promise." Truthfully, he wasn't down for any of it, but after all they suffered through and were beginning to overcome, he realized he loved her too much to just take a backseat and co-parent with her. He needed her, and for her to be the woman he fell in love with, he had to compromise. Maybe he would get lucky and her thing with Isaiah would be short lived. All he had to do was step up and wait out their connection. It was just too bad that the thought of her dating anyone else made his blood boil at an unhealthy level.

"You don't know that for sure. Other than me, what woman have you given a fair shot?"

"I'm pretty sure you're the only woman I've met that's deserved it. I know what women want from me, and it's not love. It's security, shopping sprees, being in my will. I have no problem giving all that to you because you'd love me if I had a regular day job. I can't say the same for the other women that have been in my life. I want something real, and you're as real as it gets," he said. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, looking into her eyes as he silently asked for permission to go a step further and kiss her again. She lifted her head, the slight pucker in her lips all the signal he needed, but he only got in a quick peck before she moved her lips back out of his reach.

"This isn't taking things slow." Already she was failing at setting and sticking to her boundaries. She had to take the restructuring of their relationship seriously if she truly wanted it to work. Backing out of his arms, she sat up and smiled at his pout, "Turn that frown upside down. You've kissed me more this week than you have in half a year."

"It's not enough."

"You'll be alright," she giggled, stretching out her arms before she stood up and tugged her shorts down over her butt, "You can kiss me again after our first date. Goodnight, Ezra."

"'Night, Shortcake." He watched her leave with renewed hope and immediately started planning.

[cpdanvers]

back to basics

Name: Cooper Danvers

Faceclaim: Charlie Hunnam

Gender & Pronouns: Cismale he/him

Age: 44

Birthday: 16 January 1980

Occupation: Owner of Danvers Security (hirable), security at Bare Necessities, trainer at the Boxing Room (he's a busy guy)

Neighborhood: South Hills

Does your character have a secret? During a misson in the east four of his squad were killed, his brother and 2IC were arrested for war crimes and now serve in federal prison for an order that Cooper, as Sargeant, handed down after refusing orders himself and ordering the squad to go dark (no comms) thinking it was the only choice they had.

the true story

Trigger warnings: war, death, drug addiction, overdose

It shouldn't have surprised Cooper in the least, that he’d be knee deep in sand and heat, dragging his brother across the arid desert of some foreign land. His hand had curled around the scruff of the younger Davners neck since they were merely kids, not quite the guiding hand of an easy relationship, but one that tore at the seams of his heart like no other, and his grip had never really eased up. For what could the love of a brother who only wanted to see this younger version of himself survive, turn into other than resentment and loathing? It was something Cooper did everything to avoid, the bullets ringing off in the distant hills reminiscent of a childhood, where each aggravated and volatile response to anything the youngest Danver did, sort to rip and tear just the same.

Eldest son, born to a man who wanted no child, and a woman without a single maternal instinct within her, Cooper felt the sting of abandonment and loneliness for years of his childhood. Instead seeking the company of imaginary friends and stray dogs that littered the streets of South Hills like fleas. It didn’t bother him - in truth he knew no better, but for a long time, Cooper refused to speak. With so little experience with warmth and care, he shied away from any act of social compliance that he could, and for a long time, a lot of people believed that he’d always be that way.

It was only when he was eight, and a young teacher took a special interest in his learning capabilities - or if there existed a lacking, that Cooper began to open up. For two years, she sought to encourage him in ways that a mother never had, and by the time his birth mother declared that she was once again pregnant and that he’d soon have a new Dad, Cooper might have even been happy about the idea of having a younger sibling.

A family was still a family if it was fractured, right? That was the way Cooper saw it, another eight years later, when the graying woman who took him under his wing in the classroom, sought to gain custody of him in the wake of his mothers first overdose. An act of good faith, and yet one done with a heavy heart as Cooper’s mother brought a third child into the world. Would tearing him from his siblings draw him away from the steps he’d made over the years? A question that inevitably needn’t be asked, as the once coy child refused to be torn from the lives of his new siblings, regardless of where he called home.

He spent as much time as he could, watching - helping his brother and sister to grow and learn, filling the myriad of holes that careless parents left. Perhaps they’d never know the love of a mother or a father, but Cooper wasn’t about to let them go without the love of a brother until he could do something more than simply be present and even as he stepped through the ropes of the marine corps, he managed to foster something akin to a safe place for the three of them.

But never was it meant to last, his first heartbreak found him after receiving a distraught call from his brother's partner while home from deployment. Barely able to understand the words that found their way through the phone, Cooper pushed his way through the doors of a well known drug den, to find his brother near lifeless upon the floor, suffering the same affliction of their mother. It was the beginning of Cooper’s most difficult plight in life.

Though it wasn’t his first experience with the addled life of an addict, it hurt far more than watching their mother destroy herself in his early years. He was present for this, torn by the ache that resided within his chest each and every time the younger Denver called upon him late at night, asking for help. They tried everything, and the number of doors broken and damaged as Coop tried to pull him from such a haze, slowly splintered whatever patience might have otherwise solidified his very bones.

Selfishly, the first sign of sobriety beyond six months saw Cooper accepting his next deployment, with a new patch as sergeant of a newly minted squad of marines. Juggling the lives of his men, and his brother in the days and nights he could breathe, he began to revert back into the isolation of his childhood years, distancing himself without even realizing it, in some subconscious attempt to save himself from the weight of the world. Atlas, buckling beneath all that he sought to shoulder, it proved to do little more than make him more determined.

Despite his brothers instability, the choice came where there was little else Cooper could do, and still his hand had strong at the nape of his brothers neck. Even more so as he dragged him from the streets of Wilmington and gave him the ultimatum - join the marines, or go it alone.

Five years later, the Danvers brothers were a name welcomed among all ranks and the weight Cooper carried felt a little lighter. As they both sought to specialise in search and rescue, Cooper built out his own squad with men and women of the same calibre. Soldiers hardened by needless war, brutalized by training and battle and loss, yet the first to put their hand up for the next chopper out, leaving egos at base camp. Which only made it all the more shocking when the call came through that four of them were dead, and the rest nowhere to be found.

The Danvers and those with them had gone dark, leaving no trace of where they might have gone, with a classified target with them.

For twenty three days, there was no sign of the marines. No sign of life at all, until a small fishing village off the coast of Syria was attacked. The sole perpetrators, a small team of marines demanding refuge and passage home. Further investigation bore no new details, and beyond the word of the villagers, Cooper was faced with an impossible decision.

His second in command, and brother were quietly arrested for war crimes and sentenced to federal prison, and nothing more was spoken about the incident to the public. Cooper took a leave of absence and returned home, perhaps none the wiser that every choice he'd made, led him right back to the isolation he’d spent his whole life trying to fight.

––––––

most wanted

Friends: Cooper was born and raised in Wilmington and had been here on and off his whole life between deployments and the like - this can range from best friends, to lost friends, to friends to enemies. // Nazli, Sienna, Shiv, Nik

You're not lost yet: Cooper is a bit of a shell at the moment, and doesn't really know how to pull himself out of this rutt he's in. In fact, he's probably not even acknowledging the fact that he's even in a rough place. This person would be gently trying to get him to open up a bit - perhaps they miss their old friend, perhaps they're just curious.

Fear can't kill you: With the recent events, they've approached Cooper to help them train or help them with self defence. This can include companies/people looking for private security services from him // Parker

We were never meant to make it: This is the person that knew him the most before things with his brother became the hardest. Irrevocably in love with each other, Cooper called things off when he simply felt he couldn't give them as much energy as he wanted to. Very much a "I can't give you what you want right now" kind of situation. Neither of them ever really recovered from it. // Parker

Current fling: this is entirely physical and very much a connection that is more to blow off steam than anything else. Bad day? Let's catch up. You pissed? Take it out on me.

Previous flings: self explanatory. He's been back and forth between deployment and Wilmington his whole life. This // Sienna (was close with his brother/currently hacking Coops personals for info), Nicole (brothers friend troupe)

Brothers fiance/girlfriend/ex: this is the girl that saw everything Cooper did for his brother during his addiction and couldn't believe how much an older brother could love his younger so much.... But, that's all changed now that his younger brother is in federal prison. She can't stand the sight of Cooper and blames him (though she doesn't actually know it's his fault)

WCS I'll submit to the main: One younger brother and a younger sister (I'd prefer if the sister was the youngest but whatever works!) these are both HALF siblings.

+ Open to just about anything!

[quirklessidiot]

Can you tell more about nocuos? That last ep got me in on a sukuna brain rot and i love how you wrote him there

I got questions like did they do it😏 did sukuna still love her etc

hi! Nocuos!sukuna is actually my favorite one shot series. Hshsjsjs thank u for reading and giving it some love!

when y/n is old during the first part (where he visits her for the last time), he is filled with conflict and leans more onto resentment than love but its because y/n is sukuna’s humanity. He can’t kill her because deep down, he can’t do it (y/n was basically his savior, the one who game him a name, the one who gave him a life, a potential. She basically made him and has been through it all with him. She basically has loved him through those various stages. Despite the number of fights they had, he could never bear to gravely hurt her because it would feel like killing himself and at that time, he wasnt ready because it was still fresh. in the third part where u see her worrying over him a lot and wondering if he’d come back and he states, “im not going anywhere”. He genuinely meant that, he’s basically holding onto the thin thread thats tied to her)

she is the last of good within sukuna, u can say that when she passed due to old age, he was filled with grief and relief as well because the last thing tying him to humanity was gone.(u also have to take note that y/n did not bear any heirs or anyone to pass the name to despite people telling her to do it because she did not want to marry anyone that wasn’t sukuna so sukuna is basically the last remaining member of the clan by name… but by blood, their jujutsu technique was lost in history and well sukuna is relieved because i don’t think he’d have the heart to actually face her heirs.) ive always noted how in jujutsu clans they all have a certain physical look to them (like the zen’in’s for example), so he’d feel haunted because if he’d ever run into them, it would be like staring at a remnant of a time with the woman who loved him through it all. when u read the part of them meeting when she was old and gray, he states that they were friends and y/n only holds resentment to that statement and becomes very bitter because they both know that it was anything but that, y/n saw him as her true pair and he thought the same but him saying that out loud is basically a spit to the face because she genuinely still loves him despite what he did so for him to downplay it😮‍💨

And yes, they were each others firsts! Y/n’s father actually approved of him to be y/n’s husband because he knew he was genuine about his daughter and wouldn’t try to stage a coup to take over the clan. Their clan was pretty ahead of their time lololo

[calenhads]

bite the hand (1k, sabina/lachlan)

Sabina is sick with it, all the hatred in her heart. 

It simmers under her lungs, the ruddy glow of coals on a midnight fire, the trembling ashes of the Undying Hearth. It is quiet now; not sated, but no longer clamoring for her attention with all the fervor of a yipping dog at her heel. A small mercy granted only because she is too exhausted to feel anything at all beyond the time-worn cloth of her trousers under her hands. Sodden strands of hair stick to her forehead, teased by a cool breeze gentle as a lover’s kiss. Her face is flushed, she knows, because of the way Lachlan keeps stealing sidelong glances at her.

Though present, worry is not the only emotion to cross his night-dark eyes. She almost wants to scold him, scandalized. A spark lights among the ashes, glimmering and notably not exhausted. 

“Again,” she says instead, pushing herself to her full height. Not quite taller than him. Bile rises in her throat at the movement, and is swallowed back down. Sabina draws, rapier light in one hand and dagger lighter in the other. Lachlan’s face twists into an expression she does not recognize, and speaks in a voice that she does.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. When did you even sleep last, Sa-“

“Again, damn you.”

Sabina hurtles towards her dearest friend, her lover if the world was kinder, with no small amount of tremulous energy. Lachlan raises his sword to meet her in a parry effortless enough to set that little spark into a flame. 

She gasps against the heat of it, and is surprised that her breath does not turn to steam in the cool air. Something within her bares its teeth, snapping at any errant hands. Come to stroke or to strike, they are bitten all the same. Arms straining, Lachlan shoves her back and away a handful of stumbling steps. 

“Sab, come on,” he pleads with wide eyes. His offhand is help up, palm facing her, placating. She has never resented anything more in her life. 

“I’m not done,” she snarls, more beast than woman. 

She lunges again, mad with grief and fury and denial as Lachlan diverts her flashing blades with his own. What a picture she must make, teeth bared and eye-whites flashing, stern brows furrowed even as her body trembles. A rabid animal in desperate need of the knife.

“You are,” he disagrees with the pleasant air of someone speaking to a particularly petulant child. “You really are.”

He’s not even trying anymore, not really. With each ragged breath her blows become sloppier, her responses slower. Lachlan is hardly sweating, only a single bead rolling down his impeccable brow. She likes that brow, normally. When it’s not condescending at her with only the tiniest of wrinkles to betray his pity. It always seemed heroic to her. Now it makes her want to claw and bite and scream until it is ruined. Until they are both ruined in their entirety. 

Sabina wants to take him to the grave. She wants to take him to bed. Are they not one and the same, in the end? She is surely making one of each for herself to lay in at the end of all this. Lachlan is merely providing the shovel. 

And perhaps company.

Something in her expression must change, because Lachlan’s guard drops and his expression softens. His brows untwist from the knot they tangled themselves in out of sheer worry. A mistake.

Barely registering the dull thud of her weapons against the sea-damp dirt, Sabina lurches forward with arms outstretched, and Lachlan steps forward to meet her. To catch her, if she’s interested in being honest with herself.

She’s sure she meant to kiss him, or bite him, or hit him, or any manner of things that are not the embrace she falls into instead. His arms, strong and covered only by the thin cotton of his undershirt, are warm around her. Unbearably warm, warring with the flame licking at her heart. Perhaps it is not rage that pulls at her, but longing. Or perhaps she is merely exhausted beyond all hope of understanding.

Either way, the beast quietens as she is restrained, as her body finally goes limp. She buries her face into his neck, breathing damp against his skin. 

“You’re burning up,” he whispers into her hair as one firm hand rises to cup the nape of her neck. “I was serious about the sleep thing. You’ve been up how long now?”

Sabina makes incoherent noises against his throat just to feel him shiver. 

He hums a question in response, a paper-thin attempt to stay focused that she can see right through. Above, she is certain his eyes have grown darker still.

“Too long,” she says, more clearly this time. Twenty-six hours and fourty-three minutes, she does not say. Her real answer would invoke even more misplaced, eyebrow-knotting concern than she wants to deal with at the moment. Not that she hasn’t ever been awake longer… but Lachlan would not like that argument either. Felix certainly hadn’t, at the time.

It’s no easy task to withdraw from his arms, but Sabina manages after a steadying breath. He still smells of woodsmoke from the fire, of the plain soap that her not-so-royal coffers can hardly afford. Sabina has no intentions of finding out what she smells like.

Upright again, she pats him once, abruptly, on the left side of his chest with a — weak, tired, wan — beatific smile. 

“I suppose it’s time for me to retire,” she says with a yawn, stretching her heavy arms above her head as if it will quell her rising nausea. “Join me if you will.”

Lachlan laughs, shaking his head in what can only be disbelief. Not rejection, not yet. Sabina’s eyes dart towards his.

“As your nursemaid, maybe. You’ll pass out the second you get horizontal. Maybe wake up in a state of feverish delirium hours from now,” comes his answer, along with a broad hand on her shoulder. Softer, he murmurs, “Go to sleep. I’ll send in Felix to watch over you.”

Unbothered, Sabina nods and the world wavers at the edges as she does. The moment has passed, and done so long ago. She retrieves her abandoned weapons from the soil, and goes to bed.

[horizon-verizon]

You said: '...their grand theme of "women-good-men-bad" plot (as in violence vs nonviolence).'

Not the same anon but I've been thinking a lot this week on that line of thinking.

On my first viewing I liked the show in general even if I didn't agree with several things but the more and more I thought about it the worse it became and now I feel that the show is MORE sexist and misogynistic than the original material.

It took me a while to realize that not only are women not allowed to gain any kind of power or have active decisions, but they purposely exchanged and eliminated things to create the dichotomy of man=violent and woman=pacifist.

Alicent is not only no longer the mastermind behind the entire movement but she is not even included in the plans, her only moments of power are when she exercises it in the meanest way and it really doesn't have much impact.

She actually just wants her children to be saved! She never wanted to govern! And she thinks Rhaenyra could be a good ruler (until 5 minutes pass and she changes her mind).

Her gloating line about Visenya dying and wishing Rhaenyra died in childbirth? Eliminated and even with all the anti-bastard prejudices that left her I doubt they would let her tell Rhaenyra that the death of their children doesn't matter as much because they were bastard blood.

Rhaenyra cries for a damn page instead of being allowed to be upset that the usurpation led to her having Visenya early. Revenge? Oh no, there is a prophecy and I must think about it. She also doesn't want power or rule, not even because it is a position that her father assured her was hers and she feels entitled to have it. Show!Rhaenyra has moments where she seems ready to quit or the weight of responsibility would crush her.

Rhaenys who fought to be recognized, campaigned for her son and then made sure it was ride or die with Rhaenyra? Well, she's allergic to any kind of female friendship, she's resentful of what she could never have forever, but she'll abandon ir in a heartbeat because her only ambition is to support her (biological) family in la la la, nothing happens here Land.

I don't see this Rhaenys dying believing it's for the best and will be defiant to the end and I certainly don't see her stopping Joff (who I don't think he likes that scene either) goes on a suicide mission.

Baela is the only one who remains more or less the same and yet she looked askance because... She and Rhaena miraculously appear.

On the other hand: Otto who was fired by Aegon for not being bloodthirsty enough? Yeah, I don't see that happening.

Daemon? A psychopath who will jump at the opportunity to kill in a heartbeat, even his wife who was too far away to commit the crime. Redeeming traits? Nope, there isn't. We also have child neglect and domestic violence, good change no?

Corlys is supposed to be the one to advocate for pardons later, here he doesn't see the big picture but instead becomes blinded by his own greed and goes to war because he is unable to talk to his wife.

They are not nuanced characters, they are tell me that the ambition is bad and we must not allow it to contaminate women and men are inherently violent.

Anon talks about this post.

I realized why I really couldn't totally like any of the characters beyond their looks (and only sometimes not even then, I'd say 25% of the looks in season 1 were good) when I read this one reblog by @rhaenyragendereuphoria HERE. They mentioned Robin Morgan and the terfness of the idea of women being the peacekeeping managers of male natural violence and it clicked for me. Goes to show how we can't exclude transphobia against trans women when talking about gender studies, violence, and anything to do with cis women bc as we realize that gender itself is a social creation and not dependent on genitals alone, the better we understand how the traits assigned to women (all but in different ways) are meant to be twisted according to the masculinized male's interests of control and domination. Homophobia also can't be totally discussed or fought against without understanding that it is about rejecting the "feminine" or anything coded as "of women". Such things require a sense of fixedness of gender and sexuality for masculinized male control.

This post by xenonwitch showing what others wrote about the male gaze can also help you out to understand how the HotD writers are writing in the male gaze--yes, even Sara Hess one of the women.

The show just feels too shallow BECAUSE they seek to reduce the idea and sense that this conflict is in feminist interest AND they do not invest or follow through with many proposed themes or potential motifs that they brought bc they don't really understand what they have to change nor its consequential implications in-world for the sake of bothsideism and checking boxes.

Plus, if you look carefully, even the most active persons in canon lose their activeness for the sake of the "theory of accident"--as Seth Abramson kinda calls it--where a major or critical character does not intentionally cause harm or prepare for the worst and the point is that we are supposed to see how they react to things happening to them.

Instead of making critical plot points happen through willful action! the "nuance" and intrigue of say, Aemond's killing Luke, is that he didn't mean to kill him, but it also wasn't an accident but also he was so mad about his eye and followed him for more than 5 mins in anger on a giant dragon in his big age of 19 versus a 14-year-old. Aemond has all the control until the very last minute when Vhagar goes ham and munches on Arrax and Luke; Alicent has no real control and "accidentally" takes Viserys' words the wrong way instead of her just ordering the castle shut down for the green council and actively trying to bring them to her side, being the spearhead of that anti-black function. Rather, it vacuums out all real stakes because the people feel like paper to write on.

The show makes a lot of their characters not have to make them confront some risks, build the right tension, or cross certain boundaries--example Alicent, doesn't have to confront her own long fears about her kids dying and the question of a woman ruling because she heard Viserys say that Aegon should rule. In other words, no accountability.

Finally, the characters also seem stupid as to how: Alicent thinks a page is going to stave off any threat of violence from Rhaenyra or herself, and Rhaenyra for reasons goes along with it!--she has been harassing Rhaenyra for years, and said page is of Nymeria (the woman who made her destiny and conquered regions...while Alicent is usurping Rhaenyra); when she accepts Rhaenyra's apology at the feast after the stain of her slicing her and almost causes the blacks/Luke to lose Driftmark but wouldn't listen to her before in episode 4 about not sleeping with Dameon AND again, sh's been trying to get Rhaenyra and her sons killed for 10 years from the belief that Rhaenyra would cause her oen kids deaths indirectly or directly!, basically just bc she now feels Rhaenyra respected her status as Queen and Viserys presented himself as a victim of their infighting...that he is actually largely responsible for...so she isn't protective of her kids and does have an severe inferirority complex or her main motivation is social power over protecting her kids, but the show would ahve us think that she hated Rhaenyra bc she was trying to prptect her kids.....her problems--as she saw it--remained the same after Rhaenyra's apology, wtf?!; Rhaenyra suddenly does not want to act at all against the greens, even give up -> based on violence and the prophecy, but said prophecy is actually all the more reason to stamp out the green usurpation bc her father couldn't have given Aegon that information and if he did he would have told her his plans long before he died...so why is she thinking of just giving it up if she were responsible?!!!!

no repercussions for Laenor's beau getting his face smashed in under the king's roof during a wedding feast (makes more sense during a journey, not a feast) --> lack of empathy towards Joffrey there, he couldn't die doing something considered honorable in his society, no he has to die like a dog [wanted to complain]

Because of this nonsense that one has to unpack while whatever episode is playing, I couldn't enjoy the characters and dialogue apart from the most superficial things. Apart from some scandalous behvior and Rhaenyra being savvy (episode 4 & daemyra in episode 5). Rooting and intrigued by the fashion of the wedding. I'm not even excited for Rhaenyra's maybe-bloodthirsty reaction to her son's death bc I know they will somehow ruin it, esp since they are only putting in 8 episodes for this coming season. They already didn't do enough for the first!

They also have a chance and when asked to explain take it to the most discriminatory level that turns you off if you have a modicum of respect for people. An example of this if claiming the Velaeryons being black is useful to make it "more obvious" that Rhaenyra's first sons were not Laenor's as if that means we should look at Rhaenyra's situation as being just her fault, that she should have just rolled over and "done her duty" when in fact the circumstances were almost set up against her...why? BC she is a woman! And why are we making the Velaryon's blackness or PoCness just a tool for denigrating another character instead of something for themselves?!

[naoa-ao3]

Try A Little Tenderness

Wanda and Natasha might not be the most ordinary couple in the world. Maybe they aren't even a real couple and maybe Wanda is just imagining all of this. . .

That's very possible but when Natasha looks at her, Wanda can't help but feel her heart speed up and when the other woman trains her it's all she can do to keep her mind on the task at hand.

She doesn't take it for granted. She knows that if anything were different she could very well end up in a cell somewhere, buried and forgotten by the world.

She doesn't have anyone left to look or care for her now and the rest of the team seems uncertain of what to do with her. Steve is nice. She actually prefers Captain America over some of the others but even he doesn't seem to know what all to do and say around her.

She's tainted in their eyes.

Hydra and Sokovia. . . They don't understand and they probably never will but then she's starting to feel like perhaps she hadn't totally understood herself.

Only Natasha seems to come at her with an open mind. She doesn't delude herself, the woman knows she dangerous but just the same, she's offered to train her and she spends time with her.

That means something, right?

One night when there's more of them in the compound than usual and more than is probably good for the peace she laughs a little too freely and feels a little too comfortable.

She sees Stark's eyes fall on her and she goes silent.

She hadn't meant to laugh.

Dr. Banner had gotten one good on Steve and she'd let herself get caught up in the surprise.

Stark's eyes remind her that she doesn't really have a place on the team and maybe she's reading too much into it but they linger on her, making her worry just the same.

She looks away but the spark is gone. She feels small and out of place. Confused by the table and the people sitting at it.

She hasn't totally made peace in her heart with him.

Even after he's looked away she feels disconnected and downtrodden. Her whole life now is what these people allow.

Some part of her still resents them.

Only Natasha seems to understand anything and she suddenly feels her hand on her knee under the table.

It helps and the others don't notice but the hand stays.

It's warm and firm and the woman it's attached to isn't looking at her but she can feel her thoughts and she knows she's in them.

She closes her eyes and feels better slightly.

She isn't alone and Natasha is so steady and firm next to her.

There's something special between them. . . Something maybe Wanda is imagining but the hand on her knee stays and her heart slowly returns to normal.

Stark is laughing and so maybe she did imagine it all.

He's laughing with Dr. Banner and no one seems to have noticed her sudden anxiety and the rushing in her ears.

After dinner, when the dishes have been argued over and cleaned she sneaks off to her room, embarrassed by her own emotions and how young she still feels sometimes.

She doesn't even have the television on when a small knock sounds on the other side of the door.

She blinks, heart speeding back up for a second and waits.

When there's nothing else she knows it's up to her.

"Come in?" She says, voice small and uncertain.

It's Natasha and the door opens to reveal her red hair and calm expression.

She almost always looks calm.

"Are you okay?" There isn't a lot of pretense and Wanda quickly nods, knees folded under her on the bed as Natasha crosses to sit next to her.

"You didn't look it at dinner." The other woman says and it's in her voice and mellow movements that Wanda suddenly wants to take comfort.

Natasha who really has no reason to look at her at all and who does.

"I. . ." But it feels weak and small to admit that she was simply irrational and scared. She's been here long enough to have adapted. . . To know the ropes. "I don't know what came over me." She says instead.

Natasha nods and suddenly there's a hand twisting itself into her hand, fingers lacing together and she can feel the strength of the other woman. She can feel her warmth and the power of human contact.

It breaths so much into Wanda that she doesn't have words for it. Not in English or Sokovian.

"I should be at home here." She whispers, admitting that she knows she's failing to adjust. She fears that. Maybe if she never does they'll all give up on her. Send her away. . . Lock her away in some awful place. . .

Natasha however touches her face, brushes her hair back and for a second she can remember having a mother. Just for a second she remembers someone brushing her hair and the sound of bombs falling on someone else's house.

She leans into the touch.

"Perhaps people don't ever completely adjust." Natasha says. "There are days this world still feels strange to me. Still feels fake. . ."

Natasha keeps a lot of herself to herself. Wanda's heard names like the Red Room and the Widow Program whispered but whatever Natasha carries inside herself she hasn't shared much more than that.

Maybe she can't.

Wanda thinks she could understand that.

Still, when she looks at her she can hardly believe this woman of such great strength and person feels the same way she does. It's as scary as it is affirming.

She digests the other woman's words and leans against her as Natasha kisses the side of her head.

It makes her smile and so she turns and kisses her on the mouth, half in her lap now and smiling again.

Natasha smiles too and guides them to lay down, guides her into her arms and kisses her mouth and cheeks and face all over.

Wanda doesn't have anyone left to look or care for her but she has this. . . This quiet, small thing where someone does want her and she isn't alone and the someone seems to know all the things she never says.

She smiles into red hair and feels at home just a little.

Warm and very nearly loved.

[hawkefaery]

Kolis - A villain or just a name?

I am back rumbling and giving my unnecessary opinion on irrelevant topics.

I wrote this on the Facebook JLA group but it got rejected so it never saw the light (I don't know why lmao) but I remember more or less what I wanted to say and I still have those thoughts so I will share it here but adding a few new thought.

One of the keys writing that is known by majority of people, independently if they are in fact writers or not, is that a writer must show instead of tell. The readers must be shown what the characters have to go through and the characters must be shown pain, love, suffering, etc. Both characters and readers have to “live” the experience for any type of writing to be good.

We all (You and I!! <3) already know who Kolis is, but short and sweet he is the big very bad guy. It was already stated in the prequel of Blood and Ash, Flesh and Fire that Kolis is a strong enemy. He made the main characters go through hell and his name would even anger the gods themselves. But, what is Kolis in Blood and Ash universe? He is a name. Agree or disagree with me, but Kolis is someone the characters were warned about, they still do not know how far he would go, what he is capable of doing, or why they should be ready for him. Poppy, Cas, and the others have not "experienced themselves" how much of a villain Kolis could be.

Isbeth, The Blood Queen

Believe it or not, Isbeth is extremely important in this conversation. Why? Isbeth was a great villain. She was complex and had a background, she was completely unhinged that woman was capable of anything not give a fuck who she had to step on wherever were innocent people, her daughters, or even gods and primals she gave a shit and all because of the love she fell for a piece of shit (Malec) and the hate and resentment she had for Eloana, Atlantia and Nyktos. Isbeth was a nightmare to the characters in Blood and Ash. They were kidnaped, to torture (or beth), they had their entire families killed or the person that meant the most to them killed, they were kept away from the world and hidden away, or turned into a dead-alive thing, they had their people living in fear and hiding for centuries, etc etc. Isbeth? was an amazing villain, she served that role amazingly.

But why do I say that Isbeth is extremely important when it comes to talk about Kolis' role in Blood and Ash? Because Isbeth is the standar. Kolis is the final villan, the last step between the “good” characters and peace. Kolis was a threat to Primals, to Gods, to Drakens, etc, he manipulated, murdered, tortured, kidnapped, lied, etc, Kolis basically bend the world and everyone in it to his will and no one could stop him. When he comes into the Blood and Ash universe he can NOT cause less damage than Isbeth. The reader and the characters have to be given reasons to why say “oh fuck”, Kolis has to having the readers believing that Isbeth was not that bad, that we were not ready, otherwise, what is the point in even having him on the Flood and Ash serie?

Kolis can't just be a name thrown around without any real impact or significance in the story. He needs to be portrayed as a true villain who is capable of causing even more damage than Isbeth did.

Author note: Flesh and Fire might take place in the same universe but both are literally centuries apart and have whole different characters. I really hope Jen will not be lazy in this one and make Kolis the enemy of Blood and Ash too, to explore him and to also creat struggle for the other characters.

I personally believe and also hope that Kolis will be the one to blame for the death of a beloved character. THAT would be struggle for the other characters, that will be something Isbeth have not done, and that will be great to show how far Kolis will go as character, it shows that we should fear for the rest of the characters because kolis is a threat and that is a great villain. The inly question left to answer is who?

(I might make a post about who is most likely to die or something similar lmao I will probably do it)

Feel free to share your own theories with me <3

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

she's in love with somebody else (tonight I can see the truth)

Eddie Roundtree x Camila Dunne fic. Crossposted on ao3.

See, the thing that Eddie Roundtree learned, and learned early on, was that just because a man donated the sperm to birth you, didn't make him your dad. You had to earn that title. You had to show up, and support your kid, and make them feel loved. Not abandoned.

And Eddie doesn't give a shit about what Billy's said over the years: he didn't show up. He failed Camila and Julia. He failed to be a father just as he failed to be a husband just as he failed to be a good band leader.

Because fuck it, it didn't matter that Billy did most of the writing and all of the singing. It didn't matter that all of the girls loved him. It didn't matter that Camila loved him.

Because every time Billy got high or cheated on Camila (the bastard) or got uncomfortably intimate with Daisy, Camila took him back, and that was Camila's choice. That was her prerogative. That was the thing that Eddie had always loved about her: she knew what she wanted and she knew she was going to get it, hell or high water. She wanted Billy. She wanted a family. And she wanted a husband that loved her back. That last one was always the hardest (always the one that Billy failed her at the most), but she got it, eventually.

The only thing she didn't get was a good father for Julia.

Eddie's not Julia's father. He knows that. He would never pretend to be that. He's more than happy that Julia grew up calling him Uncle Eddie, that she always ran to him to show off her drawings and schoolwork, that she always had a smile or a conspiratorial roll of the eye to give him as she got older.

But those first few months (and so many times afterward, when Billy let music overtake the things that made his life full)? Eddie was there. He played with Julia. He held her before Billy did. (He loved her before Billy did.)

Julia deserved to have someone who loved her. She had the best mom she could ask for. But she didn't get a father. And Eddie made it his mission, in between dealing with Billy's bullshit and playing gigs and rolling his eyes at the drama in the radio station, to be there for Julia. To make sure that little girl never grew up feeling abandoned or unloved.

Even if that meant having to spend time with the woman he loved- completely, wholly, desperately- who he knew would never love him back. Because that was the rub of the whole thing, wasn't it? That he loved Camila for the very reasons she would never consider him anything more than a friend- her devotion to her family, her stubborn pursuit of her dreams, her love of a man who never looked at her like he looked at drugs or Daisy Jones.

Eddie's resentment towards Billy Dunne did not appear out of nowhere. It grew, and it festered, and eventually it blew. It blew so hard that a band fell apart. (Sure, there were other reasons the band was always doomed to fall apart at the seams, but Eddie knows that even if the rest of the band would have stayed, Eddie would have had to eventually leave.)

Eddie refused to talk to Billy for years and years after the Chicago show, but he didn't stop showing up at the house. He didn't stop spending time with Julia and Camila. He didn't stop showing up.

Because the band might have gotten divorced, but Julia didn't deserve to feel the ramifications of the split. She didn't deserve to be abandoned just because Eddie hated her father like he'd never hated anyone before.

Eddie was there when Julia turned ten with a set of colored pencils for her art kit. He was there when she was hitting teenage rebellion and swearing at her parents and he took her out to the bowling alley and explained that her parents (gritting his teeth on the word parents, of course) were trying their best, before cheekily explaining that it might be more productive for her to take out her anger on the pins than graffitiing the walls of her school. He was there when she graduated high school, whistling and cheering as loud as Camila as Julia walked across the stage. He was always ready to pause work and come to help her sort through her problems.

(He was always ready to make sure that Julia knew she was cherished.)

He was there for Julia when decades later, she came to him and told him that she wanted to write about what went down with the band.

And he was there when Julia came to him and asked if he was willing to sit down with her father and finally talk.

It took more effort than anything that Eddie had ever done. It took a Herculean strength that he hadn't possessed until that moment and never would again.

But Eddie would never deny his...child (daughter, he'd thought of her for years, but could never say out loud) anything. So he meets Billy Dunne at the diner an hour between their places. Billy's eyes are red and wet- a startling thing to see, since he'd finally gone sober. "I don't know if Camila's told you yet," Billy says, "But she has cancer. It's Stage 4. She's only got a few months left."

The oxygen is punched from Eddie's lungs. "What?" he croaks, because it's been decades, forty plus years, and he's dated other girls, had other relationships, but Camila is the only woman he's ever truly loved.

Billy nods. "And she says that she wants everyone she loves by her side in her final days."

The implication in Billy's words is clear, but Eddie's just petty enough to make him say it aloud. "And that includes me?"

Billy nods. His lips thin, but his words hold no resentment as he says: "That includes you, Roundtree." His fingers twist the napkin on the table. "You know, since Julia started asking all those questions about the band, I've been thinking."

Eddie smirks, trying to cover up the hollow expanding in his chest at the knowledge that soon, Camila Dunne, in all her brilliance, is going to be leaving this world. "Didn't know you were capable of that."

Billy rolls his eyes, and it's Julia rolling her eyes, it's Camila rolling hers. Once, when Warren was high, he told Eddie that he'd heard that the longer you spend with someone, the more you begin to resemble them. Their mannerisms become yours. Their face reflects yours. "Fuck off, Roundtree. What I meant is that I was thinking about you and her. And she's been thinking about you and her."

Some strange contradiction of emotions is banging about in Eddie's chest, some tangled sense of hope and dread. "Me and her?"

"Camila and I have been talking about second chances. About things we should have realized long ago. And I will never, ever regret spending my years loving her-" And at this, Billy's voice gets fierce, love dripping from his tone, and Eddie might hate him for everything he's ever put his family through, but there is something about the love in his voice that feels honest and striking and sincere. "-And she loves me, but we've talked, and she thinks that we should both get one final shot at something else. Not at substituting out the family, not ruining anything, but adding to it. Naming things that have always been there." He locks eyes with Eddie, staring him dead on. "And you, Roundtree? You've always been there. Even when I failed." He clears his throat, looks down. "Especially when I failed."

Eddie has never needed Billy to validate him any way. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to being a good father. But hearing it from Billy's smarmy mouth? Some petty part of Eddie enjoys it. "And Camila didn't want to call me and tell me?"

"First off, I think she wants to see you in person. You haven't visited in almost a year. But also? I think she might have been a bit unsure. Of if you would reciprocate a...second chance at something more."

"I never thought I'd hear Billy Dunne offering something like that."

Billy snorts. "Over the years I've learned that being selfish only ever hurts the people around you." Eddie can't help a snort- not at the sentiment, but at hearing it from Billy's mouth. Billy has the decency to flash him a chagrined smile. "I know, I clearly hadn't learned it back in the band days."

"You can say that again, Dunne," Eddie says, and offers up his glass of Diet Coke to clink against Billy's Coke Zero. They're both rolling in far less caffeine than they once did, far more careful about their older bodies than they ever were on tour. Maybe old age can prompt maturity. Maybe Billy Dunne can change.

And maybe Eddie Roundtree can have a second chance, after all these years.

---

Eddie opens the door to Camila's hospital room. Julia jumps from her seat by Camila's side and greets him with a hug, which Eddie returns with enthusiasm even as he sees Camila in her hospital bed. She's looking a little worse for the wear, a little frail after what Billy said was her most recent round of chemo, but there is still a loving smile on her lips and life in her eyes as she watches the two of them hug.

"Treat her well, Uncle Eddie," Julia says as she pulls away from the hug with a fond pat to his cheek before exiting the room, presumably to give them space.

"Hey, Cam," Eddie says, voice soft, "Hear we have something to talk about."

Camila gestures him forward, as commanding as always, and he follows, sitting in Julia's vacated seat by her side. She takes his hand in hers, and despite the sallow edge to her cheeks, her smile is lighting up his world just like it did when he first met her. "Yes, cariño," she says, fondness in her tone, "Let's talk."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45498667