#a part of me wishes that a lot more people drew him with scars

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he���d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

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[bonefall]

Cat? Gray. Eyes? Blue. Hotel? Trevago.

Design babble stuff below

BLUESTAR

Good god it's been over a year since I last drew her. I can do so much better now

I give her a wolf motif for BB, because in my mind it's about the myth of the lone wolf. Lone wolves aren't normal, they're pack animals. At first, Firestar sees her as this ideal, strong leader who stands independently of everything... but he's wrong!

She's NEVER acted fully alone! She's always been devoted to her family, even as it dwindled. Her ruling style is to protect other Clans, unlike any leader who's come before her. In BB, she even had a mixed-Clan friendgroup called the Forget-Me-Nots.

She helped to depose ShadowClan's tyrant. She sent Firestar to fetch WindClan, even against the wishes of the other two. She even fought Nightstar and Crookedstar when they tried to drive them out again.

She even takes the code SO seriously that she refused to kill Brokentail, extending a mercy that ended up backfiring.

And Firestar learns everything about leadership from her. Grace, diplomacy, fairness... and she was fair to a fault.

Both her and her apprentice would eventually face down Tigerkin, Bluestar during the coup and Firestar even lost a life after defending Hawkfrost for several books.

The only time Bluestar ever became a "lone wolf" was in her cruelty arc, when she was dragging everything she ever stood for down with her.

Her wolf motif shows up in her entire family, to connect them. It's in her nephew Whitestorm, her uncle Goosefeather, her daughter Mistystar, even all the way down into Curlfeather and Frostpaw who are descended from Reedwhisker in BB.

The scar comes from her fighting a badger to rescue Darkstripe and his sister, Cricketclaw, when they wandered off as kittens.

CROWFEATHER

He's a mix of spiky and swirly, as a cross between his dad Deadfoot and his mother Ashfoot.

He's older in BB to change that he was an apprentice on the Great Journey, and also to fix an inconsistency where his dad would be dead when he was conceived.

I think it was a huge missed opportunity that Crowfeather's bond to his mentor, Mudclaw, is barely mentioned in-canon. In BB they were VERY close and Mudclaw was incredibly influential to his personality.

Deadfoot is dead-- Mudclaw was like a father to him.

Crowfeather is torn between the influence of his mother, who was a Forget-Me-Not in her youth, and the hard ideology of his mentor. All the while, the ego boost he got from being selected to go on the Great Journey massively affected him, in a bad way.

He ended up taking Mudclaw's side in the rebellion-- not because he believed that ThunderClan had told a lie (in fact he defends his friend's honor) but because he believed Mudclaw would be a better leader.

But eventually, he found himself surrounded by cats he didn't want anywhere near WindClan. Good intentions or not, Mudclaw was willing to work with cats like Blackclaw and Hawkfrost-- people who want a second TigerClan.

Crowfeather betrayed the rebellion, running to fetch Brambleclaw and ThunderClan reinforcements. In the fight, his nose was scratched in a chevron, the shape of Mudclaw's stripes.

I like the idea that he carries it with him, but always tries to put it off his mind. He mistreats and misuses other people, ignoring the reminder that he is a fallible person that's carved onto his nose.

died of infection. Sad!

All of his kits resemble him in some way. Lionblaze inherited his tail, Hollyleaf has the spikes, Breezepelt has the build, Jayfeather is a miserable git has the ear swirls

He was head of Kitchen Patrol until BB!OotS, but I'm actually planning for him to NOT be deputy in BB. His character growth feels a lot more satisfying in realizing he really doesn't handle power very well, and should stay away from it.

He has old relationships and burned bridges to mend, and staying part of Kitchen Patrol seems like the way he should plan to do that.

I talked about him a lot in Nightcloud's summary and he's going to be coming up in the outline of Nightcloud's Pannage a lot. Much as I love taking potshots at him, he's got a very kind arc laid out.

CINDERPELT

She is the daughter of LIONHEART whY don't you people give her A MANEEEE

let her be THICK

In BB, the Frostfour are actually from two different litters. Cinderpelt and Brackenfur were in the older one.

Frostfur was head of Kitchen Patrol at the time, and very overworked lmao

So Cinder and Bracken both have an "older sibling" energy. Their mom was usually involving them in every little activity to get some help. Brackenfur is over-responsible, and Cinderpelt was always trying to help out other people and prove herself.

Of course, it also lead to her running right into Tigerclaw's trap which was set for Bluestar-- she wanted to be helpful.

The injury didn't heal right and she has chronic pain. She has severe mobility issues in the hip, and usually keeps the leg bound to her body so it doesn't drag or hurt.

She could have still been a warrior if she wanted to, but discovered while healing that she loved working with Yellowfang. I also interpret it this way in canon, to be fair, but TNP decided to remember it completely differently.

After saving Littlecloud's life they became absolute best friends. They worked on a mobility device for Wildfur together.

They style their manes in a similar way, pushing it up into that "spike" on their heads and out of their faces.

ASHFUR

Moonkitti's blonde Ashfur remains iconic, I fear

I draw him like a cheetah so he has the funky cheetah cub hair

I'm a HUGE fan of what the Erins did with the direction of Ashfur's story, with him being an obsessive spurned lover, but that's not really the sort of story I tell in BB!

So I approach his obsession on Squirrelflight as being very... Judge Frollo-esque.

Frollo's ultimate goal isn't to possess Esmerelda. He wants her, but it's a wrench in his plans to commit ethnic cleansing using his religious justifications. Hellfire is about how he finds a way to shift the blame for his own lust onto her, and offers an ultimatum; "She will be mine or she will burn (along with everyone else I plan to slaughter)"

In Frollo's mind, he "forgives" her for what she's "done to him." For what she is. He sees what he's doing as giving her an "escape."

It's not for her benefit. It's for HIS. By giving her this "escape," if she takes it, he gets to think of her as redeeming herself (and thus being worthy of him).

If she does not... then it's no skin off his back. He's Done His Part. Everything was always her fault. He is blameless.

Either way he gets to walk away feeling justified.

All that to say-- that's how I approach BB!Ashfur.

He wants to punish codebreakers. He wants the Clans to suffer for how far they've fallen from where they should be. They've become vulgar, ungrateful, unworthy of StarClan's grace.

He tried to kill The Three because he'd learned of the Fire and Tiger prophecy, and was only trying to protect the Clan. If Squirrelflight had CHOSEN HIM, then none of this would have happened.

He was righting a wrong, you see, and StarClan understood, in his eyes.

When Hollyleaf slaughtered him, violating the Code, it only confirmed he had been right all along.

And again and again and again, he offers Squirrelflight what she needs to redeem herself. He wants her. He wants her to "be better."

When she lets him down... then it's not his fault. She's forced his paw.

SO the blonde hair isn't totally just a fun reference, I also find it fitting because aside from the cheetah motif, he sees himself as angelic.

It's also why I don't portray him as "grubby" like some folks do, BB!Ashfur is much more vain than Canon!Ashfur, caring immensely about his appearance. Thinking about it, he probably won't even let his Bramblefake vessel fall into disrepair, he'd feel more grossed out than usual.

He also gets a very cool boss fight form at the end of BB!TBC which I still need to design lmao.

[mysteryinkkat234]

Rose Petal (Astarion x F!Tav/Reader)

I AM HERE and NOW! It is finally done. After getting sidetracked by Mortal Kombat and Fear & Hunger, and being uninspired, I rise again from the depths to continue the story of Fangs & Nightshade. The biggest inspiration is you guy's compliments and critiques, I cannot thank you enough! If you're interested in Astarion and Luxia's story, let me know and I can @ you on the next point

Summary: Before entering the Shadow-cursed lands, Luxia wished to finish some unfulfilled business around the area. While adventure, she continues to translate the strange marks on Astarion's back, while also bonding with Astarion as well.

This is 18+ and deals with a lot of heavy subjects, especially about sex, if you are underage or your account does have an age, DNI

Spice Level Pepperoncini Pepper (100 - 500): This smut contains talk about safe sex and blow jobs. This isn't super smutty but there is still sex in it. We're teaching Astarion about safe sex, hurrah!

Word Count: 4,200+

Read and Bookmark this story on AO3

If you want to read the first part of Fangs & Nightshade, See The Night of Pleasure and the Past

The road to the shadow-cursed lands was supposed to be short. However, Luxia said there was still unfinished business even after the Emerald Grove. Her night with Astarion still lingers in her thoughts, the memory is still fresh, and she can remember his face. He looked dazed, it could’ve been from lust but there was something under it that made her feel horrible about it. Luxia has had sex, she’s studied it (IN BOOKS) about how it brings people together, even if they weren’t dating. There was no satisfaction that night, only a longing for more.

These impure thoughts came to Luxia while she was writing in her journal, thankfully one of the few personal things that she had when she was kidnapped from the Nautiloid. Thankfully she and Gale found an Infernal translator book in the Underdark and she was studying it hard, writing down the few Infernal letters she could remember. 

“Oh, how I love it when you’re studying, completely enamored by your work, your adorable little pout and noises you make when you think,” Astarion’s voice startled her, almost breaking her quill in the process, Luxia looked up to see him stand above her, his arms crossed and his familiar sly smirk, “I swear you love that book more than you love me.” His snide comments made Luxia snicker.

“It’s not a book, it’s my journal. I was writing and translating your scars,” Luxia showed Astarion her journal, pages full of scribblings and study of various plants, both overworld and Underdark, flowers, the monsters they encountered including intellect devourers and mind flayers, “actually, perfect timing, I was wondering if you can show me the scars again, I think I’m missing a few letters.”

“An excuse to take my shirt off?” He quipped back.

“Haha, amusing,” she laughed sarcastically, “but please, may I?”

Without another word, Astarion turned around pulled his shirt over his head, trapping his arms. Luxia silently drew the scar, writing the Infernal letters as she went. However, some letters just looked like marks or straight lines. “Do you mind if I…touch it?”

She could see Astarion tense up, she did touch them when he was holding her up, but deliberately trying to touch them…it brought back the memory of when they were first carved. “C-Can’t you just look at them?” He was almost mumbling, clearing his throat.

“Infernal letters are written close together, I want to know I’m writing the right one so nothing gets lost in translation, the better to understand them,” Luxia explained, squinting at the letters, but even with the fire light and darkvision, it still was hard to understand, “you can tell me if I’m going too far, ok? I promise I won’t linger.” Her voice was softer, that same voice was so gentle, like a rose petal.

Astarion took a deep breath, rolling his neck. “Alright, just don’t scratch me ok?” he tried to be humorous. He looked over and saw Luxia smiling assuringly. 

She nodded silently and reached out. Her thumb made contact with his skin. He felt a chill, not a bad or cold chill, it was breathtaking. Her thumb moved up and down different parts of his back, feeling at the letters. Her skin was so soft for someone with demonic ancestry, her nails only grazing. He felt the same way when she was caressing and massaging his hand that night. He took another deep breath and exhaled with comfort.

“I’ve been thinking about our last night together…ceaselessly,” Astarion whispered that last word. Luxia stopped touching his back, closing her journal and putting it in a drawstring bag, he turned around, putting his shirt back on, “I’ll be in quite a spot of peril if you let me keep distracting myself dreaming instead of doing. We can’t have that, can we? It would be very dangerous.” He put on a bit of baby talk, making Luxia snort. 

“Or maybe you can stop putting yourself on the front lines all the time, that’ll probably help,” she quipped back, taking Astarion aback, she smiled, laughing at the fact he was shocked, “I know what you’re trying to get at. Buuuuuut…I’m not sure.” She was playing hard to get, the same way he was. 

“Ah, you need a bit of enticing, let me see,” Astarion delved into his mind palace, picking his lines carefully, “Hmm, how about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again…with you.” His voice became soft, but Luxia could see through it.

She laughed, his sham words were something she was used to, and she decided to play along. “Oh, how romantic~,” she said with a fake-dramatic tone, the back of her hand meeting her forehead, “so many honey-dipped words, like usual.” She laughed off her comment.

“Not as half as sweet as when I tasted you,” he quipped back, Luxia was truly taken aback, and her heart leaped, “I swear, you should watch how much of that tea of yours that you love so much because I might just devour you alive.” She could feel her cheeks heating up, feeling like she was talking to her first crush again. That didn’t stop Astarion though. “Hmm, how about another then: Every part of your perfect body… whispers temptation - it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.” 

I swear, the Gods are playing the sickest joke known to mankind. Astarion thought to himself. It’s almost hilarious that she fell for him so hard, she was hanging on every word he was saying.

Luxia could feel something stirring in her stomach like the feel of butterflies fluttering every part of her body. Her infectious giggle cleared the silence, she was truly hooked. “Ok…what else?” 

“Hmm, how about if I said these little words… Everyone’s favorite…” the…something, Gods dammit, he was reminded of how she held him that night, she felt…warm, comforting, “...I love you.” The words slipped out, with no thought of how he said them, they came almost naturally.

Luxia’s smile was contagious, her smile led to the ground, and not being able to look at him probably. “Are you having fun?” Her head came back up. Her moonlit eyes, it was one of the key traits that Astarion noticed about her when they first met, he noticed that night that blue rings circled her pupils, almost making them look like they were glowing. And the dark eyeshadow surrounding them, it’s almost like she wants people to look at her directly.

He laughed. “I am, it’s hard not to with you,” Astarion straightened himself up, clearing his throat, “now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I’d much rather we got to experience each others’ … full portfolio of talents once again.” Aaaaand there it was.

Luxia felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for him to just say it already. “I’ll come to your tent once everyone is asleep,” she explained plainly, That familiar smirk finally appeared, Astarion seemed satisfied, and he simply swayed his hip back and forth on his way to his tent, but not before Luxia grabbed his wrist, “actually…besides that, would we be able to talk, privately, one-on-one without anyone eavesdropping.

Astarion let out a dramatic sigh. “Gods, I hope you don’t talk my ears off with your research.”

“This has nothing to do with that, I promise. And then afterwards…” Luxia wiggled her eyebrows, trying to be saucy.

It was enough for him. “I’ll be waiting.” he whispered in her ear, giving her cheek a small kiss, finally leaving for his tent. 

Astarion got to his tent, comfortably snuggled in his plush pillows and luxurious silk blanket. While everyone was eating and conversing around the campfire, he was reading through one of the many books the party had picked up during their adventure. He didn’t pay mind to the title, most of them faded over time, and he began scanning through the words. It was only when he read the first two sentences that he realized he picked out an erotic novel.

‘…My nightgown flowed with the breeze in his room, I could feel Archibald’s hot breath hit the back of my neck as he kissed behind my pointed ears. His skilled fingers unzipped my gown.

“Do you swear to give your mind and body to me?” His whisper was gruff, goosebumps littered my body.

“Yes, Archie,” I whispered back.

“No. In this room, that is not my name. What is my name, pet?” His hand wrapped around my neck, his nails almost digging into my skin. 

“Yes…master~” I moaned, his other hand slowly dipping into her now-soaked garments…’

“Whatcha reading?” A sudden Luxia appears at Astarion’s tent, it seems to be a pattern. Astarion gave her a side glance, one eye on her and the other still on the book.

“Just doing some light reading,” he smirked as Luxia continued into his tent, stumbling through all the pillows. She tried to look at the book but the title was illegible, “you know, I never took you as someone who would enjoy something so obscene, sweetheart.” Luxia’s eyebrow arched.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you wish for dear Archibald to grip your neck and call you ‘pet’?”

Luxia’s face flushed, trying to snag the book from Astarion, but he was too fast. She tried to grab it, but one of those damn pillows trapped her foot, making her fall onto Astarion’s chest. “Where did you get that!?” 

“Took it from your stack of the many many books you have found on our journey, quite the saucy read.”

“I probably just grabbed it without looking inside it,” Luxia explained awkwardly, trying to compose herself, successfully grabbing the book, “but I don’t think you want to talk about the book, do you?” Her eyes looked like they sparkled with the candlelight in the tent, her mouth half open, her small fangs poking out.

Astarion smirked, his laugh was quiet but still contagious. “I hoped you would come. I have missed you. And now you’re all mine, and I’m all yours. Until the morning at least,” he rolled her over, trapping Luxia in his arms, her brows knitted together, “now, let’s see where the night takes us~” He kissed the top of her, slowly moving down to her neck.

He was moving too fast for her though. Luxia gently tried to push Astarion’s head away. “Before we get to…all that, we need to talk about the night before.”

“What? What is there to be said? It was a night of pure ecstasy and pleasure.”

“Maybe for you but… you kind of rushed the whole thing?” She tried to talk straight with him

Astarion broke down mentally. “Were you…not satisfied?” He didn’t sound like his usual confident self, he sounded almost like a small boy getting in trouble for stealing.

“NO NO! It wasn’t that I wasn’t satisfied, but you kind of…it’s hard to describe… you were chasing your pleasure.” 

He sat up straight, looking down at Luxia, tilting his head in confusion. Luxia stood up with him, looking up and trying to read his face. She could see his chest slowly heaving, his eyes darting and looking all around his surroundings and not at her, his mouth pursed stubbly. Conclusion: Astarion doesn’t know about his pleasure, or what he likes. He can only assume what others want from him…

Luxia slowly put her hands on his shoulders, trying to signal to look at her. It was disheartening to see him like this: his usual suave and confident attitude was gone, all that was left was a shell of him. His eyes, like before, looked clouded over, almost barely making eye contact with her. “Tonight, I want to take this slowly, and talk through it all.”

“What?” 

“Let’s explore your desires, my desires,” her hands slowly snaked around his neck, her fingers getting caught in the back of his head, “you don’t have to assume I like something, you’ll just know.” Luxia’s fingers rubbed softly on his strong forearms, he may have been leaner than most of the party, the leading contenders being Shadowheart and Lae’zel. 

“I…Uh,” Astarion was taken aback, he wasn’t sure where his arms should go, where his eyes should be looking, he tried to compose himself, “How do we begin?” 

Luxia found it almost sweet how he asked, she smiled softly. “Maybe, let’s start with undressing, get comfortable,” Astarion nodded, moving back as both of them were casually taking off their tunics and pants, soon naked, “if you can, what are your ‘yes’ and ‘no’s.”

“My what?”

“Like, let’s start with the ‘no’s. Your ‘no’s are things that you do not want to happen to you during sex. We can start with that, what things do you not want me to do to you?”

Astarion looked down for a moment, his eyes grew dark, thinking about those two centuries…two centuries of pure agony and torture. “No tying me down, I want full control of my body.”

“Ok, understandable,” Luxia nodded assuringly, “anything else?”

“Hmm… no cutting me or bruising me, our battles do that just enough.”

“That is true.”

“Don’t touch my back, I do like your arms around my neck, but no touching the scars.”

“Promise.”

“...I don’t want to be called anything that will belittle me…I think that’s it.”

Luxia nodded as he talked, some would assume if you nod the whole time, you’re not paying attention, but she hung on to every word he said. “Thank you for telling me Astarion. It takes a lot of trust to tell people these things,” she held onto his hands, rubbing the back of his hands, giving them each a small kiss, “let me say my ‘no’s then. I also don’t want to be bound or called degrading words. Also, nothing that’ll make me bleed. Even if you set your ‘no’s, there might be things ‘in the moment’ that’ll make you uncomfortable. If that happens, you can tell me to stop, tell me no, or we can have a safe word.”

“Safe word? Why not just say stop?”

“I mean yeah, you can say that, but a safe word can make it more intimate, something that we can use, just the two of us.” Her hands moved back to his forearms again. “Anything you have in mind?”

Astarion made eye contact, actual eye contact with Luxia, this felt like a fantasy, someone that genuinely cares about. Not someone to manipulate his feelings, not someone to take control of him.

“Rose petal,” he said, he said it so sweetly, “soft, gentle, delicate…like you.” his hand moved to Luxia’s cheek stroking it. She laughed, holding his hand. 

“Bold of you to think I’m delicate.” Her eyebrow arched, she’s been seen to take a beating to the Hells and back, but she’s not delicate.

He laughed. “Less about you being physically delicate, more of how you don’t take shit from no one. You speak your truth…not many people can do that nowadays.” Astartion was surprised and also confused about Luxia, he wasn’t sure she was using her ‘trustworthiness’ as a ploy to get what she wanted. But no, she’s just… willing to help anyone and everyone.  

She laughed, getting flustered. “Thank you~ at least someone noticed,” her arms lazily fell behind him, trying very carefully not to touch his back, Luxia gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek, “Now that we have our set of rules, it’s time for our ‘yes’s. What are things that turn you on, besides my blood of course~” She teased.

Astarion looked like he was ready to answer, his mouth was open, but not a word came out. What…did he like in sex?... He never gave it any thought for 200 years. As he thought, his hands moved down to Luxia waist, his idly tapping, almost ticklish. 

She had an idea. “How about this, how do we start this night? Do you want me to…kiss you…oooor maybe start from the bottom to the top?” Her touch was so gentle yet her words stung him that he felt a chill down his spine.``

“A kiss my dear, I’m tired of waiting,” Astarion composed himself, finally getting a good grip on her waist, “I can still taste that delicious mint. That hint of that Gods awful wine tasted so sweet.”

“Then kiss me, don’t be shy~” Luxia whispered close to his face. Astarion closed the gap, his mouth interlocked with hers. The kiss felt less quick than the last night they had together, it was more sensual, he was truly taking his time with her, his tongue only poking now and then. 

“Ah~” they parted, Luxia panting, “I swear you take my breath away every time.”

“I cannot help it, darling, you are just absolutely delectable~” Astarion moaned out, continuing to attack her face and showering her in kisses. His hips rutted, his penis grinding against her.

“How about we try something new for you? Instead of you pampering me, I pamper you,” Luxia whispered, almost mischievous-like. She broke their heated kiss, slowly and gracefully trailing kisses down onto his chest. Her lips continued to pepper his pecs, ghosting around his nipples. Astarion’s breath hitched, and his back arched. “Oh~ I didn’t know you could be sensitive. I love the noises you make~”

“S-Shut up~” he gasped, Luxia’s tongue circling his right nipple, just barely touching the areolas. “C-Can you stop for a minute?”

As he said that word, Luxia immediately lifted her head, a trail of saliva glistening in his almost unblemished skin. His face, his ruby eyes blown out, his breaths shallow. “Gods, you’re going to be the end of me, dear Luxia,” Astarion laughed at his comment, “I didn’t know you were a secret minx!”

She giggles, her finger tracing circles and spirals on his abdomen. “I’m not a minx. I’ve met many colorful people in my time at university. We don’t all have the same kinks, but there are still parts of us that are still sensitive to touch. Like what you saw with my neck our first night together,” she blushes, combing through her messy midnight blue hair, “I love it when the back of my head is scratched.”

“Oh, like this?” Astarion smirked, his hand swiftly moved to the back of her head, his nails scratching the baby hairs like scratching a cat’s head. Luxia sighed, fully in the zone. Her head moved back into his hand. Her head whiplashed down to Astarion’s face, giving him a long kiss, her hips moving all on her own. “I need you~ so badly.” He groaned out.

“Do you need me? Or do you want me?” She whispered.

“I don’t care, I need you inside me Luxia, shit~” Astarion was cut off, his shaft was getting uncomfortably hard being rubbed up against her. “Y-You’re more of a tease than I thought.”

She laughed, straightening herself up. “OK then. You remember the safeword?”

“Rose petal~” It sounded so gentle off his tongue.

She smiled. “Ok, You want to be inside me,” Luxia left Astarion’s waist, confusing him, “then be inside me~” Her azure lips kissed the tip, her tongue quickly lapping precum dripping from it. “Is this what I do to you? I guess you weren’t lying when you said I distracted you in battle. Let me help with that.” Her mouth wrapped around the head, not going any lower, suckling it a little.

“Gods~ cheeky little thing aren’t you? Teasing me, barely giving me… time to breathe.” He laughed, trying to mask his moans and not to wake anyone up. They both seem to forget that they were at camp and not on their own, they both want to be on their own, in their bubble of delicate pleasure. 

A trail of saliva kept her and his shaft connected, she licked her lips. “I’m not teasing you~ It may look like it, but I’m simply giving you please…the pleasure you deserve,” Luxia’s hand moved slowly around him, squeezing at random spots, making Astarion huff out, “No rush…no roughness. Just you *kiss* and me *kiss*, and nothing else. Release yourself for me, don’t hold it back.” She finally inserted his whole member into her mouth, she gagged for a moment before bobbing her head.

Astarion’s head was sparking with bliss. Her mouth, Gods, her mouth, just from her kiss alone he already knew how soft her lips were, feeling them on his length. His head whipped back, he could feel it coming, his hips jutting into her mouth. He could hear her whimpering, trying her best to keep up with him. “That’s it darling~ Hold on for just…F-Fuck! Luxia fuck, keep going-”

His breaths were staggered, and his hand moved down to her hair, almost instinctively. His fingers almost dug into her scalp, he was so distracted by pleasure that he didn’t notice Luxia, she was trying to get her mouth off of him but Astarion was not letting up. 

Her hands moved to his thighs, this was probably the only way to get his attention, and her gag reflex was the absolute worst. Her nails dug into the skin of his thighs, trying hard not to pierce his skin. She tried to speak, but she was too deep in, she had no choice. The nail on her ring finger pricked Astarion, making him flinch and loosening the grip on her hand. “R-Rose petal,” her voice was hoarse from his constant thrusting, “rose petal.” She said it more plainly, trying to break him out of his trance.

Astarion blinked, his eyes more clear. Luxia moved her hand to his, the other rubbing his hip bone. “W-What? What happened?”

“You did that thing again, chasing your pleasure,” she explained calmly, she kissed his cheek, trying to calm his nerves, “Do not rush, let me slow it down for you~” She stroked his member more slowly, just like before, his build-up was still there, but more lethargic. He sighed out a moan, his eyes were soon closed shut. His head was thrown back. She smiled at his expression and decided she wanted to hear more. Luxia started suckling the tip again, and soon his body was spasming. 

“F-Fuck~ Luxia. I can feel it,~” Astarion panted through his words, “Keep going…keep goingkeepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing- FUCK!” He squealed as he came, he tried his hardest to cover his mouth, almost embarrassed by the sound he made. His discharge sprayed into her mouth, but parts hit the corners of her lips. 

She sat up straight, her thin fingers scooping up the last bit of cum that started rolling down her cheek. Astarion opened his eyes, his tears blurring his view but he could see Luxia’s blue skin, the moonlight shining from the crack in his tent reflecting on it. She looked radiant, even with her sweating and her hair a bit messy, her blown-out white eyes looked down at him. He was enamored.

He felt his body tense up when Luxia stood up. “Do you have any towels, cloth?” She said simply. Astarion’s stunned face made her smile. She cleared her throat to snap him out of his trance. 

“W-What? Uh, yeah. I-It’s in the corner.” He stumbled through his explanation. Astarion saw Luxia turn her back, seeing her tail sway with her hips, his mind was still in a hazy stance, but he could smile, seeing her move inquisitively. She leaned down which instinctively made him whistle, she responded with a giggle, holding now two fluffy towels and a water bottle.

She gave one to Astarion as she took a hefty swig of water. He dried off the sweat on his body, still looking at her.

Luxia sighed, she began crawling toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “How do you feel?” She asked quietly, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. 

His arms moved with a mind of their own, wrapping around her torso. “Gods,” he sighed, his finger tracing her infernal spine: there were ridges like a mountain, and he could also feel the pointed end of her scapula, almost pricking his finger, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever had such…intimate sex before. It felt so…good.” The word intimate felt like he was saying it for the first time, maybe it was. Astarion could see her eyes slowly closing. Apologize now?... no, let’s not ruin the moment…I have something better he thought. “I mean it by the way.” His voice was quieter, making sure he didn’t break her sleeping trance.

“Mean what?” She asked with a whisper.

“Your body. Impeccable. I truly believe the Gods made you for me.”

Luxia laughed. “Thank you, very lovely of you, Astarion.” She soon had her eyes completely shut, her breathing began to slow down.

Astarion felt in his heart something…Gods dammit that something. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone except himself, he closed his eyes, trying to meditate, trying to do anything to let his mind wander. He could hear the echoes of her giggling, it was going to be a long night for him. 

First Tag List!: @bambamwolf87

[thenavysealkie]

Ghosts in the Water || Marcus Solo

Parties: @thenavysealkie

Timing: Current, during the eclipse totality

Location: Near the lighthouse

Triggers: Familial death

Summary: Marcus sees the ghost of a familiar face during the eclipse

It was a quiet day, relatively calm. The fog helped keep people away from the ocean for the most part, but Marcus also had to remain extra vigilant of ships that were disoriented. Mercifully, it seemed any ships out on the water were holding position until the fog passed, as there were no signs of any vessels as the lighthouses signal cut through the heavy cloud.

Marcus was just about to head back into the lighthouse to gather his things and end his watch early for the day when he spotted a small mass floating in the water, about 50 feet from the shore. It was far too large to be a person, but also smaller than a boat. Perhaps a kayak or canoe or something, but who would take a vessel like that into the ocean during thick fog? Someone with a death wish, certainly. He tried to get a closer look, when suddenly it began moving towards him quickly. It was almost as if it had a motor attached. No…Marcus realized it was swimming at him.

As the figure came closer, Marcus’s blood ran ice cold. It was a large elephant seal, with a thick, dark hide, and blue eyes that shimmered with recognition and familiarity. As it drew closer, he could barely make a large white scar running down its upper chest. He knew what was coming as the gossamer figure made landfall and suddenly stood on two legs, becoming human once again before his very eyes.

“Archer…” Was all he could say as he looked upon the visage of his cousin. The one who had been murdered in front of him almost 20 years ago now.

“Been a while, Marcus. You’ve had one hell of a year, haven’t you?” his cousin asked, taking in the scenery around him. “Guess we’re both dead now in one sense or another, eh? At least as far as the Navy is concerned…”

“What are you-” Marcus had so many questions, but didn’t know how to ask any of them. “How are you-”

“It’s the eclipse. Apparently it allows you to see me, which I think is crazy! This place is pretty neat, gives spirits a lot of avenues to communicate with everyone.”

While Marcus was thankful for the reunion, he couldn’t help but think of whatever dead souls might be looking for him; with less than well meaning intentions.

As if reading his mind, and maybe he was, Archer chimed in “Don’t worry about…him. I’ve seen and talked to him since he passed on. Congratulations, by the way. Apparently you’re not at the top of his list of people he has an ax to grind with, so he’s harassing other people right now. Besides,” he continued, giving a little flex for emphasis. “He may be bigger than you, but he knows I’m bigger than him and not to mess with you”

“I didn’t mean to…” To do what exactly? Kill him? Marcus stabbed him in the back when he was fighting with a rather powerful siren. Could he really say he didn’t mean to kill William? That would, of course, be a lie. Yet still, he certainly didn’t want to kill him either.

“You did what needed to be done. You stood your ground and made the world a better place. That is what a Fremont does.” Archie replied simply. “Grandpa’s been watching you with me. We’re both so proud of you, Marcus. You got dealt a very shitty hand, but you rose to the occasion and manned up without a CO hovering over your shoulder telling you to do so. You’re doing what’s right even if it flies in the face of authority.”

The words seemed almost foreign coming from another Fremont. His father had always emphasized status and image above all else. The “Fremont name” had always been tied to things such as his military accolades and how he was viewed. He always he felt he was a failure for leaving all of those things behind. Then, finally, his cousin said something that made Marcus certain he could read his thoughts to some extent.

“Listen, I don’t have much more time so I’ll just get to it.Your place is here, Marcus. This is where you belong, as chaotic and dangerous as it may be. Think of the lives you’ve saved, the people you’ve met, the course of events here that have changed since you came to town! I know you can’t go back home, but maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe staying off the grid in the town shrouded in mystery won’t be so bad for you.”

Marcus had thought about leaving more times than he could count. It only made sense to him. The town had actively tried to kill him enough times that he figured he’d take his chances with the military instead. But then he always thought of Elias, who was now off on his own journey with no real hint of a return. He thought of those he had met and his duties here along the beach. Maybe his home was here after all. Sure, it was by no means stable or peaceful. But as time went on, Marcus felt more at ease with that fact. Perhaps his cousin was right after all.

“Archer…” he then turned towards his cousin, trying not to make eye contact with the scar that now ran across his chest. “Thank you. I think I really did need to hear that. Tell Pop Pop I said hi too.”

“I sure will. Take it easy Marcus,” and with that, his translucent form faded even further until Marcus was greeted with nothing in front of him yet again. Swallowing hard, he resumed his trek back to the lighthouse. While it may be turbulent, dangerous, and wild, this was home. And for the first time since he arrived, Marcus was perfectly fine with that.

[lakka-arts]

Djdjjdjd he’s such a badass

ah yes scarred jesse :]

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[that-was-anticlimactic]

reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

[gotnofucks]

Master of His Own Fate-2

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader, dark!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, jealousy, spanking, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Probably gonna be a four-part series.

Part 1

MASTERLIST

+++++

Why did it feel like everyone had to do their shopping exactly when you had to? You’d bet it was not this crowed earlier. Or maybe it had something to do with the two super-soldiers flanking you that drew people in. You should have just ordered stuff online since this was super embarrassing. Steve’s hand was in the back pocket of your jeans and Bucky was on your other side, pushing the shopping cart with one hand while holding your waist with other. You’re sure you must have made quite a picture, a little woman sandwiched between them.

“Can you remove your hand?” You asked Steve under your breath and he looked away from the cereals he was perusing to glance at you.

“No” He answered and then pinched your ass for good measure. You jumped, your face flushing and you vowed to look at the floor until you left. You had no desire to see what other people thought about you.

“Why are they so colourful? Why can’t it be simple? There are too many!” Bucky exclaimed and you almost snorted. The cereal aisle was like wonderland for Bucky and you’d been walking back and forth here for 10 minutes now.

“I’m gonna go with this” Steve said throwing in a pack of Cap’n Crunch and you rolled your eyes.

“Then maybe Bucky can get Frosted Flakes and we can leave?” You suggested. Steve chuckled, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss on your head while Bucky took your advice and got Frosted Flakes.

“I’m gonna eat them off of you” He muttered in your ear and you bit your lip, flushing dark. You let them lead you around the store, checking off items off their list. It was so domestic you felt sick. This was not normal, and you unconsciously kept scratching your soulmark hidden under a wristband. You tried not to look at it if at all possible.

Bucky had stopped in front of the shelves containing condoms and quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He asked with a sinful grin and you wiggled until free of their holds. You had to bear their presence at home anyway, anymore and you’ll be smothered.

“We’ve forgotten the cheese dips. I’ll go get some while you finish here.” You said and turned away before they could say anything. You heard them chuckling softly behind you and willed your tears of frustration away.

Your life had changed drastically in the past few months since the night Steve and Bucky marked you as theirs. Try as you might, you couldn’t escape them, not when they are two of the most powerful and influential people in the world. You lived with them in their apartment at the compound now, and to say life was hell would be an understatement. Steve and Bucky have separate rooms but most nights you’re sandwiched between them in one bed since neither wants to spend a night away. You’d had more sex in these few months than people probably did in years.

You veered left into the sauces and spreads aisle, absentmindedly looking at the display. It wouldn’t matter what flavor you got, it would end up spread all over you and licked by your two lovers. You randomly took a jar off the shelf and were about to go back when you bumped into someone standing behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You apologized to the man behind you. His hand took hold of your elbow for a second to steady you before he stepped away and shook his head.

“It’s alright miss, not a problem.” He said with a small smile. You got a look at his face and your heart skipped a beat. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair, his genuine smile framed by a well-groomed beard. You saw his eyes dart to the jar in your hand and his lips twitched in amusement.

“I’d advise against this” He said pointing to the jar and you looked down at your hands in confusion. “While one may handle blue cheese, you don’t want to try its dip.”

You winced once you realized what you had picked and the man behind you laughed a little as he saw you put it back.

“What will you suggest?” You asked him. This was probably the only normal interaction you had had in a long time outside of work. It did help that this man was what some would call daddy.

“Oh, I am not a good cook. I just stick to the basics you know, less chances of messing up a dish.” He answered and handed you a classic cheese dip. You took it from him with a smile and thanked him. You lingered a moment, for some reason wanting to stay. It seemed like he had the same idea for even though he had picked his own jar, he didn’t leave.

“You, uh – you should get nachos to go with this. They have them on sale.” You said and internally cringed.

“Oh, alright then. Will you show me the way?” He asked and you nodded, leading him around as he followed with his cart.

“You new in the area?” You asked him since all locals knew the store layout pretty well.

“Ah yes, just moved here from Newton, Massachusetts. My name is Andy Barber” The man said and offered you a hand. Your smile vanished even as you mechanically accepted his hand and shook it. Andy Barber. AB. Like the initials on your wrist. Your hand squeezed around your wristband, your heart beating a mile an hour.

“Hey, you okay?” Andy asked and you realized he’d been speaking to you.

“Ah yes, yes I’m okay. Just lost in thought. Here we are, nachos.” You said and uselessly pointed at the display. You told yourself you were being silly, a lot of people with same initials existed. He may not even have a soulmark. Yet as you looked at him selecting his flavors, you couldn’t help but feel lighter than you had in months. You felt belonged, stupid as that may sound.

“So, you live around here?” You wished Andy would stop talking. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to stay and talk the rest of your life away with him.

“Yes, I am a doctor at the Avenger Tower.” You managed to say and saw his eyebrows raise appreciatively.

“Damn, that’s so cool” He said, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I am a lawyer, starting as a professor in NYU from next term.”

“Damn, that’s so cool” you mimicked him and you both breathed out a laugh. You didn’t realize it as you spoke to him that you were walking aimlessly with him around the store, telling him about the sites he absolutely must visit in New York and the best places to get coffee and hotdogs from. You had circled back to the spreads section and stood awkwardly facing each other.

“Uh, it may seem a little forward, but will you show me around the city?” Andy asked, fiddling with the cuffs on his shirt. You wanted him to take it off and see if your initials were tattooed in his skin like his were in yours. You were about to open your mouth when a hand wrapped around your waist from behind.

“There you are sweetie, you had us worried.” Steve’s words felt like a splash of cold water. For a few glorious moments you had forgotten your predicament, lost as you were in conversation with Andy. Your eyes met Andy’s and you saw him frown, his gaze narrowing on Steve’s arm around you and noticing how you tried to get out of it.

“I – uh, couldn’t decide so settled with the classic.” You showed Steve the cheese dip, but his eyes were fixed on Andy whose face was clouded with suspicion.

“Steve Rogers” He offered his hand to Andy, a useless introduction since most people recognized him with ease. You thought Andy would almost decline the handshake but, in the end, politely shook it.

“Pleased to meet you. Thank you for your service to the nation and the world.” His words were polite and yet there was a mistrustful edge to it. You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything and just walk away. You knew how Steve and Bucky could get about other men in your life, and right now you wanted Andy far away from here.

“Don’t mention it” Steve said preening and you took off his hand from your waist and laced your fingers together, trying to pull him away.

“We gotta go, lots to do back home. Thanks for the suggestion mister” You unnecessarily pointed at the jar again and tried to move back but Steve stood still. You were careful not to mention Andy’s name in front of him and you prayed with everything in you that this interaction would be over soon enough.

“Steve, you find her yet?” You closed your eyes in defeat and shame as Bucky walked from the other side and joined your little party. He closed in on you, hands cupping your face and drawing you in a deep kiss. You kept your eyes downcast, not looking at Andy and hoping the Earth will swallow you whole.

“Yeah, she’s was just having some trouble selecting the flavor until this gentleman here helped her.” Steve said and Bucky turned to look at Andy who was frowning harder than ever now. Andy’s eyes were searching yours, but you couldn’t let yourself meet his. Your shame and fear were profound and all you wanted was to leave.

Bucky’s eyes moved from Andy to Steve to you and he straightened, his arm curling around your shoulder, hand resting near your left collarbone just inches away from the scarred initials of him and Steve.

“Thank you, our girl here can be a little iffy when it comes to food” Bucky remarked affectionately but his emphasis on ‘our’ was not lost on either of you.

“Not a problem.” Andy finally nodded and took hold of his cart, ready to wheel it away. You almost sighed in relief, but your heart broke a little when he started retreating. Your eyes met for a brief moment and it seemed as if he would stop but then you looked away and he continued moving.

“What are we going to do with you Y/n?” Bucky muttered once Andy was out of sight. They didn’t care they were in a public place, both of them standing almost on top of you.

“I don’t know what you mean” You whispered and felt Bucky’s metal hand tighten over your arm. You hissed and tried to pull away but found your chin being raised up to face him with rough hands.

“Do you want another lesson on how to behave around strange men?” Bucky asked and your eyes widened, head shaking in negation.

“No, no Buck. Please, nothing happened. We were just talking” You begged, trying to convince him. You watched in horror as one of his hand outright cupped your left boob, fingers splayed so they pressed into the scars over your heart.

“You sure? I can show the whole store who you belong to my love.”

You were ready to start bawling when Bucky started fiddling with the neckline of your top, but it was Steve who saved the day. He gently pried Bucky’s hands from you and tucked you under his arm, pushing your head in his chest with a hand while the other kept Bucky away.

“Not here Buck, look at her. Honestly!” Steve started a swift walk towards the exit with you at his side and you couldn’t help but look back. It was one of those situations where you found the precious thing lost within a sea of garbage when you spotted Andy, his eyes not on you but your arm. You followed his gaze and suppressed a sob as you saw your wristband had shifted after your struggle with Bucky, bringing into view the initials that made your soulmark.

ASB: Andrew S Barber

You didn’t know his middle name but you couldn’t be any more sure of who your soulmate was when Andy’s eyes darted to his own covered wrist the moment Bucky shouted, “Steven Rogers and Y/n Y/l/n you both come back here this very second!”

Bucky was getting your stuff checked out, standing at the cashiers with his grumpy dad face on. Steve ignored him and continued dragging you away towards the exit. Your eyes watered and you tried to stem their flow so you could have one last glance at Andy without tears blurring your vision. You both stared at each other and just before you walked out the doors, even from the distance you saw Andy mouth a promise:

I will come for you

+++++

Fate was a cruel bastard, and you cursed your destiny as you lay curled in Steve’s lap after dinner. No one spoke much once you got home but you knew it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. You were wearing a short nightie, Bucky’s favorite and Steve’s hands were absently massaging you as he read through a new mission briefing.

“Wanda was asking about you again” Steve said, and you blinked at him. Just another thing you loved that they had snatched away from you. Wanda was obviously very suspicious when you announced you’ll be shifting from your apartment to Steve and Bucky’s since she knew you wanted to wait for your soulmate to show up. You would have confided in her had you not been aware of the damage your lovers could cause if displeased. Bucky had strictly ordered you to keep away from her until you were in control of your thoughts, which he was afraid Wanda would read. You had looked to help from Steve, who was softer out of the two, but he agreed with Bucky, “Better she not know anything than us having to eliminate her if she did.” They talked of death and violence with such ease it made your skin crawl.

“Can I see her now? I don’t think my texts are keeping her satisfied.” If only you could get a few hours away from their stifling presence maybe it would be more tolerable. The both of them clung to you like a babe to his mum, and your only respite were the hours you spent working.

“Do you think you’re ready to see her now?” Steve questioned you, finally looking up from his mission briefing. Before you could answer Bucky came behind you and plucked you from Steve’s arms like you weighed nothing and perched you in his own lap. Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“The better question would be if you think you deserve to see her.” Bucky commented, his hand fondling your behind under the silk nightie. You shifted under his touch and gaze, uncomfortable under the stern look.

“I’m minding my thoughts, I promise.” You whined and Bucky’s hand cracked against your ass suddenly. You squealed and he held you down with one hand, the second blow even harder than the first.

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant. I don’t like it when you act dumb.” Bucky snarled and you flinched as he raised his hand again. To your surprise, the slap barely had any force behind it and Bucky rubbed your ass softly as if in apology. You turned your face to peek at him and saw him and Steve locked in one of those silent eye contact conversations that you absolutely loathed. Steve was almost glaring at Bucky as if displeased and Bucky had enough grace to look a little ashamed.

“I wasn’t!” Bucky cried out suddenly, throwing his hands in the air and huffing. It was as if they were continuing a conversation that went from telepathy to verbal and your mouth parted in awe when Steve continued speaking too.

“You would have if I didn’t stop you.”

Your gaze moved from one man to another, confused beyond measure. In a flash Bucky was gathering you in his arms, holding you to himself like he was afraid papa Steve would take away his favorite toy.

“I know my limits Steve. She’s mine as much as yours. Stop it.”

You were sure if you tilted your head up you would see Bucky pouting but instead you observed Steve who was in classic captain pose with hands on his hips and disapproval on his face.

“Do you really? Because it sure seemed like you were about to strip her naked in a supermarket of all places.”

“I wouldn’t! I was teasing her.” Bucky said, his head buried in your neck. He took your hand and placed it on his head and you slowly scratched with your nails, making him purr in satisfaction. Steve didn’t look the least bit convinced and his eyes kept bouncing between you and Bucky. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh before getting up.

“She is sleeping in my room tonight.” Your head snapped up just as Bucky’s hold tightened around you in rejection of the idea.

“No, you can’t take her from me.” Bucky snapped and you resisted the urge to slap them both. It bothered you how they went on talking about you like you weren’t even present here.

“I’m not taking her away from you, pal. Just like she learns her lessons when she fucks up, so will you.”

Bucky didn’t look like he would want a lesson, but it didn’t seem like the first time they were having this talk because he said nothing more. He almost didn’t let you leave when Steve took your arm to take you away but finally relented.

“When can I have her back?” Yep, he was definitely pouting.

“When you learn that teasing is pinching her ass in public, not stripping her bare in front of strangers.”

+++++

It had been a while since there were two people in bed and not three. You stretched your feet out, glad to have some extra space. Even cuddled up in Steve’s massive arms, your thoughts returned to Andy. You had finally found him after years of searching, only to lose him on the same day. It was a cosmic joke to have you cross paths now when it was too late to do anything. Your hand unconsciously traced the letters on your wrist, a slight thrill running down your spine as you finally realized what and who these initials stood for.

It wasn’t just a legend anymore. They were right when they said that soulmates completed you. In those precious few moments you had spent with Andy, all your worries had fallen away. You both had built a bubble around yourself where the outer world was nothing but a distant blur and you saw only each other. Conversation didn’t sound strained and you felt so connected despite having just met. You wished you knew he existed a few months ago. How different would life have been then if you were laying in his arms and not Steve and Bucky’s?

You bit your lip when you felt Steve take your hand in his from behind you, his fingers too tracing the initials on your wrist. You stiffened and held yourself back from snatching your hand away. It was never a very good idea to resist when it came to them both.

“Bucky doesn’t know yet” Steve murmured in your ear as he tapped your wrist. You felt your heart drop in your stomach, your fingers curling in your palm. “He thinks it was just some man you were speaking to. His jealousy makes him sloppy and he doesn’t notice details.”

You were turned around to face him, your eyes locking on Steve’s which were a vibrant blue even in the dark. His hands played at the hem of your nightie, teasing it.

“I noticed of course. How could I not, I have never seen you smile the way you smiled at him” You didn’t seem capable of speaking or protesting when Steve’s hands slipped up your clothing and caressed your thighs and belly. His hands were moving but his eyes were fixed on you and try as you might you couldn’t look away. Slowly, gently like one does to precious cargo you were stripped, your body baring itself inch by delicious inch. The calluses on his fingers rubbed against your nipples and you let out a moan, your slick coating your walls and thighs. Your lips met his in a desperate kiss and you couldn’t help but make pathetic mewls as his tongue raced across your throat. He came to rest above your heart, tracing the scar over it. JBB and SGR

“How are these any different to those on your wrist?” He questioned as he entered you slowly, looking deep into your eyes like trying to search your soul. “If we carve your name on our body, would that make you look at us like you looked at him?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to, the heat of Steve warming your insides. You met in a familiar dance, bodies slapping, and moaning together until pleasure took over every cell in your body. Steve pulled out and released on your thighs, rubbing his essence in your skin, his breath warm on your cheek.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if I find you talking to that man again” It was not a question and you shook your head, tears travelling down the sides of your face and getting lost in your hair. “Good girl. We can forget it and Bucky will never know. Because if that happens, even I won’t be able to help you.”

You reminded yourself that Steve was just as much of a monster as Bucky was. He had taken you against your will too, and while he may as well be the lesser of the two evils, you could not trust him. You turned to your side, automatically curling into Steve out of habit when he held you. That is what this relationship felt like. A habit. It was a routine you were stuck in with no way out. You closed your eyes, seeking the escape of sleep and tried to sooth your broken heart over a love it may never find again.

+++++

Bucky was a terrible stalker and you wondered how he remained a ‘ghost story’ for all those decades. Steve had been hoarding you in his room for nearly a week and you knew Bucky was at his wit’s end. He wasn’t even pretending to hide anymore; he’d just stand across the med bay and ogle you like a roadway creep. You didn’t even know what to do, who should you listen to. Being caught in the crossfire between them is not fun.

You finally had enough and made your way over to him. You were a few feet away when he snatched you in his arms, crushing you to his frame and kissing you soundly. Pulling away, he put his forehead on yours and bit your lip.

“I’ve missed you baby.” He cooed and you sighed.

“Is that why you’re lurking here and scaring my nursing staff away?” Bucky nodded, pecking your lips once more before you moved away.

“I’m sorry about the other day you know. I just…lost control.” It was rare that he would apologize, and you were too smart to reject this small consolation. He will probably be kind and soft for the coming few days and you took what you can. You smiled at him, promising him you forgave him.

“I have just one public hour and then we can go home together. Sounds good?” You asked and Bucky’s smile was almost shy when he agreed. Sometimes you believed it when they say they loved you, but how can someone hurt whom they love?

“You asked me once what I see in you, but have you ever looked at yourself the way I look at you? Here you are, one of the most accomplished doctors working for the Avengers, and yet you give your time to general public to treat their common cold and flu. That’s what I see in you. Your kindness, that light, it guides me away from the darkness in me.” Bucky confessed and you looked away from him. He could be so sweet when he has to be. Both him and Steve. You wonder again if they could always be like that, will you be able to love them.

“I – uh, I’ll see you in an hour, okay? Wait in the common room for me.”

You watched Bucky go and returned with a perturbed mind. The hot and cold behavior almost gives you a whiplash. In the past few months, you have spent several nights crying, but just as many moaning in pleasure. Maybe it could have been easier if you’d given in and just accepted them, but love does not come by force. They can carve their names in your skin a hundred times over, and yet it won’t leave a mark on your soul.

Your assistant entered, informing you that general patients were waiting for you and you nodded. Tony gave you an hour free every day to treat patients outside the tower for free. You believed being a doctor your job should be more than saving just superheroes. One by one your patients trickled in, most with common diseases. Some you prescribed for additional testing; all costs covered by the Stark Industries.

“Your last patient ma’am”

You nodded to let your assistant know you heard her and entered the room. You were looking over a report as you entered, the door shutting itself behind you automatically.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” You looked up and the report fell out of your hand. Sitting in front of you was Andy Barber, his eyes crinkled at the sides due to the wide smile he supported.

“I believe I have a heart problem doctor. A beautiful lady stole mine.”

+++++

 Taglist is open for all characters

[laufulneutral]

We all know how much I love music Inspos! So here’s one that came to mind whilst I’ve been obsessing over this Coldplay song recently.

I’m sorry if this is crap. Only briefly re read so have fun or not cool thanks bye haha

(It’s a sad Arthur moment)

You are Arthur’s fiancée. Arthur turns up out of the blue after disappearing for 3 months after shish went down in Valentine and the gang had to leave. He never told you and he hasn’t been responding to letters. This isn’t the first time he’s had to go, he disappears a lot to do jobs for Dutch, but you always knew. However things have been strained since the trouble in Blackwater and Arthur goes for longer periods between seeing you, and he doesn’t have the time to see you and it’s all coming to a crashing reality, that unless you keep running with the gang, you can have no future together

A sharp knock on the door takes your attention away from the book you had become so engrossed in. You look up as your Aunt leaves the room to answer the door.

Soon enough you hear the familiar drawl of the outlaw,

“Hello m’aam, is Miss Y/LN here?”

A brief sense of happiness and relief floods your system before it’s taken over by anger again. Anger that he left, anger he hasn’t written once to you or even responded to any of the letters you wrote to him.

“I shall go see”

You hear the door close, and your aunt appears in the entrance to the room

“Mr Morgan is here to see you” she smiles gently, worry etched into her face. You return the smile, and nod once before putting your book aside and standing to straighten your skirt.

“I can tell him your busy” you aunt offers,

“No it’s okay” you reply, twiddling the silver band with a single ruby raised from it on your finger. “He is meant to be my fiancée, I cannot ignore him”

Pulling open the door you are greeted by the familiar cowboy,

“Arthur” you greet him

“F/N” he smiles broadly, taking your hand and raising it to his rough lips placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The touch sends electric through your body, some things never change no matter how long it has been. “Y’look lovely darlin’”

You close the door behind you and attempt to offer him a smile. You can’t bring yourself to say anything amongst the anger and hurt that’s bubbling more now you are seeing him in person.

“I’ve missed ya” he says, awkwardly knocking his foot against the wood of the porch. The tension between you is thick, “ain’t stopped thinkin about ya since I’ve been away.. some strange people down south”

“Why are you here Arthur?” You snap, unable to continue anymore small talk. His face blanches and his eyes show a quick glimpse of shock and hurt

“I missed ya, and I wanted to say sorry” he answers plainly

“For what?”

“What?” He grunts

“For what Arthur. What are you sorry for?” you demand, impatient with him already.

“Erm…”

You let out a harsh laugh, walking away from him to the low fencing of the porch. You wrap your arms around yourself pleading it will keep you together,

“I would have been back sooner but we ran in to trouble”

You shake your head “ain’t that always the way”

“Ain’t nothing I could of done.. Dutch said..”

You spin round to face him, your patience snapping “well if Dutch said it then it must be gods word”

“Y/N.”

“Don’t” you hiss “I am your fiancée … least I thought I was till you disappeared and I had no idea where you were for 3 months”

“I’m sorry.. Pinkertons showed up and after what happened in Valentine I couldn’t come back and see ya in case someone recognised me”

“How about letters Mr Tacitus Kilgore? Did pinkertons take over the postal system too!” You sneer,

“No” Arthur mumbles, his eyes stuck firmly on the floor. He is so inherently frustrating, he never understands how him disappearing effects you,

“You cannot begin to fathom the thoughts I’ve had about you since you left! I thought you was dead!” You exclaim, your hands swing around widely

“Oh darlin..” Arthur hums, his eyes meeting yours with concern, “course not, I ain’t trying to make you worry”

“What was I meant to think ? I rode out to horseshoe and found it abandoned.. I thought cause I hadn’t heard from anyone that you must be ..” you take a deep breath to stop your voice from cracking and shake your head “That was till I saw Trewlany, he told me you were holed up somewhere near Rhodes. I didn’t believe him at first.. said you would have let me know if you had to go”

Arthur says nothing watching you with a blank expression

“Arthur I have wrote to you. I have wrote and wrote and worried and cried…” you stop yourself, turning away from him again to not have to see his face,

“What can I do to fix it?” Arthur asks you, his voice desperate

You shrug, before mumbling “I just wish it could be like it used to be, y’know back in Blackwater”

Silence stretches out between the pair of you, only broken when Arthur sighs heavily,

“I ain’t too sure what to say darlin.. I’m sorry and I’m here now… ain’t that enough?”

“We’ve done this before Arthur, you do something wrong, I get hurt and then you apologise. We are running in circles, and I keep getting hurt. I’m tired of it”

Arthur comes up behind you and wraps his two warm arms around you. The scent of pine and campfire invades your senses, the smell of him bringing comfort to you the same as it always has done.

“You darlin, are the most important thing to me” he says gruffly, his lips kissing you lightly on the side of your face, the electric tingle igniting your skin, “please forgive me”

“I always do” you answer, your voice exasperated “but that ain’t changing anything, you do it again and again .. disappear for weeks .. this time 3 months. What will it be next time Arthur? 6 months ? A year?”

Arthur’s arms stiffen around you,

“This is my life Y/N, you knew that when you met me and you knew that when you agreed to marry me” he says, his voice irritated “Nobody said it would be easy”

You laugh, shocking yourself, before shaking your head “you’re right ! Nobody said it was going to be easy. Being in love with an outlaw” you take a deep breath before admitting the truth “but no one ever said it would be this goddamn hard”

Your voice cracks, and your eyes begin to threaten unshed tears that have built up over the last few weeks. Arthur turns you in his arms so your face to face, you look up into his sea blue eyes,

“What are ya sayin” he asks warily,

You search his face for something to change your mind on the hard decision you’ve been thinking over for the last month. You find it hard to face the reality when you are in his presence, he is so intoxicating and just seeing the man you love brings you such comfort. Yes he looked different. His beard has grown out a lot since you last saw him, his scar no longer visible under the untamed hair, and he still wore that silly blue, very worn shirt that suited him so well, but he was still that same man who you fell in love with. The same man who drew pictures of you and taught you to ride a horse. The man who when he proposed dropped the ring cause he was so nervous. The man you thought would be your husband

“Say something’” Arthur whispers, his eyes watch you intently,

“I can’t do this anymore” you say barely above a whisper . His eyes go wide and a hand immediately holds your chin so you can’t turn away. His eyes frantically search your face,

“You’re leaving me?” He says with disbelief.

You close your eyes, as tears start to form. When you open them again, you look down at your ring finger. Sliding the gold band off, you hold it out to him. Disgust fills his face at this gesture, his grip on your chin loosens as he steps away from you.

“Y/N… no... I love you” he says, his voice cracking. His face is holds a frown, as he looks at you with hurt and disbelief,

“I love you too Arthur.. but it’s not enough, this is too…hard” your voice cracks and the tears fall down your cheek. You look away from him, but Arthur grips his hands on your arms, making you look up at him through watery eyes,

“It won’t be much longer darlin’…I know it don’t seem great now, but as soon as we have enough money we’ll be gone.. just the two of us” he reassures you with so much belief that you so badly want it to be true. However you know the horrible truth, that there was never going to be that time.. there is always one more job, one more favour to do.

You shake your head, “I think you know as much as me that ain’t the case… you’ll never change that part of you, I wouldn’t want you too. It’s what makes you who you are” you place your hand with the ring in over his heart, “but I am not the women who can live that life with you, I’m sorry”

You slip the ring into the breast pocket of his worn shirt. The same shirt he wore when you first met, it hugs his frame so well and was the first thing you noticed when you met him in Blackwater. The grin he gave you after he brought you a new drink to replace the one his friend Sean spilt when he was trying to dance on the saloon bar. Arthur was so carefree back then, but since the trouble in Blackwater it’s got worse. You respected his lifestyle but couldn’t be a part of it yourself, and had enough of moving all the time. Staying in Coulter was the breaking point, and you both agreed you would stay permanently in Valentine, since it was not meant to be long till you and Arthur left together.

Stepping back out of his grasp, his faces drops and he reaches out again taking your hand which his larger one.

“I love you…so much” Arthur mumbles confused, a broken look on his face that is no longer hidden by his facade of confidence

You smile weakly at him, tears running down your cheeks “I know”

Your voice cracking through the sobs as you pull your hand from his and turn for the door

“Goodbye Arthur”

You step through the door, closing it behind you before he does anything stupid, like kiss you. You knew that was all it would take to get you to stay, you love him too much. Leaning your back against the door you slide down, the sobs overtaking your body.

After a few seconds you hear Arthur’s foot steps recede , and then hooves disappearing until the house becomes silent.

[icycoolslushie]

THG Thomastair AU

“I wish we could find sanctuary,” Thomas said. “You know, with shelter and such.”

“But Thomas,” Alastair said, “you are my sanctuary.”

TW/CW: If you're reading this, you've probably read The Hunger Games books or watched the movies so this has the same stuff as in them!

Idea // OG post // Ask

Disclaimers: This has headcanons along with snippets. Hopefully it's not OOC. Any Persian is what my Iranian friend told me. I like to headcanon that all the districts have their own language. Warning: The plot might be non-existent. Also, if you see any kind of mistakes (grammar, spelling, etc.) please let me know! Kinda long :)

Thomas is from District 7

Alastair is from District 11

The president is Josiah Wayland

The Head Gamemaker is Maurice Bridgestock

Eugenia is part of a group to overthrow the Capitol

Barbara and Oliver died in a previous Hunger Games

It was like it was in the books

Alastair used to be in a relationship with Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, Charlotte Fairchild

Risa is Sona’s sister so Alastair’s aunt

Alastair volunteers for Cordelia

Cordelia struggles with him and finally says in “I love you” in Persian (dooset daram) before Alastair goes on the train

Cordelia is like Prim

Alastair’s mentor is Ragnor Fell

They be sassy together

Thomas’s mentor is Charlotte

Alastair’s stylist tells him Alastair should dye his hair back to black

In the opening ceremony, Thomas dresses as a tree and Alastair thinks how Thomas makes “a boring costume look beautiful”

Alastair has a suit on with leaves embroidered on it which Thomas later tells him “it was like nature blessed you”

Jem may or may not be an Avox Jem is Alastair’s Avox

Thomas Tanner is Thomas’s Avox

For training Alastair throws spears and pulls a 8

Thomas uses a broadsword in training and pulls an 8 as well

Thomas gets a compass rose tattoo from his stylist for the interview

The arena has a structure that looks like the Eiffel Tower at one end

The arena is covered in forests, except for the Cornucopia

When the canon sounds, Alastair runs toward the Cornucopia and escapes with a dagger to the forest

Thomas runs straight (ha!) into the forest

9 children die in the initial bloodbath

Alastair and Thomas both spend the night in trees about ten minutes away from each other

In the morning, Alastair hears rustling and eventually confronts Thomas

They first try to kill each other, but then they hear someone else and work together to fight the District 9 male tribute

Alastair puts his dagger at the tribute’s throat and stabs him there

Alastair doesn’t want to partner up and vice versa

“Alastair—I think you’d be a great person to team up with, but I . . . I don’t want to team up with you. I don’t want to team up with anyone. We—we might survive till the end, and then—” “No, Thomas, I understand. We’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go our separate ways.” Thomas nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Part of him had been hoping Alastair would disagree with him, even when it was reasonable. He ignored it and set about laying the food they’d gathered.

But they gather food and decide they’ll have a meal together and then go their separate ways

They make a meal of some fruits they find on trees and on the ground

Thomas just cannot eat the celery

They part ways

By the second night, fourteen people in total are dead

Thomas goes to the Eiffel Tower structure the next day

He climbs onto the first level and greets Alastair

Alastair’s leg is wounded

Alastair explains that the Careers fought him

The Careers include Augustus Pounceby and Clive Cartwright

“Tell me. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them.” Alastair had never seen anyone so angry on his behalf that it unnerved him. “It doesn’t matter, it was the Capitol—” “Don’t,” Thomas said quietly. “Don’t try to downplay it. I want to make them pay.” Alastair paused. After a minute he said, “It was the Careers. The District 1 and 2 tribute. Augustus and Clive. They climbed onto here and started fighting me. I gave Augustus a good cut on the arm and Clive a nice scar on his cheek but they overpowered me. Augustus stabbed my leg. They left laughing.” “They didn’t finish you off?” Alastair shook his head. “I think they . . . wanted me to suffer. It isn’t like I can go anywhere, and I have no allies, so probably wanted to come back tomorrow and then finish me off. But it’s not like I’m going to last that long.” The last sentence caught Thomas off guard. “What?” “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Thomas thought about the District 1 tribute, Augustus, who had been saying that Barbara was weak before the Opening Ceremony. That Barbara, who had gotten him out of a scuffle with a Peacekeeper, was weak. That Barbara, who had volunteered for her cousin in the Reaping, was weak. He thought about the hate he had felt for the Career. Then he thought about graceful, elegant, bleeding Alastair in front of him, the way he had hugged his sister, the way he guarded himself, and decided. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Thomas bandages Alastair’s wound

“Alastair, you’re hurt. Please let me wrap your leg in leaves and vines.” “Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve always bandaged my own wounds. It’s not going to change now.” “Sometimes,” Thomas said, “it’s better to let others take care of you. They do a better job than you realize. Alastair, please. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Alastair saw something in Thomas’s eyes: truth. He thought back to how many people would want to help him: his father, his mother, his aunt Risa . . . when he was young. As he grew up, all of them faced the same cruel system and all of them were expected to take care of their own wounds. Now, here was someone willing to help him when he should be killing him. It gave Alastair such a feeling of care and belonging that he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of him for once.

They eventually decide to team up

Thomas makes a meal out of things he finds in the forest

He and Alastair eat it

Alastair heals from his wound

By that night, nineteen people are dead

Augustus, Clive, and the District 8 female tribute are still alive along with them

Alastair takes first watch during the night, Thomas takes the second

Alastair gently moved his fingers across the compass rose tattoo that Thomas had gotten from his stylist. He felt Thomas’s pulse. He promised himself that that pulse would go on even when his own didn’t.

The next day Alastair and Thomas set off (Alastair’s leg is healed)

Augustus and Clive are waiting for them

Thomas kills Augustus, attacking with A LOT of force

Clive gets a good hit on Thomas with a sword on his left arm

Alastair and Clive fight, Clive flees finally while he’s bleeding from a dozen cuts

Alastair bandages Thomas’s wound with leaves and vines

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” “Thomas—Thomas, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re going delirious.” Thomas sighed softly. “I would go delirious if that meant I could hear you say my name one more time.”

They get a sponsor gift: a whole meal of steak and sides, which they finish that day

When Alastair bites into an apple, Thomas wants to kiss him

Both of them fall asleep at night

When they wake up, they’re in a prison; a Capitol prison

They were in prison. But even if they were in hell, Alastair wouldn’t have minded. They were together.

They lie in each other’s arms, seeking warmth

“Why are we in prison? What did we do?” Alastair demanded, getting up as Josiah Wayland stuck his ugly face in front of the bars. President Wayland’s lip curled. “It isn’t you that did something, it’s your family.” Thomas gasped sharply. “Eugenia.” The president smiled cruelly. “So you do know her crime.” Thomas swallowed. Alastair put his hand in Thomas’s. “What did my family do?” Alastair asked, trying to change the topic. “Why, your sister did the same thing,” Josiah Wayland said. This time Alastair gave a sharp gasp. Thomas squeezed his hand, and Alastair drew a bit of comfort from him. But his mind was on Cordelia, his little sister, what would happen to her— Wayland, the monster he was, smiled wider as he saw Alastair and Thomas despairing their sisters’ fate.

Cordelia joined the same rebel group Eugenia was in

“But why are we here? What did they do that you had to take us out of the Games?” Thomas demanded when he had finally calmed down. It seemed that all the Lightwood siblings would all die in their youth. “As soon as they are in our custody, they will be executed. In front of you two. Everyone thinks the two of you killed each other. After they’re dead, both of you will be executed.” Thomas swallowed. “Why? Why will you execute us?” “Your sisters should have thought about your safety before they did what they did. At least you’ll be able to tell them goodbye. If the executioners give you the chance,” President Wayland added before he gave another cruel smile and left.

Thomas and Alastair despair over their and their sisters’ fates

“We’ll fight them. I don’t care. We’ll fight the Capitol. We’ll make them pay for what they did to Barbara and Oliver and Jem and Will and Tessa and my mom and every single person they hurt. We’ll make them pay, Alastair.”

Thomas sighed. “If only we had hope.” “I don’t think about hope, Thomas. I think about you. You’re my hope.” And now I’m going to lose you, Alastair wanted to add, but he didn’t. And then I won’t have any hope left.

“The odds were never in our favour, Thomas,” Alastair whispered, closing his eyes. Then he added softly, “And they never will be.”

Letter addressed to Alastair Carstairs, District 11 male tribute of the 56th Hunger Games, from Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, found crumpled in a trash bin of the Training Center floor 11

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer Also tagging @jurdan-my-beloved who originally requested the headcanons and @youngreckless Lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

[minty-mumbles]

Sunkissed Scales

Summary: The last thing Time expected to do today was meet a Siren that got caught up in the fishing nets. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what happened.

Or

I make a Pirate AU, and Wind is literally the only character who isn't a pirate. I live for chaos.

Read it on AO3 here

~~~

Time was used to loud commotions on his ship. His small crew of seven were as good as family, but goddess, could their arguments be loud sometimes. Normally, the noise went away quickly.

Conflict didn’t tend to linger, and even those who held the most animosity for each other, like Legend and Warriors, knew better than to let a grudge stand. Out at sea, there was nowhere to go to escape each other. On top of that, sailing was not easy. It could be dangerous at times. They needed to be able to work together like a well oiled machine at a moments’ notice.

Even if a big argument did crop up, Time was usually confident that his second mate, Twilight, would be able to sort them out. The man was good at calming hot tempers and staying the hands of those who would draw weapons.

But Twilight’s skills with negotiation were rarely needed, like Time said. True arguments are rare.

So when screaming broke out above deck, Time knew he should probably be concerned. He had been in his cabin, reading a letter from his wife that he had picked up at the last port. He had just gotten through the first page of the letter when a shriek rang out. Time waited for a moment to see if Twilight or even Warriors would be able to smooth the situation over.

Unfortunately for his good mood, the shrieking did not go away.

And they did not sound like happy shrieks.

Several loud voices joined in the commotion. Time couldn’t pick out individual words, or even who specifically was yelling, but the panic and anger in the voices was clear.

Okay, this was sounding a lot less like there was an argument, or like it was just the boys having fun and messing around. It was starting to sound a lot more like someone was hurt.

Time threw down his letter, and swiftly exited the room.

When he reached the deck, chaos awaited him. Twilight and Warriors were indeed trying to calm down their fellow crewmates. They weren’t being overly successful. Four had squirreled himself away up the rigging. He seemed to be content to watch the disarray from a safe distance, where he wasn’t likely to be trampled. Wild was right next to him, munching on an apple, enjoying the chaos. (Time really needed to talk to him about where he kept getting apples in the middle of the ocean.)

And there in the center of it all were Legend, Sky, and Hyrule. Legend was yelling, flushed with anger in a way Time had never seen from him before. Sky and Hyrule were both standing protectively in front of the fishing net, which was hanging above the deck. They were seemingly shielding it from the irate veteran.

However, what drew his eye, or rather, his ear, immediately was none of that chaos. It was the screaming coming from said net.

Time paused, taking a moment to assess the situation before rushing in. Dealing with this would take a delicate touch.

Curled up in the net, currently screeching his head off, was a Siren.

Sirens were infamous creatures of the sea. There were plenty of myths and legends surrounding their kind, but most sailors could agree that actually seeing one was usually a bad sign. Their voices were powerful, and when they put their minds to it, their songs could enchant sailors into dreams filled with their victim’s deepest desire, so they would never wish to leave.

Time knew that most of his crew had never seen a Siren before. They had talked about it, though. Some of the crew, including Wild, Four, Warriors, Hyrule, and Twilight, had neutral opinions regarding the creatures. None of them had met one before, so had no reason to form opinions, besides being generally wary.

Sky was one of those that adhered to the old belief that Sirens were creatures sent by the Goddess Hylia to look after seas, much like she had sent the Koroks to tend to the forests of Hyrule.

Legend, however, had remained silent, giving off such angry energy that no one had dared to ask him his opinion on the subject, and the conversation moved on quickly. Time suspected he had had a bad encounter with a siren before. A very bad one, that he had not moved on from.

Time had not contributed to that particular conversion, and he couldn’t blame Legend for his sullenness on the topic, not when he himself had been much the same when he was younger.

Time strode forward quickly, calling for peace and for those quarreling to cease, just for a moment. They obeyed. Four and Wild came down from the rigging, with Warriors and Twilight backing off. Hyrule nervously shifted away from where he was standing.

Legend was reluctant to back down until Time put a calming hand on his shoulder. Sky didn’t move from where he was standing protectively in front of the net until Legend did, but eventually, everyone was relatively calm. Even the Siren had quieted down, staring intently around at all of them. His eyes gleamed, tracking all of their movements carefully, but refusing to meet any of their eyes.

Time took a second to assess the Siren in turn, taking in his appearance. He looked young, although perhaps he was entering he teen years. He was much too small to be fully grown, at any rate.

There was no way someone could mistake this creature as anything other than a Siren. For the chest up, he looked mostly Hylian, save for the fins sprouting from the side of his head, which were a bit too big for him. He probably needed to grow into them.

He was blonde, which wasn’t uncommon in Hyrule. Most of Time’s own crew had blond hair, but this siren’s locks put them all to shame. Even wet, the color was not dulled, and it gleamed like gold under the midday sun. The boy had sunkissed tan skin, from spending his life in the shallows that that they were currently sailing through. For the most part, he looked like any boy you might see in a seaside town.

However, his chest was where that illusion got shattered. Along his ribs, gills were pressed firmly closed against the salty air. Creeping along the sides of his torso, following the lines of his gills, the Siren’s scales glimmered blue in the sun, occasionally flashing an iridescent green. At the Siren’s waist, the scales wrapped completely around his body, and where legs would be on any normal Hylian, instead there was a long powerful tail.

At first glance, Time thought his scales were rippled with white, but upon closer inspection, he could see that the white stripes were actually scars. Many of them, covering not only his tail, but also his torso. There was even a rather large one criss crossing over his gills, and several small nicks on his ear fins.

He wore very little, only an orange sash wrapped around his hips, and a simple necklace with a chunk of pink coral on it. A pair of binoculars were attached to his sash.

The most concerning thing was the blood dripping from him onto the deck. For a moment, Time wondered if Legend had gotten to the creature before Sky or Hyrule could stop him. But he could see that it was the net causing him harm. It was wrapped around his tail, cutting into his fins.

Time wanted to groan and bury his face in his hands. Thankfully, he resisted the urge. He needed to show a calm face for his crew. First thing to sort out…

He turned to Legend, who was still silently seething under Time’s hand. “What happened?” His tone wasn’t demanding, but it was obvious it wasn’t a request. Legend didn’t seem reluctant to tell him though.

“I was just hauling up the net, and that,” he shot a glare at the Siren, who met his gaze steadily, “was trapped in the net. I was trying to take care of the problem before he could kill us all, but someone stopped me.” Here, he shot a look of ire at Sky and Hyrule.

Before Time could respond to that, Sky snapped back. “You can’t just kill him. He’s a creation of the goddess. If we do, she might cast divine judgment on us. We might as well release him. We’re taking a risk either way.”

Hyrule also offered their own opinion. “You can't just attack him because he could kill us, Legend. If you acted that way all the time, you would have to kill all of us.” Time raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. Hyrule rarely went against anything Legend said, even if they disagreed with their mentor, simply out of respect. But, Time supposed, Hyrule’s fairy blood made them familiar with people wanting to kill them just for their ancestry.

Time considered, but ultimately knew he would not condemn this boy to death because of Legend’s hatred of Sirens.

“Cut him down.” Time demanded, drawing his knife and handing it off to Hyrule. He kept his watchful eye on the young siren. He may be willing to set him free, but he would not tolerate him trying to hurt one of his crew.

Legend held out an arm to stop Hyrule before they could draw close to the creature. “That,” Legend hissed, “is a Siren. He could ensnare us all in his spell at any time, and none of us would be able to do anything about it.” True anger and hurt was seeping into his tone now, “He could trap us in illusions, show us our deepest desires, and none of us would even know until we wake up. If we wake up.”

Time let Legend say his piece, but ultimately, as Captain, he had final say. “And yet, he hasn’t done so. I have dealt with sirens before,” This earned him shocked looks from his entire crew, which he ignored. “It is better to cut him free rather than risk being cursed. Sirens do not just lull people to sleep with songs of desire. They can also command the sea, and they only get more powerful as they age. This one probably doesn't pose much of a threat to us. But I’d bet anything his guardian will.”

Time nodded at Hyrule. “Do it.”

Hyrule nodded, keeping an eye on the trussed up siren in the net as they stepped forward. The Siren, his eyes wide and defiant, watched Hyrule step forwards. When he saw the knife the sailor held, the Siren started thrashing.

Time sighed. He had sent Hyrule to do the job of cutting the siren free because they were the least intimidating person in the entire crew. Hyrule was also very unassuming, unlike many on Time’s small crew. They were the least likely to frighten the young siren right away.

(Well, maybe Hyrule wasn’t the least physically intimidating, thought Time, with a quick glance in the smithy’s direction. But, well... to be honest, Time wasn’t even sure the Smithy was even tall enough to do the job of cutting the Siren free.)

On top of that, Hyrule always seemed to give off a calming energy. This, Time knew, was due to their fairy heritage. He wasn’t sure if the calming effect would work on the Siren, as he was a magical creature himself, but every advantage would help them.

Unfortunately, although the Siren had been relatively calm at first sight of Hyrule approaching, the sight of the knife they held had pushed him into panic.

Hyrule shakily wiped their sweaty palms on their pants, and set to work.

It was slow going. Hyrule was obviously skittish, and fearful of the creature. They startled back at every movement he made. Thankfully, the Siren had stopped thrashing around once he realized that Hyrule was indeed setting him free, and was not gutting him with the knife they carried.

After a few minutes, with only minimal progress made, Time relented, and motioned Warriors forward to help Hyrule. With the two of them working together, it was only a few minutes before the net was cut and the Siren slithered to the floor.

He didn’t immediately throw himself over the side of the ship, which Time didn’t know whether to be thankful for or not.

On one hand, if the Siren left now, he would probably be grateful to the crew for setting him free and not killing him, and that would be that. No curses involved.

On the other hand, the boy was still bleeding. Already a puddle was forming under him on deck. He needed medical attention.

Hyrule, seeing the same, took a tentative step forward. He was obviously still a little shaken by the creature. (Despite being magical themself, Hyrule rarely encountered magical creatures besides other fairies that hadn’t automatically tried to kill them. Time could understand their hesitation.) They had put aside their discomfort at the sight of someone in need of help, the healer in them overriding their caution.

Instead of Legend, it was Time who stopped them this time. “Wait. Let me go first.”

“Uhhh, are you sure that's a good idea?” Warriors cautioned. ”You can be kind of intimidating on a good day. We don’t want him to panic. Even more.”

Time tilted his head to show he heard, but started forward anyways. The Siren hissed at his approach, scrambling back against the railings, Time could see now that the wounds on his tail were deep. The Siren likely wouldn’t be able to swim without great discomfort or pain for a good while. This was worse than Time thought.

As Time drew closer, the Siren flared his fins, baring his unnaturally long teeth. A guttural hiss escaped him, but Time didn't back down.

He kept an even pace, drawing closer slowly.

Time could see the moment the Siren actually got a good look at his face, and laid eyes on the markings there. His demeanor immediately went from fearful and defiant to eager and astonished. A single word slipped out of his mouth, spoken in the guttural songs of the deep.

“Kin.”

And indeed, the Siren was right. The blue V on his forehead marked him as a Siren-Friend. And the red marks under his eye, the ones he saw reflected back at him from the cheek of the young guppy, marked Time as good as kin to him.

While the Siren examined Time’s face, Time took the time to do the same. In the tattoos on his body, Time could read the status of this child. Humans usually would not be privy to the markings’ meanings. Humans also should not usually be able to innately understand Tempest Tongue, the language of Sirens.

Most humans, however, had not been possessed by the spirit of an ancient Siren that was trapped forever more inside a mask.

Time was just special like that.

This guppy was remarkably well decorated for one his age. Normally a Siren his age would only have their family markings, but this one had much more than that. Not that Time should be surprised. This Siren was descended from the very same, immensely powerful, Siren that Time himself had known.

The two red marks under his eye showed this affiliation. The rest of his family would have the same mark. Around his left wrist were tattooed thick black bands, the marks of a warrior. They announced to the world that this boy had bested enemies more powerful and fearsome than him, and that he was skilled in combat.

Up that same arm, symbols speaking of his deeds were placed. There was an hourglass on his shoulder. The gold sand inside the tattoo was slowly trickling downwards. Time was shocked to see the tattoo moving, but shook it off. That the Siren’s tattoos were moving was not the most shocking thing he’d seen today. Siren’s were proficient in magic, after all. Lower down on the boy’s arm, some sort of wand was pictured, with multicolored music notes slowly floating around it.

The crest of Hylia featured prominently across the Siren’s chest, the Triforce gleaming gold. This proclaimed the wearer’s loyalty to the Goddess, and such a tattoo wasn’t only worn by Sirens. Many of Time’s crew wore similar marks on their own bodies. Underneath that, the symbol of the Goddess Farore was worn proudly, in the traditional green.

Along with the permanent marks on him, he had doodles swirled around his back, drawn with a water resistant paint. Little pictures of fish and seagulls littered his back, while a line of hermit crabs marched down the boy’s right arm. The lines were unsteady, obviously drawn by a young child’s hand, even younger than the child before them.

Time’s eyes wandered back to the Siren’s, and was shocked to see that, for the first time, the boy would meet his eyes. He seemed to be pleased with what he had found in his own examination of Time, and was much more relaxed.

The Siren breathed out a relieved sigh. The only thing he did before slumping into Time’s arms, unconscious, was to breathe out the same word from earlier, this time in common Hylian.

“Kin.”

~~~

Several months later, Time once again heard screaming from above deck.

It sounded much less panicked than those screams half a year later. He stood and stretched out his legs. He had been plotting their new course for free hours now, and might as well take a break. He strolled out of the room.

Up on the deck, the scene he was met with was reminiscent of the one he had found the day they met Wind.

Most of the crew had paused in their work to take in the spectacle. Legend was the one screaming, but there was no true anger in his gaze this time. Hyrule was again trying to hold him back, but was made weak by the laughter they couldn’t hold back.

And there, draped over the railing of the ship, was the newest addition to the crew.

(Well, Time thought privately, it was less like he was an addition, and more like he had just refused to leave the ship for long, even once he was healed.)

Taking in the veteran’s soaked appearance, it was obvious what had happened, even if Legend's screeches of “If you splash me one more time, I’m going to find a way to drown you, gills be damned!” didn’t tip him off.

He smiled, leaning against the mast of the ship. He took an apple from Wild, content to eat it and watch the show.

[irons-enough]

June 1881 (Teenage Arthur Morgan)

A short little ficlet inspired by this amazing photo edit by @foundynnel which made me obsessed with the idea of cocky bastard teenage Arthur. Maybe I’ll expand on this one day (Red Dead YA novel, anyone?) but it was fun to write!

Rating: G Tags: Language, teeny bit of blood

Wyoming Territory - June 1881 

Arthur Morgan spat blood into the dirt. His eyes were bright with adrenaline and, just beneath the surface, an unbridled fury. His split lip curled into an arrogant smile as he raised his fists again. "That all you got?" 

His opponent cycled between shock and rage that Arthur had not gone down in one hit. but it was the look in his eyes--the insufferable, cocky stare of a seventeen-year-old drifter with a six-shooter and a foul attitude--that made him swing wide to slam his fist into the little son of a bitch's face. Arthur was ready; waiting, in fact. He raised his arm to bar the swing and with his other hand punched upward into the man's jaw. He heard the crack of bone at the same time the break reverberated through his fist, and the man fell as suddenly and heavily as he had fallen asleep, groaning helplessly as he cradled his broken jaw. 

Arthur shook out his hand, swiped the blood from his lower lip. He smirked in satisfaction at the stunned silence of the onlookers. He made a show of dusting off his shirt and casually picking up his hat from where it lay in the road. “Gentlemen,” he said in farewell, with a polite nod to the assembled crowd.

________________________________________

"Arthur. What the fuck?" 

Arthur smirked at Dutch's greeting as he arrived at their campsite, tried and failed to look innocent. "Well, hey to you, too." 

"You wanna explain why the entire goddamn town is talkin' about some cocky hotshot kid layin' out the local stable hand?" 

"Really? They are?" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes brightening. Dutch whacked him upside the head. "Ow!" 

"Tell me, son, when Hosea and I say 'Don't do anything stupid', what exactly is it that you hear?" Dutch demanded. 

Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "Not much, I guess." 

"Oh, that's evident." Dutch's dark eyes narrowed at Arthur's defiant expression. "You listenin’' to me?" 

"Sure, just not your goddamn sarcasm," Arthur spat. 

"You got some attitude, you--" He bit back the curse that was just shy of forming on his lips. "Susan!" he yelled. "Deal with him. I'm not his goddamn father; not my job to deal with his bullshit." 

"Oh, and so now it’s mine?!" Susan's voice fell like a hatchet even from a distance. Arthur leaned his head on his fist to hide his grin as Susan and Dutch argued over whose problem he was this time. 

Hosea knocked his fist into Arthur’s shoulder, beckoning. “Come on, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed as he hauled himself to his feet, as though it was a major inconvenience. He followed Hosea over to the front of the abandoned cabin at their campsite, a decrepit old building with a half-collapsed roof. Hosea struck a match against his boot heel and lit a cigarette as he leaned against the side of the cottage.

“Can I get one?” said Arthur.

“No.”

“C’mon, Hosea...” “Shut up. Get over here.”

Arthur slumped against the wall beside Hosea. He took his pistol from its holster and toyed with it: spinning it around his fingers as he drew, looking down the sights as he pointed it at the dirt. Hosea snatched it from him deftly. “What the hell?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Arthur, you wanna live to see twenty?” said Hosea.

“Who cares?” Arthur’s head lolled so that his hat hid his eyes.

“I care. And you should care.” Hosea’s voice was even now, but still severe. “You’re still a goddamn kid, you don’t know anything yet. Suffice it to say if you’re stupid enough to get yourself killed before twenty, you’re better off dead. And that’s not you, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Arthur mumbled.

“Me and Dutch have things in the works to get us a score. And if you’re gonna be a goddamn idiot and draw attention to yourself, that’ll be the last time you’re involved in anything we do.”

“It weren’t even so bad,” Arthur complained. “How’m I supposed to know you got plans when you never tell me a goddamn thing? Why be a goddamn criminal if you can’t do what you want? Ain’t no point.”

“The point is to live through it, Arthur. Money’s no good to you if you’re dead. Now when we need to lie low, keep our noses clean, it’s because we got something big in the works, and we can’t risk the plans while we’re still layin’ tracks. You know that. You’re a hell of a lot of things son, but a complete fool ain’t one of ‘em.” Hosea dropped his cigarette and ground it out into the dirt. “Not one of us acts alone, boy. Part of runnin’ together means sacrificing your own selfish desires for the good of the group.”

“I know that,” Arthur grumbled.

“Well, it’s high time you acted like it.” Hosea flipped Arthur’s pistol out of his hand with a flourish, catching it by the barrel. He held out the grip toward Arthur. “Stay here a while,” he said. “Somethin’ tells me I need to talk down Dutch and Susan.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Hosea was already walking away. “I don’t quite care, son. Sit here and do nothing. Be still for once in your life.”

Arthur scowled and sighed, kicked up dust with his boot. For all the stealing and shooting Dutch and Hosea wanted him to do, they sure knew how to treat him like a goddamn idiot sometimes. Maybe the day would come when he could boss them around.

He looked in the direction of the setting sun, toward California where they had come from. There was always new country to explore, new people to rob, more money to be made, more sunsets to see. Every time Arthur leveled his gun at a man and made him act, or freeze, or die--it started a whole new adventure. Some were good. Some were great. Others he wished he could forget, and there were still more that had left him with scars and foul memories that endured well beyond what they should. For the past five years, Arthur Morgan had lived for sunsets like this one, and he couldn’t wait for a lifetime more.

[sleepypaladiknight]

OK FIC IDEA:

that one au where you can hear your soulmate singing out loud in your head- but leopika

leorio wasn’t much of a singer as a child- the impoverished corner of the world he lived in didn’t have much music to sing to, either. the closest he’s got were the staticky, muffled and clipped tunes that rattled out of the neighbor’s radio. that’s why he’s always preferred listening- listening to his soulmate’s songs.

it was in a language he didn’t understand, but it was the clearest, sweetest music he’s ever heard. he memorized those humble tunes and lullabies, tracing the foreign syllables over and over with his tongue and humming the melodies nobody but him and his soulmate knew. he carved his soulmate’s voice into his mind, bragging to Pietro about his melodic partner and how he couldn’t wait to meet him.

then one day they stopped.

he found it coincidental- that it was on the same day Pietro passed away from illness. but it was fitting- it was a day where all the music and life left him.

as years went on his hopes of hearing his soulmate’s comforting tune dwindled away, but the music and the tunes he cherished so much as a boy remained, even as he learned new songs to sing to in the world around him. he’d sing out as loudly as he could, the raunchiest and most irritatingly popular songs he knew on some days, hoping offhandedly to lure the music from his partner again and hear that kind, soft voice just one more time. it never worked.

so, he swore to never sing that song, that one soft melody, until he heard it from his soulmate themself.

then he met kurapika. a guy who didn’t sing at all, and whose expression alone sang out his melancholies. his voice was prim and strict, the annoying, uppity kind that made Leorio’s blood boil, but it was familiar.

in the confines of trick tower, the topic began to stray.

“your soulmate must love your singing.” he teased.

the blond seemed to hesitate, and didn’t meet his eye. “i don’t care about soulmates.” kurapika’s voice sounded almost sad. “it would be for the better if mine never meets me at all.”

“yeesh, that’s real positive of you.”

“and what about you?” he said almost accusingly. “what do you think of your soulmate?”

“i don’t care about my soulmate, either,” he bit out, “but it’s for a good reason. mine stopped singing to me.”

“they must have their reasons.”

“which are probably as pompous and bratty as you!”

then they were back to their usual bickering. life went on, and his ambitions neared with every step of the journey he completed. their little group parted ways to chase after their own interests and dreams, and for around a year, leorio never saw one of them face to face.

then kurapika showed up on a cloudy evening, after billions and gazillions of ignored calls and texts left on delivered. they exchanged apologies and grievances and angers, embraced each other and shared glances that lasted a few seconds too long as they talked.

for some reason, kurapika had a strained look on his face when leorio began to sing the lyrics to some queen song. he wouldn’t even look at him, but leorio shrugged it off as usual angsty behavior.

they found themselves on the rickety balcony of leorio’s cheap apartment, looking out over the city.

“so, still given up on your soulmate?”

kurapika said nothing.

“well, me too, i guess.” he sighed out. “i lied to you- back at the exam when i told you i didn’t care about my soulmate. i,” he laughed, a bittersweet sound, “i actually cared a lot. it just felt easier to deny it. it’s... pretty damn hard facing the idea that maybe my soulmate really doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t want to meet me. maybe they’re gone. maybe they hate my voice or something- from what i remember, they were a hella good singer. nice, bright voice and everything. maybe they didn’t wanna end up with someone musically talentless like me. maybe that one time i sang ‘call me maybe’ in the shower was the last straw.”

and to his delight, it drew a soft chuckle from the blonde leaning against the railing next to him, arms brushing and shoulders touching. his hair looked like silver in the moonlight. still, kurapika didn’t reply.

so leorio forged on.

“i, uh, already told you my soulmate stopped singing. like, completely. but i still remember the songs they used to sing. they were a huge comfort to me when i was little, when things were hard and a little bit of song was something people couldn’t even afford. i didn’t even know what the words mean, still don’t, but all i know is that they meant the world to me.” leorio glanced at kurapika with a sheepish smile. “wanna hear? so maybe you can hunt down the bastard that left me hanging?”

“sure.” his voice was scratchy, almost pained.

and leorio began gently. kindly. he was sure his accent was off- it didn’t roll off his tongue as fluently as it did for his soulmate all those years ago. but the sounds and the tune was the same- the one that he’s devotedly committed to memory, the one that he hastily wrote down on a piece of binder paper as a reminder of the comfort his soulmate used to bring, the one that he swore to never forget- it was his soulmate’s last song.

when he tapered off into absentminded humming, he realized kurapika was crying. his eyes were blown wide, flecks of magenta shimmering across the deep, scarlet hue of his irises. tears rolled down his soft, pale cheeks, glinting like diamonds in the moon’s embrace, falling on a dampened shirt that clasped trembling shoulders. leorio felt clumsy and dumb, trying to soothe kurapika, asking him what was wrong, if he was okay- then kurapika began to choke out words, rubbing away at his eyes with his arms.

“how do you know that song.” it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“i already told you, my soul-“

“no. you don’t understand. it’s a very personal song. a traditional song.” kurapika teared up again, liquid sadness welling up in his eyes. “it’s a song- a lullaby- that i’ve forgotten for the longest time. it’s my mother’s.”

leorio gaped, “your mom was my soulmate?!”

“no, you idiot!” Kurapika couldn’t help but laugh through his tears, beating a fist against leorio’s chest. they burst into a fit of laughter, boisterously cackling in the silence of the night, overpowering the honking cars in the streets below and the sound of their worries adrift in their heads. nothing but them existed.

kurapika’s hand remained there, on leorio’s chest, starting to clench at the fabric of his dress shirt. they were silent, for seconds, minutes, maybe hours, until Leorio’s hand drifted up to meet it, brushing gently against the soft, scarred skin of Kurapika’s slender fingers.

“i’m sorry.” kurapika whispered softly, barely above his breath. “i wasn’t fair to you. you were always trying, always singing to me.”

leorio couldn’t speak.

“i’ve been hearing your voice for years now. you and your- your stupid songs-“ he laughed out, but it sounded more like a choked sob.

leorio couldn’t breathe.

“i didn’t mean to make you lose hope. but i was hoping you would, so you wouldn’t chase after someone like me.”

leorio couldn’t think.

kurapika was leaning closer, voice growing quieter and quieter until they had to be inches apart to hear, to exchange words.

“i couldn‘t bring myself to sing. i didn’t have a reason to, not anymore. not after what happened to my clan. i noticed you stopped singing for a time, too. but it only took months before you began again, gaining more momentum with every song. i envied you and your strength.”

kurapika had started to shake, small frame shuddering against leorio’s. without thinking, he brought his other hand up to thumb away a tear that had begun trickling down kurapika’s face.

“i wanted to sing to you too, but all the songs i wished to teach you had disappeared from my memory. i was so preoccupied with my goals, that i... i began to forget the things that mattered more. what the faces of my family and my old friends looked like. what the lukso sunlight felt like on my skin, or how the grass felt underneath my feet. what the croons of a happy piko bird sounded like, or how beautifully blue the sky was on a sunny day. what my mother’s voice sounded like, what the words to her songs were, i, i-” kurapika sobbed, “i betrayed myself and my entire clan. i thought i had truly lost them and the part of myself that i swore i wouldn’t let die.”

their foreheads fell together, touching reassuringly. kurapika’s eyes fluttered closed as he spoke, body rendered as fragile as his voice, his feelings, his heart. leorio held each with careful, treasuring hands.

”i’d become a monster. a stranger in the same body i walked my home with. i thought- i thought that my soulmate didn’t deserve someone like that. someone like me.” he heaved out, chest shuddering with every quiet breath, “you don’t deserve someone like me, and i could never-“

and leorio shut that bullshit up with his lips.

they slotted together perfectly. call him disgustingly cheesy, sappy, any romantically insulting insult you could throw- but it felt like harmony. it felt so beautiful, his emotions crescendoing and his heart thrumming mercilessly in his chest as it fitted against kurapika’s. those soft, slightly chapped lips, damp from the tears that had trickled past them, felt perfect on his, like his lips were made to meet them. and just as easily as he had lost the music and life all those years ago, it was returned to him, in the form of a blond, pressed up against him and demanding for more, more, more with his mouth, hands all over his shoulders, fingers tangled in hair, breathing in each other, kissing like it was the very last thing they could do.

when they parted, leorio let himself get intoxicated by the sound of kurapika’s panting, drunk on the soft sounds that spilled past his lips like music.

”cut- cut the crap,” he breathed out, pulling kurapika closer by the waist and burying his head in his head of gold. ”for the rest of my life, stop talking. and start singing.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Paths We Take Part 2

Pairing: Fairy King!Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, forced marriage, non-con. Words: 1857. Summary: As your little sister has been kidnapped by the fair folk, you have to set her free, exchanging your life for hers. Part 1 P.S. A huge thank you to @deceitfuldevout​ for inspiring me to write this chapter! ________________ Smiling to himself, Steve had reached out to your face, his gaze sweeping over you in cold admiration as he watched you sleep. You furrowed your brows anxiously – it seemed you had a nightmare, but Steve did not hurry to wake you up. He considered it his little revenge for your misbehavior earlier when you refused to kiss him after his return from the hunt.

The Unseelie King’s unnaturally pale skin looked grey under the moonlight, his lips of dark blue color. He was still strikingly handsome without the glamour spell, but it was not the beauty lowly humans appreciated, and you screamed when you first saw Steve in his true form, his features painfully sharp, his pale naked body littered with scars that frightened you. Thinking of that, the King smirked. Now he almost never used spells to appear more human-like.

You shifted in that little nest his fairies made for you, rubbing your eyes tiredly; you had hard times sleeping since the summer solstice was coming soon, and you were forced to prepare along with the Unseelie Court you were a part of now.

Before you opened your eyes, Steve leaned closer, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, his fingers in your uncombed hair. Your skin was warm and soft, and he admired how human you still were after all the rituals he held to bound you to him. In the end, humans could never live as long as even the weakest of fairies.

“Goodnight, little one.” The King smiled, and you frowned at him, your eyes on his dark blue lips.

“It is a very strange tradition of yours.” You grumbled in return, knowing it was way too early to be awake. “People wish each other goodnight before going to sleep, not when somebody wakes them up in the middle of the night.”

The Fae laughed at your grimace and gave you one more kiss as you trembled slightly when his cold lips touched yours. He put your hand on his cheek, making you brush your fingers against the big scar you gave Steve the night he took you away. Your lovely wedding gift to him, he chuckled every time when some fae lord asked him. Steve was oddly proud of you resolve to fight him. Maybe this was why he married you in the first place because you could think of no other reason.

“Did you have a tough day, little one? I know you were busy preparing for the solstice.” He got inside the nest and made you lay on his chest, using a bit of force – you were not too compliant yet. Maybe you would never be, he thought to himself. “I hope you did not forget to make a wreath for me?”

A wreath of meadowsweet and flowers that had to be sent floating in the pond. It was a ritual to bound a man who would pick it to a maiden who weaved the wreath. You heard of it before but had never had anyone you wanted to make a wreath for. You still had a hard time understanding why the Fae King cared for this tradition – he had already forced you to become his wife despite all your attempts to kill or escape him.

“Of course, I made it.” You said and pointed to a pile of herbs and flowers. “It’s over there.”

“No poisonous plants or thorns?” As the King narrowed his eyes at you, you chuckled, sending him a smug look.

“Tomorrow night pick it up and see for yourself, lord fae.”

He grinned at you darkly, and you felt shiver running down your spine. You could still feel his bites on your inner thighs the last time you tried to trick him, and Steve gently brushed his hand against your skin as he spread your legs, caressing your core hidden beneath your silky dress to remind you of it.

“Silly little girl.” He whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe. “You like to hurt me, don’t you?”

“It’s you who like to hurt me.” You hissed in return, trying to wriggle free, but his grip on you prevented you from pushing Steve away. “You have been trying to make my life insufferable, and yet you expect me to accept it and submit to you? Oh no, my King. Every time you hurt me, I will hurt you too.”

As you tried biting fae’s arm to force him to release you, Steve laughed at you, rolling you on top of him and placing your palms on his chest while pressing his hands over yours. You could feel him becoming hard, and your cheeks grew hot from shame as you bit down on your lip, sending the King an icy glare. You had long lost your innocence since the night when you exchanged your vows, but you were still not accustomed to being with a man. You hoped Steve would be shifting his admiration with astonishing versatility so you would not need to be the object of his affection constantly, yet as far he had never even once set his eyes on someone else.

His grin became wider.

“I have always admired your strength of character.” The fae lord winked at you mockingly, humming as he grinded his hips against yours, pushing you up. “Do not worry, you will have a fair chance against me after the summer solstice, I give you my word.”

You clenched your teeth. The last time he said it was when the forest sprites pushed your little sister into the faerie ring, and she disappeared into the human realm. You had not seen her after that, always staying with the Unseelie Court, yet you were lucky to get news how she was doing as Steve been sending you the forest sprites who spied on her. Luckily, she was taken under the old woman’s wing, the one who had escaped from the faerie ring just like her.

“What do you mean?” You grunted.

“Have you not heard, little one? Why do you think I have demanded you to weave a wreath for me?”

His blue lips curled into a smirk, and you grew more nervous, wishing you could part from him and wrap your arms around yourself instead. There was something odd in his voice when he spoke, “The bonding spell made during the night of summer solstice is a very powerful one.”

“But we have already bonded.” You blinked, watching him. “This ritual is useless for the ones who are married. Why doing it now?”

“I have a lot to teach you, I see,” Steve chuckled and raised his head to kiss you against your will again. “This has nothing to do with that silly little ritual of yours. The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body. I will feel what you feel. I will know what you think of. I will sense where are you, and I will always find you wherever you run from me.”

For a second you became quiet, your eyes wide, body tensing as you realized what the lord fae was going to do to you. No more escape attempts, no more misbehaving, no more trying to kill him. Steve was going to have you under his thumb.

The next moment you were fighting him to get away and crush the beautiful meadowsweet wreath you had made, biting and pushing and kicking your husband. The Unseelie King was laughing like a madman at your pathetic attempts to get rid of him, and soon he climbed over you as he pushed you down to the ground, pressing your arms together with his hand.

“Stop fighting, little one.” He stared at you with his deep dark eyes, his smile not reaching them. “Every Fae King casts this spell upon marrying.”

“This is a lie, and you know it.” You snarled at him – in such short period of time you had already sensed when he was not being honest with you. The fae smirked at you in return.

“You are so perceptive, my dear. Very well, not every. But most of our kind do not choose mortal women as our spouses, and it is only natural for a husband to prolong the life of his wife. Is it that bad? You will become as strong as I am.”

“Why would I need your str-“

You fell silent, frowning at his words while Steve was dropping heated kisses to your neck, ripping your clothes and then pressing his lips to your bared shoulders. Strong as him? Why would you become as strong as him? He was not only a fairy, but the King of the Unseelie Court. Not many could match his power even among his own kind. How was it possible for a mere mortal?

“The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body.”

“I will feel what you feel,” you whispered, repeating after him as the lord fae kissed your tummy, getting in between your legs, “I will know what you think of.” His hand was gently rubbing circles on your mound, and your body grew warm to the King’s delight. He lowered his head as he left a tender kiss on your inner thigh.

Oh. As you would feel his pain, he would feel yours. If you hurt yourself, he would be hurt too.

His tongue on your clit drew a loud moan from you, and you hurriedly covered your mouth with your palm, ashamed at the noise you made. The Fairy King was quite experienced in making women squirm beneath him, and it both irritated and pleased you as you shivered, biting your tongue to stop being so loud.

“Do you understand what you are doing, my King?” You whimpered, feeling his long wet tongue inside you, trying to resist him and failing miserably as you kept moaning from his touches. “Ah!.. I-I can make you… r-regret it.”

“You will have to find a better weapon than an iron nail.” The fae grinned at you, finally rising above you and undressing himself, his face glistening with your juices. “Because the spell will not weaken me, little one, it will make you stronger. But please do not think it will be easier for you to win, sweetheart, for we will become one.”

Before you had time to reply, his hips surged forward, and you muffled a moan in your palm. Taking his entire length was not easy for you still, and if he did not prepare you with his tongue, you would cry out in pain. Steve gently shushed you, kissing your forehead and settling in between your thighs, reaching deep inside you, and drawing more shameful noises from you.

“Shh, darling. I will be gentle.” He whispered, basking in the warmth of your human body, his own heating up quickly as he slowly started to move, filling you to the brim.

Biting your lips, you finally stopped resisting, enjoying the intimacy and taking your King just like he wanted you to.

You would have time to think about hurting him later while making a new wreath for him, without poisonous wild parsnip you hid beneath the meadowsweet. _____________________ Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream

[writtenjewels]

Mint

Jaal was eager for the Tempest to set down. Only two weeks had passed since he last saw Scott but it seemed so much longer. The messages helped but he longed for the young man's voice, his smile, his touch. Sara was thrilled with the relationship and when he questioned her about the “crush”, she assured him that Scott was no longer in pain, which was good. Liam teased him about it while Vetra offered some cross-species romantic advice.

“Humans are very smooth and curvy. It was a little strange at first but you grow to like it. And don't worry about them finding you physically attractive. Humans are pretty clear about that.” That hadn't really been a concern at all. Given how much Scott liked kissing him and hadn't hesitated in touching him, Jaal was confident the young man was physically attracted to him.

He entered the horticulture building and found Scott waiting for him. The human's hands were folded behind his back as he examined the plants. Jaal found it amusing and endearing how Scott acted as though merely touching the plants would harm them somehow. Scott turned and his face instantly warmed.

“Jaal.” He lifted his hands to touch Jaal's face, running them along the crown of his head and following the shape to his shoulders. “Not that your scars aren't bad-ass, but I'm glad you didn't get hurt enough to have new ones.” He leaned forward, pressing their lips together. “And there's my kiss for winning the race. Best prize ever.”

“I missed you, dear one,” Jaal sighed. “I want to hear all about your mission.”

“Sure. Just let me pick some mint leaves for our tea.” Scott released him and turned toward one of the plants. He plucked a handful of leaves and stored them in a small container. “Tell me about your mission,” Scott urged as they headed back to his living space. “What kind of explosives did you use to blow up the facility?”

They fell into conversation, each listening with interest as the other went over their missions. It carried on inside and Jaal found a seat to wait for the tea. Scott went on a long tangent talking about different ideas he had for water filtration systems and pipe-lines for Kadara.

“Sorry, I hope this isn't too boring,” he apologized.

“No, it's what I love about you,” Jaal assured him. “Your desire to build things and improve life for your people is what makes you who you are.”

“Speaking of building, I'm making a new surfboard. I know it'll be a while before we have any decent waves but I figure that'll give us time for me to teach you, if you're interested.”

“To surf?” Jaal clarified.

“Why not?” Scott poured two cups of tea and handed one over to Jaal. “Now, if you don't like it, please don't act like you do just to spare my feelings. I'm aware angaran taste buds are different.”

Jaal lifted the cup to his nose first to inhale the aroma. It was faint but sharp and mildly pleasant. He brought the cup to his lips and swallowed the mouthful. The taste was difficult to pin down. He had tried some human food out of curiosity and found much of it to be too bland. This tea wasn't very flavorful but he sensed it wasn't supposed to be. He took in another mouthful.

“It's refreshing,” he decided.

“Exactly.” Scott looked pleased and tipped back his own cup. “Back home my favorite way to relax was to make some mint tea and look at the stars. Spent a lot of time wondering what was up there and itching to go see for myself. Six hundred years later and here we are.”

“All of you were brave to make such a long journey into the unknown,” Jaal said. “Knowing that there was no way to return. Will you miss it?”

“Parts of it,” Scott nodded. “But I don't regret coming here, even with all the problems we've faced. Every day I wake up excited, knowing there's going to be something new to discover. And it doesn't hurt that I have a cute boyfriend.”

“That would be... me?” Jaal confirmed. Scott nodded again and took another sip of tea. “I looked up this word,” Jaal told him. “Your species uses it to describe a male romantic partner.”

“Well... yeah. That's what you are.” Scott's expression turned a little nervous. “We didn't exactly talk about it, but when you invited me to listen to the yevara, it felt like a date. And you've been using endearments for me ever since. We are dating, right? Or... I don't know the angaran equivalent.”

Jaal didn't really know what dating was, but he understood what Scott was asking. “Scott, I wish us to be together, too. I'm so pleased you feel the same.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Scott's. The mint added an interesting flavor to that mouth, and he became curious. He moved his tongue out to feel along Scott's lips.

Scott shuddered a little and parted his lips. Very carefully Jaal slid his tongue in between as Scott did for him once. The response was immediate, Scott gasping and gripping the sides of Jaal's head. Scott's tongue prodded his and he found he enjoyed the sensation. He was beginning to understand the appeal of mint, though he knew he would like the taste of Scott all on its own.

“Jaal,” Scott groaned softly. “I, ah...”

“I adore you,” Jaal declared.

“I...” Scott's breath came out gently across his lips. “I adore you too... dear one.” There was no sufficient word to describe how it felt for Scott to call him that. He knew humans had difficulty expressing their emotions so when they did, it felt even more precious. Jaal drew their lips together again and they kissed until they were breathless.

[dinner-djarin]

Until the Sun Rises

Part 2: Beautifully Catastrophic

Anakin x Jedi!reader

Summary: The Clone Wars have begun, and although you and Anakin remain best friends, you have sensed your relationship growing distant, both from your time spent apart in battle, and from the inclusion of a certain woman into his life. When you finally get a moment to share alone with him, however, things do not go as you would have wished.

Notes: Part 2 takes place probably a year or so after part 1. Reader is young, probably around 18 or 19. Another Happy Birthday wish to @hellotherebonky

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff/angst. Reader gets very angry, yikes.

Part 1

Only one year later would Anakin be made an official Jedi Knight, just after the start of the Clone Wars. And as much as you hoped for peace in the galaxy, you secretly revelled in the start of the fighting, as it meant you were finally able to leave the Temple on a regular basis. You and your Master fought many battles together, and you felt yourself grow stronger with The Force every day. Master Sente admitted they may have been wrong to keep you guarded all that time, as you proved yourself to be a very cunning and diligent warrior. You learned ten times faster out in the galaxy then you did by studying away in the record halls. Being out there, learning on the battlefield, this was what made you finally shine.

The one downfall, however, was the reality that your assignments kept you away from Anakin.

He and Obi-wan stayed close, even after he proved himself capable and passed his trials, so the two of them often went on missions together… a fate you once dreamed of for yourselves.

But in all honesty, you were thankful for the space from Anakin. Ever since Padme Amidala had been thrust back into his life, you were tormented by how different Anakin had become. He didn’t confide in you as often, and when he did, the sole topic was her. How he couldn’t stand to be away from her. How he dreamt only of her. How only she could tame the fire that seared his soul.

One might think that a war should be the cause of such an uprooting to your life - but the war paled in comparison to the return of a woman.

You could see what drew him to her. Her beauty was only paralleled by her intelligence and kindness. She was stunning - you might even say she was perfect.

Her angelic form could not rival whatever you had to offer him. In fact, you had nothing to offer him, as the Jedi Code stood between any dreams you could dare to possess. At least with her, only his own morals were tempted. He didn’t confide the true nature of his relationship with Padme to you, but in your heart, you knew things had gone too far. It broke you to see him throw away his future for her, but it broke you more that he would never do the same for you.

She was lovely enough to include you in her life too, obviously noting the fact that you were Anakin’s only true friend at the Temple. You spent lunches and dinners and nights out together at the opera. Over the short time you spent together you unconsciously came to like her. More than that, you admired her.

You admired how she continued to fight for the rights of those who had none. How she was always unafraid to speak her mind and stand against what she believed to be wrong. You also noticed just how strong willed she could be in those opinions; ready to take on any voices raised against her own.

And as much as you tried to be happy for the two best people in your life, you couldn’t help the way that they remind you of the neutron star collisions you were taught about as a youngling. Two stars burning hot and bright, caught in each other's gravity, encircling one another over and over in a beautiful rhythm, until time and space can no longer accommodate for their existence. A beauty burning so bright that it can only be catastrophic.

Padme is brilliant and caring, but she is determined and independent. Anakin is willing to fight to the end for what he loves, but he is only satisfied when it is him who makes the sacrifices, and him who makes the choices. He needs to control everything, but she cannot be controlled.

You’ve grown alongside Anakin, and you’ve grown to love Padme. Separate they are unstoppable. They believe they can change the galaxy. But you know neither sees that goal in the same way.

You recount the way Anakin fought so hard against the council, over and over, believing that he knew better, or his approach would suit the situation over theirs. Often, he was proven right. He was talented, but the council only thought of him as reckless and lucky, making him seek to push against them even harder. For nights on end, you would hear him rant on about his distrust in such a system.

“We would be better off to decide for ourselves what we thought was right” he would go on. “How can we put our faith in a group of old, washed up Master’s who have long forgotten what it’s like to put their own lives on the line.” Eventually he would finish with sentiments along the line of: “I think they’re just scared to make the decisions that needed to be made”

But you also knew how faithful Padme was to that same system. She believed in the power of diplomacy and democracy. A freedom made by sitting and talking through their issues. Words right out of the mouth of Anakin; words of distaste for a future he couldn't see himself a part of.

It kept you wondering just how long it might take for fate - for The Force - to intervene. You knew it would have to, in some form or another. It always did. You waited for the day they would implode. And you swore you would be by his side when they did.

You waited. But the day hadn’t come.

Instead, the Clone Wars dragged on. You were eventually Knighted. A relatively small ceremony for the troubled times, but even Anakin made his way to be there. He looked proud as you knelt before the council and agreed to do the will of The Force.

“I can’t believe I finally made it,” you whisper to Anakin as you shuffle out of the council room.

“I never doubted you would, little one.” His voice quiet too but resonating directly into your ear as he hunched over to place his mouth next to your face.

“I did. All the time,” you say as you tilt your face to meet his.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” Just then you realized you had worked yourselves away from the crowd into the hall where your adjacent rooms were held. “Come on, for old times’ sake.” His head nodding towards his own room, but you understood the final destination he had in mind.

You both carefully maneuvered your bodies over the ledge of his balcony onto the roof of the temple. “This was easier when we were children,” you remarked through laboured breaths.

“Everything was,” he responded, settling into the spot next to you so that your two thighs were barely grazing. The positioning reminded you of a night you spent together not so long ago. Watching the life of Coruscant fill the skies. Now the view had barely changed, save for the fact you were currently watching a setting sun instead of a vast darkness.

You both sat in silence, as you often did, words rarely necessary when you felt each other's presence so clearly already. Tuning into his aura, you felt a turbulence - an unease you had never felt before. What is that? You thought, forgetting how thoroughly lodged you were in his essence. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“It’s alright. I have nothing to hide, not from you. Never from you.” He admits as he turns to look into your eyes. You met his gaze instantly, and whatever you had felt in his aura had also taken root in his face. Besides the new scar, there were clear signs of worry and fear - his secrets slowly burdening him from the inside out.

“Please tell me, Anakin. You know you can tell me, whatever it is.” You attempt to reassure him. You know he must have a lot on his mind, and you know there is rarely anyone else he can truly confide in. His relationship with Padme meant he could not completely confide in Obi-wan, but the nature of his role and the severity of his actions during the Clone Wars caused a further rift between him and his wife.

“There’s so much. I don’t even know where to begin,” he starts.

“How about the beginning.” Your voice is almost teasing, until you see the bleakness in his weathered face. The horrors of war depleting the once joyful and youthful peace that filled him. Now he looked harsh and serious. He had told you of the things he had done, even before the Clone Wars began, and you could piece together how easily the added burdens had manifested in his soul.

“The council gave me a Padawan.” He spoke softly as he stared at the horizon.

“Already? They must have great faith in you.”

“I think the opposite. They wish to tame me, or to see me fail.” You could sense the hint of anger breaking through his otherwise stoic appearance.

“Anakin, I know you don’t trust them but-”

“But what? When have they ever trusted me?!” His quiet demeanor abruptly dissolving. “Why should I think they’re doing this out of my best interest?”

“How has it been?” You attempt to diffuse him. “What are they like?”

Anakin takes a moment to regain his peace. “She’s like me, Ahsoka.”

“Then she’ll be trouble.” You say with a jab to his ribs.

“Hey.” He nudges you back, and you almost slip from your spot to the balcony below. “Oh Maker, sorry.” He begins again, “I just fear she’s too much like me. She deserves a Master who is knowledgeable of The Force, who can help her find strength and stability. She is wild, and takes risks-”

“And is that bad? She sounds exactly like you. Maybe she needs someone to show her that trusting herself is as important as trusting The Force.”

“I don’t know if I can be that for her. I don’t even know if I trust myself anymore.” his voice reaching a quiet once again. So low, you understand that there is more to what he has shared.

“What’s really going on, Anakin?” You sense his trouble, and you know he has not fully divulged the root of his strife. In a moment of weakness, you let your emotions surface and ask, “Is it Padme?”

“What!? Why would it be Padme? Why would you ask that?” But his voice is too defensive for you to leave the subject alone.

“I just mean keeping the secret. Keeping her a secret. It must be weighing on you. And on top of everything-”

“On top of what?” He asks sternly. But his question stirs something in you, and pokes at all the thoughts you had bottled up over the months of observing the two of them.

“I mean you two already fight enough as it is. You get jealous and she gets angry. You just never seem to be on the same page.”

“You don’t approve of Padme?” He questions harshly.

“Of course I approve of Padme, as if I even need to. I mean she’s perfect. She’s almost too damn good for you-”

“What so I don’t deserve her? You think she should be with someone else?” You saw the aforementioned jealousy rising back up in him, further proving your point.

“I think you’re throwing away your life for a relationship you aren’t even happy in!”

“How could you know If I’m happy?”

“Because I know you, Anakin! I’ve known you for most of your life. I’ve seen you happy, and you aren’t happy with her.”

“It’s not that simple-”

“How is it not? You fight all the time; you don’t agree on anything. Is it supposed to be this hard? Why are you even still with her if she makes your life so difficult?”

“Because she’s my wife!” He admits loudly, a contrast to the deafening silence that follows.

You stare at him for what feels like hours. Your tongue runs dry from the stale air that passes through your agape mouth. Several minutes pass before you realize you hadn’t taken a proper breath.

“What are you talking about, Anakin.” These are the only words you can muster, and they come out painfully against the scratch of your dry throat.

“Just after the assignment where I guarded Padme,” he begins, “I lost my arm, and the Clone Wars began, and there was so much going on. I never realized how easily it could all be taken away. I almost died fighting Dooku.”

“So you decided to get married?” Your mind running too fast, too cluttered with thoughts to string together a calm response. “You lived, Anakin. You’re alive. So you decided to throw it all away because you almost died. Because you realized you could have died. We are Jedi. We could die any day. That’s the freaking point! How could you do something so foolish?!” You scream your words at him like blaster bolts, hoping for the first time ever that you could hurt him, like he had hurt you all these years.

“It was not foolish, I loved her then, and I love her now.” He admits to you angrily.

“And I loved you. I've loved you since the day you came here. And you never gave me a second glance. You never even tried to love me back. I've been here for you the whole time. Through everything. And still, you can't seem to care for me at all. I don't even know why I should care. I should have left you alone years ago. What have I ever gotten out of this? Pain. Hurt. Anger. You’ve pushed me to my breaking point time and time again. You have been more challenging than anything I faced in the trials. But I tried. I tried to be here for you, and hear every problem, every complaint. But you were never here for me. Not once. I’m done.” you say as you slide off the roof. “I cannot believe that all this time you’ve been married to her. And you never once thought to tell me. I am your best friend. At least I thought I was. Maker, Anakin, no wonder everything implodes around you.”

As you retreated, you felt the pain resonate from his aura. Your words tore at his soul and left him to bleed out. But you had enough. You were destroyed, and you needed him to know how deeply he had wounded you first. So, you abandoned him on that roof. You walked away from the one person who you truly loved. With every step you felt the strings of your attachment snap, you felt his presence leaving you in a way it never had before.

But he let you go. Not because he wanted to. But because you were right. He hadn’t been there for you. All those years you had been his crutch. You had listened to every childish rant. You had talked through every problem with him. But what had he done for you? He used you, and he knew it. What good would it do to beg you to stay? He could only be so selfish.

But you were also wrong, because he did love you. He should have shown it better. He should have told you long ago. But his world had become a destructive mess, and he decided he deserved all the pain and torment it had brought. Anakin wasn’t even sure how he loved you. It surely wasn’t the same way he felt about Padme. No, that love was raw. It was fire, and passion. It burned him alive. He loved you softly, like a warm embrace. You brought comfort and joy, even when the world was crumbling around him. Maybe he knew he didn’t deserve such happiness. Maybe that's why he let you walk away.

Part 3