#all for the sake of getting closer to you

[julie-su]

Dear me, this is you me get up the ground is your reward it will hold you when you are done cancel all forks you are not done put a silencing finger to the lips of all singing fat ladies this is not over reel in all finish lines steal the sound of the metal ringing hanging in the air and put it back in the bell one more round we go get up there are sunsets that need to be signed off on snowfalls that need your approval starry nights like sad lovers whose beauty has gone unnoticed in the glare of television sets they are looking for volunteers to notice them raise your hand step forward you will not be chastised for staring some beauty wants to be seen get up as if the simple act of standing has brought you closer to the cosmos than you have ever previously been as if all the stars you’ve seen have been busy looking back taking notes and keeping track of which wishes need granting they heard you ask for strength so show them you haven’t wasted it get up despite gravity with her magnetic arms coaxing your metal dreams away from flight despite everything that will be said to weaken you against the towering odds that stand before you like a mountain kissing vertigo into your grip and daring you to look down climb not out of stubbornness not out of a need to demonstrate the depth of will it takes to carry on but because you owe you one you owe you one for every second you ever spent painting skulls onto white flags and rescuing yourself from even the option of surrender for every instant you rebuilt your heart using smiles salvaged from the grateful faces of those who you reminded how to laugh now laugh because one time in the middle of sex she asked you to pretend you were a manatee and you did and it was then as it is now okay to laugh your lungs will fill like the bank accounts of the corrupt your lungs will collapse like backyard tents after ghost stories and strange noises breathe dear me there will be another breath dear me silence is not a song you should know all the words to dear me this is you me sidestep calamity like a matador taking on a bullet rise as if the sun has taken a day off and hired you as its substitute leaving behind its lesson plan and a world full of students who can see no practical value in what you are teaching teach them today's lesson is the same as everyday before it because the class has been struggling with this assignment shine you must teach this by example so hand out sunglasses and do not dim yourself for the sake of their comfort the world is practiced in demanding that those who can cast light not do it with such radiance show them the falling stars dripping onto the horizon like drops of sky brewing new days from the fresh grounds of last night remember some people require more light than others make extra dear me this is you sincerely yours me.

A Letter To Remind Myself Who I Am; Shane Koyczan

Alright tell me in the tags, what’s Your Poem? That poem you heard once and it has dwelt within you ever since?

[soulwrencher]

ALL STRINGS ATTACHED

vi x reader | summary: vi hates that you're not hers. whatever will she do about her yearning heart? | warnings: not proofread, just a pinch of angst, and also fluff, i think?

"god, how did you get up here?" you were panting like a dog, palms resting on your thighs all the while black dots were starting to impair your vision. but there she was, sitting on a ledge that views over piltover. you have plenty of memories sitting there, memories of times when it seemed like hardships were never-ending. you always had let the grand buildings of this city overbear your troubles, but tonight, the moonlight shining on vi's broad shoulders has shrunk the city. and you had another observation: she was ignoring you, hard at that.

your eyes wander and dance around the rims of her tank top, you won't find answers there, you tell yourself. her jacket hangs off a broken wire fence seemingly untended, but that couldn't keep your attention for long. your eyes trace vi's inked skin, and suddenly your vision clears up, however your heart can't seem to stop palpitating...

so you take a deep breath, which quickly turns into three and a nasty cough.

"what?" vi asks sharply, you're still facing her back. of course you coughing out of all things caught her attention.

"i was—" you watch vi slightly turn her head at the sound of your footsteps approaching.

"—looking for you," you sit down next to her and steal a glance at vi, only to realize you've missed the chance to meet her eyes.

grayish blue eyes are glued to the night sky, vi was trying her hardest to ignore you, but your presence takes up all of her mind. she puffs out her cheeks, eyes you for a second before letting out a big sigh. flirting, meaningless kisses, casual sex, she was no stranger to that. she felt the tension akin to a fitted sheet, felt it stretch in between every single word and glance you exchanged. but the thought of touching you only for the sake of it makes her guts turmoil.

she squeezes her eyes shut and her eyebrows furrow, what was vi thinking about? maybe there was an answer lying on her exposed skin, because how else were you able to explain being distracted by her facial scars and her back tattoo climbing up her neck? you inhale sharply, hold it in your lungs for a second or two and squeeze your thighs together. you didn't understand why you kept running after her, and frankly, vi didn't comprehend why she kept letting you in.

but upon hearing you sigh and watching your head sink, vi couldn't deny it any longer. she looks down at her hands, they were all dry and calloused. she presses her lips into a thin line, this wasn't the time to let insecurities occupy her mind, and besides, do you even care about her? fuck, she really wants you to.

you inch a little closer, until your thighs are touching, vi glances at your knees. you stare into the sky just like she's been doing; you don't know why you wanted to find her, or do you?

"vi," you whisper. tired eyes meet yours for the first time and oh god, you were so close to vi's face too. her eyes keep searching for yours, even though you're right there, rapid eye movement, but this isn't a dream. in fact, this is very real, so real that her name leaving your lips makes her question everything. vi stares at your lips and you blush, but you stopped caring about keeping your composure the second you saw her eyes soften when you called out her name.

and vi is far from keeping her composure, she's all worked up, fingers fiddling. you got her questioning what this all meant, what are we, what are we—

"what are we?" vi blurts. her eyes widen and her cheeks start to look like her hair. silence, you blink hard, you become painfully self conscious, am i breathing too loud? you catch a glimpse of vi's soft eyes, before they're glued down to her hands. hands that always brush against your shoulders ever so gently and fingertips that make you feel like porcelain, she's always been so... soft with you.

so you reach for her hand and rub her palm with your thumb. she notices that you're slightly shaking and glides her fingers over the gap between your thumb and index finger, however stops and rests them on the back of your hand. you were so close, you could feel her breath staggering in anticipation. what is vi hoping for? im setting myself up for failure for sure. but she's scared to take her hand away, it's a simple, easy act, but she can't. she can't take her eyes off of you, she can't stop wondering about you, she doesn't want to let you go. after all, she has lost so much, was it selfish to want something for once? vi knows better than this.

she lets go off your hand, exhales sharply and furrows her eyebrows. ouch.

"i don't know, violet." you really didn't know. you don't want to get hurt again, you can't bear her breaking your heart. your heart wrenches at the sight of vi genuinely looking lost, maybe you cared more than you wanted to. and she's been the one to ask you that question in the first place, so either you get rejected or not, fuck it, there's no going back.

"but i do know you've been hurting," you whisper, carefully reaching for her face to cup, will she let you?

"what do you know," vi mumbles and looks down, but the warmth of her face in your palm was hard to ignore. vi was hard to ignore, she's always been.

so you place a soft kiss on the scar decorating her eyebrow and rub the back of her hand. vi looks at you, from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips. she sighs, once again, and purses her lips. vi doesn't understand why you're not giving up on her, and she understands less why she doesn't want you to. it was a mistake to ask, or was it? was it a mistake when you were holding her calloused hands and kissing her scars?

hesitant glances, shaky palms, but your steady breath grounds her. she cups your face, blood rushes through your body. your cheeks burn, your heart burns, your lips burn under her gaze.

"don't make me regret this, cutie." vi rests her forehead against yours, eyes moving side-to-side before fixating on your lips.

"cutie?" you ask sternly.

"yeah, you're cute," she chuffs while rubbing your cheek. you didn't know why you were pretending to be unshakable, but it didn't matter, because the small smile on the lips vi has been dying to kiss betrayed your facade.

"so... can i?" vi whispers, but her heart screams to tear that facade down. you're taken aback, how did i get here? you get lost in her hungry eyes and your heart drops down between your thighs.

vi's breath tickles your face as you lean in closer to press your lips against the scar on her lip. you back away just an inch and bite down your lip.

and it was all it took to push vi over the edge, enough to drive her absolutely crazy. her chest moves up and down, her hands don't know whether to rest on your face or neck, up and down, her lips brush over yours, up and down.

hungry, sloppy kisses that leave your stomach tingling and your thighs squeezed tightly together. vi's hands were tangled in your hair, lips slightly parted for you to slip your tongue in and for hot breath to escape. your hands travel down her waist, she hiccups.

"you're the cute one," you whisper into her neck, trailing wet kisses up to her lips. vi winces, small noises escape her mouth as her whole body reacts in desperation, she was cute.

[kimoralov3]

a/n: this was supposed to be 100-200 words...anyways @arkofblake @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut

warnings: this is my first time writing smut, language, jj is an eater, praise, slight degradation

despite your best efforts, things always ended up like this. jj’s head between your legs when it probably shouldn’t be, your hand gripping onto his hair as if it were your life line. 

currently, the two of you were in the bathroom of some random kook’s party. the plan for the night was to get drunk and have fun with your friends to help one of them forget about their recent break up. that plan went out the window when jj and his friends crashed the party.

the two of you locked eyes almost instantly, but you made an effort to avoid him as much as possible. after all, you were here for your friend, not the handsome pogue that had swept you off your feet— literally— a couple months prior.

“ew, is he staring at you?” your friend asked, raising her voice slightly so she could be heard over the music. you snapped your attention away from jj, narrowly missing the smirk that graced his lips. “fucking pogues.” she grumbles as she downs the rest of her drink.

even before you and jj started hooking up, you found the whole “kooks vs. pogues” thing idiotic. but you’d agree for the sake of appearances, pushing out some half assed agreement. lately, it’d become harder to do that. 

just as it was becoming harder to ignore jj’s eyes on your body, as if he hadn’t already spent countless hours memorizing every inch he could get his hands on. you turned to your friend, spewing out something about needing another drink. she waved you off, her attention now on some boy. good for her, or whatever. 

you didn’t need to look behind you to know that jj was following your every move. you barely even make it into the bathroom and onto the counter when jj comes in, locking the door behind him. 

jj walked over to the bathroom counter, placing his arms on either side of you so you couldn’t escape. “do you enjoy being a tease, mama?”

you pouted your glossed lips, putting on your best innocent act. “whatever do you mean, jj?”

“don’t play coy with me.” he says as his hands find their way onto your hips, sliding you closer. you flash him a sweet smile as you wrap your legs tightly around him, causing a low growl to fall from his lips. “what did i just say? huh?” he asks as he pinches your hip.

“i don’t know jj, i think i need a reminder.” you whisper as you lean closer to the blonde, your lips just barely brushing against his lips. jj leans forward as well, but instead of kissing you as you had hoped he would, he allows his lips to lightly brush along your jaw and down your neck.

“such a naughty little slut, aren’t you?” he mummers as he nicks you here and there. you moan softly as you tilt your head back, a hand coming up to grip his shoulder.

“come on, please.” you whine. jj smirks, pulling back to come face to face with you.

“how could i ever say no to someone so pretty?” he asks before pecking your lips, getting on his knees between your legs. whimpers pour from you like a fountain as he presses open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, pushing your legs apart so he could settle in more comfortably. “would live down here if i could.” he whispers as he brings a finger to trail through your clothed slit.

“jj, hurry up.” you say as you bite down on your lip, nearly drawing blood from how needy you are. 

“if you say so, mama.” you hear jj say. his words are followed by the sound of fabric ripping, causing you to yelp and look down at him.

“did you just rip my underwear?” you ask in shock as you watch him pocket the item.

he shrugs, gripping your thighs and pulling you even closer to the edge of the counter. “you told me to hurry up. now shut up and let me enjoy my meal.”

with those final words his lips are on you, moaning at the taste of you. your head falls back as jj licks you up and down, curses falling from your lips. you grip onto the counter for support, lifting your hips up to push jj closer to where you need him most. he pulls away immediately, pinching your inner thigh hard.

“don’t be greedy. if you want more, ask for it.” he says as he brings a hand up to your hips, holding you firmly in place. 

“more.” you mumble, your mind starting to go fuzzy from his ministrations. 

“good girl.” jj whispers, placing a kiss to your inner thigh before focusing all his attention to your clit. a sharp moan tears itself from your throat, your hand burying itself in his blonde locks as he sucks on it. 

“fuck jj, don’t stop.” and a chorus of other encouragements find their way into the air as jj goes between sucking and licking. at some point your eyes screw shut, causing you to miss jj’s hand snaking it’s way up your torso and cupping your breast. 

“fuck, you taste so good mama.” jj whines into your pussy. that, in combination with the licking and slurping sounds nearly sends you over the edge, and jj can clearly tell that you’re close. “you gonna come for me, hm? come on mama, be a pretty girl and cum on my tongue.” 

“oh my god!” you shout as the band inside you snaps, head tilted back as you tug on the strands of his hair. he helps you through your orgasm, whispering praises the whole time. once you’re completely through it, he stands up, the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“not bad for a pogue, huh?” he asks, causing you to weakly shove him away. he laughs at your feeble attempt, catching your arms in his and bringing them around his neck. “you did so well for me, yeah?”

you mumble something incoherently, still trying to catch your breath. jj rubs your back soothingly, pressing gentle kisses anywhere he can reach. after a moment, you look up at him with a glare. “you ripped my underwear.”

the shit eating grin returns, jj very proud of himself. “yeah, i did. but don’t pretend you didn’t like it. saw the way your breath stopped for a second there.” you can’t come up with a decent response to that, so you just shove him away again, this time a little more successful. “come on, let’s get you cleaned up and back to your friends.” he says as he helps you down from the counter.

“fuck them, i’m going home with you.” you say as you lean on him for support. he chuckles at that, an arm circling around your waist.

“fine by me.”

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . soft 'n sleepy — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluffy smut, consensual somnophilia, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, so super sweet sam, swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (angel, honey, baby), unedited, 1.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : it doesn't take you long to fall asleep after a long hunt. sam, however, can't seem to fall asleep or keep his hands dick to himself.

you're so pretty and soft every time you fall asleep in his arms. sam just loves it when you're sleepy, eyes bleary and fluttering closed, lips parting and little puffs of breath leaving your nose as he tucks you against his chest.

this hunt was draining, especially for you, and you fall asleep quickly now that it's over. sometimes, all he needs to follow right after you is your presence. having you close is so reassuring, comforting. but tonight, it’s not nightmares or guilt that he’s worried about disrupting his sleep. instead, it’s your closeness that keeps him awake.

your thighs against his, the little shift of your hips that pushes your ass right into his crotch. your soft, even breathing, and your limp fingers splayed across his wrist. he’s been aching for you, but hasn’t said a thing, knowing how tired you are.

and he’d feel guilty about the growing bulge in his pants as he thinks about your pretty chest under the loose fabric of your comfy shirt, the grey panties you fell asleep in, your bare thighs. but you’ve told him, most definitely more than once, that you like the idea of him getting off in bed with you while you’re asleep. you’d used the words “you can use me like that. it’s okay, i promise.” he replays the sound of your pretty voice saying it, sincere and flirty all at once, and he just gets harder. “i want it,” you’d said. you want him to use you like that.

so he really just can’t resist gently tugging you closer, pulling your ass flush against him, and wrapping his other arm around you to softly cup your chest over your shirt. he gives a roll of his hips into you and bites back a quiet groan. and with that, he’s a goner.

you had the sense to get a separate room from dean when arriving at the motel, so as sam gets needier and needier, slowly rocking his hips into you, he doesn’t bother silencing his quickening breath and soft moans. he only keeps his sounds quiet for your sake, though he’s sure you’ll wake eventually.

his hand slides down from your hips, under your shirt, past the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and right over your thinly clothed pussy. he can’t help it, he just loves to hold you there, his hand hot and heavy as he cups your pretty cunt. he groans softly at the feeling, pressing into you with both his hand and hips now.

you stir, just a bit, letting out a little huff of breath through your mouth that just makes him grind against your ass with more desperation. and when a sweet, gravelly moan leaves your lips, he can’t help but indulge himself. the hand that was so softly palming your chest moves upwards, fingertips brushing over your collarbone until he has a gentle grip on your chin. with your lips parted just enough, he’s able to push his finger past your teeth and into the warm wet of your mouth.

he feels your tongue instinctively push against the intrusion and you draw in a deep breath through your nose as you start to rouse. his other hand starts to rub soft circles against the fabric of your panties and despite how painfully hard and turned on he is, even the rocking of his hips against you is gentle, caring, and slow.

a quiet, throaty groan falls from his lips and right into your ear as he feels your lips wrap around his finger, followed by your sweet, sleepy suckling, signaling that you’ve woken and immediately accepted his filthy actions. with your mind still so foggy with sleep, you don’t seem to have much control over your body. your hips squirm tiredly, pushing back into him, and the way that you suck on his finger is unabashed and interrupts the stillness of the room with wet, sloppy sounds. in mere seconds, there’s saliva dripping down his fingers and past the corners of your mouth.

despite your wordless enthusiasm, and the way that his clothed dick pushing into the plush of your ass makes him practically whimper into your ear, sam pauses his desperate movements against you for just a moment.

“this okay, baby?” he whispers sweetly, gruffly because he’s holding back. one of your clumsy hands finds his wrist, wrapping around it in reassurance.

“mhmm,” you hum around his finger, too sleepy to do much else, but wanting him to know that this is more than okay.

“good,” he huffs out, his hips rolling against yours with more urgency now, voice thick with barely contained desperation. “you’re so good. so good for me, aren’t you, angel? so perfect and pretty, letting me– mmph, use ya while you’re still sleeping. always so– god, so fuckin’ good for me.”

his hand rubbing against your pussy, his fingertips pressing over your clit, are making you just as desperate as him, and the feeling of him pushing a second finger into your mouth only intensifies the pleasure. you suck on his fingers contentedly, and the both of you leak through your underwear enough for the other to feel it.

along with the quiet drip from the janky sink in the bathroom and rush of a shitty window air conditioning unit, the room fills with soft grunts and whines and moans, the rustle of overused blankets, sam’s praises, and your sweet suckling. sam cums first, soaking his boxers and the back of your panties. the sound of his broken moan in your ear and the insistence of his fingers over your covered clit sends you reeling in pleasure just moments after.

he lets you keep lapping at his fingers as you come down from it, knowing the feeling quiets your mind. he’s positive that you’d fall right back asleep with his fingers in your mouth if he didn’t insist on cleaning you up first. so even though it makes you whine tiredly, he slowly slips his fingers out and gently pulls you around to face him.

his reverent lips find your forehead first, then your own spit-slick mouth. he kisses you all chaste and lovely, as if to apologize for waking you, despite it being so good for you too. the kiss is enough to satisfy you after having his fingers pulled away from your eager mouth, so you snuggle up close to him, not resisting the pull of sleep as it tugs down your heavy eyelids.

“honey,” he murmurs into the skin of your forehead, “let me clean you up first, please. then you can sleep as long as you want, promise.” you just give him a sleepy hum, but he rolls with it, untangling himself from you. he strips himself of his dirtied boxers, quickly pulling on a new pair before he pulls the blankets away from your legs. 

he slips your own soaked underwear off, watching your face, barely lit from whatever light seeps in through the blinds of the window by the door. your eyes are barely open, just because you want to watch him, and a soft smile tugs at your lips from his ever present sweetness and care. his heart jumps at the sight, so he covers your bare legs back to avoid giving you goosebumps from the cold, and slips away for a moment. not before leaving a kiss to the skin of your calf.

just moments later, he crawls back into the bed with a warm, dampened washcloth to deal with all the stickiness and a spare shirt because he admittedly got the back of your sleep shirt wet too. he cleans the mess on your skin first, then urges you to sit up just a bit with gentle hands and a tone of voice he know you won’t be able to resist.

“arms up,” he mumbles as he pulls the shirt off for you, then replaces it with one of his own soft, worn t-shirts. then he tucks you back into his chest and under the blankets, fighting off the sleep that was previously evading him until he feels you fall asleep first. then he sleeps like a damn rock and is woken in the morning by your lips on his neck.

[hehehereliesmysanity]

New Boy

"Wille, just kiss me already." Simon begs.

"No." Wille says firmly.

"It is just a kiss. Just kiss me." Simon huffs. He is really tired and he wants to just go back inside.

"No, i am not gonna kiss you." Wille sighs. He is looking into Simon with a look Simon can't quite place. "Not like this." he says in a small voice. If Simon wasn't that close, he would have missed it. "Not like this." he repeats, softly this time. Simon doesn't know what he should make of it.

They were playing truth or dare and it was Wille's turn. So one of their friends dared Wille to kiss Simon. He doesn't even remember who was behind this devious plan because Simon was busy freaking out. Wille didn't agree to it, as horrified as Simon and they locked them in the balcony until they completed the task. But Wille doesn't kiss him. So they have been waiting here for the past half an hour.

Wille knocks on the window to get them open the door. They were watching them through the glass for the whole time and Simon is almost glad Wille doesn't want to kiss him or can't stand a little peck for the sake of a game. They let them in finally, already losing hope, and Wille gives him a last look before he disappears into the kitchen with an undecipherable brow on his face.

He comes back with two cups of hot tea and gives the cup to Simon. Right, they were outside but Simon forgot to feel cold because of all those nerves but he can now realise that he is actually shivering a little. It is shit like this that made him fell for Wille in the first place.

The game continues and their friends keep getting drunk and Wille keeps averting his eyes from him but Simon can't look away.

About an hour later, people say goodbye and leave the apartment. Simon goes in his room, and Wille, his roommate, is also nowhere to be seen, probably in his own room, only a wall between them.

Simon runs into Wille in the corridor, apparently not everybody has left and Wille is sending off a couple of friends at the door and they make eye contact and Wille's cheeks turn a little pink but Simon doesn't know why. He comes closer, meeting Simon in the middle, right in front of their bedrooms. When Simon is about to say goodnight and go back in his room, Wille pulls him by his arm and catches his lips in one swift motion. Simon transports to another dimension.

He kisses his lips softly at first but then it gets messier and hungrier. He pulls him even closer with a hand on his waist, close, so close they can hear each other's heartbeat. His right arm surrounds his whole waist and Wille keeps pulling him to himself, not leaving any space between them and the other hand goes in his hair, running through his strands softly and gently, Simon thinks he has died and gone into heaven. For some time later, Wille pulls back and smiles. "I meant something like that."

[meracyn]

ೀ ꜱᴏᴜʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

summary. kwon's words still ring in your ears, causing you distractions during your matches. you end up forgetting, though, when he asks you a question you certainly didn't expect.

notes. part 2 is here! click this to read pt. 1

warnings. none?

The next round of the tournament arrived, every new challenge bringing the semifinals closer. Looking over at the board with all the points tracked for each dojo, guilt formed in your chest at the sight of Miyagi-Do being placed as one of the lowest. Your team was struggling, barely making it through the competition. You had to focus– for everyone's sake, but with Kwon around, you knew he wouldn't make it easy for you.

As the announcer called out your dojo being against Spain's team, your Sensei went over to you, a stern look on his face– it was Johnny. "Look, you know we're close to losing this thing," You gave a nod, though hearing those words felt like a slap. Noticing your anxious expression, he continued, "I want you to show me that you can win. Think you can do that?"

Mustering all the courage you had, you nodded again. "Yes, Sensei."

"Good. You're up first, be ready."

You stepped onto the ring, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Across from you stood Maria Alvarez, the female captain of Spain's team. Getting into position, you took a deep breath, determined to earn a win. At the signal, you immediately went in, closing the distance between you both, doing a quick jab on her stomach, followed by an uppercut.

Maria staggered back, but quickly recovered, jaw clenched as she adjusted her stance before going towards you again. You swiftly moved around, blocking and attacking with precision at any chance. Just as you were going to strike a punch, your gaze looked over at the crowd– and amongst everyone, your eyes met with Kwon's, who was already looking at you with an unwavering gaze.

Before you had the chance to refocus, Maria took your momentary distraction as an advantage, throwing a right hook to your side. Being off balance, you struggled to block and dodge. As the captain landed a spinning back kick to your midsection, you stumbled, losing balance as your back hit onto the mat, making the bell ring—and signaling her victory.

── ⋆ ──

You slammed your fist against the wall, shaking in anger as you ignored the stinging feeling. Your team ended up losing again, resulting in now being on the verge of elimination. First, it was Robby who wasn't focused. Now it was you, too? You blamed yourself for getting distracted easily.

Hearing the door click, you turned around to see Kwon standing there, a slight smirk on his face. He walked towards you, hands in his jackets’ pockets. "Seems like your dojo didn't do well today." He remarked.

"What do you want, Kwon? You got what you wanted already." You scoffed, not letting yourself be intimidated by his antics. Seeing him was the last thing you wanted right now.

"Oh yeah? What did I get, hm?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what I'm talking about."

"Ah," Kwon chuckled, realizing that you were referring to the distraction he caused you during your match. He leaned in, his face mere inches away from yours. "But you know— that was your fault, love. Not mine."

"Is it really?" There was a brief moment of silence, just as you turned to leave, he spoke again, this time his voice was softer. "Do you think it's worth staying in Miyagi-Do?" His question caught you off guard, making you go quiet. Without waiting for a response, he left the room.

You definitely didn't expect to be asked that from him. Though it made you end up questioning your choices that night.

[kingtheghast]

(My Youtube comment repost from Martyn's latest Wild Life ep | BEWARE SPOILERS)

I'm drafting this comment in my notes app because I loved this episode SO much and I need to explain why bit by bit:

Oh. my GOD that wildcard was so so fun, I can't believe so many powers fit people perfectly. This season has been so much fun, it really lives up to the name, and I think that everyone trying to figure out the wildcards or working around them or with them (like with the powers) has made the season feel closer almost? It feels like everyone was interacting with each other and it was a delight (or like maybe it's just Martyn pov, I've seen people say "watch Martynpov cuz he gets in everyone's business so you can basically figure out all the povs from his" LOL)

The My Hero Academia take on this. Oh my GODDD I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR ADAPTING STYLES AND FORMATS FROM ONE MEDIA TO ANOTHER. It's my favourite thing EVERR and this was SUCH a good application of this, matched the theme perfectly. Cherri if you're reading this I love you and the art was amazing I had to pause and look at each character eyecatcher. AND THE CHOICE OF DOING THE ADS WAS GREAT ohhhhh the addition of the trivia bot was genius, I loved the callback to that wildcard.

I'm sorry for yapping too much but I just. Love creativity and artistry and this was packed with it- on top of all the fun that the life series inherently carries. This episode was so fun and lively and the intermission screens and ads transformed it into something else too, you could tell what it was trying to mimic yet it still felt very in-style for a Martyn video- I think cuz those are also just brimming with creativity. Love that there's just no shame or fear on going a bit off the script or off style for the sake or making something different or making a vision come true.

TDLR: I'm crazy this was amazing and it was SUCH a season finale, ty :D I'm really in awe about how creative you gotta be to pull stuff like this off, hats off to Martyn

[icarusredwings]

Hmhmm I agree it would be interesting to see what would happen if Wade just kinda suddenly regressed really young, maybe something ends up suddenly triggering it and they both have to deal with the aftermath?

Can't really think of anything doing that in their lil home, it could be something that happens while they're out and about-maybe someone says something, maybe they witness something, it just... happens. Could be a positive or negative trigger, either way I'm sure Logan will certainly have A Time and will totally not burst a blood vessel!

The man in the hat.

A truama induced little Wade fix it fic.

Tw: Canon usual blood, violence, murder and cursing, mentions of past child abuse, shutting down.

It didn't usually end up like this. Ussually he would be chasing his husband down by now and yelling at him that he can't commit murder in broad daylight, followed by the lines of "fuckin watch me!" But this time was different.

Why they kept sending these poor guys out near their block every year was a mystery because since Logan's moved in, every single one of them has "disappeared" one way or another. It wasn't rocket science to figure out who's blood was on his clothes when he came home. Let's just leave it at that.

For some reason, here again was another scout leader handing out flyers and collecting donations only 2 blocks from their house, standing outside on the corner of their Bodgea. So, it's not too terrible. They could just go around the other way, it wouldn't be a problem.

"Hey bub, I think I wanna take the other way. See that big fluffy dog you like." He says, but it was too late. Wade had already planted his feet on the concrete, becoming an obstacle to the foot traffic.

"Oi! Move it!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan would growl at them, now holding his wrist a bit tighter, tugging.

"Wade? Come on, sweetheart. Do you remember? That big dog?"

He said nothing. Only.. stared. Logan could hear his heart rate quicken, how suddenly nervous and scared he smelt, but... something was different.

Whimpering, he shuts down, balling up right then and there, pulling his legs up to his chest as he clung to Logan's leg.

The scuffy man blinks a few times before realizing "Ooh for fucks sake, right now? You're doing this here!? Out of all the times that you-"

Wade was crying, starting to shake and had his nails dug into his jeans.

"Okay, okay. Come'ere I got you, he wont- aww fuck.." The idiot was walking towards them.

Letting out a little scream, Logan quickly picked him up, holding him tight and shushing him. "Shh, shhh, I won't let him. I promise. You're okay. I got you." He says to him, but mentally, he was panicking. Why was he coming over here!?

Did he WANT stabbed???

As a matter of fact, It seemed that Wade was far too small to even remember his knives, just clinging to him as if the man would take him away.. hurt him.. and hold him down. It's part of the reasons Logan couldn't hold him still when like this, or else he panicked and kicked or stabbed him in the balls.

Mother fucker.. If he was still alive he'd tie him up and let small Wade kill him all over again. He'd stand by, encouraging him to do it and everything. Logans never wanted to do something like that before. Maybe it was the X-men in him. The goody two shoes rule of "No killing" but fuck that. If a grown man could hurt a little kid like that, the kid should get to stab them a couple of times. It was only fair, right?

Through the overwhelming amount of people, the man getting closer, and the fact that Wade was clawing at him as if trying to get as far away as possible, he growled, holding him tight as he walked forward.

"Hi! Would you like to-"

Grabbing him by the collar, he pulled him up off the ground, pulling him close to his face, gritting his teeth. Wade screams again, now sobbing loudly into his shoulder, wrapping his legs around his waist as he shook, utterly petrified.

"If you EVER touch him or ANY fucking kid ever again, I will personally gut you and watch as the buzzards pluck out your inners one by one, you understand!?" Logan snarls, baring those fangs of his.

Quickly the man nods, his hands up. "I-i understand!" Before Logan tosses him to the ground, stomping off with a huff.

"I got him, kid. Don't worry. He won't ever talk to you ever again. Kitty got him." Logan says to soothe him, Hearing his heart still pound, but now Wade was looking at the man scramble to pick up his hat and run away.

Logan could almost hear the moment of clairity when Wade's mind went quiet, trying to process what just happened.

"G-.. got'em?"

"Yeah. Kitty Got'em. Don't worry." He repeats.

The whole way home, Wade stayed like this, Alert and stayed over Logan's shoulder, keeping watch.

"He's not gonna come back, bub. Swear. And if he does, Kitty will kill him."

"....." the silence that follows was that of a curious wonder. ".. pinky palmise?"

"Pinky promise." Locking his pinky to his, Wade settles down, shifting to lay his chin on Logan's shoulder, but still watching.

____

"What are you doing, kid?"

"...." There was no response from wade, who was now looking- scratch that- STARING out the window with such big yellow eyes. Waiting.

Logan sighs, closing the curtian only for Wade to go underneth of it, hands on the windowsill.

"Wade.. I got him. He's gone."

"......"

"Sweetheart, he's not coming back. Pinky promise, remember? Now come on. Eat your food its bedtime soon."

But still Wade didn't move. At least he was off of Logan now, but now he was on the back of the couch, staring like a gaurd dog, watching for the man in the hat.

"......"

"Wade? ... Wade??" Shaking his shoulder a little, Wade jumps, looking at him with scared teary eyes.

He sighs. "... you really aren't going to go to bed, are you? Alright.." With a groan, Logan goes to the door. "I'll be back, don't stay up too late."

Staying up at the window, Wade watched.. and watched.. and watched until finally he saw Logan coming back, bloody and red.

"There. No more man in the hat. Now can you please go to bed?"

From the windowsill, Wade pauses, looking over him.

".......Kitty got'em..?"

"Kitty Got'em." He confirms.

Wade jumps up, running to him only to hug him tightly. Giggling, Wade nuzzles into his chest, thanking him for taking care of it for him.

"Hey.. there you are.. I told you not to worry about it. I said I would protect you, and I did. Now go on. Off to bed with you." He says, squeezing back then patting him. "Go on, shoo. Kitty got'em, and I've got you. You're safe."

Watching Wade run off and close the door, he made his way to the bathroom, beginning to wash off his hands.

'Thank god for red paint..'

[lovebillyhargrove]

Billy opens his eyes in September 1985, in Hawkins hospital, and he's not happy to be alive. If you asked him, he would've preferred to stay dead or — unfortunately he never was dead — in a coma. Lying in bed like a withering away vegetable, blissfully unaware of his own existence or non-existence.

Gods have not been that merciful. Hargrove wakes up and doesn't even know his own body anymore. He needs to learn everything anew, starting with walking, or eating usual food — like an 18-year-old baby, for fuck's sake.

He's also bitter at everyone — yeah, for not fucking telling him !!

Except for Neil. Neil gets another kind of bitterness — quieter, darker, drowned in neverending pain.

Max gets a

"Fuck off, Maxine and shut the damn door." Said to the wall.

The gang of monster-hunters aren't even allowed to take a peek at her angry (and "that dude is so badass") brother.

Owens gets a

"Just leave me alone, Doc. I'm clean, and don't give a fuck about conquering the world anymore. Wasn't able to take a piss without a catheter until recently. I've got problems of a different level to deal with now."

When Steve opens the door to Billy's room, he actually gets talked to.

"Billy? .. Can I come in? .. Hey .. Hi."

Hargrove doesn't look like himself. He's too skinny, un-tanned, has some kind of a scanty beard, even longer hair, and looks like Jesus Christ.

Steve still can't believe it's happening. To come back to life after what Billy's been through? Impossible.

Maybe they put a dummy in the hospital bed.

The dummy opens its eyes, reluctantly turns its head towards Harrington, who is still hovering over the threshold, and doesn't say a word.

"How ..?" Steve's clearing his throat, cause sounds suddenly get stuck in it. "How are you .. feeling?"

The mannequin, who is probably Billy after all, blinks sadly and curls his lips

"Awesome, amigo."

Whew, damn, he's talking.

"Does .. does anything hurt?"

The guy looks at him like he's the dumbest idiot

"My ass hurts. I've been lying here for so long, I don't even know anymore if I have one or not."

Harrington wants to giggle, but that would sound extremely impolite.

He bites his lower lip.

"You look good."

Billy grins maliciously, and Steve is still shifting from foot to foot

"You're.." What's wrong with him?

"Listen, you're.."

"Get out."

"Uhm .. what?"

"You think you're so .. nice? Paying a visit to a poor sick guy? Why? To be a good fucking person? Get the fuck out of here."

"A good .. what?!" Steve tries to move closer to the bed but .. that's definitely stupid. He just feels like a ridiculous scarecrow in the field, with his ears burning

"That's not .. Hargrove. I actually .."

"Fuck you. I don't need you to come here."

"Okay, just .."

"Get lost!" Billy raises his voice

"Can I .."

"NURSE !!"

God.

"Alright! Get better!"

Asshole. Steve slams the door.

***

Three days later, he again tries to visit the boy who is definitely a nobody to him, and Billy again refuses to see him.

You know what, this is just too much ..! Silly games in the sandbox.

As if they weren't two reasonable adults. As if Steve hadn't watched Hargrove die horrifically, and as if he hadn't accompanied him to the hospital in the ambulance that night. Well, he himself was pretty beaten up, and needed a ride to the hospital, so it was kinda .. on the way, but still.

He sort of cared.

Was worried sick, to be honest.

And, listen, Steve generally doesn't take rejection well when he cares about something. Someone.

He's also sure of one thing — water wears the stone away.

So Steve shows up at the hospital again. Just to remind Billy of his existence, hang around the hallway, and when the door opens, give him a deliberately friendly smile and a wave of his hand.

Maybe he's here not to see Hargrove at all, he's got other stuff to do. Maybe he was just passing room number eight by accident.

Harrington is amused at Billy's face every time the guy catches a glimpse of Steve in his vicinity.

The patient either switches on complete indifference and sits there with a pompous ass face, as if they don't even know each other, or hisses like a pissed off cat.

Or he conspiratorially whispers something to the nurse when Harrington peers through the half-closed door — most likely asking her not to let Steve into the room under any circumstances.

But the former king didn't fall off the banana truck either. He has his own ways of influencing others — and begs nurse Miller, who seems to him more compassionate than nurse Fieldstone, to pass Hargrove a note

Dude, talk to me.

Steve turns to Max with a request — to collect some tapes from her brother's room, Metallica, Scorpions, Ratt, Mötley Crüe and his other favorite bands,

And asks Mrs. Miller to give them to the moody patient along with an expensive new Sony cassette player, which Harrington bought yesterday on Main Street.

The next day the player is waiting for Steve at the reception — Billy refused to accept the gift, but Harrington does not give in.

"Could you please put it in the drawer of the bedside table, preferably when he is asleep?"

The plan seems to have worked, at least the player is no longer returned. The guy must be climbing walls from hospital boredom.

One day Harrington gets lucky — he's going up to the second floor and bumps into Hargrove, who is being wheeled somewhere in a chair

"Oh, hi! Hello, Mrs. Miller!"

The nurse nods to him. Billy will not make a scene in front of all people, so he reluctantly grits out through his teeth

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"Great."

Steve notices Billy's cheeks turning pink, and the boy is hiding his eyes — he's obviously not very happy that they met like that, when he is in such a helpless state, for Hargrove has always been the machiest macho, hated any manifestation of weakness. And here he is — in a wheelchair.

"Where are you going?"

The guy's patience snaps loose

"Fuck off, will you?"

Well, let's not tempt the fate too hard.

"Have a nice day, Billy!" Steve is impeccably polite, unlike the frowning patient. However, was that not a whole conversation?

Harrington definitely calls it progress.

..

One wonderful autumn day, Steve decides to take an ultimate risk. He is in great mood, and he wants to share it.

Harrington swerves through the streets, listening to the radio while driving, a soft smile playing on his lips. On the way to the hospital, Harrington stops at the "Hawkins Bloom" flower shop and buys a bouquet. Whether it's chrysanthemums or dahlias, he doesn't know.

"What kind of flowers does your girlfriend prefer? Here's a beautiful autumn combination .."

"That's not for a girlfriend. It's uh .. for a friend .. he's in hospital? Something more modest, perhaps? But tasteful. Not cheap."

He feels like he's making excuses

Why the hell ..?

Jesus.

Billy definitely won't like this idea, but Steve's gonna do it anyways.

Cause he feels like it. That's valid enough.

So Steve buys the flowers and brings them to the room. He enters brazenly, without asking permission, puts them on the nightstand and moves it away from the bed — so that Billy cannot reach the bouquet and throw it at the visitor.

Oh, and let Hargrove puff, huff and even chuckle stupidly a couple of times as much as he wants — nothing escapes Steve's attentive eyes — blushing and demanding

"Take away these ugly fucking twigs! Are you out of your fucking mind, Harrington?"

Also, threatening him with physical violence

"I would so whip your ass with it, honestly."

Now that's an interesting offer, now we're talking

Harrington only winks at him, smiles

"Get well, okay?"

And rushes out of the room.

..

Like hardest ice under the persistent heat of the bright spring sun, Hargrove has no choice but to start thawing off, little by little.

One day, Steve arrives at the hospital during reception hours, pokes his head into room number eight

"So how are you? Maybe we should talk?"

Hargrove defiantly rolls his eyes and sighs as though he's so hopelessly tired

"You're such a fucking pain in the ass."

Steve shrugs.

"We are broken up anyway, even though we weren't even together for real, Harrington. Never. For the record. So don't get too carried away."

Billy keeps on grumbling

"You think you brought flowers, gifts, notes, so what? I'm not your chick, for fuck's sake!"

"Well, can we be friends?"

"Nah."

That's fine. He'll come around.

Oh, and did Steve forget to mention they did hook up before all the Mindflayer business went down? Must've slipped his mind in all the commotion.

[triforce-of-mischief]

beyond "pup and cub": analyzing twilight and wild's relationship

beloved by most, twilight and wild's relationship is one of the pillars of linked universe. the two brothers, closer than anyone else in the chain, who trust and keep each other in check. even before the events of jojo's comic, these two links knew each other from the same quest.

right? in some aspects... wrong.

(one extra note before we start, considering everything that goes through the fandom on a regular basis: this is not a trope-bash. sure, their fanon relationship isn't everyone's cup of tea (it sure isn't mine), but my goal is to share an analysis based strictly on canon, nothing but real observations and the honest truth.)

for the sake of everyone's dashes, this will be under a readmore but it's a really important read for the entire fandom so i implore you to click through.

x

it's well-established canon that wolfie was a major part of wild's journey. even though wild never knew that the wolf was a fellow link, he trusted the "blue-eyed beast" with his life.

x

on what could be twilight's deathbed, wild tells him, "you've got so much to live for". he then reminisces back to his own quest, and the wolf he knew then. there's something crucial to note there, which the fandom did spot when the comic was released;

x

during the events of botw, wolfie was old. really old. grizzled and shaggy, a rusted chain shackled to his paw that was eventually removed. compared to twilight's wolf form we see in lu, we can make the conclusion that wild is telling twilight that he needs to live for his own future.

wild knows twilight before they meet in lu. twilight does not.

by the time i finally post this, there is even more canon evidence besides these panels. justification has been a long time in the making, and i've been drafting this post since february. we'll get to the additional waves of evidence later on, but for now, let's do a major reset analysis of their relationship throughout lu so far.

twilight gives reasonable advice to wild:

x

twilight doesn't scold wild for wanting to kill for the sake of it? wild doesn't sneak off and hunt his own game? absolute blasphemy... but it's canon.

mutual praise/bonding:

x x

after trying twilight's soup recipe, wild doesn't even have any hard feelings.

everybody loves a brotherly hug :)

mutual respect/bonding:

x x x x x

notice the lack of pushed boundaries, even when the two get on each others' nerves. wild and twilight tease more openly than some of the others, but wild is good at backing off.

instead of rolling his eyes or telling everybody how "stupidly dangerous" it is to nock three arrows at once, twilight simply smiles as he watches wild demonstrate his cool technique.

twilight choosing not to scold wild:

x x

that's right, folks: twilight respects wild as a person with his own agency. it's not wild's fault that he can only scavenge weak blades, and nobody was thinking rationally during the fight with the iron knuckle.

twilight scolding wild:

x x x

that's not to say that twilight always holds back. yes, he isn't pleased with having to track him down, or taking a dangerous hit to the face, or wild's... interesting way to use his swords. wild stands up for himself, though, and twilight still respects that.

the word you've all been waiting for:

x x

yes, i know how to admit when i was wrong. the word 'protege' has been used to describe wild's relationship to twilight. but don't get so smug yet- this hasn't been said in canon, and what jojo specifically says is that wild is "unofficially" twilight's protege. it's pretty clear that their relationship isn't defined by the boundaries of mentor-protege, and even if it was, there's no sign of the unhealthy power imbalance that is found so frequently in fandom.

brotherly teasing:

x x x

this style of teasing is commonplace in lu canon. i'd be surprised if i saw this much lighthearted banter from a "mentor twilight" who thinks that wild is a feral infant, or a "protege wild" who is rightfully scared of the short-tempered twilight's every move.

backstory stuff:

x

twilight is still trying to figure out how to approach being there for wild. he doesn't know as much as wild thought he does, so he relies on relatability with his own story.

sunset + moving forward

x x

and so we return to this panel in its entirety, and additional proof of what i wanted to say all the way back in february. i think wild says it all perfectly himself; he's used to twilight guiding him from afar, letting him make his own decisions and mistakes. this may be something that both of them have to (re)learn during this adventure, but wild knows what he needs and how to communicate it.

x

i'll leave the analysis here. it's been a long time in the making and quite frankly i've forgotten any additional points i would have made. i'm a member of the patreon so i am tempted to wait yet again... but maybe, those who made it to the end of my post will look at wild and twilight with new eyes themselves.

never stop inventing headcanons, but i think it's important to take a step back and reevaluate what we've accepted as the truth every once in a while.

[tennessoui]

i'm caught between prompts 27 and 58 for the body politic au boys!!

[from this prompt game that i'm shamelessly a few months late to and that i am once again using as writing warm ups]

im so brave for even attempting to think about politics rn tbh but who doesn't love a good dose of escapism!! at least the body politic au is light and fluffy and nothing really hurts even though neither of them is being the best versions of themselves

27. Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

oh anakin is definitely the lightweight. poor kid is 19. can he legally drink in coruscant? yeah but obi-wan's gonna comment on it every time he catches him with a flute of champagne during a fundraising event which just gets anakin riled up and drinking more to prove that he's old enough to hold his liquor which he's not which definitely ends with him sleeping on obi-wan's shoulder during a cab-ride back to his house. sure obi-wan could tip him towards the window instead but he's not a monster.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

oh, for sure both of them. they're both that petty and they would bring the argument into the workplace, into the bedroom, into the shower post-sex in the bedroom, into the future PTA meetings. it's just who these guys are. they'll talk out and resolve the argument eventually but until they do that, they're gonna make it everyone's problem.

and for the snippet, a continuation of 27

"I won," Anakin insists, slurring his words as he droops against Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan tilts his head down to look at him in assessment before he deftly takes the wine glass from his campaign manager's lax fingers.

"I think you'll find that I won, actually," he says as he places the mostly empty glass on a waiter's passing tray. "You didn't even run."

Anakin's head turns further into him, which Obi-Wan isn't quite sure how to feel about, as it means that he presses closer, gives him more of his weight to shoulder. It also means that Anakin's lips are pushing up against the top of Obi-Wan's oxford shirt, and his treacherous, stupid body believes he can feel the plush give of them.

Fuck.

He takes a fortifying sip of his own champagne flute. Just a few more hours, he reminds himself in a mental tone verging on desperate. No one needs a campaign manager after the campaign. A few more hours and you'll never have to see Anakin fucking Skywalker again.

"No," Anakin says with such defiant petulance that Obi-Wan wonders if he's accidentally said his thought out loud. "No, I won. You wouldn't have won at all I didn't...didn't save you. With my campaign skills. And campussing."

"Canvassing," Obi-Wan corrects automatically, and Anakin's plush and pink lips widen on his shoulder for a brief moment before he bites him. He bites him.

Well. He can almost definitely fire him now.

"Fuck's sake, Anakin," he mutters, twitching away from Anakin's teeth. "We're in public. First you can't hold your liquor and now you're biting."

"'S just you," Anakin says, and his voice is suddenly so clear that Obi-Wan looks down at his barnacled employee only to see him staring up at him with the clear eyes of a drunkard. His curls, grown longer now than when they'd first met a few months ago, fall over his forehead, concealing his proud forehead, the cut of his cheekbone. "'s just you now, Obi-Wan." His eyebrows furrow with a thought he does not offer him. "Was supposed to win for Padmé," he says, as if Obi-Wan is supposed to know who that is. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. It is rather devastating.

Just a few more hours.

"But I won for you," Anakin concludes, sounding bemused which just isn't fair. Obi-Wan has fully cornered the market on bemusement currently.

"Anakin, darling," he says with more gentleness than he usually allows himself to show the boy, "this is my victory party. I won."

Anakin seems to think about this for a moment, turning the statement over in his head. "We won," he decides finally, and Obi-Wan--alright. Obi-Wan will allow him that.

[syndrossi]

Something that keeps rolling around in my brain is the sorcerer's statement about Jon being 'impure', and Jon both being able to in the end kill them via holding on/able to prevent the candles effect. Jon, who in both lives has been of half First Man ancestry, versus Rhaegar (not in his past life or st least not very much) and Daemon (none at all). Just. Interesting implications there, though I also may be over thinking this entirely.

Rhaegar has more First Man blood than you might think, actually. His great-grandmother (four times over, since his parents and grandparents were siblings) was a Blackwood, which is a house of First Men descent. For simplicity's sake, we'll assume it has mostly married into other FM families, so that it's pretty much purely FM descent.

That would make Jaehaerys and Shaera both of 50% FM blood, and since they wed one another, on average, Aerys and Rhaella would also be of 50% FM blood, and since they wed one another, Rhaegar would generally be.

(Obviously in practice, there's randomness in which bits get inherited. And if Targaryen genes are "greedier" somehow in a weird magical sense, maybe Rhaegar is closer to 25% FM.)

Which means Jon himself is more than 50% FM, since he got at least some of Rhaegar's!

Though as you mentioned, Daemon literally has none, and the twins have a muddled four-way parentage now. How exactly that mixing played out, it's hard to say! Aka is it equal, 25% from each source? Or is it 33% Daemon, 33% Elys/Rhea, 33% their original parentage? If they look mostly like Jon and Raymar, perhaps it's more the latter. Or if they look so much like Daemon, did the "algorithm" greedily prefer Daemon at 50% and split the remaining 50% between their original parentage and their Royce parentage?

...bit of a tangent, sorry. At the end of the day, both have some degree of FM blood, with Jon likely at 2-3X whatever Rhaegar has.

[evenyvn]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄. — detective!alhaitham x troublemaker male!reader

chapter 04 ; on a cold day

cw : lowercase intended, mentioned of abuse (once).

previous. — masterlist — next.

[original work]

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ [ UTC ] ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

　　　　the afternoon sky above a small district on the edge of the city at that time seems so dark with the sun hiding among the gray clouds. old buildings lined up closely, as if supporting each other so as not to collapse completely.

alhaitham walked slowly along the cracked sidewalk, his right hand holding a piece of paper containing small notes containing the names of witnesses from the case he was working on.

there was only the sound of his footsteps and the roar of vehicles in the distance to accompany him, but he could feel the gazes from behind the windows and narrow alleys that were watching him like hawks.

the people of the small district doesn't trust strangers, especially a person like alhaitham. his pale face, striking gray hair, and sturdy posture gave the impression of someone from a different world than them.

he tried to ask an old man who was sitting in front of a small stall. the answer he received was only an unclear mumble and a suspicious look. two other people even immediately left when they saw him approaching.

the detective took a deep breath, trying to hold back his frustration, he didn't have much time for a gentle approach. the case he was assigned-a violent robbery involving a seriously injured victim-was too important to postpone.

from a distance, alhaitham heard the roar of a motorbike engine that was slowly getting closer, but he paid no attention to it—he thought the owner of the motorcycle would just pass him by like the others.

"fancy meeting you here, mr. detective," a casual voice broke his reverie.

the detective turned his head and found (m/n) sitting on his motorbike, the engine still running—roars loudly before stopping right beside him. the (h/c)-haired man was wearing a leather jacket that he always seemed to wear, a wide, annoying smile blooming from behind his helmet.

alhaitham frowned, "it's you again..."

(m/n) chuckled before he lowered the stand of his beloved motorcycle and took off his helmet, he leaned his body slightly towards the detective, "i see you're trying—and failing to get information from the people here. no wonder, after all the people here are more afraid of the police than criminals."

alhaitham snorted before walking away, but (m/n) didn't give up, with his beloved motorbike he continued to follow alhaitham slowly from behind.

"hey, i know a lot of people here, maybe i can help," (m/n) offered. "no need," alhaitham said without looking back at all, he just focused on walking forward, "i have my own way."

(m/n) was really annoying, but the grey-haired detective couldn't deny that this man probably knew this area better than he did.

after a moment of silence, alhaitham finally nodded slightly with a sigh, he decided to push his pride far away for the sake of his duty as a detective and for the poor victim.

(m/n) smiled widely, "good, wait here." alhaitham blinked his eyes slowly when he see (m/n) put on his helmet back, and went in the opposite direction. together with his motorbike he drove at full speed without waiting for an answer from alhaitham making the detective sigh.

"i will never forgive him if he's playing with me, " alhaitham thought.

a few minutes later the troublemaker of a man returned, this time he wasn't alone, behind him were several people with motorbikes and intimidating appearances, alhaitham silently swallowed his saliva.

they all parked their motorbikes beside the sidewalk, alhaitham noticed how (m/n) took off his helmet before getting off the motorbike and walking towards him with such a cheerful expression. alhaitham didn't like that. not even a single bit of it.

the unexpected thing surprised the detective, (m/n) pulled alhaitham's hand to get closer to the group of men on motorbikes, alhaitham tried to fight back but the hand didn't budge since the other man was definitely stronger than him.

"they said the suspect was last seen at an old abandoned factory building near the river," alhaitham watched how (m/n) talked casually with the men while laughing occasionally. and finally alhaitham got some useful information for his investigation.

a few moments later, the motorbike gang left, leaving alhaitham and (m/n) who was now leaning on his motorbike with an annoying smile.

"you know, a little thank you would've been very appreciated," said the motorbike owner in a teasing tone.

the grey-haired detective paused, turned and said without emotion, "thank you, for your disturbance."

instead of getting angry, (m/n) laughed even harder, "you're really cold, huh? but i'm sure you'll get used to me, mr. detective."

alhaitham didn't answer and started to walk away, but for the first time, something was different. even though he didn't want to admit it, (m/n)'s presence—as free and careless as it was-gave a little warmth to the increasingly cold day.

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[valentine-cafe]

Hi!!! Hope y'all had a nice thanksgiving day!

I came here because I've been feeling lore hungry and I've been wanting to ask this question!

Sooo! I wanted to know, how do Vespasiano and Alessio canonically interact?

We know they're family (Uncle and Nephew) but how do they interact? Does Vespasiano know of Alessio's job? Does he know of Rishen and Talisen? Are they on good terms since Vespasiano has a complicated relationship with Alessio's father? Is Vespasiano only family oriented to his kids or to all his family?

I've been thinking about this since his intro. So hopefully we'll get answers. Ofc tho, if this is exclusive to your guys upcoming book series then that's ok too! Just makes us look more forward to it! Have a good day/evening/night!

- 🌕

﹙ 🍒. ﹚ ─── hello darling ! howl and I do not celebrate but thank you regardless and happy thanksgiving to you!

also THAANNKKK YOUUU for the lore asks ough we love getting these kinds of asks so so much. we can tell you lots about vespasiano actually. I'll number your questions for simplicity's sake

what is vespasiano and alessio's relationship?vespasiano and alessio are very close. vesp met alessio when he was still a kid, but since valerio ( alessio's dad ) moved from italy to elritea and grew distant from his family, they sort of lost contact. alessio knew he had family in italy but his father would not talk of them. he would only meet vespasiano again in his late 30's when talisen and rishen surprised him with a trip to italy for his birthday ( he's always wanted to go but he's always been so busy with work and such ). alessio reconnects with the rest of his family because coincidentally the town that they go to is his family's home town! his grandmother, alessia, spots him and immediately drags him back to meet the rest of his family. vesp and alessio immediately hit it off because of their personalities. vespasiano is particularly fond of alessio because it's valerio's son ( for context, vespasiano and valerio were VERY close, they were often referred to as twins ). vesp is also the first ever person that alessio saw as a sort of fatherly figure. their interactions are typically marked by humour and fondness. vesp might look at him and see the little kid from way back then, but he also doesn't treat him as such. he's more than happy to share a smoke with him ( even joking about how alessio's cigarette choice is bullshit and he's gonna start mailing him his own brand ), or have long and deep talks with him. also looottts of dark jokes. after their meeting, vespasiano and alessio keep up with each other with calls and visits and whatever they can manage. alessio is arguably closer to vesp than anyone else in his family.

does vespasiano know about alessio's job? he does. as we know, vesp is apart of a special ops unit. during an operation involving elritea ( can't say too much because of spoilers ) he ran into alessio ( who was in his reaper alias ). this was before their remeeting in question one. but vespasiano immediately recognised moves from the reaper that were techniques that only he and his brother valerio created and mastered ( back when val was also in the special ops ). vesp and the reaper actually went toe to toe. vesp actually thought that the reaper was valerio, but he would very quickly discover it is not. ( SPOILERS CAN'T SAY MORE SORRY ) he pieces the puzzle together - and conveniently - the following month is when alessio would visit italy ( in the point above ). during his stay, vesp would confront alessio but assure him that his secret is safe with vesp. he even encourages him to keep doing what he's doing.

does vespasiano know about rishen and talisen? because of the point above and the meeting, yes - vesp knows about tal and rishen! he's quite fond of them too. although rishen does make his mind go blank with his unintentional scientific and nerdy talks. he's very amused that alessio is acquainted with a grim reaper too, as rainel ( the man that is a close friend to his mother and is most definitely romantically involved with her ) is a grim reaper too. so vesp knows allll about them.

are they on good terms even with vespasiano's complicated relationship with alessio's father? they are! vespasiano's strained relationship with valerio stems from valerio's dishonourable discharge from their unit. and a lot more factors. vesp misses his brother dearly but they haven't spoken in years

is vespasiano family orientated with the rest of his family? yes he is! with his brothers, his mother, his many nieces and nephews, in-laws - vespasiano is very close to his family in general! he's just that guy in the family that everyone loves.

oh god I rambled haha sorry!! but I hope this was sufficient enough PHEW this was nice ! lore questions my beloved. . .

[zepskies]

Oh God, here we go...

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth.

Wow, this bit of description struck me right away. What a lovely and devastatingly poetic way of conveying this...

Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Oh Barlen, pls. 😭 I just knew he'd be feeling this way. My heart is breaking for both of them really. 💙💙 But of course they're both blaming themselves (perhaps Beau even more so than her). His admission that he wasn't ready to see them together again broke my heart for the 15th time, dear God. 🥲🥲

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love. He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

Oh dude, something tells me he couldn't be more wrong about her and how she feels... Or at least, I hope he's wrong? 🫠

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you.

"Calcified" just really hit me in this moment. Along with "whiskey-colored" -- you're so very good at painting a vivid picture through your word choice.

In a way, her and Randy are so sweet together. It feels calm and warm and familiar, but maybe not quite right anymore? At least for her? As opposed to when she goes to Beau in the scene right after--them two together are just sparks flying off the stove. With them, there's actual passion.

But backing up to the Randy scene -- I really like how you played it and his accepting personality. Like, I know it's been a few years and you've probably moved on already. I guess we're not married anymore? But we could just get married again? loll Poor guy. As if surviving what he went through wasn't enough, now he's going to have to deal with the fact that his wife is head over heels in love with his best friend now. ❤️‍🩹

She's really not the same. Not only because of Beau, but because she's been through too much after Randy's "death."

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break. Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Goddamn it, Beau!! Can you give her, like, a minute to adjust before you already decide you're "nothin'" and she's not gonna pick you? For God's sake. 😭😭 (But totally on brand for him. Great characterization. Sigh.)

“Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Just keep pummeling my heart, that's fine. 🙃

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one.

Okay, but he was so focused on Randy's reactions, he didn't bother to watch her reactions, her struggle, and her reluctance.

“You ain’t nothing.”

What a romcom movie moment, I love it!!!

I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I.

I'm with Beau on this one--please let her really, truly mean this and not change her mind and leave him later, because I don't think my heart could take it. 😭😭

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips.

How I love these little moments of softness and tenderness in between the amazingly hot ones. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 And I feel like Beau probably really needs that right now--that reassurance.

Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him.

Ahh I love a callback to the title! 🥹✨

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Ugh, God, my Latina heart sang on that last bit! 😭 But girl, you outdid yourself on this chapter. I can honestly say that was some of the most stellar romantic smut I've ever read. 👌🏽😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Aaaaand now I'm both excited and scared to see how Randy handles this news. 😬 Something tells me he's not going to take this news as well as the other stuff...

Polaris – Chapter 9

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ramp up the angst, guilt trips all around, hospitals, bits of fluff in all the chaos, smut (with a heavy dose of more angst)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Well, there was no way this wasn't going to be angsty af. Enjoy the ride, loves! 😘

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: Marooned

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life.

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands cupping your head when your own grew too tired to hold it. He rested his forehead against yours, green eyes leveling with you. His thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Beau bargained, his voice a soft whisper. His disavowing mind refused to accept what his breaking heart knew to be true.

However, there was no doubt in yours. “No, I’m sure it’s him.”

“It still might not be true… It could be one of those CGI deep-fakes. You know, they’ve gotten crazy good… She just wants to mess with us,” Beau tried to reason, every bone in his body fighting to accept the truth. Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Your eyes lifted from the ground, your gaze boring into his. “You really believe that?” Your voice was harsh enough to break through the solid brick barrier he had erected over his heart, your words a wrecking ball. A jittery and hesitant lick of his lips was his abdication. He lowered his head in resignation. “How’s that even possible? You saw him die, right?

Beau’s mouth opened without an answer, his eyes flickered alive with memories. Panic rose with realization and poisoned the pumping blood that coursed through his heart. “I-I saw him get dragged away… I heard the shot.”

He was sure. He was so, so, so sure. And then, it all fell apart. What had he done?

You straightened up, slipping out of his grasp, and clasped your mouth, turning your back to him as your body rattled with shock. “Oh my God… Oh God…”

Beau rose to his feet behind you and swallowed harshly as the realization hit him like a freight train. He wanted to reach out and touch you, needing you now more than ever, but he didn’t know if he still could. His mind raced a mile a minute with questions he couldn’t find an answer to.

How was Randy still alive? Had the cartel kept him all this time? How did Diane find out? And how the hell did she get a hold of him?

“Y/N, I-… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trembled. He could feel you drift further and further away from him till you were just a dot out on the vast ocean. He didn’t want to lose you but didn’t know how to stop it, either. He thought all he needed was for you to just look at him, and it would all be right again. But when you did, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“All this time he was alive and God knows where. I-I could’ve looked for him. I could’ve helped him…”

“You didn’t know,” Beau said softly, pushing your blame onto himself. He could’ve known. He should’ve known. He felt helpless, lost, adrift. “Y/N, what d’you want me to do?”

You needed a moment to clear your head enough to think straight. If it wasn’t Randy but any other victim, what would you do next?

“We need to find that bunker. Get him outta there,” you concluded. “You think he’s still alive? You think she’d kill him?”

Recalling the snippet of the video, you remembered the timeline only read an hour instead of the usual forty-eight. It wasn’t about making you suffer through his death because you’d already done that. Diane just wanted you to see.

Beau knew there were only two possible options. Either Diane caught Randy only to show he was still alive and then kill him, or she brought him back into your life to wreak havoc. But the hows and whys didn’t really matter. Both options would cause a rift between you two wider than the Grand Canyon. If Randy was back, dead or alive, Beau’s relationship with you wouldn’t survive it.

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love.

He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

“I don’t know,” Beau replied and forced some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t know for how long he had held his breath. For a minute there, he had forgotten how to breathe at all – and he didn’t even care.

The ringing of your phone broke both of you out of your haze and fatal fantasies. You fished it out of your pocket and stared at the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Who is it?”

“Unknown caller,” you replied before you answered the phone, pinning it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello? Yes, this her…”

Beau watched as your eyes widened, how your brow rose, how your mouth fell open, how your heart stopped. As you hung up, he could see you swallow before you found his eyes. He waited with bated breath for news he already knew.

“That was the hospital here. They said someone brought in my husband.”

The stone silent ten-minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Beau drove, his grip stiff and knuckle-white around the steering wheel. The heat of the old Jeep had barely kicked in by the time you arrived, your hot breaths coming out in vaporizing clouds as you bit your nails bloody and down to their beds on the passenger’s seat. Neither of you spoke a word, too terrified it would cut the last string between you that still tied you to each other.

As the bright sign of the hospital came into view, your heart thudded in your ears, so loudly you could barely hear the world around you anymore. Everything was subdued and distorted as if someone was holding your head underwater. All you wanted was air, but your lungs flooded with water.

Beau killed the engine in the parking lot. Both of you sat there in silence and petrified in time, two fossils buried deep in the earth and uncovered by archeologists with fine brushes millions of years later.

His gaze drifted up to the star-filled sky, green eyes locked on the North Star. He wished he could rewind the tape to that night, all the way back to the start where the two of you were still alive. His eyes then swerved to your hand that lay there untouched on the edge of your seat, his own palm twitching to hold it in his.

“You want me to come in with you?” Beau asked carefully.

It was the first time since you’d left the Sheriff’s Department that you looked at him again. Your eyes were pleading. “Of course I do. Please don’t go. Don’t let me do this alone.”

Then, you saw it – the flicker of relief that flashed through him. You recognized the insecurity and apprehension in his eyes. Your heart dropped. You had been so consumed by the news, you hadn’t noticed how he had spiraled. You clasped his hand tightly in yours. He squeezed it desperately back. He was drowning, and your touch was the lifeline he had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I don’t know if I’m ready to see you with him,” Beau confessed. He had endangered his best friend, deserted him, and left him to die. And that wasn’t even the worst he’d done. The worst was you.

“Me neither,” you admitted and interlaced your fingers with his. “We’ll take it step by step, okay?”

He nodded.

As the nurse sent you down the hallway to your believed-to-be-dead but actually only-long-lost husband, you didn’t know what to expect as your hand lingered on the door handle.

Beau could not only feel the tension in your body but physically see it. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders, the tremble in your hands, and the twitch in your eyes were a dead giveaway.

As you felt Beau behind you with a hesitant palm resting on your lower back, you wondered if you should tell Randy. You supposed you had to at some point. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

You had been so focused on what awaited you in that room, you hadn’t thought about what your husband expected. Or was it ex? Did he know you had moved on? Were you still allowed to? Would he be happy for you? Would he let you go? Would he hate you for it? He probably would, considering who you ended up with. Or maybe you had it all wrong, and he would be relieved it was someone he loved, too. Wouldn’t you be if the roles were reversed?

His death had severed your ties, but now that he was back, were your vows, too? Did he even know everyone thought he was dead? Had you cheated? Was that what Diane had been trying to tell you? That you had sinned? That you were a liar? That you were awful? That you were a whore?

“Should I-, uhm…”

“No,” Beau answered your dangling question as if he could read your mind. He dropped his hand from your back and ceased all contact, even going as far as taking a step back. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you were radioactive. That should’ve been answer enough. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” The rejection hurt, but you understood. This was hard for him, too. Maybe even harder. You had to weather the storm alone, ship-wrecked and marooned on a desolate island.

“You wanna go in alone first?”

“No.” You shook your head and pushed down the handle, suddenly feeling more courageous and determined than before.

You barged in. Not gentle. Not slow. The urge to see him, face to face within the same four walls – after all these years, after all the tears – washed over you like heavy rainfall. You didn’t want to weather the storm – you wanted to be it. It felt safer than to seek shelter under driftwood.

Then, your heartbeats halted. The world around you paused. No murmurs in the hallway, no beeping machines or bustling footsteps. It felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane, everything else flying fast around you, but the center was calm.

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you. The slightly furrowed brow above them softened, his lips parted in awe. He still looked the same, only slightly aged by the years and what he’d been through.

“Randy?” Your voice was a quiet tremble but still filled the entire room.

A smile flickered alive on his face. “Hey,” he said, his own voice raspy and dry as if he hadn’t had water in several days. Deserted like he had been. His hazel eyes lit up, full of love and adoration. It was the same look he had always worn when he gazed at you. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It saturated your frozen heart with warmth and your gray and bleak vision with technicolor.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered with a thick swallow.

Randy snorted a bit. “Now, you know how I always felt,” he quipped, blinking the tears in his eyes away. He’d always been a ray of sunshine. He was light and sweet and good down to his bones. A part of you had expected that light to fade, though, considering what he must’ve experienced the last few years. But it hadn’t. He was still shining as bright as ever, his spirit untouched by the darkness that had tried to swallow him. “Are you just gonna stand there like a moron?”

A small laugh escaped you as tears began to sting your eyes when he spoke those same words you once had said to him. You wanted to cry when you heard them. What sliver of doubt remained in your mind that it wasn’t truly him vanished upon his words. Your feet wanted to move forward, but your heart tugged you back.

You glanced back over your shoulder and found Beau, standing with lovelorn patience by the door as he watched the exchange between you two. The muscle in your chest then stung, like someone had dropped it into a pit full of cacti. You felt torn in two, pulled into opposite directions.

Randy followed your gaze and finally noticed his second visitor, his brow shooting up in surprise. For a second, Beau felt nervous as he awaited a reaction. He expected resentment, hatred, blame, and anger. What he got, however, was a rising smile.

“Hey, man.” Randy seemed happy to see him, not an ounce of animosity detectable. “You two realize you’re staring, right?”

“‘S good to see you, Randy,” Beau managed to say and forced a quivering smile to his lips. And it wasn’t a lie. A big part of him was elated to have his best friend, his old partner, his brother back. But he couldn’t ignore the gnashing, lethal wound in the shape of you that Randy’s return caused.

Carefully, you stepped closer and let out a nervous breath as you sat down at the edge of his bed. He reached out and tenderly caressed your cheeks, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. A smile curved his lips as soon as he touched you again. It felt like he was holding a miracle while you looked at him like he was a ghost.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he said. His hand then slid down your arm to hold yours, fingers brushing over the one. His gaze dropped when he couldn’t feel what he was looking for, the tan line of the missing item around your ring finger still visible. Pensively, he licked his lips. “They told me everyone thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry, buddy,” Beau said and swallowed harshly. The sight in front of him almost took him out. Even though it was a familiar picture, one he had seen a million times before, seeing it now was a different story. After everything he knew, you in someone else’s arms that weren’t his felt like a bullet piercing through his chest. His heart was bleeding. “I thought you got shot.”

“It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself, man. It was crazy in there. It could’ve happened to anybody. I did get shot. Only the slug went straight through the shoulder,” Randy explained. “Cartel then took me to Mexico. Juárez.”

Your wide eyes wandered to Beau, the two of you sharing a horrified look. Randy had been right underneath your noses this entire time. You could’ve saved him.

“You were in Juárez? We were there, too,” you muttered in shocked realization.

“Oh, I know,” Randy said, surprising you both. Your heart beat faster, accelerating to lightning speed and close to jumping out of your chest. Did he already know about you and his best friend? But he answered your question before you could ask it. “Cartel talked about a task force moving in on them. I overheard them once. Said my old partner and wife were looking for me. When y’all got too close, though, they moved me further south. There’s nothin’ you coulda done.”

“What did they do to you? How are you still alive?” you asked and didn’t want to sound ungrateful for it, but you were completely baffled. You had too many questions racing through your mind.

Randy chuckled a little at your line of questioning. “You’re still the same.” He smiled and tore your heart apart, because you knew you weren’t. Not really. “I think they thought they could keep me for leverage. Trade me at some point? They held me in a basement at first till they moved me south. Kept me at farm of some cartel member. It wasn’t highly guarded, but even when I had opportunity to flee, I didn’t know where I was or where to go. I thought they’d either kill me or give me back at some point, but then months… years passed. I gave up hope they’d ever let me go. And then, one night they threw a bag over my head and I woke up in some weird bunker… in Montana. Apparently. Anyone wanna explain what I’m doing here? How did you guys get here so fast? They only brought me here a few hours ago. Had to convince them a little to find and call you since they thought I was dead.”

“I was already here for a case. There’s a crazy serial killer lady who took you. That’s who locked you into that bunker,” you explained and watched his brow crease.

“Huh.”

“I work Major Crimes now. It’s a long story,” you added quickly. You didn’t even know where to start. How could you recap three years?

“Really?” His smile was back. This time, it was a proud one. “That’s good. You always wanted that.”

“Yeah.” You blushed a little and gave him a small smile in return.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze flickering to your missing ring on your finger once more. “So, uhm… since everyone thought I was dead, I guess we’re not married anymore, huh?”

Your heart exploded like he had just deposited a grenade inside of it. You averted your gaze to your joined hands. “Uh, Randy…”

“No, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he quickly soothed and chuckled to lift your worries, and you weren’t sure if it was a real smile or just one for your sake. “I’m just trying to catch up, you know? Get up to speed. ‘Sides, if we’re not married anymore, we could have a second wedding. Might be fun, right?”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. “Uh, yeah.” You nodded and hoped he couldn’t see your reluctance.

Randy then stretched his neck and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a slow and chaste kiss that felt like your first. Tears of happiness mixed with sadness as they rolled down your cheeks. When Beau softly cleared his throat, you broke away from Randy, your cracked heart shattering into sharp daggers that sliced through your skin. What were you supposed to do, though? Reject the man you married because it would break the heart of the one you currently loved?

“I-, uh, I should go. Let you two catch up,” Beau said uncomfortably. The crestfallen look on his face destroyed you. “I’ll keep the press away from this for as long as I can. Lord knows they love a good back-from-the-dead story.”

“You can do that?” Randy arched a curious brow.

Beau pulled his jacket back a little and tapped the badge on his belt. “Kinda the sheriff here.”

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break.

Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Beau, wait–”

But he had rushed out of that room so fast, he couldn’t even hear you as the door fell shut behind him. You offered Randy the same tight-lipped smile and stroked his cheek. Your emotions were a mangled mess. A part of you was hauled back to the past, old feelings that you had buried deep coming back alive, while new ones reminded you that it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Give me a sec, okay? I’ll go talk to your doctor. See when we can get you outta here,” you said and waited for Randy’s nod of confirmation before you darted out of the room.

Your heart thrummed in your ribcage as you raced down the hospital’s corridors all the way to the parking lot where you finally caught up with Beau. He was on a fast-paced escape to his car before he stopped when you called his name.

“Beau, wait!”

As he spun around, he dragged a palm over his face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. But the evidence was still visible, his eyes red and distraught. “You should go back, Y/N. He needs you.”

The heart in your throat caused you to choke. “So do you. I’m so sorry,” you said, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. But as you stepped forward to hold him, he took a step back.

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Everything in you wanted to break through the fence he had set up, full-throttle with a lead foot on the gas, but you thought it was best to respect his wishes for now. You didn’t even know where your head was and wanted to avoid hurting him more.

“Here, uhm, you should have this back.” He fished out your wedding ring from his back pocket and dropped it into your palm, the quick brush of his skin tearing you apart even more. The golden band suddenly felt heavier than it ever had. You didn’t even know when he had grabbed it from his desk drawer, but the foresight scared you. He let out a humorless chuckle as the sadness brimmed in his green eyes. “Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Your lips parted, your brow lifting in realization. Whatever dusted remnants were left of your heart plummeted. “Beau…”

“Don’t. ‘S okay,” he wrung out with a doleful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Call if you need somethin’.”

With a passive nod, he jumped into his Jeep. You clutched the ring in your hand so tightly it almost burned through your skin as you watched him drive off.

Beau uncapped his third beer of the night (plus two tumblers of whiskey and a shot of his old friend Don Julio) as he sat on the bed in his trailer. A pile of your clothes still lay on the floor to his right, your favorite coffee mug stood in the kitchen sink, and your shampoo was stored in the shower. It felt like you hadn’t left, even though you had.

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one. And Beau understood, because he had felt the same way once, too, when you walked into his office – back into his life.

He told himself it was the torture he deserved for all of his sins. And he swallowed it all down – the hurt, the heartbreak, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He had no right to feel those things. Not anymore. You weren’t his. You never were.

How long did he have with you this time around? Five weeks?

Suddenly, he regretted leaving Houston, regretted leaving you. He wasted a whole year that he could’ve spent loving you. He always thought, in the end, he'd have more time. Eternity, even. How fucking foolish was that?

The headlights and sounds of a car in front of his home drew his attention to the window, shadows and lights dancing along the walls of his trailer. He couldn’t see his visitor, but considering it was in the middle of the night, he assumed it was either Jenny or Cassie checking up on him. He had texted them to let them know what was going on. But as he opened the door, the sight left him speechless.

“Y/N…” Your name fell from his lips like you were an angel he had prayed for. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were seeing things right, or if you were a booze- and depression-induced hallucination. You wouldn’t be the first ghost that came back to haunt him, after all.

“You ain’t nothing.”

With those words still floating in the night air, you cupped his neck and crashed your lips against his, kissing him fervently with everything you had as tears streamed down your cheeks. He returned the kiss just as passionately, although you could feel a part of him fighting against it. But his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, the kiss lasting till both of you were bluer than the sky. You didn’t let go of him, though, hands holding onto his shirt, too scared he would slip through the cracks of your fingers if you did.

“Y/N, I can’t…”

“I love you,” you interjected his hesitance with firmness and gripped him tighter, your gaze drilling into him like you hoped your words would. “You think I’d just forget? You think my feelings for you just vanish into thin air? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just snap my fingers and stop loving you. I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I. Look, when he died, I grieved that loss and it felt like I was dying, too. I never thought life would be... exciting... and fun... and happy... and so full of love again. And then… I-I fell in love with you, and my life somehow started again. And I know this whole situation is fucked up and confusing and impossible. And I don’t know what to do… I don't know what the right thing is here. But I do know you feel right, and I can’t just pretend you and me and everything good that came with it never existed. I don’t want to. Please, just… I need you, Beau. You said you wouldn't leave again. You're not making things better by walking away...”

With a stretch of your toes, your nose grazed his before you gently claimed his plump, soft lips once more. Your tear-stained cheeks met the roughness of his beard. The kiss started ginger and careful, giving him time to withdraw if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and stoked the flames of the fire that burned for him deep within your soul. Inhibitions were set ablaze as the kiss turned searing. He hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle as he carried you inside.

The trailer’s peaceful silence was disturbed by panting breaths, a pathway of clothes leading from the entrance to the bed. You peeled off his shirt, and he slid off yours over your head. You unclasped your bra and tore it off, pressing your tits against his bare chest as your lips tried to remain connected to each other through it all. By the time he sat down on the edge of the mattress with you on top, only two naked bodies seeking friction remained.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted him to fill you and make you whole again until you stopped feeling like you were breaking apart at the seams. Hands roamed and explored as tongues mingled and savored tastes. As you straddled his muscular thighs, his arms wound around your middle and kept you firmly pressed against him, his hold on you strong as his fingers dented your flesh. You hoped it was enough to leave bruises behind. You never wanted to forget him, wishing his marks would be permanent ink on your skin.

“I need you,” you murmured against his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips, his cock rubbing against your soaking core as you gently rocked your hips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips. One hand steadied itself on his broad shoulder as your other one fisted his hard, throbbing length and positioned it at your entrance, his cockhead gliding through your slick and teasing you till you shuddered with wanton need to feel him inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered and gasped as you sank down, sheathing his thick cock in your warmth as your velvety walls welcomed him. With a needy and yet tender kiss, you soothed his grunt when he was fully inside you and prodded at your cervix. “Wanna make you feel good, okay?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t do this to me if you’re gonna leave,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice laced with desperation and pain. His hand softly caressed your face as he rested his forehead against yours. His love for you radiated in his green eyes like kryptonite.

You cupped his bearded cheeks and forced him to look at you, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“But–”

You kissed him before he could bring forth all the reasons why you should, but you didn’t care. Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him. When you left the hospital, there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no one you wanted to see more. Your heart had only ached for him.

You were finally home, and now that you were back in the arms where you belonged, you kissed him so hard till his mind quieted down to a soft lullaby. You kissed him so hungrily till his cock twitched inside of you because you were the only one he wanted, too. You kissed him so passionately he felt your love for him seep into his own heart.

As you began to roll your hips, he met you thrust by thrust as he pounded up into you. His massive hands and sinful mouth roamed every inch of your body. Palms groped your tits and fingers tickled your spine. Lips kissed your throat and tongue massaged your nipples. Teeth grazed your flesh and beard burned your skin.

Your nails dug into the thick muscles on his shoulders and scraped his scalp as his cock split you open with each pump. His girth tore you apart, each time you eased back down a new pleasurable burn coursing through you as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him.

Your pace rose with the tides of your hips, your thighs flexing as your cunt stroked his cock and came closer to the finish line. Beau buried his head in the crook of your neck, writhing and groaning underneath you. His fingers bit into your flesh, surely leaving bruises behind this time. Your tits rubbed against his chest, and you could feel his muscles tensing and straining underneath your fingertips with each bounce. He was barely holding on.

“Come for me, baby,” you beckoned him, feeling your own orgasm approach. The fuse was sparked and burned a path right to your explosive core. “I love you…”

“Fuck!” Beau cried out and spilled into you, his body trembling in your grasp. Those words were all it took to tip him over the edge.

You came with a thundering moan. His release triggered your own, your pussy pulsing violently around him and milking his cock for all he’d got. His cum mixed with your arousal and gushed out of you, trickling down your thighs and coating even his balls. Your thighs shook with exhaustion as you let yourself fall down on him, his arms catching you and holding you close.

Still panting, his mouth found yours in the dark. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks, the rest of his fingers dangling in your hair, the grip soft turned bruising as he kept you lip-tied to him, the kiss tender turned rough.

His nose brushed yours as he looked deeply at you. You could see the despair drowning in his pine green eyes, his emotions overtaking him.

“Pick me. Don’t go,” he begged in a harsh whisper, your flushed face in his warm palms.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Chapter 10: It Matters – DECEMBER 06

Phew, writing that hospital scene nearly killed me 😮‍💨 Next up, we have even more drama as the awkward throuple reaches a boiling point...

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[nappingmoon]

ur tags on that post …. sage why don’t you fuck w me omg /pos

I see the name kei and black out that wasn’t even me baby I didn’t type that.