#been thinking about this for the past few months while working on original work stuff and dealing with personal issues

[thetriggeredhappy]

yeah, no worries, i’m aware!

the short answer is that within human rights conversations (in particular in regards to conversations about jewish issues, both culturally and politically) we might occasionally hear the term “dogwhistles”, generally talking about how hate groups and extremists, knowing that overt hate speech or direct discussions of their goal of eradication and suppression will be met with the normal and appropriate level of disgust and rejection by the general populace, will code their language and/or try to find ways to subtly nod to their fellow extremeists without breaking TOS on any given platform or alerting the other people around them to the insidious shit they’re trying to pull off. this is widely known to be A Thing That Hate Groups Do in our cultural sphere, which has the unfortunate but understandable and inevitable side effect of making people very suspicious whenever people are unclear or fail to be specific and vocal about the things they stand for and believe in. this is a case where i’m concerned that it’s possible the person asking was trying to gently field where i stand on a few issues right now.

the long answer is long.

to get into that long answer and elaborate a little more on why i feel the need to be more specific now than i might have been previously, i started writing Taking Shots, oh, i dunno, six years ago? 2018 or so? if this is the first anyone is hearing of it, yes, antisemitism and fascism in general have been a problem in the internet sphere of culture for quite some time. i decided i wanted to include a few discussions of diversity in Taking Shots peripherally to flesh out the world more since i had the option of adding in so much flavor text with a setting we don’t explore at all in the comics or source material, and having sniper and spy as central characters in a context that’s already talking about religion (the christmas special) felt like a good time to organically explore these conversations about judaism and religion and spirituality and holidays and that sort of thing.

and now the year is 2024 and the vibe in the room is going to be a little bit different when i have the jewish characters talking about their culture and opinions on traditions, because there’s going to be the question in the back of some readers’ minds of, “oh, god, i hope this isn’t a zionist dogwhistle”.

this is something i earnestly think about a lot. there’s a point where i most likely won’t be bothered if someone chooses to interpret me in bad faith. i’m aware that the person who sees me writing spy and sniper shaking hands and going “being jewish is great! we have a beautiful and diverse culture!” and starts telling the newspaper that i think the palestinian genocide is fun and cool is, in the kindest interpretation possible, deeply misguided about how to help other people, and that their opinion is misinformed. but that doesn’t let me off the hook and mean i can just sort of… back away slowly to avoid anyone ever possibly getting mad at me. i value my integrity, and i value how my actions (or inaction) and words (or silence) impact people.

i think that there’s nuance, and i understand that i need to exist somewhere on the gradient between “making a banner that lists all the hot button topics and a few extra ones and my stances on all of them so people don’t have to worry about me being one of The Bad People and a pinned post where i read every individual hate group i can think of the riot act and tell them to leave me alone” or “so vague and avoidant about world issues or politics or current events, so completely allergic to the idea of talking about things that might sort me into either Minority or Oppressor, that it comes across as dogwhistle-y and deeply suspicious because it clearly takes a lot of work that could instead be put into caring about these things”. i’m also not interested in making this space one that i use for social justice and awareness, and i don’t think anyone else is interested in that being what i do here either. there are other people perfectly qualified to do that work and maintain those spaces, and they do. someone who wants to engage with short essays or articles about human dignity will likely find themselves doing that, and not here where i do my thing. because that’s not really what we do here.

the thing i do here is write stories and make art. in a lot of those stories and art, i engage with these social justice discussions by framing things with compassion and empathy. my earnest hope is that a reader in good faith would be able to gather my stances on topics, diversity in particular, by reading the things i’ve made and seeing the way i conduct myself and the way i engage with other people. i’m not scared of being direct, or of sharing my opinion outside of the stuff i make, but i’m aware that it’s a different metric entirely by which to judge people, to see what they say in defense of themselves rather than in what they do, what they make, what they clearly care about when their moral character isn’t the topic of discussion.

i limit what i do here by a pretty wide margin. in my life offline, i engage plenty with humanitarian issues. probably the one most identifiable to people around me is environmentalism, but there are others, these things tend to be intersectional. i try to contribute to causes in ways outside of media influence and ‘raising awareness’ in whatever metric you might use for that. this space is just a different thing, to me.

but it is important to be transparent. it is important that the vulnerable people engaging with the things i make can do so without being nervous that i have ill intentions.

nuance. i dunno. i don’t think there’s a singular correct answer. i think there’s instead a series of choices we all make, over and over, where we’re always trying to do what we think is the right thing.

refusing to be vulnerable enough to share my earnest opinion on this feels, itself, like bad faith engagement. i want to have enough integrity and accountability to overcome that sometimes. this is a conversation i know i’m going to keep having every single day and every single time i make something and share it with people and i’m not scared of that.

i don’t ever want to reach the point where i need to share huge swathes of my personal life and identity to ‘justify’ my ‘right’ to have conversations about [insert culture or minority status or identity here]. i don’t even really love sharing things like my specific gender identity markers or first name or age, for (again) personal reasons. at a certain point there needs to be good faith engagement from the viewer as well.

none of this was even the question.

i wanted to specify my stance on palestine since i’m aware that it’s inevitably going to come up sometime soon once i start having the characters talk about jewish culture since that’s at the forefront of a lot of people’s minds. i’m aware that it’s probably over-cautious, i’m fine with taking the risk that i come across as clumsy. i’m specifying less because i’m worried about bad faith interpretation and more because, even if i’ve explicitly mentioned my stance on antisemitism, it’s still probably been a while, and fascism is a persistent, creeping thing that needs to be chased away actively with a broom and a spray bottle.

thank you for your concern. i hope this has helped.

Hello! I really liked the recent chapter you posted. I'm excited to see more :]

Do you mind elaborating on Spy's jewishness? It's a very fun headcanon and I'd like to learn what you think about it ^_^

sure! first of all 🍉🍉🍉 to be clear

sniper and spy are the only two who i’ve explicitly stated as jewish within the text, i think, and likely the only two for whom it’s going to come up super frequently, but i also do think that tony’s wife theresa is jewish, as is collin’s wife lily, and i don’t think any singular one of them is the classic Monolith To Represent An Entire Culture Singularly.

i imagine spy was somewhat heavier on tradition for himself, more orthodox, follows kosher, that sort of thing, and that if his family were still physically present enough to be part of his life they would be absolutely flabbergasted that he married an irish catholic woman and even more flabbergasted at how chill she is about it. i imagine spy is a pretty private guy but went out of his way to stay in contact with the judeo-french community in boston. this would’ve been around, like, ~1940 or so? the O’Connell family i always believed to be closer to South End, which was historically a cultural hub in the city. him being part of espionage efforts as a teen throughout the 20s means that he had a pretty unusual immigrant experience for that reason, but i thought it was more interesting to sort of keep spy more grounded in reality compared to the team fortressing of the rest of the peripheral landscape. some of the older boys who remember when spy was around remember how hard spy and ma worked to celebrate the holidays for both catholic traditions and french jewish traditions, and archie for example has tried to pass that on to his own kids as well.

sniper meanwhile i have grounded as kind of the ‘my family is jewish but um y’know not in the way that people hate’ brand ‘palatable immigrant or different culture trying not to take up space in a place that is not necessarily friendly to outsiders’ story. his mum and dad were the only jewish people in their relatively small community by the time sniper was a young boy and they really did try to keep up traditions, but it’s hard when you have no outside support to help reinforce that stuff. sniper has a (relatable) internal sense of being both an outsider to the predominant culture while also not feeling confident enough in it being ‘his culture’ to make any claims for himself. i imagine that if he could meet some of spy’s old buddies in boston and connect a little more with the diaspora he would be able to start feeling more of that pride and connection, but as it is he’s caught between dodging antisemitism and denying a culture that does matter to him but in a way that’s difficult to verbalize and not often asked about.

i think spy and sniper might bicker about it at times in later chapters, next chapter in particular. scout’s ma is definitely going to make at least one more comment about scout getting married to a nice jewish boy though. that trope in media about east coasters is just too much of a staple to pass up.

[nickfowlerrr]

go your own way

GIF by vanillanaps

pairings: steve rogers x curvy!reader, bucky barnes x curvy!reader, mentioned stucky x reader

warnings: angst. mentioned steve x reader smut but not described. little bit of bucky x reader fluff.

words: 1382

notes: just found this little guy in my docs and added to it some. this was part of what i had originally planned for always before i decided to make it just bucky x reader bc it was getting off track with this side story lol. i hope you like this, thank you in advance for reading. let me know what you think!

also also! new banner and dividers by @shadeysprings. she has design commissions open if you want to get your own made. absolutely recommend! 🩵

“I shouldn’t have said any of that. I know you care about him. I’m sorry.”

A tense silence began to grow between you two. So much unsaid, but you couldn’t keep this up much longer.

It’d been a long two years without Steve, and these past few months since he’d been back had been difficult to say the least.

“He misses you, ya know. We both do..”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your hand in his before you pulled it away, mindlessly clenching your hand into a fist before you stretched it out, working to get the feeling of his touch off your skin.

“Yeah, I know,” you said a bit harshly before you cleared your throat. “I should grab his bag.”

You moved to go upstairs to get Bucky’s stuff from the room you’d claimed last night, but stopped a little ways up the steps. “I really am sorry, Steve,” you said once more.

He watched you continue up the stairs, leaving him to his thoughts once again. “So am I,” he offered to no one.

-

He hated the animosity between the two of you. Hated how reactive you were to his touch, how easily he could set you off, and not in the way he used to. He wanted things to be different, to go back to the way it was before. But he also knew he wasn’t ready. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt either of you, though he knew he already had.

He thought going away was for the better. You and Bucky were happy, and though you’d talked about all of you coming together, making things official, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea. It seemed too complicated, and he still had things he needed to work out on his own.

It was only supposed to be a few months away, and he’d promised to stay in touch. But months turned into years and not even five months after he’d gone he had ditched his old phone. No one but Sam and Nat had his new number and they kept it to themselves. He was working, he’d tell himself, trying to make himself feel better, though he knew he could head home anytime he wanted. He checked his email often, but he couldn’t find it in him to respond to you. Eventually, the messages stopped coming... He missed your writings, your updates, your concern, but he couldn’t reach out to you to let you know that.

A few months ago, after a call from Sam, he was on his way back to the states. Back to the compound. Back to you.

Bucky had welcomed him with open arms, but you were, rightfully, cold.

Distant.

He wasn’t used to that coming from you, but he couldn’t say he hadn’t expected it.

It took some time before things felt cordial between you, and a bit longer still before things felt friendly. And then, two weeks ago, he had screwed up.

He knew he wasn’t ready for you, his mind wasn’t in the right place for a relationship, but when he found you in Bucky’s bed, sulking and missing him while he was away with Sam on a mission, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to comfort you.

Talking turned into innocent touching, which turned to cuddling, that led to kissing, and before he knew what he was doing, you were a moaning mess beneath him as he took you apart. Over and over until you’d passed out.

He took care of you then, too. Cleaned you up before tucking you into Bucky’s bed. A part of him wanted to stay, to be there when you woke up, but a stronger part told him to go before he made matters worse.

The next day you met him in the kitchen.

The look on your face when he told you the previous night had been a mistake was one he’d never forget. The look of hurt and shock at his words ate him up inside. But he knew it was for the better. For now.

“It isn’t about you or Bucky, it’s about me. I’m sorry, I am. But I’m not ready to be involved right now. And it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just-”

“I get it, Steve. It’s just, it’s been two and a half years. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to rush you into anything. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, and I know that’s an understatement, I just… I guess I just missed you,” you admitted quietly.

“I missed you, too.”

“I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I know what you’re going through, because I don’t. But this is hard for us, too. It’s not easy to be around you. To have to stop myself from just coming up to you like I used to. To have to stop myself from being so goddamn angry at you for leaving so easily in the first place, without a word to either of us. Because I am mad. And I’m hurt. And not just for me, for Bucky, too. Because he doesn’t have it in him to be upset at you,” your voice wavers in your emotion, “but he has every damn right to be. I know you’re going through a lot, but you’ve put us through a lot, too. And maybe you’re right, maybe last night was a mistake. But it’s not mine. I don’t regret it. I know how I feel about you. But I also know you’re not ready. So, maybe keeping our distance is for the best right now.”

He took a second, absorbing all of what you said before he agreed. “Yeah,” he nodded solemnly, “we should.”

-

You weren’t sure what you were expecting that night, but his readiness to agree with you was not it. Some part had been hoping he’d fight you on it. Say he didn’t want to keep the distance, that he wanted you, that he was sorry for the way he left, sorry for the hurt he caused the both of you, that he’d pull you into him and say he’d had enough time and he wasn’t scared anymore and he wants to be with you both. Both you got nothing. Nothing but a stupidly sad pout and a nod.

You had blinked at him, and he didn’t have the heart to look back up at you. That was for the better, you’ve since realized, because you’d had to turn away before you let the tears that burned in your eyes slip.

It’d been two weeks, and of course you told Bucky everything as soon as he was settled from his mission. He listened intently, talked everything out with you, held you when you couldn’t help but cry again about it all. Bucky understood. It wasn’t like he was just some ex you could get over. He was Steve.

“I know it hurts,” he had said, “but he’ll have to find his way into this on his own if he really wants to. He says he has things to figure out on his own, then we just gotta let him. He knows we’re here. He’ll come when he’s ready.”

Bucky’s words ring in your ear as you head up to get his stuff from the room. You can hear the water running from his shower downstairs already. You’re beyond glad he’s safe - you know you were a complete disaster worrying about him all night - and you’re so thankful Steve was there for him when you couldn’t be. You just wish more than anything you could be in their combined embrace right now; you know you aren’t the only one who needs it. You can still feel Steve’s touch on your hand as you gather yours and Bucky’s things, and your stomach twists as your heart aches and your thoughts worry. You’re moving fast, bordering on desperate to get back to Bucky - make sure he really is okay, to hold him close and not let him go for the rest of the night, but not fast enough to outrun the thoughts that keep coming back to Steve.

Bucky says he’ll come when he’s ready…What if he decides he’s never gonna be?

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

The Apothecary’s Travel Guide Chapter 1

Quickly, before we begin, I want to set some things straight about this little fic series.

This fic will use Fem!Reader in both pronouns and body descriptions. I usually stick to gender neutral stuff, but this fic just works better with a female main character in mind (or at least I think so).

While I won’t be going into actual nsfw stuff (maybe in the future, I haven’t decided), this fic will still contain sexual themes and scenarios. This fic is meant for older teens and up. I don’t write with a young audience in mind, both for this fic and in general.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Apothecary Diaries (wtf are you doing here, go watch it), the series takes place in a fictional version of Imperial China. You don’t absolutely need to watch it to read this fic, but you will have a better understanding of things if you have (also, it’s just a really good show, very well written with one of the best female protags I’ve ever seen).

Also, this fic starts before Sunset, so the whole “Twilight is Wolfie” and “Hyrule can heal” things are not known yet.

–

It felt a little strange to be back in the busy streets of the pleasure district after spending months in the rear palace. But it was the good kind of strange. The smell of grilled meat skewers that you missed so much, the paper lanterns hanging overhead, people haggling for better prices in the street side shops, playing games on the side of the road, or drinking tea in teahouses. And of course, beautiful women calling men over to offer ‘special services’ in the many brothels.

It’s a sight you’re all too familiar with. Having grown up here, raised by the women of the famous Verdigris House, these things did not phase you. One would think that working in the palace would be quite the change of pace, but if there’s one thing that you’ve learned over the past however many months, it is that the palace and brothels aren’t all that different. A beautiful caged garden full of flowers for the emperor to enjoy looking upon.

In truth, if you had the choice, you would not want to have anything to do with the imperial palace, but given your situation, what could you do? You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and sold off to the palace back then and you didn’t ask to be promoted to lady in waiting to one of the four highest ranking concubines. You were doing just fine as an apothecary back in the pleasure district, thank you very much.

You had originally attempted to stay low, worked as a simple, low ranking servant until your contract expired and then head home. You hid any signs of value that could get you promoted; you hid your ability to read and write, as well as hid your ‘true beauty’ so you wouldn’t become a concubine (even if a servant could only ever become a low ranking concubine). Any extra money you would have earned  from those promotions would just be swiped by your kidnappers, anyway. At least you still got paid for your regular work.

Had things originally gone according to your plan, you would have worked hard and been released within three years. However, now that goal post has been moved quite a bit.

But you shouldn't be thinking about work right now; it was your day off, after all. You were back home (after managing to haggle your way into them letting you leave the palace) and that’s all that matters right now.

I should get some radishes and chicken for soup tonight. You thought as you walked down the street of the makeshift market. You hoped that your father had been eating well. He was never all that good at feeding himself. If he was starving for a few days, the old lady from the Verdigris House would force something down his throat.

Speaking of the Verdigris House, you should probably head there later. Both to say hello to your ‘big sisters,’ but also so you could take a bath there. They’d likely want some medicine, too, now that you thought about it. The last time you delivered medicine there was the day you got kidnapped.

Heh. Even on my day off I’m running errands.

With your little morning shopping excursion done, you stuffed the ingredients into the basket you carried on your back and started heading to that familiar little shack you affectionately called home. Dad should be in the fields tending to the plants right now. Honestly, he was getting too old for that trek, especially with his busted knee, but you couldn’t deny that he loved that little garden he’s cultivated over the years. Not like you were any different when it comes to your passion for medicinal herbs. As your master, he taught you everything you know about medicine; what herbs work in which situations, what to use and what to avoid, how to make medicine, what plants, mushrooms and animals were poisonous and which weren’t, etc. He was a very learned man, having studied both eastern and western medicine. With a few more years of teaching, you might be as good as him, or you hoped so, at least.

Finally you reached the calm little neighbourhood you grew up in. It was on the very outskirts of the city, not even protected by the tall stone brick walls. Looking at the small sizes of the houses, barely larger than your average shack, told people that this was where the poor lived. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Truth be told, your father was an excellent medical expert, even having worked in the palace before from what you’ve heard, but for all his skill and knowledge, he had terrible luck, which is why he ended up living here instead of somewhere more fitting for his stature.

But when you got to your little childhood home, you were met with a worrying sight. A woman you didn’t recognise, worry and uncertainty written on her face, knocking on the front door of your home. That’s strange, did she need medicine? You didn’t recognise her servant uniform, but she seemed to be from one of the inns in the area.

You called out, catching her attention immediately. “Are you looking for the apothecary? He’s currently out, but I can leave him a message.”

“Please help, it’s a medical emergency! Someone’s been poisoned!”

Your face immediately turned serious as you dropped your belongings before running inside the shack to retrieve an emergency med kit. “Lead me to them.”

--

People had gathered around the doorway of the inn, clearly all in a panic, but not sure on what to do.

“I brought the apothecary. Please step out of the way.” The two of you moved past the seemingly small army of staff and patrons.

What you saw seemed to match what the woman had told you before. A man lying on the bed, restless, breathing erratically, hands clenching at the fabric of his clothes right over his heart. Immediately you entered your ‘work mode,’ practically diving next to the man. First, a physical check up.

You pried open the man’s eyes, looking into them; you checked his pulse and stuck a finger into his mouth. Judging from the spittle running down his chin and trace amounts of sick on the bed sheets and his blue scarf, it’s safe to say that he had vomited. Still, you pressed down on his solar plexus to induce more of it. It would help expel whatever caused this reaction, but it would also dehydrate him. There was a hrrk, and spit came pouring out of his mouth, which you wiped away with the bedsheets you had gripped.

Suddenly, a new man with brown hair and eyes came running through the door with what seemed to be a waterskin in his hands.

He was just about to offer the water to the man you were tending to, but you shouted at him: “Don’t let him drink that! Charcoal- we need charcoal!” The startled man dropped the item onto the floor, but recovered just as quickly, running off once again to retrieve the required item.

You repeated this process several times on the victim; making him vomit, wiping the bile away ad nauseum until nothing but stomach acid came out. The man was able to breathe much easier now, no longer hyperventilating. Thankfully, at your request, the charcoal had arrived just in time, which you quickly ground up with your mortar and pestle.

“This’ll be rough on his throat, but it’ll flush the toxins out of his body.” You spoke as you poured the fine powder into his mouth. Some of the men, who you assumed to be the patient’s associates, had gathered around the two of you, clearly worried.

“Wa… Water. Please…” Those were the first words you heard him speak, weak, but nonetheless a sign that he was recovering.

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to endure this a little bit longer.”

Though unhappy, he accepted and resigned himself to his scratchy and dry throat for the time being. Finally you were able to remove yourself from the bedside, letting the other men move the patient while the inn’s servant ladies removed the soiled linens.

First damn thing in the morning and I already have to deal with an emergency. I only just got back. You grumbled in your mind as you looked at your filthy hand. Ugh. I really need a bath. You sighed both from relief and exhaustion.

“You doin’ okay, Captain?” One of the taller men with brown hair asked while holding him up so he could stand.

The patient - now identified as ‘Captain’ - took a breath. “Much better.” He then turned his attention towards you. “Thank you. I was certain that I was a goner.”

“I am simply doing my job. There is no need to thank me.” Utilising some water in a pitcher that one of the servants offered, you wiped your hands with a damp cloth.

You then took out a wooden slip, wrote just a couple characters on it and handed it over to the servant woman who you first encountered. “Deliver this to doctor Luomen and bring him here. He should be by the south wall.”

With that, the servant gave you and everyone else in the room a small bow before leaving.

The man with a blue hat turned his attention to the patient, who had once again been laid down onto the cleaned up bed. “Now I know that stuff took you out; you didn’t even try to flirt with your “guardian angel”.”

“So that’s your impression of me?” The sarcasm in his voice was evident. “Glad to know that it took me almost kicking the bucket to change your opinion.”

--

Within about half an hour, the servant had returned, your father in tow. It took longer than you had hoped, but given your father’s age and condition, it wasn’t all that surprising.

He took a good look at the patient and asked some questions.

“I suppose you did an adequate job here.” He gave you his trademark gentle smile after he was done with his examination.

“‘Adequate’?” You ask, annoyed.

A man who you assumed to be the owner of the inn came into the room. “Thank you, doctor Luomen. You are the best medical expert one could ask for.”

“Don’t thank me. My daughter did all the hard work.”

“Tell me, how much do we owe you? Name your price.”

“There’s really no need-”

You nudge your father’s side with your elbow. “Can you pay rent this month?”

“Ah… Well, in that case, I’ll take the usual fee.”

This was one of his habits; undercharging for his work, or even failing to charge at all, much to your distress. You understood the desire not to take money from people who were already struggling to get by, but this was not the case.

A tall blond man in heavy armour came up to you, holding out a small-ish sack. “Please, allow us to reimburse you as well. We owe you a lot.” Seeing no reason not to, you accepted the item.

With that, your father and the inn’s owner head into another room to discuss payment, leaving you to gather up your tools.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed a few of the men fidgeting nervously or giving each other glances. They obviously wanted to say something. You didn’t know why they were hesitating. Sure, you might have sharp, mean-looking eyes and you didn’t smile all the time, but there’s no reason for these numerous grown men to act like this around you.

“Can I help you?” You broke the ice. No point in delaying this.

The one who you assumed to be the leader cleared his throat. “Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions we have. We’re travellers from afar, you see, and we don’t know much about this place or nation.”

They came all this way here and they don’t know the first thing about where they are? “You’re in the country of Li, specifically in the capital city of both the nation and the Central Province. I’m not going to judge how you choose to spend your time, but if you wanted to go sightseeing, I wouldn’t exactly recommend coming to the pleasure district first.” You raised an eyebrow. Just who were these people?

You saw that a few of the mens’ faces had turned bright red when they realised where they were. “Ha! Told you that this is where we ended up.”

“Are you implying that you frequent these kinds of places, Captain?” It sure seemed like these two had a penchant for arguing. Even during the time while you were waiting for your father to arrive, you noticed that they kept butting heads.

“Enough, you two.” The oldest shot them a quick glare. “Either way, it’s good we left Wind with Four back at the city outskirts. Both because of the inappropriate nature of this place- no offence…”

You shrugged. “None taken.”

“... But so that they wouldn’t have to see you get in trouble like this.”

“You are the apothecary here, right? If so, then you should be familiar with people who have gotten injuries.” You nodded. “Have you heard anything about encounters with any strong monsters, particularly those with black blood?”

Alright, now you were really confused. Monsters? Black blood? Was this some kind of way of informing you of a new disease spreading among the troops of enemy nations? But if so, why not tell this to an army physician instead of a random apothecary?

“Can’t say that I have.” You spoke up after having given it some thought. “Though I have to admit that I have been working in the inner court for the past few months, so I’m not caught up on the goings on outside the palace walls. But if you are telling the truth, I’m certain I would have heard rumours.” Thinking back, Xiaolan - a girl you had grown a friendship with when you were a simple servant at the palace - sure loved her gossip, and if there was one thing she loved more, it was sharing that gossip with you over tasty snacks and food.

“Thank you anyways.”

While this conversation didn’t seem like it yielded much, it did get your gears turning. It was time to do some espionage- or rather, some investigating. Something you’ve gotten pretty good at lately, if you said so yourself.

“Please wait here while I get you some medicine.” With a quick bow you left the room. In truth you had already prepared the medicine while waiting for your father to arrive, but this was still a convenient excuse.

As quietly as you could you hid yourself behind the sliding door and pressed your ear against it. Sure enough, once the men in the room believed you to be gone, they started talking. Words like “monsters,” “eras,” “shadow” and others got thrown around as if it was common knowledge, yet it only served to confuse - and intrigue - you further. One thing was certain; these were not your regular, run-of-the-mill travellers.

Your earlier talk also gave you an opportunity to scrutinise their appearances. Given their unfamiliar clothes and armour, plus features like light coloured hair and eyes, and their utter lack of knowledge of where they even were, you assumed them to be from a distant land, the west, most likely. But that was before you noticed one curious detail that they all shared; pointed ears.

This one thing had you calling things into question. Sure, the world was a large place, but in all your years of studying medicine and the human body, you’ve never heard of any group of peoples with such a distinctive feature.

But now came the question of what to do. What were you going to do about this suspicious group? Should you report them in case they were here to cause trouble? To be honest, you didn’t want to get involved. No point in sticking your neck out for these strangers and possibly risk getting accused of treason. You’ve done your job, you healed them, and you’re about to give them their medicine and leave. There’s no need to let them occupy your mind anymore. You’d steer clear of them from now on. Yeah, that sounded good.

Finally, you pretended to have returned from your ‘excursion’ and knocked on the door. Given the sudden silence from the room, it was safe to assure that whatever they were talking about was not for others to hear.

Walking up to the Captain still in bed, you handed over a small paper bag. “Please take this for the next few days. It’ll ease your stomach and help with getting rid of any lingering toxins. I would recommend drinking it as tea.”

The one who you had identified as ‘Legend’ from when you were listening in groaned. “Ugh. This whole thing’s been a wash. You guys ready to head back to camp?”

A unanimous ‘yes’ was heard.

--

Ironically enough, you could not get those men out of your head. Was your intuition trying to tell you that there was something wrong with them? Or were you simply curious? They were certainly the most interesting people you’ve met in some time.

They had already left the inn and you had headed in a different direction. You did finally manage to get that warm bath you were looking forward to. And getting to speak to your ‘big sisters’ at the Verdigris House was nice. But still your mind was occupied with something else. Damn it, this was supposed to be your day off, but you haven’t been able to relax completely!

You kicked a small rock in front of you in frustration. Hopefully having dinner with your dad would help alleviate your problem.

Suddenly you felt an all too familiar feeling of being pulled backwards.

Well, this wouldn’t be your first kidnapping.

--

And Wars will have to suffer through that dry, ashy throat for the remainder of this fic- lol jk.

A.N Fun fact: did you know that other than Twilight (who has lived among humans for a long time), technically, Legend is the one who has interacted with humans the most? The people of Koholint Island had short, round ears, as did the people of Holodrum (Oracle of Seasons), Labrynna (Oracle of Ages) and Hytopia (Tri Force Heroes).

[scar-lie]

Virgin [Scarlett]

I DO COMMISSION JUST DM ME FOR THE INFO

Summary : Y/N’s first is Scarlett

Pairing : Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Warning : Virgin (R), cursing, using a word pee, I thin that’s all

Word count : 2,427

18+ Minor DNI, read at your own risk

ORIGINALLY POSTED IN WATTPAD

No one has my permission to repost my work in any social media and writing platform, if you see it, please let me know

Me and Scarlett have been dating for over 5 months now, and I know that Scar wants to take our relationship to another level and wants to have sex with me.

Well, I want too, but the problem is, I'm so scared. I'm still a virgin, a 27-year-old woman, and still a virgin. I just can't bring myself to have sex with my exes; I'm just not comfortable having them be my first

Plus, I'm not yet ready for those times, and I was debating because what if Scar leaves me because I'm still a virgin?

But I know I'm ready now, and I want Scar to be my first. I trust her with my life.

We've been dating for over 5 months, and I can't resist not thinking of her sexually, like I'm going to wake up beside her and she's just in her thong and my t-shirt without a bra.

—

SCARLETT

And something she will just wear a thong and stay in bed reading a book like, 'How am I supposed to do when I see my sexy, gorgeous girlfriend in just her thong in our bed laying down being all gorgeous without even trying too?"

—

So I became touchy with her these past few weeks, but she brushes it off every time I make a move. Maybe she's not ready yet, plus I still didn't tell her about my friend down there, so I decided to try again.

I enter our bedroom and see her in the bed looking at the window outside and again in just her thong and my t-shirt, so I approach her.

"Hey, what are you thinking?" I asked her, bringing her out of her head.

I lay besides her, and she turned around, looking at me. She moved in with me two months ago, and those two months were amazing.

"Nothing, just some stuff." She whispered and got on top of me, legs either side of me.

"Some stuff?" I comb her hair, and she hums, resting her left-side head on my chest.

"What stuff?" I whisper, and she starts to kiss and suck on my collar bone.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, trying not to moan.

"Mmhh nothing," she mumbled, and I took off of her a little bit to look at her.

"I-I'm ready," she shyly said, looking at my eyes, and sat up, getting her center to contact my cock.

I groan and grip her hips; she looks at me confused, so I just bite my lips.

"Ready?" I asked her to sit up, leaning against the headboard with her, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready to have sex with you." I squeeze her hips and look deeply into her eyes to make sure that she's ready and wants this.

"Are you sure?" She nodded frantically and drew some shapes on my chest.

"Yes, I'm 100 percent sure; I want to have sex with you." She leans in and kisses me, so I kiss her back. At first, it was a slow, passionate kiss that turned into a heated one. My hands are now traveling around her body, and my pants are getting tighter. I broke the kiss and looked her in the eyes.

"I have something to tell you first." She frowned but nodded.

I sigh and guide her hips to sit in my bulge. I groan when her center comes into contact with my bulge, and she moans.

"Bu-but you're a woman.......how?" I thought she didn't want it, but she started grinning, and I threw my head back, squeezing her hips.

"I-I'm.....intersex baby......I'm a woman with a dick; it's the best of both worlds." I smirk and dry hump her, which makes her moan.

"Mmhh... That's so hot." She threw her head back, so I sat up and nipped her neck, turning us around so she was laying down in the bed and I was on top of her.

I kiss her passionately until I go down to her jaw and neck, nipping it. I tugged at the shirt she was wearing while looking into her eyes, asking for permission, and she nodded while biting her lips.

I slowly take it off with my shirt too, and I take off my bra and pants, so we're just leaving in our underwear, her in a thong and me in my boxer.

I admire her gorgeous, sexy body while biting my lips, then she just covers herself with her arm, blushing, so I kiss her cheeks and take off her arms that were covering her breast.

"Hey, you're beautiful; you don't have to cover yourself; you are gorgeous, love," I say, and she smiles at it and cups my face, then kisses me.

"It's not that." I raise my eyebrows to indicate that I want her to continue, and she sighs.

"It's just that no one has seen me naked before besides my mom and... and I-I'm still a virgin." She whispers, but I can hear her loud and clear.

A smile creeps into my face, knowing that no one has ever touched her before and that I'll be her first.

"Really? It's ok, baby; that's a privilege for me, baby." I smile, pecking her lips.

"I-I'm scared," she whispers, and I put my hand on her cheeks.

"It's ok, baby; we will go at your pace; if you feel uncomfortable, tell me, and I'll stop. If you want me to stop, tell me, and I'll stop; if you want me to slow down, we will. We will go at your pace, baby, ok?" I kiss her forehead, and she nods.

"Do you really want to do this? Do you really want me to be your first?" I asked, making sure this is what she wants.

"Yes, I want this; I'm ready, and I trust you. I want you to be my first." I nod and start kissing her lips.

Slow, passionate kiss at first, going into a heated kiss until she feels comfortable, and put her hand at the back of my neck and the back of my head, massaging it to deepen the kiss.

I snake my hand between our bodies and play with her thong, and I pull out, looking at her lustful eyes.

"Can I take this off?" I whisper, and she nods.

I sit up and take her thong off slowly, and she just watches me while biting her lips until I take it off.

I spread her legs slowly, like she was spreading them by herself. I see her wet cunt wanting to be touched.

"So beautiful," I whisper, slowly diving in and giving her a kitten lick.

She moans softly, and I get addicted instantly. I put her legs over my shoulder, holding her hips, and continued to lick her.

While I was licking her and playing with her clit I was watching her, eyes closed, and savoring the pleasure she was experiencing, and it was a big turn-on for me.

She places her hand in my head, grabs a handful of my hair, and moans loudly when I suck on her clitorial area. I kept doing that until she cum

I licked and swallowed all of her juice, which was so sweet, and she was whimpering. I pull my head away and spit in her center, then open her fold to see that her hymen is a virgin. A tiny, super tiny hole can be seen.

I bite my lips and lick them. After that, I sit up and lean down to kiss her, but she stops me.

"Wait......." she's still recovering from her high, so I run my hand up and down to her thighs. "

"What is it, love?" I asked, and she sat up by her elbow while she had a blush on.

"Ca-can I.....see it?" She asked shyly, and she was eyeing my bulge. I smirked.

"See what?" I asked, playing dumb, and she looked away, and a crimson red was shown in her cheeks. I massaged her thighs.

"You can ask anything, love; there's no need to be embarrassed." She looked at me and down at my bulge again.

"Ca-can I see.... you-your dick?" I chuckled at her cuteness, and that makes her blush more.

"Of course, baby," I say, standing up and taking off my boxers that reveal my thick, veiny 9-inch dick.

And I go between her bent legs; she just looks at my cock with wide eyes and her mouth open, then she gulps.

"I-it's.....big" She stutters, and I lean down while I push her gently in her back, kissing her to distract her.

"I-I don't think it will fit in." She whispered between our kisses.

"Just relax, baby, and enjoy." I whisper and run my tip over her folds, hitting her clit area, which makes her moan in my mouth.

After some foreplay, I align my length and look at her in the eyes.

"I'm going to go in now, baby," I say, and she nods.

"Ok," I slowly push in, making her gasp and hold my shoulder, nails digging in my shoulder and squirming. I groan because of how tight she is; she's suffocating my cock.

"AAHH it....hurts" She said this in pain while half of my length was already inside her; she was clenching around me, which made me groan.

"I know, baby, I know. I promise the pain will go soon." I keep kissing and nipping her sweet spot under her ear to distract her from the pain.

"Tell me when it's ok to move, ok?" She nodded, scratching my back.

I keep distracting her from the pain, and there are tears slipping out of her eyes, so I wipe them off and kiss her lips.

"You can move now," she said, so I moved until I bottomed out.

"I-It still hurts," she said, and I sucked her right nipple and slowly pulling out.

"Aaahhhhh, Sc-scarlett" She moans but is still in pain, so I slowly move in and out, looking at her to see if she's hurt or not.

"Is it still hurting?" I asked; she's still scratching my back, and it'll probably leave marks there for the next morning.

"A little bit, but... this feels so good." She threw her head back, and I took that as an opportunity to suck her neck, leaving a mark.

"Aaahhh, Scarlett...... Can you go faster?" She asked, moaning, so I picked up my pace while sucking her neck.

And she's a moaning mess, so I play with her nipples with my right hand.

"Aahhhhh, it feels so......good!" She moans, and I can feel she's close.

"You're so warm and tight, baby," I whispered, burying my face in her neck while picking up my pace.

"AAAHHHHHH, SCARLETT......I'M GO-GONNA PEE......... STOP I'M GONNA- I NEED TO PEE." She screamed, but I didn't stop.

"You're gonna cum baby; let it go baby cum for me." She's a moaning mess still holding her orgasm, and I'm close too.

So I reach between our bodies to circle my index and middle fingers in her clit, which makes her scream.

"AAAAHHHHHH..........I CAN-CAN'T HOLD IT ANYM-" She got cut off when her orgasm approached her while she screamed my name very loudly. I think all the neighbors heard her.

"Aaaahhhh!" I moan because she's clenching around me, which makes me want to cum right away, but I hold it and try to pull out, but she's sucking me in.

"Fuucckk," I moan while she's still in her high, and when I get a chance to pull out, I pull out and jerk off a little bit until I cum in her stomach, chest, and a little bit in the sheets.

"Aaahh, fuck. That's amazing," I moan, throwing my head back when I've already unloaded my loads.

I look down and see her still recovering from her high. I lay beside her and put her on top of me. My cum was between us, but we didn't care.

I kiss her head and comb her hair while drawing little shapes on her back. We are still on high, catching our breath.

"You ok?" I whisper, and she looks up at me, resting her chin on my chest, and she smiles.

"Yeah, I'm better than okay." And she pecked my lips and buried her face in my neck.

"Was it good? Did I ruin your first?" I whisper, and she shakes her head.

"No, it was amazing; I couldn't ask for a better first." I can feel her smiling against my neck, so I look at her.

Her eyes close while smiling, ready to get some sleep, so I peck her cheeks and whisper in her ears.

"Let's go clean up, baby. Aftercare is important, as is love. Come on, let's take a bath." I whispered and sat up with her, but she didn't dare to move even a little.

"Can't we just sleep? I'm so tired.....plus I can't move; it hurts down there." I chuckled and kissed her lips.

"Go, baby, sleep; I'll take care of us, I say, and I stand up with her.

I put my hands under her ass for support, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I go to our bathroom and run the water in the bath to get the right temperature, which is warm for the both of us.

I put her on the counter while we waited, and her head is still on my neck, so I play with her hair until the water is ready for us.

I put both of us in the bath, her between my legs and her back lying in my front. I laid my back in the tub, and she hummed.

"Mmmm, this feels good," she mumbled, and I chuckled, starting to get her hair wet, put on shampoo, and massage her hair.

I just wash both of us while we relax, especially her. On the way, she fell asleep, so I let her sleep and dried us and put clothes on us. I made her wear my boxer and shirt, and so did I.

When I finished dressing us up, I went to the couch here in our room and laid her there, then I changed our sheets.

After that, I pick her up, and we go to bed. I lay her on top of me, and I comb her hair.

"I love you, my love; I'll always do." I whisper to her ear, then I fall asleep too with her peaceful; she's in my arms safe and sound.

[tropes-and-tales]

My Best Friend’s Girl, Part Seven

Characters:  Santiago “Pope” Garcia and F!Reader

WC:  4302

Other Pieces:  This is part of a series, which can be found here.

CW:  Angst (oblique talk of addiction).  Smut (PiV, protected; implied oral, m!receiving; light roleplay).  18+ only.

AN:  As proofed as anything I publish here, which is to say:  this is full of typos.

Six months. That’s how long you have to wait for Santiago to come home.  He has to run out his contract, wrap up his loose ends in Colombia while you wait for him in Florida.

You’re busy, of course.  You fill your hours – you work on the edits for your second book, you consult on the script based on your memoir.  You hang out with friends.  You work on your house, stripping paint and refinishing the built-in wood features of your home.  Slowly, the glory of the original home emerges, and you start to get furniture, start to decorate.

There’s a big fireplace in the living room, and you set framed pictures along the mantel. A picture of you and your father. One of you on the Appalachian Trail, a nice selfie you managed to take as you summitted Mount Greylock.

The latest photo is one of you and Santiago – he had asked a passerby to take it on one of your weekends out in Medellín, in one of the city squares bursting with color. At the last second, right before the photo was snapped, Santi had turned to kiss your cheek, and the captured moment is beautiful:  his head turned, his lovely profile, and you facing the camera with a look of pleased surprise.

You know you’re in the honeymoon period.  You’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, so you’re a little apprehensive about what will happen when he finally moves back to the U.S.  Maybe he’ll get bored of you.  Maybe he’ll find someone better.  He’s never been in a long-term relationship either, and you worry that he’s too used to being a tomcat to settle down. 

It’s a million little doubts circling your mind each night, and sometimes you struggle to fall asleep, worry gnawing at you.

But if your traitorous brain keeps telling you that it won’t work out, it’s your gut – which has never led you astray – that reminds you how solid Santiago is. How perfect for you.  He’s not perfect, of course, and neither are you – you both have dark pasts, and insecurities – but when you really think about your time with him, you feel nothing but a steady, solid sort of love.

So all you have to do is wait.  It’s the longest six months of your life.

-----

Sara gives birth in September.  She and Frankie – they have a daughter now.  Amelia is a scowling, red-faced little thing, and when you go to visit with Benny and Will, it’s curious how little you feel.  Newborns, in general, make you nervous.  They are such soft creatures, seem so easily breakable.  But when you stand there and gaze down into the bassinet, you feel…nothing.

If someone would have told you that you’d be here, gazing down at Frankie’s baby that he had with another woman and feeling not an iota of angst, you wouldn’t have believed them.  You can still remember the pain of when Frankie started dating Sara, when they got engaged…and now your heart is made of tougher stuff.

Things are still a little tense between you and Frankie.  You have spoken here and there, after that ugly showing when you told him about you and Santi.  There’s a reserve.  The air gets chilly when the two of you speak to each other.  Another worry, that:  Frankie and Santi are best friends, and even though Frankie is married with a kid now, you still remain a shadow between them.  

You try to send out opening salvos to healing the rift between you.  You try to laugh off the awkward silences when you go to visit them with their new baby.  You ask a million questions about Amelia, show more interest than you really have. You tacitly ignore Frankie when he makes little jabbing comments meant to needle you, and you study him on the sly.

You think Santi is right.  There is something wrong with Frankie.  It’s more than marital stress or the stress of being a new parent.  It’s more than sleepless nights due to every-other-hour feedings.

You are naïve in many ways, but you know a bit about addicts.  At the center for troubled teens, there were plenty of addicts:  every shade and variety, from casual weed-smokers to full-on meth or crack addicts.  You’ve seen people in active withdrawal, and you’ve seen people with some sobriety, and you’ve seen people currently using, those able to smuggle in their drug of choice. 

You can’t say quite what you think Frankie is on, but you are certain he’s on something.  Something that keys him up, makes him buoyant and fun for a moment, then turns him sulky and irritable.  Some stimulant.  Meth? Coke? 

Maybe there’s no room left in your heart to love Frankie, but you still feel other things for him.  Concern. Pity.  Fear that he may die or lose his family.  Fear that he’s so far gone that he may be beyond help.

When you go to leave after your visit with the new baby, Frankie walks you to your car. He’s twitchy; he keeps removing his ball cap and running his hands through his curls, then resettling his hat no his head. 

“You know I’m always here if you need me,” you say, and you look at him until he finally meets your gaze with his own.

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’re still friends, right?”

At that, Frankie glances away, and you notice the way he shifts back and forth on his feet, like he’s itching to be somewhere else.

“Sure,” he replies, and there’s no warmth or conviction in his tone at all.

*****

Santiago sets the date of his return with you:  the second week of November.  Right before Thanksgiving.  You light up at the news over your video call with him.  You shift straight into planning mode; a Friends-giving type feast paired with a welcome home party and a house-warming party.

Santi doesn’t miss how it makes him feel, the thought of coming home to you and building a home with you.  A cozy domestic life he used to scoff at, but now that it’s within reach, he wants nothing more.

He works so damned hard to wrap up all his loose ends, he finishes his contract two weeks early.

What better surprise than to turn up at your doorstep early?

The timing is a few days off from Halloween, but Santi turns up the evening when your neighborhood is doing trick-or-treating.  The taxi crawls down your street because of how many groups of children and parents are milling around, going from house to house, but when the taxi stops and the driver pops the trunk so he can get his luggage, Santi has a moment of confusion.

For a brief few seconds, Santi feels off-kilter.  This isn’t your house.  He peers closer in the late twilight and studies the lines of the house, and it takes him a moment before he realizes that it is your house and that you’ve worked far harder to get it ready for him than he had thought.

The peeling paint is gone.  The sagging window sashes have been replaced by flower boxes filled with bright flowers and lush greenery.  The shrubs and trees have been trimmed back into neatness, and the entire air of dereliction has been replaced by a warm hominess. 

The lights by the front door are on, chasing away the twilight shadows with warm yellow light, and in the center of it, there’s you.

You don’t notice the taxi.  You don’t notice him as he approaches.  You’re engrossed with a trio of children in front of you, smiling and chatting with them as you dole out candy from the giant bowl in your arms.

You’re dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood, he guesses:  a Bavarian-type dirndl, white knee socks, and a scarlet cloak, and it makes a flurry of feeling rocket through him.  Lust, obviously—he has a sudden, powerful image of bending you over some surface, flipping that skirt up and taking you from behind, of hauling you off your hands so he can turn your head and kiss you while he fucks you…

And love, too. ��Obviously love.  Santi has never really been in love before, and now that he has you, he’s learning that love can feel a hundred different ways.  It can be a gentle groundswell, like sitting in a boat on a calm ocean, being softly rocked, like waking up beside you in Medellin before dawn.  It can be a warmth, like sitting beside you in your mother’s gazebo and teasing each other.

Right now? Right now, love feels like a knife in his heart, a sharp, piercing pain as he looks his fill of you.  As he realizes that he’ll never have it with anyone else, and the realization makes a thread of fear run alongside the love. What if he messes this up somehow?

The fear gets swept away the moment you notice him.  Santi has the distinct impression that you’d plow through the kids standing on your porch to get to him; he watches as you start to drop the bowl of candy and take a step towards him, then stop.  And he watches as your eyes fill with tears, but then he’s moving towards you, skirting around the gaggle of kids with their parents, and then he hears something fall but doesn’t look because he has his arms around you, he’s kissing you, and you’re struggling to kiss him back because you’re crying.  You’re crying and touching him—his face, his arms, his neck, his hair—to prove that he’s really there, and his feet crush the candy scattered along the porch because you’ve dropped the bowl so you can hug him.

“He didn’t say trick or treat,” one kid says in a voice that’s laced with indignation.

-----

The parents can guess what’s up.  They exchange sly, knowing smiles as Santi hauls his luggage inside, and as you basically dump your reserve of candy onto the porch, then give a half-assed apology to the kids before you shut the front door and lock it.

“Santiago Garcia,” you say in mock-anger, wagging your forefinger at him.  “You’re early.”

“I think I’m right on time.”  He reaches out, tugs lightly against the hem of your cloak.  “Got to see this.”

You give a twirl, just like you did the night of Frankie engagement.  Your skirt bells out, and you give a shy smile.  “You like it?”

“Mmm.” He reaches out again, tugs against your cloak again.  “Very much.”

“I’m supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“If I knew you were coming early, I would have gotten you something to wear.  A wolf costume or something.”

Santi snorts. He moves closer to you, the would-be Big Bad Wolf.  “How much candy do you think I could hand out with you looking like this?”

You roll your eyes.  You never quite believe him when he expresses how beautiful he thinks you are.  How sexy.  It’s a side effect of your trauma, he thinks.  Low self-esteem.  He promises himself to say it more.  He’ll say it all the time until you start to believe him.

He takes your hand in his and draws it down to himself until your palm is cupping where he’s hard and straining for you.  He watches your eyes go wide, your lips part as you take a deep breath.

“Told you I like this outfit of yours,” he grumbles near your ear. 

“Guess so.” You work your hand against him, cupping him, squeezing him gently through his jeans.

“Doesn’t Little Red Riding Hood get eaten?”  He drives the point home by biting you lightly against your neck, and he expects you to squeal and push him away, but your moan at the sensation and lean into him more.  So he bites you harder—he pushes the neckline of your cloak and dress aside to reveal the sensitive bit where your shoulder meets your neck.  He sinks his teeth into you.  Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave indents, his teeth dimpling your flesh.  He runs the tip of his tongue over those little divots, and you moan again, so he sucks against you there, tastes you.

“God, Santi—”

“I’m the Big Bad Wolf,” he mutters against your skin.

“San—”

“Gonna eat you up.”  He nips at you again, a line of light bites that end with him nipping your earlobe.  “Fucking starving for you, querida.”

Your free hand finds the back of his head, and he feels your fingers push through his curls and grip him.  You hold him against you—you don’t push him away.  Your other hand shifts from stroking him through his jeans to undoing his pants.  You fumble at the button and zipper, but then your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers and you grip him.  You stroke him as he pushes his hips against your hold.

He leans into the game and growls at your touch.  “Want you,” he manages to get out before his mouth finds the other side of your neck, nips and sucks against your soft skin there, raises matching marks.

“You have me. Please, Santi.”

“Wolf,” he corrects, and you laugh at that, but he snakes a hand down to your skirt. He slips under the layers of skirt and petticoat, he slips under your panties, and he finds you slick and ready for him.  He pushes a thick finger into your tight heat, and it makes you groan out his name, but then you amend it and call him ‘Wolf,’ and it turns him fully feral and you his willing victim.

He pulls his finger from you, and he pulls away from your stroking hand.  He gets himself under you at the right angle and lifts you up in a fireman’s carry, your body slung across his shoulders like a downed soldier as he carries you upstairs while your laughter fills the house.

Later, he’ll marvel on how much you’ve gotten done in the home.  Right now, he’s got tunnel vision.  He only feels the weight of you on his back, and he only focuses on getting you to the bedroom so he can fuck you senseless.

*****

Until Santiago came into your life, you hated the position of doggy style.

You had a brief boyfriend in college who only liked to fuck you from behind—an obvious red flag you were too naïve to notice back then—and he had always been rough about it.  Made it degrading.  Called you a slut for taking him like that, said only whores took it from behind. You always felt bad afterwards, but you were too insecure to speak up or break it off.

Santi changed your mind about it, back in Colombia.  He always was gentle about it, never degrading.  You wondered at his ability to rewrite parts of your unhappy past. It was like magic.

Now, he’s less gentle.  He’s leaning into some Wolf persona, a dominant side you’ve never seen in him, but it makes a painful throb of desire rocket through you.  He’s still gentle, just less gentle than before.  He drops his voice down a half-octave, and his calloused hands are firm as they undo your cloak, making it pool at your feet like a scarlet puddle.  As he reaches under your skirt and tugs your panties down your legs until you step out of them.

As he pushes you gently onto the bed and tells you in his low, graveled voice to get on all fours.

Santi gets it perfect.  How does he always manage it, being so perfectly in tune with you in bed?  He’s playing at some dominant, growling wolf-Santi, and he’s ordering you around, but he’s careful too—when he reaches into the bedside stand for a condom, he whispers in your ear, asks if this is okay, tells you to talk to him if you need something different.

You repeat what you said downstairs.  “You have me.”  You wriggle a little from where you are perched on all fours on the bed and add, “I’m all yours.”

He hums at that.  You hear the rustle of clothing, the soft whump as his jeans hit the floor.  You hear the tearing of the foil condom packet, then Santi’s heavy breathing as he rolls it onto himself.  Then nothing, and the moment of nothing seems to stretch an eternity, so you wriggle again like a dog wagging its tail.  The full skirt of your costume flounces, but Santi flips it up over your hips and delivers a light smack to your ass.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he asks.  “Gonna be good for me?”

Oh, that’s new too.  You bite down against your lower lip, but the phrase good girl makes your pussy clench down on nothing, and you wonder if he can see.  The thought makes your face heat up.

“Y-y-yes. I’ll be good.”

“Not a very good girl, walking through the woods alone.”

Oh, this is new too.  A full-on roleplay.  You’ve never done it before; you always assumed you’d be too self-conscious to layer in acting to your sex life.  But you aren’t facing him, and it’s Santi anyway, so it feels easy to fall into the game.

“I am a good girl,” you pretend-pout.

Another swat to your ass, but Santi keeps his hand on you.  Cups your hip with it, and his other hand lightly strokes you between your legs.  You bite your lip again, swallow down the moan that wants to tear out of your throat.

“I think you wanted to get caught.”  He parts your folds, pushes his finger into you again.  He moves slowly so you feel every centimeter of his digit.  Every knuckle.  He pushes himself in, pulls himself out, and then he adds a second finger. You can feel him carefully scissoring his fingers, stretching you out.

“Think you wanted this,” he adds.  “Sweet little thing, tempting all the scary beasts in the forest to come take you.”

“Just trying to tempt one beast.”  Your voice is tight, strained.  You’re trying to be patient but he’s driving you mad with his slow, careful fingering, and you have missed him for months.  “One, specifically.”

“You have him.”

You open your mouth to snark that you don’t really have him, not yet, but he beats you to the punchline.  He pulls his fingers from you and settles that hand along your hip, the wetness on his fingers smearing along your skin.  Then you feel him, the blunt, heavy weight of his cock as he notches it at your entrance.

“Please.” Your hands twist in the comforter as you brace yourself.  “Please, Santi—”

“Be patient. I like seeing you like this.”

“Please.”  You grip the comforter harder, drop your head as you huff out a heavy breath of frustration.

He chuckles behind you, and his hands rest lightly on your hips.  “If you want it, you can take it anytime, querida.  It’s yours.”

You don’t know where this falls in the game of pretend, but you don’t care anymore.  You’ve missed him for so long.  You’ve waited even longer to have what you have with Santi. You searched for it in the wrong place, with Frankie, but it was Frankie who led you to his best friend, so you can’t be mad about it.  But for now, your entire life collapses into this single moment, and Santi is here with you again after so long apart, so you push back against him, you push yourself onto his thick cock, and it toes the delicate line between pleasure and pain to have him inside you again.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”  His words are breathless, and his hands spasm tighter on your hips.  He pulls you back the last inch, seats himself deep inside you until you feel him flush against you.

He sets a slow, deep rhythm to his thrusts.  He doesn’t jar you; he keeps a firm grip on you and fucks you carefully as you reorient yourselves to each other.  You warm up to the feeling of his invading length, and you arch your back when he delivers a particularly deep thrust.  The tip of him brushes over that spot inside you, and your vision wavers each time he does.  Little yellow sparks light up at the edges of your vision.

How could you have ever guessed, all those years ago at the airport when you met him, that this would be the man who made you see stars in the bedroom?

“So fucking gorgeous,” he mutters behind you, low, like he’s talking to himself.  “Taking me like such a good girl.”

His praise makes another hot pulse of desire course through you, and you drop your head against the comforter and push back against him. 

“Missed you,” he adds, and before you can reply—yes, you’ve missed him too, so fucking much—his hands move from your hips up to your shoulders, and he’s suddenly hauling you off of your hands until you’re kneeling in front of him.  He wraps his arms around you, presses your back to his chest, and his thrusting turns sloppy. 

“Kiss me,” he demands.  You turn your head as much as you can, and the kiss is sloppy too because you can’t quite reach completely, but his mouth slides against yours.  His tongue finds yours, and it’s messy—his ravenous mouth seeking yours, his cock thrusting erratically against you as you lean back against him.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he pants between kisses.

“Missed you more.”  You reach an arm back and hook it behind his head.  You tug against his curls and try to direct his mouth back to yours.  “Missed you the most.”

“Wanted to romance this.”  He sounds slightly ashamed.  “Wanted to make it sweet for you, querida.  I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” You pull his hair harder.  Hard enough to make him groan, and he drops his head to rest in the crook of your neck.  He kisses you there softer, but there’s a faint ache when he brushes his lips against the places he’s marked you.  In the morning, you’ll see the carnage:  the handful of hickies, the visible teeth marks that have bruised you. 

In the morning, the sight of those marks will make you so suddenly and inexplicably turned on that you’ll seek him out in the kitchen and sink to your knees then and there.

“Don’t apologize to me,” you add.  “Don’t you dare.  You’re—”  You gasp at the sudden hard thrust he gives you, cuts you off for a moment.  “You’re here weeks early.  Best surprise ever.”

His arms tighten around you.  He holds you so tight it steals your breath away.  He holds you like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he doesn’t anchor you to him.  You take your free hand and grip his wrist, and you can feel his fast pulse under your fingers.

“I’m not gonna last much longer.  Sweetheart, I’m not—”

“Don’t hold back.”

“Baby, I can’t—”

“Go ahead and come for me.”  Your own orgasm is too far away.  Your thoughts are too scattered to focus on your pleasure; Santi feels amazing, but you’re still stunned by his unexpected arrival, and the roleplay that came out of nowhere, and you haven’t even really gotten to look at him very closely—

You tug on his hair again, steer his head back to yours.  You turn to kiss him, and you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, “wanna feel you come, Santi.”

“Baby—”

“Please.” Another kiss, another tug on his curls. “Come inside me.”

Maybe he forgets the fact of the condom, but your words make him shudder—and then his orgasm breaks around him.  He thrusts hard into you and stills, and his arms tighten around you even more, and he buries his face in your neck and groans out your name.

“Sorry.” It comes out muffled, and his frame slumps over you a bit as he loosens his hold on you.

“Don’t apologize.”  You loosen your grip on him too and run your fingertips through his hair. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You laugh. “Now that you’re here, you have plenty of time to make it up to me.”

And he does, a few hours later.  After you clean up and after he showers.  After he drags his luggage out of your entryway, and after you make him a snack in your renovated kitchen because his schedule is all out of sync.  When the two of you finally turn in late at night, he makes it up to you:  he takes you gently, slowly.  He seems to savor every moment, and he touches every part of you like he’s reacquainting himself to you.

Afterwards, as you drowse in his arms, sated and so full of love that your chest feels tight, Santiago traces his fingers along your spine until you squirm a bit.

“Think I finally found a good nickname for you,” he tells you.  “Better than ‘Bean.’”

You tilt your head and try to peer at him in the darkness of the room.  “You already picked one.”

“’Querida.’”

“Yeah. I like that.”  You settle against him again, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Might start calling you ‘Red.’”

You laugh, and he chuckles underneath you, a pleasant rumble.  “You’re trouble, Santiago Garcia.”

“And you love it.”

“I absolutely do.”  You let a moment pass, then you turn your head again and press a gentle kiss on his bare chest, right where his heart lies.

“Welcome home, Trouble,” you whisper.

“Happy to be here, Red,” he replies.

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | bonus part

aged up ao’nung x f!reader (18+)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: a few years after meeting the metkayina people (and quaritch trying to kill your entire family), you finally get a chance to bring ao’nung to see your former home. however, there’s more to think about than just touring him around the forest.

includes: 18+ content (not anything actually spicy, just more suggestive), teasing, swearing, suggestive remarks, ao’nung being a cocky bastard again😮‍💨

word count: 5.4k

a/n: okay so in this universe neteyam is still alive because i simply cannot process complex emotions at this time😀 also please note that i made up the general plot here just to fit the story but obviously it’s probably gonna be very different in the next avatar films😅 ALSO, i’m so sorry to anyone who was expecting smut or like, in-depth descriptions, but this is as spicy as my writing is gonna get for now hehe. hope you enjoy this lil’ bonus part. i’m gonna get to writing some other stuff soon:)

“Okay, everyone! We’re leaving in ten minutes so if you’re not ready by then, you’re flying by yourself!” Your father called, looking frantic as he saddled up his ikran and tried to herd everyone over at the same time. Jake always went full dad-mode before these trips.

Since the battle on the ship with Quaritch a few years ago, things had finally calmed down and allowed your family the ability to travel back home to the forest and the Omatikaya clan. However, the island had become your home too, so you tried to split your time between each. As much as you loved returning to the forest, though, there was someone that you found increasingly difficult to leave behind.

Ao’nung. The most annoying person you had ever met. Also, often to your chagrin, your boyfriend. The past few years together had been whatever your guys’ version of domestic bliss was. Mostly a lot of playful teasing and sometimes borderline bullying. A lot of flirting, too. Your family and friends often called the two of you childish, but that was just your dynamic, and you loved every second of it.

Recently, though, you’d been a little disappointed. Not with Ao’nung’s treatment of you, definitely not, but with how busy he’d been with his duties. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he was the son of the Olo’eyktan, after all. It was just that between going out hunting, Olo’eyktan training, and working on completing his warrior rites, you felt as if he was becoming a stranger that you were watching from afar. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had been alone.

“Hey, I’m sorry that Ao’nung can’t come, [Y/N].” Neteyam said as he packed the last of his things and strapped them to his ikran, shooting you a sympathetic look. You sighed to yourself, trying not to let your disappointment show.

“It’s no big deal,” You shrugged. “It’s not like we’re leaving forever.” It was true that you wouldn’t be gone as long as usual this time, but it was certainly long enough. Not only would you be away from Ao’nung, but you would miss the completion of his Iknimaya. He was supposed to finish up next week, which was the only reason he wouldn’t be able to come with you like you had originally planned months ago. Actually, you'd been begging him to go along with you for a while, but it had never worked out with his schedule. This time seemed to cut the deepest, though.

“You keep saying it’s not a big deal, but I don’t think you mean that,” Neteyam pushed, coming over to stand next to you. His presence was a comfort, especially because he had inadvertently become the person you always went to for relationship advice. “It’s okay not to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah, I- I know…” You trailed off, unconvincing. “I just wanted to be there when he finished his Iknimaya. He’s worked so hard, Teyam.” You bit your lip, staring hard at the ground. “And-” You cut yourself off, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your own thoughts.

“And?” Neteyam’s tone was gentle, encouraging. You sighed.

“And I just keep worrying that he’s going to get tired of me being gone all the time. Once he’s officially a warrior he gets to choose a mate. I know it’s really horrible of me to think it, but, what if he doesn’t choose me?” You involuntarily imagined coming back from the forest to find him mated to another, your heart rising to your throat.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I have to tell you that’s impossible, [Y/N]. If you could see the way Ao’nung looks at you, you would know.” Neteyam grinned as you flushed, fighting a smile of your own. Before you could say anything in response, your dad declared it was time to leave. Your heart sank back down, and you turned to mount your ikran.

“Wait! Wait up! You’re going to forget your favourite, most handsome possession!” The deep voice sent a familiar shiver of longing down your spine, though his words made you roll your eyes. There was only one man in the world who could do that to you with just a sentence.

You whipped around, wide-eyed as your big dork of a boyfriend sprinted over to your family.

“Miss me, forest girl?” He was grinning like an absolute fool as he finally came to a stop a few feet away from you, panting slightly. You were quick to hide your extreme joy with a glare, lest you show just how much power he held over your emotions.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taming a skimwing right now?” You raised an eyebrow. “You know, so you can prove that you’re a man or something?” You held back a smirk as he narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, then. If you didn’t want me to come you should have just said so.” He said, nonchalantly shrugging as he turned to go back. You knew he was goading you, but you couldn’t help it as you jumped forward, catching his wrist.

“No! Don’t.”

“Oh, so you do want me to come?” He simpered, eyes dancing with mirth. If you weren’t in front of your family you probably would have jumped his bones right there. Something about that perpetual conceited attitude did things to you.

“Can you not be a dickhead for like, one second?” You asked, eliciting a chuckle from him. That was when you noticed the tattoo.

The sweeping intricate black lines spanned a good portion of the left side of his rib cage, swooping slightly up and around the curve of his back. It was gorgeous, but the ink looked incredibly fresh, the edges of the elegant piece slightly raised. You gaped, your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch it.

“What is that?” You breathed, flicking your gaze up to meet your favourite ocean blues.

“I’m surprised you don’t know what a tattoo is considering you’ve lived here for-” You glared daggers as he spoke, indicating that now was not the time for witty banter. He cracked a wide grin, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, geez. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Okay but-” Suddenly everything fell into place in your mind and you gasped, your eyes growing wide. “You finished your Iknimaya?”

He nodded. “Just call me the greatest warrior who’s ever lived- woah!” He laughed deeply as you barreled into him, wrapping your arms around his neck before he lifted you off the ground and spun you around.

“Ao’nung the mighty warrior.” You could barely contain your smile as you peppered a few kisses along his cheeks. “I am so proud of you!”

It wasn’t like either of you to show such blatant affection in front of others, especially your parents, but it seemed impossible not to in this moment.

“That’s why I’ve been so busy lately,” He admitted, pulling back and setting you down in front of him, maintaining a loose grip on your waist. “I had to beg my father to let me work overtime, and it was a pretty tight schedule. I technically finished yesterday, but I woke up before dawn this morning to get my tattoo done.” You could have sworn the only other time Ao’nung had smiled this big was after your very first kiss.

“Oh, Nung, I’m so happy for you! Thank you!” You leaned in to kiss him, but you were rudely interrupted by your youngest brother, who was standing a few feet away with your family.

“Oh, Ao’nung! I’m so proud of you, mighty warrior! Let’s kiss in front of everyone and waste a whole bunch of time being gross!” He mocked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes. Lo’ak may have gotten older, but he still loved to make fun of you two. “I hate to break up your guys’ little love fest, but we were supposed to leave like, ten minutes ago.” He huffed. Tsireya may not have been around to chastise him, but your mother certainly was. She smacked the back of his head, glaring at the boy.

“Lo’ak! You should be happy for Ao’nung! He is a warrior of the clan now.” Neytiri turned to look at Ao’nung, smiling proudly. Ever since your parents had found out about you and him, your mother was very supportive. She’d grown to love him like a son. Your father, however, was not so fond. You and him had been through many arguments in which he claimed you needed to wait until you were old enough for a mate in order to be with Ao’nung. Even now, when this had suddenly become possible, Jake looked a little disapproving.

“My love, Lo’ak is right. We really do have to get going.” You frowned at your father’s lack of enthusiasm, but nothing could truly drag your mood down for long as you thought about finally getting to show Ao’nung your precious forest. Even the days-long ikran flight didn’t seem all that bad anymore.

After you and Ao’nung clambered onto your ikran together and took off, you sighed contentedly, leaning back into him when you had a chance to relax a bit. You could feel the low tenor of his voice through his chest as he spoke, his hands placed on your thighs as he rubbed slow circles along them with his thumbs.

“I can’t wait to see this great forest you’ve been raving about for years.” You grinned at his words, biting your lip as you fantasized about showing him every inch of your former home.

“I can’t wait to see what my grandmother thinks of you.” You snorted. The image of her scrutinizing gaze making the usually overconfident Ao’nung sweat had you giggling.

“She’ll love me. All the ladies do.” You could hear the smirk in his words.

“I hated your guts when we met.” You reminded him, hoping to humble him even just slightly. It was a futile attempt.

“And now?”

“Maybe I still do.”

“Is that so?” He bent his head down to whisper into your ear. “It’s interesting that you hate my guts but yet you love when I rearrange y-”

“If you finish that sentence I will push you off this ikran so fast, Ao’nung.” You warned, a nervous laugh threatening to escape your chest.

“You’d miss me if you did that.”

“Unlikely.”

“Oh, you'd definitely miss me."

“So what is this boy’s name, again?” Your grandmother questioned as you helped her prepare food for dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as she squinted her eyes in the direction of where your brothers and Ao’nung were talking around the fire a little ways off. You all had arrived at the forest late, so everyone was just resting for the remainder of the night. Exploring would have to wait until tomorrow.

“His name is Ao’nung, grandmother.”

“Hm. Well, he could do with an attitude adjustment. But he looks to be a strong warrior, no doubt.” She pursed her lips, still appearing to scrutinize him.

“Yes. He actually just completed his Iknimaya,” You tried your best not to sound like you were gushing over him. “He is very strong, indeed.” The image of his toned arms flashed through your mind. The way he could lift you over his shoulder and carry you. The way his muscles tensed when he gripped your hips as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but flush, shaking your head slightly to clear it. Your grandmother was staring at you, the smallest of grins tugging at the corners of her lips.

“So you are mated, then?” She questioned, and you almost choked on air. You supposed you should have expected the question sooner or later, but it still surprised you. Your heart sped up at the thought.

“Oh- well… no.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering.

“You sound unsure, child. Do you not want to be his mate?”

“I- It’s- Yes. Yes of course I do,” Your gaze drifted over to him, watching fondly as he laughed at something Lo’ak had said. Despite the obvious stupidity of it, you still couldn’t shake the thought of him possibly choosing someone else to be his mate. It was like some deeply hidden fear you didn’t know you had until now. “It is just a matter of whether or not he wants to be my mate too.” You finished your thought quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“I would think that would be the least of your worries, my dear.” Your grandmother spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on your knee. “He may be a mighty warrior, but even I can see his weakness is you. His eyes betray him every time he looks at you.” This was the second time recently someone had told you such a thing. It made you slightly dizzy with childish giddiness, the idea of you having such an affect on the aloof and confident male.

You were unsure how to respond, but you smiled widely to yourself, a little embarrassed. Your grandmother just chuckled and turned to call everyone over to eat.

The food was almost painfully good after eating pre-prepared meals over the course of your trip. Even Tuk, normally the pickiest eater ever, was scarfing every last bit down. It also felt great to eat together with your family, just enjoying their company as you leaned into Ao’nung’s side, his free arm wrapped around your shoulders. It didn’t take too long for everyone to finish and start turning in for the night.

Your family all slept in a group of hammocks nearby one another, but Ao’nung had been given a spare hammock a little ways away in order to give him more “privacy”, as your dad said, but you figured that he just didn’t want the two of you sleeping near each other. He was very protective and hypocritical considering everything he got up to with your mother when they were young. He was also naive if he thought that sending Ao’nung off by himself was going to keep you two apart.

Once everyone seemed soundly asleep, you silently slipped out of your hammock and crept away to find Ao’nung. It wasn’t too difficult as he appeared to be struggling to lie down comfortably in his hammock. You giggled quietly, sneaking up beside the warrior.

“Do you know how stupid you look right now?” You whispered, quickly slapping your hand over Ao’nung’s mouth as he yelped. You could barely hold in your laughter. “Shut up, skxawng! You’ll wake the whole clan!”

“Very funny, you little brat.” Ao’nung’s expression was sour, especially as he continued to struggle slightly with his hammock.

“You know, I’m very good at helping people who ask.” You smirked, folding your arms across your chest as you watched him try to stop swinging from side to side.

“Fine.” He huffed, glaring up at you.

“Fine what?”

“Seriously?” Ao’nung shot you an annoyed look, but you just stood there, enjoying the power you held in this situation. When you didn’t respond, he finally huffed, resigning himself to what he knew you wanted.

“Would you please do me the favour of helping me figure this stupid thing out, your all-knowing royal highness?” The last bit was a snarky joke, one meant to annoy you, but it only made you grin.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner, Nung?” You made your way over and steadied the hammock, fingertips pushing lightly on Ao’nung’s bicep to indicate that he should move over. When he shifted, you took the chance to climb in beside him, a look of pleasant surprise overtaking his features. The hammock stilled once the two of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, close enough to breathe the same air.

“So this is what you came here for?” Ao’nung questioned, his eyebrows raising as his signature cocky smirk settled onto his lips.

“It’s like you want me to punch you.” You scoffed, tracing the familiar patterns of his skin with your finger, particularly the glowing constellation of freckles that spanned his broad chest. He shivered beneath your touch. However, when you accidentally grazed over the edges of his new tattoo, he hissed. You quickly pulled back, cringing.

“Sorry!” You apologized hurriedly, worried that you had hurt him.

“No, it’s alright. It’s just still a little sore.” He admitted, offering you a gentle smile. You returned it, but did not place your hands back where they were.

“So, you can choose a mate now.” You finally said after a few moments of silence, peering through your lashes to try and gauge his expression. This was a conversation you had been dying to have for days, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time until now. Even so, your heart began to race slightly.

“Yes.” Ao’nung’s tone was low, serious. Maybe it was because of your nerves, but you found it difficult to read his expression.

“And?” You bit your lip, waiting impatiently for him to say anything. Your irrational fears were screaming in the back of your mind.

“And?” He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want me to say?” You heart plummeted into your abdomen, unable to stop yourself from frowning deeply as you flicked your gaze down so you could avoid eye-contact. You swallowed thickly as your throat constricted. You felt like such a baby for reacting this way, but it was like you couldn’t stop it. The next words coming out felt like someone had stuck a branding iron down your throat.

“Do you want to mate with someone else?”

“What?” Ao’nung sat up slightly in shock, confusion and worry written all over his face. “What are you taking about?”

You just shrugged, afraid you would truly start crying if you spoke or even looked up from your fidgeting fingers.

“[Y/N].” His tone was firm but soft, a plead for you to explain. You felt ridiculously stupid.

“There’s lots of beautiful women of the clan. Many who would make a great Tsahìk some day,” You managed quietly, letting out a short breath. “I don’t want to hold you back just because we have been together so long. Besides, I know what your mother thinks of me, and maybe she is right. I still act like a child sometimes. I am gone so much visiting home. And I am not-” Your voice broke, a few warm tears finally spilling over onto your cheeks. “I am not Metkayina. I am not like you.”

It was painfully silent for a few torturously long seconds. Finally, you felt Ao’nung’s fingers tilt your chin up so he could look at you. His gaze was giving you the all-too-familiar impression that he was seeing you intimately, seeing beyond just your face.

“I do not want anyone else.” He breathed, moving to cradle your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “I have the most beautiful woman here in front of me. And for some reason, Eywa forbid, I think she likes me.” He grinned and you felt your heart lift.

“You might be right about that.” You said quietly, earning a low chuckle from him.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that I do not care if my mother doesn’t approve of you. The other women of the clan do not tease me. They do not make ridiculously funny faces when they’re annoyed. They do not have the courage to stand up to me and call me a jerkwad when I’m being mean.” The two of you laughed faintly at the memory of you calling him every English insult you could think of. “I love you because you do all of those things. And I love you because you are just as much Metkayina as anyone else in the clan, even though you did not grow up knowing our ways. You were not born into your place there, you earned it, and I can only hope I’ve earned even a slight chance at being worthy enough to be your mate.” You were staring hard at each other now, barely breathing as you hung on to every single word he said. You slid your hands behind his neck, tugging him closer to you, your lips ghosting over his.

“Whether I like it or not, you own my heart, Ao’nung.”

His lips crashed to meet yours with an intensity that set your heart racing. The kiss was all heat and desperation, tongues and teeth. Ao’nung bit your bottom lip, smirking when you gasped. His fingers then found your waist and he smoothly flipped your positions so that he was over top of you, groaning as you placed kisses along his neck and jaw.

“I can’t believe you were worried about me not wanting to be your mate when I’m so fucking in love with you.” He said between sloppy kisses, his hands sliding slowly up and down your thighs, positioned on either side of his body. You shuddered at the way it made your stomach tighten. “As if I would let anyone else hold my heart in their hand.” You whined as he fingered the waistband of your clothing, sucking on a sweet spot just beneath your ear.

“I can think of something else of yours that I would love to hold right about now.” Your eyes glinted as you gazed at him, a quick flash of surprise passing over his face before he broke into a smirk.

“Be my guest, love.”

The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly as you excitedly made your way up the hallelujah mountains. You and Ao’nung had spent the morning around the forest with your family, but you’d really wanted to show him some of your favourite spots by yourself, one of which you were heading to now.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" You found yourself calling out, a laugh bubbling from your chest when Ao’nung groaned behind you. You turned your head back to grin tauntingly at him.

"When you said you were going to show me your home, this is not what I pictured us doing." Ao'nung frowned, glancing warily over the side of the vine you both walked upon.

"No? What exactly were you picturing, then, Nung?" You queried and Ao'nung's lips split into what you could only describe as a suggestive grin.

"Oh, you know, maybe a little less dangerous hiking and a little more finding a secluded spot to-"

"Oh my Eywa!" You yelped, shaking your head. "Just keep walking, you sick bastard."

"Just putting ideas out there.." He chuckled, suddenly pushing forward to catch up to you. He slung his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural action in the world.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "You're so desperate, Ao'nung." He shivered.

"Only for you, forest girl." As the words left his lips, you suddenly felt as if you’d experienced this moment before, down to the exact details. You furrowed your brows, trying hard to remember why it felt so familiar.

“Oh!” You gasped out loud, nearly sending your boyfriend toppling over the side of the vine as your memory came into focus. On instinct, you reached out quickly to steady a confused looking Ao’nung.

“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” He asked incredulously, placing a hand over his heart. “What was that?”

You flushed, unsure of what to say. It was such a strange experience to have to explain.

“Um, it’s nothing.” You laughed breathily, trying to sound as casual as possible before continuing your trek up the mountains. Unfortunately, that was not satisfactory enough for him. He grabbed at your waist, pulling you back into him so you were both were facing forward, your back flush against his chest.

“Tell me.” He whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your skin.

“It’s weird.” You chuckled, turning your head so you could meet his eyes. They were alight with interest.

“Like you don’t already say weird things all the time?” He asked, laughing as he earned a gentle punch to the bicep. You turned fully to face him.

“Do you remember the first night we went to the cove of ancestors? The night Kiri had a seizure?” You questioned, playing with your fingers as they rested on his chest, feeling his slow breaths beneath your touch.

“Of course.” He furrowed his brows slightly, as if playing through the memory in his head. “The first time you let your guard down around me.” His lips split into a small smirk, though it was more fond than cocky.

“Yeah, whatever,” You smiled softly. “Well, before all that crazy stuff happened, I had a vision when I connected to the tree. It was- well… it was this.” You bit your lip, spreading out your hands to indicate the scene around you.

“The mountains?” He questioned, not entirely following.

“Yes. But us, too. The exact conversation we just had a few minutes ago. It felt so familiar while it was happening, but I couldn’t remember why until now.” You felt awkward explaining it to him, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to read the rest of his face.

“So you knew this was going to happen?” It was a loaded question, indicating both the general situation and your relationship as a whole. A smirk was tugging at his lips.

“Kind of…” You said slowly. “But at the time I still thought I maybe hated you, so it freaked me out. I didn’t know if it was actually going to come true or not. I was working up the courage to talk to you about it before everything went to shit.” You laughed a little, thinking back on all the chaos of those first few months living on the island.

“I want you to be my mate.” Ao’nung said suddenly, staring down at you with a rare completely serious expression. You snapped your head up quickly, confused at the sudden turn in conversation, though a flutter of excitement settled in your stomach.

“I know,” You smiled softly. “I can’t wait until we get back home-”

“No, now.” His voice was firm, his mind already made up. Your eyebrows shot skyward. “I don’t want to waste anymore time not being officially bonded. We can go tonight,. I think Eywa has given us a sign through your dream.” He grabbed your hand, gently lacing his fingers with yours.

“But- what about our parents?” You asked, trying to ignore the rising giddiness inside of you. “I mean my dad will probably burst a blood vessel in his eye. And don’t even get me started on your mom… She already has enough reason to hate me.”

“It’s not about them, my love.”

“But you are the chief’s son, Nung. There are rituals and ceremonies for you and your chosen mate-”

“Me and you.”

“Yes,” You breath hitched slightly, blushing. “Us. Your parents won’t be pleased if you do not complete them in the traditional way.” You were speaking to deaf ears, reiterating things he already knew well.

“We’ll have our own stupid rituals.” He muttered, his fingers skating along your arm, bringing them up to trace the outline of your jaw. “Ceremonies and parties and disapproving parents can wait until we return.” He searched your eyes, desperately hoping for you to be feeling the same immediacy as him. The same all-consuming desire to be one after waiting so long. Despite your feeble rationale behind why it was a terrible idea, you had to admit that you wanted to do it just as badly.

“Tonight, then.” You finally caved, an excited buzz settling under your skin. Ao’nung grinned, picking you up to swing you around before pulling you into a hug. You could feel his excitement in the air around you, making you bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

You woke to the sun already shining brightly, pleasantly warming your skin. A pair of strong arms were wrapped around your abdomen, your legs tangled together with two other, longer and broader ones. It could have been any other morning after sneaking out to be with Ao’nung.

It was not.

You could feel the mating bond even now as your mate lay sleeping beneath you, his soft breaths tickling your skin. Nothing about your feelings for the warrior boy had changed, you still felt the deep love that had claimed a stake on your heart years ago, but it was like it had been fortified, made immortal under the gaze of Eywa. Your soul was tied completely to his, two halves to make a entirely new whole. His eyes fluttered open as you stared at his sleeping form, admiring his peacefulness. He smiled sleepily.

“Good morning, my love.” His voice was slightly raspy from sleep, and you felt your stomach tighten, suddenly replaying every euphoric detail about the night before. You clenched your legs together, letting Ao’nung sit up and pull you into his lap while running a hand slowly up your thigh. Once you were comfortably sitting on top of him, he began to place sweet kisses along your neck.

“Ao’nung.” You tried (failed) to sound stern, placing a hand on each of his biceps in a weak attempt to stop him from caressing all along your body. “We have to go back.” Your words got lost in a moan as he nipped at your collarbone, looking up at you in a desperate sort of way. You shuddered, unable to stop yourself from dipping your head down to place a kiss on his pouted lips. He kissed back fervently, one of his hands sliding to the back of your head while the other danced along your ribcage, dangerously close to eliciting another moan from you. If you didn’t stop now, you knew you never would.

“Alright, alright. Don’t make me smack you, dipshit.” He groaned in annoyance as you pulled away, your lips already slightly swollen from the kiss.

“C’mon, [Y/N].” He whined, his ears flicking back in disappointment. “You're my mate, now. Can we not just enjoy this time?”

You chuckled, tracing your thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m sure you got more than enough enjoyment last night. Now it’s time to for us to deal with the repercussions of that.” You quickly placed one more soft kiss on his lips before sighing and untangling your limbs from his. He unhappily followed your lead, holding your hand to help you up. As the two of you slowly began your walk back home, you smiled to yourself, feeling more content than you ever had before. Even the thought of confronting both your parents seemed but a small inconvenience, an easy price to pay for the sheer elation you felt at the bond you now shared with Ao’nung.

“I still think we could have stayed longer.” He frowned, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth slightly.

“Doubtful. It’s pretty much a miracle they haven’t sent out a search party already.” You laughed, guessing it was already mid-morning. Your family had probably been awake for hours.

“What should I say to your parents?” Ao’nung questioned.

“Well, you should probably start by begging my dad for mercy,” You deadpanned. “Though I doubt that will help.”

“Thanks, I’m so glad you’re confident in me.” Ao’nung quipped back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I’d like to remind you that I’m a warrior now.”

You grinned. “You’re about to be a dead warrior.”

“Well, at least my last great memory is of you on your knees last night-"

You cut him off with a light punch in the gut. It was like hitting the bark of a tree, but he did you the courtesy of pretending to feel it, at least.

“Geez, someone’s touchy about that.” He smirked, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Just save the cockiness until after we talk to my parents. I know you probably don’t know to be humble, but-”

“Oh, I’ll be humble. I’ll be even more humble than Neteyam when he gets a compliment.” He spoke of it like a challenge, and you giggled.

“Speaking of that, I forgot to mention that my brothers are probably going to kill you, too, you know. Then maybe even Kiri. You’ll be dead four times over.”

“You’re lucky you’re worth all this murder I’m about to experience.”

“Just remember that this was your idea, genius.”

“Yeah, yeah. But who’s the one who loves me too much to have said no?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. But only if you give me a good luck kiss before we get back because I’m starting to get nervous now.”

taglist:

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[exponenshul]

Melon Seeds (Part 1 of 2)

SYNOPSIS: Two close roommates purchase a watermelon from a mysterious vendor. As time passes, their relationship heats up and the girl begins undergoing some changes. It becomes increasingly clear that the melon they bought was no ordinary fruit...

Words: ~7.2k

(Contains belly expansion, sexual content, and more. Read at your own discretion.)

~~~~~

Spencer held open the apartment door so Lucy could walk in. She was having a bit of trouble because she was carrying a huge watermelon in her arms.

"Rrk...man, I still can't believe we found this!" Lucy said excitedly. She was struggling a bit under the weight of the fruit, but still grinning.

"I know—and the last one, too!" Spencer noted, guiding Lucy to the kitchen counter. "That guy at the fruit stand was so nice, giving it to us for free and everything."

Spencer and Lucy were two rising college seniors, living together in their own apartment while on summer break. They'd met back in freshman year and had been the closest of friends ever since. Spencer's original roommate had backed out at the last second, and since he and Lucy were so close, she was happy to move in to the empty room.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and the two had just come back from a grocery run. Little did they know, the watermelon they'd just picked up was a little more than just delicious.

"This thing looks so good, I'm gonna cut it up right now!" Lucy proclaimed.

"Good idea!" Spencer agreed. "You get that started while I put the rest of the stuff away."

A few minutes passed as Spencer went to put away more groceries. When he returned, Lucy had sliced up the watermelon into about two dozen good-sized chunks. Spencer eagerly strode over and picked one up, but when he did, he frowned.

"Ah, man, this thing's got seeds in it..." he groaned.

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked, picking up a slice of her own. "I'm pretty sure most watermelons have seeds..."

"Yeah, I know. And I usually just spit them out, but..." Spencer trailed off. The seeds in this melon were just...off-putting. They were black and very large, each about the size of a thumbnail. They also appeared particularly round for watermelon seeds. Whatever the reason, Spencer's gut was telling him that he probably shouldn't be eating this watermelon.

After a moment, he continued. "It's just...you know the saying, right? Swallow a watermelon seed and it'll grow in your stomach!" He chuckled.

Lucy chuckled back. "Nah, I think you're just a coward!" She chomped into her slice of melon, and as she started chewing, her eyes went wide. "Oh my god...this is SO GOOD!"

She began chewing ravenously, sucking down the watermelon's sweet flesh. Seeing that Spencer wasn't going to eat his slice, she grabbed it from his hand.

"More for me," she said, giving him a smile. He smiled back.

After she'd finished the two slices, she licked her lips. "Aaah...that was tasty! I'm gonna pack the rest up and put it in the fridge."

Spender gave her a thumbs up, and she turned to grab some tupperware from the cabinet. As she stepped away, Spencer couldn't help but keep his eyes glued on her.

Over the past few months—years, really...Spencer had started to look at Lucy as more than just a friend. She was very attractive, with cute features and perfect curves. Through their years of knowing each other, they'd gotten to know each other very well. Spencer knew that any crush he felt had to be reciprocated, at least a little. He often wondered when one of them would make a move, especially now that they lived together. They were closer than ever, physically and emotionally, and the romantic tension between them was mounting.

Spencer blinked his eyes a few times, realizing he'd been staring a little too intently at Lucy's ass.

He cleared his throat. "All right, I've gotta get ready for my shift."

"Okay, good luck!" Lucy replied. "See you tonight."

~~~~~

Coincidentally, Spencer worked at the grocery store, ringing out customers and stocking shelves. It wasn't a glamorous job, but it payed the bills.

As Spencer arrived for his afternoon shift, he looked at the front of the store with some confusion. Where the watermelon stand had been only a few hours before was a completely empty spot.

As he clocked in, he mentioned it to one of his coworkers, who was just clocking out.

"Hey, you've been here all day, right?" Spencer asked. "Where'd that guy and his watermelon stand go?"

The coworker looked at him quizzically. "What guy?"

"You know, the watermelon guy. He had this whole big stand out front. Huge watermelons."

The look on his coworker's face only grew more confused. "Uh, nah. I've been taking in carts all day, I never saw anybody out front."

Spencer stood there perplexed as his coworker left. He'd probably just missed the guy...but then again, the stand was pretty obvious. And he'd obviously picked up a huge watermelon.

He started his shift, but was left with a nagging confusion in his head.

~~~~~

It was dark out by the time Spencer got back home to the apartment. When he walked in, most of the lights were off, except for the kitchen ones. He assumed that's where Lucy must be.

He put his things down and started walking over. "Hey Lucy, I'm back from work!"

He heard her call back to him from the kitchen. "Oh, you're finally back! Come here!"

Spencer walked into the kitchen and found her sitting at the counter, watching him with a strange, dreamy look. Spencer noticed open tupperware and a couple rinds on the counter—she'd been eating more of the watermelon.

She was also wearing her favorite set of pajamas; a cropped black tank top and soft velvet shorts. He always thought she looked really good in them...

She looked over at him from her seat and gave a subtle smile. "I have to tell you something."

Spencer gulped. "What...what is it?"

Then, Lucy slowly and deliberately got over from her seat. She walked over to him, keeping her eyes locked on his. Once she was close enough, she reached up, placed her hands on his face, and kissed him on the lips.

Spencer was hit with shock. Hold on, was this really happening? Her lips were so soft and warm...He gently grasped her waist and kissed her back.

When they pulled away, Lucy looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, cheeks red. Spencer stared back, the surprise showing in his face.

"Sorry, I know that was sudden..." Lucy said quietly. "I just couldn't keep beating around the bush."

Spencer was still reeling. "So...y-you've been...feeling the same way I have?"

Lucy placed her palms on his chest. "I've been thinking about it a lot recently...how close we are...but today is when I really realized that I was tired of being just friends."

Spencer beamed with joy. "I couldn't agree more."

The two kissed again, and this time, they didn't stop at just one. They started with a few more light, slow kisses, but soon started to make out with more passion. All that time of romantic tension was starting to be released.

Lucy pulled Spencer in closer, so that their bodies pressed together. Spencer wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his hands across her back. Making out with her, the most attractive girl he'd ever known, was more satisfying than he could have imagined. Just the feeling of her chest pressed against him was enough to give him palpitations.

After another minute or so, they pulled away for a breather. Spencer stared into Lucy's beautiful eyes and she stared right back.

Spencer cleared his throat. "So, uh...I guess this means we're...a "thing" now?"

Lucy brushed some hair away from her face and smirked at him. "Hmm...yeah, I guess it does."

The two gave each other another quick kiss, giggling from the afterglow of the their makeout session.

"It's getting late," Spencer said, trying to reign in their awkward giddiness with some conversation. "Are you hungry? Did you eat dinner?"

"I just had some of that watermelon," Lucy replied, giving her stomach a couple pats. "God, it is sooooo good...I can't get enough of it!"

Spencer chuckled. "You sure you don't want some real food?"

"I'm fine! I think I'm gonna go to bed...feeling kinda sleepy." She yawned, proving her statement.

"All right, sounds good!"

Lucy started walking over to her bedroom, but turned and gave Spencer a wink. "You better have another kiss ready for me in the morning."

Spencer grinned, his heart rate picking up again. "Of course."

As she walked away, he caught himself looking at her ass again...Now, though, he didn't feel too bad about it.

~~~~~

The next morning, Spencer woke up to sunlight shining on him through the window. As he sat up and stretched, the events of the night before came back to him. Lucy had really just kissed him out of the blue...and now she was his girlfriend. He thought about how good her kisses were, how soft her skin was...how perfect her figure was and how pretty her face was...he couldn't believe they hadn't started dating sooner.

Maybe taking things slow was a good thing...But now all Spencer could think about was getting up and seeing her again.

He headed out into the kitchen and spotted her at the counter. She was faced away from him, holding something in her hand. Not being able to help himself, he quickly looked her up and down. When he did, he almost had to do a double take. She seemed slightly...different. Was it possible she had...gotten a tad thicker since last night?

"Good morning," he said smoothly as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He looked over her shoulder and saw what was in her hand...a watermelon rind. There was another on the counter, as well. She must have eaten a couple for breakfast.

She jumped a little when he hugged her, having not heard him approach. However, she quickly relaxed into his arms. "Mmh, good morning," she breathed.

"You really like that watermelon, huh?" He mused.

"Yeah..." Lucy replied, almost dreamily. "It's sooo good...it makes me feel...mmh..."

Spencer noticed that as she talked, she started to sway ever so slightly. She held onto his arms and began moving her hips back and forth, in a trance-like way at first, then deliberately. Spencer felt his heart rate pick up again.

"Makes you feel...like what?" He asked.

She was silent for a moment, but kept moving back and forth. Spencer felt her gently push her hips back into his. He could feel himself getting hard fast, and hoped to God she wouldn't notice. But she just kept rubbing her hips against him, back and forth, almost grinding on him.

Finally, Lucy spoke again. When she did, she was basically mewling. "Spencer...I've been thinking about last night, and...I know this is kinda sudden, but..."

Suddenly, she turned to face him, now looking up at him endearingly and pressing her chest into him.

"...I want to have sex with you."

Spencer's heart skipped a few beats, and he had to make sure he wasn't dreaming and that he wasn't going to pass out. "A-are you sure?"

"Yes..." she said, pulling him in close and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I can't take it any longer...I need you!"

She thrust herself forward and kissed him hard on the lips, the two embracing as their passion ignited. While making out, they stumbled over to Spencer's room, Lucy already tugging off her shorts and Spencer already unbuttoning his pants. The two collapsed on the bed, and Lucy crawled on top.

One thing was for sure- Lucy wasn't being shy about this. Spencer hadn't realized how strong her feelings for him had been. He was shocked at how fast this was all happening, but he certainly wasn't opposed.

Wasting no time, Lucy seductively grabbed her top and pulled it over her head, leaving her nude except for her lace black panties.

Holy shit, Spencer thought to himself. This time yesterday, he and Lucy were just roommates, and now he was staring at her tits. They were beautifully round and supple—bigger than he'd thought. They seemed especially pink, but he supposed it was just due to the heat of the moment.

From being with her all these years, he thought she always had a trim and flat stomach, but looking at it now she had a bit more chub than he recalled. In his mind, that only made her hotter.

"You're gorgeous..." he breathed, taking in all her curves and stunning features.

Lucy smiled and bit her lip. "You're not too bad yourself."

She leaned over and they started kissing some more. Lucy's kisses were intoxicating and sweet. Any of Spencer's concerns about the pace of their relationship were quickly replaced by mounting horniness.

Abruptly, Lucy pulled away. She leaned further over him, so that her boobs hung right in front of him. She grasped one in her hand and dangled it over his face. Spencer was no virgin—he knew what this cue meant. He took her tit in his mouth and began to suck.

Lucy seemed to really enjoy this. She arched her back and moaned, pleasure shooting through her body.

"Fuck," she panted. "It's never...hhh...felt this good to get my tits sucked before..."

Seeking to please her, Spencer kept suckling and biting. He pressed his hands into her back to push her down closer to his mouth. Lucy kept making desperate sounds of pleasure, rocking forward and back on her knees.

When he finally took a break, Lucy pulled away and sat back on her knees. She put a hand between her legs and felt at her crotch. "Mmh...I'm so wet, you're gonna make me soak through my panties..." With both hands, she reached down and started to tug at Spencer's boxers. "I need you inside me, now!"

She pulled down his underwear, letting out his rock-hard shaft. As she began pulling off her own underwear, Spencer was apprehensive. "Don't you want me to grab a condom?"

Lucy shook her head and smirked. "It's all right, I'm on the pill." She cast her panties aside and positioned herself over his waiting erection. "Now, fuck me like you mean it!"

~~~~~

Once they were finished, the two collapsed, and Lucy fell asleep in Spencer's arms. Spencer was worn out after some of the best sex of his life. He looked at Lucy almost in disbelief, holding her close and gently running his fingers through her hair. Her apparent desire for him was unprecedented but certainly welcomed. So much had happened in such a short time...was this really the same girl he'd gone grocery shopping with just yesterday?

Just then, the alarm on Spencer's phone went off, and Lucy awoke groggily. Spencer reached for his phone and checked the time.

"Ah...it's time to get ready for my shift." He groaned.

"Already?" Lucy replied, pouting. She snuggled into him more closely and held him tight. "I wish you could stay with me forever."

Spencer lightly kissed the top of her head. He sure as hell didn't want to leave either. "I know, but I need the paycheck...don't worry, I'll back tonight!"

The two peeled themselves away from each other so they could both get up and dressed. Spencer was sure to get in a nice last look of Lucy's beautiful body before she put her clothes back on. Somehow, she looked even hotter than earlier that day...like her curves had gotten fuller and more defined. Could it just be from the afterglow of sex?

Lucy lingered around as Spencer got dressed and ready to go. She followed him as far as the front door and gave him a hug and another kiss.

"Don't forget, our favorite show is on tonight, so don't be late!" She reminded him.

Spencer smiled as her as he headed out the door. "It's a date."

~~~~~

Spencer went through what seemed like the longest shift of his life. Before, he didn't really mind his job as a grocery store worker. It was easy, mindless, and paid well. However, it was different now that he had something to look forward to when he clocked out—his beautiful, sexy girlfriend waiting at home.

The events of the past day were still a whirlwind in his mind. He'd wanted to be with Lucy romantically for the longest time, but he never expected things to happen so quickly. It seemed to come out of nowhere...but he supposed if Lucy was into it, he was fine taking things fast. Besides, they were planning on watching their favorite TV show together when he got back home, so he supposed things were still somewhat normal between them.

He clocked out as soon as his shift was over and rushed home to the apartment. He wondered if Lucy was going to be as horny as she was that morning, or if she'd gotten it out of her system...either way, he was excited to get back and spend more time with her.

When he got inside, he found that most of the lights were off again. However, he did hear the TV blaring from the living room, meaning that their plans were still on for the night. Every Wednesday night, they watched a new episode of their favorite drama as it premiered. It was something they'd found in common when they moved in together and decided to make a routine each week, and finally getting together as a couple certainly wasn't going to stop that.

Lucy heard him come in the door and emerged from the living room to meet him, arms outstretched for a hug.

"You're finally home!" she said excitedly. "Just in time, the show's about to start."

As she approached, even in the dim light, Spencer noticed something different about her. Her figure seemed...different, even more so that that morning. She was still wearing the cute pajamas, except the top looked exceptionally tight. It usually fit her perfectly, but now it seemed like her tits were crammed into it. Her hips also seemed just a bit wider, and her stomach...as she came up to him, he noticed that it had a decent paunch to it. That morning he had seen some extra chub on her belly, but now it was noticeably rounded. Spencer figured that maybe she was on her period, and just bloated...but wouldn't he have noticed that when they had sex earlier?

She embraced him, and he hugged her back, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you!" He said, trying to put his observations aside. "Thanks for getting the TV on for us."

"I missed you too," she replied, giving him a peck on the lips. "Do you think you could grab the watermelon from the fridge before you come to the couch? I'm in the mood for a snack!"

"Uh...yeah, sure!" Spencer said, and she trotted away happily.

After changing out of his work clothes and into some lounge wear, he made it over to the fridge. He was beginning to think Lucy's affinity for the watermelon was a little peculiar. He liked the taste of watermelon as much as the next guy, but she seemed absolutely obsessed with it.

He opened the fridge and pulled out the tupperware. When he looked inside, he was surprised to only find three slices left. He hadn't eaten any...so that meant she'd nearly gone through that whole huge watermelon in the span of a single day.

Out of sheer curiosity, Spencer studied the slices as he carried them over to the living room. They looked just like normal watermelon slices, except for those large round seeds. What was the secret? Why was she so addicted to it?

He walked into the living room and presented the melon slices to her just as the show started. "Here you go!"

"Thanks, babe!" She chirped, grabbing the tupperware from him excitedly. She began to munch as the opening credits rolled and he sat down next to her on the couch.

"This week's episode is gonna be good," Spencer said. "Let's see if Julio finds the killer this time."

"Yeah! That would be so cool..." said Lucy, through a mouthful of melon. She expressed her contentment as she chewed. "Ugh, I can't get over how GOOOOD this is!"

Spencer watched as she chomped down the slices like they were nothing. Pink juice ran down her chin and dripped onto her torso. She must've been swallowing the seeds whole, because it would've been obvious if she were crunching into them considering their size. She just kept sucking them down like she was on a deserted island and this was the first food she'd had in weeks. By the time they reached the first commercial break, Lucy had cleaned the flesh off all three slices.

"Aaaah," she breathed, rubbing watermelon juice from her mouth with the back of her hand. She settled back into the couch, patting her slightly distended belly with both hands.

"Getting that melon was the best idea EVER. I can't believe how sweet and juicy it was!"

Spencer smiled at her. He had no reason to be worried—it was apparent she just really liked watermelon. "I'm glad you liked it."

The two returned to watching their show. It was a fantastic episode, with plenty of drama and action. There were also some scenes where the characters got hot and heavy with one another...something not too uncommon with shows of such caliber. Spencer watched intently, invested as always.

Next to him, however, he began to notice that Lucy was acting a bit strange. Usually she commented along with important points in the show, or gasped at plot twists. Tonight, though, she was being oddly quiet...for the most part. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her start to get fidgety; tapping her feet, crossing her legs then uncrossing them. She made little whimpers of sound whenever she moved, barely audible.

What caught's Spencer's attention was when she slowly tracked her hands up her torso and grabbed at her boobs. Trying to maintain some subtlety, she squeezed at them gently and repeatedly, kneading at them with her palms. Her noises got a little louder when she did this, and she squeezed her legs together a little tighter.

"Mmh...ooooh..." she cooed, audibly enough for Spencer to hear.

"You all right?" he tried to ask nonchalantly, having totally lost focus on the show at this point.

Lucy continued to massage her tits and rub her thighs together. "I'm fine, it's just...mmmhhh...I've missed you so much today..."

Spencer wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't used to being come onto so blatantly, so abruptly. Lucy turned her head to look at him, pouting her lip slightly and sporting the biggest puppy dog eyes. She was so sexy, and even if they were gonna miss the rest of their show, there was no way he was gonna turn down some more action if she was in the mood. He reached over and put a hand on her thigh, expecting her to invite him to the bedroom.

Instead, it seemed like the touch of his hand was enough to send her into a frenzy. She practically launched herself at him, kissing him passionately and wrapping her arms around him. Feeling his arousal quickly growing, Spencer held her, making out with her hard and fast. As they kissed, Lucy pushed Spencer down into the couch and crawled atop him so that she was perched on his lap. She seductively rubbed at his growing erection through his lounge pants.

"Seems like you're as ready as I am," she purred. A flustered "Yeah" was all Spencer could muster.

"Then come on," she said, voice thick with longing. "I need you now!" She began to tug her shorts down off her hips. Spencer readily did the same.

Up close, even in the dim light provided by the glow of the TV, the changes in Lucy's figure were readily apparent. Her boobs were certainly bigger than yesterday, bobbing on her chest with every movement. Her wide hips and thick thighs straddled him with ease, but she seemed not to take notice to them, nor to her noticeably bloated belly. It felt a little out of character for a girl who usually kept quite fit, but it was no problem for Spencer—he'd always liked his women a little on the thicker side, and seeing the girl of his dreams with a little extra meat on her bones was very enticing.

As she kicked her panties aside, Spencer could tell she was practically dripping wet. Seeing it only made him get harder and ready to get inside her.

Wasting no time, Lucy grabbed his erection and sat herself on top of it, moaning deeply as she felt his full length penetrate her. She planted her hands on either side of his torso and began to ride him, tiddies bouncing up and down with her movements.

"Oh...my god...you—hmmph—you f-feel incredible!" She yelped, voice catching every time her thrust inside her.

"So do you," Spencer grunted. She was so tight and wet and full of energy, just like that morning. It surprised him that he wasn't finished after the first couple thrusts. "You're so hot!"

Lucy moaned and squealed, her toes curling. It seemed like she was already building toward an orgasm. Spencer bucked his hips faster and harder, trying to keep up a good pace. He grabbed Lucy's hips and squeezed. She shuddered, reaching her climax with a shriek of ecstasy. Feeling her tighten around his shaft was enough to make Spencer reach his orgasm too, coming hard inside her.

Lucy let herself fall forward and rest against his chest, breathing heavy from the aftermath of her climax. "Hoooo...that was incredible."

Spencer held her close, panting. The exertion of their love making had made them both sweaty. "You're incredible," he breathed. "I'm so happy to finally be with you."

Lucy picked her head up to give him a long kiss. When she put her head back on his chest, she glanced over and saw credits rolling on the TV. "Sorry...looks like we missed the end of our show."

Spencer chuckled, patting her back lightly. "That's okay! We can catch up next week. This was way more fun."

"It's just..." Lucy said, biting her lip. "I've been feeling so horny lately...I can't get enough of you."

"Trust me, I don't mind."

~~~~~

As the heat of the evening wound itself down, the two got up and carried on with their nightly routines. Lucy turned off the TV and Spencer brought the empty tupperware to the sink. They went and brushed their teeth together, Lucy playfully bumping hips with him as they stood there.

When they were finished, the two said their goodnights. Spencer headed over to his room, and Lucy to hers. Watching her walk away, a part of him wished he could follow her and sleep together with her...but after dating for only a day, it was probably a bit too soon for that.

Instead he went to his room and turned off the lights to go to sleep. He couldn't help thinking about her...how attractive she was and how badly she wanted him. How her chest and ass had gotten a bit more jiggly since the other day and how it only made her that much sexier. Her slightly odd obsession with the watermelon...

Only a day, he thought...but if the days going forward were going to be anything like this, he could certainly get used to it.

~~~~~

Spencer woke up at his usual time the next morning, feeling well rested and ready to start the day. He hadn't stopped thinking about Lucy all night...had they really had sex twice yesterday? It seemed too good to be true. He was more than ready to see her again, though he doubted she would be in the mood to do anything intimate after all their action yesterday.

He got up, going through the day's plans in his head. He had another shift at work to deal with, as well as a couple errands to run. But first things first, he needed a good breakfast to start the day with.

He walked into the kitchen, expecting to find Lucy there, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he heard the bathroom door open behind him, and he turned to look. He was shocked to find Lucy standing there, completely naked.

Lucy blushed and smiled sheepishly at him. "Sorry...I took a shower and didn't feel like getting dressed yet. You don't mind, do you...?"

Spencer stood there wide-eyed, taken aback for a moment. Seeing her standing there naked was one thing, but it was her body that caught him off guard.

Overnight, her figure had changed significantly. Her boobs were even bigger and perkier than before, having gone up at least a cup size. They were unnaturally pink, more so than before, with her nipples being especially bright and saturated. He noticed that her belly looked strangely pink as well, but that wasn't all—it had swollen up a lot since he last saw her. What could have passed as simple bloating last night was a round, pronounced potbelly.

"U-uhm...no, I don't mind," Spencer muttered, unsure of what else to say. "Uh...how are you feeling today?"

"Mmm...I am really hungry!" Lucy chirped, proceeding to rub her distended belly as if its size was completely normal. She began walking past him, although her walk was slightly more waddling than before. "Is there more watermelon?"

Spencer stared at her as she strode by, captivated. Her tits and ass subtly jiggled as she walked. And her belly...it looked convincingly like that of a woman who was around five months pregnant. Looking at her, Spencer had a moment of panic. They'd had sex unprotected twice yesterday...could it be...?

No, that was impossible. Even if she had somehow gotten pregnant, she couldn't have grown that much in one day.

Trying to keep it cool, he followed her as she walked over to the fridge. "Um, actually, I think you finished the last of the watermelon last night."

"Are you serious?! Ugggggh!" Lucy groaned, strikingly distraught. "I love that stuff..."

"It's okay, I can make us an equally good breakfast! With some more substantial food, in fact..." He approached her and wrapped an arm around her, partly to console her, but also to get a better look at her. "So, how hungry are you...?"

~~~~~

A short time later, Spencer had prepared a huge breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. It was a good think he knew basic cooking skills, because Lucy had made it clear she wanted to eat a lot.

Spencer made a single pancake for himself with a couple strips of bacon. Meanwhile, Lucy stacked her plate high with three pancakes, four eggs and nearly half a dozen strips of bacon. She sat at the kitchen counter, still in the nude, and began to dig in.

Spencer stared in awe as she ate. He'd never seen her eat this much in one sitting before. She swallowed whole fried eggs like they were nothing, and took forkfuls of pancake that barely fit in her mouth. She made muffled sounds of satisfaction with each bite.

"Mmphf...oh my god, this is the best," She mumbled, while crunching on bacon. "I've been soooo hungry."

Spencer watched her take bites with one hand as her other hand casually rubbed at her belly under the table. He wanted to say something to her...ask her if it was some kind of condition, if he should take her to a doctor...or if she even noticed it at all. The latter seemed unlikely, due to her having yet to say anything about it. She just appeared overjoyed to be stuffing herself, not a care in the world. Spencer decided to keep quiet about it.

As Lucy chewed her last bite, she moaned and rolled her eyes back, as if the food was giving her some sort of erotic pleasure. With her plate totally cleared, she sighed and sat back in her chair. "Mmm...that was so good...I'm stuffed."

Spencer audibly heard her belly gurgle, and she rubbed it again. No wonder she'd grown this big, if she was willing to eat so much...

After a moment, Lucy decided to get up from her chair. Spencer watched from his seat at the counter as she heaved herself up, obviously having more weight to carry around after her big meal and with all the new growth around her body. He watched her make her way over to the sink with her empty plate and marveled at her. Even with the sudden changes, she was still strikingly hot. Her thick ass which bounced with every step, massive tits and bulging belly, all out in the open...if anything, she was even more attractive than before.

Lucy put her dish in the sink, but continued to linger there for a few moments. She put her hands on the edge of the counter, head tilted down. Spencer began to worry if something was wrong.

"Spencer..." she said softly.

Spencer got up from his chair and walked over to her delicately. Was something the matter?Was she worried about how fast their relationship was going? Was she finally going to bring up her physical changes? Was she going to accuse him of getting her pregnant?

He approached her from behind, lightly putting his hands on her waist. "What's up?" he asked.

But instead of talking right away, she began to move. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, moving her hips from side to side. Just like the other day, she was starting to grind into him. Feeling her big, naked ass rub up against him was more than enough to spark a boner.

"Spencer..." she said again, now glancing over her shoulder at him. "That big breakfast you made me...all that food...it's really making me crave something..."

She wiggled her hips at him more, noticing his growing erection. Seeing her there totally naked, grinding up against him, big and beautiful and horny...there was nothing he could do but take off his pants.

Once he'd done so, he grabbed her by the hips, fingers sinking into her doughy flesh, and thrust himself into her from behind. She yelped as his cock filled her, her thighs quivering from the sensation.

"Yes...yes!" She moaned. "Oooh, fuck me! You feel so good!"

He pounded into her as shrieked with joy and whimpered from the pleasure. Her wet pussy somehow felt more incredible every time he had sex with her, and he was more than willing to give her what she wanted.

"Keep going," Lucy moaned, gripping tight onto the counter. "I need—aah!—more!"

Spencer grunted as he thrust faster and harder, clapping against her cheeks. He reached his hands up to explore the front of her body. He held her round belly, which was surprisingly firm. She seemed to like when he did this, cooing and biting her lip as he rubbed. His hands worked their way up to her breasts, where she really got excited. He squeezed them in his hands and rubbed her nipples between his fingers, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her whole body.

"Yes—ohhh fuck, you're so good!" Lucy shrieked, her voice getting higher as she neared her climax.

"You like getting fucked, don't you?" Spencer said in a low voice, feeling a bit bold. He could also feel his own climax rapidly approaching.

"I do!" Lucy moaned. "Ohhh...mmmh...you treat me so good...I want you to fill me up!"

Spencer did as he was told, coming hard as he orgasmed. Lucy hit her climax at the same time, all her muscles tensing as her jaw hung slack.

Spencer slipped out of her, and they both slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. Spencer ran his hands up and down her waist, placing kisses on her back.

After a moment, Lucy turned around, smiling at her boyfriend and giving him a kiss on the lips. Her bulging belly, now even fuller from the big breakfast and the load he'd just shot in her, lightly grazed against his skin.

"You fucked me good," she purred. "I think I need to go lay down..."

They kissed again, and Lucy hobbled off toward her room, legs shaky from the force of her orgasm. Spencer watched her walk away, staring at her ass like he always had. He could tell she was still horny, that she could definitely handle more...but for the moment, he was spent.

He turned and went to wash his hands in the sink, but looked at his hands with some confusion. For some reason, they had a bit of moisture on them. Spencer wasn't sure what it was...Lucy hadn't been that sweaty, so could she have still been damp from her shower? It hadn't seemed that way during breakfast...

He shrugged it off, and washed his hands thoroughly.

~~~~~

For the next hour or so, Spencer went about his normal routine while Lucy took a nap in her room. He cleaned up from breakfast, showered, and got dressed. By the time Lucy got up, he was sitting on the couch, watching some TV.

He was now able to hear her come out of her bedroom, now that her steps fell heavier. He turned to see her walking toward the living room, still totally naked. She yawned and stretched her arms up high, so that her chest and belly were on full display. The...swelling, or whatever it was...had not gone down since breakfast. If anything, she now looked six months pregnant instead of five.

"Did you have a nice nap?" Spencer asked, trying to avoid blatantly staring at her tits.

"Yeah," Lucy said groggily as she entered the room. "It was nice...but now I feel like I need something..."

Spencer gulped. Oh man, was she looking to have sex again? He didn't know if his dick could take it.

"...That watermelon," she continued. "I need more of it."

Whew, Spencer thought to himself. But then, his relief was replaced with a new concern. MORE watermelon? He thought maybe a whole giant watermelon in one day was enough to satisfy her...apparently not.

"Um...all right, if you really want some, I could take you to the store." He suggested.

Lucy's eyes lit up. "We can pick one up from that guy with the stand, right?" she said excitedly.

Spencer was reminded of the suspicious stand, the one his coworker said had never even existed. "Um...I'm sorry, babe, but I don't think the stand is there anymore."

Lucy pouted. "Aww, come on, I don't believe you. Just take me!"

Spencer chuckled. If there was one thing about her that hadn't changed in the past couple days, it was her stubbornness. "All right, we can go. But you're gonna need to put on some clothes first if we're gonna go out."

~~~~~

A few minutes later, Lucy came out in her same pajama outfit. While it used to fit perfect, the top could now barely contain her breasts and the shorts looked more like underwear. It seemed a bit revealing, but Spencer supposed it may have been all she could fit in currently.

The two headed out in Spencer's car toward the grocery store. Spencer was worried about how Lucy would react when she learned the guy with the stand was gone...hopefully she'd be able to settle for 'store brand' watermelon.

As he drove, he stole glances at her in the passenger seat. Her belly, out in full view, was growing increasingly full and round. The way it so glaringly stuck out in front of her, Spencer was amazed she hadn't said anything about it. Was she embarrassed? Did she even know the cause? When Spencer had felt her belly earlier, it had felt firm...he hoped it wasn't some fast-growing tumor or something. Either way, it would probably wise to call a doctor...

As he contemplated all this, he subconsciously pulled into the store parking lot. He only snapped back to reality when Lucy yelped with glee.

"Yes! See, I told you! He's there!" She shrieked, pointing toward the store.

Spencer looked over and was shocked at what he saw. The mysterious fruit stand from the other day was back, with the same man sitting at it.

He parked the car, and almost immediately, Lucy heaved her bloated body out and started heading toward the stand. Spencer hurried after her. "Hey, babe, wait up!"

As they approached, the man at the stand smiled at them. He was older, with a grey mustache and many wrinkles.

"Well, well, I remember you two!" The man said warmly. He had no reaction to Lucy's change in appearance from the other day.

"Yeah, we remember you too..." Spencer said, maintaining a bit of suspicion. "You wouldn't happen to have any more—?"

"Melons?" The man interjected. "Of course! I think I have a great one right here." He bent down and pulled out a perfect looking watermelon from behind the booth, just as big as the last one.

Lucy almost passed out from excitement. "Mmmm, yes!! Come to mama!" She grabbed the melon in her arms and turned to walk away with it. Spencer almost stopped her to say she shouldn't be carrying something so cumbersome in her...condition, but he didn't want to offend her. Instead, he turned back to the man at the stand.

"And this is...free of charge?" He asked.

The man nodded. "Yes! It's my pleasure. You two enjoy."

Spencer paused, took a few steps away, then stopped. He turned and glared at the man again. "Hey, listen...is there anything...unusual about these melons?"

The man chuckled. "Those melons are something special. It seems like your lady friend knows it all too well."

Spencer narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man chuckled again. "Don't you worry about it. Just enjoy the free fruit."

Spencer stared at the man's grinning face for another few moments, but ultimately he began walking back toward the car. He didn't want to cause a scene in front of Lucy. Later, when he came in for his shift, he'd confront the man more about his wares.

~~~~~

Continued in Part 2

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c29. Salvatore

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death, depression, eating disorders.

song to listen to when reading this: Se piovesse il tuo nome, Calcutta e Elisa.

abstract: it's Simon. do you know who this friend is? cause I've never seen him, I don't know… I don't like him. anyway, this chapter is all about him, you don't even need me here. this story is not about me anymore, I guess. salvo can talk to you next time, you know. since alba likes him so much. pff…

At the airport, Alba was scared to fall asleep standing up. It was a hour and a half drive from her place to the airport, and after the meeting, having to deal with an overexcited Kyle that wanted to talk to her, she felt exhausted. She realised mid drive he kinda asked her out and she brushed him off like nothing. 'I think me and a few others are going out later for drinks' he had said, walking her outside, 'You should come!' She used the opportunity to turn around and look through the glass doors, trying to find him. Are you doing out as well? Where are you when I need you? She chuckled and unlocked her car door. 'Thanks, I think I'll pass…' she tried to remain vague. He wasn't giving up. 'Why? You know, it could be good to get to know each other better, we're working together and all…' She finally looked at him, his charming and relaxed expression. She gave him a smile, trying to repress the internal screaming in her head. 'I need to go pick up a friend from the airport, but thanks for the invite.' He seemed surprised, but kept his cool. 'Well, your friend can come too!' She laughed again, but turned her back to him. 'Bye Kyle, have fun.' She heard him laugh while closing the car door. 'I'm gonna figure you out Judy!' He was saying. You wish.

She waited patiently for Salvo to appear out of the sliding doors of the airport, she ran to him when she saw him. He looked like he had been sleeping on the plane, hair messy, dark circles but a dumb lazy smile on his face. He took her in her arms squeezing her tight. 'Ciao bella mia…'She laughed and let out a long sigh. 'Ciao 'more…' She helped him with his bags, but he wanted to look at her for a few more seconds. 'Stai di merda chicca, che succede?' He said, to which she let out a loud groan. He had said she looked like shit. I'm gonna tell you in the car, she replied. Salvo was an handsome guy. He had beautiful curly hair, he had big and full lips, kind, round puppy eyes. He was tall, he was fun, he was outgoing. He was the kind of guy to get along with everyone, made everyone fell comfortable. When she didn't feel comfortable enough to speak, he would fill all her silences. When she got angry, he would always calm her down. When he was down, she was his biggest fan. He was the sun, she was the moon. She let herself go completely with him, and he felt blessed by her presence. He was blessed to see the real Alba, who sang out loud to Disney musicals and old Italian traditional songs. Who let herself be vulnerable and open. He had always been true to her, always supported her, but always told her his truthful opinions on stuff and when he felt she was making mistakes. He had always her wellbeing at heart. They gossiped together like teenagers, they talked about the past, trauma and what not, his family treated her like one of them. They were both from the south, hospitality was a big thing for them. He knew everything about her. They facetimed one of Salvo's sisters in the car, she just had a baby, making her Aunty Alba. Zia Alba. They didn't know her as Alba, obviously, they knew her real name. They knew everything, they still wanted her in the family. Even if they knew who she really was, they still liked her, they still loved her. Una Pentita. Collaboratrice di Giustizia. Traditrice.

He talked about Korea, how the past four months went. He was tired, he was glad he saw his family. He asked about her new job or whatever, that's when she felt like collapsing. 'È una merda, Salvo…'she helped him unload the car with his luggage, bringing it upstairs. 'Sto imparando l'alfabeto, dopodomani inizio e non ho idea di che cazzo devo fare…' Jinx greeted Salvo with loud barks and his tail wiggling like crazy. Salvo was enthusiast to see the dog, which was just a shy puppy when he first started coming round at her house. 'Se sanno che non sai veramente il croato perchè ti hanno dato questo lavoro?' He asked, sitting down on the couch, Jinx following him and trying to climb on his lap. She sat down beside him, let out a sigh. She explained she had a feeling something was going on. She felt like she was being lied to. When Jinx finally settled down she was able to rant a bit. She revealed things weren't going so well, her schedule was going to be tight. She had sessions all day, she had two hours of listening post duties during lunch break, four more to fit through the day, either before ballet or in the early morning, before her therapy sessions. She had Pre Ballet class with the little girls two times per week, her other group three times. And the best part?

'Sai chi si è fatto male?'

'Chi?'

'Quella troia di Rachel Montana'

'Cazzo dici…'

Rachel Montana was an higher level dancer, she was 24. She was from the oldest group the school had which ranged from 20 year olds to 27. She had been at the school since she was in diapers. The bitch had all the best roles all the time. Skinny, blonde, basic pink Barbie bitch. She went around saying Alba wasn't good enough for teaching, her tattoos were ugly, and all the ear piercings... She was too old for ballet. She said she wasn't in enough good shape to be a teacher, her flexibility wasn't too great either. Last year, there was this very good looking photographer at the theatre they were having the final performance in. Noah, so so handsome. Rachel was pissed at the fact he seemed more interested in taking pictures of Alba rehearsing with the kids than her dancing. Well, Alba and Noah hooked up in an empty dressing room the night of the show, Rachel spread the word. Fucking bitch. Well, princess Rachel, she was telling Salvo, broke her arm skiing with her rich dad in Switzerland. 'No fucking way…' She reached for the table to get her tabacco, grinder and cardboard filters. 'Guess who's playing Snow Queen this year?' The girl asked.

'Who, Angie? Is it Maggie?'

'No stupid, it's me.' She revealed. Salvo congratulated her in shock, but Alba soon confessed it wasn't really a good thing. Snow Queen was an extremely difficult role, her pointe shoe work wasn't good, her flexibility was worse than her fifteen year old students. When she heard the news she felt faint, they only picked her cause they could not be bothered to teach the choreos to someone else. Plus, everyone always said Rachel was too young to be playing Snow Queen. 'So basically you're actually in the show, you're not just teaching.' She nodded. 'Honey, you got a lot on your plate…' She made him some dinner, mainly leftovers, they smoked a bit of weed. He took a shower and got ready to sleep. They laid in the dark of Alba's room under the covers, facing each other. She touched his hand, comforting him, while he whispered about deployment, about how tired he felt, how he missed home. How he felt that career wasn't for him anymore. She felt his breathing getting heavier, but the sleepiness didn't stop him from asking her one last question. 'Mi devi dire di lui…'

She chucked, 'Who?' and he clicked his tongue. 'You know who. I want to know how you did it.'

'Did what Salvo? Literally nothing happened…'

'So what? I want to know, you guys basically went on a date!'

'Not true...'

'No, è vero chicca… se c'era una persona che poteva infognarsi con uno del genere eri tu…'

She spoke even though she wasn’t sure if he was asleep. She told him everything, even to go over the details herself. She said he knew where her office was, her apartment, her workplace. He knew what car she drove. She said he went to see her every time they had spoken, she initiated conversation only one time. He wanted to see her, that's what she thought. He was kind, he was gentle and considerate. He liked asking her about her life, he didn't like answering her questions. He was diligent and he looked like he would say yes to everything she says. He remembered details, he never ever tried to touch her in any way after the hug at the ballet school. She said she liked Simon. She liked that she couldn’t really figure him out, she liked it was kinda obvious she was the first woman he had went out with, in a while at least. She even liked they weren’t really putting a label on what they were doing because he was so awkward. She said that she could see how damaged he must have been in the past, it was the thing that kinda kept her from getting closer to him. She already had her shit to think about. She said she would wait and see, they would probably stop seeing each other around at some point. She acted like that didn’t make her a tiny bit sad.

notes: i am OBSESSED with this song, here, let me translate:

If in the streets or in all this mess,

It rained you name, I would like to drink it, one letter at a time

translations: 'Ciao bella mia…' Hi my beautiful… 'Ciao 'more' short for ciao amore, which means hi love. it's normal for very close friends to call each other love in a non romantic way. only in certain settings tho not all the time!! 'more sure we can get a coffee later. nooo, 'more I'm sorry that happened.

'È una merda Salvo…' it's shit, Salvo. Sto imparando l'alfabeto, dopodomani inizio e non ho idea di che cazzo devo fare…' 'I'm learning the alphabet, i start in two days and I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do…'

'Sai chi si è fatto male?' (Do you know who got injured?)

'Chi?' (Who?)

'Quella troia di Rachel Montana' (That Rachel Montana bitch)

'Cazzo dici…' (You're fucking joking)

translations: 'Mi devi dire di lui…' you have to tell me about him.

È vero chicca… se c'era una persona che poteva infognarsi con uno del genere eri tu…'

but it's true chicca, if there was one person that could get involved with someone like him, it had to be you. chicca has no translation, it's like saying baby, but more friendly. chicco is the male version, it stands for something small and cute, for example to say grain of rice, we say chicco di riso.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Some of the students and teachers go on a trip to Paris.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: um... please don't be mad :((

i promise everything will work out

Series Masterlist - Chapter 5 → Chapter 7

AO3 Link For Chapter

February

A few months had passed since Christmas, and now it was the beginning of February. The weather had started to warm up a bit, and the rain became more of a constant.

Professor Xavier had decided to let the students who didn’t go home for the holidays on a trip, while the ones that did go home had a weeklong break. They were split into two small groups, some going to Paris, and others going to Germany.

They all had packed their bags for a week, including Alexandria, Kitty, Jean, Scott, Kurt, Jubilee, Rogue. The teachers accompanying them were Charles, Logan, Storm, and Hank.

Kitty’s voice broke the silence. “Have you ever been to Paris, Alexandria?”

She looked over at Kitty, thinking over what she should say. Because she has been to Paris, not for sightseeing, but was sent on a mission by HYDRA to kill a group of people. She wasn’t given any more information other than their names and pictures; she had no idea why HYDRA wanted them dead.

But she did it, because that’s what she was, a loyal soldier.

“Yeah, I’ve been to Paris,” Alexandria replied finally, her voice low and clipped. “But it wasn’t exactly a tourist visit.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, sensing the lack of enthusiasm in Alexandria’s tone. “Oh? What did you do there?”

Alexandria’s eyes flickered with a brief, unreadable emotion. “Just some work. Nothing you’d want to hear about.”

Jean, sitting next to Kitty, noticed the shift in mood and decided to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. “Well, I’ve heard Paris is amazing. The Eiffel Tower, the food, the art. I’m looking forward to seeing it all.”

“Yeah, the food should be good,” Scott chimed in. “And I hear the shopping is fantastic. Maybe we’ll have some time to check out the boutiques.”

Rogue, who had been quietly listening, added with a smile, “I’m hoping to get a few souvenirs. Maybe some of those fancy French pastries.”

Alexandria nodded slightly, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel the weight of her past pressing down on her, but she made an effort to push it aside. It was easier to focus on the present, even if it meant staying quiet.

They put their bags on a table where Logan and Ororo were loading them into the belly of the plane before climbing up the stairs into the hull.

Ororo looked over at Logan, who had just put another bag into the belly before picking up another one and repeating. She leaned against the table, glancing at his hands. “You must really like those gloves.” She commented with a grin. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he was wearing the gloves Alexandria got him for Christmas, or the fact he seemed to wear them quite often.

Logan turned around and looked at Ororo before grabbing another bag and tossing it into the plane’s cargo hold. “What about them?” he asked, nodding toward the gloves Alexandria had given him. His tone was as gruff as ever, but there was a slight softness to his voice, a hint of appreciation.

Ororo smirked, crossing her arms. “I just noticed you’ve been wearing them a lot. They must be pretty comfortable.”

Logan grunted in agreement. “They’re good. Better than some of the stuff I’ve used before.”

The plane was set up in four four-group seating arrangements. There were 4 rows both ways, making 16 seats in total.

The kids sat down in their seats, Kitty and Jubilee in one row, and Scott and Jean in the row in front of them.

Kurt and Rogue sat in the two seats across from Alexandria who was currently looking out of the window.

Hank helped Charles onto the plane before getting in the pilot seat himself, and Ororo sat next to him. Logan quietly sat down next to Alexandria, who was still looking out of the window with an interest.

Logan settled into the seat next to Alexandria, letting out a soft sigh as he adjusted his position. The private jet was already starting to hum with the sound of engines firing up. He glanced over at Alexandria, who was still focused intently on the view outside the window, her expression unreadable.

“You gonna stare out that window the whole flight?” Logan asked gruffly, trying to break the silence. There was no edge to his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

Alexandria shifted her gaze momentarily, meeting his eyes with a brief look before returning to the scene outside. “It’s not often I get to see the world from this high up. It’s different.”

Logan gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “Yeah, it’s something. Especially if you’re used to staying grounded.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly, though her eyes remained on the window. “You’ve been up here a lot?”

“More than I’d like to admit,” Logan said with a smirk. “This is about as close to flying as I get, and I prefer solid ground. But for trips like this, it’s necessary.”

Alexandria nodded, absorbing his words. “I see.”

Their conversation was interrupted as the plane started to take off, the gentle rumble growing louder. Logan watched Alexandria’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Despite her generally aloof demeanor, there was a faint spark of interest in her gaze as the plane climbed higher.

As she watched as the plane went high above the ground, the mansion becoming smaller and smaller, she hid a yawn under her hand.

It was hard to imagine that just 6 months ago, she was only allowed to sleep every two weeks, and now she had become used to 8 hours of sleep every night.

Jubilee, who sat across from her, was already playing a card game with Kurt, and Logan was reading a newspaper, which by the way Scott talked, should be extinct.

She rested her head on her fist, still looking at the window as her eyes became heavier. The steady hum of the plane and the rhythmic motion of the flight had a soothing effect, making her eyelids droop. What made it even easier was no one else was sleeping on this flight, meaning she didn’t even need her mind blocker to block out their dreams.

Logan, glancing over occasionally from his seat, noticed her struggling to stay awake. He could tell that despite her attempt to appear indifferent, she was tired. It was unusual to see her so relaxed, even if just a little.

After around 15 minutes, Jubilee and Kurt had finished two Uno games and were currently playing their third. Logan had flipped the page of the newspaper when a head slowly fell onto his right shoulder.

Logan felt the weight on his shoulder before he actually registered it. His initial reaction was to shift away, but he paused when he realized it was Alexandria’s head resting lightly on him. Her breathing was even, and she was clearly asleep.

He glanced around, seeing that none of the other kids were paying attention. Kurt and Jubilee were deep into their game, Scott and Jean were chatting quietly, and Hank was busy with the plane’s controls. Ororo, who was also monitoring the flight, occasionally glanced back with a thoughtful expression but said nothing.

Logan grunted softly, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. He shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, mindful not to jostle her too much. Alexandria stirred a bit but didn't wake up, her head adjusting to find a more comfortable position against his shoulder.

Logan let out a quiet sigh, his gaze softening as he watched her sleep. He’d seen her struggle with her own internal battles, her past with HYDRA casting long shadows. But there was something different about her now, a tentative trust he hadn’t seen before.

He heard a soft chuckle from the front of the plane and looked up to see Ororo watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, isn’t that a sight?” she said, her tone light but with a hint of amusement.

Logan gave her a sidelong look. “Yeah, well, she fell asleep on me. I didn’t ask for it.”

Ororo’s grin widened. “I’m sure she appreciates it more than you think.”

Logan grunted noncommittally, adjusting his posture to better support Alexandria’s head. The plane’s hum was steady, and the gentle motion seemed to be lulling her into a deeper sleep. Logan glanced at the other students, noting that most were preoccupied. He decided to let her rest for now.

As the plane continued its ascent, Logan turned his attention back to his newspaper, though he found it difficult to concentrate with Alexandria’s steady breathing against him. He couldn’t deny a small, grudging sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t often that he felt this kind of responsibility or connection, but Alexandria had a way of making him question his own boundaries.

A few minutes passed before he noticed a faint rustling from Alexandria. She shifted slightly but remained asleep, her face now resting more comfortably against his shoulder.

Jubilee, having finally won their Uno game, looked over at Logan and Alexandria with curiosity. “Logan,” Kurt whispered from across the aisle, glancing at Alexandria’s sleeping form with a small, amused smile. “Looks like you’re now a pillow.”

Logan shot him a look that was somewhere between a glare and a smirk. “Keep your voice down, elf. You’ll wake her.”

Kurt’s grin widened slightly, but he nodded and turned back to his game with Jubilee, keeping his voice low as they continued their banter over the cards.

As the conversation shifted back to the game, Logan remained focused on Alexandria, his thoughts drifting.

---

The first thing she noticed was that the plane had quickly grown quieter. Alexandria blinked her eyes and lifted her head, realizing multiple things.

Alexandria's eyes widened in realization as she registered her surroundings. The plane was empty, save for the faint trace of Kurt's tail disappearing down the stairs. Her initial reaction was a mix of embarrassment and confusion, compounded by the fact that she’d fallen asleep on Logan’s shoulder. That was definitely not something she intended to do, especially in front of someone as stoic and gruff as him.

She sat up quickly, glancing around to make sure no one else had witnessed the unintentional display of vulnerability. Logan was still there, flipping through the last few pages of his newspaper. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, just let her sleep. The quiet in the plane felt almost suffocating as Alexandria considered what to say, if anything.

“Everyone’s already off,” Logan remarked without looking up, his tone casual but with an edge that suggested he was fully aware of her discomfort.

Alexandria cleared her throat, forcing herself to adopt her usual aloof demeanor. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she muttered, avoiding direct eye contact. She was rarely caught off-guard, and she didn’t like the feeling of being exposed, even in something as small as this.

Logan shrugged, folding the newspaper and tossing it onto the empty seat beside him. “Could’ve fooled me,” he replied, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess even you need some rest now and then.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of her usual aloofness. “I just didn’t expect to fall asleep like that.”

Logan shrugged, his expression softening a little. “It happens. Especially when you’re running on early mornings and packed schedules. But if you’re going to nap on me, at least you could warn me first.”

Alexandria’s gaze flickered to him, and she found herself momentarily caught off-guard by the faint trace of warmth in his eyes. It was rare to see Logan in such a relaxed state, and it made her feel oddly self-conscious.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I guess it’s… nice of you to let me sleep.”

Logan grunted, giving her a sideways glance. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not usually this accommodating. But you needed it.”

As she stood up, Alexandria glanced out of the window, seeing that the plane had landed and the cityscape of Paris was visible through the small opening.

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. She’d spent most of the flight asleep, and now she had to adjust to the reality of being in Paris again, though this time it was for a very different reason than before.

As the plane’s door opened and the cool air from outside drifted in, the rest of the group began to gather their things and prepare to disembark. Jean and Scott were already up, stretching and chatting excitedly about their plans. Kitty and Jubilee were deep in discussion about the shopping they hoped to do.

“Ready to explore, Alexandria?” Kitty called out, her enthusiasm evident as she grabbed her bag.

Alexandria forced a smile. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan gave her a sideways glance as he collected his own gear. “Stick close. Paris might be a nice place, but it’s still a big city.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alexandria replied, trying to match his tone but with a touch of her own dry humor.

As they disembarked, Ororo and Hank were at the front, making sure everyone had their passports and documents in order. The excitement was palpable among the students, though Alexandria found herself falling back into her usual state of quiet observation.

They stepped into the bustling Parisian airport, the noise and activity of travelers creating a lively backdrop. Logan remained close to Alexandria, his presence a steadying force as they navigated through the crowd.

“Everyone’s excited, huh?” Logan said, keeping his voice low as they walked. “Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

Alexandria glanced at him, noting the subtle concern in his tone. “I think I can handle a bit of excitement.”

Logan grunted, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Good. Just making sure.”

Outside, a pair of sleek black cars awaited them, and they quickly piled into the vehicles. The drive through Paris was filled with landmarks passing by in a blur: the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, and the bustling streets filled with people starting their day.

As they approached their accommodations, a charming boutique hotel in the heart of the city, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia mixed with a sense of trepidation. The hotel was elegant, with its classic Parisian architecture and warm, inviting atmosphere.

They checked in and were soon settled into their rooms. Alexandria found herself sharing a room with Kitty and Jean, which suited her well enough.

“Ready to hit the streets?” Kitty asked, pulling Alexandria from her thoughts as she joined them in the room.

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied. “Just give me a minute to get my bearings.”

As they prepared to head out, Logan and the rest of the teachers were already gathered in the lobby, ready to brief the students on their plans for the day.

“Alright, listen up,” Logan called out, his voice carrying authority. “We’re going to split into smaller groups to explore different parts of the city. You’ve got a map and a list of recommended spots. Just make sure to check in with us periodically.”

As they set off in their respective directions, Alexandria found herself with Kitty, Jean, and Scott, who were eager to take in the sights. Despite her initial reservations, she found that the lively atmosphere of Paris was starting to chip away at her reserve.

The day passed in a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and experiences. They visited charming cafes, browsed through quirky boutiques, and marveled at the beauty of the city. Alexandria found herself slowly relaxing, allowing the charm of Paris to work its magic. The memories of her past missions felt distant, overshadowed by the simple joy of exploring a new place.

As they regrouped for lunch, Alexandria sat with Kitty and Jean at a small outdoor café, enjoying a moment of respite. The Eiffel Tower loomed in the background, a stunning reminder of the city’s grandeur.

“Not bad, huh?” Kitty said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah,” Alexandria agreed, allowing herself a genuine smile. “It’s not what I expected.”

Jean grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I knew you’d like it. Paris has a way of growing on you.”

Alexandria took another sip of her coffee, the rich flavor providing a small comfort amidst her swirling thoughts. “Yeah, it’s definitely not what I expected,” she said, her voice a touch warmer than usual. “I guess it’s easier to appreciate when you’re not here on a mission.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been pretty quiet about what those missions were like. Maybe you should tell us more about what you did.”

Alexandria shook her head slightly, a small frown tugging at her lips. “Not really interested in talking about the past right now. Let’s just enjoy the present.”

Jean nodded, sensing the shift in Alexandria’s mood. “Fair enough. There’s plenty to see and do. We’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of us.”

Scott, who had been listening to the conversation, leaned forward. “Any particular places you guys want to check out? I’m up for anything.”

Kitty tapped her map thoughtfully. “How about we head over to Montmartre? I’ve heard the view from there is amazing.”

Alexandria glanced up at the mention of Montmartre, her curiosity piqued. “Montmartre? I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it.”

“It's a neighborhood known for its artistic history,” Jean explained. “The view from the top of the hill is supposed to be one of the best in Paris. Plus, there’s a lot of interesting street art and little cafes.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alexandria said, surprising herself with how much she was looking forward to it.

Kitty stood up, signaling to the others. “Alright then, Montmartre it is. Let’s finish up here and head out.”

As they left the café, the city’s energy seemed to lift Alexandria’s spirits. She walked alongside Kitty, Jean, and Scott, feeling the vibrant pulse of Paris in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The streets were alive with people, the architecture a blend of old and new, and the whole experience felt almost surreal.

When they arrived in Montmartre, the area was bustling with activity. Artists lined the streets, displaying their work for passersby. The narrow streets and charming buildings added to the neighborhood’s unique atmosphere.

Kitty immediately started taking pictures of the street art, her excitement palpable. “This place is amazing! Look at all these colors.”

Jean and Scott wandered off to explore the shops, while Alexandria found herself drawn to a small park with a view of the city. She took a seat on a bench, appreciating the quiet moment amidst the lively surroundings.

A few minutes later, Jean and Scott joined her, their faces flushed from the walk but full of enthusiasm. “We found a really cool bookstore nearby,” Jean said. “You should come check it out.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “A bookstore? Sounds… different.”

“It’s not just any bookstore,” Scott said with a grin. “It’s got a lot of rare and antique books. I thought you might like it.”

Apparently, they knew exactly what to say to get her up from the bench. “Alright,” Alexandria agreed, standing up. “Lead the way.”

They made their way to the bookshop, where Kitty, Kurt, and Jubilee already were. Alexandria made her way to a group of books in the international section.

There was a small shelf of Russian books and a spine of one of them caught her eye. ‘The Science Behind the Atomic Bomb. The spine looked exactly like a book her dad had. She picked it up and flipped through it, seeing diagrams and lots of rambling.

One quote stood out, it was one her dad always told her brother, “Everything that the human mind can understand and believe is achievable.”

Alexandria heard a clicking noise from somewhere around her as she looked up from the book. The sound was faint, almost like a camera shutter, but there was no one nearby who seemed to be taking pictures. She glanced around, her instincts immediately on high alert.

With a sense of unease creeping over her, she carefully returned the book to the shelf and made her way back to the group. Kitty, Jean, Scott, Jubilee, and Kurt were all engrossed in various sections of the bookstore, but Alexandria’s mind was still occupied by the strange clicking sound.

"Everything okay?" Jean asked, noticing the slight tension in Alexandria’s posture as she approached.

"Yeah," Alexandria replied, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. "Just thought I heard something."

Scott glanced around the bookstore, his eyes scanning the aisles. "You sure it wasn’t just someone taking a picture or something?"

"It might have been," Alexandria said, though she wasn’t convinced. Her instincts told her otherwise, but she didn’t want to alarm the others. "Let’s just keep moving."

Kitty, who had been admiring a display of rare books, looked up. "You want to check out something else? We’ve got a few more stops we could make before heading back."

As Alexandria forced herself to remain casual, she nodded to the group. “Yeah, sure,” she said, her tone betraying a hint of tension despite her efforts to sound relaxed. The uneasy feeling from the clicking noise lingered, but she tried to focus on the present and enjoy the rest of the day. She followed Kitty, Jean, Scott, and the others as they continued exploring Montmartre.

The neighborhood was vibrant with street performers, colorful murals, and the delightful scent of freshly baked pastries wafting from nearby cafes. Alexandria tried to immerse herself in the energy of the place, though her mind kept drifting back to the strange noise she’d heard in the bookstore.

Kitty was enthusiastically pointing out various street artists and their work. “Look at that one!” she said, pointing to a mural of a fantastical creature with bright, swirling colors. “It’s amazing how creative people can be.”

Jean, Scott, and Jubilee were busy taking photos and chatting about the different sights. Alexandria, however, found herself trailing behind slightly, her eyes scanning the crowd and the surroundings with a hint of wariness.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Scott called, noticing her distracted demeanor. “You okay? You seem a bit off.”

Alexandria forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not used to being so surrounded by people.”

Scott gave her a sympathetic look. “I get it. It can be overwhelming. If you need a break, just let us know.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, appreciating his offer even though she wasn’t quite ready to admit her discomfort.

They continued walking through Montmartre, the group making stops at various shops and cafes. Alexandria’s unease slowly began to fade as she let herself be swept up in the charm of the neighborhood. She found a small café that sold a variety of pastries and decided to grab a couple to try.

As she was examining the display case, Kitty and the rest joined her. “These look incredible,” Kitty said, eyeing the pastries with a look of excitement. “What do you want to try?”

The group choose the pastries they wanted as Alexandria went up to order, “Je prends une religieuse, une profiterole, un pain au chocolat, un kouign amann, une croustade pêches et baies, un mille-feuille et un sablés breton.”

The cashier nodded and went to get their items after Alexandria paid for it. She went back to the group who stood by a table. “I didn’t know you knew how to speak French!” Jubilee exclaimed.

Alexandria shrugged, “I speak 10 languages.”

Jubilee's eyes widened as she processed Alexandria's casual admission. "Ten languages? That's insane!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "How do you even keep track of that many?"

Alexandria shrugged again, nonchalant. "You just do," she replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Kitty handed out the pastries Alexandria had ordered, her curiosity piqued. "Okay, but now I have to ask, what other languages do you know?"

Alexandria took a bite of her mille-feuille before responding. "Russian, obviously. English, French, German, Spanish, Mandarin, Arabic, Japanese, Italian, and Polish."

Scott let out a low whistle. "Impressive. Did HYDRA train you in all those?"

Alexandria nodded, her expression not giving away much. "They had their reasons."

The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing what Alexandria had shared. It was a stark reminder of her past, and while they were all aware of her history, hearing her talk about it so matter-of-factly brought a certain weight to the conversation.

Jubilee, always one to lighten the mood, spoke up again. "Well, now we know who to go to when we need a translator. Seriously, that’s like having a superpower on its own."

Alexandria smirked, a rare hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, I guess it has its uses."

The group continued to enjoy their pastries, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating as they chatted about lighter topics. Alexandria found herself more at ease, the camaraderie of the group providing a comforting backdrop to their day in Paris.

As they finished up and prepared to move on to their next stop, Alexandria couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of being watched. The clicking noise from the bookstore gnawed at her, a subtle but persistent reminder that her past might not be as distant as she wanted it to be.

They eventually made their way out of Montmartre, deciding to explore the more tourist-heavy areas before heading back to the café near the Eiffel Tower. The group meandered through the streets, stopping occasionally to take photos or check out a particularly interesting shop.

At one point, they passed a small street vendor selling an assortment of trinkets and souvenirs. Jubilee immediately gravitated towards the colorful display, her eyes lighting up as she examined a set of intricately designed keychains. "These are so cute!" she exclaimed, holding up one shaped like the Eiffel Tower.

Kitty joined her, picking up a small snow globe with the Paris skyline inside. "These would make great gifts," she mused, turning it over in her hands. "I think I’ll get a few for some of the others back home."

Scott and Jean hung back slightly, talking quietly between themselves, while Alexandria stayed a bit further behind, her attention wandering. She glanced around, taking in the bustling activity of the city, but her mind was still preoccupied with the strange sense of unease she couldn’t quite shake.

---

The group made it back to the hotel and made sure to check in with Logan, Hank, Charles, and Ororo. Jean gave Charles a knick knack, Jubilee gave Ororo a hat, and Scott gave Hank a book. They all chatted eagerly with them as Alexandria stood at the back, quiet and keeping a watch around. She thought no one noticed her watching until Logan came by her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Logan's hand on Alexandria’s shoulder was a firm but subtle gesture, grounding her in the moment. His touch was neither overly gentle nor demanding, a reflection of his understanding of her and their shared rough edges.

"You good, kid?" Logan asked, his voice laced with a hint of concern. He didn’t pry, just offered a moment of connection.

Alexandria shrugged slightly, her usual response when she wasn’t sure how to put her thoughts into words. “Yeah. Just… keeping an eye out.”

Logan gave her a knowing nod, understanding without the need for her to elaborate. “Old habits,” he commented, not as a question but as a statement of fact.

“Yeah,” she admitted, her eyes scanning the lobby once more before meeting his. “Can’t shake it.”

Logan’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained typically stoic. “It’ll take time. You’ve got good instincts—just don’t let ‘em ruin a good moment.”

She almost smirked at that, appreciating his attempt to ease her tension without making her feel like she was being coddled. “I’m working on it.”

The two stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the others continued their animated conversations with the teachers. Alexandria was still on alert, but Logan’s presence at her side made it easier for her to relax, even if only a little.

Alexandria lifted the small backpack she had and pulled out a white paper bag. “I got you something. It’s a sablés Breton. It’s a salted butter cookie, and it’s not supposed to be too sweet.”

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly as Alexandria handed him the paper bag. He took it, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. He raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“A sablés Breton, huh?” he said, looking at the bag with a touch of skepticism. “What’s the catch?”

Alexandria smirked, trying to mask her own unease with a hint of confidence. “No catch. Just something I thought you might like. I’ve been told it’s a good cookie, not too sweet. Figured it might be worth a try.”

Logan gave her a half-smile, a rare expression that softened his typically gruff demeanor. “Well, I’m not one to turn down a cookie. Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”

He pulled out one of the cookies and took a bite, his expression thoughtful as he chewed. Alexandria watched him closely, her eyes betraying her nerves. After a moment, Logan nodded approvingly.

“Not bad,” he said, his tone begrudgingly appreciative. “Definitely better than some of the crap I’ve had over the years.”

Alexandria’s lips curled into a small, relieved smile. “Good to know. It was the least I could do.”

Logan’s eyes softened just a touch more. “I appreciate it. And… if you ever need to talk or anything, you know where to find me. Doesn’t have to be about cookies.”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two stood in a companionable silence for a moment, watching as the others chatted and laughed nearby. The atmosphere around them was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension Alexandria had been feeling earlier. Logan’s presence, though gruff, provided a steady anchor amidst her swirling thoughts.

---

The week went by smoothly, with everyone getting back on the plane with more stuff than they came with. Some of the things were for themselves, and some were to give to the others when they got back to the mansion.

Alexandria was currently putting a few new clothes she got in her closet. Today was Sunday, but Kitty and Jean needed to go out to the mall to get a few essentials, like body wash and shampoo, so Alexandria and even Scott were going to come along.

She grabbed a purse she bought in Paris, which was $5,000, thanks to Tony Stark’s credit card, and headed out to the garage in a comfortable outfit. It was a cropped grey t-shirt with short sleeves, loose-fitting cargo pants and black high-top Converse.

As she headed into the garage by staircase, Kitty came out by the elevator nearby, and Scott and Jean were already in the car.

Kitty spotted Alexandria and waved enthusiastically. “Hey! Ready for some mall action?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Alexandria replied with a small, genuine smile.

In the garage, Scott and Jean were already in the car. Scott was behind the wheel, his expression relaxed as he fiddled with the radio. Jean sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, Alexandria!” Scott greeted, looking up as she approached. “All set?”

“Yep,” Alexandria said, sliding into the back seat next to Kitty. “Ready to hit the mall.”

Jean glanced over her shoulder, giving Alexandria a friendly smile. “We’re just waiting for you two.”

As Scott started the car and pulled out of the garage, the conversation shifted to their plans for the day. Jean mentioned a few stores they needed to visit, and Kitty chimed in with her shopping list. Alexandria listened, her gaze drifting out the window as they made their way towards the mall.

The drive was uneventful, and soon they arrived at the bustling shopping center. The mall was busy, with people streaming in and out of stores, the sounds of chatter and footsteps filling the air. Alexandria followed Kitty, Jean, and Scott as they made their way through the crowds.

“So, what’s first on the agenda?” Kitty asked, clutching a shopping bag as she looked at the group.

Jean consulted her list. “We need to get body wash, then head to Sephora for shampoo. After that, we can wander a bit and see what catches our eye.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

They made their way to the first store, a large department store with a variety of personal care products. Alexandria trailed behind, her eyes scanning the aisles as they walked. She picked out a few items, but her mind was still partially focused on the strange clicking noise she had heard in Paris. The feeling of being watched had faded, but she couldn’t completely shake off the sense of unease.

Kitty and Jean were busy discussing the merits of different brands of body wash, while Scott looked over the selection of shampoos. Alexandria grabbed a few bottles of strawberry scented body wash and the same scent in lotion. Her and Scott followed Kitty and Jean around until they were done and they checked out.

It wasn’t until they were leaving the store that she caught a glimpse of a man standing near the entrance, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he quickly looked away. He was dressed casually, blending in with the crowd, but there was something about him that set off alarm bells in Alexandria’s mind.

She didn’t react outwardly, but her senses were now on high alert. As they made their way to the next store, she kept a close eye on their surroundings, subtly scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

Kitty, Jean, and Scott were blissfully unaware of her heightened vigilance, chatting about their plans for the rest of the day. Alexandria, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.

As they entered another store, Alexandria made a point of positioning herself near the entrance, giving herself a clear view of anyone coming or going. She spotted the man again, this time lingering outside, pretending to be interested in a display of sunglasses.

Her instincts screamed at her to do something, but she knew she couldn’t act rashly. Instead, she stayed close to the group, keeping her eyes on the man without making it obvious that she was aware of him.

Instinctively, her hand reached behind her back, when she realized she wasn’t on a mission, and therefore did not have a gun. It was also illegal to shoot in a busy mall.

She kept her eyes on the man until Jean and Kitty were done and they headed out. Alexandria noticed that Scott unspokenly took Jean’s bags from her hands.

Once they were in the car, Kitty mentioned that she was hungry. Scott, who was driving once again, turned to face her at a stop sign. “Have you tried a burger yet, Alexandria?”

Scott’s question caught Alexandria off guard. She leaned forward, genuinely curious. “No. What’s that?”

Scott looked surprised, but then a grin spread across his face. “You’ve never had a burger? It’s a classic American dish. Basically, a beef patty in a bun, usually with some kind of toppings. Lettuce, tomato, cheese… that sort of thing.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, trying to piece together the description. “Sounds… simple enough.”

Jean chimed in from the passenger seat, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “You definitely need to try one. They’re a staple, and there are so many variations. You can get them with different toppings or even veggie options if you’re not into meat.”

Kitty, who had been scrolling through her phone, glanced up. “I know a great place nearby. They have this burger that’s super popular. I think it would be perfect for you to try.”

Scott nodded in agreement, his expression clearly amused. “Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll grab burgers. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Alexandria settled back into her seat, her curiosity piqued. “Alright. I’m open to trying new things.”

They made their way to the burger joint that Kitty recommended. It was around 10 minutes away, and the GPS on Jean’s phone took them down a side street with barely any cars.

Kitty was currently showing pictures of burgers to Alexandria when Scott let out a whispered curse. Jean leaned over, “what is it?”

Scott’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pressed down on the brake pedal again and again. The car, however, continued to speed up, the side street ahead narrowing ominously.

“The brake isn’t working,” Scott muttered, his voice tense with barely contained panic.

Jean leaned over, eyes wide with concern as she tried to help. “What do you mean, the brake isn’t working? Can you try shifting it into neutral?”

“I’m trying,” Scott replied through gritted teeth, his hand fumbling with the gear shift. But nothing changed—the car continued its dangerous momentum down the street.

Kitty’s phone slipped from her hand as she leaned forward, her face pale. “We need to get out of here. We should jump.”

Alexandria, calm despite the situation, reached for the door handle, yanking at it. “The doors are locked,” she said, her voice edged with frustration.

“Break the windows,” Jean suggested quickly, her telekinetic powers already flickering to life as she aimed to shatter the glass.

But before Jean could focus enough to unleash her powers, the car swerved uncontrollably, the tires screeching against the asphalt. Scott tried to maneuver the wheel, but it was too late. A flash of metal appeared in their peripheral vision as a car careened toward them from the opposite direction.

The impact was brutal, slamming into the side of their vehicle with a force that knocked the breath out of everyone. The sound of crunching metal, shattering glass, and the dull thuds of bodies slamming against their seats filled the air. Darkness enveloped them as consciousness slipped away.

---

Alexandria was the first to come to, her mind foggy as she blinked against the harsh light that filtered through the cracked windshield. A sharp pain radiated from her left shoulder, but she pushed it aside, instincts kicking in. The car was eerily silent, the only sound a faint ringing in her ears.

She looked around quickly. Scott was slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. Jean’s head rested against the passenger window, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. Kitty was next to Alexandria, her breathing shallow but steady.

Before she could make a move to check on the others, the car door beside her was yanked open, and rough hands grabbed her by the arm. She reacted instantly, her training from HYDRA surging to the forefront. But the grip was too strong, and her disorientation was enough to keep her from putting up a fight.

“Don’t struggle,” a cold voice hissed in her ear, the thick accent unmistakably Russian.

Alexandria’s heart pounded in her chest as she was dragged out of the car, her feet stumbling on the uneven ground. She was shoved forward, her vision still blurred as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The street was empty save for the two cars, both wrecked from the collision. The man who had grabbed her was dressed in black tactical gear, his face obscured by a balaclava.

She went to elbow him but he caught her elbow before handcuffing her hands behind her back.

Before she could act, the man behind her spoke again, his voice cold and detached. “You don’t want to do anything stupid, little girl. Just get in the van.”

As they moved away from the wreckage, she caught sight of a van parked a little further down the street. The back doors were open, revealing more men inside, similarly dressed. This wasn’t just a random attack—this was a coordinated effort. They had been targeted.

Her eyes darted around, looking for an opening, for anything that could give her the upper hand. But the man’s grip on her arms tightened, cutting off her circulation and her thoughts of escape. She was pushed toward the van, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the acrid smell of gasoline from the wrecked vehicles.

Inside the van, she could see that it was lined with reinforced metal, designed to keep anyone inside from getting out. A chill ran down her spine. This was a prison on wheels.

As she was forced closer to the van, Alexandria’s mind raced, trying to calculate her options. The element of surprise was gone, and she was outnumbered. But she wasn’t defenseless. Her powers, though not as honed as she’d like, were still there.

It was better to not fight and further risk Jean, Kitty, and Scott, and instead be taken. But she didn’t leave without putting a message inside Jean’s head, which wasn’t easy. Jean certainly was a strong telepath, but all Alexandria did before being shoved into the van, was put a symbol of HYDRA in her dream.

The doors to the van closed as a needle was inserted into her neck, and a black bag over her head.

i'm gonna try and upload the next few chapters asap in the next 3-5 days, just so there isn't much wait. but no promises!

[kissorkill16]

I saw in a YouTube video, and on a few comments thanks to a couple of people on Tumblr that Nicky was originally supposed to be Theodore's son. Let me just write a storyline on how that would play out.

So Ted and Luanne were married before Ted and Diane, and Luanne used to be his housewife. Soon after they got married and had XXX, Luanne gave birth to Nicky and that's when Nicky was first known as Nicholas Michael Peterson.

Things started out okay. Ted really loved Nicky. He held him in his buff arms, and sang him a lullaby, the same lullaby that he did in Waking Nightmares. Tom, Tom, the Piper's son. Nicky even liked that booming laugh Ted had, whenever he laughed, the baby laughed too. Nicky made Ted so happy.

But things slowly got rocky.

Ted started becoming more focused on work. Spending more time at work, less time at home, and even less time with his family. Luanne got fed up and the two had a big fight, resulting in a divorce. Luanne got full custody of Nicky, but wouldn't allow Ted to see him.

After the divorce, Ted developed depression and anger issues. A year later, he met Diane and was happy to find out that she was recently divorced and already had two kids, Aaron and Mya. However, Ted never told her about his past family.

But even after he married her, that woman and those children kept reminding him of what he lost. He missed Luanne and Nicky, but he still loved Diane and her kids though, they filled in his empty heart, just not completely.

One day, he tracked Luanne down, and was absolutely furious when he found out that she married some other man named James (Jay) Roth. He went to their house, kidnapped Nicky, and drove off, trying to make it back to his house. Unfortunately, his car got hit by a street lamp.

In his coma, he had an encounter with a demon (The Guest) who said that his baby was dying because the street lamp hit him. He begged the demon not to let him die, to save him. The demon agreed, but with a heavy price. Nicky would have no memory of him. Ted agreed, and fell deeper into depression. But hey, at least the baby lived.

Years passed, and the Roths now live across the street from the Petersons. When Aaron first brought Nicky over, Ted nearly fainted upon hearing his name. Ted wanted nothing more than to just lift him up in his arms and hug him, but he remembered the deal he had with the demon and how Nicky has absolutely no memory of him. Ted also hated when Nicky called him Mr. Peterson.

Also, part of the reason why Luanne didn't want to invite the Petersons over for dinner was because she knew Ted and didn't want Nicky to find out he was his real father.

Anyways, fast forward through all the canon stuff. Diane dies, Mya falls off the roof, Ted locks Aaron in the basement, Nicky spies on Mr. Peterson to try and save him, and ends up getting kidnapped by Ted.

Ted is overjoyed to finally have his son back, and does everything to try to help him remember. Showing him pictures, and singing him that creepy lullaby he always liked, trying to make him call him dad, but all that did was make Nicky more scared. Every time Nicky tried escaping, Ted felt guilty every time he had to hurt him or drug him.

And while this was going on, Luanne was currently having panic attacks and mental breakdowns, thinking about how Ted could've been the one that kidnapped him, since he was her ex-husband.

After Nicky escapes, Luanne doesn't even need to ask where he's been the past 2 months. She felt like she already knew. And boy she was so close to killing Mr. Peterson.

Fast forward years later, Nicky is all grown up. After Act 3, Nicky eventually finds out on his mother's death bed that Jay wasn't his real father. He suddenly remembers all the things that Ted did to him as a baby. All of the cradling, singing, and hugs. He now understands why Ted was trying so hard to make him remember all of that, he was his real father.

He finds out that Ted is still alive, but in prison. He pays his bail, and tells him everything his mother told him. They have a small family reunion, and Nicky's first thought is to find Aaron and tell him about all of this. Ted is hesitant at first, but then he realizes that Aaron has a right to know.

He tracks Aaron down, and they learn that he's been staying with Quentin Gershowitz back in Germany. As soon as they find Aaron, Nicky explains everything to him. Aaron's reluctant to accept it at first, considering Ted never told him about any of this, but eventually forgives Ted since he realized his best friend was also his stepbrother.

They all live together happily ever after.

(Sorry if this is a shitty storyline, I just came up with all of this off the top of my head.)

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 23

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

Okay, this is an extra looooong chapter. But we're finally at the end of Part 3! And the last line in this chapter was written when I first started plotting this fic, over 18 months and 230 000 words ago...so I'm a little excited for you guys to finally read it!

————–

PART 3

Chapter 23

The hostess led Cross and Ranieri through the busy restaurant, and Matt tracked their movements as they weaved between tables, the scent of their mingled colognes getting stronger as they came closer to his and Calina’s corner. He had a brief moment of concern that Cross was headed straight for them - that somehow Cross had discovered that Matt was looking into him, and had come here to confront him-

But then Cross paused at the table behind Matt to greet the couple seated there. Cross obviously knew them well, launching into a recap of his golf game from that morning and laughing with the couple about the new wait staff at the country club. Cross was in his slightly smarmy, exuberant, rich-guy mode - a persona that Matt had started calling his ‘politician guise’. It was a far cry from the real Cross - the cold sociopathic monster who enjoyed torturing people - and the falsity of it grated on Matt.

After a few moments of inane chatter, Cross and Ranieri moved on, heading for the back of the restaurant where the VIP section resided, separated from the rest of the public by a locked door.

“Will you be able to hear what’s going on in there?” Calina asked quietly.

Matt shook his head. “I doubt it. There’s soundproofing in the walls.”

“Soundproofing? In an already private room? That just screams shady, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m going to have to get closer - I can only pick up indistinct murmurs from here.”

“While you do that, I’ll contact Anya.”

“Anya? Why?”

“Because I think Ranieri’s presence here ties everything together.”

———

After the initial shock of seeing Ranieri had worn off, Calina realised that it shouldn’t have been a shock at all. It made complete sense. “We always suspected that the man behind the fear pheromone was the one who activated me to kill Governor Benson.”

Matt nodded. “In order to guarantee the supply of Arsonium for the pheromone.”

“Right. Aminev was the Red Room employee who dosed me for that assassination attempt, and Anya mentioned that she’d found his name in Ranieri’s laptop - Ranieri was looking for him after he defected from Volkov’s group. I’m guessing he found him - either he sent Aminev to Cross, knowing that he’d pay through the nose for a Black Widow to control, or Aminev told Ranieri about Cross.”

“Either way, Ranieri’s obviously decided to get into bed with another sociopath looking for power.”

“We need to find out what he’s telling Cross about the Widows and Volkov’s work.”

Matt nodded again, looking grim. “Agreed.” He gave Calina a quick kiss on the cheek and set off to do just that.

Calina watched Matt head for the restroom two doors down from the private VIP room, and hoped he’d be able to hear what Cross and Ranieri were up to from there.

Because this whole thing was giving her a really bad feeling.

The moment she’d set eyes on Ranieri, a pit of anxiety had opened up in her gut. It was the collision of her two worlds - her present with Matt, and her past with the Widows - and she knew it could only portend disaster for the future. Cross was powerful enough as it was, with all his wealth and influence and the fear pheromone he was using to blackmail key figures in the city. Add in mind-control serum or another Black Widow assassin to that mix and he could very possibly take over the world.

Calina grabbed her phone from her purse and sent off a message to Anya, updating her about Cross’ involvement in the serum, and the unexpected appearance of Ranieri. She’d call the other Widow later and give her more details, but she knew Anya would be intrigued enough by her quick missive to start digging and confirm Calina’s theory.

Meanwhile…she’d wait.

She was used to it. So many of her past missions were exercises in patience. In biding her time watching her marks, and waiting for the right moment to strike. But back then there were no idle thoughts to distract her, and definitely no fears or worries for her partner on the job.

This felt different. Her head was spinning with worry for what this new complication meant. And worry for Matt, who was becoming obsessed with taking down Cross.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait - and worry - for long. Ten minutes later, Matt emerged from his stake-out in the restroom and made his way back to her.

She smiled at him - an almost involuntary reflex now whenever she saw him. She’d asked him once, if he could sense that. They’d been lying in bed, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing up and down her bare back as they filled each other in on their day. “I caught my reflection in the window today when you walked in,” she’d told him, recounting the moment he’d met her at the coffee shop around the corner from his office. “I was smiling like an idiot, for all the world to see.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he’d replied.

“No, just strange. Considering the way I was raised.”

“Well I like that you smile like an idiot when you see me.”

She laughed. Then tilted her head up to look at him. “But can you tell? When you walk into a room, can you sense that I’m smiling at you?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed his thumb over her lips. “I don’t need to sense these move to know you’re happy to see me. I know in other ways.”

She’d spent the rest of the night trying to elicit what those ‘other ways’ were, using all her feminine tricks and wiles to cajole the secret from him, but he didn’t budge.

At this moment though, if he sensed she was happy to see him, he didn’t let on. There was no smile on his face as he approached their table. In fact, there was a stiffness to his gait that wasn’t there before, and his stubbled jaw was clenched.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I need to go. They’re leaving through a back entrance, and I don’t want to lose this chance to find out what they’re up to.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home later. Be careful.”

She went to put her hand on his, where it rested on his cane, but he pulled away from her touch. “I need to go,” he repeated, and strode for the door.

The bad feeling in Calina’s gut grew stronger.

And it didn’t let up over the next several hours, as Matt followed Cross and Ranieri all over the city, and she was left to pace his living room floor alone.

He eventually returned as dawn was starting to break across the sky. Calina was napping on the couch, exhaustion and worry leading to a fretful, interrupted sleep. As his key turned in the door, she sat upright and called out. “Matt, are you okay?”

He didn’t look okay. He trudged into the living room, footfalls heavy and slow, and collapsed on to the chair opposite her. His 5 o’clock shadow had darkened into scruff and the suit he’d worn to dinner last night was rumpled and creased. He rubbed his hands over his face then massaged his temples, as if fighting off a headache.

“Matt,” she said again, softer this time. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Hours and hours of fucking nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt sighed and let his head fall back against the chair. “I caught up with Cross and Ranieri after they left the restaurant, and tailed them to a club on the upper east side - an exclusive members-only club that was harder for me to get into than fucking Fort Knox.”

“But you managed right? I mean, you’re Daredevil, a few locked doors are nothing to you,” she tried to make her comment light, to help counteract the air of anger and frustration that seemed to simmer beneath Matt’s weary state.

It didn’t work. Matt just continued to recap his night in the same flat, bitter tone. “I eventually managed to find a way on to the roof that wasn’t guarded by a camera or security guard, but I couldn’t hear anything of use - it was too loud and packed with other people to make out Cross and Ranieri’s conversation. They left the club after a couple of hours, and split up. I followed Ranieri to the Waldorf, but he went straight to his room. He didn’t meet up with anyone else.”

Calina did the math in her head, and realised that several hours were still unaccounted for in Matt’s story. He never came home for his Daredevil suit to go out patrolling…so what did he do instead?

“Then what?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone practically all night, Matt.”

Matt sat forward, dangled his hands between his legs and stared at the floor. “I needed to think.”

Calina swallowed, suddenly more worried than she’d been all night. Matt’s voice as he said those words…his whole demeanour…

Something was really wrong.

“What did you need to think about?”

Matt clasped his hands together and squeezed until his flesh went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if hesitating to answer.

“Matt, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head in her direction. “Does the name ‘Eliise’ mean anything to you?”

Calina frowned, thrown by the unexpected question. Then the blood drained from her face as she realised how he would have heard that name. “It was my alias in Italy, when I was going after Ranieri. He recognised me in the restaurant, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out you were really fucking memorable. I mean, he was a little disappointed you’d changed your hair and weren’t showing as much leg as before, but he took great delight in describing his night with you to Cross.”

Calina exhaled in relief, glad her real identity as a Widow hadn’t been blown. “So he was bragging to look like a big shot in front of his new associate, so what?”

“It wasn’t baseless bragging. He was regaling Cross in lurid detail about all the ways he'd fucked you. And he wasn’t lying. I could practically feel his heartbeat through that bathroom wall, and he believed every single word of what he said.”

“Wait…are you saying you think I slept with him? That I had sex with him in Italy behind your back?”

“He wasn’t lying, Calina,” Matt repeated, through clenched teeth.

“Neither was I! I told you exactly what happened during that mission!”

“Like you told me exactly what happened to the man you killed across the hall?”

Calina reeled back, as if the words were a physical blow. “So I’m always going to be a liar in your eyes, is that it? Despite the fact that I’ve been honest and open with you every single day since then? Despite the fact that you claim to love me? Doesn’t that afford me the benefit of the doubt at the very least!?”

Matt jumped to his feet. “Yes! Of course it does! That’s why I’ve been wrestling with this all night! I couldn’t reconcile what you told me with-”

“With what Ranieri said? You believed a complete stranger over me?”

“No, not blindly. But you’re asking me to ignore everything my senses are telling me-”

“Yes! Because your senses aren’t infallible, Matt. All of your goddam trust issues stem from the fact that you’ve been lied to again and again by the people you're close to, which means you can’t always tell when someone’s being honest!”

“So now you’re throwing my past back at me? I just want the truth, Calina! What happened in Italy?”

Calina didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed her cell from the coffee table and dialled a number.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, as the sound of the phone ringing filled the air between them.

“Well, you obviously won’t believe anything I tell you, so I’m getting someone impartial to give you the truth.”

At that moment, Anya picked up the phone, sounding wide awake despite the hour. “Calina? I’ve been looking into this Cross and Ranieri thing, and I may have found something. They-”

“Not now, Anya,” Calina interrupted. “I need you to speak to Matt.”

“Okay…about what?"

“Tell him about Italy. About the serum I injected Ranieri with - and what it does.”

“Um, it’s a modified sedative. Designed to render a mark unconscious while also allowing for hypnotic suggestions to be implanted.”

“And what suggestions did you implant while Ranieri was unconscious?” Calina asked.

“That, um, you had sex with him.”

“Did I actually have sex with him?”

“No! Of course not. Calina, what’s this about? What’s-”

“I’ll tell you later.” Calina hung up the phone and looked at Matt. He stood with his hands on his hips, head bowed. “Satisfied?”

At Calina’s question, he lifted his head. Shook it once. “Calina, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a shit.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed her purse and stalked towards the door.

Matt caught her hand before she could yank it open. “Wait, don’t leave. We need to talk about this. I’m so sorry for-”

“For what? For doubting me? Not trusting me? Or for thinking I'm the kind of person who would cheat on you, and lie to your face about it?”

“Callie-”

“No. I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”

“Go? Go where? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

“Right now, I’m going to my apartment across the hall to get some sleep. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me.”

Matt squeezed her hand. Brought it to his lips and pressed a desperate kiss to the back of it. “Please, sweetheart-”

“No. I need some space, Matt. Just let me go.”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go, sweetheart,” Matt whispered against her skin. “But I’ll give you some space.” He dropped her hand and stepped to the side.

Calina walked through the door and didn’t look back.

———

Matt hit the punching bag with all his strength, the smack of flesh meeting leather creating a satisfying sound that rang out in the empty gym.

The pain that came a moment later was satisfying in a different way.

Matt had foregone the hand wraps and gloves for a reason. He’d come straight to Fogwell’s after the fight with Calina, wanting to take out all his anger and frustration on the training equipment…and wanting to punish himself in the process.

He couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d fucked things up tonight.

No, that was wrong. He could believe it. It was one of his core personality traits, after all: the ability to sabotage every good thing in his life.

Like his relationship with Karen. He’d fucked that up because he couldn’t stay away from the toxic pull of Elektra. He’d fucked up his career and his friendship with Foggy because he couldn’t find the right balance between Matt Murdock and Daredevil.

He really thought he’d turned a corner this year. He’d mended the rift with Foggy, found friendship again with Karen, and had rebuilt the law firm with their help…but now he’d gone and fucked everything up with Calina. Because he couldn’t trust her.

No, that was wrong too. He couldn’t trust his trust in her.

Because he knew that she hadn’t lied to him about Italy. He knew she wasn’t the type of person who could be unfaithful. He knew there must be some explanation for why Ranieri believed the things that he did.

As soon as he’d heard the smarmy Italian telling Cross about ‘Eliise’, Matt had shook his head in disbelief. He knew it must be Calina he was referring to - the timing and location of the encounter fit with the Widow’s mission, and he seemed so sure he recognised Calina, despite the change in her appearance - but Matt couldn’t believe the story he was spinning about them sleeping together. He didn’t believe it. He knew that it had to be a lie, despite what his senses were telling him.

But as the night wore on, and he had little to do but sit on a cold, concrete rooftop as Cross and Ranieri’s conversation was lost to the din of the nightclub below, insidious thoughts started to creep into Matt’s mind.

What if…?

What if Calina had lied to him? She’d done it before, after all. She’d kept the secret of her identity for months. She’d killed people, and kept that from him.

What if sleeping with Ranieri was vital to her mission to take down Volkov? He knew how strong and overwhelming the Widows’ drive for freedom had been. They would have stopped at nothing to get out from under Volkov’s thumb. Would Calina have stopped at sleeping with a mark? She’d done that before in the past, as well…

Matt had hated the thoughts as they’d formed in his head. He’d screwed his eyes shut and pulled at the strands of his hair, as if he could physically banish them. He didn’t like that even a tiny part of him could think so ill of the woman he loved.

But he couldn’t seem to shake those thoughts. They took root over the course of the night, and he spent hours walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, wrestling with them. Trying to conquer them with the truths that he was sure of: Calina was a good person. She’d vowed to be honest with him. She loved him, and wouldn’t betray him.

But those wretched, malignant doubts just wouldn’t go away.

And look where they’d gotten him - pummelling his fists bloody and raw because he’d hurt Calina. Because he’d ruined things between them.

Why couldn’t he have trusted his initial instinct that Ranieri was lying?

Why couldn’t he have trusted his belief in Calina?

Matt yelled in frustration as he hit the bag so hard it swung away from him, a wordless shout of anger and pain that echoed off the crumbling walls of the gym. He caught the bag as it came back, and rested his forehead against the leather, panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled from the split skin over his knuckles, and he could feel the burn of inflammation in his shoulder where he must have pulled a muscle.

But the pain didn’t help. The self-flagellation wasn’t lessening any of his guilt.

And he was at real risk of doing damage to himself that wouldn’t heal with an icepack and a few bandages. He scoffed at the irony as he cleaned off the blood from his hands and the sweat from his brow. He never used to worry about himself in that way. Not before Calina. Not before he started to see a future for himself, with her.

He just didn’t know if that future existed now.

———

Calina couldn’t sleep.

She wasn’t surprised. Sleep had never come easily to her in this new post-Widow’s life. Not unless she was next to Matt…

Matt.

She sighed and rolled on to her back, staring vacantly at the ceiling over her bed. She wished she could cry or yell or hit something to get rid of this…numbness…that she felt. She’d left his apartment in a hurry, feeling like she was on the verge of breaking down, but when she reached her own bedroom just moments later, a wave of numbness had descended, until she was left like this - feeling empty, detached from her own emotions.

As if they were too big, too devastating to bear, and her mind was protecting her from them.

Or maybe it just meant that she was done. That she knew it was over between her and Matt, and her pragmatic side had decided that there was no point in wallowing in grief and pain over the loss.

No. The thought of it really and truly being over between her and Matt caused a sharp stab of pain through her heart.

A response at last. 

Because she loved him. 

Which was its own curse. Because it meant that she knew him. She knew his past and the way it had shaped who he was today. She knew why he’d reacted the way he had tonight…and a small part of her even sympathised with his struggle to believe her.

Hence, the curse. She should be allowed to be angry. To feel betrayed by his doubts. To hate him as much as she loved him.

But instead she was...numb.

So numb, the sound of a knock at the door barely elicited a reaction, even though it was probably Matt ignoring her wishes. “I said I needed space, Matt,” she called out as she dragged herself out of bed.

“We’re not Matt, so open up,” was the response.

Frowning, Calina opened the door to find Anya and Katya standing in the hall - along with a very unexpected addition. “What are you doing here so early?”

Anya pushed passed her into the living room. “After that weird phone call, we had to come and see what was happening.”

Katya rolled her eyes. “Tactful, Anya. We’re not just here out of curiosity. We came to see how you were. We figured you and Matt had an argument.”

“Is that why you brought a dog?” Calina asked, pointing to the puppy in Katya’s arms. “For comfort?"

"Comfort?"

"Yeah. I read that petting a dog lowers cortisol levels, and can boost dopamine and serotonin neurotransmitters in the brain.”

Katya looked down at the squirming mass of fur in her arms. “That would have been a good idea, actually. But, no, we’re dog-sitting Nika and didn’t want to leave her in the house while everyone else is too pre-occupied with what’s happening over Wakanda to watch her.”

“Wait, whose dog is she? And what’s happening in Wakanda?” Calina sat on the edge of the sofa and looked up at the Widows, glad there were a couple of mysteries to uncover that would take her mind off Matt.

Katya let the puppy down to explore and joined Calina on the couch. “She belongs to Yelena. She picked her up from the pound last week.”

Calina smiled. “That’s great. She said she always wanted a dog - I just thought she was planning to wait until all the Widows’ stuff was sorted.”

“Nope. She just decided that she’ll still do all the ‘Widows’ stuff’ and leave us to look after the dog while she’s gone.”

“Where is she now?”

“In Helsinki with Sonya. They’re freeing Ana - do you remember her?”

Calina had the vague recollection of an older, blonde girl who was a couple of cohorts ahead of her in the Red Room. “Not really.”

“Well, we found her in a mansion in the Finnish countryside, so Yelena flew out there last night.”

“That’s good that you guys found someone else.”

“Speaking of finding something,” Anya said. “I was looking into Cross and Ranieri like you asked-”

“That can wait until later,” Katya interrupted. “Tell us what happened with Matt.”

Calina groaned and sank back into the couch. The puppy took it as her cue to jump up on her lap. She managed the leap with no problem, and Calina could tell she was going to be big once she reached her true size. She looked like a cross between a husky and a German shepherd, and her fur was thick and soft when Calina sank her fingers into it. She continued to pet the dog as she explained the events of last night.

“So, thank you, Anya,” she said at the end of the tale. “For being so thorough in your description of my fake sexcapade with Ranieri that he’s never forgotten that night.”

Anya winced. “Sorry.”

Calina shook her head. “No, it’s not your fault. This was probably always destined to happen - Matt finds it hard to trust people, and I have a history of lying to him. What’s that phrase? ’Irreconcilable differences’?”

“I don’t believe that,” Katya said. “You’re not irreconcilable. You’ll get past this, just like your other..hurdles.”

Calina laughed at the word 'hurdle', which felt like a massive understatement. “I’m not so sure this time.” Her voice broke, and she could feel the barrier around her emotions start to break down, the numbness start to wear off, so she quickly changed the subject before the tears followed. “But enough about that. Tell me what you found, Anya.”

Anya didn’t have to be asked twice. She launched into a detailed explanation of how she searched Ranieri’s emails and his entire internet footprint via a software program she'd designed which utilised AI…until Katya had to beg her to get to the point. “Please, just give us the bullet point summary!”

“Okay, fine. It turns out Ranieri and Cross were boarded together at the same school in Switzerland for a brief period - before Ranieri was expelled for drug use, and Cross’ family emigrated to New York.”

“So they’ve known each other all this time?” Calina asked.

Anya shrugged. “It’s unclear how friendly they were for most of it, but their communications  definitely increased over the past couple of years. It looks like Ranieri was hustling on the side with Cross. He liked being in league with Volkov, but he had no loyalty, and he wasn’t as fanatical about the mission as Volkov was. He was in it for the money and power, and he saw no problem with stealing from Volkov to help him get in with another powerful man.”

“So he was the one that sent Aminev to Cross. He basically gave his old school friend a Black Widow assassin,” Katya added.

“That was the plan,” Anya clarified. “But Aminev got greedy. He was supposed to just hand over the tech to Cross, but he set himself up as the middle-man instead, getting paid to control Calina on behalf of Cross. But he fucked that up and got himself killed instead.”

“It’s a wonder Cross trusted Ranieri after that,” Calina mused. Cross didn’t seem the type to suffer incompetence in his associates.

“It didn’t matter. Ranieri had already done enough to secure his place in Cross’ inner circle.”

“How?” Calina asked.

“By giving him an old Red Room formulation. It had been superseded by the mind control serum, so Ranieri figured Volkov wouldn’t notice when the last remaining vials went missing.”

“What was the formulation?” Katya asked.

Calina had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what it was. “It was the fear pheromone, wasn’t it?”

Anya nodded. “A rudimentary version compared to what’s on the streets now. But yes.”

“So it all started with Ranieri,” Katya said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He gave Cross the idea of the fear pheromone, the basic formula to improve upon, and he even tried to guarantee his supply of the main ingredient - Arsonium Bromide - by giving him a Black Widow. That slimy, inbred piece of Italian trash started this whole thing.”

“Well, technically, the Red Room started it all,” Anya countered. “They came up with the fear pheromone in the first place.”

Calina let out a bitter laugh. “Of course it all started with them. All the pain that Cross caused with his experiments to perfect the pheromone, all the lives he ruined and the people he killed…it all stems back to the Red Room. To us. This is our legacy.”

Katya scowled at her. “What are you talking about? This isn’t on us. This is on Dreykov, and Volkov and all those other assholes in the Red Room. Our legacy will be stopping Cross - we're going to help you and Matt take him down.”

Calina nodded. She knew Katya was right. She and the other Widows were as much victims as those Cross had experimented on. They weren’t culpable. She was just feeling extra resentful and scathing about her past and her association with the Red Room this morning.

For obvious reasons.

And she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to work with Matt again on this, or anything else, but she appreciated her sisters' support. “Thanks, guys. For finding all this out, and for coming to check on me this morning. And for letting me pet the dog - I think it helped.” She smoothed her hand over one floppy ear and scratched behind it. The puppy immediately rolled over and offered her stomach for extra pets. Calina laughed and complied. 

“Speaking of the dog, why don’t you come with us while we take her for a walk. Clear your head a bit.”

Calina nodded. “Sounds good.”

Some fresh air and a playful puppy sounded infinitely better than wallowing in her bed alone for the rest of the day. 

———

As Matt left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and the working day was starting for his fellow New Yorkers. The traffic on the streets was growing, and the sound of shutters being raised on storefronts drowned out the chorus of birdsong.

Matt checked the time on his watch. He could head to the office...but he wasn't sure he was in the right head space for work this morning. And he didn't feel like going back to his apartment - not when Calina's absence would be palpable. Not when the air would still hold her scent - that would be more of a torment than a comfort right now.

So he walked. For hours. Aimlessly. Down tree-lined streets and across concrete avenues shaded by high rise buildings. He walked, concentrating on the feel of the ground beneath his feet and the steady beat of his heart, trying not to think about the fight with Calina. About how he could gain her forgiveness. About the possibility that he might never do so.

He walked…and eventually found himself outside Clinton church. For the second time in just over 24 hours.

God, had it only been a day?

Everything felt so different now. Not just in terms of the shock invasion from above, but the tumult in his own life. Yesterday he was planning to introduce his mother to the love of his life. Yesterday he felt such a sense of hope and optimism.

But now…

It was all gone.

“Matthew?” 

Speaking of his mother…

“Maggie,” he replied.

Something in his voice must have worried her. Or maybe she caught sight of the blood staining the bandages over his hands. Either way, she came rushing over. “What’s wrong. What happened?” She took hold of his arm and guided him down the steps to the rectory attached to the church. He took a seat at the small kitchen table while she fussed over him, removing his bandages and cleaning his damaged skin with warm water.

It was strange. This church, the people in it - Maggie, Father Lantom - were the source of so much of the betrayal that had shaped him. And yet he still returned to it. Again and again. 

Was it a form of masochism?

Or was he subconsciously searching for answers? For an explanation.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Maggie paused in the act of washing his wounds. “What?”

“Why did you let me believe I was all alone in the world?”

“Oh, Matthew.” Maggie dropped the cloth she’d been using and took the seat next to him. “I- I was so young when I had you. And I was so confused. I thought I was betraying God-”

“I’m not talking about that,” he bit out. “I know you were young. I know about the post partum depression. I don’t blame you for any of that. I want to know about later. When my Dad died, afterwards, my whole life…you let me believe I was alone. You lied to me. Father Lantom lied to me. I- I just need to know why.”

“Why are you asking this now? I thought you’d found it in your heart to forgive us.”

Matt laughed. “So did I. And maybe I have forgiven you. But the damage was done regardless.”

“What damage? You said everything you’ve been through led you to becoming Daredevil, and that you were content with that.”

“With that part of my life, yes. But the rest of my life? No so much.”

“What are you talking about. Tell me what happened.”

Matt sprang up from the chair and poked a finger in his chest. “I happened! I fucked it all up with Calina, because I couldn’t trust her. Because I couldn’t banish these thoughts that she was lying to me. Betraying me. Because that’s what I’m used to. That’s what I expect from the people who claim to care about me, and its ruining my fucking life!”

Matt turned away and gripped the edges of the sink, head bowed, as he tried to get hold of his rage. He could feel Maggie approach, then tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder. He fought the urge to shrug off her comfort, but a part of him didn’t want to undo all the progress they’d made together.

He didn’t want to do or say something in anger that would ruin this relationship too. But he was just so goddam frustrated! He could feel years of resentment bubbling up to the surface.

Maggie must have sensed it, because she finally gave him the answers he craved. “When your father was alive,” she said, in a faltering voice, “I convinced myself that coming to you, and telling you the truth would just hurt you. Confuse you too much. Then, after he died, I convinced my self that it would do more harm than good. Eventually…I realised the truth.”

“Which was?”

“I’m a coward, Matthew. I was too scared to face you, and own up to the biggest mistake of my life. To save myself from that, I hurt you instead. And I’m so, so sorry for that.” She pressed on his arm, getting him to turn and face her. When he did, she reached up to take his face in her hands. “But you, Matthew Murdock, are not a coward. You are the bravest man I’ve ever known. And the strongest. It takes both to be able to love someone - it isn’t something that weak people do.”

“I do love Calina. So much. But I just don't know how to give her that last little piece of my trust.”

“My dear boy, that’s where the courage comes into play. It’s a leap of faith to give over your heart and your trust to someone else, never knowing for sure if they’ll keep them safe. You just have to be brave and jump. I have a feeling that Calina won’t squander those gifts.”

“But will she trust me with her heart now? After the things I accused her of…”

“Only she can decide that. But you need to go and find out. Fight for her. Don’t just hole yourself up hitting bags of sand - figure out a way to win her back instead.”

Matt nodded. And then, because he was feeling so drained and emotional, and because she was standing so close, he gave in to the impulse to drop his head down to her shoulder. Maggie froze for a fraction of a second before wrapping her arms around him. He hooked one arm around her waist…and they were hugging.

His first ever hug from his mother.

He could feel in the slight tremble in her frame how much it meant to her. It meant just as much to him.

And he knew he needed to let it go. All of the resentment. All of the anger at her betrayal. Father Lantom’s lies. Even Elektra and Stick's offences against him. Everything.

He needed to truly forgive and move on - for his sake, for Maggie’s, and for Calina most of all.

Because he wanted to be a better man for her.

After a few long moments, he stepped away from the embrace. “Thanks Maggie. I, um, should get going, I guess.”

“To Calina?” she asked, in a slightly bossy tone.

“Yes,” he laughed. “To Calina.”

“Good.”

Matt stepped back out into the bright spring morning, feeling a renewed sense of hope. He wouldn’t let things end with Calina this way. He wouldn’t let things end at all. He loved her. And he knew she loved him. He just had to convince her to give him another chance.

And he was a lawyer - convincing people was one of the things he did best.

He set off back in the direction of this apartment, already mentally composing his speech to Calina. His grovelling, heartfelt and earnest declaration that would hopefully persuade her to take him back. In fact, he was concentrating so hard on what he would say to her, that he missed the first warning signs that something was wrong in the city.

Very, very wrong.

But then he heard the first scream. His head jerked up at the sound trying to pinpoint the location. That’s when another scream rang out, from a different direction. Then the sounds of multiple cars crashing all over the city. A plane going down in the distance...

And beneath all that noise, and chaos…a terrible, eerie silence was growing in the world. As if thousands of heartbeats and breaths and voices were just…disappearing. Being snuffed out at once.

That horrible absence grew and grew, and with it, Matt’s fear. He started running, that same urge from yesterday overtaking him - the desperate need to get to Calina. He barrelled past other pedestrians on the street, those who were rooted in place, looking around in terror. He felt himself run through flakes of…something. Too warm to be snow. Too insubstantial to be leaves or bits of paper floating in the air. He didn’t stop to figure it out, he just kept running.

Until suddenly, he started to feel...strange.

As if the ground was no longer beneath his feet. As if the air was no longer brushing against his skin. As if all his senses were dulled. He staggered to a halt, and grasped his chest, as if to reassure himself he was still…him. But his hand vanished before it could make contact.

There was no pain. No sensation to it at all. He    w a      s                   

j               u                     �� s                           t

                                    

 c             o                          

                                                         m

                                                                                    i

                                                                                           n

                                                             g              

 

 a       

                  p

                                                        a

                                                                                                      r

                                                                                                                                          

t…

————–

END OF PART 3

————–

Well, for those of you who aren't familiar with Avenger's Infinity War...the BLIP just happened! And I don't actually know for sure if Matt was blipped in canon or not, but in my story he was.

Poor guy!

Find out how he deals with it here...

Part 4, chapter 1

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[justmeinadaze]

We're A Family Part 9 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I did warn you people so don't come at me lol Good feels and bad feels abound. Idk where this came from. Probably from some person stuff Im struggling with. But alas...Enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, ALL the angst, and fluff at the beginning and end to warm your souls, Someone from Eddie's past comes into play so his trauma is mentioned (i.e Child abuse and his mom leaving), Dylan talks a bit about his feelings with Charlie. I think those are the big triggers here.

Word Count: 4127

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

You grin from your place on the floor as you watch Eddie strum his guitar and sing as Steve holds her hands while she tries to balance on her feet. 

Aurora’s first birthday was coming up and you felt like time was just flying by. Steve had started school, choosing to utilize the night program so he could at least spend time with the kids while they were awake if he was off that day. Eddie had just recently been promoted to manager at the auto shop which he had originally accepted because it paid more but found that he actually enjoyed the work it provided. 

Dylan seemed to be getting along ok and was his usual happy self. While he still loved playing the guitar, he asked you if he could sign up for the Hawkins little league team and had steadily grown to being one of the best players on the team. When you picked him up from practice one day you noticed how his face changed as he hit the ball, like he was letting out all his frustrations with the tiny bat in his hands. 

After what happened your son barely brought up Charlie, following through with calling Steve and Eddie “dad” whenever he addressed them. You sent him texts of updates regarding Dylan but Vivian was the only one to ever reply and usually it was something simple like “Thank you.”

“What’s mama concentrating so hard on, huh?”, Eddie smiled as he looked your way.

“We’re going to have her birthday here, right?”

“Yeah, why not. Wayne said he’d be able to make it and I have the day off.”

“Me to. I made sure to ask for it like 3 months in advance.” Steve flops down on the floor, Aurora wiggling out of his grasp to crawl to the metalhead as she pats on his guitar. “My mom will be swinging by. I assume Robin and Kierra to, of course.”

“I have some friends at work that want to come and bring their kids. Dylan knows a few of them.”

“That will be fun for him. Maybe I can invite the guys. I know they’ve been wanting to see her again.” Eddie leans forward and kisses the baby’s cheek making her giggle. 

You stretch out on the floor in front of you and she promptly crawls towards you bumping her head into yours. “Ow. You have a hard head.” You reach out to mess with her curls the way they do. 

“She’s a headbanger like me. Yeah? Just like dada. Dada?” Eddie chuckles as she falls back on her butt, watching him speak before looking over at you. 

“Dada? Can you say that? Say I’m just like dada.” Both men laugh until a breathy sound escapes her tiny mouth. You grin at her encouragingly as they completely freeze. “There you go. Come on, baby. Dada.”

“Da…da.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie quickly picks her up and places her on his lap as Steve pulls out his phone. “Can you say it again? Who am I? Am I dada?”

“Da…dada.”

He hugs her to his chest as the three of you smile excitedly. “That’s right, princess. I’m your dada.” He turns her around to face Steve. “That’s your dada to.”

You scoot towards the other man and point at his chest as her wide eyes watch you intently. “Dada?” She follows your finger as you point between them repeating the phrase hoping she doesn’t get confused. Her little hand reaches towards Steve’s phone and he pulls it out of her reach as she crawls towards him, headbutting his chin before he places a kiss on her head. 

“Da…da.” She falls onto her back looking up at him as she reaches her hand out again. “Da…da…da.”

##############

“No, she can’t be talking yet.”, Wayne grins as he bounces the baby on his hip. “You need to stay a baby as long as possible. Your dad grew up too fast and I hate it.”

You grin at him as Dylan and the other kids run past you out to the backyard where some of your friends were sitting on the patio talking amongst themselves. 

“Yeah, Steve went from toddler to high schooler in the blink of an eye.”, Mrs. Harrington smiled from her place at the table. 

“Stop it, both of you!”, you giggle. “I still haven’t accepted that this year my son will be 9. I can’t even think about high school.”

The boys were both outside entertaining the older kids while you started cleaning up some of the plates from the table and putting away the left-over food. A knock on the door startled you as you looked in that direction. 

“That’s weird. No one else should be coming…” Drying your hands, you head towards the front door. A beautiful, older woman a bit younger than Wayne stood before you smelling to high heaven like cigarettes. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders over a Van Halen t-shirt and some obnoxiously tight blue jeans. There was something familiar about her but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. Uh, does Edward Munson live…here?”, she asked as she looked around behind you. 

“May I ask what you need with him?”

“Or even Wayne… I recognized the truck outside…”

You leaned back, gently calling for the man as he strode over. He froze in place when their eyes met. 

“You can’t be here.”

“Wayne, I need to talk to my son.”

“You should have done that 15 years ago, Lynn, when you left him on my doorstep.” He frustratingly sighed as his eyes met your panicked ones. “I got this, Y/N. Go ahead and get back to your guests.” Wayne stepped further out and closed the door behind him. 

Numbly, you headed back to the kitchen where Steve was talking with his mom who was holding Aurora. He noticed immediately something was off, running to your side. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We…we need to keep Eddie outside.”, you whisper. 

“Honey, why? What’s wrong with Eddie?”

The man himself comes in holding Dylan upside down in his arms as the small boy laughs. You both meet his eyes and he blinks as he flips his son back around, placing his feet on the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Eddie…I…”

“No, Wayne! I have every right to at least talk to him!”

“Lynn! This isn’t your house!”

Eddie’s mom rounded the corner, her eyes locking with his. “Edward.”

“Mom?”

################

You and Steve busied yourselves around the living room, cleaning up from the party. Everyone had gone home and Dylan had taken Aurora up to her room before laying on the floor to keep her company while everything unfolded. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs to, Y/N?”, Steve whispered. 

“Steve Harrington, if I didn’t leave you alone with your father what makes you think I’d even consider leaving him here with her.”

“Because Wayne and I are here to keep him safe.”

All three Munson’s sat at the dining room table silently as Eddie glared into the void with his arms crossed, his leg bouncing under the table. 

“Whose birthday is it?”, she asked, sighing when no one answered. “I’m going to guess from the pink cake I saw that woman put away it’s the baby girls?”

“’That woman’ is my wife and ‘the baby girl’ is my daughter.” Eddie’s tone dripped with venom and it killed you. Eddie rarely ever got angry and even when he did it wasn’t anywhere near the level Charlie had gotten to more than a few times. The only time you ever heard him really scream and shout was during D & D or on stage. 

“Um, can I smoke in here or—”

“No.”, everyone responded in unison.

“Jesus, fine. It’s not a big deal, you know. I used to smoke around Edward all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m so well adjusted. Either that or the abandonment.”

“Look, Lynn, just tell the boy why you’re here so you can be on your way.” Wayne seemed more in control than his nephew but his anger was just as strong as he glared at the woman across from him. 

She exhales as she straightens up in her seat. “I, uh, have you spoken to your father?”

It was Steve’s turn to sigh as he sat at the foot of the stairs, you leaning against the wall in front of him where you could still keep an eye on everything. 

“What reason would I have to do that?”

“Because he’s your father.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you really want to play that game right now?!”

“Eddie!” Wayne extended his arm towards the boy, gesturing for him to calm down. “Get to the point, Lynette.”

“He needs help. Your father has an opportunity to get his sentence reduced but he needs character witnesses. We thought…maybe…”

You growled as you began stepping forward, Steve immediately reaching out to grip your arm and hold you in place. 

“I don’t think my testimony would help. ‘Yes, your honor, he may have taught me how to boost cars, threaten people, and beat the shit out of me but I assure you he’s a really great guy!’”

“Eddie, he wasn’t perfect but he did the best he could.”

The metalhead chuckled as he rose from his chair, clenching his fists as he paced in place. “Best he could… Wayne did the best he could. I fucking do the best I can for my kids. Dad did jack shit for me and I still haven’t gotten an apology…from either of you!” 

Your heart breaks as you watch him get slowly wound up.

“Is that seriously all you showed up for after all these years? To ask me to lie for him? You seriously are amazing. You hunt me down, show up at my daughter’s birthday party, barge into our house… you don’t even bother to try and get to know me or my family…just thought ‘hey I’ll see if he’s available to lie to a judge. He definitely has nothing to lose.’”

“How did you know where he was?” All heads turn to you as you step into the area turning to face his mother. “Who told you where to find him?” Your eyes meet as she sighs again. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lynn.”, Wayne groans. 

“He still has friends in town including some that work at the plant with his uncle…”

Eddie’s gaze shift between the three of you trying to figure out what you all know.

“How long have you been talking to him?”, you ask. When she doesn’t answer the anger in your body starts to boil over. “Eddie has a right to know especially since he never even got so much as a fucking postcard! Yet you can keep in touch with his asshole dad.”

“Allen is my husband—”

“And Eddie was your son! How fucking dare you—”

“Baby, come on.” Steve comes up behind you and tugs you to him. “Remember, there are kids in the house. Calm down.” He reassuringly rubs your arms as you aggressively huff in his chest.

“How long?”, Eddie asks. “Since he went in?” He laughs when she nods. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Her jaw tightens as she stands, reaching in her pocket to place a card on the table. “I’ll be in Hawkins for the next month or so. If you change your mind, just call me here.” 

Wayne walks her out as you and Steve watch the metalhead continue to fume.

“Eddie…”

“No! No one come near me right now!”

He continues to bounce on his toes as his fingers run frustratingly through his hair before abruptly hurling his fist through the air and punching the nearby wall. 

############

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, come on, Ed. You know by now 90% of the time we all get into a car, it’s bound to be a surprise to at least one person.”, Steve grins. “And like always, Dylan is the mastermind behind this venture.”

You son smiles from his place in the back seat as the other man pulls up into a parking lot. 

“Aren’t these the batting cages he practices at?”

Dylan hops out of the car, ushering for Eddie to do the same as he takes his hand with Steve following behind. You linger back to gather Aurora and allow your son to work his magic.

He leads the metalhead towards an empty area explaining to him why the helmet is important and which type of bats he prefers while his other dad finds a bench near the cage, motioning for you to sit beside him. 

“Ok, so when the ball comes, you’re going to want to swing as hard as you can.” Eddie understood enough about sports to get that was a given but, for Dylan, continued to react like this was all new information for him. 

When the first ball shot out, he swung and missed. 

“No, dad, that’s ok. I know it can be a bit fast. You have to try and keep your eye on the ball as it comes towards you and lower your hands a bit.” 

The ball shot out again and this time Eddie hit it, sticking out his tongue towards you and Steve as you both cheered in your little area. Aurora noticed and began pressing her hands together as she smiled, pointing her tiny fingers in his direction. 

The next few balls that head his way, he hits and sends towards the net on the other end that makes your son smile with pride. 

“Now, when I play, sometimes I think about… my other dad…how angry he makes me.” Eddie’s eyes meet his as he continues. “I think about how he left and how he treats my mom. How he never wanted to spend time with me like you guys do…”

Steve reached for your hand when he noticed your body stiffen as you watched them. You couldn’t hear what your son was saying but he looked so heartbroken. 

Eddie took his stance again, images flashing through his mind of his parents and how they treated him when he was a kid.

“Jesus Allen, how am I supposed to send him to school looking like this?!” His mother gestures towards the fresh welt on Eddie’s face from where his dad had smacked him. 

“Look, the little fucker almost got us caught! He cut the wrong wire and the fucking car alarm went off.”, his dad growled. 

The crack of the bat hitting the ball made you jump as he hit it harder than he had before. Over and over again, Eddie swung as hard as he could, not thinking about form or how his hands should be. With each memory he let loose, feeling the weight of the last few days lift off him. 

The machine tossing the balls whizzed to a stop as the metalhead panted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Dada.” Aurora reached his way before clapping like she had seen you do.

Eddie’s head hung as he began to cry, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s shoulders as he came to hug him. Handing the baby to Steve, you entered the cage tugging them both into your embrace. 

############

That night Eddie crashed between both of you, you clinging to his back as his head rested on Steve’s chest. While you two slept, Steve laid awake thinking about the last few days and everything the man he cared about was feeling. He hated that he couldn’t wave a wand and fix the pain the metalhead was feeling. Even though he had a much more violent up bringing in the beginning than Steve ever did, he knew what it was like to feel that abandonment when it came to both his parents. He was so grateful that his mom was being more present while trying to be better and he so desperately wanted that for you both.

Eddie’s palm moved against the boy’s chest as a tiny grumble left his lips. 

“Steve? Why are you still awake?”

“Thinking.”

“Hm. Well stop it. You have work tomorrow, man.”

“Ed, you know I love you, right? You can talk to me about anything…”

“Geez, you’re starting to sound like Y/N. ‘Would you still love me if…’”, he changes his voice to sound like yours as he smiles. 

“I’m serious, Eddie.”

Eddie opens his eyes fully as he pushes up on his elbow to look down at Steve. “I know. I just… Honestly, I thought I had left all that in the past.”

“What triggered everything these past couple of days? Was it just seeing her again?”

“Partly. Most of it was finding out she had still been talking to my dad. Couldn’t manage to pick up a fucking phone to call me but can take the time to write letters to her abusive, criminal husband. It just made me feel like I was ten all over again being left behind.”

Eddie felt your arms tighten around him as you nuzzled into his back between his shoulder blades. 

“Are you going to talk to your dad?”

“Wayne is my dad.” Steve nods in understanding before rolling on to his side to face the other boy. “Thanks, Steve. I, uh, I know we don’t…do the whole romantic thing like we do with Y/N but I do know you love me and, of course, I love you.”

“Of course.”, the boy chuckles as he reaches for Eddie’s face pulling him in for a gentle kiss. 

The other man giggles as Steve’s kisses get bolder and more passionate. “I’m kinda limited with this seatbelt around my chest.” His grin grows when he feels you hug him tighter before kissing his shoulder.

“You like it.”, you mumble with a smile as you release him from your hold and stretch. 

Steve pushed Eddie on to his back, immediately attaching his lips to his neck as he sucked and nibbled on the metalhead’s sweet spot. He lightly moaned as he turned to meet your soft but worried eyes. 

“You okay, baby?”

Eddie nodded as his thumb reached out to glide along your bottom lip before he pulled them to his own. He needed this, needed to feel and taste you both; the two people in this world that loved him unconditionally. 

Steve placed feathery kisses down his chest, reaching down into the boy’s shorts to pull out his cock. After scooting down the bed, you grab the waistband around Eddie’s hips, removing the garment to allow for more access. 

As you run your fingers through Steve’s hair, he leans down over the man’s length and a long line spit falls over the tip. Eddie groans as he strokes it with his palm, coating him with his saliva before taking him in to his mouth.  

Tilting your head, you drag your tongue along the parts of his cock he isn’t able to reach as one of your tiny hands reached to massage his balls.

“Jesus… that feels…feels so good.” 

Steve’s mouth came off him with a pop, his own tongue tracing the veins to his shaft where it found yours. Eddie perched up on his elbows, watching as you two kissed with his cock between your lips. You took over so the other man could hastily remove his boxers.

Eddie sat up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a sloppy kiss before falling back down to his pillow with you in tow. 

“Turn, princess.”

When he released you, you tore off your shirt as you rolled over so your back was flush to his chest. He roughly yanked off your underwear, mewling as he glided his tip through your folds. 

“Take whatever you need, Eddie. I’m yours.”

You both moaned as he pushed himself into your entrance, kissing your neck as his arms held you tightly to him. 

The bed moved slightly as Steve laid behind him, gripping his hips as he guided his cock slowly into him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”, Eddie panted. The sound of their heavy breathing was driving you crazy as your pussy clenched around him. “Ha-harder, Steve.”

As he honored his request, you push your hips back against his own, meeting each thrust with a moan that had Eddie’s eyes flutter closed. You clung to his hand as you craned your neck as much as you could to see their faces. 

Steve abruptly pulled out, grabbing Eddie’s waist and tugging him out of you and onto his hands and knees. The metalhead’s hair hung with his head as the other boy thrust back into him, one of his palms reaching out absently for you. 

Sliding underneath him, he lifted his arm so you could find his cock and guided it back into your dripping cunt. With this new position it gave him more leverage to utilize his hips he pumped into you and pushed back onto Steve. 

“God, you both feel so fucking good.”

You whimpered as you felt the coil winding in your belly, extending your hand between you as you rubbed your clit. 

“Eddie, yes. Please… don’t stop.”

The boy pushes up on his knees and Steve wrapped his arm around his chest to keep him steady as he pounded into you. You glance up at them with admiration as Eddie’s eyes close and Steve’s head leans against his shoulder. How did I get so lucky?

“I love you.”

Both sets of eyes look down at you as you softly smile before covering your mouth with your palm, your back lifting off the bed as came. Eddie’s face scrunches in pleasure as he grunts and cums inside of you. Steve tilts him forward slightly, gripping his shoulder as he thrusts his seed into him. 

The metalhead lifts you, bringing you back up more comfortably towards the pillows and settles beside you. You play with his hair as his head rests on your chest, his arm and leg slung over your body.

“I love you to. I’m sorry if I’ve been kind of out of it these past couple of days.”

“Eddie, baby, you don’t have to apologize for something like that. I…we just hate seeing you hurt, ya know?” His mess of curls graze your chin as he nods. “I heard you answer Steve’s question but if you change your mind, we’re here for you.” 

You giggle when a shirt hits your face. “Your daughter is babbling. Clothes, beautiful people.”

You and Eddie playfully whine as he pulls on his shorts and you throw on his shirt right as Steve bounces in with a bright eyed one year old. 

“Ma’am, it is 4am. Why are you awake?” She grins as she reaches for you. “Is it because daddy let you take a nap?”

Steve holds up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I get it. I messed up.”

Aurora smacks Eddie’s chest and he pretends to wince. “Ow, child. I’m fragile.”

“Dada.”

“Ok, princess. You mastered dada. What about the person that pushed you out, huh?” You laugh as you lean on his shoulder. Steve climbs beside you, tenderly reaching out to smooth her hair. “Mama? Say mama?”

She rubbed her eyes as she looked around the room babbling incoherently. 

“Yeah, that’s about right.”, he chuckles. Both men try to mimic what you had done before pointing at you and repeating the word. 

There was a small knock on your door and as soon as you granted permission, Dylan’s sleepy frame came into view. 

“Why are you up, weirdo?”

“I had to go pee—”

“Thanks for the update.”

He lazily smiles at Eddie. “AND I heard you talking to Ro.”

Steve gestures him over and helps lift the boy onto the bed. “We’re trying to get her to say ‘mama’.”

Dylan grins, poking the baby’s nose making her laugh before he does the same to you. “Mama.” Her eyes widen as he does it again, absorbing his motions. Your son repeats the action, this time saying nothing when he touches your nose. Aurora’s face scrunches just like yours when you’re annoyed. 

Her tiny finger reaches for your face and you lift her to her feet as she pokes your nose like he did. 

“Ma…ma. Ma.”

“Well shit.”, Steve chuckles.

Dylan smiles in triumph as he kisses his sister’s cheek. “Dad! You can’t talk like that. We have a baby in the house.”

############

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[bleachbleachbleach]

I don't know if you'll see this, but I've been having this thought for a while and needed to share

You have already shared your view about that whole "souls can't remember their lives before Soul Society" and such, but I've been thinking...

It's ever said that the souls in Rokungai know that they're dead? Well, the Shinigami makes sense to know and the other souls knows about the Shinigami, obviously, but I don't remember if it was ever commented about them knowing they're dead when they wake up in Soul Society

Maybe someone else needs to explain them the situation when a new soul appears? Idk

What do you think?

And excuse me if I'm being dumb about this topic, I'm just not good at remembering stuff

This blog receives 1 ask every few months and averages about 9 notes per post. XD Of course we saw this! Thank you for stopping by! <3

I think this might be in reference to tags we left on this post? At least, that's the most recent discussion I can recall.

Canonically speaking, this guy comes to mind, who knows the year and location of his death:

[Bleach 076 -- (Sorry, no original text--I'm not on the right laptop right now!]

Granted, that doesn't mean he knew this immediately on entry into Soul Society, or knew that he was in this place because he'd died!

But then, of course, there's also this whole ticket system, so I suppose even if you didn't know intrinsically that you had died, some terrible dude dressed in black and shouting about your having died might be something you take at face value (or not!). Or maybe people in Rukongai find you first, and you get the folktale of your own death from souls like you before they send you off to the proper authorities for your ticket.

I've also written fanfic where Hinamori does a more intensive intake of a soul, sort of like what you're describing (though in his case, he knows he's dead, because he died on purpose).

My preference is pretty much always going to be for things to be as paradoxical, contradictory, elusive, and mutable as possible, so if I were going to incorporate Mr. "1947 in Yamanashi" into something, there's a 99% certainty he'd be the odd duck out in terms of having retained that information, and it would be info that existed in fragments and broken conjurations. I'd probably write that there were entire divination practices within different Rukongai subcultures that strove to either remember/cogently arrange the past, or predict the future (in reincarnation), and it's this whole elaborate thing. Some of the divinators are probably legit--but many are probably charlatans who implant all manner of weird, potentially harmful false memories in people--or benign but ultimately untrue--things in people's heads. But then, maybe that's all they need to be. When you're constantly told that the ghost-life you are currently living exists only as a waypoint or halfway between one reality and the next, I imagine it's hard to hold onto desire. Whether the spark is real or not, maybe the fact of the spark is all that comes to matter.

Personally, I also like the idea that although shinigami have this whole ticket system and they'd love for souls to enter into Soul Society all in the same place, in an orderly fashion, that's not necessarily how it works, and the number crunching the 12th does about how many souls are in which district (and which plane of existence) is based on statistical models and cannot actually account individually for each soul. Maybe some come into Soul Society in human form. Maybe some were STILL A BIRD when they arrived, but ultimately became a boy. Maybe some souls spring out fully formed and humanoid and others are elemental first, before solidifying into something else. Maybe some are cut out of peaches or bamboo, or appear as monsters, almost as Hollows--until it turns out they were a human soul all along (or were they...)

Anyway, that's where I'd take that! I'd love to hear more about your thoughts re: who explains the situation. It's a really fun question!

[tricogarfield]

Rhun/Zahnfee Headcanon post part 2!

I linked the first Headcanon post in case you wanna check that out!:D Now, in the previous one I explained my general thoughts and how I think the Dark/White thing works! Here, I'll list off some Headcanons regarding this post, pluuus some extra headcanons!

I think Oskar would occasionally visit Rhun, who is chained to these stone pillars. There are a few reasons for that! 1. He likely has a deep fascination for Rhun, if what he said upon meeting xies in canon can be believed. Rhun is the guardian that inspired him to actually learn alchemy, so I think Rhun is the one he "looks up to", aside from Eos obviously. 2. There are a some things that he could find out through Rhun, which could help in the long run. Sure, in the first place Eos will tell them everything they need to know, but it couldn't hurt to try and get some newer information from a guardian. 3. He just feels so smug to have tricked one of the most powerful beings on earth and wants to enjoy it. While he would try to get to know more about the guardians and what exactly it is they have been doing for so many years, his main goal is to just taunt Rhun and rub the fact that xier was tricked by a "mere mortal" in. He wouldn't visit xies regurarily tho. Perhaps he'll visit Rhun 2 days in a row, just to leave xies completely by xierself for 2 weeks, visit again and dip for a month again. Irregular visits, all with different lengths. That would all happen to throw Rhun off as much as possible! Leave xies alone with nothing but xies contradicting thoughts and the pain the chains bring, as we saw in the Spin-Off. It would also make it so that Rhun would actually start looking forward to Oskar's visits, making xies more likely to actually answer to his questions. Now, I dont exactly have a lot of scenarios or possible convo's in my head, but I'm sure, depending on how long Rhun was actually chained there and when exactly Oskar died, there's a lot of stuff you could write for that! Perhaps I will try to bring all this down in a one shot! If not, anyone reading this is welcome to! Long as you give credit ofc :D Now, other headcanons! There is a lot of speculation regarding wether or not Rhun actually has a daughter now and who she is, if maybe Julia is xies daughter and what exactly happened to her, etc., etc. Well, here is what I like to believe! Julia is Rhun's daughter that xier adopted when she was a new-born, however, lost her when she was 4. I imagine that Rhun would perhaps one day hear screaming in the area near the hotel and would check that out, just to find little Julia in a basket with just a thin blanket around her and a frog stuffed animal. And, as heartless as Rhun may seem to be, xier really couldn't just leave a new-born out in the woods, could xier? And just like that, xier took the basket back to the hotel and got little Julia fed and some warmer clothes. After asking Minty for advice on what the hell xier should do with the baby now, she suggested to take her with xies on one of xies nightly trips to collect teeth and leave her at an orphanage. However, xier did not like the sound of that idea, given xies past in the monestary and was afraid that, by doing so, xier would be giving an innocent baby a childhood as bas as xies. Of course the times changed and the odds of her living a good life in an orphanage were much bigger than they were when Rhun was still a child, but xier didn't want to risk it. And like that, Rhun gave her the name Eirlys (a welsh name meaning snowdrop. The reason is because the name Rhun is also of Welsh origin, so I figured it'd only make sense) to commemorate finding her during winter on a little snow hill and started to raise her. Xier was...well, overwhelmed with doing xies job AND taking care of a newborn, but luckily had the help of Minty and Hairy (who xier didn't exactly trust with Eirlys...) to manage.

The first 4 years passed and Rhun has grown extremely fond of xies daughter, however, dreading the day that she as a mortal will unfortunately die. So xier was looking for any way possible to eventually, when she became a grown-adult, turn her immortal as well. And maybe even teach her xies ways and turn her into a Toothfairy.

Unfortunately, when Rhun was busy doing xies job and left the hotel unattended aside from Minty and Hairy, Eirlys snuck out and got lost in the woods surrounding it. In the woods, she met a few kids her age and got invited to play hide and seeks with them. However, while she was looking for a hiding spot, she fell into a well and obviously, couldn't get out anymore.

The new friends she made while playing also didn't find her, as they didn't think of checking the well and were busy looking for her until eventually deciding to go get one of their parents for help. At the same time that was happening, the stranger (Hope y'all know who I mean ;D) found her and luckily, helped her out. The thing is, when Eirlys fell into the well, she hit her head a bit too hard and as a result, barely had any memories from before that. After talking with the stranger a bit, who also guided her more to the edge of the forest, she was eventually found by one of the parents of the kids she was playing with.

The stranger mysteriously disappeared without telling her their name. And, since she did not have any recollection of what happened before she fell into the well, there wasn't any place she could be brought back to. So instead, she was then put into an orphanage but soon got adopted by her canon parents!:D

The thing is, the stranger removed any and all traces of magic that she had on her that she could have gotten from her stay at the hotel. And also kind of made her "invisible" to the guardians, so that finding her, would be near impossible. It would wear off the older so got, but even as an adult, it's difficult for the guardians to fully register she's there.

And just like that, Rhun lost xies daughter. When xier came back that night to find Minty and Hairy both panicking about where she is, xier was devastated AND outraged. Instead of wasting much time being angry at them tho, xier immediately went looking for her. Almost every waking moment of xies is spent looking for Eirlys, aside from doing xies regular job and using the teeth to renew the barrier keeping Eos on the moon and the hotel save.

This is very sad indeed D: not to worry though, I do have a little AU in my head on what would have happened if Eirlys/Julia didn't sneak out that day and would have fully grown up with Rhun :DD I'll make a little post about that one day too! For today tho, that was enough headcanons in one post xDD Or maybe I'll write some more headcanons down later, who knows! Anyway, see y'all!:D

[fourteen--steps]

So last month I went to the pet store with my partner to pick up some supplies for his herps, and while he was picking stuff out I went to look at the goldfish, as I am wont to do. I browsed a couple of tanks and there were a few pretty ones but none that really made me think "oh I'm in love". But then standing in front of the pond comet tank was this poor lady crying and taking pictures of a little orange comet in a plastic bag being acclimated in the tank.

I asked if she was okay, and she told me she was just so sad to be giving up her new fish. She won him at the fair a few days before, fell in love, and named him Antwon. But after doing some research at home she realized how much money and work would be needed to properly care for him, and she knew she couldn't do it. So she was bringing him in to rehome for a chance at a better life.

And my heart was just breaking oh man, she clearly loved that little fish and wanted him to be happy. So I talked with her for a while and finally it clicked, I got that "you're meant to come home with me" feeling that I had been missing. I told her about my tank and showed her some pics of my babies and offered to take Antwon home and make sure he was well cared for.

(Obviously I have an angry rant ready about sending home live animals as prizes, but this post is already too long so I'll save that for next time)

He came home with me in the tiny kritter keeper the fair had given her, and went right into the 20g quarantine tub for the next 4 weeks. He was super skittish at first but within a couple days he figured out that people=food and would be right up front every time I walked past begging for snacks ☺️

And I'm happy to say he's passed his qt and graduated to the 150g big kid tank! He's a little shy right now but I'm sure he'll settle in nicely.

And of course I sent his original mama some pictures! She was over the moon 🥰

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong. 

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya." 

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter. 

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone. 

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp. 

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire.  I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says. 

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit. 

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-" 

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents. 

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you. 

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief. 

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's. 

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away. 

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it. 

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.  

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain. 

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin. 

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused. 

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket. 

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully. 

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear. 

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing. 

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home. 

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism. 

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up. 

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang. 

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment. 

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't  seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful. 

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged. 

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.” 

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat. 

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.  

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon. 

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod. 

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch. 

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject. 

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head. 

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own. 

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table. 

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself  longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars. 

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness. 

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars. 

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

 You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent. 

And there you are. 

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down. 

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil. 

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch. 

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman.